A Popular History of England, From the Earliest Times to the Reign of Queen Victoria; Vol. I

by François Guizot

The Archbishop Theobald was dead (1161). For thirteen months the king left the see vacant, in order to appropriate its revenues: but he did not lose sight of the choice on which he had resolved. Becket was devoted to him: he had always displayed great respect for the royal prerogative, exacting so rigorously what was due to the crown, even from the clergy, that the Bishop of London, Gilbert Folliot, accused him angrily of plunging a dagger into the maternal bosom of his Church. Henry believed himself sure of thus raising to the ecclesiastical supremacy a friend who would support him in the reforms which he was meditating. He sent for Thomas Becket at Toulouse, where he happened to be, and ordered him to set out immediately for England, where he would be elected archbishop of Canterbury. Becket smiled as he pointed to the magnificent dress in which he was clothed. "You choose fine dresses to figure at the head of your monks at Canterbury," he said. "If you do as you say, sire, you will hate me very soon as much as you now love me; for you will meddle in the affairs of the Church more than I can consent to, and people will not be wanting to embroil us."

The king paid no heed to the views of the chancellor. The bishops and the chapter of Canterbury proclaimed Becket unanimously, with the exception of Gilbert Folliot, who had hoped to secure that promotion for himself. The new archbishop received the order of priesthood, for he was hitherto only a deacon, and he was consecrated by Henry of Winchester, brother of King Stephen. The pallium was brought from Rome, and Becket took possession of the archiepiscopal throne.

In placing his hand upon the pastoral crozier Becket had completely changed his way of living. From the most ostentatious luxury he suddenly passed to the austerest life. No more festivities; no more horses; no more sumptuous clothing. The rich revenues were expended in alms; the archbishop had resigned his position as chancellor, saying that he could not do justice to the affairs of the king as well as those of the Church. Henry was astonished at this transformation; but as yet it caused him no irritation. When the court returned to England the archbishop conducted his royal pupil to his father and the king exhibited towards him the affection and the confidence to which he had been accustomed.

Meanwhile the storm was approaching. Becket had resolved to restore to the see of Canterbury its primitive splendor; and to take back from the hands of the despoiler the property of which the chapter had been deprived by slow degrees. This measure, similar to that which Henry had long before applied to the crown property, seemed to the king objectionable when the matter in hand was the lands of the archbishopric. Becket even dared to demand a castle, and he had excommunicated a vassal holding directly from the crown who had expelled a priest from his domains. It was with an ill will and after much difficulty that the archbishop withdrew his sentence in obedience to the king's orders.

While these clouds were gathering in the sky Henry was preparing a measure fatal to the good understanding between himself and his favorite. The priests and all those who depended, directly or indirectly, on the Church, had the right of being judged exclusively by ecclesiastical tribunals; and clerical justice was accused of great partiality. Its very laws forbade the shedding of blood. Thus a servant of the Church could not be condemned to death even for murder, and this assurance often led to the most odious crimes, the repression of which was uncertain. The king had resolved to remedy this inconvenience by requiring that every priest degraded for his misdeeds should be given up to the civil tribunals, who should judge him in their turn. Becket maintained that it would be unjust to judge and punish twice the same culprit. The greater number of the bishops were of his opinion. The king shifted the question: "Will you," he asked the assembly of prelates, "swear to maintain the ancient customs of the realm?" "Save the honor of our order," replied all the bishops, with the exception of Hilary of Chichester. The king was furious. He convoked a great council at Clarendon (January 25, 1164), where he presented to the bishops a series of decrees and laws regulating the relations of the civil and ecclesiastical tribunals, which have since been known under the name of "The Constitutions of Clarendon." He had striven to intimidate the bishops by stripping Becket of the castles and the titles which he had given to him long before. Alternately threatening and yielding, the archbishop had arrived at Clarendon: he had consented to sign the Constitutions; the act was complete, and it only remained now to affix the seals when Becket was seized with remorse. "I will never affix my seal to this," he said, and without listening to the representations of his colleagues, or the counsels of the Grand Master of the Templars, or taking heed of the anger of the king, who had left the hall of council in a fit of rage, he remounted his horse and returned gloomily to Canterbury, lamenting over his sins as the cause of the enslavement of the Church in England. "I was taken from the court to become a bishop—vain and proud as I was—not from the school of the Saviour, but from the palace of Cæsar. I was a feeder of birds, and I was suddenly called on to be the pastor of men; I was the patron of of mummers and took delight in following the hounds. I have become the keeper of many souls. I neglected my own vineyard, and now I am entrusted with the vineyard of others." He fasted and prayed, refusing to ascend the steps of the altar; and he found no rest until the Pope had sent him absolution for his failings. The pontiff had not ratified the Constitutions of Clarendon.

