Baring-Gould’s sources: Roman Martyrology. Saram, York, and Hereford Kalendars. On July 7, the Translation of S. Thomas. Canonized by Pope Alexander III. in 1173. Authorities: — (1) A Life by John of Salisbury, afterwards bishop of Chartres, an intimate friend of Becket. His short work is rather a character than a detailed Life of the archbishop. (2) A Life by Herbert de Bosham, secretary of Becket; this work was written in 1185. (3) A volume of letters by Herbert de Bosham, written in the course of the quarrel of Becket with the king. (4) A Life by Edward Grim, a monk who went to Canterbury to see Becket after his return from exile; he was present at the murder, and received a severe wound in the arm while attempting to protect the archbishop. (5) A Passion by Benedict, abbot of Peterborough. (6) A Life by Alan, abbot of Tewkesbury, embodies that of John of Salisbury. He was monk of Canterbury and prior in 1179. In 1186 he was made abbot of Tewkesbury, and died in 1202. (7) A Life by Roger of Pontigny, attendant on Becket during the two years he passed in that monastery. (8) An anonymous author, “ de plurium narratione collecta.... quam scribi fecit D. Petrus Rogerii,” circ. 1370; this is called the Quadrilogus, being compiled from four earlier writers. (9) A Life by Wil liam Fitz-Stephen, a derk of Becket’s, who attended his master through a great part of his public life. (10) A Metrical Life by Guemes du Pont de S. Maxence in Picardy, written in 1 175. ( 1 1) A Life by Henry, abbot of Croyland, assisted by Roger, a monk of Croyland, written in 1220. (12) An anonymous Life by an eye-witness of many of the events he describes, preserved in Lambeth Library. (13) Another anonymous Life in the British Museum, written in 120a (14) A Life by Grandison, bishop of Exeter, 1327-69, is too late to be of any value. (15) The Letters of S. Thomas. All the most important materials for the Life of Becket are being published by Mr. J. Craigie Robertson in his “ Materials for the History of Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury," in the Rolls series of “Chronicles of Britain." The Letters, translated into English, have been published by Dr. Giles, in his “Life and Letters of Thomas k Becket," London, 1846. The Latin originals [D«c. tf were also published by Dr. Giles, but very inaccurately. Additional information or legend about S. Thomas may be gleaned from the chroniclers Hoveden, Radulf de Diceto, John of Brompton, &c.] “ Among the towns, cities, and villages of England, London is the largest and the principal,” write i a contemporary of Becket.1 “When the kingdom fell into the hands of the Normans, large numbers flocked thither out of Rouen and Caen, which are the principal cities of Normandy, choosing to become citizens of London, because it was larger and better stored with merchandise in which they used to traffic. Among these was one Gilbert, sumamed Becket, bom at Rouen, and distinguished among his citizens for the respectability of his birth, the energy of his character, and the easy independence of his fortune. His family was creditable, but belonged to the class of citizens. He was industrious in commerce, and managed his household in a creditable manner, and suitably to his station in life; whilst among his fellowcitizens he was known for a worthy man, and without reproach. His wife was Rose [Rohesia], a lady of Caen, also of respectable civic family, fair in person, and fairer still in conduct, an able mistress over her household, and, saving her duty to God, an obedient and loving wife.” “ This was the manner of S. Thomas’s birth,” says FitzStephen, another contemporary. “ His father was Gilbert, sheriff of London, and his mother’s name was Matilda. Both were citizens of the middle class, who neither made money by usury nor practised any trade, but lived respectably on their income.” Herbert de Bosham describes him as u bom in the flesh of one Gilbert, and his mother’s name was Matilda.” But popular poetry, after the sanctification of Becket, delighted in adorning the early history of the saint with romance. It invented, or rather interwove with the pedigree of the martyr, one of those romantic traditions which grew 1 Anon. Lambeth.

…out of the wild adventures of the Crusades, and which occur in various forms in the ballads of all nations. The father of Becket, so runs the tale, was a gallant soldier of the Cross in Palestine. He was there taken captive, and inspired the daughter of his master with an ardent attachment. Through her means he made his escape, but the enamoured princess could not endure life without him. She, too, fled, and made her way to Europe. She had learned but two words of the Frank tongue, “ Gilbert ” and “ London.” With these two magic sounds on her lips she reached London; and as she wandered through the streets, constantly repeating the name of Gilbert, she was met by Beckefs faithful servant. Becket, as a good Christian, seems to have entertained scruples about an honourable union with the faithful, but misbelieving maiden. The case was submitted to the highest authority, and argued before the bishop of London. The issue was the baptism of the princess, by the name of Matilda (that of the empress-queen), and their marriage was solemnized in S. Paul’s, with the utmost publicity and splendour.

It is enough to say of this wondrous tale, that not one of the seven or eight contemporary biographers of Becket mentions it, and that the Lambeth anonymous writer distinctly says that the wife of Gilbert was of a burgher family in Caen,1 and Fitz-Stephen, an officer in the chancery court of S. Thomas, and dean of his chapel, confirms this by saying that both his parents were of the middle class, and William, sub-prior of Canterbury, says that he was “ the illustrious son of middle-class parents.”

The father of the saint was no knight errant, but a sober Rouen citizen, who settled in London for its commercial advantages. His mother was no Saracen maiden of princely 1 He says her name was Rohesia; one of the sister* of Thomas h Becket was also called Rohesia.

rank, but the daughter of an honest burgher of Caen. His Norman descent is still further confirmed by his claim of relationship, or connection at least, as of common Norman descent, with Archbishop Theobald. The saint, in one of his epistles, speaks of his parents as of citizen stock, and he says that his father’s fortune was injured by fires and other casualties.

John of Salisbury says that the future archbishop learned from his mother “ the fear of the Lord, and the reverence due to Christ’s mother, the holy Virgin Mary, whom, next to her Divine Son, he adopted as his patroness, frequently invoking her name, and placing all his trust in her.” The fond parent of Thomas k Becket used to connect her little boy in a singular and whimsical manner with her deeds of charity. She weighed him at stated times, placing in the opposite scale bread, meat, and clothing, until they equalled the weight of the child, when she made distribution thereof to the poor.

Rohesia, or Matilda Becket, died when Thomas was twenty-one years old, and he was left to the charge of his father only. He was then committed to the charge of Robert, prior of Merton, to be educated for religion. When older, he went to Paris, and studied there. On his return, he began to take part in the affairs of the city of London, and was made clerk and accountant to the sheriffs. But a serious accident befell Becket in the early part of his life, which had well nigh cut short his career. There was a knight named Richard de Aquila, who used to lodge in the house of Gilbert when he was in London. This man, being much addicted to hunting and hawking, became a great favourite with Thomas, then a lad. It happened that during one of the half-yearly vacations, when Thomas was home from school, he accompanied his father’s guest on one of his hawking expeditions. They were both on horseback, the knight in Dec> ^3 S. Thomas d Becket. 329 advance of his companion. They arrived at a narrow bridge, fit only for foot-passengers, and leading across a mill-dam. The mill was at work below, and the current was running strongly in the direction of the wheel. The knight spurred his horse over the bridge, and reached the other side in safety. Thomas did not meet with the same good luck; he and his horse were precipitated into the mill-stream. The falcon, which Thomas was carrying on his wrist, shared the same fate, and the lad, not content with saving himself, was eager to save the bird, and was thus swept imperceptibly almost under the wheel of the mill. A cry for help was raised, and death seemed inevitable, when the water was let off the wheel, and the mill suddenly stopped. The miller had seen the fall into the water, and had taken immediate measures to prevent an accident which he foresaw. He came out at once, and pulled the boy out of the stream. Among those who lodged in Gilbert h Becket’s house were Archdeacon Baldwin and Master Eustace, from Boulogne, acquaintances of Archbishop Theobald. These men soon perceived the talents of the young man, and introduced him to the notice of the archbishop, and Gilbert took occasion to remind the prelate that they were both of the same Norman origin, and descended from a common ancestor, a knight named Thierci. Becket was at once on the high road of advancement. His extraordinary abilities were cultivated by the wise patronage of the primate [the leading bishop of a country]. Once he accompanied that prelate to Rome; and on more than one other occasion visited that great centre of Christian affairs. He was permitted to reside for a certain time at each of the great schools for the study of canon law, Bologna and Auxerre. But he was not without enemies.

Roger du Pont l’Eveque, a favourite of the archbishop, looked on the young man with hostility, bred of jealousy. He vented his spleen against him by nicknaming him Bailehache, after the name of the man in whose company he had first appeared at the court of the archbishop. The enmity of this man caused him to be twice removed from the palace; but on both these occasions he took refuge with Walter, archdeacon of Canterbury, brother of the primate. By his intercession Becket was replaced in the palace, and restored to favour. When Walter was removed to the see of Rochester [a bishop’s “see” is his diocese, named from his seat (Latin sedes)] (a.d. i 148), the hostile Roger succeeded to the archdeaconry of Canterbury.

In 1154, Roger du Pont PEvgque was appointed to the archbishopric of York, and the archdeaconry of Canterbury was given to Becket, then aged thirty-six. He was already incumbent of S. Mary-le-Strand, and rector of Otford. The archdeaconry of Canterbury was the richest ecclesiastical prize in the kingdom next to the archbishopric. From this time he ruled without rival in the favour of the aged Theobald. Preferments were heaped upon him by his patron with lavish bounty. He was given a prebendal stall in S. Paul's, London, another in Lincoln, and he held several livings. And yet, till made archdeacon, he was not in deacon’s orders.1 In after years, when in exile, he was reproached with his ingratitude to the king who had raised him from poverty. “ Poverty 1” he rejoined. “ Even then I held the archdeaconry of Canterbury, the provostship of Beverley, a great many churches, and several prebends.”* The trial and triumph of Becket’s abilities was a negotiation of the utmost difficulty with the court of Rome. The first object was to obtain legatine power for Archbishop Theobald, and to withdraw it from the bishop of Winchester; the second tended more than almost all measures to secure the throne of England to the house of Plantagenet. Archbishop Theobald had inclined to the cause of Matilda and 1 After giving a list of his benefices, Fitx-Stephen adds, ** In process of time the archbishop ordained him deacon, and made him archdeacon of Canterbury." 1 “ Plurimso ecclesiae, prsebendae nonnullse,” Ep. 130. Dec.a»] 6*. Thomas d Bechet.

her son: he had refused to officiate at the coronation of Eustace, son of King Stephen. Becket not merely obtained from Eugenius III. the full papal approbation of this refusal, but a condemnation of Stephen (whose title had before been sanctioned by Eugenius himself) as a perjured usurper. But on the accession of Henry II., the archbishop began to tremble at his own work; serious apprehensions arose as to the disposition of the young king towards the Church. The Churchmen feared the possibility of Henry combining with the nobles against the spiritual power. They no doubt suspected that the augmentation of their privileges, which had been favoured by the necessities or fears of Stephen, might be checked by a union of the king with their natural enemies, the barons.

It was notorious at the court of Henry II. that many members of the young king’s family entertained views hostile to the encroachments of the Church, and we shall find in the sequel that these men goaded on the king to the contest which took place between him and the clergy. The archbishop was therefore anxious to place near the person of the king, one on whom he could rely to counteract these threatening tendencies and influences. He had discerned not merely unrivalled abilities, but, with prophetic sagacity, his archdeacon's devoted churchmanship. Through the recommendation of the primate, Becket was raised to the dignity of chancellor, an office which made him the second civil power in the realm, inasmuch as his seal was necessary to countersign all royal mandates. Nor was it without great ecclesiastical influence, for the chancellor had the appointment of all the royal chaplains, and the custody of the vacant bishoprics, abbacies, and benefices. “ The king’s chancellor,” says Fitz-Stephen, u if he pleases, always dies an archbishop or a bishop.”

This office was bestowed on Becket in 1155, when he was about thirty-eight “Thomas,” says Herbert de Basham, “now as it were laid aside the deacon, and took on him the duties of the chancellor, which he discharged with zeal and ability.” Roger of Pontigny tells us that “ it is difficult to describe the way in which he filled both the characters, that of the clerk and of the courtier, for in the outset he was so assailed by the jealousy of rivals and by tales of scandal unblushingly circulated about him, that he complained of them to the archbishop and his private friends, and declared that if possible he would have withdrawn himself altogether from the court”

But this must have been a passing fit of impatience; we hear no more of it, and the distaste for court life probably disappeared as rapidly as it had risen, for the new life had much to recommend it to one who was not destitute of ambition. The king delighted in his company, and gave up all matters of state to his guidance. Thus whilst Henry occupied his time in youthful sports, Thomas was discharging all the royal duties with vigour and activity; at one time he was marching in complete armour, at the head of the chivalry of the kingdom; at another, he was administering justice to the people. It was only in name that he differed from the king himself, for everything was at his disposal; the nobles and magistrates were all under his orders; and it became manifest to all men, that in order to obtain a point with the king, it was absolutely necessary first to gain the ear of the chancellor. Such was the attachment which Henry conceived for his chancellor, that he blindly fancied him devoted to his service in every particular. He did not recollect that Thomas k Becket had already sworn fidelity to another Master, whose servant he more especially was; the stamp of the Church was set on him, and this no civil honours could efface. Though he might “ lay aside the deacon and assume the chancellor for a while,” yet nothing could divert him from the tendency of his early education. S. Thomas d Becket.

In the beginning of the reign of Henry, the guidance of a wise head is manifest Even if we attribute the initiative to the king, yet it is certain that Becket had the execution of what was done. A new and pure coinage was introduced. To revive the vigour of the laws, the judicial and executive offices of the crown were filled, and at their head were placed, as grand justiciaries, the earl of Leicester and Richard de Lacy, men of high character and ability. All the foreign mercenaries, whom Stephen and others had established in England, were bidden depart the kingdom on a certain day, on pain of death. William of Ypres was deprived of the earldom of Kent, and banished with the rest. The king then proceeded to destroy the castles which had been built during the reign of his predecessor, sparing only a few which were advantageously placed for the defence of the realm. He resumed all the crown lands which Stephen or the empress had been induced to alienate; the earl of Nottingham, who had poisoned Ranulf of Chester a few years before, fled the kingdom in fear. William of Albemarle, who had long ruled in Yorkshire like a king, was obliged to place the strong castle of Scarborough in the king's hands, together with the estate he had of late acquired from the crown. Henry of Blois, bishop of Winchester, brother of Stephen, in distrust and alarm, secretly withdrew from the kingdom, upon which his strongholds were at once destroyed by the king. It was by the advice of the bishop of Winchester that Theobald of Canterbury had obtained the appointment of chancellor for Thomas, and it is therefore hardly possible to believe that Becket had anything to do with his humiliation. Indeed, throughout, the king's line of conduct seems to have been marked by his own independent mind. He was resolved to establish the prerogatives of the crown, reduce the independence of the nobles, and establish everywhere justice. From the first he saw, there can be no doubt, that he must come into collision with the power which 334 Lives o f the Saints. [Dec. ^ threatened the crown almost as much as the barons, and which by its privilege of the clergy interfered with the execution of impartial justice. But he used Becket as his tool to destroy the gross secular abuses in the realm, and waited his time to strike at the encroachments of the ecclesiastical power. Whether from the initiative of the king, or of the chancellor, the most admirable reforms were introduced, and prosperity dawned on England, sorely wasted by its late troubles. “ It seemed/' says Fitz-Stephen, “ as if the country were enjoying a second spring. The Holy Church was honoured and respected; every vacant bishopric and abbacy was given to some deserving person, without simony. The king, by the favour of Him who is King of kings, succeeded in all he undertook. The realm of England became richer and richer, and copious blessings flowed from the horn of plenty. The hills were cultivated, the valleys teemed with com, the fields were full of cattle and the folds of sheep.” “ The countenance of Thomas was mild and beautiful; he was tall of stature, had a nose elevated and slightly aquiline. In his senses and physical perceptions he was most acute; his language was refined and eloquent, his intellect subtle, and his mind cast in a noble mould. His aspirations after virtue were of a lofty kind, whilst his conduct, amiable towards all men, exhibited singular sympathy towards the poor and oppressed, whilst to the proud he was hostile and unbending. Ever ready to promote the advancement of his friends, he was liberal to all men, of a lively and witty disposition, cautious alike of being deceived and of deceiving others. He distinguished himself for his prudence at an early age, even whilst he was a child of this world, he who was afterwards to become a child of light”

He is said to have resided for some time at West Tarring, in Sussex, and in the rectory garden is an ancient fig-tree which tradition says he brought from Italy and planted there. lit * S. Thomas a Becket.

