Of all the faults that Experience showed me, this lack of obedience grieved me most, so that I might no longer abide for shame, for I saw that they had obedience in no reverence and that few or nonetook heed of her; and I sped at great speed out of the gates, to escape from that convent so full of sin.
Of all the faults that Experience showed me, this lack of obedience grieved me most, so that I might no longer abide for shame, for I saw that they had obedience in no reverence and that few or nonetook heed of her; and I sped at great speed out of the gates, to escape from that convent so full of sin.
Then Katherine and the Lady Experience sat down upon the grass, where they could behold the place, and they began to talk:
And than I prayed experience for to have wystWhy sche schewed me thys nunery,Sche seyde “now we bene here in rest,I thenk for to tellen the why,Thy furst desyre and thyne ententWas to bene a nune professede,And for thy fader wolde not consent,Thyne hert wyth mornyng was sore oppressede,And thow wyst not what to do was best;And I seyde, I wolde cese thy grevaunce,And now for the most part in every costI have schewed the nunnes gouernawnce.For as thou seest wythin yonder walleSuche bene the nunnes in euery warde,As for the most part, I say not alle,God forbede, for than hyt were harde,For sum bene devowte, holy and towarde,And holden the ryȝt way to blysse;And sum bene feble, lewde and frowarde,Now god amend what ys amys!And now keteryne, I have alle doFor thy comfort that longeth to me,And now let vs aryse and goVn-to the herber there I come to the.
There Experience departed and Katherine awakened from her dream, determined never to be a nun, unless the faults that she had seen were amended.
Then follows a long exhortation to the nuns. They are adjured (by the well-worn example of Dinah) not to wander from their convents, and are reminded that the habit does not make the nun:
Yowre barbe, your wympplle and your vayle,Yowre mantelle and yowre devowte clothyng,Maketh men wythowten fayleTo wene ȝe be holy in levyng.And so hyt ys an holy thyngTo bene in habyte reguler;Than, as by owtewarde array in semyng,Beth so wythin, my ladyes dere.A fayre garland of yve greneWhyche hangeth at a tavern dore,Hyt ys a false token as I wene,But yf there by wyne gode and sewer;Ryȝt so but ȝe your vyes forbere,And alle lewde custom be broken,So god me spede, I yow ensewerEllys yowre habyte ys no trew token.
The poem ends as abruptly as it began with a catalogue of holy women, whose lives are worthy of imitation, St Clare, St Edith, St Scolastica and St Bridget, “that weren professed in nunnes habyte,” and a bevy of English saints, St Audrey, St Frideswide, St Withburg, St Mildred, St Sexburg and St Ermenild. Whether or not the author really was a woman, the poem seems to show some knowledge of monastic life; and a certain sincerity and rugged directness render it more impressive than Gower’s long-winded accusations.
There remain to be considered two satires which were written on the very eve of the Reformation and perhaps have a particular significance by reason of the cataclysm, which was so soon to effect what all the denunciations of the moralists had failed to do. These are the dialogues on “The Virgin averse to Matrimony” and “The Penitent Virgin” in Erasmus’Colloquies(c. 1526) and a morality (which has already been mentioned) by the Scottish poet Sir David Lyndesay, entitledAne Pleasant Satyre of the Thrie Estaits, in commendatioun of vertew and vituperatioun of vyce(c. 1535). Erasmus’ dialogues are (as might be expected) strongly anti-monastic and the two which concern nuns are intended to attack those “kidnappers” as he calls them:
that by their allurements draw young men and maids into monasteries, contrary to the minds of their parents, making a handle either of their simplicity or superstition, persuading them there is no hope of salvation out of a monastery.
that by their allurements draw young men and maids into monasteries, contrary to the minds of their parents, making a handle either of their simplicity or superstition, persuading them there is no hope of salvation out of a monastery.
The dialogue entitled “The Virgin averse to Matrimony”[1632]takes place between Eubulus and a seventeen-year old girl, Katherine, who like that other Katherine, the heroine ofWhy I can’t be a Nun, has set her heart upon entering a convent, but has encountered the opposition of her parents:
“What was it,” asks Eubulus, “that gave the first rise to this fatal resolution?” “Formerly,” replies Katherine, “when I was a littlegirl, they carried me into one of these cloisters of virgins, carried me all about it and shewed me the whole college. I was mightily taken with the virgins, they looked so charmingly pretty, just like angels; the chapels were so neat and smelt so sweet, the gardens looked so delicately well-ordered, that, in short, which way soever I turned my eye everything seemed delightful. And then I had the prettiest discourse with the nuns; and I found two or three that had been my play-fellows when I was a child and I have a strange passion for that sort of life ever since.”
“What was it,” asks Eubulus, “that gave the first rise to this fatal resolution?” “Formerly,” replies Katherine, “when I was a littlegirl, they carried me into one of these cloisters of virgins, carried me all about it and shewed me the whole college. I was mightily taken with the virgins, they looked so charmingly pretty, just like angels; the chapels were so neat and smelt so sweet, the gardens looked so delicately well-ordered, that, in short, which way soever I turned my eye everything seemed delightful. And then I had the prettiest discourse with the nuns; and I found two or three that had been my play-fellows when I was a child and I have a strange passion for that sort of life ever since.”
Eubulus argues with the girl. She can live as purely in her father’s house as in a nunnery; more purely indeed—and he makes a grave indictment against the morality of nuns[1633]. Moreover she has no right to run contrary to the wishes of her parents and to exchange their authority for that of a fictitious father and a strange mother:
“The matter in question here,” he says, “is only the changing of a habit or of such a course of life, which in itself is neither good nor evil. And now consider but this one thing, how many valuable privileges you lose together with your liberty. Now, if you have a mind to read, pray or sing, you may go into your own chamber as much and as often as you please. When you have enough of retirement you may go to church, hear anthems, prayers and sermons and if you see any matron or virgin remarkable for piety, in whose company you may get good, if you see any man that is endowed with singular probity from whom you may learn what will make for your bettering, you may have their conversation; and you may choose that preacher that preaches Christ most purely. When once you come into a cloister all these things, which are the greatest assistance in the promotion of true piety, you lose at once.” “But,” says Katherine, “in the meantime I shall not be a nun.” “What signifies the name?” replies Eubulus. “Consider the thing itself. They make their boast of obedience and will you not be praiseworthy in being obedient to your parents, your bishop and your pastor, whom God has commanded you to obey? Do you profess poverty? And may not you too, when all is in your parents’ hands? Although the virgins of former times were in an especial manner commended by holy men for their liberality towards the poor; but they could never have given anything if they had possessed nothing. Nor will your charity be ever the less for living with your parents. And what is there more in a convent than these? A veil, a linen shift turned into a stole, and certain ceremonies,which of themselves signify nothing to the advancement of piety and make nobody more acceptable in the eyes of Christ, who only regards the purity of the mind.” “Are you then against the main institution of a monastic life?” asks Katherine. “By no means,” answers Eubulus. “But as I will not persuade anybody against it that is already engaged in this sort of life to endeavour to get out of it, so I would most undoubtedly caution all young women, especially those of generous tempers, not to precipitate themselves unadvisedly into that state from whence there is no getting out afterwards. And the rather because their charity is more in danger in a cloister than out of it; and beside that, you may do whatever is done there as well at home.”
