Murder In The Cathedral – Law In The Land

November, 1990
Musings 1991

In a prior “musing”, I noted parenthetically that Henry II deserved more praise than the sainted Thomas á Becket. T. S. Eliot’s drama focused on Becket’s martyrdom, neglecting many of the conflicts which led up to it. That is not to criticize Eliot, because to thus narrow the focus was good theater. Ackroyd, Eliot’s biographer, believed that in this drama, Eliot combined his faith with his poetry. Eliot’s use of The Tempters was a scintillating dramatic device to show the turbulent and anxious ambivalence of Becket’s mind as he contemplated his coming death.

Not so many years ago I stood at the stone slab in Canterbury Cathedral, at the spot where Becket was killed. That experience has remained with me; motivating much reading about the tangled historical conflicts that seethed in the rush of events that led to December 29, 1170, when four Knights killed Becket, believing that they were carrying out the wishes of King Henry II. They were not goons or hitmen; they were distinguished Barons acting for King and Country, or so they were convinced.

Thomas Becket was canonized a saint in 1173, less than three years after his death. As an aside, it is worth noting that Joan of Arc was canonized in 1920, 489 years after she was burned at the stake as an heretic. But the Maid of Orleans was a French patriot, loyal to her “voices,” her King and her Country; not to the Pope at Rome.

The shrine of Thomas Becket soon became famous. Pilgrims journeyed from near and far to seek miracles or offer penitential or petitionary prayers.. Chaucer’s “Canterbury Tales” imperishably relates the marvelous “mix” of persons of different classes and character who made the PILGRIMAGE. Most of them brought gifts – gold, silver, jewels. In the course of more than three-hundred years, vast wealth accumulated at Becket’s shrine. When King Henry VIII repudiated the Pope because he would not grant a divorce from Catherine of Aragon, Henry VIII named himself as Head of the Church in England. He seized and kept or distributed the vast treasure at Becket’s shrine, as well as confiscating the huge estates and wealth which had belonged to the Roman Catholic Church.

The conflict of authority that led to Murder in the Cathedral sifts down to this: Was the Pope supreme over both Church and State? The idea of Papal theocracy had been contentious for centuries before the time of Becket and Henry II. Briefly, and too simplistically, the Papal claim was that the Emperor or King had to act as the secular, enforcing arm of Papal supremacy. The King or Emperor thus was required to carry out Papal orders. Seldom did this prevail, however, as various Kings and Emperors manipulated the Papacy through war and politics, even at times naming who the next Pope would be.

But the Papal claim had, and has always, been disputed. There have been “False Decretals” (forgeries) which claimed this Papal authority from the most ancient of Christian centuries – a false claim. More convincingly, such Christian Emperors as Constantine (belatedly Christian), Justinian, and Charlemagne claimed their sovereignty was directly from God, not brokered by the Pope. The “Divine Right of Kings” was not a dispensation to be made or removed by the Pope.

Through the first 14 or 15 “Christian” centuries, this conflict of authority heated up or cooled down, usually depending on whether a given Pope was strong and forceful, such as Pope Gregory VII (Hildebrand). In 1302, a century and a half after the fatal day at Canterbury, Pope Boniface VIII (Bernard Gaetani) issued the Papal Bull of Unam sanctam, declaring absolute submission to papal authority was essential to salvation. King and Emperor were ordered never to use their temporal power to clash with the purposes of the Church, as these purposes were issued by the Pope. Unam sanctam made the claim, but did not become practice, as the tormented papacy of Boniface VIII attests. But that is another story.

In the 12th century, Becket and Henry II were the personifications of the warring jurisdictions – King and Country vis-a-vis Pope, bishops, priests, and clerks. The Pope Alexander III (Roland Bandinelli) was in a dilemma because he had the problem, not uncommon in those centuries, of an Anti-Pope. More accurately, perhaps, there were two Popes, each claiming the throne of St. Peter’s at Rome. If Alexander was too clear, too decisive, too aggressive in his support of Becket, then Henry II might transfer his allegiance, power, and armies to the “Anti-Pope”. (Did you think ambiguous political stands were unique to our day?)