The species of fig tree which grows so plentifully in Sussex is believed to have been propagated from this tree. Of Beckers chancellorship, which lasted seven years, many anecdotes have been preserved, principally by his secretary, Fitz-Stephen. He took the provostship of Beverley, and at least one prebendal stall at Hastings, the governorship of Eye, and of the Tower of London, and of the Castle of Berkhamstead. How many livings he held has not been computed.

Fitz-Stephen tells us that “ he generally amused himself, not incessantly, but occasionally, with hawks, falcons, or hunting dogs, or in a game of chess: — To check the progress of their mimic foes.’ “ The house and table of the chancellor were open to all of every rank who sought the royal court and needed hospitality. He never dined without the society of earls and barons, whom he had invited. He ordered his hall to be strewn every day with fresh straw and hay in winter, and with green leaves in summer, that the numerous knights for whom the benches were insufficient, might find the floor clean and neat for them to sit down on, and that their rich clothes and beautiful tunics might not be soiled and injured. His board shone with vessels of gold and silver, and abounded with costly dishes and precious beverages, so that whatever objects of food and drink were recommended by their rarity, were purchased by his officers at exorbitant prices. But amid all this he was himself singularly frugal. His confessor [in old usage, a saint who was not martyred, or who suffered for the faith without being killed], Robert, canon of Merton, assured me that from the time of his becoming chancellor, he did not give way to licentious habits, though he was much tempted thereto by the king.1 When one of his clerks, Richard of Ambly, 1 The words of Fitz-Stephen seem to suggest that he had not been of a moral character before he became chancellor.

carried off the wife of a friend, pretending that her husband | who was in foreign parts was dead, the chancellor dismissed I the clerk from his house and friendship, and put him in the Tower of London, where he was long detained loaded with irons.”

William of Canterbury tells us that the chancellor was one day with the king at Stafford, and that the citizen in whose house he lodged, suspected him of being on terms of too close intimacy with a distinguished lady of the court He had the curiosity to enter the chancellors bedroom at night, to ascertain whether he slept there. The bed, indeed, gave tokens of having been unoccupied, but Thomas k Becket was not in the lady’s chamber, but asleep on his floor. “The nobles of England and of the neighbouring kingdoms sent their sons to serve in the chancellor’s house. When they had received from him the proper nurture and instruction, he bestowed on them the belt of knighthood, and sent them home with honour to their parents and relations, whilst he retained some of them in his service. The king himself, his master, committed his son and heir to his charge, and the chancellor placed the young prince in the midst of the sons of the nobility who were of the same age, where he received due attention from them all, and had masters and proper servants as his rank required. Numbers of noblemen and knights did homage to the chancellor, and all of them were readily received by him, always saving their allegiance to the king, and as being now his vassals, were promoted under his patronage. There never passed a day in which he did not make large presents of horses, birds, clothes, gold and silver plate, or money.”1 “ He was followed by so large a retinue of soldiers and persons of all ranks that the royal palace seemed empty in comparison;”3 and “ the king himself was left almost alone, 1 Fiu-Stepheo. * Ruger of Pontigny.

and sometimes complained to the chancellor that his court was drained.” 1 John of Salisbury admits that he greedily strove to gain the favour of the populace, and was both vain and proud; that he conducted himself towards women with a warmth of expression which was, perhaps, equivocal, but he strenuously declares that he remained chaste.2 When business was over the king and his chancellor used to play together, like schoolboys, in the hall or in the church.

One bleak winter day the king and the chancellor were riding together through a street in London. Henry saw an old beggar in rags coming towards them.

“ Do you see that man? ” he asked of Becket. “ Yes,” replied the chancellor. “ How poor and infirm he seems,” said the king; “ and he is almost naked. It were an act of charity to provide him with a thick, warm cloak.”

“It were so,” answered the chancellor. “And your majesty should remember to relieve the old man.” The king accosted the beggar in a mild tone, and asked him if he would like to have a warm cloak. The poor man, not knowing who they were, thought he was being mocked. Then the king said to the chancellor, “ You shall have the credit of doing this great act of charity,” and laying hands on his rich cloak of scarlet and minever, he endeavoured to drag it off. Becket strove to retain it. The retinue of knights and nobles rode hastily up to see what the struggle was about But neither could speak, each had his hands fully occupied, and they had much ado to keep from falling off their horses. At last the button of the cloak gave way, and it remained in the king’s hands. He gave it to the beggar, ‘ Ed. Grim.

▼anus, et interdum insipienter amantium et verba proferret, admirandus tamen et imitandus erat in corporis castitate.” and told the story to his attendants, who burst into loud laughter, to the anger and humiliation of S. Thomas. Sometimes the king, on his return from hunting, would ride into the hall where his chancellor was dining; call for a cup of wine from the high table, and depart; at other times he would dismount, jump over the table, and seat himself beside Becket, and fall to at his viands with the proverbial appetite of a hunter.

One is inclined to wonder whence came all the wealth so lavishly displayed. It is true that Becket enjoyed the revenues of several benefices, the religious duties of which he never executed, but they were insufficient to keep up the royal magnificence in which he lived. It must be remembered, however, that all grants and royal favours passed through his hands, and that he was guardian of all escheated baronies and of all vacant benefices. No very exact account was kept of what he did with all the moneys that came into his hands from these sources, and he took good care to secure a general quittance from the chief justiciary of the realm before he vacated his chancellorship to take the archbishopric.

We ask, knowing the after history of Becket, whether, as chancellor, he set his face as a flint against interference with the immunities of the clergy. And we find, on the contrary, that, acting on his advice, the king levied a tax for his war in France on the clergy. The personal service of the king's vassals was commuted for a scutage or rate levied on every knight’s fee, and this tax was exacted also from the Church. John of Salisbury, his friend and panegyrist, says he did so, forced by necessity, and that he afterwards bitterly rued it, and took his after exile as the punishment for his guilty compliance. “ If with Saul he persecuted the Church, with Paul he is prepared to die for the Church.” But probably the worst effect of this compliance with the king's first attempt Dec. ag.] vSl Thomas & Becket.

to extend even justice over all, and touch the sacred pockets of the ecclesiastics, to extract something for the preservation of the commonwealth, whose protection they enjoyed without hitherto contributing towards its expenses — was that the king was lured on to the delusion that Becket was ready to go forward with him in the execution of his complete scheme of reformation, and to support him in his attempt to bring the Church under control. Hitherto the whole burden of taxation had fallen on the laity. The clergy were exempt. The Church possessed a large share of the land of England, and all that land was untaxed, so that the burden fell with double oppression on the lay landowners. One day, when Becket was recovering from an illness at Rouen, the prior of Leicester came to see him, on his way from the court of the king, who was then in Gascony. He said roughly to Becket, “ How is this ? You, an ecclesiastic, are dressed as a man who goes out hawking, with a cape with sleeves ! Although but one person, you are archdeacon of Canterbury, dean of Hastings, provost of Beverley, canon of this place, and canon of that, proctor to the archbishop, and, it is whispered, likely to become archbishop yourself.” Becket said, “There are three poor priests in England, any one of whom I would rather see raised to that dignity. And, moreover, so well do I know the king, that I should either lose his favour, or that of God, were I made archbishop.” This shows that Becket had mapped out his own course in his own mind. Not one of the three poor priests, he knew well enough, was likely to get the archbishopric, which was certain to be his, could he but keep up the farce till the death of Theobald.

Henry II. had married Eleanor of Guienne, the divorced wife of the king of France, and laid claim to the county of Toulouse, as part of his wife’s inheritance. But Raymond of S. Gilles, who held the county by conveyance from the father of Queen Eleanor, and, moreover, as the dower of his own wife, sister of the French king, refused to give it up. Louis sustained the cause of his brother-in-law, and Henry prepared for war. As the territory in dispute was far distant, the king, by the advice of his chancellor, resolved to accept from each of his vassals a sum of money in lieu of personal service. The amount so obtained enabled him to enlist a vast body of mercenaries, with which, augmented by his chief barons and their immediate retainers, he took the field.

In his suite appeared the young king of Scotland, a prince of Walfcs, and the chancellor Becket, leading 700 men-atarms, paid by himself. In the south, Henry was joined by Raymond-Berenger, king of Aragon, and other allies, with considerable forces. The advance of the formidable host upon Toulouse caused the count urgently to implore the aid of the king of France; and Louis, without waiting to collect his forces, threw himself into the menaced city with a small troop. Upon this, Henry, with a politic respect for his over-lord, immediately gave up the siege, in spite of the counsel of his chancellor. Satisfied with the conquests he had already made, the king returned to Normandy, leaving Becket, with the constable, in command of the force which remained.

Fitz-Stephen says: “ If Becket’s advice had been listened to, they would have taken, not the town only, but also the king of France, so numerous was the army of the English king. But the king listened to the counsel of others, and from some foolish superstition and respect towards the king of France, who was his over-lord, he hesitated to attack the town, though the chancellor asserted that the king of France had forfeited his right as over-lord by appearing in arms against Henry in defiance of treaty. Not long after, the troops that had been summoned by the king of France 5*. Thomas a Becket.

entered the city; and the king of England, with the Scottish king and all his army, retired without having accomplished their purpose. However, they took the town of Cahors, and several castles in the neighbourhood of Toulouse, which either belonged to the count of Toulouse and his vassals, or had previously been taken by him from partisans of the king of England. The barons refused to take charge of these castles after the king's departure; so the chancellor, with his retainers, and Henry of Essex, alone remained. He put himself after that in full armour at the head of a stout band of his men, and stormed three other castles, which were strongly fortified, and appeared impregnable. He then passed the Garonne with his troops, in pursuit of the enemy, and after he had confirmed the whole province in its allegiance to the king, he returned crowned with honour.

‘‘Afterwards, the chancellor, in the war between the French king and his own master, the king of England, when the armies were assembled in March, on the frontier between Gisors, Trie, and Courcelles, maintained, besides 700 knights of his own household, 1,200 other knights' mercenaries, and 4,000 private soldiers for the space of forty days. To every knight was assigned three shillings a day of the chancellor's money towards their horses and esquires, and the knights themselves all dined at the chancellor's table. One day, though he was a clerk, he charged rith lance in rest, and horse at full speed, against Engelram de Trie, a valiant French knight, who was advancing towards him, and having unhorsed the rider, caried off his horse in triumph. Indeed, the chancellor's knights were everywhere foremost in the whole English army, doing more valiant deeds than any others, and everywhere distinguishing themselves, for he was always himself at their head, encouraging them, and pointing out the path to glory. He sounded the signal for advance or retreat on one of those slender trumpets which were [Dec. ag.

peculiar to his band, but which were well known to all the rest of the army round.” An occasion now arose for Becket’s abilities to be called into action on a matter of importance to his royal master. It was judged expedient by the king and his councillors to strengthen the throne by an alliance between Prince Henry and the Princess Margaret, daughter of the French king. The chancellor was sent to demand the hand of the young princess. Fitz-Stephen gives a curious picture of the prodigality and display of Becket in this embassy to the French court: “ He had with him 200 men on horseback of his own household — soldiers, clerks, butlers, serving-men, knights, and sons of the nobility, who were performing military service to him, and all equipped with arms. They and their whole train shone in new holiday clothes, each according to his rank. He had also four-and-twenty changes of garments, almost all of which were to be given away, and left in foreign parts — elegant tartans, frieze and foreign skins, cloaks and carpets, such as those with which the bed and chamber of a bishop are adorned. He had also with him dogs and birds of all kinds, such as kings and wealthy men keep. There were in his train eight carriages, each drawn by five horses, in size and strength like chargers. Each horse had his proper groom, in a new vesture, walking by the side of the carriage, and the carriage had its driver and its guard. Two carriages were filled with beer in iron-bound casks, to be given to the French, who admire that sort of liquor, for it is a wholesome drink, bright and clear, of a vinous colour and superior taste. One carriage served as the chancellor’s chapel, one as his chamber, and another as his kitchen. Others carried different sorts of meat and drink; some cushions, bags containing night-clothes, bundles, and baggage. He had twelve sumpter horses, and eight coffers to carry his plate of gold and silver cups, pitchers, basins, salts, spoons, knives, and Dec ag.) S. Thomas d Becket.

other utensils. There were coffers for containing the chancellor’s money, together with his clothes and a few books. One sumpter horse, that went before the others, contained the sacred vessels of the chapel, the books and ornaments of the altar. Each of the sumpter horses was attended by a suitable groom, trained to his duties. Moreover, each carriage had a large dog tied to it, either above or below, fierce and terrible. There was also a long-tailed ape on the back of each horse. On entering the French villages and castles, first went the footmen, about two hundred and fifty in number, marching six or ten abreast, and singing after the fashion of their country. After an interval, followed the dogs in couples, and harriers fastened by thongs, with their keepers and attendants. At a little distance followed the sumpter horses, with their grooms riding them, their knees planted on the haunches of the horses. The French ran out of their houses, at the noise of their passing, and said, ‘What a man the king of England must be, if his chancellor travels in such style ! * After these came the squires, carrying the shields of the knights, and leading their chargers; then came other squires, then young men, then the falconers with the birds on their wrists, and, after them, the butlers, masters, and attendants of the chancellor’s house, then the knights and clerks, ail riding two-and-two together, and lastly came the chancellor, with some of his personal friends about him.” The king of France, having lost his queen, married within three weeks of her death Adelaide de Blois, a niece of King Stephen. Such a marriage was scarcely decent. Louis of France had married the mother of Henry, who was now to be united to his daughter by Constance of Castile. He had been divorced from Eleanor on the plea of consanguinity. The blood relationship between the children to be affianced was not very close, and Becket easily obtained a papal dispensation to allow of the marriage, but of its indecency [Dec. a* there can be no question. As soon as the marriage had taken place, Henry II. at once obtained the dower of the princess from the Templars, who were the guardians of it. The French monarch, exasperated, instantly renewed hostilities, but peace was soon again brought about by the exertions of the legate [an official representative sent by the pope] of Alexander III. On April 1 8, 1161, the aged Archbishop Theobald of Canterbury was laid in his grave. Henry did not at once nominate his successor; no one doubted who was to become primate of England, it had been openly discussed before, and Thomas expected to be offered it. In the beginning of the year 1162 the chancellor was sent to England from Normandy, where the court then was, to prepare for the crowning of the young prince Henry as his father’s successor. Shortly after the king sent the congk (T'dirc by Richard de Lucy, grand justiciary of the realm, and three bishops, to the monks of Canterbury, bidding them elect an archbishop and primate of the Church of England.

