Page:Cassell's Illustrated History of England vol 1.djvu/198

184 It is related by Fitz-Stephen, who was Becket's secretary, that when the chancellor proceeded on his embassy to Paris, he was attended by many barons and lords, and a large body of knights, besides a great number of attendants and serving-men. His passage through France resembled a triumphal procession, and the train of sumpter-horses and wagons, the hounds and hawks, the falconers and pages, seemed worthy of some powerful king. When he entered a town, 250 boys went before him singing songs; these were followed by huntsmen leading their hounds in couples; then came eight wagons, each drawn by five horses, and attended by five drivers; and these were succeeded by twelve sumpter-horses, on each of which rode a monkey with a groom behind on his knees. Next to the sumpter-horses came the esquires, each carrying the shield and leading the horse of his master; then the youths of gentle birth, who were also esquires, but were exempted from the more menial services of that office; then the knights, priests, and officers of the household; and, lastly, the chancellor himself, attended by his friends. As this procession passed through the towns, the people looked on with wonder, asking each other what manner of man the King of England must be when his chancellor travelled in such magnificence.

At this period Henry lived on the most intimate terms with the chancellor, who was skilled in the sports of the field, and whose wit and vivacity fitted him for a boon companion. The chancellor was not deterred by his sacred calling from sharing in the pleasures of the king, which were as licentious as those of his Norman predecessors. Henry, who could so well support the royal dignity as occasion required, appears to "have had a natural tendency to gaiety and frolic. On one occasion, when the chancellor was riding at his side through the streets of London in stormy weather, there came towards the royal party a poor old man in tattered clothes. "Would it not be well," the king asked, "to give that poor man a warm cloak?" The chancellor replied with proper gravity, "It would, sir; and you do well to turn your eyes and thoughts to such objects." The king then immediately rejoined, "You shall have the merit of this act of charity;" and turning towards the chancellor, he seized hold of the new cloak which he wore, lined with ermine, and endeavoured to pull it from his back. Becket resisted for some time, and in the struggle both had nearly fallen from their horses to the ground; but at last the chancellor wisely let go the cloak, and the king gave it to the beggar, who went on his way wondering and rejoicing.

A man entirely delivered up to ambition is necessarily, to some extent, unscrupulous; and there is no doubt that Becket was content to sacrifice principle whenever it stood in the way of his advancement. He, however, possessed many good and great qualities; and during the period of his chancellorship, his influence with the king was used in promoting reforms and instituting measures which were calculated to promote, in a high degree, the welfare of the people. To his exertions may be attributed the restoration of tranquillity throughout the country, the revival of commerce, the reforms in the administration of the law, and the decline of the power of the barons. Although himself a churchman, Becket did not hesitate to attack the extravagant privileges of the bishops. At the time of the war against the Earl of Toulouse, the clergy refused to pay the tax of scutage, which, as already related, was levied by Henry, giving as their reason that the Church forbade them to shed blood. Becket, however, resolved to compel them to pay the tax; and while by so doing he exasperated his own order against him, he secured the goodwill of the king.

Not long after the Conquest the Norman clergy in England began to display great moral depravity. Murders, rapes, and robberies were frequently committed by them; and, according to the laws passed by the Conqueror on the institution of episcopal courts, the offenders could only be brought to justice by men of their own order. Thus it happened that the crimes committed by licentious priests were seldom punished, and they increased to a frightful extent in consequence of this immunity. It is related that from the time of the accession of Henry II. to the year 1161, not less than 100 homicides had been committed by priests who still remained securely in possession of their benefices. To put an end to these disorders, the only course which appeared feasible was to take away from the clerical order those privileges which had been conferred by the Conqueror, and Henry determined to execute this measure. The primacy of Canterbury had long carried with it an authority second only to that of the Pope himself, and it was impossible to carry out the intended reform unless a man devoted to the royal authority, and careless of the interests of the Church, were seated in the archiepiscopal chair. It was evident that for this purpose no fitter man could be found than Becket; and on the death of Theobald, the Archbishop of Canterbury (A.D. 1161), the king recommended his chancellor to the bishops as the person to succeed to the primacy.

Contrary to all precedent, the bishops unanimously opposed the choice of the king, and delayed the election during thirteen months. At length Henry sent a peremptory demand that the candidate he had chosen should be immediately appointed; and the prelates, not daring to make any further resistance, obeyed the king's command.

The chancellor was ordained priest in the year 1162, and on the following day was consecrated archbishop, and appointed to the vacant see. Immediately a change took place in him so remarkable that those who saw him found a difficulty in recognising him as the same man. He threw oft his gorgeous apparel, removed the splendid furniture from his house, gave up the intimacy with the gay nobles who had been his friends, and became the friend of the poor, the beggars, and the Saxons. He even affected poverty, and amidst unbounded wealth, and in the possession of power second only to that of the throne, lived the life of an anchorite. He was clothed in a coarse gown, allowed himself only herbs and water for sustenance, and assumed a deportment of the utmost gravity and humility. Thus Becket at once kicked down from him the ladder by which he had risen, and now, no longer obsequious towards his sovereign, he determined to maintain to the utmost the privileges of the Church. Never was there a change of life more sudden, or one that excited so much indignation, on the one hand, or so much admiration on the other. The new archbishop became the idol of the poor, and especially of his own countrymen, while the king and his favourites regarded him with the deepest anger and aversion.