St. Thomas of Canterbury ST THOMAS 7 HERBERT OF BOSHA^, ) *** *fi* of Becket. ALEXANDER LLEWELLEN, a Welshman, his cross-bearer. WILLIAM FITZ-STEPHEN, a retainer of Becket. HENRY OF BLOIS, brother of King Stephen, and Bishop of Winchester. ROGER DE PONT L'EVEQUE, Archbishop of York. GILBERT FOLIOT, Bishop of Hereford, and afterwards of London. JOHN OF OXFORD, a pi iest, and Secretary to Henry II. *SCA1LMAN, a lay brother. REGINALD FITZ-URSE, WILLIAM DE TRACY, RICHARD BRITO, HUGH DE MOREVILLE, knights in the King's household. EDWARD GRIM, a Cambridge clerk. THE PRIOR OF MERTON. FRENCH. Louis, King of France. THE ARCHBISHOP OF ROUEN. THE ARCHBISHOP OF SENS. THE BISHOP OF LISIEUX. GUARINE, Abbot of Pontigny. ITALIAN. POPE ALEXANDER III. CARDINAL WILLIAM OF PAVIA. CARDINAL OTHO. WOMEN. THE EMPRESS MATILDA, mother of Henry II. QUEEN ELEANOR, wife of Henry II. IDONEA DE LISLE, a nun. Monks, courtiers, soldiers, minstrels, attendants, &c. ACT I. SCENE I. THE WESTERN ENTRANCE TO WEST- MINSTER ABBEY. LEICESTER and CORNWALL, JOHN OF SALISBURY, HERBERT OF BOSHAM. Beyond is a crowd waiting outside the Abbey, "within which the monks of St. Augustine^ s at Canterbury have just made election of THOMAS A BECKET to the Primacy. HERBERT. Archbishop of the church of Canterbury, ' Rome of the North ' well named ! Give God the praise ! The man I love stands honoured. JOHN OF SALISBURY. England 's honoured ! Thomas is English wholly Saxon half ; A scion of that ancient, healthful stock Which fell on Hastings' field ; the first, moreover, Who for five reigns hath swayed Augustine's staff. King Harold, have thy joy ! B 2 Thomas a Becket. ACT I. LEICESTER. Our king is wise ; King Henry, of that name the first, espoused A daughter of the Saxon line Matilda, That English blood, with Norman mixed, thenceforth Might CGfrtfdrt' English hearts. King Henry's grandson \VcJJ$s in his/grandsire's steps, throning this day A London merchant's son. CORNWALL. With better luck, Pray God ! than Beauclerk's the Investitures ; Anselm, the primate, fought that battle hard, Stretching from exile a lean, threatening arm, And won it more than half. At Bee he lies, Or England ne'er had slept. I think he sleeps not ; I think that in his grave the stern old monk, Who looked so meek and mild, keeps vigil still, Muttering of simony and sins of princes. The king did well to choose a citizen's son : T is that which makes this brutish city loud ; Yet safer far had been a humbler choice Becket hath Norman blood. LEICESTER. What matters that ? Norman and Saxon daily blend in England : SCENE i. Thomas a Becket. 5 The king is neither. Sir, he 's Angevine : His faithfullest subjects we ; not less we know him Of alien race an alien emperor Who counts our England 'mid his subject realms, And seldom sees her face. Remember, Cornwall, That, when that earlier Henry sware, new-crowned, To grant this land once more the laws of Alfred, Not Saxon churl alone desired the boon, But Norman knight no less. Forget not this : Matilda how unlike her empress-daughter ! Was saint with either race, and won her lord To hold his parliaments. The king and she Walked side by side when Alfred's bones were moved From Newminster to Hyde. CORNWALL. 'T is true ; this Becket Shares not the scandal of that foreign brood Which swarms through all the realm's great offices ; Preys on our lands. A Norman was his sire ; Some say his mother was an Asian princess, Who loved that father chained in Holy Land, Loosed him, and with him fled. LEICESTER. Likelier I deem it She cut her flaxen Saxon tresses short, 6 Thomas a Becket. ACT i. And followed him to Syria, garbed a page, With cross upon her shoulder, and a heart Made strong by maiden love. i JOHN OF SALISBURY. Brave legends both ! They mean that Becket 's great. Whatever hath greatness Kindles some legend round its onward way Through the gross ether of the popular mind. Becket 's a man ! CORNWALL. A merchant's son not noble 1 JOHN OF SALISBURY. Patriarch is he of nobles, not their son The nobles ; mid the shepherds of Christ's flock : Let that suffice. LEICESTER. Whate'er his race, 't was merit Raised Beckef s head. But three months chancellor, He scourged those boors of Flanders from the realm ; Shook down the bandits' towers above the builders : So plainly his desert shone forth, that Envy Bit her own tongue reviling him. Great knights Flocked to his standard ; sons of nobles stood His pages in the splendour of his halls. SCENE I. Thomas a Becket. His ways were royal : when he crossed the seas To vindicate 'gainst France our England's name, Six ships of his own building with him sailed, And sixteen hundred warriors ate his bread ; The chivalry of Aquitaine and Anjou, Of Scotland, Brittany, yea, England's self, Stared at the steel-mailed cleric. HERBERT. Sir, a deacon A deacon only, not a priest. LEICESTER. Once more I see that French knight, Engelramme de Trie, Upon the red field rolling (GILBERT FOLIOT, attended by JOHN OF OXFORD, issues from the Abbey.'] CORNWALL. Hush ! here 's Gilbert I hate that sallow face and inward eye And, with him, John of Oxford, courtier-priest, That, round and ready, slips and slides through all things, And ever upward works. Leicester, come hence ! To Rouen next : we '11 bring the king the tidings. [Cornwall and Leicester depart. Thomas a Becket. ACT ,. GILBERT. A cure miraculous, John, the king has worked ; Touches a soldier, and a bishop rises : The hand that cures the evil gives the staff ! JOHN OF OXFORD. My lord, the staff is given ; the evil, long, Transferred, not cured, shall plague the heart of England. GILBERT. I see in yonder man a strength resistless ; A strength for ill. In washing of the dirt From off the Church, he '11 wash the Church to nothing. I preached against her sins there were who said I bit them hard ; he '11 rend away the rags With shreds of flesh adhering. Next, he '11 loose The spiritual body from the secular clutch ; Let princes look to that. JOHN OF OXFORD. Patience he lacks ; Victory half won, he '11 dash himself to death. GILBERT. There 's in him strength to wrest from death itself Victory, when all seems lost. \Gilbert and John pass on. SCENE I. Thomas a Becket. FIRST MAN-AT-ARMS. If they deceive the great, they deceive not the simple. Gilbert is twice Roger's height, and but half his bulk ; yet it is envy, not his fasts, that wasteth him. Though he is mortified, yet he is sycophant. If the king bade him eat a babe new baptized, he would eat it for its soul's sake, and say grace. SECOND MAN-AT-ARMS. To hear them talk the nobles and the priests each finding a reason for the promotion of Thomas ! I know the reason, for I was there. When our king and the French king were last at war, the longer each looked at his brother the uglier he thought him. Then was devised this counsel to marry together their two children, our Prince Henry, then five years old, and their Princess Marguerite, then three. Thomas, being lord chancellor, was sent to Paris to fetch home the bride. There stood I that day, and gave glory to God. FIRST MAN-AT-ARMS. What saw you ? SECOND MAN-AT-ARMS. Of his own household there were two hundred clerics and knights chanting hymns. Then io Thomas a Becket. ACT i. followed his hounds ten couples. Next came eight waggons with five horses each, and each bearing eight casks of wine. After them followed other waggons : the first bare the chancellor's wardrobe, the second his pantry, the third his kitchen, the fourth the furniture for his chapel ; the fifth his books, his gold plate, and infinite silver crowns. Under every waggon there walked an English mastiff, bound. Then followed twelve sumpter-horses. The esquires bare the shields, and the falconers the hawks on their fists ; after whom came those that held the banners ; and last, my lord on a milk-white horse. Princesses gazed from the windows, and nuns peered through their, grates : and they of France muttered as he passed, * If this be England's chancellor, what is her king? 1 Thomas gave gifts to all to the princes, and the clergy, and the knights, and to the poor more than to the rich to one a palfrey, and to one a gold brooch, and to one a jewel. When he feasted the beggars, he bade them take with them the gilded spoons, and the goblets ; and the dish of eels which my lord supped on that night cost a hundred marks. God honoured him because he loved the poor ; and I knew he would be exalted. [ They pass on. SCENE II. Thomas a Becket. 1 1 SCENE II. A HOUSE IN LONDON. BECKET, HERBERT OF BOSHAM. BECKET. A heavy weight, good Herbert, and a sudden ! HERBERT. My lord, it came from heaven ; what need we more ? Who sent the weight will send the strength. That bard Whose Trojan legend was the old world's Bible Clothed his best Greek with armour from the Gods, And o'er the field it bore him like a wind. What meant that armour ? Duty ! O my lord, The airy gauds that deck us, these depress us : The divine burthen, and the weight from God, Uplift us and sustain. BECKET. Herbert ! my Herbert ! High visions, mine in youth, upbraid me now : I dream of sanctities redeemed from shame ; Abuses crushed ; all sacred offices Reserved for spotless hands. God's house, God's kingdom I see so bright that every English home, Sharing that glory, glitters in its peace. 1 2 Thomas a Becket. ACT i. I see the clear flame on the poor man's hearth From God's own altar lit ; the angelic childhood ; The chaste, strong youth ; the reverence of white hairs : 'T is this Religion means. O Herbert ! Herbert ! Had I foreseen, with what a vigilant care Had I built up my soul ! The fall from greatness Had tried me less severely. Many a time I said, ' From follies of these courts and camps Reverse will scourge me homeward to my God ! ' Lo ! greatness comes, not judgment. HERBERT. It may be That God hath sent you both in one. Fear nought ! At Paris first, and after at Bologna, You learned the Church's lore ; with Theobald, In his pontific court, advanced therein ; Time lost can be redeemed. BECKET. Give we, each day, Six hours to sacred studies ! Ah ! you smile ; You note once more the boaster. Friend, 't is true, Our penitence itself doth need repentance ; Our humbleness hath in it blots of pride. Hark to that truant's song ! We celibates SCENE ii. Thomas a Becket. r 3 Are strangely captured by this love of children ; Nature's revenge say, rather, compensation. The king will take him hence. God's will be done ! I lose my pupil, and become your pupil ; A humble one no more. High saint of God, or doctor of the Church, 'T were late for that ; yet something still remains : I ever wished to live an honest man Honest to all, and most to Christ, my Master. Help me in this ! HERBERT. I promise. BECKET. Worldly pomps, We said last night, are death to zeal divine. The king must find some worthier chancellor. It irks me thus to slight his gifts ; yet John, Who journeys with the prince, must bear to France, With these my missives, and a subject's duty, His realm's Great Seal. (PRINCE HENRY enters.'] The swallow, little Prince, Can twitter, though he sings not : so can you, That, like the swallow, with you waft the spring. 14 Thomas a Becket. ACT i. PRINCE HENRY. Better his twitter than the organ's growl : Vespers are done ; that 's well ! BECKET. They say, my child, Those Canterbury monks have made me primate ; I little like the charge. PRINCE HENRY. Why take it then ? I spurned this day a shoe, though wrought in pearl, Because it galled me aye, and left a stain Upon the maker's cheek ! The chancellor's gown Was gayer thrice than that. You have changed for worse. BECKET. High place hath many foes. PRINCE HENRY. When father dies, I shall be king : that day I J ll find and slay them I BECKET. Child, love you not your father ? PRINCE HENRY. Lo ! you frown ! I love my father, but I love you better. SCENE IT. Thomas a Becket. 1 5 Not oft he speaks to me, nor then with smiles : He knows no pretty tales of birds and beasts ; He never lays his hand upon my head ; Hard are his questions ; ere the answer comes He sits in cloud, or leaves me. BECKET. Little Prince, It may be when the cloud is on his brow His thought is for his son ! Know you not, Henry, A father's heart is with his babes ? For them He toils all day ; for them keeps watch by night ; Risks oft his soul itself. See you this letter ? It bids me send you home. We part at sunrise. PRINCE HENRY. I will not go ! I '11 stay with you in London ! Hark, hark, the light hoofs dancing in the court : Long-maned, large- eyed, a white star on his front They said he was so gentle, I could ride him : I answered I would ride him mild or wild. Father, farewell ! [Rushes out. BECKET. Farewell, light heart ! Man's life Loses its speciousness : remains but Duty. 1 6 Thomas a Becket. ACT i. SCENE III. PALACE AT ROUEN. KING HENRY, QUEEN ELEANOR, the BISHOP OF LISIEUX, CORNWALL, REGINALD FITZ-URSE, Courtiers^ Min- strels, Attendants. KING HENRY. Three victories in three realms had pleased me less ! This day my ten years' purpose stands fulfilled : Those monks have given consent ! Thomas Arch- bishop That hand which holds the seal, wielding the staff, The feud of Crown and Church henceforth is past. My chancellor made primate, Henry of Blois Shall bend from his stiff back. QUEEN ELEANOR. Have joy, good husband ! The gift of faith is yours ! KING HENRY. You trust in none ; I, trusting few, trust Thomas ; I have proved him. Those sins my youth had not the grace to shun, At least it scorned to vindicate. Who chid them ? Nor knight, nor bishop ; he and he alone ! You scorn your one true friend. SCENE in. Thomas a Becket. 1 7 QUEEN ELEANOR. Hear that, fair ladies ! A spouse unfaithfuller still KING HENRY. Henceforth I rule ! None shares with me my realm. My Lord of Lisieux, Should not a king be king ? LISIEUX. May it please your Highness, ; T is known I never walked with them that err From duty to their king. Yet kings forgive me Armed with that twofold power your Highness boasts, Shall need a sage's prudence. KING HENRY. Have no fear ! That twofold sway my own, the world shall wonder Less at its greatness than the temperance meek Wherewith I wield its functions. LISIEUX. Sire, 't is thus Your Church shall serve you best. The garden dial Is lawful appanage of the garden's lord ; Yet he who wills to plant it at incline, t And he who scans it by his private taper, Knows not the hour o' the day. c 1 8 Thomas a Becket. ACT I. KING HENRY. My kingdom's bishops Shall keep full power to mulct ill clerks : and Rome, Albeit reduced, retain her vantage-place The loftiest tassel on the Church's cap. QUEEN ELEANOR. What cap is that ? In Guienne some would answer ' A fool's cap on a palsy-stricken head.' O, ; t is a beauteous and a beaming land ! I ever hated Paris ! There that monk, Bernard, held sway ; but in my sunny South, Strong as the North in arms, and wiser thrice, T was banquet still, and song. i Mysteries ' and 1 plays ' Alternate graced our halls. Gay Troubadours ! Amid our ' Courts of Love ' I judged the prize They sware my song was best ! KING HENRY. Rise, Southern sea, And drown for aye that sun-burnt land of ' Oc ! ' An oak-wood of the North were worth it all ! Your Troubadours have but one song among them, And that 's the grasshopper's ! Their garrulous land Scorns kings as much as priests ! Your grandfather SCENE in. Thomas d Becket. 1 9 In spleen forsook it lived in Spain, cave-roofed, The knightly armour hid by hermit weeds, And, worn by penance, died. QUEEN ELEANOR. A lying tale ! He revelled to the end, and died in sleep : Heaven grant us all such end ! I tell you, Henry, My land 's a land of mind yet more than mirth, Where men who wish your wish have longer sight. There are who whisper there that marriage vows, Like vows monastic, mean but priestly gain; Poor Petronilla ! Rodolf loved her well : What marred that love ? A dotard Pope, preferring To theirs the claim of Rodolf 's beldam wife, Espoused in ignorant youth ! KING HENRY. You fought their fight ; And thirteen hundred boors were burnt, they say, In Vitry's church, when Vitry fell. QUEEN ELEANOR. Which error We cancelled, fighting in the Holy Land. O, what a clime ! What flowers, what fruits, what I odours ! Vhat stars, clear-imaged in those Asian streams 2O Thomas a Becket. ACT i. That land hath but one blot Jerusalem ! A city like a nightmare, legend-choked ; Black den of Saints ! KING HENRY. Your i Amazons ' and you, Whose quaint apparel wonder-struck the world, Ended, ere long, I think, that high crusade. QUEEN ELEANOR. When captains shape their march to please a lady, The shame is theirs, not hers. 'T was frolic all, And so in frolic died. KING HENRY. A frolic ! woman ! My earliest dream was of some great crusade ; That work shall yet be mine my last, my chief : Aye, but I '11 build my empire first ! That done, My brave and loyal sons shall share my toils, Or guard my realms at home. QUEEN ELEANOR. How chill 't is grown Swift Southern springs, that with a flame of flowers In one day light the earth, how unlike you This tardy Norman May ! See those poor monkeys ! Despite their coats of scarlet and of gold They shake from ears to tail. Fitz-Urse, some music ! SCENE III. Thomas a Becket. 2 1 FITZ-URSE. Madam, there stands a Trouvere ! QUEEN ELEANOR. Let him sing. Minstrel, what poems make you? TROUV^RE. Please your Highness, The proud old pagan poets made their songs ; We Trouveres find, not make them, deeming earth God's poem, beauty-stored. QUEEN ELEANOR. Then find me one. TROUVERE sings. I make not songs, but only find : Love, following still the circling sun, His carols casts on every wind, And other singer is there none. I follow Love, though far he flies ; I sing his song, at random found, Like plume some bird of Paradise Drops, passing, on our dusky bound. In some, methinks, at times there glows The passion of some heavenlier sphere : These too I sing ; but sweetest those I dare not sing, and faintly hear. 2 2 Thomas a Becket. ACT i. QUEEN ELEANOR. That 's psalm, not song ! Sing me some love-song old, Of Grecian gods and nymphs. TROUVERE. On Grecian hills i Traditionary melodies survive, Pagan, yet touched in part by tenderer feeling. I know one ' Phoebus and the Doe. 7 QUEEN ELEANOR. Sing that. TROUVERE sings. Phoebus paced the wooded mountains ; Kindled dawn, and met a doe ; ' Child, what ails thee that thou rovest O'er my bright hills sad and slow ? ' That upon thy left side only Thou thy noontide sleep dost take ; That thy foot the fountain troubles Ever ere thy thirst thou slake ? ' Answered thus the weeping creature : 4 Once beside me raced a fawn ; See'st her, O thou God all-seeing ! O'er thy hills, in wood or lawn ? * On my left side sleep I only, For 't is there my anguish stirs ; And my foot the fountain troubles, Lest it yield me shape like hers.' SCENE in. Thomas a Becket. 23 Then the Sun- God marvelled, musing, * When my foolish Daphne died, Rooted 'mid Peneian laurels, Scarce one little hour I sighed.' QUEEN ELEANOR. A love-song that ! An icicle it is Added to winter ! Phoebus was a fool, Else had he captured Daphne ere she rooted ; Your doe a fool to weep for gladness past. What says King Henry ? DE TRACY (entering). May it please your Highness, Four priests are come, sent by my lord the primate, With letters and a casket. KING HENRY. Bid them enter. Thomas has sent some offering ! (JOHN OF SALISBURY enters, followed by three abbots.} QUEEN ELEANOR (to one of her ladies). Lo, their saint ! Large fame is his, and long I craved to see him : Princely he is, but lacks the princely pride ; Rather some prince's phantom gaunt and wan ; 24 Thomas a Becket. ACT i. Methinks that moon which maddens him looks through him ! ( JOHN OF SALISBURY presents a letter to the king. ) KING HENRY. The casket first ! Belike a crown imperial ! QUEEN ELEANOR. Not so ! A diamond necklace ; and for me ! (She tears open the casket, out of which rolls the Great Seal of England. ) JOHN OF SALISBURY. This missive, sovereign liege, humbly sets forth Those forceful, yet unwelcome counter-duties, The exigence whereof compelled my lord KING HENRY. To hurl at England's head England's Great Seal ! At last I know him ! Traitor ! (He tears up the letter, and flings it on the fire.} Burn unread, Foul web of lies ! Thou too, England's Great Seal, Once type of justice and of law, this day Spurned from the traitor's clutch that long defiled thee! SCENE iv. Thomas a Becket. 25 Dishonour's badge ! poor clod of kneaded vileness ! I crush thee 'neath my feet ! (He tramples on the Great Seal.) JOHN O'F SALISBURY. May it please your Highness KING HENRY. Hence, lest I strike thee and thy fellows dead ! O sharp-toothed worm ! this heart it was that nursed thee ; Lo, thou hast gnawed thy passage to the day ! Base churl, thou show'st at last thine English breed And king-defying fierceness. Vengeance ! Ven- geance ! 7 T was with a smile he said our love was past He '11 find my hate begun. Cornwall ! Fitz-Urse ! This night to England : stay the consecration : Say that my will is changed. SCENE IV. LONDON ; HOUSE OF THE CHIEF JUSTICIARY. RICHARD DE Luci, CORNWALL. CORNWALL. It was untoward, my lord, though done in duty : The king is much in wrath. 26 Thomas a Becket. ACT I. DE LUCI. His choice made wroth Augustine's monks : they love no seculars, Yet, hating Roger more, and Gilbert more, And jealous for a right so oft impugned, Elected Thomas. Thomas sought not greatness. But late I stood beside him and the king At Falaise, in a window which overlooks The pleasant Norman plains. The king turned sharp, And caught him by the arm, and spake, ' Get hence ! Old Theobald is dead : fill thou his seat.' The chancellor smiled, and, lifting his gay sleeve, Replied, ' A saintly man your Highness seats Upon Augustine's chair ; ' then added, sad, < Forbid it, heaven ! One month, and love, long tried, Would change to new-born hatred. Royal needs Prey on Church rights ! ' On me King Henry looked ' Richard, if on my bier I lay, stone-cold, Say, would'st thou throne my son?' I answered T is so. FOURTH BISHOP. His barons and his knights are with him : He, like the Conqueror, lifts an iron hand ; They, like an iron breast-plate on his breast, Have vowed them to the vengeance of his will. BECKET. T is so. FIFTH BISHOP. My lord, the wrestler needs firm ground ; The giant set on quicksands, or on ice, Becomes the pigmy's laughter. Peter's rock Was once the strength of each true churchman's battle : What find we now ? A Pope, and anti-pope ; The Emperor with the last ; and with the first England and France. No Pope will war on England. A sager Henry fights old Beauclerk's wars ; Beware lest you should rouse a bloodier Rufus. BECKET. My lords, have you said all ? Then, hear me speak. SCENE ii. Thomas a Becket. 63 I might be large to tell you, courtier prelates, That if the Conqueror's was an iron hand, Not less 't was just. Oftenest it used aright Its power usurped. It decked no idiot brow With casual mitre ; neither lodged in grasp That, ague-shaken, scarce could hold its bribe, The sceptres of the shepherds of Christ's flock. I might remind you that, if Rufus lived A bestial life, he died the death of beasts ; That Henry Beauclerk in old Anselm met A keener head than his, and heavier hand, Albeit a gentler ; that his ten years' war Ended in this Investitures disowned, Church discipline restored, Christ's poor protected. O happy sage ! in battles of this world The cloistral shades of Bee were with him still, Its holy anthems ever in his ears ; And when the craven prelates round his throne, For counsel summoned, counsel dared not give, Silent they hun?r their heads ; they babied not Plain treason, or veiled threat. GILBERT. My lord, your pardon ! We dare not leave the sacred charge of souls To strive in worldly conflicts. 64 Thomas a Becket. ACT BECKET. Gilbert ! Gilbert ! They that rejoice in heaven o'er sinners saved Wept for thy fall. Is that the hand which wrote, * Apostate is the man who turns his back Upon St. Peter's chair ? ' My voice it was Raised thee from Hereford's to London's see ; I hoped thee brave and true. Vantage thou had'sr, Chastening from youth thy spirit and thy flesh, At Cluny first, and afterwards at Gloucester ; Then Satan made alliance with the world, And wrecked thee through thy fame Gilbert, some swineherd or some scullion grasps This day thy destined crown ! Bishops of England ! For many truths by you this day enforced, Hear ye in turn but one. The Church is God's : Lords, were it ours, then might we traffic with it ; At will make large its functions, or contract ; Serve it or sell ; worship or crucify. I say the Church is God's ; for He beheld it, His thought, ere time began ; counted its bones, Which in His book were writ. I say that He From His own side in water and in blood Gave birth to it on Calvary, and caught it, Despite the nails, His Bride, in His own arms : SCENE in. Thomas a Becket. 65 I say that He, a Spirit of clear heat, Lives in its frame, and cleanses with pure pain His sacrificial precinct, but consumes The chaff with other ardours. Lords, I know you ; What done ye have, and what intend ere yet Yon sun that rises weeping sets this night ; And therefore bind I with this charge your souls : If any secular court shall pass its verdict On me, your lord, or ere that sin be sinned, I bid you flee that court ; if secular arm Attempt me, lay thereon the Church's ban, Or else against you I appeal to Rome, To-day the heathen rage I fear them not : If fall I must, this hand, ere yet I fall, Stretched from the bosom of a peaceful gown Above a troubled king and darkening realm, Shall send God's sentence forth. My lords, farewell ! \The bishops bow low and depart. SCENE III. A STREET IN NORTHAMPTON. JOHN OF OXFORD, FITZ-URSE. FITZ-URSE. They baited him two days : he 's out of breath, Not out of heart F 66 Thomas a Becket. ACT II. JOHN OF OXFORD. His mitred brethren first Quaked for themselves. 'T was brave to watch them later, When charge on charge was hurled on him alone, And no word uttered which impugned their order; To mark them whispering first ; then glancing round, Like woodland creatures peering from their holes When storms are gone. Ere long they basked and swelled Like birds on late-drenched branches, sunshine-gilt, And cleared their throats for song. FITZ-URSE. The king observed them : He said, ' They nought had grudged it had my voice Vouchsafed them John of Oxford for their primate ; Aye, or yourself, Fitz-Urse ! ' JOHN OF OXFORD. Their playtime 's past : The storm gone by rolls back. At noon this day We reach the Royal Customs. SCENE iv. Thomas a Becket. 