The letter giving liberty to elect was read to the prior and chapter by Richard de Lucy, and then the monks retired — invoked the Holy Spirit to guide them to make a right choice, and then humbly invited Richard de Lucy to let them know whom the king recommended. Thomas & Becket, chancellor of England, was designated by Henry for the vacant primatial throne. Some of the monks hesitated, they had never before elected one who was not a monk, but the king’s wish was equivalent to a command, and they swallowed their scruples and chose Becket as required.1 The deputation from the king then went to London, the election met there with some opposition from Gilbert Foliot, bishop of Hereford, who, perhaps, coveted the archbishopric 1 Grim says that the election was ** extorted ” from them by Henry. From Foliot *e learn that the commissioners of the king were armed with penalties should the nonks prove refractory.

S. Thomas a Becket. for himself. But his resistance was powerless, it merely took the form of grumbling, and he did not dare to oppose the royal pleasure by overt act. For he was threatened in the event of his objecting with banishment, not only of himself, but of all his relations.1 Thomas h. Becket made the usual protest that he did not desire the vacant throne, and shrunk from the duties involved by accepting, and perhaps with some transient sincerity, for he saw clearly that he would not maintain the favour of the king if he asserted the rights, or rather, claims of the Church to freedom from taxation, and clerical independence of the secular courts. Thomas k Becket was consecrated by Henry, bishop of Winchester, on May 27, 1 162, in the cathedral of Canterbury. He had been ordained priest a few days before. The general opinion of the appointment was not altogether favourable. It was complained that the election was uncanonical, as the monks of Christ Church had been obliged by the king to elect his nominee, and their free choice had been interfered with. Others said, “ How shall a man who has not put his hand to the oar, now assume the helm ?” and “ Here is a man who in his very dress has cast aside what is befitting a clerk, a man who has delighted in the luxury of a court, and whose conversation has been wholly secular, a man whose ambition has been set to gain this place, now made archbishop. He ought to be ashamed to accept the office.” Herbert de Bosham tells us that Becket did warn the king beforehand that he would not serve him blindly, as head of the English Church. “ If you do as you say, my lord, your mind will very soon be estranged from me, and you will hate me then as much as you love me now, for you assume an authority in Church matters which I should not consent to, and there will be plenty of persons to stir up strife between us.” 1 “ Exilio crudeliter addicti stunus, nec solum persona nostra, sed et dooms patris mei, et conjuncta nobis affinitas, et cognatio tota-” Ep. 194. For some time after Becket was made archbishop he did not greatly change his mode of life. His table groaned under gold and silver plate, and was furnished with fastidious delicacy, and his retinue and his own dress were as magnificent as when he was chancellor. John of Salisbury, who was afterwards the biographer of the saint, wrote to him in 1165, two years after his consecration, urging him to disengage his mind from the worldly interests which seemed entirely to engross it, and to adopt a more devotional habit of mind and life. “ Far better confer on serious subjects with some serious person, and warm the feelings by his example, than dwell on and discuss the subtle controversies of secular literature.” The letter was a serious call to the archbishop to commune with his own heart, and to cleanse and discipline a too luxurious and worldly life.

John, bishop of Poitiers, also later wrote a letter to Becket to remonstrate with him on his magnificent style of living. “ I have often warned you, and must again press you to get rid of your superfluous incumbrances, and to consider the badness of the times ” — and this was written when Thomas was an exile in France.

His biographers, indeed, speak of his wearing a hair shirt, and of his denying himself in food, and drinking water in which fennel had been boiled, of baring his back to the scourge, and sleeping on the floor, but it would appear that these practices grew up later, after he had gone to Pontigny. Indeed, he did not so much as affect to wear an ecclesiastical costume even in choir, till rebuked by one of the monks of Canterbury, and finding that it had become a matter of general complaint One of the first acts of Becket on becoming archbishop was to resign the chancellorship, as incompatible with the office and spiritual duties of a bishop. This act of surrender is greatly to his credit. There seems to have been no desire 6\ Thomas d Becket.

on the king’s part to lose his chancellor, he had hoped that Becket would have combined both offices, and held simultaneously the highest civil, as well as the highest ecclesiastical, dignity in the kingdom.

The king was vexed at this unexpected surrender, and he then called on Becket to resign the archdeaconry of Canterbury also, and this the archbishop reluctantly consented to do. The alienation was, however, slight, and when the king landed at Southampton, on Christmas Day, seven months after the election of his favourite to the archbishopric, Becket met him, and the prelate and his sovereign, forgetful of everything but their former friendship, rushed into each others’ arms, and strove to out-do one another in professions of regard. They passed the whole day riding together, apart from the court, talking over the events which had happened since they had parted.1 Becket attended the council of Tours in May, 1163, presided over by Pope Alexander III., at the head of all the bishops of England, except those who were excused by age or infirmity. So great was his reputation, that the Pope sent out all the cardinals, except those in attendance on his own person, to escort the primate of England into the city. That strife which was to cost Becket his life, broke out next year, if not with full violence, at least with threatenings of becoming deadly.

Both the king and the archbishop were prepared for aggressions. The first public collision was a dispute concerning the customary payment to the sheriffs of the counties of a tax of two shillings for every hide of land. The king determined to transfer the payment to his own exchequer. He summoned an assembly at Woodstock, and declared his intentions. All were mute but Becket; the archbishop opshowed coolness towards him. De Bosham is most likely to be comet. posed the enrolment of the decree, on the ground that the tax was voluntary, not of right. “ If the sheriffs conduct themselves peaceably towards the people, we shall continue to pay to them, as before; but if not, no one can compel us.” “By God’s eyes,” said Henry, his usual oath, “it shall be enrolled ! ” “ By those same eyes,” replied the prelate, “ none of the men on my estate shall pay it so long as I live ! ”

On Beckers part, almost the first act of his primacy was to vindicate all the rights, and to resume all the property, which had been usurped, or which he asserted had been usurped, from his see. During the turbulent times just gone by, there would hardly have been rigid respect for the inviolability of sacred property. The title of the Church was held to be indefeasible. Whatever had once belonged to the Church might be recovered at any time; and the ecclesiastical courts claimed the sole right of adjudication in such cases. Unfortunately, also, as we can now ascertain by the deeds which have been preserved, many of these claims were based on forged charters or grants of land. In these cases the primate was at once plaintiff, judge, and carrier into execution of his own judgments. The lord of the manor of Eynsford, in Kent, who held from the king, claimed the right of presentation to that benefice. Becket asserted the prerogative of the see of Canterbury. On the forcible ejectment of his nominee by the lord, William of Eynsford, Becket proceeded at once to a sentence of excommunication, without regard to Eynsford’s feudal superior, the king. The primate next demanded the castle of Tunbridge from the head of the powerful family of De Clare; though it had been held by De Clare, and it was asserted, received in exchange for a Norman castle, since the time of William the Conqueror.

The custody of Rochester castle was another subject of S. Thomas a Becket. contention. Becket claimed this by virtue of a grant ol William the Conqueror.

The king was almost forced by a succession of ecclesiastical scandals, and the escape of the guilty, to insist on the clerks in his realm being brought under obedience to the laws. Crimes of great atrocity, it is said, of great frequency, crimes such as robbery and murder, for which secular persons were hanged by scores and without mercy, were committed with impunity, or with punishment altogether inadequate to the offence, by the clergy; and the sacred name of clerk exempted not only bishops, abbots, and priests, but those of the lowest ecclesiastical rank from the civil power. It was the inalienable right of the clerk to be tried only in an ecclesiastical court. The Church accordingly swarmed with “acephalous” clerks, without title, duty, or settled abode, who led a roving, disreputable life, and were ready for any violence; “ tonsured demons, workmen of the devil, clerks in name only, but belonging to Satan's portion.”1 The only punishment that could be inflicted by ecclesiastical tribunals was deprivation, degradation from orders, and relegation to a monastery. But as the king argued, those who cared least for the loss of orders were those whom a regard for their orders could not restrain from crime. The enormity of the evil is acknowledged by Becket's most ardent partisans. So long as the laity were allowed to compound for murder by paying a fine, as required by the laws of the Confessor, they could not complain of the ecclesiastical treatment of criminous clerks. But in Henry I.’s reign capital punishment for lay murder was introduced, and the contrast between the severity with which lay crimes were punished, and the immunity of ecclesiastical offenders, became conspicuous.

It was admitted that no less than a hundred of the clergy 1 Fits-Stephen. had their hands stained with blood. Philip de Brois, canon of Hereford, was charged with having murdered a knight, and was allowed to go free by the bishop of Lincoln, in whose court he was tried, on paying a fine to the relatives of the man be had killed. The sheriff of Bedford was not satisfied with this justice, and in the court of Dunstable, whilst De Brois was present, called him a murderer. On this the canon burst into opprobrious language. He was summoned for so doing before the archbishop, and his benefice sequestrated for a year. A clerk in Worcestershire had debauched a young lady, and murdered her father. The king wanted to have him tried in the lay-courts. The archbishop refused to allow it, and condemned the man to confinement in a monastery. Another clerk had stolen a silver goblet. Again an attempt was made to bring this criminal before the secular judge. Becket interfered, and “ he was deprived of his orders, and branded into the bargain, to please the king.” 1 The dean of Scarborough had circulated scandalous stories about the wife of a citizen of that town, and refused to desist unless paid twenty-two marks. The burgess grudgingly disbursed, but complained to the king. The dean appeared before Henry, and was given over to the ecclesiastical court, which simply made the dean refund the money. “ What, then,” exclaimed Richard de Lucy, grand justiciary, “is not justice to be executed?” “The man is a clerk,” was the reply vouchsafed him. “ Then I will have nothing to do with such a miscarriage of justice,” said De Lucy, and he complained to the king. This had occurred whilst Theobald was archbishop; but it was not forgotten by Henry. Osbert, archdeacon of York, shortly before King Henry's accession, had been charged with administering poison in the eucharistic cup to his archbishop, William; and King Stephen, notwithstanding the strenuous opposition of Archbishop Theobald and his brethren, had insisted on having 1 Fitx- Stephen.

6*. Thomas d Becket. the charge heard in a secular court. But Stephen was succeeded by Henry before the trial took place, and the bishops withdrew the case into the ecclesiastical courts, when the accused appealed to Rome, took oath that he was innocent, and got off scot free. The king was highly incensed at this, and did not forget it.

The king, determined to bring these great questions to issue, summoned a Parliament at Westminster. He began the proceedings by enlarging on the abuses of the archidiaconal courts. The archdeacons kept the most watchful and inquisitorial superintendence over the laity; but every offence was easily commuted by a pecuniary fine, which fell to them. The king complained that they levied a revenue equal to his own from the sins of the people, yet that the public morals were only more deeply and irretrievably depraved. He then demanded that all clerks accused of heinous crimes should be immediately degraded and handed over to the officers of justice, to be dealt with according to law; for their guilt, instead of deserving a lighter punishment, was doubly guilty. “ I also demand, that whilst the ceremony of stripping them of their orders is performed, some of my officials shall be present to seize the culprit, lest he find opportunity of escape.”

Becket insisted on delay till the next morning, in order that he might consult his suffragan [a bishop under the authority of an archbishop] bishops. This the king refused; the bishops withdrew to confer on their answer. They were disposed to yield, partly because they felt the justice of the claim, partly because they did not wish to offend the king. But Becket was resolute. When one listens to his speech, the feeling is one of stupefaction. To screen the violators of maidens, adulterers, murderers, slanderers, and robbers, is a holy and dignified cause; to yield them up is base and wicked. The bishops are thus addressed for counselling such a cause: “ Fools ! how can you thus yield to the wickedness of the times, urging you to open guilt ! to the sacrifice of Christ's Church ! God can ameliorate the condition of His Church without our deteriorating ourselves. Can the gain of the Church be made by the crimes of its teachers ? Let us shed our blood for the liberties of the Church ! " Thus, it appeared, notorious guilt and crime on the part of the teachers of the Church consisted in surrendering criminous clerks, convicted of gross atrocities, to civil and impartial justice, not in the wicked deeds themselves, which then deeply stained the clergy. Becket’s resolution prevailed. The king demanded whether the bishops would observe the “ customs of the realm.” “ Saving my order,” replied the archbishop. That order was still to be exempt from all jurisdiction but its own. So answered all the bishops except Hilary of Chichester, who made the declaration without reserve. The king left the assembly in a rage, without completing any of the matters for which the council had been summoned. The day closed in, and the prelates returned to their quarters. On their way the archbishop rebuked the bishop of Chichester for his base submission. Next morning the king required the archbishop to surrender the custody of the royal castles and manors which he had received as chancellor, and which he had not given up, and he deprived him at the same time of the charge of the prince, his son. The bishops entreated Becket to withdraw or change the offensive expression. At first he answered that should an angel from heaven give him such counsel, he would hold him accursed. At length, however, he gave way, persuaded, as Edward Grim tells us, by the papal almoner, who was bribed by English gold. He went to Oxford, and made the concession, promising to assent to the royal constitutions without any reservation of the rights of his own order.

The king, in order to ratify with the utmost solemnity the concession extorted from Becket and the bishops, sum5. Thomas a Becket.

moned a great council of the realm to Clarendon, to meet in January, 1164. Clarendon was a royal palace between three and five miles from Salisbury. The two archbishops and eleven bishops, and between thirty and forty of the highest nobles, with numbers of inferior barons, were present The ancient laws of England in reference to ecclesiastical immunities were rehearsed before the council. Among these were laws forbidding ecclesiastical courts deciding questions concerning advowsons and the presentation to livings, forbidding appeals to the Pope, and excommunications launched against tenants in chief without the king’s licence; ordering clerks accused of criminal offences to be tried in the king’s courts. These ancient laws were uncodified. “ It is my wish,” said the king, “ that the royal constitutions of my ancestors be reduced to writing, and signed and sealed by the archbishop and all present, to prevent future misunderstandings." “I declare,” said the archbishop, u before Almighty God, that no seal of mine shall ever be affixed to constitutions such as these.” This sudden announcement threw the assembly into confusion. The king broke out into one of his ungovernable fits of passion. William, earl of Leicester, and Reginald of Cornwall expostulated with the archbishop. Richard of Hastings, grand provincial of the Templars, urged him to yield. The archbishop of York and the bishop of Chichester favoured the motion of the king, the former perhaps still actuated by that animosity towards Becket which he had manifested towards him when both were together in the service of Theobald of Canterbury. Becket wavered, and then exclaimed: “ It is God’s will that I should peijure myself; for the present I submit and incur perjury, to repent of it hereafter as I best may.” 1 He took the oath of obedience, which had been already sworn to by all the lay barons. He was followed by the rest of the bishops, reluctantly, according to one account, and compelled on one side by their dread of the lay barons, on the other by the example and authority of the primate; but, according to Beckers biographers, eagerly and of their own accord.

