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people? Let me then remind him of the language | it is not fit that any man should have any authoused by the haughty pontiff in answer to the rity who doth not revere and obey the apostolic remonstrances and threats of king John, when the see"*. What can be thought of a supremacy pope had raised a stranger to the highest eccle- claimed and exercised by an Italian prince and siastical dignity in his kingdom, without the bishop, which enabled a few monks to set at knowledge or consent of the king. Innocent tells defiance their lawful sovereign-not, observe, in the insulted monarch that, if he persisted in the a matter of doctrine, not in any thing in which dispute, he would "plunge himself into inextri- their duty to God required them to disobey their cable difficulties, and would at length be crushed king-but in a matter affecting the temporal by him, before whom every knee must bow, of interests of the monks, a rival monastery? No things in heaven, and things on earth, and things wonder that the king was enraged at this oppounder the earth." Let me recall to my learned sition, and at the insolent interference of the pope; friend's memory the words of the legate who, but we may wonder that a man, who boasted of like Dr. Wiseman, personified the pope's supre- being the successor of St. Peter and the vicar of macy. Pandulph told the king, in the face of the meek and lowly Saviour, could write as he his parliament, that he (the king) was bound to did to the lion-hearted Richard. He told the obey the pope in temporals as well as spirituals; king "that he would not endure the least conand, when the king refused to submit to the papal tempt of himself, or of God, whose place he held mandates, the legate gave a practical illustration on earth; but would punish without delay, and of the kind of loyalty which the church of Rome without respect of persons, every one who preteaches as "a sacred duty", and of the obe- sumed to disobey his commands, in order to condience to temporal princes which she inculcates on vince the whole world that he was determined to her members; for he insolently published the act in a royal manner". Thus Innocent III. sentence of excommunication against the king, wielded what the learned counsel would have us absolved his subjects from their oaths of allegiance, to believe was then, and is now, only a spiritual degraded him from his royal dignity, and declared supremacy; but let it be called what it may, it that neither he nor any of his posterity should ever was employed for the pope's own aggrandizement, reign in England‡. Will my learned friend say and that he might fleece the king's subjects of that the pope employed his supremacy for the their property. good of the nation, for that John was a tyrant and a murderer, and trampled upon the liberties of the people? Allowing that he was a most wicked king, it must still be remembered that it was not for oppressing his subjects, or for murder, or for usurpation, that the papal curses were fulminated against him, but because he resisted the despotic interference of his holiness in the affairs of his kingdom. For no sooner had king John made his abject submission to the Roman see, and consented to be the pope's vassal, and to pay tribute for his kingdom, than he became at once, in the estimation of Rome, one of the best of kings! He was then an obedient son of the church of Rome, and that obedience was a sufficient atonement for all his heinous crimes!
A similar contest occurred in the time of his predecessor, Henry II., when the monks of Canterbury, armed with the popes' bull, obtained the victory over their sovereign-a victory which you will agree with me, gentlemen, redounded to their own and to their Italian bishop's disgrace. We need not, however, feel surprise that Henry II. was obliged, in those dark times, to submit implicitly to the pope, since he had, by speaking "unadvisedly with his lips," led some of his attendants to murder Thomas à Becket, archbishop of Canterbury. That unhappy event was calculated to rivet the papal yoke still more securely on the necks of the king and his people. But, when we consider the repeated provocations of that insolent and ungrateful prelate, The learned counsel is equally unfortunate Becket, we cannot but feel that a supremacy, in his reference to king Richard I. That exercised by a foreign ecclesiastic over this realm, brave monarch was, indeed, compelled to which could encourage one of the king's subjects submit to the imperious commands of the to treat with insolence and contempt his sovereign, pope: it was not, however, any conviction who had loaded him with favours, and raised him that the haughty pontiff had right on his side to the highest ecclesiastical dignity in his kingwhich induced him to yield, but necessity alone. dom, cannot, as the pope and his advocates mainSo much were the fulminations of the papal see tain, have come to him from above, but is from dreaded in that superstitious period, that, if king beneath, as being altogether "earthly, sensual, Richard had persisted in opposing the pope, his devilish." For consider, gentlemen, the course subjects would have been afraid to support their pursued by that rebellious prelate. Becket had Sovereign. Is the exercise of such a supremacy been recommended to king Henry by Theobald, as this, I again ask, compatible with the inde- archbishop of Canterbury; and by his dexterity pendence, the glory, and the welfare of a king-in business, style of living, and agreeable conCom? Hear in what language the arrogant pontiff commands the archbishop of Canterbury to demolish the buildings which had been erected at Lambeth with the consent of the king. After telling the archbishop that if the papal mandate was not carried into effect within thirty days he should suspend him from his office, he adds: "For
versation, he became the greatest favourite of the king. No sooner was Theobald dead, than Henry resolved to bestow the see of Canterbury on Becket, although the empress Maude and the bishops and clergy were extremely opposed to his promotion. Scarcely had he attained to this elevated station before he began to show that his subjection to the pope was far deeper than his * Gervas, Chron., col. 1602, 3,
† Ibid. col. 1616-1624.
