MURDER OF ST. THOMAS À BECKET (A.D. 1170).
Fitzstephen, the secretary of Thomas à Becket, says that Thomas’s countenance was mild and beautiful; he was tall of stature, had a prominent nose, slightly aquiline. He generally amused himself, not incessantly, but occasionally, with hawks, falcons, hunting dogs, or chess. His house and table were open to every rank. He never dined without the society of earls and barons whom he had invited. He ordered the hall to be strewn every day with fresh straw and hay in winter, and with green leaves in summer, that the numerous knights, for whom the benches were insufficient, might find the floor clean and neat for them to sit down on, and that their rich clothes and beautiful tunics might not be soiled and injured. His board shone with vessels of gold and silver, and abounded with costly dishes and precious beverages, so that whatever objects of food and drink were recommended by their rarity were purchased by his officers at exorbitant prices. But amid all this he was himself singularly frugal. When the King and he one day met a beggar, the King proposed to take Thomas’s warm cloak and give to the poor man, while Thomas objected, and suggested the King should give something of his own, and they had a sharp struggle for the cloak, each holding and pulling it till a button gave way and remained in the King’s hands. The King gave the button to the beggar, then told the story to his attendants, who burst into loud laughter, to the annoyance of the grave Thomas. When Thomas’s dead body after the murder was stripped by the monks, they were not a little curious to discover whether he was really a monk. They found under his outer garments a hair shirt, and then they were half convinced he must have been a godly man. But when they found also hair drawers, and examined these garments, and saw their dirty state, surpassing belief, they were in raptures, and were then wholly convinced that Thomas was a true saint and worthy of unbounded veneration in all ages.
A KING’S PENANCE AT ST. THOMAS’S TOMB (A.D. 1174).
In 1174, when Henry II. crossed from France to visit the tomb of St. Thomas à Becket, he reached Southampton after a rough passage. Roger of Wendover says that the King then fasted on bread and water, and would not enter any city until he had fulfilled the vow which he had made to pray at the tomb of St. Thomas, Archbishop of Canterbury and glorious martyr. When he came near Canterbury he dismounted from his horse, and laying aside all emblems of royalty, with naked feet, and in the form of a penitent and supplicating pilgrim, arrived at the cathedral, and, like Hezekiah, with tears and sighs sought the tomb of the glorious martyr, where, prostrate on the floor and with his hands stretched to heaven, he continued long in prayer. Meanwhile, the Bishop of London was commanded by the King to declare in his sermon that he neither commanded, nor wished, nor by any device contrived the death of the martyr, which had been perpetrated in consequence of his murderers having misinterpreted the words which the King had hastily pronounced; wherefore he requested absolution from the bishops present, and, baring his back, received from three to five lashes from every one of the numerous body of ecclesiastics there assembled. The King then made costly offerings to the martyr, spent the remainder of the day in grief and bitterness of mind, for three days took no sustenance, giving himself up to prayer, vigils, and fasting—by which means the favour of the blessed martyr was secured, and God delivered into his hands William, King of Scots, who was forthwith confined in Richmond Castle.
A MONK DESCRIBES A PAPAL INTERDICT (A.D. 1137).
About 1137 Orderic says that “in the diocese of Séez, in Normandy, a Papal interdict was put in force over all the territories of William Zalvas. The sweet chants of Divine worship, sounds which calm and gladden the hearts of the faithful, suddenly ceased; the laity were prohibited from entering the churches for the service of God, and the doors were kept locked; the bells were no longer rung; the bodies of the dead lay in corruption without burial, striking the beholders with fear and horror; the pleasures of marriage were forbidden to those who sought them; and the solemn joys of the ecclesiastical ceremonies vanished in the general humiliation. The same rigorous discipline was extended to the diocese of Evreux, and enforced through all the lands of Roger de Tœni, in order to terrify and restrain the perverse and disorderly inhabitants. Meanwhile Roger himself lies fettered in close confinement, weeping and groaning for the loss of his liberty of action, and cursed by the Church for the use he insolently made of that liberty, when he had it, in the profanation of sacred things; and all his lands lie under a terrible interdict. Thus proud and desperate rebels are doubly crushed; but the hard hearts of those who witness such spectacles, alas! are not changed nor converted to amendment of their perverse designs.”
THE POPE’S MODE OF PUNISHING KINGS AND KINGDOMS (A.D. 1199).