“The matter in question here,” he says, “is only the changing of a habit or of such a course of life, which in itself is neither good nor evil. And now consider but this one thing, how many valuable privileges you lose together with your liberty. Now, if you have a mind to read, pray or sing, you may go into your own chamber as much and as often as you please. When you have enough of retirement you may go to church, hear anthems, prayers and sermons and if you see any matron or virgin remarkable for piety, in whose company you may get good, if you see any man that is endowed with singular probity from whom you may learn what will make for your bettering, you may have their conversation; and you may choose that preacher that preaches Christ most purely. When once you come into a cloister all these things, which are the greatest assistance in the promotion of true piety, you lose at once.” “But,” says Katherine, “in the meantime I shall not be a nun.” “What signifies the name?” replies Eubulus. “Consider the thing itself. They make their boast of obedience and will you not be praiseworthy in being obedient to your parents, your bishop and your pastor, whom God has commanded you to obey? Do you profess poverty? And may not you too, when all is in your parents’ hands? Although the virgins of former times were in an especial manner commended by holy men for their liberality towards the poor; but they could never have given anything if they had possessed nothing. Nor will your charity be ever the less for living with your parents. And what is there more in a convent than these? A veil, a linen shift turned into a stole, and certain ceremonies,which of themselves signify nothing to the advancement of piety and make nobody more acceptable in the eyes of Christ, who only regards the purity of the mind.” “Are you then against the main institution of a monastic life?” asks Katherine. “By no means,” answers Eubulus. “But as I will not persuade anybody against it that is already engaged in this sort of life to endeavour to get out of it, so I would most undoubtedly caution all young women, especially those of generous tempers, not to precipitate themselves unadvisedly into that state from whence there is no getting out afterwards. And the rather because their charity is more in danger in a cloister than out of it; and beside that, you may do whatever is done there as well at home.”
But Katherine remains unpersuaded.
In the next dialogue, called “The Penitent Virgin”[1634]Eubulus and Katherine meet again, and Katherine informs her friend how she has entered the nunnery, but has repented and gone home to her parents before being fully professed:
“How did you get your parents’ consent at last?” asks Eubulus. “First by the restless solicitations of the monks and nuns and then by my own importunities and tears, my mother was at length brought over; but my father stood out stiffly still. But at last being plyed by several engines, he was prevailed upon to yield; but yet, rather like one that was forced than that consented. The matter was concluded in their cups, and they preached damnation to him, if he refused to let Christ have his spouse.... I was kept close at home for three days; but in the mean time there were always with me some women of the college that they callconvertites, mightily encouraging me to persist in my holy resolution and watching me narrowly, lest any of my friends or kindred should come at me and make me alter my mind. In the meanwhile my habit was making ready, and the provision for the feast.” “Did not your mind misgive you yet?” asks Eubolus. “No, not at all; and yet I was so horridly frightened that I had rather die ten times over than suffer the same again.... I had a most dreadful apparition.” “Perhaps,” remarks Eubulus slyly, “it was your evil genius that pushed you on to this.” “I am fully persuaded it was an evil spirit,” replies Katherine. “Tell me what shape it was in? Was it such as we use to paint with a crooked beak, long horns, harpies claws and swinging tail?” “You can make game of it,” says poor Katherine, “but I had rather sink into the earth than see such another.” “And were your women solicitresses with you then?” “No, nor I would not so much as open my lips of it to them, though they sifted me most particularly about it, when they found me almost dead with the surprise.” “Shall I tell you what it was?” says Eubulus. “These women had certainly bewitched you,or conjured your brain out of your head rather[1635]. But did you persist in your resolution for all this?” “Yes, for they told me that many were thus troubled upon their first consecrating themselves to Christ; but if they got the better of the Devil that bout, he’d let them alone for ever after.” “Well, what pomp were you carried out with?” “They put on all my finery, let down my hair and dressed me just as if it had been for my wedding.... I was carried from my father’s house to the college by broad daylight and a world of people staring at me.” “O these Scaramouches,” interrupts Eubulus, “how they know how to wheedle the poor people!”
“How did you get your parents’ consent at last?” asks Eubulus. “First by the restless solicitations of the monks and nuns and then by my own importunities and tears, my mother was at length brought over; but my father stood out stiffly still. But at last being plyed by several engines, he was prevailed upon to yield; but yet, rather like one that was forced than that consented. The matter was concluded in their cups, and they preached damnation to him, if he refused to let Christ have his spouse.... I was kept close at home for three days; but in the mean time there were always with me some women of the college that they callconvertites, mightily encouraging me to persist in my holy resolution and watching me narrowly, lest any of my friends or kindred should come at me and make me alter my mind. In the meanwhile my habit was making ready, and the provision for the feast.” “Did not your mind misgive you yet?” asks Eubolus. “No, not at all; and yet I was so horridly frightened that I had rather die ten times over than suffer the same again.... I had a most dreadful apparition.” “Perhaps,” remarks Eubulus slyly, “it was your evil genius that pushed you on to this.” “I am fully persuaded it was an evil spirit,” replies Katherine. “Tell me what shape it was in? Was it such as we use to paint with a crooked beak, long horns, harpies claws and swinging tail?” “You can make game of it,” says poor Katherine, “but I had rather sink into the earth than see such another.” “And were your women solicitresses with you then?” “No, nor I would not so much as open my lips of it to them, though they sifted me most particularly about it, when they found me almost dead with the surprise.” “Shall I tell you what it was?” says Eubulus. “These women had certainly bewitched you,or conjured your brain out of your head rather[1635]. But did you persist in your resolution for all this?” “Yes, for they told me that many were thus troubled upon their first consecrating themselves to Christ; but if they got the better of the Devil that bout, he’d let them alone for ever after.” “Well, what pomp were you carried out with?” “They put on all my finery, let down my hair and dressed me just as if it had been for my wedding.... I was carried from my father’s house to the college by broad daylight and a world of people staring at me.” “O these Scaramouches,” interrupts Eubulus, “how they know how to wheedle the poor people!”
Katherine then tells him that she remained only twelve days in the nunnery, and after six changed her mind and besought her father and mother to take her away, which they eventually did. But what she saw that made her recant she refuses to tell Eubulus, though he announces himself well able to guess what it was. The dialogue ends on a significant note, “In the meanwhile you have been at a great charge.” “Above four hundred crowns.” “O these guttling nuptials!”[1636]
The racy dialogues of Erasmus illustrate the characteristic hostility of the new learning towards contemporary monastic orders, and embody the main charges which were customarily made against them, viz. the undue pressure brought to bear upon young people to take vows for which they were not necessarily suited, the avarice of the convents and the immorality of their inmates. Sir David Lyndesay’sSatyre of the Thrie Estaitsdwells more specifically upon the latter accusation. In this lively castigation of the vices of the day, which was acted for nine hours before the court of King James V of Scotland at Cupar in 1535, Chastity comes upon the stage, lamenting that she has long been banished, unheeded and unfriended and that neither the temporal estate, nor the spiritual estate nor the Princes will befriend her. Diligence bids her seek refuge among the nuns, who are sworn to observe chastity, pointing to a Prioress ofrenown, sitting among the other spiritual lords. “I grant,” says Chastity,
ȝon Ladie hes vowit ChastitieFor hir professioun; thairto sould accord.Scho maid that vow for ane Abesie,Bot nocht for Christ Jesus our Lord.Fra tyme that thay get thair vows, I stand for’d,Thay banische hir out of thair cumpanie:With Chastitie thay can mak na concord,Bot leids thair lyfis in Sensualitie.I sall obserue our counsall, gif I may.Cum on, and heir quhat ȝon Ladie will say,My prudent, lustie, Ladie Priores,Remember how ȝe did vow Chastitie.Madame, I pray ȝow, of your gentilnes,That ȝe wald pleis to haif of me pitie,And this ane nicht to gif me harberie:For this I mak ȝow supplicacioun.Do ȝe nocht sa, Madame, I dreid, perdie!It will be caus of depravatioun.
But the Prioress has given her allegiance to the notorious Lady Sensuality, who, serving Queen Venus, has corrupted the court of King Humanity and especially his clergy. “Pass hynd, Madame,” she says,
Be Christ I ȝe cum nocht heir:ȝe are contrair to my cumplexioun ...Dame Sensuall hes geuin directiounȝow till exclude out of my cumpany.