The famous Constitutions of Clarendon were feudal in their form and spirit All bishops’ fiefs were granted by the crown, and the clergy were subjected equally with the laity to the common laws of the land. Clerks accused of crimes were to be summoned before the king’s courts, and the clerks found guilty were not to be screened by the Church from suffering condign punishment. Appeals were to lie from the archdeacon to the bishop, from the bishop to the archbishop; and, on failure of justice, in the last resort to the king, who would see to the case being fairly reheard in the archbishop’s court, and justice done. As Becket left the council his cross-bearers remarked that “the Government seemed disposed to upset everything: Christ was not safe, nor His sanctuary, from these devilish machinations. The pillars of the Church were shaking, and whilst the shepherd fled, the flock fell victims.” The archbishop appeared in low spirits, and rode apart. At length Herbert de Bosham approached him and said, “ My lord, why are you dejected ? ”

“Alas !” answered Becket, “the Church of England is reduced to bondage through my sins. I was a proud, vain man, a breeder of birds, and was suddenly elevated to feed men. I was a patron of stage-players and a follower of hounds, and I have become a shepherd of souls. I neglected my own vineyard, and am set to care for many others. My past life was alien from the path of salvation, and now I reap its fruits. God has forsaken me, and Dec. j9l] S. Thomas d Becket.

deems me unworthy to hold the hallowed see in which I have been placed,” and he burst into tears. The immunity which Becket claimed for criminal clerks extended also to those who injured clerks. Such were also tried in ecclesiastical courts, and the utmost that the Church could do to them was to cut them off from communion. Curiously enough, that liberty which Becket claimed for criminals in orders and for offenders against the clergy, and which he achieved at last, was the means of saving his murderers from suffering condign punishment. But Becket did not consider this point It must have escaped his notice. Richard, his successor on the throne of S. Augustine, saw the mistake Becket had made, and strove for the alteration of the law. “ I should be content,” he says, “ with the sentence of excommunication, if it had the effect of striking terror into evil doers; but, through our sins, it has become ineffective and despised. The slayers of a clerk or a bishop are sent to Rome by way of penance; they enjoy themselves by the way, and return with the Pope's full pardon, and with increased boldness for the commission of crime. The king claims the right of punishing such offences; but we clergy damnably reserve it to ourselves, and we deserve the consequences of our ambition in usurping a jurisdiction with which we have no rightful concern.”

A few days after the council had dissolved, Becket sent to Alexander III., who was at Sens, an account of what had taken place, and a request to be released of his oath. This was readily accorded him. On his receipt of the answer from the Pope, Becket went to Woodstock, where the king was, and asked to be admitted into his presence; but he was repulsed from the gates by the attendants. He went on to Aldington in Kent, where he had a manor, and there secretly at night attempted to cross into France in a small Lives oj the Saints.

boat The wind was contrary, and he was obliged to return and creep stealthily back to his house at Aldington. The servants had dispersed on the disappearance of their master, and only one clerk and his servant remained in the house. In the evening, after supper, the clerk said to his man, “ Go and shut the outer door of the court, and let us go to bed.” The servant lighted a candle and opened the door to go out, when, to his astonishment, he saw the archbishop alone, crouching in a comer. Thinking he saw a ghost, he ran back to his master in dismay. Becket, however, followed him, and explained the circumstances of his return. The object of his attempted flight is not very clear, unless it were that he shrank from the conflict which he now saw was inevitable. But it was in direct violation of the Constitutions of Clarendon, to which he had sworn adhesion and had appended his seal, one of which forbade a bishop crossing the sea without leave from the king. It was evident that Henry bad to do with a man who would not be bound by his most solemn oaths. No treaty could be made when one party claimed the power of retracting, and might at any time be released from bis covenant Before the close of the year Becket was cited to appear before a council of the realm at Northampton. The archbishop could not hope for support from the bishops. Gilbert of London and Roger of York were his deadly foes. The bishops of Salisbury and Chichester were arrayed on the king’s side. Bartholomew of Exeter, Roger of Worcester, and Robert of Lincoln were anxious to observe a politic neutrality.

Becket himself attributed the chief guilt of his persecution to the bishops, since, “ if they were not so tamely acquiescent, the king might have been quiescent.”

The assembly of Northampton opened on October 6, 1164. Becket had been cited to answer a charge of withholding 3". Thomas cL Becket.

justice from John the Marshal, employed in the king’s exchequer, who claimed the estate of Pagaham from the see of Canterbury. Twice had Becket been summoned to appear in the king’s court to answer for this denial of justice; once he had refused to appear, the second time he did not appear in person. In fact, though he was determined not to sanction the Constitutions of Clarendon, under which John the Marshal had appealed to the royal court against the ecclesiastical court,1 he had sworn in full council to abide by these constitutions, and he had openly disregarded them. Becket equivocated. He pretended that John the Marshal had sworn, not on the Gospels, but on the Tropologium, a book of ecclesiastical music. The archbishop was charged with treason for disregarding the king’s court. Becket made his defence. It turned on quibbles. He did not state his real objection — that he would not acknowledge the right of the crown to receive an appeal from his own court. The judgment of all present, based on the constitutions passed at Clarendon, was that the archbishop had failed in his respect to the king’s majesty, and that his defence was inadmissible. He was therefore condemned to have his movable goods confiscated, subject to the king’s mercy.

There rose now a difficulty as to who should pronounce the judgment, the lay barons wishing to impose the unpleasant duty on the bishops, and the latter retorting that the judgment was not an ecclesiastical one. It ended in the sentence being read by Henry, bishop of Winchester. The archbishop bowed to the decision in silence, and all the bishops, except Gilbert Foliot, of London, who refused, pledged their security for its being submitted to. The same ' The hardship to John the Marshal was, that he had to argue his claim for a manor in the court of the archbishop who had wrested the manor from him, and could not therefore expect justice in a prejudiced court. day another charge was brought against him, of having received three hundred pounds from the wardenship of the castles of Eye and Berkhamstead. To this he replied that the money had been spent on the repair of the palace in London. “ That,” said Henry, “ was done without my authority or sanction.” The archbishop then offered to pay the three hundred pounds. Next day another claim was advanced for five hundred marks which had been lent him by the king during the war at Toulouse, and for five hundred more borrowed of a Jew on the king’s security. Becket replied that the money had been given, not lent him; but he said that he would refund it. He was then required to give an account of what he had done with all the money that had come into his hands whilst chancellor. In answer he produced his acquittance obtained on his election from the grand justiciary, De Lucy. The king declared that the justiciary had exceeded his power in granting such an acquittance till the accounts of receipts and expenditure had been gone into formally. It was clear now that the king was bent on the ruin of Becket, and that there were no means in the hands of Becket of avoiding condemnation. He had apparently not kept accounts, and had received the money as it came in, and spent it profusely, not estimating very carefully how much went on matters concerning the king and the State, and how much went on keeping up the lavish splendour of his own house. He struggled, however, against condemnation by advancing the plausible grounds that this demand for accounts had been sprung on him, and he was unprepared at the moment with the papers requisite for meeting it In his extreme exigency the primate consulted separately with the bishops. Their advice was different according to their characters and their sentiments towards him. “ Would to God that you were not the archbishop, but plain Thomas S. Thomas a Becket.

& Becket ! ” said Hilary of Chichester. “ The king is reported to have said that either he or you must reign. England cannot contain you both. Throw yourself on his mercy."

“ Remember from what the king raised you," said Gilbert of London. “ If you persist in your opposition you will ruin the Church. Rather surrender your see."

“ No," said Henry of Winchester. “Let nothing be said of resigning his see at the beck and call of a temporal sovereign. That would indeed bring ruin on the Church." “This man’s life is in danger," said Robert of Lincoln, “ and if put to death he will of course lose his bishopric along with his head — better lose one than both. What good a bishop can be without a head I cannot see." “ The times are bad,” remarked Bartholomew of Exeter. " Use dissimulation till the storm is weathered. Better let one individual be jeopardized than the whole Church suffer.”

“I give no opinion,” observed the cautious Roger of Worcester, “ lest I get into trouble myself.” The next day was Sunday; the archbishop did not leave his lodgings. On Monday the agitation of his spirits had brought on an attack of a disorder to which he was subject, and he could not appear. The king thought he was pretending sickness, and sent to him. The royal messengers found the archbishop in bed. On the morrow he had determined on his conduct. At one time he had seriously meditated on a more humiliating course: he proposed to seek the royal presence barefooted, with the cross in his hands, to throw himself at the king’s feet, appealing to his old affections, and imploring him not to vex the Church. But Becket yielded to haughtier counsels, more congenial to his unbending character. He began by the significant act of celebrating out of due order the office of S. Stephen, the first martyr, with the introit, “Princes did speak against me.” It was remembered that this was the hundredth anniversary of the landing of the Conqueror, and some signal event was anticipated. After Mass Becket took a portion of the Host, and, vested pontifically, save that he had put off 1 his pall and mitre, he grasped his archiepiscopal crozier and went direct to the king’s residence. The cross seemed, as it were, the banner of the Chinch going forth to defy the royal sceptre.1 He met the bishops before the opening of the assembly. “ My brethren,” said he, “ during two days you have been sitting upon me as judges, you who ought to have been my supporters. You are ready now, I doubt not, to act the same part in a criminal suit But now I forbid you, on your obedience, from so doing. And should the secular power lay hands on me, I enjoin you, on your obedience, to launch excommunications in my behalf. Moreover, I appeal to Rome, the refuge of the helpless.” Gilbert of London protested, and the others withdrew to communicate with the king. Only Henry of Winchester and Joscelin of Salisbury remained by the primate. He then proceeded on his course. His heart failed him now. “ I wish,” he sighed, “ that I had adhered to my first intention of going before the king with the weapons, more suitable to a bishop, of entreaty and humility.” But some of his clerks remonstrated against this temporary weakness, and he pursued his course. Holding his crozier, and armed with the Host, he entered the hall where the bishops and others were awaiting the king. “ What means this new fashion of the archbishop bearing his own cross ? ” asked the archdeacon of Lisieux. “ Suffer me to carry it, my lord,” said the bishop of Hereford. “ No, my son,” answered Becket; “ I bear the banner under which I purpose fighting.” “ He always was a fool,” 1 “ Tanquam in praeiio Domini, signifer Domini, vexillum Domini erigens.” — De Botham.

.S'. Thomas d Becket. said the bishop of London, “ and a fool he will remain to the end of the chapter/* The bishops made room for him. Gilbert of London tried to pluck the crozier out of his hands. Becket held it fast “ My lord archbishop, ** said Gilbert, “ how if the king draw the sword against this uplifted cross? then we shall have king and archbishop in unseemly and unequal conflict/* The bishops were summoned into the king’s presence. Becket sat alone in the outer hall. The archbishop of York swept by in disdainful pomp, with his crozier borne before him, in defiance of a mandate which forbade him to have his cross in the province of Canterbury. Like hostile spears, cross confronted cross,1 badges of unrelenting hosti lity and stubborn defiance.

During this interval, De Bosham, the archbishop’s reader, put the question, “ If they should lay their impious hand on thee, art thou prepared to fulminate excommunication against them ? ” Fite-Stephen, who sat at his feet, said in a loud, clear voice, “That be far from thee; so did not the apostles and martyrs of God; they prayed for their persecutors and forgave them I " “A little later,” says the faithful Fitz-Stephen of himself, “ when one of the king’s ushers would not allow me to speak to the archbishop, I made a sign to him, and drew his attention to the Saviour on the cross.” Many years afterwards, when both of them were in exile together at S. Benoit, on the Loire, the archbishop reminded Fitz-Stephen of this little circumstance. The bishops, admitted to the king’s presence, announced the appeal of the archbishop to the Pope, and his inhibition to his suffragans to sit in judgment in a secular court on their metropolitan [the archbishop who heads a group of dioceses]. This appeal was again a direct violation of one of the Constitutions of Clarendon, sworn to by Becket in an oath still held valid by the king and his 1 “ Quasi pila minaatia piHs,” quotes Fitz-Stephen. barons. The king appealed to the council. Some seized the occasion of boldly declaring that the king had brought this trouble upon him by advancing to a giddy eminence a low-born man. All agreed that Becket was guilty of perjury and treason. Some barons came out to attempt a compromise. Becket replied: “ I have appealed from the judgment of the bishops, who dealt too harshly with me in the instance of neglect of court I forbid their proceeding any further in judgment on me. I appeal from their sentence, and place myself under the protection of the sovereign Pontiff.” The die was cast, there was now no retreat The barons withdrew, muttering alarming hints of how refractory prelates might be dealt with.1 The king now endeavoured to force the bishops to join the assembly of nobles and barons in passing sentence on the archbishop. They were thrown into confusion, and pleaded the prohibition of the primate. Roger of York left the council-chamber, calling to his clerks, “ Let us be off and not wait to see how his lordship of Canterbury will be dealt with.” “ No,” replied one of his clerks, “ I shall remain. He cannot suffer in a better cause.” Bartholomew of Exeter threw himself at the feet of Becket and implored him to have some consideration for them. The king was determined to treat them as traitors if they refused to condemn the archbishop. “Run away, then,” said Becket, contemptuously. “ All your thoughts are on your personal safety, none on the cause of God and the Church.” Joscelin of Salisbury and William of Norwich, who had hitherto supported Becket, now implored him to give way. While they were thus urging him the other bishops had come to an agreement with the king to appeal to the Pope against the prohibition of Becket, and they assured the king that 1 “ Stigandum.... nigranti injectum puteo, perpetuo careen damnavit. Godfredus comes Andegavim eumichatorum ante se in pclvi afferri membra fecit." — Fits-Stephen.

■S'. Thomas & Becket. they were certain to gain their cause, as Becket was clearly forsworn in doing that which he had sworn at Clarendon not to do. They now came out into the hall where Becket sat, and Hilary addressed him in words of cutting bitterness: “ My lord, at Clarendon, when we were all assembled, and the constitutions of the realm were rehearsed, and we were required to promise obedience, they were placed before us in writing, and we pledged our assent to them, and so did you; we signed our names, but your name headed the signatures. The king then demanded an oath of us, and our seals. We replied that our oaths, as priests, to observe his laws in good faith, without dishonesty, ought to be sufficient. The king acquiesced in this. And now, my lord, you forbid us to take part in the proceedings of the king's courts, which, nevertheless, we are bound to do by the laws which we and you swore at Clarendon to obey. We therefore hold you to be a perjured man, and we can no longer obey an archbishop stained with perjury. We appeal to the Pope, and dte you to answer in his presence."

“ If we fell at Clarendon," answered Becket, gloomily, “ we should pluck up courage now. Unlawful oaths are not binding on the conscience.”

The bishops withdrew, and Robert, earl of Leicester, and Reginald, earl of Cornwall, approached to signify to the archbishop the sentence of the court “ Hear, my lord, the judgment of the court ”

“ I will not listen to it,” interrupted Becket. “ I was delivered over to the Church by King Henry, ‘ free from responsibility for the past.* I am not bound to plead in the case of maladministration of moneys as chancellor. I will not listen to the judgment.”

The two earls said they would return to the king and consult him, and requested the archbishop to await their return. “ Am I a prisoner, then ? ” he asked.

" By S. Lazarus, no,” answered the earl of Leicester. “ Then hear me once more,” said the archbishop. “ I decline to receive judgment from the king or you. The Pope alone, under God, is my judge. I summon the bishops, who have obeyed the king rather than God, before his tribunal, and so, protected by the Apostolic See, I leave this court ! ”

He rose and walked slowly down the hall, amidst the hootings and groans of the crowds, and loud epithets of “ Traitor ! ” and “ Perjured ! ” In the court below was a heap of wood, and he stumbled against one of the logs and nearly felL At this there rose a fresh roar of execrations, and Randolf de Broc threw straws at him. “ Were it not for my order,” exclaimed Becket, at the taunt of sneaking away like a traitor, “ my sword would answer that foul speech.” He turned on an officer of the court who insulted him and called him “ kinsman of a gallows-bird,” for he had had a relative hung. Anselm, the king’s illegitimate brother, met him. “ Bastard, Catamite ! ” were the words which Becket dung at him as he passed.

