Kitabı oku: «English Monastic Life», sayfa 7

CHAPTER V
THE OBEDIENTIARIES (continued)

7. THE INFIRMARIAN AND HIS WORK

The official appointed to have the care of the infirm and sick should have the virtue of patience in a pre-eminent degree. “He must be gentle,” says one Custumal, “and good-tempered, kind, compassionate to the sick, and willing as far as possible to gratify their needs with affectionate sympathy.” When one of the brethren was seized with any sickness and came to the infirmary, it was the infirmarian’s first duty to bring thither the sick man’s plate, his spoon, and his bed, and to inform the cellarer and kitchener, so that the sick man’s portion might be assigned to him in the infirmary refectory.

Whenever there were sick under his charge the infirmarian was to be excused, as far as was necessary, from regular duties. He said Mass for the sick, if he were a priest, or got some priest to do so, if he were not. If the sick were able to recite their Office, he said it with them, provided lights, if necessary, and procured the required books from the church. Whatever volumes they needed for reading he borrowed from the aumbry in the cloister; but he was warned always to take them back again before the cantor locked up the cupboard for the night. If there were more than one monk sick at the same time and they could help themselves, the infirmarian was then to go to the regular meals in the refectory; but he was to return to his charges as soon as possible and see that they had been properly served. He always slept in the infirmary, even when there were no sick actually there, and this because he had always to be ready for any emergency. Out of the revenue assigned to his office he had to find whatever might be necessary in the way of medicine and comforts for the sick. He was charged to keep the rooms in the infirmary clean, the floors sparsely covered with fresh rushes, and to have a fire always burning in the common-room when it was needed. According to one set of English directions, the infirmarian was advised always to keep in his cupboard a good supply of ginger, cinnamon, peony, etc., so as to be able at once to minister some soothing mixture or cordial when it was required, and to remember how much always depended in sickness on some such slight act of thoughtful sympathy and kindness.

The mediæval rules of the infirmary will probably strike us, with our modern notions, as being strangely strict upon the sick. The law of silence, for instance, was hardly relaxed at all in the infirmary; the sick man could indeed talk about himself and his ailments and necessities to the infirmarian at any time, and the latter could give him every consolation and advice; but there was apparently no permission for general conversation, even among the sick, except at the regular times for recreation; even at meal times the infirm ate in silence and followed, as far as might be, the law of the convent refectory.

The brethren who were unwell were not all received in the infirmary for treatment. There were some monks sick, as one set of regulations points out, who were ailing merely from the effect of the very monotony and the necessarily irksome character of the life in the cloister; from the continued strain of silence; from the sheer fatigue of choral duties, or from sleeplessness and such-like causes. These did not need any special treatment under the infirmarian’s care; they required rest, not medicine; and the best cure for them was gentle exercise in the open air, in the garden or elsewhere, with temporary freedom from the strain of their daily service. Those who had grown old in their monastic service were to find a place of rest in the infirmary, where they were to be specially honoured by all. They too, however, had to keep the Rule as far as they were able without difficulty, and were to remember, as one English Custumal reminds them, “that not even the pope could grant them a dispensation contrary to their vows.” So they had to keep silence, for instance, if possible, and especially the great night silence after Compline.

The curious practice of periodical blood-letting, regarded according to mediæval medical knowledge as so salutary, formed part of the ordinary infirmarian’s work. The operation was performed, or might be performed, on all, four times a year, if possible in February, April, September, and October. It was not to take place in the time of harvest, in Advent or Lent, or on the three days following the feasts of Christmas, Easter, or Pentecost. The community were operated upon in batches of from two to six at a time, and the special day was arranged for them by the superior in Chapter, who would announce at the proper time that “those who sat at this or that table were to be blooded.” In settling the turns, consideration had, of course, to be paid to the needs of the community. The weekly server, for example, and the reader, and the hebdomadarian of the community Mass were not to be operated upon during the period of their service; and when a feast day was to be kept within four days of the blood-letting, only those were to be practised on who could be spared from the singing and serving at the necessary ecclesiastical functions of the feast.