Pope Innocent III. in 1199 ordered Philip Augustus, King of France, to take back a discarded wife, which the King would not do. An interdict was then pronounced against France. At midnight, each priest holding a torch, the clergy of France chanted the Miserere and the prayers for the dead, the last prayers which were to be uttered by them during the interdict. The cross on which the Saviour hung was veiled with black crape; the relics replaced within the tombs; the Host was consumed. The cardinal in his mourning stole of violet pronounced the territories of the King of France under the ban. All religious offices from that time ceased; there was no access to heaven by prayer or offering. The sobs of the aged, of the women and children, alone broke the silence. So, for the injustice of the King towards his Queen, the whole kingdom of France, thousands of immortal souls, were cut off from those means of grace which, if not absolutely necessary (the scanty mercy of the Church allowed the baptism of infants and the extreme unction to the dying), were so powerfully conducive to eternal salvation. For the King’s personal sin a whole nation at least thought itself in danger of eternal damnation. The doors of the churches were watched, and the Christians driven away from them like dogs; all Divine offices ceased; the Sacrament of the body and blood of the Lord was not offered; no gathering together of the people at the festivals of saints; the bodies of the dead not admitted to Christian burial, but their stench infecting the air. There was a deep sadness over the whole realm, while the organs and the voices of those who chanted God’s praises were everywhere mute. The King had to yield, or at least pretend to yield, within the space of a year. In like manner Pope Innocent III. ordered King John of England to accept Stephen Langton as archbishop, and for his refusal an interdict was levelled at England. From Berwick to the British Channel, from the Land’s End to Dover, the churches were closed, the bells silent, the dead were buried like dogs in ditches or dung-heaps without prayer, without a tolling bell; yet King John, weak, tyrannical, and contemptible as he was, held out for four years. Had he been a popular king the barons and people would have stood by him. One consequence of the interdict and excommunication was, that his kingdom was declared to be forfeited, and any one might seize it, and Philip Augustus of France thought of attempting it. But before any regular encounter John made peace with the Pope, and received Stephen Langton as archbishop. And Stephen afterwards became a leader of the barons, and on June 15th, 1215, extorted Magna Charta at Runnymede, which became the great title deed of the British Constitution for all time thereafter. John complained to the Pope that the charter had been forced from him unreasonably, and the Pope professed to agree, and even ordered the rebellious barons to be excommunicated. While John was in despair and defending himself against the expected invasion of Philip, King of France, whose design was favoured by the barons, he was marching northward, and his carriages were cast away in crossing the river Ouse. This misfortune happened through the ignorance of the guides and the tide coming too fast upon them. And thus the regalia, the King’s plate, and all his treasure were lost. This loss weighed heavily upon the King’s spirits, and threw him into a fever, of which he died at Newark Castle a few days after. Some little time before he expired, forty of the barons sent him assurances of their submission, but he was in no condition to receive that satisfaction. The young King Henry III., aged ten, was crowned on October 28th, 1216.
A CANDID FRIEND TO THE POPE (A.D. 1200).
When John of Salisbury, the friend of Thomas à Becket, was sent by Henry II. to Pope Adrian in 1200, they had a confidential conversation, and the Pope said he wished he had never left the obscure retreat of the cloister for the Papal chair, as it was beset with thorns, and he asked John what people were saying of him and the Church of Rome. John says he answered thus: “What I have heard in many countries I will freely tell you. They say the Church of Rome shows herself not so much the mother of other Churches as their stepmother. Scribes and Pharisees have their seats in her, who lay grievous burdens on the shoulders of men, which themselves will not touch with one of their fingers. They domineer over the clergy without being an example to the flock; they heap together rich furniture and load their tables with gold and silver, whilst their hands are kept shut by avarice. The poor rarely find access to them unless when vanity may introduce them. They raise contributions on the Churches, and excite litigations, promote disputes between pastor and people, deeming it the best religion to procure wealth. With them everything is venal, and they may be said to imitate the devils, who, where they cease to do mischief, glory in their beneficence. From this charge a small number of exceptions may exist. The Pope himself is a burden to Christendom which is scarcely to be borne. The complaint is, that while the churches which the piety of our fathers erected are in ruins, and their altars neglected, he builds palaces and exhibits his person clothed not only in purple, but resplendent with gold. These things and more than these the people are heard to utter.” The Pope listened patiently. “And what is your own opinion?” asked Adrian. “Your question distresses me,” said John; “I wish neither to be a flatterer nor to give offence. I cannot presume to contradict a cardinal of your Church who says that the real source of all the evils is the fund of duplicity and avarice of its officers, and yet I know many living examples to the contrary. I will only say that your precept is better than your practice.” Adrian smiled, and observed that it was like the old apologue of the stomach and the limbs.