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 topics. Come out, I pray you, in a manner at once so distinct and unequivocal, as to leave no pretence, either to friend or foe, for accusing you of duplicity or timidity.

I live in a very retired corner of the country, sir, and seldom get the news until it is news no longer, in other places. Hence, at the date of my last letter, I had only heard of the President's late message to Congress. That most weak and sophistical, yet most dangerous document, was never read by me, until this morning. It has sunk into a still deeper depth of depression, the few lingering hopes which I was permitted to cherish, that the constitution and public liberty, would survive the administration of Andrew Jackson. I shall have something to say to you upon that subject hereafter. I proceed now to redeem my promise, in proving, or at least endeavouring to prove, that the Virginia resolutions of 1798, cannot be carried out in any other manner than by nullification. In doing this, I shall go back no farther than to the resolutions themselves. I shall give to the language employed, no other construction than that which ever man of plain common sense will be compelled to give it. This is the only fair course of proceeding, for the resolutions were intended for the great body of the people, and must have been designed to be comprehensible by the meanest capacity. I will not do the Legislature the injustice of supposing, that they intended to wrap up in mystery which none but the statesman or the man of learning could penetrate, principles which they deemed essential to the preservation of constitutional liberty. So much of these resolutions as relates to the present subject, is in the following words:—

"That this Assembly doth explicitly and peremptorily declare, that it views the powers of the Federal Government as resulting from the compact to which the states are parties, as limited by the plain sense and intention of the instrument constituting that compact, as no farther valid than they are authorized by the grants enumerated in that compact; and that in case of a deliberate, palpable, and dangerous exercise of other powers, not granted by the said compact, the States who are parties thereto, have the right, and are in duty bound, to interpose for arresting the progress of the evil, and for maintaining within their respective limits, the authorities, rights and liberties appertaining to them." "That the good people of this Commonwealth, having ever felt, and continuing to feel, the most sincere affection for their brethren of the other States; the truest anxiety for establishing and perpetuating the union of all; and the most scrupulous fidelity to that constitution which is the pledge of natural friendship, and the instrument of mutual happiness; the General Assembly doth solemnly appeal to the like dispositions in the other States, in confidence that they will concur with this Commonwealth in declaring, as it does hereby declare, that the acts aforesaid, [the alien and sedition laws,] are unconstitutional; and that the necessary and proper measures will be taken by each, for co-operating with this State, in maintaining unimpaired, the authorities, rights and liberties, reserved to the States respectively, or to the people."

In these resolutions, the following principles are distinctly affirmed:

1. That the Constitution of the United States is a Compact between the States, as such.

2. That the Government established by that Compact, possesses no power whatever, except what "the plain sense and intention" of that Compact gives to it.

3. That every act done by that Government, not plainly within the limits of its powers, is void.

4. That each State has a right to say whether an act done by that Government, is plainly within the limits of its powers or not.

5. That the States are not bound to submit to, but may resist, any act of that Government, which it shall so decide to be beyond the limits of its powers.

All this is plain enough, and is, as I understand, fully admitted by yourself. The only difficulty is, to discover in what mode the Resolutions contemplated that resistance should be applied. On this subject, I have to remark, in limine, that the Resolutions contemplate that "the necessary and proper measures will be taken by each State" for itself. No uniform mode of resisting the encroachments of the Federal Government is pointed out or suggested. Having affirmed the right, each State is left to its own mode of asserting it in practice. Taking the terms of the Resolutions in their utmost latitude, they authorize any means of resistance whatever. Such, however, is clearly not their meaning. A very slight analysis will force upon us the conviction that no mode of resistance is contemplated, except such as will preserve the Union unimpaired, while it will effectually put down the usurped power. This is shown:—

1. By the profession of "sincere affection" for the people of the other States; of "anxiety for establishing and perpetuating the union of all;" and of "the most scrupulous fidelity to the Constitution." It is upon the strength of these feelings, and with a view to these objects, that the co-operation of the other States is invited.

2. The interposition of the States must be in such mode as to "arrest the progress of the evil."

3. It must at the same time be such as to "maintain within their respective limits, the authorities, rights and liberties appertaining to them."

4. It is to be remarked, that we have here a distinct declaration that there is within the Constitution of the United States, some principle, by which the encroachments and usurpations of the Federal Government may be resisted. I say, within the Constitution, and not extra-constitutional and revolutionary.

And now, Sir, will you be good enough to tell me in what manner that principle is to be applied? Permit me to examine all the modes of resistance which occur to my own mind, and to see which of them is within the principles thus asserted.

1. Petition, remonstrance, protest.—It cannot, I think, be seriously asserted, that these are any means of resistance at all. It is such a resistance as your slave may make, when you chastise him for an imputed fault. If all right of farther resistance be disclaimed, this is an implied admission that the party to whom the appeal is addressed, may, if he chooses, persevere in the wrong. In point of fact, however, remonstrance and protest are founded in the idea that there is such right of farther resistance. Petition is a simple appeal for mercy or forbearance; protest and remonstrance, affirm a right, and threaten the enforcement of it. But they do not in themselves enforce it, and therefore are not resistance.

2. An appeal to arms.—This is utterly against all notions of constitutional remedy. Our Government is founded in free choice, and is supported by public opinion alone. A resort to arms, therefore, would at once change the whole genius of the Constitution. A case might certainly arise, in which a State might rightfully resort to arms for the purpose of putting down or resisting the usurpations of the Federal


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 Easter, when, if he had then returned, he would settle it himself with the advice of his bishops and barons, and in any case would arrange it amicably. Anselm wrote to Thomas from his deathbed warning him not to perform any episcopal act before he had, like his predecessors Thomas and Gerard, made profession of obedience, and declaring excommunicate any bishop of the realm that should consecrate him or acknowledge him if consecrated by foreign bishops, and Thomas himself if he should ever receive consecration, unless he had made the profession. Anselm died on 21 April 1109.

Meanwhile Henry had sent to Paschal for a legate to help him to settle the dispute. Paschal sent him a cardinal named Ulric, who landed in England shortly before the king's return. Ulric was dismayed at hearing of Anselm's death, for he brought a pall from Thomas, but was not to present it to him without Anselm's consent. When Henry held his court at London at Whitsuntide the matter was discussed. The bishops resolved to be faithful to what Anselm had commanded in his last letter to Thomas, which was read before the council, and sent to Bishop Samson, the father of Thomas, to know his mind. He declared himself strongly on the same side, and so they laid their determination before the king, who, in spite of the opposition of the Count of Meulan [see, d. 1118], decided against Thomas, and bade him either make profession to Canterbury or resign his archbishopric. The royal message was brought to him at York by the Count of Meulan. Thomas sent to the king, praying that the case might be tried before him and the legate and be decided canonically, but Henry would not consent. The father, brother, and other relatives of Thomas urged him to submit, and he accordingly went to London, and on Sunday, 11 June, the day fixed for his consecration, appeared at St. Paul's, where the bishop of London and six other bishops were gathered for the rite, made a written profession of obedience to the see of Canterbury, and was consecrated by them. During the ceremony the bishops of London and Durham stated by the king's order that Thomas was acting by the king's command, not in consequence of a legal decision, so that, according to sealed letters from the king, his profession was not, in case of any future suit, to be held a legal precedent. The York clergy, while they did not blame him for yielding, were deeply grieved, and it was believed that if he had not been so fat and consequently unfitted to bear exile and worry, he would never have given way (, cols. 474–82;, pp. 112–26). Thomas returned to York in company with the legate, who publicly invested him with the pall. He then, on 1 Aug., consecrated Turgot, who made profession to him, and accompanied the legate, after a visit of three days, on his southward journey as far as the Trent. The York historians assert that on taking leave of the archbishop, the legate summoned him to answer at Rome for having made the profession, but withdrew the summons, as the archbishop declared that the king's command left him no choice. The York claim to equality was based on the decree of Gregory the Great; it was pre-eminently a matter to be decided by the Roman see, and Rome had not yet spoken authoritatively; this summons, then, must be regarded as a form to safeguard the freedom of Rome to judge the question in the future. Thomas consecrated and received the profession of three other bishops to the sees of Glasgow, Man, and Orkney. While provost of Beverley he had suffered from a painful disorder, and his physicians declared that he could not recover except by violating his chastity. He indignantly silenced the friends who would have had him take that course, increased his alms, and invoked the help of St. John of Beverley [q. v.] He recovered, but the disease returned later, and he died at Beverley, while still young, on 24 Feb. 1114, and was buried in York Minster, near the grave of his uncle (, cols. 303–4; i. c. 1; ).

Thomas was enormously fat, probably a result of disease, and the inertness which the York historians blame in him arose no doubt from the same cause. Left to himself, he would never have carried on the strife about the profession; it was forced on him by his clergy, and they would have preferred that he should go into exile rather than yield. He was religious, cheerful, benign, and liberal, well furnished with learning, eloquent, and generally liked. He founded two new prebends at York, and obtained from the king a grant of privileges for the canons of Southwell, whose lands and churches he freed from episcopal dues. At Hexham, where the church seems at that time to have belonged to his see and was administered by a provost, he introduced Augustinian canons, whom he endowed by various grants, giving them also books and ornaments for their use in the church (ib.;, u.s.). It is said that he designed to remove the body of Bishop Eata [q. v.] from Hexham to York, but was deterred by a vision of the saint, who appeared to him when he was at Hexham, rebuked him, and gave him

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 two blows on the shoulder (Biographica Miscellanea, p. 124). Bale says that, like his uncle, he was fond of music, and that he composed hymns and an officiarium for the church of York, but he evidently confuses him and his uncle ({{sc|Bale}, cent. xiii. 132;, p. 709).