From first to last, the operation of blood-letting occupied four days, and the process was simple. At the time appointed, the infirmarian had a fire lighted in the calefactory, if it were needed, and thither, between Tierce and Sext, if the day was not a fast, or between Sext and None if it were, the operator and his victims repaired. If the latter desired to fortify themselves against the lancet, they might proceed beforehand to the refectory and take something to eat and drink. During the time of healing, after the styptic had been applied and the bandages fastened, the discipline of the cloister was somewhat mitigated. The patient, for instance, could always spend the hours of work and reading in repose, either lying on his bed or sitting in the chapter-room or cloister, as he felt disposed. Till his return to full choir work, he was not to be bound to any duty. If he were an obedientiary or official, he was to get someone to see to his necessary duties for him during the time of his convalescence. If he liked to go to the Hours in choir, he was to sit; he was never to bend down or do penance of any kind, for fear of displacing the bandages, and he was to go out of the church before the others, for fear of having his arm rubbed if he were to walk in the ranks. During the three days of his convalescence he said his Compline at night in the chapter-room or elsewhere and then went straight to bed before the community. Though he had still to rise for Matins with the others, after a brief visit to the church he was allowed to betake himself to the infirmary and there to say a much shortened form of the night Office with the infirmarian and others. When this was done he was to return at once to bed. In the refectory the monk who had been “blooded” received the same food as the rest, with the addition of a half-pound of white bread and an extra portion, if possible, of eggs. On the second and third days this was increased in amount, and other strengthening food was given to him. In some places these meals were served in the infirmary after the blood-letting; and it was directed that the infirmary servant should on the first day after the bleeding get ready for the patients sage and parsley, washed in salt and water, and a dish of soft eggs. Those who found it necessary to be cupped or scarified more frequently, adds one set of regulations, had to get leave, but were not to expect to stay away from regular duties on that account.

8. THE ALMONER

The conventual almoner was not necessarily a priest; and although, as his name imports, his chief duty was to distribute the alms of the monastery to the poor, there were generally many other functions in behalf of the brethren which he had to discharge.

“Every almoner must have his heart aglow with charity,” says one writer. “His pity should know no bounds, and he should possess the love of others in a most marked degree; he must show himself as the helper of orphans, the father of the needy, and as one who is ever ready to cheer the lot of the poor, and help them to bear their hard life.”

In order to distribute the alms of the house the almoner might be absent from the morning Office, and although he should be discreet and careful in his charities, not wasting the substance of the monastery, he should at the same time be kind, gentle, and compassionate. He should often visit the aged poor and those who are blind or bedridden. If amongst his numerous clients for assistance he ever found some who, having been rich, had been brought to poverty, and were perchance ashamed to sit in the almonry with the other poor, he should respect their feelings, and should try and assist them privately. He should submit without manifesting any sign of impatience to the loud-voiced importunity of beggars, and must on no account abuse or upbraid them, “remembering always that they are made to the image of God and redeemed by the blood of Christ.”

The general measures for the relief of poverty were in the hands of the almoner; but he is told that should he find that his charity to any individual was likely to be continuous, he must consult the superior; and in like manner, when anyone has been a pensioner of the house, the almoner must not stop the usual relief without permission. Whilst engaged with Christ’s poor in the almonry, in ministering to the wants of the body, he should never forget those of the soul, and should, as a priest, when opportunity served, speak to them about spiritual matters, of the need of Confession and the like. He had charge of all the old clothes of the religious, and could distribute them as he thought fit, and before Christmas time he was enjoined not to omit to lay in a store of stockings, etc., so as to be able to give them as little presents to widows, orphans, and poor clerks.

To the office of almoner belonged the remnants of the meals in the refectory, the abbot’s apartments, the guest-house and the infirmary. At the close of every meal one of the weekly servers took round a basket to collect the portions of bread, etc., which the monks had not consumed, and after the dinner the almoner could himself claim, as left for him, anything that was not guarded by being covered with a napkin. In many places, on the death of a monk, it was the almoner’s duty to find the community an extra portion for the labour involved in the long Office for the dead, and to remind them to pray for the soul of the deceased. In some monasteries, on the other hand, the almoner daily received a loaf and one whole dish of food that the poor person who received it might pray for the founder of the monastery. In most houses, too, upon the death of any member of the establishment, a cross was put in the refectory upon the table in front of the place where the dead monk had been accustomed to sit, and for thirty days the full meal of a religious was served and given to the poor, that they might pray for the departed brother.

The almoner also superintended the daily maundy, or washing the feet of the poor selected for that purpose. At Abingdon, for example, every morning, after the Gospel of the morning Mass, the almoner went to the door of the abbey, and from the number of those waiting for an alms he chose three, who subsequently had their feet washed by the abbot, according to the approved custom. After this maundy they were fed and sent away with a small present of money. On the great maundy, on the Thursday before Easter, it was the almoner’s duty to select the deserving poor to be entertained – sometimes they were to be equal in number to the number of the community – and after they had had their meal, the almoner furnished each religious with a penny to bestow upon the poor man he had served.

