ys 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 sackcloth covered with dirt 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 chang