them wholly at a loss.--The history of Andelys is brief and unimportant,
considering its antiquity and situation. It was captured by Louis le
Gros in the war which he undertook against Henry Ist, in favour of
Clito, heir of the unfortunate Duke Robert; and his son, Louis le Jeune,
in 1166, burned Andelys to the ground, thus revenging the outrages
committed by the Anglo-Normans in France: in 1197, it was the subject of
the exchange which I have already mentioned, between Richard
Coeur-de-Lion and Walter, Archbishop of Rouen; and only a few years
afterwards it passed by capitulation into the possession of Philip
Augustus, when the murder of Arthur of Brittany afforded the French
sovereign a plausible pretext for dispossessing our worthless monarch of
his Norman territory.

What Andelys wants, however, in secular interest, it makes up in
sanctity. Saint Clotilda founded a very celebrated monastery here, which
was afterwards destroyed by the Normans.--If we now send our ripening
daughters to France, to be schooled and accomplished, the practice
prevailed equally amongst our Anglo-Saxon ancestors; and we learn from
Bede, that Andelys was then one of the most fashionable
establishments[29]. However, we must not forget that the fair Elfleda,
and the rosy Ælfgiva, were so taught in the convent, as to be fitted
only for the embraces of a celestial husband--a mode of matrimony which
has most fortunately become obsolete in our days of increasing
knowledge and civilization.

After the destruction of the monastery by the Normans, it was never
rebuilt; yet its sanctity is not wholly lost. At the behest of Clotilda,
the waters of the fountain of Andelys were changed into wine for the
relief of the weary labourer, and the tutelary saint is still worshipped
by the faithful.