A Child's History of England

by Dickens, Charles

  merchant returned her love, until he found an opportunity to

  escape, when he did not trouble himself about the Saracen lady, but

  escaped with his servant Richard, who had been taken prisoner along

  with him, and arrived in England and forgot her. The Saracen lady,

  who was more loving than the merchant, left her father's house in

  disguise to follow him, and made her way, under many hardships, to

  the sea-shore. The merchant had taught her only two English words

  (for I suppose he must have learnt the Saracen tongue himself, and

  made love in that language), of which LONDON was one, and his own

  name, GILBERT, the other. She went among the ships, saying,

  'London! London!' over and over again, until the sailors understood

  that she wanted to find an English vessel that would carry her

  there; so they showed her such a ship, and she paid for her passage

  with some of her jewels, and sailed away. Well! The merchant was

  sitting in his counting-house in London one day, when he heard a

  great noise in the street; and presently Richard came running in

  from the warehouse, with his eyes wide open and his breath almost

  gone, saying, 'Master, master, here is the Saracen lady!' The

  merchant thought Richard was mad; but Richard said, 'No, master!

  As I live, the Saracen lady is going up and down the city, calling

  Gilbert! Gilbert!' Then, he took the merchant by the sleeve, and

  pointed out of window; and there they saw her among the gables and

  water-spouts of the dark, dirty street, in her foreign dress, so

  forlorn, surrounded by a wondering crowd, and passing slowly along,

  calling Gilbert, Gilbert! When the merchant saw her, and thought

  of the tenderness she had shown him in his captivity, and of her

  constancy, his heart was moved, and he ran down into the street;

  and she saw him coming, and with a great cry fainted in his arms.

  They were married without loss of time, and Richard (who was an

  excellent man) danced with joy the whole day of the wedding; and

  they all lived happy ever afterwards.

  This merchant and this Saracen lady had one son, THOMAS A BECKET.

  He it was who became the Favourite of King Henry the Second.

  He had become Chancellor, when the King thought of making him

  Archbishop. He was clever, gay, well educated, brave; had fought

  in several battles in France; had defeated a French knight in

  single combat, and brought his horse away as a token of the

  victory. He lived in a noble palace, he was the tutor of the young

  Prince Henry, he was served by one hundred and forty knights, his

  riches were immense. The King once sent him as his ambassador to

  France; and the French people, beholding in what state he

  travelled, cried out in the streets, 'How splendid must the King of

  England be, when this is only the Chancellor!' They had good

  reason to wonder at the magnificence of Thomas a Becket, for, when

  he entered a French town, his procession was headed by two hundred

  and fifty singing boys; then, came his hounds in couples; then,

  eight waggons, each drawn by five horses driven by five drivers:

  two of the waggons filled with strong ale to be given away to the

  people; four, with his gold and silver plate and stately clothes;

  Page 50

  Dickens, Charles - A Child's History of England

  two, with the dresses of his numerous servants. Then, came twelve

  horses, each with a monkey on his back; then, a train of people

  bearing shields and leading fine war-horses splendidly equipped;

  then, falconers with hawks upon their wrists; then, a host of

  knights, and gentlemen and priests; then, the Chancellor with his

  brilliant garments flashing in the sun, and all the people capering

  and shouting with delight.

  The King was well pleased with all this, thinking that it only made

  himself the more magnificent to have so magnificent a favourite;

  but he sometimes jested with the Chancellor upon his splendour too.

  Once, when they were riding together through the streets of London

  in hard winter weather, they saw a shivering old man in rags.

  'Look at the poor object!' said the King. 'Would it not be a

  charitable act to give that aged man a comfortable warm cloak?'

  'Undoubtedly it would,' said Thomas a Becket, 'and you do well,

  Sir, to think of such Christian duties.' 'Come!' cried the King,

  'then give him your cloak!' It was made of rich crimson trimmed

  with ermine. The King tried to pull it off, the Chancellor tried

  to keep it on, both were near rolling from their saddles in the

  mud, when the Chancellor submitted, and the King gave the cloak to

  the old beggar: much to the beggar's astonishment, and much to the

  merriment of all the courtiers in attendance. For, courtiers are

  not only eager to laugh when the King laughs, but they really do

  enjoy a laugh against a Favourite.

  'I will make,' thought King Henry the second, 'this Chancellor of

  mine, Thomas a Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury. He will then be

  the head of the Church, and, being devoted to me, will help me to

  correct the Church. He has always upheld my power against the

  power of the clergy, and once publicly told some bishops (I

  remember), that men of the Church were equally bound to me, with

  men of the sword. Thomas a Becket is the man, of all other men in

  England, to help me in my great design.' So the King, regardless

  of all objection, either that he was a fighting man, or a lavish

  man, or a courtly man, or a man of pleasure, or anything but a

  likely man for the office, made him Archbishop accordingly.