Henry's Hist. Eng., vol. v. pp. 408-412.
allegiance to his lawful sovereign. The king | plauded. Such is the morality, such the respect
for promises and oaths, which the so-called apos-
After various means had been tried to effect a reconciliation between king Henry and Becket, which the obstinacy of the latter rendered fruitless, the king of France interposed. He contrived to bring the archbishop into the presence of his sovereign, and prevailed upon Becket to make submission; but it was not an unreserved submis sion; and the king well knew that the faithless prelate would soon break his promise, under the plea of such mental reservation; and therefore he insisted upon a plain and unequivocal decla
wished to have all his subjects, whether clergy or laity, amenable to the laws of the realm. Becket claimed immunity for the clergy, and insisted that they should be tried only in spiritual courts, and punished only by ecclesiastical censures*. To the other bishops and clergy the king's desire appeared so just and reasonable that they were inclined to submit to it; but Becket persuaded them to tell the king that they could not comply with his demand. At length, how-ceived their power from Christ, and were the ever, the entreaties of his friends induced Becket to promise obedience to the laws of the land, without reserve. A council of the great barons and clergy was in consequence assembled at Clarendon, in order to have the consent of Becket and the other ecclesiastics ratified. But, when the council met, the archbishop had changed his mind, and for three days he obstinately resisted both threats and entreaties. At last, however, he was persuaded to swear, in the words of truth and without reservation, that he would obey the royal laws and customs established during the reign of Henry I. By these famous constitutions of Clarendon, all ecclesiastics were bound to submit to the laws of the land; the jurisdiction of spiritual courts was limited; and appeals to Rome, and interdicts and excommunications from Rome, forbidden without the consent of the king+. How did Becket fulfil his solemn engagement? He obtained from the pope a release from the obligation of his oath. He then publicly shielded the clergy from suffering the punishments of the crimes of which any of them had been guilty. The king resolved to call the perfidious archbishop to an account for this infraction of the laws, in open violation of his solemn oaths. But Becket, when summoned before the council, refused to attend. He was in consequence pronounced guilty of contumacy.ration. Both the bishops and temporal barons were una nimous in their verdict; and all his goods and chattels were declared to be forfeited. The king then required of the archbishop an account of various sums of money which he had received for vacant benefices while he was chancellor; but Becket still resisted. When he was told by the earl of Leicester that, if he did not immediately give in his accounts, he would be declared guilty of perjury and high treason, he answered: Neither law nor reason permits sons to judge their father. I decline the jurisdiction of the king and barons, and appeal to God, and my lord the pope, by whom alone I am to be judged. For you, my brethren and fellow-bishops, I summon you to appear before the pope, to be judged by him for having obeyed man rather than God." Becket then went to his lodgings. Afterwards, fearing the effects of the king's displeasure, he left the kingdom, and sought refuge in the court of France. In a short time he appeared before the pope and cardinals, and declared that all his sufferings had arisen from his resolution not to abandon the cause of the church, nor to submit to the constitutions of Clarendon-those very constitutions, gentlemen, which he had solemnly sworn to obey! His conduct was highly ap* Henry's Hist. Eng., vol. v. p. 343.