67 SCENE IV. THE GREAT HALL OF NORTHAMPTON CASTLE. The nobles are ranged along both sides. At the upper end is the royal throne, beyond which are the king's apartments. At the lower end are seated the bishops and abbots. BECKET approaches, attended, and wearing the sacred vestments, under the black habit of a canon regular. Entering, he takes the cross from his cross-bearer, and seats himself at the lower end of the hall, HERBERT and FITZ-STEPHEN sitting at his feet. A COURTIER (to Gilbert of London). Lo, where your primate enters, cross in hand, As though to chase a host of fiends malignant ! GILBERT. The man was born a fool, and fool will die : At dawn this day he said St. Stephen's mass, * Sederunt principes.' invoking next St. Edward, king and saint. HENRY OF WINTON (to Roger of York). The primate's face Hath in it light, yet storm. The crisis comes : This day he '11 shake the world. 68 Thomas a Becket. ACT n. ROGER. The man, late sick, Hath left his sick bed, whole. ( The KING enters, and takes his seat on the throne. ) KING HENRY. What means yon cross ? Am I a Pagan, that the Holy Sign Must guard a vassal of my throne against me ? BECKET. It guards the faith of Christ ; and well He knows, Whose eyes adorable through all things pierce, The cross of Christ was never needfuller Than in this hall, and now. [ The King leaves his throne suddenly, and returns to his apart- ments, followed by most of the bishops. A COURTIER. What 's this ? My lords, I say that in your midst There sits a traitor proven ! A BARON. A manifest traitor ! (Shouts of ' Treason ! ' fill the hall ; the tramp of armed men is heard in the court and the passages adjoining the hall, and men in armour are seen at the doors. ) SCENE IV. Thomas a Becket. 69 HERBERT (in a low voice to Beckef). Father, have ready in your hand the Sentence : The storm will break upon you. A ROYAL MARSHAL. Silence, sir ! (FiTZ-STEPHEN turns his eyes on BECKET, and then raises them to the crucifix at the end of the hall, on which BECKET at once fixes his own. ) A BARON (entering, addressing Becket}. My lord, the king demands if you acknowledge That sentence of the court on Friday last, Which charged upon your head those moneys lodged, While you were chancellor, in the Chancery, And claimed them at your hands ? BECKET. You have reached your goal, Sir, by well-meted stages. Thursday last, Mine enemies, seeking pretence to slay me, Placed at one side the question of the Customs, And urged but personal pleas. First, John the Marshal He, riot long since, had sued me for a farm, In mine own court ; and, to the king's appealing, Plucked from his vest a book of ribald songs, 7O Thomas a Becket. ACT IT . On that, and not the Gospels, making oath. Sirs, was this law, or mockery of all law ? Not less your parliament, as you know, amerced me ; And I submitted. Next they brought in charge The one time rents of Berkhampstead and Eye : I spent them on those castles' just repairs, As all men knew ; not less the parliament Fined me three hundred pounds ; and I submitted, My Lord of Gloucester for that sum my bail. The king demanded next a thousand marks, A loan long past : he knows I spent that gold, And thrice as much, mine own, upon his wars. Then came his last demand revenues stored In Chancery long since, and rents of abbeys, Full thirty thousand marks. That claim set forth, My Lord of Winton raised those aged hands Which poured on me the unction, and appealed ; 6 Ho ! ye that saw and heard, witness this day ! His see was given to him absolved, and free From all pretence of obligations past, By lips of the king's son ! ' My lords, that hour My knights fell from me, and my clerics fled; And of my bishops one now near me cried, * Would thou wert Thomas only, not archbishop ! ' But with me God remained. SCENE iv. Thomas a Becket. 7 1 A BARON. My lord, your answer BECKET. Sir, to your question answer thus I make : I pay no more false debts. Lords, to my king I stand by nature bound bound by my homage, Bound by my oath, and bound not less by love. I know his virtues, and his princely heart ; Remember well his benefits of old : My king I honour honouring more my God. My lords, they lie who brand mine honest fame With fealty halved. With doubly-linked allegiance He serves his king who serves him for God's sake ; But who serves thus must serve his God o'er all. I served him thus, and serve. CORNWALL. You serve the king ! Who stirred these wars? Who spurned the Royal Customs ? BECKET. The Customs, aye, the Customs ! We have reached At last 't was time the inmost of this plot, Till now so deftly veiled and ambushed; 'Customs!' O specious word, how plausibly abused ! 72 Thomas a Becket. ACT n. In Catholic ears that word is venerable, To Catholic souls custom is law itself; Law that its own foot hears not, dumbly treading A velvet path, smoothed by traditions old. I war not, sirs, with ways traditionary ; The Church of Christ herself is a tradition ; Aye, but 't is God's tradition, not of men ! Sir, these your Customs are God's Laws reversed, Traditions making void the Word of God, Old innovations from the first withstood, The rights of Holy Church, the poor man's portion, Sold, and for nought, to aliens. Customs ! Customs ! Custom was that which to the lord o' the soil Yielded the virgin one day wedded ! Customs ! A century they have lived ; but he ne'er lived, The man that knew their number or their scope, Where found, by whom begotten, or how named : Like malefactors, long they hid in holes ; They walked in mystery like the noontide pest ; In the air they danced; they lived on breath of princes, Largest when princes' lives were most unclean, And visible most when rankest was the mist. Sirs, I defy your Customs ; they are nought ; From them I turn to our old English laws, The Confessor's, and theirs who went before him, The charters old, and sacred oaths of kings : SCENE iv. Thomas a Becket. 73 I clasp the Tables twain of Sinai ; On them I lay my palms, my breast, my forehead, And on the altars dyed by martyrs' blood, Making to God appeal. LEICESTER (to Cornwall). My lord, return we ; This matter takes a range beyond our powers : Behoves us bear the king his Grace's answer. \They depart. BECKET. Why sits he not among us ? Lo, his throne ! This cross should be its stay. I know the king : Saints of his stock this hour in heaven befriend him ! But with man's spirit, alas, a tempter strives, That never loved Christ's cross ! A BARON. Stigand, proud priest, Was such as you ; like his will be your doom ! ( The bishops return from the king's apartments with signs of terror. ) ROGER OF YORK. Hence ! lest we see the proud man's doom. Attendance ! GILBERT (to Becket}. My lord, your pardon ! You have placed your bishops 74 Thomas a Becket. ACT n. This day between the hammer and the anvil ; At Clarendon the Customs you received, This day you spurn them. BECKET. You have heard, my lords, That partial truth which more envenoms falsehood. May shame deserved be my sin's expiation ! At Clarendon I sinned thus much all know ; Few know the limit of that sin, and fewer The threefold fraud that meshed me in that sin, From which, like weeping Peter, I arose, To fall, I trust, no more. My lords, that day There came to me two Templars from the king, Who sware his Highness inwardly was racked That, snared by flatterers, he had made demands Which, for his honour's sake, he could not cancel, Yet which, if yielded but in phrase by us, Should vex the Church no further. I refused. Came next the papal envoy from Aumone, With word the Pope, moved by the troublous time, Willed my submission to the royal will. This was the second fraud ; remains the third. My lords, the Customs named till then were few ; In evil hour I yielded pledged the Church, Alas ! to what I knew not. On the instant SCENE iv. Thomas a Becket. 75 The king commanded, ' Write ye down these Laws : ' And soon, too soon, a parchment pre-ordained Upon our table lay a scroll inscribed With usages sixteen, whereof most part Were shamefuller than the worst discussed till then. My lords, too late I read that scroll. I spurned it ; I sware by Him who made the heavens and earth That never seal of mine should touch that bond, Not mine, but juggle-changed. My lords, that eve A truthful servant, and a fearless one, Who bears my cross and taught me too to bear one Probed me and proved with sharp and searching words, And as the sun my sin before me stood. My lords, for forty days I kept my fast, And held me from the offering of the mass, And sat in sackcloth ; till the Pope sent word, 'Arise ; be strong, and walk/ And I arose, And hither came ; and here confession make That till the cleansed leper once again Takes, voluntary, back his leprosy, I with those Royal Customs stain no more My soul which Christ hath washed. (The barons return from the king, and advance to BECKET, who retains his seat ; at their head CORNWALL and LEICESTER. ) CORNWALL. My lord, the king commands that on the instant j6 Thomas a Becket. ACT IL You render up accounts of moneys lodged, Whilst you were chancellor, in the Chancery ; If not, attend your sentence ! BECKET. Son and earl, Hear first your father, and the king's. How well I loved that king, how faithfully I served him, Is known to you and all. You said, I think, The king had sent you hither with a sentence ; Son, by a mandate from the King of Kings, By virtue of mine office, and that power It gives me through the laws of Christendom, I bar you from the uttering of that sentence, And seal your lips with silence. CORNWALL. Speak it thou, My Lord of Leicester. LEICESTER. Nay, my lord, not I. I dare not touch a priest. The hand, moreover, Which clasps yon cross, in battle saved my life. CORNWALL (about to return to the king). Your Grace will here abide SCENE iv. Thomas a Becket. 77 BECKET. Am I a bondsman ? CORNWALL. St. Lazarus ! no, my lord. EECKET. My son, attend ! By how much man's imperishable soul Exceeds in worth his body, by so much Beseems you to obey the King of Heaven Above all earthly lords. Nor law, nor reason, Nor human precedent, nor faith divine, Endures that children should condemn their sire. Wherefore this judgment of a king that errs I from me cast, and, under God, appeal To Peter's chair, and him who sits thereon ; Placing beneath his shield my life, mine honour, And Canterbury's church. My fellow-bishops. This day the vassals not of God but man, You too I summon to that high award ; And thus, protected by the Holy See, I hence depart. (BECKET rises > and, still bearing his cross, moves toward the gates.} DE BROC {from the gates). He flies ! cut down the traitor ! 78 Thomas a Becket. ACT n. BECKET (looking back}. Caitiff and coward ! How well thou know'st this hand Is knightly now no more. \He departs ; the barons and courtiers standing still, and none daring to arrest him. SCENE V. CASTLE OF NORTHAMPTON. THE KING, JOHN OF OXFORD. KING HENRY. The lion 's loose ! I see it in your eye ! JOHN OF OXFORD. Sire, he is fled. Last evening was his triumph : The people, as he issued hence (their crime, The fools that should have held him fast) knelt down, Craving his blessing. In St. Andrew's convent He chaunted nones, and vespers first ; then dined, Ranging the poor, the halt, the lame, the dumb, Around his board, in place of friends who fled. When night descended, sanctuary he took In the great church : they strewed his rushy bed Behind the altar, and with stinted rite Sang compline low in reverence of his sleep SCENE v. Thomas a Becket. 79 After his fight with beasts at Ephesus. Ere break of day he 'scaped, and none know whither, Helped by the headlong rain, and stormy dark. Reach he but France, from every turf he treads A knight full-armed shall leap, and rage against you. KING HENRY. Guard all the ports ! each castle, fort, and village : Who favours his escape shall die the death ! That cross which yesterday preserved the traitor Has done him its last service. Captured once, He lives thenceforth in chains 1 8o Thomas a Becket. ACT III. ACT III. SCENE I. THE COAST NOT FAR FROM GRAVELINES. BECKET, HERBERT OF BOSHAM, A Boy. BECKET. Once more a world before me, and a foot Strenuous to tread it ! Twelve hours past, each moment My fancy gasped in dungeon vaults eterne. Thanks be to God, and help of praying Saints, A free man's step is mine. Fair land of France ! How bright a sunshine lives upon thy brow ! How laugh in light those upland plains ! How sweet That song of youth and maid ! My mother England, Be thou not wroth against thine exiled son, Against his will exultant ; God Who proves us Wills us not less our triumph's little hour. That time, that time shall come, my mother England, When, with a mightier joy, thy son returned, Shall hail thy hoary cliffs, the invader's dread ; Thy fields, and farms, and forests, convent- crowned ; SCENE i. Thomas a Becket. 8 1 Thy minsters gathering, as the parent bird Gathers her young, the growing cities round them ; Thine honest, valiant, and industrious race, So christian-like in manners and in mind, So grave in deeds, and yet so merry-hearted, And in their plainness kind, once more shall greet them With mightier joy, though hastening to his death, Than now he greets his freedom. HERBERT. Father, whither? For here the roads divide to Paris this. BECKET. My steps are to St. Peter's successor. Forward to Sens ! (To his guide.} My pretty sun-burnt guide, Farewell to thy bright eyes, and way-side songs ! Thanks for good service done ; and thanks the more For service without fee ! BOY. My reverend father, For love, not gold, I served thee. Therefore thou Love me in turn, and give me one gold piece From love's good will, or little silver brooch, 82 Thomas a Becket. ACT m. To prick in me memory of those great words. Thou spak'st of Heaven ! BECKET. Ha ! subtle-witted knave, Was that thy meaning ? Kneel, and wear this cross ; My blessing with it. Up and fare thee well ! SCENE II. CASTLE OF COMPIEGNE. Louis, King of France, JOHN OF SALISBURY, LLEWELLEN. KING LOUIS. No need of pleading, sirs : I know the man : I met him first breasting the tides of war, And more admired, than joyed to see, his banner, That still made way when others tacked and veered On that large-labouring sea. In peace I found him A loyal man, and honest, lofty- souled, And resolute in his purpose. Never father So loved, methought, a son, as he his king, Who brave, but erring, plays this day a part Not knightly, and not Christian. Sirs, he 's hot, And notes, methinks, but half of that great word, 'Be wroth, yet sin not/ Send me here your primate ! SCENE ii. Thomas a Becket. 83 LLEWELLEN. 'T is like a king ! KING LOUIS. My friend, France glories still To welcome noble foes. JOHN OF SALISBURY. May it please your Highness, The primate stands resolved to light no flame Betwixt two kings now happily at one : Not therefore lacks he grateful heart to France, That great old land which shall not cease from greatness While faithful to its God. He hastes to Sens. KING LOUIS. I love the man, or distant, or close by, Knowing him injured, and esteeming just. Tell him no girl-lip in my France hath ever Trembled more sweetly ere it owned the truth, Than this old heart for joy when came the news He trod our shores secure. G 2 84 Thomas a Becket. ACT m. SCENE III. THE PALACE AT SENS. POPE ALEXANDER III. in consistory with the Cardinals. BECKET, HERBERT OF BOSHAM, and other English priests. THE ABBOT OF PONTIGNY. BECKET. Most holy father, vicar of our Lord, And ye the princely senate of the Church, Too long, and naming far too oft myself. Your patience I have taxed. Yet this I deemed, That, kings impugning, it beseemed me likewise To blame my proper sin at Clarendon, And justice do to him who did me wrong. His ' Royal Customs/ new compared with her, Whose years are from of old, have precedents Which show but late their teeth. Abuse was borne When tyrants played the kitten, not the tiger. To make exception law, concede of right Whate'er past time, enforced or heedless, suffered, This were with fraudulent gloss history to wrest As heretics wrest Scripture. THE POPE. Justly reasoned Him that like Charlemagne upraised the Church SCENE in. Thomas a Becket. 85 The Church might trust : Antiochus, or Herod, Shall have his right ; not more ! BECKET. I grant this also; O'er-ripe corruption breeds foretold disease : Church wealth abounds; it brought the hireling rirst, It brings the spoiler now. CARDINAL WILLIAM. My lord archbishop, Though young in the episcopate, is wise ; * Where lies the carcase, there the eagles flock : ; Noting that truth, his Grace would share our wealth With nobles and with kings. BECKET. My lord, not so ! In troubled days like these, if bandit barons, Fierce from the cup, rode forth o'er waste and wild All unconfronted by the Church's barons, Like them large-landed, and with knights in train, The landless priest should keep not his own skin. We must hold all or nought. CARDINAL WILLIAM. I understand not : My lord the archbishop, late, at Clarendon Connived, he said 86 Thomas a Becket. ACT III. THE POPE. Brother, forbear that theme ! The primate made the Christian expiation, In sackcloth and in ashes, forty days. HERBERT. My lord went later to a second council : Of that he hath not spoken ; bid him speak. THE POPE. What council ? BECKET. At Northampton it was held : There, fooled no longer, I denounced those Customs Whereof last eve I laid the list new- writ For judgment at your footstool. THE POPE. 1 have read them. Six might be borne, though bad : the rest are impious ; Servile to kings, seditious 'gainst the Church, False to her lord. The sacraments themselves, The sacred keys, the discipline divine, They subject to the will of temporal powers ; They crush the free election of the bishops ; They bar appeal to this most Holy See, My glory, which I yield not to another, E in. Thomas a Becket. 87 The safety of the meanest of Christ's flock. That great appeal removed, by secular hands The arteries of the Church were knotted up, And into fragments torn that sacred body Whose life is in the whole. For this cause, God Diffused among all realms one single Church, That unity might be its life's true pledge, Too vast by any to be slain, or chained. That Church enslaved, what next ? The Faith must vanish ! For on the Church's witness rests the truth, And if that Church be stifled in the embrace Of any fleshly realm engulfed absorbed Who shall receive her words ? CARDINAL WILLIAM. Yea verily, From the whale's belly when the prophet speaks, Who hears is quick of ear. BECKET. This sin of kings Is gendered of their pride. THE POPE. The realm of such Ere long shall be partaker with the worm ; 88 Thomas a Becket. ACT m. The blind-worm is its sister, and corruption Its mother, and the dust its winding-sheet ; For power, earth-born, shall back once more to earth. O witless kingdoms ! scorn ye then that kingdom, Forth from whose womb ye issued still your stay, The sole not born from mortal lust or pride ; The kingdom of one God in Persons Three ; The kingdom of a universe redeemed ; The kingdom of humanity assumed ; The kingdom of the creed and of the prayer ; The kingdom of commandments just and wise ; The kingdom of the three great virtues winged Which gaze on heaven ; the eight beatitudes ; The sacraments, those seven great gates of God Betwixt the worlds of spirit and flesh ; the kingdom Wherein God's angels wait upon His poor, And all men share one good ! An injury is it. That this fair kingdom should be wide as earth, Citied on all the mountains of this world, Rehearsal, glory-touched, of that great City Which waits us in the heavens ? Enough of this. My lord, what saith your England to these Customs? BECKET. I deem the people sound : gravely they love Their ancient laws and immemorial freedom. m . Thomas a Becket. 89 The nobles, save the noblest, back the king : Their faith stands fast ; but all too lax their morals To love a righteous law. THE POPE. How stand your clergy ? EECKET. The poor are true, the rich are panic-stricken : We have corruptions: I had hoped ere now To have pruned the worst away : they grow and flourish. My sin has found me out ! THE POPE. Your sin ? What sin ? BECKET. The king, who willed that I should be archbishop, - Was urgent with the Canterbury monks : They raised no plaint ; yet some denied their free- dom: More late I too had doubts. To break my staff In danger's hour had been a coward's part. The danger 7 s past ; this hour I lodge that staff In the strong hand of Peter's successor ; Be his to make decision. (The cardinals converse among themselves.} go Thomas a Becket. ACT m. CARDINAL WILLIAM. Holy Father, Methinks the island prelate judges well ; More sagely speaks he than King Henry's envoy Whose Latin raised, last eve, a passing smile. King Henry's wrath once lulled THE POPE. it shall not be ! The Church gives honour this the world should know To those who honour her. This English primate Who chides himself for lacking angel's heart, Witnessed a man's heart in the Church's war ; She shall not fail him. Fit he is for rule : His valour proved it, and his meekness proved it, Bearing from one that served him just rebuke, As Peter bare from Paul, and, since his time, Popes many in this chair from humblest teachers. Brother, resume your charge, and reign once more In that fair see he founded who of old From Gregory's convent and the Coelian Hill Descended to your England. For this fight, Which shall not prove a flying season's sport, All qualities are yours, save one discretion. Your life was long a life of courts, and camps, And splendours of this world : at Pontigny, SCENE IV. Thomas a Becket. 9 1 A holier seat, find rest. Its reverend abbot Will give you welcome. THE ABBOT OF PONTIGNY. Happy house is ours, Welcoming a confessor ! BECKET. The fast monastic, The ascetic garb, and labour in the fields Teach me humility ! THE POPE. You shall not miss it ; Your sacred habit be it mine to send : It shall be honest serge. SCENE IV. THE PALACE AT ROUEN. FITZ-URSE, WILLIAM DE TRACY, RICHARD BRITO, HUGH DE MOREVILLE, courtiers and ladies. FITZ-URSE. As good as dead ! WILLIAM DE TRACY. The three-days'-strangled dog But fouls the air ; his bark is heard no more. 92 Thomas a Becket. ACT m. RICHARD BRITO. At Sens the Sacred College frowned upon him, The Pope disfrocked ; the traitor fled by night To mate him with the antipope : to-day He lies in dungeon bound. A LADY. Some swear he 's mad ; I think he 's wedded. DE MOREVILLE. No ; though secularised ; He keeps a Flemish farm. FITZ-URSE (to de Broc, entering). What news from home ? Some three weeks since you won the king's permission To drive that traitor's kin from England's shores. DE BROC. I bide my time. When falls the winter snow, That vermin brood shall face it. {Departs. A COURTIER. Month by month His hate grows stronger. FITZ-URSE. Aye, there 's cause for that. SCENE iv. Thomas a Becket. 93 COURTIER. The ravished Church lands and the heiress 'scaped ? FITZ-URSE. And cause beside. On some pretence of law De Broc drave forth Idonea from the house Of Beckefs sister Becket three months primate. The maid took sanctuary in Canterbury. Instant they sued her as a royal ward ; Judgment against her went. The day had come, And round the minster knights and nobles watched : Rang out the chimes ; then slowly from the gate Becket walked forth, the maiden by his side ; Aye, but her garb conventual showed the nun ! They frowned, but dared no more. The King was wroth, And yet in part amused. De Broc arrived, With face storm-black. Henry burst forth in laughter; The infection spread we laughed till heaven's broad vault Laughed back to hear us. Well, de Broc 's my friend, And reason is that hate in him should prosper. 94 Thomas a Becket. SCENE V. A ROOM IN THE ABBEY OF PONTIGNY. BECKET, HERBERT OF BOSHAM, LLEWELLEN, abbot and monks. BECKET. Praise be to God, and praise to her, His daughter, This abbey, chaste and kind, of Pontigny, That washed the wanderer's weary feet, and found A country for the exile ! Reverend abbot, I longed for this immersed in secular cares, I longed for this throned on Augustine's seat, A still retreat for penitence and prayer, A quiet cell for books and meditation : These things are mine. ABBOT. My lord, your holy joy To us is both a kindling and a warning : Our life is hard ; you teach us hardest life Should be the sweetest. Heavenly is our hope ; Your joy reminds us that even now our heaven, An outer circle, girds the earth we tread, Had we but faith to feel it. O my lord ! God grant that custom harden not in you That sense to-day so tender ; for, the edge SCENE v. Thomas a Becket. 95 Of spiritual sensibilities made blunt, Our spiritual world becomes a leaf frost-curled ; Not all the songs of angel hosts can charm us ; We starve 'mid manna showers. BECKET. I have put aside The canon law, and study lore dogmatic : It better feeds the soul. The convent walls Of Paris rise before me as of old : Sure \ is a holy city ! ABBOT. Once it was. BECKET. My mother, when I went to Paris first, A slender scholar bound on quest of learning, Girdling my gown collegiate, wept full sore ; Then laid on me this hest ; both early and late To love Christ's Mother and the poor of Christ, That so her prayer in heaven and theirs on earth, Like angels by me as I walked its streets, Might shield me from its sins. ABBOT. Men say your mother Loved the poor well, and still on festivals, 96 Thomas a Becket. ACT nr. Laying her growing babe in counter-scale, Heaped up an equal weight of clothes and food, Which unto them she gave. BECKET. She trained my sister To live an angel on the earth. Lo, there ! The red morn widens through the falling snows, And the storm rocks your towers ! What then ? The spring Once more will come and wake that earliest flower Whose white is purer for its rim of green ; The thrush once more will sing. HERBERT. Your sycamore, Large-leaved, again will roof you as you read Those psalms that shook the Solomonian Temple. The apostolic letters which made glad The young and foe-girt churches of the Lord, And, dearer yet, the gospels whose warm lips Still kiss the Saviour's footsteps as he moves O'er earth. BECKET. And learn at last to be a Christian ! A MONK (entering). A messenger, my lord. The Holy Father SCENE v. Thomas a Becket. 