is no escaping this dilemma. Now, Thomas à Becket
was no fool
-a tyro in logic may complete the syllo-
gism. That the archbishop, in his sudden change, was
actuated by conscience, will be affirmed by every un-
biassed mind throughout the world. Whether his
motives were wise ones, is a very different question.
We have little respect for the ascetic habits which he
now assumed; we must rather pity than admire the
piety which could thus renounce the few enjoyments that
God himself has vouchsafed to man; we must deplore
the narrow views thus taken of the benign religion,
which makes the enjoyment of moderate pleasure a posi-
tive duty: which commands us to receive and to use, with
humble gratitude, what Infinite Goodness wills us to
receive. But the religion of Becket was that of his day :
nor is he to be blamed for observing the path which his
own notions of duty, however erroneous, sanctified in
his eyes. #

This change in the conduct of the archbishop was 1133. displeasing to the king, who began to fear that he should find a less pliant instrument than he had expected. His affection for his former favourite perceptibly cooled a circumstance soon understood by the courtiers, who characteristically endeavoured to fan the rising flame. Their labours were successful; for the king was by nature suspicious as well as vindictive: he knew the talents, he dreaded the influence of the primate. For his and their hostility towards the churchmen, other reasons may be given. Unmindful of the powerful names which were implicated, he instituted proceedings for the recovery of all such lands as had been usurped and were obstinately detained from the church,-lands which he justly considered as the patrimony, not only of his order, but of the poor. From the king he demanded, among other things, the castle and town of Rochester; from the

*The same authorities.

Earl of Clare the castle of Tunbridge; and from other nobles possessions no less important. Some of them had been recently usurped; others had remained for some time in the grasp of power; nor had all the efforts of Anselm been able to wrest them from it.* That these demands should spread alarm and indignation amongst all who benefited by the plunder, was inevitable. Henry was in a rage; especially when the primate excommunicated a lord who refused to receive a clergyman presented by himself. Like Rufus, he

insisted that no one who held of the crown should be excommunicated without his consent; a pretension which, had it been recognised, would effectually have screened the king's ministers and the whole body of the great nobility from all responsibility; which would have laid the church at their feet, and destroyed not only all dread of censure, but all fear of punishment. Whatever may be the opinion of most modern historians, we do not think that the church is much benefited by its slavish dependence on the crown,-a dependence which, we hope, is, in this country at least, about to be abolished for ever. It was the constant policy of the Norman, as it has been of the Hanoverian kings, to make the ecclesiastical dignities a source of corrupt patronage; to confer them on none but the obsequious ministers of their will; to destroy every feeling of independence in the clerical body; to reward the smooth-tongued flatterer; and to exile both learning and principle into the poorest and most remote rural districts. In any attempt, therefore, to limit the monstrous usurpation of the crown, we say this at the risk of displeasing both kings and ministers of kings; both courtly bishops, and all who hope to become such, Becket has our applause. In the same spirit, too, we may express our regret that Lanfrancs and

Following the most prejudiced modern guides, Mr. Turner (Hist. Eng, i. 239.) represents these claims as unjust. But when we turn to Townsend (Accusations of History, letter 8.), we find the prejudices of Mr. Turner, without his knowledge.

Beckets are no longer to be found on the right reverend bench. But Becket resisted, not only where he had justice on his side, but where it had deserted him for that of the king. In this case, our sympathy must be with the monarch, even though we may condemn his violence, and suspect his motives. In the time of Theobald, Philip de Broc, a canon of Bedford, had committed fornication and murder; yet had he only been sentenced by the ecclesiastical court to make pecuniary compensation to the relations of the deceased. It even appeared that the odious culprit had been restored to his functions;—to its revenues, the only thing which he valued, he certainly had. In the open court at Dunstable, the royal justiciary, alluding to the criminal indulgence of the ecclesiastical courts, called Philip a murderer. Philip retorted in a tone of insult. The justiciary, offended at the contempt shown to his authority, naturally complained to the king; and the king, feeling himself insulted in the person of his representative, insisted that the man should not only be indicted in the bishop's court for this new offence, but that the former punishment should be reconsidered, with a view to its aggravation. He was accordingly tried, sentenced to be whipped, to be deprived of his benefice, and to be banished during two years.* The punishment would, doubtless, have been still more severe, had not the culprit been tried and punished before. But Henry was dissatisfied: he wished the delinquent to be degraded, and delivered over to the secular arm; but he was opposed by Becket. In a council at Westminster he renewed the subject, and demanded that, in all future cases of delinquency, the culprit should be thus treated. He said truly, that clerical criminals ought to be punished more severely than others; and

