suffered so much for the sake of the church, and too much wisdom to let such a defender sink under secular violence or ecclesiastical corruption. Becket had no doubt condemned the whole system of secular investiture; his conscience now took alarm at the way in which he had been introduced into the prelacy: he had not entered the door of Christ's fold, but been forced over the wall; and, in this feeling, he solemnly resigned, in presence of the papal court, the episcopal ring into the hands of Alexander, whom he exhorted to nominate a fit successor. Probably he wished by this means to end the dispute with Henry, and restore peace to the English church; and several cardinals thought the opportunity for that purpose ought not to pass: but Alexander observed, that if he were permitted to fall, all other bishops must expect to fall with him, and he was immediately reinvested with the dignity by the tradition of the same ring. The Constitutions of Clarendon were of such a nature, that even the corrupted cardinals could no longer forsake him: his cause was declared to be that of religion, and of the church; and a resolution was made to support him. To the abbot of Pontigny, a Cistercian, he was confided by the pope, and advised to bear poverty with the humility becoming his present condition, until God should give an issue to the contest. Of that rigid order he immediately assumed the habit; and, by his austerities, proved that he could with ease reconcile himself to his lot. This conduct of the pope gave a new impulse to the fury of Henry; yet he dreaded while he hated. Treason was denounced against any person who should bring into England, whether from the pontiff or the archbishop, letters of excommunication, interdicts, or any other ecclesiastical censures. It was at this time that the estates of Becket appear to have been confiscated: his name was erased from the liturgy; the revenues of all the clergymen who had followed him into France, or lent him money, or testified sympathy in his sufferings, were seized; and, in a spirit truly satanic, were involved, not only all who

were connected with him by blood or friendship, but their families, without distinction of rank or sex or age, in the same promiscuous sentence of confiscation and banishment. "Neither men leaning under the weight of years, nor infants still hanging at the breast, were excepted. The list of proscription was swelled with 400 names; and the misfortune of the sufferers was aggravated by the obligation of an oath to visit the archbishop, and importune him with the history of their wrongs. Day after day, crowds of exiles besieged the door of his cell at Pontigny: his heart was wrung with anguish; he implored the compassion of his friends; and enjoyed at last the satisfaction of knowing that the wants of those blameless victims had been amply relieved by the benefactions of the king of France, the queen of Sicily, and the pope." Never, it will be conceded, was vengeance more refined than this: the tale is written in brass; and it will remain, while time shall last, to brand the memory of this vicious monarch.* Nor did the exile long remain at Pontigny : unless he were expelled, the tyrant threatened to banish all the Cistercians in England. With the same dignified superiority, Louis offered him for a residence the city of Sens, which the pope had just left for Rome; å step that must have added immeasurably to the mortification of Henry. Here he led the same ascetic and recluse life; and we soon perceive that his understanding was tinged by his new habits. From this time we no longer find the calm, dignified archbishop; we see only the excited monk. This unfortunate change in his habits,

opinions, and feelings, the subsequent tragedy

a change which partly led to is very candidly admitted by

the distinguished Roman catholic historian we have so frequently quoted.

Mr. Southey, whose heart is always right, however prejudices may occasionally mislead his mind, we at least think he has prejudices, observes, with equal force and feeling: -"It (Henry's conduct in this respect) admits of no palliation; and, indeed, next to the guilt of those who commit wicked actions, is that of the historian who glosses over or excuses them." (Book of the Church, i. 183.) We invite Mr. Turner's attention to this striking passage.

"Withdrawing himself from company and amusements, he divided the whole of his time between prayer and reading. His choice of books was determined by a reference to the circumstances in which he was placed; and in the canon law, the histories of the martyrs, and the holy scriptures, he sought for advice and consolation. On a mind naturally firm and unbending, such studies were likely to make a very powerful impression; and his friends, dreading the consequences, endeavoured to direct his attention to other objects. But their remonstrances were fruitless. Gradually, his opinions became tinged with enthusiasm: he identified his cause with that of God and the church: concession appeared to him like apostacy; and his resolution was fixed to bear any privation, and to sacrifice, if it were necessary, even his own life, in so sacred a contest. The violence of Henry nourished and strengthened these sentiments; and at last, urged by the cries of the sufferers, the archbishop assumed a bolder tone, which terrified his enemies and compelled the court of Rome to come forward in his behalf." *

