That it was Thomas of London who sat there was far from being an

indication that Henry had forgotten the incident. It was precisely

because Henry in these last four years had thought over the question

of the clerical immunities and determined how to deal with it that

he had sought to place on S. Augustine’s chair a man after his own

heart. He aimed at reducing the position of the clergy, like all other

doubtful matters, to the standard of his grandfather’s time. He held

that he had a right to whatever his ancestors had enjoyed; he saw

therein nothing derogatory to either the Church or the primate, whom he

rather intended to exalt by making him his own inseparable colleague in

temporal administration and the supreme authority within the realm in

purely spiritual matters--thus avoiding the appeals to Rome which had

led to so much mischief, and securing for himself a representative to

whom he could safely intrust the whole work of government in England

as guardian of the little king,[84] while he himself would be free to

devote his whole energies to the management of his continental affairs.

He seems in fact to have hoped tacitly to repeal the severance of the

temporal and ecclesiastical jurisdictions, and bring back the golden

age of William and Lanfranc, if not that of Eadgar and Dunstan; and

for this he, not unnaturally, counted unreservedly upon Thomas. By

slow degrees he discovered his miscalculation. Thomas had given him

one direct warning which had been unheeded; he had warned him again

indirectly by resigning the chancellorship; now, when the king unfolded

his plans, he did not at once contradict him; he merely answered all

his arguments and persuasions with one set phrase:--“I will render unto

Cæsar the things that are Cæsar’s, and unto God the things that are

God’s.”[85]

[84] Anon. II. (_ib._ vol. iv.), pp. 92–94.

[85] _Ib._ pp. 94, 95.

In July occurred a typical case which brought matters to a crisis. A

clerk named Philip de Broi had been tried in the bishop of Lincoln’s

court for murder, had cleared himself by a legal compurgation, and had

been acquitted. The king, not satisfied, commanded or permitted the

charge to be revived, and the accused to be summoned to take his trial

at Dunstable before Simon Fitz-Peter, then acting as justice-in-eyre

in Bedfordshire, where Philip dwelt. Philip indignantly refused to

plead again in answer to a charge of which he had been acquitted,

and overwhelmed the judge with abuse, of which Simon on his return

to London made formal complaint to the king. Henry was furious,

swore his wonted oath “by God’s Eyes” that an insult to his minister

was an insult to himself, and ordered the culprit to be brought to

justice for the contempt of court and the homicide both at once. The

primate insisted that the trial should take place in his own court at

Canterbury, and to this Henry was compelled unwillingly to consent. The

charge of homicide was quickly disposed of; Philip had been acquitted

in a Church court, and his present judges had no wish to reverse its

decision. On the charge of insulting a royal officer they sentenced

him to undergo a public scourging at the hands of the offended person,

and to forfeit the whole of his income for the next two years, to be

distributed in alms according to the king’s pleasure. Henry declared

the punishment insufficient, and bitterly reproached the bishops with

having perverted justice out of favour to their order.[86] They denied

it; but a story which came up from the diocese of Salisbury[87] and

another from that of Worcester[88] tended still further to shew the

helplessness of the royal justice against the ecclesiastical courts

under the protection of the primate; and the latter’s blundering

attempts to satisfy the king only increased his irritation. Not only

did Thomas venture beyond the limits of punishment prescribed by the

canon law by causing a clerk who had been convicted of theft to be

branded as well as degraded,[89] but he actually took upon himself to

condemn another to banishment.[90] He hoped by these severe sentences

to appease the king’s wrath;[91] Henry, on the contrary, resented them

as an interference with his rights; what he wanted was not severe

punishment in isolated cases, but the power to inflict it in the

regular course of his own royal justice. At last he laid the whole

question before a great council which met at Westminster on October

1.[92]

[86] Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 30–32. Will. Cant. (Robertson,

_Becket_, vol. i.), pp. 12, 13. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), pp.

374–376. Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 45. Herb.

Bosh. (_ib._), pp. 265, 266. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), pp.

24, 25. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 313. There is another

version in _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. p. 145.

[87] Herb. Bosh. (as above), pp. 264, 265. _Thomas Saga_ (as

above), p. 143.

[88] Will. Fitz-Steph. as above.

[89] Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), pp.

45, 46.

[90] Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), p. 267.

[91] Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ibid._), p. 46.

[92] Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), p. 266. Anon. II. (_ib._ vol. iv.),

p. 95. _Summa Causæ_ (_ibid._), p. 201; this last gives the

date.

The king’s first proposition, that the bishops should confirm the old

customs observed in his grandfather’s days,[93] opened a discussion

which lasted far into the night. Henry himself proceeded to explain

his meaning more fully; he required, first, that the bishops should

be more strict in the pursuit of criminal clerks;[94] secondly, that

all such clerks, when convicted and degraded, should be handed over to

the secular arm for temporal punishment like laymen, according to the

practice usual under Henry I.;[95] and finally, that the bishops should

renounce their claim to inflict any temporal punishment whatever, such

as exile or imprisonment in a monastery, which he declared to be an

infringement of his regal rights over the territory of his whole realm

and the persons of all his subjects.[96] The primate, after vainly

begging for an adjournment till the morrow, retired to consult with

his suffragans.[97] When he returned, it was to set forth his view of

the “two swords”--the two jurisdictions, spiritual and temporal--in

terms which put an end to all hope of agreement with the king. He

declared the ministers of the Heavenly King exempt from all subjection

to the judgement of an earthly sovereign; the utmost that he would

concede was that a clerk once degraded should thenceforth be treated

as a layman and punished as such if he offended again.[98] Henry,

apparently too much astonished to argue further, simply repeated his

first question--“Would the bishops obey the royal customs?” “Aye,

saving our order,” was the answer given by the primate in the name and

with the consent of all.[99] When appealed to singly they all made the

same answer.[100] Henry bade them withdraw the qualifying phrase, and

accept the customs unconditionally; they, through the mouth of their

primate, refused;[101] the king raged and swore, but all in vain. At

last he strode suddenly out of the hall without taking leave of the

assembly;[102] and when morning broke they found that he had quitted

London.[103] Before the day was over, Thomas received a summons to

surrender some honours which he had held as chancellor and still

retained;[104] and soon afterwards the little Henry was taken out of

his care.[105]

[93] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 32. Anon. I. (Robertson, _Becket_,

vol. iv.), pp. 25, 26. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 376.

[94] Anon. II. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 96.

[95] _Ibid._ Cf. _Summa Causæ_ (_ib._), p. 202, Herb. Bosh.

(_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 266, and _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol.

i. pp. 148, 149.

[96] Herb. Bosh. (as above), p. 267.

[97] _Summa Causæ_ (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 202. Their discussion

is given in _Thomas Saga_ (as above), p. 151.

[98] Herb. Bosh. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), pp. 268–272.

Cf. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 22. The speech in _Thomas

Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. pp. 151–153, is much more moderate

in tone, but grants no more in substance.

[99] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 32. Will. Cant. (Robertson,

_Becket_, vol. i.), p. 13. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 376.

Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 273. Anon. II. (_ib._ vol.

iv.), p. 97. Cf. Ep. ccxxv. (_ib._ vol. v. p. 527).

[100] For Hilary of Chichester’s attempt at evasion see Herb.

Bosh. (as above), pp. 273, 274, and _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson),

vol. i. p. 155.

[101] Garnier, E. Grim, Herb. Bosh., Anon. II., as above. For

this scene the _Saga_ (as above), pp. 153–155, substitutes a

wrangle between king and primate, which however comes to the

same result.

[102] Herb. Bosh. (as above), p. 274.

[103] _Ib._ p. 275. _Summa Causæ_ (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 205.

_Thomas Saga_ (as above), p. 157.

[104] Herb. Bosh. (as above), p. 275.

[105] He was with his father at the council of Clarendon in

January 1164. _Summa Causæ_ (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 208.

The king’s wrath presently cooled so far that he invited the primate

to a conference at Northampton. They met on horseback in a field near

the town; high words passed between them; the king again demanded, and

the archbishop again refused, unconditional acceptance of the customs;

and in this determination they parted.[106] A private negotiation

with some of the other prelates--suggested, it was said, by the

diplomatist-bishop of Lisieux--was more successful; Roger of York and

Robert of Lincoln met the king at Gloucester and agreed to accept his

customs with no other qualification than a promise on his part to exact

nothing contrary to the rights of their order. Hilary of Chichester

not only did the same but undertook to persuade the primate himself.

In this of course he failed.[107] Some time before Christmas, however,

there came to the archbishop three commissioners who professed to be

sent by the Pope to bid him withdraw his opposition; Henry having,

according to their story, assured the Pope that he had no designs

against the clergy or the Church, and required nothing beyond a

verbal assent for the saving of his regal dignity.[108] On the faith

of their word Thomas met the king at Oxford,[109] and there promised

to accept the customs and obey the king “loyally and in good faith.”

Henry then demanded that as the archbishop had withstood him publicly,

so his submission should be repeated publicly too, in an assembly

of barons and clergy to be convened for that purpose.[110] This was

more than Thomas had been led to expect; but he made no objection,

and the Christmas season passed over in peace. Henry kept the feast

at Berkhampstead,[111] one of the castles lately taken from the

archbishop; Thomas at Canterbury, where he had just been consecrating

the great English scholar Robert of Melun--one of the three Papal

commissioners--to succeed Gilbert Foliot as bishop of Hereford.[112]

[106] Anon. I. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iv.), pp. 27–29.

[107] Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 33, 34. Will. Cant. (Robertson,

_Becket_, vol. i.), pp. 14, 15. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), pp.

377, 378. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), pp. 30–31. Cf. Herb. Bosh.

(_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 276, and _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol.

i. p. 159.

[108] Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 34, 35. Will. Cant. (as above),

p. 15. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 378. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol.

iv.), p. 31. _Thomas Saga_ (as above), p. 161. All, except the

Anon., seem to doubt the genuineness of the mission.

[109] Herb. Bosh. (as above), p. 277. The Anon. I. (_ib._ vol.

iv.), p. 32, and Garnier (Hippeau), p. 35, say Woodstock.

[110] Garnier, Will. Cant., Herb. Bosh. and _Thomas Saga_, as

above. E. Grim (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. ii.), p. 379. Anon.

I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), pp. 33, 34.

[111] Eyton, _Itin. Hen. II._, p. 66, from Pipe Roll a. 1164.

[112] On December 22. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 176.

On S. Hilary’s day the proposed council met at the royal hunting-seat

of Clarendon near Salisbury.[113] Henry called upon the archbishop to

fulfil the promise he had given at Oxford and publicly declare his

assent to the customs. Thomas drew back. As he saw the mighty array

of barons round the king--as he looked over the ranks of his own

fellow-bishops--it flashed at last even upon his unsuspicious mind that

all this anxiety to draw him into such a public repetition of a scene

which he had thought to be final must cover something more than the

supposed papal envoys had led him to expect, and that those “customs”

which he had been assured were but a harmless word might yet become

a terrible reality if he yielded another step. His hesitation threw

the king into one of those paroxysms of Angevin fury which scared the

English and Norman courtiers almost out of their senses. Thomas alone

remained undaunted; the bishops stood “like a flock of sheep ready for

slaughter,” and the king’s own ministers implored the primate to save

them from the shame of having to lay violent hands upon him at their

sovereign’s command. For two days he stood firm; on the third two

knights of the Temple brought him a solemn assurance, on the honour

of their order and the salvation of their souls, that his fears were

groundless and that a verbal submission to the king’s will would end

the quarrel and restore peace to the Church. He believed them; and

though he still shrank from the formality, thus emptied of meaning, as

little better than a lie, yet for the Church’s sake he gave way. He

publicly promised to obey the king’s laws and customs loyally and in

good faith, and made all the other bishops do likewise.[114]

[113] On the date see note B at end of chapter.

[114] Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 20–22, 36. Will. Cant. (Robertson,

_Becket_, vol. i.), pp. 16, 17. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), pp.

380–382. Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), pp. 278, 279. Anon. I.

(_ib._ vol. iv.), pp. 33–36. Anon. II. (_ibid._), p. 99. Cf.

_Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. pp. 163–167, and Gerv. Cant.

(Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 177, 178.

The words were no sooner out of their mouths than Thomas learned how

just his suspicions had been. A question was instantly raised--what

were these customs? It was too late to discuss them that night; next

morning the king bade the oldest and wisest of the barons go and make

a recognition of the customs observed by his grandfather and bring

up a written report of them for ratification by the council.[115]

Nine days later[116] the report was presented. It comprised sixteen

articles, known ever since as the Constitutions of Clarendon.[117] Some

of them merely re-affirmed, in a more stringent and technical manner,

the rules of William the Conqueror forbidding bishops and beneficed

clerks to quit the realm or excommunicate the king’s tenants-in-chief

without his leave, and the terms on which the temporal position of

the bishops had been settled by the compromise between Henry I. and

Anselm at the close of the struggle for the investitures. Another

aimed at checking the abuse of appeals to Rome, by providing that no

appeal should be carried further than the archbishop’s court without

the assent of the king. The remainder dealt with the settlement of

disputes concerning presentations and advowsons, which were transferred

from the ecclesiastical courts to that of the king; the treatment

of excommunicate persons; the limits of the right of sanctuary as

regarding the goods of persons who had incurred forfeiture to the

Crown; the ordination of villeins; the jurisdiction over clerks accused

of crime; the protection of laymen cited before the Church courts

against episcopal and archidiaconal injustice; and the method of

procedure in suits concerning the tenure of Church lands.

[115] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 37. Will. Cant. (Robertson,

_Becket_, vol. i.), p. 18. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 382.

Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 279. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol.

iv.), p. 37. Anon. II. (_ibid._), p. 102. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs),

vol. i. p. 178.

[116] On the chronology see note B at end of chapter.

[117] Will. Cant. (as above), pp. 18–23; Gerv. Cant, (as

above), pp. 178–180; Stubbs, _Select Charters_, pp. 137–140.

The two articles last mentioned are especially remarkable. The former

provided that if a layman was accused before a bishop on insufficient

testimony, the sheriff should at the bishop’s request summon a jury

of twelve lawful men of the neighbourhood to swear to the truth or

falsehood of the charge.[118] The other clause decreed that when an

estate was claimed by a clerk in frank-almoign and by a layman as a

secular fief the question should be settled by the chief justiciar in

like manner on the recognition of twelve jurors.[119] The way in which

these provisions are introduced implies that the principle contained

in them was already well known in the country; it indicates that some

steps had already been taken towards a general remodelling of legal

procedure, intended to embrace all branches of judicial administration

and bring them all into orderly and harmonious working. In this view

the Constitutions of Clarendon were only part of a great scheme in

whose complete developement they might have held an appropriate and

useful place.[120] But the churchmen of the day, to whom they were thus

suddenly presented as an isolated fragment, could hardly be expected to

see in them anything but an engine of state tyranny for grinding down

the Church. Almost every one of them assumed, in some way or other,

the complete subordination of ecclesiastical to temporal authority;

the right of lay jurisdiction over clerks was asserted in the most

uncompromising terms; while the last clause of all, which forbade the

ordination of villeins without the consent of their lords, stirred

a nobler feeling than jealousy for mere class-privileges. Its real

intention was probably not to hinder the enfranchisement of serfs, but

simply to protect the landowners against the loss of services which,

being attached to the soil, they had no means of replacing, and very

possibly also to prevent the number of criminal clerks being further

increased by the admission of villeins anxious to escape from the

justice of their lords. But men who for ages had been trained to regard

the Church as a divinely-appointed city of refuge for all the poor and

needy, the oppressed and the enslaved, could only see the other side

of the measure and feel their inmost hearts rise up in the cry of a

contemporary poet--“Hath not God called us all, bond and free, to His

service?”[121]

[118] Const. Clarend. c. 6 (Stubbs, _Select Charters_, pp. 138,

139).