 THOMAS, known as (1118?–1170), archbishop of Canterbury, son of Gilbert Becket and Rohesia (or Matilda), his wife, was born at his father's house in Cheapside, London, on 21 Dec., perhaps in 1115 or 1120 (, pp. 203–4; Materials, iv. 4, 78), but more probably in 1118 (, p. 2). Gilbert Becket, who sprang from a family of knightly rank at Thierceville in Normandy, had been a merchant at Rouen, and afterwards in London, of which city he was once portreeve; his wife was a burgher-woman from Caen. The name Becket is given to Thomas in three contemporary writings ( i. 213;, ii. 435, vii. 451); he called himself, even when archbishop, ‘Thomas of London’ (, Geoffrey de Mandeville, p. 375; Athenæum, 17 Nov. 1894; Ancient Deeds, A. 4913, Public Record Office). When ten years old he was sent to school at Merton Priory (Surrey); later he attended a school in London, and further studied at Paris, whence he returned in his twenty-second year. His father being now in straitened circumstances, Thomas earned his living for a short time as ‘notary’ to Richer de Laigle, a young knight whose sports he had shared in his schoolboy days, and for a somewhat longer period as clerk and accountant to a kinsman, Osbern Witdeniers, who seems to have been at this time sheriff of London. Thomas was taken into the household and the innermost counsels of Archbishop [q. v.] of Canterbury before November 1143, when he accompanied the primate to Rome. Twice in the next five years the jealousy of [q. v.] drove him temporarily away from Theobald's house; once he voluntarily quitted it to spend a year in studying canon law at Bologna and Auxerre. He accompanied Theobald on his hazardous journey to the council of Reims in 1148; and it was his ‘most subtle management’ that foiled King Stephen's project for the coronation of his son Eustace in 1152. Though only in minor orders, Thomas had held the livings of St. Mary-le-Strand (London) and Otford (Kent) since 1143. He became a prebendary of St. Paul's, and also of Lincoln, before the end of 1154, when Theobald ordained him deacon and appointed him archdeacon of Canterbury. Soon afterwards he was made provost of Beverley, and, according to one account, chamberlain to Henry II. Early in 1155 Henry made him chancellor of England.

Thomas was afterwards reproached with having bought this appointment; but the reproach is pointless, for the purchase of state offices was a recognised practice of the time—a practice, however, which in the case of that particular office was made less easy for the future by the new character which the chancellorship acquired in the hands of Thomas himself. An extraordinary intimacy sprang up between him and his sovereign. Folk said that they had ‘but one heart and one mind;’ that Thomas was next to the king in dignity, not only in England, but also in Henry's continental dominions; that Henry was guided by him as by a ‘master,’ and that the chancellor was the originator of all the reforms introduced by the young king. The evidence is too scanty either to confirm or to confute this view of Thomas's influence; but what little evidence there is indicates rather that Henry's policy was his own, and that Thomas was simply the chief instrument in its execution—an instrument of such exceptionally perfect and varied capabilities that those who watched its operations wellnigh lost sight of the hand by which it was directed. Gervase says that in 1156 Henry ‘relied on the great help given him by his chancellor’ in subduing a rebellion in Anjou; but the nature of this help is unknown. In that year Thomas acted as justice itinerant in three counties (Pipe Roll, 2 Hen. II, pp. 17, 26, 65, 66). In May 1157 he took a prominent part in the trial of the ‘Battle Abbey case’ [see, d. 1169]; his attitude in it is, however, not clear enough to justify the efforts made by some of his modern biographers to evolve from it a theory of his ecclesiastical policy at this time. In the spring of 1158 he went as ambassador to France to propose a marriage between Henry's eldest son [see, 1155–1183] and a daughter of Louis VII. The splendour of his train on this occasion was more than regal. ‘If this is the English chancellor,’ said Louis and his people, ‘what must not the king be!’ and they readily agreed to his proposals. Later in the year he obtained Louis's sanction for Henry's designs upon Brittany; and he also acted again as justice


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 itinerant in England (Pipe Roll, 4 Hen. II, p. 114). John of Salisbury seems to imply (Polycraticus, l. viii. c. 24) that Henry's expedition against Toulouse in 1159 was thought to have been instigated by the chancellor. The taxes imposed to defray its costs were so arranged that a disproportionately heavy share fell on the church; and that Thomas was somehow concerned in this taxation is certain. One of his enemies at a later time said that, ‘having in his hand the sword of the state, he plunged it into the bosom of the church, his mother, when he robbed her of so many thousands for the war of Toulouse;’ while John of Salisbury declared that Thomas was in this matter only ‘a minister of iniquity,’ yielding, under compulsion, to the will of the king. In the war itself the deacon-chancellor figured prominently, at the head of a troop of picked knights, foremost in every fight. When Louis VII came to relieve Toulouse, Thomas vainly urged Henry to continue the siege. When all the great barons refused the task of securing the conquered territory after Henry's withdrawal, Thomas and the constable, Henry of Essex, undertook it, and performed it with signal success. Thomas afterwards defended the Norman border for some months with troops whom he paid at his own cost and commanded in person; he led several forays into France, and once unhorsed a famous French knight in single combat. He negotiated the treaty between Henry and Louis in May 1160. Soon afterwards he incurred Henry's wrath by opposing, though without success, the grant of a papal dispensation for the marriage of Mary, countess of Boulogne and abbess of Romsey.

In May 1162 Thomas returned to England, bringing with him the king's eldest son, of whom he had for some time past had the entire charge, and whose recognition as heir to the crown he had undertaken to procure from the barons. In this he succeeded. Just before leaving Normandy he had learned the king's intention of raising him to the see of Canterbury, vacant since April 1161. The late archbishop, Theobald, had ‘hoped and prayed’ for Thomas as his successor (, Entheticus, ll. 1293–6); but Thomas shrank from accepting the office, avowedly because he knew that Henry's ecclesiastical policy would clash with his own ideas of an archbishop's duty, and that the appointment must lead to a severance of their friendship. A cardinal who was present, however, bade him take the risk, and he consented. The Canterbury chapter, urged by the justiciar in the king's name, elected Thomas archbishop; on 23 May the election was ratified at Westminster by the bishops and clergy of the province; on Saturday, 2 June, he was ordained priest in Canterbury Cathedral by Bishop Walter of Rochester, and next day he was consecrated by the bishop of Winchester [see ]. At the king's request the pope allowed him to send for his pallium instead of fetching it in person; he received it on 10 Aug. Henry had also procured a dispensation for him to retain the seals, but he refused to do so. He kept, however, the archdeaconry of Canterbury till he was forced by the king to resign it in January 1163. Possibly his motive may have been to effect in the archidiaconal administration some reforms which Theobald had desired, but had been unable to accomplish in the absence of the archdeacon, Thomas himself (Materials, v. 9, 10).

The life of the deacon-chancellor, however unclerical, had always been both pious and pure; and he was no sooner consecrated than he became one of the most zealously devout and studious, as well as industrious, of prelates. He seems to have taken St. Anselm [q. v.] for his model; and he made an unsuccessful request for Anselm's canonisation to Alexander III at the council of Tours, May 1163. At a council at Woodstock on 23 July he opposed a project mooted by the king for transferring from the sheriffs' pockets to the royal treasury a certain ‘aid’ which those officers customarily received from their respective shires as a reward for their administrative work. The primate's opposition was based on two grounds: (1) the sheriffs had a claim to the money by long prescription, and as earning it by their services to the people of the shire; (2) the enrolment of these sums among the king's dues would create a written record which would make their payment to him binding on all generations to come, whereas the existing arrangement was merely one of custom, between people and sheriffs, with which neither the king nor the law had anything to do. Thomas thus appears to have stood forth as the champion of justice, first in behalf of the sheriffs, and secondly in behalf of the whole English people. If the case was really as it is represented by contemporary writers, Thomas was right; but the matter is obscure, and all that can be said of it with certainty is that in ‘the first case of any opposition to the king's will in the matter of taxation which is recorded in our national history,’ the opposition was made, and apparently with entire success,


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 by Thomas Becket (Materials, i. 12, ii. 373–374, iv. 23–4;, p. 30; , pp. 328–9; , 2nd ed. pp. 112–13; , i. 462–3; , Feudal England, pp. 500–1. The version of Thomas Saga and its editor, i. 139–41, ii. pref. pp. cvii–viii, is at variance with all extant contemporary authorities).

Henry's irritation was increased by the archbishop's efforts to reclaim all alienated property of his see, even from the crown itself; by his prohibition of an uncanonical marriage which the king's brother, William of Anjou, desired to contract with the widowed Countess of Warenne; by his excommunication of a tenant-in-chief of the crown, without the previous notice to the king which was usual in such cases; and, above all, by his successful opposition to the endeavours made by the king or his justiciars, in several cases during the summer of 1163, to assert the royal jurisdiction over criminous clerks. At last Henry called upon the bishops in a body at Westminster, on 1 Oct., to confirm ‘his grandfather's customs,’ particularly two which he specified, as to the respective shares to be taken by church and state in dealing with criminous clerks. All the bishops answered that they would agree to the customs only ‘saving our order,’ and the primate absolutely refused to sanction the two which Henry had specially mentioned. From this determination Thomas was not to be moved either by the king's wrath, which the latter showed by depriving him first of some castles which he had held as chancellor and still retained, and next of the charge of the boy Henry, or by his persuasions at a personal interview near Northampton. In December, however, the archbishop's resistance was overcome by three persons who professed to have been sent for that purpose by the pope; Alexander, according to their story, having been assured by Henry that the question at issue was merely one of words. On this Thomas gave to the king in private a verbal promise to obey his customs ‘loyally and in good faith.’ But when he was required to repeat this promise publicly, before a council summoned to meet for that intent at Clarendon on 13 Jan. 1164, he saw that he had been deceived, and it was only after three days' resistance that he submitted, saying, if we may believe Gilbert Foliot [q. v.], ‘It is my lord's will that I forswear myself; I must incur the risk of perjury now, and do penance afterwards as best I can.’ By ‘my lord’ he probably meant the pope, at whose supposed command he was giving a promise which he felt he would be obliged to break. Henry now ordered the ‘customs’ to be drawn up in writing. Sixteen ‘constitutions,’ called the constitutions of Clarendon, were accordingly produced. Thomas declared them all contrary to the canon law, and refused to seal them. Some unsuccessful negotiations followed, and twice he attempted to leave England secretly.