97 Has sent that promised habit to his Grace, Likewise these letters. LLEWELLEN. "By St. David, good ! The hood is filled with snow ! The Pope knows well Some heads are hot ! BECKET. I kiss this habit's edge ; Herbert, what say the letters ? HERBERT (reading). ' At one blow King Henry confiscates the primate's goods, Farms, manors, castles, rents.' BECKET. Now God be praised ! HERBERT (reading}. 1 His name is blotted from the service-books ; Lastly, his friends are banished, kith and kin, The old, the young, the cleric and the lay, Widows and babes in arms, four hundred all; His sister, sickness- worn ; the nun Idonea ; This day they plough the bleak, snow-blinded sea, Oath-bound, to bear their wail beneath the gates Of him their exile's cause, so named.' H 98 Thomas a Becket. ACT m. A MONK. Hark, hark ! ANOTHER MONK (rushing Ml). A famished English host is wailing round us ! They beat the gates ; they swarm into the courts ; They bear with them a woman three hours dead, And clamour for the archbishop. SCENE VI. PALACE OF THE EMPRESS MATILDA AT ROUEN. THE EMPRESS, JOHN OF OXFORD. JOHN OF OXFORD. Chiefly for pride his enemies arraign him : Great madam, pride not always is a vice : His pride is pride a son may well be proud of: He says, i The daughter of earth's wisest king Was greatest when she put her greatness off; Is greater now, ruling through this strong arm, Than if, as once, she from her standard shook Dominion on the winds.' THE EMPRESS. King Henry's daughter Should know some policy. I have lived, and reigned, SCENE vi. Thomas a Becket. 99 Done much, borne much, and in these later years Much striven to win that docile heart which makes Affliction's fruit, experience, profitable. My end, they say, approaches. Till it comes My counsel is my son's. JOHN OF OXFORD. His Highness grieves He walked not by that counsel touching Becket, Who, changed from better promise, plots, and schemes, Made blind by lust of power, and greed beside Of gold which perisheth. THE EMPRESS. He lives in exile ; Watches by night, and toils all day afield, In witness 'gainst the Customs. JOHN OF OXFORD. Pardon, lady ; He fled from England, not for conscience' sake, But debtor fearing doom. THE EMPRESS. It may be so : Much that I know of Thomas I mislike ; But chiefly from his foes my knowledge comes : Such knowledge I mistrust. H 2 TOO Thomas a Becket. ACT m. \s A CHAMBERLAIN (entering}. May it please your Highness, A priest from Pontigny. (JOHN OF SALISBURY enters accompanied by a veiled mm.} THE EMPRESS. You are come, I think, Sir, from that abbey where the primate late Of England, lives recluse ? JOHN OF SALISBURY. Illustrious lady, The primate hath not ceased to be the primate. In Oxford, madam, that religious seat, When learning, tested, mounts the grades of merit, Men say it graduates. Virtue, like learning, Boasts its degrees of merit, tried and proved : Its university is wide as earth : My lord the primate hath proceeded exile ; The next degree, who knows ? THE EMPRESS. I honour, sir, Your frank, yet grave accost : I honour, too, What under it I note, a loving zeal For him you call your friend. Scant friends to me Your primates and your prelates proved in England. SCENE vi. Thomas a Becket. 101 My father king, to me they made their oath ; My father dead, they crowned revolted Stephen : And though the usurper's brother, Henry of Winton, More late my champion proved that arm of might Which waved my banner o'er the English realm He wrung from me concessions first; and, last, Condoned his brother's crime and re-enthroned him. JOHN OF SALISBURY. Madam, that time erroneous, and unblest- THE EMPRESS. Back to our theme. I never loved your primate : I deemed him for my son a dangerous friend, Albeit an honest one. His elevation I strenuously withstood. I saw in Thomas One that, installed in Canterbury's chair, Might shake a younger throne. I would your primate Had let the Royal Customs be, and warred Against the ill customs of the Church. 'T is shame To ordain a clerk in name that lacks a cure, Whom idleness must needs ensnare in crime ; Scandal and worse to screen an erring clerk, More fearing clamour than the cancer slow Of inly- wasting sin. Scandal it is When seven rich benefices load one priest Likeliest his soul's damnation. IO2 Thomas a Becket. ACT m. JOHN OF SALISBURY. Scandals indeed ! And no true friend to Thomas is the man Who palliates such abuses. For this cause, Reluctantly he grasped Augustine's staff, Therewith to smite them down. Madam, the men Who brand them most are those who breed the . - ^ can da Is, Now forcing hirelings into holy seats, Now keeping without pastors widowed sees : On such the primate warred. The king, to shield them, Invoked the Royal Customs. THE EMPRESS. Some are old. JOHN OF SALISBURY. Old by the Norman reckoning, not the Saxon. THE EMPRESS. Sir, sir, I know that cry my throne it cost me ! Penitent London, with the prodigal's zeal, Had spread to me its arms ; rebellion's head Lay bruised beneath my feet ; one common joy Beamed from the fronts of cleric, noble, serf : Sir, 'mid this new-born zeal a shout arose SCENE vi. Thomas a Becket. 103 ' The laws of good King Edward, not the Norman ! ' I spurned that cry, and scarce escaped with life ; Return we to those Customs. Some are old. JOHN OF SALISBURY. Madam, at heart all sin is old as Cain. What profit, lady, on the Judgment Day, If kings that erred can say, c By lineal right That sin to me hereditary came, And I entailed it on my latest heir ? ' Save save your son ! THE EMPRESS. The king advised not with me. How many are those Customs you condemn ? JOHN OF SALISBURY. Madam, sixteen are registered. Lo ! one : ' We suffer not appeal to Peter's chair/ Madam, Christ said to Peter, ' Strengthen thou Thy brethren.' Later, l Feed my sheep and lambs/ Shall England's Church, Augustine's child and Rome's, Be sundered from his aid ? THE EMPRESS. Now, God forbid ! JOHN OF SALISBURY. The next : ' No bishop shall depart the realm IO4 Thomas a Becket. A ci Without the king's consent/ Such laws in force, Church councils are no more. THE EMPRESS. That Custom 's novel ! JOHN OF SALISBURY. The next : ' No baron holding from the Crown, Whatever his crime, shall feel the Church's censure Without the king's approval.' Madam, Christ Gave to the Church His keys, and bade her use them, That so her precinct virgin might remain From foot impure. The great exempt, the mean Must needs their license share. THE EMPRESS. That Custom 's old, Yet never should be used to shelter sinners: The Church is mistress of her sacraments ; Else were God's temple to a tavern changed, Or den of thieves. JOHN OF SALISBURY. The next : ' When bishoprics Are vacant, till the king hath willed the election Their rents with him remain/ SCENE vi. Thomas a Becket. 105 JOHN OF OXFORD (rising), May it please your Highness, Humbly I take my leave. THE EMPRESS. Sir, fare you well ! \John of Oxford departs. These Customs are in part of recent date ; In part are ancient, and throughout are strained : My son has erred, enrolling them as laws ; Not thus my father wrought has erred besides Requiring from the bishops pledge to keep them : We kept, till now, rule and exception both, Which housed together in uneasy friendship : Your primate errs, I think, in nobler sort : Let him endure the earlier of those Customs, So they remain unwrit. y JOHN OF SALISBURY. Madam, your words Are truth and peace. THE EMPRESS. I ever loved truth well ; Alas, not peace ! Yet gladly, ere I die, Would I have portion with the peace-makers. io6 Thomas a Becket. ACT m. I will not more detain you, sir. Commend me Unto my lord the primate. JOHN OF SALISBURY. Royal lady, This youthful nun Idonea is her name, And something of her history may have reached you Is missioned with a message to your ear. The maid is true : may God protect your Highness ! \John of Salisbury bows low, and departs. THE EMPRESS. I pray you lift your veil : that hand, I think, Derives from ancient lineage, and like light Shows on your sable garb. (IDONEA lifts her veil. ) There ; s rest in gazing Upon a countenance nor by passions marred, Nor fretted by perplexities of thought. You are older than you seem. You have known grief, But mourned nor husband dead nor lover false : I deem you orphan. IDONEA. I have lost my parents. THE EMPRESS. And recently, I think? SCENE vi. Thomas a Becket. 107 IDONEA. My second mother Expired but few weeks since. She was of those Exiled of late the primate's widowed sister ; In the great storm she died. THE EMPRESS. That churl de Broc Outstepped his warrant. IDONEA. 'Mid celestial choirs One note is added to her song on earth The sweetest ! I have heard it in my dreams, And walked the long day after as on air. Not now she sings alone the peace of heaven, The bliss of Saints ; she sings their joy not less Who share on earth the Saviour's crown of thorns. What other joy like that of sacrifice ? Without it love were nought. In death she lay, A lovely shape that seemed to smile in sleep, And placid as the snowy fields around. Her brother raised this crucifix from her breast, And bade me bear it to you. ' Let her wear it In death/ he said, ' and it will bring her peace ; And, wearing it, let her win back her son, Who walks in ways of death/ io8 Thomas a Becket. ACT m. THE EMPRESS. Flatterers, not friends, Are now my son's advisers. I could wish That late born hatred 'twixt him and the primate Changed to old love. IDONEA. O lady, deem it not ! The primate hate your son ! How many a time Have I not heard him praise the king's high heart ; His wit at years when others chase their follies; His prescient thought ; his knowledge won from all, Drawn in with every breath ; his wind-like swiftness, Now here, now there ; persistence iron-nerved, Pliant at need, but with resilience still Back- springing to a purpose of that height Which makes ambition virtue. From him shake But two fierce passions which convulse his spirit (Anger was one, he did not name the other), No prince there reigns like him. THE EMPRESS. The heart of Thomas Was ever large ; that know I well. IDONEA. Full oft SCENE vi. Thomas a Becket. . 109 I have heard him cast the royal horoscope : ' Let him be England's king, a child of England ! If all the world beside were his for realm, The solid centre 's there : his home be England ! Let him sun out its virtues with his love ; Strike off its bonds ; unite its rival races ; Restore old usages ; replant the poor In those huge forests now the hunter's spoil ; Be loved at English hearths ! ' THE EMPRESS. My son's ambition Hath wider scope than England. IDONEA. That ambition, The primate says, may likewise reach its goal If so God wills it, and the weal of man. He too may build, like Charlemagne, true empire, If loyal, like that earlier, unto Christ, Rebuild, besides, God's realm in Holy Land : All this is in his hope. THE EMPRESS. Who hopes so much Must love my son. I also hope for him Hope, but with fear. In Thomas he had found no Thomas a Becket. ACT IIU At least an honest friend, and fearless one : Thomas is Norman half; English by culture; And Norman daring wed with English truth Hath in him bred a hardy race of virtues. IDONEA. A mother's counsel THE EMPRESS. He revered it once : That queen of his hath slain his reverence ; That woman with five realms and fifty devils, Who witched him to her love. She loved him never ; And with her strident voice and angry eyes Scared from her soon his heart. A faithfuller husband Had been obsequious less. A wife ! a wife ! You on whose brows virginity is throned Are liker to a wife than Eleanor ! In that obdurate will, and lawless humour, And shallow heart, despite all marriage bonds, Wifehood's true spirit had been impossible Even had she loved him well ! A married mistress Let such be called. Prop me this pillow, child, And put from you that wildered, frightened look. My father him I loved the most on earth ; If wars 1 moved, if these thin fingers clutched SCENE VI. Thomas a Becket. i 1 1 The sceptre all too tight, 't was for this cause, Because his hand had held it ! IDONEA. Gracious lady- THE EMPRESS. Come near, and lay your lily cheek near mine ; But touch not mine, or yours will catch its fever. Fix now your eyes on yonder winding Seine, Seen 'twixt the crowded city towers. Mark there How yon unladen barks run down the river : So lightly issues forth our youth's emprise Full-sailed to shores unknown. Mark next how slowly Those barges cargo-burthened mount the stream With painful toil, and oars that keep not time ; Thus youth gone by fortunes fulfilled oppress us ; The tide against us works. IDONEA. Lady, our pains Are helpfuller than our joys ; they lead to God ; And in the fulness of that joy He gives Is no deceit. THE EMPRESS. Where lodge you, child ? H2 Thomas a Becket. ACT m. IDONEA. I know not. THE EMPRESS. Rest then in yonder convent, sunset-gilt : I built it, and they love me. Ere you sleep Give me a prayer. Our faith remains ; our prayer Grows cold with age at least the prayer of princes. Maid, I have heard your name ; seen you ere now, But know not where. The Pope hath sent me missives, Praying mine intercession with my son ; He hath it \ but in limits. Child, farewell ! \Idonea kneels, kisses the Empress* hand, and withdraws. SCENE VII. THE ABBEY OF PONTIGNY. BECKET, JOHN OF SALISBURY. BECKET. Still, by my soul, I think he may be honest : The fraudulent are the weak ; the king, we know, Is strong alike in body and in mind. JOHN OF SALISBURY. But not, alas ! in spirit. ' Strength to bring forth/ SCENE vii. Thomas a Becket. 113 The lack of faith is oftenest lack of strength, Of spiritual strength lack, too, of spiritual courage : Worldlings are all too craven to believe. This king lacks faith, and knows not. that he lacks it ; He still was superstitious more than godly : Seeing he sees not, and in blindness thus Tramples his good. His youth had soaring aims BECKET. Still unfulfilled. We must have patience with him ! God gives to man his threescore years and ten, Then patient stands to see if in those years His snail-paced creature makes one hour's advance. I counted patience once man's humblest virtue : I grow to count it of God's attributes, Well nigh the marvellous most. Return to Henry ! His forefathers, like him, when wroth, were mad : His empire 's vaster far than theirs ; his pride Proportionately entempested. I think it I hope it, honest error. JPOHN OF SALISBURY. The spirit of Bernard Hangs on this pure and hallowed air. Your brow Was furrowed once ; to-day it wears no frown : His Holiness did well to send you hither. i ii4 Thomas a Becket. ACT m. BECKET. Leisure and peace, and communings with God Above the glebe new-turned, when fresh and sweet Rises earth's breath, and in the thicket near The unimpatient bird-song, evening-lulled, Is soberer than at dawn, must help, I think, Attuned by daily offices divine, And faces calm wherein the chaunt lives on When psalms are o'er must help to soften hearts How hard soe'er, and softening them, to brighten. Here learn we that, except through sin of man, There J s evil none on earth not pain, not scorn, Not death ! How well they name that stream ' Serene ! ' Serene it wanders from the chestnut forests, Serene it whispers through yon orchard bowers, Serene it slides along the convent walls : It counts the hours ; even now the sun descends, And therefore in its breathless mirror glow The gold-green pillars of those limes beside it. This spot is surely holier than men know ; I think some saint died here ! JOHN OF SALISBURY. Yet here, even here, The battle of all ages lies before us ! SCENE VII. Thomas a Becket. 1 1 5 BECKET. Well know I that, my friend. This eve I mused On war, with heart at peace. JOHN OF SALISBURY. Beneath yon beech You read a book BECKET. St. Anselm's. Holy souls This book hath holier made ; for me, a sinner, It serves a humbler part. My lot is war : But close beside me scoffs a voice malign, 4 Thy youth vain- glorious sought the tented field, From haughty stomach, or from angry spleen ; So now ; for nought thou rend'st the world asunder.' In doubt I stand : then comes to me this book, And saith, ' Thy cause is Anselm's : who was he ? This was no biawler, and no voice of war : This was a soul that in the cloistral shade Had reached the sixth fair decade of his life, O'erstepped the threshold of the eternal Sabbath ; This was a virgin spirit one to whom Man's praise seemed blot and blame; an infant spirit Whose meekness nothing earthly could affront \ An angel spirit that, with feet on earth, 1 1 6 Thomas a Becket. ACT m. Saw still God's face in heaven: Certes he sought no battles ; yet he found them ; Long agonies of conflict in old age, An exiled man, or fronting hostile kings.' The tempter leaves me ; and my strength returns ; But lo, Guarine, our abbot ! JOHN OF SALISBURY. Slow his step : He comes ; yet halts. BECKET. I know what makes him sad : The king has sworn, unless they drive me hence, To lay on each Cistercian house in England That hand which cannot reach to Pontigny. Solve we this good man's doubt. THE ABBOT (joining them}. Alas, my lord BECKET. My kind and generous friend, we part to-morrow ! God wills it thus, not any earthly king : We have had our rest. It nerves us for that toil Which summons us once more. SCENE vii. Thomas a Becket. \ 1 7 THE ABBOT. Pavia's bishop And Citeaux's abbot fear BECKET. A successor Of mine one day in Canterbury's chair, Exile, like me, at Pontigny, will help To pay my debt of love. Meantime, my friend, This work is God's. Draw near me, and hear all. The morn your predecessor left this abbey, Lifted, reluctant, to the pastoral charge, I at St. Stephen's altar said my mass ; And, offering my thanksgiving there But no ! When next at Lyons, ask my lord archbishop ; He stood behind a pillar, and heard all. Brother, farewell. God guard this temple well ! His Spirit be its light, till Christ shall come To judge the world : and if through Satan's fraud, The wrath of kings, the madness of the people, It suffer wrong, may He with His own hand Once more uplift it to a tenfold glory Which shall not fail or fade. Once more, farewell. 1 1 8 Thomas a Becket. ACT III. SCENE VIII. A BAY-WINDOW IN THE PALACE AT LE MANS. KING HENRY, JOHN OF OXFORD. KING HENRY. I am ill at ease, good John. Some fate malignant Drags still my fortunes from their starry way And drowns them in the mist. His kinsfolk's exile Blackened my name with Christendom's abhorrence ; The traitor's self, cast forth from Pontigny, Stands stronger than before. It may be I was rash. So deems my mother, A politic head that never loved the priests : She warns me to revolt not 'gainst the Church, Lest God should rouse my sons, in turn revolted, One day to plague their sire. JOHN OF OXFORD. May it please you, sir, Sickness, a superstitious thing, and death, Whose coming shadow casts a ghostly semblance On commonest shapes, perturb her mind, else strong. KING HENRY. My barons in this battle with the Church SCENE viii. Thomas a Becket. 1 1 9 Serve me with soul divided. Becket's eye Went through them at Northampton. Becket's legate : Ere long the man will hurl a Censure forth : My bishops weep and wail to me to spare them, Nor dash them dead against the canon law : The Emperor wanes ; his antipope wastes daily : The Pope is waxing, and he knows his power. I have lit my camp-fires on a frozen flood; Methinks, the ice wears thin. JOHN OF OXFORD. Retreat is none. KING HENRY. To Rome then ! Haste ! you head our embassy : Within this paper are your orders writ : Concession aye, but definite, sharp, and strong, Those lines which keep our citadel intact, The essence and the pith of all I strove for. Be this your chart. JOHN OF OXFORD. Sire, if it please your Highness, This battle, though a hard one, shall be gained, Two things conditioned freedom and a purse. Cramp not my movements : definite rules and limits 1 20 Thomas a Becket. ACT m. I never loved. This day the skilfullest hand In tracing such should weave but nets to cage Your royal purpose, or a rope to choke it. The serpent's finer wisdom helps us oft No more than plain simplicity of doves ; The fox's vulgarer craft serves then our need. Leave terms to me ; but grant me wide credentials : Then, when my mission 's over, with my work Deal at your will. KING HENRY. I see it, John. So be it ! Hark to that horn ! JOHN OF OXFORD. The prince returned from chase! (PRINCE HENRY rides up with attendants, bearing a dead stag, and stops under the window.} PRINCE HENRY. Father, against your will or with your will, This stag, my first, finds way to my old master ; Hate him who likes : I love him ! (gallops on.) KING HENRY. From that brow The sunrise looks of empire ne'er to set ! SCENE IX. Thomas a Becket. . 121 For him it is I toil. Good John, my recent illness and ill dreams Had shaken me some whit ; that ague ? s past : See, I tear up this paper ! You are free. Of all my foes this man alone, this Becket, Hath marred and dwarfed me in my own esteem : And for that cause I hate him. Friend, make speed ! JOHN OF OXFORD. To Cologne first, your Highness ; then to Rome More popes than one to deal with ! SCENE IX. VEZELAY. BECKET, JOHN OF SALISBURY, HERBERT OF BOSHAM, ABBOT OF PONTIGNY. BECKET. My patience less hath served him than disserved : He stands upon the imminent verge of schism, Transacts, conspires, with that revolted prelate Who, with the Emperor and his antipope, Stands third in Satan's court. Is mine the offence? Lo, here mine earliest letter ! T 22 Thomas a Becket. ACT m. JOHN OF SALISBURY (reading it}. ' King and lord, Within your realm the Spouse of Christ hath wrong, A queen in every kingdom, though a guest. Remember, sire, that oath you sware, new-crowned, Spreading the parchment on the altar-stone, To keep the Church in peace ! Old Theobald Blessed you that day: would God that I might bless you ! Your subject I, and yield you reverence due ; Your father, and my duty is to warn.' Was that too keen ? THE ABBOT. I deem not so. BECKET. My letters Have ever breathed that strain, Last week, in turn, Thus writes he to the apostate of Cologne : ' Pope Alexander, and his cardinals false, Who prop that traitor Thomas, from this hour Shall boast mine aid no more.' What say ye, sirs ? HERBERT. A legate's powers are yours. SCENE ix. Thomas a Becket. 123 BECKET. I heeded seldom My personal wrongs ; but thus to trade with sin, In huckstering sort to barter Christian honour, Or simulate the crime he dares not act I say 't is foul, \ is foul ! HERBERT. 'At Clarendon A second council meets. The bishops there Must swear so wills their lord to eschew henceforth All laws not royal, all appeals to Rome : Our English Church shall stand, with bleeding flank, From Christendom down cloven. BECKET (rising). One time in me Passions of earth commixed with zeal divine : That time should now be past. At Pontigny Two years I kept my vigil and my fast ; In reverence touched the dark breast of the earth From which we came, to which we shall return : My vanities, I trust, are dead. THE ABBOT. They are. 1 24 Thomas a Becket. ACT m. BECKET. Then action's time is come. At Soissons late I watched three nights before three saintly shrines, Praying for strength. It comes to me this hour. England no more shall lie a corse : a spirit Shall lift once more that head -blasphemers spurn ; To the dried arm the flesh shall come as flesh Pure in the child. No more the wail shall rise From vacant minsters yea, from Christian babes Amerced of Christian food. Bring forth the parch- ments ! From him, the crowned transgressor, to the least, The Censure falls on all. THE ARCHBISHOP OF SENS (entering). Your Grace has heard it ? The English king lies sick. BECKET. Lies sick alas ! I war not on the sick. JOHN OF SALISBURY. The king excepted, The Censure 's nought. The heart of England burns, And waits that stroke which, troubling not allegiance In civil things, keeps pure the things of God. SCENE x. Thomas a Becket. . 125 A frost will fall upon that fiery heart, The chiefest culprit spared. BECKET. Let come what may, I strike not him that 's down. My lord archbishop, You come in time to hear the unrighteous banned For crimes reiterate and denounced long since. We sever from the Church the Church's foes, Henceforth to plot outside her. John of Oxford, Richard of Ilchester, Thomas Fitz- Bernard, Joceline of Salisbury bishop, Hugh St. Clare, De Luci, yokemate in the guilt of others, Joceline of Ballol, and, of baser sort, Bandit, not knight, de Broc, one time a monk. Sirs, write ye down the sentence : be it hung On all the city gates through France and England ; From all the altars be it sounded forth, With tapers flung to the earth. SCENE X. THE SEA-SIDE, NEAR SOUTHAMPTON. GILBERT FOLIOT, JOHN OF OXFORD, THE BISHOP OF HEREFORD. JOHN OF OXFORD. I have saved you a sea-voyage, good my lord ! 1 26 Thomas a Becket. ACT m. To London, at your ease ! My lord of Hereford May join your homeward way. GILBERT. I tell you, John, That Censure, like a dragon's tongue in the dust, Hath sucked us insects up ! The best is cowed : Who swaggered three weeks since, to-day walks softly As one that mourns his mother. Bend we must ; I fling me at his feet. JOHN OF OXFORD. Hear first my news : Two legates from the Holy See make speed To arbitrate our feuds. Till these have reached us The thunders of our earlier legate sleep ; I keep my stall at Salisbury. GILBERT. Ha ! Henceforth Thomas no bishop is of mine for ever ! Thy tale, good John ! JOHN OF OXFORD. Aye, aye, you '11 hear me now ! We found the Holy City black as night, The court with iron walled, and barred against us : The gold key let me in. SCENE x. Thomas a Becket. 