He mounted his horse, which had been waiting for him at the gate. But the outer gate was locked and had no key in it One of his attendants, however, spied a bunch of keys hanging in a comer, took them down, and was fortunate enough to open the gate at the first trial. In the meantime the king, hearing the noise, hastily sent a herald to make proclamation that the archbishop was to be left unmolested. Outside was a rabble of poor. Becket invited them to dine with him, and attended by this swarm of rude protectors, he made his way to his lodgings. In the night Becket fled from Northampton, attended by only two monks and a servant. The weather was wet and stormy, but next morning they reached Lincoln. There he disguised himself as a monk, dropped down the Witham to S. Thomas d, Becket.

a hermitage in the Fens belonging to the Cistercians [strict Benedictine reform begun at Cîteaux in 1098] of Sempringham; thence, by cross-roads, and chiefly by night, he found his way to Eastry, about five miles from Deal, a manor belonging to Christ Church in Canterbury. There he remained a week. On All Souls' Day he went on board a boat, just before morning, and by evening reached the coast of Flanders. To avoid observation he landed on the open shore near Gravelines. His large, loose shoes made it difficult to wade through the sand without falling. He sat down in despair. After some delay a sorry nag was hired for a shilling, without saddle, and with only a wisp of hay for a bridle. But he soon got weary of such riding, and was fain to walk, deeming it “ easier and more respectable ” so to do. He had many adventures by the way. He was once nearly betrayed by gazing with brightening eyes on a falcon upon a young squire's wrist; his fright punished him for this relapse into his secular vanities. The host of a small inn recognized him from his lofty look and the whiteness of his hands, and the way in which he, like a great man, distributed morsels from his plate to the children of the house. As he walked wearily, a good woman pitied him and offered him a stick which was sooty and greasy, for it had been used in her chimney for smoking fish. Becket thanked her, and used the staff.

At length he arrived within an hour's row by canal of Clair-Marais, near S. Omer. It was Friday. “ My lord/' said one of his attendants, who looked forward with dismay to the sorry fare of the abbey in which they were to reside, “ we have gone through hardships; may we not have a dispensation to eat meat ? ”

“ To-day is Friday,” answered the archbishop. “ But there may be a scarcity of fish in the abbey,” rejoined the clerk. “That must be as God wills,” answered Becket.

At S. Omer he was joined by Herbert de Bosham, who had been left behind to collect what money he could at Canterbury; he brought but 100 marks and some plate. He had an interview there with the grand justiciary, De Lucy, on his way from Compostella. De Lucy told Becket not to reckon on his support “ You owe me homage,” said Becket, “ and must not speak to me in this style.” “ I return the homage,” answered De Lucy. u It is mine by right, and not yours by loan,” replied the archbishop, haughtily.

In the first access of indignation at Becket’s flight, the king had sent orders for strict watch to be kept in the ports of the kingdom, especially Dover. The next measure was to pre-occupy the minds of the count of Flanders, the king of France, and the Pope against his fugitive subject. Henry could not but foresee how formidable an ally the exile might become to his rivals and enemies, how dangerous to his extensive but ill-consolidated foreign dominions. He sent at once ambassadors to the king of France, and to Pope Alexander III., then at Sens.

The rank of his ambassadors implied the importance of their mission. They were the archbishop of York, the bishops of London, Exeter, Chichester, and Worcester, the earl of Arundel, and three other distinguished nobles. The same day that Becket passed to Gravelines, they crossed from Dover to Calais.

The ambassadors were coldly received by Louis VII., who had motives of his own for hating Henry. They obtained nothing from him. On the contrary, he wrote a strong letter urging BeckePs cause to the Pope. At Sens their reception, if less openly unfavourable, was equally unsuccessful. Alexander was in a position of extraordinary difficulty; on one side were gratitude to King Henry for his pious support, and the fear of estranging so powerful a sovereign, on whose unrivalled wealth he reckoned as the main strength of his Dec. a$] S. Thomas d Becket.

cause; on the other, it was his interest to support the privileges of the Church. Beckers messengers, before the reception of Henry’s ambassadors, were admitted by Alexander to a private interview. The account of Becket’s “ fight with beasts” at Northampton, had drawn tears from the Pontiffs eyes. M Your master,” said Alexander, “ although he is living in the flesh, may claim the privilege of martyrdom.” The ambassadors of Henry were received in state in the open consistory. Foliot of London began with his usual ability; his warmth at length betrayed him into the Scriptural citation, “ The wicked fleeth when no man pursueth.” “ Forbear,” said the Pope. “ I will forbear him,” answered Foliot. “ It is for thine own sake, not for his, that I bid thee thus forbear,” said the Pope, sternly. “ I see plainly that thou hatest and persecutest an innocent man.”

This argument was taken up by Hilary of Chichester, who had an overweeping confidence in his own eloquence. But a fatal blunder in Latin elicited from the Italian followers of the Pope a burst of merriment — “ Oportuebat” was too bad for Italian ears. “ So you have got badly into port at last,” said one; and the abashed prelate was unable to proceed with his address. The archbishop of York next spoke with prudent brevity. He was followed by the bishop of Exeter. And then the earl of Arundel asked to be heard in his native tongue. “ My lord,” he said, “ we who do not know Latin have not understood a word of all that the bishops have said.” His speech was mild, grave, and conciliatory, and therefore the most embarrassing to the Pontiff. He and the bishops entreated that legates invested with full powers might be sent to England to decide the points in dispute. Alexander agreed to send legates, but would not invest them with full powers. He mistrusted the venality of his cardinals. “ To hear appeals ourselves is a privilege we will never consent to surrender,” he said.

[Dec. a* The ambassadors retreated in haste; their commission had been limited to a few days. The bishops hastened home with precipitation, hearing that certain knights of the neighbourhood, affecting great enthusiasm for the cause of Becket, were waiting to plunder their baggage and persons on the way.

Far different was the progress of the exiled primate. As he entered France he was met by the king's brothers, and offered ample funds for the maintenance of himself and household from the royal treasury. He was received by the king of France at Soissons, and at the head of a splendid retinue of 300 horsemen entered Sens in triumph. The Pope at once granted him the honour of a public audience; he placed Becket on his right hand, and would not allow him to rise to speak. Becket, after a recital of his persecution, spread before the Pope the Constitutions of Clarendon. They were read, and the consistory raised their hands in pious horror, and exclaimed against the interference with ecclesiastical immunities. On further examination the Pope acknowledged that six of them were less evil than the rest; on the remaining ten he pronounced his unqualified condemnation. He rebuked the weakness of Becket in swearing to these articles, and had only praise to bestow on him for his subsequent violation of his oath. Next day, by what seems to be a skilful mode of getting rid of certain objections which had been raised concerning his election, or with desire of ridding himself of an office which would be barren of profit and conducive to much inconvenience, he tendered the resignation of his archiepiscopate to the Pope. He had already been offered brilliant advancement in France. But the Pontiff could not afford to lose a firm supporter of ecclesiastical immunities in England. The conduct of the other English bishops showed that they were indifferent to their preservation, and he restored to Becket his archiepiscopal ring, thus satisfying his primacy. He assured Becket of his protection, and committed him to the hospitable care of the abbot of Pontigny. “You have long lived in ease and opulence,” he said; “ now learn the lessons of poverty from the poor.”

In his seclusion of Pontigny Becket cultivated holiness by putting on the coarse Cistercian dress, and living on the hard and scanty Cistercian fare. Outwardly, he still maintained something of his old magnificence; this called for the remonstrance of some of his friends. But it was whispered by his admirers, with pious exultation, that he wore sackcloth next his skin, and was overrun with lice. The sackcloth was changed but once every forty days, “ pur vers et pur suur.” 1 At night he lay on the floor, and every evening was scourged by his chaplain. His health suffered. Wild dreams — so reports one of his attendants — haunted his broken slumbers, of cardinals plucking out his eyes and assassins cleaving his tonsured crown.

Henry, on receiving the report of his ambassadors, gave rein to his wrath; he sequestrated the estates of the archbishopric, and forbade the payment of Peter's Pence to the Pope who supported his contumacious subject. He went further, in a fit of that ^discriminating and intemperate rage which sometimes overcame him and led him into fatal mis takes. In the depth of winter he banished all Becket's relatives. Four hundred persons, it is said, of both sexes, of every age, even infants at the breast, were driven out of England with inhuman precipitation. The monasteries of Flanders and of France received the exiles. But their presence served to excite general indignation against the king who had ordered their expatriation.

For two years Becket sought rest in fasting and prayers, and found it not In his bosom rankled a bitter sense of 1 Guerner de Pont S. Maxence.

the wrong done him, and impatience to revenge it on the sovereign who had once been his friend, but was now his deadliest enemy. Henry was in France. Becket was suffering from a swollen cheek and toothache. This, though it may have increased his merits, did not mollify his temper.1 He became more and more irritated against Henry, and his attendants did not fail to fall in with his humour, and urge him to an extreme course. Three times, by letter, did the exile cite his sovereign, in the tone of a superior, to submit to his censure. In the first message the haughty meaning was veiled in blandest words, and sent by a Cistercian of demeanour gentle as his name, Urban. The king returned a short and bitter answer. The second time Becket wrote in severer language, but yet in the spirit, it is said, of compassion and leniency. The king deigned no reply. His third messenger was a tattered barefoot friar. To him Becket, it might seem, with studied insult, not only intrusted a letter to the king threatening him with Divine vengeance, but authorized the friar to speak in his name. With such a messenger the message was not likely to lose in asperity. The king returned an answer even more contemptuous than the address.2 Alexander III. had strongly urged moderation on Becket till Easter. Alexander was settling himself in Rome, and his fears of the anti-Pope, Paschal, getting the support of Henry, made him anxious to avoid exasperating the angry monarch. The letter of the Pope had made Easter the limit of forbearance. The wrathful archbishop, chafing under his toothache and his wrongs, spent the holy passion tide in drawing up lists of proscription of those who had in any way incurred his condemnation, that he might cast them out of the Church and cut th~m off from the fountains of 1 Edward Grim says he was relieved at last by the extraction of two teeth. 9 "Quin potius dura propinquantes, dura pro duris, immo multo plus duriora prioribus, reporta verunt.” — De Boeham. S. Thomas a Becket.

salvation. The sentence was deferred at the earnest request of some, or it would have been launched at Easter. But on the Sunday after Ascension Day,1 the archbishop read from the pulpit of the abbey church of Vezelay, to a mixed congregation, the long list of those whom he delivered over to damnation. The bishop of Salisbury he suspended for having inducted John of Oxford into the deanery of Salisbury without the consent of one or two canons of that church, who were with him in exile. He hardly refrained from excommunicating the king by name, being held back by compunction on hearing that Henry was seriously ill. John of Oxford, the archdeacon of Poitiers; Richard de Lucy, and John of Baliol, the authors of the Constitutions of Clarendon, for having dared to recollect and record the traditional laws of England which warred against ecclesiastical privileges; Ranulf de Broc, Hugh de Clare, and many others who had usurped the estates of the see of Canterbury, fell under his condemnation. The whole congregation, we are told, stood aghast The sentence of excommunication Becket announced to the Pope and to the bishops of England. He commanded Gilbert of London and his other suffragans to publish the edict in their dioceses. The bishops met, and sent a letter to Becket, couched in terms of caustic irony. “ Whatever disturbances your unexpected departure to so great a distance has produced among us, we had hoped, by God’s grace and your humble -mindedness, might have been settled. “ It was consolatory to us to hear from all sides that in your exile you indulged in no vain imaginations, but bore with modesty the indigence to which you are reduced by your own acts. It was told us that you were devoted to study and prayer, and that you strove to redeem by fasting and vigils and penance the time you have squandered, and were 1 So the letter of John of Salisbury to Bishop Bartholomew of Exeter. carving the road to perfection. But now we hear that you have sent the king a denunciatory letter, without affixing to it the ordinary salutations, and that you threaten him with an interdict. Should (his sentence so bitterly denounced be as rigidly executed, the hope of tranquillity will be gone, and all that will remain will be irreconcilable hatred. The king raised you to your present elevation against the advice of his mother, and the voice of the whole kingdom; the Church also, as far as -she was able, mourned and murmured at it. What will be said of the way in which you repay his favours ? Spare your good fame, and respect your honour. Remember that the king was appointed by God, and that he provides for the peace of his subjects. It is to preserve this peace to the Church and people committed to his care that he requires the dignities granted to his ancestors to be confirmed to himself. By what justice, by what law or canon can you assail him with an interdict, and (God forbid the deed ! ) hew him off by the spiritual axe from Christian unity ? It is praiseworthy not to be carried away by passion. You have also condemned, without inquiry, the bishop of Salisbury and his dean, following the heat of your passion rather than the cool course of justice. This is a novelty indeed, not, as we believe, contained in the canons, to condemn a man first and then hear his cause.” The letter concluded with a notice of appeal to the Pope. When Henry heard that his officers had been excommunicated, and that he himself was threatened, his wrath drove him almost mad. No one dared to name Becket in his presence. The ports were guarded against the threatened interdict, and an oath was exacted of all adults by the sheriffs that they would respect no ecclesiastical censure from the archbishop. Henry’s passion betrayed him again into an act which strengthened his adversary’s hold on the popular sentiment. He threatened the Cistercian Order with confiscation if they harboured the traitor. The abbot ft * S. Thomas d Becket.

of Pontigny did not dare to risk the vengeance of the king on the abbeys of his Order in England, and Becket withdrew to Sens. From thence he indited an angry letter to the bishop of London. “ You complain that the bishop of Salisbury has been inhibited, without citation, without hearing, without judgment Remember the fate of Ucalegon. He trembled when his neighbour’s house was on fire.”