[119] Const. Clarend. c. 9 (Stubbs, _Select Charters_, p. 139).

[120] It should be noticed that this was clearly understood,

and full justice was done to Henry’s intentions, not only

by the most impartial and philosophic historian of the

time--William of Newburgh (l. ii. c. 16; Howlett, vol. i. p.

140)--but even by Thomas’s most ardent follower, Herbert of

Bosham (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii. pp. 272, 273, 278, 280).

[121] “Et Deus à sun servise nus a tuz apelez!

Mielz valt filz à vilain qui est preuz et senez,

Que ne fet gentilz hum failliz et debutez!”

Garnier (Hippeau), p. 89. This, variously expressed, was the

grand argument of the clerical-democratic party, and the true

source of their strength. And they were not altogether wrong in

attributing the action of their opponents, in part at least,

to aristocratic contempt and exclusiveness--if we may trust

Gervase of Canterbury’s report of a complaint said to have

been uttered at a later time by the king: “Hi quoque omnes”

[_i.e._ the religious orders] “tales sibi fratres associant,

pelliparios scilicet et sutores, quorum nec unus deberet

instante necessitate in episcopum vel abbatem salvâ conscientiâ

nostrâ promoveri.” Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 540.

The discussion occupied six days;[122] as each clause was read out

to the assembly, Thomas rose and set forth his reasons for opposing

it.[123] When at last the end was reached, Henry called upon him and

all the bishops to affix their seals to the constitutions. “Never,”

burst out the primate--“never, while there is a breath left in my

body!”[124] The king was obliged to content himself with the former

verbal assent, gained on false pretences as it had been; a copy of

the obnoxious document was handed to the primate, who took it, as he

said, for a witness against its contrivers, and indignantly quitted the

assembly.[125] In an agony of remorse for the credulity which had led

him into such a trap he withdrew to Winchester and suspended himself

from all priestly functions till he had received absolution from the

Pope.[126]

[122] See note B at end of chapter.

[123] Herb. Bosh. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), pp.

280–285. The answers to the Constitutions in Garnier (Hippeau),

pp. 84–89, seem to be partly Thomas’s and partly his own.

[124] “L’arcevesques respunt: Fei que dei Deu le bel,

Co n’ert, tant cum la vie me bate en cest vessel!”

Garnier (Hippeau), p. 37. Cf. E. Grim (Robertson, _Becket_,

vol. ii.), p. 383, and Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 37.

[125] Garnier, as above. Will. Cant. (Robertson, _Becket_,

vol. i.), p. 23. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 383. Anon. I.

(_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 37. Cf. Joh. Salisb. (_ib._ vol. ii.),

p. 311; Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 288; Anon. II.

(_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 103, and _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol.

i. pp. 167–169. Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol.

iii.), pp. 48, 49, says that Thomas did set his seal to the

constitutions; but his statement is at variance with those of

all other authorities; and he himself afterwards recites two

speeches made at Northampton, one by Thomas and one by Hilary

of Chichester, both distinctly affirming that none of the

bishops sealed. _Ib._ pp. 66, 67.

[126] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 38. Will. Cant. (as above), p. 24.

Joh. Salisb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 312. E. Grim (_ibid._), p.

383. Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 49. Herb. Bosh.

(_ibid._), pp. 289–292. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 37.

It was to the Pope that both parties looked for a settlement of their

dispute; but Alexander, ill acquainted both with the merits of the

case and with the characters of the disputants, and beset on all sides

with political difficulties, could only strive in vain to hold the

balance evenly between them. Meanwhile the political quarrel of king

and primate was embittered by an incident in which Henry’s personal

feelings were stirred. His brother William--the favourite young brother

whom he had once planned to establish as sovereign in Ireland--had set

his heart upon a marriage with the widowed countess of Warren; the

archbishop had forbidden the match on the ground of affinity, and his

prohibition had put an end to the scheme.[127] Baffled and indignant,

William returned to Normandy and poured the story of his grievance into

the sympathizing ears first of his mother and then, as it seems, of

the brotherhood at Bec.[128] On January 29, 1164--one day before the

dissolution of the council of Clarendon--he died at Rouen;[129] and

a writer who was himself at that time a monk at Bec not only implies

his own belief that the young man actually died of disappointment, but

declares that Henry shared that belief, and thenceforth looked upon

the primate by whom the disappointment had been caused as little less

than the murderer of his brother.[130] The king’s exasperation was at

any rate plain to all eyes; and as the summer drew on Thomas found

himself gradually deserted. His best friend, John of Salisbury, had

already been taken from his side, and was soon driven into exile by

the jealousy of the king;[131] another friend, John of Canterbury, had

been removed out of the country early in 1163 by the ingenious device

of making him bishop of Poitiers.[132] The old dispute concerning

the relations between Canterbury and York had broken out afresh with

intensified bitterness between Roger of Pont-l’Evêque and the former

comrade of whom he had long been jealous, and who had now once again

been promoted over his head; the king, hoping to turn it to account

for his own purposes, was intriguing at the Papal court in Roger’s

behalf, and one of his confidential agents there was Thomas’s own

archdeacon, Geoffrey Ridel.[133] The bishops as yet were passive;

in the York controversy Gilbert Foliot strongly supported his own

metropolitan;[134] but between him and Thomas there was already a

question, amicable indeed at present but ominous nevertheless, as to

whether or not the profession of obedience made to Theobald by the

bishop of Hereford should be repeated by the same man as bishop of

London to Theobald’s successor.[135]

[127] Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iv.) p. 142.

Isabel de Warren was the widow of Stephen’s son William, who of

course was cousin in the third degree to William of Anjou.

[128] “Hic” [_i.e._ Thomas] “regis fratrem pertæsum semper

habebat,

Ne consul foret hic, obvius ille fuit:

Cum nata comitis comitem Warenna tulisset,

Nobilis hic præsul ne nocuisset ei.

Irâ permotus, nunquam rediturus, ab Anglis

Advenit is, matri nunciat ista piæ.

Hinc Beccum veniens fratrum se tradit amori.”

_Draco Norm._, l. ii. c. 8, vv. 441–447 (Howlett, _Will.

Newb._, vol. ii. p. 676).

[129] Rob. Torigni, a. 1164. _Draco Norm._, l. ii. c. 8, vv.

448–450 (as above). The date is from the first-named writer.

[130] _Draco Norm._, l. ii. c. 8, vv. 453–456 (as

above). Considering the abundance--one might almost say

superabundance--of unquestionably authentic information which

we already possess as to the origin and grounds of Henry’s

quarrel with Thomas, I cannot attach so much importance as

Mr. Howlett apparently does (_ib._ pref. pp. lxi–lxiii) to

this new contribution from Stephen of Rouen. Stephen’s work

is quasi-romantic in character and utterly unhistoric in

style; and his view of the whole Becket controversy is simply

ludicrous, for he ignores the clerical immunities and the

Constitutions of Clarendon altogether, and attributes the

quarrel wholly to two other causes--this affair about William,

and Thomas’s supposed peculations while chancellor (_ib._ l.

iii. c. 12, vv. 909–914, p. 741). That the domestic tragedy

of which he gives such a highly-coloured account had some

bearing upon the great political drama appears from the words

of Richard le Breton to Thomas at his murder seven years later,

“Hoc habeas pro amore domini mei Willelmi fratris regis” (Will.

Fitz-Steph., Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii. p. 142). But in

these words there is no mention either of William’s death or

of Henry’s feelings about it. Some allusion to either or both

may have been in the speaker’s mind; but what he actually

said implies nothing more than that he had been in William’s

service, and had therefore resented the thwarting of his lord’s

interests, and through them, it may be, of his own. Will.

Fitz-Steph., after explaining what William’s grievance was,

simply adds, “Unde Willelmus ... inconsolabiliter doluit; et

omnes sui archiepiscopo inimici facti sunt.” _Ibid._

[131] From a comparison of Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson,

_Becket_, vol. iii.), p. 46, with Ep. lv. (_ib._ vol. v. pp.

95–103), it appears that John was separated from Thomas before

the council of Clarendon. After some months of wandering he

found shelter at Reims, in the great abbey of S. Remigius of

which his old friend Peter of Celle was now abbot, and there he

chiefly dwelt during the next seven years.

[132] Will. Fitz-Steph., as above, says John was promoted for

the purpose of getting him out of the way. He was consecrated

by the Pope at the council of Tours; R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol.

i. p. 311. It must be remembered that Henry had already had

experience of John’s zeal for clerical immunities.

[133] Epp. xiii., xxvii., xxxvi., xli.–xliii., l., li., liii.,

liv. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v. pp. 21, 22, 44–46, 59, 60,

67–69, 85, 87, 88, 91, 94); Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol. i.), p.

24; E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 384; Anon. I. (_ib._ vol.

iv.), pp. 38, 39; Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 39, 40; _Thomas Saga_

(Magnusson), vol. i. pp. 179–181; Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i.

p. 181.

[134] Ep. xxviii. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v. pp. 46, 47).

[135] Epp. xxxv., lxvii. (_ib._ pp. 56, 57, 130, 131).

Thomas himself fully expected to meet the fate of Anselm; throughout

the winter his friends had been endeavouring to secure him a refuge in

France;[136] and early in the summer of 1164, having been refused an

interview with the king,[137] he made two attempts to escape secretly

from Romney. The first time he was repelled by a contrary wind; the

second time the sailors put back ostensibly for the same reason, but

really because they had recognized their passenger and dreaded the

royal wrath;[138] and a servant who went on the following night to shut

the gates of the deserted palace at Canterbury found the primate, worn

out with fatigue and disappointment, sitting alone in the darkness

like a beggar upon his own door-step.[139] Despairing of escape,

he made another effort to see the king at Woodstock. Henry dreaded

nothing so much as the archbishop’s flight, for he felt that it would

probably be followed by a Papal interdict on his dominions,[140] and

would certainly give an immense advantage against him to Louis of

France, who was at that very moment threatening war in Auvergne.[141]

He therefore received Thomas courteously, though with somewhat less

than the usual honours,[142] and made no allusion to the past except

by a playful question “whether the archbishop did not think the realm

was wide enough to contain them both?” Thomas saw, however, that

the old cordiality was gone; his enemies saw it too, and, as his

biographer says, “they came about him like bees.”[143] Foremost among

them was John the king’s marshal, who had a suit in the archbishop’s

court concerning the manor of Pageham.[144] It was provided by one of

Henry’s new rules of legal procedure that if a suitor saw no chance of

obtaining justice in the court of his own lord he might, by taking an

oath to that effect and bringing two witnesses to do the same, transfer

the suit to a higher court.[145] John by this method removed his case

from the court of the archbishop to that of the king; and thither

Thomas was cited to answer his claim on the feast of the Exaltation

of the Cross. When that day came the primate was too ill to move; he

sent essoiners to excuse his absence in legal form, and also a written

protest against the removal of the suit, on the ground that it had been

obtained by perjury--John having taken the oath not upon the Gospel,

but upon an old song-book which he had surreptitiously brought into

court for the purpose.[146] Henry angrily refused to believe either

Thomas or his essoiners,[147] and immediately issued orders for a great

council to be held at Northampton.[148] It was customary to call the

archbishops and the greater barons by a special writ addressed to each

individually, while the lesser tenants-in-chief received a general

summons through the sheriffs of the different counties. Roger of York

was specially called in due form;[149] the metropolitan of all Britain,

who ought to have been invited first and most honourably of all,

merely received through the sheriff of Kent a peremptory citation to

be ready on the first day of the council with his defence against the

claim of John the marshal.[150]

[136] Epp. xxxv., xxxvi., lv. (_ib._ pp. 57, 58, 97).

[137] Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._), vol. iii. p. 49.

[138] Cf. Will. Fitz-Steph. as above; Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._),

p. 293; Anon. II. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 104; and Alan Tewkesb.

(_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 325, with E. Grim (_ibid._), pp. 389, 390;

Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol. i.), p. 29; Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.),

p. 40; and Garnier (Hippeau), p. 49.

[139] Alan Tewkesb. as above.

[140] Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol. i.), p. 29. E. Grim (_ib._

vol. ii.), p. 390. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 40. Garnier

(Hippeau), p. 50.

[141] Ep. lx. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v., p. 115).

[142] Ep. ccxxv. (_ib._ p. 530). Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.),

p. 294.

[143] Herb. Bosh. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), pp. 294,

295.

[144] Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ibid._), p. 50.

[145] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 51. Will. Cant. (Robertson,

_Becket_, vol. i.), p. 31. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 41. On

this proceeding see Glanville, _De Legg. et Conss. Angl._, l.

xii. c. 7.

[146] Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 51–53. Will. Cant. (as above), p.

30. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 390. Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._

vol. iii.), p. 50. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 41. Ep. ccxxv.

(_ib._ vol. v.), pp. 530, 531.

[147] Will. Fitz-Steph. as above.

[148] _Ib._ p. 49. Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), p. 296. Anon. I.

(_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 30. Ep. ccxxv. (_ib._ vol. v.), p. 531.

Garnier (Hippeau), p. 50.

[149] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 313, 314.

[150] Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), p. 51.

