Empress Matilda, Lady of the English

/ historicallywoman

When Mary I became Queen of England in autumn 1553, she was the first woman to hold the English throne in her own right. But that honour almost went to someone else, and I don’t mean Lady Jane Grey.

Hundreds of years before either Mary or Jane were even thought of, Matilda, daughter of Henry I, sat down to a victory banquet in Westminster, certain of her imminent coronation as Queen Matilda of England. As we all know, that coronation never came to pass, but how, in 1141, was it even a possibility? And why did Matilda’s bid for the crown fail? It is easy from our vantage point in 2023 to dismiss it as misogyny – there were readily available male heirs, so why would men of the day have given her a look-in?

That analysis isn’t entirely wrong, but the truth is certainly much deeper. After all, England as it was after the Norman invasion was still a fledgling country, barely older than the dying king, and while there was no precedent for woman ruling, there was also no precedent for the opposite. In fact, there wasn’t much precedent for anything at all; William the Conqueror – who took the country by force – had named his second son as heir to England (his first was still very much alive), and Henry I got his crown through means of a coup – that is to say, he was quicker to reach London than his elder brother. 

Essentially, no firm rules had been established with regards to the succession. Henry I was determined to be the one who set those rules and he was determined that the throne would pass down through his direct bloodline, first to his son, then to his son, and so on.

Only Henry’s son, William, died. On the evening of 25th November 1120, the White Ship crashed moments after setting sail from Barfleur, Normandy. Out of approximately 300 passengers, including many nobles, only one person, a butcher from Rouen (supposedly called Berold) survived. It is said that Henry collapsed in grief after being told of his beloved son’s death, and suddenly a question arose – who would inherit the English throne?

Miniature of Empress Matilda from the Gospels of Henry the Lion (Source: Wikimedia Commons)

It is noteworthy that Henry did have other sons. He was well-known for his propensity to sleep around, and he sired around twenty-four illegitimate children, nine of them boys. But bastard status outranked even womanhood as a disqualifier for the crown, so none of them were so much as considered as potential heirs. His first wife having died in 1118, Henry decided to marry young, beautiful Adeliza of Louvain and he kept her close by his side during his travels through the kingdom. Despite all hopes, however, and despite Adeliza going on to have seven children with her second husband, the couple remained childless.

That just left Matilda.

Born in 1102, two years older than her ill-fated brother, Matilda was, in a way, born to be queen. Through her father’s line, she was the descendent of the Norman conquerors, and through her mother (Matilda of Scotland), she could trace her lineage back to the Saxon kings, including Edmund Ironside and Alfred the Great. She was betrothed to future Holy Roman Emperor Heinrich V (anglicised as Henry) at the age of eight and they married when Matilda was twelve. Despite the sixteen year age gap, the couple seemed to have, if not love, then respect for each other, and her time as Queen of Germany prepared her well for the future.

During the years of her marriage, Matilda was exposed to conflict, politics, and what it truly meant to be a ruler, as she was trusted on several occasions to rule in her husband’s stead. Her German subjects named her ‘the good Matilda’ and she gained another glittering title in Holy Roman Empress (though she was never formally crowned as such).

Unfortunately, Heinrich died in 1125 and the couple had not conceived. With no further role to play in Germany, Matilda left for her father’s side, whom she had not seen since she left England in 1110. Henry took immediate advantage of his daughter’s return and presented her to his court as his heir, demanding the nobles swear fealty to her and any future sons she may have. There are no records of protest – probably because no one dared oppose the King – and the only conflict came over who would swear the oath first.

There was, of course, still the issue of Matilda’s childlessness. The search was on for a new husband and, in 1128, Matilda was married to Geoffrey, Count of Anjou, a serious downgrade from her previous marriage. Geoffrey was eleven years Matilda’s junior and he was a mere count – the match seriously offended Matilda and she left her new husband’s side to stay with her father. This, of course, would not do, so Henry forced the couple back together – at which point, he also demanded the nobles renew their oath of loyalty to his daughter.

Matilda and Geoffrey may not have ever truly liked each other, but the reconciliation was successful enough in that it produced three sons: Henry, Geoffrey, and William. Her father delighted in his grandsons, and it seemed that the future was finally settled. 

