CHAPTER I.

Transcriber’s Note

Words in italics are marked with _underscores_.

Words in small capitals are shown in UPPER CASE.

Please see the note at the end of the book.

ENGLAND

UNDER

THE ANGEVIN KINGS

[Illustration: Publisher’s colophon]

ENGLAND

UNDER

THE ANGEVIN KINGS

BY

KATE NORGATE

IN TWO VOLUMES--VOL. II.

WITH MAPS AND PLANS

London

MACMILLAN AND CO.

AND NEW YORK

1887

_All rights reserved_

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I

PAGE

ARCHBISHOP THOMAS, 1162–1164 1

Note A.--The Council of Woodstock 43

Note B.--The Council of Clarendon 44

CHAPTER II

HENRY AND ROME, 1164–1172 46

CHAPTER III

THE CONQUEST OF IRELAND, 795–1172 82

CHAPTER IV

HENRY AND THE BARONS, 1166–1175 120

CHAPTER V

THE ANGEVIN EMPIRE, 1175–1183 169

CHAPTER VI

THE LAST YEARS OF HENRY II., 1183–1189 229

CHAPTER VII

RICHARD AND ENGLAND, 1189–1194 273

CHAPTER VIII

THE LATER YEARS OF RICHARD, 1194–1199 332

CHAPTER IX

THE FALL OF THE ANGEVINS, 1199–1206 388

Note.--The Death of Arthur 429

CHAPTER X

THE NEW ENGLAND, 1170–1206 431

LIST OF MAPS

III. IRELAND, A.D. 1172 _To face page_ 82

IV. MAP TO ILLUSTRATE THE REBELLION OF 1173–1174 ” 149

V. FRANCE AND BURGUNDY _c._ 1180 ” 185

VI. EUROPE _c._ 1180 ” 189

VII. FRANCE AND THE ANGEVIN DOMINIONS, 1194 ” 359

PLANS

VII. LES ANDELYS AND CHÂTEAU-GAILLARD _To face page_ 375

VIII. CHÂTEAU-GAILLARD ” 378

CHAPTER I.

ARCHBISHOP THOMAS.

1162–1164.

Somewhat more than a year after the primate’s death, Thomas the

chancellor returned to England. He came, as we have seen, at the

king’s bidding, ostensibly for the purpose of securing the recognition

of little Henry as heir to the crown. But this was not the sole nor

even the chief object of his mission. On the eve of his departure--so

the story was told by his friends in later days--Thomas had gone to

take leave of the king at Falaise. Henry drew him aside: “You do not

yet know to what you are going. I will have you to be archbishop of

Canterbury.” The chancellor took, or tried to take, the words for a

jest. “A saintly figure indeed,” he exclaimed with a smiling glance at

his own gay attire, “you are choosing to sit in that holy seat and to

head that venerable convent! No, no,” he added with sudden earnestness,

“I warn you that if such a thing should be, our friendship would soon

turn to bitter hate. I know your plans concerning the Church; you will

assert claims which I as archbishop must needs oppose; and the breach

once made, jealous hands would take care that it should never be healed

again.” The words were prophetic; they sum up the whole history of

the pontificate of Thomas Becket. Henry, however, in his turn passed

them over as a mere jest, and at once proclaimed his intention to the

chancellor’s fellow-envoys, one of whom was the justiciar, Richard de

Lucy. “Richard,” said the king, “if I lay dead in my shroud, would

you earnestly strive to secure my first-born on my throne?” “Indeed I

would, my lord, with all my might.” “Then I charge you to strive no

less earnestly to place my chancellor on the metropolitan chair of

Canterbury.”[1]

[1] Herb. Bosh. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), pp. 180, 182.

Cf. _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. pp. 63–67.

Thomas was appalled. He could not be altogether taken by surprise;

he knew what had been Theobald’s wishes and hopes; he knew that from

the moment of Theobald’s death all eyes had turned instinctively upon

himself with the belief that the future of the Church rested wholly

in his all-powerful hands; he could not but suspect the king’s own

intentions,[2] although the very suspicion would keep him silent,

and all the more so because those intentions ran counter to his own

desires. For twelve months he had known that the primacy was within his

reach; he had counted the cost, and he had no mind to pay it. He was

incapable of undertaking any office without throwing his whole energies

into the fulfilment of its duties; his conception of the duties of the

primate of all Britain would involve the sacrifice not only of those

secular pursuits which he so keenly enjoyed, but also of that personal

friendship and political co-operation with the king which seemed almost

an indispensable part of the life of both; and neither sacrifice was

he disposed to make. He had said as much to an English friend who had

been the first to hint at his coming promotion,[3] and he repeated it

now with passionate earnestness to Henry himself, but all in vain. The

more he resisted, the more the king insisted--the very frankness of his

warnings only strengthening Henry’s confidence in him; and when the

legate Cardinal Henry of Pisa urged his acceptance as a sacred duty,

Thomas at last gave way.[4]

[2] Herb. Bosh. (as above), p. 180. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.),

p. 14. _Thomas Saga_ (as above), p. 63.

[3] Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), pp. 25,

26.

[4] Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol. i.), pp. 7, 8. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol.

iv.), p. 18. Anon. II. (_ib._), p. 86.