The king had not abandoned his project. His anger was directed against the archbishop, whom he rightly regarded as the only serious obstacle to his designs. He summoned him to appear before his council which met at Southampton (October 1164), under pretext of a denial of justice on the part of his archiepiscopal court. Becket excused himself, but was condemned to forfeit his personal property, a sentence which was commuted into a fine of five hundred pounds sterling. The charges against him were not yet exhausted. A demand was made for the rents which he had received from lands given to him by the king. The archbishop promised payment. Each day brought some new claim. The king, who was furious against his old favorite, demanded at length a sum of 44,000 marks of silver, on account of the ecclesiastical revenues which Becket had appropriated as chancellor during the vacancies of the sees. This was absolute ruin, and war to the knife. The archbishop replied that it was not in his power to pay such a sum, and that he had been declared free from all such claims when he had resigned his place as chancellor in order to become Primate of England. At the same time he requested a conference with the bishops; but all had abandoned him. Henry of Winchester alone proposed to pay the sums demanded of the archbishop. The king would not listen to him. "What he desires is your resignation," said the Bishops of London and Winchester to Becket. "The life of this man is in danger," exclaimed the Bishop of Lincoln. "He will lose his bishopric or his life; and I would like to know of what use his bishopric will be when he is dead."

Under the effects of so many violent emotions the archbishop had been taken ill; he sincerely believed himself to be bound to maintain the juridical rights of the Church, and in his mind this cause was absolutely identified with the cause of God. To allow the ecclesiastical privileges to be trammelled by the royal authority, appeared to him "an act of treason against the Lord God who had elevated him, unworthy as he was, to the office of pastor of souls." Defeated and troubled, he at one time thought of throwing himself at the king's feet, and begging him to spare the Church for the sake of their old friendship; but Becket's was a proud and ungovernable spirit, and such humiliation appeared impossible to him; he therefore resolved to fight it out to the last. It was on the 18th of October, 1164, that he was to appear before the court to receive his final sentence. Clad in his episcopal robes, he celebrated mass in honor of St. Stephen, the first martyr; and then, after laying down his mitre, he advanced, holding a crucifix in his hand, and followed by the priests into the council-chamber. As he was entering, the Bishop of Hereford came to him, with the intention of taking the crucifix from him. "Allow me to keep it, my lord," he said; "it is the banner of the Prince whom I serve." The Bishop of London, Gilbert Folliot, was there, and also wished to take the crucifix from the hands of the prelate. "You defy the king," cried he, "by coming in this garb to his court; but the king holds a sword, the point of which is sharper than your crucifix." The archbishop had, however, entered the council-chamber, and on seeing him Henry blushed deeply and hastily retired. The archbishop sat down, but the bishops had been called away by the king; discord reigned in the royal chamber. Henry was furious, and railed bitterly first against the obstinacy of the archbishop, and then against the cowardice of his own advisers. The Archbishop of York retired, calling all his followers, in order, as he said, to avoid seeing bloodshed. The Bishop of Exeter went and threw himself at Becket's feet, imploring him to give in and to save his life. "Go," said the archbishop, "you do not understand those things which are of God." At length the bishops returned with Hilary of Chichester at their head. "You were our primate," he said, "but in putting yourself in opposition to the royal will you have broken your oath of allegiance; a perjured archbishop has no longer any claim upon our obedience; we will submit the affair to the pope, and call upon you to answer before him for your conduct." "I understand," replied the archbishop coldly.

The noblemen had followed the bishops, and the Earl of Leicester approached Becket. "Hear your sentence," he began. "My sentence!" cried Becket; "my son, listen to me first: you know how faithfully I have served the king, and with what repugnance I accepted this duty to please him. You are my children in God; can a son sit in judgment on his father? I take exception to your tribunal and appeal to the Pope. I place myself, as well as my Church, under his protection, and summon the bishops who have obeyed the king rather than their God, to answer at that tribunal; it is under the protection of the Holy Catholic Church and of the apostolic see that I leave this court."