CAMEO XX. to abuse the Archbishop virulently, saying that he had fled, "Not him, but yourself, brother," said Alexander; and Gilbert was silenced. Finding how favourably both Pope and King were disposed towards 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 honour 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 God," 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 assigned 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. Becket driven from Pontigny. IN 1166 Pope Alexander III. returned to Rome, after many vain CAMEOXXI. attempts to reconcile the King and Archbishop, and it was determined that Becket should pronounce 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 harbour 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 Archbishop; “but God is merciful, albeit I am unworthy of His favour." 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 nutshell, 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 CAMEOXXI. Becket had agreed to give up the phrase which had formerly given the King so much offence at Clarendon, "saving the privileges of my Meeting at Montmirail, order," but not without inserting in its stead an equivalent, “saving the 1169. honour of God," 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 God's honour,' 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 honour of my God." 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 God's honour. "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 nobles 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 nobles were, "He has been cast out by England; let him find no support in France." ་ Becket at Dreading what might come next, and grievously disappointed in their | CAMEOXXI. hopes of returning to their homes, even his clerks were out of humour, and blamed his determination. As they rode back in the gloom St. Columba. towards St. Columba, the horse of one happened to stumble, and in his vexation he exclaimed, "Come up, saving the honour 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 honour of God." 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 God 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 compassion 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 forbode evil," returned Becket. nor the son of a prophet." "You are not a prophet, 66 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 God's honour 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 CAMEOXXI. 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. The kiss of peace. 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. Now this kiss Henry would not give; he said he had sworn an oath never to kiss the Archbishop, and this refusal immediately convinced every one that evil was intended. Louis and all the Archbishop's friends concurred in advising him never to come to any terms without this seal of friendship, and entirely on this ground the treaty was broken off. One of Becket's clergy remarked that the meeting had taken place on the spot where St. Denys was put to death, adding, “It is my belief that nothing but your martyrdom will ensure peace to the Church." "Be it so," said Becket; "God grant that she may be redeemed, even at the sacrifice of my life." He began to make up his mind that since the King had given up the point at issue, he ought to allow no regard for his personal safety to keep him away from his flock; but just at this point the quarrel became further complicated. Henry, in dread of excommunication, resolved to have his son Henry crowned, to reign jointly with him, and the difficulty arose that no one could lawfully perform the coronation but the primate. Letters prohibiting the bishops from taking part in the coronation were sent by Becket, but in the meantime Gilbert Folliot had been appealing to Rome against his own excommunication. The Pope, who had been shuffling throughout, would not absolve him himself, but gave him letters to the Archbishops of Rouen and Nevers, and they granted him absolution; on which he returned triumphant to England, and joined with Roger of York and Hilary of Chichester in setting the crown on the head of young Henry. It was a measure which every person concerned in it had bitterly to rue; king, prince, bishops, every one except Margaret, young Henry's wife, who steadily avoided receiving the crown from any one but her old tutor and friend the primate. Pope and Archbishop both agreed that this contempt of prohibition must be visited by excommunication; and as Alexander had about this time effectually humbled the pride of the Emperor Frederick, Henry thought it time to submit, at least in appearance, lest his realm should be laid under an interdict. At Freitval, therefore, he met the Archbishop in the autumn of 1170, and all was arranged. He consented to the excommunication of those concerned in the coronation; he held Becket's stirrup; he did everything but give the kiss of peace, but that he constantly avoided. Even when they went to church together at Tours, when, in the course of the communion service, Henry must have received the kiss from the Archbishop, he contrived to change the service to the mass for the dead, in which the kiss did not occur. The last time the |