Woman under Monasticism

It has been estimated that the lesser houses including those of monks and nuns which fell under the act numbered about three hundred and eighty; they were to surrender to the crown within a year. Of these the women’s houses, owing to their comparative poverty, were relatively more numerous than those of the men. Out of about one hundred and thirty nunneries which existed at this period only fifteen were exempt through having a yearly income exceeding £200, but in addition to these over twenty by some means or other secured a reprieve.

As the act abolishing the lesser houses was based on the assumption of their corruption, the heads of some of the houses which bore a good character asked leave on this ground to remain. Among those who wrote to Cromwell in this sense was Jane Messyndyne, prioress of a convent of about ten nuns at Legbourne in Leicestershire, who pleaded that no fault had been found with her house1090. ‘And whereas,’ she wrote, ‘we do hear that a great number of abbeys shall be punished, suppressed and put down because of their misliving, and that all abbeys and priories under the value of £200 be at our most noble prince’s pleasure to suppress and put down, yet if it may please your goodness we trust in God you shall hear no complaints against us neither in our living nor hospitality keeping.’ But petitions such as hers apparently passed unheeded, for in the autumn of the same year (Sept. 1536), the process of dissolution was going on at her house1091.

There seems no doubt that in many cases where the lesser houses were allowed to remain bribery was resorted to, perhaps backed by the intervention of friends. Payments into the Royal Exchequer were made by a large proportion of the lesser houses which continued unmolested, and among them were a number of nunneries which paid sums ranging from £20 to £4001092. Among these was Brusyard in Bedfordshire, a small settlement of nuns of the order of St Clare, the abbess of which wrote to Cromwell seeking his intervention1093; she ultimately secured a reprieve and paid the sum of £201094. Alice Fitzherbert, abbess of the nunnery of Polesworth in Warwickshire, to which an exceptionally good character was given, bought a reprieve for £50, on the intervention it is said of friends1095. Again the abbess of Delapray, who is characterised as a very sickly and aged woman, secured a reprieve and paid £266. The agent Tregonwell had reported well of Godstow1096. Its inmates all bore a good character excepting one who, some thirteen years ago, had broken her vow while living in another convent, had been transferred to Delapray by the bishop of Lincoln and had since lived virtuously. Margaret Tewkesbury the abbess wrote to Cromwell begging him to accept a little fee and to forward the letter she enclosed to the king1097. Her convent was allowed to remain.

The attempt of the prioress of Catesby to save her house in a similar manner was fruitless. The house bore an excellent character according to Tregonwell1098, and his opinion was confirmed by the commissioners who came down later (May, 1536) to take an exact survey. ‘We found the house,’ they wrote to Cromwell1099, ‘in very perfect order, the prioress a wise, discreet, and religious woman with nine devout nuns under her as good as we have seen. The house stands where it is a relief to the poor, as we hear by divers trustworthy reports. If any religious house is to stand, none is more meet for the king’s charity than Catesby. We have not found any such elsewhere…’ But the recommendation was insufficient and Joyce Bykeley, ‘late prioress,’ addressed herself directly to Cromwell. – ‘Dr Gwent informed you last night,’ she wrote1100, ‘that the queen had moved the king for me and offered him 2000 marks for the house at Catesby, but has not yet a perfect answer. I beg you, in my great sorrow, get the king to grant that the house may stand and get me years of payment for the 2000 marks. You shall have 100 marks of me to buy you a gelding and my prayers during my life and all my sisters during their lives. I hope you have not forgotten the report the commissioners sent of me and my sisters…’ But her letter was of no avail. Somehow she had incurred the king’s displeasure1101, and the order to dissolve her convent was not countermanded.

The sums paid by some nunneries appear enormous compared with their yearly income. Thus the convent of Pollesloe, with a yearly income of £164, paid the sum of £400 into the Royal Exchequer; Laycock, with an income of £168, paid £300, and the nuns of St Mary at Chester, with an income of £66, paid £160; other sums paid are given by Gasquet1102.

