This Day in History: ‘Let us away, knights; this fellow will arise no more’
Thomas à Becket was a proverbial giant of his time. Through a series of promotions throughout his life Becket rose to prominence in both church and civic capacities. Most notably, he was appointed Archbishop of Canterbury in 1162 and, prior to that, he also served as Chancellor, a government role requiring him to enforce the king’s land taxes. Becket came to be so admired and trusted that King Henry II sent his eldest son to live with Becket (an important mentoring practice common among nobles).
In short, Becket found tremendous success in both government and the church, which might be expected given that the line between the two was often blurred beyond recognition. Yet with Becket’s appointment to Archbishop, a power struggle began between him and the king. Becket continually sided with the church and Rome, while the king wanted ever-increasing control and authority the church.
Becket’s unyielding conviction and growing belief in church independence annoyed the king. The exact phrase the king muttered is disputed, but the most commonly quoted statement by the king reads, “Will no one rid me of this turbulent priest?” Knights who heard the utterances interpreted it as a royal command and arrived in Canterbury on this day in 1170. Here is an account from one eyewitness:
…The wicked knight leapt suddenly upon him, cutting off the top of the crown which the unction of sacred chrism had dedicated to God. Next he received a second blow on the head, but still he stood firm and immovable. At the third blow he fell on his knees and elbows, offering himself a living sacrifice, and saying in a low voice, ‘For the name of Jesus and the protection of the Church, I am ready to embrace death.’ But the third knight inflicted a terrible wound as he lay prostrate. By this stroke, the crown of his head was separated from the head in such a way that the blood white with the brain, and the brain no less red from the blood, dyed the floor of the cathedral. The same clerk who had entered with the knights placed his foot on the neck of the holy priest and precious martyr, and, horrible to relate, scattered the brains and blood about the pavements, crying to the others, ‘Let us away, knights; this fellow will arise no more.’
In one sense, the knight was correct. Becket was dead. But his martyrdom inspired a following that lasted for centuries, most famously captured in Geoffrey Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales. Just three years after his death, Becket was canonised and revered as a martyr against secular interference in the Church.
7 Responses to “This Day in History: ‘Let us away, knights; this fellow will arise no more’”
Plate o’ Shrimp.
Last night I put down Norman Cantor’s book on the Middle Ages at the point where he was comparing and contrasting the relationship between Church and State in the German areas of Europe versus the Norman areas of Europe, particularly in England shortly after William the Conqueror took over – so, probably in the 1066 – 1100 range.
Prior to Pope Gregory VII, I guess it was pretty common for kings or other feudal lords to claim the right to invest clergy with offices in lands controlled by the king. Use of this right was a pretty substantial part of the power base of the Salian kings in the German areas. (I’m a bit fuzzy on the mechanics, but the right of investiture could be leveraged to support royal armies that could withstand challenges by lesser nobility.)
Gregory was able to undercut the power of Henry IV by declaring that the pope alone had the power to appoint or depose clergy. He was aided by the fact that the lesser nobility was happy to use the controversy to resist Henry and the use of the power of excommunication was enough to keep skittish clergy on the sidelines since things would go badly for them if they defied the pope and Henry didn’t come out on top.
By contrast, William the Conqueror’s power base wasn’t so susceptible to being undermined. Despite invading England under a papal banner, William declined Gregory’s directive that he should come to Rome to be crowned and William continued to maintain the right of investiture of clergy in his lands. The loyalty of his bishops wasn’t undermined by the papal decree that only the Pope could appoint or depose bishops.
I guess Gregory was reluctant to go too hard at William or his son Henry I while Gregory and the German Henry were still going at it.
I suspect not too many pages further in the book, there should be some discussion about Thomas a Becket and Henry II’s relationship and lay investiture.
I’m a little fuzzy on this history, and I’d have to look it up, but wasn’t Henry II invested by clergy? It just wasn’t by the Archbishop Becket, which naturally offended him. Nevertheless, because it was still clergy, it wasn’t “lay investiture,” right?
The lay investiture part of the equation, as I understand it, wasn’t as much who crowned the King but who got to appoint the bishops. Kings like William I, Henry II, and Henry IV wanted to control who got to be a bishop in their own land. Prior to Pope Gregory, I guess it was fairly common for the kings to get to decide. But Gregory was something of a radical for his time and pushed the issue with Henry IV, and mostly winning. (There was a compromise of sorts in the Concordat of Worms.)
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Great idea, thanks for this tip!
This brings me to an idea:…