The council--an almost complete gathering of the tenants-in-chief, lay

and spiritual, throughout the realm[151]--was summoned for Tuesday

October 6.[152] The king however lingered hawking by the river-side

till late at night,[153] and it was not till next morning after Mass

that the archbishop could obtain an audience. He began by asking

leave to go and consult the Pope on his dispute with Roger of York

and divers other questions touching the interests of both Church and

state; Henry angrily bade him be silent and retire to prepare his

defence for his contempt of the royal summons in the matter of John

the marshal.[154] The trial took place next day. John himself did not

appear, being detained in the king’s service at the Michaelmas session

of the Exchequer in London;[155] the charge of failure of justice

was apparently withdrawn, but for the alleged contempt Thomas was

sentenced to a fine of five hundred pounds.[156] Indignant as he was

at the flagrant illegality of the trial, in which his own suffragans

had been compelled to sit in judgement on their primate, Thomas was yet

persuaded to submit, in the hope of avoiding further wrangling over

what seemed now to have become a mere question of money.[157] But there

were other questions to follow. Henry now demanded from the archbishop

a sum of three hundred pounds, representing the revenue due from the

honours of Eye and Berkhampstead for the time during which he had held

them since his resignation of the chancellorship.[158] Thomas remarked

that he had spent far more than that sum on the repair of the royal

palaces, and protested against the unfairness of making such a demand

without warning. Still, however, he disdained to resist for a matter

of filthy lucre, and found sureties for the required amount.[159] Next

morning Henry made a further demand for the repayment of a loan made to

Thomas in his chancellor days.[160] In those days the two friends had

virtually had but one purse as well as “one mind and one heart,” and

Thomas was deeply wounded by this evident proof that their friendship

was at an end. Once more he submitted; but this time it was no easy

matter to find sureties;[161] and then, late on the Friday evening,

there was reached the last and most overwhelming count in the long

indictment thus gradually unrolled before the eyes of the astonished

primate. He was called upon to render a complete statement of all the

revenues of vacant sees, baronies and honours of which he had had the

custody as chancellor--in short, of the whole accounts of the chancery

during his tenure of office.[162]

[151] Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._) p. 296. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.),

p. 390. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 41. R. Diceto (Stubbs),

vol. i. p. 313. Only two bishops were absent: Nigel of Ely,

disabled by paralysis, and William of Norwich, who made an

excuse to avoid sharing in what he knew was to come. Gerv.

Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 185. From Alan Tewkesb. however

(Robertson, _Becket_, vol. ii. p. 331), it seems that Norwich

came after all--only, like Rochester (Will. Fitz-Steph., _ib._

vol. iii. p. 52), somewhat late.

[152] Will. Fitz-Steph. (as above), p. 50. Herb. Bosh. (_ib._

p. 296), says “hebdomadæ feria quinta, sexta ante B. Calixti

... diem”--a self-contradiction, for in 1164 October 9, the

sixth day before the feast of S. Calixtus, was not Thursday

but Friday. He makes, however, a similar confusion as to the

last day of the council (_ib._ pp. 301, 304, 326); and as this

was undoubtedly Tuesday October 13--not Wednesday 14, as he

seems to make it in p. 304--it is plain that his mistake lies

in placing the feast of S. Calixtus a day too early, and that

the day to which he really means to assign the opening of the

assembly is Thursday October 8. This really agrees with Will.

Fitz-Steph., for, as will be seen, the council did not formally

meet till a day after that for which it was summoned, and did

not get to business till a day later still. William gives the

date for which it had been summoned; Herbert, that of its

practical beginning. R. Diceto (Stubbs, vol. i. p. 313) has

substituted the closing day for that of opening; the author of

_Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson, vol. i. p. 241), has done the same,

with a further confusion as to the days of the week; while

Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs, vol. i. p. 182) has a date which agrees

with nothing, and which must be altogether wrong.

[153] Will. Fitz-Steph. as above.

[154] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 52. E. Grim (Robertson, _Becket_,

vol. ii.), p. 391. Cf. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 42, and

Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 51.

[155] Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), p. 51.

[156] _Ibid._ Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), p. 297. Will. Cant.

(_ib._ vol. i.), p. 30. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 391.

Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 42. Garnier (Hippeau), p. 52.

_Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. p. 18. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs),

vol. i. p. 183. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 313. The

actual sentence was forfeiture of all his moveable goods _ad

misericordiam_--commuted according to custom; cf. Herb. Bosh.

and Gerv. Cant., as above, with Will. Fitz-Steph. (as above),

p. 62. Garnier makes the sum three hundred pounds; Will. Cant.,

fifty; E. Grim, the Anon. I. and R. Diceto, five hundred.

[157] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 52. E. Grim (as above), p. 391.

Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 43.

[158] This must be the meaning of Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol.

iii.), p. 53, compared with R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. pp.

313, 314.

[159] Will. Fitz-Steph. as above.

[160] The demand is stated by Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ibid._) as

“de quingentis marcis ex causâ commodati in exercitu Tolosæ,

et aliis quingentis marcis ex causâ fidejussionis regis pro eo

erga quendam Judæum ibidem.” This would make the total amount

£666: 3: 8. Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), p. 298, and the _Thomas

Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. p. 189, make it five hundred pounds.

[161] Herb. Bosh. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), pp. 298,

299.

[162] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 53. Will. Cant. (Robertson,

_Becket_, vol. i.), p. 31. Joh. Salisb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), p.

312. E. Grim (_ibid._), p. 392. Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol.

iii.), p. 54. Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), p. 299. Anon. I. (_ib._

vol. iv.), p. 43. Anon. II. (_ibid._), p. 104. R. Diceto

(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 314. The total sum due was assessed

in the end at thirty thousand pounds, according to Garnier

(p. 65), Will. Cant. (p. 38), E. Grim (p. 396) and Anon. I.

(p. 49). Herb. Bosh., however (as above), makes it thirty

thousand marks (_i.e._ twenty thousand pounds). The _Thomas

Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. p. 191, says thirty thousand marks

“of burnt silver,” _i.e._ blanch; while Gilbert Foliot, when

reciting the story to the Pope’s legates in 1167, is reported

as stating it at forty-four thousand marks (£2933: 6: 8); Ep.

cccxxxix. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vi. p. 271). Herb. Bosh.

(as above) places this demand on the Saturday morning, and the

whole history of the three days, Friday-Sunday, October 9–11,

is somewhat confused by the discordant notes of time given by

the various biographers. I have followed Will. Fitz-Steph., who

is the most self-consistent and apparently the most trustworthy.

At this crushing demand the archbishop’s courage gave way, and he

threw himself at the king’s feet in despair. All the bishops did

likewise, but in vain; Henry swore “by God’s Eyes” that he would

have the accounts in full. He granted, however, a respite till the

morrow,[163] and Thomas spent the next morning in consultation

with his suffragans.[164] Gilbert of London advised unconditional

surrender;[165] Henry of Winchester, who had already withstood

the king to his face the night before,[166] strongly opposed this

view,[167] and suggested that the matter should be compromised by an

offer of two thousand marks. This the king rejected.[168] After long

deliberation[169] it was decided--again at the suggestion of Bishop

Henry--that Thomas should refuse to entertain the king’s demands on

the ground of the release from all secular obligations granted to him

at his consecration. This answer was carried by the bishops in a body

to the king. He refused to accept it, declaring that the release had

been given without his authority; and all that the bishops could wring

from him was a further adjournment till the Monday morning.[170] In

the middle of Sunday night the highly-strung nervous organization of

Thomas broke down under the long cruel strain; the morning found him

lying in helpless agony, and with great difficulty he obtained from

the king another day’s delay.[171] Before it expired a warning reached

him from the court that if he appeared there he must expect nothing

short of imprisonment or death.[172] A like rumour spread through the

council, and at dawn the bishops in a body implored their primate to

give up the hopeless struggle and throw himself on the mercy of the

king. He refused to betray his Church by accepting a sentence which

he believed to be illegal as well as unjust, forbade the bishops to

take any further part in his trial, gave them notice of an appeal

to Rome if they should do so, and charged them on their canonical

obedience to excommunicate at once whatever laymen should dare to sit

in judgement upon him.[173] Against this last command the bishop of

London instantly appealed.[174] All then returned to the court, except

Henry of Winchester and Jocelyn of Salisbury, who lingered for a last

word of pleading or of sympathy.[175] When they too were gone, Thomas

went to the chapel of the monastery in which he was lodging--a small

Benedictine house dedicated to S. Andrew, just outside the walls of

Northampton--and with the utmost solemnity celebrated the mass of S.

Stephen with its significant introit: “Princes have sat and spoken

against me.” The mass ended, he mounted his horse, and escorted no

longer by a brilliant train of clerks and knights, but by a crowd of

poor folk full of sympathy and admiration, he rode straight to the

castle where the council awaited him.[176]

[163] Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 53, 54.

[164] Herb. Bosh. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), p. 300.

[165] Alan Tewkesb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), pp. 326, 327.

[166] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 54.

[167] Alan Tewkesb. (as above), p. 327.

[168] Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 54.

[169] The speeches of the bishops--interesting for studies of

character--are given at length by Alan Tewkesb. (as above), pp.

327, 328. Cf. the account in _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i.

pp. 193–199.

[170] Will. Cant. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. i.), p. 31. E.

Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 392. Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.),

p. 300. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 43. Anon. II. (_ibid._),

pp. 104, 105. Alan Tewkesb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), pp. 328, 329,

has a slightly different version; in this, and also in _Thomas

Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. pp. 199–201, Gilbert Foliot wins the

respite by a daring misrepresentation of Thomas’s answer to the

king. I have followed Herbert’s reckoning of the days here, as

it fits in with that of Will. Fitz-Steph., who seems the best

guide in this matter.

[171] Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 55, 56. Will. Cant. (as above),

p. 32. Alan Tewkesb. (_ib._ vol. ii.) pp. 329, 330. E. Grim

(_ibid._), pp. 392, 393. Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol. iii.),

p. 56. Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), pp. 300, 301. Anon. I. (_ib._

vol. iv.), p. 44. _Thomas Saga_ (as above), p. 203. Here again

I follow Will. Fitz-Steph. and Herbert as to the day.

[172] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 56. Will. Cant. as above. E. Grim

(_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 393. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 44.

_Thomas Saga_ as above.

[173] Will. Fitz-Steph. (as above), p. 62. Herb. Bosh.

(_ibid._), pp. 301–303. _Thomas Saga_ (as above), pp. 205–207.

[174] Herb. Bosh. (as above), p. 303. _Thomas Saga_ (as above),

p. 207. Some of the other biographers place this scene later

in the day, but we can hardly do otherwise than follow the two

eye-witnesses, William and Herbert.

[175] Herb. Bosh. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), p. 303.

Jocelyn’s after-conduct shewed that his sympathy with the

primate was not very deep.

[176] Will. Cant. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. i.), pp. 32, 34.

Alan Tewkesb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 330. E. Grim (_ibid._), p.

393. Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol. iii.), pp. 56, 57. Herb.

Bosh. (_ibid._), p. 304. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 45.

Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 56–60. _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol.

i. pp. 207–209.

At the gate he took his cross from the attendant who usually bore it,

and went forward alone to the hall where the bishops and barons were

assembled.[177] They fell back in amazement at the apparition of the

tall solitary figure, robed in full pontificals, and carrying the

crucifix like an uplifted banner prepared at once for defence and for

defiance; friends and opponents were almost equally shocked, and it

was not till he had passed through their midst and seated himself in a

corner of the hall that the bishops recovered sufficiently to gather

round him and intreat that he would give up his unbecoming burthen.

Thomas refused; “he would not lay down his standard, he would not part

with his shield.” “A fool you ever were, a fool I see you are still and

will be to the end,” burst out Gilbert Foliot at last, as after a long

argument he turned impatiently away.[178] The others followed him, and

the primate was left with only two companions, William Fitz-Stephen

and his own especial friend, Herbert of Bosham.[179] The king had

retired to an inner chamber and was there deliberating with his most

intimate counsellors[180] when the story of the primate’s entrance

reached his ears. He took it as an unpardonable insult, and caused

Thomas to be proclaimed a traitor. Warnings and threats ran confusedly

through the hall. The archbishop bent over the disciple sitting at

his feet:--“For thee I fear--yet fear not thou; even now mayest thou

share my crown.” The ardent encouragement with which Herbert answered

him[181] provoked one of the king’s marshals to interfere and forbid

that any one should speak to the “traitor.” William Fitz-Stephen, who

had been vainly striving to put in a gentle word, caught his primate’s

eyes and pointed to the crucifix, intrusting to its silent eloquence

the lesson of patience and prayer which his lips were forbidden to

utter. When he and Thomas, after long separation, met again in the land

of exile, that speechless admonition seems to have been the first thing

which recurred to the minds of both.[182]

[177] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 60. Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson,

_Becket_, vol. iii.), p. 57. Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), p. 304.

Alan Tewkesb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 330. _Thomas Saga_ (as

above), p. 209.

[178] Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 60, 61. Will. Cant. (as above), p.

34. Alan Tewkesb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 330. E. Grim (_ibid._),

p. 394. Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 57. Herb. Bosh.

(_ibid._), pp. 305, 306. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), pp. 46, 47.

_Thomas Saga_ (as above), pp. 211–213.

[179] Will. Cant. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. i.), p. 34. Herb.

Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 307. They only mention Herbert;

William’s presence appears in the sequel.

[180] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 61. Will. Cant. (as above), p.

35. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 394. Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol.

iii.), p. 305. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 47.

[181] Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), pp. 306–308.

[182] Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ibid._), p. 59.

In the chamber overhead, meanwhile, Henry had summoned the bishops

to a conference.[183] On receiving from them an account of their

morning’s interview with Thomas, he sent down to the latter his

ultimatum, requiring him to withdraw his appeal to Rome and his

commands to the bishops as contrary to the customs which he had sworn

to observe, and to submit to the judgement of the king’s court on

the chancery accounts. Seated, with eyes fixed on the cross, Thomas

quietly but firmly refused. His refusal was reported to the king,

who grew fiery-red with rage, caught eagerly at the barons’ proposal

that the archbishop should be judged for contempt of his sovereign’s

jurisdiction in appealing from it to another tribunal, and called

upon the bishops to join in his condemnation.[184] York, London

and Chichester proposed that they should cite him before the Pope

instead, on the grounds of perjury at Clarendon and unjust demands on

their obedience.[185] To this Henry consented; the appeal was uttered

by Hilary of Chichester in the name of all, and in most insulting

terms;[186] and the bishops sat down opposite their primate to await

the sentence of the lay barons.[187]

[183] _Ib._ p. 57. Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol. i.), p. 35. Alan

Tewkesb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 331. Garnier (Hippeau), p. 62.

[184] Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 65, 66. Will. Cant. (Robertson,

_Becket_, vol. i.), pp. 36–38. Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol.

iii.), pp. 62–65. Cf. _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. pp.

213–217.

[185] Will. Cant. (as above), p. 37. In the versions of E.

Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 396, Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.),

p. 308, and the _Thomas Saga_ (as above), p. 217, they bluntly

bargain to be let off from actually sitting in judgement on

their primate in consideration of a promise to stand by the

king against him for ever after.

[186] Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), pp.

65, 66. Alan Tewkesb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), pp. 331, 332. According

to Alan, Thomas answered but one word--“I hear”; according to

William, he condescended to make a long speech. Cf. Anon. I.

(_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 49.

[187] Alan Tewkesb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 332.

What that sentence was no one outside the royal council-chamber ever

really knew. It was one thing to determine it there and another to

deliver it to its victim, sitting alone and unmoved with the sign of

victory in his hand. With the utmost reluctance and hesitation the old

justiciar, Earl Robert of Leicester, came to perform his odious task.