Among the lesser houses reprieved was St Mary’s, Winchester, one of the nunneries dating from the Anglo-Saxon period, but which in course of time had decreased. The report of the commissioners who came down to take stock of the contents of the settlement provides us with many interesting particulars1103. The number of persons residing in the monastery at the time was over a hundred. The abbess Elizabeth Shelley presided over a convent of twenty-six nuns, twenty-two of whom were professed and four novices. The nuns are designated in this report by the old term ‘mynchyns.’ With the exception of one who desired ‘capacity,’ that is liberty to return to the world, they all declared their intention of going into other houses. Five lay sisters also dwelt there, thirteen women-servants and twenty-six girls, some of whom were the daughters of knights receiving their education. Of the women-servants one belonged to the abbess who lived in a house of her own with her gentlewoman; the prioress, sub-prioress, sexton, and perhaps one other nun, lived in separate houses and each had her servant. There were also a number of priests and other men designated as officers of the household. Among them was a general receiver and his servant, a clerk and his servant, a gardener (curtyar), a caterer, a bottler (botyler?), a cook, an undercook, a baker, a convent cook, an under convent cook, a brewer, a miller, several porters and ‘children of the high altar,’ and two men enjoying corrodies, that is free quarters and means of subsistence. The yearly income of this vast establishment was assessed at £179, and the house therefore came under the act. But the abbess, Elizabeth Shelley, who is described as a person of spirit and talent, found means to avert the storm. The sum £333 was paid by her into the Royal Exchequer1104, and (in August 1536) letters patent were obtained by which the abbey was refounded with all its property excepting some valuable manors1105.

Other convents which at the same time secured a licence to remain1106 were the Benedictine convent of Chatteris with Anne Seton1107 as prioress; the Austin convent of Gracedieu in Leicestershire; the convent of the order of St Clare of Dennis; also the nuns of St Andrew’s, Marricks in Yorkshire under Christabel Cooper, and of St Mary’s, Heyninges, in Lincolnshire under Joan Sandford1108. No payment is recorded in connection with any of these houses so far as I have been able to ascertain.

Among the reprieves that of the Austin nuns or White Ladies at Gracedieu is noteworthy, as the report of Cromwell’s agents (Feb. 1536) had charged two of its inmates with incontinence, and among other superstitions countenanced by the convent, mentioned their holding in reverence the girdle and part of the tunic of St Francis which were supposed to help women in their confinement1109. But the special commissioners a few months later spoke of the prioress Agnes Litherland and her convent of fifteen nuns in the highest terms, describing them as of good and virtuous conversation and living, and saying that all of them desired their house to remain1110.

The convent of Dennis, which secured a licence at the same time, was one of the few settlements of nuns of St Clare, the abbess of which, Elizabeth Throgmerton, was renowned for her liberal sympathies. In 1528 a wealthy London merchant was imprisoned for distributing Tyndale’s books and other practices of the sort, and he pleaded among other reasons for exculpation that, the abbess of Dennis wishing to borrow Tyndale’s Enchiridion, he had lent it to her and had spent much money on restoring her house1111. Legh in a letter to Cromwell1112 described how on visiting Dennis he was met by the weeping nuns, who were all ready to return to the world, a statement in direct contradiction to the fact that the house was not dissolved.

The work of dissolution began in April 1536 and continued without interruption throughout the summer. Gasquet holds that the women suffered more than the men by being turned adrift1113. ‘Many things combined to render the dissolution of conventual establishments and the disbanding of the religious more terrible to nuns than to monks. A woman compelled to exchange the secluded life of a cloister with all its aids to piety for an existence in the world, to which she could never rightly belong, would be obviously in a more dangerous and undesirable position than a man.’

