adhered to the Constitutions of Clarendon.  The bishops of England remonstrate with him, and remind him of his plebeian origin and his obligations to the King.  To whom he replies:  “I am not indeed sprung from noble ancestors, but I would rather be the man to whom nobility of mind gives the advantages of birth than to be the degenerate issue of an illustrious family.  David was taken from the sheep-fold to be a ruler of God’s people, and Peter was taken from fishing to be the head of the Church.  I was born under a humble roof, yet, nevertheless, God has intrusted me with the liberties of the Church, which I will guard with my latest breath.”

Henry now threatens to confiscate the property of all the Cistercian convents in England; and the Abbot of Pontigny, at the command of his general, is forced to drive Becket away from his sanctuary.  Becket retires to Sens, sad at heart and grieved that the excommunications which he had inflicted should have been removed by the Pope.  Then Louis, the King of France, made war on Henry, and took Becket under his protection.  The Pope rebuked Louis for the war; but Louis retorted by telling Alexander that it was a shame for him not to give up his time-serving policy.  In so doing, Louis spoke out the heart of Christendom.  The Pope, at last aroused, excommunicated the Archbishop of York for crowning the son of Henry, and threatened Henry himself with an interdict, and recalled his legates.  Becket also fulminated his excommunications.  There was hardly a prelate or royal chaplain in England who was not under ecclesiastical censure.  The bishops began to waver.  Henry had reason to fear he might lose the support of his English subjects, and Norman likewise.  He could do nothing with the whole Church against him.

The King was therefore obliged to compromise.  Several times before, he had sought reconciliation with his dreadful enemy; but Becket always, in his promises, fell back on the phrase, “Saving the honor of his order,” or “Saving the honor of God.”  But now, amid the fire of excommunications, Henry was compelled to make his peace with the man he detested.  He himself did not much care for the priestly thunderbolts, but his clergy and his subjects did.  The penalty of eternal fire was a dreadful fear to those who believed, as everybody then did, in the hell of which the clergy were supposed to hold the keys.  This fear sustained the empire of the popes; it was the basis of sacerdotal rule in the Middle Ages.  Hence Becket was so powerful, even in exile.  His greatness was in his character; his power was in his spiritual weapons.

In the hollow reconciliation at last effected between the King and the Prelate, Henry promised to confirm Becket in his powers and dignities, and molest him no more.  But he haughtily refused the customary kiss of peace.  Becket saw the omen; so did the King of France.  The peace was inconclusive.  It was a truce, not a treaty.  Both parties distrusted each other.