The royal couple lived at Westminster, in the palace of Edward the Confessor, and Matilda devoted much of her time to the care of the sick and the needy. She was so strict concerning her religious duties, that every day in Lent she went to Westminster Abbey barefooted and clothed in a garment of haircloth. Then she would wash and kiss the feet of the poorest people. One day a courtier reproved her for it, but she replied, as the following curious dialogue, taken from a rhyming chronicle of the day, will show,—

"Madam, for God's love is this well ado

To handle such unclean limbs and to kiss so?

Foul would the king think if this thing he wist,

And right well avile him ere he your lips kist."

"Sir, sir!" quoth the queen, "be still. Why say you so?

Our Lord himself example gave for to do so."

On another occasion, her brother, the King of Scotland, who was on a visit to the English court, entered Matilda's apartments, and found her on her knees washing the feet of some old beggars. She looked up, and asked him if he would not assist her in this work of charity and humiliation, for the good of his soul. His majesty smiled and left the room without making any reply. Perhaps as he had never had any practice in that sort of labor he feared that he might not be able to perform it skilfully, or it may be that he did not care to encourage his sister in the humility which she seemed inclined to carry to excess. How- ever, Matilda's good works were not all directed in one channel, for she tried to benefit every class of her subjects, the rich as well as the poor. Once when she was obliged to cross the river Lea on horseback, the tide was so high that she ran great danger of being drowned, so she caused a fine arched bridge to be built high up the stream. The Saxons called it the Bow Bridge. Then she built more of these structures, and to insure their being kept in good repair, she presented a mill or dwelling-house to those whom she selected to attend to them.

She planned new roads and repaired old ones, thus facilitating travel through the wild, uncultivated parts of the country, so that in time merchants could cross the desolate moors with their wares without incurring much risk.

All this work was probably done during her husband's absence from home when she was regent and could call on the public treasury, for certainly her private purse could never have enabled her to undergo such a heavy outlay. But that made no difference to her subjects, for they enjoyed the benefit of her improvements, and looked upon her as a real benefactress.

Henry's wise laws did not give universal satisfaction by any means; for the Norman nobles objected to any check being placed on their actions. They had been used to doing just exactly as they pleased with only their sweet wills to govern them, and now when they found that they could not commit crimes and outrages against the lower classes without incurring punishment of some sort they made great complaints. They could not understand why the laws that protected them and their families should apply equally to the common people. Their amusements were restrained, and their lawlessness no longer had free play. So they spoke with utter contempt of "that Saxon woman," as they called Matilda, and actually went so far as to apply ridiculous nicknames to the royal couple, before their very faces.

Just two years had passed since their marriage, when Duke Robert returned from the Holy Land. He determined at once to invade England. Now, as Henry's fleet was manned by Normans, under the influence of Norman chiefs, they refused to guard the coasts of England against their duke, but went out to meet him, and brought him in triumph to Portsmouth, where he was joined by nearly all the Anglo-Norman nobles, as well as a great many of the English themselves.

Well, Robert marched straight on to Winchester, but with all his faults, he proved himself a true gentleman on this occasion; for when he got there he heard that Matilda had a little baby and was ill in bed, so he refused to storm the city.

This consideration on his part pleased the queen so much, that she used her influence to bring about a reconciliation between her husband and his brother, and Henry invited Robert to court, where he was feasted and entertained in a sumptuous manner. The queen and her brother-in-law had one taste in common: they both loved music. It is only a pity that all Robert's fancies were not so refined and harmless.

Poets and minstrels from every part of Europe flocked to Matilda's court to recite their verses or sing their songs in her presence, and she took great pains to receive them kindly and make them welcome. The only objection that could be made to this custom, was that it cost too much money, for the queen was exceedingly liberal with her rewards. Robert was so well pleased with the treatment he received at his brother's court, that he prolonged his stay six months, and he and the queen passed a great deal of time in each other's society singing and studying music; and quite a warm affection grew up between them.

A.D. 1104. The following year the Duke of Normandy visited England again, probably to demand the payment of his pension. As he was accompanied by only twelve gentlemen it could scarcely have been his purpose to raise a revolt. Nevertheless, when Henry heard of his arrival he said, "By my faith, should he fall into my hands, I will keep him so closely imprisoned that he shall never give me any more trouble."

A friend of Robert's heard this remark, and hastened to warn him of his danger, advising him to seek the queen's protection, which he was very glad to do. She spoke kind and comforting words, assuring him that she would do all in her power to save him from the anger of the king. But Robert was so alarmed that he scarcely listened to what she said. He declared himself ready to make almost any sacrifice to insure his personal safety, and even offered to dispense with the annual sum the king regularly allowed him for resigning his claim to the throne.

When Henry heard this, he sent for the queen to come to him and bring Duke Robert with her. She did so, and the duke thus addressed his brother:

"Fair sire, I am come to show you our of affection, and not to injure either you or yours. We are brothers, born of one father and one mother. If I am the eldest, you have the honor of the crown, which is a much better thing. I love you well, and thus it ought to be. I have given over to the queen all you owe me for this kingdom. We will be friends now and exchange gifts of jewels, dogs, and birds."

The king replied: "We will do as you say, with thanks." Now, one of Robert's vices was intemperance, which was so great, that he would often be in a state of intoxication for days together. So, not long after his friendly speech, when he was under the influence of wine, he accused Henry of having cheated him out of his pension, by making Matilda mislead him with her fair words. Of course, after that there could be nothing but bitter and unkind feelings between the royal brothers, and Robert made so many threats, that the king embarked for Normandy, determined to make war on him.