As an ordinary part of his office the almoner had also a good deal to do with any monastic school, other than the claustral school for young religious, which was connected with a monastery. There, young clerks were to have free quarters in the almonry, and the almoner was frequently to see them set to argue one against the other, to sharpen their wits. He was to keep them strictly, or, as it was called in those days of belief in corporal punishment, “well under the rod,” and he had to find, out of the revenues of his office, all “discipline rods” both for the boys and for use in the monastic Chapter. On feast days, when there were no regular lessons, these young clerics were to be set to learn the Matins of the Office of the Blessed Virgin; or to practise writing upon scraps of parchment. If they did not learn, and especially if they would not, the almoner was to get rid of them, and fill their places with those who would.

As before noted, to the almoner belonged, at least partially, the duty of attending to the mortuary-rolls or notices of deaths. That is to say, he had to supervise the “breviators,” or letter-carriers, who were sent to announce the death of the brethren, or who came with such rolls. He received the rolls, and gave them into the hands of the cantor to copy and to notify to the community. If it were the mortuary-roll of a prelate, and especially if it announced the death of the head of any associated monastery, the superior was to be informed at once, in case he should desire to add to the roll something special about the dead; that is, more than the mere name of the place, which was simply meant to testify that the notice had been seen and read in Chapter. Whilst the bearer of the roll was waiting to receive back his “brief,” he was to be entertained liberally in the almonry. Sometimes the almoner was to get the cantor to multiply copies of the death-notice, and these he at once despatched far and wide by the hands of such poor people as were tramping the country and called at the monastery for assistance.

Amongst the miscellaneous duties of the office of almoner, in some places that official had to see that the mats under the feet of the monks in the choir were renewed each year for the Feast of All Saints. He had also to find the rushes for the dormitory floor. From St. Dunstan’s Day, May 19th, till Michaelmas the cloister was kept strewn with green rushes, which the almoner had to find, as well as all the mats used in the cloister and on the stairs, and also in some houses the bay-leaves or “the herb-benet, or common hedge avens,” to scatter in the refectory and cloister at Easter. At the time of the long processions also on the Rogation days, two of the almonry servants, standing at the church door, were wont to distribute boxwood walking-sticks to such of the community who through age or infirmity needed them to walk with.

The almoner, says one Custumal, should remember that from his office might be derived great spiritual gain. He should keep before his mind our Lord’s words: “I was hungry, and you gave me to eat,” etc. For this reason alone he should ever be gentle and kind to the poor, for in them he was really ministering to the Lord Jesus Christ Himself. He ought to endeavour to be seldom, if ever, without something to give away in charity, and he should try to keep a supply of socks, linen and woollen cloth, and other necessities of life, so that if by chance Christ Himself were at any time to appear in the guise of a poor, naked, and hungry man, “He might not have to depart from His own house unfed, or without some clothes to cover the rags of His poverty.”

9. THE GUEST-MASTER

In mediæval days the hospitality extended to travellers by the monastic houses was traditional and necessary. The great abbeys, especially those situated along the main roads of the country, were the halting-places of rich and poor, whom business, pleasure, or necessity compelled to journey on “the King’s highway.” For this and many other causes, such as the coming to the monastery of people desiring to be present at church festivals and other celebrations, visits of the relatives of monks, and of those who were concerned in the business transactions of a large establishment, the coming and going of guests was probably of almost daily occurrence. The official appointed to attend to the wants of all these and to entertain them on behalf of the monastery was the hospitarius or guest-master.

The official guest-master had the reputation of the religious house in his hands. He required tact, prudence, and discretion in a full measure. Scribbled on the margin of a monastic chartulary as a piece of advice, good indeed for all, but most of all applicable to the official in the charge of the guests, are the following lines: —

 
“Si sapiens fore vis, sex serva quæ tibi mando
Quid dicas, et ubi, de quo, cui, quomodo, quando.”
 

Which may be Englished thus: —

 
“If thou wouldst be wise, observe these six things I command you,
Before speaking think what you say and where you say it; aboutand to whom you talk, as well as how and when you are conversing.”
 

On the other hand, the guest-master is frequently warned that he must certainly be neither too stand-off, silent, or morose in his intercourse with strangers. And, as it is part of his duty to hold converse with guests of all sorts and conditions, with men as well as women, “it becomes him,” says one Custumal, “to cultivate,” not merely a facility of expression in his conversation, but pleasing manners and the gentle refinement which comes of and manifests a good education. All his words and doings should set the monastic life before the stranger “in a creditable light,” since it becomes him to remember the proverb: “Friends are multiplied by agreeable words, enemies are made by harsh ones.”

