so-called "Quadrilogus." We find, from unimpeachable documents, that not only must the descent of the martyr and his immediate progenitors be referred to Normandy, but that even his mental and physical training, and the weapons with which he contended, must be regarded as essentially Norman, and almost Romish, in their character, whilst the king, it is evident, strove to maintain an Anglican Church on the basis established by the Saxon kings, and by his ancestor William the Conqueror; at the same time that he had recourse in his defence to genuine Saxon and German modes of action. Becket, who, as chancellor, had shown himself the thoroughly worldly-minded executor of his sovereign's commands, strove with zeal, as soon as he attained the primacy, to carry out to their ultimate consequences the pseudoIsidorian decretals, and strenuously endeavoured to enforce in England the exaggerated pretensions of Gregory VII. and the recently published doctrines of canonical law, as taught by Gratian. We find, on the other hand, that in the trial which was carried on against Becket, who ranked as the first peer of the realm, Henry II., for the first time, employed a mode of judgment which may be regarded, in the history of the English constitution, as a form of trial by jury. The secular and the ecclesiastical power were most violently opposed to one another in this conflict, in which the former, under the guise of a powerful monarchy, maintained the victory within the limits of the kingdom, while the archbishop fled from the country as soon as he was convinced that the judgment of his peers would go against him, and that even the majority of his clerical brethren disapproved of the arrogant spirit in which he

had conducted himself. He was, however, supported on the Continent by the authority of the Pope, and was thus able to prosecute his quarrel with undiminished bitterness and violence; and notwithstanding all attempts to restore mutual amity, the rancour and dissimulation exhibited on both sides precluded the possibility of any sincere reconciliation. At length, Becket resolved to return to England, not, however, with the design of retracing a single step that he had once taken, but rather for the express purpose of enduring shame and infamy, and, if matters came to extremities, to perish within the consecrated building in which he had been accustomed to officiate, and thus secure the victory by dying the death of a martyr.

That this was the determined resolution of the prelate seems obvious if, guided by the narratives of contemporaneous writers, we examine the cathedral, and thread our way through the extensive ruins of the former archiepiscopal palace and the adjacent monastery.

When, after partaking of his usual midday meal, Becket was employed, on the 29th of December, 1170, in conversing, as was his wont, in one of the chambers of his palace, with his monks and priests, on matters of business, he was aware of the arrival at St. Augustine's Abbey of those four knights who, having eagerly seized upon a few fatal words of their sovereign, had hastened from Normandy, resolved, sword in hand, to force this inflexible prelate to submission. Not long afterwards, the knights, each one of whom had his own special grievance against Becket, entered the apartment, when, after a somewhat defiant mutual greeting, there arose a violent altercation, the only result of which was to

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fortify the prelate in his resolution and increase the wrath of his antagonists. They soon hastened back to the courtyard in order to prepare for the deed of blood, by resuming their weapons, which they had thrown aside on their arrival, and by placing their companions on guard at the entrance gates. In the meantime, all was commotion within the palace and the monastery. As it was already growing dark and vespers had begun, most of the monks had collected together inside the church, but some, braver than the rest, hastened back to secure the gates and then hurried to the apartment of the archbishop, whom they earnestly entreated, without a moment's loss of time, to take refuge within the consecrated walls. For a while he obstinately opposed their entreaties, as he had given his word to the enemies who were thirsting for his blood that he would await their return; but a thought having struck him, he commanded that the archiepiscopal cross should be borne before him, and then suffered himself to be dragged rather than led by his monks and priests through the back postern door of his palace, along the north cloister of the cathedral. Step by step we may here trace his progress, as he made his way into the massive chapterhouse where the ceremony of enthroning the archbishops is still performed, and passed through a side-door into the lower north transept of the cathedral. The increasing darkness of the night could readily have allowed Becket to conceal himself from his murderers, who were now hurrying fully armed through the transept, and he might have taken refuge either within the chapels of the Virgin Mary and St. Benedict, or in the crypt, the steps leading to which were close by, or even within the chapel

of St. Blaise, which was concealed in an elevated recess. He was in the act of ascending the broad steps that lead to the elevated choir, in order that he might die in the imposing and theatrical manner which was congenial to his character, within the venerable porphyry chair behind the altar, in which the archbishops were wont to receive consecration and homage, when the appearance of the knights stopped him; and turning back, he encountered them in St. Benedict's Chapel, where, after a short but angry discussion, in the course of which a taunt, uttered by Becket, roused the anger of his foes to the most unbridled rage, he met his death with an unmoved and truly heroic fortitude. This was the last and most terrible event in the conflict which the crown had waged against the Church. The sword had, at length, been fully drawn, and the Anointed of the Lord stricken down, but he was himself answerable for that reiteration of crimes which had now terminated in murder, sacrilege, and the desecration of God's temple. Even as he had himself desired, he suffered a martyr's death. With his blood he had opened to the Church the road to victory, and with her now rested the charge of avenging his fall.

It would lead us too far were we to enter into all the details which have been preserved regarding the events of that terrible night, and there are only a few special particulars to which we will here draw attention. While the murderers, rushing forth from the church and the presence of their victim, were ransacking the archiepiscopal treasury for documents of every kind, the monks, who had one by one ventured to return, now proceeded to raise the beloved corpse and the cleft skull, bathed in

its blood. As they turned aside the cloak, which still lay undisturbed around the body, they discovered to their great surprise, the rough hair clothing which, like the humblest penitent, the martyr had long worn, and with cries and lamentations they lifted up the body and laid it, surrounded by all the insignia of the archiepiscopal dignity, in a new sarcophagus, standing at the eastern extremity of the ancient crypt before the altars of St. John and St. Augustine. In a short time these treasured relics were securely laid within their safe repository, and even before any plan could be formed for preparing a more worthy and magnificent resting place for them, rumours were heard of the miracles that were already performed by the remains of the heroic martyr. Before three years had passed, Pope Alexander IIl. who had taken up Becket's cause, proclaimed his canonisation; and thus St. Thomas of Canterbury, whom the Catholic world had enrolled among the heroes of her faith, began soon after his death, to exercise spiritual dominion over the minds of his countrymen.

This period was marked by great political disturbances; and King Henry, who had succeeded in maintaining his ground in a truly national manner against the aggressions of an ambitious and haughty priest, now found himself involved in insurrections of the most dangerous character on both sides of the Channel. While his own flesh and blood, his first-born son, was rising in rebellion against him, a papal interdict had announced to the whole world that the chastisement of heaven was impending over his crowned head in vengeance for the crime to which the king himself had given the first impulse. Henry, who hitherto had never been