Susanna Winkworth (trans.) · 19 of 47

Introductory Notice Respecting Tauler’s Life and Times · Part 4

Tauler continued to correspond with Nicolas of Basle. In the year 1356 the latter sent him a pamphlet, in which, on the strength of a warning vision, he bewails the sinfulness of the times, and foretells the coming of fresh calamities, of which the great earthquake that destroyed Basle in the same year was regarded as the commencement. No details of Tauler’s work in Cologne have been preserved to us. It is not even known whether the composition of his chief work, the “Imitation of Christ’s life of Poverty,” is to be referred to this period or to that of his seclusion in the Carthusian Convent at Strasburg. In this work he sets forth the theory and practice of self-renunciation in order to union with God. In point of language and composition, it is superior to his Sermons, nearly all of which seem to be derived from mere notes taken by his hearers with more or less correctness. It is interesting to compare his view of poverty with that of the Spiritual Franciscans, who taught that, to any high attainment in the Christian life, a literal renunciation of all property was absolutely necessary. Tauler, while assuming the excellence of this external poverty, as releasing the Christian from many cares and temptations to anxiety, shows that the essence of the poverty of Christ did not, as they taught, lie in this privation of earthly wealth, but in the poorness of the spirit that calls nothing its own, because itself and all that it has are God’s, and held in trust for Him.

Of Tauler’s history we know no more till we find him at Strasburg, in 1361, already labouring under the illness which closed his life. There are no indications of the date or the reason of his return to his old home. We are only told that, after a long life of toilsome yet fruitful labour, he was attacked, at seventy years of age, by a lingering disease, attended with great suffering. During his illness he caused himself to be removed to the convent where his aged sister was a nun, that she might be with him and tend him to the last,—an act which is enumerated as one of his faults, by one of the writers of his school, who calls it seeking for too much natural help and comfort.

After twenty weeks of pain, he sent for his mysterious friend, and begged him to visit him once more, for he perceived that his end was nigh. The man was obedient, and came to the Master, who received him full lovingly; and the man was glad that he found him yet alive, and said, “Dear Master, how fares it with thee?” Then said the Master, “Dear son, I believe the time is near when God is minded to take me from this world; therefore, dear son, it is a great comfort to me that thou shouldst be here at my departure.” On this, Tauler gave him some papers, in which he had written down the discourse which they had had together twenty years before, and begged Nicolas to make a little book of it, which the latter promised him to do. But Tauler earnestly enjoined him to conceal both their names; “for,” he says, “thou must surely know that the life and words and works which God hath wrought through me, a poor unworthy sinner, are not mine, but wrought by the power of the Almighty God, to whom they eternally belong. Therefore, dear son, if thou art minded to write them for the benefit of our fellow-Christians, do it in such a manner that neither my name nor thine be mentioned therein. Thou mayst say, ‘The Master and the Man.’ Neither shalt thou let any one in this city see the book, else people will mark that it was I; but take it with thee into thine own country, so that it do not come out during my life.” For yet eleven days, it is said that they held much discourse together; and then, under circumstances of extraordinary suffering, the faithful servant yielded up his spirit to God, on the 16th of June 1361. He was buried in his own convent. The stone which formerly covered his grave has been recently set up by the Protestants in the church in which he warned and consoled his brethren more than five hundred years ago by word of mouth, as he teaches us, who are now living, by the written record of those words.

Here ends our proper task; but it can hardly, I think, be without interest to the reader to learn a few more particulars about the remarkable set of men to which Tauler belonged, especially concerning the great Layman who had so powerful an influence on his career, and the disciple and bosom friend of both successively, Rulman Merswin, who appears to stand third in rank in this group of “Friends of God.” From the account of him given in the “Memorial” of the Gruenen-Worth Convent, it appears that he was originally a wealthy merchant and money-changer, “but always conducted his business with great fear of God before his eyes, and with scrupulous probity, and stood well with the world, and was of a very merry and pleasant temper, so that many esteemed and loved him, and sought his society, which was to himself also very agreeable in those days. And he had at the first an exceeding beautiful and sweet young wife; but when they had lived but a short time together, she died; and after that, he took another wife, the daughter of a pious knight. And when they had lived many years together according to Christian ordinances, and he was now forty years old, and God saw not fit to give him a child by either wife, he turned with his whole heart to God, and gave up his trade, and forsook the world, and led a single life henceforward, with the will and consent of his wife, who was an honourable simple-minded Christian woman.”

