University of Virginia Library

Scene V.—The Western Entrance to the Cathedral of Canterbury.

A multitude of clerics and others stand around watching the advance of Becket, preceded by a procession of nobles, abbots, and bishops. John of Salisbury and Herbert of Bosham converse alone.
John of Sal.
Since came to him this greatness he is sad;
He fears the election was not wholly free.

Her.
He fears far more than that.
When Canterbury's towers looked on us first
O'er the great woodlands, thus he spake: ‘Last night
By me there stood a Venerable Form
And gave me talents ten;’ then added low,
‘See that thou sift my faults with flail and fan:
I count thee traitor else.’ I made my vow
That hour. It shall be kept.

John of Sal.
They pass the gate:
Thomas walks last, and by his side the prince,
Holding his hand full fast. That child well loves him;
A word 'gainst Becket, and his face heaven-bright
Clouds with his father's frown!

A French Priest
(addressing an English Priest).
What twain are those that entered late and stand
Within the western portals? Name him first,
That tall ascetic form with presence kingly,
Kingly in kingships of some spiritual sphere,
And fearless port self-stayed, and dominant eye?

English Priest.
That's John of Salisbury, Becket's counsellor chief,
Wisest, men say, in England.

French Priest.
Who is he
Close by, that gazes through those portals, he
With countenance vision-dazed, low stature, form
Slight as a maid's and modest? Such a one
Could he but slip unmarked through gates of heaven,
Might undetected walk 'mid virgin choirs
'Twixt Agatha and Agnes.

English Priest.
That is Herbert,
Becket's chief friend. But lo, my lord himself!

[The procession advances to the high altar, before which sits Henry of Blois, Bishop of Winton. The monks of St. Augustine's Monastery stand in a semicircle around him. The bishops take their seats in two rows below him, in front of the altar; the abbots sit, and the nobles stand behind them.
Leic.
(apart to De Luci).
My lord of Winton consecrates the primate;
The king will like not that.

De Luci.
It shall bestead him.
My lord of York made claim, and Hereford,
And some Welsh bishop, oldest in the land,
Who butts against Pelagius in his dreams
And thinks him living yet. I spake with Winton:
Becket he loves—except when others praise him;—
And this day will in grave discourse exhort
To walk in modesty of virtue, taming
Man's pride of flesh, and please our lord the king.

The B. of Roch.
(addressing the Bishop of Winton).
Most reverend lord, through me the Church presents,
For consecration to a bishop's order,
The archiepiscopal degree, and throne
Primatial of the total realm of England,
Thomas, a presbyter of life approved.

Henry of Win.
Was this election free?

Prior of St. Aug.
My lord, 'twas free.

Henry of Win.
It resteth with the bishops of the province
To ratify the election, or annul.
What sentence make my lords?

Gil.
My lord, our voices
Unanimous approve—the loudest mine.

Henry of Win.
My lords, this work, we trust, is work of God;
Not less, where things of heaven commix with earthly,
A creeping wariness perforce hath place
'Mid duties more sublime. This hour mine eye
Rests on a youth who to the heart of England
That most in innocency seeth God,
Presenteth ever comfort of her hope
And to this Church good auspice. Here he stands
To answer for his father. Royal sir,
This man, elect to Canterbury's chair,
Hath long time lived the realm's high chancellor;
Dispensed her offices; held in his hand
Her treasury's golden key. A man so trusted
Hath enemies. For that cause we demand
That Thomas to the Church be given absolved
From every claim foregone, just or unjust,
Derived from functions past; henceforth for aye
A free man, with a spirit's freedom ranging
Among the things of God.

P. Hen.
My Lord of Winton,
And you, my lords, England's great prelacy
In apostolic synod this day met,
Though young, I stand commissioned by my sire,
And, acting in his name, and by his will,
Concede that just demand.

Henry of Win.
Son, read the oath.

Becket
(reads the oath of a bishop aloud, and ends).
May God so help me, and His holy Gospels!

Henry of Win.
Son, it behoves a bishop of Christ's Church
To make confession of her faith and morals:
Believest thou one God in Persons Three,
The Incarnation of the Second Person,
And, through His death, redemption?

Bec.
I believe.

Henry of Win.
Wilt thou bear witness to the sacred Scriptures
And sage traditions of past times?

Bec.
I will.

Henry of Win.
Wilt thou to Peter, and that kingly line
Long-linked with his, which wields the keys of heaven,
Be liegeful and of constant heart?