Three events were catalytic in causing the inevitable march of events that led to that fatal December day in the Cathedral (although there were numerous other pressures and disagreements):

1) The stunning character shift in Thomas Becket when he became Archbishop of Canterbury.
2) The Constitutions of Clarendon.
3) The coronation of the son of King Henry II.

1) Thomas was an archdeacon in the Church when young King Henry II made Becket Chancellor of the Kingdom. This was a most important appointment, because the Chancellor controlled much power and wealth and was responsible only to the King. The King and Becket were close. They dined, hunted, drank together. No one had more access to the King. One historian noted that the relationship was like unto that of Joseph and Pharaoh. Henry II so trusted Becket that Henry pulled the strings of royal power, manipulated, and pressured the Bishops and the Monks of Canterbury to ensure Becket’s election as Archbishop of Canterbury, Primate of England. There were protests, but the will of Henry II was not to be denied. Thomas Becket was ordained a priest on June 2, 1154 and consecrated as Archbishop of Canterbury the following day.

The advantages for Henry II seemed obvious. The concentration of offices of King’s Chancellor and Archbishop of Canterbury could only augment his power. The pleasure-loving Becket, who had so relished the wealth, luxury and high-living which came with being Chancellor, then shocked and enraged the King by resigning the Chancellorship. Becket had himself secretly sewn into a hair shirt with an opening in the back for self-flagellation. When his clothing was removed at his death, the unwashed hair shirt was filthy with vermin.

Why? There have been many opinions without convincing conclusions. Did he experience a religious conversion when consecrated an Archbishop? Had pleasure-loving Thomas been a secret ascetic? Was he a superb actor who played every position as a role acted to the hilt? Had he been false to Henry II because he had showed outward loyalty to the King but secretly his prime allegiance was to Rome? Who knows; I do not. Perhaps, simply, he was a masochist. The historians have spun out theories, but the threads of their evidence are weak. What is clear is that the relationship of Thomas and Henry II could never be restored.

2) The Constitutions of Clarendon were another milestone on the Road to Canterbury. On January 13, 1164, two contending parties met: Bishops opposed to King Henry II and his Barons. The most important among many points of intense dispute was that alleged crimes by clergy and clerks would be dealt with in the King’s Courts, not the Church. Heretofore, the clergy, including the numerous clerks who had been educated in the Church could not be tried in the Civil Courts. This “benefit of Clergy” applied to students, even, as one historian put it, applying to anyone who had “a smattering of Latin.”

Other provisions included a clause that no archbishop, bishop or clergy could leave the Kingdom without the King’s permission. No one could be excommunicated without first application to the King. There were a total of 16 provisions. After strong opposition, Thomas Becket gave way and assented to the King’s demands. His fellow-bishops were ordered to acquiesce, and they did. Henry II claimed precedence from pre-conquest days for these articles, although as one might surmise this was and is strongly disputed. But as Becket's biographer, Knowles, puts it, “the real conflict...(was) between two conceptions of Church and Monarchy.”

Thomas had second thoughts about assenting to the provisions, and begged the Pope for absolution. Thomas attempted to cross the Channel in violation of one of the provisions, but failed. Then ensued about six months of tense events too numerous to list. Then in November, 1164, under cover of a storm, he escaped to France, where he was to remain in exile for six years. Controversy raged, centering on the exiled Thomas, King Henry II, and the Pope. There were many efforts to effect a reconciliation between King Henry II and Becket. But hostility prevailed, and no serious compromise accepted. Thomas excommunicated English bishops who sided with the King with no lasting effect. Pope Alexander III offered a compromise which would have restored Becket to Canterbury. But this was of little influence because of another serious quarrel between Becket and Henry II.

3) Henry II announced that his son, another Henry, would be crowned, a tradition of designating a successor. Pope Alexander had reserved the power of Coronation for the Archbishop of Canterbury, but Henry II designated the Archbishop of York to confer coronation, not the exiled Thomas, thus deepening the chasm between two headstrong men. The coronation took place with the Archbishop of York presiding, with almost all the English and Welsh bishops present.

