Matilda's Reminiscences

breast for years. It was impossible, she felt, to regard with any sentiments but those of repugnance a prince who had proved himself a stranger to all feelings of virtue, religion or honour. With this estimation of his character Matilda anticipated a continuation of the sacrilegious acts which had hitherto marked his reign-a foreboding which subsequent events fully justified.

There was an inclination on the part of the Council to include in the excommunication those prelates, priests and abbots who had appended their signatures to the letter of deposition at Worms. To this suggestion Gregory, always ready to pardon, would not give his consent. He was unwilling, he said, "to deprive them of the hopes of reconciliation and forgiveness. Many of those who had subscribed have been made to do so by force, or have yielded to the presence of the King or the menaces of their fellow-prelates. They will, perchance, be visited by repentance and be ready to ask pardon. For these, therefore, we will leave them till the feast of Saint Peter, with the condition that, if they have not before that time, either in their own persons or by envoys, made suitable satisfaction to us, they shall then be deprived of their episcopates." 1

1

1 Life of Gregory VII, M. Abel François Villemain, 1874.

GREGORY was correct in his anticipation of the reaction which would follow the hasty and ill-advised decision of the "Council" of Worms. Ere the sitting of the Synod had ended several of the Bishops repented of their rash act and sought from the Pontiff the forgiveness he was so anxious to bestow. Unwilling to deal harshly with the remainder who, perhaps, were afraid to avow their error, the Pope extended their time of grace which had expired in June. He also endeavoured to prepare the way for reconciliation with those already under the ban of the Church by letters to the Bishops requesting them to be lenient. In a letter addressed "To the Germans, Bishops, Dukes, and to all who defend the Christian Faith," Gregory thus continues:-" With respect to those who have been excommunicated I well recollect that I have given permission to you who defend the Christian Faith, as Bishops ought to do, to absolve them, and I still confirm the same, provided they readily repent and humbly do penance. Given at Laurente on the third day of the Nones of September 1076."1

While the Pontiff was by his clemency endeavouring to recall the rebellious German prelates to a sense of their duty, his friends in Tuscany were in sore distress. Matilda was indeed overwhelmed with sorrow at the rapid decline in health of her darling mother and closest companion. The sensitive 1 Selection of the Letters of Hildebrand. Translated by G. Finch.

Illness of Beatrice

spirit of Beatrice had been crushed by the confirmation of the sentence against her nephew, and on her return from the council she fell into a decline, from the effects of which she gradually sank. "Her frail existence," records the faithful historian, "could not resist, and the sorrowful vision followed her to her last hour."

By easy stages Matilda caused the dear invalid to be conveyed to a sheltered valley lying between the plains of Lucca and Pisa, about three miles distant from the latter city, where were situated the Roman baths. It was a lovely spot amidst olive and chestnut trees, and Beatrice herself had hopes that the mildness of the climate and the medicinal waters of the springs would restore a little of her lost vitality.

Matilda included among her varied attainments the art of nursing which she practised almost daily among the sick poor. Now she scarcely ever quitted her mother's side, and by her ministrations and devotion did all that was possible to defer the inevitable hour of parting. The invigorating air at first seemed to revive the Princess. For a time she rallied, and Matilda was in hopes that Heaven had granted her petition for her mother's recovery. But Beatrice had been stricken too deeply, her gentle spirit sank beneath the blow, and her daughter realised with a pang of agony that she would ere long be left to tread the path of life alone.

While thus engrossed by her sad duties Matilda received information that her husband, who was at the time "meditating a project against the Pope," had been severely wounded and lay at the point of death. Godfrey, who inherited the courage and self-will of his race, was, in spite of his physical deformity, of an ambitious and war-like nature. His strength of will and diplomatic skill-a rare art in those days of rapid action-made him a useful ally to the German Court. He took public interest in Imperial affairs and was constantly embroiled with those who were on the side of the Church. It was a sorrow to Matilda that he was for ever making fresh plots against the Pontiff, and it was only by her reiterated

prayers on his behalf that he had not shared in the excommunication of the more culpable Henry. After being involved in numberless disputes Godfrey was attacked in Antwerp one night by a follower of Count Robert of Flanders. The assassin fled, leaving his knife in the wound which his unerring hand had inflicted, and to which his victim ultimately succumbed. The unfortunate Duke, in an unconscious condition, was conveyed with all possible speed to his palace, and messages were sent to apprise his wife of the accident.

Matilda's heart was torn between the conflicting calls of filial and conjugal duties, and if she had yielded to her affections she would have remained with her mother. After a short but decisive conflict with her inclinations she deemed

that Godfrey was in most need of her presence, for he was without the religious consolations which solaced the dying Countess, and which robbed death of its terrors. Nor was he, like Beatrice, surrounded by loving friends who would minister to his wants and anticipate his wishes. His scheming nature, which commanded for him the admiration of his countrymen, had not, as Matilda was aware, won their affection, and it was the thought of his loneliness in suffering which decided her to go to his assistance.

No period, perhaps, of the history of the Great Countess throws out in bolder relief the innate tenderness and heroism of her character than does this spontaneous response to the claims of pity. It was a test of courage which she stood without shrinking, although it involved the sacrifice of what she held most dear. To such a devoted daughter as Matilda it must have been exquisitely painful to leave a mother whose life was slowly ebbing away, and whose few remaining hours of companionship were so unutterably precious; exquisitely painful to lose, even for a few minutes, the music of that loving voice whose accents she might never hear again, and to miss the smiles of affection which would soon be but a memory. It required an effort of will also to quit the home where she was safe under the sheltering wings of maternal

Matilda's Magnanimity

love to undertake an unknown journey-a journey which was not only long and irksome, but which was attended with inconceivable discomfort and fraught with peril at every step.

To venture all this for one she loved and who returned her esteem would be brave, but to do it for a husband who disliked her, and who was a bitter opponent of the cause she considered sacred, was heroic. Such self-abnegation demanded a generosity of which few souls would have been capable, and the extent of which Godfrey was never aware.

Matilda's movements were invariably distinguished by a promptitude which marked her sound logic and the energy of her character. Having therefore made up her mind as to the right course to pursue there was no hesitation, and her preparations were few and simple. In those days when people travelled for the most part on horseback there were few opportunities afforded for the transit of much female adornment, nor did the Countess, as the historian quaintly remarks, "need those aids to beauty which are now considered indispensable." An escort fully armed and prepared for any emergency was the principal requisite, and Matilda had always a body of trusty knights at her command.

With throbbing heart she tore herself from her mother's embraces, and knelt at her side to receive her blessing. Strengthened by the words of affection and encouragement which fell from the quivering lips of the dying Princess, the Great Countess, truly and nobly "Great," hastened to console her husband's last hours.

It is hardly possible in these days of rapid travelling, with all the modern additions to comfort and even luxury, to conceive the seriousness of Matilda's journey. In order to estimate the magnitude of the undertaking it is necessary to bring into consideration a few of the many obstacles she had to encounter in the course of her travels. Among the least of her difficulties may be enumerated the rough and uneven condition of the unmade roads, which rendered skill in horsemanship a necessity for safe transit. "Here, fallen rocks,