The lady in question is probably Algitha, the widow of Griffith King of Wales, and sister to Edwin and Morcar, Earls of Mercia and Northumberland, whom Harold must have married shortly after his return to England, as his second wife.[48] Her name, as it is written by Florence of Worcester, and some other chroniclers, differs but little from Ælfgyva; besides, as Queen of England, she was entitled to the epithet. If this supposition be correct, the force of the introduction of this lady and the clerk into the Tapestry is considerable. The whole object of this part of the drawing is to display in glowing colours the generous kindness of William and the base treachery of Harold. Now if, as we may reasonably suppose, Harold had set his affections upon this lady before his departure for Normandy, and if, as we have conjectured, he had, on being rescued, sent, by William’s assistance, messengers to England to announce his safety, a special and loving message to the queen of his affections would not be forgotten. The clerk certainly approaches her in a jocose manner, and undoubtedly has some agreeable intelligence to communicate. Now if Harold acted thus while enjoying William’s hospitality, and solemnly undertaking to marry his daughter Agatha as soon as she became of fitting age, his conduct was most unjustifiable; and it was peculiarly suitable to the object for which the Tapestry was prepared to expose it. Harold, before leaving England, may have placed his lady for temporary protection in some nunnery, which we may suppose to be indicated by the narrow and confined building in which Ælfgyva stands. In this case none was so proper to approach her as a priest. The employment of a person of the clerical order was moreover necessary, as few of the laity could read or write. The individual in the Tapestry has a shaven crown, but is dressed in ordinary attire. William of Malmesbury tells us that the Saxon clergy were not fond of any distinctive dress.
In the whole course of the Tapestry only three females are presented to our view—Ælfgyva, a mourning relative by the dying bed of the Confessor, and a woman forced by the flames from her dwelling at Hastings. This circumstance surely proves the modesty and retiring habits of the Saxon and Norman ladies.
As our ladies are scarce, let us pay them minute attention. The dress of the Saxon women varied very little during the long period that elapsed between the eighth and the end of the eleventh century; by thoroughly enveloping the whole body, it consulted the modest feelings of the sex, whilst its graceful folds gave considerable elegance to the person. Antiquaries are inquiring men. They do not like to leave any subject unexamined. That judicious inquirer, Strutt, finds some little difficulty in investigating the undermost garment worn by the Saxon ladies; he manages it, however, with great adroitness and delicacy. His words are worth quoting:—
“In the foregoing chapter it has been clearly proved that the shirt formed part of the dress of the men; and surely we cannot hesitate a moment to conclude that the women were equally tenacious of delicacy in their habit, and of course were not destitute of body-linen: the remains of antiquity it is true afford not sufficient authority to prove the fact; yet the presumptive argument founded upon female delicacy weighs so strongly in the scale, that I conclude this supposition to be consonant with the truth.”[49] Over this undermost garment came another, which was only seen when the lower portion of the gunna, or gown, had been pushed aside; it was made of linen or some other light material. Next came the gown, consisting usually of some strong stuff. It fell down to the feet, and was sometimes girt round the waist by a band. The sleeves near the wrist were usually made very full, and hung down after the manner lately in use among ourselves. A mantle was worn over this by ladies of rank. It was probably fastened by a fibula, or brooch. The woman coming out of the burning house ([Plate XI.]) belongs probably to the lower orders, for she has not a mantle. A head-cover, or kerchief, was an indispensable part of the dress of Saxon ladies, whether high or low. It enveloped the head, concealing the hair entirely; the ends of it fell upon the shoulders.
In the time of Rufus and Henry I. the dress of the ladies, which had remained so long stationary, felt the stimulus of the Conquest. “The sleeves of their robes and their kerchiefs appear in the illuminations of that period knotted up, to prevent their trailing on the ground. Some of the sleeves have cuffs hanging from the wrist down to the heels, and of the most singular forms.”[50] An ancient monk has drawn the evil one attired in this way, in order no doubt to throw discredit upon the fashion. The hair also was no longer concealed, but hung down in plaits on each side of the person as far as the waist. A statue of Matilda, wife of Henry I., on the west door-way of Rochester Cathedral, exhibits this usage. Had the Tapestry been executed in the days of this Queen, Ælfgyva’s sleeves would have been fuller than they are, and her hair would have hung down in graceful ringlets.
IV. THE KNIGHTHOOD.
“Young knight whatever, that dost armes professe,
And through long labours huntest after fame,
Beware of fraud”——
Faerie Queene
When Rollo and his brave companions, emigrating from Northern Europe at the end of the ninth century, got a firm hold of Rouen and the surrounding district, they were as far from being satisfied us ever. They ravaged every part of France, carrying their arms even into Burgundy. Charles the Simple, who had already yielded Normandy to them, harrassed by these unceasing hostilities, sought to purchase peace by the cession of another portion of his dominions. He offered Rollo the land between the river Epte and Brittany, if he would become a Christian and live in peace; but, though Charles threw his daughter into the scale, Rollo would not agree, for the territory was too small, and the lands uncultivated. He next offered him Flanders, which, by the way, was not his to give; but Rollo rejected it because it was boggy and full of marshes. He then offered him Brittany, which Rollo accepted.[51] Brittany, however, claimed to be a free state, and its inhabitants were a spirited and energetic race, not likely to yield allegiance where none was due. In accepting Brittany, therefore, Rollo obtained little better than an old quarrel. Continual wars, and a national enmity, between the states, was the only result of the gift.
We can here scarcely help observing by what a rare conjunction of circumstances it was that William, who from his boyhood had been at war with all the neighbouring states, and who a few months before the invasion of England, was engaged in active hostilities with the Count of Brittany, had leisure to undertake the great event of his life, could leave his duchy and drain it of his troops, without being exposed to the devastations of angry neighbours, and, not only so, but could obtain for his great enterprise the powerful assistance of those rival chiefs with whom he had so often been at variance, not even excepting the Counts of Ponthieu and Brittany. The most careless observer cannot but mark in this the finger of Providence.
But to return to our worsted work. Conan Earl of Bretagne being at this juncture at war with Duke William, and having drawn the Earl of Anjou into alliance with him, the two naturally agreed upon a given day to invade Normandy with their united forces. The Duke was however too much upon his guard, and too lively, to wait for them in his own dominions. He raised a considerable body of troops; and, knowing Harold to be a brave soldier, and fond of showing his valour, invited him and his companions to go with him upon this expedition; which Harold readily agreed to do. This was a clever stroke of policy. He not only procured the valuable assistance of Harold and his companions, all