At the word “judgement” Thomas started up, with uplifted crucifix and

flashing eyes, forbade the speaker to proceed, and solemnly appealed to

the protection of the court of Rome. The justiciar and his companions

retired in silence.[188] “I too will go, for the hour is past,” said

Thomas.[189] Cross in hand he strode past the speechless group of

bishops into the outer hall; the courtiers followed him with a torrent

of insults, which were taken up by the squires and serving-men outside;

as he stumbled against a pile of faggots set ready for the fire, Ralf

de Broc rushed upon him with a shout of “Traitor! traitor!”[190] The

king’s half-brother, Count Hameline, echoed the cry;[191] but he shrank

back at the primate’s retort--“Were I a knight instead of a priest,

this hand should prove thee a liar!”[192] Amid a storm of abuse Thomas

made his way into the court-yard and sprang upon his horse, taking up

his faithful Herbert behind him.[193] The outer gate was locked, but a

squire of the archbishop managed to find the keys.[194] Whether there

was any real intention of stopping his egress it seems impossible

to determine; the king and his counsellors were apparently too much

puzzled to do anything but let matters take their course; Henry indeed

sent down a herald to quell the disturbance and forbid all violence to

the primate;[195] but the precaution came too late. Once outside the

gates, Thomas had no need of such protection. From the mob of hooting

enemies within he passed into the midst of a crowd of poor folk who

pressed upon him with every demonstration of rapturous affection; in

every street as he rode along the people came out to throw themselves

at his feet and beg his blessing.

[188] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 67. Will. Cant. (as above), pp.

38, 39. Alan Tewkesb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), pp. 332, 333. E. Grim

(_ibid._), pp. 397, 398. Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol. iii.),

pp. 67, 68. Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), pp. 309, 310. Anon. I.

(_ib._ vol. iv.), pp. 50, 51. Cf. _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson),

vol. i. p. 221, where the altercation is longer, but comes to

the same end.

[189] Anon. I. (as above), p. 51.

[190] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 68. Will. Cant. (Robertson,

_Becket_, vol. i.), p. 39. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 398.

Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), pp. 51, 52. Cf. Will. Fitz-Steph.

(_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 68.

[191] Garnier and Will. Cant. as above. Anon. I. (as above), p.

52.

[192] Anon. I. as above. Cf. Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p.

310. There is a different version in Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol.

i.), pp. 39, 40.

[193] Will. Fitz-Steph. as above. Of his own escape William

says nothing; but we know from a passage later in the same page

that he soon rejoined his primate.

[194] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 69. Cf. Will. Cant. (as above), p.

40; Alan Tewkesb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 333; Anon. I. (_ib._

vol. iv.), p. 52; and _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. p. 222.

[195] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 70. Will. Fitz-Steph. (as above),

p. 69. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 399.

It was with these poor folk that he supped that night, for his own

household, all save a chosen few, now hastened to take leave of

him.[196] Through the bishops of Rochester, Hereford and Worcester he

requested of the king a safe-conduct for his journey to Canterbury;

the king declined to answer till the morrow.[197] The primate’s

suspicions were aroused. He caused his bed to be laid in the church, as

if intending to spend the night in prayer.[198] At cock-crow the monks

came and sang their matins in an under-tone for fear of disturbing

their weary guest;[199] but his chamberlain was watching over an empty

couch. At dead of night Thomas had made his escape with two canons of

Sempringham and a faithful squire of his own, named Roger of Brai. A

violent storm of rain helped to cover their flight,[200] and it was not

till the middle of the next day that king and council discovered that

the primate was gone.

[196] Alan Tewkesb. (as above), p. 333. E. Grim (_ibid._), p.

399. Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 310. Anon. I. (_ib._

vol. iv.), p. 52. Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol. i.), p. 40. Garnier,

as above.

[197] Alan Tewkesb. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. ii.), p. 334.

Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 69. Herb. Bosh.

(_ibid._), p. 312.

[198] Alan Tewkesb. and Will. Fitz-Steph. as above. Will. Cant.

(_ib._ vol. i.), p. 40. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 53.

Garnier (Hippeau), p. 70. _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. p.

229.

[199] Garnier, as above.

[200] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 71. E. Grim (Robertson, _Becket_,

vol. ii.), p. 399. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), pp. 53, 54. Cf.

Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol. i.), p. 40, Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._

vol. iii.), p. 69, and Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._) p. 312.

“God’s blessing go with him!” murmured with a sigh of relief the

aged Bishop Henry of Winchester. “We have not done with him yet!”

cried the king. He at once issued orders that all the ports should

be watched to prevent Thomas from leaving the country,[201] and that

the temporalities of the metropolitan see should be left untouched

pending an appeal to the Pope[202] which he despatched the archbishop

of York and the bishops of London, Worcester, Exeter and Chichester

to prosecute without delay.[203] They sailed from Dover on All Souls

day;[204] that very night Thomas, after three weeks of adventurous

wanderings, guarded with the most devoted vigilance by the brethren

of Sempringham, embarked in a little boat from Sandwich; next day he

landed in Flanders;[205] and after another fortnight’s hiding he

made his way safe to Soissons, where the king of France, disregarding

an embassy sent by Henry to prevent him, welcomed him with open

arms. He hurried on to Sens, where the Pope was now dwelling; the

appellant bishops had preceded him, but Alexander was deaf to their

arguments.[206] Thomas laid at the Pope’s feet his copy of the

Constitutions of Clarendon; they were read, discussed and solemnly

condemned in full consistory.[207] The exiled primate withdrew to a

shelter which his friend Bishop John of Poitiers had secured for him in

the Cistercian abbey of Pontigny in Burgundy.[208] On Christmas-eve,

at Marlborough, Henry’s envoys reported to him the failure of their

mission. On S. Stephen’s day Henry confiscated the whole possessions of

the metropolitan see, of the primate himself and of all his clerks, and

ordered all his kindred and dependents, clerical or lay, to be banished

from the realm.[209]

[201] Anon. I. (as above), p. 55.

[202] Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 70. Herb. Bosh.

(_ibid._), p. 322.

[203] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 79. Alan Tewkesb. (as above), p.

336. E. Grim (_ibid._), p. 402. Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol.

iii.), p. 70. Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), p. 323. Anon. I. (_ib._

vol. iv.), pp. 60, 61. _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. p.

261.

[204] Will. Fitz-Steph. as above.

[205] Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 71–74. E. Grim (as above), pp.

399, 400. Alan Tewkesb. (_ibid._), p. 335. Will. Fitz-Steph.

(_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 70. Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), pp. 323–325.

Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), pp. 54, 55. _Thomas Saga_

(Magnusson), vol. i. p. 245. Here again there is a confusion

about the date.

[206] Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 74–81. Will. Cant. (Robertson,

_Becket_, vol. i.), pp. 42–46. Alan Tewkesb. (_ib._ vol. ii.),

pp. 335–341. E. Grim (_ibid._), pp. 400–403. Will. Fitz-Steph.

(_ib._ vol. iii.), pp. 70–74. Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), pp.

325–340. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), pp. 57–61. Cf. _Thomas

Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. pp. 265–289.

[207] Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 82–84. Will. Cant. (as above),

p. 46. Alan Tewkesb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), pp. 341, 342. E. Grim

(_ibid._), pp. 403, 404. Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), pp.

340–342. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), pp. 61–64. The formal

record of these proceedings is the edition of the Constitutions

included among the collected letters of S. Thomas--Ep. xlv.

(_ib._ vol. v. pp. 71–79), in which there is appended to each

article the Pope’s verdict--“Hoc toleravit” or “Hoc damnavit.”

The tolerated articles are 2, 6, 11, 13, 14 and 16. Alan of

Tewkesbury, who first collected the letters of S. Thomas, was

for some years a canon of Benevento, and probably got this

annotated copy of the Constitutions from Lombard, who had been

in Thomas’s suite as one of his _eruditi_ during this visit to

Sens, and who was archbishop of Benevento at the time of Alan’s

residence there.

[208] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 90. Will. Cant. (as above), p. 46.

Joh. Salisb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 313. Alan Tewkesb. (_ibid._),

p. 345. E. Grim (_ibid._), p. 404. Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._

vol. iii.), p. 76. Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), p. 357. Anon. I.

(_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 64. Anon. II. (_ibid._), p. 109. Cf. Ep.

lx. (_ib._ vol. v.), p. 114.

[209] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 91. Will. Cant. (as above), pp.

46, 47. Joh. Salisb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), pp. 313, 314. E. Grim

(_ibid._), p. 404. Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p.

75. Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), p. 359. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.),

p. 65. The dates are from Will. Fitz-Steph. The _Thomas Saga_

(Magnusson), vol. i. pp. 347–349, puts this banishment too late

in the story.

NOTE A.

THE COUNCIL OF WOODSTOCK.

The usual view of the council of Woodstock--a view founded on

contemporary accounts and endorsed by Bishop Stubbs (_Constit. Hist._,

vol. i. p. 462)--has been disputed on the authority of the Icelandic

_Thomas Saga_. This Saga represents the subject of the quarrel as

being, not a general levy of so much per hide throughout the country,

but a special tax upon the Church lands--nothing else, in fact, than

the “ungeld” which William Rufus had imposed on them to raise the money

paid to Duke Robert for his temporary cession of Normandy, and which

had been continued ever since. “We have read afore how King William

levied a due on all churches in the land, in order to repay him all

the costs at which his brother Robert did depart from the land. This

money the king said he had disbursed for the freedom of Jewry, and

therefore it behoved well the learned folk to repay it to their king.

But because the king’s court hath a mouth that holdeth fast, this due

continued from year to year. At first it was called Jerusalem tax, but

afterwards Warfare-due, for the king to keep up an army for the common

peace of the country. But at this time matters have gone so far, that

this due was exacted, as a king’s tax, from every house” [“monastery,”

editor’s note], “small and great, throughout England, under no other

name than an ancient tax payable into the royal treasury without any

reason being shown for it.” _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. p. 139.

Mr. Magnusson (_ib._ p. 138, note 7) thinks that this account “must

be taken as representing the true history of” the tax in question. In

his Preface (_ib._ vol. ii. pp. cvii–cviii) he argues that if the tax

had been one upon the tax-payers in general, “evidently the primate

had no right to interfere in such a matter, except so far as church

lands were concerned;” and he concludes that the version in the Saga

“gives a natural clue to the archbishop’s protest, which thus becomes

a protest only on behalf of the Church.” This argument hardly takes

sufficient account of the English primate’s constitutional position,

which furnishes a perfectly “natural clue” to his protest, supposing

that protest to have been made on behalf of the whole nation and not

only of the Church:--or rather, to speak more accurately, in behalf of

the Church in the true sense of that word--the sense which Theobald’s

disciples were always striving to give to it--as representing the

whole nation viewed in a spiritual aspect, and not only the clerical

order. Mr. Magnusson adds: “We have no doubt that the source of

the Icelandic Saga here is Robert of Cricklade, or ... Benedict of

Peterborough, who has had a better information on the subject than

the other authorities, which, it would seem, all have Garnier for a

primary source; but he, a foreigner, might very well be supposed to

have formed an erroneous view on a subject the history of which he did

not know, except by hearsay evidence” (_ib._ pp. cviii, cix). It might

be answered that the “hearsay evidence” on which Garnier founded his

view must have been evidence which he heard in England, where he is

known to have carefully collected the materials for his work (Garnier,

ed. Hippeau, pp. 6, 205, 206), and that his view is entitled to just as

much consideration as that of the Icelander, founded upon the evidence

of Robert or Benedict;--that of the three writers who follow Garnier,

two, William of Canterbury and Edward Grim, were English (William

of Canterbury may have been Irish by birth, but he was English by

education and domicile) and might therefore have been able to check any

errors caused by the different nationality of their guide:--and that

even if the case resolved itself into a question between the authority

of Garnier and that of Benedict or Robert (which can hardly be

admitted), they would be of at least equal weight, and the balance of

intrinsic probability would be on Garnier’s side. For his story points

directly to the Danegeld; and we have the indisputable witness of the

Pipe Rolls that the Danegeld, in some shape or other, was levied at

intervals throughout the Norman reigns and until the year 1163, when it

vanished for ever. On the other hand, the Red King’s “ungeld” upon the

Church lands, like all his other “ungelds,” certainly died with him;

and nothing can well be more unlikely than that Henry II. in the very

midst of his early reforms should have reintroduced, entirely without

excuse and without necessity, one of the most obnoxious and unjust of

the measures which had been expressly abolished in “the time of his

grandfather King Henry.”

NOTE B.

THE COUNCIL OF CLARENDON.

There is some difficulty as to both the date and the duration of this

council. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs, vol. i. p. 176) gives the date of meeting

as January 13; R. Diceto (Stubbs, vol. i. p. 312) as January 25; while

the official copy of the Constitutions (_Summa Causæ_, Robertson,

_Becket_, vol. iv. p. 208; Stubbs, _Select Charters_, p. 140) gives

the closing day as January 30 (“_quartâ die ante Purificationem S.

Mariæ_”). As to the duration of the council, we learn from Herb. Bosh.

(Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii. p. 279) and Gerv. Cant. (as above, p.

178) that there was an adjournment of at least one night; while Gilbert

Foliot (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v. Ep. ccxxv. pp. 527–529) says

“Clarendonæ ... continuato triduo id solum actum est ut observandarum

regni consuetudinum et dignitatum a nobis fieret absoluta promissio;”

and that “die vero tertio,” after a most extraordinary scene, Thomas

“antiquas regni consuetudines antiquorum memoriâ in commune propositas

et scripto commendatas, de cætero domino nostro regi se fideliter

observaturum in verbo veritatis absolute promittens, in vi nobis

injunxit obedientiæ sponsione simili nos obligare.” This looks at first

glance as if meant to describe the closing scene of the council, in

which case its whole duration would be limited to three days. But it

seems possible to find another interpretation which would enable us to

reconcile all the discordant dates, by understanding Gilbert’s words

as referring to the verbal discussion at the opening of the council,

before the written Constitutions were produced at all. Gilbert does

indeed expressly mention “customs committed to writing”; but this may

very easily be a piece of confusion either accidental or intentional.

On this supposition the chronology may be arranged as follows:--The

council meets on January 13 (Gerv. Cant.). That day and the two

following are spent in talking over the primate; towards evening of the

third--which will be January 15--he yields, and the bishops with him

(Gilb. Foliot). Then they begin to discuss what they have promised;

the debate warms and lengthens; Thomas, worn out with his three days’

struggle and seeing the rocks ahead, begs for a respite till the morrow

(Herb. Bosh.). On that morrow--_i.e._ January 16--Henry issues his

commission to the “elders,” and the council remains in abeyance till

they are ready with their report. None of our authorities tell us how

long an interval elapsed between the issue of the royal commission and

its report. Herbert, indeed, seems to imply that the discussion on

the constitutions began one night and the written report was brought

up next day. But this is only possible on the supposition that it had

been prepared secretly beforehand, of which none of the other writers

shew any suspicion. If the thing was not prepared beforehand, it must

have taken some time to do; and even if it was, the king and the

commissioners would surely, for the sake of appearances, make a few

days’ delay to give a shew of reality to their investigations. Nine

days is not too much to allow for preparation of the report. On January

25, then, it is brought up, and the real business of the council begins

in earnest on the day named by R. Diceto. And if Thomas fought over

every one of the sixteen constitutions in the way of which Herbert

gives us a specimen, six days more may very well have been spent in the

discussion, which would thus end, as the _Summa Causæ_ says, on January

30.

