Baring-Gould’s sources: Roman Martyrology. Authority:—The Life drawn up by order of the emperor Henry, her grandson.
The father of the empress Mathilda was Dietrich, count of Ringelheim, a descendant of the famous Witikind, prince of the Saxons, who had maintained so long and stubborn a resistance against Charlemagne [king of the Franks, crowned emperor in 800]. Her mother, Reinhild, was of royal Danish and Frisian blood. In her childhood Mathilda was entrusted to the tender care of her grandmother Hedwig, who had quitted the world, and had become abbess of Erfurt.
Henry the Fowler, son of duke Otho of Saxony, fell in love with Mathilda, and married her. The "Life of S. Mathilda," written by order of Henry the Pious, her grandson, says that Otho, hearing of the virtues of Mathilda, entered into negotiations with the count of Ringelheim to have her married to his son Henry. This is, no doubt, true, but it is only half the truth. The other part was suppressed by the pious historian. In fact, Henry was already married to Hathburg, daughter of Erwin of Altstadt, whom he had taken from the cloister, where she was being educated, and by whom he became father of Thankmar, who afterwards waged war with Otho the Great, son of Henry and Mathilda, claiming the duchy of Saxony as his own by right of seniority of birth. Henry saw and fell in love with Mathilda, and the young simple girl was probably hardly consulted in the matter, when Henry divorced his wife Hathburg, sent her back to her convent, and demanded the hand of Mathilda of her parents. The wrong done to Hathburg was bitterly atoned for in after years, for Mathilda was sorely tried by the ingratitude of her own sons, and saw Otho engaged in a bloody war with Thankmar, whom he had supplanted.
Henry was one to captivate hearts. He is described as lofty and majestic in stature, although slight and youthful in form, powerful and active in person, with a commanding and penetrating glance, his very appearance attracting popular favour, and securing the heart of his wife. "He excelled in prudence and wisdom, and his stature became his kingly dignity. Too much addicted to hunting, he was joyous in festivities, but without diminishing his regal dignity. In war he was alike loved and feared."
Henry had been elected emperor of Germany. In his new position, his life was one of warfare. He subjugated the Hevelli and the Bohemians, and in 933, routed the Hungarians. The ambassadors of the Hungarians demanded of him the payment of an ancient tribute. According to the legendary account, Henry caused a mangy dog to be thrown before them, and declared a deadly war with their nation. The Hungarians instantly crossed the frontier in two enormous hordes, the lesser of which was routed by the arrière-ban of Saxony and Thuringia, near Sondershausen. The other body advanced along the Saal, in the vicinity of Merseburg, against the emperor. Henry entrenched himself on a mountain, since known as the Keuschberg, or Mountain of Chastity, owing to the circumstance of no woman being permitted to enter the camp of the Christians, who strengthened themselves for the coming conflict by devotional exercises. The news of the defeat of their countrymen at Sondershausen soon reached the Hungarians, who instantly kindled enormous fires along the banks of the river as signals of recall to all those of their number who were engaged in plundering the country, and the battle commenced with the coming morn. Henry addressed his troops. The picture of S. Michael was borne in the van, as the banner of the empire. A murderous struggle commenced, the Hungarians shouting, "Hui! hui!" and the Germans, "Kyrie-eleison!" Victory long wavered, but was at length decided by the discipline and enthusiastic valour of the Germans. An immense number of Christian slaves were restored to liberty. After the victory, Henry knelt, at the head of his troops, and returned thanks to Heaven. The terror of the Hungarians now equalled that with which they had formerly inspired the Germans. In the belief that the archangel Michael, whose gigantic picture they ever beheld borne in the van of the German army, was the god of victory, they made golden wings, similar to those with which he was represented, for their own idols. The hand of the emperor, and, underneath, a horse shoe, are still to be seen cut in the rock at Keuschberg, as a token of the victory. Germany remained undisturbed in this quarter during the rest of the reign of Henry the Fowler. Henry afterwards planned a visit to Rome, but died without accomplishing that project, in 936, when at the height of his splendour and renown. He was buried at Quedlinburg, his favourite residence.