His own account of the next four years of his life, now printed for the first time from the ms. in his own handwriting, is a very curious and interesting document, in the vivid picture it gives of the inward struggles which this determination brought upon him; and however clearly we may perceive that many of his difficulties arose from the mistaken view of his social duties derived from the teachings of his church, it is impossible not to admire the simple directness of purpose and intense earnestness with which he strove to follow every indication he could perceive of the will of God. I give a few passages from it, taking the liberty to omit the perpetual repetitions, which would render an absolutely literal translation quite unreadable. Indeed, Rulman’s style, both in this and his other productions, has all the awkwardness, circumlocution, and tautology, which usually characterize the efforts of an utterly unlearned person to express himself.

“In the name of God, Amen! All ye dear Christian men, I give you truly to know that in the year of our Lord, 1347, it came to pass that I, Rulman Merswin, renounced all my traffic and gains, and moreover all natural pleasant companionship; the which I did with good courage for God’s sake, to the sole end that I might atone for my sins. Now, though I had taken this first step with good courage, and of my own free choice had given myself to God, yet it was with great sorrow to my nature afterwards; for I had enjoyed great happiness in the good things of this world.” After describing the dreadful anguish of mind he had to endure on account of his sins, and the spiritual joys with which it alternated, he continues: “And I came utterly to hate the world and all belonging to it, and also my own flesh, wherefore during this first year I chastised my body with very sore and manifold exercises, so that I more than once became so weak, that I thought I should die. But about this time I took Tauler for my confessor, who discovered somewhat of these exercises, for he perceived that I had become very sickly; and he feared for my head, and commanded me to exercise myself no more in such wise, and set me a certain time; and I must needs obey him, but my obedience went very much against the grain, for I had set my heart upon bringing my body into subjection. But as soon as the term was out, I said nothing, but began again to do as I had done before. . . . But our Lord was pleased, during this first year, to give me a true discernment in many things, so that whenever I commended any matter with great earnestness to God, He gave me to perceive what I must do and leave undone. Moreover, our Lord also suffered me to be ofttimes tormented with grievous and horrible temptations, both by day and night; but it was given to me, by the grace of God, to receive them with humble and cheerful submission, so that I could say with heart and mouth, ‘My Lord and my God, my nature hates and loathes this suffering; wherefore I pray thee to take no account thereof, and do not as my poor nature would desire and entreat of thee, but fulfil thy most blessed will, whether it be sweet or bitter to my weak nature.’ . . . And when God saw that it was the proper time, He came to my help with his merciful grace. . . . Now, during the second and the third years (this last was the jubilee, when all men went on pilgrimage to Rome), did God work many great and supernatural works with me, a poor sinner, through great sorrow and spiritual assaults, and withal unspeakable temptations, of which it were a sin to write. But one which I may write is, that God suffered me to be assailed with unbelief: to wit, that the devil put it into my head to ask: ‘How may it be, that the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit may consist in one nature?’ And this unbelief remained upon me for a long space, and all that time I thought nothing else but that I must certainly burn for ever in hell; and yet I felt within myself that nevertheless my will was set to love God. And after a good while, I grew so infirm, through this continual pain, that it was all I could do, when Assumption day came, to venture to go and sit down to hear a sermon. And as I put my hat before my eyes, I fell into a swoon from very weakness; but while I was thus in a trance, there appeared unto me a great stone, wherein were carved the likeness of three men’s countenances. . . . And it was as though a voice said to me, ‘Now mayest thou well believe, since thou hast seen how in one stone may be three persons, and yet it is one stone, and the three persons have the nature of one rock.’ And hereupon I came to myself, and was seized with fear when I found myself sitting among the crowd. . . . So I rose up and went out into the aisle, and found that my faith had been enlightened, insomuch that I never again was assailed with unbelief; but the other terrible temptations I had to endure for two years longer . . . insomuch that I often thought I knew the pains of hell. And I was so ill that my friends would not suffer me to go on pilgrimage to Rome; neither could I scourge myself nor wear a hair shirt, nor a sharp crucifix, nor endure any other hardship . . . but feared that I should die, and was somewhat troubled thereat, for I could not but love my natural life. . . . And in all those two years God would not suffer me to speak of my pain to any man, however great it might be . . . I must bear and endure to the end alone, that I might have no help or consolation. . . . But in the fourth year, my Lord and God showed his great mercy upon me, and looked upon my affliction, and came to my help with such great and superhuman joy, that in that moment I forgot all my woe and pain that ever I had suffered, and became also in all my natural powers quite strong and lively, as though I had never known what sickness was. . . . And he gave me, moreover, much gracious discernment, so that, when I looked narrowly at a man, I could ofttimes perceive pretty well how it stood with him inwardly. And I was further constrained, however unwilling, to write a little book for the benefit of my fellow Christians.” From a comparison of dates, it appears that this “little book” must be the Book of the Nine Rocks, already mentioned. In the opening of this work, Rulman, under the allegorical form of visions, gives a much more detailed account of the mental conflicts he passed through, arising partly from reluctance to contemplate the wretchedness around him, partly from the dread of being condemned by the church as unauthorized to teach and heretical,—before he could resolve to write. Finally, seeing no escape from what appeared to him a positive duty, he sets to work. The first part contains a description of the terrible condition of Christendom; all classes are passed under review, and their particular sins exposed,—those of the clergy with especial freedom. The second part is a description of nine rocks which symbolize nine stages in the progress of the soul towards a higher life; each more difficult of ascent, and more glorious than the preceding. From the summit, he obtains a momentary glimpse into the abyss of Deity; then, looking back to earth, sees two men, the one bright and shining as an angel, the other black as Satan. The latter was one who, having reached the summit of the nine rocks, had desired to be somewhat for himself, and had thereupon fallen step by step back into the abyss; the former, one who having gazed at the Godhead, filled with love and compassion, descended voluntarily to save his brethren from their sins.

