re: Matilda/Maud - btw I usually call her "Maud" in my head and Stephen's wife "Matilda", with defaulting to the old fashioned "Mahault" for her sister-in-law who surived the White Ship and later had become the abbess of Fontevrault when Eleanor of Aquitaine was married to Henry II - you could always tell who was supporting her and who was supporting Stephen by them referring to her either as "the Empress" (her supporters) or "the Countess of Anjou" (Stephen's supporters); the later was her title by second marriage, the one to Geoffrey d'Anjou. They both loathed each other but did produce four sons.
The hostage kid Stephen didn't find himself able to kill was William Marshal, Guillaume le Marechal, as an adult the most famous knight of his era, which is why we have this story. William became bff with Eleanor's and Henry's oldest son Henry (usually nicknamed Hal in novels to differentiate him from his father), after his death entered Henry's service, and lived long enough (i.e. through the reigns of Richard and John) to become regent for John's son the future Henry III.
The problem with Stephen sparing him was indeed that he'd made the threat in the first place and then not following through; not least because there were a lot of nobles, not all supporting Maude but several just in business for themselves, who then revolted and had to be bribed back into following him. "Go raide a few lands and monasteries, have the King reward you with money and more lands so you don't support his cousin Maude" became the tried and true method of noble enrichment, which is why this period is often refered to as "the anarchy".
I've always liked this summary of Maude and Stephen by Sharon Penman in the afterword of her novel about them: It might be said that both Stephen and Maude were victims of their age, for the twelfth century was not friendly terrain for a too-forgiving king or a sovereign queen. HIstory has not been kind to either of them. In Maude's case, I think the judgement might be overly harsh, for if you study her past, you find three Maudes. There was the young woman who made a succssful marriage to a manic depressive and so endeared herself to her German subjects that they were loath to see her return to England and in fact petioned her not to. There was the aging matriarch who passed her last years in Normandy, on excellent terms with the Church and her royal son, respected for the sage counsel she gave Henry. In between, there was the harpy, the termagant so reviled by English chroniclers, whose mistakes were exaggarated and magnified by the hostile male monks writing her history.
Maude could be infuriating and exaspaerating, but she had great courage, and she never lost a certain prickly integrity. As for Stephen, I think the truest verdict was one passed by a contemporary chronicler: "He was a mild man, gentle and good, and did no justice."
Re: Merrie Olde England
Date: 2019-11-19 08:54 am (UTC)The hostage kid Stephen didn't find himself able to kill was William Marshal, Guillaume le Marechal, as an adult the most famous knight of his era, which is why we have this story. William became bff with Eleanor's and Henry's oldest son Henry (usually nicknamed Hal in novels to differentiate him from his father), after his death entered Henry's service, and lived long enough (i.e. through the reigns of Richard and John) to become regent for John's son the future Henry III.
The problem with Stephen sparing him was indeed that he'd made the threat in the first place and then not following through; not least because there were a lot of nobles, not all supporting Maude but several just in business for themselves, who then revolted and had to be bribed back into following him. "Go raide a few lands and monasteries, have the King reward you with money and more lands so you don't support his cousin Maude" became the tried and true method of noble enrichment, which is why this period is often refered to as "the anarchy".
I've always liked this summary of Maude and Stephen by Sharon Penman in the afterword of her novel about them: It might be said that both Stephen and Maude were victims of their age, for the twelfth century was not friendly terrain for a too-forgiving king or a sovereign queen. HIstory has not been kind to either of them. In Maude's case, I think the judgement might be overly harsh, for if you study her past, you find three Maudes. There was the young woman who made a succssful marriage to a manic depressive and so endeared herself to her German subjects that they were loath to see her return to England and in fact petioned her not to. There was the aging matriarch who passed her last years in Normandy, on excellent terms with the Church and her royal son, respected for the sage counsel she gave Henry. In between, there was the harpy, the termagant so reviled by English chroniclers, whose mistakes were exaggarated and magnified by the hostile male monks writing her history.
Maude could be infuriating and exaspaerating, but she had great courage, and she never lost a certain prickly integrity. As for Stephen, I think the truest verdict was one passed by a contemporary chronicler: "He was a mild man, gentle and good, and did no justice."