without consent of the lords, on whose lands they were born." Thus, the most blameless exercise of church power, which, by consecrating the bondsman to her service, gave him the rank of a freeman, was forbidden; and that class which had just before witnessed the rise of the villain's son, from the Abbey School of St. Albans to the papal chair as Adrian VI., were to be sternly driven back to helpless bondage.

As the articles were read, Becket commented on them one by one. The best portion of them, that which subjected the clergy to the secular courts, was, of course, unpalateable to the admirer of Gratian, and with his accustomed vehemence, he exclaimed that Christ was again to be judged before Pilate. But although Plantagenet had summoned the prelates to deliberate, he evidently viewed the assembly just as the French kings viewed their parlia ments, so he went into a right royal passion. But what will the reader think of this? "As the bishops were sitting in anxious deliberation, armed knights burst into the conclave, brandishing swords and axes, and threatening death to all who should persist in opposing the royal will. The Bishops of Salisbury and Norwich, who were at this time especially obnoxious to Henry, in terror implored the Primate to relent. The Earls of Cornwall and Leicester earnestly added their entreaties, saying they apprehended some unheard-of violence. "It is nothing new, or unheard of," answered he, "if it should be our lot to die for the rights of the Church; for this a multitude of saints have taught us, both by word and by example only may God's will be done!" Richard de Hastings, Provincial of the Templars, and another eminent member of the same order, fell at his feet, embraced his knees, assuring him that the king was only desirous to avoid the appearance of defeat, promised on their salvation that, if he would but submit, he should hear no more of the customs. At length the archbishop was moved, he withdrew, and returning, said to his brethren, "It is the Lord's will I should foreswear myself; for the present I submit, and incur the guilt of perjury, repent hereafter as I may." It is but right to remark here, that while the account of the irruption of armed nobles into the council, is given by all contemporary writers, Becket's words rest only on the testimony of one of Gilbert Foliot's letters. Now really we wish the advocates of "church and king" doctrines all joy of their boasted council of Clarendon. An assembly of unarmed, and mostly aged men, set upon by ferocious nobles, brandishing swords and axes! We should like to know, too, in what court of law an oath taken at the sword-point would be judged binding. Strangely enough, while Canon Robertson kindly bestows a page or two in apologizing for "conduct which Becket's friends have not the boldness to defend," the far more indefensible conduct of Plantagenet and his nobles, is passed over-just as though a royal head of the Church could indeed do no wrong, either in things temporal or spiritual. We would recommend the church of "Holy Russia " to the reverend gentleman's admiration.

But whatever apologies Becket's friends might proffer, he felt that he had compromised the cause which he had vowed to maintain; and he broke forth into bitter lamentations on his return, weeping profusely, according to Herbert of Bertram, that he, a courtier, and worldly man, should be thrust by royal power into so responsible a station, declaring that the Council of Clarendon should be called, "cleri damnum." Now in all this we think we can see the layman, earnest, sincere, unyielding, because he firmly believed-though we think mistakenly-that he was right, and thus the great sorrow he expressed for his temporary weakness, was that of a man unaccustomed to those logical subtleties which tend to obliterate the distinctions of right and wrong. Gilbert Foliot and his brethren could doubtless bring arguments enough to prove that an inconvenient oath might be very conveniently done away with; but Becket, unaccustomed to scholastic hair-splitting, felt that he had acted meanly, and his brave spirit recoiled at the remembrance. His applica ion to the pope, too, seems to us to prove the vague kind of reverence he felt for the spiritual power. Plenty of bishops grown grey at the altar had suffered actual excommunication, and had taken it very easily; but Becket judges himself severely for his fault, and passes his time in penitence until the welcome dispensation is sent. Poor Becket! with his fierce impulsiveness and his childlike reverence, did not crafty Alexander III. discover in him a man just adapted to his purpose?