Thomas was next summoned to appear before the king's court on 14 Sept., to answer a claim of John the Marshal [see, d. 1164?] touching a manor of the metropolitan see. He excused himself on the plea of sickness, and further urged that the suit ought to be decided in his own court, whence John had procured its removal by perjury. Henry rejected both pleas, and ordered the suit to be tried before a great council at Northampton on Tuesday, 6 Oct. Nothing was actually done till the 8th; then the council was made to give judgment, not on John's claim, but upon Thomas's alleged contempt of court in failing to appear on 14 Sept. The usual sentence for contempt was forfeiture of movables ad misericordiam, commuted for a sum which varied in different districts, and which in Kent was 40s. The archbishop had to pay 500l. Henry next demanded 300l., which he said Thomas owed him for arrears of the ferm of Eye. The authorities say ‘Eye and Berkhamstead;’ but the Pipe roll of Michaelmas 1163 (9 Hen. II, p. 24) records the archbishop as ‘quit’ of all dues from the honour of Berkhamstead, both for that year and for all previous years. For Eye there are, during Becket's tenure of it, no notices of any payment save one of 150l. 3s. 7d., recorded in the same Pipe roll (p. 34) as having been made ‘without rendering an account for it.’ Thomas declared that he had spent far more than 300l. in repairing the Tower of London and other royal palaces. This was probably true; but as he had no formal warrant to show for this employment of the money, Henry could and did compel him to give security for its repayment. Next day Henry demanded of him a further sum of 500l. (or, according to another account, two sums of five hundred marks each), being a loan made by the king to the chancellor during the war of Toulouse. Thomas said this money had been given, not lent; but again he had to find sureties for its repayment. He was then bidden to render up an account of all the revenues of vacant sees, abbeys, and honours which had passed through his hands as chancellor. He asked for a day's delay. On the morrow Henry demanded, no longer a statement of accounts, but a definite sum, variously stated at thirty thousand marks, thirty thousand pounds, and


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 forty-four thousand marks. Thomas's protest against the injustice of this demand, his offer of two thousand marks as a compromise, and his plea that at his consecration he had been released by the child Henry and the justiciars, in the king's name, from all secular obligations, were successively rejected. A two days' adjournment followed, owing to Sunday and the illness of the primate. On Tuesday morning, 13 Oct., all the bishops came to him, and begged him to submit himself unreservedly to the king's will. Thomas forbade them to take part in any further proceedings against him, their father and metropolitan, and warned them that if they did so he appealed against them to the pope. After celebrating the mass of St. Stephen, with its significant introit, ‘Princes did sit and speak against me,’ he rode to the castle and, followed only by two clerks, entered the council-hall, cross in hand. It was usual for the archbishop's cross to be borne before him by an attendant, and in thus holding it in his own hands Thomas was thought to be lifting up the symbol of his spiritual authority in declared rivalry with the temporal authority of the king. When Henry, who was in another room, heard of these proceedings, he sent down a message to the primate, bidding him withdraw his threat of appeal against the bishops, and submit to the council's judgment as to the chancery accounts. On Thomas's refusal the whole council, now gathered in the king's chamber, was bidden to pass sentence on him as a traitor; but the bishops obtained leave to appeal to Rome against him instead. The justiciar was sent down to deliver the sentence of the lay barons. Thomas checked him at the outset by appealing to the pope, and with uplifted cross made his way through the mob of angry courtiers, some of whose insults he did not scruple to return, out of the castle. As Henry refused to answer till the morrow his request for a safe-conduct out of England, he fled secretly in the night.

On 2 Nov. Thomas sailed in disguise from Sandwich; next morning he landed in Flanders; a fortnight later he was welcomed at Soissons by Louis of France; and a week later still he laid at the feet of Alexander III, at Sens, first the constitutions of Clarendon, on which he besought the pope's judgment, and next his own pontifical ring, in token of his desire to relinquish an office into which he had been intruded by the royal power, and in which he considered himself to have failed. Alexander pronounced six of the constitutions individually ‘tolerable,’ but condemned them as a whole, and he bade the archbishop take back his ring and his office. On 30 Nov. Thomas went to live in the Cistercian abbey of Pontigny (Burgundy). At Christmas Henry confiscated the property of his see, and banished all his relatives, friends, and servants. The pope himself, an exile, driven from Rome by the anti-pope, who was backed by the emperor, feared that any strong measures might provoke the English king into joining this schismatic alliance. It was therefore not till the spring of 1166 that he gave Thomas leave to take against Henry whatever steps he might choose. Thomas wrote to Henry two letters of remonstrance which were not answered. He then, in a third letter, threatened him with excommunication, and prepared, by spending three nights (31 May to 2 June) in vigil before three famous shrines at Soissons, to fulfil his threat on Whit-Sunday, 12 June, at Vézelay; but hearing that Henry was dangerously ill, he contented himself with publicly repeating his threat, anathematising the royal customs, and excommunicating seven of Henry's counsellors. Henry's announcement in September of his resolve to expel all Cistercians from his dominions if the order continued to shelter Thomas compelled the latter to remove (November) from Pontigny to Ste. Colombe at Sens, a Benedictine abbey under the special protection of the French king. Henry himself now asked the pope to send legates to settle the dispute. This Alexander could not do without overriding a commission as legate for England which he had given to Thomas at Easter (24 April 1166). His envoys were therefore empowered merely to act as arbitrators; and neither party in the case would submit to their arbitration. Negotiations dragged on till 6 Jan. 1169, when Thomas suddenly presented himself before the two kings in conference at Montmirail, and, falling at Henry's feet, offered to be reconciled to him at his discretion; but he added, ‘saving God's honour and my order,’ i.e. he refused to pledge himself to acceptance of the customs, and Henry on this drove him angrily away. He excommunicated two of his disobedient suffragans and eight usurpers of church property on Palm Sunday, 13 April, at Clairvaux, and six other persons on Ascension day, 29 May. He also proclaimed that if Henry did not amend before 2 Feb. 1170, England should then be placed under interdict.

At last a project was devised for effecting a personal reconciliation between Thomas and Henry without any mention of the customs. Thomas, somewhat unwillingly, yielded to this scheme for the sake of getting back to England. Henry's object in


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 entertaining it seems to have been merely to gain time. On 18 Nov. 1169, at Montmartre, he received a petition from Thomas, requesting that the archbishop himself and his adherents might be reinstated in the king's favour and in the enjoyment of their rights and their property. To this petition he gave a verbal assent. Thomas and the pope vainly insisted on his confirming it by giving to the archbishop the kiss of peace, and early in 1170 they learned that he was planning to have his eldest son crowned by the archbishop of York, Thomas's old rival, Roger of Pont l'Evêque. This was a clear proof that Henry had no real intention of letting the archbishop of Canterbury return home, and also a flagrant insult both to him and to his see, to which alone, save in case of absolute necessity, the right of crowning a king of England was held to appertain. The coronation was performed by Roger on 14 June, although prohibitions of it from both Thomas and Alexander had reached him on the previous day. Henry, however, seems to have felt that he had gone too far, for he hurried back to France, and met Thomas at Fréteval on 22 July. Not a word passed between them about the customs; the king promised complete restitution to the archbishop and his friends, and, after a long argument, declared himself willing ‘to be guided by the archbishop's counsel’ as to the amends due to the see of Canterbury for the violation of its rights in the matter of the coronation. The plea which he put forth in his own behalf on this last point was certainly irrelevant; it consisted in his possession of a papal brief authorising him, indeed, to have his son crowned by any bishop whom he might choose, but only during the vacancy of Canterbury, the brief having been granted for that special purpose in 1161–2, during the interval between Theobald's death and Thomas's appointment. Still worse than the king's offence was that of Roger of York, who had crowned the boy in the teeth of a direct prohibition from the pope as well as from the primate of all England. The pope's wrath was increased by a report that a very offensive change had been made in the coronation oath. On 16 Sept. he therefore suspended and censured in the severest terms Roger himself and all the bishops who had assisted him in the ceremony. These letters of suspension were sent to Thomas for transmission to England. Thomas, however, having learned that the report as to the oath was false, thought them too severe, and asked Alexander to soften their terms. Meanwhile two more meetings took place between the archbishop and the king. Henry proposed that they should go to England together, and there exchange the kiss of peace; but when the appointed time came for their voyage he sent word that he was unavoidably detained, and requested Thomas to go under the escort of John of Oxford [q. v.], who had been one of his most active and unscrupulous opponents.

Exasperated by these delays and shifts, and still more by tidings of a plot which was hatching between Roger of York, the bishops of London and Salisbury, and the sheriff of Kent, to intercept him on his landing, and seize any papal letters that he might bring with him, Thomas, on 29 Nov., sent over to England the pope's letters of 16 Sept., and they were delivered next day to Roger and the two bishops who were at Canterbury with him. On that day, 30 Nov., Thomas sailed from Wissant; on 1 Dec. he landed at Sandwich, and proceeded, amid much popular rejoicing, to Canterbury. Here he was met by a demand from some of the king's officers for the immediate and unconditional absolution of the suspended bishops. Thomas, expecting that by the amended papal letters, which he knew to be on the way, he would be empowered to deal at his own discretion with all except York, offered to absolve London and Salisbury if they would in his presence swear to obey the pope's orders. They refused, and, with Roger, went over sea to complain to the king.