† Gervas. apud X. Script. col. 1386, 1388.
The archbishop refused to make such a declaration; and Henry, turning to the king of France, observed, "I know that whatever hap pens to displease him he will say is contrary to the honour of God and the rights of his order. But, that it may appear to all the world that I do not oppose the honour of God, or the real rights of his order, I here make this offer: there have been many kings of England before me, some weaker and others greater than I am: there have been also many great and holy men, archbishops of Canterbury before him: let him be have towards me as the greatest and most holy of his predecessors behaved towards the weakest of mine, and I am satisfied"§. How did Becket meet this condescending and concili ating speech? With inflexible obstinacy. He would make no promises, except with reservations. Hence, no reconciliation could be effected between the king and his rebellious subject. But the indomitable pride of Becket may be further seen in the letters which he wrote to the pope and cardinals, when he found that they were taking Henry's part. He told them that they had been bribed; that they had absolved the devil and crucified Christ; and that he would make no more applications to Rome, where none Epist. S. Thomæ, Ep. 49, 64, 66. † Ibid. Ep. 129. Henry's Hist. Eng., vol. v. p. 367. V. St. Thomæ, lib. 2, c. 25.
but wicked men prevailed*. When, however, by the aid of the king of France and the pope's nuncios, the king and Becket were apparently reconciled, and the latter was reinstated in his archbishopric, he still evaded the request which the king made that he would forgive those who had displeased him. And it soon appeared that he was implacable. For he sent over to England, at the very time he was preparing to return to his see, three bulls-one to suspend the archbishop of York, the others to excommunicate the bishops of London and Salisbury. And after his arrival at Canterbury he took an early opportunity to pronounce, in the cathedral, a sentence of exCommunication against nearly all the most familiar servants of the kingt. Such were the aggravating circumstances which led Henry, on first bearing of the proceedings of the haughty and revengeful prelate, to utter the unguarded words: "Shall this fellow, who came to court on a lame horse, with all his estate in a wallet behind him, trample upon his king, the royal family, and the whole kingdom? Will none of all those lazy cowardly knights whom I maintain deliver me from this turbulent priest?" I need not state what effect these words produced on some of the king's attendants. The murder of Becket is a matter of history, with which you are all familiar. But, however inexcusable were the perpetrators of that heinous crime-however rash the speech of the king, which led to the commission of it-all must allow that the conduct of Becket was marked with ingratitude, insolence, and malevolence, and that he traitorously laboured to bring his sovereign and the nation into abject bondage to a foreign ecclesiastic. The troubles which Henry II. had to encounter may indeed be considered as a just punishment on himself; for he had, at the beginning of his reign, contributed to exalt the power of the bishop of Rome, and confirmed his absurd pretensions to dispose of kingdoms as he pleased, by accepting from Adrian IV. a grant of the kingdom of Ireland in 1156. Ambition seems to have utterly blinded king Henry to the consequences of acknowledging that the pope had such a right; but he was soon made to reap the bitter fruits of his blindness, folly, and cupidity.
Such, gentlemen, was the supremacy of the pope in that age; and, had not the church of Rome constantly declared that she was unchanged and unchangeable, the recent act of aggression on the prerogative of our queen is quite enough to convince us that the popes still aim at universal dominion.
HINTS FOR GENERAL CONDUCTS. MOVE with the multitude in the common walks of life, and you will be unnoticed in the throng; but break from them, pursue a different path, and every eye, perhaps with reproach, will be turned towards you. What is the to rule be observed in
Epist. S. Thomæ, lib. 5, ep. 20,521.
+ Vita St. Thomæ, lib. 3, c. 10, p. 118. : Ibid, p. 119.