The severity of the punishment has not been sufficiently noticed by historians: "Prebendæ suæ mulctatus-est beneficio, pulsus-est à regno per biennium."-Diceto, 537. These words imply something more than that he was suspended during two years.

he bitterly complained, that in rendering all crimes redeemable by pecuniary mulcts, they raised more money in the kingdom than he did. The bishops objected, that such a concession would destroy their privileges; that it was manifestly unjust, since the same individual would be twice tried and twice punished for the same offence. They forgot, however, that the punishment of their courts did not deserve the name; that it created an odious distinction between lay and ecclesiastical criminals. Neither justice nor patriotism had so much influence over them as the preservation of their monstrous immunities. The conduct of Becket on this occasion does him little honour. No doubt he believed that the defence of these immunities was expected from him by the church; but surely he must have known that what the monarch demanded was in the strictest sense equitable, and necessary to the weal of the community. Henry was provoked, as he well might be, at the opposition he encountered. He shifted his ground; and asked, with some policy, whether the bishops would observe the ancient customs of the realm. "Saving

our order," was the reply. This clause, "saving our order," involved the retention of all the obnoxious privileges of that order. In a rage, which we very willingly forgive, the king observing that the bishops. were in a league against him to defeat the administration of justice, abruptly left the hall. The next morning Becket was deprived of the manor of Rye and the castle or Berkhampstead, which he had been allowed to retain,—a punishment not undeserved. The other bishops, too, began to tremble at the royal anger : some said that the points in dispute had better be conceded at once; others, among whom was the archbishop of York, that they might yield for the present, and resume the contest at a more favourable time. Their fears, or their corruption-for some of them appear to have been soon gained by the crown would, perhaps, have had little effect on the archbishop, had he not been artfully

assured by the pope's almoner, who had also been gained, that he would most consult the interests of the church by a compliance; that he was enjoined by their spiritual sovereign to conciliate the royal mind; that the immunities of the church were in no danger; that Henry, whose pride was involved, would be content with the honour of a nominal victory. Persuaded, but not convinced, the primate repaired to the king, and reluctantly promised to omit the obnoxious clause. That the royal purpose, however, was more serious than the almoner or the bishops had represented, was evident when Henry summoned a great council to meet at Clarendon, to receive the formal renunciation of the church. But, when required to promise the observance of the customs, Becket, with an inconsistency which must be severely censured, repeated his refusal. Henry was not a man to be thus defied: he threatened the primate with exile, even with death; and there can be little doubt that, in the violence of a temper which never spared mortal man, the threat was fully intended to be executed. A neighbouring door was suddenly thrown open, and a body of knights were perceived, armed, with their garments tucked up, and ready for some tragical deed. Probably the vengeance would not have been confined to Becket; other bishops had reason to tremble for their safety. On their knees they besought him to have pity on himself and on them; two earls distinctly informed him that their orders were to proceed to extremities, and besought him, with equal earnestness, to avert, by an instant consent, a fate which must cover all present with calamity and disgrace: two knight-templars, bathed in tears, and prostrated at his feet, joined the bishops and the earls, beseeching him to have pity on others if he had none on himself. Moved for them, not for himself, Becket again promised to observe "the customs." The other prelates followed his example. To prevent all future misunderstanding, "the customs," which had