ancient customs of the realm. The question was captious, as neither
the number nor the tendency of these customs had been defined; and the
Archbishop with equal policy replied that he would observe them,
"saving his order." The clause was admitted when the clergy swore
fealty to the sovereign; why should it be rejected when they only
promised the observance of customs? The King put the question
separately to all the prelates, and, with the exception of the Bishop
of Chichester, received from each the same answer. His eyes flashed
with indignation: they were leagued, he said, in a conspiracy against
him; and in a burst of fury he rushed out of the apartment. The next
morning the primate received an order to surrender the honor of Eye
and the castle of Berkhamstead. The King had departed by break of day.

The original point in dispute was now merged in a more important
controversy; for it was evident that under the name of the customs was
meditated an attack not on one, but on most of the clerical
immunities. Of the duty of the prelates to oppose this innovation no
clergyman at that period entertained a doubt; but to determine how far
that opposition might safely be carried was a subject of uncertain
discussion. The Archbishop of York, who had been gained by the King,
proposed to yield for the present, and to resume the contest under
more favorable auspices; the undaunted spirit of Becket spurned the
temporizing policy of his former rival, and urged the necessity of
unanimous and persevering resistance. Every expedient was employed to
subdue his resolution; and at length, wearied out by the
representations of his friends and the threats of his enemies, the
pretended advice of the Pontiff, and the assurance that Henry would be
content with the mere honor of victory, he waited on the King at
Woodstock, and offered to make the promise and omit the obnoxious
clause. He was graciously received; and to bring the matter to an