From "The Young Man's Couns or." A work we have before noticed.-ED.
general conduct? Conform to every innocent custom as our social nature requires, but refuse compliance with whatever is inconsistent with propriety, decency, and the moral duties; and dare to be singular in honour and virtue.
The emotions of the mind are diplayed in the movements of the body, the expression of the features, and the tones of the voice. It is more difficult to disguise the tones of the voice than any other external manifestation of internal feeling. The changing accents of the voice of those with whom we have long lived in intimate intercourse, in the communication of sentiment, are less equivocal and more impressive than even language itself.
The vocal sounds of speech, expressive of thought and feeling, are too much neglected by us in our individual and personal education. Could we analyze the opinion which we form of people on a first acquaintance, we should certainly find that it is greatly influenced by the tones of the voice. Study, then, agreeable sounds of speech; but seek not rules to guide you, from etiquette, from artificial politeness: descend into the heart; there cherish the kind and moral sympathies, and speech will be modulated by the sincere and endearing tone of benevolence.
Some, when they move from the common routine of life, and especially on any emergency, are embarrassed, perplexed, and know not how to resolve of mind is a valuable quality, and essential to with decision, and act with promptitude. Presence active life: it is the effect of habit, and the formation of habit is facilitated by exercise.
Among men you must either speak what is agreeable to their humour, or what is consistent with truth and good morals. Make it a general rule of conduct neither to flatter virtue nor exasperate folly. By flattering virtue, you cannot confirm it: by exasperating folly, you cannot reform it. Submit, however, to no compromise with truth; but, when it allows, accommodate yourself with honest courtesy to the prepossessions of
A long course of integrity cannot justify one vicious deed: one vicious deed impresses a stain on the fairest reputation. A transient act of vice may be attended with indelible reproach: a settled course of integrity is necessary to establish and support an unblemished character.
When a person in his manner or conduct swerves from propriety or virtue, no provocation can justify you in following his example and departing from your duty. If a man is uncivil and abusive in his language, why should you degrade yourself to his level by yielding to incivility and abuse? If an ungrateful man denies himself the pleasures of gratitude, why should you be mortified, and deny yourself the pleasures of beneficence?
You may not have the wealth that by discreet expenditure benefits the community, nor the
talents that accumulate knowledge and improve society, nor the wisdom and influence that ameliorate the institutions of the country; but by your benevolent sympathies, virtuous dispositions, and obliging deportment you may render those around you happy, and be great in your private station.
To affect a high tone of manners to which one has not been accustomed is the silliness of selfimportance to affect, with eager haste and finical nicety, to be the first in fashion, is the frivolity of a weak mind: to affect the character of libertinism, because it is deemed the indication of a free and noble spirit, is the infatuation of a vitiated mind.
Two individuals are competitors for a public office, and these are the probable results of the competition: They are mutually actuated by the purest motives, and their conduct is distinguished by candour, fairness, and urbanity; then the contest is honourable. They are mutually distant, keen, and grasping, with a show of jealous feeling; then the contest evinces a high degree of selfishness. They mutually yield to secret artifice, and unscrupulously avail themselves of whatever may injure each other's claims; then the contest is dishonourable, and reflects discredit on the
It requires almost as much judgment and taste fully to appreciate an elegant style and fine sentiments in composition, as to conceive and express them. This remark is of general application; congenial minds only can fully comprehend each other's qualities and endowments. The lesson to be deduced from this fact is important in its effect on a tranquil life. Why should you be elated by the praise, or moved by the censure, of those who cannot appreciate the motives of your conduct or the qualities of your mind?
If you are endowed with any excellence confirmed to you by the tacit or avowed manner of competent judges, rest satisfied with the modest consciousness of it. If you desire the general suffrage of world, you will be disappointed; the ignorant cannot appreciate the excellence, and the prejudiced will not acknowledge it. The ignorant, as to mind, are purblind, and cannot see it: the prejudiced have a film over their mental vision, and see it dimly and distortedly.