Chastity then applies in vain to the Lords of Spirituality for shelter; an abbot jeers at her and a parson bids her
Pas hame amang the Nunnis and dwell,Quhilks ar of Chastitie the well.I traist thay will, with Buik and bellRessaue ȝow in thair Closter;
to which Chastity replies:
Sir, quhen I was the Nunnis amang,Out of thair dortour thay mee dang,And wold nocht let me bide se langTo say my Pater noster[1637].
At the end of the play the evil counsellors of King Humanity and corruptors of his Estates are punished by Sir Commonweal,with the assistance of Good Counsel and Correction. Correction, with his Scribe, examines the spiritual lords as to how they keep their vows, and thus interrogates the Prioress:
Quhat say ȝe now, my Ladie Priores?How have ȝe vsit ȝour office, can ȝe ges?Quhat was the caus ȝe refusit harbrieTo this young lustie Ladie Chastitie?
and the Prioress replies:
I wald have harborit hir, with gude intent;Bot my complexioun therto wald not assent.I do my office efter auld vse and wount:To ȝour Parliament I will mak na mair count[1638].
The punishment of Flattery the Friar, the Prioress and the other prelates follows; and the Sergeants proceed to divest her of her habit, gaily adjuring her:
The Prioress then makes a lament, which has already been quoted, blaming her friends for making her a nun, and declaring that nuns are not necessary to Christ’s congregation and would be better advised to marry. Finally the Acts of Parliament of King Correction and King Humanity, for the better regulation of the realm, are proclaimed; and these include a condemnation of nunneries:
Because men seis, plainlie,This wantoun Nunnis ar na way necessairTill Common-weill, not ȝit to the glorieOf Christ’s kirk, thocht thay be fat and fair.And als, that fragill ordour feminineWill nocht be missit in Christ’s Religioun;Thair rents vsit till ane better fyneFor Common-weill of all this Regioun[1640].
The date when these words were first proclaimed from a stage is significant; it was 1535, the year of the visitation of the monasteries in England. The confiscation of those rents was soon to be an accomplished fact; but it was a king rather than a commonweal that reaped the benefit.
There remains for consideration only one other class of literature which speaks of the nun. It is interesting to see the part which she plays in literature proper, outside popular songs and stories, or popular and didactic works written for purposes of edification. Considering the important part played by monastic institutions in the life of the upper classes it is perhaps surprising that the part played by the nun in secular literature is so small. But the explanation lies in the definitely romantic basis of the greater part of such literature, combined with the fact that it was aristocratic in origin and therefore inherited a respect for the nunneries, which prevented a romantic treatment of the nun, such as is found in thechansons de nonnes. Even so it is to be remarked that the treatment is romantic with a difference; the nun is willingly professed, pious, aloof, but it is because death or misfortune has put an end to lovers’ joys; the type of nun who appears in this literature has retreated to a convent at the close of a life spent in the world. If the nun unwillingly professed has always been a favourite theme, so also has the broken-hearted wife or lover, hiding her sorrows in the silent cloister; from the twelfth to the nineteenth century she remains unchanging, from Belle Doette and Guinevere to the Lady Kirkpatrick:
To sweet Lincluden’s holy cellsFu’ dowie I’ll repair:There peace wi’ gentle patience dwells—Nae deadly feuds are there.In tears I’ll wither ilka charm,Like draps o’ balefu’ dew,And wail a beauty that could harmA knight sae brave and true[1641].
The anonymous twelfth century romance of Belle Doette contains some charming verses, describing her grief at her husband’s death and her determination to enter a cloister:
Bèle Doette a pris son duel a faire:“Tant mari fustes, cuens Do, frans de bon aire!Por vostre amor vestirai je la haire,Ne sor mon cors n’avra pelice vaire.E or en ai dol.Por vos devenrai nonne en l’eglyse Saint Pol.Por vos ferai une abbaie téleQuant iért li jors que la feste iért noméeSe nus i vient qui ait s’amor fauseeJa del mostier ne savera l’entree.E or en ai dol.Por vos devenrai nonne en l’eglyse Saint Pol.Bèle Doette prist s’abaise a faire,Qui mout est grande et ades sera maire:Toz cels et celes vodra dedans atraireQui por amor sévent peine et mal traire.E or en ai dol.Por vos devenrai nonne en l’eglyse Saint Pol”[1642].Lovely Doette, she weeps a husband fair.“O count, my lord, frank wast thou, debonair!For thy dear love I’ll wear a shirt of hair,Never again be clad in robe of vair.Great grief have I.Now in St Paul’s a nun I’ll live and die.For thy dear love an abbey I will raise.And when therein first sounds the song of praiseIf one shall come who falsely love betraysNe’er shall she find an entrance all her days.Great grief have I.Now in St Paul’s a nun I’ll live and die.Lovely Doette, she makes her abbey so.Great now it is and greater still shall grow.And lovers all into that church shall goWho for love’s sake know pain and bitter woe.Great grief have I.Now in St Paul’s a nun I’ll live and die.”
To English readers the supreme representative of this type must always be Malory’s Guinevere:
And when queen Guenever understood that king Arthur was slain, and all the noble knights, Sir Mordred and all the remnant, then the queen stole away and five ladies with her, and so she went to Almesbury, and there she let make herself a nun, and wore white clothes and black, and great penance she took, as ever did sinful lady in this land, and never creature could make her merry, but lived in fasting, prayers and alms-deeds, that all manner of people marvelledhow virtuously she was changed. Now leave we queen Guenever in Almesbury a nun in white clothes and black, and there she was abbess and ruler as reason would.
And when queen Guenever understood that king Arthur was slain, and all the noble knights, Sir Mordred and all the remnant, then the queen stole away and five ladies with her, and so she went to Almesbury, and there she let make herself a nun, and wore white clothes and black, and great penance she took, as ever did sinful lady in this land, and never creature could make her merry, but lived in fasting, prayers and alms-deeds, that all manner of people marvelledhow virtuously she was changed. Now leave we queen Guenever in Almesbury a nun in white clothes and black, and there she was abbess and ruler as reason would.
There follows that incomparable chapter of parting, when Launcelot seeks his queen in her nunnery:
and then was queen Guenever ware of Sir Launcelot as he walked in the cloister, and when she saw him there she swooned thrice, that all the ladies and gentlewomen had work enough to hold the queen up. So when she might speak, she called ladies and gentlewomen to her, and said, Ye marvel, fair ladies, why I make this fare. Truly, she said, it is for the sight of yonder knight that yonder standeth: wherefore, I pray you all, call him to me. When Sir Launcelot was brought to her, then she said to all the ladies, Through this man and me hath all this war been wrought, and the death of the most noblest knights of the world; for through our love that we have loved together is my noble lord slain. Therefore, Sir Launcelot, wit thou well I am set in such a plight to get my soul’s health; and yet I trust, through God’s grace, that after my death to have a sight of the blessed face of Christ and at doomsday to sit at his right side, for as sinful as ever I was are saints in heaven. Therefore, Sir Launcelot, I require thee and beseech thee heartily, for all the love that ever was betwixt us, that thou never see me more in the visage; and I command thee on God’s behalf that thou forsake my company and to thy kingdom thou turn again and keep well thy realm from war and wrack. For as well as I have loved thee, mine heart will not serve me to see thee; for through thee and me is the flower of kings and knights destroyed.
and then was queen Guenever ware of Sir Launcelot as he walked in the cloister, and when she saw him there she swooned thrice, that all the ladies and gentlewomen had work enough to hold the queen up. So when she might speak, she called ladies and gentlewomen to her, and said, Ye marvel, fair ladies, why I make this fare. Truly, she said, it is for the sight of yonder knight that yonder standeth: wherefore, I pray you all, call him to me. When Sir Launcelot was brought to her, then she said to all the ladies, Through this man and me hath all this war been wrought, and the death of the most noblest knights of the world; for through our love that we have loved together is my noble lord slain. Therefore, Sir Launcelot, wit thou well I am set in such a plight to get my soul’s health; and yet I trust, through God’s grace, that after my death to have a sight of the blessed face of Christ and at doomsday to sit at his right side, for as sinful as ever I was are saints in heaven. Therefore, Sir Launcelot, I require thee and beseech thee heartily, for all the love that ever was betwixt us, that thou never see me more in the visage; and I command thee on God’s behalf that thou forsake my company and to thy kingdom thou turn again and keep well thy realm from war and wrack. For as well as I have loved thee, mine heart will not serve me to see thee; for through thee and me is the flower of kings and knights destroyed.