The council in London was no sooner ended than Richard de Lucy and

three of the bishops[5] hurried to Canterbury, by the king’s orders,

to obtain from the cathedral chapter the election of a primate in

accordance with his will. The monks of Christ Church were never very

easy to manage; in the days of the elder King Henry they had firmly

and successfully resisted the intrusion of a secular clerk into the

monastic chair of S. Augustine; and a strong party among them now

protested that to choose for pastor of the flock of Canterbury a

man who was scarcely a clerk at all, who was wholly given to hawks

and hounds and the worldly ways of the court, would be no better

than setting a wolf to guard a sheepfold. But their scruples were

silenced by the arguments of Richard de Lucy and by their dread

of the royal wrath, and in the end Thomas was elected without a

dissentient voice.[6] The election was repeated in the presence of a

great council[7] held at Westminster on May 23,[8] and ratified by

the bishops and clergy there assembled.[9] Only one voice was raised

in protest; it was that of Gilbert Foliot,[10] who, alluding doubtless

to the great scutage, declared that Thomas was utterly unfit for the

primacy, because he had persecuted the Church of God.[11] The protest

was answered by Henry of Winchester in words suggested by Gilbert’s

own phrase: “My son,” said the ex-legate, addressing Thomas, “if thou

hast been hitherto as Saul the persecutor, be thou henceforth as Paul

the Apostle.”[12]

[5] E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), pp. 366. The bishops were Exeter,

Chichester and Rochester; Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 16, 17, Anon.

I. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iv.), pp. 14–16, and Gerv. Cant.

(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 169; this last alone names Rochester, and

adds another envoy--Abbot Walter of Battle, Chichester’s old

adversary and the justiciar’s brother.

[6] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 17. E. Grim (Robertson, _Becket_,

vol. ii.), pp. 366, 367. Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), pp.

183–185. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 16. _Thomas Saga_

(Magnusson, vol. i. p. 73) has quite a different version of the

result.

[7] Anon. I. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iv.), p. 17. Will.

Cant. (_ib._ vol. i.), p. 9. Garnier, as above. Gerv. Cant.

(Stubbs), vol. i. p. 169. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 306.

[8] The Wednesday before Pentecost. R. Diceto (as above), p.

307.

[9] Garnier, Will. Cant., Anon. I., as above. R. Diceto (as

above), p. 306. Gerv. Cant. (as above), p. 170. All these

writers either say or imply that the council represented, or

was meant to represent, the entire _clerus et populus_ of all

England; except R. Diceto, who says: “clero totius provinciæ

_Cantuariorum_ generaliter Lundoniæ convocato” (p. 306). Cf.

_Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. pp. 73–77; Will. Fitz-Steph.

(Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), p. 36; and Herb. Bosh.

(_ib._), p. 184.

[10] Garnier, Will. Cant., Will. Fitz-Steph. and Anon. I. as

above. E. Grim (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. ii.), p. 367. Will.

Cant., E. Grim and the Anon. call him “bishop of London” by

anticipation.

[11] “Destruite ad seinte Iglise.” Garnier, as above.

[12] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 18.

The election was confirmed by the great officers of state and the

boy-king in his father’s name;[13] the consecration was fixed for the

octave of Pentecost, and forthwith the bishops began to vie with each

other for the honour of performing the ceremony. Roger of York, who

till now had stood completely aloof, claimed it as a privilege due to

the dignity of his see; but the primate-elect and the southern bishops

declined to accept his services without a profession of canonical

obedience to Canterbury, which he indignantly refused.[14] The bishop

of London, on whom as dean of the province the duty according to

ancient precedent should have devolved, was just dead;[15] Walter

of Rochester momentarily put in a claim to supply his place,[16]

but withdrew it in deference to Henry of Winchester, who had lately

returned from Cluny, and whose royal blood, venerable character, and

unique dignity as father of the whole English episcopate, marked him

out beyond all question as the most fitting person to undertake the

office.[17] By way of compensation, it was Walter who, on the Saturday

in Whitsun-week, raised the newly-elected primate to the dignity of

priesthood.[18]

[13] _Ibid._ Anon. I. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iv.), p. 17.

Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol. i.), p. 9. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p.

367. Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 185.

[14] Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 170.

[15] He died on May 4. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 306.

[16] Herb. Bosh. (as above), p. 188.

[17] Gerv. Cant., R. Diceto and Herb. Bosh. as above. MS.

Lansdown. II. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iv.), p. 155. Cf.

Anon. I. (_ib._), p. 19. There was another claimant, a Welsh

bishop, who asserted priority of consecration over all his

brother-prelates; so at least says Gerv. Cant., but one does

not see who he can have been.

[18] R. Diceto, as above.

Early next morning the consecration took place. Canterbury cathedral

has been rebuilt from end to end since that day; it is only imagination

which can picture the church of Lanfranc and Anselm and Theobald as

it stood on that June morning, the scarce-risen sun gleaming faintly

through its eastern windows upon the rich vestures of the fourteen

bishops[19] and their attendant clergy and the dark robes of the monks

who thronged the choir, while the nave was crowded with spectators,

foremost among whom stood the group of ministers surrounding the little

king.[20] From the vestry-door Thomas came forth, clad no longer in

the brilliant attire at which he had been jesting a few weeks ago, but

in the plain black cassock and white surplice of a clerk; through the

lines of staring, wondering faces he passed into the choir, and there

threw himself prostrate upon the altar-steps. Thence he was raised to

go through a formality suggested by the prudence of his consecrator.

