To be perfectly honest, there are so many things that make me nearly fit to burst with pride simply because I am Catholic. One of those 'things' happens to be Thomas Becket, whose feast day is today.
There are countless literary forms available on the life of Thomas Becket, including the movie Becket, starring Richard Burton (as Becket) and the ever-so-dashing Peter O'Toole (as the rotten Henry II). There is also the amazing (more than amazing, really) play written by TS Eliot entitled Murder in the Cathedral. (If you are not familiar with either of these, then why on earth are you sitting around reading this silly blog? Run, I tell you!)
Thomas Becket was born 21 December 1118, 1119, or 1120 (these accounts all vary) in Cheapside, London. His parents were of merchant stock and were able to provide him with an excellent education. While still a young man he befriended both Archbishop Theobald and the young Henry II. These men played a big role in the future career of Becket, and Henry was the man ultimately responsible for his death.
After a brief stint as a clerk in a bank, Becket was appointed Archdeacon of Canterbury and Provost of Beverly. In 1155 Henry appointed him Lord Chancellor. During this period Becket was supposedly living it up — hunting, gambling, dressing in medieval 'haute couture', and sundry other things, none of which were cheap. The movie Becket details this rather nicely, as does Thomas Craughwell's book Saints Behaving Badly.
It is only after he assumes the position of Archbishop (appointed by Henry in 1162) that Becket seems to undergo a truly Catholic conversion. There is a scene in the movie where Becket essentially begs Henry not to force the role of Archbishop upon him. However, Henry insists, because being close friends and allies, he assumes Becket will give him free reign and let him have his way with the Church, thereby making him the supreme ruler of England. That is what Henry hoped, anyway.
Becket changed his ways once he became Archbishop. In response to a request for money by traveling musicians, Becket responded 'I am not the man I was when chancellor. Church funds are for the Church and the poor. I have nothing to give you.' Craughwell responds that this statement 'marks the beginning of Thomas Becket's conversion from a worldly, ruthless king's man to a man of God and a defender of the rights of the Church.' Because of his refusal to allow the state to have any jurisdiction over ecclesiastic matters, namely where punishments were concerned, Henry became angered and the two fell out. It was then dangerous for Becket to remain in England, so off he went to France — for six years.
Pope Alexander III, apparently not a man to be rushed, was on the verge of excommunicating Henry on account of his abuse of power. Henry, after hearing of this, made amends of sorts with Becket and allowed him to return home to Canterbury. The masses (or Chorus, if you are TS Eliot) were elated by the return of their Archbishop. People began singing, along the roads to Canterbury, the same words that Christ heard upon entering the Holy City on Palm Sunday, 'Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!' The telling of Becket's homecoming in Murder in the Cathedral is mesmerizing, and has one of the most beautiful lines ever written: 'Living and partly living.'
Once home Becket discovered that the archbishop of York and the bishops of both London and Salisbury held the coronation of Henry's son in his absence. This was a breach and misuse of power — only the Archbishop of Canterbury was authorized do such things. Becket made the move to excommunicate these men.
Upon hearing this, Henry shouted something along these lines, 'Will no one relieve me of this lowborn priest!' (There are several accounts or versions of what was actually said, but this is supposedly the most accurate. Although, I do enjoy the one that refers to him as a 'turbulent priest'.) The knights who heard this took it to be a death warrant and off they went to Canterbury.
During vespers 29 December 1170, these four knights stormed the cathedral. (Becket refused to allow the door to be locked — after all, it was a church and it was vespers.) Becket refused to give in to their demands and, knowing full well what was about to happen, was slaughtered on the steps of the altar. One of the four knights cut his skull open and scattered his brains onto the stone floor. And that was 839 years ago today.
There were several eyewitnesses to this event, of those was Edward Grim, a clerk from Cambridge who was also hurt in the attack. Grim went on to write the first biography on Thomas Becket. After Becket's death it was discovered that he wore a hairshirt underneath his garments, a mark of penance for his earlier deeds.
Becket was made a saint three years later and Henry became largely despised. In a move to assuage the people, or maybe it was an honest penance, he made a pilgrimage to Canterbury barefoot and prostrated himself on the steps of Becket's tomb. In 1538, the ever-so-classy Henry VIII sent his thugs to Becket's tomb (at Trinity Chapel) where they destroyed his remains and anything to do with them.
A funny note — a poll was conducted several years ago by the BBC asking who the worst Briton in history was. Becket came in second place — right after Jack the Ripper. I remember hearing about this at the time and saying 'What?!!' What they did not report at the time was that it was a 'daft poll', meant to set up those who knew very little of their own history. They gave out several 'obscure' names to choose from — of those was Thomas Becket.
(Sources: Lives of the Saints; Saints Behaving Badly by Thomas J. Craughwell; Murder in the Cathedral by TS Eliot; Wikipedia.)
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