Meanwhile, the "lion-faced" Plantagenet was chafing with rage; and, indeed, his wrath was furious enough; for we find even his eulogist, Peter of Blois, describing him as prancing and racing in the court-yard, when irritated, like some wild beast, and then flinging himself down in his chamber, and actually gnawing the rushes! It is proper to bear this character of him in mind, since for all that the reader might learn from Canon Robertson, Plantagenet was a very well-behaved monarch. We may easily imagine that to such a temper Becket's conduct was unpardonable; and from henceforward, just as an eastern monarch begins by stripping his offending vizier of his possessions, and cannot rest until the bowstring complete his doom, so the king determined to pursue his former favourite to ruin. A solemn council was summoned to meet at Northampton in October, 1164, and hither Becket was bidden, not by the king, but by precept to the sheriff of Kent. On his arrival, he found no lodgings had been provided for him, and when on the following day he met the king, the kiss of peace was refused him. On the meeting of the council, Becket found that he was to be the victim. A charge was brought against him of denial of justice to John the Marshal, and he was fined £500 (£7,500 present money); a second demand was made for a similar sum, and although he pleaded that this had been a gift, the servile council directed he should pay it. A third demand was made of the enormous sum of 30,000 marks (£300,000 present money), on account of the revenues of vacant sees. Becket protested against being called upon to answer a charge of which he

had not heard until now, but the king, with violent oaths and threats, declared he would endure no delay beyond the morrow; the morrow was, however, consumed in deliberation, and the next day was Sunday. Meanwhile, Becket fell ill, but, in answer to an angry message from the king, declared that he would appear, even if carried in his bed.

Tuesday came, a day which Becket, without charge of cowardice, might well look forward to with dread; and on that morning he celebrated the mass of St. Stephen, but not publicly, as has been asserted, but in his private chapel. The "insolence" of the primate in celebrating a service which begins with "Princes sat and spake against me," has been often noted, and we are not at all inclined to think that Thomas heeded giving offence to the king. In ecclesiastical right he was the king's superior; and we shall find him never backward in asserting this. But we think his selection of this office was owing to the similarity of the legendary history of St. Stephen to his own; for we must bear in mind that legends of the saints were better known even to the educated classes then than the scriptural narrative. Now we find that Stephen was "seneschal" in Herod's court, and high in the king's favour. On Christmas-day he brought in the first dish, and placed it before the king; but the glorious star in the east attracted his gaze, and he asked what it might portend. "A greater king than was ever seen is this day come to reign over men,' was the reply. Stephen went back into the hall, renounced King Herod's service, and set forth to seek the nobler service of the new-born king. King Herod went into one of his chronic fits of passion-a suggestive parallel this-caused him to be brought back, and bitterly vituperating him, commanded he should be stoned to death. Now to Becket, who had bidden defiance to the king, on the ground of allegiance to his lord, the parallel between him and the proto-martyr must have been obvious enough; and we think it was with this view that with many tears he committed himself to Stephen's care.

Not in his gorgeous archiepiscopal attire, but in plain black robe, and with stole about his neck, Becket now mounted his horse, and preceded by his cross-bearer, set out for the castle. Crowds lined the streets of Northampton as he passed along, supplicating his prayers and his blessing; and thus he arrived at the castle-gate. The great gates opened, and were hastily shut as he entered, separating him from the sorrowing multitude, who thought he had gone in to his death. He dismounted in the court-yard, and taking his cross from the cross-bearer, entered the hall, followed only by a single clerk. The prelates assembled there seemed, or pretended to be, alarmed at seeing him, cross in hand-perhaps they thought he was about to excommunicate the king; so the Bishop of Hereford offered to take it. He was refused; and then Hugh Nonant said to Foliot, "My Lord of London, why do you allow him to carry his cross himself?" "My good friend," was the conciliatory answer, "he always was a fool, and always will be one."

Foliot, however, thought he would make the attempt, and tried to wrest it from his superior's hands. But the stalwart Becket, who in former and more congenial days had fairly unhorsed his foeman, easily enough repelled the malignant old man, and still held it fast. Brother," said the aged Bishop of Winchester, well pleased at the spirit of the primate for a most belligerent churchman was Henry of Blois" let the archbishop keep his cross; for it is right that he should carry it." "Thou hast spoken evil," said Foliot in a rage, "because thou hast spoken against the king." Becket, however, clung fast to his cross; and when told that the king had a sharp sword, replied, "The king's sword was for war, but the cross was the sign of peace," and he sat down, still holding it.