Thomas set out for the court of the younger Henry at Woodstock or Winchester, but was stopped in London by an order, in the boy's name, to ‘go and perform his sacred ministry at Canterbury.’ He went back to find the long-promised restoration of his property apparently as far off as ever, and the De Broc family, one of whom had had the custody and the enjoyment of the archiepiscopal estates for many years past, occupying his castle of Saltwood, and turning it into a den of thieves. On Christmas day he again publicly excommunicated these robbers. In the afternoon of Tuesday, 29 Dec., he was visited by four knights, Hugh de Morville (d. 1204) [q. v.], William de Tracy [q. v.], Reginald Fitzurse [q. v.], and Richard le Breton, who, in the name of the elder king, from whose court they had come, again bade him absolve the bishops. He repeated his former answer to this demand, saying he could not go beyond the pope's instructions. A violent altercation ended in the withdrawal of the knights, to return at the head of an armed force supplied by the De Brocs. The archbishop's attendants dragged him into the church, and then, all save three, hid themselves in its furthest and darkest recesses, as they heard


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 armed men approaching the door which led from the cloister into the north transept, and which Thomas forbade them to fasten. ‘God's house must be closed against no man,’ he said. He was going up the steps into the choir when the four knights, with a clerk named Hugh of Horsea, burst into the transept. To the cry ‘Where is the traitor, Thomas Becket?’ he returned no answer; but at the question, ‘Where is the archbishop?’ he stepped down again into the transept, saying, ‘Here I am, not traitor, but archbishop and priest of God; what seek ye?’ ‘Your death—hence, traitor!’ ‘I am no traitor, and I will not stir hence. Wretch!’ (this to Fitzurse, who had struck off the archbishop's cap with his sword) ‘Slay me here if you will, but if you touch any of my people you are accursed.’ They again bade him absolve the bishops; he returned the same answer as before. They tried to drag him out of the church; but he and Edward Grim [q. v.], now his sole remaining companion, were more than a match for the five, hampered though Grim was by the fact that he ‘bore the cross’ (Thomas Saga, i. 541). In the struggle fierce words broke from the archbishop; but when his assailants drew their swords to slay him where he stood, he covered his eyes with his hands, saying, ‘To God and the blessed Mary, to the patron saints of this church, and to St. Denys, I commend myself and the church's cause,’ and with bowed head awaited their blows. The first blow made a gash in the crown of his head, and then fell sideways on his left shoulder, being intercepted by the uplifted arm of Grim. Probably this wound compelled Grim to relinquish the archbishop's cross, for it is expressly stated in a contemporary letter that Thomas himself had the cross in his hands when he was smitten to death (Materials, vii. 431). He received another blow on the head, with the words, ‘Lord, into thy hands I commend my spirit;’ at a third he fell on his knees, and then, turning towards the altar of St. Benedict on his right hand, and murmuring ‘For the name of Jesus and for the defence of the church I am ready to embrace death,’ dropped face downwards at full length on the floor. One more sword-stroke completed the severance of the tonsured crown from the skull. ‘Let us begone,’ cried Hugh of Horsea, scattering the brains on the pavement; ‘this man will rise up no more.’

The corpse was buried next day in the crypt without any religious service, as none could be held in the desecrated church till it was formally reconciled. But the grave immediately became a place of pilgrimage and a scene of visions and miracles, and the vox populi clamoured for the canonisation which was pronounced by the pope on 21 Feb. 1173. On 12 July 1174 the king did public penance at the martyr's tomb. In that year the choir of Canterbury Cathedral was burnt down. When its rebuilding was completed the body of St. Thomas was translated, on 7 July 1220, to a shrine in the Trinity chapel, behind the high altar. Thenceforth the ‘Canterbury pilgrimage’ became the most popular in Christendom; jewels and treasures were heaped on the shrine, till in September 1538 (, Annals ad ann.) it was destroyed (as were, in the same year, all the shrines in England save one) by order of Thomas Cromwell (1485?–1540) [q. v.], acting as vicar-general for Henry VIII. It was afterwards reported that Henry had, on 24 April 1536, caused the martyr to be summoned to take his trial for high treason, and that on 11 June 1538 the trial had been held, the accused condemned as contumacious, and his body ordered to be disinterred and burnt (, Concilia, iii. 835–6, 841; Letters and Papers of Henry VIII, xiii. pt. ii. p. 49); but the tale is of doubtful authenticity. Whether the contents of the shrine were really burnt has been much questioned, and in January 1888 they were for a moment thought to have been discovered buried in the crypt. Further investigation, however, showed that the bones then found could not be those of St. Thomas, and that the evidence for the burning of the latter far outweighs that which has been adduced for their burial.

On 16 Nov. 1538 Henry issued a proclamation declaring that the death of Thomas was ‘untruly called martyrdom;’ that he had been canonised by ‘the bishop of Rome’ merely ‘because he had been a champion to maintain his usurped authority, and a bearer of the iniquity of the clergy;’ and that ‘there appeareth nothing in his life and exterior conversation whereby he should be called a saint, but rather esteemed to have been a rebel and traitor to his prince;’ wherefore he was in future to be called no more St. Thomas of Canterbury, ‘but Bishop Becket;’ all images and pictures of him were to be ‘put down,’ and all mention of him in calendar and service book to be erased (, Hist. Reformation, Records, pt. iii. bk. iii. No. 62). In consequence of this, mediæval representations and direct memorials of the most famous of English saints are extremely rare in his own land. Our one contemporary portrait of him is the figure on his archiepiscopal seal; it agrees with the descriptions given by his biographers of his tall slender form, dignified bearing, and handsome features, at


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An Exposition of the Virginia Resolutions of 1798

 * No. I
 * No. II
 * No. III
 * No. IV
 * No. V
 * No. VI


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 276 animal given by dying mother—Ill-treated heroine—Mental heroine—Ear cornucopia—Spy on heroine—Slaying by helpful animal—Tasks—Revivified bones. I have attempted to reconstruct the "English" Cinderella according to this formula in my forthcoming More English Fairy Tales. It will be observed that the helpful animal is helpful in two ways—(a) in helping the heroine to perform tasks; (b) in providing her with magic dresses. It is the same with the Grimms' Aschenputtel and other Continental variants.

Turning to the Celtic variants, these divide into two sets. Campbell's and Macleod's versions are practically at one with the English formula, the latter with an important variation which will concern us later. But the other two, Curtin's and Sinclair's, one collected in Ireland and the other in Scotland, both continue the formula with the conclusion of the Sea Maiden tale (on which see the notes of my Celtic Fairy Tales, No. XVII). This is a specifically Celtic formula, and would seem therefore to claim Cinderella for the Celts. But the welding of the Sea Maiden ending on to the Cinderella formula is clearly a later and inartistic junction, and implies rather imperfect assimilation of the Cinderella formula. To determine the question of origin we must turn to the purer type given by the other two Celtic versions.

Campbell's tale can clearly lay no claim to represent the original type of Cinderella. The golden shoes are a gift of the hero to the heroine which destroys the whole point of the Shoe marriage-test, and cannot have been in the original, wherever it originated. Mr. Macleod's version, however, contains an incident which seems to bring us nearer to the original form than any version contained in Miss Cox's book. Throughout the variants it will be observed what an important function is played by the helpful animal. This in some of the versions is left as a legacy by the heroine's dying mother. But in Mr. Macleod's version the helpful animal, a sheep, is the heroine's mother herself!


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 Rh This is indeed an archaic touch which seems to hark back to primitive times and totemistic beliefs. And more important still, it is a touch which vitalises the other variants in which the helpful animal is rather dragged in by the horns. Mr. Nutt's lucky find at the last moment seems to throw more light on the origin of the tale than almost the whole of the remaining collection.

But does this find necessarily prove an original Celtic origin for Cinderella? Scarcely. It remains to be proved that this introductory part of the story with helpful animal was necessarily part of the original. Having regard to the feudal character underlying the whole conception, it remains possible that the earlier part was ingeniously dovetailed on to the latter from some pre-existing and more archaic tale, perhaps that represented by the Grimms' "One Eye, Two Eyes and Three Eyes". The possibility of the introduction of an archaic formula which had become a convention of folk-telling cannot be left out of account when we consider our next type.

B. "Catskin, or the wandering Gentlewomen", now exists in English only in two chapbook ballads. But, as can be seen above, Chambers' first variant of Cinderella begins with the Catskin formula in a euphonised form. The full formula may be said to run, in abbreviated form—Death-bed promise—Deceased wife's resemblance marriage test—Unnatural father (desiring to marry his own daughter)—Helpful animal—Counter-tasks—Magic dresses—Heroine flight—Heroine disguise—Menial heroine—Meeting-place—Token objects named—Threefold flight—Love-sick prince—Recognition ring—Happy marriage. Of these the chapbook versions contain scarcely anything of the opening motifs. Yet they existed in England, for Miss Isabella Barclay, in a variant which Miss Cox has overlooked (, i, App., p. 149), remembers having heard the Unnatural Father incident from a Cornish servant-girl. Campbell's two versions also contain the incident from which one of them receives its name. One wonders in what


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 130.] the King uttered this saying, "Each of you has an equal right, and as all of you cannot have the maiden, none of you shall have her, but I will give to each of you, as a reward, half a kingdom." The brothers were pleased with this decision, and said, "It is better thus than that we should be at variance with each other." Then each of them received half a kingdom, and they lived with their father in the greatest happiness as long as it pleased God.

130.—ONE-EYE, TWO-EYES, AND THREE-EYES.

was once a woman who had three daughters, the eldest of whom was called One-eye, because she had only one eye in the middle of her forehead, and the second. Two-eyes, because she had two eyes like other folks, and the youngest, Three-eyes, because she had three eyes; and her third eye was also in the centre of her forehead. However, as Two-eyes saw just as other human beings did, her sisters and her mother could not endure her. They said to her, "Thou, with thy two eyes, art no better than the common people; thou dost not belong to us! "They pushed her about, and threw old clothes to her, and gave her nothing to eat but what they left, and did everything that they could to make her unhappy. It came to pass that Two-eyes had to go out into the fields and tend the goat, but she was still quite hungry, because her sisters had given her so little to eat. So she sat down on a ridge and began to weep, and so bitterly that two streams ran down from her eyes. And once when she looked up in her grief, a woman was standing beside her, who said, "Why art thou weeping, little Two-eyes?" Two-eyes answered, "Have I not reason to weep, when I have two eyes like other people, and my sisters and mother hate me for it, and push me from one corner to another, throw old clothes at me, and give me nothing to eat but the scraps they leave? To-day they have given me so little that I


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 Government. Suppose, for instance, that the President should send a regiment of his standing army, to turn our Legislature out of doors, and pull down the capitol, I presume that Governor Floyd would be clearly right in calling upon the militia to put every soldier of them to the sword, if the civil authority should prove unable to "arrest the progress of the evil." At all events, the Legislature might authorize him to do so. This, however, is an extreme case, and such as could not have been anticipated; for the Government could not exist a day, with an administration capable of such an outrage. An actual appeal to arms, therefore, is not to be thought of, as among the proposed modes of resistance.

