THE REIGN OF HENRY II. (_continued_).--CAREER OF THOMAS BECKET.
Early Life of Becket--Rapid Advance in the King's
Service--Magnificence of his Embassy to Paris--The King, the
Chancellor, and the Beggar--Depravity of the Clergy--Becket's
Reforming Zeal--Appointed Archbishop of Canterbury--Extraordinary
Change in his Habits--At Frequent Issue with the King--The
Council of Clarendon--Becket Defies the King--Popularity
with the People--His Flight from Northampton--Arrival at St.
Omer--Obtains the Support of Louis and the Pope--Henry's Edict
of Banishment--Defeat of the English by the Welsh--Insurrection
in Brittany--Becket Excommunicates his Opponents--Henry's
Anger--The Pope's Action against Becket--Interview between
Becket and the King--The Two Reconciled--Return of Becket
to England--His Christmas Sermon--The King's Fury--The Vow
of the Conspirators--Scene in Becket's House--Murder of the
Archbishop--Henry's Grief--Review of Becket's Career.
Thomas Becket, who was born in 1118, was the son of Gilbert Becket, a
native of Rouen, a merchant, and at one time port-reeve of London. The
youth was ambitious, and he quickly found means to turn his talents
to account. He obtained the favour of one of the Norman barons who
lived near London, and he joined in all the amusements of his patron.
In this position his abilities acquired him a great reputation among
the courtiers, to whom his ready wit recommended him, no less than the
obsequious demeanour which he sedulously cultivated.
Theobald, Archbishop of Canterbury, having heard of the young Englishman,
desired to see him, and having been pleased with the interview, took
Becket into his service. He caused him to take deacon's orders, gave him
the appointment of archdeacon of his church, and employed him in various
negotiations with the Holy See. In the reign of Stephen, Becket was
employed by the partisans of Matilda to procure the Pope's prohibition
of the intended coronation of the king's son. The mission was attended
with complete success, and on the accession of Henry II., Becket was
presented to him as one who had done his cause good service. Henry
extended his favour to the young archdeacon, and Theobald, the primate,
who exercised the functions of first minister to the kingdom, finding
his growing infirmities rendered him unfit for the duties of his office,
delegated to Becket a great part of his power. A few years afterwards the
archdeacon was raised to the office of Chancellor of England, or Keeper
of the Seal of the Three Lions, which was the symbol of the Anglo-Norman
power. The king also gave him the wardenship of the Tower of London
and the castle of Berkhampstead, and placed in his hands the care and
education of the heir to the throne.
These various appointments yielded large revenues, which were spent by
Becket in the greatest luxury and magnificence. He kept in his house,
which was furnished with great splendour, a numerous retinue; and it is
related that there were in his pay 700 men-at-arms, well mounted and
equipped. His tables were covered with choice viands, served upon costly
plate; and the trappings of his horses were adorned with gold and silver.
The haughtiest nobles of the court regarded it as an honour to visit this
magnificent man; the foreigners who enjoyed his hospitality were never
suffered to depart without some costly present.
It is related by Fitz-Stephen, who was Becket's secretary, that when the
chancellor proceeded on his embassy to Paris, he was attended by many
barons and lords, and a large body of knights, besides a great number
of attendants and serving-men. His passage through France resembled
a triumphal procession, and the train of sumpter-horses and wagons,
the hounds and hawks, the falconers and pages, seemed worthy of some
powerful king. When he entered a town 250 boys went before him singing
songs; these were followed by huntsmen leading their hounds in couples;
then came eight wagons, each drawn by five horses, and attended by five
drivers; and these were succeeded by twelve sumpter-horses, on each
of which rode a monkey with a groom behind on his knees. Next to the
sumpter-horses came the esquires, each carrying the shield and leading
the horse of his master; then the youths of gentle birth, who were also
esquires, but were exempted from the more menial services of that office;
then the knights, priests, and officers of the household; and, lastly,
the chancellor himself, attended by his friends. As this procession
passed through the towns, the people looked on with wonder, asking each
other what manner of man the King of England must be when his chancellor
travelled in such magnificence.