In his autobiography, Rulman further tells us, among other things: “In this fourth year, the three powers of faith, hope, and love were greatly strengthened in me. . . . Moreover, nothing in time or eternity could give me content but God Himself; but when He came to my soul, I knew not whether I were in time or eternity. . . . And in my heart I felt a great yearning, and wished it were the will of God that I might go to the heathen and tell them of the Christian faith. . . . And I would gladly have suffered death and martyrdom at their hands, in honour of our Lord’s sufferings and bitter death. But of all this I was not suffered to speak a word to any, until there came a time when God gave a man in the Oberland to understand that he should come down to me. And when he came, God gave me to tell him of all these things. And this man was altogether unknown to the world, but he became my secret friend, and I gave myself up to his guiding in God’s stead, and told him all my hidden life in these four years. . . . Then he said to me: ‘Behold, dear friend, here is a book in which stand written the first five years of my life in God; give me the history of thy first four years in exchange for it.’ But I answered: ‘It would grieve me much if my history should come to the knowledge of any.’ Then he said: ‘Now see, I have given thee my book, and I know full well that thou wilt tell none of it. No more will I tell any of thee. I will take thy book up into my own land far away, where thou art as unknown as I am in Strasburg. And so begin to write thy history in two books, and the one I will take and the other thou shalt keep, and shalt hang thy seal thereto, and lock it up where none shall find it during thy lifetime.’ . . .

“Now, notwithstanding all the gifts and enlightenment that God bestowed on me in this fourth year, there was yet a secret spot in my soul, the which was altogether unknown to myself. . . . And it was, that, when I looked upon my fellow-men, I esteemed them as they were in this present time, and stood before God in their sins; and this was a hidden spot, for I ought, through grace, to have regarded them, not as they now were, but as they might well become. . . .” In seeing a waste piece of ground cumbered with rubbish, and giving it as his judgment that it might be reclaimed and made a garden of, an inward voice reveals his sin to him, and rebukes him, saying: “O thou poor miserable creature! how strange art thou . . . how darest thou, then, to esteem, according to what he now is, thy fellow-man, who is made in the image of God, and whom Christ has made his brother in his human nature, and not rather deem that God may make of him a comely and excellent garden, wherein He himself may dwell? . . .” The rest of Rulman’s narrative refers to his views of the condition of the Christian world, and he tells us: “It was revealed to me that I should no longer be so greatly exercised by the temptations from which I had hitherto suffered . . . but that my affliction henceforth should be to behold how the sheep were wandering abroad among the proud, unclean, ravening wolves . . . this should be my trial and my cross. . . .”

