On coming to the monastery, they first went to the chapel, where he prayed, and laid down the cross; then went to the refectory to take food. In talking over the events of the day, he bade his clerks beware of retorting on their enemies the abuse that was poured on them. "To rail," he said "is the mark of an inferior; to bear it, of a superior.

If we would teach them to control their tongues, let us show that we control our ears."

In the reading that evening, at supper, the text occurred, "If they persecute you in one city, flee to another." This Becket took as direction for his course, and sent to ask the King for a safe-conduct to return to Canterbury. The King said he should have an answer to-morrow, which Becket and his clerks considered as a sign that his life was not safe. That night, therefore, he, with three of his clergy, mounted at the postern of the monastery, and rode off, in such torrents of rain, that four times he was obliged to cut off a portion of his long cloak to relieve himself of the weight. He made for Kent, travelling by night and hiding by day, for twenty days, till he reached the coast, and at Estrey was hidden for several days in a little secret chamber opening into the parish church, whence, at ma.s.s, he gave the blessing to the congregation, though they knew it not. At last a small open boat was procured, and, embarking on the 2d of November, 1164, he safely landed near Gravelines.

The county of Boulogne belonged to Mary de Blois, Stephen's daughter.

She had taken the veil at Romsey, when a girl; but on the death of her brothers, Eustace and William, became the heiress of her mother's county of Boulogne, and had been stolen away and married, for the sake of her inheritance, by Matthew of Flanders. The Archbishop had opposed this marriage, and the count was therefore his enemy, so that he was obliged to pa.s.s through his territory in the disguise of a Cistercian monk, calling himself Brother Christian.

Twice he was in danger of discovery. The first time was when they met a party of young men hawking. Becket, who had never lost his admiration for the n.o.ble birds (for one of whom he had so nearly lost his life), showed so much interest in the falcons, that their owner, surprised at seeing so much sportsmanship in a monk, exclaimed, "You must be the Archbishop of Canterbury!" "What!" said another of the hawking party, "do you think the Archbishop travels in this sort?" And thus Becket was saved from being obliged to make answer. The next time was at supper, when they had reached the inn at Gravelines, where his great height and beautiful hands attracted attention; and the host, further remarking that he bestowed all the choicest morsels on the children, was convinced that this must be the English Archbishop, whose escape was already known on the Continent, and falling down at his feet, blessed the saints for bringing such a guest under his roof. Becket was much afraid the good man might unintentionally betray him, and left Gravelines early the next morning, on his way to the monastery of St. Bertin's, at St. Omer. It is amusing to find Becket's faithful clerks, on the Friday when they were to arrive at that hospitable convent, trying to coax their master to grant them leave, after their journey, to eat a little meat: "for, suppose there should be a scarcity of fish." Here they were joined by Herbert de Bosham, who had been sent to Canterbury to collect such money and valuables as he could bring away.

Henry had in the meantime sent an emba.s.sy to desire the King of France not to shelter "the late Archbishop;" but it met with no favorable reception from Louis. "He is a n.o.ble-minded man," said he; "if I knew where to find him, I would go with my whole court to meet him."

"But he did much harm to France," said the Earl of Arundel, "at the head of the English army."

"That was his duty," said Louis; "I admire him the more. If he had been my servant, he would have done the same for me."

Nor did the emba.s.sy meet with much better success on going to Sens, where Pope Alexander III. then was. The Bishop of London began to abuse the Archbishop virulently, saying that he had fled, "as the Scripture saith. 'The wicked fleeth when no man pursueth.'"

"Nay," interrupted the Pope, "spare. I entreat you, spare--"

"I will spare him, holy father," said Gilbert

"Not _him_, but _yourself_, brother," said Alexander; and Gilbert was silenced.

Finding how favorably both Pope and King were disposed toward him, Becket left his retreat at St. Omer, and was received with much respect by Louis at Soissons, after which he proceeded to Sens. There he was treated with high honor by Alexander, and almost his first measure was to confess, with deep grief, that he considered his election uncanonical, "the handiwork of men, and not of G.o.d," and that therefore these troubles had fallen on his Church. He therefore gave up his see; but the Pope would not accept his resignation, and a.s.signed to him the Cistercian Abbey of Pontigny as his dwelling-place. Here he remained two years, while the King persecuted his adherents and banished his kindred.

Four hundred poor creatures were stripped of their goods, and turned adrift in Flanders, where they must have perished, had not the Count and the Empress Maude taken pity on them.

CAMEO XXI. DEATH OF BECKET. (1166-1172.)

_King of England._ 1154. Henry II.

_King of Scotland_.

1165. William.

_King of France._ 1137. Louis VII.

_Emperor of Germany_.

1152. Friedrich II.

_Pope_.

1159. Alexander III.

In 1166, Pope Alexander III. returned to Rome, after many vain attempts to reconcile the King and Archbishop, and it was determined that Becket should p.r.o.nounce sentence of excommunication on the King and his chief followers in his uncanonical proceedings. Henry was at this time seriously ill, and Becket therefore did not include him under the sentence; the others were excommunicated, and this so exasperated Henry, that he intimated to the monks at Pontigny that he should seize all the possessions of the Cistercians in England, if they continued to harbor his enemy.

The poor monks were much distressed, and laid the letter before their guest, who could, of course, do no other than depart. "He who feeds the birds of the air, and clothes the lilies of the field, will provide for me and my fellow-exiles," said he; and he soon after received an invitation from the King of France to choose any castle or convent in his dominions for his abode. He selected the Abbey of St. Columba, a little beyond the walls of Sens, and took leave of the brethren at Pontigny, with such a burst of tears that the abbot remarked them with surprise, and begged to know their cause. "I feel that my days are numbered," said Becket; "I dreamt, last night, that I was put to death."

