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:
| Cum on, my Ladie Priores. We sall leir ȝow to dance— And that within ane lytill space— Ane new pavin of France (Heir sall thay spuilȝe the Priores; and scho sall haue ane kirtill of silk under hir habite.) Now, brother, be the Masse! Be my iudgement, I think This halie Priores Is turnit in ane cowclink[1639]. | [courtesan |
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 necessair
Till Common-weill, not ȝit to the glorie
Of Christ’s kirk, thocht thay be fat and fair.
And als, that fragill ordour feminine
Will nocht be missit in Christ’s Religioun;
Thair rents vsit till ane better fyne
For 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 the chansons 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 cells
Fu’ 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 harm
A 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 téle
Quant iért li jors que la feste iért nomée
Se nus i vient qui ait s’amor fausee
Ja 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 atraire
Qui 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 praise
If one shall come who falsely love betrays
Ne’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 go
Who 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: