Queens Consort

by Lisa Hilton

  While patronage and religion were closely linked, the world of international scholarship was closed to women. Latin was the official language of scholarship as well as of government and the Church, and though Matilda and her sister-in-law Adela of Blois did have some knowledge of Latin, the everyday language of the ruling class was French. So the area in which noblewomen were best able to participate in the new sensibility was that of vernacular culture. Matilda commissioned a French translation of a Latin poem, ‘The Voyage of St Brendan’, which has been described as a ‘Celtic version of the classical odyssey poem’21 and is the earliest surviving example of literary Anglo-Norman. ‘St Brendan’ was performed in a cycle of three episodes at the Easter court of 1107—8. Matilda’s desire to celebrate the memory of her mother’s achievements is reflected in the eight poems written for the Queen which mention Margaret, demonstrating that contemporary writers were alert to Matilda’s interests and how best to attract her attention. Matilda was the first patron of Philippe de Thaon, who went on to work for her successors Adeliza of Louvain and Eleanor of Aquitaine, but her most famous literary association, in addition to the Life of St Margaret, is with William of Malmesbury, who wrote The Deeds of the Kings of England at her request.

  Malmesbury, however, leaves a curiously unflattering depiction of the cultural ambitions of his patroness, suggesting that her desire for intellectual distinction — and the recognition that embracing new artistic developments would add to her reputation, and thus that of England — resulted in harsh management of her estates:

  Her generosity becoming universally known, crowds of scholars, equally famed for verse and singing, came over, and happy was he who could soothe the Queen’s ears with his song. Nor on these only did she lavish money, but on all sorts of men, especially foreigners, that through their presents they might proclaim her dignity abroad … Thus it was justly observed that the Queen wanted to reward as many foreigners as possible, while others were kept in suspense, sometimes with effectual but more often with empty promises. So it arose that she fell into the error of prodigal givers; bringing many claims to her tenantry, exposing them to injuries and taking away their property, but since she became known as a liberal benefactress, she scarcely regarded their outrage.22

  This is a long way from the benign image of ‘Good Queen Maud’ which pertained after Matilda’s death. Matilda was reprimanded by Anselm for her punitive taxation of her lands, which did not exempt Church properties, and her promotion of ‘foreigners’ also attracted criticism among Norman churchmen. Yet promotion of the arts was a means of remaining directly involved in the liturgy, placing as it did the tangible evidence of a patron’s generosity within the Church itself. Matilda’s presentation of a pair of bells to Chartres, or the ornate candlesticks, ‘trees of brass fashioned with wondrous skill, glittering with jewels as much as with candlelight’23she gave to Le Mans, engaged her in a triple cycle of patronage between the artisans she encouraged, whose productions were the marks of her favour, the churchmen who sought that favour and the capacity of the latter to spiritualise the physical objects bestowed on them in acknowledgement of the Queen’s regard. Writing to Adela of Blois, Bishop Baudri of Dol requested an elegant cope (complete with fringe), as his return for publicising her literary discernment. In a letter to Matilda, Hildebart of Lavardin, bishop of Le Mans, declared that in offering Christ those jewelled candlesticks she was associating herself with the women who witnessed the crucifixion and brought precious spices to His tomb.

  Such opportunities for patronage were especially attractive to women at a time when overt political action was a receding possibility. If the ascendance of the formalised, Latinised and thus masculinised administrative kingship for which the reign of Henry I is noted was in part responsible for this diminution in political potential for noblewomen in general, it served to emphasise the significance of a particular woman, the Queen, in her traditional role as intercessor. As new structures of government made direct, informal approaches to the King more difficult, the intimacy of his relationship with his wife made her a target for those who wished their petitions to be heard. Once again, Matilda was able to link this form of patronage with her support for the Church, as with Henry’s charter for Westminster, which states that his donation is made ‘at the prayer of Queen Matilda’, or in the case of the nuns at Malling, who received the right to a weekly market for the love of and at the request of my wife Queen Matilda’.

  Henry may have loved his wife, but he was certainly not faithful to her. He was a walking baby boom, producing over two dozen extramarital children. Matilda appears to have accepted this with equanimity, ‘enduring with complacency, when the King was elsewhere employed’, as Malmesbury discreetly put it, and it may have been that it suited her pious leanings to stop having sexual relations with her husband after she had done her duty of providing him with children — Malmesbury adds that she ‘ceased either to have offspring or desire them’. After Henry’s visit to Normandy in 1104, Matilda spent much of her time at Westminster, where eight of her twenty-two charters whose place of issue is identifiable were drawn up. Henry apparently conducted his goings-on at Wooodstock, a town there is no evidence she ever visited, which suggests a certain care for her dignity. It seems that they achieved an arrangement that was satisfactory to them both, and if Henry was sexually estranged from his wife, he continued to involve her in government. Nor did her ‘retirement’ at Westminster mean that Matilda had ceased to be publicly active. The lively, scholarly atmosphere of her London court has been noted, and when Henry departed once more for Normandy in 1106, he left the realm under her regency. Matilda herself crossed to Normandy that year, issuing a charter at Lillebonne and witnessing another at Rouen, and she may have enjoyed a private concert by Adelard of Bath, who played the cithera for her.

  In 1109, Matilda participated in the Whitsun court described by Henry of Huntingdon as the most magnificent of the reign, where the contracts for the marriage of Henry and Matilda’s daughter were drawn up. In 1110, eight-year-old Princess Matilda left for Germany, to be educated at the court of her betrothed, Henry V of Germany and Holy Roman Emperor. It was a momentous marriage, validating the importance of England’s new ruling dynasty and giving young Matilda the title of Empress by which she was known for much of her life. A letter to Queen Matilda from the Emperor attests to how her influence with her husband ensured the matter went smoothly: ‘We have from experience come to know of your zeal in all those things that we ask from your lord.’

  Henry was abroad again the next year, when Matilda presided at the exchequer court and was also present at St Peter’s, Gloucester to witness a gift of lands to the house. In 1114 the Queen took her son William to visit the new foundation of Merton Priory. There is very little evidence of Matilda’s day-to-day involvement with her children, though it is possible that young Matilda was raised in her mother’s household, but the visit to Merton gives a sense of Matilda trying to inculcate piety in her son with the same sweetness and understanding of children’s nature that her own mother had displayed. She hoped that the happy memory of the visit, of playing with her at Merton, would encourage William to regard the house favourably when he became king. Matilda also succeeded in persuading Henry to agree to the marriage of her brother David to the King’s ward, Matilda of Senlis. David became King of Scotland in 1124 and was to play an important role in the life of his niece the Empress, but at the time his prospects of succeeding to the crown seemed slight, and the marriage meant he could take the title of Earl of Huntingdon in right of his wife. The wedding was celebrated before Christmas 1113, while the King was in England. Matilda was regent again in 1114—15 and 1116—18. The latter period shows her involving her son William in her activities, obviously in preparation for his own succession. Together they issued three writs on the business of a ship belonging to the abbot of St Augustine’s, Canterbury.

  Matilda may have fallen ill in 1114, as her correspondent the bishop of Le Mans wrote to her asking afte
r her condition and enclosing a prayer to St John the Evangelist for her recovery. She did recover, as her activities in the following four years demonstrate, but her family had a sad reputation for dying young. Matilda’s last act as regent of England was made in Oxford, for the protection of a chapter of hermit monks, and on 1 May 1118 she died at Westminster. The Church had questioned her right to marry, and now there was a quarrel over the right to bury her. The monks of Trinity Aldgate claimed it, and when Henry returned from Normandy they lodged a complaint, via the canons of St Paul’s, against the monks of Westminster, who had taken the body. Henry confirmed all Matilda’s donations to Trinity and compensated the order with a gift of relics from the Byzantine emperor, and Matilda was laid to rest at Westminster. The King gave money to maintain a perpetual light by her tomb, which was still being paid in the reign of Matilda’s great-great grandson Henry III, while her brother David organised an annual memorial Mass.

  Despite the controversy over her marriage and the criticism she had attracted in the management of her lands, Matilda died a beloved queen. Soon after her death reports of miraculous signs occurring at her tomb began to circulate, and a cult to her quickly grew up at Westminster. Over the next decade her grave attracted as many papal indulgences for pilgrims to Westminster on St Peter’s Day as did that of Edward the Confessor. Her official epitaph was inscribed on her tomb during the reign of her grandson Henry II, but the Hyde chronicler summed up the popular mood: ‘From the time England first became subject to kings, out of all the queens none was found to be comparable to her, and none will be found in time to come, whose memory will be praised and name will be blessed throughout the ages.’24

  CHAPTER 3

  ADELIZA OF LOUVAIN

  ‘The Fair Maid of Brabant’

  Matilda of Scotland did not live to experience the disaster of the White Ship in 1120, a tragedy for the Norman dynasty which had massive repercussions not only on the life of her daughter Matilda but on the future of England. After his mother’s death, William continued to act as regent in England for a year before joining his father in Normandy for his marriage to yet another Matilda, this one the daughter of Fulk of Anjou. King Henry had been threatened in the duchy since IIII by an alliance between the French, Angevins and Flemings, but William’s marriage and Henry’s significant defeat of Louis VI of France at Bremule in 1119 secured his rule for the time being, and the following year William paid homage to Louis as his father’s nominal overlord for Normandy The royal party sailed for England in November, but the ship in which William was a passenger — along with his illegitimate half-brother Richard, half-sister Matilda, Countess of Perche, and many of the heirs to the great estates of England and Normandy — was wrecked on a rock at the harbour of Barfleur. According to Orderic Vitalis, the captain, Thomas Fitzstephen, struggled to the surface, but when he heard that the heir to the throne had drowned he allowed the waves to claim him rather than face the King. None of the young nobles in William’s party was saved — indeed, the only survivor was a butcher from Rouen. Even for a man with as many children as Henry, the loss of three at once was personally shattering; the implications for the succession, moreover, were disastrous.

  Henry’s second marriage, to Adeliza of Louvain, has conventionally been seen as a response to the urgent need for a legitimate heir in the aftermath of the shipwreck, but negotiations for his new wife may have begun as early as 1119. Adeliza’s father Godfrey ‘The Great’, landgrave of Brabant, Count of Louvain and Duke of Lower Lorraine, was a vassal of Henry’s son-in-law, the Holy Roman Emperor, and if the supposition that Henry met his daughter Matilda on the Continent in 11191 is correct, she may have been involved in arranging the match, which accords with the marriage contract having been agreed in April 1120, before the loss of the White Ship. Godfrey’s second wife, Clemence, whom he married after the death of Adeliza’s mother, Ida of Chiny, was the mother of the Flemish Count Baldwin VII, who had fought for the French as part of the anti-Norman alliance in 1118. When Baldwin died, Clemence and Godfrey, whose lands bordered with Flanders, strongly opposed the succession to the state of his cousin Charles. Henry I had come to terms with Charles after Bremule but, as part of a policy of containment, a union with the daughter of Charles’s enemy was an intelligent precaution.

  Henry announced the marriage in council on 6 January 1121, and sent a party to Dover to meet Adeliza, who had already embarked for England. The wedding took place at Windsor on 29 January, barely two months after William’s death. Given the time needed for Adeliza’s preparations and the journey itself, it is clear that Henry intended to marry her even before he lost his son. William’s new bride, Matilda of Anjou, remained in England for some months after the disaster, presumably waiting to see if she was pregnant, but was retrieved by her father the same year. While she took the veil at Fontevrault, Henry kept her dower, much to Fulk’s indignation.