"Do you think you are going to be a martyr?" said the abbot. "You eat and drink too much for that."

"I know that I am too self-indulgent," said the Arch bishop; "but G.o.d is merciful, albeit I am unworthy of His favor."

Legates were sent by the Pope to negotiate, and many letters were written on either side, but without effect. The difference was said to lie in a nutsh.e.l.l; but where the liberties of the Church were concerned, Becket was inflexible. At the Epiphany, 1169, he was put to a severe trial; Henry himself, who had long been at war with Louis le Jeune, came to Montmirail, to hold a conference and sign a treaty, and he was summoned to attend it. By the advice of the legates and other clergy, Becket had agreed to give up the phrase which had formerly given the King so much offence at Clarendon, "Saving the privileges of my order,"

but not without inserting in its stead an equivalent, "Saving the honor of G.o.d," which, as being concerned in that of the Church, meant the same thing.

Yet on this the clergy of France, who were always extremely submissive to the crown, were by no means of Becket's opinion, and tried so hard to persuade him, for the sake of peace, to suppress this clause altogether, and make no reservation, that the bold and faithful Herbert de Bosham began to fear he might give way, and, pressing through the crowd as the Archbishop was advancing to the presence of the two kings, he whispered in his ear, "Take heed, my lord--walk warily. I tell you truly, if you leave out the words, 'Saving G.o.d's honor,' as you suppressed the other phrase, saving your own order, your sorrow will be renewed, and the more bitterly."

The throng was so dense, that Becket could only answer him by a look, and he remained in great anxiety as he watched his master advance and throw himself at the feet of King Henry; then, when raised up by the King, begin to speak, accusing himself of being by his unworthiness, the cause of the troubles of the English Church. "Therefore," said he, "I throw myself on your mercy and pleasure, my lord, on the whole matter that lies between us, only _saving the honor of my G.o.d._"

Henry burst out in rage and fury, heaping on Becket a load of abuse; declaring, to the King of France that this was all a pretence and that he himself was willing, to leave the Archbishop to the full as much power as any of his predecessors, but that he knew that, whatever the Archbishop disapproved, he would say was contrary to G.o.d's honor. "Now,"

said Henry, "there have been many kings of England before me, some of greater power than I am, some of less; and there have been many archbishops of Canterbury before him. Now let him behave to me as the holiest of his predecessors behaved to the least of mine, and I am satisfied."

There was apparent reason in this, that brought over Louis to Henry's side, and he said, rather insultingly, "My lord Archbishop, do you wish to be more than a saint?"

But Becket stood firm. He said there had indeed been holier and greater archbishops before him, each one of whom had corrected some abuse of the Church; and had they corrected all, he should not have been exposed to this fiery trial. Besides, the point was, that Henry was not leaving the Church as it had been under them, but seeking to bind a yoke on her that they had never borne. Almost all the French clergy and n.o.bles were now against him; they called him obstinate and proud; the two kings mounted their horses and rode away together, without bidding him farewell; and some of the last words his clerks heard from the French n.o.bles were, "He has been cast out by England; let him find no support in France."

Dreading what might come next, and grievously disappointed in their hopes of returning to their homes, even his clerks were out of humor, and blamed his determination. As they rode back in the gloom toward St.

Columba, the horse of one happened to stumble, and in his vexation he exclaimed, "Come up, saving the honor of the Church and my order."

The Archbishop looked grieved, but was silent, and Herbert took this moment for riding up to him, and saying, "Heaven be praised, my lord, that through all to-day's tribulation you have been sustained by the Lord, and have not suffered that slippery member to betray you into anything against the honor of G.o.d."

The great ground of anxiety was the displeasure of Louis, who had hitherto not only allowed the exiles to take shelter in his dominions, but absolutely maintained them; and if he was won over by their persecutors, what was to become of them?

Their alarm increased as they heard nothing from him of his usual messages of kindness and friendship, and they were consulting together on their plans if they should be turned out of St. Columba.

"Never fear," said the Archbishop; "I am the only person King Henry wishes to injure: if I go away, no one will molest you."

"It is for you we are anxious," they said; "we do not see where you can find refuge."

"Care not for me," he said: "my G.o.d can protect me. Though England and France are closed against me, I shall not be undone. I will not apply to those Roman robbers, who do nothing but plunder the needy. I have heard that the people who dwell on the banks of the Arar, in Burgundy, are open-handed. I will go among them, on foot, with one comrade, and they will surely have compa.s.sion on me."

Just then a messenger came to desire the Archbishop to come to the lodgings of the French King.

"There! it is to drive us out of his kingdom," said one of the clerks.

"Do not forebode evil," returned Becket. "You are not a prophet, nor the son of a prophet."

Becket could hardly have been prepared for the manner of his reception.

Louis threw himself on his knees, crying out, "My father, forgive me; you were the only wise man among us. We were all blinded and besotted, and advised you to make G.o.d's honor give way to a man's will! I repent of it, my father, and entreat you to bestow on me absolution!"

Louis had been brought to this change of mind by a breach of promise on Henry's part, but he never again wavered in his confidence and support of Becket.

In the November of the same year there was another interview between the two kings and Becket, at Montmartre, near Paris.

By this time, the Bishops of London and Salisbury had been excommunicated for disobedience to their primate; and Henry, expecting the same stroke to fall on himself, was resolved to put an end to the quarrel, and, bringing back Becket to his kingdom, to deal with him there as best he might.

Becket did not, by any means, trust the King's intentions, and had written to ask the Pope what pledge for his security he had better require. Alexander answered, that it was not accordant with the character of an ecclesiastic to stipulate for such pledges, but that he had better content himself with obtaining from the King a kiss of peace.