fection. Still, he was the spoiled minion of fortune. The absolute authority then vested in the crown invited his impetuous nature to the wildest excesses, while the sycophancy, that is ever ready to betray the powerful, prompted him to enterprises he might not else have attempted, and involved him in an endless maze of cruelty, injustice, and fraud. In a word, he was essentially selfish; for, though his bounty flowed profusely on those he loved, it was only at the price of unreserved devotion to his will. When that was thwarted, his excitement knew no bounds. The very impress of humanity seemed erased from his countenance, his eyes became spotted with blood, and his rage, like that of a beast, was vented on his attendants and furniture.

Theobald could not regard, but with extreme solicitude, the accession of so wayward a prince, to the stormy rule of his distracted country, and dread the aggravation of the injuries, to religion and the Church, which had characterised the preceding reign. Hence, when age and increasing infirmities constrained him to retire, from the confidential station near the throne, to which his own signal services had raised him, he commended his archdeacon to the royal favor, as one to whose piety and sagacity, prudence and firmness, might safely be committed so much influence for good or evil. Henry was not slow to discern his merit, and appointed him his chancellor.

Behold him now in a position as dangerous as elevated! but the dizzy height, where weaker brains had reeled, only invigorates him. "His sovereign's smile is on him, glory blazes about his path," but his eye is undazzled, and his step is steady. Qualified alike to charm his master's leisure, and to sway the counsels of the cabinet, he combines the elegant graces of the courtier, with the grave deliberation of the politician. His opinion is decisive in affairs of state, his favor is the passport to preferment; his ample revenues and stately magnificence are worthy of a prince; the lay barons give place before him; the bravest of England's chivalry embrace his service; his halls are thronged by the learned, the

rich, and the powerful; and the poor sit in crowds at his gate. How many 66 lifted up so high" had. "'sdained subjection, and thought one step higher would set" them " highest!" But so clear is Becket's loyalty, that England's subtlest king invests him with the last pledge of a father's and a monarch's confidence, by entrusting to him the person and education of his son!

How many, in those festal halls,

"when smiles were bright

On lovely lips that murmured round,"

had yielded to the soft seductions of the flesh! But Becket's virtue is so bright that, though the king himself, in the very wantonness of power, endeavors to beguile him, the breath of slander rests not on it. No, not even Fuller, who never hesitates to circulate a calumny while disavowing his belief in it, hints a doubt of his vestal purity. His sportive wit, his gallant bearing, his sumptuous array might scandalize the austere; but when his host suspecting an intrigue, as we are told by William of Canterbury, stole softly to his midnight chamber, and found the supposed voluptuary prostrate half naked on the floor, where he had fallen asleep at his devotions, it was seen how a mortified spirit could dwell under a delicate exterior.

Among the brilliant incidents of this stage of his career, was his mission to the French king. Henry's pretensions to the earldom of Nantz, as heir to his brother Geoffrey, had alarmed the jealousy of Louis, too late aware of the impolicy of his own divorce, which had transferred the queenly dowry of Eleanor to his most dangerous vassal. To Becket was entrusted the delicate task of averting war between these powerful neighbors; and the masterly address with which he accomplished that object, and established the Plantagenet ascendancy on yet a broader basis, was as dazzling to the eye of the statesman, as his regal retinue and munificence had proved to the court and people of France.

But his energies were not circumscribed by the purlieus of palaces, or limited to the triumphs of legislation and diplomacy.