Rulman, however, not only sought “to benefit his fellow-Christians” by his writings, but also by his deeds of active benevolence. His name occurs about this time as one of the managers of a hospital; he is mentioned as Provost of the convent of St. Argobast, and in the 16th century a house of Beguines in Strasburg still bears his name; but he is best known as the founder of the convent belonging to the Knights of St. John at Strasburg. After long deliberation with Nicolas, whether it would not be better to “devote the money to the help of poor people, that they might not die of hunger,” Rulman, with some pecuniary assistance from Nicolas, bought and repaired the half-ruined convent of Gruenen-Worth, which he then endowed and made over to the Order of St. John, on condition that its worldly affairs should be managed by three lay trustees, and that it should be a refuge for any good men, whether priests or laymen, rich or poor, who might wish to retire there for their spiritual benefit, and were willing, during their stay, to conform to the customs of the house. His principal motive seems indeed to have been the desire to provide a permanent asylum for pious persons like himself, whose free opinions might at any moment bring them into trouble. He entered on possession of it in 1366, and continued to live there till his death in July 1382, having, however, two years before, built himself a solitary cell close to the church, because he thought that he took too much earthly delight in the society of his brethren of the convent. He was buried, with his wife, who had also retired to a convent, and had died twelve years before, in the choir of the church he built.

It is much to be regretted that the autobiography of Nicolas should not have been preserved, like that of his disciple, or at least has not as yet been found. Though, however, we are thus deprived of the secret history of his mind, we are able to learn a good deal respecting his work and mode of life from his Story of the Four Men who lived with him, and the recently discovered letters. Still these notices are very fragmentary, and his history is mixed up with so much of a marvellous and half-legendary character, that in many cases it is difficult to make out the actual facts. He appears at all events to have been the leader and centre of a distinct association of “Friends of God.” That, even before the date at which he began to collect associates round him, he was regarded as a remarkably holy and enlightened man, is proved by the circumstance that two of the four men whose inward history he relates, having known him in their youth, came to him for help when they found themselves in spiritual perplexity. At an early period he began to cast his eye upon those whom he thought he could influence for good. In 1340, when, as he lived till the beginning of the following century, he must have been still comparatively a young man, he went on his mission to Tauler: about 1350, when the latter had left Strasburg, began his connexion with Rulman Merswin and probably with Berthold von Rohrbach, who was burnt at Spire, in 1356, for preaching that a layman enlightened by God was as competent to teach others as the most learned priest. About the same time he was in Hungary, and appears also to have sojourned in Italy. The four men already mentioned joined themselves to him one after the other. The second of them had been an intimate friend of Nicolas from his youth; he was a man of large property, and early married to a beautiful wife, by whom he had two children. After a few years of happiness, however, he began to suffer from the scruples by which pious Catholics have been so often tormented, and to doubt whether he ought not to renounce his domestic joys in order to do penance for his sins; but Nicolas, to whom he came for counsel, enjoined him to remain true to his duties as a husband and father; and it was not until after the death of his wife and both his children that he took up his abode with his friend, and became a priest. The two brothers who seem to have stood next to Nicolas in consideration, were a learned jurist, who had been also a lay-prebend, and a converted Jew, named John, who both afterwards became priests.

The little company lived together on equal terms. Nicolas tells the priest, when deliberating whether or not to enter a monastic Order, and enquiring as to his brethren’s mode of life; “They observe no rules but such as are common to secular priests, as indeed they are, but we live together in common as simply as we can, and have as little to do with the world as we may.” The priests among them seem to have had no peculiar vocation, except that of celebrating mass; the laymen never took part in the administration of the sacraments, but in all other respects there was no distinction between them. As all stood in a direct and individual relation to God, they required no priestly mediation; nay, the priests themselves submitted to the layman Nicolas, because they regarded him as the most enlightened of their number. Not counsel from men ought we to seek after, writes Nicolas in 1356, but that which proceeds from the Holy Spirit; and, so long as we have it from that source, it is indifferent whether it flow to us through priest or layman. In their religious services and fasts they did not strictly observe stated hours, for they regarded external observances as unimportant in themselves, and only excellent as a means of improvement, or a sign of obedience. Thus, while they admitted ascetic exercises and painful penances to be useful in the commencement of a religious life, in order to mortify the sensual inclinations, they declared them to be afterwards a matter of indifference, nay, sometimes positively contrary to the Divine will. According to Nicolas, if a man have attained to a certain degree of mastery over nature, then fasting, scourging, the wearing of iron girdles, &c., is a self-sought pain, and as such a sign that he does not yet allow God to work alone. Moreover, such tormentings may be very detrimental to the body; for though it must needs be brought into subjection to the spirit, yet it ought not to be robbed of its strength; for how else should a man support the fatigue of the labours and travels that the “Friends of God” are so often called to undertake?

