Mediaevistik 34 .

2021 73

Cary J. Nederman
Texas A&M University

Mother Knows Best:

The Empress Matilda in the Becket Controversy*

Abstract: Matilda, the mother of King Henry II, was a formidable presence in mid-twelfth
century England (and in the sprawling continental empire of which it was a part). Her father,
Henry I of England, left with no legitimate male issue, arranged for his nobles to swear allegi-
ance to her claim to the English throne. Deprived of the crown as a result of its usurpation by
her cousin Stephen of Blois, she eventually raised an army and invaded England to press her
cause. After a period of fourteen years, the conflict was resolved by an agreement that Stephen
would retain the crown for the remainder of his life, after which the monarchy would be trans-
ferred to her son, Henry, which occurred in 1154. The new king would initially become close
to his chancellor, Thomas Becket. But Henry’s selection of Becket to be archbishop of Canter-
bury would lead to a monumental conflict between church and crown that culminated—as we
all know—in the “murder in the cathedral.” For all that has been written about these myriad
events, no systematic study has been undertaken of the relations (direct and indirect) between
Henry II’s mother and Becket. The paper brings together the available evidence concerning the
linkages of Matilda with Becket. I examine the period of Becket’s exile from England up until
Matilda’s death in 1167. In my view, surveying Becket’s world from the perspective of Matilda
provides unique insight into the volatile English ecclesiastical and secular politics during their
respective lifetimes.

Keywords: Thomas Becket; Empress Matilda; 12th-century England; ecclesiastical liberty;

Pope Alexander III; Constitutions of Clarendon; Gilbert Foliot

On November 25, 1120, the White Ship sank in the English Channel near the coast of
Normandy. The loss of this vessel, among whose three hundred or so passengers was
the heir to the throne of England, William, precipitated a series of events that thrust
his sister, Matilda, into the center of twelfth-century English history. Lacking other
male issue, William’s father King Henry I took the unprecedented step of designating
Matilda as his successor. Known by the cognomen “the Empress” on account of her
early marriage to the Holy Roman Emperor Henry V, who had died in 1125, she had
been remarried to Geoffrey, count of Anjou. The outcome of this train of events was a
civil war in England (known as “The Anarchy”) that pitted the Empress and her sup-
porters against a rival claimant to the crown, her cousin Stephen of Blois.1 In the end,
Matilda’s partisans negotiated a resolution to the conflict under the terms of which
her son Henry was assigned the royal succession. Stephen died in 1154 and Matilda’s
offspring soon received coronation as King Henry II. The story of the sinking of the
White Ship and its aftermath is well enough known. But following Henry’s ascension,
Matilda largely disappears from the historical limelight.
The online edition of this publication is available open access and licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution
CC-BY 4.0 license. To view a copy of this license, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

© 2021 Cary J. Nederman    https://doi.org/10.3726/med.2021.01.05

74 Mediaevistik 34 . 2021

The widespread opinion at the time seems to have regarded Matilda’s mothering as
malign. The most famous contemporary description of the mother-son relationship was
a highly unflattering one proffered by Walter Map, who was a member of Henry II’s
court and thus a direct observer. Map judges her as “most evil,” a woman who aided
and abetted the extremely violent and vile deeds of her first husband, Henry V, whose
conduct while holding the imperial office was allegedly little short of tyrannical.2 This
assertion seems odd. After all, Emperor Henry was responsible (probably with the
advice of his wife) for negotiating the Concordat of Worms in 1122, which finally put
an end to the Investiture Controversy. Perhaps Map objected to the fact that Matilda
played a significant role in administering the territories of the Empire, especially its
holdings in Northern Italy, the denizens of which apparently took no issue with a wo-
man serving as their regent. We know relatively little about her day-to-day activities
as the imperial administrator, but it is clear that her husband entrusted her with consi-
derable authority and that she exercised it competently. Famously, Matilda also joined
the Emperor on his military expeditions, an experience that doubtless came in handy
when she played a considerable role in organizing and leading her troops during the
Anarchy.
These noteworthy qualities notwithstanding ‒ or perhaps on account of them ‒ Map
proclaims that the Empress taught her son Henry all of the vicious characteristics he
imbibed. In a passage worthy of extended quotation, Map ascribes to the Empress a
quasi-Machiavellian worldview:
I have heard that his mother’s teaching was to this effect, that he should spin out all of
the affairs of everyone, hold long in his own hand all posts that fell in, take the revenues
of them, and keeping the aspirants to them hanging on in hope: and she supported this
advice by this unkind parable: an unruly hawk, if meat is offered to it and then snatched
away or hid, becomes keener and more inclinably obedient and attentive. He ought also
to be much in his chamber and little in public: he should never confer anything on anyone
at the recommendation of any person, unless he had seen and learnt about it: with much
more of the worst kind. And I confidently point to this teaching all the points in which
the king was vexatious.3