Gilbert, bishop of London, who had been placed in charge of the confiscated revenues of the see of Canterbury, had paid them into the royal chancery. “The goods of the Church, the patrimony of the crucified Saviour,” wrote Becket, “ I claim of you. Pay them back to me within forty days, without excuse, and without delay.” Gilbert answered his letter by a lengthy remonstrance, couched in solemn, almost pathetic tones: “With the promise fresh on your lips that you would not leave the kingdom without the king’s consent, you attempted to fly the realm. The words of a priest should always be the companions of truth. You say it is an unheard of thing that an archbishop should be cited in the king’s court to render an account of former money transactions, but you forget that it was an unheard-of thing to translate suddenly a man from one day following dogs and hawks, to bending next day before the altar, and ministering sacred things before all the bishops of the realm. You fled at night in disguise, as if your life were in danger, out of the kingdom, though no one was pursuing you; and now you call on us to encounter death for the sake of Christ’s Church. Truly, if we consider the treasures in store for us in heaven, we shall not regard the things of earth. For tongue cannot tell, nor intellect comprehend, the joys of the heavenly city. And, indeed, our momentary tribulations here will work out for us an exceeding weight of glory. But all this I have long cherished in my bosom, all this has been the subject of my aspirations. This head, which still rests on my shoulders, would long ago have fallen by the sword of the executioner, if it could have ensured the favour of God upon my earthly pilgrimage. But it is the cause, and not the stroke, that makes the martyr. To suffer persecution for holiness is glorious, but obstinacy and perverseness are ignominious. You bent the knee at Clarendon, you ran away at Northampton; and now with some effrontery you, from a place of security, urge us to rush upon certain death. The sword hangs over us from which you escaped. It would appear that your revenues are so dear to you that you would freely spill our blood to recover them. Yet even the Jews spurned the money Judas brought back, because it was the price of blood. Blessed be God, this is no question of schism of faith, no question about the sacraments, or about morals. Our faith thrives with the king, the bishops, and the people. All the articles of the Creed are adhered to by the clergy of the realm. And if in morals we sometimes go astray, yet no one defends his evil doings, but all hope by repentance to be washed clean. The whole strife is about certain laws of the ancestors of the king, sanctioned by long usage, which he wishes to be observed towards himself. The tree long planted, and with widespread roots, cannot be plucked up in a day. May it please you to remember that our Lord bade His disciples imitate the example of a child, who, though wronged, is not angry, and soon forgets an injury, and compensates for all by the innocence and happiness of its life/* The bishops sent a lengthy epistle to the Pope, who was now at Rome, though not safe there, threatened by the redoubtable emperor, Frederick Barbarossa. John of Oxford, dean of Salisbury, who had been excommunicated by Becket, was the bearer of the letter. Becket also wrote to the Pope to counteract the influence of the dean of Salisbury. He S. Thomas a Becket.

described the king as a malignant tyrant; he represented Christ as crucified afresh in the person of himself, and he deprecated the sending of legates to try his case. Whilst John of Oxford was in Rome, Frederick Barbarossa was collecting the mighty army which swept, during the next year, through Italy, made him master of Rome, and witnessed his coronation and the enthronement of the anti-Pope. Pope Alexander could not afford to quarrel with Henry of England. He confirmed John of Oxford in the deanery of Salisbury, but wrote to Becket to apologize for so doing. He was obliged to do so, he said, through fear of offending the English king. Vast sums of English money were at this time pouring into Italy, to be expended in the support of Alexander against the emperor Frederick. The king of Sicily, the Frangipani, and the family of Peter Leonis were retained in their fidelity to the Pope by this means. Henry bribed the cardinals, and all who had access to the ear of the Pope. Becket complained piteously that Henry had boasted of having found everything venal in Rome. In December, 1166, the Pope conceded what the king and the English bishops had long demanded. He appointed William of Pavia, cardinal of S. Peter’s, and Otho, cardinal of S. Nicolas, to be his legates in France, to decide the cause of Becket, and, in the meantime, suspended all Becket’s acts, by papal authority. At the same time Alexander III. wrote to the archbishop to entreat him to be more moderate, and, if necessary, to use dissimulation,1 on account of the difficulties of the times.

John of Oxford hastened back to England with the joyful tidings. Becket and his friends were in despair. They could only hope, if not pray, for the death of the feeble Pope. “ The Pope has strangled the Church !” exclaimed the archbishop. He had no confidence in the integrity of the 1 “ Si non omnia secundum beaeplacitum succcdant, ad prsesens dimimuiet.** judges. “ The one,” he wrote, “ is weak and versatile, the other, treacherous and crafty.”

But the departure of the cardinal legates from Rome was delayed with prudent design till the crisis for the Pope was past. They did not arrive in France till the autumn of 1167, when already plague had ravaged the army of Frederick, and Frederick himself was in full flight with the wreck from Rome. The Pope was now no longer in danger, and his need for temporizing was at an end.

But Becket had resolved already to dispute the authority of at least one of his judges. William of Pavia, he was satisfied, would not favour him. He wrote a letter to him so full of violence that John of Salisbury uigently entreated him, and at last persuaded him, to bum it. He wrote a second; it was almost as insolent and intemperate. At last he was persuaded to assume a milder tone. To Cardinal Otho, on the other hand, his language bordered on adulation. In the meantime his warmest and best friend, John of Salisbury, had been indefatigable in his entreaties to the archbishop to be more moderate in his conduct, not to give way to the vehemence of his disposition, and to withdraw the sentences of excommunication he had showered in such abundance. He wrote sorrowfully to his friends, the archbishop of Constance and the archdeacon Reginald, that all his efforts had ended in disappointment. The legates visited Becket at Sens, and then met King Henry at Rouen. After long negotiations, purposely protracted to gain time, a meeting was agreed upon, to be held on the borders of French and English territory, between Gisors and Trie.

Becket was annoyed at being summoned at a time when he was unable to gather an imposing suite of horsemen. Louis of France and Henry of England came to the appointed place on the appointed day, November 23, 1 1 67. The night before the 6*. Thomas cL Becket.

interview took place, the archbishop dreamed that he was offered poison in a golden cup. “ The dream was verified,” says Herbert de Bosham, “ for Cardinal William of Pavia was a man of elegant speech, and smooth and persuasive words. He seemed to be actuated by a love of peace; but when his words were considered, they were found to be fraught with danger to the liberties of the Church.” The cardinals urgently entreated Becket to come to terms with the king, and return to his Church, and say nothing more about the constitutions. “ The king will, no doubt, tacitly withdraw them. Of this we have a precedent in the case of a bishop who bestows holy orders [ordination; “orders” means the sacrament by which deacons, priests and bishops are ordained] on a clerk; he does not mention the obligation to celibacy, yet the clerk is bound to observe it.” Becket replied that, “ As to the constitutions, he would rather bow his neck to the executioner than swear to obey them.” The appeal of the bishops was next gone into. Becket inveighed against their obsequiousness to the crown. He declared that he would submit to no judgment but that of the Pope in person.

The king went to Argences near Caen, and the cardinals followed him, and were present when he held there a gathering of the Norman and English prelates. He was getting impatient of delay, and suspected that the cardinal legates would play him false in the end. He treated them with discourtesy. He went out hawking when they expected to meet him; and when they did meet, he said, rudely, in an undertone, which they could not fail to hear, “ Would to God I might never clap eyes on a cardinal again.” When all were assembled, the king of England said that he claimed 44,000 marks of silver on account of revenues committed to Becket when he was chancellor, and of which the archbishop refused to give account. “ His lordship of Canterbury,” said the bishop of London, “thinks that consecration cancels debts as baptism blots out sin.” When the assembly broke up, Henry with tears entreated the cardinals to rid him of the troublesome churchman. The tears of William of Pavia flowed in sympathy, but Otho could hardly suppress his laughter.

The legates gave no definite answer, but it was arranged that envoys should be sent to the Pope for instructions. Becket wrote at the same time to Alexander. William of Pavia gave notice that, till next S. Martin [St. Martin of Tours (d. 397), soldier turned bishop]’s Day, Becket must abstain from all excommunications and from laying an interdict on the realm. The Pope, anxious to protract the case so as not to offend Henry by approving of the conduct of Becket, nor to throw over Becket, who was contending for the liberties of the Church, confirmed this inhibition. Becket was moved to bitterness of spirit by this hesitation. His thunders were restrained for another twelvemonth. He complained to Alexander that every deputation from the king won fresh concessions. The Pope was at Benevento; he could not remain in safety in Rome, and he still needed the support of Heniy, for Frederick Barbarossa was still a danger. He was endeavouring to detach the king of Sicily from his alliance with the Pope. Alexander wrote soothing letters to Becket to explain that the concessions he made were temporary, and would be withdrawn when the difficulties in which he was placed diminished. " Temporary ! ” wrote Becket back, in a letter full of indignation. “ And this at a time when the Church of England is tottering. This fatal dispensation will be a precedent for ages. But for me and my fellow exiles, all the authority of Rome had ceased for ever in England. There had been none to maintain the Pope’s authority against that of the king.” Great efforts were made now on all sides to bring about a reconciliation. Mediators were appointed, and passed between the king and the archbishop. Becket proposed to swear obedience to the customs and constitutions of the S. Thomas d Becket.

realm, “ saving the honour of God,” instead of the obnoxious qualification, “saving my order.” But the mediators insisted on his throwing himself unreservedly on the mercy of the king, without reservation. Becket at length, and with great repugnance, yielded. He left them with the impression that he had promised to do so; and a meeting between him and the king was appointed to be held on the ensuing feast of the Epiphany (1169) at MontmiraiL The king of France was to be present, who was then on terms of friendship with the king of England.

On his way to Montmirail, De Bosham whispered in his ear a caution not to show weakness as he had at Clarendon. The warning was not thrown away. In reply he gave De Bosham an expressive look. Becket then threw himself at the feet of the king. Henry raised him, and the archbishop began to entreat the king to show mercy to the English Church. Everyone listened for the important words to which this address was a preamble. “ On the subject that divides us, my lord king,” said Becket, “ I throw myself on your mercy and on your pleasure, here in the presence of our lord the king of France and the archbishops, princes, and others standing round.” He paused, and then added distinctly, “ Saving the honour of my God.” At this unexpected breach of his agreement, the mediators, even his own most ardent admirers, stood aghast. The king burst into a paroxysm of fury, and poured forth a torrent of abuse, reproaching the archbishop for pride, vanity, and obstinacy. Then turning to the king of France, he said, “ Take notice, my lord, whatever his lordship of Canterbury disapproves, he will say is contrary to God's honour, and so he will be always tripping me up. But that I may not be thought to despise God’s honour, I will make this proposal. There have been kings of England of greater or less power than myself. There have been good and holy archbishops of Canterbury before him. Now let him behave towards me as the most holy of his predecessors have behaved towards the least of mine, and I am satisfied.” All present exclaimed, “ Enough condescension for the king.” Louis of France said, “ My lord archbishop, do you wish to be more than a saint? ” Becket remained unmoved. “ True,” he said, “ there have been holier archbishops before me, and they extirpated some abuses. If they had rooted all out, I should not be exposed to this fiery trial.” The mediators drew him aside and urged, “Give the king due honour, and suppress the offensive phrase. Now or never must a reconciliation be made.” The papal envoys, the bishops, certain abbots and the nobles present, in vain endeavoured to move him. Night came on, and the king withdrew one way, and the archbishop another. As Becket rode away, his intimate friend, John, bishop of Poitiers, reproached him with bringing destruction on the Church. The archbishop replied, “ Nay brother, take care that the Church be not destroyed by you, for by me, by God's grace, she shall never suffer.” Robert de Haughton, one of the clerks of the archbishop, was riding before him. His horse stumbled. “ Come up,” said the rider, “ saving the honour of God and my Order.” The archbishop heard the remark, and his brow contracted, but he said nothing. At Chartres, where Louis was sleeping as well as Becket, the French king refrained from calling at the lodgings of the archbishop, as a mark of his disapproval, and Becket left for Sens next day without having seen him. But the populace, who had heard that Becket had defied kings, little as they understood what the question mooted was, sided with the prelate, and received him with shouts of applause as he rode into Sens.

But the peace between the two kings was of brief duration. Some acts of Henry towards the Bretons and Poitevins S. Thomas a Becket.

excited the wrath of Louis, and led him to break off his alliance with the king of England. As Becket had left Montmirail, he had caught the scoff of a baron, u England and France are both now closed to the impracticable man.” He was sitting at Sens a few days after the meeting, discussing his prospects with his clerks. Some of them remarked on France being no longer safe for him, and asked whither he would go. Becket replied, “ Though both England and France be closed to me, I am not undone. One thing I am determined not to do — I will not apply to those Roman robbers who have no interest save in plundering the needy. I will go to Burgundy.” At that moment an officer of the king of France entered, and required Becket to attend him to the king, who was then in Sens. * ‘ It is to receive notice of banishment,” said one of the clerks. “ Do not forbode ill,” said the archbishop; “ you are not a prophet, nor of the sons of the prophets.” When they came to the king’s lodgings, Louis threw himself on his knees before the archbishop, and exclaimed, “ Forgive me, forgive me ! You are the only wise man among us.”

The envoys of the Pope had received a double set of letters to be used as circumstances indicated. They now served on Henry letters from the sovereign Pontiff, threatening him with the vengeance of the Holy Father if he did not come to terms with Becket.

“ And now,” says Herbert de Bosham, “ the archbishop neither could nor would have patience any longer. He would not spare those whom even the apostolic Pope had by his paramount authority absolved. He smote them with the sword of God’s word, and bound them by a sentence of anathema, and sent letters of excommunication to the proper persons. This sentence was passed on clerks and laymen of the court, on some for having received farms belonging to his see from the king, during his exile, on others for having violently possessed themselves of ecclesiastical property.” On Palm Sunday the thunders were launched. Gilbert Foliot, bishop of London, Joscelin of Salisbury, the archdeacon of Salisbury, Richard de Lucy, grand justiciary, and many others, were named. He announced this excommunication to the archbishop of Rouen, and reminded him that whoever presumed to give meat or drink, or a friendly salutation to one of these on whom the ban had fallen, subjected himself likewise to the same excommunication. “Those excommunicate were some of the king’s most familiar counsellors, and the number of them, some excommunicated by name, others by associating with those excommunicated, was so great that there was hardly one in the king’s chapel who could offer his majesty the kiss of peace at the Mass.” Becket inhibited Roger, bishop of Worcester, when he entreated permission to communicate with his brethren. “ What fellowship is there,” he asked, “ between Christ and Belial ? ” An emissary of Becket had the boldness to enter S. Paul’s cathedral, in London, on Ascension Day, and thrust the sentence into the hands of the officiating priest at the offertory, and then to proclaim with a loud voice to the assembled congregation, “Know all men, that Gilbert, bishop of London, is excommunicated by Thomas, archbishop of Canterbury, and legate of the Pope.”

He escaped with some difficulty from ill-usage by the people. Foliot immediately summoned his clergy. To them he declared the illegality, the injustice, the nullity of an excommunication without citation, hearing, or trial, and renewed his appeal to the Pope, during which the sentence of Becket must remain in abeyance. The dean of S. Paul’s and all the clergy, except some monastic priests, joined in the appeal. The bishop of Exeter declined, nevertheless, to give to Foliot the kiss of peace.

S. Thomas d Becket. Geoffrey Ridel, archdeacon of Canterbury, was excommunicated. The bishop of Hereford was cited to appear at Sens before his primate. He could not obtain permission to cross the water. The bishop of Winchester was dying. “I,” he wrote, “sinking under disease and old age, have received a summons from the Almighty, and am incapacitated from appealing to an earthly tribunal." He sent money and necessaries to Becket, and published his sentence in his cathedral.

Henry at once sent Gilbert of London to Rome to prosecute his appeal in person, and the bishop of Seez to Louis to request the banishment from French soil of the troublesome primate.

Joscelin of Salisbury boasted that, if the Pope should die, Henry had the whole college of cardinals in his pay, and could name his Pope. Becket was alarmed at the influence of Henry’s gold, and he wrote to Vivian, the new papal legate, to entreat him to beware of its insidious corruption. But Alexander’s affairs wore a more prosperous aspect now, and he was less dependent on Henry’s largesses to his partisans. He began, yet cautiously, to show his real bias. He appointed as his new legates a lawyer named Gratian, nephew of Eugenius III., and Vivian, an advocate, as his associate. He wrote, however, to Becket to stay his shower of anathemas, and if he had really — as he could hardly believe — already cast them, then to suspend their powers till the appeals were heard.

The legates first visited King Henry, and Gratian spoke firmly and energetically in favour of the course Becket had pursued. Vivian, on the other hand, was prepared to see that there was reason in what the king urged. He took bribes to such an extent that his convoy of rich presents interfered with his travelling quickly. The interview took place at Damport on August 23. It lasted all day: as one legate blew hot, the other blew cold. At sunset the king burst out of the council chamber, swearing by the eyes of God that he would not submit to the terms imposed on him. Gratian firmly said, “ Think not to threaten us; we come from a court which is accustomed to command emperors and kings.” The king then rehearsed before his barons the offers he had made, so as to compromise the matter with the archbishop.