The guest-master’s first office was to see that the guest-house was always ready for the arrival of any visitor. He was to make certain that there was a supply of straw sufficient for the beds; that the basins and jugs were clean inside and out; that the floors were well swept and spread with rushes; that the furniture was properly dusted, and that, in a word, the whole house was kept free from cobwebs and from every speck of dirt. Before the coming of an expected guest the master was personally to inspect the chamber set apart for him; to see that there was a light prepared for him should he need it; that the fire did not smoke; and that writing materials were at hand in case they were required. Moreover, he was to ascertain that all things were ready in the common rooms for his entertainment. When it was necessary to procure something that was needful, the master could enter the kitchen, which was, of course, otherwise out of the enclosure for the monks generally. He was to get coal and wood and straw from the cellarer; the cups, platters, and spoons that were required from the refectorian; and the sub-cellarer was to arrange as to the food itself. At Abingdon the guest-master had a special revenue to be spent upon what must have been a source of very considerable expense in those days, the shoeing of the horses of travellers generally who came to the abbey, and especially of those belonging to religious and to poor pilgrims. People also at various times left small bequests for this as for other monastic charities. In the same abbey, the guest-master had also a small yearly sum, charged on a house in the town, which had been left by “Thurstin the tailor,” to help to entertain poor travellers, as a memorial of the day when he and his wife had been received into the fraternity of the monastery.

When word was brought to the guest-master of the arrival of a guest, he was charged forthwith to leave whatever he was about, and to go at once to receive him, as he would Christ Himself. He was to assure him – especially if he were a stranger – of the monastic hospitality, and endeavour from the first to place him at his ease. He was to remember what he would wish to be done in his own regard under similar circumstances, and what he would desire to be done to himself he was to do to all guests. “By showing this cheerful hospitality to guests,” says one English Custumal, “the good name of the monastery is enhanced, friendships are multiplied, enmities are lessened, God is honoured, charity is increased, and a plenteous reward in heaven is secured.” The whole principle of religious hospitality, as practised in a mediæval monastery, is really summed up in the words of St. Benedict’s Rule: Hospites tamquam Christus suscipiantur– Guests are to be received as if they were Christ Himself.

Directly the guest-master had cordially received the new-comer at the monastery gate, he was to conduct him to the church. There he sprinkled him with holy water and knelt by him, whilst he offered up a short prayer of salutation to God, into whose house he was come safely after the perils of a journey. After this the master conducted his guest to the common parlour, and here, if he were a stranger, he begged to know his name, position, and country, sending to acquaint the abbot or superior if the guest was one who, in his opinion, ought to receive attention from the head of the house. When the guest was going to stay beyond a few hours, he was taken after this first and formal reception to the guest-house, where, when he had been made comfortable, according to the Rule, the master arranged for the reading of some passages from the Scriptures or some spiritual work. If the strangers were monks of some other monastery, and the length of their visit afforded sufficient time, he showed them over the church and house, and if they had servants and horses he sent to acquaint the cellarer, that they too might receive all needful care. If a conventual prior came on a visit he was to be given a position and portion of food, etc., similar to that of the prior of the house, and every abbot was to be treated in all things by the monks like their own abbot. For each monk-guest the master got from the sacrist four candles, and the chamberlain found the tallow for the cressets in the guest-house. It was the master’s duty to see that the guests kept the rules, which were to be made known to them on their first coming. Strangers were entertained for two days and nights by the house without question. If any of them wished to speak with one of the monks, leave had to be first obtained from the superior.

When the guest desired to say the Office, books and a light were to be provided in the guest-hall, and the master was to recite it with him if he so desired. If on great feasts guests desired to be present in the church for Matins, the master called them in ample time, waited for them whilst they rose, and then with a lighted lantern accompanied them to the choir. There he was to find them a place and a book and leave them a light to read by. Before Lauds he came to them with his lantern to take them back to their chambers that they might again retire to bed till the morning Office.

Either the guest-master, or his servant, had to remain up at night till the fires were seen to be protected and the candles put out. If the guest was obliged to depart early in the morning, the master had to obtain the keys of the gate and of the parlour from the prior’s bedplace. After having let the visitor out, he was charged to take care to relock the doors and to replace the keys. At all times when guests were leaving the master was bound to be present, and before wishing them Godspeed on their journey, he was instructed to go round the chambers, “in order,” says one Custumal, “to see that nothing was left behind, such as a sword, or a knife; and nothing was taken off by mistake which belonged to his charge by his Office, and for which he was responsible.” With the departure of guests came the duty of seeing that everything in the guest-house was put in order again, and was ready for the advent of others.