Mommy dearest was thus regarded, if Map’s recounting is to be accorded any merit, to
be a dangerous figure so long as she could guide (that is, manipulate) her son in pur-
suing a hard-headed pragmatic agenda of consolidating and extending his authority
over a vast realm (not just England, but also the greater share of Western European
territories north of the Alps). Not surprisingly ‒ and quite appropriately ‒ Matilda’s
modern commentators tend to slough off Map’s remarks as the misogynistic denigra-
tion of qualities that, if ascribed to a man, would be greatly respected. Doubtless, that
is at least partially true.
Think of Map’s evaluation what you will. But his remarks clearly suggest a cont-
emporary perception that Matilda played a quite outsized part in shaping key charac-
teristics of her son Henry’s personality. This was not an individual ‒ a mother ‒ with
whom to trifle. One might not, however, draw such a conclusion from consulting the
three biographies of her published during the last fifty or so years. Two of these were
written by non-academic professionals, although the most recent of them, by Catherine
Hanley, relies heavily on current scholarship.4 The third biography was penned by the
 Mediaevistik 34 . 2021 75

renowned historian of twelfth-century England, the late Marjorie Chibnall.5 All of

them devote relatively few pages to the life of the Empress after the coronation of
Henry, and to the extent they do so, they concentrate on her relative influence on
her son’s conduct and policies.6 For example, Hanley concludes that around the time
Archbishop Theobald of Canterbury died (Spring 1161), which coincided with her
own supposedly precipitous decline in health, “Henry began to pay less attention to
his mother’s advice,” whether on account of her incapacity or his independence of
mind.7 Likewise, Chibnall downplays Matilda’s public presence in her final years in
favor of performing acts of piety: “… her influence over her son grew less” and so
“politically she could do nothing to influence events.”8 In a somewhat earlier article,
Chibnall asserted flatly that “in 1164-1166 she [the Empress] was no longer an active
participant; she was on the sidelines ….”9 Such statements seem to require us to draw
an odd inference: that because the Empress commanded less of her son’s deference
(if true), she must therefore be accounted ineffectual and irrelevant. And indeed, the
opposite conclusion is no less problematic. According to Henry II’s foremost modern
biographer W.L. Warren, Matilda remained a person worthy of attention precisely
because, although she had ostensively retired in order to engage in “pious works,” she
nevertheless was “exercising until the end a strong influence on her son.”10 In one way
or another, scholarship generally holds that after Henry’s 1154 enthronement Matilda
becomes appurtenant to her son. How likely is it that such a woman, on account of
her maternal relationship with Henry II, warrants relegation to purely secondary and
parasitic standing once her son has ceased to heed her? Is it plausible that a woman
who had exercised such great and highly independent power for most of her life would
simply retreat into a nearly invisible role in her later years because she no longer
enjoyed her son’s ear?
In the current article, I do not propose to dive into the complexities of Matilda’s
place in English history generally following the end of the Anarchy. Rather, I intend
to examine a single specific aspect of her political positioning in the 1160s, namely,
her perspective on the chancellor and archbishop Thomas Becket. My thesis is relati-
vely straightforward: the Empress did not much like Becket nor did she approve of his
conduct, but she did regard highly the cause that he represented and advocated once
elevated to Canterbury, namely, ecclesiastical liberty. On the one hand, she claimed
to possess “great zeal for God’s honor and the honor of the holy Church.” Yet, on the
other hand, she cautioned Becket to consider carefully “how you will restrain yourself,
if it should happen that he [Henry] desires to hear my petition and prayer regarding
you in full.”11 In other words, Matilda promised to do what she could to intervene with
her son in the name of her veneration of the Church, but the archbishop had better learn
to control the intemperance for which he was so well known.
In this regard, her general attitude was not very far removed from that of one of
Becket’s most enthusiastic supporters, John of Salisbury, who evinced profound skep-
ticism about the archbishop’s personal qualities but embraced his cause nevertheless
as a useful instrument for promoting the ideal of protecting the independence of the
church that he regarded of far greater importance.12 Likewise, Matilida never entirely
broke with her son, yet also expressed reservations about the manner in which he
handled the clash with his archbishop. Neither John nor Matilda was so fanatical as to
76 Mediaevistik 34 . 2021