Those were days of campaign and tournament; when rank was but the insignia of military command; when wealth was measured by the array of armed retainers; and ministers dealt not their blows "on lieutenantry," from the security of the closet, but led armies to the victory their genius had planned. The family of the chancellor was a school of honor and of arms, as well as of the accomplishments and arts of peace. Nobles were proud to place their children in his service; and in Henry's campaign of Toulouse, when kings and princes crowded to his standard, Becket led into the field seven hundred knights, each attended by a squire, and, where glory beckoned or danger dared, these with their gallant leader were foremost in the fight. When Louis, at the earnest solicitation of Count Raymond, had thrown himself reluctantly into Toulouse, the fiery chancellor proposed an immediate assault, which, in the weak condition of the garrison, would have placed the royal person in his rival's power; and the dashing exploit was only prevented by Henry's cautious adherence to feudal maxims. Being left in the Querci, to defend his master's conquests after he had retired from the leaguer of his sovereign's camp, Becket stormed three castles which had been deemed impregnable, crossed the Garonne, and once more ravaged the territory of Toulouse. Summoned again to Normandy, he left his household troops to secure the fruits of his valor, enlisted, at his own expense, twelve hundred knights, and four thousand stipendiaries, and hurried to the scene of action. Upon these chivalrous details, his defamers descant with more evident satisfaction than his eulogists; and they are certainly less edifying in one, who had been commissioned to announce a gospel of peace to the nations, than they are evincive of the unreservedness with which he devoted himself to whatever he undertook. Still, some allowance must be made for the warlike spirit of those unsettled times, when bishops sometimes felt constrained to conduct in person the military aids to which their feudal tenures bound them; and the asylum of female innocence and piety, found its only

protection against ruffian violence, in walls of massive strength-a guaranty not always to be disregarded, in times of boasted liberty, and a pretended land of laws.

But in all this martial prowess, in all this courtly pomp that flamed about the chancellor, was no mingling of earthly interest, unless it were the love of fame; and, from that, what noble heart was ever altogether free? If his appointments were regal in magnificence, they shed lustre on his lofty station. If wealth flowed in on him with a golden tide, it was poured forth as prodigally, for his master's service, or in works of charity. If he bore down in fierce encounter the gallant Engelvan de Trie, it was not that he might lower his conquering lance before" the queen of beauty." All his splendor, all his energy of mind or frame were but tributary to the glory of his king, a word which, in sceptred lands, embodies all those feelings, which swell to our hearts at the dearer name of country.

Another change comes over "this strange eventful history." Theobald of pious memory is gathered to his fathers, and the king determines to advance his chancellor to the vacant see. He had tested his virtue and ability, and believed him equal to the charge. He was assured of his fidelity, and that his influence in the Church, like that of his predecessor, would maintain the rights of the lawful line, in the event of a premature demise of the crown. He hoped, from his affection and gratitude, the largest compliance with his own inclination to dictate in ecclesiastical affairs.

But he dissembled long his purpose, tempted probably by the incomes of the vacant see, which were paid into his exchequer. At length he commands his favorite to prepare for a journey to England, on business of importance. He comes to take his leave; the monarch discloses his long suppressed design: "you know not the whole object of your mission-you are to become archbishop of Canterbury." How now is this nomination of one not yet a priest to the venerable seat of England's great apostle-this primacy in the national Church superadded to his political supremacy-received by "the man whom

66

the king delighteth to honor?" Is it on bended knee, with humble disclaimer of desert enhancing protestations of endless gratitude? No! pointing to his own glittering array, in the momentary playfulness of ancient intimacy, how religious, how saintly a personage," he answers," is your majesty about to set over that holy see, and that community of monks so famed for piety!" Then, changing to a tone of prophetic solemnity, "but I know most certainly that, should God permit it, you would speedily withdraw your favor; and that great affection which is now between us would be changed to the direst hate. For I know that you would exact some things, and that you have already presumed to do much, in ecclesiastical matters, which I could not permit ; and therefore the envious would seize occasion to replace our friendship with enmity."

Near seven centuries have elapsed since those words were spoken, but if they have produced any thing more magnanimous, it has escaped my observation. How determined must be the prejudice which, with this reply before it, can impute to Becket the dissimulation of the ambitious, or the perfidy of the ingrate! To me it breathes in every syllable that sad resolution with which duty takes its post in the front of danger, though assured that ruin awaits it in every possible contingency; yet not without a tender retrospect, to "the old good nature and the old good humor" he saw forever departing, and which flashes in the playful sally that preludes the solemn warning of his closing words. That the chancellor was surprised by the king's avowal of his intentions is not to be supposed. The public voice had named him the future primate; his friends had saluted him by that title, and there is a consciousness of ability, which renders probable to the possessor the prognostic of those who sometimes only flatter. He doubtless, therefore, brought to the occasion the matured conclusions of his farseeing and resolute mind. He knew the evils which the fierce wars for the succession had heaped upon the Church. He saw the daily encroachments of the temporal power, and the still more dangerous venality

and corruption, which, in those turbulent times, had crept to sacred stations. The holy see itself was paralyzed by a furious schism; and on the firmness, moderation, and wisdom of the British primate, might depend not merely the liberties and discipline of the English Church, but her very continuance within the pale of Catholic unity. Too generous, therefore, in his love for God, too devoted to the interests of religion to shrink from the dread responsibility, still, true to the personal affection of his king, who might not anticipate opposition from one he had graced so prodigally, he pronounces, while it is not too late, the sad premonition so few have strength to utter"Amicus usque ad altare!"