To guard, as he hoped, against all risk of future difficulties which

might arise from Thomas’s connexion with the court, Henry of Winchester

led him down to the entrance of the choir, and in the name of the

Church called upon the king’s representatives to deliver over the

primate-elect fully and unreservedly to her holy service, freed from

all secular obligations, actual or possible. A formal quit-claim was

accordingly granted to Thomas by little Henry and the justiciars, in

the king’s name;[21] after which the bishop of Winchester proceeded to

consecrate him at once. A shout of applause rang through the church as

the new primate of all Britain was led up to his patriarchal chair;

but he mounted its steps with eyes downcast and full of tears.[22] To

him the day was one of melancholy foreboding; yet he made its memory

joyful in the Church for ever. He began his archiepiscopal career by

ordaining a new festival to be kept every year on that day--the octave

of Pentecost--in honour of the most Holy Trinity;[23] and in process of

time the observance thus originated spread from Canterbury throughout

the whole of Christendom, which thus owes to an English archbishop the

institution of Trinity Sunday.

[19] See the list in Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 170.

[20] Herb. Bosh. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), p. 188.

[21] MS. Lansdown. II. (_ib._ vol. iv.), pp. 154, 155. Cf.

Anon. I. (_ib._), pp. 17, 18; Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol. i.),

p. 9; E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 367; Herb. Bosh. (_ib._

vol. iii.), p. 185; Garnier (Hippeau), p. 19; and _Thomas

Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. p. 81. All these place this scene

in London, immediately after the consecration. The three

first, however, seem to be only following Garnier; and the

words of Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii. p.

36), though not very explicit, seem rather to agree with the

MS. Lansdown. Garnier, Grim and the Anon. I. all expressly

attribute the suggestion to Henry of Winchester.

[22] Anon. I. (as above), p. 19.

[23] Gerv. Cant. as above.

“The king has wrought a miracle,” sneered the sarcastic bishop of

Hereford, Gilbert Foliot; “out of a soldier and man of the world he

has made an archbishop.”[24] The same royal power helped to smooth the

new primate’s path a little further before him. He was not, like most

of his predecessors, obliged to go in person to fetch his pallium from

Rome; an embassy which he despatched immediately after his consecration

obtained it for him without difficulty from Alexander III., who had

just been driven by the Emperor’s hostility to seek a refuge in France,

and was in no condition to venture upon any risk of thwarting King

Henry’s favourite minister.[25] The next messenger whom Thomas sent

over sea met with a less pleasant reception. He was charged to deliver

up the great seal into the king’s hands with a request that Henry would

provide himself with another chancellor, “as Thomas felt scarcely equal

to the cares of one office, far less to those of two.”[26]

[24] Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), p. 36.

[25] Garnier (Hippeau), pp. 24, 25. Will. Cant. (Robertson,

_Becket_, vol. i.) p. 9. Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 189.

Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 172. R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol.

i. p. 307. _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. pp. 91–95.

[26] Will. Cant. (as above), p. 12. Cf. Garnier (Hippeau), p.

29, and R. Diceto as above.

Henry was both surprised and vexed. It was customary for the chancellor

to resign his office on promotion to a bishopric; but this sudden step

on the part of Thomas was quite unexpected, and upset a cherished

scheme of the king’s. He had planned to rival the Emperor by having an

archbishop for his chancellor, as the archbishops of Mainz and Cöln

were respectively arch-chancellors of Germany and Italy;[27] he had

certainly never intended, in raising his favourite to the primacy, to

deprive himself of such a valuable assistant in secular administration;

his aim had rather been to secure the services of Thomas in two

departments instead of one.[28] To take away all ground of scandal, he

had even procured a papal dispensation to sanction the union of the

two offices in a single person.[29] Thomas, however, persisted in his

resignation; and as there was no one whom Henry cared to put in his

place, the chancellorship remained vacant, while the king brooded over

his friend’s unexpected conduct and began to suspect that it was caused

by weariness of his service.

[27] R. Diceto (as above), p. 308. The real work of the office

in the Empire was, however, done by another chancellor, who at

this time was a certain Reginald, of whom we shall hear again

later on. “Cancellarius” plays almost as conspicuous and quite

as unclerkly a part in the Italian wars of Barbarossa as in the

French and Aquitanian wars of Henry.

[28] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 29. Cf. _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson),

vol. i. pp. 69–71.

[29] Garnier, as above.