3. A repeal of the unconstitutional law by Congress. This, I perceive, is one of the President's modes, but unfortunately, he is not very apt to discern the principles which his measures involve. This would, indeed, be a complete remedy for the evil, and an ample redress of the wrong.—You know, however, sir, that although you may "call spirits from the vasty deep," it is not certain that they will "come when you do call them." It is not likely that the usurper will either acknowledge his usurpation, or lay down his usurped power. You must remember, too, that the usurper in the present case, is a majority of the people, usurping upon the rights of the minority, and the history of the tariff laws, ought to convince you how unapt such usurpers are to give way. This remedy, therefore, would be of little value in practice. Besides, it is in principle, a simple appeal to the wrong doer, and is therefore, no more a mode of resistance, than the right of petition. Every thing is left at last, to the will and discretion of the usurping power.

4. An amendment of the Constitution. I certainly should not have mentioned this as a means of resistance, if it had not been mentioned by the President, as one of the modes in which the aggrieved States, or people, might seek redress. No man, but one of his peculiar intellect, would ever think of an amendment of the Constitution, as a means of resisting a breach of that instrument. It is not the object to amend the Constitution, but to preserve it, unimpaired as it is. I hope that the President's future labours, in the study of the Constitution, may show him this distinction.

5. Secession, or a withdrawal from the Union by the aggrieved State. This, sir, is your favourite mode, and, as far as I can perceive, your only mode, of resisting the usurpations of the Federal Government. The President, however, in the plenitude of his merciful consideration of State Rights, does not even allow them this humble refuge from oppression. Let us now see how you will carry out this mode of resistance, consistently with the resolutions of 1798.

In the first place, a State which withdraws from the Union, breaks the Union. This is true ex vi termini, and therefore, need not be proved. But I have already shown that the resolutions of 1798, proceed upon the idea, that the Union is to be preserved, and indeed, that is the main object of resistance, as therein contemplated. In this respect, therefore, secession is not a means of resistance: within those resolutions.

In the second place, the resistance therein contemplated, must be such as will "arrest the progress of the evil." Will you be so obliging as to tell me, sir, how a usurped power can be resisted, by giving way to it. In one way, indeed, the evil may be arrested by secession; the usurped power may be rendered nugatory, by withdrawing from its reach, all the subjects upon which it can exercise itself. I can scarcely imagine, however, that this tame and submissive idea, was entertained by the statesmen of 1798. It appears to my humble understanding, that secession, so far from being a form of resistance to usurped power, is the precise reverse; it is neither more nor less than a running away from the oppressor. And so far from "arresting the progress of the evil," it encourages and invites the evil, by removing all restraint from the wrong-doer. In this view, therefore, it is not within the resolutions of 1798.

In the third place, the interposition of the States, must be such as to maintain within their respective limits, the authorities, rights and liberties, appertaining to them." Now, what are these "authorities, rights and liberties?"  To you, sir, I need not say, that as sovereign and independent States, they are entitled to all the authorities, rights and liberties, which at any time, belonged to them as such, except  such part thereof, as they plainly surrendered when they ratified the Constitution.  These they may, it is true, enjoy in a state of separation.  But they are also entitled to all the authorities, rights and liberties, which the other States guarantied to them by the terms of the Union.  Among these are to be numbered their just weight in the measures of the common government; a share in the common property of the whole; protection by the common power; a Republican Government assured by that power, and all and every benefit and advantage which they could enjoy as members of the Union. It was in this character alone, that their co-operation was invoked in the resolution of 1798. And now, sir, be good enough to say, how the authorities, rights and liberties, which belong to the States, as members of the Union, can be "maintained," by their going out of the Union. If you cannot, you must feel yourself also, secession is not within the resolutions of 1798. I know you will tell me that these resolutions have been much misunderstood. You have already said so, and much subtlety in reasoning, and refinement in language, have been resorted to by your correspondents to prove it. It is for this very reason, that I have taken such parts of the resolution only, as no man can misunderstand, and such as do not admit of but one construction. You may refine until doomsday, and you will not change the plain meaning and object of the plain language employed.

I have thus examined every mode of "arresting the progress of the evil, and maintaining within the respective limits of the States, the authorities, rights and liberties which appertain to them," which occur to my mind, except nullification. It appears, I think, clearly enough, that none of these will answer the purpose. If there by any other mode, you will confer a great benefit upon the country, by pointing it out. I promise to prove to you that Nullification is this other mode, but I must make that the business of another letter. I have already occupied quite as much space in the Whig as I am fairly entitled to, and would not willingly trespass too far upon the indulgence of its Editors. Besides, sir, although you may not consider these letters worthy of being answered, I am very desirous that they should be read, and, therefore, I will make them so short as not to deter any one from perusing them, and not to fatigue any one over much, who shall venture upon that undertaking.


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Rh opinion that the origin of such dwarf workers must depend on a special peculiarity of the germ-plasm; for the defectively fed larvae were not starved to death, but underwent metamorphosis, merely remaining small. This special peculiarity of the germ-plasm, however, does not consist in an increased sensibility, and can only be the result of a complete metamorphosis of the whole germ-plasm, which in the case of the worker-ids has in fact become altered just as was necessary for the production of a body of small dimensions. For we cannot seriously suppose that these larvae are really insufficiently nourished and kept small by hunger (see Note XIII, p. 65). They get exactly as much nourishment as they need for the development of the worker-type, and as their instinct demands from the time when they have become worker-larvae owing to the poorer food (see Note XIV, p. 66). The primary constituents concerned with instinct in the worker-ids are modified, just as are those of the queen-ids. Concurrently with the visible alterations in bodily form, invisible variations have also occurred, as we may conclude from the fact that there has been variation in the instincts. But we know that the 'art' of rearing from the larva either a worker or a queen by means of a definite mode of feeding is an instinct which can only have been formed along with the development of the worker-type; moreover, the instinct of more moderate food-requirements will likewise have developed at the same time in the larva of the worker. For the worker-larva is a distinct individual with its own peculiar tendencies (Anlagen) and instincts, just as


text: The Examiner, and Journal of Political Economy/Volume 2/Number 5/An Exposition of the Virginia Resolutions of 1798


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6 the purely existential point of view from which in the following lectures the phenomena of religious experience must be considered. When I handle them biologically and psychologically as if they were mere curious facts  of individual history, some of you may think it a degradation of so sublime a subject, and may even suspect me, until my purpose gets more fully expressed, of deliberately seeking to discredit the religious side of life.

Such a result is of course absolutely alien to my intention; and since such a prejudice on your part would seriously obstruct the due effect of much of what I have to relate, I will devote a few more words to the point.

There can be no doubt that as a matter of fact a religious life, exclusively pursued, does tend to make the person exceptional and eccentric. I speak not now of your ordinary religious believer, who follows the conventional observances of his country, whether it be Buddhist, Christian, or Mohammedan. His religion has been made for him by others, communicated to him by tradition, determined to fixed forms by imitation, and retained by habit. It would profit us little to study this second-hand religious life. We must make search rather for the original experiences which were the pattern-setters to all this mass of suggested feeling and imitated conduct. These experiences we can only find in individuals for whom religion exists not as a dull habit, but as an acute fever rather. But such individuals are ‘geniuses’ in the religious line; and like many other geniuses who have brought forth fruits effective enough for commemoration in the pages of biography, such religious geniuses have often shown symptoms of nervous instability. Even more perhaps than other kinds of genius, religious leaders have been subject to abnormal psychical visitations. Invariably they have been creatures of exalted emotional sensibility.


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Rh Often they have led a discordant inner life, and had melancholy during a part of their career. They have known no measure, been liable to obsessions and fixed ideas; and frequently they have fallen into trances, heard voices, seen visions, and presented all sorts of peculiarities which are ordinarily classed as pathological. Often, moreover, these pathological features in their career have helped to give them their religious authority and influence.

If you ask for a concrete example, there can be no better one than is furnished by the person of George Fox. The Quaker religion which he founded is something which it is impossible to overpraise. In a day of shams, it was a religion of veracity rooted in spiritual inwardness, and a return to something more like the original gospel truth than men had ever known in England. So far as our Christian sects to·day are evolving into liberality, they are simply reverting in essence to the position which Fox and the early Quakers so long ago assumed. No one can pretend for a moment that in point of spiritual sagacity and capacity, Fox's mind was unsound. Every one who confronted him personally, from Oliver Cromwell down to county magistrates and jailers, seems to have acknowledged his superior power. Yet from the point of view of his nervous constitution, Fox was a psychopath or détraqué of the deepest dye. His Journal abounds in entries of this sort:—

"As I was walking with several friends, I lifted up my head, and saw three steeple-house spires, and they struck at my life. I asked them what place that was? They said, Lichfield. Immediately the word of the Lord came to me, that I must go thither. Being come to the house we were going to, I wished the friends to walk into the house, saying nothing to them of whither I was to go. As soon as they were gone I stept away,


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8 and went by my eye over hedge and ditch till I came within a mile of Lichfield; where, in a great field, shepherds were keeping their sheep. Then was I commanded by the Lord to pull off my shoes. I stood still, for it was winter: but the word of the Lord was like a fire in me. So I put off my shoes, and left them with the shepherds; and the poor shepherds trembled, and were astonished. Then I walked on about mile, and as soon as I was got within the city, the word of the Lord came to me again, saying: Cry, 'Wo to the bloody city of Lichfield!' So I went up and down the streets, crying with a loud voice, Wo to the bloody city of Lichfield! It being market day, I went into the marketplace, and to and fro in the several parts of it, and made stands, crying as before, Wo to the bloody city of Lichfield! And no one laid hands on me. As I went thus crying through the streets, there seemed to me to be a channel of blood running down the streets, and the market-place appeared like a pool of blood. When I had declared what was upon me, and felt myself clear, I went out of the town in peace; and returning to the shepherds gave them some money, and took my shoes of them again. But the fire of the Lord was so on my feet, and all over me, that I did not matter to put on my shoes again, and was at a stand whether I should or no, till I felt freedom from the Lord so to do: then, I after I had washed my feet, I put on my shoes again. After this a deep consideration came upon me, for what reason I should be sent to cry against that city, and call it The bloody city! For though the parliament had the minister one while, and the king another, and much blood had been shed in the town during the wars between them, yet there was no more than had befallen many other places. But afterwards I came to understand, that in the Emperor Diocletian's time a thousand Christians were martyr'd in Lichfield. So I was to go, without my shoes, through the channel of their blood, and into the pool of their blood in the marketplace, that I might raise up the memorial of the blood of those martyrs, which had been shed above a thousand years before, and lay cold in their streets. So the sense of this blood was upon me, and I obeyed the word of the Lord."