By a provision of the act those who were professed were to receive pensions, but the number of inmates of the lesser houses to whom they were granted was comparatively small1114. Moreover pensions were not apportioned with regard to the needs of subsistence, but to the wealth of the house, so that even those who received them were in a great measure thrown on their own resources. The number of professed nuns, as is apparent from the accounts given of St Mary’s, Winchester, and other houses, was relatively small compared with the number of servants and dependents. These in some cases received a small ‘award’ but were thrown out of employment, while the recipients of alms from the house were likewise deprived of their means of living, and went to swell the ranks of those who were dissatisfied with the innovation. While the process of dissolution was going on (July 1536) Chapuys the French ambassador wrote as follows1115: ‘It is a lamentable thing to see a legion of monks and nuns who have been chased from their monasteries wandering miserably hither and thither seeking means to live; and several honest men have told me that what with monks, nuns, and persons dependent on the monasteries suppressed, there were over 20,000 who knew not how to live.’ His estimate may have reference to the ultimate effect of the act1116. The immediate results of the suppression were, however, disastrous throughout the country, and the dissatisfaction which the suppression caused went far to rouse the latent discontent of the northern provinces into open rebellion.

It was in Lincolnshire, in October, that the commissioners first met with opposition. From here a rising spread northwards to Scotland, and under the name of the ‘Pilgrimage of Grace’ drew votaries from the lay and religious classes alike. The insurgents claimed among other things that the innovations in religion should be disowned, and that despoiled monasteries should be restored. They pursued the visitors Layton and Legh with unrelenting hatred on account of their extortions; Legh was in danger of his life and barely escaped their fury1117. The rising assumed such proportions that the king was seriously alarmed; an army was sent to the north, strenuous efforts were made to win over the powerful northern barons, and concessions were made and rescinded with much shameful double-dealing. Beyond the effect it had on religious houses, the story of the rebellion, on which a new light has recently been thrown by the publication of letters which passed at the time1118, does not concern us here. Wherever the insurgents spread they seized on despoiled monasteries and reinstated their superiors and inmates; among other houses the nunnery of Seton in Cumberland was restored for a time1119. But in proportion as the king regained his authority, terrible bloodshed followed; the representatives of the chief families and the abbots who had joined in the rising were hanged, burnt, or beheaded, and their property confiscated by attainder. Cromwell, who was still on the high road to prosperity, availed himself of the rebellion to institute a general suppression, which was speedily and summarily carried into effect. In the autumn of 1537, the fear of systematic revolt being quelled, the suppression began and extended over the whole of 1538 and 1539. No further evidence was collected, no act was passed till April 1539, when a provision was made by which all monasteries which were dissolved or surrendered fell to the king1120. The commissioners came down on each house in succession, beginning with the less wealthy and influential ones, and used every means to secure a free surrender. Even then a certain reticence in the proceedings was observed which went far to blind contemporaries to the vastness of the ultimate object in view, for every effort was made to keep up the fiction that Henry was doing no more than correcting abuses and accepting free surrenders. But the study of documents proves things to have been otherwise. The promise of a pension was held out on condition of a voluntary surrender, but where hesitation was shown in accepting, the effect of threats of deprivation was tried. The visitor Bedyll wrote that he advised the monks of Charterhouse rather to ‘surrender than abide the extremity of the king’s law1121,’ and many of the forms of surrender which are extant remain unsigned. On others the name of the superior is the only signature, on others again the names of the superior and the members of the convent are entered in the same hand. Considering the helpless position in which religious houses were placed, it seems a matter for wonder that any opposition was made.

It is interesting to find that as late as (Jan.) 1538, two years after the passing of the first bill, the heads of houses were asked to believe that there was no wish for a general suppression1122, and that a grant of continuance was made (May 1538) to the nunneries of Kirkless and Nunappleton in Yorkshire1123. In Yorkshire there was a strong feeling in favour of nunneries, – ‘in which our daughters (are) brought up in virtue,’ as Aske, one of the leaders of the rebellion, put it1124, and owing doubtless to the opposition made by the rebels, a number of lesser nunneries in the north which came under the act escaped dissolution. Among them besides Kirkless and Nunappleton were Swine and Nun-Kelyng; there is no evidence that they secured a licence at the time. The fact that Kirkless remained and gained a reprieve in 1538 is the more noticeable as the commissioners had in the first instance reported unfavourably on the state of the house1125.