  Now, Thomas a Becket was proud and loved to be famous. He was

  already famous for the pomp of his life, for his riches, his gold

  and silver plate, his waggons, horses, and attendants. He could do

  no more in that way than he had done; and being tired of that kind

  of fame (which is a very poor one), he longed to have his name

  celebrated for something else. Nothing, he knew, would render him

  so famous in the world, as the setting of his utmost power and

  ability against the utmost power and ability of the King. He

  resolved with the whole strength of his mind to do it.

  He may have had some secret grudge against the King besides. The

  King may have offended his proud humour at some time or other, for

  anything I know. I think it likely, because it is a common thing

  for Kings, Princes, and other great people, to try the tempers of

  their favourites rather severely. Even the little affair of the

  crimson cloak must have been anything but a pleasant one to a

  haughty man. Thomas a Becket knew better than any one in England

  what the King expected of him. In all his sumptuous life, he had

  never yet been in a position to disappoint the King. He could take

  up that proud stand now, as head of the Church; and he determined

  that it should be written in history, either that he subdued the

  King, or that the King subdued him.

  So, of a sudden, he completely altered the whole manner of his

  life. He turned off all his brilliant followers, ate coarse food,

  drank bitter water, wore next his skin sackcl
oth covered with dirt

  Page 51

  Dickens, Charles - A Child's History of England

  and vermin (for it was then thought very religious to be very

  dirty), flogged his back to punish himself, lived chiefly in a

  little cell, washed the feet of thirteen poor people every day, and

  looked as miserable as he possibly could. If he had put twelve

  hundred monkeys on horseback instead of twelve, and had gone in

  procession with eight thousand waggons instead of eight, he could

  not have half astonished the people so much as by this great

  change. It soon caused him to be more talked about as an

  Archbishop than he had been as a Chancellor.

  The King was very angry; and was made still more so, when the new

  Archbishop, claiming various estates from the nobles as being

  rightfully Church property, required the King himself, for the same

  reason, to give up Rochester Castle, and Rochester City too. Not

  satisfied with this, he declared that no power but himself should

  appoint a priest to any Church in the part of England over which he

  was Archbishop; and when a certain gentleman of Kent made such an

  appointment, as he claimed to have the right to do, Thomas a Becket

  excommunicated him.

  Excommunication was, next to the Interdict I told you of at the

  close of the last chapter, the great weapon of the clergy. It

  consisted in declaring the person who was excommunicated, an

  outcast from the Church and from all religious offices; and in

  cursing him all over, from the top of his head to the sole of his

  foot, whether he was standing up, lying down, sitting, kneeling,

  walking, running, hopping, jumping, gaping, coughing, sneezing, or

  whatever else he was doing. This unchristian nonsense would of

  course have made no sort of difference to the person cursed - who

  could say his prayers at home if he were shut out of church, and

  whom none but GOD could judge - but for the fears and superstitions

  of the people, who avoided excommunicated persons, and made their

  lives unhappy. So, the King said to the New Archbishop, 'Take off

  this Excommunication from this gentleman of Kent.' To which the

  Archbishop replied, 'I shall do no such thing.'

  The quarrel went on. A priest in Worcestershire committed a most

  dreadful murder, that aroused the horror of the whole nation. The

  King demanded to have this wretch delivered up, to be tried in the

  same court and in the same way as any other murderer. The

  Archbishop refused, and kept him in the Bishop's prison. The King,

  holding a solemn assembly in Westminster Hall, demanded that in

  future all priests found guilty before their Bishops of crimes

  against the law of the land should be considered priests no longer,

  and should be delivered over to the law of the land for punishment.

  The Archbishop again refused. The King required to know whether

  the clergy would obey the ancient customs of the country? Every

  priest there, but one, said, after Thomas a Becket, 'Saving my

  order.' This really meant that they would only obey those customs

  when they did not interfere with their own claims; and the King

  went out of the Hall in great wrath.

  Some of the clergy began to be afraid, now, that they were going

  too far. Though Thomas a Becket was otherwise as unmoved as

  Westminster Hall, they prevailed upon him, for the sake of their

  fears, to go to the King at Woodstock, and promise to observe the

  ancient customs of the country, without saying anything about his

  order. The King received this submission favourably, and summoned

  a great council of the clergy to meet at the Castle of Clarendon,

  by Salisbury. But when the council met, the Archbishop again

  insisted on the words 'saying my order;' and he still insisted,

  though lords entreated him, and priests wept before him and knelt

  to him, and an adjoining room was thrown open, filled with armed

  soldiers of the King, to threaten him. At length he gave way, for

  Page 52

  Dickens, Charles - A Child's History of England

  that time, and the ancient customs (which included what the King

  had demanded in vain) were stated in writing, and were signed and

  sealed by the chief of the clergy, and were called the

  Constitutions of Clarendon.

