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biographies, all of which appear to have | scribed, and few give such an insight into been written within fifty years of the murder, the manners and customs, the thoughts and and some of which are confined to that sin- feelings, not only of the man himself, but of gle subject. To these we must add the ac- the entire age, as the eventful tragedy, counts of the contemporary or nearly contem-known successively as the "martyrdom,' porary chroniclers-Gervase, Diceto, Hove- the "accidental death," the "righteous exeden, and, although somewhat later, Bromp-cution," and the "murder of Thomas à ton; and, what is the most important, be- Becket. cause the earliest, the French biography in verse by Guernes, or Garnier, of Pont S. Maxence, which was composed only five years after the event. Dr. Giles has promised a supplement to his valuable work, containing this curious relic-the more interesting from being the sole record which gives the words of the actors in the language in which they spoke. We wish Dr. Giles good speed in his undertaking, and meanwhile avail ourselves of the concluding fragment of the poem which has been published by the great scholar Immanuel Bekker in the Berlin Transactions.

The year 1170 witnessed the termination of the struggle of ten years between the King and the Archbishop; in July, the first reconciliation had been effected with Henry in France; in the beginning of December, Becket had landed at Sandwich-the port of the monks of Canterbury-and thence entered the metropolitan city, after an absence of six years, amidst the acclamations of the people. The cathedral was hung with silken drapery; magnificent banquets were prepared; the churches resounded with organs and hymns, the palace-hall with trumpets; and the archbishop preached in the chapterhouse on the text, "Here we have no abiding city, but we seek one to come." Great difficulties, however, still remained. In addition to the general question of the immunities of the clergy from secular jurisdiction, which was the original point in dispute between the

Of these twenty-four narrators, four-Edward Grim, William Fitzstephen, John of Salisbury, (who unfortunately supplies but little,) and the anonymous author of the Lambeth MS.-claim to have been eyewitnesses. Three others-William of Canterbury, Benedict, afterwards abbot of Peter-king and the archbishop, another had arisen borough, and Gervase of Canterbury-were monks of the convent, and though not present at the massacre, were probably somewhere in the precincts. Herbert of Bosham, Roger of Pontigny, and Garnier, were not even in England, but they had been on terms of intercourse more or less intimate with Becket, and the two latter, especially, seem to have taken the utmost pains to ascertain the truth of the facts they relate. From these several accounts we can recover the particulars of the death of Archbishop Becket to the minutest details. It is true that, being written by monastic or clerical historians after the national feeling had been roused to enthusiasm in his behalf, allowance must be made for exaggeration, suppression, and every kind of false coloring which could set off their hero to advantage. It is true, also, that on some few points the various authorities are hopelessly irreconcilable. But still a careful comparison of the narrators with each other, and with the localities, leads to a conviction that on the whole the facts have been substantially preserved, and that, as often happens, the truth can be ascertained in spite, and even in consequence, of attempts to distort and suppress it. If this be so, few occurrences in the middle ages have been so graphically and copiously de

within this very year, of much less importance in itself, but which eventually brought about the final catastrophe. In the preceding June, Henry, with the view of consolidating his power in England, had caused his eldest son to be crowned king, not merely as his successor, but as his colleague; insomuch that by contemporary chroniclers he is always called "the young king," sometimes even "Henry III." In the absence of the Archbishop of Canterbury, the ceremony of coronation was performed by the Archbishop of York, assisted by the Bishops of London and Salisbury. The moment the intelligence was communicated to Becket, who was then in France, a new blow seemed to be struck at his rights; but this time it was not the privileges of his order, but of his office, that were attacked. The inalienable right of crowning the sovereigns of England, inherent in the see of Canterbury from the time of Augustine downwards, had been infringed, and with his usual ardor he procured from the Pope, Alexander III., letters of excommunication against the three prelates who had taken part in the daring act. These letters he had with him, unknown to the King at the time of the reconciliation, and his earliest thought on landing in England was to get them conveyed to the offending bishops, who were