In February 1538 a courtier wrote to Lord Lisle1126, ‘the abbeys go down as fast as they may and are surrendered to the king,’ adding the pious wish: ‘I pray God send you one among them to your part.’ For the property of religious houses which were appropriated to the king was now frequently granted to courtiers, or to those who were quick enough to avail themselves of their opportunities in the general scramble.

Several of the agents who had previously conducted visitations were among those who carried on the work of the dissolution. Among them London († 1543) has been characterised as ‘the most terrible of all the monastic spoilers’; his letters remain to show in what spirit he stripped the houses of their property, seized relics and defaced and destroyed everything he could lay hands on1127. There is a letter extant which Katherine Bulkeley, abbess of Godstow, wrote to Cromwell complaining of him1128. He came down to her house (Nov. 1537), ostensibly to hold a visitation, but really bent on securing a surrender.

‘… Dr London, which as your lordship does well know was against my promotion and has ever since borne me great malice and grudge like my mortal enemy, is suddenly come unto me with a great rout with him and here does threaten me and my sisters saying that he has the king’s commission to suppress my house in spite of my teeth. And when he saw that I was content that he should do all things according to his commission and showed him plain that I would never surrender to his hand being my ancient enemy, now he begins to entreat me and to inveigle my sisters one by one otherwise than I ever heard tell that any of the king’s subjects have been handled, and here tarries and continues to my great cost and charge, and will not take my answer that I will not surrender till I know the king’s gracious commandment and your lordship’s …’ and more to the same purpose.

London on the following day wrote to Cromwell1129 asking that the ‘mynchyns’ or nuns of her house, many of whom were aged and without friends, should be generously dealt with (in the matter of a pension). Stories were current1130 at the time about insults to which the nuns were exposed by the agents. Although it seems probable that there was no excessive delicacy used in their treatment, no direct complaints except those of the abbess of Godstow have been preserved.

The last pages of the history of several of the great abbeys are full of traits of heroism; one cannot read without sympathy of the way in which for example the abbot of Glastonbury identified himself with the system to which he belonged, and perished with it rather than be divided from it. The staunch faith of the friars no less commands respect. The heads of women’s houses naturally made less opposition. However Florence Bannerman, abbess of Amesbury, refused every attempt to bribe or force her into a surrender. After considerable delay she was deposed in December 1539, and was succeeded by Joan Darrell who surrendered the house at the king’s bidding1131, and accepted the comparatively high pension of £100.

To some of the heads of houses it seemed incredible that the old system was passing away for ever, and they surrendered in the belief that their deprivation was only temporary. Elizabeth Shelley, abbess of St Mary’s, Winchester, who in 1535 had saved her house, accepted the surrender but continued to dwell at Winchester with a number of her nuns, and when she died bequeathed a silver chalice which she had saved to the college in the city on condition that it should be given back to St Mary’s if the convent were restored1132. The fact that she succeeded in carrying away a chalice appears exceptional, for the inmates of convents who were expelled seem as a rule to have taken with them nothing except perhaps their books of devotion.

The story of the dissolution repeats itself in every convent. The inventory of the house having been taken, the lead was torn from the roofs, and sold together with the bells; the relics and pictures were packed in sacks and sent up to London to be burnt.

The plate and jewels of the house, the amount of which was considerable in the houses of men and in some of women (for example in Barking) were also forwarded to London to be broken up and melted; in a few instances they were sold. The house’s property in furniture, utensils and vestments was sold there and then. The superiors and convent inmates were then turned away, and the buildings that had so long been held in reverence were either devoted to some profane use or else left to decay.

