Alfred, Lord Tennyson - Delphi Poets Series
Page 158
To guard this bird of passage to her cage;
And watch Fitzurse, and if he follow thee,
Make him thy prisoner. I am Chancellor yet.
[Exeunt Herbert and Rosamund.
Poor soul! poor soul!
My friend, the King! . . . O thou Great Seal of England,
Given me by my dear friend the King of England —
We long have wrought together, thou and I —
Now must I send thee as a common friend
To tell the King, my friend, I am against him.
We are friends no more: he will say that, not I.
The worldly bond between us is dissolved,
Not yet the love: can I be under him
As Chancellor? as Archbishop over him?
Go therefore like a friend slighted by one
That hath climb’d up to nobler company.
Not slighted — all but moan’d for: thou must go.
I have not dishonour’d thee — I trust I have not;
Not mangled justice. May the hand that next
Inherits thee be but as true to thee
As mine hath been! O, my dear friend, the King!
O brother! — I may come to martyrdom.
I am martyr in myself already. — Herbert!
HERBERT (re-entering).
My lord, the town is quiet, and the moon
Divides the whole long street with light and shade.
No footfall — no Fitzurse. We have seen her home.
BECKET.
The hog hath tumbled himself into some corner,
Some ditch, to snore away his drunkenness
Into the sober headache, — Nature’s moral
Against excess. Let the Great Seal be sent
Back to the King to-morrow.
HERBERT.
Must that be?
The King may rend the bearer limb from limb
Think on it again.
BECKET.
Against the moral excess
No physical ache, but failure it may be
Of all we aim’d at. John of Salisbury
Hath often laid a cold hand on my heats,
And Herbert hath rebuked me even now.
I will be wise and wary, not the soldier
As Foliot swears it. — John, and out of breath!
Enter JOHN OF SALISBURY.
JOHN OF SALISBURY.
Thomas, thou wast not happy taking charge
Of this wild Rosamund to please the King,
Nor am I happy having charge of her —
The included Danaë has escaped again
Her tower, and her Acrisius — where to seek?
I have been about the city.
BECKET.
Thou wilt find her
Back in her lodging. Go with her — at once —
To-night — my men will guard you to the gates.
Be sweet to her, she has many enemies.
Send the Great Seal by daybreak. Both, good night!
Scene II
Street in Northampton leading to the Castle.
ELEANOR’S RETAINERS and BECKET’S RETAINERS fighting. Enter ELEANOR and BECKET from opposite streets.
ELEANOR.
Peace, fools!
BECKET.
Peace, friends! what idle brawl is this?
RETAINER OF BECKET.
They said — her Grace’s people — thou wast found —
Liars! I shame to quote ‘em — caught, my lord,
With a wanton in thy lodging — Hell requite ‘em!
RETAINER OF ELEANOR.
My liege, the Lord Fitzurse reported this
In passing to the Castle even now.
RETAINER OF BECKET.
And then they mock’d us and we fell upon ‘em,
For we would live and die for thee, my lord,
However kings and queens may frown on thee.
BECKET TO HIS RETAINERS.
Go, go — no more of this!
ELEANOR TO HER RETAINERS.
Away! — (Exeunt Retainers) Fitzurse —
BECKET.
Nay, let him be.
ELEANOR.
No, no, my Lord Archbishop,
‘Tis known you are midwinter to all women,
But often in your chancellorship you served
The follies of the King.
BECKET.
No, not these follies!
ELEANOR.
My lord, Fitzurse beheld her in your lodging.
BECKET.
Whom?
ELEANOR.
Well — you know — the minion, Rosamund.
BECKET.
He had good eyes!
ELEANOR.
Then hidden in the street
He watch’d her pass with John of Salisbury
And heard her cry ‘Where is this bower of mine?’
BECKET.
Good ears too!
ELEANOR.
You are going to the Castle,
Will you subscribe the customs?
BECKET. I leave that,
Knowing how much you reverence Holy Church,
My liege, to your conjecture.
ELEANOR.
I and mine —
And many a baron holds along with me —
Are not so much at feud with Holy Church
But we might take your side against the customs —
So that you grant me one slight favour.
BECKET. What?
ELEANOR.
A sight of that same chart which Henry gave you
With the red line—’her bower.’
BECKET. And to what end?
ELEANOR.
That Church must scorn herself whose fearful Priest
Sits winking at the license of a king,
Altho’ we grant when kings are dangerous
The Church must play into the hands of kings;
Look! I would move this wanton from his sight
And take the Church’s danger on myself.
BECKET.
For which she should be duly grateful.
ELEANOR. True!
Tho’ she that binds the bond, herself should see
That kings are faithful to their marriage vow.
BECKET.
Ay, Madam, and queens also.
ELEANOR.
And queens also!
What is your drift?
BECKET.
My drift is to the Castle,
Where I shall meet the Barons and my King. [Exit.
DE BROC, DE TRACY, DE BRITO, DE MORVILLE (passing).