At this period Henry lived on the most intimate terms with the
chancellor, who was skilled in the sports of the field, and whose wit and
vivacity fitted him for a boon companion. The chancellor was not deterred
by his sacred calling from sharing in the pleasures of the king. Henry,
who could well support the royal dignity when occasion required, appears,
according to a story of doubtful authenticity, to have had a natural
tendency to gaiety and frolic. On one occasion, when the chancellor was
riding at his side through the streets of London in stormy weather, there
came towards the royal party a poor old man in tattered clothes. "Would
it not be well," the king asked, "to give that poor man a warm cloak?"
The chancellor replied with proper gravity, "It would, sir; and you do
well to turn your eyes and thoughts to such objects." The king then
immediately rejoined, "You shall have the merit of this act of charity;"
and turning towards the chancellor, he seized hold of the new cloak
which he wore, lined with ermine, and endeavoured to pull it from his
back. Becket resisted for some time, and in the struggle both had nearly
fallen from their horses to the ground; but at last the chancellor wisely
let go the cloak, and the king gave it to the beggar, who went on his way
wondering and rejoicing.
A man entirely delivered up to ambition is necessarily, to some extent,
unscrupulous; and there is no doubt that Becket was content to sacrifice
principle whenever it stood in the way of his advancement. He, however,
possessed many good and great qualities; and during the period of his
chancellorship, his influence with the king was used in promoting reforms
and instituting measures which were calculated to promote, in a high
degree, the welfare of the people. To his exertions may be attributed
the restoration of tranquillity throughout the country, the revival of
commerce, the reforms in the administration of the law, and the decline
of the power of the barons. Although himself a churchman, Becket did not
hesitate to attack the extravagant privileges of the bishops. At the time
of the war against the Count of Toulouse, the clergy refused to pay the
tax of scutage, which, as already related, was levied by Henry, giving
as their reason that the Church forbade them to shed blood.[31] Becket,
however, resolved to compel them to pay the tax; and while by so doing
he exasperated his own order against him, he secured the goodwill of the
king.
[Illustration: HENRY II.]
Not long after the Conquest the Norman clergy in England began to display
great moral depravity. Murders, rapes, and robberies were frequently
committed by them; and, according to the laws passed by the Conqueror
on the institution of episcopal courts, the offenders could only be
brought to justice by men of their own order. Thus it happened that the
crimes committed by licentious priests were seldom punished, and they
increased to a frightful extent in consequence of this immunity. It is
related that from the time of the accession of Henry II. to the year
1161, not less than 100 homicides had been committed by priests who
still remained securely in possession of their benefices. To put an end
to these disorders, the only course which appeared feasible was to take
away from the clerical order those privileges which had been conferred by
the Conqueror, and Henry determined to execute this measure. The primacy
of Canterbury had long carried with it an authority second only to that
of the Pope himself, and it was impossible to carry out the intended
reform unless a man devoted to the royal authority, and careless of the
interests of the Church, were seated in the archiepiscopal chair. It was
evident that for this purpose no fitter man could be found than Becket;
and on the death of Theobald, the Archbishop of Canterbury (1161), the
king recommended his chancellor to the bishops as the person to succeed
to the primacy.
The chancellor was ordained priest, and on the following day was
consecrated archbishop, and appointed to the vacant see. Immediately a
change took place in him so remarkable that those who saw him found a
difficulty in recognising him as the same man. He threw off his gorgeous
apparel, removed the splendid furniture from his house, gave up the
intimacy with the gay nobles, who had been his friends, and became the
friend of the poor, the beggars, and the English. He even affected
poverty, and amidst unbounded wealth, and in the possession of power
second only to that of the throne, lived the life of an anchorite. He
was clothed in a coarse gown, allowed himself only herbs and water for
sustenance, and assumed a deportment of the utmost gravity and humility.
Thus Becket at once kicked down from him the ladder by which he had
risen, and now, no longer obsequious towards his sovereign, he determined
to maintain to the utmost the privileges of the Church. Never was there
a change of life more sudden, or one that excited so much indignation,
on the one hand, or so much admiration on the other. The new archbishop
became the idol of the poor, and especially of his own countrymen, while
the king and his favourites regarded him with the deepest anger and
aversion.