wish to stoke the fires of the conflict. Indeed, both made concerted attempts to recon-
cile the warring parties, even if they doubted that accommodation could be achieved.
Each of them recognized that the ultimate success or failure of the king and the arch-
bishop to attain an accord depended on a precious psychological characteristic: mode-
ration. Matilda and John, one might argue, walked a narrow line between surrendering
her or his cherished principles and sincerely seeking a mutually acceptable resolution
to the strife. Ultimately, the most notable difference between them may have been that
the Empress, who died in 1167, did not survive to see the fatal denouement of the tussle
between Becket and her son: December 29, 1170.
A great deal has been written about John of Salisbury’s place before, during, and
after the archbishop’s exile, as can be gleaned elsewhere. Issues arising from the rela-
tionship between the Empress and her son echo concerns addressed by John, and are
thus worthy of some brief consideration. The theme of “moderation” constitutes one of
the central concepts of John’s thought. In the considerable correspondence he genera-
ted during the period of Becket’s continental exile (John also left England during this
period), he repeatedly charged Henry with immoderation in deed and word. Perhaps
more surprising, John expressed doubt in his letters about immoderate elements of
Becket’s personality that were contributing to the perpetuation of his conflict with the
king. John displays an acute awareness of the archbishop’s defects, which he ascribes
to a tendency to exceed moderate bounds, that is, to remain intransigent when humility
might serve him better.13 My comparison of John’s position with Matilda’s simply in-
dicates that her considered judgment coincided with some of her contemporaries, even
those who advocated for the cause of Becket rather than of Henry. More to the point,
I wish to highlight how Becket, and the controversy he engendered, played out in her
life post-1154 in a fashion that undercuts the broad consensus that her value must be
measured entirely against the extent to which she influenced Henry.
The very discussion of engagement between Becket and the Empress is admittedly
an unusual line of inquiry. The scholarly literature on Becket says virtually nothing
about Matilda.14 The reverse is likewise the case. Nonetheless, there are sufficient rea-
sons to permit us to draw plausible connections between the two. Admittedly, some of
these must be regarded as informed speculation on the part of recent scholars, however
plausible. Pain suggests that the Empress “did not greatly care for Becket” on account
of his “comparatively low-born” (as distinct from aristocratic) origins.15 According
to Chibnall, Matilda’s distaste may have stemmed from her unease with his wealthy
style of life, funded by his pluralism, since he never renounced his benefices when
he became Henry’s chancellor.16 John Jenkins has suggested that enmity between the
Empress and the newly nominated archbishop may have a history of long standing.17
Becket’s first employment when he returned to London from his studies in Paris was
as a clerk for an influential London banker (perhaps usurer), Osbert Huitdeniers.
Huitdeniers was certainly well connected and respected, as indicated by his royal
service as both a sheriff and a justiciar. More importantly, he had direct contact with
Matilda’s court as a representative of a group of well-off Londoners who paid provisi-
onal homage to her in anticipation of her entry into the city in 1141. Certainly, Becket
would have been among the members of Huitdeniers’ entourage. The problem stem-
med from the unceremonious reception ‒ in essence an angry mob ‒ that the Empress
 Mediaevistik 34 . 2021 77