CHAPTER II.

HENRY AND ROME.

1164–1172.

With the archbishop’s flight into France the struggle between him

and the king entered upon a new phase. Its intrinsic importance was

almost entirely lost, and it became simply an element in the wider

questions of general European politics. In England Thomas’s departure

left Henry sole master of the field; the Constitutions of Clarendon

were put in force without delay and without difficulty; a year later

they were followed up by an Assize, significantly issued from the same

place, which laid the foundations of the whole later English system of

procedure in criminal causes; and thenceforth the work of legal and

judicial reform went on almost without a break, totally unaffected

by the strife which continued to rage between king and primate for

the next five years. The social condition of the country was only

indirectly affected by it. The causes which had ostensibly given rise

to it--the principle involved in the acceptance or rejection of the

Constitutions--did not appeal strongly to the national mind, and had

already become obscured and subordinated to the personal aspect which

the quarrel had assumed at Northampton. As in the case of Anselm,

it was on this personal aspect alone that popular feeling really

fastened; and in this point of view the advantage was strongly on the

archbishop’s side. Thomas, whose natural gifts had already made him a

sort of popular idol, was set by the high-handed proceedings of the

council in the light of a victim of regal tyranny; and the sweeping and

cruel proscriptions inflicted upon all who were in the remotest way

connected with him tended still further to excite popular sympathy for

his wrongs and turn it away from his persecutor. But the sympathy was

for the individual, not for the cause. The principle of the clerical

immunities had no hold upon the minds of the people or even of the

clergy at large. Even among the archbishop’s own personal friends,

almost the only men who clave to it with anything like the same ardour

as himself were his two old comrades of the _Curia Theobaldi_, Bishop

John of Poitiers and John of Salisbury; and even the devotion of

John of Salisbury, which is one of the brightest jewels in Becket’s

crown, was really the devotion of friend to friend, of Churchman to

primate, of a generous, chivalrous soul to what seemed the oppressed

and down-trodden side, rather than the devotion of a partizan to party

principle. Herbert of Bosham, the primate’s shadow and second self,

who clave to his side through good report and evil report and looked

upon him as a hero and a martyr from first to last, was nevertheless

the author of the famous verdict which all the searching criticism of

later times has never yet been able to amend: “Both parties had a zeal

for God; which zeal was according to knowledge, His judgement alone can

determine.”[210]

[210] Herb. Bosh. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.) p. 273. The

whole passage from “O rex et o pontifex” to “judicium” (pp.

272, 273) should be compared with the admirable commentary of

Will. Newb., l. ii. c. 16 (Howlett, vol. i. pp. 140–141).

Cool, dispassionate thinkers like Gilbert Foliot, on the other hand,

while inclining towards the cause which Thomas had at heart, recoiled

from his mode of upholding it as little less than suicidal. In

Gilbert’s view it was Thomas who had betrayed those “rights of his

order” which he proclaimed so loudly, by forsaking the attitude of

passive resistance which the bishops had adopted at Westminster and

in which they were practically unassailable, and staking everything

upon the king’s good faith, without security, in the meeting at Oxford

and the council at Clarendon:--it was Thomas who by his subsequent

conduct--his rash attempts at flight, his rapid changes of front at

Northampton in first admitting and then denying the royal jurisdiction,

his final insult to the king in coming to the council cross in hand,

and his undignified departure from the realm--had frustrated the

efforts whereby wiser and cooler heads might have brought the king to

a better mind and induced him to withdraw the Constitutions:--and it

was not Thomas, but his suffragans, left to bear the brunt of a storm

which they had neither deserved nor provoked, who were really in a

fair way to become confessors and martyrs for a Church brought into

jeopardy by its own primate.[211] Gilbert in fact saw clearly that

the importance of the point at issue between king and archbishop was

as nothing compared to the disastrous consequences which must result

from their protracted strife. It threatened nothing less than ruin to

the intellectual and religious revival which Theobald had fostered so

carefully and so successfully. The best hopes of the movement were

bound up with the alliance between Church and state which had been

cemented at Henry’s accession; that alliance was now destroyed; instead

of the Church’s most valuable fellow-worker, the king had been made her

bitter foe; and the work of revival was left to be carried on--if it

could be carried on at all--in the teeth of the royal opposition and

without a leader, while the man who should have directed it was only

a perpetual stumbling-block in the path of those who had to supply

as best they could the place left deserted by his flight. It was

upon Gilbert of London that this burthen chiefly fell; and it is in

Gilbert’s position that we may find a key to the subsequent direction

of the controversy, as far as England was concerned.

[211] Ep. ccxxv. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v.), pp. 526 _et

seq._

For full twenty years before Becket’s rise to the primacy Gilbert

Foliot had been one of the most respected members of the reforming

party in the English Church. While Thomas was a worldly young subdeacon

in the household of Archbishop Theobald, while as chancellor he was

outshining the king in luxurious splendour or riding in coat of

mail at the head of his troops, Gilbert was setting the pattern of

ecclesiastical discipline and furnishing the steadiest and most

valued assistance to the primate’s schemes of reform. Trained no

less than Henry of Winchester in the old Cluniac traditions of

ecclesiastical authority, his credit had never been shaken by rashness

and inconsistency such as had marred Henry’s labours; and it would

have been neither strange nor blameworthy if he had cherished a hope

of carrying on Theobald’s work as Theobald’s successor. Gilbert,

however, solemnly denied that he had ever sought after or desired

the primacy;[212] and his conduct does not seem to furnish any just

ground for assuming the falsehood of the denial. His opposition to

the election of Thomas was thoroughly consistent with his position

and known views; equally so was the support and co-operation which

Thomas, as soon as he was fairly launched into his new course of

action, anxiously sought to obtain from him, and which he for a while

steadily gave. He had begun to find such co-operation difficult even

before the question of the clerical immunities arose at the council of

Westminster. On that question, in itself, the primate and the bishop

of London were at one; but they differed completely in their way of

treating it. To the impulsive, short-sighted, downright Thomas it was

the one, sole, all-absorbing question of life and death; to the calm,

far-seeing, cautious Gilbert it was a provoking hindrance--raised

up partly by the primate’s own bad management--to the well-being of

interests far too serious and too wide-reaching to be imperilled for a

mere point of administrative detail. He took up his position definitely

at the council of Northampton. The customs being once accepted, he held

it the true Churchman’s duty to obey them, to make the best and not

the worst of them, while desiring and labouring for their abrogation,

but only by pacific means. A temporary submission was the least of two

evils. It was infinitely safer to bend to the storm and trust to the

influences of time and conciliation for turning the mind of the king,

than to run the risk of driving him into irreconcileable hostility

to the Church. For hostility to the Church meant something far worse

now than in the days when William Rufus and Henry I. had set up their

regal authority against primate and Pope. It meant a widening of the

schism which was rending western Christendom in twain; it meant the

accession of the whole Angevin dominions to the party of the Emperor

and the anti-Pope, and the severance of all the ties between the

English Church and her continental sisters which Theobald, Eugene and

Adrian had laboured so diligently to secure.

[212] Ep. ccxxv. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v.), pp. 522, 523.

The dread of this catastrophe explains also the attitude of the

Pope. In the long dreary tale of negotiation and intrigue which has

to be traced through the maze of the Becket correspondence, the

most inconsistent and self-contradictory, the most undecided and

undignified, the most unsatisfactory and disappointing part of all

is that played by Alexander III. It is however only fair to remember

that, in this and in all like cases, the Pope’s part was also the

most difficult one. No crown in Christendom pressed so sorely on its

wearer’s brow as the triple tiara:--“It may well look bright,” Adrian

IV. had been wont to say to his friend John of Salisbury, “for it is

a crown of fire!” Adrian indeed, though his short reign was one of

marked vigour and prosperity, declared that if he had had any idea of

the thorns with which S. Peter’s chair was filled, he would have begged

his bread in England or remained buried in the cloisters of S. Rufus

to the end of his days sooner than thrust himself into such a thicket

of troubles.[213] For it was not only “the care of all the churches”

that rested upon a medieval Pope, but the care of all the states as

well. The court of Rome had grown into the final court of appeal for

all Christendom; the Pope was expected to be the universal referee,

arbitrator and peacemaker of Europe, to hold the balance between

contending parties, to penetrate and disentangle the intricacies of

political situations which baffled the skill of the most experienced

diplomatists, to exercise a sort of equitable jurisdiction on a vast

scale over the whole range of political as well as social life.

Earlier and later pontiffs may have voluntarily brought this burthen

upon themselves; most of the Popes of the twelfth century, at any

rate, seem to have groaned under it as a weight too heavy for any

human strength to bear. Unprincipled as their policy often seemed,

there was not a little justice in the view of John of Salisbury, that

a position so exceptional could not be brought within the scope of

ordinary rules of conduct, and that only those who had themselves felt

its difficulties could be really competent to judge it at all.[214]

Adrian’s energetic spirit was worn out by it in four years;[215] yet

his position was easy compared to that of Alexander III. Alexander

was a pontiff without a throne, the head of a Church in captivity and

exile; dependent on the support of the most selfish and untrustworthy

of living sovereigns; with Italy and Germany arrayed against him under

the rule of a schismatic Emperor, and with the fidelity of the Angevin

house hanging upon a thread which the least strain, the lightest touch,

might break at any moment. Moreover Alexander was no Englishman like

his predecessor. He had no inborn comprehension and no experience of

the ways and tempers of the north; he had no bosom-friend, no John of

Salisbury, to stand as interpreter between him and the Angevin king or

the English primate; he understood neither of them, and he was almost

equally afraid of both. His chief anxiety was to have as little as

possible to do with them and their quarrel, and the fugitive archbishop

was to him anything but a welcome guest.

[213] Joh. Salisb. _Polycrat._, l. viii. c. 23 (Giles, vol. iv.

p. 367).

[214] Joh. Salisb., _Polycrat._, l. viii. c. 23 (Giles, vol.

iv. p. 363).

[215] _Ibid._ (pp. 366, 367). “Licet nihil aliud lædat, necesse

est ut citissime vel solo labore deficiat [sc. Papa].... Dum

superest, ipsum interroga.” This was written early in 1159, and

in August Adrian died.

It was of course impossible for the Pope to withhold his sympathy and

his support from a prelate who came to him as a confessor for the

privileges of the Church. But it was equally impossible for him to run

the risk of driving Henry and his dominions into schism by espousing

Thomas’s cause as decisively as Thomas himself desired. Placed thus in

what Adrian had once declared to be the ordinary position of a Roman

pontiff--“between hammer and anvil”--Alexander drifted into a policy

of shifts and contradictions, tergiversations and double-dealings,

which irritated Henry and which Thomas simply failed to comprehend. If

Gilbert Foliot and Arnulf of Lisieux could have succeeded in their

efforts to induce the contending parties to accept a compromise, the

Pope would have been only too glad to sanction it. But it was useless

to talk of compromise where Thomas Becket was concerned. To all the

remoter consequences, the ultimate bearings of the quarrel, he was

totally blind. For him there was but one question in the world, the

one directly before him; it could have but two sides, right and

wrong, between which all adjustment was impossible, and with which

considerations of present expediency or future consequences had nothing

to do. All Gilbert’s arguments for surrender, his solemn warnings of

the peril of schism, his pleadings that it was better for the English

Church to become for a while a sickly member of the ecclesiastical

body than to be cut off from it altogether,[216] Thomas looked upon,

at best, as proposals for doing evil that good might come. After his

humiliating experience at Clarendon he seems to have felt that he

was no match for Henry’s subtlety; his flight was evidently caused

chiefly by dread of being again entrapped into a betrayal of what

he held to be his duty; and once, in an agony of self-reproach and

self-distrust, he laid his archiepiscopal ring at the Pope’s feet

and prayed to be released from the burthen of an office for which he

felt himself unworthy and unfit.[217] Strong as was the temptation to

pacify Henry thus easily, Alexander felt that the Church could not

allow such a sacrifice of her champion; and Thomas never again swerved

from his determination to be satisfied with nothing short of complete

surrender on the part of the king. For this one object he laboured,

pleaded, argued, censured, during the next six years without ceasing;

his own suffragans, the monastic orders, Pope, cardinals, the Empress

Matilda, the king of France, none of them had a moment’s peace from his

passionate endeavours to press them into a service which he seemed

to expect them all to regard as a matter of life and death not merely

for England but for all Christendom. Doubtless it was a sad waste of

energy and a sad perversion of enthusiasm; yet the enthusiasm contrasts

pathetically, almost heroically, with the spirit in which it was met.

There was something noble, if there was also something exasperatingly

unpractical, in a man who, absorbed in his devotion to one mistaken

idea, never even saw that he and his cause were becoming the pretexts

and the tools of half the political intrigues of Europe, and whom the

experience of a lifetime failed to teach that all the world was not as

single-hearted as himself. Intellectually, a mind thus constituted must

needs provoke and deserve the impatient scorn of a cool clear brain

such as Gilbert Foliot’s; but its very intellectual weakness was the

source of its true strength. It is this dogged adherence to one fixed

idea, this simplicity of aim, which appeals to the average crowd of

mankind far more strongly than the larger and more statesmanlike temper

of men like Foliot, or like Henry himself. Whether or no the cause be

worthy--whether or no the zeal be according to knowledge--it is the

zealot, not the philosopher, who becomes the popular hero and martyr.

[216] Ep. cviii. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v.), p. 207.

[217] Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol. i.), p. 46; Alan Tewkesb.

(_ib._ vol. ii.), pp. 342, 343; E. Grim (_ibid._), p. 403;

Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 76; _Thomas Saga_

(Magnusson), vol. i. pp. 305–313. Will. Newb., l. ii. c. 16

(Howlett, vol. i. p. 140), gives this scene as having occurred,

“ut dicitur,” at the council of Tours.

From the moment of Thomas’s arrival in France, then, little though he

perceived it himself, the direct question at issue between him and the

king became in every point of view save his own entirely subordinate

to the indirect consequences of their quarrel; the ecclesiastical

interest became secondary to the political, which involved matters of

grave importance to all Europe. The one person to whom the archbishop’s

flight was most thoroughly welcome was Louis of France. Louis and

Henry were nominally at peace; but to Louis their alliance was simply

a shield behind which he could plan without danger his schemes for

undermining Henry’s power on the continent, and no better tool for this

purpose could possibly have fallen into his hands than the fugitive

archbishop of Canterbury. Thomas had indeed just enough perception

of the state of affairs between the two kings--of which he must have

acquired considerable experience in his chancellor days--to choose

going to live on his own resources at Pontigny rather than accept the

hospitality of his sovereign’s enemy.[218] This arrangement probably

delighted Louis, for it furnished him with a safe answer to Henry’s

complaints and remonstrances about harbouring the “traitor”--Thomas

was in sanctuary in a Cistercian abbey in Burgundy, and France was

not harbouring him at all; while the welcome which Louis gave to the

primate’s exiled friends and the sympathy which he displayed for their

cause heightened his own reputation for devotion to the Church and

served as a foil to set off more conspicuously the supposed hostility

of Henry. To Louis in short the quarrel was something which might turn

to his own advantage by helping to bring Henry into difficulties; and

he used it accordingly with a skill peculiar to himself, making a great

shew of disinterested zeal and friendly mediation, and all the while

taking care that the breach should be kept open till its healing was

required for his own interest.