Under these circumstances it was evident that a rupture must soon
take place. Becket began the struggle; he claimed a number of estates
and castles, including that of Rochester, from the king, and that of
Tunbridge from the Earl of Clare, on the ground that they had originally
belonged to the see of Canterbury. Had such restitution been given it
would have tended to overthrow the legal claim of many of the barons
to their estates; great alarm was, therefore, excited, and the demand
met with a determined resistance. The barons urged their prescriptive
rights, but Becket replied briefly that there could be no prescription
for injustice, and that the estates wrongly obtained must be restored.
The archbishop proceeded to follow up his attack by appointing a priest
to a benefice on the lands of a Norman baron, named William de Eynsford.
William, like the rest of the Normans, assumed the right of disposing
of the churches on his manor, and he expelled the priest sent by
Becket. The baron was immediately excommunicated by the archbishop in
defiance of a law passed by Henry, that no vassal of the crown should be
excommunicated without the royal consent. The king ordered the sentence
to be remitted, and after some delay Becket yielded, though with evident
reluctance. The king's animosity was rather increased than appeased by a
consent so reluctantly given.
In the year 1164, Henry proceeded to mature his plans for placing the
clergy under civil jurisdiction; and at a general assembly of lords, lay
and spiritual, he demanded the consent of the prelates to the proposed
revival of ancient customs, now called the constitutions of Clarendon,
by which the criminous clerks were to be made amenable to the secular
courts. The reply made by Becket and his coadjutors was that they
assented, "saving the rights of their order." The king angrily broke up
the council, and deprived the archbishop of the castles of Berkhampstead
and Eye. A few days afterwards Becket expressed his readiness to assent
to the king's demands, and a great council was convened at Clarendon
in Wiltshire (March, 1164), for the purpose of receiving the assent
formally. When the moment came for Becket's signature to be given, he
refused it; accusing himself of folly for having promised to observe the
king's laws, whatever they might be. The entreaties of the barons were
without effect, and the enactments were completed without his signature.
The king now proceeded to more severe measures against his former
favourite. Another council was called at Northampton, before which
Becket was summoned to appear, and was charged with contempt of the
king's authority. He was called upon to pay various heavy fines, and
to give an account of his receipts from different benefices during his
chancellorship--the balance due to the crown, which he had kept back,
being stated to be 44,000 marks. Becket was now convinced that his ruin
had been determined on, and for several days he was confined to his bed
by illness, brought on by these anxieties, and was unable to determine on
the course he ought to pursue. At length his indomitable mind recovered
its ordinary tone, and he determined to resist the decision of the king
and the council. Having celebrated mass, he proceeded to the court
dressed in his robes, and holding in his right hand the archiepiscopal
cross. As he entered the hall, the king, indignant at seeing him in
the robes of authority, rose up and passed into an inner room, leaving
the archbishop standing in the hall. Becket, who remained calm and
undaunted, seated himself on a bench, holding his cross erect. Presently
the Bishop of Exeter entered, and, in the name of his colleagues,
entreated the primate to obey the king's commands. A refusal was followed
by the entrance of the rest of the bishops, who renounced him as their
primate, and appealed to the authority of the Pope. Becket sternly
answered, "I hear;" and made no other reply.
According to one of the chroniclers, the archbishop was accused before
the council of magic arts, and the Earl of Leicester advanced into the
hall to read his sentence; but Becket, interrupting him, refused to
recognise the authority of a lay tribunal, and himself appealed to the
Pope's decision. With these words he rose from his seat, and carrying the
cross in his hand, strode slowly through the crowd towards the door of
the hall. A murmur arose as he passed, and some of the courtiers, whose
mean spirit derived satisfaction from striking a falling man, accused
him of perjury and treason, and catching up straw from the floor, threw
it in his face. Becket stopped short, and facing his assailants, said,
in cold and haughty tones, but with high spirit, "If the sacredness of
my order did not forbid it, I would answer with arms those who call me
perjurer and traitor." He then mounted his horse, and proceeded to the
house where he lodged, followed by a crowd of the inferior clergy and the
people, among whom he was exceedingly popular, and who received him with
acclamations.