Then, a seeming peace occurred, although the resolution of disputed property claims between Becket and Henry II remained ambiguous and undecided. Most issues were unresolved, but Thomas decided to return to England and Canterbury. He arrived with a splendid entourage and eager crowds pleaded for his blessing. At Canterbury he was greeted by a large and jubilant crowd. But Thomas was still unrelenting in his condemnation of the King, charging misuse of Canterbury wealth and properties.

King Henry II and his Barons could no longer endure Thomas. No one will ever know with certainty whether King Henry II ordered Becket killed or whether he was to be imprisoned. The King was certainly furious, and his hot words were sufficient warrant for the Knights to invade Canterbury Cathedral and, with their swords, martyr Thomas Becket.

If you have a taste for history, you may have read this far, and begun to wonder why I noted that King Henry II was more to be praised than Becket. Henry II seemingly (and perhaps for political reasons) accepted responsibility for the murder in the Cathedral, because he made a penitential pilgrimage where he endured seven lashes each from 100 monks, a beating which would have killed or permanently crippled most men. But Henry stood up, walked to his horse and rode away. He was physically strong, like most of the Plantagenets, possessing as well great stamina and determination.

If you are turned off because of political murders, or for that matter, willful killing, you would have to include most monarchs of medieval, renaissance and Reformation eras in your revulsion. Henry II was the first of the Plantagenet line, also known as the Angevins. That line kept power until Richard III was killed at the battle of Bosworth Field (1485). This began the line of Tudor Kings, as the winner, Henry Tudor, the Welshman, assumed the crown as Henry VII. The Tudors were no saints. Witness Henry VIII and his readiness to order beheadings, just as one example. But also one must remember that his daughter was one of the greatest of English monarchs, Elizabeth I.

Henry II married Eleanor of Aquitaine when he was nineteen and she thirty-one years old. She had been divorced from King Louis VII of France, by whom she had two daughters. Her marriage to Henry II brought him sovereignty over large areas of France. The marriage was stormy, yet productive. In their first six years of marriage, five children were born, 4 of them boys. They had a total of eight children, two of them to become Kings of England – Richard the Lionheart, and John of Magna Carta fame. Henry, the eldest, the crown designate, died while Henry II was still alive.

When, years later, the King discovered that Eleanor was plotting to have Richard replace him, Henry imprisoned Eleanor for sixteen years in Winchester. Richard left for foreign parts, as a crusader, as a prisoner in Europe and, on his father's death, King of England. Richard was a strong, brave and skilled warrior, but he was by no means the glorified hero Walter Scott created in IVANHOE.

All these famous or notorious ones were men and women of their time – ruthless power-seekers few would admire today. But one has some obligation to view them as part of the web and woof of their times, not ours.

Henry II, crowned in 1154, reigned for thirty-five years. His constant goal was to increase the power of the monarch vis-a-vis the feudal lords and the Church. He established kingly courts, where itinerant judges, responsible to him and not the feudal lords, adjudicated disputes and tried cases.

Henry II established Common Law in England, where precedents of former cases were used to guide legal decisions as well as statutory law. This English Common Law we have inherited. By common agreement it is a superior system of justice than reliance on statutory law or Napoleonic Code still prevailing in some European countries.

Henry II strengthened the jury system. Under his reign, the jury was drawn not only from the Knightly class but also from small landholders and representatives from the villages. Claims were subject to the weighing of evidence by people of the neighborhood.

Although Henry II had to relax enforcing of provisions of the Constitutions of Clarendon after Becket’s murder, the system did grow to the end that eventually the religious hierarchy could no longer have “the benefit of clergy” to exempt their bishops, priests, monks and numerous “clerks” from trial in the civil and criminal courts.

All these legal institutions gathered strength through the turmoil of centuries. The Puritans who came to the Massachusetts Bay Colony and the aristocrats who settled Virginia and Maryland both brought with them the English Common Law and trial by a jury of one’s peers. We may well be grateful for that system and to Henry II, whatever his motives, for being such a substantial figure in their growth.

All these observations just to make my point that Henry II is more to be praised than “Saint” Thomas á Becket, whether you might consider the founding Plantagenet a man you love to hate or a man you hate to love.