Another meeting was appointed to be held at Bayeux. The king came attended by the archbishops of Rouen and Bordeaux, the bishop of Le Mans, and all the Norman prelates. Only one English bishop appeared — Roger of Worcester. The king stated his grievances. The ex-chancellor 1 would give no account of the money he had received whilst in office, and the king believed that he had squandered of it as much as 30,000 marks (^20,000). Next day the assembly met at Le Bar. The king requested the legates to absolve his chaplains without any oath; and, on their refusal, he sprang on his horse, and swore that he would never be friends with Becket, and never restore him to Canterbury, even if the Pope were to entreat him. The legates partially gave way, and the king returned to the hall of assembly. At length he consented to the return of Becket to Canterbury, if one of the legates would cross over with him, and absolve those labouring under the anathema of the archbishop. Vivian consented to do this, but Gratian refused. “ Then I care not an egg for you or your excommunications,” said the harassed monarch.

The envoys of the Pope were now thoroughly roused into hostility to Henry. There was no getting him to yield to Becket the point of unqualified submission. The archbishop now again felt himself at liberty to fling his anathemas. He wrote to the archbishop of Rouen, announcing that he had again proclaimed his excommunications, and threatening to 6\ Thomas d Becket.

lay the realm under an interdict, and excommunicate the king, unless the wrongs done to the see of Canterbury by those who had possessed themselves of its lands and benefices, without his consent, were fully righted. But the Pope was still desirous of a reconciliation, and in January, 1170, he directed a fresh commission to Rotrou, archbishop of Rouen, and Bernard, bishop of Nevers, to endeavour to reconcile the king and the archbishop. The archbishop of Rouen had been favourably disposed towards Becket, till disgusted and alienated by his arrogance and violence;1 the bishop of Nevers was a man of moderation, who had written a sensible letter to the Pope on the king’s affairs.

Becket demanded of the king that 1,000 marks should be paid in compensation to those of his family who had been banished; that all those laymen who had taken advantage of his absence to possess themselves of lands belonging to the Church of Canterbury should be turned out, and that the king should give him the kiss of peace. The legates were to require the king to fulfil these conditions. The compensation was, indeed, not to be insisted on, and the kiss was to be given, if the king refused it, by his son Henry; but the surrender of all the lands of Canterbury was the point to which he was to be held fast. It was not that the king had himself appropriated these, but that various laymen had done so, and these laymen he was to eject. Curiously enough, Becket now demanded that which he had rejected with such vehemence before. If the ecclesiastical immunities were to be maintained, then these invaders of the property of the Church might only be tried in his diocesan court, and sentenced to be excommunicated. Excommunication had been tried, and had lost its force; and Becket 1 “All his actions proceed from either pride or passion, '* was Rotrou ’* estimate of the character of Becket." — John of Salisbury. Lives oj the Saints.

was fain to abandon the principle for which he had battled, and appeal to the civil power to eject the usurpers. Consequently, nothing more was said about ecclesiastical immunities, that subject fell into the background. Thenceforth the contest was on other points.

Gilbert Foliot, bishop of London, had been to Rome and obtained his absolution from the Pope. He proclaimed it at Rouen on his way home, and was received to communion by the archbishop of Rouen in his cathedral on Easter Day. The wrath of Becket broke all bounds. He wrote in angry remonstrance to Rotrou, but his fiercest expressions of disgust were crushed into a letter which he sent to one of the cardinals at Rome. The absolution of Foliot he characterized as an unbinding of Satan. “ I know,” he wrote, “ that in the court of Rome the Lord's side is always sacrificed — that Barabbas escapes and Christ is put to death.... With you, the wretched, the exiles, the innocent are condemned, because they are the poor of Christ, and weak; while, on the other hand, you absolve the sacrilegious, murderers, robbers, impenitent, whom Peter himself could not absolve in the sight of God. Let him dare (he is speaking of the Pope) to bind without regard to the sentence of the coming Judge. Let him absolve robbers, sacrilegious men, murderers, perjurers, men of blood, schismatics, without repentance. I will never remit to the impenitent the things they have taken from the Church. Is it not our spoils, or rather those of the Church, which the king's emissaries use for bribing the cardinals at Rome?... I will no longer trouble that court; let those resort thither who prevail in their iniquities!”1 In the meantime Henry was busy with preparations for the coronation of his eldest son, who, in February, 1170, completed his fifteenth year. This was a new cause of alarm and anger for Becket He, as archbishop of Canterbury and S. Thomas d Becket.

primate, claimed the right to crown, and, in his absence, that honour would fall to the share of his enemy, the archbishop of York. He appealed to the Pope to stay this interference with the privileges of his see, this audacious presumption of the archbishop of York to confer the crown and anoint. The Pope sent letters inhibiting the archbishop of York and the bishops of England from performing the ceremony. The letters arrived the day before the coronation, and the archbishop and bishops prudently forgot to open them till the ceremony was over. On Sunday, June 14, 1 1 70, the young Henry was crowned in Westminster Abbey, by the archbishop of York, with the assistance of the bishops of London, Salisbury, Rochester, Seez, and others. The archbishop of Rouen and his colleague now renewed their efforts at mediation, and found Henry inclined to peace, chiefly through fear of the interdict which he knew was prepared to be launched.

Becket was persuaded by the archbishop of Sens to meet the king of England at Freteval, between Tours and Chartres; and on July 22 he was admitted to an interview with Henry. Immediately on seeing the archbishop approach, the king hastened to meet him, and, uncovering his head, anticipated him in uttering a salutation. The old points of difference were avoided. Nothing was said of the Constitutions, or of the immunity of the clergy, the inconvenience of which Becket now himself experienced. It was promised that Becket should be allowed to return to England with all his kinsmen and attendants, without any oath being exacted from them; and harmony seemed restored. But the late coronation rankled in the heart of the primate, and he told the king that it was his purpose to inflict excommunication on those bishops who had taken part in it. The king said, in reply, that his son should be crowned anew by Becket along with the princess, his wife. On receiving this promise [Dec. a* Becket was delighted — to recrown him whom the northern primate had crowned would be the most notorious exhibition of contempt for the person who had dared to perform the ceremony. In his joy at the prospect of thus humbling his old enemy, he threw himself off his horse, and would have cast himself at the feet of the king. But Henry alighted, and held the stirrup for the archbishop, to assist him in mounting.

This was a service rendered by emperors to popes, and the performance of it by the king of England to a subject filled the heart of Becket with pride.

The king, in accordance with his promise to restore the property of the exiles, and of the Church of Canterbury, wrote to his son to see to this at once; but the execution of the order naturally met with delay, as the intruders raised every possible impediment to their ejection. Not one jot of his claims would Becket abate. The casde of Rochester he still insisted was his. The castle of Saltwood was less doubtfully the possession of the see; from this Ranulf de Broc must be expelled.

Finding that the casdes and lands were not vacated at once, Becket sent to the king to inquire the reason. “ The king,” says Herbert de Bosham, “ as his manner was, put off, put off, and again put off.”

As for the castle of Rochester, the king entirely disputed the right of the archbishop to hold it The place was of importance, necessary for the defence of the Thames and the approach to London, and could not be left in the unarmed hands of a priest.

However, Becket determined to return to Canterbury. But, before doing so, he sent a boy across the channel with letters of suspension and excommunication pronounced against the archbishop of York and those bishops who had dared to assist him in his sacrilegious invasion of the prerogatives of the primacy of Canterbury, by crowning Prince Henry in Westminster Abbey.1 The king had hoped that by consenting to have Henry crowned again by Becket, this excommunication would have been obviated. But, no ! Becket never forgave an enemy. Before sailing, a rough sea-captain remonstrated with Herbert de Bosham, “ Are you mad ? The whole country is exasperated against the archbishop, especially the party of the king, who complain that he has thrown everything into confusion by his anathemas and excommunications of the bishops, and that, too, at the period of Advent, when he ought to be doing his utmost to preserve peace and tranquillity.”

After a favourable passage, Becket landed at Sandwich (December 3) with the archiepiscopal banner flying, and with the people shouting, “ Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord ! ” He was met by Gervase de Comhill, sheriff of Kent, and others, in arms, asking him to absolve the bishops. No ! not in the moment of joy on returning, after long exile, to his native land, would he extend forgiveness to those who had infringed his prerogatives. After some high words, the sheriff and his companions withdrew, at the instance of John of Oxford.

On the following day the archbishop proceeded to Canterbury. The news of his landing had spread, and the general enthusiasm among those who had nothing to lose and much to gain by his return, rendered his journey a scene of triumph. Priests and people crowded to meet him. They stripped off their clothes, and spread them in the way, and sang, *• Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord !” Strange resemblance, and yet strange contrast, to the Palm Sunday procession. Thomas was on his way to martyrdom; and the people, though ignorant of this, seemed impelled to copy in detail the incidents of the ride into Jerusalem. But what a contrast, when we look from the heart of the Son of David to that of Becket— from the former glowing with love, to the latter foaming with wrath and panting for the humiliation of his enemies ! As the archbishop entered the cathedral his face was flushed with exultation. He gave the monks the kiss of peace. De Bosham whispered to him, “ My lord, now we need not care how soon you leave the world, for this day the Church has conquered in you; ” to which Becket replied only by a look.

Next morning the sheriff of Kent, with other officers of the king, appeared again, to urge the withdrawal of the sentence of excommunication launched against the bishops for having crowned Prince Henry. They were accompanied by some clerks from the prelates themselves, who remonstrated against the proceedings of the primate: when his suffragans were full of joy at his return, and ready to receive him with open arms and honour, they were met with a rebuff, with curse and denunciation: they complained that the archbishop should have returned after his long absence, not as the dove with the olive-leaf of peace, but with fire and sword, as a persecuting invader, trampling down his brethren, and making them his footstool. Becket was not to be moved. He would only absolve them if they would bind themselves by oath to obey the Pope’s commands. It is said that the bishops of London and Salisbury were disposed to take this oath under protest of its being unconstitutionally exacted of them, but were dissuaded by Roger of York, who boasted that he had both the courts of the king and of the Pope in his pay, and that he was willing to empty his coffers, to spend eight, nay ten, thousand pounds, to put down Becket’ s insolence; and the three prelates proceeded together to the king in Normandy.1 ' Roger of York was notorious for his pride and avarice. The most notorious The interval until Christmas was taken up in a visit to London, and in turning out clefks who had been intruded into livings.

It was noticed that persons of rank and wealth held aloof from him in cold indignation. He was isolated from all but the poor, whose love and devotion he bought by abundant alms.

In the meantime the archbishop of York and the other bishops under excommunication had reached the king at Bures, near Bayeux. “ My lord,” said the archbishop, “ I alone of the three have the power of opening my mouth and speaking to your majesty; for my two colleagues (the bishops of London and Salisbury) are excommunicated, interdicted the use of fire and water. No one dares hold converse with them, for fear of being involved in the sentence which that ungrateful man has launched against all who were concerned in your son’s coronation.” “ By God’s eyes,” exclaimed the king, in a rage, “ if all who were concerned in my son’s coronation are to be excommunicated, I will be one of the number.” The popular demonstrations with which the archbishop had everywhere been received were represented as of a seditious tendency. The king was wrought up into one of his uncontrollable fits of fury. Gilbert Foliot of London is said to have endeavoured, with tears, to mitigate his wrath. u Have patience, sire,” urged also Roger of York; “ this storm cannot last long. Let him go on his own way for the present”

“ What would you have me do ? ” asked the king. “ It is display of his contentiousness was at a council held by a papal legate in 1176. Finding Richard of Canterbury seated in the place which he claimed for himself on the ground ot his earlier consecration, he sat himself down in the southern archbishop's lap — “ irreve renter natibus innitens,” says Stephen of Birchington (Wharton, Angl. Sacr. i. 9), whereupon some of Richard's clerks dragged him down on the floor and tore his robes. The legate broke up the council in alarm. not our duty to advise your majesty," answered the archbishop of York, “ you must consult with your barons; it is for them to say what ought to be done.” One of the prelates unluckily said — probably Roger of York — “ So long as Thomas lives, there is no peace for the realm.” “ A fellow who has eaten my bread has lifted up his heel against me ! ” cried the king. “ He insults over my favours, dishonours the whole royal race, tramples down the whole kingdom. A fellow who first broke into my court on a lame horse, with a cloak for a saddle, swaggers on my throne, whilst you, false varlets ! look on, and have not attempted to rid me of this insolent priest.”

These hasty, unconsidered words were heard and caught up by four knights, men of high connections, and officers of the household — Reginald Fitzurse, Hugh de Morville, William De Tracy, and Richard le Breton. Stung by the king’s reproaches, and thinking to gratify him by carrying out his apparent wish, the four set out for England and hurried to the coast, whence, embarking at different ports, two of them were conveyed to Winchelsea, and the others to a harbour near Dover. “They landed,” says Grim, “at Dog’s Haven — they who from that time deserved to be called dogs and wretches, not knights and soldiers.” On Holy Innocents Day they reached Saltwood, and were received by Ranulf de Broc.

While this was passing Becket had been subjected to fresh annoyances. A shipload of wine sent him from France had been seized by Ranulf de Broc, who, however, by order of the young king Henry, was obliged to give it up. The De Brocs hunted in his chase, killed his deer, carried off his dogs, and Robert De Broc, the brother of Ranulf, cut off the tail of one of the archiepiscopal sumpter-horses. Becket’s temper was exasperated to the highest pitch by these provocations. On Christmas Day, at High Mass, after preaching Dee.^ S. Thomas d Becket. 393 on the • text, “ On earth peace to men of goodwill,” he passed from the uncongenial subject with flushed cheek and flashing eyes to the excommunication, in tones “ fierce, indignant, fiery, and bold,” of Nigel de Sackville, for obtaining the church of Harrow, into which he had been intruded during the exile; of another priest, the vicar of Thirlwood, guilty of a like offence; and of the brothers De Broc for cutting the tail off his horse, stopping the passage of his wines, and for other outrages against the property of the Church of Canterbury. The docking his horse's tail seemed specially to have rankled in his breast, for he spoke of it — the fact is recorded by all his biographers — from the pulpit, and made it one chief reason for pronouncing excommunication on the De Brocs. He recurred to it again with bitterness when face to face with his murderers. As for the three bishops who had not shrunk from encroaching on the rights of Canterbury by crowning the young king, their excommunication was emphatically renewed. “ May they be cursed,” he concluded, in a voice of thunder, “by Jesus Christ, and may their memory be blotted out of the assembly of the saints, whoever shall sow hatred and discord between me and the king ! ” An incongruous conclusion to a Christmas sermon on a text promising peace and goodwill.

After the meeting with the bishops at Bures, Henry, acting on their advice, took cbunsel with his barons what had better be done. The earl of Leicester said: “ My lord, the archbishop was my father's intimate friend, but since he gave up your favour and left the kingdom, we have not been in communication.” De Bohun, the uncle of the excommunicated bishop of Salisbury, then spoke: “ The only way to deal with such a fellow is to plait some withes into a rope and haul him up on a gallows.”

Finally it was decided that the tutors of the young king Lives oj the Saints. Henry at Winchester should march privately with the household troops to Canterbury, and arrest the primate. The absence of the four knights was noticed, and orders were sent for their recall.