In the whole tenor of your conduct, seek the approbation of society, but still more the approbation of your own mind. The last is to be acquired and maintained by the vigilance of conscience, which watches over the principles; the first, by the guidance of prudence, which superintends the general deportment.
Merit often moves steadily along, and is followed by success; but it is also true that merit sometimes pursues success, and strives in vain to overtake it. No man can command success, but every one may deserve it, and the approval of a good conscience is superior to all worldly advantages.
Prepare the mind to sustain prosperous fortune with humility, and to endure adverse circumstances with composure. The proof of an exalted and virtuous mind is to possess its self-command in prosperity, and in adversity to retain its patience and equanimity.
LIFE IN PRISON.
AT this awful period my imagination became somewhat troubled; for in a moment when the darkness was suddenly illumined by a flash of lightning which passed over the swarthy features of my companions, my hand touched unconsciously the cold blade of an unsheathed sword. Horror seemed to overwhelm me: my heart felt as if it would break; and I foolishly believed that an assassin was at my side, about to strike the deadly blow; nor was it till some time had elapsed that I was able to subdue my groundless apprehensions, and to recall to mind that I had taken charge of a sword belonging to the captain of the vanguard, which at his desire I was to return to a French captain who had been his prisoner. At length the storm abating, we began to make some progress, and on the 12th of October arrived in Basse Terre road, Guadaloupe. The harbourmaster soon came on board to inquire who we were, and the intent of our visit; and, after ascer taining these facts, he left us with surly looks, taking however the prisoners with him, whom I had brought to facilitate my negociations. I gave him a letter addressed to Victor Hugue, written in such terms as I thought best suited to make known the purpose of my coming; and, as he was about to return, he told me that citizen Hugue was at Point-à-Pierre, but that he would deliver my letter to the next in command at the await his orders, without which the vessel could national house, bidding me at the same time to not be permitted to cast anchor. I also confided
to the harbour-master a letter addressed to madame Fourmille, from whom I shortly afterwards received the greatest consolation, and much valuable aid during the anxious and weary period of sus pense. Immediately in front uprose the walls of my former prison-that huge building from a window of which I used to hold my children by turns, that their unhappy father might have the delight of looking at them from his miserable sojour. Now every window was closed, and the house was evidently uninhabited. I endeavoured to solace myself with thinking that major shipley was removed to some other stronghold, of which there were doubtless many others on the island. This was actually the case, and I clung tenaciously to the thought; for any other idea would have maddened me. At length the boat returned, and with it the harbour-master, whose forbidding and sullen look was changed into one of courtesy. The omen was hailed with inexpressible thankfulness, and my hope was further excited by an order which he brought to take me immediately on shore, and to the house of the excellent lady whom I have just mentioned. Language could but faintly express the delight with which such a message was received. Those who have been similarly circumstanced can alone understand my feelings. I offered the key of my portmanteau, which contained only changes of linen and money for the English prisoners, to the harbour-master; but he declined accepting it, saying that he had orders from the government to land me and my luggage without inspection.
"By madame Fourmille and her family I was received rather as a beloved and long-expected daughter than a stranger whose opinions were opposed in every respect to those which they pro-. fessed; and to this charming family I am so deeply indebted, that most blissful would it be should an opportunity to return a small portion of their kindness ever be awarded me. Their servants were not permitted to attend me: the ladies of the household vied with one another in proffering the most delicate attentions. One prepared a bath: another prepared a change of dress: another gave directions for every comfort to be provided in the room which I was to occupy, while tears of sympathy and tender concern were shed by each. Three days elapsed before the return of Victor Hugue from Basse Terre; and this delay afforded leisure for consulting with my good friends with regard to the best manner of proceeding; and we agreed that madame Joequin, the mother of madame Fourmille, should visit the representative, and endeavour to open the way for my introduction. This was done on the morning of Victor Hugue's return, and so early that I had not risen when that good and venerable lady came into my room. Throwing her arms around my neck, and scarcely able to speak from agitation, she at length faintly articulated, "Take courage, my friend: your cause is in fair progress. Citizen Hugue has appointed to receive you this evening at six o'clock.'