Meanwhile Thomas had entered upon the second phase of his strangely

varied career. He had “put off the deacon” for awhile; he was resolved

now to “put off the old man” wholly and for ever. No sooner was he

consecrated than he flung himself, body and soul, into his new life

with an ardour more passionate, more absorbing, more exclusive than

he had displayed in pursuit of the worldly tasks and pleasures of the

court. On the morrow of his consecration, when some jongleurs came to

him for the largesse which he had never been known to refuse, he gently

but firmly dismissed them; he was no longer, he said, the chancellor

whom they had known; his whole possessions were now a sacred trust, to

be spent not on actors and jesters but in the service of the Church and

the poor.[30] Theobald had doubled the amount of regular alms-givings

established by his predecessors; Thomas immediately doubled those of

Theobald.[31] To be diligent in providing for the sick and needy,

to take care that no beggar should ever be sent empty away from his

door,[32] was indeed nothing new in the son of the good dame Rohesia

of Caen. The lavish hospitality of the chancellor’s household, too,

was naturally transferred to that of the archbishop; but it took a

different tone and colour. All and more than all the old grandeur and

orderliness were there; the palace still swarmed with men-at-arms,

servants and retainers of all kinds, every one with his own appointed

duty, whose fulfilment was still carefully watched by the master’s

eyes; the bevy of high-born children had only increased, for by an

ancient custom the second son of a baron could be claimed by the

primate for his service--as the eldest by the king--until the age of

knighthood; a claim which Thomas was not slow to enforce, and which

the barons were delighted to admit. The train of clerks was of course

more numerous than ever. The tables were still laden with delicate

viands, served with the utmost perfection, and crowded with guests

of all ranks; Thomas was still the most courteous and gracious of

hosts. But the banquet wore a graver aspect than in the chancellor’s

hall. The knights and other laymen occupied a table by themselves,

where they talked and laughed as they listed; it was the clerks and

religious who now sat nearest to Thomas. He himself was surrounded

by a select group of clerks, his _eruditi_, his “learned men” as he

called them: men versed in Scriptural and theological lore, his chosen

companions in the study of Holy Writ into which he had plunged with

characteristic energy; while instead of the minstrelsy which had been

wont to accompany and inspire the gay talk at the chancellor’s table,

there was only heard, according to ecclesiastical custom, the voice of

the archbishop’s cross-bearer who sat close to his side reading from

some holy book: the primate and his confidential companions meanwhile

exchanging comments upon what was read, and discussing matters too

deep and solemn to interest unlearned ears or to brook unlearned

interruption.[33] Of the meal itself Thomas partook but sparingly;[34]

its remainder was always given away;[35] and every day twenty-six poor

men were brought into the hall and served with a dinner of the best,

before Thomas would sit down to his own midday meal.[36]

[30] MS. Lansdown. II. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iv.), p. 156.

[31] Anon. I. (_ibid._), p. 20. The Anon. II. (_ibid._), p.

90, and Joh. Salisb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 307, say that to

this purpose he appropriated a _tithe_ of all his revenues--a

statement which reflects rather strangely upon the former

archbishops.

[32] Joh. Salisb. and Anon. I. as above. Anon. II. (as above),

pp. 89, 90.

[33] Herb. Bosh. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), pp. 225–229.

On the _eruditi_ see _ib._ pp. 206, 207, 523–529.

[34] _Ib._ pp. 231–236. Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ibid._), p. 37.

Joh. Salisb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 308. Anon. II. (_ib._ vol.

iv.), p. 89.

[35] Joh. Salisb. (as above), p. 307. Anon. I. (_ib._ vol.

iv.), pp. 20, 21.

[36] Anon. II. (_ib._), p. 89.

The amount of work which he had got through by that time must have

been quite as great as in the busiest days of his chancellorship. The

day’s occupations ostensibly began about the hour of tierce, when the

archbishop came forth from his chamber and went either to hear or to

celebrate mass,[37] while a breakfast was given at his expense to a

hundred persons who were called his “poor prebendaries.”[38] After

mass he proceeded to his audience-chamber and there chiefly remained

till the hour of nones, occupied in hearing suits and administering

justice.[39] Nones were followed by dinner,[40] after which the primate

shut himself up in his own apartments with his _eruditi_[41] and spent

the rest of the day with them in business or study, interrupted only

by the religious duties of the canonical hours, and sometimes by a

little needful repose,[42] for his night’s rest was of the briefest. At

cock-crow he rose for prime; immediately afterwards there were brought

in to him secretly, under cover of the darkness, thirteen poor persons

whose feet he washed and to whom he ministered at table with the utmost

devotion and humility,[43] clad only in a hair-shirt which from the day

of his consecration he always wore beneath the gorgeous robes in which

he appeared in public.[44] He then returned to his bed, but only for

a very short time; long before any one else was astir he was again up

and doing, in company with one specially favoured disciple--the one who

tells the tale, Herbert of Bosham. In the calm silent hours of dawn,

while twelve other poor persons received a secret meal and had their

feet washed by the primate’s almoner in his stead, the two friends sat

eagerly searching the Scriptures together, till the archbishop chose

to be left alone[45] for meditation and confession, scourging and

prayer,[46] in which he remained absorbed until the hour of tierce

called him forth to his duties in the world.[47]

[37] Herb. Bosh. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), p. 208.

[38] _Ib._ p. 203.

[39] _Ib._ p. 219.

[40] _Ib._ p. 225.

[41] _Ib._ pp. 236, 237.

[42] _Ib._ p. 238.

[43] _Ib._ p. 199. Cf. Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ibid._), p. 38, and

Joh. Salisb. (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 307.