[218] Anon. II. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iv.), p. 109.

With such an onlooker as this Henry knew that he must play his

game with the utmost caution. He had been provoked by the personal

opposition of his old friend into standing upon his regal dignity more

stiffly than he would have thought it worth while to do so long as

it remained unchallenged. On his side, too, there was a principle at

stake, and he could not give it up unconditionally; but he might have

been induced to accept a compromise, had not the obstinacy of Thomas

forced him into a corresponding attitude of unbending determination.

So keen was his sense of the danger attendant upon the fugitive

archbishop’s presence in France that it led him to postpone once

more the work which he had been planning in England and cross over

to Normandy again early in 1165.[219] Lent was passed in fruitless

attempts to bring about a triple conference between the two kings

and the Pope; Henry refused to allow Thomas to be present; Thomas

begged the Pope not to expose himself to Henry’s wiles without him

who alone could help him to see through them; and Alexander, now busy

with preparations for his return to Rome, was probably not sorry to

escape by declaring that for a temporal prince to dictate who should

or who should not form part of the Pope’s suite was a claim which had

never been heard of before and which he could not possibly admit.[220]

Immediately after Easter he set out on his journey homewards.

[219] Rob. Torigni, a. 1165.

[220] Alan Tewkesb. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. ii.), pp. 346,

347; evidently taken from the Pope’s own letter, extant only in

the Icelandic version, in _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. p.

329.

The rival party saw their opportunity and seized it without delay.

Their fortunes were now at a very low ebb; the antipope Victor had died

in April; his chief supporter, Cardinal Guy of Crema, had succeeded

him under the title of Paschal III.; but Italy had cast him off,

and even in Germany the tide was turning against him. The Emperor,

however, clung with unwavering determination to his original policy;

and he at once saw in the English king’s quarrel with the Church a

means of gaining for Paschal’s cause what would amply compensate

for all that had been lost. Before Alexander was fairly out of the

French kingdom an embassy from Germany came to Henry at Rouen,

bringing proposals for an alliance to be secured by two marriages: one

between the English princess Matilda, Henry’s eldest daughter, and

the Emperor’s cousin Duke Henry of Saxony; the other between Henry’s

second daughter and Frederic’s own little son. The chief ambassador was

Reginald, archbishop-elect of Cöln, who from the time of Frederic’s

accession--two years before that of Henry--had been his chancellor and

confidential adviser, playing a part curiously like that of Thomas

Becket, till in the very year of the English chancellor’s removal to

Canterbury he was appointed to the see of Cöln. There the parallel

with Thomas ended; for Reginald was the most extreme champion of

the privileges not of the Church but of the Imperial Crown, and was

even more closely identified with the schismatic party than Frederic

himself. Henry sent him over to the queen, who had been left as regent

in England, to receive from her a formal promise of her daughter’s hand

to the duke of Saxony, in a great council convened at Westminster for

that purpose. The old justiciar Earl Robert of Leicester refused the

kiss of peace to the schismatic and caused the altars at which he had

celebrated to be thrown down,[221] thereby saving Henry from the fatal

blunder of committing himself publicly to the cause of the anti-pope,

and England from the dangers of open schism. But he could not prevent

the king from sending two clerks to a council which met at Würzburg

on Whit-Sunday to abjure Pope Alexander and acknowledge Paschal; and

although the fact was strenuously denied, it seems impossible to doubt

that they did take the oath at the Emperor’s hands in their master’s

name;[222] indeed, Reginald of Cöln boasted that Henry had promised to

make all the bishops in his dominions do the same.

[221] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 318. He mistakenly thinks

that the _king_ was at Westminster, and he also thinks the

embassy came in 1167. Its true date, 1165, is shown by the

letters referred to in next note.

[222] Epp. xcviii.–ci. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v. pp.

184–195). Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol. i.), pp. 52, 53. _Thomas

Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. p. 331.

A crisis seemed imminent, but Henry managed to avoid it. From the

Emperor’s solicitations, from the Pope’s remonstrances, from all

the pleadings of friends and all the intrigues of foes, he suddenly

made his escape by flying back to England and plunging into a Welsh

war which kept him all the summer safe out of their reach,[223] and

furnished him with an excuse for postponing indefinitely the completion

of his alliance with the schismatic party. Such an alliance would in

fact have cost far more than it was worth. Alexander was once more

safely seated upon S. Peter’s chair, and was urging Thomas to throw

himself wholly on the protection of the king of France; Louis was

in the highest state of triumph, rejoicing over the birth of his

long-desired son; while the whole Angevin dominions, which Eleanor

was governing in her husband’s absence, were full of suppressed

disaffection and surrounded with threatening or intriguing foes.[224]

In Lent 1166 therefore Henry hurried back to Normandy to hold a

conference with Louis, and, if possible, to free his own hands for the

work which lay before him.

[223] Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs, vol. i. p. 197) says Henry went

into Wales in 1165, “quo facilius domini Papæ vel etiam

Cantuariensis archiepiscopi ... declinaret sententiam.”

[224] “Movetur enim [rex] Francorum invidiâ, calumniisque

Flandrensium, Wallensium improbitate, Scottorum insidiis,

temeritate Britonum, Pictavorumque fœderibus, interioris

Aquitaniæ sumptibus, Gasconum levitate, et (quod gravius est)

simultate fere omnium quoscumque ditioni ejus constat esse

subjectos.” Ep. clxii. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v.), pp. 313,

314.

The work was in truth a vast and complex one. At the age of

thirty-three Henry was already planning out an elaborate scheme for

the future of his children and the distribution of his territories,

in which the election of his eldest son as joint-king in England was

but the first and least difficult step. Normandy and Anjou, as well as

England, had to be secured for little Henry; Aquitaine was if possible

to be settled upon Richard as his mother’s heir; for Geoffrey Henry was

bent upon acquiring the Breton duchy.[225] Conan IV., whom Henry had in

1158 established as duke of Britanny, had but one child, a daughter,

whose hand, together with the reversion of her father’s territories,

the king was anxious to secure for his son. This however required the

assent not only of Conan but of Louis of France, and also of the Breton

barons, who bitterly resented the Norman interference which had set

Conan as ruler over them, and were inclined to resist to the uttermost

an arrangement which would bring them still more directly under the

Norman yoke; while Louis was but too ready to encourage them in their

resistance. A campaign in the summer of 1166, however, another in

August 1167, and a third in the following spring so far broke their

opposition[226] that in May 1169 Geoffrey was sent into Britanny to

receive their homage as heir to the dukedom; three months later his

father joined him,[227] and at Christmas they held their court together

at Nantes,[228] whence they made a sort of triumphal progress through

the duchy, receiving homage and fealty wherever they went.[229]

[225] Will. Newb. l. ii. c. 18 (Howlett, vol. i. pp. 145, 146).

[226] On the Breton campaign of 1166 see R. Diceto (Stubbs),

vol. i. p. 329, and Rob. Torigni _ad ann._ Henry was near

Fougères on June 28 (Ep. ccix., Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v. p.

421); he was besieging Fougères itself on July 13–14 (Eyton,

_Itin. Hen. II._, p. 96). On the campaigns of 1167 and 1168

see Rob. Torigni _ad ann._, the meagre entries in a Breton

chronicle, a. 1168–1169 (Morice, _Hist. Bret., preuves_, vol.

i. col. 104; _Rer. Gall. Scriptt._, vol. xii. p. 560), and

Chron. S. Albin. a. 1167 (Marchegay, _Eglises_, p. 40), which

tells of Louis’s share in the matter. See also the account

of Henry’s correspondence with King Arthur in _Draco Norm._,

l. ii. cc. 17–22, vv. 941–1282 (Howlett, _Will. Newb._, vol.

ii. pp. 695–707). According to this writer, one of the Breton

leaders--“Arturi dapifer, Rollandus, consul et idem tunc

Britonum” (Mr. Howlett suggests that this may be Roland of

Dinan, _ib._ p. 696 note)--wrote a letter to Arthur imploring

his aid for Britanny, and received a reassuring answer; Henry

also received a long epistle from the blameless king, to which,

“subridens sociis, nil pavefactus,” (c. 21, v. 1218, p. 705)

he returned a polite and diplomatic answer. Unluckily the good

monk omits to say how the letters were conveyed, and gives us

no light upon the postal arrangements between Britanny and

Avalon--which by the way he places among “silvas ... Cornubiæ,

proxima castra loco,” whatever that may mean (c. 20, vv.

1213, 1214, p. 705). It is quite possible that some of the

Breton leaders did seek to rouse the spirit of their followers

by publishing an imaginary correspondence with the mythic

hero-king whose existence was to most of the common people in

Britanny at that time almost as much an article of faith as

any in the Creed; it is possible too that they were themselves

so far carried away by the same illusion as to attempt to work

upon Henry by similar means; and in that case it is extremely

probable that Henry, with his Angevin tact and sense of humour,

would meet the appeal pretty much as the Bec writer represents.

But the letters given in the _Draco_ must be the monk’s own

composition. Neither Roland nor Henry can have been capable of

stringing together such a quantity of pseudo-history, ancient

and modern, as is therein contained.

[227] Rob. Torigni, a. 1169.

[228] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 337. _Gesta Hen._

[“Benedict of Peterborough”] (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 3. Rog.

Howden (Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 3.

[229] _Gesta Hen._ as above.

It had proved easier to subdue Britanny than to hold Aquitaine. The

half independent princes of the south, so scornful of a king beyond

the Loire, were at least equally scornful of a king from beyond the

sea; in November 1166 Henry was obliged to summon them to a conference

at Chinon,[230] and to relieve Eleanor of her task of government by

sending her to keep Christmas in England,[231] while he himself took

her place at Poitiers.[232] His foes seized their opportunity to revive

the vexed question of Toulouse; a meeting with Raymond at Grandmont and

an attempt to assert Henry’s ducal authority over the count of Auvergne

led to a fresh rupture with Louis;[233] and in the spring of 1168 the

discontented barons of Aquitaine, secure of the French king’s goodwill,

broke into open revolt. In the midst of a negotiation with Louis, Henry

hurried away to subdue them.[234] Scarcely had he turned northward

again when Earl Patrick of Salisbury, whom he had appointed to assist

Eleanor in the government of the duchy, was murdered by one of the

rebel leaders;[235] and Eleanor was once more left to stand her ground

alone in Poitou, while her husband was fighting the Bretons, staving

off the ecclesiastical censures which threatened him, and vainly

endeavouring to pacify Louis, who now openly shewed himself as the

champion of all Henry’s disaffected vassals, Breton, Poitevin, Scottish

and Welsh,[236] as well as of the exiled archbishop.

[230] Ep. ccliii. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vi.), p. 74.

[231] Eyton, _Itin. Hen. II._, pp. 104, 108.

[232] Rob. Torigni, a. 1167. Cf. Ep. cclxxvii. (Robertson,

_Becket_, vol. vi.), p. 131.

[233] Rob. Torigni, a. 1167. Cf. Chronn. S. Albin. and S. Serg.

a. 1166 (Marchegay, _Eglises_, pp. 40, 149).

[234] Rob. Torigni, a. 1168. Ep. ccccix. (Robertson, _Becket_,

vol. vi.), p. 408.

[235] Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 205. R. Diceto (Stubbs),

vol. i. p. 331. Rob. Torigni, a. 1168. Rog. Howden (Stubbs),

vol. i. pp. 273, 274. This last writer states that the slayer

was Guy of Lusignan, and that Guy fled to Jerusalem (of

which he afterwards became king) to escape the punishment of

this crime. This story has been generally adopted by modern

historians. But its latter half is incompatible with the

appearance of “Guy of Lusignan” among the rebels in Aquitaine

in 1173, five years after the death of Patrick (_Gesta Hen._,

Stubbs, vol. i. p. 46); and the whole of it seems to rest

solely on Roger’s misunderstanding of the passage in the

_Gesta_ which he was copying. In that passage Guy is introduced

as “Guido de Lezinan, frater Gaufridi de Lezinan, qui Patricium

comitem Salesbiriensem tempore hostilitatis ... occiderat.

Erat enim prædictus Guido,” etc.; then comes an account of his

adventures in Palestine (_Gesta Hen._, Stubbs, vol. i. p. 343).

Roger of Howden chose to make _qui_ refer to _Guido_; but it

might just as well, or even better, refer to _Gaufridus_. Guy

comes upon the historical scene for the first time in 1173.

It seems pretty clear that Geoffrey was his elder brother,

and took a leading part in southern politics and warfare long

before Guy was of an age to join in them. If Patrick was slain

by either of the brothers, therefore, it was by Geoffrey and

not by Guy. Admitting this much, however, there is still no

ground for looking upon even Geoffrey as a murderer who had

committed such a crime as to be obliged to fly from justice.

For “Geoffrey of Lusignan” stood by the side of Guy among

the rebels of 1173 (_Gesta Hen._, Stubbs, vol. i. p. 46);

“Geoffrey of Lusignan” and his brothers claimed La Marche

against King Henry between 1178 and 1180 (Geoff. Vigeois, l.

i. c. 70, Labbe, _Nova Biblioth._, vol. ii. p. 324); “Geoffrey

of Lusignan” rose against Richard in 1188 (_Gesta Hen._,

Stubbs, vol. ii. p. 34; Rog. Howden, Stubbs, vol. ii. p. 339;

R. Diceto, Stubbs, vol. ii. pp. 54, 55); and it was not till

after he had in this revolt slain a special friend of Richard,

that he betook himself to Palestine, where he arrived in the

summer of the same year (_Itin. Reg. Ric._, Stubbs, p. 26), and

where, moreover, he and Richard afterwards became firm allies.

Geoffrey may therefore enjoy the benefit of the plea which

Bishop Stubbs (_Itin. Reg. Ric._, introd. p. cxxiv, note) puts

forward for Guy, that “there is nothing to show that Patrick

was not killed in fair fight.” But it seems pretty clear that

for the heroic king of Jerusalem himself no such plea is needed

at all.

[236] Rob. Torigni, a. 1168; Epp. ccccix., ccccxxxiv.

(Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vi.), pp. 408, 455, 456.

