design.  It consists of large arches, disposed in a double tier, so as to correspond with the windows of the apsis, and placed at a short distance from the wall; but without any Lady-Chapel beyond.  The pillars that support these arches are well proportioned:  the sculptures on their capitals are scarcely less grotesque than those at St. Georges; but, barbarous as they are, the corners of almost every capital are finished with imitations, more or less obvious, of the classical Ionic volute.—­Among the sculptures is a head resting upon two lions, which has been fancied to be a representation of the Conqueror himself; whilst a faded painting of a female, attired as a nun, on the north side of the altar, is also commonly entitled a portrait of the foundress.—­Were any plausible reason alleged for regarding the picture as intended to bear even an imaginary resemblance to Matilda, I would have sent you a copy of it; but there appear no grounds to consider it as authentic.—­Willing, however, to contribute a mark of respect to a female, styled by William of Malmesbury, “faeminam prudentiae speculum, pudoris culmen,” and, by way of a companion to the rough sketch of her illustrious consort, in the initial letter in the library at Rouen, I add the fac-simile of a seal, which, by the kindness of a friend has fallen into my hands.  It has been engraved before, but only for private distribution; and, if a suspicion should cross your mind, that it may have belonged to the Empress Maud, or to Matilda, wife to Stephen, I can only bespeak your thanks to me, for furnishing you with a likeness of any one of these ladies.

[Illustration:  Fac-simile of seal]

Matilda was interred in the middle of this choir; and, according to Ordericus Vitalis, a monument of exquisite workmanship, richly ornamented with gold and precious stones, and bearing a long inscription in letters of gold, was raised to her memory.  Her effigy was afterwards added to the monument; the whole of which was destroyed in 1652, by the Calvinists, who tore open the Queen’s coffin, and dispersed her remains.  After a lapse of an hundred and forty years, the royal bones were again collected, and deposited in this church.  At the same time, the splendid monument was replaced by a plain altar-tomb, which existed till the revolution, when all was once more swept away.  The marble slab, inscribed with the original epitaph, alone remained entire, and was carried to the abbey church of St. Stephen’s, where it still forms a part of the pavement in a chapel.  The letters are finely sculptured and perfectly sharp.  However, it is not likely to continue there long; for Count de Montlivault, the prefect of the department, has already caused a search to be made for Matilda’s remains, and he intends to erect a third monument to her memory.  The excavations for this purpose have hitherto been unsuccessful:  the Count met with many monumental stones, and many coffins of various kinds, but none that could be mistaken for the desired object; for one of the inscriptions on the late monument expressly states, that the Queen’s bones had been wrapped in a linen cloth, and enclosed in a leaden box.