[44] On the hair-shirt see MS. Lansdown. II. (_ib._ vol. iv.),

p. 154; Anon. I. (_ibid._), p. 20; Will. Cant. (_ib._ vol. i.),

p. 10; Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), pp. 196, 199; Garnier

(Hippeau), p. 23. On Thomas’s troubles about his dress and

how he settled them see Garnier, pp. 19, 20, 23; Anon. I. (as

above), p. 21; E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 368; Herb. Bosh.

(_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 196. On his whole manner of life after

consecration cf. _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. pp. 95–111.

[45] Herb. Bosh. (as above), pp. 202–205.

[46] Anon. II. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iv.), p. 88.

[47] Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), p. 205.

He was feverishly anxious to lose no opportunity of making up for his

long neglect of the Scriptural and theological studies befitting his

sacred calling. He openly confessed his grievous inferiority in this

respect to many of his own clerks, and put himself under their teaching

with child-like simplicity and earnestness. The one whom he specially

chose for monitor and guide, Herbert of Bosham, was a man in whom,

despite his immeasurable inferiority, one can yet see something of a

temper sufficiently akin to that of Thomas himself to account for their

mutual attraction, and perhaps for some of their joint errors. As they

rode from London to Canterbury on the morrow of the primate’s election

he had drawn Herbert aside and laid upon him a special charge to watch

with careful eyes over his conduct as archbishop, and tell him without

stint or scruple whatever he saw amiss in it or heard criticized by

others.[48] Herbert, though he worshipped his primate with a perfect

hero-worship, never hesitated to fulfil this injunction to the letter

as far as his lights would permit; but unluckily his zeal was even

less tempered by discretion than that of Thomas himself. He was a far

less safe guide in the practical affairs of life than in the intricate

paths of abstract and mystical interpretation of Holy Writ in which

he and Thomas delighted to roam together. Often, when no other quiet

time could be found, the archbishop would turn his horse aside as

they travelled along the road, beckon to his friend, draw out a book

from its hiding-place in one of his wide sleeves, and plunge into an

eager discussion of its contents as they ambled slowly on.[49] When at

Canterbury, his greatest pleasure was to betake himself to the cloister

and sit reading like a lowly monk in one of its quiet nooks.[50]

[48] _Ib._ p. 186.

[49] _Ib._ p. 206.

[50] Will. Fitz-Steph. (_ib._), pp. 38, 39.

But the _eruditi_ of Thomas, like the disciples of Theobald, were

the confidants and the sharers of far more than his literary and

doctrinal studies. It was in those evening hours which he spent in

their midst, secluded from all outside interruption, that the plans

of Church reform and Church revival, sketched long ago by other hands

in the _Curia Theobaldi_, assumed a shape which might perhaps have

startled Theobald himself. As the weeks wore quickly away from Trinity

to Ember-tide, the new primate set himself to grapple at once with

the ecclesiastical abuses of the time in the persons of his first

candidates for ordination. On his theory the remedy for these abuses

lay in the hands of the bishops, and especially of the metropolitans,

who fostered simony, worldliness and immorality among the clergy by the

facility with which they admitted unqualified persons into high orders,

thus filling the ranks of the priesthood with unworthy, ignorant and

needy clerks, who either traded upon their sacred profession as a

means to secular advancement, or disgraced it by the idle wanderings

and unbecoming shifts to which the lack of fit employment drove them

to resort for a living. He was determined that no favour or persuasion

should ever induce him to ordain any man whom he did not know to be

of saintly life and ample learning, and provided with a benefice

sufficient to furnish him with occupation and maintenance; and he

proclaimed and acted upon his determination with the zeal of one who,

as he openly avowed, felt that he was himself the most glaring example

of the evils resulting from a less stringent system of discipline.[51]

[51] Herb. Bosh. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), pp. 238–247.

His next undertaking was one which almost every new-made prelate in any

degree alive to the rights and duties of his office found it needful to

begin as soon as possible: the recovery of the alienated property of

his see. Gilbert Foliot, the model English bishop of the day, had no

sooner been consecrated than he wrote to beg the Pope’s support in this

important and troublesome matter.[52] It may well be that even fourteen

years later the metropolitan see had not yet received full restitution

for the spoliations of the anarchy. Thomas however set to work in the

most sweeping fashion, boldly laying claim to every estate which he

could find to have been granted away by his predecessors on grounds

which did not satisfy his exalted ideas of ecclesiastical right, or

on terms which he held detrimental to the interest and dignity of his

church, and enforcing his claims without respect of persons; summarily

turning out those who held the archiepiscopal manors in ferm,[53]

disputing with the earl of Clare for jurisdiction over the castle and

district of Tunbridge, and reclaiming, on the strength of a charter of

the Conqueror, the custody of Rochester castle from the Crown itself.

Such a course naturally stirred up for him a crowd of enemies, and

increased the jealousy, suspicion and resentment which his new position

and altered mode of life had already excited among the companions and

rivals of his earlier days. The archbishop however was still, like the

chancellor, protected against them by the shield of the royal favour;

they could only work against him by working upon the mind of Henry.