Bec.
I will.

Henry of Win.
Wilt thou in chastity and lowness live,
With spirit averse to worldly greed?

Bec.
I will.

Henry of Win.
Wilt thou be gracious to the poor of Christ?

Bec.
I will.

Henry of Win.
God give thee increase of thy faith,
And good resolve, to blessedness eternal!

[The assistant bishops conduct Becket to a side chapel. After a short time they lead him back, wearing sandals, the pectoral cross, the stole, tunicle, dalmatic, and maniple. Passing the altar of St. Benedict, he kneels and prays. The Litanies are then sung, the bishops and other assistants kneeling, while Becket lies on his face before the high altar. The Litanies ended, he kneels while the assistant bishops, solemnly opening the Book of the Gospels, rest it upon his neck and shoulders. After this they lay their hands on his head, saying, ‘Accipe Spiritum Sanctum,’ while the Veni Creator Spiritus is sung. The Bishop of Winton then, first slowly making the sign of the cross over Becket's head, anoints it with the holy chrism, while two choirs, one at the high altar, and one in the chapel of St. Benedict, sing alternately the verses of the Antiphon, Sicut unguentum in capite.
Henry of Win.
Eternal King, and Kingly Priest on high,
Whose virtue makes the worlds for ever young,
Send forth upon the head of this Thy priest
Thy heavenly grace. In stillness let it creep
Down to the utmost parts invisible
Of spirit and of soul. Sustain in him
True faith, true love. Make beautiful his feet
And wingèd on Thy mountain-tops, forth speeding
Thy herald with Thy Gospel for mankind:
Be his to preach it, not by craft of men
But demonstration of Thy Spirit divine,
In word and work. Grant him in right and might
To wield Thy keys; and what he binds on earth
Bind Thou in heaven. Thy blessing send on them
That bless him, and Thy ban on them that curse:
Let him not put the evil for the good,
Darkness for light. Fear he the face of none.
Be Thou his strength, that mightily he rule
Thy Church in this Thy realm, and save Thy people.

[The Bishop of Winton then blesses the pastoral staff and the ring, and delivers them to Becket, as well as the Book of the Gospels, closed, and finally gives him the kiss of peace, which last the assistant bishops likewise reverently bestow.
De Luci
(apart to Leicester).
My lord will preach. Draw near!

Leic.
Some eight years since
Our coronation feast at Westminster
Showed us a pomp more rich. That day the prelates
In divers-coloured silks so shone that still,
Move where they might past gloomiest arch or aisle,
They wove a varying rainbow such as braids
The dark skirts of a cloud.

De Luci.
And cloud and storm
That lovely light portended. 'Twas the queen
Who changed our graver splendours of the West
That day to plumage of the Eastern Church:
She loves the loud and bright. The Grecian rites
In that schismatic seat of Constantine
Had charmed her wild and wandering eye.

Leic.
Lo there!

Henry of Win.
(placing the mitre on Becket's head).
The helmet of salvation gird the head
Of God's high warrior! from its horns forth shine
The glories twinned of either Testament!
Auspicious beam they as from Moses' face
That light of God. Be they His people's strength,
And terrible to those who hate the truth.

Her.
(to John of Salisbury, still near the western entrance).
I catch no word.

John of Sal.
The man who takes his stand
Hard by a torrent hears no sound beside:
Beyond that gate a torrent people streams—

Her.
Streams like the world, and all its blind confusions;
Within, behold the vision of God's peace!
Between these twain we stand.

John of Sal.
The rite's complete:
The primate kneels for blessing.

Her.
Ha! What means it?
A Consecrator blesses from his chair;
And none is loyal more to forms than Winton.
Why stands he thus with hands to heaven upheld,
His white head shining like a sun new-risen
Through wintry mist dim seen?

John of Sal.
At last he speaks!

Her.
Not loud:—and yet we hear him, oh how clearly!

Henry of Win.
This day the Spirit Prophetic on me falls,
Nor rests with me to speak or to forbear.
My will it was to preach of peace, and lo!
I see in heaven a sword;—
Son, take God's blessing in a choice of woes:
Betwixt an earthly and a heavenly king,
Elect of God, this day election make!

Her.
See, see! The primate clasps his hands, and lifts them—
Heavenward he looks!

John of Sal.
He speaks.

Bec.
My choice is made.

[There is a pause. The assistant bishops then lead Becket to the archiepiscopal throne, the two choirs singing the Te Deum in alternate verses.