Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 3, Issue 17, March, 1859 | Page 7

is told in this sentence, which
introduces it:--
"Here begynneth a Treatyse how the Hye Fader of Heven sendeth
Dethe to somon every creature to come & gyve a count of theyr lyves
in this worlde, & is in maner of a Morall Playe."
On the title-page of an edition printed in 1500, only one copy of which
exists, is a very rude wood-cut, in which an individual, who is labelled
"Every Man," is startled at the sight of Death standing at the door of a
church and summoning him. In this Moral Play, Fellowship, Good
Deeds, Worldly Goods, Knowledge, Beauty, Strength, Discretion, and
Five Wittes are characters; and they cannot interpose between Every
Man and the summons of Death, nor will any of them, except Good
Deeds, go with him. The representation of this play was a kind of
Dance of Death, and from the acting of "Every Man" to the execution
of that Dance was but a short step.
But the Dance of Death had been performed before "Every Man" was
written; and dances in churches and churchyards were of yet greater
antiquity. For, by an order of a Roman council under Pope Pius II. in
the tenth century, priests were directed "to admonish men and women
not to dance and sing in the churches on feast-days, like Pagans." The
evil increased, however, until, according to the old chroniclers, a
terrible punishment fell upon a party of dancers. One of them, Ubert,
tells the story. It was on Christmas Eve, in the time of the Emperor
Henry II., who assumed the imperial diadem in the year 1002, that a
company of eighteen men and women amused themselves by dancing
and singing in the churchyard of St. Magnus, in the diocese of
Magdeburg, to the annoyance of a priest who was saying mass in the
church. He ordered them to desist; but they danced on in reckless mirth.
The holy father then invoked God and St. Magnus to keep them
dancing for a whole year; and not in vain. For twelve months they
danced in spite of themselves. Neither dew nor rain fell upon them; and

their shoes and their clothes were not worn away, although by their
dancing they buried themselves waist-high. Yet, fatigued and famished
beyond human endurance, they danced on, unable to stop an instant for
rest or food. The priest's own daughter was among the dancers; and,
unable to undo what the Saint had done, he sent his son to drag her out
of the dance. But when her brother pulls her by the arm it comes off in
his hand, and he in horror takes it to his father. No blood flows from
the wound. The priest buries the arm, and the next morning he finds it
upon the top of the grave. He repeats the burial, and with the same
result. He makes a third attempt, and the grave casts out the limb with
violence before his eyes. Meanwhile the girl and her companions
continue dancing, and the Emperor, having heard of this strange
occurrence, travels from Rome to see so sad a sight. He orders
carpenters to inclose the dancers in a building, but in vain; for that
which is built in the day falls down in the night. The dancers have
neither rest nor mitigation of their curse until the expiration of the year,
when they all rush into the church and fall before the altar in a swoon,
from which they are not recovered for three days. Then they
immediately flee each other's faces, and wander solitary through the
world, still dancing at times in spite of themselves. In the olden time
this was believed to be the origin of St. Vitus's dance; but we can now
see that the dance is the origin of the story.
The Dance of Death was performed by a large company dressed in the
costumes of various classes of society, which were then very marked in
their difference. One by one the dancers suddenly and silently slipped
off, thus typifying the departure of all mankind at Death's summons.
That this Dance was performed, not only with the consent, but by the
procurement of the clergy, is made certain by the discovery, in the
archives of the Cathedral of Besançon, of the account of the payment of
four measures of wine by the seneschal to those persons who performed
the Dance Macabre on the 10th of July, 1453.
The moral lesson conveyed by this strange pastime or ceremony seems
hardly calculated to secure for it a noteworthy popularity in any age;
but for a long time it was, either as a ceremony or as a picture, very
popular throughout Europe. We know of forty-four places in which it

was painted or sculptured in some large public building,