One by one they carried over sea their complaints of the wrongs which

they had suffered, or with which they were threatened, at the primate’s

hands;[54] they reported all his daily doings and interpreted them in

the worst sense:--his strictness of life was superstition, his zeal for

justice was cruelty, his care for his church avarice, his pontifical

splendour pride, his vigour rashness and self-conceit:[55]--if the king

did not look to it speedily, he would find his laws and constitutions

set at naught, his regal dignity trodden under foot, and himself and

his heirs reduced to mere cyphers dependent on the will and pleasure of

the archbishop of Canterbury.[56]

[52] Gilb. Foliot, Ep. lxxxvii. (Giles, vol. i., p. 113).

[53] E. Grim (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. ii.) pp. 371, 372.

Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.) pp. 250, 251. _Thomas Saga_

(Magnusson), vol. i. pp. 117–121.

[54] Herb. Bosh. (as above), p. 252. _Thomas Saga_ (as above),

p. 121.

[55] Joh. Salisb. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. ii.) pp. 309, 310.

Anon. II. (_ib._ vol. iv.) pp. 91, 92.

[56] Joh. Salisb. (as above), p. 310. E. Grim (_ibid._) p. 372.

Anon. II. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 92. Cf. Arn. Lisieux, Ep. 34

(Giles, pp. 148, 149).

At the close of the year Henry determined to go and see for himself the

truth of these strange rumours.[57] The negotiations concerning the

papal question had detained him on the continent throughout the summer;

in the end both he and Louis gave a cordial welcome to Alexander, and

a general pacification was effected in a meeting of the two kings and

the Pope which took place late in the autumn at Chouzy on the Loire.

Compelled by contrary winds to keep Christmas at Cherbourg instead of

in England as he had hoped,[58] the king landed at Southampton on S.

Paul’s day.[59] Thomas, still accompanied by the little Henry, was

waiting to receive him; the two friends met with demonstrations of the

warmest affection, and travelled to London together in the old intimate

association.[60] One subject of disagreement indeed there was; Thomas

had actually been holding for six months the archdeaconry of Canterbury

together with the archbishopric, and this Henry, after several vain

remonstrances, now compelled him to resign.[61] They parted however in

undisturbed harmony, the archbishop again taking his little pupil with

him.[62]

[57] Anon. II. as above.

[58] Rob. Torigni, a. 1162.

[59] Herb. Bosh. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), p. 252. The

date is given by R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 308.

[60] Herb. Bosh. (as above), pp. 252, 253. Anon. II. (_ib._

vol. iv.), p. 92. R. Diceto (as above) tells a different tale;

but Herbert is surely a better authority on these personal

matters. Cf. also _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. pp.

121–123.

[61] R. Diceto, as above.

[62] Herb. Bosh. (as above), p. 253.

The first joint work of king and primate was the translation of Gilbert

Foliot from Hereford to London. Some of those who saw its consequences

in after-days declared that Henry had devised the scheme for the

special purpose of securing Gilbert’s aid against the primate;[63]

but it is abundantly clear that no such thought had yet entered his

mind, and that the suggestion of Gilbert’s promotion really came from

Thomas himself.[64] Like every one else, he looked upon Gilbert as the

greatest living light of the English Church; he expected to find in him

his own most zealous and efficient fellow-worker in the task which lay

before him as metropolitan, as well as his best helper in influencing

the king for good. Gilbert was in fact the man who in the natural

fitness of things had seemed marked out for the primacy; failing that,

it was almost a matter of necessity that he should be placed in the

see which stood next in dignity, and where both king and primate could

benefit by his assistance ever at hand, instead of having to seek out

their most useful adviser in the troubled depths of the Welsh marches.

The chapter of London, to whom during the pecuniary troubles and long

illness of their late bishop Gilbert had been an invaluable friend

and protector, were only too glad to elect him; and his world-wide

reputation combined with the pleadings of Henry to obtain the Pope’s

consent to his translation,[65] which was completed by his enthronement

in S. Paul’s cathedral on April 28, 1163.[66]

[63] Will. Fitz-Steph. (as above), p. 46.

[64] This is the statement of Anon. II. (_ib._ vol. iv. p. 98)

and Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs, vol. i. p. 173), fully borne out by

the letters of Thomas.

[65] Epp. xvi.–xix. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v. pp. 24–30).

Herb. Bosh. (_ib._ vol. iii.), pp. 255, 256. Cf. Anon. II.

(_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 98.

[66] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 309.

The king spent the early summer in subduing South-Wales; the primate,

in attending a council held by Pope Alexander at Tours.[67] From the

day of his departure to that of his return Thomas’s journey was one

long triumphal progress; Pope and cardinals welcomed him with such

honours as had never been given to any former archbishop of Canterbury,

hardly even to S. Anselm himself;[68] and the request which he made to

the Pope for Anselm’s canonization[69] may indicate the effect which

they produced on his mind--confirming his resolve to stand boldly upon

his right of opposition to the secular power whenever it clashed with

ecclesiastical theories of liberty and justice. The first opportunity

for putting his resolve in practice arose upon a question of purely

temporal administration at a council held by Henry at Woodstock on

July 31, after his return from Wales. The Welsh princes came to swear

fealty to Henry and his heir; Malcolm of Scotland came to confirm his

alliance with the English Crown by doing homage in like manner to the

little king.[70] Before the council broke up, however, Henry met the

sharpest constitutional defeat which had befallen any English sovereign

since the Norman conquest, and that at the hands of his own familiar

friend.