The inventory taken at the dissolution of the ancient Benedictine nunnery of Wherwell in Hampshire has been preserved among others, and shows how such a house was dealt with1133. There is a list of the inmates of the convent and of the pensions granted to them; the abbess in this case received a yearly pension of £40, and her nuns’ pensions ranged from £3. 6s. 8d. to £6. We then get a list of the dwellings of which the settlement was composed. The houses and buildings ‘assigned to remain’ were as follows: ‘the abbess’ lodging with the houses within the quadrant, as the water leads from the east side of the cloister to the gate, the farmery, the mill and millhouse with the slaughter-house adjoining, the brewing and baking houses with the granaries to the same, the barn and stables in the outer court.’ The list of dwellings ‘deemed to be superfluous’ follows. ‘The church, choir, and steeple covered with lead, the cloister covered with tiles and certain gutters of lead, the chapter house, the refectory (ffrayter), the dormitory, the convent kitchen and all the old lodgings between the granary and the hall door covered with tiles.’ Then follow accounts of the lead and bells remaining, of the jewels, plate and silver ‘reserved for the king’s use,’ and of the ornaments, goods and chattels which were sold. We further gather that the debts of the house were paid and that rewards and wages were given to the chaplain, officers and servants before they were turned away.

As mentioned above the pensions given differed greatly, and the heads of wealthy houses were allowed considerable sums. Thus Elizabeth Souche, abbess of Shaftesbury, the yearly income of which house was taxed at £1166, received £133 a year and all her nuns to the number of fifty-five were pensioned. Dorothy Barley, abbess of Barking, a house taxed at £862, received a yearly pension of £133; while Elizabeth Shelley, abbess of St Mary’s, Winchester, received only £26 a year. The prioress of St Andrew’s, Marricks, a small house, received £5 annually, and her nuns a pension of from twenty to forty shillings each. Gasquet points out that a large number of those who were pensioned died during the first few years after the surrender1134. Probably many of them were old, but there is extant a pension roll of the year 1553 (reign of Philip and Mary) from which can be gathered that a certain number of pensioned monks and nuns were then alive and continued to draw their pensions. Gasquet further remarks that only a few of the nuns who were turned away are known to have married1135; considering that hardly any are known to have left their convents voluntarily, and that many of the younger ones were turned away through the act of 1535, this seems only natural.

Eye-witnesses as well as Cromwell’s agents have left descriptions which give a striking picture of the brutality of the proceedings1136. But the hardships to which the convent inmates were exposed, the terrible waste of their property, and the senseless destruction of priceless art treasures, must not blind us to the fact that the breaking up of the monastic system was but an incident in one of the most momentous revolutions within historic record. The dissolution of the monasteries at the time of the Reformation, to be rightly estimated, must be considered as part of a wider change which was remoulding society on an altered basis.

It is interesting to compare the view taken of monastic life at the time of the dissolution with the attitude taken towards convents in the following period. Some writings, as for example Lindesay in the play of the Three Estates, acted in the North in 15351137, severely censure the inclinations which are fostered in the convent.

But strong as the feeling against convents and their inmates was in some instances at the time of the Reformation, when the system was once removed little antagonism remained towards those who had represented it. The thought of the nun, fifty years after she had passed away in England, roused no acrimony. Shakspere had no prejudice against her, and Milton was so far impressed in her favour that he represented ‘Melancholy’ under the form of a ‘pensive nun, devout and pure, – Sober, steadfast and demure.’ It was only at a much later period that the agitation raised by the fear of returning ‘Popery’ caused men to rake up scandals connected with convents and to make bugbears out of them.

The losses incurred by the destruction of the convents were not however slow in making themselves felt; but as indifference towards women’s intellectual interests had made part of the movement, a considerable time went by before the loss of the educational possibilities which the convent had secured to women was deplored. ‘In the convents,’ says Gasquet1138, ‘the female portion of the population found their only teachers, the rich as well as the poor, and the destruction of these religious houses by Henry was the absolute extinction of any systematic education for women during a long period.’ While devotion to domestic duties, exclusive of all other interests, continued to be claimed from women, the loss of their schools was a matter of indifference to society in general. But in proportion as shortcomings in women were felt, the thought arose that these might be due to want of training. The words in which the divine, Fuller († 1661), expressed such thoughts in the 17th century are well worth recalling. The vow of celibacy in his eyes remained a thing of evil, but short of this the convents had not been wholly bad.