encountered when she passed through the city gates, forcing her to beat a hasty retreat.18
Those who sided with her cause did not (or could not) prevent the threatening conduct
of their fellow citizens.19 In the aftermath, Huitdeniers himself fled, perhaps for several
years, evidently fearing the personal consequences of his pro-Angevin sympathies. In
turn, Matilda might reasonably have supposed that her so-called partisans had actual-
ly betrayed her. And such hostility could readily be transposed to someone associated
with one of her traitors: Thomas of London (as he was then known). After these events,
she surely harbored no fondness for Londoners in any case.20 One might logically infer
either that Thomas had been on her radar for some time prior to his appointment as
chancellor, let alone archbishop, or at any rate that his very London origins provided
her with sufficient grounds to mistrust (or even despise) him. Of course, this, too, is
speculative, but it does have some established facts in its favor.
However it may be, Matilda’s strongly negative reaction to her son’s 1162 selection
of Becket to be the future archbishop of Canterbury does have clear cut documentary
support. In a letter from the “English Clergy” ‒ drafted in effect by that perpetual
malcontent Gilbert Foliot ‒ Becket is accused of “ingratitude for favors” bestowed on
him by Henry, such as raising him up from poverty (!), even with the king’s “mother
dissuading.”21 Becket should be thankful that Henry was prepared to reject maternal
advice and choose him to occupy Canterbury. In a subsequent reply missive addressed
to “All the English Clergy,” Becket claimed that, if Henry’s mother (or anyone else in
the England as a whole) was dissatisfied with his selection, it was news to him: “On the
question of my election, which you write was made with our Lord the king’s mother
dissuading ... if the king’s mother gave any advice to the contrary, it did not become
public.”22 Rather, the lords of the English church (Foliot outstanding among them) had
been responsible for whatever discontent had been stirred up in the kingdom. Setting
aside Becket’s self-serving denial, Matilda’s own words of rebuke addressed directly
to the wayward archbishop leave little doubt about her scathing attitude toward his
thanklessness: “It seems a very grievous matter to the king and his barons and his
council, inasmuch as he loved and honored [you], and made you lord of his entire re-
alm and of all his lands, so that he could rely more securely on you in the future, espe-
cially since they allege that you have turned the whole realm against him as much as
you could, and that you did not stop at striving to disinherit him with all your power.”23
The Empress evinces animus (albeit somewhat tempered by political considerations)
that hints at her own long-standing suspicions about the trustworthiness of Becket.
So Becket was never to Matilda’s personal liking. The story, of course, doesn’t end
there. Against his mother’s advice, Henry had indeed still facilitated Becket’s trans-
lation from chancellor to archbishop. The inference has been drawn that her evalua-
tion of Becket lacked impact and that she had lost her son’s favor, thus rendering
her inconsequential in or irrelevant to the political realm. She had, in effect, been
put out to pasture, just as her biographers would lead us to believe. However, Becket
himself, King Henry’s advisors and Pope Alexander III evidently did not reach the
same conclusion.24 Rather, primary evidence attests to the high regard in which her
endorsement was held all around. (One is tempted to think of Don Vito Corleone in
the “Godfather” films.) Becket arrived on the continental side of the English Channel
in the early days of November 1164. In December of the same year, the archbishop
78 Mediaevistik 34 . 2021

commenced his campaign to draw the Empress into the fray, regardless of her earlier
judgment about him. In a letter addressed to her from Becket, he praises the material
contributions she has made to the church but then begs her to take account also of the
cause of ecclesiastical liberty. Her son, he says, has broken the peace that reigns when
the spiritual realm is assured its own proper sphere in the absence of temporal control.
When that tranquility is disrupted, the whole of divine order is transgressed. Becket
even ‒ and this was assuredly not a wise strategy ‒ gestures to the endangerment of
Matilda’s “own salvation” as well as that of “her offspring down the generations.”25
The archbishop invokes “a mother’s love and a lady’s authority in calling him [the
king] back to the right path,” since after all she was the person responsible for Henry’s
possession of the English crown.26
The transmission and reception of this letter has a revealing history worthy of
detailed narration. Its conveyance was entrusted to the care of one Nicholas, prior of
the hospital Mont-Saint-Jacques, who proved to be a reliable emissary on Becket’s
behalf during the exile. When Nicholas arrives at the court of the Empress around
Christmastide, he discovers that he has been outflanked by John of Oxford, who, along
with previous messengers from enemies of Becket, has spun horrid stories about the
archbishop’s conduct and the purely materialistic motivations lying behind his super-
ficially godly cause.27 Even though less than two months had passed since Becket’s
arrival as an exile, Henry’s propaganda machine had cranked up and the Empress
was viewed as a prime target for persuasion ‒ one who brought considerable personal
gravitas to the table. Given her familiarity with the archbishop’s past, it would have
taken little to convince Matilda of his corruption.
Nicholas laid low for three days after the pro-Henry advocates departed and only
then approached the Empress in order to present the Becket letter already described.
Twice he was rebuffed, but on the third try, after pleading the archbishop’s case, he
succeeded in placing the missive in her hands. Upon reading it, she offered deep apo-
logies for any offense given to the archbishop either publicly or privately. Moreover,
she professed ignorance concerning the plans concocted by her son, who “had hidden
everything he wished to do in ecclesiastical matters from her.” Why? Because, she
said, Henry “knew that she was more favorable to ecclesiastical freedom than to the
royal will.” The Empress then promised that she would via letter demand that Henry
“tell her everything he has in mind concerning the condition of the churches and you
[Becket] in his own letter,” after which she would determine how she might best be
able to contribute to restoring peace to England.28
We have no clue as to whether the proposed letter was sent or a reply received.29 But
her assertion that her ultimate commitment lay with the liberty of the church did not
lack merit. After all, she was involved in negotiating the Concordat of Worms, which
carved out the terms of ecclesiastical independence from secular interference. In other
words, Matilda acceded to the renunciation of jurisdiction claimed by imperial gover-
nment ‒ which is to say, the power to which emperors, including her husband, aspired
‒ in favor of the church. To express it colloquially, she put money where her mouth was.
Hence, there are perfectly plausible reasons to suppose that her promises were genuine.
Matilda also demanded to be apprised of the full contents of the Constitutions of
Clarendon, which was the political flash-point for the entire conflict. The background
 Mediaevistik 34 . 2021 79

