THE MARTYRDOM OF SAINT THOMAS OF

CANTERBURY.

I have undertaken in Notes 42, 43, perhaps superfluously, to append some account of the fatal occurrence to which the church of Canterbury chiefly owed its celebrity and its attractions. The same object might have been sufficiently answered by a reference either to older biographies of Becket, or to those by Dr. Giles,* by Dr. Hook in his Ecclesiastical Biography, or the still more recent Lives of the Chancellors, by Lord Campbell,† and those of the Judges, by Mr. Foss. It was before adverting to any of these later writers, that the proposal in p. 114 was made.

An event which so deeply interested a large religious community, and which so frightfully disturbed the placid current of their ordinary monotonous existence, was recorded by some of them, as may be imagined, in its minutest circumstances; leaving to the legendary writers of subsequent times little real occasion to exercise their wonted processes of amplification and embellishment. Still this copious supply of information was more calculated to encourage than to deter the inventive faculties of the martyrologists, and such was certainly the result. The ancient biographies of Saint Thomas of Canterbury

*The Life and Letters of Thomas à Becket, 1846. Two vols. 8vo. † Lord Campbell has followed Lingard's History.

are probably more voluminous than those of any other Englishman of early times. However, with respect to his murder, it is by no means difficult to distinguish those minute facts which are not likely to have been fabricated, and must consequently have been observed by eye-witnesses, from those additions—rather of things dicta than acta, the report of expressions and not incidents, which were worked into the narrative in order to enhance the glory of the martyr, whether by exaggerating the malice of his assailants, or by misrepresenting what was evidently a fortuitous, though very gross outrage, into a premeditated murder, and anticipated martyrdom.

Referring, therefore, to the biographies already mentioned for the fuller accounts, I shall content myself with detailing the actual circumstances under which Becket met his death.

It is clear that the intention of the king's knights was to arrest, not to murder, the archbishop of Canterbury. This is shown by the precautions taken along the coast against his escape, and the assistance claimed from the citizens of Canterbury, and the abbat of the monastery of Saint Augustine. These overt acts of hostility would not have been adopted by those who were contemplating the more summary decision of the sword, neither would such a parade of force, or so many agents, have been the means chosen to perpetrate a premeditated murder. It is highly improbable that, as some stories assert, four courtiers of high rank each distinctly volunteered to gratify

the king's vengeance, and then accidentally met soon after landing in England, and united their secret plans.

It was from the archbishop's castle of Saltwood, then in the custody of Randulph del Broc, to whom it had been committed by the king, with the other estates of the archiepiscopal see, that the knights came to Canterbury on the fatal morning of the 29th Dec. 1170. They first repaired to the monastery of Saint Augustine, which was generally in some degree opposed to that of Christ Church, and there consulted with Clarembald, the abbat elect, what steps they should take to effect their purpose. Soon after the archbishop had dined, he was surprised by their sudden entrance into his inner chamber, where they held a long parley with him, the dialogue of which is fully related by Gervase the Canterbury historian. Having received a determined repulse from the resolute churchman, they went out, in order to arm themselves and make preparations for his forcible arrest. The servants of the archbishop took this opportunity to fasten the gates; but Randulph del Broc, the king's custos of the see, who was well acquainted with all the approaches of the palace, led the knights again towards the archbishop's chamber by way of the orchard. His attendants, who had hitherto in vain urged him to flight, then hurried him through the cloisters into the church, where vespers were about to be sung; hoping that the knights might thus be deterred from their immediate purpose, and that other means might be devised for the archbishop's

eventual escape or concealment. The king's messengers, however, would not permit their object to be thus frustrated. They rushed into the church and overtook the archbishop as he had just passed across the north transept and was ascending the steps which led to the choir. On the approach of the armed men, Becket was deserted by all his terrified attendants, excepting Robert the canon of Merton, William Fitz Stephen the historian, and Edward Grim, another clerk, who afterwards wrote a narrative of the transaction.

Reginald Fitz Urse was the foremost of the assailants, and he seized the archbishop by his pall, intending to drag him back across the church. A struggle ensued: the archbishop clung to a column and refused to move, though struck by one of the knights with the flat side of his sword. At this moment Becket is said to have exclaimed, "Touch me not, Reginald Fitz Urse! Why should you treat me thus? I have granted you many favours. You are my man, and owe me fealty and obedience, -both you and your fellows." (For Fitz Urse, Tracy, and Morville had all pledged their allegiance to Becket, kneeling before him whilst he was chancellor.) FitzUrse replied, "I owe you no fealty inconsistent with that I owe to my lord the king." These words were scarcely spoken when a blow was aimed with the sword either of Fitz Urse or Tracy, which wounded the archbishop on the head, though its weight was chiefly received by the arm of the faithful clerk, master Edward Grim. When

Becket fell, another blow was aimed at him by Richard Brito, who cried, "Take that, for William's sake!" alluding to the animosity entertained by William count of Poictou, the king's brother, against the archbishop of Canterbury, for having opposed, on the ground of consanguinity, his projected marriage with the dowager countess Warren. Brito's sword, having cleft the scull of his victim, struck against the pavement, and the point was broken off. This was the punctum ensis, afterwards preserved as a relic of the martyrdom. (See Note 43 antea.)

The blow of Brito proved fatal; but the most horrible part of the outrage was the act, if we may believe it, of a subdeacon, Hugh of Horsea, whose real name is disguised by most of the chroniclers under the fictitious one of Mauclerc. It is thus described: "The martyr still breathed. But the deep wound on the head had exposed the brain to view, and the white medulla was stained with blood. To complete the murder, Mauclerc put his foot on the neck of the martyr, and bespattering the pavement with his blood and brain exclaimed,—Let us be off. He will rise no more!"

The body of the archbishop was for some time left at the spot where he had fallen for the clerks and monks had fled in fear and consternation. At last Osbert, his chamberlain, ventured from his hiding-place, and having torn up his own gown, gathered together and disposed in somewhat decent order the mangled head, and covered it