And so on, through the last parting, and the last kiss refused, and the lamentation “as they had been stung with spears,” through the six long years of fasting and penance, till the day when Guinevere died and a vision bade Launcelot seek her corpse.
And when Sir Launcelot was come to Almesbury, within the nunnery, queen Guenever died but half an hour before. And the ladies told Sir Launcelot that queen Guenever told them all, or she passed, that Sir Launcelot had been priest near a twelvemonth—And hither he cometh as fast as he may to fetch my corpse; and beside my lord king Arthur he shall bury me. Wherefore the queen said in hearing of them all, I beseech Almighty God that I may never have power to see Sir Launcelot with my worldly eyes. And thus, said all the ladies, was ever her prayer these two days, till she was dead[1643].
And when Sir Launcelot was come to Almesbury, within the nunnery, queen Guenever died but half an hour before. And the ladies told Sir Launcelot that queen Guenever told them all, or she passed, that Sir Launcelot had been priest near a twelvemonth—And hither he cometh as fast as he may to fetch my corpse; and beside my lord king Arthur he shall bury me. Wherefore the queen said in hearing of them all, I beseech Almighty God that I may never have power to see Sir Launcelot with my worldly eyes. And thus, said all the ladies, was ever her prayer these two days, till she was dead[1643].
This is a different romance from that of the gaychansons de nonnes, but it is romance all the same. There is little in common between Queen Guinevere and the lady who was loved and rescued by a king in theAncren Riwle[1644].
One of the last—as it is one of the most graceful—pieces of courtly literature concerned with a convent is the delightfulLivre du dit de Poissy, in which the French poetess Christine de Pisan tells of a journey, which she took in 1400, to visit her daughter, a nun at the famous convent of Poissy. This Dominican abbey, founded in 1304, was exceedingly rich and the special favourite of the kings of France, for it had been put under the protection of St Louis. The number of nuns, originally fixed at a hundred and twenty, soon rose to two hundred, and the aristocratic character of the house was very marked, for its inmates had to be of noble birth and to receive a special authorisation from the king before they could be admitted. At the time of Christine de Pisan’s visit Marie de Bourbon, aunt of Charles VI, was prioress, and the convent also contained the nine year old Marie de France, his daughter (who took the veil at the age of five) and her cousin Catherine d’Harcourt. There were no nunneries so large and so rich in England at this late date; but Christine’s description may serve to suggest what great houses like Shaftesbury and Romsey must have been like in the earlier days of their prime. Her account of the convent, with its fine buildings and gardens, its church, its rich lands and its gracious and dignified way of life forms a useful counterpoise to the bald and unidealised picture presented by thecompertaof visitations; for assuredly truth lies somewhere between thecomperta, which deal solely with faults, and the poem, which deals solely with virtues.
Christine describes the brilliant cavalcade of lords and ladies riding in the spring morning through beautiful scenery, enlivening their journey with laughter and song and talk of love, until they came to the great abbey of Poissy. She describes their reception by the Prioress Marie de Bourbon and by the king’s little daughter “joenne et tendre”:
Par les degrez de pierre, que moult pris,En hault montamesOu bel hostel royal, que nous trouvamesMoult bien pare, et en sa chambre entramesDe grant beaulty.
The Prioress’ lodging was evidently such as befitted a royal princess, even though she were a humble nun. Christinedescribes the manner of life of the nuns, how no man might enter the precincts to serve or see them, save a relative, and how they never left the convent and seldom saw strangers from the world:
Et de belles plusiers y a comme angelz.Si ne vestent chemises, et sus langesGisent de nuis; n’ont pas coultes a frangesMais materasQui sont couvers de biaulx tapis d’ArrasBien ordenées, mais ce n’est que baras,Car ils sont durs et emplis de bourras,Et la vestuesGisent de nuis celles dames rendues,Qui se lievent ou elles sont batuesA matines; la leurs chambres tenduesEn dortouerOnt près a près, et en refectouerDisnent tout temps, ou a beau lavourer.Et en la court y a le parlouerOu a trellicesDe fer doubles a fenestres coulices,Et la en droit les dames des officesA ceulz de hors parlent pour les complicesEt necessairesQu’il leur convient et fault en leurs affaires.Si ont prevosts, seigneuries et maires,Villes, Chastiaulx, rentes de plusieurs pairesMoult bien assises;Et riches sont, ne nulles n’y sont misesFors par congié de roy qui leurs franchisesLeur doit garder et maintes autres guisesA la en droit.
Christine then tells how the Prioress invited the party to “desjuner” and how in a fair room they were served with rich wines and meats, in vessels of gold, and were waited upon by the nuns. Then the nuns led them through the buildings and grounds of the convent, showing them all the beauties of this “paradise terestre.” She gives an extremely minute and interesting picture of Poissy as it was in 1400, the vaulted cloister with its carven pillars, surrounding a square lawn with a tall pine in the middle; the spacious frater, with glass windows; the fine chapter house; the stream of fresh water carried in pipes through all the different buildings; the great storehouses, cellars, ovens and other offices; the large, airy dorter; and finally themagnificent church, with its tall pillars and vaulted roof, its hangings, images, paintings and ornaments of glittering gold. She tells of the services held there, when the nuns knelt within a screen in the nave and the townsfolk and visitors and priests outside it. She gives a detailed account of the clothes worn by the nuns; a woman she, and not to be content with Malory’s simple “white clothes and black.” Finally she describes the wide gardens and woods of the convent, surrounded by a high wall and full of fruit-trees and birds and deer and coneys, with two fishponds, well-stocked with fish. In the exploration of these delights the day passed quickly. The gay party retired at nightfall to a neighbouring inn and early the next day paid a farewell visit to the hospitable nuns, who gave them gifts of belts and purses embroidered by themselves:
Et reprendreDe leurs joyaulxIl nous covint, non fermillez n’aniaulxMais boursetes ouvrees a oysiaulxD’or et soies, ceintures et laz biaulx,Moult bien ouvrez,Qui autre part ne sont telz recouvrez.
Then lords and ladies took horse again and, debating of love, rode back to Paris[1645].