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AND

DEVOTED TO THE ADVANCEMENT OF THE CAUSE OF STATE RIGHTS AND FREE TRADE. The Powers not Delegated to the United States, by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the States respectively, or to the People. . . ''Amendments to the Constitution, Art. X.''

Freedom of Industry, as sacred as freedom of speech or of the press. . . Jefferson.

AN EXPOSITION Of the Virginia Resolutions of 1798, in a series of Essays, addressed to Thomas Ritchie, by a distinguished citizen of Virginia, under the signature of "," in February, 1833.

No. III.

now to prove to you, sir, that Nullification is the only mode in which the usurpations of the Federal Government may be resisted by the States, in accordance with the principles of our resolutions of 1798. Daring as you may consider this enterprise, I do not enter upon it with any fear, although I approach without flourish of trumpets or any other parade. I am a plain, practical man, and desire to state my opinions in a matter which other plain, practical men will understand. If such men are not the ornaments of the country, they are at least its strength and support, and the very people to whose capacity all reasoning upon political subjects ought to be addressed.

I beg you to bear in mind the principles which have already been stated as deducible from the resolutions of 1798. Perhaps our best course of proceeding will be to state them in detail, and see whether nullification does or does not conform to every one of them.

1. The resolutions assert that there is some mode within the Constitution by which the usurpations of the Federal Government may be resisted by the States. Now, it is true that nullification is denied to be a constitutional remedy, but the nullifiers assert that it is constitutional; and I mention the point only to show that they do not intend to assert any extra-constitutional or revolutionary remedy—and that so far, at least, they are within the resolutions of 1798. Whether their remedy is constitutional or not, supposing the principles of the resolutions to be so, must depend on its conformity with those principles in the subsequent propositions. We remark, therefore, that

2. The remedy must be such as to "arrest the progress of the evil."—Now, be pleased to bear in mind, that nullification does not proceed upon any supposed right of the State to repeal a constitutional law, but upon the right of a State to declare that an unconstitutional law really is so, and to refuse obedience to it for that reason. I beg you to bear this distinction in mind. If nullification proposes any thing more or less than this, I am no nullifier, and do not understand the doctrine. Now, sir, is not this right of a State (to decide on the constitutionality of an act of Congress) distinctly asserted in the resolutions of 1798? Nay, has not Virginia asserted it in practice, both in regard to the Alien and Sedition Laws, and in regard to these very Tariff Laws themselves? We all know that such is the fact. And was not resistance to such unconstitutional laws distinctly contemplated in the resolutions of 1798? I have already shown that it was; and if any farther proof is necessary, it will be found, in all abundance, in the address to the people which accompanied those resolutions. It appears, then, that the principles upon which nullification proceeds, are (in the abstract) in strict conformity with those of the resolutions of 1798. But those principles, it is admitted, must be limited and qualified by the object in view. We are, then, to inquire whether nullification does, or does not, "arrest the progress of the evil." The evil is the exercise of an usurped power: nullification declares that the usurped power shall no longer be obeyed. Is not this the best of all possible modes, if not the only mode in which it can be "arrested?" Perhaps it is not too great a refinement to say, that the "arrest" here contemplated, is of the usurpation only, and not of the usurping power. In other words, it is not designed to put down the Federal Government—nor embarrass nor impede its legitimate operation; but simply to prevent it from exercising a power which does not belong to it.—Hence, no resort is contemplated in the resolutions of 1798 to any measures which may submit the existence of that Government to the decision of arms. Its operations within the Constitution must all go on as before, whilst its operations beyond the Constitution must be "arrested." Now, this is precisely and peculiarly the effect of nullification. And, strange to tell, it is on this very ground that you and others have most strongly assailed that doctrine. You all say, that it is absurd to pretend that a State can be in the Union and out of the Union at the same time; and that it is monstrous in a State to contend for all the advantages of the Union, as to certain laws, while she refuses to submit to the burthens imposed by other laws. Nothing in nature can be more perfectly self-evident than all this. It is not surprising that a man of General Jackson's measure of intellect and information should be deceived by such a superficial view of the subject: but we had a right to expect better things from a veteran in politics, like yourself. Remember, sir, that a law beyond the Constitution is no law at all, and there is no right any where to enforce it. A State which refuses to submit to such a pretended law, is strictly within the Union—because she is in strict obedience to the Constitution; and it is strange to say that she


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Rh Bent as we are on studying religion's existential conditions, we cannot possibly ignore these pathological aspect of the subject. We must describe and name them just as if they occurred in non-religious men. It is true that we instinctively recoil from seeing an object to which our emotions and affections are committed handled by the intellect as any other object is handled. The first thing the intellect does with an object is to class it along with something else. But any object that is infinitely important to us and awakens our devotion feels to us also as if it must be sui generis and unique. Probably a crab would be filled with a sense of personal outrage if it could hear us class it without ado or apology as a  crustacean, and thus dispose of it. "l am no such thing," it would say; "I am alone."

The next thing the intellect does is to lay bare the causes in which the thing originates. Spinoza says: "I will analyze the actions and appetites of men as if it were a question of lines, of planes, and of solids.” And elsewhere be remarks that he will consider our passions and their properties with the same eye with which he looks on all other natural things, since the consequences of our affections flow from their nature with the same  necessity as it results from the nature of a triangle that its three angles should be equal to two right angles. Similarly M. Taine, in the introduction to his history of English literature, has written: "Whether facts be moral or physical, it makes no matter. They always have their causes. There are causes for ambition, courage, veracity, just as there are for digestion, muscular movement, animal heat. Vice and virtue are products like vitriol and sugar." When we read such proclamations of the intellect bent on showing the existential conditions of


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AND

DEVOTED TO THE ADVANCEMENT OF THE CAUSE OF STATE RIGHTS AND FREE TRADE. The Powers not Delegated to the United States, by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the States respectively, or to the People. . . ''Amendments to the Constitution, Art. X.''

Freedom of Industry, as sacred as freedom of speech or of the press. . . Jefferson.

ANNUAL COMMERCIAL STATEMENT.


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 am still quite hungry." Then the wise woman said, "Wipe away thy tears, Two-eyes, and I will tell thee something to stop thee ever suffering from hunger again; just say to thy goat,

and then a clean well-spread little table will stand before thee, with the most delicious food upon it of which thou mayst eat as much as thou art inclined for, and when thou hast had enough, and hast no more need of the little table, just say,

and then it will vanish again from thy sight." Hereupon the wise woman departed. But Two-eyes thought, "I must instantly make a trial, and see if what she said is true, for I am far too hungry," and she said,

and scarcely had she spoken the words than a little table, covered with a white cloth, was standing there, and on it was a plate with a knife and fork, and a silver spoon; and the most delicious food was there also, warm and smoking as if it had just come out of the kitchen. Then Two-eyes said the shortest prayer she knew, "Lord God, be with us always, Amen," and helped herself to some food, and enjoyed it. And when she was satisfied, she said, as the wise woman had taught her,

and immediately the little table and everything on it was gone again. "That is a delightful way of keeping house!" thought Two-eyes, and was quite glad and happy.

In the evening, when she went home with her goat, she found a small earthenware dish with some food, which her sisters had set ready for her, but she did not touch it. Next day she again went out with her goat, and left the


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 once strongly marked and refined. A mosaic in the cathedral of Monreale (Sicily), though obviously conventional in general treatment, may very likely be correct in its colouring of dark grey eyes, dark brown beard, and somewhat lighter (possibly grizzled) hair, for it is part of a series of decorations completed within twenty years of Thomas's death, under the superintendence of King William the Good, whose queen, married in 1177, was a daughter of Henry II. A sculptured representation of the martyrdom, over the south door of Bayeux Cathedral, dates from the same period.

In England the surviving memorials of the martyr are mostly, from the nature of the case, only recognisable as such when their history is known. One of the most interesting is St. Thomas's Hospital in Southwark. The present hospital is historically identical with one established by the citizens of London in 1552, in the place of an Augustinian house, devoted to the like charitable work, which they had bought of the king on its dissolution in 1538. The new foundation was for a time called ‘the king's hospital;’ but it soon resumed a part, at least, of the title of its Augustinian predecessor, which had been founded on the same site in 1228, under the invocation of S. Thomas the Martyr, and whose first beginnings twenty-one years earlier still, on another site, may possibly have been connected with a yet older ‘Xenodochium’ begun, ‘in honour of God and the blessed martyr Thomas, at Southwark in London,’ within seventeen years of his death (, Not. Mon., Surrey, xx. 2; Ann. Monast. iii. 451, 457; Materials, vii. 579–580). Another hospital, established by Thomas's own sister on the site of the Beckets' old home in Cheapside, and served by canons who were also knights, of the order of St. Thomas of Acre, was purchased, on its dissolution in 1538, by the Mercers' Company, and the birthplace of the saint is now marked by their hall and chapel (Monast. Angl. vi. pt. ii. pp. 645–7;, St. Thomas of Acon, pp. 118–40). Many of our older churches now nominally dedicated to St. Thomas the Apostle are in reality dedicated to St. Thomas of Canterbury, the title of the patron saint having been merely changed to evade Henry VIII's proclamation. One indirect commemoration of St. Thomas, which did not fall within the terms of the proclamation, still holds its place in the calendar and services of the English as well as of the Roman church. In his time, and for a century and a half after him, the festival of the Holy Trinity was kept on different days in different parts of Christendom. Thomas, immediately after his consecration, ordered that it should thenceforth be kept in England on that day, the first Sunday after Pentecost, and in 1333 this English usage was adopted throughout the whole western church by order of Pope John XXII.