Now this "clinging to the cross "has been especially noted both by Becket's admirers and censurers-by the one party it is viewed as a proof of his devout feeling, by the other as proof of his determination to flaunt most offensively the symbol of spiritual power. We believe neither to have been the case; but that it was actually viewed by him as a holy spell. When we remember that from a very early period "the sign of the cross" was believed to possess occult powers and virtues; how it was used to chase away disease, to expel the demon; how our oldest night-spells supplicate

"Nine roods rounde the house to keepe it alle the night,"

and how thoroughly harmonizing with the popular feeling, the old monkish rhyme declared

"Nulla salus est in domo,

Nisi crucis munit homo."

would it be surprising if Becket, in anticipation of some fearful danger, should have thought there was a mysterious power to protect him in the cross he bore? As bishop he would only have borne a crosier, but as archbishop the holy sign itself was placed in his hands who could tell its protecting virtues? That Foliot believed Becket carried the cross as a charm, seems to us proved from his words. Had he imagined it was carried to insult the king, he would have characterised him as 'traitor," not as "fool." But Foliot, familiar enough with the gross irreligion and frequent infidelity, not of the cloister alone, but of the episcopal bench, would naturally enough sneer at the reverence paid by the archbishop-a mere layman some two years ago-to what he considered the mere trappings of his office; just as the priests of Rome ridiculed youthful earnest Luther, because he really believed in the sacrifice of the mass.

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This holy charm was not, however, wholly without its effect; for Plantagenet, although far enough from "God-fearing," had, like most of the precious profligates of this age, some vague fear of priests' power; so on hearing that Becket refused to relinquish his cross, he withdrew into an inner chamber, from whence, however, the angry roarings of the royal lion were from time to time heard. The bishops and nobles who had been summoned to his presence,

remained long in conference, and the noise of angry debate, and the frequent opening of the door, so alarmed Becket's two attendants, that Herbert suggested to the archbishop to use his cross in excommunication, should violence be attempted; but FitzStephen replied, by urging the example of saints and martyrs of old, who patiently endured injuries. Meanwhile, the angry colloquy continued; not that the prelates sought to stand between Becket and the king's fury, for "they hastened to clear themselves from any suspicion of complicity in the primate's proceedings." But when Henry sought "to force them to join in judging the primate, they pleaded the prohibition laid upon them." The king's wrath now broke forth beyond all former bounds; the cowardly bishops hastily withdrew, and so imminent did danger to the primate, who still, with brave persistence, kept his seat, cross in hand, appear, that his oldest foeman, Roger of York, said to two of his chaplains, "Let us withdraw, for it is not fit that we should look on what is to be done to him of Canterbury." Not fit for the holy man "to look upon," but quite fit to be exulted in, and gloated over! One of the chaplains, however, bravely replied, "That he would wait, for no end could be better than for the primate to shed his blood for the right." Roger then turned to Becket, and "entreated"-what mockery!--that he would yield. "Apage Sathanas," was the well-merited reply, and Thomas still sat sternly holding his cross. At length the bishops agreed that they would appeal to the pope against the primate, for perjury; so they returned to the hall to renounce their spiritual allegiance to him. Becket heard them in haughty silence, and then coolly replied, "I hear what you say, and, with God's blessing, I will be present at the trial of your appeal." The barons now decided that the primate's "contumacy" must be punished with imprisonment, and the Earl of Leicester advanced to pronounce sentence. Becket regarded him with a haughty look, but listened in silence while the earl recounted the "benefits" he had received from the king, until he said, "Hear now your sentence." Then the primate fiercely repelled the claim of the civil power to judge him, and poured forth a flood of high-church doctrine, which might satisfy even the Rev. Bryan King; declaring that the earl was bound to obey him, rather than any earthly sovereign, for "the priesthood is as superior to royalty as gold is to lead." Poor Becket! we may smile at these extravagant views, but we must remember that very similar ones were held even by men of undoubted piety; and we could point to some of Anselm's letters, in which the superiority of the priestly office is almost as boldly maintained. Anselm is placed by Canon Robertson in most laudatory contrast with Becket, but we think very unfairly. He fought the self-same battle, only he had a more prudent royal antagonist; and then, as the great theologian of the eleventh century, Anselm had the reverence of the whole episcopal bench. Indeed, as the great champion of orthodoxy at the council of Barr, not only the whole Latin church, but even the Greek, rung with his fame. How different was Becket, unknown to the learned