ELEANOR.
To the Castle?
DE BROC.
Ay!
ELEANOR.
Stir up the King, the Lords!
Set all on fire against him!
DE BRITO.
Ay, good Madam!
[Exeunt.
ELEANOR.
Fool! I will make thee hateful to thy King.
Churl! I will have thee frighted into France,
And I shall live to trample on thy grave.
Scene III
The Hall in Northampton Castle.
On one side of the stage the doors of an inner Council-chamber, half-open. At the bottom, the great doors of the Hall. ROGER ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, FOLIOT BISHOP OF LONDON, HILARY OF CHICHESTER, BISHOP OF HEREFORD, RICHARD DE HASTINGS (Grand Prior of Templars), PHILIP DE ELEEMOSYNA (the Pope’s Almoner), and others. DE BROC, FITZURSE, DE BRITO, DE MORVILLE, DE TRACY, and other BARONS assembled — a table before them. JOHN OF OXFORD, President of the Council.
Enter BECKET and HERBERT OF BOSHAM.
BECKET.
Where is the King?
ROGER OF YORK.
Gone hawking on the Nene,
His heart so gall’d with thine ingratitude,
He will not see thy face till thou hast sign’d
These ancient laws and customs of the realm.
Thy sending back the Great Seal madden’d him,
He all but plu
ck’d the bearer’s eyes away.
Take heed, lest he destroy thee utterly.
BECKET.
Then shalt thou step into my place and sign.
ROGER OF YORK.
Didst thou not promise Henry to obey
These ancient laws and customs of the realm?
BECKET.
Saving the honour of my order — ay.
Customs, traditions, — clouds that come and go;
The customs of the Church are Peter’s rock.
ROGER OF YORK.
Saving thine order! But King Henry sware
That, saving his King’s kingship, he would grant thee
The crown itself. Saving thine order, Thomas,
Is black and white at once, and comes to nought.
O bolster’d up with stubbornness and pride,
Wilt thou destroy the Church in fighting for it,
And bring us all to shame?
BECKET.
Roger of York,
When I and thou were youths in Theobald’s house,
Twice did thy malice and thy calumnies
Exile me from the face of Theobald.
Now I am Canterbury and thou art York.
ROGER OF YORK.
And is not York the peer of Canterbury?
Did not Great Gregory bid St. Austin here
Found two archbishopricks, London and York?
BECKET.
What came of that? The first archbishop fled,
And York lay barren for a hundred years.
Why, by this rule, Foliot may claim the pall
For London too.
FOLIOT.
And with good reason too,
For London had a temple and a priest
When Canterbury hardly bore a name.
BECKET.
The pagan temple of a pagan Rome!
The heathen priesthood of a heathen creed!
Thou goest beyond thyself in petulancy!
Who made thee London? Who, but Canterbury?
JOHN OF OXFORD.
Peace, peace, my lords! these customs are no longer
As Canterbury calls them, wandering clouds,
But by the King’s command are written down,
And by the King’s command I, John of Oxford,
The President of this Council, read them.
BECKET. Read!
JOHN OF OXFORD (reads).
‘All causes of advowsons and presentations, whether between laymen or clerics, shall be tried in the King’s court.’
BECKET.
But that I cannot sign: for that would drag
The cleric before the civil judgment-seat,
And on a matter wholly spiritual.
JOHN OF OXFORD.
‘If any cleric be accused of felony, the Church shall not protect him: but he shall answer to the summons of the King’s court to be tried therein.’
BECKET.
And that I cannot sign.
Is not the Church the visible Lord on earth?
Shall hands that do create the Lord be bound
Behind the back like laymen-criminals?
The Lord be judged again by Pilate? No!
JOHN OF OXFORD.
‘When a bishoprick falls vacant, the King, till another be appointed, shall receive the revenues thereof.’
BECKET.
And that I cannot sign. Is the King’s treasury
A fit place for the monies of the Church,
That be the patrimony of the poor?
JOHN OF OXFORD.
‘And when the vacancy is to be filled up, the King shall summon the chapter of that church to court, and the election shall be made in the Chapel Royal, with the consent of our lord the King, and by the advice of his Government.’
BECKET.
And that I cannot sign: for that would make
Our island-Church a schism from Christendom,
And weight down all free choice beneath the throne.
FOLIOT.
And was thine own election so canonical,
Good father?
BECKET.
If it were not, Gilbert Foliot,
I mean to cross the sea to France, and lay
My crozier in the Holy Father’s hands,
And bid him re-create me, Gilbert Foliot.
FOLIOT.
Nay; by another of these customs thou
Wilt not be suffer’d so to cross the seas
Without the license of our lord the King.
BECKET.
That, too, I cannot sign.
DE BROC, DE BRITO, DE TRACY, FITZURSE, DE MORVILLE, start up — a clash of swords.
Sign and obey!
BECKET.
My lords, is this a combat or a council?