Henry meanwhile was endeavouring to strengthen his political position

by alliances in more remote quarters; the marriage of his eldest

daughter with the duke of Saxony had taken place early in 1168;[237]

two years before, the hand of one of her sisters had been half

promised to the marquis of Montferrat for his son, in return for his

good offices with the Pope;[238] and a project was now on foot for

the marriage of Henry’s second daughter, Eleanor, with the king of

Castille--a marriage which took place in 1169;[239] while the infant

Jane, who was scarcely four years old, was betrothed to the boy-king

William of Sicily.[240] For Richard his father was now endeavouring to

gain the hand of Adela of France, the younger daughter of Louis and

Constance, as a sort of security for the investiture of Aquitaine;

while at the same time Henry was on the one hand making interest with

the Emperor’s Italian foes, the rising commonwealths of Lombardy and

the jurisconsults of Bologna;[241] and on the other, Frederic was

endeavouring to regain his alliance by an embassy headed by his own

cousin, Henry’s new-made son-in-law, the duke of Saxony.[242]

[237] Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 205. From the Pipe

Roll of the year, with Mr. Eyton’s comment (_Itin. Hen. II._,

p. 109), it seems that Matilda and her mother crossed the

sea together in September 1167, and that Matilda went on to

Germany, where she was married early next year, while Eleanor

returned to England before Christmas. Rob. Torigni, a. 1167.

[238] Ep. cclii. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vi.), p. 68.

[239] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 334. The original scheme

seems to have been for marrying both Eleanor and Jane to

Spanish sovereigns, among whom, however, Castille is not named.

In a letter written in the summer of 1168 John of Salisbury

speaks of “regum, Navariensis aut Aragonensis scilicet, quibus

filias suas dare disponit [rex].” Ep. ccccxxxiv. (Robertson,

_Becket_, vol. vi.) p. 457.

[240] Ep. dxxxviii. (_ib._ vol. vii.) p. 26. Jane was born at

Angers in October 1165; Rob. Torigni, _ad ann._

[241] Epp. dxxxviii., dxxxix. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vii.),

pp. 26, 30, 31.

[242] Rob. Torigni, a. 1168. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p.

205. _Draco Norm._, l. iii. cc. 4, 5, vv. 191–360 (Howlett,

_Will. Newb._, vol. ii. pp. 718–724).

All this political, ecclesiastical and diplomatic coil Henry had to

unravel almost single-handed. Of the group of counsellors who had stood

around him in his early years, Arnulf of Lisieux on one side of the sea

and Richard de Lucy on the other were almost the sole survivors. He had

lost the services of his constable Henry of Essex under very painful

circumstances a few months before that council at Woodstock which saw

the beginning of his quarrel with Thomas. The constable was accused by

Robert de Montfort of having committed high treason six years before

by purposely letting fall the standard and falsely proclaiming the

king’s death at the battle of Consilt. Henry of Essex declared that he

had dropped the standard in the paralysis of despair, really believing

the king to be dead; and it is evident from the high commands which he

held in the war of Toulouse and elsewhere that the king continued to

treat him with undiminished confidence, and to regard him as one of his

most valuable ministers and friends. The charge once made, however,

could only be met by ordeal of battle. The encounter took place at

Reading; Henry of Essex went down before his accuser’s lance; and all

that his sovereign could do for him was to save his life by letting the

monks of the neighbouring abbey carry his body off the field as if for

burial, and when he proved to be still alive, suffering him to remain

as a brother of the house, while his property was confiscated to the

Crown and his services were lost to the state.[243] The king’s mother

died in the autumn of 1167;[244] his old friend and adviser Earl Robert

of Leicester passed away in 1168.[245] A desperate attempt was even

made to part him from his wife, in order to get rid of his rights over

Aquitaine;[246] while the man who had once been his most successful

diplomatic agent and his unfailing helper against the wiles of all his

enemies was now the most formidable tool in their hands.

[243] Rob. Torigni, a. 1163. Will. Newb., l. ii. c. 5 (Howlett,

vol. i. p. 108). Joc. Brakelond (Rokewode, Camden Soc.), pp.

50–52. For date see Palgrave, _Eng. Commonwealth_, vol. ii. pp.

xxii, xxiii.

[244] Rob. Torigni, a. 1167. _Draco Norm._, l. iii. c. 1, vv.

1–12 (Howlett, _Will. Newb._, vol. ii. p. 711). Chron. S.

Serg., a. 1167 (Marchegay, _Eglises_, p. 150).

[245] Rob. Torigni, a. 1168. Ann. Waverl. a. 1168 (Luard, _Ann.

Monast._, vol. ii. p. 239). Chron. Mailros, a. 1168.

[246] See the _Gradus cognationis inter regem et reginam_

(Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vi. p. 266). “Hanc computationem

præsentaverunt Pictavenses cardinalibus quando S. Thomas

exsulabat, sed non sunt auditi.” The “computation” as there

stated is wrong; but the right one really does leave Henry and

Eleanor within the forbidden degrees. (See above, vol. i. p.

393, note 2{1161}, and p. 445, note 11{1418}). They were

cousins in the fifth degree, their common ancestress being

Herleva of Falaise.

It was for his children’s sake that Henry at last bent his pride to do

what he had vowed never to do again. At Montmirail, on the feast of

Epiphany 1169, he renewed his homage to Louis, made full submission

to him, and promised compensation to the Breton and Poitevin barons

for their losses in the recent wars.[247] Next day young Henry did

homage to the French king for the counties of Anjou and Maine,[248]

and, as it seems, of Britanny, which his brother Geoffrey was to hold

under him.[249] Richard did the like for Aquitaine, of which Louis

granted him the investiture,[250] together with a promise of Adela’s

hand.[251] Three weeks later young Henry, in his new capacity of count

of Anjou, officiated in Paris as seneschal to the king of France;[252]

he afterwards repeated his homage to Louis’s son and heir, and received

that of his own brother Geoffrey for the duchy of Britanny.[253]

[247] Ep. cccclxi. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vi.), pp. 506,

507.

[248] _Ib._ p. 507. Rob. Torigni a. 1169. Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs),

vol. i. p. 208.

[249] Rob. Torigni, a. 1169, and Gerv. Cant. (as above) say

that young Henry did homage to Louis for Britanny; Normandy was

not mentioned, the homage done for it by young Henry in 1160

being counted sufficient (_ibid._). The elder king himself kept

Touraine on the old terms of homage to Theobald of Blois (Ep.

cccclxi. as above).

[250] Ep. cccclxi., Rob. Torigni and Gerv. Cant. as above.

[251] Gerv. Cant. as above.

[252] Rob. Torigni, a. 1169.

[253] _Ibid._

One thing alone was now lacking to the completion of Henry’s scheme:

the crowning of his heir. There can be no doubt that when he sent

Thomas and the child to England together--the one to be chosen king

and the other to be made primate--he intended the coronation to take

place as soon as he himself could rejoin them. Its performance,

delayed by his own continued absence on the continent, had however

been made impossible by his quarrel with Thomas. That the archbishop

of Canterbury alone could lawfully crown a king of England was a

constitutional as well as an ecclesiastical tradition so deeply rooted

in the minds of Englishmen that nothing short of absolute necessity

had induced Henry I. to set it aside in his own case; and still less

could Henry II. venture to risk such an innovation in the case of his

son.[254] Yet the prospect of a reconciliation with the primate seemed

at this moment further off than ever.

[254] The historical arguments on this subject may be seen in

Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), p. 110,

and Ep. dclxxxiv. (_ib._ vol. vii.), pp. 328–330. Henry was

once said to have projected getting the Pope himself to crown

the child; Ep. lv. (_ib._ vol. v.), p. 100. Against this, of

course, Canterbury could have had nothing to say.

Thomas’s first impulse on entering Pontigny had been to give himself

up to a course of study, devotion and self-discipline more severe than

anything which he had yet attempted. He secretly assumed the habit of

the “white monks,”[255] and nearly ruined his delicate constitution by

a rash endeavour to practise the rigorous abstinence enjoined by the

rules of the order.[256] He grew more diligent than ever in prayer,

meditation, and study of Holy Scripture.[257] But his restless,

impetuous nature could not rise to the serene heights of more than

worldly wisdom urged upon him by John of Salisbury, who truly insisted

that such occupations alone were worthy of a true confessor.[258]

In spite of John’s warnings and pleadings, he still kept all his

friends--John himself included--ceaselessly at work in his behalf; and

while he sought out in every church and convent in Gaul every rare and

valuable book that he could hear of, to be copied for his cathedral

library, he was also raking together for the same collection all the

privileges, old or new, that could be disinterred from the Roman

archives or extorted from the favour of the Pope.[259] Until Easter

1166 Alexander restrained him from any direct measures against the

king;[260] then, unable to keep silence any longer, Thomas again took

the matter into his own hands and wrote to Henry himself, earnestly

imploring him to consider his ways and to grant his old friend a

personal interview.[261] Henry was inexorable; Thomas wrote again, this

time a torrent of mingled warnings, intreaties and remonstrances,[262]

and with just as little effect. Then, towards the end of May, as the

king was holding council with his barons at Chinon, a barefooted monk

came to him with a third letter from the primate.[263] Once again

Thomas expressed his longing for a personal meeting; once again he

set forth the doctrine of the divine rights and duties of kings, and

charged Henry, by the solemn memory of his coronation-vows, to restore

to the English Church her privileges and her chief pastor. Only in

the last sentence came a significant warning: “If not, then know of

a surety that you shall feel the severity of Divine vengeance!”[264]

And there was no doubt about its meaning; for the Empress Matilda

had already transmitted to her son a threat sent to her by Thomas in

plain words, that unless she could bring him to acknowledge his error,

“shortly, yea, very shortly” the “sword of the Spirit” should be drawn

against his dominions and even against himself.[265]

[255] Alan Tewkesb. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. ii.), p. 345.

Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 64. _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson),

vol. i. p. 315.

[256] Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 126, 127. E. Grim (Robertson,

_Becket_, vol. ii.), pp. 412, 413. Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol.

iii.), pp. 376–379. _Thomas Saga_ (as above), p. 317.

[257] Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), p.

77. Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), p. 379.

[258] Ep. lxxxv. (_ib._ vol. v.), pp. 163, 164.

[259] Will. Fitz-Steph. as above.

[260] Ep. xcv. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v.), pp. 179, 180.

[261] Ep. clii. (_ib._ pp. 266–268).

[262] Ep. cliii. (_ib._ pp. 269–278), translated by Garnier

(Hippeau), pp. 100–106.

[263] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 106. E. Grim (Robertson, _Becket_,

vol. ii.), p. 419. Cf. Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), pp.

383–385. Eyton (_Itin. Hen. II._, p. 93) dates this council

June 1, but this cannot be reconciled with Thomas’s subsequent

proceedings.

[264] Ep. cliv. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v. pp. 278–282),

translated by Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 109–111.

[265] Ep. clxxxiv. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v. p. 361).

Harassed by disaster and revolt, provoked by the primate’s former

letters, Henry, upon reading this one and hearing the messenger’s

comment upon it--for Thomas had charged him to say a good deal more

than he wrote[266]--might well feel that he was standing on the brink

of a volcano. He turned desperately upon the bishops around him, half

imploring, half commanding them to help him out of his strait, abusing

them for a pack of traitors who would not trouble themselves to rid

him of this one unmanageable foe, and exclaiming with a burst of tears

that the archbishop was destroying him soul and body together; for he

naturally expected nothing less than an interdict on his dominions and

an anathema against himself, and both sanctioned by the Pope. When

Henry was thus at his wits’ end, the only one among his continental

advisers who was likely to have any counsel to offer him was Arnulf of

Lisieux. Once more Arnulf proved equal to the occasion; he suggested

that the primate’s intended censures should be forestalled by an appeal

to the Pope. The remedy was a desperate one, for, as John of Salisbury

triumphantly remarked when he heard of it, the king was flying in the

face of his own Constitutions and confirming that very right of appeal

which he was so anxious to abolish, by thus having recourse to it for

his own protection. But there was no other loophole of escape; so the

appeal was made, a messenger was despatched to give notice of it in

England, close the ports and cut off all communication with Thomas

and with the Pope; while the bishops of Lisieux and Séez set out for

Pontigny to bid the primate stay his hand till the octave of Easter

next, which was fixed for the term of Henry’s appeal.[267]

[266] Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 385.

[267] Ep. cxciv. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v.), pp. 381, 382.

Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 393, confuses this appeal

with a later one.

They were too late. No sooner had the barefooted messenger returned

with his tidings of the king’s irreconcileable wrath than Thomas

hurried to Soissons on a pilgrimage to its three famous shrines:--those

of the Blessed Virgin, who had been the object of his special reverence

ever since he learned the Ave Maria at his mother’s knee; of S. Gregory

the Great, the patron of the whole English Church and more particularly

of Canterbury and its archbishops; and of S. Drausius, who was believed

to have the power of rendering invincible any champion who spent a

night in prayer before his relics. Before each of these shrines Thomas,

like a warrior preparing for mortal combat, passed a night in solemn

vigil, the last night being that of the festival of S. Drausius, and

also of Ascension-day.[268] On the morrow he left Soissons;[269] on

Whitsun-eve[270] he reached Vézelay, a little town distant only a

day’s journey from Pontigny, and made famous by its great abbey, which

boasted of possessing the body of S. Mary Magdalene. Thomas found

the place crowded with pilgrims assembled to keep the Whitsun feast

on this venerated spot. He was invited by the abbot to celebrate

High Mass and preach on the festival day;[271] his sermon ended, he

solemnly anathematized the royal customs and all their upholders, and

excommunicated by name seven persons whom he denounced as special

enemies to the Church; the two first being Henry’s confidential envoys

John of Oxford and Richard of Ilchester, who had been the medium of his

communications with the Emperor; while a third, Jocelyn de Bailleul,

was one of his chief advisers, and a fourth was no less a personage

than the justiciar, Richard de Lucy.[272] Thomas had set out from

Soissons in the full determination to excommunicate Henry himself at

the same time; but on his way he learned that the king was dangerously

ill; he therefore contented himself with a solemn warning publicly

addressed to him by name, calling him to repentance for the last time,

and in default, threatening him with immediate excommunication.[273]

[268] It was also the anniversary of his own ordination to the

priesthood--June 2.

[269] Ep. cxciv. (Robertson, vol. v.), p. 382.

[270] Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 391, says “proximâ

ante festum die,” and he makes the festival that of S. Mary

Magdalene, the patron of the place. Tempting, however, as his

version is--for it would explain at once Thomas’s otherwise

rather unaccountable choice of Vézelay for the scene of his

proceedings, and the great concourse of people who evidently

were assembled there--it is quite irreconcileable with the

minute chronological details of John of Salisbury’s letter (Ep.

cxciv. as above), written within a few weeks of the events,

while Herbert’s story was written from memory, many years

after. On the other hand, R. Diceto’s date (Stubbs, vol. i. p.

318), Ascension-day, is more impossible still.

[271] Herb. Bosh. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), p. 391.

[272] The details of the sentence are in Thomas’s own letters,

Epp. cxcv., cxcvi., cxcviii. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v.),

pp. 386–391, 392–397. Cf. Ep. cxciv. (_ibid._), p. 383. The

other excommunicated persons were Ralf de Broc, Hugh of S.