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then at Dover. They started for France | performance of high mass he mounted the from that port as he landed at Sandwich, pulpit, and preached on the text, (according leaving, however, a powerful auxiliary in to the Vulgate version,) "On earth, peace to the person of Randulf de Broc, a knight to men of good will." He began by speaking whom the king had granted possession of of the sainted fathers of the church of Canthe archiepiscopal castle of Saltwood, and terbury, the presence of whose bones made who was for this, if for no other reason, a doubly hallowed the consecrated ground. sworn enemy to Becket and his return. The "One martyr," he said, they had already" first object of the archbishop was to concili--Alfege, murdered by the Danes, whose ate the young king, who was then at Wood- tomb stood on the north side of the high alstock, and his mode of courting him was tar; "it was possible," he added, "that characteristic. Three magnificent chargers, they would soon have another." The peoof which his previous experience of horses ple who thronged the nave were in a state enabled him to know the merits, were the of wild excitement; they wept and groaned, gift by which he hoped to win over the and an audible murmur ran through the mind of his former pupil; and he himself, church: "Father, why do you desert us so after a week's stay at Canterbury, followed soon? to whom will you leave us?" But as the messenger who was to announce his he went on with his discourse, the plaintive present to the prince. He passed through strain gradually rose into a tone of fiery inRochester in state, entered London in a vast dignation. "You would have thought," procession that advanced three miles out of says Herbert of Bosham, who was present, the city to meet him, and took up his quar-"that you were looking at the prophetic ters at Southwark, in the palace of the aged Bishop of Winchester, Henry of Blois, brother of King Stephen. Here he received or ders from the young king to proceed no farther, but return instantly to Canterbury, In obedience to the command, he relinquished his design, and turned for the last time from the city of his birth to the city of his death. The first open manifestations of hostility proceeded from the family of the Brocs of Saltwood. Before he had left the neighborhood of London, tidings had reached him that Randulf de Broc had seized a vessel laden with wine from Henry II., and had killed or imprisoned the crew. This injury was promptly repaired at the bidding of the young king, to whom the archbishop complained of the outrage through the abbot of St. Alban's and the prior of Dover. But the enmity of the Brocs was not so easily allayed, No sooner had the primate reached Canterbury than he was met by a series of fresh insults. Randulf, he was told, was hunting down his archiepiscopal deer, with his own dogs in his own woods; and Robert, another of the same family, who had been a monk in the novitiate, but had since taken to a secular life, sent out his nephew John to way lay and cut off the tails of a sumpter-mule and a horse of the archbishop. This jest, or outrage, (according as we regard it,) which occurred on Christmas eve, took deep possession of Becket's mind. On Christmas day, after the solemn celebration of the usual midnight mass, he entered the cathedral for the services of a festival which eminently precludes the intrusion of passionate and revengeful thoughts. Before the

beast, which had at once the face of a man and the face of a lion." He spoke the fact is recorded by all the biographers, without any sense of its extreme incongruity-he spoke of the insult of the docked tail* of the sumpter-mule, and in a voice of thunder excommunicated Randulf and Robert de Broc; and in the same sentence included the Vicar of Thirlwood, and Nigel of Sackville, the Vicar of Harrow, for occupying those incumbencies without his authority, and refusing access to his officials. He also publicly denounced and forbade communication with the three bishops, who, by crowning the young king, had not feared to encroach upon the prescriptive rights of the church of Canterbury. May they be cursed," he said in conclusion, "by Jesus Christ, and may their memory be blotted out of the assembly of the saints, whoever shall sow hatred and discord between me and my lord the king." With these words he dashed the candle on the pavement, in token of the extinction of his enemies; and as he descended from the pulpit to pass to the altar to celebrate mass, he

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*According to the popular belief, the excommunication of the Broc family was not the only time that Becket avenged a similar offence. Lambard, in his Perambulations of Kent, says that the peohe rode through the town, and, like the Brocs, cut ple of Strood, near Rochester, insulted Becket as

off the tails of his horses. Their descendants, as a judgment for the crime, were ever after born with horses' tails. Another explanation of the legend was, that the inhabitants of Strood were the persons whom St. Augustine is reported to have visited with this curse for fastening a fish's tail to his qack. (See Harris' Kent, 303.)