Against this courtly idyll of monastic life one more picture of a nun must be set as complement and as contrast. It is deservedly well known; but no study of the nun in medieval literature would be complete without quoting in full Chaucer’s description of Madame Eglentyne, a masterpiece of humorous observation, sympathetic without being idealised, gently sarcastic without being bitter. It is a fitting note on which to close this book:
Ther was also a Nonne, a Prioresse,That of her smyling was ful simple and coy;Hir grettest ooth was but by seynt loy;And she was cleped madame Eglentyne.Ful wel she song the service divyne,Entuned in hir nose ful semely;And Frensh she spak ful faire and fetisly,After the scole of Stratford atte Bowe,For Frensh of Paris was to hir unknowe.At mete wel y-taught was she with-alle;She leet no morsel from hir lippes falle,Ne wette hir fingres in hir sauce depe.Wel coude she carie a morsel and wel kepe,That no drope ne fille up-on hir brest.In curteisye was set ful muche hir lest.Hir over lippe wyped she so clene,That in hir coppe was no ferthing seneOf grece, whan she dronken hadde hir draughte.Ful semely after hir mete she raughte,And sikerly she was of greet disport,And ful plesaunt and amiable of port,And peyned hir to countrefete chereOf court, and been estatlich of manere,And to be holden digne of reverence.But, for to speken of hir conscience,She was so charitable and so pitous,She wolde wepe, if that she sawe a mousCaught in a trap, if it were deed or bledde.Of smale houndes had she, that she feddeWith rosted flesh, or milk and wastel-breed.But sore weep she if oon of hem were deed,Or if men smoot it with a yerde smerte:And al was conscience and tendre herte.Ful semely hir wimpel pinched was;Hir nose tretys; hir eyen greye as glas;Hir mouth ful smal, and ther-to softe and reed;But sikerly she hadde a fair forheed;It was almost a spanne brood, I trowe;For, hardily, she was nat undergrowe.Ful fetis was hir cloke, as I was war.Of smal coral aboute hir arm she barA peire of bedes, gauded al with grene;And ther-on heng a broche of gold ful shene,On which ther was first write a crouned A,And after,Amor vincit omnia[1646].
ADDITIONAL NOTES TO THE TEXT
NOTE A.
THE DAILY FARE OF BARKING ABBEY.
TheCharthe[charter]longynge to the office of the Celeresse of the Monasterye of Barkinge[1647]is one of the most interesting domestic documents which has survived from the middle ages. TheMénagier de Parisgives a first rate account of the work of a housewife who has to provide for a private household. TheCharthesets forth the duties of a housewife who has to feed a large institution. No bursar of a college or housekeeper of a school can fail to read it with a sympathetic smile. Like a good business woman the nameless cellaress, who drew it up for the guidance of her successors, sets out first of all the sources of revenue by which the charges of her office were supported. These are of three sorts: (1) the rents from thirteen rural manors, together with certain annual rents from the canons of St Paul’s, the priory of St Bartholomew’s and the lessees of various tenements in London, which were supposed to yield her a little over £95 per annum; (2) “the issues of the Larder,” to wit all the ox skins, “inwards” of oxen, tallow coming from oxen and messes of beef, which she sells; and (3) “the foreyn receyte,” to wit the money received for the sale of hay at any farm belonging to her office. These represent only her money revenues; but she also received the greater part of meat and dairy produce consumed by the convent from the home farm and from the demesnes of the manors appropriated to her. TheCharthewarns her to be certain of hiring pasture for her oxen at such times as it is needful, to see that her hay is duly mown and made and to keep all the buildings belonging to her office in repair, both those within the monastery and those at the outlying manors and farms.
TheCharthethrows some light upon the domestic staff employed in working the department. An important gentleman called the steward of the household had the general supervision of its business affairs; he kept an eye on the bailiffs and rent collectors of the cellaress’s manors and presided at their courts. The cellaress solemnly presented him with a “reward” of 20d.every time that he returned with the pecuniary proceeds of justice, and on Christmas day. The management of the department was done by the head cellaress herself, with an under-cellaress to assist her and a clerk to keep heraccounts and write her business letters, at a wage of 13s.4d.The kitchen was in the special charge of a nun kitchener and the actual cooking was done by a “yeoman cook,” a “groom cook” and a “pudding wife”[1648]; she paid her yeoman cook a wage of 26s.8d., her pudding wife, 2s.a year and bought her groom cook a gown at Christmas. She wisely gave a Christmas box to each of the underlings, great and small, with whom she had to do, 20d.to the Abbess’ gentlewoman, 16d.to every gentleman, “and to every yoman as it pleaseth her for to doo, and gromes in like case”; moreover it was her pleasant duty to hand to herself as cellaress and to her under-cellaress 20d.apiece.
TheCharthegives exceedingly minute directions as to the conventual housekeeping. Barking Abbey was a large house, consisting at the time this document was drawn up of thirty-seven ladies. The Abbess dwelt in state in her own apartments, with a gentlewoman to wait upon her and a private kitchen, with its own staff, which was not under the control of the cellaress. The cellaress, however, sent in to the Abbess 4 lbs. of almonds and eight cakes called “russheaulx” in Lent, eight chickens at Shrovetide, one pottle of wine called Tyre[1649]on Maundy Thursday and a sugar loaf on Christmas Day; while the Abbess’ kitchen had to provide the convent with “pittances” and “liveries” of pork, bacon, mutton or eggs on certain days of the year, as will appear hereafter. From the convent kitchen the cellaress had to purvey for: (1) the ladies of the convent, (2) the prioress, two cellaresses and kitchener, who receive a double allowance of almost all food given out, and (3) the priory.
TheCharthesets forth exactly how much is to be delivered to each person, the separate allowances of meat being called “messes.” It will be convenient to consider the stores to be provided under the five headings of: (1) meat, (2) grain, (3) butter and eggs, (4) fish and condiments for Advent and Lenten fare, and (5) pittances, or extra delicacies provided on certain days of the year. It is to be noted that theCharthedeals for the most part with the special fare appropriate to special occasions. There is no mention of the daily allowance of bread and beer made on the premises; the only fish mentioned is salt fish for Lent; the only vegetables are dried peas and beans; the only fowls are for a special pittance on St Alburgh’s day.
(1)Meat.The chief meat food of the convent, eaten three times a week (on Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday), except in Advent and Lent and on vigils, was beef. The cellaress had to purvey 22 “gud oxen” by the year for the convent. These oxen were fed on her own pastures, and, says the cellaress, “she shall slay but every fortnyght and yf sche be a good huswyff”; accordingly at the end of the first week, she must look and see if she has enough beef to last out thefortnight and if not she must buy what she needs in the market. It would seem that besides the beef provided by the cellaress from the convent kitchen the convent had an extra allowance of beef provided from some source not mentioned in theCharthe, or else that they did not always eat each week what was delivered to them. For the cellaress sets down as follows the entry which her clerk is to make in her book each week: on Saturday 20 Sept. (doubtless the day on which she was writing) she answers for four or five messes remaining in store of the week before, and of 63 messes of beef from an ox slain the same week, also of 80 messes of beef bought by her of the convent “of that they lefte behynd of ther lyvere, paying for every mess 1½d.,” total 147 messes, whereof she delivers to each lady for the three meat days three messes and to the priory six messes. After beef the meat food most commonly eaten consisted in various forms of pig’s flesh. At Martinmas the cellaress had to ask at the abbess’ kitchen for a pittance of pork for each lady and also a livery of “sowsse”[1650], thus defined: “every lady to have three thynges, that is to sey, the cheke, the ere and the fote is a livery; the groyne and two fete ys anodyer leveray; soe a hoole hoggs sowsse shall serve three ladyes.” At the same time she had to give them “of sowce of hyre owne provisione two thynges to every lady, so that a hoole hog sowce do serve four ladyes.” She also had to provide pork from her own kitchin for two anniversary pittances (of which more anon) and she notes that every hog yields 20 messes. Moreover on Christmas Day she had to ask at the abbess’ kitchen for “livery bacon” for the convent, four messes for each lady; a flitch was reckoned to provide ten messes. Of mutton the convent ate very little. Three times a year, between the feasts of the Assumption (Aug. 15) and of St Michael (Sept. 29), the abbess’ kitchen had to provide “pittance mutton” for the ladies, a mess to each, “and every mutton yields twelve messes”; and twice a year on certain anniversaries the cellaress had to provide a similar allowance out of her own kitchen.
