having been made to do so at particular times, gives a striking picture of the lawlessness and brutality of the Norman soldiery. "I confess," she said, "that I have sometimes appeared veiled, but the cause was this: in my youth I was under the care of my aunt Christina. She, in order to preserve me from the Normans, by whose licentiousness the honour of all women was threatened, was accustomed to throw a piece of black stuff over my head; and when I refused to wear it, she treated me with great harshness. In her presence, therefore, I wore that veil, but when she was away, I used to throw it on the ground, and trample upon it in childish anger."[1]
Anselm convoked a council of nobles and ecclesiastics, who assembled in the city of Rochester, and to whom the evidence given by Matilda was submitted. Witnesses were examined in support of her assertions, and the assembly decided that the princess was free to dispose of her person in marriage. They cited, as an authority for this decision, the judgment of Archbishop Lanfranc, who, at a time when some Saxon women had taken refuge in a convent from fear of the soldiers of the Conqueror, permitted them to regain their liberty.
At the time of the coronation of Matilda, London could not have presented much to attract the eye. The convents were few, and the churches humble. The tall spire, rising like an aspiration towards heaven; the richly traceried window; the carved portal, did not yet exist to form a picturesque contrast with the rude, low houses built in irregular lines.
The Thames, crossed by one poor wooden bridge, was not then, as now, crowded by a fleet of merchantmen. At the Tower, the Vintry, and Edred's-hithe, a few small vessels, indeed, might be anchored and from time to time some tall Norman galley might glide over its silvery waters.
On either side of the city, and close to the water's edge, stood the important fortresses of the Tower and Castle Baynard, whilst a rude collection of huts, of the poorest description, formed that general receptacle of thieves and outlaws, the Borough. Close to them stood the convent and church of St. Mary, and far beyond, on the same side of the river, rising above the marshes which surrounded it, might be seen the towers of the palace of Lambeth.
As the procession moved on, the eyes of the princess encountered a fairer spectacle; for, on quitting the village of Charing, she entered the broad but irregular road which led to the palace of Westminster, the residence of the sovereign of England. There the hand of improvement, guided by art, had lavished countless cost both on church and ball.
Although the authorities for describing the palace of Westminster are so scanty, a minute picture may be drawn of the abbey church in which Matilda was crowned, as it was finished by Edward the Confessor.
From the day when it was asserted that the church had been consecrated by the chief of the Apostles himself, amid the blaze of celestial light and the hallelujahs of angels, each monarch who in succession swayed the sceptre of England vied with his predecessors in gifts or immunities to this highly favoured abbey. The fishermen of the Thames, in full assurance of St. Peter's promise of prospering them in their calling, paid willingly their tithe of salmon, and continued to do so nearly to the time of the Reformation. Spoorly relates that in 1382 he saw a large fish presented by four fishermen on the high altar. He also adds, that they who offered it might demand for it bread and ale of the cellarer of the abbey, and had a right to sit at the prior's own table.
Such was the church where Matilda, surrounded by the great officers of state, and cheered on her way by the rejoicing Saxons, was conducted to receive the crown matrimonial of England, the inheritance of her race.
Beside the primate was a churchman of a very different character, Roger, Bishop of Sarum, the king's chancellor. The history of his progress under royal favour is strikingly characteristic of the man and the times in which he flourished.
At the period when Henry was fighting under the banner of his brother, William Rufus, with a troop of mercenaries whom he headed, they entered a church near Caen, and requested the priest whom they found there to say a mass as quickly as possible.
Henry I from a Statue in the Choir of York Cathedral
This priest was Roger, who promptly complied with their request, and hurried over the service in so rapid a manner that they unanimously declared that it would be impossible to find a priest more suitable for a soldier's chaplain. In this new office, Roger acquitted himself so well, that Henry, on his accession, advanced him to the chancellorship, and to the see of Sarum. His last years afforded a remarkable instance of the versatility of fortune. After munificently expending immense sums on his cathedral at Old Sarum, and upon the rebuilding of Malmesbury Abbey, which noble church still presents so fine a specimen of the Norman style, and seeing two nephews Bishops of Lincoln and Ely, on the accession of Stephen he fell into deep disgrace; and when, in his last illness, he was permitted to retire to Sarum, even his expiring moments were disturbed by plundering foemen, who carried away the remaining gold and jewels he possessed.[2]
Of the principal nobles of England and Normandy, it is probable that only a few were present. Some were in the Holy Land with Robert; others, dissatisfied at the usurpation of his younger brother, remained in their respective castles, silently preparing to assort the right of the lawful heir to the throne. Amongst those, however, who adhered to Henry, was the famous Roger de Bigod, who had obtained vast possessions both in Norfolk and Suffolk; whilst another devoted friend of the new king was the powerful Earl of Chester, lord of the Welsh marches, and commonly called Hugh Lupus, on account of his turbulent disposition.