It is not clear on what day the fatal exclamation of the king was made: Fitz-Stephen reports it as taking place on Sunday, the 2 7 th of December; others date it back to the 24th. The knights were at Saltwood on December 28th, and there they heard of the new excommunication hurled by Becket against their host on Christmas Day. Early next morning they issued orders in the king’s name for a troop of soldiers to be levied, and attended by Robert de Broc — Ranulf was away — they rode into Canterbury and lodged with Clarembald, abbot of S. Augustine’s, who was a partisan of the king and disliked Becket.

On Tuesday, the 29th of December,1 as the day was closing in, the knights rode to the archbishop’s palace. It was about three o’clock in the afternoon. The knights wore their armour under the ordinary dress of civil life, but without weapons. The archbishop’s dinner was over, but some of his retainers were still at table. Their presence was announced. “ Let them come in,” said Becket; but when they entered, with studied disrespect, he did not look at them, but continued his conversation with the monk who sat next him, and on whose shoulder he was leaning. There were then with him John of Salisbury, Fitz-Stephen, and Edward Grim, all three of whom have left us a minute account of what followed.

The knights on entering seated themselves on the floor at the feet of the archbishop. Becket then turned and gazed 1 Tuesday was a significant day in Becket's life. On a Tuesday be had been born, on a Tuesday he had been baptized, on a Tuesday he fled from Northampton, on a Tuesday left the king’s court in Normandy, on a Tuesday left England an exile, on a Tuesday, at Pontigny, had by dream his forewarning of martyrdom, on a Tuesday returned from exile, on a Tuesday died, and on a Tuesday his relics [the bodily remains of a saint, or objects they used, kept with honor] were translated. Thomas d Becket.

steadfastly at them. After a few moments of silence he greeted De Tracy by name. The conspirators looked mutely at one another, till Fitzurse, who throughout took the lead, replied with a scornful expression, “God help you!” Becket’s face grew crimson. “We have a message for you from the king,” said Fitzurse. “ Will you hear it in private or in public ?” “ As you wish,” said the archbishop. “ Nay, as you wish,” said Fitzurse. “As you wish,” repeated Becket, and signed to the monks to withdraw. They obeyed, but left the door ajar, that they might see and hear what went on. Fitzurse had hardly begun to speak before Becket, conscious of his danger, hastily recalled the monks, and in their presence Fitzurse resumed his statement of the complaints of the king. It is said that in the moment when they were alone with Becket, the thought entered the head of one of them to wrest his crozier from him and beat out his brains with it. When the clerks had returned, the knights remonstrated with the archbishop for having broken his agreement with the king, for having suspended and excommunicated the bishops who had taken part in the coronation, for excommunicating on Christmas Day some of the servants of the king, and for going about the country with formidable troops of followers and exciting the people to demonstrations which endangered the peace of the realm. “ You have excited disturbances in the kingdom, and the king requires you to answer for them at his court.” “ Never,” said the archbishop, “ shall the sea come between me and my Church again, unless I am dragged hence by my feet.” “ You have excommunicated the bishops, and you must absolve them.” “ You must go to the Pope for that,” answered Becket He then appealed, in language which is variously reported, to the promises of the king at their interview in the preceding July, and intimated that these promises had not been kept.

“ What is this you say ? ” Fitzurse exclaimed. “ Do you dare to accuse the king of falsehood ? ” “ Reginald, Reginald,” answered Becket, “ I do no such thing; but I appeal to those who were present, and you were one of them.” “ I never saw or heard anything of the sort,” said Fitzurse. “ You were there,” said Becket; “ I saw you.” The knights, irritated by contradiction, swore, “ by God’s wounds,” that they had borne with him long enough. Becket, in spite of the entreaty of John of Salisbury, continued the scene, by bringing forward his complaints. “ My sumpterhorse’s tail has been docked, my casks of wine have been carried off.” Hugh de Morville answered, “ Why have you not complained to the king of these outrages, instead of punishing them by your own authority ? ” “ Hugh,” exclaimed the archbishop, “ I wait no man’s permission to avenge them. I will not give to the king the things that are God’s. This is my business, and I alone will see to it.”

At this haughty and defiant speech the knights sprang up, and their rage manifested itself in their infuriated gestures. “You threaten us ! ” exclaimed Fitzurse, wringing his long gloves in the excitement of his passion. “ Are you about to excommunicate us also ? ” “ He has excommunicated too many already,” muttered one of the others. “ You threaten me in vain,” said Becket, also springing up; “were all the swords in England drawn against me, you could not scare me from my obedience to God and the Pope.”

“Who are on the king’s side?” asked Fitzurse. “Let them stand off.” No one withdrew. Fitzurse cried, “ Guard him, lest he escape.” “ I shall not fly,” said the archbishop. They went to the door. One said, “ It is you who threaten us,” and he muttered something in an undertone. The archbishop caught the words and ran after them to fling S. Thomas d Becket. 397 after them the last defiance: “ I did not come here to run away, and I care nothing for your threats.” On entering the palace the knights had posted their followers opposite the gate. These were now called in, and the gate was fastened. The knights threw off their cloaks and gowns under a large sycamore in the garden, and girt on their swords. The servants of the archbishop fastened the door of the hall. In the meantime John of Salisbury was urging Becket to moderation. “It is wonderful, my lord,” he said, “ that you never take anyone’s advice; it always was so, and always is your way, to do and say just what seems good to yourself alone.” “What would you have me do?” asked Becket. “You ought to have consulted your friends, knowing that these men only seek occasion to kill you.” “I am prepared to die,” said the archbishop. “ But we are not,” added John so far as I can see no one cares to die without a cause, except yourself.” The archbishop answered, “ Let God’s will be done.” The dialogue was interrupted by one of the monks rushing in to announce that the knights were arming. “ Let them arm,” said Becket Presently the blows of an axe were heard, as if the knights were trying to break down the door of the hall. Terrified by this noise, the monks and clergy fled in all directions. “ All monks are cowards,” said Becket, looking after them scornfully. A small band of intimate friends and faithful attendants remained by him. They dragged him along the cloister towards the cathedral. Two locked doors had to be passed, the first lock had to be wrenched off. Two cellarers, attracted by the noise, ran upon the other side and pulled off the second lock.1 The archbishop struggled to get loose, his attendants pulled and pushed him. “ Let me go, do not drag me ! ” he continued crying, and once he stubbornly refused to proceed till his crozier was 1 Benedict of Peterb. 64.

[Dec. a* brought and carried before him. At last they reached the door at the lower north transept of the cathedral, by the chapel of S. Benedict [father of Western monks (d. c. 547), author of the Rule], from which a flight of steps led into the choir. As he entered, the knights were seen at the further end of the cloister, in pursuit. His attendants attempted to shut the door, and urged him to escape up the flight of steps in the wall to the chapel of S. Blaze, or hide in the triforium. But Becket was determined to be a martyr. He would not be saved from the death that threatened. He forced the attendants from the door and threw it open for the knights to enter, shouting to his clerks, “Away, you cowards! The church must not be turned into a castle.”

Then the ecclesiastics who had clung to him fled in every direction, some to altars in the side chapels, some to the secret chambers in the roof and walls of the minster. Vespers [the evening prayer of the Divine Office] were in progress when the archbishop entered, but were interrupted by the scuffle.

Becket was ascending the steps into the choir, when Fitzurse rushed in from the cloister, shouting, “ King’s men ! King’s men ! ” Then stumbling in the dusk against a clerk, he asked, “ Where is Thomas Becket, where is the traitor?” “Reginald,” answered Becket, “here I am; no traitor, but a priest of God. What do you want ? ” And he descended the steps to meet him, and planted himself between the pillar that supports the chapel of S. Blaze and the wall that forms the south-west comer of the chapel of S. Benedict. Here the knights and their followers gathered round him, whilst De Morville kept back the crowd which poured in at the west doors of the minster.

“ Absolve the bishops whom you have excommunicated,” said the knights. “Never,” answered Becket, “till they have made satisfaction.” The knights tried to lift him on the shoulders of De Tracy, to carry him out of the church. S. Thomas d Becket.

Becket struggled furiously, and flung De Tracy down on the pavement. Fitzurse held him by the collar of his long cloak, and said, “ Come with us, you are our prisoner.” “ Scoundrel ! ni exclaimed Becket, “ I will not fly,” and he wrenched the cloak from his grasp. Tracy had risen, Grim threw his arms round Becket and vainly endeavoured to draw him away. Fitzurse, brandishing his sword, stepped forward.

“ Reginald ! ” gasped the archbishop, “ do not touch me; you owe me fealty! you pander.” At this intolerable word the knight “ glowed all over,” and, striking with the point of his sword, dashed off his cap. The archbishop covered his eyes with his joined hands, bent his head, and committed his cause to God and the saints. Tracy then raised his sword, and Grim, wrapping his arm in a cloak, lifted it to ward off the stroke; but the weapon almost severed the monk's arm, and descending on the archbishop's head, cut off the tonsured part of his crown. The next blow, whether struck by Tracy or Fitzurse, was with the flat of the sword. Becket recoiled, half stunned, and put his hands over his bleeding head. When the blood began to run over his face, he wiped it away with his arm, and said, “ Into Thy hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit.”

At the third blow he sank on his knees, with the hands clasped in prayer. “ For the name of Jesus, and the defence of the Church, I am willing to die,” he gasped, turning his face towards the altar of S. Benedict Then, without moving hand or foot, he fell flat on his face with such dignity that his mantle which wrapped him was not disarranged. In this posture he received from Richard le Breton a tremendous blow which snapped the sword on the pavement. Then Hugh Mauclerc, a subdeacon of the household of De Broc, put his foot on the neck of the corpse, and with the point 1 “ Vir abominabilis." — Gervase of Canterbury. of his sword drawing out the brains, scattered them over the pavement.

The murderers then rushed out of the church shouting, and, entering the palace, carried off all the papal bulls and letters they could lay hands on, and plundered it of gold and furniture to the value of 2,000 marks.

The crowd that flocked in from the town surrounded the body. There was a division of opinion then, as in his lifetime; some said that he had properly suffered for his obstinacy, some that “ He wished to be king and more than a king; let him be a king now.” Whatever horror was felt, was not at the murder, but at the desecration of the church with blood. At last the cathedral was cleared, and the gates shut The monks had long felt jealous at the elevation of the gay chancellor to the archbishopric. The primacy involved the abbacy of the cathedral monastery, and the primates had been, with scarcely any exceptions, chosen from among the monks. When they came to take off* the clothes of the dead archbishop, they found to their delight that he wore under his ordinary dress the black habit of a monk; when they further found that beneath this habit was a hair-shirt and hair-cloth drawers, their delight became enthusiastic; and when they further discovered that this hair-cloth was “ boiling over” with lice, their enthusiasm became hysterical transport1 His body was buried, the morning after the murder, by the Cistercian Abbot of Boxley, before the altars of SS. Augustine and John, in the crypt of the cathedral The Lambeth biographer says that some persons, however, argued that it was absurd to call Becket a saint and martyr, as his pretence of justice was merely a cloak for pride and vainglory; that he was lacking in charity, without which a ' They laughed and cried in wild excitement, say Roger of Hoveden and Gamier da Pont S. Maxenoe.

VESTMENTS OF 8. THOMAS A BECKET. man may give his body to martyrdom, and it will profit him nothing; that the cause for which he died was not a good one, and that even if it had been a good cause, his character and conduct in its defence had disqualified him from being regarded as a saint. In defiance of Papal canonization and popular enthusiasm, it was mooted before the university of Paris whether the death of Becket was to be regarded as a just execution or a martyrdom.1 Not long after the murder, the archbishop of York ventured to declare that Becket had perished, like Pharaoh, in his pride. But the multitude persisted in believing that miracles were wrought by his relics. The papal court, vacillating, and often unfriendly in his lifetime, now took up his cause with vigour. In 1172 legates were sent by Alexander III. to investigate the alleged miracles, and, in 1173, a council was called at Westminster to hear letters from the Pope, authorizing the invocation of the martyr as a saint. In the course of the same year he was regularly canonized. His murderers were let off very easily. Legend asserts that, struck with remorse, they went to Rome, to receive the sentence of Pope Alexander III., and by him were sent to expiate their sins in the Holy Land, where within three years they died. De Tracy alone, it was said, was detained by contrary winds at Cosenza in Calabria, and died there, tearing his flesh off his bones with his teeth and nails, and shrieking, “ Mercy, Thomas, mercy ! ” But this is merely the fabrication of churchmen ill-satisfied with their real fate. The judgments of God are not as the judgments of men. Fitzurse went to Ireland, and became the ancestor of the 1 Caesar. Heisterbach. rift. 69. “ Beatus Thomas Episcopus Cantuariensis qui oostris temporibus pro ecclesisc libertate usque ad mortem dimica vit, nttliis miraculii in suis persecudonibus coruscavit, satisque de illo post occisionem disputatum est Quidam dixerunt eum damnatum ut regni proditorem; alii martyrem uti ecclesiae defensorem. Eadem qusestio Parisiis inter magistratus ventilata est. Nam magistet Rugerus juravit ilium dignum fuisse raorte, etsi non tali, bead viri constantiam ludicans contumaciam.** M ‘Mahon family. De Morville was dismissed from his office of justice itinerant of Northumberland and Cumberland, and in the first year of King John is recorded to have paid twenty-five marks and three good palfreys for holding his court. He procured a charter for a fair and market at Kirk Oswald, and died shortly afterwards, leaving two daughters. Within four years after the murder, De Tracy was justiciary of Normandy, and was present at Falaise in 1174, when William, king of Scotland, did homage to Henry II.; he was succeeded in his office, in 1176, by the bishop of Winchester. The present Lord Wemyss and Lord Sudeley are his lineal descendants. The pedigree, contrary to all received opinions on the subject of judgments on sacrilege, exhibits the very singular instance of an estate descending for upwards of seven hundred years in the male line of the same family.1 Henry II. hardly escaped excommunication and an interdict on his realm for his share in the murder. A reconciliation was at last effected with the Pope, on these terms. Henry stipulated to maintain two hundred knights at Lis own cost in the Holy Land, to abrogate the statutes of Clarendon, and reinvest the church of Canterbury in all the possessions and rights of which it had been deprived. He was reconciled in the porch of the cathedral of Avranches. But a further humiliation was in store for him. The crown of England was to have its Canossa, as well as that of Germany.

In 1174 Henry had to submit to open penance before the shrine of the martyr, to bare his back to the scourge willingly administered by the monks of Canterbury on his bare shoulders.

S. Thomas k Becket was not a martyr for any article of 1 See full particulars about the fate of the murderers in Dean Stanley’s “ Memorials ol Canterbury.”

Dec. a*] S. Thomas d Becket. faith, or for the cause of pure morality. He was not a martyr for the rights of the Catholic Church, not a martyr even for the immunity of the clergy, but solely for the right of the archbishop of Canterbury to crown a king of England; nay, hardly even for that, for Henry had consented to have his son recrowned by Becket. He was a martyr for the cause of his own resolution to punish with excommunication those who had dared to infringe this right. S. Thomas is represented in art, erroneously, as martyred in full archiepiscopal canonicals before the high altar. A sword transfixes his head.

Such of his relics as remain are — a chasuble at Sens, a fragment of his tunic, and some portion of his brains at S. Maria Maggiore in Rome.

Caesarius of Heisterbach relates a miracle wrought by the bridle of the saint’s horse (viii. 70). There is a curious account in the life of Erasmus of a visit paid by him and Dean Colet to the shrine of S. Thomas.1 ' For an elaborate account of the shrine and its fortunes and fate, see Dean Stanleys *' Memorials of Canterbury.’*