story of the Constitutions is extremely complex, well beyond what is possible or neces-
sary to recount in present circumstances. Suffice it to say that in early 1164, the English
King convened at Clarendon a council comprising his barons and the great ecclesiastical
leaders of the kingdom. The king essentially tricked Becket (and with him the unwilling
bishops), who assented initially to enter into an agreement confirming the traditional
customs and liberties of secular and spiritual powers respectively. Forthwith, the king’s
administrators produced a document that stipulated a set of sixteen propositions that
radically circumscribed the independence of the English church vis-à-vis secular go-
vernment. Among its terms were the monopolization by the royal courts of jurisdiction
involving clerics and church possessions, whether in criminal matters or civil quarrels;
the prohibition of churchmen from departing the realm without the king’s permission
and of appeals from ecclesiastical courts to authorities (such as the pope) outside the
territories under royal control; the limitation of the ability of the church to proclaim a
subject of the crown excommunicate without permission of the king; and the prevention
of peasants (rusticii) from ordination. Once these written clauses had been presented to
Becket, the archbishop was compelled to renege on his promise to assent to them and
he refused to affix his seal to the parchment.30
Nicholas recounts that once confronted with the contents of the Constitutions, she
demonstrated a noteworthy independence of mind. According to Nicholas, the Em-
press deemed some aspects of it to be acceptable. A long passage of Nicholas’s report
to the archbishop substantiates, however, her measured criticism of the terms of the
Constitutions:
The woman comes from a race of tyrants [!], and she approved some of them: for example,
the clause about not excommunicating the king’s justices and servants without his licen-
se. Nevertheless, … she disapproved of many of the clauses; and she was particularly
displeased that they had been set down in writing and that the bishops had been forced to
promise to keep them, for this was not required of earlier bishops. … You should know
that the lady Empress was adroit in her son’s defense, excusing him both for his zeal and
the ill will of the bishops, and she was also reasonable and discreet in understanding the
origin of the church’s troubles. For she says some things in which we praised her view
and supported it.31

In sum, Matilda shrewdly and meticulously dissected the document. While Nicholas
clearly took exception with her praise for some of Henry’s formulations concerning
the proper conduct of the church, her admission that many sections of the Constitu-
tions did indeed violate the principles of ecclesiastical liberty seemed promising to
him. Nicholas was in fact inclined to agree that some elements of her displeasure
with the Constitutions were fair and valid. After intense discussion, Matilda agreed
that the “best chance for peace” was for her to arrange that “if it were possible, the
lord king should follow the advice of his mother and other reasonable persons, who
would manage the dispute in such a way that the ancient customs of the realm would
be observed …”32 Without doubt, then, she was not entirely swayed by either side in
the dispute, which indicated that she might be the appropriate mediator between arch-
bishop and king.
Word of the Empress’s conciliatory position surely circulated immediately after this
conference. (We know that one of Henry’s courtiers was present at these events.) John
80 Mediaevistik 34 . 2021