  Eighteen-year-old Adeliza, known as the ‘Fair Maid of Brabant’, was reportedly quite beautiful. Considering her fifty-three-year-old bridegroom’s reputation as a womaniser, lust, as well as politics, and of course the distinction of her descent from Charlemagne, may have played a part in his choice. She was crowned on 30 January 1121, but from the beginning it was plain that Henry wanted her queenship to follow a very different model from that of Matilda of Scotland. Adeliza has often been viewed as a rather passive, ineffectual queen, since there is little evidence of her undertaking independent projects or embracing any political role, but this was less to do with her personal capacities, whatever they may have been, than with the fact that, as far as Henry was concerned, her purpose was to bear him sons. To this end, he kept his wife with him on his travels, leaving her scant opportunity to participate in government.

  Many of Adeliza’s charters were witnessed as a co-signatory to the King, including her first, a grant to the monks of Tiron in September 1121. As we have seen, witnessing was in itself a politically charged act, as it emphasised the queen’s elevated status not only in relation to other women (who appear rarely as co-signatories in royal charters) but also to men, as the queen’s name would come after the king’s and before those of the other witnesses. Queenly witnessing was thus an expression of power rooted in office. Adeliza’s frequent appearances as a witness to Henry’s charters also enable us to track her movements with her husband. After their marriage they went to Winchester, then to Westminster, for a crown-wearing ceremony at the Whitsuntide court. Adeliza surfaces again in a grant to Merton Priory in December, but witnesses no more documents with Henry until the confirmation of a grant to St Peter Exeter at Easter 1123, while the court was at Winchester. Henry travelled energetically in England throughout 1122. He was at Northampton at Easter, then Hertford, Waltham, Oxford, a two-day pause at Windsor, Westminster for Whit Sunday. After a visit to Kent, it was back to Westminster, then north to York, Durham and Carlisle, York again for the Feast of St Nicholas, Nottingham and Dunstable for Christmas. He kept up this pace for another six months before he and Adeliza sailed from Portsmouth for Normandy in June 1123. In the light of such a timetable, the Queen’s lack of independent charter activity becomes more understandable. It was not until 1126 that she issued her first as principal signatory, a grant to the canons of Holy Trinity at Christchurch London, which was drawn up while she was in residence at Woodstock.

  The court in Adeliza’s time was structured along the lines Henry had been establishing for the first twenty years of his reign, which stood in a marked contrast to the roistering, undisciplined culture that had prevailed under William Rufus. The new, more sober tone had led to Henry and Matilda of Scotland being mocked for their stuffiness, but since, according to Eadmer, William Rufus’s courtiers had rampaged about the countryside boozing stolen wine, destroying crops and making improper advances to respectable women, the people, at least, appreciated Henry’s reforms. He prohibited the requisitioning of goods, set fixed prices for local purveyance and stipulated allowances for the members of his household, including fort
y domestic staff. As well as her constant proximity to the King, another obstacle to any meaningful political activity on Adeliza’s part may have been the regulated system of ‘administrative kingship’ that was one of the main achievements of Henry’s rule. This system, outlined in the Constitution Domus Regis, which lays down the hierarchy of offices, from chancellor through to stewards, butlers, chamberlain and constables, functioned on both sides of the Channel, with a limited entourage of officials accompanying the King and a larger group remaining permanently in either England or Normandy. In England the most important of these officials was Roger, bishop of Salisbury, who acted as regent when the King was in Normandy. As well as vice-regency, Henry introduced a body of travelling agents, inaugurated the exchequer (although in this period it was essentially an accounting procedure rather than a separate office), and insisted on more thorough record-keeping, all of which contributed to the stabilisation of government as England adjusted to the new patterns of landholding imposed by the Norman Conquest. As regent and collaborator with the king’s officers, Matilda of Scotland had played an important role in the implementation of Henry’s reforms, but their very efficiency left less room for Adeliza.