That tone was, indeed, a bold one. Having watched one night before the shrine of St. Drancio, another before that of St. Gregory the Great, a third before that of the Virgin, he prepared to hurl the thunders of the church against his enemies. On Whit-sunday he preached; and when the service was concluded, the bells tolled, the crosses were inverted, twelve priests holding torches were ranged round him, and the doom of excommunication was solemnly pronounced against John, bishop of Oxford; against the archdeacon of Poictiers ; against those individuals who held his sequestered goods; against Josceline de Baliol, and the chief justiciary; against all who should lay hands on the possessions of the church. The torches were then dashed to the ground: the Constitutions of Clarendon were next read and condemned; whoever enforced or observed them

* Lingard, History of England, ii. 78. This writer has been often abused for want of candour. It would be well if some of those who are loudest in that abuse, would be as candid as he is. With his religious opinions we have nothing to do: we speak of him merely as the historian from the earliest period of our history down to the accession of Henry VII. We have followed him step by step, and we take great pleasure in bearing evidence to his fidelity. Of his work subsequent to Henry, we presume not to speak. Though we have frequently perused that portion, we have not attempted to verify the citations, a herculean labour, but necessary to be undertaken by every one who would act the part of a competent or an honest critic.

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as,

was declared excommunicate; and all who had sworn to their observance were absolved from their oath. In the conclusion, Henry himself was admonished that, without immediate repentance, the same doom would be passed on him. He would no doubt have met it. indeed, he richly deserved it on the present occasion, had not Becket been informed that he lay indisposed. Still more dreadful would have been the interdict, which Henry fully expected would be laid on the whole kingdom, and which, beyond doubt, would have raised the people against him. To prevent this probable catastrophe, as well as the reception of the comminatory letters, orders were given that every passenger arriving from beyond sea should be searched; that all letters from the pope or the archbishop should be seized, and the bearer, if a layman, be put to death; if an ecclesiastic, mutilated; and that, if ever the letters reached the country, the priest, who, in obedience to the censures, refused to celebrate mass, should be castrated!*

Into the endless and complicated, and not very into telligible transactions at the Roman court, or between 1170. this irascible monarch and his exiled subject, we can

not enter. We may observe, that his golden arguments appear long to have kept the pope in a sort of vacillating neutrality;- not that Alexander was within reach of corruption, but his advisers certainly were; and for this reason Becket stigmatised that court as venal and prostitute. Legates were sometimes appointed to negotiate between the heads of the two powers, and appeals frequently allowed by the monarch to the papal court; but nothing was gained beyond time, if that can be called gain which embittered an animosity already too deeply seated to be removed. An interview between Becket and Henry, in presence of the French king, was

* Quadrilogus, lib. ii. cap. 9-16. Stephanides, Vita S. Thomæ, p. 48, &c. Edwardus, Vita S. Thomæ, p. 358. (apud Surium, De Probatis Sanctorum Vitis, die Decemb. xxix.). Epistolæ ejusdem, lib. i. et ii. (in multis locis). Gervase, Chronica, p. 1397-1409. (apud Twysden, Decem Script.). Baronius, Annales Ecclesiastici, necnon Alfordus, Annales Eccles. Ang. (sub annis). Capgravius, Nova Legenda Sanctorum, fol. cclxxxvii. Lingard, History of England, ubi suprà.

equally unavailing. At length, the pope, who honourably endeavoured to be a mediator, left the archbishop to adopt more decisive measures. Becket, who had little of the coolness required in a position so critical,

whose characteristic was not discretion, but intemperate zeal, rendered more fiery by personal resentment, -excommunicated so many of Henry's attendants, that the court was literally filled with them. With the terrors of an interdict over his head, Henry again consented to an interview, at which the papal nuncios were present; yet, when the terms of reconciliation were settled, he refused to give the customary kiss of peace. It was evident that he could never forgive the archbishop; that his offers of reconciliation were the offspring of fear, and that harmony thus forced must be of very temporary duration. Indeed, throughout these transactions, he showed quite as much duplicity as violence. A third time the same pressing necessity brought the two into contact. This meeting-in every respect remarkable - took place in a spacious meadow near Freitville, in Touraine. As if no dissension had ever taken place between them, Henry rode to meet the archbishop, drew him aside, and conversed familiarly with him. He professed his resolution to punish the traitors who had embroiled both; and used so much apparent candour, that for the moment even Becket was duped. In the gratitude of his heart, the latter dismounted and threw himself at his sovereign's feet; Henry insisted that he should remount, and held his stirrup, observing, "My lord archbishop, let us renew our former affection for each other! All that I want is, that you will show me honour before the men who are now witnessing what passes." And when he returned to his retinue, he declared that he found the prelate in the best possible disposition; and that, if he did not heartily correspond to such good-will, he should be the worst of men. With the same facility he agreed to the requests, which were certainly but reasonable, of Becket, - that he would