of Salisbury reports that in January of 1165, Pope Alexander III, who throughout the
struggle expressed a strong desire for its resolution, appointed her to broker an agree-
ment between the king and the archbishop.33 Writing to Becket a few months later, she
says that the pope “commanded” her “to encourage the restoration of peace between
my son the king and you and to attempt to reconcile you with him.”34 She advises the
archbishop, however, that without the exercise of “the greatest humility and “most
conspicuous moderation” ‒ two qualities of which Becket was in short supply, as John
of Salisbury frequently noted ‒ “you will not be able to recover the king’s grace.”35 If
Alexander himself had regarded Matilda to be an inconsequential figure, why would
he turn specifically to her for this mission? Instead, she was thrust into the midst of
the conflict by papal decree.
Soon after receiving her commission from the pope, the Empress even appears
to have been implicated in a plan, based on a clever bit of international diplomacy,
with the potential to realize the sought-after reconciliation. One of the other items on
Henry’s political agenda was to establish a treaty with French King Louis VII. The two
nations had been on poor terms for years. According to John of Salisbury, the Empress
“promises she can easily induce the King of England to accept the pope’s wishes” for
peace between Henry and Becket. But there was a condition, namely, “if the pope is
willing to make a treaty between the kings, as has long been sought.”36 Henry had con-
siderable motivation to negotiate an accord with Louis: Wales. In an anonymous letter
dating to very early 1165, Becket was informed that the English king “seemed afraid to
come to grips with the Welch, lest while occupied with them the cross-channel powers,
namely, the Flemings and the French, might attempt to make trouble.”37 Since Becket
had been under the protection of Louis since his escape from England, perhaps an
agreement between the kings could include terms under which the differences between
Henry and his archbishop might be settled. These machinations become ever-more
complex to the extent that a description of them would be exceedingly digressive.
Suffice it to say that evidence places Matilda in the midst of the unfolding events from
which all parties would likely have benefitted. Alas, the proposed papally-mediated
resolution never came to fruition.
The quest to achieve reconciliation between her son and the archbishop seems never
to have lost traction with the Empress. Through the rest of 1165 and well into 1166, she
shows up time and again in Becket’s and John’s correspondence collections, entangled
especially in various schemes to induce other important figures (e.g., the Count of
Flanders, the Norman bishops) to join together with her in advancing the cause of
peace.38 The last datable document associated with her name while alive was a letter
addressed to King Louis from her own pen that must have been composed within
weeks of her death on September 10, 1167. In it, Matilda chastises the French king
for his failure to keep her apprised of the status of his ongoing conflicts with her son.
Scholars ordinarily assume that this referred to territorial disputes between the two
rulers and other relatively minor issues.39 But it seems to me not too implausible that
the standing of Becket, who (as previously noted) relied at the time on Louis’s protec-
tion, counted among the subjects ‒ indeed, was perhaps the main or even only topic
‒ to which the Empress was alluding. In any case, she virtually threatens the king of
France: “Do not delay, if you please, to send me details about the quarrel. For unless
 Mediaevistik 34 . 2021 81

you do so, such may happen between you that I will not be able to correct (emendare,
make right).”40 These are hardly the words of someone who had withdrawn from the
world and dedicated herself to “pious works.” One may reasonably conclude that Ma-
tilda was “in the game” until the very end.

Cary J. Nederman, College Station, Texas A & M;

cary-j-nederman@tamu.edu

Endnotes

* Earlier versions of this paper were presented to the virtual International Medieval Studies
Congresses sponsored by the medieval studies institutes at, respectively, Western Michigan
University (May 2021) and University of Leeds (July 2021). The observations and sugge-
stions of the participants in and audience at these sessions contributed immeasurably to
sharpening its arguments and providing references to primary and secondary works with
which the present author lacked familiarity. I wish to single out John Jenkins of the Uni-
versity of York for his trenchant questions and generous guidance. Thanks are also due to
Ms. Dede Bright for her timely editorial assistance.
1 E.g., Jim Bradbury, Stephen and Matilda: The Civil War of 1139‒53 (London: Alan Sutton,
1996).
2 Walter Map, De nugis curialium, ed. M. R. James, rev. C. N. L. Brooke and R. A. B. James
(Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1983), 478‒81, 484‒85.
3 Map, De nugis (see note 2), 478‒79: “Matris sue doctrinam audiuimus hanc fuisse, quod
omnia protelaret omnium negocia, quod quelibet in manum suam excidencia diu retine-
ret, et fructus inde perciperet, et ad eas suspirantes in spe suspenderet, parabola crudeli
sentenciam hanc confirmans, hac scilicet: accipiter insolens carne sibi sepius oblata et
retracta uel occultata fit auidior, et pronius obsequens et adherens. Docebat eciam quod in
talamo frequens, in frequencia rarus esset;nichil alicui confer(r)et cuiusquam testimonio
nisi uisum et cognitum, et in hunc modum multa pessima. Nos autem illi doctrine fidenter
imputamus omnia quibus erat tediosus.”
4 Nesta Pain, Empress Matilda: Uncrowned Queen of England (London: Weidenfeld and
Nicolson, 1978); Catherine Hanley, Matilda: Empress, Queen, Warrior (New Haven, CT:
Yale University Press, 2019).
5 Marjorie Chibnall, The Empress Matilda: Queen Consort, Queen Mother and Lady of the
English (Oxford: Blackwell, 1991).
6 Chibnall, Empress Matilda (see note 5), 62, 162; Hanley, Matilda (see note 4), 232.
7 Hanley, Matilda (see note 4), 231.
8 Chibnall, Empress Matilda (see note 5),166, 173.
9 Marjorie Chibnall, “The Empress Matilda and Church Reform,” Transactions of the
Royal Historical Society, 5th ser., 38 (1988): 107‒30; here 129. Still later, Chibnall had not
modified her position; see “Empress Matilda and Her Sons,” Medieval Mothering, ed. J. C.
Parsons (New York: Garland, 1996), 279‒94, here 288‒89.
10 W. L. Warren, Henry II (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2000), 81. Alison Weir,
Eleanor of Aquitaine (New York, NY: Ballantine, 1999), 164, arrives at a similar conclu-
sion that Henry was “counseled by his mother, the Empress Matilda, who would over the
next four years give him sensible advice about how to deal with Becket.”
11 Anne J. Duggan, ed., The Correspondence of Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury
(1162‒1170). Volume 1: Letters 1‒175 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 210‒13.
82 Mediaevistik 34 . 2021