repeated to his Welsh crossbearer, Alexan- | der, the prophetic words, "One martyr, St. Alfege, you have already-another, if God will, you will have soon." The service in the cathedral was followed by the banquet in his hall, at which, although Christmas day fell this year on a Friday, it was observed that he ate as usual, in honor of the joyous festival of the Nativity. On the next day, Saturday, the Feast of St. Stephen, and on Sunday, the Feast of St. John, he again celebrated mass and towards the close of the Sabbath, under cover of the night, he sent away, with messages to the King of France and the Archbishop of Sens, his faithful servant Herbert of Bosham, telling him that he would see him no more, but that he was anxious not to expose him to the further suspicions of Henry. Herbert departed with a heavy heart, and with him went Alexander, the Welsh crossbearer. The archbishop sent off another servant to the Pope, and two others to the Bishop of Norwich, with a letter relating to Hugh, Earl of Norfolk. He also drew up a deed appointing his priest William to the chapelry of Penshurst, with excommunication against any one who should take it from him. These are his last recorded public acts. On the night of the same Sunday he received a warning letter from France, announcing that he was in peril from some new attack. What this was is now to be told.

The three prelates-Roger of Bishop'sbridge, Archbishop of York,* Gilbert Foliot, Bishop of London, and Jocelyn the Lombard, Bishop of Salisbury-having left England as soon as they heard that the excommunication had been issued against them, arrived in France a few days before Christmas, and immediately proceeded to the king, who was then at the Castle of Bur, near

This contest with Becket for the privileges of the see of York, though the most important, was not the only one which Archbishop Roger sustained. It was a standing question between the two archbishops, and Roger maintained the preeminence of his see against Becket's successor in a somewhat singular manner. "In 1176," says Fuller, "a synod was called at Westminster, the Pope's legate being present thereat; on whose right hand sat Richard, Archbishop of Canterbury, as in his proper place; when in springs Roger of York, and finding Canterbury so seated, fairly sits him down in Canterbury's lap." "It matters as little to the reader as to the writer," the historian continues, "whether Roger beat Richard—or Richard beat Roger; yet, once for all, we will reckon up the arguments which each see alleged for its proceedings;" which accordingly follow with his usual racy humor.-Fuller's Church Hist., iii. § 3.

Bayeux. It was a place already famous in history as the scene of the interview between William and Harold, when the oath was perfidiously exacted and sworn which led to the conquest of England. All manner of rumors about Becket's proceedings had reached the ears of Henry, and he besought the advice of the three prelates. The Archbishop of York answered cautiously, "Ask counsel from your barons and knights; it is not for us to say what must be done." A pause ensued; and then it was addedwhether by Roger or by some one else does not clearly appear-"As long as Thomas lives, you will have neither good days, nor peaceful kingdom, nor quiet life." These words goaded the king into one of those paroxysms of fury to which all the earlier Plantagenet princes were subject, and which was believed by themselves to arise from a mixture of demoniacal blood in their race. It is described in Henry's son John as "something beyond anger; he was so changed in his whole body that a man would hardly have known him. His forehead was drawn up into deep furrows; his flaming eyes glistened; a livid hue took the place of color." Henry himself is said on one occasion to have torn out the eyes of a messenger who brought him bad tidings; and in his previous controversy with Becket, he is represented as having flung down his cap, torn off his clothes, thrown the silk coverlet from his bed, and rolled upon it, gnawing the straw and rushes. Of such a kind was the frenzy which he showed on the present occasion. "A fellow," he exclaimed, "that has eaten my bread has lifted up his heel against me -a fellow that I loaded with benefits dares insult the king and the whole royal family, and tramples on the whole kingdom-a fellow that came to court on a lame sumptermule sits without hindrance on the throne itself." "What sluggard wretches," he burst forth again and again, "what cowards have I brought up in my court, who care nothing for their allegiance to their master! Not one will deliver me from this low-born priest!" and with these fatal words he rushed out of the room.