Rejected by the rich, the archbishop opened his house to the poor. That
same night he caused a bountiful supper to be laid out in the hall, and
in all the chambers of the house. The doors were then thrown open, and
the beggar by the wayside, the outcast, and the hungry, were invited
to enter freely. All who came were made welcome, so that the house
was filled with guests--the archbishop himself supping with them, and
presiding at the repast.
In the dead of night, when the visitors at this strange banquet had
taken their fill, and departed, Becket disguised himself in the dress
of a monk, and, accompanied by two friars, escaped from the town of
Northampton. A hasty journey of three days brought him to the fens of
Lincolnshire, where he remained a little while concealed in a hermit's
hut. On resuming his journey he passed without suspicion to the coast. It
was at the end of November, and the weather was cold and stormy; but the
archbishop preferred the risks of the sea to those which awaited him on
shore, and, embarking in a small boat, reached the harbour of Gravelines
in safety. Thence he resumed his journey, as before, on foot. After
encountering many privations, the primate and his companions at length
reached the monastery of St. Bertin, in the town of St. Omer.
Here Becket waited the result of the applications he had made to Louis of
France, and to Pope Alexander III. It was not long before replies were
returned entirely in his favour. Louis was glad of an opportunity of
annoying and injuring Henry by extending protection to the archbishop,
and Alexander supported his cause, as being that of the Church and of
justice. He was desired to retain the archiepiscopal dignity, which he
had resigned into the hands of the Pope, and the abbey of Pontigny, in
Burgundy, was given to him as a place of residence.
On the news of Becket's flight, the king immediately proclaimed a
sentence of banishment against all the kindred of the archbishop, young
and old, women and children. It is even said that these unhappy exiles
were made to swear they would present themselves before Becket, so that
he might see the misery of which he had been the cause. Thus it happened
that his retirement at Pontigny was disturbed by the visits of these
poor people, who vainly implored him to obtain the remission of their
sentence. Becket relieved their wants as far as he could and obtained for
many of them the protection of the Pope and the King of France.
The banished prelate appears to have supported with contentment his
sudden loss of power and return to the condition of poverty. His life
at this period was, however, far from being an idle one. Much of his
time was occupied in writing; and he received frequent letters both
from friends and enemies. The English bishops sent him epistles full of
reproaches, for no other reason than to add to the weight of misfortune
and humiliation which pressed heavily upon him. The lower ranks of the
people, however, retained their attachment to him, and secret prayers
were offered up for his success in his undertakings, and for his safe
return.
[Illustration: REPULSE OF THE ENGLISH AT CORWEN. (_See p._ 193.)]
Meanwhile Henry had conducted an expedition into Wales, which resulted in
a complete defeat of the royal forces. In 1164, a young man, nephew of
Rees-ap-Gryffith, King of South Wales, was found dead under suspicious
circumstances; and it was believed that he had been murdered by persons
in the employ of a Norman baron of the neighbourhood. To avenge his
death, Rees-ap-Gryffith collected troops from all parts of the Welsh
mountains, and made successful inroads upon the neighbouring counties.
The king, quitting for a time his quarrel with Becket, gathered a
considerable army, and in 1165 passed into Wales. The rebels gave way
before him, retreating, as their custom was, to the shelter of the
mountains. Henry, however, overtook them before they had gained their
fastnesses, and defeated them in an engagement. Pursuing them still
farther, the English troops reached Corwen, where they pitched their
encampment. A violent storm arose, and the streams which poured down
from the hills deluged the camp and flooded the valley. The mountaineers
took advantage of this circumstance, and, collecting on the ridges
near Corwen, attacked the disordered forces of the king, and defeated
them with considerable loss. Henry, who on ordinary occasions was less
addicted to acts of cruelty than had been the case with his ancestors,
was subject to fits of ungovernable passion; and he now determined to
revenge himself upon the persons of the hostages who had been placed in
his hands in 1158 by the Welsh chiefs. The men had their eyes torn out,
and the faces of the women were mutilated by having their noses and ears
cut off. It is related that the unhappy victims of these barbarities were
the sons and daughters of the noblest families in Wales.