One of the most singular features in what may be called the posthumous history of Thomas Becket is the interest which he inspired at the farthest end of Christendom. The contemporary historian of the Latin kingdom of Jerusalem, William of Tyre, breaks the thread of his narrative of the wars of King Amalric and Saladin to wind up the story of the year 1170 with a short account of the new English martyr ( l. xx. c. 21). The order of knights of St. Thomas (see above) sprang up in Palestine very soon after the martyr's death. Possibly it may have originated in the penance imposed on his murderers, of serving for fourteen years under the Templars in Holy Land; possibly in that imposed on Henry II, of maintaining, in defence of the same land, five hundred knights for a year at his own expense. The later tradition which ascribed its foundation to Richard I (, pref. to Itin. Ricardi, vol. i. pp. cxii–xiii) seems to have grown up out of the fact that Hubert Walter [q. v.] ‘constituted the order of canons’ (or knights, for they were both) ‘at St. Thomas the Martyr in Acon’ (Ann. Monast. iii. 126), i.e. established them in a chapel which Richard had ‘ordered to be built’ there in 1192 (, Hist. Angl. ii. 38), and which itself seems to have been merely an enlargement or restoration of one founded two years earlier, under the same invocation, by William, a chaplain of Ralph de Diceto [q. v.] (, i. 80–1). It is further possible that the origin of this order may have been in some way connected with that of the famous legend which represents the mother of Thomas as a Saracen emir's daughter, converted to christianity by love of Gilbert Becket, who, when a pilgrim in Holy Land, had become her father's captive, and whom, on his escape, she followed across land and sea till she found him in London and became his wife. This tale in Latin, followed by the heading and first sentence of the same story in French, occurs among the miscellaneous contents of Harleian MS. 978 (fols. 114 b–116). The portion of the manuscript in which these two items are included dates from 1264 to 1270 (, Song of Lewes, introd. pp. xi, xvi–xvii); and the words with which the story opens in the Latin version—‘Nunc autem ut paulo altius sermonem historiæ repetamus’—as they refer to nothing in the preceding pages, indicate that this was not


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 its first appearance in writing, but that it was an extract copied out of some previously existing work. Such a legend is perhaps more likely to have been invented in Palestine than in Europe. Its invention at a date so near the lifetime of its subject, and its unquestioned acceptance during more than five hundred years, are curious tokens of the extent to which the imaginations of men, alike in east and west, were fired by the character and career of Thomas of London.

[The primary Latin authorities for the life of Thomas are the biographies by William of Canterbury, John of Salisbury, Alan of Tewkesbury, Edward Grim, William FitzStephen, Herbert of Bosham, and two anonymous writers (one of whom was formerly, but without sufficient evidence, called Roger of Pontigny, while the other was styled Anonymous Lambethensis), several shorter pieces of various kinds, and a vast collection of letters; all these have been published, and the letters arranged in chronological order, by the Rev. J. C. Robertson and Dr. J. B. Sheppard, in seven volumes of Materials for the History of Archbishop Becket (Rolls Ser.), which have entirely superseded the edition of Dr. J. A. Giles (S. Thomas Cantuariensis, 8 vols. 1845). The Vie de St. Thomas, in French verse, by Garnier de Pont Sainte-Maxence (ed. C. Hippeau), is also contemporary. The Icelandic Thomas Saga Erkibyskups is a fourteenth-century compilation based on earlier materials, especially on two twelfth-century lives, now lost, by Benedict of Peterborough and Robert of Cricklade. On the authors, dates of composition, and value of all these, see the prefaces of Canon Robertson to his Materials, vols. i–iv., that of Mr. E. Magnusson to his edition of Thomas Saga (Rolls Ser.), vol. ii., and Mr. Radford's appendix to his Thomas of London (see below). Gervase of Canterbury and Ralph de Diceto (Rolls Ser.) were also contemporaries, and supply a few details and dates. The later literature of the subject is overwhelming in quantity, but most of it is of little historical worth. A composite biography of St. Thomas, made up of extracts from four of the earlier lives, was put together in 1198–9. This was edited by Christian Wolf (Lupus), printed at Brussels in 1682, and reprinted in Robertson's Materials, vol. iv. It is usually called the Second Quadrilogus. The First Quadrilogus—so called because first printed—seems to have been compiled in the thirteenth century, and was printed in Paris in 1495. From this Dr. Giles reprinted in his second volume the legend of Thomas's ‘Saracen’ mother. This legend occurs, in almost exactly the same words, in some late manuscripts of the life by Grim (from one of which it is printed in Robertson's Materials, vol. ii.), in the chronicle known as John Brompton's (Twysden's Decem Scriptores, cols. 1052–5), and in Harleian MS. 978, of which Mr. C. L. Kingsford has given a full account in the introduction to his edition of the Song of Lewes (Clarendon Press Ser. 1890). The modern works dealing with Thomas's life as a whole are F. J. Buss's Der heilige Thomas, 1856; J. Morris's Life and Martyrdom of St. Thomas Becket, 1859; 2nd edit., much enlarged, 1885; J. C. Robertson's Becket, a Biography, 1859; Hook's Archbishops of Canterbury, vol. ii. 1862; R. A. Thompson's Thomas Becket, Martyr Patriot, 1889. Of these Canon Morris's book, in its later form, is by far the best. The history of Thomas of London before his Consecration has been worked out by the Rev. L. B. Radford (Cambridge Historical Essays, No. vii., Prince Consort Dissertation, 1894). The fourth volume of R. H. Froude's Remains, 1839, contains a History of the Contest between Thomas Becket and Henry II, carefully compiled from such materials as were then accessible, i.e. the Quadrilogus and a comparatively small collection of letters, of which Froude was the first to attempt a chronological arrangement and a systematic use. Thomas's last days, death, and posthumous history are dealt with in Dean Stanley's Memorials of Canterbury Cathedral. There is an essay on St. Thomas of Canterbury and his Biographers in Freeman's Historical Essays, 1st ser. Freeman's articles on the Life and Times of Thomas Becket, in the Contemporary Review, 1878, were called forth by those published under the same title by J. A. Froude in the Nineteenth Century, 1877. These latter were reprinted, with modifications, in Froude's Short Studies, vol. iv. On the constitutional and legal aspects of the strife between Thomas and Henry, see Stubbs's Constitutional Hist. vol. i., Pollock and Maitland's Hist. of English Law, i. 430–40, and Professor Maitland's article on Henry II and the Criminous Clerks, in English Historical Review, April 1892. The controversy as to the fate of the relics is summed up in Canon Morris's pamphlet on the Relics of St. Thomas (Canterbury, 1888). An article by Mr. F. J. Baigent, in the Journal of the Archæological Association, vol. x. (1855), on the Martyrdom of St. Thomas, &c., contains descriptions of some of the few remaining English mediæval pictures of the saint, with reproductions of two of them, and of his archiepiscopal seal, the latter from an engraving in J. G. Nichols's Pilgrimages of Erasmus. Other pictures (thirteenth century) of Thomas are reproduced in Archæologia, vol. xxiii., in the Rev. W. H. Hutton's St. Thomas of Canterbury (English Hist. from Contemporary Writers, 1889), and in Green's Short History, illustrated edition, vol. i. The best, as well as the earliest, extant English representation of the martyrdom is an illumination in fol. 32 of Harleian MS. 5102 (British Museum), a Psalter written in Normandy and illustrated by an English hand early in the thirteenth century. The Monreale mosaic is reproduced in Gravina's Il Duomo di Monreale (Palermo, 1859), pl. 14 D. St. Thomas of Canterbury is the subject of a dramatic poem


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 few bits of broken bread which had been handed to her, lying untouched. The first and second time that she did this, her sisters did not remark it at all, but as it happened every time, they did observe it, and said, "There is something wrong about Two-eyes, she always leaves her food untasted, and she used to eat up everything that was given her; she must have discovered other ways of getting food." In order that they might learn the truth, they resolved to send One-eye with Two-eyes when she went to drive her goat to the pasture, to observe what Two-eyes did when she was there, and whether any one brought her anything to eat and drink. So when Two-eyes set out the next time, One-eye went to her and said, "I will go with you to the pasture, and see that the goat is well taken care of, and driven where there is food." But Two-eyes knew what was in One-eye's mind, and drove the goat into high grass and said, "Come, One-eye, we will sit down, and I will sing something to you." One-eye sat down and was tired with the unaccustomed walk and the heat of the sun, and Two-eyes sang constantly,

until One-eye shut her one eye, and fell asleep, and as Boon as Two-eyes saw that One-eye was fast asleep, and could discover nothing, she said,

and seated herself at her table, and ate and drank until she was satisfied, and then she again cried,

and in an instant all was gone. Two-eyes now awakened One-eye, and said, "One-eye, you want to take care of the goat, and go to sleep while you are doing it, and in the meantime the goat might run all over the world. Come, let us go home again." So they went home, and again Two-eyes let her little dish stand untouched, and One-eye could not tell her mother why she would not eat it, and to excuse herself said, "I fell asleep when I was out."