There were present among the courtiers four knights, whose names long lived in the memory of men, and on which every ingenuity was exercised to extract from them an evil augury of the deed which has made them famous-Reginald Fitzurse, "son of the Bear," and "of truly bear-like character;" (so the Canterbury monks represented it ;) Hugh de Moreville, "of the city of death,"

structions to the knights as to their future course. However this may be, it was generally believed that they left Bur on the night of the king's fury. They then, it was thought, proceeded by different roads to the coast, and crossed the Channel on the following day. Two of them landed, as was afterwards noticed with malicious satisfaction, at the port of "Dogs" near Dover, two of them at Winchelsea, and all four arrived at the same hour at the fortress of Saltwood Castle, the property of the see of Canterbury, but now occupied, as we have seen, by Becket's chief enemy, Dan Randolph of Broc, who came out to welcome them. Here they would doubtless be told of the excommunication launched against their host on Christmas day. In the darkness of the long winter night of the 28th of December it was believed that the conspirators concerted the scheme with candles extinguished, and not even seeing each other's faces. Early in the morning of the next day they issued orders in the king's name for a troop of soldiers to be levied from the neighborhood to march with them to Canterbury. They themselves mounted their chargers, and gallopped along the same Roman road which still conducts the traveller by a straight line of fifteen miles from Saltwood to the city. They proceeded instantly to St. Augustine's Abbey, outside the walls, and took up their quarters with Clarembald, the abbot.

-of whom a dreadful story was told of his | Roger Archbishop of York giving full inhaving ordered a young Saxon to be boiled alive on the false accusation of his wife; William de Tracy-a brave soldier, it was said, but" of parricidal wickedness;" Richard le Brez or le Bret, commonly known as Brito, from the Latinized version of his name in the Chronicles- -more fit, they say, to have been called the "Brute." They are all described as on familiar terms with the king himself, and sometimes, in official language, as gentlemen of the bedchamber. They also appear to have been brought to gether by old associations. Fitzurse, Moreville and Tracy had all sworn homage to Becket as Chancellor. Fitzurse, Tracy and Bret had all connections with Somersetshire. Their rank and lineage can even now be accurately traced, through the medium of our county historians and legal records. Fitzurse was the descendant of Urso or Ours, who had, under the Conqueror, held Grittleston in Wiltshire, of the Abbey of Glastonbury. His father, Richard Fitzurse, became possessed, in the reign of Stephen, of the manor of Willeton, in Somersetshire, which had descended to Reginald a few years before the time of which we are speaking. He was also a tenant in chief in Northamptonshire, in tail in Leicestershire. Moreville was a man of rank, and held high office both before and after the murder. He was this very year justice itinerant of the counties of Northumberland and Cumberland, where he inherited the barony of Burgh-on-the-Sands and other possessions from his father Roger and his grandfather Simon. He was likewise forester of Cumberland, owner of the castle of Knaresborough, and added to his paternal property that of his wife, Helwise de Hauteville. Richard the Breton was, it may be inferred from an incident in the murder, intimate with Prince William, the king's brother. He and his brother Edmund had succeeded to their father, Simon le Bret, who, it would seem, had given his name to the village of Samford, still called from the family, Samford Bret. Tracy had already distinguished himself in war. His family were allied by marriage to the great house of Courtenay, and he held a fee and under-fee in Devonshire.

It is not clear on what day the fatal exclamation of the king was made. Fitzstephen reports it as taking place on Sunday, the 27th of December. Others, who ascribe a more elaborate character to the whole plot, date it a few days before, on Thursday, the 24th-the whole court taking part in it, and

It was now

The abbey was in a state of considerable confusion at the time of their arrival. A destructive fire had ravaged the buildings two years before, and the reparations could hardly have been yet completed. Its domestic state was still more disturbed. nearly ten years since a feud had been raging between the inmates and their abbot, who had been intruded on them in 1161, as Becket had been on the ecclesiastics of the Cathedral, but with the ultimate difference, that, whilst Becket had become the champion of the clergy, Clarembald had stood fast by the King, his patron, which perpetuated the quarrel between the monks and their su perior. He would, therefore, naturally be eager to receive the new-comers, and with him they concerted measures for their future movements. Having sent orders to the mayor or provost of Canterbury to issue a proclamation in the King's name, forbidding any one to offer assistance to the Archbishop, the knights once more mounted their chargers, and, accompanied by Robert of Broc, who had probably attended them from Salt

wood, rode under the long line of wall which | still separates the city and the precincts of the cathedral from St. Augustine's monastery, till they reached the great gateway which opened into the court of the Archbishop's palace. They were followed by a band of about a dozen armed men, whom they placed in the house of one Gilbert, which stood hard by the gate.