[Illustration: INTERVIEW BETWEEN BECKET AND KING HENRY. (_See p._ 194.)]
Soon after the return of Henry from this expedition, an insurrection
broke out in 1166 in Brittany, which compelled his presence in that
province. The government of Conan dissatisfied the people, who were
oppressed by the Breton nobles, and could obtain no redress from their
prince. Henry entered Brittany with a large body of troops, and was
met by a deputation of the priests and the people, who placed the
redress of their grievances in his hands. Conan was compelled to resign
his authority, and the government passed into the hands of Henry,
under the name of his son Geoffrey, who, as we have seen, was married
to the daughter of Conan. The country, however, was not restored to
tranquillity. Other disturbances took place in various places, and
were put down one after the other by Henry, who at length succeeded
in overcoming all opposition to his government. He instituted various
reforms, and encouraged trade, and, under his rule, the land once more
enjoyed prosperity.
When the news of the king's arrival on the Continent reached Thomas
Becket, he left Pontigny, and proceeded to Vezelay, near Auxerre. At the
festival of the Ascension, Becket addressed the crowd assembled in the
great church, and while the bells were solemnly tolled, and the candles
burnt at the altar, the archbishop pronounced sentence of excommunication
against all who held to the Constitutions of Clarendon, or kept
possession of the property of the see of Canterbury. He mentioned by name
several of the Norman favourites of the king, and among others Richard de
Lucy, Ranulph de Broc, and Jocelyn of Balliol.
When Henry heard of this new act of hostility on the part of Becket, he
was at Chinon, in Anjou. Allusion has already been made to the fits of
passion with which he was sometimes seized, and on this occasion his
fury was altogether ungovernable. He exclaimed that it was attempted to
kill him body and soul; that he was surrounded by none but traitors, who
would not attempt to relieve him from the persecutions inflicted upon
him by one man. He threw his cap from his head, flung off his clothes,
and rolling himself in the coverlet of his bed, began to tear it to
pieces with his teeth. When his passion had in some degree subsided, he
wrote letters to the King of France and to the Pope, demanding that the
sentences of excommunication should be annulled, and threatening that if
Becket continued to receive shelter from the Cistercians at Pontigny,
all the estates in the king's dominions belonging to that order should
be confiscated. The Pope promised the king the satisfaction he required,
and Becket, driven from his asylum at Pontigny, removed to Sens, where he
remained under the protection of the King of France.
A series of petty wars now took place between Louis and Henry, and
were concluded by a peace in 1169. The matrimonial alliance previously
agreed upon between Louis and the King of Aragon was broken off, and
the Princess Alice of France was betrothed to Richard, second son of
Henry. At the time when this treaty was concluded, efforts were made by
the Pope and the King of France to effect a reconciliation between Henry
and Becket. A meeting took place between the two kings at Montmirail,
and thither Becket, having consented to give in his submission to
his sovereign, was conducted. When the archbishop arrived in the
king's presence, he expressed his willingness to submit to him in all
things; but he introduced the qualifying clause which he had formerly
used--"saving our order." The king angrily rejected such obedience,
saying that whatever displeased Becket would be declared to be contrary
to the honour of God, and that these few words would take away all the
royal authority. The archbishop insisting on such a reservation, the
nobles present accused him of inordinate pride, and the two kings rode
away from the spot without giving him any salutation.
Another conference which took place was also broken off suddenly, and
resulted in a quarrel between Louis and Henry. Peace was, however, once
more established between them, and Henry, fearing that the Pope might
sanction Becket's proceedings, and permit him to lay all England under
interdict, reluctantly promised to conclude final terms of reconciliation
with the archbishop. On the 22nd of July, 1170, a solemn congress was
held in a meadow between Freteval and La Ferte-Bernard, in Touraine.