"A friend as far as the altar!"

Yet

But Henry was not one to abandon projects deliberately formed, or distrust his own sufficiency for untried emergencies. his wishes, in regard to the archiepiscopate, were not accomplished without difficulty and opposition. The chancellor himself seems to have entertained more serious scruples, after the matter was formally proposed to him, both in relation to his own fitness for so solemn a trust, and the avowed interference of the crown in an election which ought to be free. How, he might well ask himself, could he hereafter resist encroachments on the liberties of his Church, who was indebted for his own elevation in it to palpable dictation?

His objections were overruled by the authoritative representations of Cardinal Henry of Pisa, apostolic legate, who insisted on the importance of filling the primacy, at this anxious crisis, with a person of his known integrity and resolution; and, as the forms of election at least were unrestrained, no sacrifice of principle was involved in his acceptance of the office. He therefore acquiesced and departed for England. Missives declaratory of the royal pleasure were forwarded to the metropolitan synod, and other clergy, by special envoys; on one of whom, in particular, the king enjoined to labor as earnestly for the election of Becket to the primacy, as he would for the coronation of the prince were himself to die.

But, potential as we may suppose the wishes of the sovereign in those days of arbitrary sway, the election was not effected without earnest discussion. On the one hand was urged the importance of gratifying the king and securing so powerful a mediator as the chancellor between the clergy and the crown. Others represented the scandal of elevating to the highest station in the national Church one not yet empowered to offer the holy sacrifice upon her altars; and whose recent course of life qualified him rather to wield the sword than to sway the crosier. It was feared that the preferment of a courtier to so sacred a function would prove a dangerous precedent, and fill the house of God thereafter with mere favorites of the temporal prince. To this was replied, that it was not altogether new to advance individuals to high ecclesiastical authority from secular dignities; as in the case of that great archbishop of Milan who shut the door of the Church against an emperor, and compelled him to do public penance for his crime; that Becket had been originally educated for the religious state; and though he had been employed at court, had never contracted its spirit. This opinion finally prevailed, and, the bishop of London alone dissenting as is hinted, through personal ambition of the station-Thomas was elected archbishop in the royal abbey of Westminster. Being subsequently presented to the young prince Henry, whom the king had empowered to represent himself in this ceremony, the primate elect was solemnly discharged from his obligations to the court, and surrendered free to the Church of England. His ordination to the priesthood, and consecration as archbishop, were solemnized at Canterbury the ensuing week, amid all the splendor of regal pomp, and ecclesiastical ceremony.

To a "fond idolater of old," a contest I would have seemed to be maintained between Becket and Fortune, whether she could more rapidly advance him to stations of unbounded trust and dignity, or he more worthily vindicate her choice. But the Christian who knows he does "all things in him who strengtheneth," sees in these wonderful mutations, only new occasion to

adore the bounty of God towards this faithful steward of his ten talents. We have seen him the exemplary student, the successful lawyer, the accomplished courtier, the skilful diplomatist, the consummate statesman, and the triumphant soldier. It remains that we contemplate him as the mirror of a Christian bishop.