"Heavily passed the intermediate hours, though my excellent friends devoted themselves to console and support me, with assurances of Victor Hugue's favourable disposition, and that my husband was living on board one of the prison-ships at Point-à-Pierre. At length the hour of my presentation arrived; and greatly was my astonishment at perceiving that the carmaginal jacket and slouched hat were superseded by a richly embroidered uniform, plumed helmet, and superbly ornamented sabre. On either side were arranged a well-dressed staff, of military air and accoutrements, all which had been totally disregarded when last in his presence.
"The manners of Hugue seemed to be equally improved. He was no longer rude and imperious, but received me courteously, with his cap in hand, and with an air of kindliness and respectful words, most unlike his former conduct, and such as could not have thought were in his nature. He expressed the utmost surprise that a woman so utterly unprotected should venture into his government. He said that my letter had impressed him with the greatest personal respect and admiration, and that as Victor Hugue his feelings would have induced him long since to have given up my husband; but as the representative of a great nation it was impossible. Like all men in public situations, he had enemies (continued he); and, should he send back an officer of Mr. Shipley's rank and profession to the army, without an adequate exchange, he would have justly incurred the censure of his country, but that the extraordinary effort I had made, he was happy to perceive, furnished him with reasons that enabled him to reward the noble undertaking; that, although he could not treat with a woman on the subject of exchange, he would do the same thing by permitting major Shipley to accompany me back to Martinique on
his parole not to engage in actual service until his exchange was ratified by our commander-inchief.
"A messenger was accordingly despatched to the prison-ship for my husband; but such was the hatred entertained towards an Englishman during this atrocious period, that the messenger who was deputed by Victor Hugue to bear glad tidings to one whom he had never seen, and who had been long deprived of liberty, could not bring his mind to speak a courteous word, or to reply to major Shipley's eager inquiries as to the intention of his recall to Basse Terre, otherwise than by rudely saying that a woman had come to see him from Martinique. When congratulated by his fellowprisoners on the probability of being exchanged, he could not permit himself to admit the flattering thought, far less to imagine that it had been effected by her whom he had mourned as separated from him for ever.
"The subsequent meeting with my husband, his astonishment when hearing of the dangers which I had encountered, of my success, and his release, with the triumphant re-entering of my little vessel into the harbour of Fort Royal, the astonishment and joy of my children and servants and that of our acquaintances and friends, transcend my ability to describe. I shall merely say, that, had I been less unfortunate, this world could not have afforded such pure emotions as I then experienced. How unutterable were the sensations of mingled happiness which filled my breast when witnessing the delight of my children, when hearing their soft voices, and the almost inarticulate murmurs with which they sought to express their gladness! And greater joy than even this, was to witness the emaciated form and woe-worn features of their father daily regaining health in the bosom of his family. This, and every other blessing it was my happy lot to obtain for him, for them, guided by the merciful and pitying hand of God, who rendered me the humble instrument of giving back to an aged parent the best of sons, to three helpless children the best of fathers, to his king and country a faithful soldier, and to myself my husband and my friend."
Thus far the narrative of lady Shipley. The concluding observations were written by the lady to whom I am indebted for permission to give exItensive publicity to this remarkable narrative, and are as follows:
"This narrative was written by my mother. Those scenes, over the memory of which my tears now flow, were scenes in which I bore a part: the suffering hero and the devoted heroine are the beloved parents to whom I owe my existence. I was one of those children whose helpless condition increased the sorrows of my parents. Thus circumstanced I dare not trust myself to express that ardent admiration and profound tenderness which the perusal of my mother's narrative has awakened in my heart; but I may venture to assert that those who have read the Elizabeth of madame Cotin, will agree with me in allowing that the heroism of the Russian daughter does not transcend that of the English wife and mother. True it is that the tale an unvarnished one; whereas the Elizabeth of madame Cotin was delineated by a writer who well knew how to shed the halo of genius around the