his grant of a charter, and his marriage with Matilda,
mark the new relation which this support brought about
between the people and their king. Henry’s
Charter is important, not merely as a direct precedent
for the Great Charter of John, but as the first limitation
on the despotism established by the Conqueror and
carried to such a height by his son. The “evil
customs” by which the Red King had enslaved
and plundered the Church were explicitly renounced
in it, the unlimited demands made by both the Conqueror
and his son on the baronage exchanged for customary
fees, while the rights of the people itself, though
recognized more vaguely, were not forgotten. The
barons were held to do justice to their undertenants
and to renounce tyrannical exactions from them, the
king promising to restore order and the “law
of Eadward,” the old constitution of the realm,
with the changes which his father had introduced.
His marriage gave a significance to these promises
which the meanest English peasant could understand.
Edith, or Matilda, was the daughter of King Malcolm
of Scotland and of Margaret, the sister of Eadgar
AEtheling. She had been brought up in the nunnery
of Romsey where her aunt Christina was a nun; and
the veil which she had taken there formed an obstacle
to her union with the King, which was only removed
by the wisdom of Anselm. While Flambard, the embodiment
of the Red King’s despotism, was thrown into
the Tower, the Archbishop’s recall had been
one of Henry’s first acts after his accession.
Matilda appeared before his court to tell her tale
in words of passionate earnestness. She had been
veiled in her childhood, she asserted, only to save
her from the insults of the rude soldiery who infested
the land, had flung the veil from her again and again,
and had yielded at last to the unwomanly taunts, the
actual blows of her aunt. “As often as I
stood in her presence,” the girl pleaded, “I
wore the veil, trembling as I wore it with indignation
and grief. But as soon as I could get out of her
sight I used to snatch it from my head, fling it on
the ground, and trample it under foot. That was
the way, and none other, in which I was veiled.”
Anselm at once declared her free from conventual bonds,
and the shout of the English multitude when he set
the crown on Matilda’s brow drowned the murmur
of Churchman or of baron. The mockery of the Norman
nobles, who nicknamed the king and his spouse Godric
and Godgifu, was lost in the joy of the people at
large. For the first time since the Conquest an
English sovereign sat on the English throne.
The blood of Cerdic and AElfred was to blend itself
with that of Hrolf and the Conqueror. Henceforth
it was impossible that the two peoples should remain
parted from each other; so quick indeed was their
union that the very name of Norman had passed away
in half a century, and at the accession of Henry’s
grandson it was impossible to distinguish between
the descendants of the conquerors and those of the
conquered at Senlac.