After terms of peace had been arranged between the two kings, a private
conference took place between Henry and Becket. They rode together to
a distant part of the field, and conversed with something of their old
familiarity. The king promised to redress the grievances of which Becket
complained, and the usual forms of reconciliation took place, with the
exception of the kiss of peace, which the king now, as on a previous
occasion, refused to give. "We shall meet in our own country," said the
king, "and then we will embrace." Becket undertook to render to the king
all due and loyal service, while Henry promised to restore the privileges
and estates of the see of Canterbury. It is related that, to the
astonishment of all present, when Becket bended the knee on parting from
his sovereign, the king returned the courtesy by holding the stirrups of
the man whom he had refused to kiss.
Some delay took place on the king's part in the fulfilment of these
conditions, and Becket, who was compelled to borrow money to make the
journey, remained for awhile on the coast of France. Sinister rumours
reached him there; he was told that enemies were lying in wait for him
in England, and that if he again set foot in that country it would be
at the risk of his life. The lands of the Church could be restored only
by driving out the possessors, who were haughty barons, not unlikely to
seek vengeance on the man to whom they owed their ruin. Deadly enemies
of Becket were found also among men of his own order. He carried with
him the Pope's letter of excommunication against the Archbishop of
York and the Bishop of London, who would probably accept any means of
escaping the impending disgrace. Considerations such as these, however,
had never deterred Becket in the execution of his plans, and did not in
the least affect him now. With a spirit untamed by reverses he declared
that he would go back to England though he were sure of losing his life
on touching the shore. The letters of excommunication he forwarded before
him by a trusty messenger, who delivered them in public to the prelates
whom they concerned.
A vessel having been sent by Henry to convey him to England, he landed
at Sandwich, December 1, 1170, and was received with great rejoicings
by the people, who flocked from all parts of the neighbourhood to meet
him. The nobles, however, held aloof, and the few whom he saw did not
attempt to conceal their hostility. Three barons, who met him on his way
to Canterbury, are said to have drawn their swords and threatened his
life, and were only restrained from violence by the entreaties of John of
Oxford, the king's chaplain, who had accompanied Becket from France.
Proceeding on his way, the archbishop passed through Canterbury to
Woodstock, where he endeavoured to obtain an interview with Prince
Henry, the eldest son of the king. The interview was forbidden by the
royal command, and Becket was ordered to proceed at once to his diocese,
and there to remain. The time of Christmas was approaching, and the
archbishop retraced his steps, escorted on the way by the poor people,
armed with such coarse weapons as they could obtain. Various insults were
offered to the prelate by persons of the opposite party, who were anxious
to provoke his followers to a quarrel, which would afford a pretext for
attacking and murdering him. His faithful guard, however, contented
themselves with protecting the person of the archbishop, and received
these insults with imperturbable coolness.
The royal order which confined the primate to his diocese was published
in the towns, and with it another edict was made known, which declared
that whoever looked upon him with favour should be regarded as an enemy
of the king and the country. Signs like these were not to be mistaken;
and it scarcely needed the acute intellect and foresight of Becket to
perceive that his end was approaching. On Christmas day he preached to
the assembled crowd in Canterbury Cathedral, choosing as his text the
solemn words, "I have come to die among you." He told the people that
whereas one of their archbishops had already been a martyr, another would
soon be so also; but he declared that before he died he would avenge some
of the wrongs which had been inflicted upon the Church. He then proceeded
to excommunicate several of those persons from whom he had received
insults since his return to England.
The prediction of Becket was soon followed by its fulfilment. The three
bishops who had been excommunicated by the Pope's letters immediately
hastened to cross the Channel, and presenting themselves before Henry in
Normandy, demanded redress. "We entreat you," they said, "in the name
of your kingdom and its prelates. This man is setting England in flames.
He marches with a number of armed men, both horse and foot, going about
the fortresses, and endeavouring to obtain admission into them." Henry
heard this statement, and burst out into a violent fit of rage. "What!"
he cried; "a man who has eaten my bread--a beggar who first came to my
court riding a lame pack-horse, with his baggage at his back--shall he
insult the king, the royal family, and the whole kingdom, and not one of
the cowards who eat at my table will deliver me from such a turbulent
priest?"