127 GILBERT. You saw the Pope ? JOHN OF OXFORD. Saw him, and showed a letter from the king, Conceding me full powers ; frankly accepting All terms by me accepted. Next I swore That compact with the antipope at Cologne Against his Highness charged, was false as hell. Some youthful cardinal called me c valiant Swearer : ' The rest sat statue- still. GILBERT. The Holy Father? JOHN OF OXFORD. Stately he sat, and cold ; my terms demanded : I saw the time for chaffering was gone by : 1 What terms,' I asked, ' can Christian kings desire, Save those the Church ordains ? ' GILBERT. You swore to that ? JOHN OF OXFORD. Yea, though my brother envoys called me ' traitor : ' They railed in English ; so the harm was 'scaped. Next swore I that the Customs should surcease : 128 Thomas a Becket. ACT n Last, that with Becket peace should be contracted ; The Pope to name conditions. GILBERT. He believed you ? JOHN OF OXFORD. My praise is greater if he disbelieved, Since forced he was to simulate belief ! The king will ratify his envoy's oath Explained perchance or else at will disown it : Meantime our bark is lifted o'er the shoal By one great wave I felt it grating twice And rides deep waters. GILBERT. When the king demands JOHN OF OXFORD. I am but envoy ; wits he hath scholastic : With such the royal conscience may consult. GILBERT. 'Gainst Peter's rock I dash henceforth this Becket ; Him and his Censures both. JOHN OF OXFORD. To London, bishop ! And bid the joy bells peal. SCENE XI. Thomas a Becket. 129 SCENE XL ABBEY OF ST. COLOMBE, NEAR SENS. BECKET, ARCHBISHOP OF SENS, HERBERT OF BOSHAM. ARCHBISHOP OF SENS. Your king was fierce against you once, my lord ; At last his winter turns to spring. BECKET. He changes : His mind's conclusion varies with the times : We have a better augury : his heart Is good, and only on the good in man The better can be built. The king, when crowned At Gloucester, laid his crown upon the altar, And vowed no more to wear it. Late when sick, Deeming death near, he chose for burial-place No sepulchre of kings, but some poor church Where slept a saint of God. HERBERT. Meantime o'er England The breath of God hath blown. The Royal Customs Find not this hour an adulating tongue. The bishops, vassals late of servile fear,' Through holier fear have burst that baser bond, K 1 30 Thomas a Becket. ACT IIL And rush across the sea to pledge new faith. Here comes a friend from Rome; How stand we there? If well, then all is well. JOHN OF SALISBURY (entering). My lord, ill news ! The royal Swearer swore his way through all ; The cardinals stared, the Holy Father doubted ; His doubts were vain ; once more the Swearer swore, Alternative was none save hollow peace Or war without a foe. BECKET. What swore this Swearer? JOHN OF SALISBURY. He swore the king should grant the Pope's demands How vast soe'er, the Pope appointing legates To adjudicate our cause. BECKET. The Pope replied, 1 Long since, and unsolicited by man, My legate I appointed ; he hath judged ; Remains but this to enforce a righteous sentence/ Replied not thus the Pope ? JOHN OF SALISBURY. Alas, not so ! SCENE xi. Thomas a Becket. 131 BECKET. Have they no names ? those arbiters those legates ? JOHN OF SALISBURY. Pavia's Cardinal and Cardinal Otho. BECKET. The first, mine enemy declared ; the last, A doubtful friend. Victory in victory's hour, Dries up, like Jonah's gourd ! This new commission supersedes the old. How stands the Censure ? JOHN OF SALISBURY. Men in peril of death, Until their case is sifted, are absolved. BECKET. I knew it ! Where 's the man in days like these, All Wales aflame once more, who walks not perilled? The Censure 's censured, and my name is made A laughter to the world. JOHN OF SALISBURY. This pact is secret : The injury 's deadly, but the insult 7 s spared. AN ATTENDANT (entering with a letter for Beckef). Brought by a courier from my lord of Rouen. K 2 132 Thomas a Becket. ACT m. BECKET (reads]. ' " Trust not in princes," wear they mitre or crown ! King Henry maddens with his Roman triumph ; He boasts the names of those who clutched his gold ; Extols the Pope ; to England hastes ; reports Your office cancelled.' Write, good Herbert, write There 's one at least in Rome whom I can trust, One near the Pope in my name write, and thus : ' Once more Barabbas is released ; once more The Just is crucified. His little ones, The homeless, and the wretched, and the meek, Are hurled abroad in hunger, while the impure With monarchs make their feast. My part is done ; I fought God's cause, and unto God I leave it. I sue, no more, tribunals of this world ; In them let sinners trust ! ' JOHN OF SALISBURY. My lord, your greatness Yields to the humblest liberty of speech. Send not to Rome such missive ! Who sits there, Sits on God's tower, and further sees than we. BECKET. A just reproof : I should not have forgotten \ His realm is Christendom's unmeasured orb, SCENE xi. Thomas a Becket. 133 That which it is, and that which it shall be ; To him earth's kingdoms are but provinces, Revolted some, within his Master's kingdom. He must be patient, lest, in raising one, He spurn its neighbour, tottering. Woe is me ! I am an islander with narrow heart, And England-fastened eyes. I see my country, Her laws made null by modern instances, Her Scriptures by traditions slain of men, Her poor down-trampled 'neath a bestial hoof; Yea, scandals worse than these subverted virtue ; Honour, long- outraged, ceasing from its shame ; The salt o' the earth daily its savour losing, Self-sentenced to be trodden under foot. Write thou to Rome ; be mine the heart alone That bleeds beneath thy words write, ' Holy Father ! My spirit is in bitterness this day. The endurance and the hopes of years are lost ; Henceforth what malefactor fears Church censures ? Who rises o'er the fear of worldly censors ? Sequestrated are seven fair English sees, Abbeys untold.' They bid me to be patient ! Tell him that time makes patience sin ; the years Work for the foe, not us. AN ATTENDANT (entering). Two cardinal legates, \ 134 Thomas a Becket. ACT m. But late commissioned from the Holy See, Desire my lord the primate. (CARDINAL WILLIAM OF PAVIA and CARDINAL OTHO enter. ) CARDINAL OTHO. Please it, your Grace, In northward progress to King Henry's court We make delay, zealous once more to see you, And learn your Grace's judgment of this time. BECKET. My lords, your Eminences both are welcome. JOHN OF SALISBURY (to the Archbishop of Sens). Was ever change like that ? But now his face Was as a tempest's heart ; 't is now a heaven Incapable of cloud. ARCHBISHOP. The princely nature, The oppression past, regains its native calm As by some natural law. CARDINAL OTHO. My lord archbishop, A mutinous world uplifts this day its front SCENE xi. Thomas a Becket. . 135 Against Christ's Vicar ! Save this France and England, I know not kingdom sound. The antipope, Propped by the emperor BECKET. Name him not ! That puppet, Like frailer favourites of the Imperial fancy, Shall have his day and pass. CARDINAL WILLIAM. My lord archbishop, We, uninspired, and shaped of common clay, Can judge but of the present by the past, And deem the Church sore set. Your English king, Faithful till now, at last we know it wavers, And makes his bargain with the antipope : He was your pupil, through your wisdom, wise ; He was your playmate, mirthful at your jest; Your minstrel, ever singing of your praise ; From height to height he raised you. If he looked For grateful love, a credulous hope is venial : He says that you have raised two realms against him, Flanders, and France. BECKET. Your Eminence may hear From sources surer than that insect swarm 136 Thomas a Bcckct. ACT m. Which buzzes round the tingling ears of greatness, From Louis, King of France, that from the first I counselled him to peace. Lord cardinal, My sin is this : to stand a living man Where welcomer were a corpse I, not his flatterers, love my king and serve him Speaking that truth which not to speak to kings, Who seldom hear it, is the crown of treason ; Traitors are they, not I. CARDINAL WILLIAM. The king complains That you reject as new his Royal Customs. BECKET. I bid him to reject that vice of kings Which strangles earliest laws by modern Customs ; My lord, that vice is pride ; that pride is royal, But not the royallest royalty not the lasting ; I bid him but to fling from him that vice, And reign a great, sane king. CARDINAL WILLIAM. A text there is That ' we are nothing better than our sires : ' Why not, my lord, in general terms, engage SCENE xi. Thomas a Becket. . 137 That what past prelates to their kings conceded, Therein you '11 stint him not ? In days like these, The royal hand a- dipping in your dish, Some plausible pretence BECKET. I ever scorneo? Your plausible pretence. My lord, that water Wherein of old the unjust judge washed his hands Is extant still upon the earth, and streams Perennial from that fountain-head accursed By him that day infected, through all lands, The bath of service which would serve two masters, The font where specious virtue finds again Her sin original, and to Christ's foe Demurely is baptised. Barbaric I Child of the northern forest, not of plains In wine and oil redundant. I long since Have known this thing and scorned it. CARDINAL WILLIAM. Lord archbishop, That freedom which the Pope from you permits I need not grudge. In turn I too speak plainly : My lord, through you the Church is ill at ease, All Christendom perturbed. Resign, my lord ! 138 Thomas a Becket. ACTIII. Taranto, Southern Italy's chief see, A northern saint its founder, lacks a shepherd, And spreads to you her arms. BECKET. Lord cardinal, The chair of Peter in its own good, time Shall judge these Royal Customs. When that Voice, At times with baser sounds commixed, sends forth Authentic and oracular o'er the earth Its great award, there lives not who shall bend A humbler forehead to that hest than I. If that award should free from servile yoke My country and her Church, then sit who will In St. Augustine's chair. If that award Should throne the ill use, Augustine's chair dishonour, I ask no see in Italy or France, By Seine, or Tiber, or the Tyrrhene wave ; I claim a hermit's cell 'mid England's woods, Or where her wave-worn rocks are desolate most, Wherein to sing my penitential psalms, Poor vespers of a life ill-spent. Till then I flee not from my post. CARDINAL OTHO. My lord archbishop, SCENE XL Thomas a Becket. 139 We honour your great heart and manly speech, And bid your Grace farewell. [ 7^he Cardinals depart \ attended. BECKET (after long musing). Is no one near ? JOHN OF SALISBURY. My lord, I stand beside you. BECKET. In yonder cloudless heaven the sun still shines ; , The birds sing still ; the peasant breaks the clod ; Not less a change hath come upon the earth Fear nought ! JOHN OF SALISBURY. I trust that all may yet go well. BECKET. I looked for trials aye, but not from him : The good French king will be the next to leave me. (After a pause.} All shall go well but in another sort Than I had hoped till now. 140 Thomas a Becket. ACT iv. ACT IV. I. THE PALACE OF THE EMPRESS MATILDA AT ROUEN. THE EMPRESS, IDONEA. THE EMPRESS. Speak on, my child. Windsor's old oaks once more, As of your merry stag-hunts you discoursed, Above me sighed, and kindlier airs than those Which now I breathe with pain. Speak thou ; I listen. If I had had such brother ! Yours is dead. Such loss means this, that he none else shall walk Beside you still, when all save him are grey, In youth unchanged. IDONEA. Not Time itself could change him ! That light which cheers me still from eyes unseen, That wild sweet smile around imagined lips, A moment's breathless, magic visitation, SCENE i. Thomas a Becket. 141 Which falls upon me like a kiss and flies, Are scarcely more with youth perpetual bright Than was his spirit. Mind he seemed, all mind ! In childhood flower, and weed, and bird, and beast, Nature's fair pageant to the eye of others, To him was that and more. Old Bertram said There lurked more insight in his pupil's questions Than in conclusions of the sage self-styled. He never had grown old ! THE EMPRESS. His youth, I trust, Was to such childhood faithful. IDONEA. More than faithful ! Vivacities of young intelligence Were merged, not lost, in kindlings of a soul Where Thought and Love seemed one. He trod on earth The Saviour's ; yea, and Mary's. All things shone Beauteous to him, for God shone clear through all : His longing was to free the Tomb of Christ, Fighting in Holy Land. Death's early challenge Pleased him not less. ' Thank God ! that Holy Land Was dear,' he said ; ' more dear, more near, is Heaven ! ' 142 Thomas a Becket. ACT r THE EMPRESS (after a long silence). At twenty years had my son died at twenty The last great day alone can answer that. I did my best, at one time not in vain, To stay that fatal war 'twixt him and Becket Which inly wastes him like an atrophy Thenceforth you were alone. IDONEA. Not that first month : Near me that time he seemed a spiritual nearness Impossible, I think, to flesh and blood : Terrestrial life returned. 'T was then I wept. THE EMPRESS. Peace came at last. IDONEA. 'T was in a church, one even: The choir had closed their books \ but still on high Rolled on the echoes of their last ' Amen. 7 Something within me sobbed, ' Amen, so be it.' I wept no more. THE EMPRESS. Nay, nay, the dead have claims : I love not those who cheat them of their due.] Child, grief is grief. SCENE i. Thomas a Becket. 143 IDONEA. I clasped it as God's gift, And 'twixt my bosom and my arms it vanished. Some wound seemed staunched. My body still was weak : Wintry the woods : yet in my soul the more God's happy spring made way. Slowly within me My childhood's wish returned to live a nun : I deemed it first presumption ; yea temptation ; It changed to hope. Faint was that hope, and like The greening verge of some young tree in March, When all its bulk is dark. THE EMPRESS. At last hope conquered. IDONEA. By hindrance helped. I seem to you unwedded : Yet when the irrevocable vow was breathed T was as a bride I felt His bride, for Whom Love grows divine through measureless Obedience. My brother too while we were children both, In loving, I obeyed him. Some there were Who mocked me with the name of < Little wife. ; I weep him still ; yet laugh at mine own tears, Knowing that he I weep is throned in heaven. 144 Thomas a Becket. ACT iv. THE EMPRESS. A more than kingly lot ! IDONEA. And yet how great, If judged aright, the meanest life on earth ! Our convent looks on cottage-sprinkled vales : Far, far below, now winds the marriage pomp, The funeral now. O, who could see such things, Nor help the world with prayer ? THE EMPRESS. What see you, child ? IDONEA. An Eden, weed- overgrown, but still an Eden ; Man's noble life a fragment, yet how fair \ My father, pilgrim once in southern lands, Groping 'mid ruins, found a statue's foot, And brought it home. I gazed upon it oft Until its smiling curves and dimpled grace Showed me the vanished nymph from foot to brow, Majestical and sweet. Man's broken life Shows like that sad, sweet fragment. THE EMPRESS. Life, my child, SCENE I. Thomas a Becket. . 145 In times barbaric is a wilderness : In cultured times a street, or wrangling mart : We bear it, for we must. IDONEA. O madam, madam, God made man's life : it is a holy thing ! What constitutes that life ? The Virtues, first ; That sisterhood divine, brighter than stars, And diverse more than stars, than gems, than blossoms; The Virtues are our life in essence ; next, Those household ties which image ties celestial ; Lastly, life's blessed sorrows. They alone Rehearse the Man of Sorrows ; they alone Fit us for life with Him. THE EMPRESS. To you man's life Is prospect, child : to me \ is retrospect : They that best know it neither love nor hate. It hath affections, sorrowful things and sweet : My share was mine, as daughter and as mother. It hath its duties, stately taskmasters, Exacting least in age, when, thanks to God, At last the unselfish heart is forced upon us, Our time for joy gone by. It hath its cares : L 146 Thomas a Becket. A cx iv. It hath its passions mine was once ambition ; And, lastly, it hath death. IDONEA. And death is peace. THE EMPRESS. Then death and sleep are things, alas, unlike : Unpeaceful dreams make my nights terrible The spectres of past days. Last night I seemed Once more, as one whom midnight dangers scare, To rush, 'mid blinding snows, with frozen feet O'er the rough windings of an ice-bound river, The shout of them that chased me close behind, The wolf-cry in the woods. IDONEA. That flight from London, Madam, was yours in sleep. THE EMPRESS. Once more I dreamed : Once more I fled through false and perjured lands, Insurgent coasts of rebels vowed to slay me ; I lay within a coffin, on a bier, With feet close tied. Fierce horsemen galloped past ; At times the traveller or the clown bent o'er me, And careless said, ' A corpse.' SCENE i. Thomas a Becket. . 147 IDONEA. In such sad seeming You 'scaped from Bristol. THE EMPRESS. Worse, far worse, remained I heard once more the widows' wail at Gloucester ; At Winchester and Worcester once again, Above the crackling of the blazing roofs, I heard the avenging shout that hailed me queen, And, staying not the bloodshed, shared the sin. That hour of dream swelled out to centuries ; A year so racked would seem eternity : Our penance such may prove. IDONEA. Madam, your strength THE EMPRESS. A place there is which fits us for that heaven Where nought unclean can live : else were we hopeless. How think you of that region ? IDONEA. Madam, thus : That bourne is peace, since therein every will Is wholly one with His, the Will Supreme ; L 2 148 Thomas a Becket. ACT IV . Is gladness, since deliverance there is sure ; Is sanctity, since punishment alone Of sin remains sin's least desire extinct And yet is pain not less. THE EMPRESS. There should be pain ; Speak on ; speak truth ; I ne'er had gifts of fancy : Truth is our stay in life, and more in death. IDONEA. 'T is pain love-born, and healed by love. On earth Best Christian joy is joy in tribulation, The noblest and the best. In that pure realm Our tribulation also is the noblest : 'T is pain of love that grieves to see not God. THE EMPRESS. Here too sin hides from us God's face ; yet here Feebly we mourn that loss. IDONEA. So deeply here Man's spirit is infleshed ! Two moments are there Wherein the soul of man beholds its God ; The first at its creation, and the next The instant after death. SCENE i. Thomas a Becket. 1 49 THE EMPRESS. It sees its Judge. IDONEA. And, seeing, is self-judged, and sees no longer : Yet rests in perfect peace. As some blind child, Stayed in its mother's bosom, feels its safety, So in the bosom of the love eterne, Secure, though sad, that Vision it awaits (The over-bending of that Face divine), Which now now first it knows to be its heaven, That primal thirst of souls at last re-waked, The creature's yearning for its great Creator. THE EMPRESS. Pray that these pains may help me toward that Vision ! Till these my later years I feared not death : Death's magnanimity, as death draws nigh, Subdues that fear. My hope is in the Cross. Whatever before me lies, the eternal justice Will send my pain, the eternal love console, And He who made me be at last my peace. Farewell ! Return at morn ; your words your looks Have brought me help. Be with me when I die. 1 50 Thomas a Becket. ACT iv. SCENE II. PALACE OF WOODSTOCK. KING HENRY, JOHN OF OXFORD. KING HENRY. All 's well ; and then all 's ill ; who wars on Becket Hath January posting hard on May, And night at ten o' the morn. That man regains Whatever is lost : he 's dangerous in retreat. Three times I conquered ; first with rotten aid Of his own bishops in this realm of England ; At Rome through help of yours, when hope seemed gone; Lastly at Montmirail. Now comes the change : Those new-sent envoys o'er me bend their brows ; Impeach me with bad faith ; aver the Censures Conditionally only were removed ; Remind me of your pledge at Rome ! Perforce I sware to keep at least my later pledge, Made where St. Denys died. JOHN OF OXFORD. If humbly thus' Your Highness pleads your right to wear that crown, Bequest of kings who bowed not to the crosier, The primate wins his own again ; the king SCENE ii. Thomas a Becket. 151 Partakes with Edward named the Confessor Henceforth the saintly praise. KING HENRY. Bequest of kings ! There 's none of them that dared what I have dared ! They ruled a realm, and shared that realm with priests : I rule an empire : many a realm there died, Died nobly to upbuild it ; rule an empire Which in the West shall one day vaster prove Than Frederick's in the East. How bind, how fuse it, If every bishop reigns, a lesser king, And every baron ? To the dust with such ! My empire is an empire ruled by laws, Not warring wills ; but, mark you, royal laws, The efflux of one royal will, forth flowing Like rivers through the land ! JOHN OF OXFORD. There spake a king ! To speed that great design, I, priest myself. For many a year, not caring who cried ' shame,' Have given you help that help a priest alone, Sagacious through the labyrinth still to scent The tortuous trail of priestcraft, could have given. 152 Thomas a Becket. ACT iv. Sir, at this hour you stand in dangers worse Thrice than your dangers past. A cry goes up, Not from the poor alone. Your barons helped you Craving Church plunder, not from loyal love : To-day they fear you, and renounce your cause. The Pope grows strong ; and with his strength his courage ; While Becket, sager for defeats foregone, Comes hard on victory's goal. KING HENRY. A synod, John At Clarendon I '11 call it, in three months. JOHN OF OXFORD. The bishops will be wary. Synods now Are perilous things ; the last was ill-attended. Old Winton, summoned, answered that the canons Forbad appeal from greater powers to less : 1 And I/ he said, * now old and grey, have had That greater summons from my Master, God, Whose judgment I await/ KING HENRY. Within your eye I see a counsel glimmering. Speak it, John ! SCENE ii. Thomas a Becket. 153 JOHN OF OXFORD. Your Highness needs some measure stringent, strong, Some act to daunt your foes, and cheer your friends ; Yet, venturing such, before you imminent An Interdict there looms. KING HENRY. And that were ruin. JOHN OF OXFORD. Hear now my counsel ! Crown your son, Prince Henry ! The boy will be your puppet-king; the world Must count him king in act. Work then your will : No Interdict strikes him, or his. KING HENRY. 'T were hard To crown a king is Canterbury's right By law and usage both. JOHN OF OXFORD. That stands provided ! You willed to crown the prince when eight years old: That day the Pope granted a dispensation, And bade you choose your bishop. Canterbury 154 Thomas a Becket. ACT iv. Lacked then, \ is true, a primate. What of that ? A precedent was made ; the rest be mine. Send me to Rome : the Pope desires no triumph ; Will soon believe that, grieved at errors past, You from your greatness have deposed yourself To fight in Holy Land. KING HENRY. ' The Pope consent ! JOHN OF OXFORD. He still may count that dispensation binding : If, pressed by Becket, he should call it back, We act at once upon his earlier mandate, And brand the last as forged. That last indeed, Unless in public with the bishops lodged, They well may treat as null. KING HENRY. Which fraud exposed, Becket will launch his bolt. 4 JOHN OF OXFORD. O, never, never That bolt shall Becket launch KING HENRY. I keep him barred SCENE ii. Thomas a Becket. 155 From England's shores. Not less that bolt would scorch them. JOHN OF OXFORD. We have reached the inmost kernel of my scheme. Some six weeks since so rumour ran you stood All day in stormy conference with your bishops : At eve a stranger, gliding through the dusk, Lodged in your royal hand an unsigned letter, On reading which you smiled. KING HENRY. Its words were these : ' Better that Becket stood on England's shores Than roamed the world at will.' JOHN OF OXFORD. I wrote that letter. KING HENRY. Craftiest of counsellors, I see your drift ! You mean a dungeon. Henry crowned, the pri- mate, Or wrathful, or to win his pupil back, Will hasten to this land. JOHN OF OXFORD. Your Highness then 156 Thomas a Becket. ACT IV . Hunting in merry Maine ! A dungeon yes Worse than a dungeon would be worse for us (QUEEN ELEANOR enters with her ladies. ) The glory and the grace of female beauty, Consummate, and mature, and crowned a Queen ! QUEEN ELEANOR (advancing to the king with a parrot on her wrist). Lo, here my new-taught mocker ! Learn like him ! Speak, painted prophet ! ' Thomas is a fool ! ; SCENE III. A WOOD CLOSE TO THE ABBEY OF ST. COLOMBE, NEAR SENS. HERBERT OF BOSHAM, alone. HERBERT. If Nature, God's fair daughter, wreathes at times The Church's fillet o'er her laughing eyes, And, masked in livery of her graver sister, Like her would teach us learn we then her lore ! What means this flower ? Men call it Columbine ; A tassel-toy. Yet, pluck, save one, its purples, And lo, that remnant left puts on the dove ! SCENE in. Thomas a Becket. . 157 Blossom to bird is changed ! The meaning 7 s plain : Weed out your joys ; cast off redundancies : And at their core you reach the winged greatness ! The passion-flower itself JOHN OF SALISBURY (arriving). Hail, ancient friend ! HERBERT. Far-travelled seer, welcome from all the lands ! How speak they of our primate ? JOHN OF SALISBURY. Much, and ill : The magnates of the State fear and dislike him ; The magnates of the Church admire yet fear ; With instinct from above the poor are with him. HERBERT. 'T is ever thus ! In Castle Rockingham, When like a stag at bay old Anselm stood, The Red King glaring at him in lust of blood, What help was his from prelate or from peer ? The council-hall was as a captured city : The bishops hung their heads. Then from the crowd An old grey man stepped forth, and knelt, and said, ' Father, thy children bid thee have no fear : The poor man's prayer is strong ! ' 158 Thomas a Becket. ACT 1V . JOHN OF SALISBURY. Not helpfuller then Pope Urban was to Anselm than, this hour, His successor to Thomas. Herbert, Herbert ! The Church errs never ; but her rulers err : They lack the earth- wisdom of the secular lords. HERBERT. The errors of the rulers of the Church At times more serve her than their happiest prudence. 'T is true they cause her trials : well, what next ? God sends her strength proportioned to those trials, And makes her feel that strength is His alone. Statesmen do penance here on earth for errors ; Their sins a later, sterner Court shall judge. The Church her sackcloth wears on earth for sins ; The sinless error hurts her not : it breeds Her pains of growth no more. JOHN OF SALISBURY. That slowness frets me. HERBERT. Her slowness means her greatness. Statesmen play Still the short game, because their time is short ; She that endures, the long. Her nature this ; SCENE in. Thomas a Becket. 