(2)Grain.Under this heading comes three quarters of malt, to be brewed into ale for the festal seasons of St Alburgh’s[1651](or Foundress’) Day (Oct. 11) and Christmas; one quarter and seven bushels of wheat to be baked into bread or cakes for various pittances; two bushels ofdried peas to be eaten in Lent and one bushel of dried beans “against Midsummer.” The brewer and baker were paid a tip of 20d.and 6d.respectively, when they had to make the extra pittance beer and bread. The convent also had a livery of oatmeal from the cellaress, four dishes delivered once a month.
(3)Butter and Eggs.The cellaress had to provide the convent with butter at certain times, to every lady and double one “cobet,” every dish containing three cobets. What was called “feast butter” was payable on St Alburgh’s Day, Easter, Whitsunday and Trinity Sunday. What was called “storing butter” was payable five times a year, “to wit Advent and four times after Christmas.” What was called “fortnight butter” was payable once for every fortnight lying between Trinity Sunday and Holy Rood Day (Sept. 14). The cellaress was also responsible for providing the convent with money to buy eggs (“ey silver”); each lady had weekly from Michaelmas (Sept. 29) to All Hallows’ Day (Nov. 1), 1½d., from All Hallows’ Day to Advent, 1¾d., from Advent to Childermas Day (Dec. 28), 1¼d., from Childermas Day to Ash Wednesday, 1¾d., and from Easter to Michaelmas, 1½d.; also an extra allowance of ½d.on each vigil of the year, when no meat was eaten. Out of this “ey silver” the nuns had to purvey eggs for themselves as best they might; but the cellaress had to give the priory each week in the year 32 eggs or else 2¾d.in money, except in the four Advent weeks when she provided only 16 and in Lent, when none were due; for every vigil she gave them eight eggs, “or else 1¾d.and the fourth part of ¼d.” in money. At the five principal feasts of the year the abbess left her hall and dined in state in the frater, to wit on Easter Day, Whit Sunday, Assumption Day, St Alburgh’s Day and Christmas Day; and on these occasions the cellaress had to ask the clerk of the abbess’ kitchen for “supper eggs” for the convent, two for each lady.
(4)Lenten Fare.For Lent and Advent the cellaress had to provide the convent with their diet of fish, enlivened for their comfort with dried fruits and rice. She laid in two cades of red herring for Advent, a cade being 600 (counting six score to the 100).
For Lent she purveyed seven cades of red herring and three barrels (containing 1000 at six score to the hundred) of white herring. To every lady she gave four a day (i.e. in all 28 a week), and to the priory she gave four on every day except Sunday, when she gave them fish, and Friday, when they had figs and raisins. She also had to lay in 18 salt fish (nature unspecified), out of which she provided each lady with a mess and the priory with two messes every other week in Lent, each fish producing seven messes; in the alternate weeks they received salt salmon, of which she laid in fourteen or fifteen, each salmon yielding nine messes. To spice this Lenten fare she bought 1200 lbs. of almonds, three “peces” and 24 lbs. of figs, one “pece” of raisins, 28 lbs. of rice and 12 gallons of mustard. Each lady received 2 lbs. of almonds and ½ lb. of rice to last for the whole of Lent, and every week 1 lb. of figs and raisins.
(5)Pittances, or extra allowances of more delicate food, were due to the nuns on certain feasts of the Church and on the anniversaries of five benefactors, viz. Sir William Vicar, Dame Alys Merton, “dame Mawte the kynges daughter,” dame Maud Loveland and William Dun. The pittances on the anniversaries of William Vicar and William Dun were of mutton; on each occasion the cellaress had to lay in three “carse” of mutton, and for William Dun’s pittance she had to make sure also of 12 gallons of good ale. For the pittances of Dame Alice Merton and Maud the king’s daughter (which fell in the winter) she had to purvey four bacon hogs, each hog producing 20 messes, also sixgrecys[1652], sixsowcysand sixinwardys; also 100 eggs for “white puddings,” together with bread, pepper and saffron for the same, and “marrow bones for white wortys”[1653]; also three gallons of good ale. Evidently the convent had a royal feast on those days and had good cause to remember their former abbesses. There are no details as to Dame Maud Loveland’s pittance. Another red letter day was Foundress’ Day (Oct. 11). On this occasion the abbess’ kitchen had to provide each lady of the convent with half a goose, the two chantresses, as well as the four usual recipients, receiving doubles, and with a hen or a cock, the fratresses and the subprioress also receiving doubles. Moreover the cellaress had to give the ladies “frumenty”[1654], for which she laid in wheat and three gallons of milk.
On the feast of the Assumption of the Virgin (Aug. 15) each received half a goose. At Shrovetide the cellaress gave each lady “for theircripcis[1655]and for their crumkakers 2d.”; she had also to purvey eight chickens for the abbess and “bonnes”[1656]for the convent and also four gallons of milk. On Shere or Maundy Thursday she had 12 “stub” eels and 60 “shaft” eels baked with wheat and 8 lbs. of rice; and she sent the abbess a bottle of Tyre and the convent two gallons of red wine; unglorified by a name. On Palm Sunday they had “russheaulx”[1657], for which she provided 21 lbs. of figs. These were little highly spiced pies (rather like mince pies), of which the chief ingredients were figs and flour, and besides providing them in kind on Palm Sunday the cellaress had to pay the ladies “Ruscheaw silver, by xvj times payable in the yere to every lady and doubill at eche time ½d., but it is paid nowe but at two times, that is to say at Ester and Michelmes.” On Easter Eve they had three gallons of ale and one gallon of red wine. On St Andrew’s Day and on every Sunday in Lent they had fish (doubtless fresh fish, as a welcome change from salted herrings).
NOTE B.
SCHOOL CHILDREN IN NUNNERIES.
The subject is of such interest from the point of view of educational as well as of monastic history, that I have thought it worth while to print in full all the references to convent education in England (c. 1250-1537), which I have been able to find. For the convenience of the reader I have translated references in Latin and Old French and have arranged the houses under counties. Doubtful references are marked with an asterisk.
Bedfordshire.
1.Elstow.
Late 12th century. Bishop Hugh of Lincoln sent a little boy, Robert of Noyon, here. “He seemed to be about five years old, or a little older; and after a short space of time (the Bishop) sent him to Elstow to be taught his letters (literis informandum).”Magna Vita S. Hugonis Episcopi Lincolniensis(Rolls Ser.), p. 146.
1359. Gynewell enjoins boarders to be sent away on pain of excommunication. “But boys up to the completion of their sixth year and girls up to the completion of their tenth year, ... we do not wish to be understood or included in the above (prohibition).”Linc. Epis. Reg. Memo. Gynewell, f. 139d.
1421-2. Flemyng enjoins “that henceforward you admit or allow to be admitted or received to lodge or stay within the limits of the cloister, no persons male or female, ... who are beyond the twelfth year of their age.”Linc. Visit.I, p. 49.
c. 1432. Gray enjoins that all secular persons shall be removed from the cloister precincts, “... males to wit, who have passed their tenth year, or females who have passed their fourteenth.”Linc. Visit.I, p. 53.
1442-3. “Dame Rose Waldegrave says that ... certain nuns do sometimes have with them in the quire in time of mass the boys whom they teach, and these do make a noise in quire during divine service.”Linc. Visit.II, p. 90.
2.Harrold.
1442-3. At Bishop Alnwick’s visitation “Dame Alice Decun says that only two little girls of six or seven years do lie in the dorter.” Another nun says the same. The Bishop forbids adult boarders, “ne childere ouere xj yere olde men and xij yere olde wymmen wythe owten specyalle leue of us or our successours bysshops of Lincolne fyest asked and had; ne that ye suffre ne seculere persones, wymmen ne childern, lyg by nyght in the dormytory.”Linc. Visit.II, pp. 130-1.
Buckinghamshire.