These words proved to be the death-warrant of the archbishop. Four
knights who were present, Richard Brito, Hugh de Morville, William Tracy,
and Reginald Fitzurse, bound themselves by an oath to support each other
to the death, and suddenly departed from the palace. There is no evidence
that the king was acquainted with their design, or anticipated that his
hasty words would be so speedily acted upon. On the contrary, it is
recorded that, while the knights were hastening towards the coast, a
council of the barons of Normandy, assembled by the king, was engaged in
appointing three commissioners to seize the person of Thomas Becket, and
place him in prison on a charge of high treason.
The conspirators had departed, and, if their absence was perceived, its
cause was not suspected. On the 29th of December they arrived in the
neighbourhood of Canterbury, and having collected a number of armed men,
to overcome any resistance that might be offered, they first summoned
the mayor, and called upon him to march the citizens who were armed for
the king's service to the house of the archbishop. On his refusal they
proceeded thither without more delay, and the four conspirators, with
twelve men, abruptly entered the archbishop's apartment. Becket was
at the dinner-table, with his servants in attendance. He saluted the
Normans, and desired to know what they wanted. They made no reply, but
sat down gazing at him intently for some minutes. At length Reginald
Fitzurse rose up and said that they were come from the king to demand
that the persons excommunicated should be absolved, the suspended bishops
restored to their benefices, and that Becket himself should answer the
charge of treason against the throne. The archbishop replied that not
he, but the Pope, had excommunicated the bishops, and that he only
could absolve them. "From whom, then, do you hold your bishopric?"
Fitzurse demanded. "The spiritual rights I hold from God and the Pope,
and the temporal rights from the king." "What, then, the king did not
give you all?" "By no means." This reply was received with murmurs by
the knights, who twirled their gauntlets impatiently. "I perceive that
you threaten me," the archbishop said; "but it is in vain. If all the
swords in England were hanging over my head, they would not alter my
determination." "We do indeed dare to threaten," said Fitzurse; "and we
will do more." With these words he moved to the door, followed by the
others, and gave the call to arms.
The door of the room was instantly closed, and the attendants of Becket
entreated him to take refuge in the church, which communicated with the
house by a cloister. He, however, retained his place, although the blows
of an axe, which Fitzurse had obtained outside, resounded against the
door. At this moment the sound of the vesper bell was heard, and Becket
then rose up, and said that, since the hour of his duty had arrived, he
would go into the church. Directing his cross to be carried before him,
he passed slowly through the cloisters, and advanced to the choir, which
was enclosed by a railing. While he was ascending the steps leading to
the choir, Reginald Fitzurse entered the door of the church clad in
complete armour, and, waving his sword, cried, "Come hither, servants of
the king!" The other conspirators immediately followed him armed to the
teeth, and brandishing their swords.
It was already twilight, which, within the walls of the dimly-lighted
church, had deepened into blackest obscurity. Becket's attendants
entreated him to fly to the winding staircase which led to the roof of
the building, or to seek refuge in the vaults underground. He rejected
both of these expedients, and stood still to meet his assailants. "Where
is the traitor?" cried a voice. There was no answer. "Where is the
archbishop?" "Here I am," Becket replied; "but here is no traitor. What
do ye in the house of God in warlike equipment?" One of the knights
seized him by the sleeve, telling him that he was a prisoner. He pulled
back his arm violently. It is related that they then advised him to
fly or to go with them, as though they repented of their evil design.
The time and the scene, the sacred office of Becket, and his calm
courage, were well calculated to make an impression upon men peculiarly
susceptible to such influences, and if they hesitated we must attribute
it to these causes rather than doubt the ruthless intention with which
they came.
Once more they called upon him to absolve the bishops; once more he
refused, and Fitzurse, drawing his sword, struck at his head. The blow
was intercepted by the arm of one of the prelate's servants, who stepped
forward to protect his master, but in vain. A second blow descended, and
while the blood was streaming from his face, some one of his assailants
whispered him to fly and save himself. Becket paid no heed to the
speaker, but clasped his hands and bowed his head, commending his soul
to God and the saints. The conspirators now fell upon him with their
swords, and quickly despatched him. One of them is said to have kicked
the prostrate body, saying, "So perishes a traitor."