Profoundly impressed at entering on his sacred office, with the necessity of reformation in the Church committed to his charge, he commences the work in his own person; conscious that he who would govern well the people of God ought himself to be their model. The hair-cloth galls his flesh to expiate any previous relaxation of discipline; under his official robes he wears the habit of the monk, to remind him of the simplicity and purity that should characterise the hierarchy; and, if he retains that external decoration which a wise regard to the influence of sensible objects on the great mass of mankind, and conformity to the practice of the Most High himself when regulating the ceremonial and ornaments of his sanctuary, have cast around his station, he labors to render it indeed "the vesture of holiness." He had, before his consecration, commanded one of his attendant clergy to apprise him of whatever he might hear said against his deportment, and mention also what himself might think amiss; well knowing, as he expressed it, that four eyes see better than two, and that our enemies become our most charitable friends, when we are willing to make their censures the occasion for more rigid self-scrutiny. He became more abstemious, more vigilant, and more assiduous at prayer. He rose habitually at two in the morning, and, having recited the office of the hour, washed the feet of thirteen poor persons, in obedience to the precept, and imitation of the practice of the Saviour; choosing the stillness of night, and a private chamber for this work of humiliation to atone for the ostentation of his former life. Weeping he would kneel before these favorites of heaven, and entreat their prayers in his behalf, dismissing them with abundant alms. He then retired to a brief repose, but rose again while the rest of the world were sleeping, and applied

himself to the study of the Holy Scripture; for which he cherished such profound respect, that, dreading to apply to it his private interpretation, he kept near him a theologian of approved piety and learning, to preserve him from the suggestions of his own imagination. After these studies and meditations, he visited the sick of his neighboring clergy, to inform himself of their necessities, and minister to their wants, as became their pastor and their father. At nine, he celebrated mass, unless when he preferred only to assist, through veneration for the sacred mysteries, which he never approached but with compunctious reverence, which choked his utterance with sobs and gushing tears. At about three he dined, and, for the prevention of idle discourse, caused some book of piety to be read during the meal; an ancient practice, confirmed by the great œcumenical council of Trent, which commands the reading of the Holy Scriptures at the tables of bishops. Such was his temperance that he was said to eat rather for preventing death, than to nourish life; yet he affected not scrupulosity in the quality of his food, and when one righteous over much professed himself scandalized by his partaking of a pheasant, he answered mildly, "one may be as gluttonous, brother, upon pulse, as on daintier fare." After dinner he withdrew, with persons of piety and learning, among whom he refreshed his mind with profitable discussions, or conferred on the affairs of his diocess.

His official administration was characterized by equal zeal with his personal habits. Knowing that on the sanctity of the pastors depends that of the people, and dreading nothing so much as to admit thieves and hirelings into the fold of the Lord, it was his custom to examine in person the qualifications of candidates for holy orders, weighing them with terrible exactness in the very balance of the sanctuary.

The extensive judicial authority of prelates in those days is well known to every reader of history. He established such order in his diocesan courts, that not one of his officials dared to receive a present from a litigant, on any pretext whatsoever.

But it was in his care of the poor that

VOL. II.-No. 4.

the episcopal character shone out most brilliantly. Regarding himself rather as their steward than benefactor, he never dismissed them empty handed; but on the contrary sent agents to enquire out their wants, and supply them with necessaries and comforts. It is recorded that he never sat down to eat without assembling numbers of the destitute in his palace yard, that the remains of the feast might be distributed among them; and though his table was always well supplied, on account of the many persons of distinction who frequented it, he was more bountiful in his provision for the sake of those who were to "gather up the fragments." The pious Theobald had doubled the alms of his predecessors, but St. Thomas doubled those of that venerated prelate, consecrating to the poor a tenth of his revenues, exclusive of his ordinary charities.

Hitherto he had been subjected only to the sweet, yet searching trials of prosperity: it remained for him, like the patriarch of Hus, to be proved by sterner tests.

If any portion of his charge involved peculiar responsibility, it was that which related to the temporalities of his see; those magnificent endowments which the free charity of early Catholic times was wont to provide for the spiritual or bodily relief of the destitute and the wretched; reaching forward beyond the present misery which shocks the sense and wrings a momentary sympathy, to embrace unborn generations, dear to it only by the common brotherhood of humanity. Charity of the olden time! what form of suffering has it not alleviated? what proper craving of the heart has it not labored to appease ? Whose were those pewless cathedrals, unmatched in beauty and grandeur, where peer and peasant, as children of a common father, bowed down in prayer together? Who reared those countless hospitals for the sick and the infirm, those asylums for the babe deserted at the threshold of existence, or the spouseless and despairing mother? Who built the free school of benighted ages, which now adorns with its picturesque ruin the park of some haughty noble? Who founded those "cities of colleges," and collected those exhaustless libraries, where the hire

26