[67] According to Gerv. Cant. (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 173, and

Will. Newb., l. ii. c. 14 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 135), it opened

on Trinity Sunday, May 19; according to R. Diceto (as above),

p. 310, on May 21. The _Thomas Saga_ (Magnusson), vol. i. pp.

123–127, makes out that Thomas’s chief object in going there

was to obtain confirmation of certain privileges of his see.

Cf. also the account of this council in _Draco Norm._, l. iii.

cc. 13–15, vv. 949–1224 (Howlett, _Will. Newb._, vol. ii. pp.

742–751).

[68] Herb. Bosh. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. iii.), pp. 253–255.

_Thomas Saga_ (as above), pp. 129, 131.

[69] Ep. xxiii. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol. v. p. 35).

[70] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 311.

The king had devised a new financial project for increasing his own

revenue at the expense of the sheriffs. According to current practice,

a sum of two shillings annually from every hide of land in the shire

was paid to those officers for their services to the community in

its administration and defence. This payment, although described as

customary rather than legal,[71] and called the “sheriff’s aid,”[72]

seems really to have been nothing else than the Danegeld, which still

occasionally made its appearance in the treasury rolls, but in such

small amount that it is evident the sheriffs, if they collected it

in full, paid only a fixed composition to the Crown and kept the

greater part as a remuneration for their own labours. Henry now, it

seems, proposed to transfer the whole of these sums from the sheriff’s

income to his own, and have it enrolled in full among the royal dues.

Whether he intended to make compensation to the sheriffs from some

other source, or whether he already saw the need of curbing their

influence and checking their avarice, we know not; but the archbishop

of Canterbury started up to resist the proposed change as an injustice

both to the receivers and to the payers of the aid. He seems to have

looked upon it as an attempt to re-establish the Danegeld with all the

odiousness attaching to its shameful origin and its unfair incidence,

and to have held it his constitutional duty as representative and

champion of the whole people to lift up his voice against it in their

behalf. “My lord king,” he said, “saving your good pleasure, we will

not give you this money as revenue, for it is not yours. To your

officers, who receive it as a matter of grace rather than of right, we

will give it willingly so long as they do their duty; but on no other

terms will we be made to pay it at all.”--“By God’s Eyes!” swore the

astonished and angry king, “what right have you to contradict me? I am

doing no wrong to any man of yours. I say the moneys shall be enrolled

among my royal revenues.”--“Then by those same Eyes,” swore Thomas in

return, “not a penny shall you have from my lands, or from any lands of

the Church!”[73]

[71] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 30. Will. Cant. (Robertson,

_Becket_, vol. i.), p. 12. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 373.

Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), p. 23.

[72] “L’Aïde al Vescunte.” Garnier, as above.

[73] Garnier (Hippeau), p. 30. Cf. Will. Cant. (Robertson,

_Becket_, vol. i.), p. 12. E. Grim (_ib._ vol. ii.), p. 374.

Anon. I. (_ib._ vol. iv.), pp. 23, 24.

How the debate ended we are not told; but one thing we know: from that

time forth the hated name of “Danegeld” appeared in the Pipe Rolls no

more. It seems therefore that, for the first time in English history

since the Norman conquest, the right of the nation’s representatives

to oppose the financial demands of the Crown was asserted in the

council of Woodstock, and asserted with such success that the king

was obliged not merely to abandon his project, but to obliterate the

last trace of the tradition on which it was founded. And it is well

to remember, too, that the first stand made by Thomas of Canterbury

against the royal will was made in behalf not of himself or his order

but of his whole flock;--in the cause not of ecclesiastical privilege

but of constitutional right. The king’s policy may have been really

sounder and wiser than the primate’s; but the ground taken by Thomas

at Woodstock entitles him none the less to a place in the line of

patriot-archbishops of which Dunstan stands at the head.[74]

[74] On the different account of this affair given in the

_Thomas Saga_, and the view which has been founded on it, see

note A at end of chapter.

The next few weeks were occupied with litigation over the alienated

lands of the metropolitan see. A crowd of claims put in by Thomas and

left to await the king’s return now came up for settlement, the most

important case being that of Earl Roger of Clare, whom Thomas had

summoned to perform his homage for Tunbridge at Westminster on July

22. Roger answered that he held the entire fief by knight-service, to

be rendered in the shape of money-payment,[75] of the king and not of

the primate.[76] As Roger was connected with the noblest families in

England,[77] king and barons were strongly on his side.[78] To settle

the question, Henry ordered a general inquisition to be made throughout

England to ascertain where the service of each land-holder was lawfully

due. The investigation was of course made by the royal justiciars; and

when they came to the archiepiscopal estates, one at least of the most

important fiefs in dispute was adjudged by them to the Crown alone.[79]

[75] “Publicis pensionibus persolvendis.” R. Diceto (Stubbs),

vol. i. p. 311.