The deed thus accomplished, the conspirators passed out of the town
without hindrance, but no sooner had they done so than the news spread
throughout the town, and the inhabitants, in the utmost excitement and
indignation, assembled in crowds in the streets, and ran towards the
cathedral. Seeing the body of their archbishop stretched before the
altar, men and women began to weep, and while some kissed his feet and
hands, others dipped linen in the blood with which the pavement was
covered. It was declared by the people that Becket was a martyr, and
though a royal edict was published forbidding any one to express such
an opinion, the popular feeling still manifested itself. The Archbishop
of York returned to his pulpit, and announced the violent death of the
archbishop to be a judgment from heaven, and that he had perished in his
pride, like Pharaoh. It was preached by other bishops that the body of
the traitor ought not to be laid in holy ground, but that it should be
left to rot on the highway, or hung from a gibbet. It was even attempted
by some soldiers to seize the corpse; but the monks, who had received an
intimation of the design, buried it hastily in the crypt of the cathedral.
Louis, King of France, seconded the feeling of the English people with
regard to this cowardly murder. He wrote to the Pope, entreating him to
punish with all the power of the Church that persecutor of God; a Nero in
cruelty, a Julian in apostacy, and a Judas in treachery.
[Illustration: THE DEATH OF BECKET.]
The opinion of the French court was that Henry was guilty of the murder,
having known or directed the designs of the conspirators. When the
intelligence was first conveyed to him, he displayed extreme grief,
shutting himself up within a private room, and refusing either to see his
friends or to taste food for three days. He immediately sent legates to
Rome, to offer assurances of his innocence to the Pope Alexander, who
threatened to place the whole kingdom under an interdict, as a punishment
for the outrage upon Heaven and the Church. Some time elapsed before
Alexander changed his purpose and was prevailed upon to confine his
anathema to the actual murderers and their abettors.
In the year 1172 a council was held at Avranches, at which the king and
the legates of the Pope were present, and which was attended by a great
multitude, both of the clergy and of the people. Here Henry voluntarily
swore, in what was considered the most solemn manner--that is to say,
over the sacred relics--that he had no concern in the murder of the
archbishop, and that he had not desired his death.
On reviewing the remarkable career of Thomas Becket, it appears extremely
difficult to form a just estimate of his character. That he frequently
acted independently of principle, and displayed qualities better
suited to a soldier than a priest, is beyond question. That his sudden
conversion was mere hypocrisy, his piety assumed, and his aims altogether
selfish--accusations which have frequently been brought against him--is
much less certain. When the religious habit was first assumed by Becket,
he accepted it as a step to power, and with little regard for the sacred
functions it conferred upon him; but when he was called to a higher
office, and he felt that the dignity of his order was placed in his
keeping, he determined to support that dignity. What was the precise
character of the motives which actuated him it is vain to inquire; but
it is at least possible that he was sincere in the course he pursued,
and that he believed the interests of religion to be identified with
the power of the Church. Allusion has already been made to the benefits
conferred upon the nation by the reforms which he introduced, and to
the veneration with which the people regarded him. The popular regard
is not always to be taken as a criterion of excellence, for men are apt
to be attracted by a showy and noisy benevolence rather than by silent
and unobtrusive virtue; but in process of time the true is distinguished
from the false, and the instincts of the people are rarely long deceived.
Neither the mitre which he wore, nor the English blood which flowed in
his veins, could have placed the archbishop so high in the affections of
the nation, unless there had been also high and sterling qualities in the
man. Well-authenticated accounts have reached us of his conduct at the
time of his death--that hour when the mask of the hypocrite usually falls
away, and something of his true character seldom fails to show itself. At
this time, then, we find Thomas Becket presented to us in an aspect which
must command the respect even of those who take the worst view of his
previous life. With far more courage than his knightly assassins, we see
him refusing to attempt a flight, which might have shown a consciousness
of guilt; preserving, in the face of death, a calm and undaunted brow;
and, as we are told by one of the chroniclers, employing his last words
in securing the safety of his friends and servants.[32]