Clare and Thomas Fitz-Bernard. Their crime was invasion of

Church property. Richard of Ilchester and John of Oxford were

condemned for their dealings with the schismatics; Richard

de Lucy and Jocelyn de Bailleul, as being the authors of the

Constitutions.

[273] Epp. cxciv., cxcvi., cxcviii. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol.

v.), pp. 382, 383, 391, 396. Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), pp.

391, 392.

The news of these proceedings reached Henry when, sick and anxious,

he was trying to gather up strength and energy for a campaign against

the Bretons. He instantly despatched another messenger to England,

bidding Richard de Lucy call an assembly of the bishops and clergy

and compel them to make a general appeal to the Pope against the

authority and jurisdiction of their primate.[274] The meeting was

held in London[275] at midsummer.[276] The appeal was made and sent

to the Pope in the name of all the bishops and clergy of England;

but it is tolerably clear that the main body were merely passive

followers, more or less willing, of Gilbert of London and Jocelyn

of Salisbury, the former of whom was almost certainly the writer of

the letter which conveyed the appeal to the Pope, as well as of that

which announced it to the primate.[277] The hand of Gilbert Foliot was

indeed so plainly visible that Thomas’s reply was addressed with equal

plainness to him personally.[278] The long and sarcastic letter with

which he retorted[279] was answered in a yet more startling fashion at

the opening of the next year. As Gilbert stood before the high altar

of his cathedral church on the feast of its patron saint a paper was

thrust into his hand; to his dismay it proved to be a papal brief

granting to Archbishop Thomas a commission as legate for all England,

and commanding the bishops to render him unqualified obedience and to

resign within two months whatever confiscated church property had been

placed in their charge by the king. In an agony of distress Gilbert,

who himself had the custody of the Canterbury estates, sent this

news to the king, imploring him to grant permission that the Pope’s

mandate might be obeyed, at least till some method could be devised

for escaping from a dilemma which now looked well-nigh hopeless.[280]

Henry, absorbed in a struggle with the Bretons, had already been

provoked into a vengeance as impolitic as it was mean. He threatened

the Cistercian abbots assembled on Holy Cross day at the general

chapter of their order that if Thomas were not immediately expelled

from Pontigny, he would send all the White Monks in his dominions to

share the primate’s exile.[281] When the abbot of Pontigny carried this

message home, Thomas could only bid him farewell and betake himself

to the sole protection left him--that of the king of France. He left

Pontigny on S. Martin’s day[282] 1166, and took up his abode as the

guest of Louis in the abbey of S. Columba at Sens.[283]

[274] Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 200.

[275] Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 200. Will. Cant.

(Robertson, _Becket_, vol. i.), p. 56.

[276] Ep. ccix. (_ib._ vol. v.), p. 421.

[277] Epp. cciv., ccv. (_ib._ vol. v.), pp. 403–413. Cf.

Ep. ccix. (_ibid._), p. 241, and Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol.

i.), pp. 56, 57. The bishop of Exeter consented to appeal,

but in a fashion of his own, of which however there is no

trace in the letter actually sent to the Pope. Two prelates

were absent: Walter of Rochester, who pleaded illness, and

Henry of Winchester, who wrote in excuse: “Vocatus a summo

Pontifice, nec appello nec appellare volo.” The others thought

he meant that the Pope had cited him; “ipse vero summum

Pontificem, summum Judicem intelligebat, ad cujus tribunal

jamjam trahebatur examinandus, tanquam qui in multis diebus

processerat et vitæ metis appropinquaret.” So says Will.

Cant.; but John of Salisbury says distinctly that the letter

of appeal was sealed by London, _Winchester_ and Hereford (Ep.

cclii., Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vi. p. 65). Can William

have founded his pretty story on the old confusion (which is

perpetually breaking out in his favourite authority, Garnier,

and in other writers who have less excuse for it) between

_Wincestre_ and _Wirecestre_--and was Roger of Worcester the

real absentee? He certainly did not share in the obloquy which

this appeal brought upon Robert of Hereford, with whom hitherto

he had usually been coupled by Thomas; on the contrary, he and

Bartholomew of Exeter are henceforth always coupled together as

fellow-sufferers for their loyalty to the primate.

[278] Epp. ccxxiii., ccxxiv. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v. pp.

490–520).

[279] The famous “Multiplicem nobis et diffusam.” Ep. ccxxv.

(_ib._ pp. 521–544).

[280] Ep. ccviii. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v. pp. 417, 418).

The Pope’s brief is Ep. clxxii. (_ib._ pp. 328, 329); it is

dated “Anagniæ, vii. Idus Octobris,” but its true date is

Easter-day, April 24 (see editor’s note, p. 329)--the actual

date of the letter whereby Alexander notified his act to

the English bishops; Ep. clxxiii. (Robertson, as above, pp.

229–231). The diocese (not the province) of York was exempted

from Thomas’s legatine jurisdiction--the reason being that

Roger of York was legate for Scotland (Ep. cclxx., _ib._ vol.

vi. p. 119). Thomas sent the brief over to his friends Robert

of Hereford and Roger of Worcester, bidding them communicate

it to their brethren, beginning with London (Ep. clxxix.,

_ib._ vol. v. pp. 344–346). Canon Robertson supposes this

brief to have been delivered to Gilbert on the feast of the

Commemoration of S. Paul, _i.e._ June 30, 1166. Gilbert himself

says merely “die beati Pauli”; and his letter has no date. But

it mentions “legatos qui diriguntur ad nos”; and there is no

hint elsewhere of any talk about sending legates till late in

the autumn, or even winter. There really seems to be no reason

why we should not adopt a more obvious rendering of the date,

as representing the greater and better-known festival of S.

Paul’s Conversion. In that case, of course, the year must be

1167.

[281] Will. Cant. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. i.), p. 50. E.

Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 414. Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol.

iii.), p. 83. Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), p. 397. Anon. I. (_ib._

vol. iv.), p. 65. Cf. _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. p. 371.

[282] Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 201, 202.

[283] E. Grim (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. ii.), p. 415. Herb.

Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), pp. 403, 404; etc.

Henry saw his own blunder as soon as it was made, and endeavoured

to neutralize its effects by despatching an embassy to the Pope,

requesting that he would send a legatine commission to settle the

controversy. One of his envoys was the excommunicate John of Oxford;

to the horror of Thomas and the indignation of Louis, John came

back in triumph, boasting not only that he had been absolved by the

Pope, but that two cardinals, William and Otto--the former of whom

was a determined opponent of Thomas--were coming with full powers to

sit in judgement on the case between primate and king and decide it

without appeal.[284] The first half of the boast was true, but not the

second; the cautious Pope instructed his envoys to do nothing more

than arbitrate between the contending parties, if they could.[285]

They did not reach Normandy till the autumn of 1167; Thomas came to

meet them on the French border on November 18; he refused to enter

upon any negotiations till the property of the metropolitan see

was restored;[286] the legates carried their report to the king at

Argentan, and were dismissed with an exclamation of disappointment and

disgust--“I wish I may never set eyes upon a cardinal again!”[287] Five

of the English bishops whom Henry had summoned to advise him renewed

their appeal,[288] its original term having expired six months ago;

and the legates insisting that Thomas should respect the appeal,[289]

another year’s delay was gained.

[284] Epp. cclxxx., cclxxxiii., cclxxxv., ccxcii. (Robertson,

_Becket_, vol. vi.), pp. 140, 146, 147, 151–153, 170, 171.

[285] Ep. cccvii. (_ibid._), p. 201. Cf. Will. Cant. (_ib._

vol. i.), p. 65, and Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. pp. 202, 203.

[286] Epp. cccxxxi., cccxxxii. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vi.),

pp. 247–251, 256–258.

[287] Ep. cccxxxix. (_ibid._), pp. 269, 270.

[288] Epp. cccxxxix., cccxli.–cccxlv. (_ibid._), pp. 270–272,

276, 277, 283–288.

[289] Ep. cccxliii. (_ibid._), pp. 284, 285.

At last, when the two kings made their treaty at Montmirail at

Epiphany 1169, Thomas, who had come to the spot under the protection

of Louis, suddenly entered the royal presence and fell at Henry’s

feet, offering to place himself unreservedly in his hands. All parties

thought the struggle was over, till the archbishop added once again

the words which had so exasperated Henry at Oxford and at Clarendon:

“Saving God’s honour and my order.” The king burst into a fury, and

the meeting broke up in confusion.[290] Three months later, on Palm

Sunday, from the high altar of Clairvaux, Thomas excommunicated ten

of his opponents, first among whom was Gilbert Foliot.[291] Gilbert,

who knew that the sentence had been hanging over him for more than a

year, had appealed against it before it was uttered;[292] the king,

too, was forewarned, and at every seaport guards were set to catch and

punish with the utmost rigour any messenger from the primate. It was

not till Ascension-day that a young layman named Berengar made his way

up to the altar of Gilbert’s cathedral church in the middle of High

Mass and thrust into the hand of the celebrant the archbishop’s letter

proclaiming the excommunication of the bishop.[293] On that very day

Thomas issued another string of excommunications.[294] Gilbert, driven

to extremity, renewed his appeal two days later; and he added to it a

formal refusal to acknowledge the jurisdiction of a metropolitan to

whom he had made no profession, and a declaration--so at least it was

reported in Gaul--of his intention to claim the metropolitical dignity

for his own see, as an ancient right of which it had been unjustly

defrauded by Canterbury.[295] A storm of indignant protest and vehement

denunciation arose from the archbishop’s party; and the terrified Pope

checked further proceedings by despatching another pair of envoys, who

as usual failed to agree either with the king, with the archbishop, or

even with each other, and after wasting the summer in misunderstandings

and recriminations left the case just where they had found it.[296]

By this time king and primate were both weary of their quarrel, and

still more weary of mediation. In November they had another personal

interview at Montmartre, and the archbishop’s unconditional restoration

was all but decided.[297] Thomas, however, rashly attempted to hasten

the completion of the settlement by a threat of interdict;[298] and

the threat stung Henry into an act of far greater rashness. He had met

Louis, as well as Thomas, at Montmartre, and had gained his immediate

object of restraining the French king yet a little longer from direct

hostilities; the settlement of Britanny was completed at Christmas,

that of Aquitaine was so far secure that its conclusion might safely be

left to Eleanor’s care; in March 1170 Henry went to England[299] with

the fixed determination of seeing his eldest son crowned there before

he left it again.

[290] Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), pp. 418–427. Epp.

ccccli., cccclxi. (_ib._ vol. vi.), pp. 488, 489, 507–509. Cf.

Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol. i.), pp. 73, 74, and _Thomas Saga_

(Magnusson), vol. i. pp. 427–433.

[291] Ep. cccclxxxviii. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vi. pp. 558,

559). See also Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 87, and

for date, R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 333.

[292] Ep. dxiii. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vi.), p. 614.

[293] Compare the account given by “Magister Willelmus” in Ep.

dviii. (_ibid._), pp. 603, 604, with that of Will. Fitz-Steph.

(_ib._ vol. iii.), pp. 89, 90. They are clearly from the same

hand.

[294] Epp. dii., dvii. (_ib._ vol. vi.), pp. 594, 601–603. For

date cf. Ep. cccclxxxviii. (_ib._ pp. 558, 559).

[295] Ep. dviii. (_ibid._), pp. 604–606--a very circumstantial

account, yet one can scarcely understand how a man so wise and

so learned as Gilbert can really have made such an utterly

unhistorical claim. He must have known that it had no shadow

of foundation, the nearest approach to such a thing being S.

Gregory’s abortive scheme for fixing the two archbishoprics

at London and York. Gilbert’s opponents, on the other hand,

declared that he derived his claim from the archpriests

of Jupiter who had their seat in the Roman Londinium, and

denounced him as their would-be representative and successor.

Epp. dxxxv., dxlvi. (_ib._ vol. vii.), pp. 10, 41.

[296] On this legation of Gratian and Vivian see R. Diceto

(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 335; Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. pp.

212, 213; Herb. Bosh. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.),

pp. 441–445; Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol. i.), pp. 72, 73; Epp.

ccccxci., ccccxcii. (_ib._ vol. vi.), pp. 563, 564, 567; dlx.,

dlxi., dlxiii.–dlxviii., dlxxxi., dlxxxiv., dci., dcii. (_ib._

vol. vii.), pp. 70–76, 78–92, 115, 116, 124, 125, 151–154, etc.

[297] Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), pp.

97, 98; Herb. Bosh. (_ibid._), pp. 445–451; Epp. dciv.–dcvii.

(_ib._ vol. vii. pp. 158–168). _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol.

i. p. 447. R. Diceto as above, pp. 335–337. Gerv. Cant. as

above, p. 213.

[298] Epp. dlxxiii.–dlxxvii. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vii.

pp. 97–109), etc.

[299] _Gesta Hen._ (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 3. Rog. Howden

(Stubbs), vol. ii. p. 3. Gerv. Cant. as above, p. 216.

Three years before, he had wrung from the Pope--then blockaded in Rome

by the Imperial troops, and in the last extremity of peril--a brief

authorizing young Henry’s coronation by the archbishop of York, in

default of the absent primate of all England.[300] In face of a mass of

earlier and later rescripts from Alexander’s predecessors and Alexander

himself, all strenuously confirming the exclusive privileges of

Canterbury, Henry had never yet ventured to make use of this document;

like Adrian’s bull for the conquest of Ireland, it had been kept in

reserve for a future day; and that day had now come. In vain did Thomas

proclaim his threatened interdict;[301] in vain did the Pope ratify

it;[302] in vain did both alike issue prohibitions to all the English

bishops against the act which they knew to be in contemplation.[303]

The vigilance of the justiciars, quickened by a fresh set of stringent

injunctions sent over by the king in the previous autumn,[304] made

the delivery of letters from either primate or Pope so difficult that

Thomas at last could intrust it to no one but a nun, Idonea, whom he

solemnly charged with the duty of presenting to Roger of York the papal

brief in which the coronation was forbidden.[305] The ceremony was

fixed for Sunday, June 14. A week before that date young Henry, who

with his girl-bride Margaret of France had been left at Caen under the

care of his mother and Richard of Hommet the constable of Normandy,

was summoned to join his father in England.[306] On S. Barnabas’s day

the bishops and barons assembled at Westminster in obedience to the

royal summons;[307] on Saturday, the 13th, the Pope’s letter was at

last forced upon the archbishop of York;[308] but none the less did he

on the following morning crown and anoint young Henry in Westminster

abbey; while Gilbert of London, who had managed to extort conditional

absolution in the Pope’s name from Archbishop Rotrou of Rouen,[309]

once more stood openly by his side in the foremost rank of the English

bishops.[310]

[300] Ep. cccx. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vi. pp. 206, 207).

See the editor’s note as to the date.

[301] Epp. dclxxviii.–dclxxxiii. (_ib._ vol. vii. pp. 320–325).

[302] Epp. dcxxviii.–dcxxx. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. vii. pp.

210–214).