Thierry (ii. 152) has an elaborate romance, in which the father of Western theology comes in casually as “un moine du Bec, nommé Anselme.” Here Eadgyth dislikes the marriage, but sacrifices herself for the good of her people. All this comes from Matthew Paris, who has two amazing stories. In one (Hist. Angl. i. 188), though Malcolm and Margaret have been killed off at the proper time, they appear again in full life when King Henry seeks their daughter—“filia elegantissimæ speciei, et, quod pluris erat, vitæ sanctissimæ.” She was brought up in a monastery, perhaps as a nun (“in sanctimonialium claustro propter honestatem educata, et, ut dicitur, velo sacro Deo dicato ac jam professa”). King Henry woos her with much fervour of passion (“ipsam propter ipsius mores et faciei venustatem sitienter adoptavit, et instanter petiit in uxorem”). The parents dare not withstand such a lover; they go to ask their daughter’s own wishes. She rebukes them in fearful and mysterious words for speaking of any such matter (“increpans patrem et matrem de zelotipiæ præsumptione, nec ipsos debere de corpore suo fructum mortalitatis exposcere, vel fructum posteritatis infructuosum”). At this the father is sad; the mother is pleased by the decision of her daughter (“matri propositum puellare complacuit”). The King’s passion only waxes warmer; like Balak, he sends more honourable messengers; he commands, prays, promises, till he stumbles into a hexameter “missis sollemnioribus nuntiis, urgentius adolescentulam in reginam expostulans, imperium, promissa, preces, confudit in unum”). Malcolm, knowing that his wife will never agree to the marriage, turns, without her knowledge, to the abbess by whom his daughter had been brought up. The reverend mother is prevailed on to argue the point at length, and to set forth every possible argument, personal and political, on behalf of the marriage;
“Proponens utilitatem inde proventuram, scilicet regnorum fœdera, regum mutuam dilectionem, pacis tranquillitatem, propagationis posteritatem, reginalem dignitatem, honoris magnificentiam, divitiarum affluentiam, amoris desiderium, amatoris pulcritudinem.”
Father and abbess together are too much for the “beata virgo Matilda.” She yields, but only “maledicens fructui sui ventris affuturo.” Anselm marries them, “nuptiis sollemniter, ut decuit, celebratis;” but a contemporary note in the margin is added, “Nota nuptias illicitas.” And we are told that the disturbances which presently followed, the invasion of Robert and anything else, were all judgements on this unlawful marriage;
“Facta est commotio magna in regno, quasi Deo irato, quoniam rex Henricus zelotipaverat, et, sicut fratrem Robertum de regno supplantando alienaverat, sic Christum de sponsa sua defraudaverat.”
It is to be noticed that the writer who brings in all this action of Malcolm under the year 1101 had long before (i. 43) recorded his death in its proper place, or rather before its proper place, as he puts it in 1092 instead of 1093.
The other account comes in the Chronica Majora, ii. 121. It is chiefly remarkable for two speeches, the second of which is put into the mouth of Matilda herself. Matthew had just copied a business-like bit from Roger of Wendover (ii. 169), recording the marriage without comment; he then goes on to say that Matilda was married against her will, being won over by the importunity of kinsfolk and friends. The words are, “parentum et amicorum consiliis vix adquiescens; tandem tædio affecta, adquievit.” (“Parentes” may be taken by the charitably disposed in the wider French sense, but it must be remembered that in the other version Malcolm and Margaret are brought in as living in the year 1100.) This version is quite certain that Matilda had made a vow, but leaves it open whether she had actually taken the veil (“Cum Christiana matertera sancta sanctissime in claustro religionis educata fuerat, et votum virginitatis Deo spoponderat, et, ut multi perhibent, velum susceperat professæ religionis”). The kinsfolk and friends make a solemn appeal on patriotic grounds;
“O mulierum generosissima ac gratissima, per te reparabitur Anglorum genialis nobilitas, quæ diu degeneravit, et fœdus magnorum principum redintegrabitur, si matrimonio prælocuto consentias. Quod si non feceris, causa eris perennis inimicitiæ gentium diversarum, et sanguinis humani effusionis irrestaurabilis.”
Matilda, “virgo clementissima,” gets angry, and, in the bitterness of her soul, uses yet stronger language than she does in the other version;
“Ex quo sic oportet fieri, utcunque consentio, sed fructum ventris mei, quod est horribile dictu, diabolo commendo. Me enim Deo vovi, quod non sinistis, immo sponsum meum, quem elegi, ausu temerario, immemores causæ sancti Matthæi apostoli, zelotipatis.”
We are then told of the vehement love of the King for the wife whom he had thus wrongfully married;