1 59 Her nature, and God's law, not her design : Her total force she cannot mass in front : Reserves she hath. Some tyrant's luckless craft Forth drags them ; and, his victory all but won, He finds his war beginning. JOHN OF OXFORD. Henry's craft Deceives no more. He offered Parma late Two thousand marks for help of hers at Rome, To Milan and Cremona paid three thousand : No help they gave him. Gratian, when the king Assailed him late with wrath, or wrath pretended, Made answer, ' Cease from threats : we come from one Who gives, not takes the law.' Vivian spake thus : ' Much have I witnessed, wrestled oft with kings ; But ne'er till now met I a wit as keen, A faith as false as yours.' HERBERT. How answered Henry ? JOHN OF SALISBURY. Thus, with a smile : ' I act but as I must : To win three kingdoms were an easier task Than to contend with Becket ! ' 1 60 Thomas a Becket. ACT iv. HERBERT. God, O God ! How diverse showed those twain when first they warred, And how that first diversity hath grown With fleeting of the years ! At Montmirail That truth o'ershone me like a lightning flash ! Not then, as at Northampton, towered he up, A terror to his foes. In patient sadness, With neck a little bent and forward head, Six hours he stood beneath that scourge of tongues : He spake but this ; ' I swear to serve my king, Saving the honour of the King of kings : Who swears to more is Pagan and a slave/ No boast he made of self. 'Mid storm and darkness He clung to God as limpet to the rock ; He ; s greater than he was : the grace of Orders Within his soul makes increase. JOHN OF SALISBURY. It were time He sued the Pope once more. HERBERT. He never sues him, Though loyalest of his sons. He trusts in God, SCENE in. Thomas a Becket. 1 6 1 And broods not much on counsels for the future. When late I spake of such, he smiled and said, 1 There was an hour beside St. Denys' tomb ! 'T was then you deemed our fortunes touched their highest : It is not, friend, from thrones of kings or popes Issues man's hope, but from the martyr's grave.' JOHN OF SALISBURY. Herbert, the fault is yours your fault your folly ! One day you ; 11 wreck us. Yes, the fault is yours ! Should Thomas catch from you HERBERT. No word from me Hath Thomas heard to fire the martyr's zeal. JOHN OF SALISBURY. Ever you praise man's life; yet ever muse How, innocently, man may soonest leave it : All which the moment needeth you ignore. Herbert, see that which is ! you gaze for aye On pictures in the air. HERBERT. Which they can see not M 1 62 Thomas a Becket. ACT IV . Who, dazzled, watch that merry house on fire, A world in dotage hastening to its doom. JOHN OF SALISBURY. Am I a worldling ? HERBERT. Nay, but half, good John ; Worldling with heavenward aim. JOHN OF SALISBURY. Herbert, you know As little of the world as of the flesh Of each not more, I ween, than of the Devil : Let the world be. HERBERT. Things are there he knows best Who knows them only slightly, and at distance. Well, well, the world is fair this day at least ; Aye, and the life of man is worth the living ! So deem that bannered choir of youths and maids : Glad hearts sing there ! PEASANTS (i)ass near singing). Hark, the Spring ! She calls With a thousand voices ; 'Mid the echoing forest-halls One great heart rejoices ! SCENE iv. Thomas a Beckei. t 163 Hills where young lambs bound Whiten o'er with daisies ; Flag-flowers light the lower ground Where the old steer grazes. Meadows laugh, flower-gay ; Every breeze that passes Waves the seed-cloud's gleaming grey O'er the greener grasses. O thou Spring ! be strong, Exquisite new-comer ! And the onset baffle long Of advancing Summer ! JOHN OF SALISBURY. Herbert, farewell ! Within I seek the primate : New treasons rise ; which, to forestall, the Pope Sends mandates to my Lords of York and London. The Swearer saw him late that means a storm. SCENE IV. THE ABBEY OF ST. COLOMBE. BECKET, alone. BECKET. Each day more clearly, like two mighty peaks Of one veiled mountain, shine two truths before me. My hope is not from England that I learned 164 Thomas a Becket. ACT iv. Deserted at Northampton : not from Rome That learned I when those legates, later missioned. Cancelled my two years' work, and from me drave A penitent realm, returning. Once again At Montmirail I learned it. Be it so ! Twice was the victory from my hand down dashed When all but won. Immeasurably Rome helps me needs she must Simply by being merely by existence ; Help me by act she cannot. She doth well : To invoke her now were base. But thou, my country, The on-rolling centuries, whose fateful hands Shall bind the purple or the death-robe round thee, Engrain their deep- dyed tissue here, and now : Thy son am I, not less than Christian bishop : Thy martyr, if God wills it, I would die. (LLEWELLEN enters.} These be the Papal mandates. Place them, friend, Within their hands the hands of York and London ; But when the eyes of men are on them set: Your labour else is vain. LLEWELLEN. It shall be done. [Departs. SCENE v. Thomas a Becket. 165 BECKET. There should have been no need to send those mis- sives I must not think it. Once I was unjust. The Holy Father sees as from a height \ I fight but on the plain : my time is short, And in it much to expiate. I must act. (After a pause.} I strove for justice, and my mother's honour ; For these at first. Now know I that God's Truth Is linked with these as close a.s body and soul. SCENE V. A CASTLE ON THE BORDERS OF WALES. CORNWALL, LEICESTER. LEICESTER. From ill to worse ! I see it daily plainer : The forehead seamed ; the vacillating thought ; There 's fever, and there 's feebleness in both : Greatness goes from him. CORNWALL. And sterility 1 66 Thomas a Becket. ACT iv. Blights the lean years. Long since King Henry sware That Scotland to his crown should pay her homage ; Ireland revere his sway nay, bless his laws. Where stand we ? Still on borders bleak of Wales, Bearded by bandit clans. LEICESTER. The cause is patent. This strife has weaned his people from their king : He dares not trust them. Chester Arundel Frown when they name his name ; and Oxford smiles ; Brands him an upstart then forgets the theme. Barons that starve, and disaffected priests, On such alone securely he relies. His Customs ! What were we, nobles of England, If pledged to recognise as law and right Casual concessions, filched or bought if tried In hostile courts, and not before our peers ? Better be collared with the old Saxon ring ; Wear name of Serf and Thrall ! CORNWALL. A rumour spreads That Henry crowns the prince as King of England. LEICESTER. The perils these this conflict draws upon him ! SCENE v. Thomas a Becket. 167 Eight years ago he flung that scheme aside. Prince Henry crowned ! Good father-king, beware ! You light a fire that soon will reach your roof ! From this beginning wars on wars shall rise. The prince is proud ; will scorn to reign, a puppet ; Discord will spread : first sons against their sire, Brother 'gainst brother next will dash in frenzy : The inveterate habit, hate, will prey within ; The wound, skinned o'er, break out again in blood A river streaming on from reign to reign, Till on the far, predestinate field at last Plantagenet's great race makes shameful end, While some large-fisted boor, or blear-eyed knave Steals the dishonoured crown. If any Fury Hates Henry's house, she fixed on it her eye Then when this strife began. CORNWALL. I hate this Becket; He is the Church's champion. LEICESTER. Salisbury's bishop Hates him and fears him both ; yet says full oft ' Becket was fanatic never, though a Churchman : High priest at heart had scarce been priest so late, 1 68 Thomas a Becket. ACT IV. Nor worn so long the Chancellor's gown. He 's dangerous Neither as proud nor tortuous, but as simple, And passionate for the honour of his charge : Some mastiff old is he, that by the door Of hut or house, alike, keeps honest watch ; The State, not Church, his charge ' CORNWALL. I serve the king ; My thought ends there. LEICESTER. Cornwall, I also serve him; Would I had served him with less servile service : Our course hath scarce been knightly, nay, scarce Christian. 'T is late to change ; yet this I know the path Which John of Oxford points must end in shame. SCENE VI. ABBEY OF ST. COLOMBE, NEAR SENS. BECKET, ARCHBISHOP OF SENS, HERBERT OF BOSHAM. BECKET. Your Grace is gloomier than there 's need, and show Less than yourself therein. SCENE vi. Thomas a Becket. . 169 ARCHBISHOP OF SENS. Your king is sudden : The tidings of his march and victory reach us Like runners matched. That slender, sinewy frame, That ardent eye, that swift on -striding step. Yet graceful as a tiger's, foot descending Silent but sure on the predestinate spot From signs like these looks forth the inward man. Expect grave news ere long. BECKET. My lord, that bishop Who crowns, in scorn of great Augustine's right, An English king, stands excommunicate. I deem these rumours idle things. The Pope, To bar all danger, issued letters thrice, First from Anagni, from the Lateran next, And last from Alba, to our English bishops : Needless I thought his care ; yet sent those letters To England at his hest, ARCHBISHOP OF SENS. A whisper stirs That instruments consenting to that deed, The sigil of the Fisherman appended, Were forged by John of Oxford. Others say 1 70 Thomas a Becket. ACT iv. He won the Pope's consent no doubt by fraud; His fraud exposed, that sanction was withdrawn ; But to those instruments consent withdrawing The English ports are closed. BECKET. My lord, fear nought ! Remember Montmirail ! There stood I sole : The good French king nay, Rome itself against me : More late the Roman envoys saw the snare : The King of France I sought him out at Sens : With head bent low in heaviness he sat : I deemed myself once more an exiled man : One moment, and he knelt before my feet ; 1 You, you alone,' he cried, ' that day had eyes ; Blind were we all ; except that youthful prince, Friend have you none in England.' (To LLEWELLEN, entering.} Ha, good scout ! How sped you on your way ? LLEWELLEN. My errand failed. EECKET. No fault of yours, good friend ! SCENE vi. Thomas a Bccket. 1 7 1 LLEWELLEN. By night I landed, And sped to London in a beggar's garb. Day after day, in banquet hall and church, I strove to reach my Lords of York and London ; They knew the danger near, and stood on guard. At last I sought my Lord of London's house : Slowly the bishop crossed the court in prayer, And, reading, cast at times a sidelong glance. I knelt me down, and raised the Papal missive : He deemed it some petition ; softly took it ; Ere long he learned the truth. BECKET. But not in public ? LLEWELLEN. The humbleness in his regard grew sour ; Yet wroth he seemed not. c From the Pope a man- date ! Knowing the parchment forged, I read it not : The Pope's authentic mandate is with us.' He spake, and tossed it from him, and passed by. In rushed the prince with mummers, and I 'scaped ; Else had my lot been hard. BECKET. What saw you next ? 1 72 Thomas a Becket. ACT iv. LLEWELLEN. At morn the king was knighted by his father, And crowned at stroke of noon." BECKET. By whom ? LLEWELLEN. By one Who little liked his office Roger of York. BECKET. His time will come. The coronation oath At least bears witness 'gainst the ' Royal Customs ; ; The prince made oath to guard the Church's free- dom Pray God he guard it better than his sire ! LLEWELLEN. That sentence from his oath was razed : the bishops Who crowned him sware to keep the Royal Customs ! BECKET (rising suddenly]. The mask is off ! Thank God, 't is off for ever ! (After a pause.) No more of that. Proceed ! What next befell ? SCENE vi. Thomas a Becket. 1 73 LLEWELLEN. The rest was nought but jubilee and triumph, Wine-fountains, pealing bells, the bon-fires' glare, The tournament, and charging of the steeds In the ordered lists. High up, o'er-canopied By cloth of gold, refulgent sat the Queen ; Her ladies round her in a silken haze, Like the moon's halo round the moon, when night On hills of Wales HERBERT. Let be your hills of Wales The feast ? You saw it ? LLEWELLEN. Aye, in minstrel's garb : The tables groaned with gold : I scorned the pageant ! The Norman pirates, and the Saxon boors Sat round and fed : I hated them alike, The rival races, one in sin. HERBERT. Both kings Were present ? LLEWELLEN. There a merry chance befell : 1 74 Thomas a Becket. ACT iv. King Henry stood behind his son, and served. Give thanks, young prince/ my Lord of York brake forth, ' For ne'er till now ' ' Is it strange/ the boy replied, If by an earl's son a king's son is served ? ; The great hall roared with laughter high o'er all His father's voice ! BECKET. How like my youthful pupil ! God bless the child ! ARCHBISHOP OF SENS. Grave tidings these, my lord ! BECKET. My lord, you take me back from morn to night. The coronation 's nought we are hurt elsewhere. That Oath to keep the Church in liberty, That baptism vow of England Christian made, That bridal pledge of England wed to Christ, That sister link 'twixt her and Christendom, Whose holy kingdoms weep henceforth her fall That oath, that vow, that pledge, that link all-blessed, The birthright of the nations ere their birth ; The talisman which, 'mid their youthful struggles, Charmed them from fate, and saved them from themselves ; SCENE vii. Thomas a Becket. 1 75 Which still for suffering weakness found defence In the great conscience of Humanity, Impersonate in God's Church, and armed and mis- sioned ; Lo, where that Oath is dashed aside, cast off Unceremoniously as a shifted robe, Or banquet-trencher changed, or rotted bandage Foul from a wound, and flung into the filth ! This thing no comment bears : too grave it is For wrath or further speech. I go to England. SCENE VII. THE ' TRAITOR'S MEADOW/ BETWEEN VIEFNI AND FREITVAL. LEICESTER, .CORNWALL, Barons, and Courtiers near them. LEICESTER. This meeting of the primate and the kings Shall bring the end. CORNWALL, For years I have not seen Such health on Henry's brow. That coronation, Which raised the boy to monarch, changed not less His father to a boy. i 76 Thomas a Becket. ACT iv. LEICESTER. And yet that deed Was questionable, or worse. Triumphant acts Consummated at last and on the sudden, Whether their nature evil be or good, Are not alone achievement,, but deliverance : A load 's removed ; and, like a ship upspringing Then when the o'er-blown mast is from it cut, The spirit regains its port erect, and rushes, Though maimed, before the storm. Conscience ex- pelled Is next in strength to conscience crowned a king : Which strength is his I know not. CORNWALL. This I know, The change is good. He sleeps again at nights ; Once more his foot is swift, his hand is steady, His blood is flame : within his eye is light Not joy, yet like to joy. LEICESTER. But see, he comes ! The French king not. That ' kiss of peace/ -withheld From Becket, moves his spleen. CORNWALL. Right opposite, SCENE viii. Thomas a Becket. 177 Rides Becket ; at his left Earl Theobald, And Sens 7 Archbishop at his right. Once more I see him sweeping o'er thy plain, Toulouse, In warlike pomp, and mirthful majesty, Of England's chivalry the first ! LEICESTER. The king Makes speed to meet him, with uncovered head ; And lo, with what a zeal he grasps his hand ! Now they embrace. Was that the kiss of peace ? JOHN OF OXFORD (joining them}. Not so : the king's horse swerved. SCENE VIII. THE ' TRAITOR'S MEADOW/ NEAR FREITVAL. KING HENRY, BECKET ; the ARCHBISHOP OF SENS is near. KING HENRY. The unhappy, sour, and anger-venomed time, By craft of others clouded and confused, Hath drifted past us ; and once more shines out The sky of earlier days. Papal ambitions Drave in betwixt us, Thomas ! N 1 78 Thomas a Becket. ACT IV . BECKET. Sir, my King, Those cloudy days at times had better gleams ; Their summer promise, like a witch's gold, Still left me poorer. KING HENRY. Nay, not promises ! Forward I ever was to speak my hopes ; Slow to pledge grace. BECKET. Beneath Montmartre you pledged it : The French king heard you, and my Lord of Sens, And many a French and English knight beside. I prayed for restitution of those lands From Canterbury torn. It pleased your Highness To grant that suit : yet till this hour that pledge Stands void and unredeemed. KING HENRY. This must be looked to. BECKET. I made another and a weightier suit : Those benefices dowered for God's high worship And temporal service of the poor of Christ, SCENE viii. Thomas a Becket. 1 79 By sacrilegious barons clutched and sold To trencher priests, the Church's scourge and scandal, For these I made demand. It pleased your Highness To pledge your word that rapine should surcease. Sire, for two little months the plague was stayed ; Then burst it forth anew. KING HENRY. They hid it from me. BECKET. The vacant abbeys, widowed bishoprics Glut still the royal coffers. KING HENRY. Some, I think, Have gained true shepherds late : the rest shall win them. I made delay fearing lest rash elections Might vex the Church's peace. BECKET. To me and mine Return was promised to our native land Where rest the bones of them who went before us : Your coasts are closed against us ; and my friends N 2 1 80 Thomas a Becket. ACT iv. Of hunger many, more of grief, have died In alien lands, and sleep in nameless graves. KING HENRY. Now by the Saints of Anjou and of Maine, England to you is open as this hand, And hath been since that coronation- day Which made your pupil king. BECKET. Your Highness touches Our latest wrong. The see of Canterbury Hath privilege sole to crown our English kings : My Lord of York usurped that dignity, Crowning your son. KING HENRY. The Conqueror's self was crowned By York's Archbishop, not by holy Stigand, Primate that day. My grandfather was crowned By Hereford's bishop. BECKET. Stigand had not won From Rome the pallium ; and the see was vacant : Hereford's bishop served in Anselm's place, An exile then for God. Anselm, returned, Re-crov/ned the ill-crowned king. SCENE VIII. Thomas a Becket.. 1 8 1 KING HENRY. By Anj ou's Saints, Your bishops snared me. Let them pay the forfeit ! BECKET. My Lords of York and London are suspended : May it please your Highness plainly to declare If you confirm that sentence ? KING HENRY. I confirm it ! T is three times ratified. I tell you, Thomas, I ; 11 have the old times again. The princess scorned Unction not yours : ere long your hands shall crown her, Your hands re-crown my son. BECKET. Alas ! the grief To win all rights, all but the best, the dearest ! You make no mention of the KING HENRY. Name them not ! This day is festal : bring no cloud upon it ! BECKET. O would that I had never heard them named, Ne'er seen them blazoned 1 82 Thomas a Becket. ACT IV. KING HENRY. Thomas, on English shores All wrongs shall be made right. BECKET. A morn there was Your Highness then had scarce been three months king- When, in a window of your Woodstock palace, (The Queen was singing 'mid the birds below), We read some history of pagan days ; It pierced your heart : you started up : you cried, * Thrice better were these pagans than your saints ! They loved their native land ! They set their eyes On one small city small, but yet their mother And died in its defence ! ' KING HENRY. Again I say it ! BECKET. I answered thus < They knew the State alone : They played at dim rehearsals, yet were true To truth, then man's. They gazed with tearful eyes, Not on their city only, but that rock, Its marble mother,* which above it soared, Crowned with that city's fortress and its fanes. SCENE VIIL Thomas a Becket. 183 Beyond their gods lived on the " God Unknown : " Above base mart and popular shout survived The majesty of law.' KING HENRY. 'T is true. Thus spake you. BECKET. But added this : ' Our God is not unknown : In omnipresent majesty among us His Church sits high upon her rock tower-crowned, Fortress of Law divine, and Truth Revealed, O'er every city throned, o'er every realm ! Had we the man-heart of the men of old, With what a spirit of might invincible For her should we not die ! ' KING HENRY. With tears you spake it. BECKET. Then judge me justly, O my King, my friend, Casting far from you, like a sundered chain, A thought abhorred, an ignominy down- trodden, The oppression of dead error. Say, shall I, A Christian bishop, and a subject sworn, Be pagan more than pagan, doubly false 1 84 Thomas a Becket. ACT iv. False to a heavenly kingdom throned o'er earth, False to an earthly kingdom raised to heaven, And ministering there, high on the mount of God, 'Mid those handmaiden daughters of a King Who gird the Queen gold-vested ? Pagans, sire, Lived not, though dark, in Babylonian blindness : The laws of that fair city which they loved Subjecting each man, raised him and illumed. We too are citizens of no mean City : Her laws look forth on us from rite and creed : In her the race of Man Redeemed we honour, Which cleansed from bestial, and ill spirits ex- pelled In unity looks down on us, God's Church, The Bride of Christ, beside the great King throned, Who on His sceptre leans. My King, my friend ! I have done to you no wrong ! My many sins Lay other where. Tenfold their compt would rise, If, sane myself, I pandered to your madness. KING HENRY. Thomas, you lack what only might convert me : Could you be England's King, her primate I, Your part I too would play ! BECKET. And O how nobly SCENE viii. Thomas a Becket. 185 And unlike me in fashion you would play it ! How petty my discourse hath been till now : Sir, see these things as you will one day see them ! Two lots God places in the hand of each : We choose ; and oft we choose the lot least loved. T l j youth who slays life's hope in blind excess Knows not that deep within his heart far deeper Than all base cravings those affections live Which sanctified his father's home. Years pass : Sad memories haunt the old man in his house, Sad shadows strike the never-lighted hearth, Sad echoes shake the child-untrodden floors : A great cry issues from his famished heart ' I spurned the lot I loved. ? KING HENRY. My youth is past : It had its errors ; yet within my house Are voices young and sweet. BECKET. God keep them such ! Far better silence, and the lonely hall, Than war-cries round the hearth. God guard your children ! If you have risen against the Church, your mother, God guard them from revolt against their sire ! 1 86 Thomas a Becket. ACT iv. I spake not, sir, of errors in your youth : A parable was mine. The soul's revolt is deadlier than the body's : Sir, that revolt is pride. In time, beware ! That God who shapes us all to glorious end For you ordained a glory beyond glory : Spurn not true greatness for a phantom greatness ! Your flatterers are your danger ; them you trust : You fear the Church : to her you owe your all : From her you gat your crown. KING HENRY. That word is true : The Church and Theobald, and you not less, Propped me at need. What then? A king, per- force, Reveres the ancient ways. BECKET. O never in you Was tender reverence for the ancient ways ! Another mind is yours \ a different will, An adverse aim ; that aim I deem not base : There 's greatness in it ; but your means are ruthless. You love your children there 's your sum of love ; Yours are the passions which torment our clay, The intellect and the courage which exalt it, SCENE vin. Thomas a Becket. 187 The clear conception of a state and empire Yet seen but from below. To raise that state You crush all ancient wont, all rights and heights : Your kingdom you would level to a plain, O'erlooked by one hill only, and, thereon The royal tent. KING HENRY. God made my heart ambitious. BECKET. Then be ambitious with a high ambition ! You scorn the lofty daring. Lions nigh, You hunt the forest vermin. KING HENRY. Thomas, Thomas ! We kings should tender more our country's peace Than any personal greatness. BECKET. Royal sir, Play not the sophist with yourself or God. You you alone have marred your country's peace, Sapping her faith ! Faith is a nation's safety. Remember, sir, the i Battle of the Standard ! ' The Scotch king, David, harried all the North : 1 88 Thomas a Becket. ACT iv. No king against him marched : \ was mitred Thurl- ston : The freemen of the people round him flocked : High in a chariot central ; mid that host Hung the great banners of four English Saints (Not Saints, Lord King, of Anjou or of Maine), Cuthbert of Durham, John of Beverley, Wilfred of Ripon, Peter named of York. The cry of Albin swept the world before it ! Alone that chariot, with its banners, stood : Back fell the astonished clans, and Carlisle's towers Heard their last wail. KING HENRV. Barbaric days, my friend ! Turn we to nearer themes. You deem me false, I know, to friendship old. Impute that fault To friendship's self. I looked to you for help : I found my friend my foe. BECKET. I ne'er deceived you : I taught you from the first the Church's rights, Therein through zeal offending your great mother, Who sleeps in God, and moving oft your spleen ! Taught you that nations were not ravening beasts, SCENE VIII. Thomas a Becket. 189 Each with its separate spoil and will unquestioned, But sisters in the bond of Christendom. I told you pagan nations knew two laws, Domestic civil ; Christian nations three, Domestic, civil, apostolical ; (Man, that begins a family, through grace Dilating to the family of Christ, His utmost limit, and his nature's crown) ; Three spheres engird man's life : I said that none Might wrong the lesser, none affront the greater : You knew my heart; from first to last you knew it : You thought the world would change it ; for which cause You willed me primate. KING HENRY. Aye, and curse that madness ! I spurn alike your parables and sermons : I rule my land alone ! No more of this ! (After a pause.) The tempest swept athwart me ; it is past. Thomas, we 're friends. Ere long we meet in Eng- land : There you shall have your fill of rights restored : There, 'mid your frowning foes, the kiss of peace, 1 90 Thomas a Becket. ACT iv That knightly and that kingly pledge of love, Which whoso violates thenceforth is base, Shall seal our meeting. Louis more than once For you that pledge demanded. What remains Claim from my son. BECKET. Sire, ere a king's permission Had made between a bishop and his see Plain way once more, your coasts still armed agains me As citizens guard their house by night from thieves, My course was taken and announced : return Once more to my great charge. KING HENRY. A festive nation Shall meet you landing there. BECKET. The first, de Broc ! He graces, ten long years, Saltwood, my manor, And swears that ere this throat has swallowed down Two English loaves, his knife shall round it wind ! Your pardon, sire ; your wandering eye denotes Your thoughts elsewhere. KING HENRY. I sought a man I trust : SCENE vin. Thomas a Becket. 