Their doctrine on this point would seem to us more judicious than their practice, for it is evident from their writings that they frequently, in fact, carried their austerities so far as to endanger life or reason. But Nicolas admirably draws the line between suffering that is self-imposed, and that which God lays upon us. The latter, whether it consist in outward affliction or inward temptation, we are to take joyfully, for it is a proof that God’s grace is at work within us; Christ, who has endured to the last extremity for man, loves pain, and will not spare it to his friends. The main thing is that we should find all things good in God, and look at things not as they appear to the world, but as they are in God’s sight. When some of the Strasburg brethren of St. John argue that singing and reading in the chapel at fixed hours will hinder them in contemplation, they are censured for it by Nicolas, who tells them that these acts are prescribed by the rules of their Order, and though they have in themselves no merit, yet, if done from obedience, they cannot hinder the motions of grace; even while outwardly busy, God may be worshipped by us in spirit and in truth, if we put no selfish, carnal thoughts between our souls and Him. And when Nicolas von Laufen takes umbrage at the secular manners of some of his brethren who ride about on horseback clad in short coats, the Layman remarks that he has not yet learnt to find all things right in God, but clings too much to outward distinctions. So, again, the renunciation of the world does not in his opinion involve the absolute giving up of earthly possessions, as was taught in his day by the Franciscan Spiritualists and others, nor the violent rending asunder of social ties. Let him who is in an Order that makes poverty a rule, obey that rule; but he who can rightfully hold property is at liberty to retain it, if only he do not seek his own ends in the use thereof, but God alone. Thus these “Friends of God” do not appear to have renounced all control over their property, but merely to have thrown what they regarded as superfluous into a common stock, which was applied to the building of their house and church, to purposes of charity, to defray the expenses of their missionary journeys, &c. This common stock was managed by their trustworthy steward Ruprecht, who was the chief if not sole medium of communication between Nicolas and his Strasburg friends.

From their seclusion, however, they kept a watchful eye upon all that was passing in the world around them, went out to those whom there seemed a prospect of winning over, and exercised no inconsiderable influence upon those who had put themselves under their spiritual guidance. This was the case with many who did not even know Nicolas by name. Thus, Henry von Wolfach, the Master of the Brethren of St. John in Strasburg, and even the Grand Master of the Order in Germany, Conrad von Brunsberg, and many others, desire his counsel to solve their doubts and direct their proceedings. Messengers from Nicolas seem to have been perpetually travelling about, who brought him letters from the “Friends of God,” so that he kept up a constant communication, not only with those in the neighbouring regions but also with the brethren on the Rhine, in Lorraine, in Italy, and in Hungary. In this manner he became acquainted both with public events and likewise with the private affairs of individuals; so, for instance, he made very remarkable revelations to an Augustinian monk in Strasburg respecting one of his penitents. These messengers had certain secret signs by which they recognized each other. Thus, Rulman Merswin was made aware of the presence of Ruprecht, by hearing a peculiar cough when he was in church. Nicolas himself took extraordinary precautions to remain undiscovered, and with such success, that, after Rulman’s death, the brethren at the Gruenen-Worth, who had previously received many letters from him, were never able to discover his retreat. When those with whom he corresponded desired to enter into personal communication with him, he usually refused it, simply saying that it could not be. This was the case with the vicar of the Bishop of Strasburg, John von Schaftolsheim, with the Master of the Brethren of St. John, in Strasburg, and even with Conrad von Brunsberg. In 1363, he writes that for twenty years he had only been able to reveal himself to one person, and not until God should take this one from him would he seek another; which probably signifies that in each city he had but one confidential person, through whom he corresponded with all who desired his counsel. Meanwhile he was active by means of his pen: in 1356, as we have seen, Tauler received from him a tractate on the decay of true religion. The alphabetical list of rules which he had given to Tauler in 1340, he sent in 1369 to the priests at Gruenen-Worth, and in 1371 to Rulman’s secretary, Nicolas von Laufen; to the same priests he sent the History of Tauler; and in 1377, to the Brethren of St. John, he sends the book containing the History of the Five Brethren. It is to these circumstances that we owe the proof of the authenticity of Tauler’s life, and the possibility of identifying the “man” there mentioned with “the secret friend,” who meets us in the writings relating to Rulman Merswin.