12 As maintained by Karen Bollermann and Cary J. Nederman, “John of Salisbury and

Thomas Becket,” A Companion to John of Salisbury, ed. Cristophe Grellard and Frédérique
Lachaud (Leiden and Boston, MA: Brill, 2015), 63‒104.
13 Cary J. Nederman, John of Salisbury. Medieval and Renaissance Texas And Studies 288.
(Tempe, AZ: Arizona Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 2005), 83‒85 addres-
ses his use of moderation in relation to the Henry/Becket conflict. An alternative view
about John’s conception of moderation has been proposed, however, by Sigbjorn Sønnesyn,
“Qui recta quae docet sequitur, vere philosophus est: The Ethics of John of Salisbury,” in
Grillard and Lachaud, A Companion (see note 12) 307‒32.
14 For example, Nesta Pain, The King and Becket (London: Eyre & Spottiswoode, 1966);
Frank Barlow, Thomas Becket (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1986); Anne J. Duggan,
Thomas Becket (London: Arnold, 2004); John Guy, Thomas Becket: Warrior, Priest, Rebel
(New York, NY: Random House, 2012); and Father J. S. Hogan, Thomas Becket: Defender
of the Church (Huntington, IN: OSV, 2020).
15 Pain, Empress Matilda (see note 4), 168.
16 Chibnall, Empress Matilda (see note 5), 166.
17 The following derives from a personal e-mail message from Dr. Jenkins, to whom a great
debt of thanks is owed.
18 The events attendant on Matilda’s alienation of Londoners are described in the Gestae
Stephani, ed. K. R. Potter (London: Thomas Nelson and Sons, 1955), 81‒4. The author of
the Gestae—an unquestionable partisan of Stephen’s cause—ascribes her treatment of the
denizens of London to her “extremely arrogant demeanor,” reflected in the fact that “in the
capital of the land subject to her, she actually made herself queen of all England [reginam
se totius Angliæ] and gloried in being so called” (78). For a more general assessment of
Matilda’s shifting reputation during the conflict with Stephen, see Karl Schnith, “Regni et
pacis inquietatrix: Zur Rolle de Kaierin Mathilde in der ‘Anarchie,’” Journal of Medieval
History 2 (1976): 135‒58.
19 On the decisive role played by London during the Anarchy, see Jean A. Truax, “Winning
over the Londoners: King Stephen, the Empress Matilda, and the Politics of Personality,”
The Haskins Society Journal 8 (1996): 43‒61.
20 For the close association of Becket’s name with London both during and after his lifetime,
see John Jenkins, “St Thomas Becket and Medieval London,” History 105 (2020): 652‒72.
21 Duggan, Correspondence (see note 11), 376‒77.
22 Duggan, Correspondence (see note 11), 434‒35: “De promotione uero mea, quam scribis
factam matre domini nostril regis dissuadente, regno reclamante, ecclesia Dei quoad licuit
suspirante, hoc tibi respondeo: quod regni reclamationem non audiuimus, sed potius accla-
mationem. Dissuasio uero genetricis domini nostri, si fuit, usque ad publicum non prodiit.”
23 Duggan, Correspondence (see note 11), 210‒11: “Sed multum graue uidetur regi, et baroni-
bus suis atque consilio suo, desicut uos dilexit et honorauit, atque ominum totius regni sui
et omnium terrarium suarum constituit, et in maiorem tandem honorem quem habebat in
tota terra sua vos sublimauit, ut de cetero uobis securius debeat credere, precipue cum as-
serant quod totum regnum suum, quantum potuistis, aduersus eum turbastis, nec remansit
in uobis quin ad eum exheredandum pro uiribus interderitis.”
24 As an interesting contrast, there is only thin documentary evidence that Queen Eleanor,
herself quite a formidable woman, participated in Henry’s conflict with Becket. In a mid-
1165 letter addressed to Becket, John of Poitiers reports, “We wish you to know that you
can hope for no help from the queen, since she relies entirely on Ralph de Faie [her uncle],
who is persecuting us no less than before,” in Duggan, Correspondence (see note 11),
216‒17. In another missive to Becket dating to almost exactly the same time, John of Salis-
bury offers a slightly different perspective: “It is said that the Count of Flanders, working
 Mediaevistik 34 . 2021 83