“[she] displayed her father’s courage and her mother’s piety; holiness in her found its equal in energy, and it would be hard to say which was more admirable”

William of Malmesbury, on Matilda

But, as was the case with Henry VIII, the loyalty only lasts as long as the monarch is alive. While at his lodge in Lyons-la-Forêt, Henry I fell ill and died, and no time was wasted. Stephen, the dead king’s favourite nephew, raced from Boulogne to Winchester and got himself crowned King before Matilda, pregnant with her third son, could do anything about it. His cause was strengthened by the fact that Henry I and Matilda were estranged at the time of his death, as Henry had refused to give Matilda and her husband the royal castles in Normandy despite the fact that these would bolster their claim to the English throne.

Likely also encouraged by the fact that Stephen was a man and Matilda a woman – a woman with a foreign husband at that – most of the nobles who had previously pledged themselves to Matilda switched their loyalties. Stephen, in fact, had been one of the first to sign this very oath, but now there was no King Henry to force compliance.

It is interesting to note that, many years prior (1120 to be exact), Stephen had been on board a boat called the White Ship. Concerned by the level of drunkenness among those travelling with him, he asked to be set ashore, and so the White Ship and its 300 passengers sailed without him, straight into a watery grave.

One wonders if, at some point during the conflict that was to follow, Matilda wished Stephen had not shown quite so much common sense that night.

The war between Matilda and Stephen, known as the Anarchy, lasted from Henry’s death in 1135 to 1153, with the early years yielding little gain to either side. After the birth of her son, Matilda made her base in the west of England, where she was hosted by her step-mother, Adeliza. She made strong allies out of her bastard half-brother, Earl Robert of Gloucester, her uncle, David I, King of Scots, and Stephen’s brother, Henry, Bishop of Winchester, and things seemed to start to turn in her favour.

Stephen’s hold on England wasn’t as strong as he wanted it to be; compared to his predecessor, he cut a weak figure, and he had suffered defeats in Wales and effectively left the north to defend itself against Scotland. But the worst was yet to come.

On 2nd February 1141, Stephen was thoroughly beaten in the Battle of Lincoln by Matilda’s forces. His army was decimated and the King himself was taken captive, held at Bristol Castle. This should have been fatal for Stephen’s cause, and Matilda certainly thought so; now styling herself as Lady of the English, she travelled to London where she prepared for her coronation.

Matilda’s great seal (Source: Wikimedia Commons)

However, unlike in the west (particularly Winchester), the people of London did not recognise her as their Queen. Understandable, considering she imposed harsh taxes on the city and revoked certain privileges. She adopted an iron demeanour, attempting to install herself not as a queen, but as a female king who did not show such womanly qualities as gentleness and meekness – as the anonymous author of the Gesta Stephani wrote: “… she did not rise respectfully, as she should have, when [the chief men of the whole kingdom] bowed before her,”. 

This proved to be anathema to medieval England and, with a banquet set to celebrate the forthcoming coronation, the people of London descended and drove Matilda out. From that point, things continued to go downhill.

Stephen’s wife, Matilda of Boulogne, raised an army who routed Matilda’s forces and captured Earl Robert, whose freedom was exchanged for Stephen’s. Matilda herself was nearly taken prisoner at Oxford, but Stephen missed his chance and she managed to escape, dressing in white for camouflage against the December snow. Stephen was never strong enough to drive Matilda out of England, but nor were they strong enough to topple him.

By the end of 1144, Matilda’s husband had entirely conquered Normany in her name, but that was all they would get. The Anarchy dragged on for nineteen years – nineteen years in which Christ and his saints slept, according to chroniclers – before an agreement was reached. Matilda had given up the claim to her son in 1148, and in November 1153, Henry was recognised as Stephen’s heir.

This didn’t please Stephen’s eldest son, Eustace, but he died before he could mount much of a fight.

Matilda remained in Normandy, often acting as Henry’s representative. She died on 10th September 1167, aged 65. Her epitaph read: “Great by birth, greater by marriage, greatest in her offspring: here lies Matilda, the daughter, wife, and mother of Henry”.

So what would have changed had Matilda become Queen? As far as succession goes, not much, according to historian Matt Lewis. It’s unlikely Matilda would have passed her crown on to anyone except her oldest son, so Henry II would still have been Henry II (and so on). He might have been a different sort of king, however; Lewis suggests that Henry’s fame as a warrior was built partly on his experiences of the Anarchy as a youth so, without this, he might have been weaker.

As for Matilda, all evidence points to her being a good ruler. She was incredibly skilled in politics and ruling and she was intelligent. Had she been able to overcome the bounds of misogyny, England could have looked very different by the time Mary I came to the throne – indeed, Lewis suggests the entire outcome of the Wars of the Roses could have changed, as the conflict was partly driven by reluctance to give Margaret of Anjou regency powers.

We will never know how this would have played out, of course. But it does make you think.

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