[76] _Ibid._

[77] And had moreover “the fairest sister in the whole

kingdom,” adds Will. Fitz-Steph. (Robertson, _Becket_, vol.

iii.), p. 43.

[78] _Ibid._

[79] R. Diceto (Stubbs), vol. i. p. 311.

Meanwhile a dispute on a question of church patronage arose between the

primate and a tenant-in-chief of the Crown, named William of Eynesford.

Thomas excommunicated his opponent without observing the custom which

required him to give notice to the king before inflicting spiritual

penalties on one of his tenants-in-chief.[80] Henry indignantly bade

him withdraw the sentence; Thomas refused, saying “it was not for the

king to dictate who should be bound or who loosed.”[81] The answer was

indisputable in itself; but it pointed directly to the fatal subject

on which the inevitable quarrel must turn: the relations and limits

between the two powers of the keys and the sword.

[80] _Ib._ pp. 311, 312. Will. Fitz-Steph. as above. The

object of this rule--one of the _avitæ consuetudines_--was,

as R. Diceto explains, to guard the king against the risk of

unwittingly associating with excommunicates.

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

Almost from his accession Henry seems to have been in some degree

contemplating and preparing for those great schemes of legal reform

which were to be the lasting glory of his reign. His earliest efforts

in this direction were merely tentative; the young king was at once

too inexperienced and too hard pressed with urgent business of all

kinds, at home and abroad, to have either capacity or opportunity for

great experiments in legislation. Throughout the past nine years,

however, the projects which floated before his mind’s eye had been

gradually taking shape; and now that he was at last freed for a while

from the entanglements of politics and war, the time had come when he

might begin to devote himself to that branch of his kingly duties for

which he probably had the strongest inclination, as he certainly had

the highest natural genius. He had by this time gained enough insight

into the nature and causes of existing abuses to venture upon dealing

with them systematically and in detail, and he had determined to begin

with a question which was allowed on all hands to be one of the utmost

gravity: the repression of crime in the clergy.

The origin of this difficulty was in the separation--needful perhaps,

but none the less disastrous in some of its consequences--made by

William the Conqueror between the temporal and ecclesiastical courts of

justice. In William’s intention the two sets of tribunals were to work

side by side without mutual interference save when the secular power

was called in to enforce the decisions of the spiritual judge. But in

practice the scheme was soon found to involve a crowd of difficulties.

The two jurisdictions were constantly coming into contact, and it was

a perpetual question where to draw the line between them. The struggle

for the investitures, the religious revival which followed it, the vast

and rapid developement of the canon law, with the increase of knowledge

brought to bear upon its interpretation through the revived study

of the civil law of Rome, gave the clergy a new sense of corporate

importance and strength, and a new position as a distinct order in

the state; the breakdown of all secular administration under Stephen

tended still further to exalt the influence of the canonical system

which alone retained some vestige of legal authority, and to throw

into the Church-courts a mass of business with which they had hitherto

had only an indirect concern, but which they alone now seemed capable

of treating. Their proceedings were conducted on the principles of

the canon law, which admitted of none but spiritual penalties; they

refused to allow any lay interference with the persons over whom they

claimed sole jurisdiction; and as these comprised the whole clerical

body in the widest possible sense, extending to all who had received

the lowest orders of the Church or who had taken monastic vows, the

result was to place a considerable part of the population altogether

outside the ordinary law of the land, and beyond the reach of adequate

punishment for the most heinous crimes. Such crimes were only too

common, and were necessarily fostered by this system of clerical

immunities; for a man capable of staining his holy orders with theft

or murder was not likely to be restrained by the fear of losing them,

which a clerical criminal knew to be the worst punishment in store for

him; and moreover, it was but too easy for the doers of such deeds to

shelter themselves under the protection of a privilege to which often

they had no real title. The king’s justiciars declared that in the nine

years since Henry’s accession more than a hundred murders, besides

innumerable robberies and lesser offences, had gone unpunished because

they were committed by clerks, or men who represented themselves to

be such.[82] The scandal was acknowledged on all hands; the spiritual

party in the Church grieved over it quite as loudly and deeply as

the lay reformers; but they hoped to remedy it in their own way, by

a searching reformation and a stringent enforcement of spiritual

discipline within the ranks of the clergy themselves. The subject had

first come under Henry’s direct notice in the summer of 1158, when

he received at York a complaint from a citizen of Scarborough that a

certain dean had extorted money from him by unjust means. The case was

tried, in the king’s presence, before the archbishop of the province,

two bishops, and John of Canterbury the treasurer of York. The dean

failed in his defence; and as it was proved that he had extorted the

money by a libel, an offence against which Henry had made a special

decree, some of the barons present were sent to see that the law had

its course. John of Canterbury, however, rose and gave it as the

decision of the spiritual judges that the money should be restored

to the citizen and the criminal delivered over to the mercy of his

metropolitan; and despite the justiciar’s remonstrances, they refused

to allow the king any rights in the matter. Henry indignantly ordered

an appeal to the archbishop of Canterbury; but he was called over sea

before it could be heard,[83] and had never returned to England until

now, when another archbishop sat in Theobald’s place.

[82] Will. Newb., l. ii. c. 16 (Howlett, vol. i. p. 140).

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

43–45.

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.