It was Tuesday, the 29th of December. Tuesday, his friends remarked, had always been a significant day in Becket's life. On a Tuesday he was born and baptized-on a Tuesday he had fled from Northampton-on a Tuesday he had left the king's court in Normandy-on a Tuesday he had left England on his exile-on a Tuesday he had returned from that exile-it was now on a Tuesday that the fatal hour came-and (as the next generation observed) it was on a Tuesday that his enemy King Henry was buried and on a Tuesday that the martyr's relics were translated. Another omen was also remarked. He had told several persons in France that he was convinced he should not outlive the year, and in two days the year would be ended.

That morning he attended mass in the cathedral; then passed a long time in the chapter-house, confessing to two of the monks, and receiving, as seems to have been his custom, three scourgings. The dinner, which took place in the great hall of his palace at three in the afternoon, was now over; the concluding hymn or "grace" was finished: and Becket had retired to his private room, where he sat on his bed, talking with his friends; while the servants, according to the practice which then prevailed, and which may still be seen in our old collegiate establishments, remained in the hall, making their meal of the broken meat which was left. The floor of the hall was strewn with hay and straw, to accommodate those who could not find room on the benches; and the crowd of beggars and poor, who daily received their food from the archbishop, had gone into the outer yard, and were lingering before their final dispersion. It was at this moment that the four knights dismounted in the court before the hall-the doors were all open, and they passed through the crowd without opposition. Either to avert suspicion or from deference to the feeling of the time, which forbade the entrance of armed men into the peaceful precincts of the cathedral, they left their weapons behind, and their coats of mail were concealed by the usual cape and tunic, or coat of ordinary life. VOL. XXXI. NO. I.

One attendant, Radulf, an archer, followed them. They were generally known as courtiers; and the servants invited them to partake of the remains of the feast. They declined, and were pressing on, when, at the foot of the staircase leading from the hall to the archbishop's room, they were met by William Fitz-Nigel, the seneschal, who had just parted from the primate with a permission to leave his service, and join the king in France. When he saw the knights, whom he immediately recognized, he ran forward and gave them the usual kiss of salutation, and at their request ushered them to the room where Becket sat. "My Lord," he said, "here are four knights from King Henry, wishing to speak to you." "Let them come in," said Becket. It must have been a solemn moment, even for those rough men, when they first found themselves in the presence of the Archbishop. Three of them, Hugh de Moreville, Reginald Fitzurse, and William de Tracy, had known him long before, in the days of his splendor, as Chancellor and favorite of the King. He was still in the vigor of strength, though in his fiftythird year; his countenance, if we may judge of it from the accounts at the close of the day, still retained its majestic and striking aspect; his eyes were large and piercing; and his tall figure, though really spare and thin, had a portly look from the number of vestments which he wore beneath his ordinary clothes. Round about him sat or lay on the ground the monks or clerks of his household-amongst them, his faithful counsellor, John, Archdeacon of Salisbury, William Fitzstephen, his chaplain, and Edward Grim, a Saxon monk, of Cambridge, who had arrived but a few days before on a visit.

When the four knights appeared, Becket, without looking at them, pointedly continued his conversation with the monk who sat next him, and on whose shoulder he was leaning. They, on their part, entered without a word, beyond a greeting exchanged in a whisper to the attendants who stood near the door, and then marched straight to where the archbishop sat, and placed themselves on the floor at his feet, among the clerks and monks who were reclining around. Radulf the archer sat behind them on the boards. Becket now turned round for the first time, and gazed steadfastly on each in silence, which he at last broke by saluting Tracy by name. The conspirators continued to look mutely at each other, till Fitzurse, who throughout took the lead, replied, with a scornful expression, "God help you!" Beck

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