By the Rev. Canon J, B. Jackson, F.S.A. 175 
had been covered up, but at what time was not known. It would 
most likely have been about the year 1539, when Thomas Cromwell 
obtained Henry the Highth’s consent to obliterate and put down 
everything relating to Becket. Thomas Cromwell was very 
_ enthusiastic in abolishing Roman Catholic practices, and certain 
injunctions were issued for that purpose. One of them is so far 
curious that it represents Becket’s death not as a designed assassi- 
nation, but as an accident that happened ina scuffle. It states 
that Becket had stubbornly resisted some laws that had been passed for 
correcting abuses, and that, having gone to Rome to urge the Pope 
to condemn the King’s laws, he had thus become a rebel to the King 
of England. That these four gentlemen were sent to bring him to 
reason—that he called one of them bad names, and struck another 
nearly to the ground, and so in the fray was himself killed. That 
he was no saint, but a traitor, and, therefore, the King’s injunction 
required that henceforth he should be called, not Saint Thomas, but 
Bishop Becket, and that his images and pictures throughout the 
realm should be plucked down out of Churches, and the day used as 
his festival should not be observed, but be struck out of all books, 
services, and offices. St. Thomas a Becket’s day was the 29th 
December, and that day is so marked in all the old calendars pre- 
fixed to ancient Church books. I may here mention an odd thing 
about this that happened to myself. Two or three years ago I 
happened to be on a visit to the Marquis of Bath, at Longleat. 
Mr. Gladstone was there at the time, and I was showing him some 
of the literary curiosities in the library, and among the rest one of 
these old illuminated MS. Church books. He suddenly said, “I 
wonder if they have struck out St, Thomas?” I knew what he 
meant, but felt rather awkward, as I did not remember at the 
moment in which of the twelve months or three hundred and sixty- 
five days to look for it. But he tossed the leaves over, went 
directly to the day, and found that it had been struck out with a 
pen. I confess I was quite astonished that, with so many vast 
matters to think of, he should so instantly, and without the slightest 
hesitation, have recollected the very day. But I found out the 
reason afterwards. It is Mr. Gladstone’s own birthday, so that he 