for your peace, at the request of the Empress and the queen, has sent a distinguished party
of men to the king, and that they have returned. But what they have returned with I do
not know,” in Duggan, Correspondence (see note 11), 226‒27. (Note the reference to the
Empress as cooperating with Eleanor in commissioning this expedition, which only rein-
forces the impression that her engagement in resolving the conflict was considerable, and
not always on the side of her son.) Given the dearth of evidence, one of the queen’s recent
biographers, Weir, Eleanor (see note 10), 164 concludes that, “although Eleanor was hosti-
le to Becket, she never became actively involved in his quarrel with Henry.”
25 Duggan, Correspondence (see note 11), 154‒57.
26 Duggan, Correspondence (see note 11) 158‒59.
27 Duggan, Correspondence (see note 11), 160‒63.
28 Duggan, Correspondence (see note 11), 162‒63.
29 There is only one bit of evidence in this connection, namely, a remark by John of Poitiers
in an update of the current situation addressed to Becket: “We are sending you a copy of
a letter that the king sent to his mother” (Duggan, Correspondence [see note 11], 216‒17).
One can merely surmise that this letter was indeed Henry’s response to the Empress.
30 Warren, Henry II (see note 10), 473‒85
31 Duggan, Correspondence (see note 11), 166‒67: “Mulier de genere tyrannorum est, et
quasdam approbabat; sicut est illlud, De non excommunicandis iusticiis et ministris re-
gis sine licencia eius. Ego tamen alia exponere nolbam, nisi de hoc prius disceptarem,
ostendens ewangelicum preceptum, quo dicitur ad Petrum, ‘Die ecclesie,” et cetera, non
‘Dic regi’; et alia multa. Quamplurima capitulorum improbauit; et hoc modis omnibus
sibi displicuit, quod in scripturam redacta essent, siue quod episcopi coacti forent ali-
quam promissionem facere de ipsis custodiendis: hoc enim a prioribus factum non est.
Post multa igitur uerba, cum ab ea uchementer inquirerem que posset esse prima pacis
occasio, hanc ei indicauimus, et assensit: si forte fieri posset ut dominus rex mitteret se in
consilum matris suc, et aliarum rationabilium personarum, que taliter rem moderarentur
ut, cessante promissione et scriptura, antique regni consuetudines obseruarentur, adhibito
tali moderamine ut nec per iudices seculars libertas ecclesie tolleretur, nec ita episcopi
abuterentur ecclesiastica libertate. Scitote quod domina imperatrix in defensione filii sui
uersuta est, eum excusans tum per zelum iusticie, tum per maliciam episcorporum, tum in
deprehendenda origine conturbationis ecclesie rationabili et discrete. Dicit enim quedam
in quo eius sensum et laudauimus et adiuuimus.”
32 Duggan, Correspondence (see note 11), 166‒69.
33 W. J. Millor, SJ, and C. Brooke, Letters of John of Salisbury Volume Two, The Later Letters
(1163‒1180) (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1979), 30‒31.
34 Duggan, Correspondence (see note 11), 210‒11; the original letter from Alexander has not
survived.
35 Duggan, Correspondence (see note 11) 212‒13.
36 Millor and Brooke, Letters of John (see note 33), 30‒33.
37 Duggan, Correspondence (see note 11), 178‒79.
38 E.g., Millor and Brooke, Letters of John (see note 33), 133‒34, 168‒69, 190‒91; Duggan,
Correspondence (see note 11), 66‒67, 93‒94.
39 Chibnall, Empress Matilda (see note 5), 173.
40 “A Letter from Matilda, Empress,” Epistolae: Medieval Women’s Latin Letters; online at:
https://epistolae.ctl.columbia.edu/letter/173.html (last accessed on May 17, 2021).