Are ye my masters, or my lord the King?
Ye make this clashing for no love o’ the customs
Or constitutions, or whate’er ye call them,
But that there be among you those that hold
Lands reft from Canterbury.
DE BROC.
And mean to keep them,
In spite of thee!
LORDS (shouting).
Sign, and obey the crown!
BECKET.
The crown? Shall I do less for Canterbury
Than Henry for the crown? King Stephen gave
Many of the crown lands to those that helpt him;
So did Matilda, the King’s mother. Mark,
When Henry came into his own again,
Then he took back not only Stephen’s gifts,
But his own mother’s, lest the crown should be
Shorn of ancestral splendour. This did Henry.
Shall I do less for mine own Canterbury?
And thou, De Broc, that holdest Saltwood Castle ——
DE BROC.
And mean to hold it, or ——
BECKET.
To have my life.
DE BROC.
The King is quick to anger; if thou anger him,
We wait but the King’s word to strike thee dead.
BECKET.
Strike, and I die the death of martyrdom;
Strike, and ye set these customs by my death
Ringing their own death-knell thro’ all the realm.
HERBERT.
And I can tell you, lords, ye are all as like
To lodge a fear in Thomas Becket’s heart
As find a hare’s form in a lion’s cave.
JOHN OF OXFORD.
Ay, sheathe your swords, ye will displease the King.
DE BROC.
Why down then thou! but an he come to Saltwood,
By God’s death, thou shalt stick him like a calf!
[Sheathing his sword.
HILARY.
O my good lord, I do entreat thee — sign.
Save the King’s honour here before his barons.
He hath sworn that thou shouldst sign, and now but shuns
The semblance of defeat; I have heard him say
He means no more; so if thou sign, my lord,
That were but as the shadow of an assent.
BECKET.
‘Twould seem too like the substance, if I sign’d.
PHILIP DE ELEEMOSYNA.
My lord, thine ear! I have the ear of the Pope.
As thou hast honour for the Pope our master,
Have pity on him, sorely prest upon
By the fierce Emperor and his Antipope.
Thou knowest he was forced to fly to France;
He pray’d me to pray thee to pacify
Thy King; for if thou go against thy King,
Then must he likewise go against thy King,
And then thy King might join the Antipope,
And that would shake the Papacy as it stands.
Besides, thy King swore to our cardinals
He meant no harm nor damage to the Church.
Smoothe thou his pride — thy signing is but form;
Nay, and should harm come of it, it is the Pope
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br /> Will be to blame — not thou. Over and over
He told me thou shouldst pacify the King,
Lest there be battle between Heaven and Earth,
And Earth should get the better — for the time.
Cannot the Pope absolve thee if thou sign?
BECKET.
Have I the orders of the Holy Father?
PHILIP DE ELEEMOSYNA.
Orders, my lord — why, no; for what am I?
The secret whisper of the Holy Father.
Thou, that hast been a statesman, couldst thou always
Blurt thy free mind to the air?
BECKET.
If Rome be feeble, then should I be firm.
PHILIP.
Take it not that way — balk not the Pope’s will.
When he hath shaken off the Emperor,
He heads the Church against the King with thee.
RICHARD DE HASTINGS (kneeling).
Becket, I am the oldest of the Templars;
I knew thy father; he would be mine age
Had he lived now; think of me as thy father!
Behold thy father kneeling to thee, Becket.
Submit; I promise thee on my salvation
That thou wilt hear no more o’ the customs.
BECKET. What!
Hath Henry told thee? hast thou talk’d with him?
Another TEMPLAR (kneeling).
Father, I am the youngest of the Templars,
Look on me as I were thy bodily son,
For, like a son, I lift my hands to thee.
PHILIP.
Wilt thou hold out for ever, Thomas Becket?
Dost thou not hear?
BECKET (signs).
Why — there then — there — I sign,
And swear to obey the customs.
FOLIOT.
Is it thy will,
My lord Archbishop, that we too should sign?
BECKET.
O ay, by that canonical obedience
Thou still hast owed thy father, Gilbert Foliot.
FOLIOT.
Loyally and with good faith, my lord Archbishop?
BECKET.
O ay, with all that loyalty and good faith
Thou still hast shown thy primate, Gilbert Foliot.
[Becket draws apart with Herbert.
Herbert, Herbert, have I betray’d the Church?
I’ll have the paper back — blot out my name.
HERBERT.
Too late, my lord: you see they are signing there.
BECKET.
False to myself — it is the will of God
To break me, prove me nothing of myself!
This Almoner hath tasted Henry’s gold.
The cardinals have finger’d Henry’s gold.
And Rome is venal ev’n to rottenness.
I see it, I see it.
I am no soldier, as he said — at least
No leader. Herbert, till I hear from the Pope
I will suspend myself from all my functions.
If fast and prayer, the lacerating scourge ——
FOLIOT (from the table).
My lord Archbishop, thou hast yet to seal.