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Rh amount by begging, or perhaps even stealing; failing to obtain this they are cruelly punished on their return home, and the tricks they resort to, to gain their ends, are numberless and curious. The newspapers abound with such accounts, and are besides filled with histories of murders, thefts, hangings, and other abominable acts; I can scarce look at them.

August 19. Dined with Mr. A. Melly in Grenville St. The dinner was quite à la française, all gayety, witticism, and good cheer. The game, however, was what I call highly tainted, the true flavor for the lords of England.

August 21. I painted many hours this day, finished my Otter; it was viewed by many and admired. I was again invited to remove to Green Bank, but declined until I have painted the Wild Turkey cock for the Royal Institution, say three days more.

September 4. Having been too busy to write for many days, I can only relate the principal facts that have taken place. I have been to two very notable suppers, one at Dr. Traill's in company with the French consul and two other French gentlemen; I was much encouraged, and urged to visit France at once. The other at the house of Mr. Molineux; there indeed my ears were feasted; such entertaining conversation, such delightful music; Mr. Clementi and Mr. Tomlinson from London were present. Many persons came to my painting room, they wonder at the rapidity of my work and that I can paint fourteen hours without fatigue. My Turkeys are now framed, and hung at the Institution which is open daily, and paying well. I have made many small drawings for different friends. All my Sundays are alike, breakfast with Mr. Melly, church with the blind, dinner with Mr. Roscoe. Every one is surprised at my habits of early rising, and at my rarely touching meat, except game.

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  by Aubrey de Vere, and of a drama (‘Becket’) by Tennyson. The writer of this article is indebted to Mr. T. A. Archer for some valuable suggestions.]

 THOMAS, known as (fl. 1170), officer of the exchequer, was an Englishman by birth, who, like others of his countrymen, took service under the Norman kings of Sicily. He is probably the ‘magister Thomas capellanus regis’ whose name occurs in Sicilian charters dated 25 Aug. and 24 Nov. 1137. Richard FitzNigel, in the ‘Dialogus de Scaccario,’ says that Thomas had held a high place in the councils of the king of Sicily, until a king arose who knew him not, when, in response to repeated invitations from Henry II, he returned to England. Thomas Brown is mentioned as ‘Magister Thomas,’ and styled ‘familiaris regis’ in a number of charters of King Roger. In a Greek charter his name appears as ‘Θῶμα τοῦ Βρούνου.’ He returned to England after 1154, but before 1159 (Pipe Roll, 5 Henry II, p. 49). He held an important place in the English exchequer, and, owing to the confidence in his loyalty and discretion, kept a special roll in which were recorded the king's doings. He was almoner to Henry II in 1166, and still held that post in 1174 (ib. 12 Henry II, p. 83, and 20 Henry II, p. 181). His nephew, Ralph, had a pension of 5l. from the king in 1159 (ib. 5 Henry II, p. 49), and Thomas himself is mentioned as in receipt of a pension of 36l. in 1168 and 1176. Madox conjectured that the special duties assigned to Thomas were the basis of the later office of chancellor of the exchequer.

[Dialogus de Scaccario, ap. Stubbs's Select Charters, pp. 178, 189–90; Documenti per servire alla storia di Sicilia, 1st ser. vol. i. fasc. i. pp. 12–13 (Soc. Siciliana per la Storia patria); Pirri's Sicilia Sacra ap. Grævius' Thesaurus Antiq. et Hist. Siciliæ, ii. Eccl. Mess. Not. ii. i. 282; Pipe Rolls, 5 to 20 Henry II (Pipe Roll Society); Madox's Hist. Exchequer, ii. 376; Reale Academia dei Lincei, 3rd ser. pt. ii. pp. 411–17, Rome, 1877–8; Freeman's Historical Essays, 3rd ser. pp. 471–2; Stubbs's Lectures on Mediæval and Modern History, 133–4.]

 THOMAS, called (fl. 1174), hagiographer, probably born at Beverley, became a monk in the Cistercian abbey of Fresmont in Picardy. He wrote in prose and verse an extant life of St. Margaret of Jerusalem, his sister. A large portion of this work is printed from a copy of a Clairvaux manuscript by Manriquez in his ‘Annales Cistercienses’ under 1174 and following years.

[Manriquez's Annales Cistercienses, ad an. 1174–92; Leyser's Hist. Poet. et Poem. med. ævi, pp. 435–6; Carolus de Visch's Biblioth. Script. Ord. Cist. pp. 311 seq., ed. Colon, 1656; Henriquez's Phœnix Reviviscens, pp. 158 seq.; Wright's Biogr. Brit. Lit. ii. 313–14.]  THOMAS (fl. 1175), historian, was a monk of Ely. His principal work was a history of Ely in three books. The first book carries the history to the time of King Edgar, and the remaining two down to 1170. The first book has been printed three times (, Acta SS. ii. 738; ' Acta SS. Jun. iv. 493;, Liber Eliensis). The second book is printed in a shortened form by the Bollandists from a Douay manuscript (Jun. iv. 523–38), and by D. J. Stewart from an Ely manuscript with variants from the Trinity College, Cambridge, MSS. O. 2. 1, and O. 2. 41. Stewart erroneously printed as part of book ii. a prologue with the title ‘Libellus quorundam insignium operum B. Ædelwoldi Episcopi.’ This ‘libellus,’ with what follows in O. 2. 41, and Vesp. A. xix. (printed by Gale, Hist. Brit. i. 463), appears to be the work of an unknown monk, writing at the order of Hervey [q. v.], bishop of Ely, whose work formed the basis of Thomas's book ii. Thomas used also the work of a monk Richard, then dead, for his account of Hereward. This Richard must be distinguished from Richard (d. 1194?) [q. v.], prior of Ely, whose work formed the basis of Thomas's book iii. The third book has been printed by Wharton (Anglia Sacra, i. 678) from late versions. An earlier and longer form, enlarged with many additional charters and miracles, is in the Trinity MS. O. 2. 1 ff. 107–76. In this manuscript, as in Vesp. A. xix, the history of the bishops ends with the death of Nigel [q. v.], 1169. In O. 2. 1, an account of the death of St. Thomas of Canterbury follows. Thomas appears (ch. xcvi. cf. O. 2. 1) to have taken up the work left unfinished by Richard when he went to Rome (1151), and he refers to Richard as ‘dominus prior et monachus.’

Thomas also wrote an account of the second translation of St. Etheldreda in six chapters, which is interpolated between books i. and ii. of the history of Ely in Domitian A. xv. This appears as chapter vi. of book ii. in the Douay manuscript, and parts of it occur in chapters cxliii–cxliv. of the longer book ii. . A third work by Thomas, an account of St. Etheldreda's miracles, is interpolated after the account of her translation in Domitian A. xv., and follows book ii. in the Douay manuscript (Acta


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 Green Bank, September 6. When I reached this place I was told that Lady Isabella Douglass, the sister of Lord Selkirk, former governor of Canada, was here; she is unable to walk, and moves about in a rolling chair. At dinner I sat between her and Mrs. Rathbone, and I enjoyed the conversation of Lady Douglass much, her broad Scotch accent is agreeable to me; and I amused her by eating some tomatoes raw; neither she, nor any of the company had ever seen them on the table without being cooked.

September 9. Dr. Traill has ordered all my drawings to be packed by the curator of the Institution, so that has given me no trouble whatever. It is hard to say farewell to all those in town and country who have been so kind, so hospitable to me, but to-morrow I leave for Manchester, where Mr. Roscoe advises me to go next.

Manchester, County of Lancashire, September 10, 1826. I must write something of my coming here. After bidding adieu to many friends, I went to Dr. Traill, who most kindly insisted on my taking Mr. Munro with me for two days to assist me, and we left by coach with my portfolios, my trunk to follow by a slower conveyance. I paid one pound for our inside seats. I felt depressed at leaving all my good friends, yet Mr. Munro did all in his power to interest me. He made me remark Lord Stanley's domains, and I looked on the Hares, Partridges, and other game with a thought of apprehension that the apparent freedom and security they enjoyed was very transient. I thought it more cruel to permit them to grow tame and gentle, and then suddenly to turn and murder them by thousands, than to give them the fair show that our game has in our forests, to let them be free and as wild as nature made them, and to let the hunter pay for them by the pleasure and work of pursuing them. We stopped, I thought frequently, to renew the horses, and wherever we stopped a neatly dressed maid offered cakes, ale, or other refreshments for sale. I remarked little shrubs in many

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 Next day the mother said to Three-eyes, "This time thou shalt go and observe if Two-eyes eats anything when she is out, and if any one fetches her food and drink, for she must eat and drink in secret." So Three-eyes went to Two-eyes, and said, "I will go with you and see if the goat is taken proper care of, and driven where there is food." But Two-eyes knew what was in Three-eyes' mind, and drove the goat into high grass and said, "We will sit down, and I will sing something to you, Three-eyes." Three-eyes sat down and was tired with the walk and with the heat of the sun, and Two-eyes began the same song as before, and sang,

but then, instead of singing,

as she ought to have done, she thoughtlessly sang,

and sang all the time,

Then two of the eyes which Three-eyes had, shut and fell asleep, but the third, as it had not been named in the song, did not sleep. It is true that Three-eyes shut it, but only in her cunning, to pretend it was asleep too, but it blinked, and could see everything very well. And when Two-eyes thought that Three-eyes was fast asleep, she used her little charm,

and ate and drank as much as her heart desired, and then ordered the table to go away again,

and Three-eyes had seen everything. Then Two-eyes came to her, waked her and said, "Have you been asleep, Three-eyes? You are a good care-taker! Come, we will


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Author:Lucy Larcom

Works

 * Poems (1869)
 * Roadside Poems for Summer Travellers (anthologist, 1876)
 * New England Girlhood (1889)
 * The poetical works of Lucy Larcom (1895)

Poems

 * Chocorua
 * Clouds on Whiteface
 * If I were a Sunbeam
 * Near Shore
 * Re-enlisted

title: Author:Lucy Larcom