The union of Mathilda with her husband had been a very happy one. Both endeavoured to advance the kingdom of God by every means in their power, and together they concerted laws full of justice, to increase the prosperity of their dominions. Henry left behind him three sons by Mathilda, Otho, who was elected to the imperial throne on the decease of his father, Henry the Quarrelsome, duke of Bavaria, and Bruno, archbishop of Cologne. Mathilda spent her time in devotion, and gave abundant alms to the needy. She was very sober in her repasts, gentle in conversation, and ready to do with promptitude and cheerfulness whatever she deemed consistent with her position.
Otho had been unanimously elected emperor, and was crowned at Aix-la-Chapelle with more than ordinary solemnity. He was invested with the gigantic crown of Charlemagne, the sceptre, the sword, the cross, the sacred lance of Longinus, and the golden mantle. And he looked an emperor. Witikind says of him in later years, "His demeanour was replete with majesty. His white hair waved over his shoulders. His eyes were bright and sparkling; his beard of an extraordinary length; his breast like that of a lion, and covered with hair."
Proud of his position and power, the young emperor was impatient of his mother's advice and authority. Listening to those who viewed her virtues with impatience, as a restraint on the licence of a court, they persuaded Otho that she had lavished the money of the empire in charities. He at once ordered his mother to retire from court to Engern, in Ravensberg. It was grief to Mathilda to be thus treated by her eldest son, but it was greater grief to her to find that her favourite son, Henry of Bavaria, had been the prime instigator of her banishment.
But it was not long before Henry fell dangerously ill, and Edith, the wife of Otho, deeming this a punishment for the wrong done to the saintly dowager empress, and dreading the same for her husband, persuaded Otho to recall his mother. He wrote to her, asking her pardon, and expressing his deep contrition for his past ingratitude. Mathilda was not one to bear resentment, and she returned to court. Mathilda now reaped with sorrow the harvest of her early involuntary fault in marrying a divorced man. Thankmar was in rebellion, for Otho had not been content with depriving him of the imperial throne, but had also seized his large maternal inheritance in Saxony, and had bestowed it on an adherent and friend. Thankmar took arms, and was upheld by the Saxons. The emperor marched against his half-brother, besieged him in Everburg, and Thankmar was slain at the foot of the altar, whither he had fled for safety. Thankmar had been joined by Eberhardt, duke of Franconia, who, now that all was lost, fell at the feet of Henry of Bavaria, and besought him to intercede in his behalf with the emperor. To his surprise, Henry replied, that he was willing to join with him in his designs against Otho, in order to deprive him of the crown, which he coveted for himself. For the present the two confederates dissembled their projects, and Eberhardt made his submission to Otho with expressions of the deepest contrition for his guilt. Henry gained confederates to his conspiracy, and suddenly attacked Otho as he was crossing the Rhine at Zante, but was defeated with great slaughter. Otho pardoned his brother, who remained afterwards true to his allegiance, finding that it was his best interest to cling to his powerful brother. He was a man of treacherous and cruel heart, and when his Bavarian subjects rose against him, and called the Hungarians to their assistance, having defeated them with the aid of Otho (955), he buried alive, or burnt in beds of quicklime, the leaders of the adverse party, put out the eyes of the bishop of Salzburg, and the patriarch [the title of the bishops of the great ancient sees: Rome, Constantinople, Alexandria, Antioch, Jerusalem] Lupus of Aquileia met with a still more wretched fate at his hands.
In the midst of all these civil wars the dowager empress laboured to relieve the sorrows of the peasants upon whom the state of hostilities weighed most heavily. Her time was devoted to nursing the sick, releasing debtors from prison, and feeding the starving.
But at length, saddened beyond endurance by the conduct of her sons, and despairing of the world, she retired into the monastery of Nordhausen, which she had built, and gathering about her three thousand sisters, spent the rest of her days in tears and prayer. She lived to receive her grand-daughter, Mathilda, the child of the emperor Otho, into her house, and to commit into her hands the government of the community.
She died on March 14th, 968, and was buried in the church of S. Servetus, at Quedlinburg, by the side of her husband, Henry.