191 Would I could send my Lords of Sens and Rouen To adorn your glad return ! I need them both : Not less a worthy guide shall grace your way, My friend a scholar noted John of Oxford. BECKET. I know him ; and I trust him not. Whoe'er Your Highness wills is free to share my journey. I see what I foresaw, and see the end. KING HENRY. Farewell, my lord : we meet ere long in England ! BECKET. Farewell ! I think we shall not meet in England, And therefore bless you, sire, in France, and now. KING HENRY. Not meet? BECKET. I go to England, sire, to die. KING HENRY. Am I a traitor, Thomas ? BECKET (after a pause). Sire, not so. 192 Thomas a Becket. ACT V. SCENE I. GISORS. JOHN OF OXFORD, and a priest. JOHN OF OXFORD. This to my Lord of London. Make good haste ! Ride day and night ! This to my Lord of York : From every town and hamlet send the tidings That peace is made, and Becket reconciled, The Pope contented well, the realm of France Unanimous in joy. PRIEST. It shall be done. JOHN OF OXFORD. Return at once. All letters for the king Bring straight to me : I am his secretary. The journey 's costly: take my purse. Good speed ! SCENE ii. Thomas a Becket. 193 SCENE II. WYTSAND, ON THE COAST OF BOULOGNE. BECKET, JOHN OF SALISBURY, HERBERT OF BOSHAM, attendants. BECKET (standing apart from the rest). The night comes swiftly like a hunted man Who cloaks his sin. The sea grows black beneath it ; There 's not a crest that thunders on these sands But sounds some seaman's knell. The wan spume, racing o'er the death-hued waters, This way and that way writhes a bickering lip : As many winds as waves o'er-rush the deep, Warring like fiends whose life is hate. Alas ! For him, the ship-boy on the drowning deck ! Heart-sickness and the weariness of life He never felt : he knew nor sin nor sorrow Not thus I hoped to face my native land. What means this sinking strange ? Till now my worst Was when I saw my sister in her shroud. Death, when it comes, will not be stern as this : Death is the least of that which lies before me. This is mine hour of darkness, and ill powers Usurp upon my manlier faculties, Which in the void within me faint and fail, o 1 94 Thomas a Becket. ACT v. Like stones that loosen in some high-built arch Whereof the key- stone crumbles I cannot stamp my foot upon the earth. Where art thou, Power Divine, my hope till now? To what obscure and unimagined bourne Beyond the infinitudes of measureless distance Hast thou withdrawn thyself? This, this remains ; Seeing no more God's glory on my path, To tread it still as blindfold innocence Walks 'twixt the burning shares. JOHN OF SALISBURY (joining Beckef). Beware, my lord ! I know King Henry's eye : Go not to England. He would have you there Who drave you thence long since. BECKET. Our ends are diverse ; Not less my way may lie with his. JOHN OF SALISBURY. How far ? BECKET. It may be to my church of Canterbury j It may be to the northern transept there ; It may be to that site I honoured ever, SCENE ii. Thomas a Becket. 195 The altar of St. Benedict. Thus far Our paths may blend then part. JOHN OF SALISBURY. Go not to England ! I mingled with the sailors of yon ship : Their captain signed to me : then, with both hands Laid on my shoulders, and wide, staring eyes, Thus whispered : ' Lost ! undone ! Seek ye your deaths ? All men may land in England none return/ BECKET. Behold, I give you warning in good time, . Lest anger one day pass the bounds of truth : King Henry never schemed to shed my blood : Dungeons low-vaulted, and a life-long chain ; That was the royal dream. Return, my friend ; You know your task. [John of Salisbury departs. Thank God, that cloud above my spirit clears ! Danger, when near, hath still a trumpet's sound: It may be that I have not lived in vain ; Let me stand once within the young king's presence, And though the traitors should besiege him round, Close as the birds yon rock o 2 196 Thomas a Becket. ACT v. ARCHBISHOP OF SENS (arriving). My lord, God save you ! BECKET. One kind act more you come to say farewell. My brother, and my lord, four years rush back And choke my heart ! We are both too old for weeping. I am a shade that fleets. May centuries bless That house so long my home ! ARCHBISHOP. The see of Sens Has had you for her guest ; our fair cathedral And yours are sisters : be the omen blest ! Perhaps in future ages men may say, 4 Thomas of Canterbury, Sens' poor William These men, so far apart in gifts of grace, Were one in mutual love/ BECKET. My lord, in heaven Not earth alone, that love shall be remembered. Bear back my homage to your good French king, That great and joyous Christian gentleman, Who keeps in age his youth. In strength he walks The royal road faith, hope, and charity, SCENE ii. Thomas a Becket. 197 To throne more royal and a lordlier kingdom. Pray him to live with Henry from this hour In peace. ARCHBISHOP. The king will ask of your intents. BECKET. Tell him we play at heads. God rules o'er all. Farewell ! ARCHBISHOP. Good friend, and gracious lord, farewell ! \The Archbishop of Sens departs t attended. HERBERT OF BOSHAM. As good to go to heaven by sea as land ! Sail we, my lord, this evening ? BECKET. Herbert, Herbert ! Before thou hast trod in England forty days, All that thou hast right gladly would'st thou give To stand where now we stand. What sable shape Is that which sits on yonder rock, alone, Nor heeds the wild sea-spray ? HERBERT. My lord, Idonea ; 198 Thomas a Becket. ACT v. She too makes way to England, and desires Humbly your Grace's audience. BECKET. Lead her hither. {Herbert departs. Herbert and John both gone how few are like them! God made me rich in friends. In Herbert still, So holy and so infant-like his soul, I found a mountain- spring of Christian love Upbursting through the rock of fixed resolve A spring of healing strength ; in John, a mind That, keener than diplomatists of kings, Was crafty only 'gainst the wiles of craft, And, stored with this world's wisdom, scorned to use it Except for virtue's needs. The end draws nigh. Nor John nor Herbert sees it. (His attendants approach with I DONE A.) Earth's tenderest spirit and bravest ! Welcome, child! Soft plant in bitter blast ! Adieu, my friends ; This maid hath tidings for my private ear. \The attendants depart. My message reached you then, my child, at Rouen ? But what is this ? Is that the countenance turned So long to yon dark West ? SCENE ii. Thomas a Becket. . 199 . IDONEA. Love reigns o'er all ! My father, who but you should hear the tale ? I had forsaken that fair Norman home, To seek my English convent, and those shores Denied me long. The first night of my journey There came to me a vision. All alone I roamed, methought, some forest lion-thronged, And dinned all night by breakers of a sea, Booming far off. In fear I raised my head : T'ward me there moved two Forms, female in garb, In stature and in aspect more than human : The loftier wore a veil. BECKET. You knew the other? IDONEA. The Empress ! In that face, so sad of old, Was sadness more unlike that former sadness Than earthly joy could be. Within it, lived A peace to earth unknown, and, with that peace, The hope serene of one whose heaven is sure. She placed within my hand a shining robe, And spake : ' For him whom most thou lov'st on earth : ' It was a shroud. ACT V. 200 Thomas a Becket. BECKET. A shroud ? IDONEA. And other none Than that which, 'mid the snows of Pontigny, Enswathed your sister, as in death she lay Amid the waxlight sheen. It bore that cross traced in sanguine silk before the burial. This is, my lord, men say, your day of triumph, Christ's foes subjected, and His rights restored ; Doubtless long years of greatness lie before you : Perhaps for that cause she, an Empress once, Knowing that triumph is our chief of dangers, Sent you that holy warning. BECKET. I accept it. Spake not that other? IDONEA. Suddenly a glory Forth burst that lit huge trunk, and gloomiest cave : That queenlier Presence had upraised her veil. BECKET. You knew her face ? SCENE II. Thomas a Becket. 201 IDONEA. And learned what man shall be When risen to incorrupt. It was your sister ! BECKET. Great God ! I guessed it. IDONEA. In her hand she held A crown whose radiance quenched the heavenly signs ; The star-crown of the elect who bore the Cross. With act benign within my hand she placed it, And spake : * For him thou lov'st the most on earth.' It was her being spake her total being Body and spirit, not her lips alone. I heard : I saw. That vision by degrees Ceased from before me ; long the light remained : A cloudless sun was rising, pale and dim, In that great glory lost. BECKET. My daughter, tell me IDONEA. This storm is nothing ; nor a world in storm ! The rage of nations, and the wrath of kings ! God sits above the roaring water-floods : 2O2 Thomas a Becket. AC] He in our petty tumults hath His peace, And we our peace in His. Man's life is good ; Death better far. BECKET. Was this a dream or vision ? IDONEA. A vision, and from God. BECKET. Both dream and vision Have been His heralds oft IDONEA. To make us strong In duteous tasks, not lull the soul, or soften. That vision past, tenfold in me there burned The craving once again to tread our England, Where fiercest is the battle of the faith. Thither this night I sail. BECKET. In three days I. Ere then a perilous task must be discharged : The Pope hath passed the sentence of suspension On two schismatic bishops, London and York. See you these parchments with the leaded seals ? SCENE II. Thomas a Becket. 201 They must be lodged within the offenders' hands Chiefly the hands of York and lodged moreover While witnesses are by. Llewellen failed : If this time he succeeds, and yet is captured, Send tidings in his place. IDONEA. Llewellen 's known ; Was late in England ; all your friends are known. Those prelates both are now, I think, in London : On Sunday morning this poor hand of mine Shall lodge that sentence, aye, and hold it fast, Within the hand of York. BECKET. The danger 's great : The habit of a nun might lull suspicion : Not less, the deed accomplished IDONEA. Can they find Dungeon so deep that God will not be there, And those twain memories which beside me move, My soul's defence, a mother's and a brother's ? Or death ? One fears to die, for life is sin : One fears not death. Your sister 'mid the snows Upon this bosom died : she feared not death ; 204 Thomas a Becket. ACT v. While breath remained she thanked her God, and praised Him. The Empress on this bosom died ; death near, She was most humbly sad, most sweetly fearful ; But, closer as it drew, her hope rose high, And all was peace at last. BECKET. Then go, my child, You claim a great prize meet it is you find it. May He who made, protect you ! May His saints, Fair-flowering and full-fruited in His beam, Sustain you with their prayers ; His angel host In puissance waft you to your earthly bourne, In splendour to your heavenly. Earth, I think, Hath many a destined work for that small hand ; Sigh not as yet for heaven ! IDONEA. I will not, father : I wait His time. BECKET. The wind has changed to south ; The sea grows smoother, and a crimson light Shines on the sobbing sands. Beyond the cliff The sun sets red. This is the mandate, child j Farewell, and pray for me ! \Jdonea kneels^ kisses his hand^ and departs. SCENE n. Thomas a Becket. 205 HERBERT (returning with the rest"). Bad rumours thicken BECKET. In three days hence I tread my native shores. LLEWELLEN. With what intent ? BECKET. To stamp this foot of mine Upon the bosom of a waiting grave, And wake a slumbering realm. LLEWELLEN. May it please your Grace- BECKET. My friends, seven years of exile are enough : If into that fair church I served of old I may not entrance make, a living man, Let them who loved me o'er its threshold lift And lay my body dead. 206 Thomas a Becket. ACT v SCENE III. SEA-SHORE AT DOVER. THE ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, THE BISHOPS OF LONDON AND OF SALISBURY. GILBERT. The boors at Sandwich, as his ship drew near, Noting the great cross archiepiscopal, Met him breast high in the waves. JOCELINE OF SALISBURY. The women hailed him The orphan's father, and the widow's judge : From Sandwich to the gates of Canterbury The concourse, as he passed them, knelt, and sang ' Blessed is he who cometh in God's name ! ' GILBERT. De Broc and our retainers, as he landed, Drew near, their armour hidden 'neath their vests, Protesting with fierce brows against our wrong. Becket thus answered : ' With your king's consent Two hundred men together heard him speak it The Pope suspends those bishops for their sin.' If Henry yields, all 's lost. SCENE in. Thomas a Becket. 207 ROGER. The king's consent ! 'T was he who bade us crown the prince his son ! GILBERT. The game is played, and lost. The cards were with us A king magnanimous, and an angry queen, Foe of our foe ; an emperor whose sword Warred on the crosier; and an antipope; The nobles with us, and the people cowed. These things were for us; what was there against us? One man one man alone ; not trained in schools ; No canonist ; with scant ascetic fame ; A man once worldly warred on by the world. My lords, this man, subduing his own heats, And learning how to wait, hath to himself Well nigh subdued the realm. No course remains, This day, except to yield. JOCELINE. We had these helps ; But policy had none. ROGER. My lord, we had one : A day ere Becket landed all was marred. I at St. Paul's had sung that morn the mass : 208 Thomas a Becket. ACT v. The king was standing with his courtiers round him ; Then drew to me a nun in black, and knelt : She raised, in humble sort, a scroll. I took it. She closed my hand in both of hers, and cried, * A mandate from the Pope, with his command To read the same aloud.' The papal seal The Fisherman's witnessed that scroll authentic : Perforce I read it. ; T was my own suspension ! JOCELINE. The nun ? ROGER. Through folly of the king she 'scaped : The boy but laughed ; then sent her to her convent, Therein to plot and pray. JOCELINE. Her name? DE BROC (who has just ridden up}. Idonea ! The accursed veil hid not the hand ! I knew it. Long since I told her it should dig a grave. From John of Oxford this ! he landed late At Sandwich with the traitor. ROGER. Sir, I thank you. SCENE in. Thomas a Becket. . 209 (Reads.) 6 The king has given consent to those suspensions, And stands impledged to fill the vacant sees. Wring, from this darkness, dawn ! At once un- bidden In over-measure crown his six years' suit. Send him six canons from each vacant see : Let these elect the bishop he shall choose, In his own chapel, yea, in his own presence ; The royal heart will then be wholly yours : Make speed across the seas.' GILBERT. At once we must : I much misdoubt this youthful king. DE BROC. Attend : Where'er the traitor moves I hem him round With horsemen fierce and free. Without a guard He dares not move. Now mark ! A guard 7 s an army ! A larger army is that rabble-rout Which dogs his steps. Scare the young king with rumours ; Wound his self-love ; tell him the primate 's sworn To abase a prince ill crowned, p 2 io Thomas a Becket. A cr v. GILBERT. And be he warned, Becket in London, to deny him access ; His failure known, the people's zeal will slack, And wild tales rush abroad. DE BROC. The self- same rumours Shall fire the father-king. ROGER. A sager counsel DE BROC. Sage heads and keen of England, and of France, That think ye see so far, I tell you this, Within the hollow heart of all your sageness A blind worm works ! Farewell ! Ere long you '11 cry, 1 The strong hand of de Broc was worth us all.' (He gallops away. The rest, except GILBERT OF LONDON,) walk rapidly towards the harbour. ) GILBERT (alone), Somewhere I know not when I know not how I took, methinks, one step one little step SCENE IV. Thomas a Becket. 211 A hair's breadth only from the righteous way. Where will this end ? I know not. This I know, A man there is I hate his name is Becket. SCENE IV. THE GREAT HALL OF THE PALACE OF BUR, NEAR BAYEUX. In parts of the hall tables are spread ; in other parts the guests converse. At the higher end stand two thrones, on one of which QUEEN ELEANOR sits. CORNWALL, LEICESTER, the BISHOP OF LISIEUX, DE TRACY, DE MOREVILLE, BRITO, courtiers, ladies, guests, and minstrels, QUEEN ELEANOR. Be merry, lords ; we keep our birthday feast : The loneliest spots, and wildest, of our realm, London and Worcester's self, we will to share This day the general joy. COURTIERS. God save the Queen ! CORNWALL (to Leicester]. Five weeks that splendour strengthened on his brow ; Revolted feudatories made submission ; Flanders and France were leagued with him in love : p 2 212 Thomas a Becket. ACT v . Then once again that inward grief returned ; New nightmares vexed his bed. QUEEN ELEANOR. Set forth a dance ! LEICESTER (to Cornwall). Sir, the heart hardening maketh soft the brain : He is not what he was. Of old, when wrath Hurled forth its fiercest flame, his mind, not less Rushed up keen- edged within it and above it, A spear's length higher ; higher yet his will. To-day his angers drag aside his purpose. He hath done his own soul wrong. QUEEN ELEANOR. Minstrels, ye sleep ! (The KING enters with JOHN OF OXFORD ; they converse apart in a window.] JOHN OF OXFORD. Nay, those were heated moods j his native airs Dissolve that frosty caution exile taught him : He said, ' My lords of Rouen and of Sens Save for that king had brought me home in honour/ He plots ; but plots not war. KING HENRY. What meant those letters ? SCENE iv. Thomas a Becket. . 213 JOHN OF OXFORD. His knave that blabbed his secret knew not that : One was for Scotland's king, and four, he thought, For princes rebel late in Wales ; the rest For earls in England malcontent. KING HENRY. He dares not. JOHN OF OXFORD. Doubtless he dares not ; and that popular zeal Which hailed him landing, was but madness old. He plays a deeper game than treason. KING HENRY. Ha! JOHN OF OXFORD. The realm invaded, or those earls in arms, He blows the Church's trumpet, marches to Lon- don ; Commends himself deliverer of the king ; Recovers straight his pupil's childish love, Or mildly, else, inthralls him. QUEEN ELEANOR. Flavel, sing ! I dance no more. 214 Thomas a Becket. ACT v. LISIEUX (to Leicester}. Her Highness is not pleased : The man she hates hath triumphed. Year by year She urged his Highness 'gainst my lord the primate ; Of late she whets him with more complicate craft : She knows that all she likes the king dislikes, And feigns a laughing, new-born zeal for Becket, To sting the royal spleen. KING HENRY (to John of Oxford). He never should have trod these English shores. JOHN OF OXFORD. As freeman, never ; said I not as much ? The young king's council should have found those letters ; Tested their authenticity ; consigned Their writer to a prison. Please it, your Highness, ; T is not too late. My Lord Justiciary Stands by the council's side. KING HENRY. I dare not, John ; His death, though death by chance, would wrong my heart SCENE iv. Thomas a Becket. 215 Imprisonment itself requires pretext. There are that watch us : mingle with the crowd. \_John of Oxford departs. THE QUEEN. What doth our gracious liege so long in exile ? We languish in his absence, like poor vines Here in this sunless North. He plots, no doubt, With John of Oxford 'gainst our first of men, My lord the primate. Once I loathed that man : The more fool I ! If women he contemns, Man-like he fought his battle, and hath won it : The man that wins should wear ! I ever cry, ' Let him win all ! ' (The KING approaches and sits on a chair not far from the QUEEN'S throne.} Welcome, good king and husband ! I praise your friend ! From England forth he fled A debtor and a bankrupt. He returns A Legate, trampling down your royal bishops ; I say, let him have all ! KING HENRY. k Our queen is mirthful. QUEEN ELEANOR. When Becket rose, a man was England's king : 2 1 6 Thomas a Becket. ACT V. Finding such charge too onerous for such manhood He slipped his burthen, and a boy sits throned ; Wears a straw crown. Becket is king in substance ; Why not in name? Though secular kings, when saints, Have spurned that siren, Power, he need not fear her : Yon bird finds food in weeds poison to us, And Becket, meekly wearing crowns of earth, Shall merit heaven's the more. KING HENRY. The queen goes mad ! QUEEN ELEANOR. Our southern realm remains. That sunnier half Outweighs the whole ; and yet not thus you deemed, Husband, that time when, Stephen dead, you sued Your wife's good aid. I made you King of England ! My strong Provencal fleet o'erawed that day Your English barons ; barred them from allies : That hour the work was mine ; the jest was yours : You thought it laughter- worth. My turn comes next ! Ye that have goblets, brim them ! Mark this cup : It flames with Albi's wine ! ( QUEEN ELEANOR rises and stands on the highest step of the throne with a golden cup in her right hand.} LEICESTER (to Behold her, Lisieux ! SCENE iv. Thomas a Becket. . 217 That smile is baleful as a winter beam Streaking some cliff wreck-gorged ; her hair and eyes Send forth a glare half sunshine and half lightning QUEEN ELEANOR. A toast, my lords ! the London merchant's son, Once England's primate henceforth King of Eng- land ! KING HENRY (leaping to his feet and half drawing his sword\ Woman, be silent ! FITZ-URSE (entering). May it please your Highness, My lords of York, London, and Salisbury Are come from England, charged withj news not good: My lord of London, worn, and somewhat faint, Rests by the gate. KING HENRY. Command them to the presence. (The ARCHBISHOP OF YORK and the BISHOP OF SALISBURY enter, followed by GILBERT OF LONDON, who leans on JOHN OF OXFORD.) 2 1 8 Thomas a Becket. ACT V. SCENE V. THE PORCH OF CANTERBURY CATHEDRAL. HERBERT OF BOSHAM, JOHN OF SALISBURY ; near them attendants, waiting the arrival of BECKET. HERBERT. Here stood we on his consecration feast. The long years dragged : to-day they seem but weeks, A dove-flight of white weeks through vernal air. JOHN OF SALISBURY. Herbert, you jar me with your ceaseless triumphs, And hope 'gainst hope. You are like a gold leaf dropped From groves immortal of the Church triumphant To mock our Church in storm ! For manners' sake I pray you, chafe at times. The floods are out ! I say the floods are out ! This way and that They come a-sweeping. HERBERT. Wheresoe'er they sweep The eye of God pursues them, and controls : That which they are to Him, that only are they : The rest is pictured storm. SCENE v. Thomas a Becket. . 219 JOHN OF SALISBURY. How sped your journey? HERBERT. From first to last de Broc with wrong assailed us ; But on us, like a passionate south wind, blew The greetings of the loyal and the just. Two days we rode. London's old tower in sight, We met the citizens ; for miles forth streamed they To meet their citizen for so they hailed him. The poor came first ; then merchants and their wives ; Next, clad in gold, the mayor and aldermen ; And, lastly, priests intoning Benedictus Scarce heard amid the pealing of the bells. On London Bridge the houses at each side Hung tapestries forth, their roofs o'erswarmed with gazers; The ships all purpled by those flags that still Painted the crystal bosom of the Thames More swayed by popular ecstasies, so seemed it, Than shiftings of the wind. JOHN OF SALISBURY. How looked our Thomas ? HERBERT. Passing, he gave the blessing with still smile. 22O Thomas a Becket. ACT V. One time he laughed : 't was when a crazy beldam Cried from the crowd, * Beware the knife, Arch- bishop ! ' Sighed once 't was when he passed his parents' door, Flower-garlanded ; the gayest in Cheapside. JOHN OF SALISBURY. Where lodged he ? HERBERT. At my Lord of Winton's palace. At eve he paced the gardens, by his side St. Alban's abbot, Simon. I was near: I marked him draw the right hand of the abbot Within his robe ; then heard, l My friend, my friend, Things are not what they seem ! ' JOHN OF SALISBURY. Saw he his pupil ? HERBERT. At ten next morning Joceline of Louvaine Sent by that pupil rudely sought the primate : The boy-king bade him back to Canterbury ! * Shall I not barely see the royal face ? ' Thus answered he no more. If ever grief Cast shadow on man's face, I saw it then. He sat till noon had struck ; then bade to horse. SCENE V. Thomas a Becket. 221 JOHN OF SALISBURY. Your homeward way was hardest ? HERBERT. Hardest thrice. The news had gone abroad, and many shunned us ; Aggression hourly wore a fiercer front ; More contumelious brows were on us bent : Here lay the bridge a ruin ; shafts assailed us ; The dyke was cut ; the road in water drowned. We heard, one time, the spleenful horn of knaves That hunted in his Grace's manors. Friend, You have had my tale. JOHN OF SALISBURY. Mine will not bring you comfort. Go where I might, except among the poor, 'T was all one huge conspiracy of error, Conspiracy, and yet unconscious half : For, though, beneath, there worked one plastic mind, The surface seemed fortuitous concurrence, One man the hook supplying, one the eye, Here the false maxim, there the fact suborned, This the mad hope, and that the grudge forgotten. The lawyer wrote the falsehood in the dust Of mouldering scrolls ; with sighs the Court-priest owned it ; 222 Thomas a Becket. ACT V. The minstrel tossed it gaily from his strings ; The witling lisped it, and the soldier mouthed it. " These lies are thick as dust in March HERBERT. Which galls us, Yet fruitful makes, perforce, the sufferers' fields. Patience, good friend ! JOHN OF SALISBURY. I found, on my return, A swift, I fear a fatal growth of mischief. The coasts are guarded : three days since the forts Of Dover, Rochester, and Bletchinglee Received a force : the castles near the shore Bristle with arms. Spies walk among the people : De Broc spurs madly o'er the flat sea-sands, Wine-flushed, or wan with watching ; oft he flings A mailed hand far back, and cries, ' So long As honest steel can carve a wholesome dish No priest shall bid me starve/ HERBERT OF BOSHAM. Hark, hark, a hymn ! St. Stephen's feast comes soon. The good choir- master SCENE v. Thomas a Becket. . 