  The quarrel went on, for all that. The Archbishop tried to see the

  King. The King would not see him. The Archbishop tried to escape

  from England. The sailors on the coast would launch no boat to

  take him away. Then, he again resolved to do his worst in

  opposition to the King, and began openly to set the ancient customs

  at defiance.

  The King summoned him before a great council at Northampton, where

  he accused him of high treason, and made a claim against him, which

  was not a just one, for an enormous sum of money. Thomas a Becket

  was alone against the whole assembly, and the very Bishops advised

  him to resign his office and abandon his contest with the King.

  His great anxiety and agitation stretched him on a sick-bed for two

  days, but he was still undaunted. He went to the adjourned

  council, carrying a great cross in his right hand, and sat down

  holding it erect before him. The King angrily retired into an

  inner room. The whole assembly angrily retired and left him there.

  But there he sat. The Bishops came out again in a body, and

  renounced him as a traitor. He only said, 'I hear!' and sat there

  still. They retired again into the inner room, and his trial

  proceeded without him. By-and-by, the Earl of Leicester, heading

  the barons, came out to read his sentence. He refused to hear it,

  denied the power of the court, and said he would refer his cause to

  the Pope. As he walked out of the hall, with the cross in his

  hand, some of those present picked up rushes - rushes were strewn

  upon the floors in those days by way of carpet - and threw them at

  him. He proudly turned his head, and said that were he not

  Archbishop, he would chastise those cowards with the sword he had

  known how to use in bygone days. He then mounted his horse, and

  rode away, cheered and surrounded by the common people, to whom he

  threw open his house that night and gave a supper, supping with

  them himself. That same night he secretly departed from the town;

  and so, travelling by night and hiding by day, and calling himself

  'Brother Dearman,' got away, not without difficulty, to Flanders.

  The struggle still went on. The angry King took possession of the

  revenues of the archbishopric, and banished all the relations and

  servants of Thomas a Becket, to the number of four hundred. The

  Pope and the French King both protected him, and an abbey was

  assigned for his residence. Stimulated by this support, Thomas a

  Becket, on a great festival day, formally proceeded to a great

  church crowded with people, and going up into the pulpit publicly

  cursed and excommunicated all who had supported the Constitutions

  of Clarendon: mentioning many English noblemen by name, and not

  distantly hinting at the King of England himself.

  When intelligence of this new affr
ont was carried to the King in

  his chamber, his passion was so furious that he tore his clothes,

  and rolled like a madman on his bed of straw and rushes. But he

  was soon up and doing. He ordered all the ports and coasts of

  England to be narrowly watched, that no letters of Interdict might

  be brought into the kingdom; and sent messengers and bribes to the

  Pope's palace at Rome. Meanwhile, Thomas a Becket, for his part,

  was not idle at Rome, but constantly employed his utmost arts in

  his own behalf. Thus the contest stood, until there was peace

  between France and England (which had been for some time at war),

  and until the two children of the two Kings were married in

  celebration of it. Then, the French King brought about a meeting

  between Henry and his old favourite, so long his enemy.

  Page 53

  Dickens, Charles - A Child's History of England

  Even then, though Thomas a Becket knelt before the King, he was

  obstinate and immovable as to those words about his order. King

  Louis of France was weak enough in his veneration for Thomas a

  Becket and such men, but this was a little too much for him. He

  said that a Becket 'wanted to be greater than the saints and better

  than St. Peter,' and rode away from him with the King of England.

  His poor French Majesty asked a Becket's pardon for so doing,

  however, soon afterwards, and cut a very pitiful figure.

  At last, and after a world of trouble, it came to this. There was

  another meeting on French ground between King Henry and Thomas a

  Becket, and it was agreed that Thomas a Becket should be Archbishop

  of Canterbury, according to the customs of former Archbishops, and

  that the King should put him in possession of the revenues of that

  post. And now, indeed, you might suppose the struggle at an end,

  and Thomas a Becket at rest. NO, not even yet. For Thomas a

  Becket hearing, by some means, that King Henry, when he was in

  dread of his kingdom being placed under an interdict, had had his

  eldest son Prince Henry secretly crowned, not only persuaded the

  Pope to suspend the Archbishop of York who had performed that

  ceremony, and to excommunicate the Bishops who had assisted at it,

  but sent a messenger of his own into England, in spite of all the

  King's precautions along the coast, who delivered the letters of

  excommunication into the Bishops' own hands. Thomas a Becket then