Bell's Cathedrals: A Short Account of Romsey Abbey / A Description of the Fabric and Notes on the History of the Convent of SS. Mary & Ethelfleda

by Rev. Thomas Perkins

Henry and Matilda were benefactors to many abbeys, and naturally the queen was not forgetful of Romsey when the days of her girlhood had been passed. She was the mother of the prince who perished in the White Ship, and of Matilda who married the Count of Anjou, and carried on warfare against Stephen on behalf of her son Henry. Matilda of Romsey died in 1118 and was buried at Winchester.

The next abbess worthy of notice was Mary, daughter of King Stephen, of whom a true and romantic story is told, and who, by breaking her vows and marrying caused a great scandal at the time. She was the youngest daughter of the king, and a granddaughter on her mother’s side of Mary, whom Christine had brought up with her sister Eadgyth. She was educated at Bourges, then was transferred with other French nuns to the abbey at Stratford le Bowe, but as the original English nuns and the imported French ones did not agree, the latter went to a Benedictine house near Rochester, which had been founded by Stephen, and later on, about 1155, Mary became Abbess of Romsey. Her brother William, Count of Boulogne, died about 1159, and his estates passed to his sister. Matthew of Alsace cast covetous eyes on her broad lands and encouraged, it is said, by Henry II, who thought thereby to gain a powerful friend on the continent and, at the same time, annoy Thomas Becket, sought the abbess’s hand in marriage. He persuaded her to leave Romsey and become his wife: it is thought that Henry II may have brought some pressure to bear upon her to induce her to take this step. Anyhow, she was married in 1161. Her new people gladly received her, and her kindness of heart won and held their affection. For ten years Matthew and Mary lived happily together, or would have been happy if it had not been for the ban of the church. Then either on account of conscientious scruples about their past conduct, or on account of the disabilities imposed on them by the church, they separated, and Mary once more took on her the religious life, but not at Romsey. No doubt she thought it better to go to a convent entirely new to her, that at Montreuil, where she would not be constantly reminded of her former misconduct. Here she died in 1182, aged forty-five. It is noteworthy that her two daughters were legitimatized, their names were Ida and Maud. Ida, the elder, married first Gerard of Gueldres, and then Reginald of Damartin, and the younger, Maud, married the Duke of Brabant, so that it would seem that the pope did not take a very serious view of the Abbess Mary’s broken vows.

The thirteenth century abbesses followed one another in quick succession, no good thing for the discipline of the abbey. When Matilda died in 1219, the old gallows on which the abbess had had the right of hanging offenders condemned by her court, fell into disuse, but the right was restored by the King to Amicia. Towards the end of the century, episcopal visitations began, and the Bishop of Winchester looked into various disorders that had grown up among the abbesses and sisters. The various methods of procedure and the things forbidden give us some idea of the abuses that prevailed. The abbess was required in the injunction issued about 1283 not to exercise an autocratic power but only a constitutional one, being guided by the advice of her chapter. It was forbidden to any men except the confessor, and the doctor in case of illness of a nun, to enter the convent; all conversation with outsiders was to take place in the presence of witnesses and in an appointed place. The nuns were forbidden to visit the laity in Romsey, and other like ordinances were enjoined.

Philippa de Stokes and Clementia de Guildeford were infirm, and Clementia’s successor, Alicia de Wynterseshull, was poisoned soon after her election, but no evidence could be produced to convict the murderer.

Many episcopal visitations took place during the fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth centuries. The injunctions issued at many of them are in existence: these deal only with what is blameworthy, not with that which calls for no reproof. Some of the things objected to seem to us very trivial. On one occasion the nuns were forbidden to keep pet animals, as the abbess was charged with giving her dogs and monkeys the food intended for the sisters. Sometimes the abbess was forbidden to take into the convent more than a certain number of nuns. In 1333 there were ninety-one, but after a time the numbers decreased, and at the dissolution there were only twenty-six. The injunctions of 1311 were very strict, some of them deal with the locking of doors, forbid the presence of children, whether boy or girl, in the dormitory or in the choir.

Romsey, like many other religious houses, suffered severely at the time of the Black Death. The number and names of the ninety-one nuns voting in 1333 at the election of Johanna Icthe has come down to us. The pestilence reached Weymouth from the east in August, 1348, and of it died the abbess Johanna, two vicars, one prebendary, and no doubt many of the sisters, as in 1478 the number of nuns had dropped from ninety-one to eighteen, and after this there were never more than twenty-six nuns at Romsey. The reduction in the nuns not only decreased the importance of the abbey but led to a terrible relaxation of discipline.

The worst scandal arose when Elizabeth Broke was abbess. The evidence given before Dr. Hede, Commissary of the Prior of Canterbury, is still extant. There were various charges against her, that she allowed some of the sisters to wear long hair, did not prevent the nuns going into the town and drinking at the taverns, treated some with great severity, did not keep the convent accounts accurately, suffered sundry roofs to get out of order, and that she was much under the influence of the chaplain, Master Bryce. Some years before this she had been charged with adultery; this she seems to have denied with oaths, and finally, when she could brazen it out no further, she confessed to adultery and perjury and resigned her office, the only thing she could do; but the most remarkable part of the story is still to come: the sisters being required to fill the vacant post by the election of an abbess, almost unanimously re-elected Elizabeth Broke. Two only, Elizabeth herself and one other, did not vote for her. The bishop thereupon restored her to her position as abbess, but to mark his displeasure with her he forbade her to use the abbatial staff for seven years. The remaining years of her rule were not satisfactory. The sisters took advantage of the scandal she had caused to act in an insubordinate way towards her. The next abbess was Joyce Rowse, but she was utterly unable to reinstate the old discipline—we hear of her revelling with some of the sisters in the abbess’s quarters. Bishop Fox in his injunctions in 1507 forbade sundry priests to hold any communication with the abbess or with any of the nuns. William Scott was forbidden to gossip with the nuns at the kitchen window. Nature it would seem was much the same in the sixteenth century as it is now, and the convent servants loved gossip as much as ours do.

The abbess, finding that she could not maintain her authority in the abbey, resigned, and Anne Westbrooke, formerly mistress of the convent school, was appointed to succeed her in 1515. She died in 1593, and was succeeded by the last abbess, Elizabeth Ryprose; she seems to have been a capable woman, and tried hard to do her duty. But it was too late to purify the abbey. Various nuns were reprimanded or punished in 1527 by the vicar-general. Alice Gorsyn confessed to having used bad language and having spread false and defamatory stories about the sisters; on her confession she was admitted to penance, but it was ordered that if she transgressed again in like manner she was to wear a tongue made of red cloth under her chin for a whole month, and the abbess was ordered to see the sentence carried out.