223 .Rehearses some sweet anthem in his praise. There 's not a saint in heaven dearer to Thomas ! The Hymn. Princes sat, and spake against me, Sinners held me in their net : Thou, O Lord, wilt save Thy servant, For on Thee his heart is set. Strong is he whose strength Thou art : Plain his speech, and strong his heart. SCAILMAN (coming up rapidly). The royal troops make way through the south gate : Richard de Humet sent them he who left The king at Bayeux late. The Hymn. Gathered on a thousand foreheads Dark and darker grew the frown, Broadening like the pine-wood's shadow While the wintry sun goes down ; On the saint that darkness fell At last they spake ; it was his knell. As a maid her face uplifteth, Brightening with an inward light, When the voice of her beloved Calls her from a neighbouring height, Stephen raised his face on high, And saw his Saviour in the sky. 224 Thomas a Becket. ACT A MAN IN A MASK {detaching himself from the crowd and joining theni). Flee while ye may ! the primate helped me once : Unless he 'scape to-night, he sees not Tuesday. [Rejoins the revellers. The Hymn. Dimm'd a moment was that vision ; O'er him burst the stony shower : Stephen, with his arms extended, For his murderers prayed that hour : To his prayer St. Paul was given ; Then he slept, and woke in heaven. (BECKET approaches at the head of a procession.} HERBERT. Lo, the procession comes ! JOHN OF SALISBURY. The primate walks As one that died, and rose, and dies no more. HERBERT. I note in him one strength the world detects not : The Church for others hath seven sacraments ; For him she keeps an eighth the poor of Christ ! Lo there ! As often as he gives them alms He lays on them his hands. SCENE vi. Thomas a Becket. 225 JOHN. As one that loves them ? HERBERT. As one that, touching them, draws strength from God; Wins more than he bestows. He stops ; he stands j The exile gazes on his church again. He kneels with arms outstretched, like holy Andrew When venerating from afar his cross. (As BECKET enters the cathedral HERBERT goes up to him.} Now die whene'er God wills ! I never spake That word before. In thee Christ's Church hath con- quered. \Becket looks at him fixedly, and passes on without reply. SCENE VI. A STREET IN CANTERBURY. Citizens. FIRST CITIZEN. We are trapped and fooled. Death to the plotters ! Haste ! SECOND CITIZEN. And which be they ? Q 226 Thomas a Becket. ACT V. FIRST CITIZEN. Who knows ? THIRD CITIZEN. A saint is Thomas ! None questions that our primate is a saint ; But sanctity, some think, hath crazed his brain ; He comes not forth, as once. FOURTH CITIZEN. A knight from London Saw all, and wept to tell it. Nine long hours The primate, girt with French and Flemish hordes, Besieged the young king's gates. Richard de Luci Past hope arriving, quenched the flames just lit : The rebels fled by night. SECOND CITIZEN. The father-king Will rage at this. FOURTH CITIZEN. He '11 rage that two months since, When Thomas wept before the royal feet, He suffered his return. The holy queen Pledged faith that hour for Canterbury's sons, Whom as her own she loved. SCENE vi. Thomas a Becket. 227 FIRST CITIZEN. Who told you that ? FOURTH CITIZEN. The same old knight, kinsman of John of Oxford ; And John, he said, saw all. AN OLD KNIGHT (riding up\ God save you, sirs ! Conspirators are ye fat and well-liking ! Which lies the loudest ? SEVERAL CITIZENS. Nay, sir, true men we. OLD KNIGHT. Sirs, ye are Saxons ; Saxons speak no truth, Else, wherefore hid they long like thieves in caverns To keep their treasons warm? What beast are you That with your foul hand stain my horse's neck Which shone but now as glass ? Let none deceive you ! They '11 leave you later to the royal wrath. Beware of full-fed priests and haughty bishops ! The Conqueror sent you bishops staid and sage, Most part from Normandy. They spake not English ; So vexed you not with sermons. What, my friends, Q2 228 Thomas a Becket. ACT v. A man may go to heaven, yet hear not sermons ! That chime 's my dinner bell ! God save you, sirs, And purge your primate's pride ! A saint I deem him; No doubt there 's healing latent in his bones ; De Broc has sworn to boil the proud flesh off them, To make the relics sooner serviceable. Be wary, sirs ; the knife is at your throat ! [Rides away. SCENE VII. A ROOM IN THE ARCHIEPISCOPAL PALACE AT CANTERBURY. THE PRIOR OF MERTON, LLEWELLEN. LLEWELLEN. Three bishops had arrived the clay before me ; They instanced with such art the primate's rage, Compassionated so well the kingdom's wrongs, Some drew their swords; while fiercely cried the king, 'Your counsel, lords?' They answered, 'We are priests : Your captains and your peers shall best advise you/ Leicester spake first ; 't was parable, not counsel. SCENE vii. Thomas a Becket. 229 Malvoisin next a babbler. Bohun thus : 1 1 know not what can deal with knaves revolted But wicker- rope or sword.' Then, mild of voice, Gilbert of London, rising, spake : ' My lords, Behoves us in this crisis to be meek, Lest we too much inflame the primate's zeal, Who, like a king, an army at his back, In vengeance sweeps from shore to shore of England, To abase a king ill- crowned.' THE PRIOR OF MERTON. What answered Henry ? LLEWELLEN. There fell on him that frenzy of his race Which threats the world with doom. I know not all The men that saw it, saw as in a trance, And what they saw divulge not, save in part. The fire-cloud of that wrath burned out at last : The 111 Spirits left him. On the rush-strewn floor There sat he glaring maniac-like, the straws Now kneading and now gnawing. That too past. The king was standing in their midst : his eye Slowly he turned from each to each ; then spake With pointed finger, and with serpent hiss : 230 Thomas a Becket. A CT \>. ' Slaves, slaves, not barons hath my kingdom bred, Slaves that in silence stand, and eye their king Mocked by a low-born knave ! ' THE PRIOR. Did none reply? LLEWELLEN. No man. From that mute hall four knights forth strode Fitz-Urse, de Tracy, Moreville, Richard Brito. At twelve last night they entered Saltwood gates : De Broc attended them. THE PRIOR. The end draws nigh. SCENE VIII. A ROOM IN THE ARCHIEPISCOPAL PALACE AT CANTERBURY. JOHN OF SALISBURY, HERBERT OF BOSHAM. HERBERT. It was at Pontigny. His mass just said Within the chapel of the proto-martyr, SCENE VIII. Thomas a Becket. He knelt in prayer. The words were : 'Thomas, Thomas ! ' 'Who art Thou, Lord?' he answered. Then the voice, 6 Thomas, I am thy Brother, and thy Lord : My Church shall in thy blood be glorified, And thou in Me/ JOHN OF SALISBURY. That voice was but his thought ! HERBERT. The abbot then of Pontigny, just chosen Lyon's archbishop, came to say farewell : He stood behind a pillar and heard all. From him I learned it. Thomas kept it secret Thank God ! What comes to him shall come to us : There 's nought to fear. JOHN OF SALISBURY. Herbert, I love my friend; But 't was his triumph, not his death, I looked for : For him I scarce should fear to die \ and yet I love not death. Ere comes that hour, there 7 s much To learn, to read, to do and to repent. The solid earth shivers as ship in storm : 232 Thomas a Becket. ACTV. The ground is earthquake-shaken : shadows vast Far flung, and whence we know not, o'er it sweep : Fiercely the lightnings glare HERBERT OF BOSHAM. Meantime the Church Nor hastes, nor halts, nor frets, nor is amazed. JOHN OF SALISBURY. What doth she then ? HERBERT OF BOSHAM. A smile upon her lips, She stands with eyes close fixed upon her Lord, Nay, on His sacred vestment's lowest hem, To see where next He moves. JOHN OF SALISBURY. Herbert, I wronged you : A mystic, feeding on faith's inmost lore A dreamer, scanning mysteries in flowers I guessed not of your strength. SCENE ix. Thomas a Becket. . 233 SCENE IX. LONDON. THE HOUSE OF THE CHIEF JUSTICIARY. RICHARD DE Luci, THE EARL OF CORNWALL. DE LUCI. What charge they 'gainst the man? What help demand they ? CORNWALL. They say he leads an army through the land ; And pray you to arrest him. DE LUCI. Tell those lords They know as well as I that plot 's a fiction : Five soldiers made his army. Three days since Becket stood here : what hindered them to stay him ? CORNWALL. My lord, their purpose absolute was to stay him : Mischance bound up their arm. A Roman bolt Flung by a nun's white hand among the bishops Scattered the covey. Without aid from them, The people, Becket-mad 234 Thomas a Becket. ACT v. DE LUCI. I understand : That which the Council fain had done, but dared not, It now would do through me. Return, my lord, And tell them that this realm's justiciary Is not their faction's hangman. Bid them know I walk the ways of justice. Four years since I deemed that Thomas sinned against the law, And acted on that thought. When Thomas smote me I deemed his Censures dealt, ' errante clave ' : They galled me not. This day men do him wrong, Since right he had to visit the young king, Who loathes even now the knaves that ill advised him. I hunt not with their pack. SCENE X. ARCHIEPISCOPAL PALACE AT CANTERBURY. HERBERT OF BOSHAM, EDWARD GRIM, LLEWELLEN, Monks. HERBERT. St. Stephen's festival ! Another Christmas ! SCENE x.' Thomas a Becket. . 235 Easter 's the Christian sunrise ; Pentecost Its noontide, flaming forth in golden rays ; But Christmas is the aurora, pure and white ; A feast it is of innocence and snow, The Maid and Babe, angels and simple shepherds ; J T is Mary's week in winter, sweet as May : The Man of Sorrows comes, but comes not yet ; The sin of earth forgotten in the Saviour. FIRST MONK. What stranger 7 s yon ? SECOND MONK. They call him Edward Grim ; A Cambridge scholar. He had thirsted long To see the primate. FIRST MONK. Ill he timed his visit : None wants him here. GRIM (in a low voice to a monk). Proceed, my friend, I pray you. THIRD MONK (to Grim). On Christmas night he sang the midnight mass Our Benedictine rite. At noon he preached, ' Peace upon earth,' his text. * We have not here 236 Thomas a Becket. ACT v. Abiding city, but we look for one ; ' Thus he began : ' Is this at war with peace ? Nay, this alone is peace : bereft of all things, Then most our God is ours ; and God is peace.' Next spake he of the saints of Canterbury : ' Ye have a martyr likewise, St. Elphege, And God may give you, friends, ere along another.' On all sides sobs burst forth, and wail was heard, ' Father, desert us not ; ' one little moment With them he wept ; and then in strength resumed : Like some great anthem was that sermon's close, The whole church glowing with seraphic joy. FOURTH MONK. The man is changed. THIRD MONK. Seldom he speaks ; his smile Is like that smile upon a dead man's face, A mystery of sweetness. LLEWELLEN. Lo, he comes ! BECKET (entering). Herbert, my friend beloved, depart this night ; Consign these letters to the good French King : SCENE x. Thomas a Becket. . 237 And you, my chaplain, Richard, speed to Norwich ; Beseech its reverend bishop to absolve All who in ignorance erred. HERBERT. Forbid it, God ! My lord, once only pardon disobedience ! We two have shared great dangers : let us share, If so God wills, the last ! BECKET. I have had from you, Herbert, great love ! I claim this hour a greater : Shake not my heart with any earthly passion. More late we say farewell. Bertram, next morn Seek out that aged priest we met at Wrotham, That kind old man who serves another's charge : This deed confers upon him Penshurst's church ; Let it be his ere noon. My brave Llewellen, To Rome, and bear these letters to the Pope ! That bitter word you spake at Clarendon Saved me when all but lost. Except for you I had up-towered this day in Europe's face Robed in the total greatness of my country Within, a soul undone ! At dawn we keep The feast of him who, sole of the apostles, 238 Thomas a Becket. ACT v. Died not for Christ. Perchance he loved Him most ! Perchance so great a thing is love, that death, The martyr's death, could add not to its greatness. The Church boasts next her Holy Innocents, Martyrs through grace, though not their own intention : What saint makes beautiful the third day hence ? A MONK. It lacks as yet its crown. BECKET. We give it then To St. Elphege, martyr of Canterbury Then when the Dane devastated the land : His anthem I must hear once more. Farewell ! (He moves away, but stops for a moment before a window.} How fair, how still, that snowy world ! The earth Lies like a white rose under eyes of God May it send up a sweetness ! Thomas a Becket. 239 SCENE XI. THE ROOF OF THE CATHEDRAL OF CANTERBURY. THE PRIOR OF MERTON (looking to the west}. If that 's no mist, one hope (To SCAILMAN, who approaches him.} My Lord of Winton, Though sick, arrives ere sunset, litter-borne : That kingly countenance would o'erawe the fiercest Without his pastoral staff, or fifty knights. See you yon dust ? We ; re saved ! SCAILMAN. That dust, good prior, Is dust from dusty tomes, which dims your eyes ; The primate bade that old man house at home A white head, England's hope. Our help is here : (Lifting some keys. ) These roofs have many a hiding-place. Moreover The city gates are ours. THE PRIOR. Escape is none. If Thomas has refused old Winton's aid, He will not hide, nor fly. 240 Thomas a Becket. ACT v> SCENE XII. CANTERBURY CATHEDRAL THE NORTH TRANSEPT. JOHN OF SALISBURY and a Monk. MONK. Within his chamber we had sung our nocturns : The office finished, for an hour or more He stood beside the casement, open flung, Despite the flying flakes. I heard him murmur, 1 In years remote they deck the martyr's shrine Not many weep above a churchman's grave. Is that a loss ? Ah me ! ' Again I heard him : f Herbert, my tenderest friend, and John, my wisest, Both, both for me have lost their earthly all : These must live on, bereft/ More late he asked If Sandwich might be reached ere break of day. We answered, 'Yea two hours ere dawn.' Once more He stood forth-gazing through the winter night ; Then spake aloud, ' Whatever God hath in store, Thomas will wait it patient in his church : He leaves that church no more.' SCENE xii. Thomas a Becket. . 241 JOHN OF SALISBURY. The last chance lost ! MONK. At yonder altar of St. Benedict He said his mass. Next in the chapter-house Conversed with two old monks of things divine : Then for his confessor he sent, and made Confession with his humble wont ; which ended, He sat with us an hour, and held discourse Full gladsomely. I never marked till then How joyous was his eye. An old monk cried, ' Thank God, my lord, you make good cheer ! ' He answered, ' Who goeth to his Master should be glad. ? JOHN OF SALISBURY. His Master ! Aye, his Master ! Still as such He thought of God ; he loved Him ; in himself Saw nothing great or wise simply a servant. Ere yet his earliest troubles had begun I heard him say, ' A bishop should protect That holy thing, God's Church, to him committed, Not only from the world, but from himself, Loving, not hers, but her, with reverent love, A love that, on her gazing, fears to touch her. R 242 Thomas a Becket. ACT v. As Mary in the guardian Patriarch's house, Such should she be in his.' MONK. Through life thus wrought he ! JOHN OF SALISBURY. The Church's wealth will one day be her ruin He hated rapine ; warred on sacrilege ; Too soon perchance yet still as poor man lived ; Trod down abuses. Had he reigned ten years His name had been for aye ' the Great Reformer.' Peace, peace ! O God, we make our tale of him, As men that praise the dead ! (After a paused] Against the primate they can find no charge : The Council failed. That brings the danger closer : The sword of law flung down, the assassin's knife At morn, they say, the palace will be stormed : With him at least I die. Alas, poor Herbert ! MONK. We who have stalls are summoned. Lo, they come. (The monks of St. Augustine's enter the Cathedral ; they advance to the chapel of the chapter, accompanied by JOHN OF SALISBURY and his companion, and immediately begin SCENE xii. Thomas a Becket. 243 vespers. During the singing of the psalms, a wild cry bursts out in the streets, accompanied by a rush of soldiers against the southern gates. The monks continue the sacred rite. A few minutes later a procession enters from the cloister, BECKET walking last, preceded by his cross-bearer. Having reached a spot in the north transept, midway between the altar of the Blessed Virgin and that of St. Benedict, he stands still. ) BECKET. Those who are monks must take their place at vespers : Make haste, and join the Chapter. Ye are late. (His attendants obey him ; none remaining with BECKET except the PRIOR OF MERTON, FITZ-STEPHEN, and EDWARD GRIM. A few monks stand close within the western gates of the Cathedral. A rush of feet is heard outside, and cries of * Open the gates save us ! ') A MONK. Keep barred the gates the soldiers once amongus FITZ-STEPHEN (coming up}. The primate bids you fling the portals wide : He says a church must not be made a castle : 6 Let all my people in.' (FlTZ-STEPHEN retTirns.) ( The gates are opened ; a terrified crowd rushes in ; soldiers pur- sue them ; but on entering the Cathedral are overawed and kneel. Vespers proceed. ) The Anthem. Behold a great High Priest with rays Of martyrdom's red sunset crowned ; R 2 244 Thomas a Becket. ACT v. None other like him in the day? Wherein he trod the earth was found. The swords of men unholy met Above that just one and he bled : But God, the God he served, hath set A wreath unfading on his head. THE PRIOR. A. martyr's anthem ! FITZ-STEPHEN. Yea ; our great Elphege. THE PRIOR. The church grows dark as night. FITZ-STEPHEN. A deed more dark Will make the night ashamed. The Anthem. Blest is the people, blest and strong, Whose Pontiffs count a martyred saint ; His virtuous memory, lasting long, Shall keep their altars pure from taint. The heathen plot ; the tyrants rage ; But in their saint the poor shall find A shield, or after many an age A light restored to guide the blind. THE PRIOR. We are here but three. SCENE xii. Thomas a Becket. 245 FITZ-STEPHEN. You heard his Grace dismiss them : The last I saw was Henry of Auxerre : He bore the cross yon scholar caught it falling. ( The soldiers rise from their knees and form round the gates. ) THE PRIOR. My lord archbishop, seek the sanctuary! Stand fast by the high altar FITZ-STEPHEN. Nay, the crypt BECKET. My place is here; farewell, my friends ! THE PRIOR. In the cloister I hear an armed tread : a postern ? s there ; Not many know it. Who be those four knights, In sable mailed, and fiercely onward striding, With vizors down ? (FiTZ-URSE, DE TRACY, BRITO, and DE MOREVILLE enter.} FITZ-STEPHEN. Their guide alone I know De Broc it is de Broc ! 246 Thomas a Becket. ACT v. BECKET. Seek out, my friends, That chapel where they sing ye cannot see it The rite completed, bid them chaunt Te Deum. (The PRIOR and FITZ-STEPHEN depart; EDWARD GRIM alone remains with BECKET. The four knights arrive, but at first do not see the primate, ivho is screened by a pillar. } FITZ-URSE. Where is the traitor? BECKET (advancing, and standing opposite the altar of St. Benedict}. Here I stand ; no traitor, But priest of God, and primate of this land. FITZ-URSE (after looking at him long). God help thee, priest ! At once absolve those bishops! BECKET. The Church of God suspends them for their sin ; The king approved that sentence ; thrice approved : Two hundred heard him : you were of their number. FITZ-URSE. Never. BECKET. I saw you, and God saw you there. SCENE xii. Thomas a Becket. 247 FITZ-URSE. Remove those Censures. BECKET. You have had your answer. Reginald, Reginald ! a time there was You vowed to me your fealty. Lo, this day You seek my blood. FITZ-URSE. I owe you fealty none Which wars against my king. BECKET. Alas ! light man, That giv'st thine all for nought ! If yet thou canst, Repent and live ! FITZ-URSE. He threatens lo, he threatens ! Our lives he threatens, and reviles the king ! He '11 place the realm beneath an interdict ; Traitor ! thine hour is come ! (He seizes BECKET ; the rest also close around him.) BECKET. Ye that would slay the shepherd, spare the sheep ! 248 Thomas a Becket. ACT v. If not, I bind you with the Church's Sentence. That which ye do, do here. FITZ-URSE (drawing his sword}. Loose him, and slay ! BECKET (joining his hands over his eyes, and bending forward). My spirit I commend to God Most High, The prayers of Mary, mother of my Lord, And those two martyrs of the Church of God, Saints Denys and Elphege. (WILLIAM DE TRACY draws his sword, and aims a blow at BECKET. EDWARD GRIM intercepts it with his arm, which is nearly severed. The sword descends, notwithstanding, on the head of BECKET. ) BECKET. I yield Thee thanks, my Maker, and my God ! Receive my soul. (He falls forward on his knees. The second blow is struck by FITZ-URSE, and the third by BRITO.) v BECKET. For the great Name of Jesus, and that Church Cleansed by His saving blood, with joy I die. \He falls forward on his face and dies. SCENE xii. Thomas a Becket.. 249 DE MOREVILLE. O black and dreadful day ! Earth reels beneath us ! FITZ-URSE. The traitor 's dead ! He '11 rise no more. Rush forth ' And ever make your cry, ' King's men are we ! ' \They rush forth waving their swords, and shouting 1 Kin^s men ! ' NOTES. The king is neither. Sir, he 's Angevine, p. 5. ' In the eleventh century and in the thirteenth there was an English King and an English People ; but in the twelfth such objects are hardly discernible. There is, indeed, a King of England, the mightiest and richest prince of Europe ; but he is a mere foreigner, a Frenchman living in France, devoting his energies to French objects, and holding England almost as a province of Anjou. And as with the position of the island, so with its internal controversies.' Saint Thomas of Canterbury and his Biographers, by Edward A. Freeman (Historic Essays}. To the same effect Lord % Macaulay writes : * During the century and a half which followed the Conquest there is, to speak strictly, no English history. . . . Almost every historian of England has expatiated with a sentiment of exultation on the power and splendour of her foreign masters, and has lamented the decay of that power and splendour as a calamity to our country. This is, in truth, as absurd as it would be in a Haytian negro of our time to dwell with national pride on the greatness of Louis XIV., and to speak of Blenheim and Ra- millies with patriotic regret and shame. The Conqueror and his descendants to the fourth generation were not Englishmen ; most of them were born in France ; their ordinary speech was French ; almost every high office in their gift was filled by a 252 Notes. Frenchman ; every acquisition which they made on the Continent estranged them more and more from the population of our island.' Macaulay's History of England, chap. i. She cut her flaxen Saxon tresses short, p. 5* Some legends have found more believers in recent than in early times. Canon Morris ' speaks of the romance respecting Becket's Saracen mother as ' a fable which is not mentioned by . one of the many contemporary biographers of our saint, ' adding, in a note, ' Writers so various as Godwin, Cave, Thierry, and Sharon Turner, Froude, and Giles, the author of the Cologne Life of 1639, Cola, Beaulieu, and our own accurate Alban Butler, all admit the story of Gilbert's escape from a Saracen prison, and his marriage with a Saracen princess. Mr. Bering- ton was the first to reject it ' (p. 401). He scourged those boors of Flanders from the realm, p. 6. Henry had had the aid of Archbishop Theobald as well as of his successor in such enterprises. Mr. Green, in his recent History, says : ' He [Henry] had been placed on the throne, as we have seen, by the Church. His first work was to repair the evils which England had endured till his accession by the re- storation of the system of Henry I. ; and it was with the aid and counsel of Theobald that the foreign marauders were driven from the realm, the castles demolished, in spite of the opposi- tion of the baronage, the King's Court and the Exchequer restored. Age and infirmity, however, warned the primate to retire from the post of Minister, and his power fell into the younger and more vigorous hands of Thomas a Becket, who had long acted as his confidential adviser,' p. 102. Mr. Green ,also remarks as follows: 'England was rescued from this chaos of misrule by the efforts of the Church. . . . The com- 1 ' The Life and Martyrdom of St. Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Can- terbury/ by John Morris, Canon of Northampton. Notes. 