3.Burnham.
c. 1431-6. Gray enjoins “that henceforward no secular women who are past the fourteenth year of their age, and no males at all, be admitted in any wise to lie by night in the dorter or be suffered so to lie.... That you henceforth admit or suffer to be admitted and received to lodge in the said monastery no women after they have completed the fourteenth year of their age and no males after the eighth year of their age.... That you remove wholly from the said monastery all ... secular folk, male and female, who, being lodgers in the said monastery, have passed the ages aforesaid.”Linc. Visit.I, p. 24.
1519. Atwater enjoins “that infants and small children be not admitted into the dorter of the nuns.”Linc. Epis. Reg. Visit. Atwater, f. 42d.
*4.Little Marlow.
c. 1530? Margaret Vernon, Prioress of Little Marlow and friend of Cromwell, was entrusted by him with the care of his little son Gregory. Several of her letters are preserved, but they are undated and it is difficult to gather from those which refer to Gregory Cromwell whether they were written before or after the dissolution of Little Marlow. There was in any case no question of her teaching the boy herself. He had with him a tutor, Mr Copland, and the Prioress writes to tell Cromwell that Mr Copland every morning gives Gregory and Nicholas Sadler, his schoolfellow, their Latin lesson, “which Nicholas doth bear away as well Gregory’s lesson as his own, and maketh him perfect against his time of rendering, at which their Master is greatly comforted.” Master Sadler also had with him a “little gentlewoman,” whom Margaret wished permission to educate herself. In another letter she speaks of a proposed new tutor for Gregory and expresses anxiety that he should be one who would not object to her supervision. “Good master Cromwell, if it like you to call unto your remembrance, you have promised me that I should have the governance of your child till he be twelve years of age, and at that time I doubt not with God’s grace but he shall speak for himself if any wrong be offered unto him, whereas yet he cannot but by my maintenance; and if he should have such a master which would disdain if I meddled, then it would be to me great unquietness, for I assure you if you sent hither a doctor of divinity yet will I play the smatterer, but always in his well doing to him he shall have his pleasure, and otherwise not.” Wood,Letters of Royal and Illustrious Ladies,II, 57-9.
Cambridgeshire.
5.Swaffham Bulbeck.
1483. The following references to boarders in the account roll of the Prioress Margaret Ratclyff for 22 Edw. IV almost certainly indicate children. “By Richard Potecary of Cambridge 11s.for board for 22 weeks, at 6d.per week. By 11s.received from John Kele of Cambridge for 22 weeks, viz. 6d.per week. By £1 received from William Water of ... his son for 40 weeks, viz. 6d.per week. By 13s.received from Thomas Roch ... his son for 26 weeks, viz. 6d.per week. By 15s.received from Manfeld for the board of his son for 30 weeks, viz. 6d.per week. By £1 received from ... of Cambridge for the board of his daughter for 40 weeks, viz. 6d.per week. By 8s.from ... of Chesterton for the board of his son for 16 weeks. viz. 6d.per week. From ... Parker of Walden for the board of his son for 12 weeks. By 3s.received from ... the merchant for the board of his daughter for 6 weeks, viz. 6d.per week.” Dugdale,Mon.IV, pp. 439-60.
*6.St Radegund’s, Cambridge.
1481-2. The account roll for 1481-2 contains the item “And she answers for 20s.received from Richard Woodcock for the commons of 2 daughters of the said Richard, as for [blank] weeks, at [blank] per week.” Gray,Priory of St Radegund’s, Cambridge, p. 176. This is probably a child, because I am inclined to think that payments so worded, as from a father for a son or daughter, usually refer to children. Unfortunately the nuns of this priory kept the details of their receipts from boarders on a separate sheet, and entered only the total, thus: “And by £1. 12. 1 received for the board or repast of divers gentlefolk, particulars of whose names are noted in the paper book of accounts displayed above this account.”Ib.p. 163 (see also, p. 147). These separate papers are unluckily lost, so no details are available.
Derbyshire.
*7.King’s Mead, Derby.
Dr J. C. Cox says “Evidence of this priory being used as a boarding school occurs in the private muniments of the Curzon, Fitzherbert and Gresley families.”V.C.H. Derby,II, p. 44 (note 14). Without more exact reference it is impossible to say whether this is correct, because adult boarders are so often confused with schoolchildren.
Devon.
8.Cornworthy.
c. 1470. Petition from Thomasyn Dynham, Prioress of Cornworthy concerning two children at school in her house, whose fees have not been paid for five years. See description in text (above, p.269).
Essex.
9.Barking.
1433. Katherine de la Pole, Abbess of Barking, petitions Henry V, “for as much as she, afore this tyme hath bene demened and reuled, by th’advis of youre full discrete counsail, to take upon hir the charge, costes and expenses of Edmond ap Meredith ap Tydier and Jasper ap Meredith ap Tydier, being yit in her kepyng, for the which cause she was payed, fro the xxvii day of Juyll, the yere of youre full noble regne xv, unto the Satterday the last day of Feverer, the yere of your saide regne xvii, l livres: and after the saide last day of Feverer, youre saide bedewoman hath borne the charges as aboven unto this day and is behynde of the payement for the same charge ... the somme of lii livres xii sols,” she asks for payment. Dugdale,Mon.I, 437 (notem), (quoted from Rymer,Foedera,X, p. 828).
1527. Sir John Stanley made his Will on June 20, 1527, and in 1528, after a solemn act of separation with his wife, entered a monastery. The will is largely concerned with provisions for the education of his son and heir, who was at that time three years old. He set aside the proceeds of a certain manor “whych is estemed to be of the yerly valewe of xl li., to the onely use and fyndynge of my said sonne and heyre apparaunte, tyll he comme and be of the full ayge of xxiti, yeres; and I woll that my sayd sonne and heyr shalbe in the custodye and kepynge of the saide Abbes of Barckynge, tyll he accomplyshe and be of thayge of xij yeres and after the sayd ayge of xij yeres I woll that he shalbe in the custodye and guydynge of the sayd Abbot of Westmynster, tyll he come and be of hys full ayge of xxitiyeres.” The Abbess and Abbot were to have £15 yearly for the use of their houses in return for their pains and £20 yearly was to be paid them “to fynde my sayd sonne and heyre and hys servauntes, mete, drynke and wayges convenyent and all other thynges necessare un to theym, durynge and by all the tyme that he shalbe in the rule and guydynge of the sayd Abbesse and of the sayd Abbot.”Archaeol. Journ.XXV(1868), pp. 81-2.It should be noted that there is nothing to suggest that these boys were being taught by the nuns; they were young noblemen attached to a noblewoman’s household to learn breeding.
Hampshire.
10.St Mary’s, Winchester.
1536. Henry VIII’s commissioners, who visited the house 15th May, found here twenty-six “chyldren of lordys, knyghttes and gentylmen brought up yn the saym monastery.” For the list of names (given in Dugdale,Mon.II, p. 457), see above p.266.
11.Romsey.
1311. Bishop Woodlock decreed “There shall not be in the dormitory with the nuns any children, either boys or girls, nor shall they be led by the nuns into the choir, while the divine office is celebrated.” Liveing,Records of Romsey Abbey, p. 104.
*1387. William of Wykeham enjoins (in an injunction dealing with various manifestations of thevitium proprietatis) “Moreover let not the nuns henceforth presume to call their own rooms or pupils (discipulas), hitherto assigned to them or so assigned in future, on pretext of such assignation, which is rather to be deemed a matter of will than of necessity; nathless it is lawful for the abbess to assign such rooms and pupils according to merit as she thinks fit, etc., etc.” But this more probably refers to young nuns or novices. The worddiscipulais used in this sense in Alnwick’s visitation of Gracedieu. (See above, p.80.)
12.Wherwell.
1284. Archbishop Peckham forbids boarders, adding “Let not virgins be admitted to the habit and veil (induendae virgines et velandae) before the completion of their fifteenth year and let not any boy be permitted to be educated with the nuns.”Reg. Epis. J. Peckham,II, p. 653.