But when he got there, Anselm, the old archbishop, effected a reconciliation. Anselm then returned to England and gave Matilda much pain, by putting in force a plan that he had agreed upon with Henry. It was to forbid any of the Anglo-Saxon clergy to marry, and to turn those out of the church who were already married. Two hundred of these poor unfortunates stood barefooted in the streets of London, when Henry returned, begging for compassion. He turned aside, and showed plainly that they were to look for neither aid nor sympathy from him, while the good Matilda wept bitterly, saying that "she dared not interfere."

At this time the royal couple had two children, a boy named William, and a little daughter who was placed at Wilton Abbey for care and education.

The Anglo-Normans were so much pleased with the Saxon style of wearing their hair, which was in long ringlets flowing to their shoulders, their mouths and chins covered with it too, that they soon imitated them. The king especially was remarkable for the beauty of his locks, which he cherished with care, though the Norman clergy highly disapproved of such vanity.

One day, while Henry was in Normandy, he and his train entered a church, where the bishop began to preach about the sinfulness of this new fashion, saying, "It was a device of the evil one to bring souls into everlasting perdition, the moustached, bearded, and long-haired men resembling filthy goats." The discourse was so touching that the King of England and his courtiers wept. Then the bishop drew a large pair of scissors from his sleeve and proceeded to crop off the curls and beards of his hearers, beginning with Henry, who was anxious to prove the sincerity of his tears. Thus for nearly an hour the church resembled a barber-shop, and afterwards Henry published an edict forever abolishing such sinful adornments as ringlets and beards.

After this Henry pursued the war in Normandy, completely conquered that country, and returned in triumph to England with Edgar Atheling, Robert, and four hundred valiant knights as prisoners.

He then removed his court to Windsor Castle, which had been completed by Matilda during his absence. It now became necessary for Henry to spend part of every year in Normandy, as he was ruler of that country as well as of England.

In 1109 he received an ambassador from the Emperor Henry V., who came to make a proposal for the hand of the little Princess Matilda, then only six years of age. The offer was accepted, but the child was permitted to remain at home until she had reached the mature age of twelve, when she was married and crowned in the cathedral of Mentz. The little empress was very kindly treated by her husband, who was forty years her senior; and she was so amiable and pretty, that she won the hearts of the German princes, his sons.

When Prince William was twelve years old, the king took him to Normandy, and presented him, with great pomp, as heir to the duchy. The barons and freemen swore fealty to him.

The royal family passed the following Christmas at the Abbey of St. Alban's as guests of the Abbot Richard, who invited them, as well as a large company of prelates and nobles, to assist at the consecration of the abbey. In a rich illuminated volume, called the Golden Book of St. Alban's, (now in the British Museum,) is a likeness of the queen, evidently made at this time.

In the year 1117, a fresh revolt called Henry to Normandy again, and during his absence "the Good Queen," whose health had been failing for many months, died. To the last hour of her life she was a beautiful example of piety and self-denial, and her virtues had made her so dear to her subjects of every class, that she was passionately lamented by them all. She was buried at Westminster Abbey near her royal uncle, Edward the Confessor.

After her death, her three Saxon maids of honor retired to a hermitage where there was a holy well, or medicinal spring, and established a convent there. They were pious ladies, always ready to bestow alms and relieve the sick and suffering, and passed the rest of their lives in imitating the charitable, worthy deeds of their royal mistress.

Prince William never returned to England after the death of his mother, but spent much of his time fighting against the King of France, at his father's side.

In 1119 he married Alice, daughter of the Earl of Anjou. A year later he accompanied his father to Harfleur for the purpose of embarking for England. The king set sail the same night, leaving the prince to follow in the "White Ship" the finest vessel in the Norman navy. William went on board with a gay party of young friends, and ordered three casks of wine to be given to the ship's crew. This was a mistake, for the sailors were, for the most part, intoxicated when they sailed. Prince William, desiring to overtake the rest of the fleet, ordered his captain to put up all his sails, and the "White Ship" went rushing through the water with such dangerous speed, that she suddenly struck a rock and began to sink. All was terror and confusion. The life-boat was launched, and the young heir of England, with several of his companions, got into it, and would probably have been able to row back to the Norman shore in safety; but the cries of his half-sister calling on him for assistance reached his ear. He commanded the boat back, and as soon as it neared the ship, such numbers sprang into it that it immediately sank. Out of three hundred persons who embarked on the ill-fated vessel only one escaped to tell the sad tale. This was a poor butcher, who climbed to the top of the mast, and was rescued next morning by some fishermen.

The report of the disaster reached England next day, but there was nobody bold enough to carry it to the king, so for three days he was left in suspense.

At length his private little page was selected to break the news to the bereaved father. Entering the room with pattering steps and a sorrowful mien, the child knelt down at Henry's feet and told him of the dreadful catastrophe. He sank upon the floor in a swoon, from which he did not recover for many minutes. In all his life Henry I. was never known to smile again.

A.D. 1120. Three years after the death of Queen Matilda he married Adelicia of Louvaine, surnamed the Fair Maid of Brabant, a lady of distinguished beauty and rare

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talent. She occupied the English throne too short a time for us to devote a separate chapter to her reign. She was a good, kind stepmother to the little Empress Matilda, and took excellent care of her. But she could not have been very happy as the wife of Henry I., because his troubles made him such a cross, melancholy old man that even his greatest nobles were afraid to approach him. He died in Normandy in 1135, and three years later Adelicia married William de Albini.

She had seven children after her second marriage, from one of whom by lineal descent were two of the most unfortunate of all the queens of England,—Anna Boleyn and Katherine Howard.

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