253 pact between king and people had become a part of constitu- tional law in the charter of Henry, but its legitimate consequence in the responsibility of the Crown for the execution of the compact was first drawn out by these ecclesiastical councils. . . . Extravagant, and unauthorised as their expression of it may appear, they did express the right of a nation to good government . . . "To the Church," Thomas (Becket) after- wards justly said, with the proud consciousness of having been Theobald's right hand, " Henry owed his crown and England her deliverance." ' Short History of the English People, by J. R. Green, p. 99. The garden dial Is lawful appanage of the gardens lord, p. 17. One of the most remarkable men of the twelfth century was the courtier Bishop of Lisieux. He truckled to Henry, yet he knew well enough at which side justice lay. He writes thus to Becket, A.D. 1165: 'Every doubt which was on our minds is now dissipated, and the purity of your motives is become so evident, that honest men are rejoiced and your enemies are confounded. Justice and the liberty of the Church you pre- ferred to every earthly emolument ; for had you consented to these new abuses, not only might you have lived in peace ; you might have reigned with your prince. . . . You even exposed your life. But it seems that there the king was indulgent, and had not lost all affection for you. He strove to intimidate you into compliance.' He proceeds : * Your cause is mani- festly just, since you contend for the liberty of the Church, which cannot be attacked without interesting our faith. . . . This it was which drew your suffragans so basely from you. . . . The inferior clergy, for the most part, love you much, but the fear of banishment withholds them, and they are contented to sigh, and in secret to express their wishes for your safety. As to the nobility, they have formed, as it were, a conspiracy against the Church, in all things to oppose her honour and advantage. . . , 254 Notes. They say the king should not govern with less dignity than his predecessors, who were less powerful than he ; and every attempt they made, however contrary to religion and reason, these men pretend was a part of the royal prerogative. By flattery they prevail on him to engage in contests, hoping in fact that his power may be weakened in the quarrel, and that themselves shall recover their lost privilege of transgressing the laws with impunity.' He concludes characteristically : ' Fare- well ; and if you mention the contents of this letter ; take care to conceal my name? Berington's ' Hist.' vol. ii. pp. 189-91. Phcebus paced the wooded mountains, p. 22. These stanzas are an imitation of an old Romaic poem, one of the ' Robber songs ' sung for centuries by the bandits, more properly called * outlaws,' on the mountains of Greece. The mingling of Greek mythology with a sentiment tenderer than that which commonly belonged to the poetry engendered by that mythology in Pagan times is interesting. This day the Spirit Prophetic on me falls, p. 50. This prophetic warning is recorded by Canon Morris, 1 with a reference to Giraldus Cambrensis (note, p. 409). These be Beckefs clients, Secure from civil courts, p. 54. It was on this question that the contest between Henry and Becket arose, and when Becket first engaged to observe the Customs, he probably regarded this as the matter chiefly at issue. It proved to be but a small part of that great question, which otherwise would have speedily found its solution. Mr. Green thus explains the royal claim : ' Henry at once proposed to the bishops that a clerk convicted of a crime should 1 ' The Life and Martyrdom of St. Thomas Becket.' Notes. 255 be deprived of his orders, and handed over to the king's tri- bunals. The local Courts of the Feudal Baronage had been roughly shorn of their power by the judicial reforms of Henry I. , and the Church Courts, as the Conqueror had created them, with their exclusive right of justice over the whole body of edu- cated men throughout the realm, formed the one great exception to the system which was concentrating all jurisdiction in the hands of the king. The bishops yielded, but opposition came from the very prelate whom Henry had created to enforce his will. ... A prudent man might have doubted the wisdom of destroying the only shelter which protected piety or learning against a despot like the Red King ; and in the mind of Thomas the ecclesiastical immunities were parts of the sacred heritage of the Church.' * With equal candour Mr. Freeman points out in how diffe- rent a light from that in which we see it, this immunity must have presented itself to the men of the twelfth century: ' We mnst remember that, if the so-called liberties of the Church were utterly repugnant to our notions of settled government, they did not appear equally so in those times. The modern idea of government is an equal system of law for every part of the terri- tory and for every class of the nation. In the middle ages every class of men, every district, every city, tried to isolate itself within a jurisprudence of its own. Nobles, burghers, knights of orders, wherever either class was strong enough, refused the jurisdiction of any but their own peers. . . . Even within the ecclesiastical pale, we find peculiar jurisdictions, orders, monasteries, chapters, colleges, shake off the authority of the regular ordinaries, and substitute some exceptional tribunal of their own. ... In short, the privileges for which Thomas contended transferred a large part of the people, and that the most helpless part, from the bloody grasp of the King's Courts to the milder jurisdiction of the bishop. . . . One of the 1 'A Short History of the English People,' p. 103. 256 Notes. Constitutions of Clarendon, that which forbade the ordination of villains without the consent of their lords, was directly aimed at the only means by which the lowest class in the State could rise. ' ! It need hardly be remarked that changes, in themselves good and eventually necessary, may yet prove fatal if made prematurely. In the Saxon times the civil and spiritual powers worked conjointly, the bishop and the sheriff sitting in the same Court. William the Conqueror was the first to separate the two jurisdictions in England. He caused the bishop to sit in his own Court without an assessor. A more developed Canon Law thus necessarily grew up, and more frequent appeals to the central see. Henry II. disliked this effect of the change, and proposed to remedy it, not by returning to the old system, but by another innovation, one which would have deprived society at once, and with no preparation, of a protection against hard-handed oppression which the feebler part of society had enjoyed in all Christian lands from the earlier centuries. The consequences likely to have resulted, if the clergy had sud- denly been deprived of their privilege of being tried in the spiritual Courts only, Becket would have illustrated by the in- justice with which, during the first two days of the Council of Northampton, the highest ecclesiastic in the land had been, on a series of notoriously false pretences, condemned to the payment of sums so enormous that the sentence might well have consigned him to a dungeon for life. That this prosecution was a combination of fraud and violence on Henry's part is admitted by historians wholly opposed to Becket, as Hume and Sharon Turner. At Clarendon I sinned thus much all know, p. 74. Mr. Hurrell Froude asserts ('History,' p. 81) that the pledge given by Becket at Clarendon relative to the Royal 1 ' St. Thomas of Canterbury and his Biographers' ('Historic Essays/ by Edward A. Freeman). Notes. 257 Customs was given by him 'subject to the Tope's approval 1 ,' and adds, ' Thus the decrees of Clarendon, for want of his (the Pope's) confirmation, remained incomplete.' This statement, which would clear Becket from the charge commonly brought against him, does not seem to be confirmed by early authorities, as far as I know. Few things are more pathetic than this single lapse on the part of Becket so frankly confessed by him, so bitterly expiated, the result at once of so much pressure, and so much treachery practised against him and sometimes, at least, so entirely misrepresented. Lord Lyttelton, in his ' History of Henry II.,' relied unhappily on a document unworthy of his credence. That document, is adverted to by Dr. Lingard as the ' spurious letter attributed to Foliot ' by which 'Lord Lyttelton was deceived.' Mr. Berington, a writer of known moderation, had replied to it soon after the appear- ance of Lord Lyttelton's work, in his 'History of Henry II.,' vol. ii. appendix ii. He shows, first, that it is hardly to be equalled for the number of statements which it contains con- trary to known facts. Secondly, that in its account of the Council of Clarendon it is opposed to all contemporary histories, including those of Roger de Hoveden and Diceto, who were probably from their situation present on the occasion. Thirdly, that the dreadful charges which it brings against Becket must, if true, have been frequently flung in his face, especially the charge that he had addressed the bishops with the words, ' It is my master's will that I should forswear myself, and I now submit to it and incur perjury, afterwards to do penance as I am able ; ' while, on the contrary, such charges were never urged against him, whether by the king's followers, by the bishops when addressing him in letters or appealing against him to the Pope, or by Foliot himself when assailing him at Northampton and at Sens. Fourthly, he specifies four several circumstances stated by that letter to have taken place at the Council of Clarendon, circumstances aided by which Becket, S 258 Notes. as alleged, seduced the bishops into accepting the Customs ; and he shows that those circumstances took place, not at Clarendon, but at Northampton, where it is admitted that Becket alone stood out against the Customs, his fellow -bishops accepting them. He concludes that a letter full of allegations so easily refuted could hardly have been written by any one within two years of the Council of Northampton that it pro- bably was never written by Foliot, and that if his, it certainly was not intended for Becket's eyes. To imagine that Becket would have left such charges without a prompt reply he shows to be wholly absurd. Foliot's supposed letter would have offended his patron not less than it would have outraged Becket. It represented the king simply as a tyrant, and the Council of Clarendon as a ' Latrocinium, ' which of course could have had no moral claim to validity. Neither Lord Lyttelton nor Foliot's supposed letter corro- borates an assertion often made in late times, viz. that Becket not only promised at Clarendon to observe the Royal Customs, but when the ' Constitutions ' professing to embody them were submitted to the assembly, attached his signature, and, as some have added, his seal, to that document. Such a statement is unsupported, and in several cases directly denied, by the contemporary authorities I have at the present the means of consulting with the exception of FitzStephen viz., by Edward Grim, Roger of Pontigny, John of Salisbury, Alan of Tewkesbury, William of Canterbury, and Herbert of Bosham. Roger de Hoveden states that he promised to observe the Customs, but that on the schedule of the Constitutions being presented to him, * the Archbishop of Canterbury swore that he would never annex his seal to that writing or confirm those laws.' Herbert of Bosham details the arguments by which Becket assailed the ' Constitutions ' at Clarendon. Speed, * Berington, and Lingard state that he refused to seal them, and make no mention of his signing them. 1 ' History of Great Britain,' Edit. 1632, p. 489. Notes. 259 My sin has found me out, p. 89. The monks themselves affirmed that their election of Becket to the primacy was free. It may, notwithstanding, be true that they would have preferred an archbishop who had belonged to their monastery, and that, though not coerced, they were influenced by the Royal choice. A successor of mine, p. 117. St. Edmund of Canterbury during his exile found a refuge in the abbey of Pontigny. Thus writes he to the apostate of Cologne, p. 122. It would hardly have seemed possible that Henry, who had frequently appealed to the Pope, could have thought of trans- ferring, on personal grounds, his spiritual allegiance from one whom he had ever acknowledged as its lawful object, to a pretender. His temporary defection is thus recorded by Lin- gard ('History of England,' edit. 1854, p. 76): 'He even opened a correspondence with the Emperor ; and in a general diet at Wurtzburg his ambassadors made oath, in the name of their master, that he would reject Alexander and obey the authority of his rival. Of this fact there cannot be a doubt. It was announced to the German nations by an Imperial edict, and is attested by an eye-witness, who from the Council wrote to the Pope a full account of the transaction. Henry, however, soon repented of his precipitancy. His bishops refused to disgrace themselves by transferring their allegiance at the nod of their prince ; and he was unwilling to involve himself in a new, and apparently a hopeless, quarrel. To disguise or excuse his conduct, he disavowed the act, attributed it to his envoys, and afterwards induced them also to deny it. John of Oxford was despatched to Rome, who, in the presence of Alexander, S 2 260 Notes. swore that at Wurtzburg he had done nothing contrary to the faith of the Church, or to the honour and service of the Pontiff.' To the same effect is Lord Lyttelton's narrative (' Hist.' vol. ii. p. 449). He gives the letter of Henry to the Archbishop of Cologne contracting that engagement. He next states that Richard of Ivelchester and John of Oxford were sent to Wurtzburg, where a Diet was assembled for the acknowledg- ment of the anti-Pope ; and he proceeds : ' And (if we may believe the Emperor's letters patent soon afterwards published) did there, in the name of their master, take an oath upon the reliques of saints, that the King of England and his whole kingdom ivould faithfully adhere to the Emperor's party, and constantly acknowledge the Pope, whom he had acknowledged, without doing anything further to support the schismatic Orlando [Alexander III.] ' The only excuse which he makes is that the engagement of Henry's envoys should perhaps be considered as conditional on Alexander III.'s not changing his course as regards Becket. He makes a remarkable suggestion: ' Perhaps they [Henry's envoys] had acted upon secret instructions, which he thought proper to deny to all but themselves. However this may be, it is sufficiently evident that his honour suffered very much from the transaction. For he did not frighten Alexander into any compliance with his demands ; nor yet did he quit him, upon their being rejected, as by his letter to the Archbishop of Cologne he had promised to do.' (Ibid. pp. 451-2.) We have a better augury his heart is good, p. 129. Numberless passages in Becket's letters prove that his early attachment to the king had never ceased ; nay, that to the last he believed that his opposition to the king's demands was the most faithful service he could pay to a king misled by courtiers and flatterers. In my name write, and thus, p. 132. The freedom of speech used by Becket was as great as that Notes. 261 tolerated by him. It is thus that he wrote to his envoy at Rome on the appointment of the two legates whose commis- sion virtually suspended his own legantine authority. The translation is that given in Mr. Hurrell Froude's valuable history of Becket's struggle, p. 242 : 'If this be true, then without doubt his lordship the Pope has suffocated and strangled, not only our own person, but himself and every ecclesiastic of both kingdoms ; yea, both Churches together, the Galiican and the English. For what will not the kings of the earth dare against the clergy, under cover of this most wretched precedent ? And on what can the Church of Rome rely, when it thus deserts and leaves destitute the persons who are making a stand in its cause, and contending for it even unto death.' In a similar tone is his letter * To all the Cardinals ' written on the same occasion. (Ibid. 248-50.) ' Smooth speeches are not for the wretched, nor guarded words for the bitter in soul. May my bitter thoughts be par- doned, my wretchedness indulged. It is our belief, most holy fathers, that you stand in high places, as God's delegates, to put aside injustice, to cut off presumption, to relieve the sorrowing priesthood, and stop the way against its persecutors ; to assist the oppressed and punish the oppressors. . . . Trust then to me, my beloved lords, . . . resume your strength, gird your- selves with the Word of the Most High as with a sword. . . . This is the Royal way, this is the way that leadeth to life, this is the way that you must walk in if ye would follow the footsteps of Jesus Christ and the footsteps of His apostles whose vicars ye are. It is not by craft, it is not by wise schemes, that the Church is to be governed, but by Justice and by Truth. ' This remarkable freedom of speech neither implied nor was supposed to imply the slightest want of reverence on the part of Becket to the Holy See. Pope Alexander received it as meekly as Becket himself had received the friendly reproof of his faithful cross-bearer, Llewellen. On one occasion he wrote to the primate in a tone almost apologetic ; it was towards the close 262 Notes. of that great man's career (ibid. p. 521) : 'Among the mani- fold anxieties which the evil of the times brings upon us, the labour which you have undergone in defence of the liberty of the Church disturbs us not a little ; desiring, as we do, very earnestly to assist you, and yet hindered by various and pressing reasons from doing so. ... And if it be true that sailors even are sometimes so perplexed by changing winds as not to be able to determine whether to proceed onward or return to port, no wonder or blame can attach to him who steers the vessel of the Church, if, in a vast and spacious sea, where creeping things innumerable cross his path, and the risk is not of body and carnal profit, but of soul and spiritual grace, he is unable to see all at once on what side to incline his opinion ; if, in short, dif- ferent views arise, according to the difference of men's wishes, and he who advances a particular cause disagrees with him who consults, and ought to consult, for the good of the whole? Becket looked chiefly to a * particular cause, ' his country, in which he beheld a process of destruction rapidly going on, the moral consequences of which threatened to continue, and to advance in evil, even after the political oppression which had engendered them had been redressed. He writes accord- ingly : * ' But your Holiness counsels me to bear with patience meanwhile. And do you not observe, O Father, what this meanwhile may bring about, to the injury of the Church and of your Holiness's reputation? Meanwhile he applies to his own purposes the revenues of the vacant abbeys and bishoprics, and will not suffer pastors to be ordained there. . . . Meanwhile who is to take charge of the Sheep of Christ,' &c. And, seeing, is self-judged, and sees no longer, p. 149. Readers of the higher poetry will hardly need to be re- minded of a passage in ' The Dream of Gerontius, ' by which 1 'The Life and Martyrdom of St. Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Can- terbury/ by John Morris, Canon of Northampton. Notes. 263 this line was probably suggested. (See * Verses on Various Occasions,' p. 336. Burns, Gates, and Co.) A whisper stirs That instruments consenting to that deed, p. 169. It has been affirmed that the Pope was induced by John of Oxford to grant to the Archbishop of York permission to crown young Prince Henry, despite the acknowledged rights of Can- terbury. If he had done so, the Archbishop and those bishops who acted with him at that coronation must, notwithstanding, since they acknowledged his power to cancel the ancient right of Canterbury, have equally acknowledged his power to cancel his own concession, and to reaffirm that right. Considering how the Pope had been deceived by John of Oxford when he super- seded Becket's Legantine authority, it might have been not beyond the skill of the famous ' Swearer ' to have, for a, time, deceived him again. A letter or bull, professing to come from the Pope, exists among the Cottonian MSS., permitting the Archbishop of York to crown the Prince. Mr. Berington, in his 'History of Henry II.' (vol. ii. appendix ii.), denies its authenticity, assigning six reasons for doing so. They are certainly grave reasons ; whether they are conclusive it is not for me to say. The supposition most favourable to Roger of York and the other two bishops would be one not very probable, but perhaps not impossible, viz. that the letters sent by the Pope, prohibiting the course which they subsequently adopted, failed to reach them, though issued three times the English ports being then strictly guarded and failed without connivance on their part. The King of France I sought him out at Sens, p. 170. The account given by Canon Morris of the interview between Becket and the two kings at Montmirail includes much that 264 Notes. is characteristic : * Before the conference began, St. Thomas was surrounded by his friends, who, almost unanimously, tried to induce him to make his submission to King Henry abso- lutely, adding no condition or clause, and leaving all the matter in dispute to the king's generosity. . . . Herbert of Bosham managed to thrust himself in amongst the crowd of great people to whisper a warning to the saint that, if he omitted the clause "saving God's honour" now, he would be sure afterwards to repent it as bitterly as he had done the omission of the former clause in EnglancJ. There was not time for him to answer by more than a look when they were in the presence of the kings.' Henry addressed Louis. * This speech produced a great effect. Some people called out, "The king humbles himself enough." The Archbishop was silent for a while, when Louis said, in a way which de- lighted the friends of the King of England, " My Lord Arch- bishop, do you want to be more than a saint ? or better than Peter? Why do you doubt? Peace is at hand." . . . The majority even of his own followers were led away by the current feeling, and were jealous of losing the restoration to their homes, which had seemed just within their grasp. As they were riding away after the conference the horse of one of them named Henry de Hoctune, who was riding just before the Archbishop, stumbled, on which the rider called out, loud enough for the saint to hear, " Go on, saving the honour of God, and of holy Church, and of my Order." Here again the Arch- bishop, much as he was pained, did not speak. 1 The poor never forsook him. ' As they went, people asked who it was that was going by ; and when they heard that it was the Arch- bishop of Canterbury, they pointed him out to one another, saying, * ' That is the Archbishop who yesterday would not deny God or neglect his honour for the sake of the kings." Soon after all was changed. King Louis discovered that Henry had deceived him ; and one of the Papal envoys, Bernard of Gram- mont, said to Herbert, "I would rather have my foot cut off Notes. 265 than that your lord the Archbishop should have made peace at that Conference, as I and all the others advised him.'' 71 May it please your Highness plainly to declare If you confirm that sentence, p. 181. The suspension of the bishops who assisted at the young prince's coronation has sometimes been mistaken for a new act of hostility on the part of Becket against the king, and as the cause of Henry's outbreak the immediate though unin- tended occasion of the Archbishop's murder. This view is negatived by historic facts. The king had consented to that suspension at Freitval. ' * ' As for those who up to this time have betrayed the interests of both of us, I will, with God's help, answer them as traitors deserve. 1 ..." That Henry expressly and publicly consented to the punishment of the bishops, who had merely executed his will, is perfectly certain ; but as it is a point of the very greatest consequence, since the anger that led to the martyrdom was excited by the course here agreed to by the king himself, and as just before his death St. Thomas solemnly reminded Fitz-Urse of this very consent, it will be well to insert the words of another witness. "I was present," writes Theo- bald, Earl of Blois, to the Pope, "when the King of England received the Archbishop of Canterbury with every sign of peace and goodwill. . . . Complaint was then made of the bishops who had dared to place the new king on the throne, against the right and honour of the Church of Canterbury ; and the king gave him free and lawful power over them, that at your Holiness' s pleasure, or at his, sentence might be pronounced against them. Those things I saw and heard ; and I am ready to attest and confirm them by an oath, or in whatever other mode you may prefer." ' 2 Herbert of Bosham makes a similar statement. The same fact was adverted to as a matter of notoriety by the 1 'The Life of St. Thomas of Canterbury,' by Canon Morris, pp. 245-52. a Ibid. pp. 287-8. T 266 Notes. Archbishop himself when Fitz-Urse and the other three knights intruded themselves into his presence in his palace just before the murder. ' Henry had 1 long before seen his bishops under severer sentences than that of suspension ; and Becket, far from having originated the last sentences against them,, had used his influence with the Pope to mitigate their force. Henry had better excuse for his disastrous storm of passion. * The Archbishop [on his way to the young king] was accompanied by five mounted soldiers as an escort, on account of the unsafe state of the roads. It was reported to King Henry that he was marching about England with a great army, besieging the towns, and intending to drive the young king out of the country.' 2 ' The three prelates . . . threw themselves at his feet, im- ploring his justice against the primate, and his clemency for themselves,, for his clergy, and for his kingdom. He had abused the king's indulgence, they said, adding falsely ; that he had excommunicated, not themselves only, but all those who were present at the prince's coronation. "Then, by God's eyes," said Henry in a rage, "he has excommunicated me/' They proceeded to say, with equal truth, that, escorted by an armed band of soldiers, he was gone to the young king, purposing to enter his castles' (vol. i. p. 288, Berington's * History'). His reference is Vita, c. 8, n, Gerv. He thus describes the deception practised on the young king : 'They [the three prelates] before their departure, despatched mes- sengers to the young king, by malicious, insinuations to per- suade him that it was the archbishop's intention to deprive-- him of his throne (vol. i. p. 286). The reference is Vita", c. 5, 6, 7 ; Ep. 64, 73. The Pope hath passed the sentence, p. 2O2. An interesting letter is given by Mr. H. Froude ('History/ 1 'The Life of St. Thomas of Canterbury,' by Canon Morris, p. 320. a Ibid. pp. 307-8. Notes. 267 p. 33), written by Becket to the nun Iclonea, when placing in her charge the sentence which she was to deliver into the hand of the Archbishop of York. And wake a slumbering realm, p. 205. Or. Lingard thus records the consequences of Becket's death : 'The moment of his death was the triumph of his cause. . . . The advocates of the Customs were silenced. 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