Herefordshire.
13.Lymbrook.
1422. Bishop Spofford writes: “Wee ordayne and charge you under payne of unobedyence that no suster hald nor receyfe ony surgyner, man or woman weddyd, other maydens of lawful age to be wedded, knave chyldren aboven eght yeer of age.”Reg. Thome Spofford(Cant. and York. Soc.), p. 82.
Hertfordshire.
14.Flamstead.
1530. At the visitation of Longland one nun “reported that young girls were allowed to sleep in the dormitory.... The Prioress was enjoined ... to exclude children of both sexes from the dormitory.”V.C.H. Herts.IV, p. 433.
15.Sopwell.
*1446. In the Warden’s Accounts of 1446 there is entered payment of 22/6 for Lady Anne Norbery, for the commons of her daughter, apparently a boarder here. (Rentals and Surveys, R. 294.)V.C.H. Herts.IV, p. 425 (note 41).
1537. At the time of the Dissolution two children were living in the priory.Ib.p. 425.
Kent.
16.Dartford.
In 1527 was confirmed the concession made to sister Elizabeth Cresner by F. Antoninus de Ferraria, formerly vicar of Garsias de Lora, Master General of the Dominican order (1518-24), that she might receive any well born matrons, widows of good repute, to dwell perpetually in the monastery, with or without the habit, according to the custom of the monastery; and also that she might receive young ladies and give them a suitable training, according to the mode heretofore pursued.Archaeol. Journ.(1882)XXXIX, p. 178.
Leicestershire.
17.Gracedieu.
The following references to boarders occur in the Gracedieu accounts (P.R.O. Minister’s Accounts, 1257/10).
1413-14. “Item received from William Roby for the board of his daughter on the Feast of the Holy Trinity vj s viij d. Item received from Robert Penell for the board of his daughter on the same day v s. Item received for the board of Cecily Nevell on St James’ Day in part payment vj s viij d” (p. 7).
1414-15. “Item received from Giles Jurdon for the board of his daughter in Whitsun week vij s. Item received from Thomas Hinte for the food of a certain daughter of his, in part payment of liij s iiij d,—xl s. Item received for the board of Isabel Jurdon xj s, Alice Strelley xxij s, Alice Grey xiij s iiij d, Robert Drewe xxvj s iiij d, Philip Scargell xxxiij s vj d, Alice Smyth, iij s iiij d and Dame Joan Scargell iiij s—cxiij s ix d” (p. 79). There is a supplementary list for this year written on a loose sheet: “Item, first, received for the board of Isabel Jurdon for the half year, in part payment ix s. Item received for the board of Alice Strelley from the feast of the Finding of the Holy Cross to the feast of [St Peter] in Chains in the following year, vj s viij d. Item received for the board of Alice Gray from the feast of the Holy Trinity to the feast of the Purification of the blessed Virgin Mary xiij s iiij d. Item received for the board of Alice Strelley for ij quarters of the year and v weeks, at the Feast of St Gregory xv s iiij d. Item received for the board of the daughter of Robert Drowe for half a year, xxvj s viij d. Item received for the board of Philip Scargell, in part payment, from the feast of St John etc., paid for the quarter xxij s iiij d, whence at the Feast of Corpus Christi xxij s iiij d. Item received for the board of Isabel Jurdon at the feast of the Translation of St Thomas of Canterbury, in part payment—ij s. Item received for the board of Alice Smyth in part payment at vj s viij d for the quarter, iij s iiij d. Item received for the board of Dame Skargeyle for two weeks, ij s per week, iiij s. Item received for the board of Philyppe Skergell from the feast of St Laurence to the feast of St Michael, for the half quarter xj s ij d. Total, cxiij s x d.”
1416-17. “Item received for the board of the daughter of William Rowby, as for the purchase of one ox—xiij s iiij d.”
1417-18. “Item received for the board of Mary de Ecton on the feast of All Saints, in part payment of a larger sum, xxxiij s iiij d. Item received for the board of Joan Vilers on the Feast of St Andrew the Apostle vj s viij d. Item received for the board of Katerine Standych on the morrow of the Epiphany vj s viij d. Item received for the board of the daughters of Robert Nevell, knight, on the feast of St Hilary x s. Item received for the board of Joan Villars on the feast of St Hilary xx d. Item received for the board of Mary de Ecton on the Sunday next before the feast of St Valentine xx s. Item received from Joan Villers for her board on the second sunday of Lent vj s viij d. Item received from Katerine Standych in full payment of her board on Whitsunday x s. Item received for the board of the daughters of Robert Neuel on Good Friday x s. Item received from Mary Ecton for her board on the feast of the Purification of the B.V. then owing vj s. Item received from Joan Colyar in part payment of xx s owing for J. Dalby xij s” (p. 179).
These accounts obviously contain ordinary adult boarders as well as children. Moreover in some cases the visitors seem merely to have come for the great feasts and not to have stayed for any length of time, a practice which does not suggest schooling. Mr Coulton has analysed the accounts closely. He writes: “The records of four years give us, at the most liberal interpretation, only nineteen children, whose total sojourn amounted to 648 weeks; that is an average of three pupils all the year round and one extra for two or three months of the time.” He adds: “I have, of course ruled out ‘Dame Joan Scargill,’ who paid 2s.a week, or four times the sum paid by a child, and Philip Scargill, who paid eighteen pence and was pretty evidently the Dame’s husband; but I have included five others on p. 89, though they are distinctly labelled asperhendinantes, and the sums they pay would in any case have suggested boarders rather than schoolgirls. If these were omitted (and I note that Abbot Gasquet also interprets them as merely boarders), this would bring down the average of actual children to about two at any given time.” (Monastic Schools in the Middle Ages, p. 27.) He infers the weekly rate of pay (where it can be inferred with any certainty) to be 6d.a week for children and 1s.or more for their elders. (Ib.p. 39.)
1440-1. At Bishop Alnwick’s visitation the prioress deposed “that a male child of seven years sleeps in the dorter with the cellaress.” Alnwick makes an injunction forbidding boarders, “save childerne, males the ix and females the xiij yere of age, whome we licencede yow to hafe for your relefe.”Linc. Visit.II, pp. 119, 125.
18.Langley.
1440. At Bishop Alnwick’s visitation Dame Margaret Mountgomerey “says that secular children, female only, do lie of a night in the dorter.” The Bishop forbids boarders “men, women ne childerne” without licence.Linc. Visit.II, pp. 175-6.
Lincolnshire.
19.Heynings.
1347. Bishop Gynewell writes to Heynings: “Item we command you on your obedience that henceforth no secular female child who has passed the tenth year of her age and no male child, of whatever age he may be, be received to dwell among you; and that no child lie in your dorter with the ladies, nor anywhere else whereby the convent might be disturbed.” (Linc. Epis. Reg. Memo. Gynewell, f. 34d.)
1387. Bishop Bokyngham writes: “Item, for the removal of all fleshly wantonness (carnis pruritus quoscumque), we will and ordain that secular children and especially males shall henceforth in no wise be permitted to sleep with the nuns, but let an honest place be set aside for them outside the cloister, if by our recent and special grace they should chance to be staying there.” (Linc. Epis. Reg. Memo. Bokyngham, f. 397d.)
1442. Alnwick enjoins at his visitation and afterwards in his written injunctions “that fro this day forthe ye receyve no sudeiournauntes that passe a man x yere, a woman xiiij yere of age, wythowten specyalle leve of hus or our successours bysshops of Lincolne asked and had.” (Linc. Visit.II, pp. 134-5.)
20.Gokewell.
1440. At Alnwick’s visitation the Prioress “says that they have no boarders above ten years of age of female and eight years of male sex.” (Linc. Visit.II, p. 117.)