diplomat up to heights of Christian sainthood. We hear of Thomas first when, as Chancellor of King Henry, he visits the French court in a pageant of mediæval splendour:
"Of his own household there were two hundred—clerics and knights—chanting hymns. Then followed his hounds—ten couples. Next came eight wagons with five horses each . . . then followed twelve sumpter horses. The esquires bore the shields and the falconers the hawks on their fists; after them came those that held the banners; and last, my lord on a milk-white horse. . . . Thomas gave gifts to all—to the princes, and the clergy, and the knights, and to the poor more than to the rich . . . when he feasted the beggars, he bade them take with them the gilded spoons and goblets."
Becket is raised to the see of Canterbury, and thenceforth, step by step, the poet pictures his struggle for the freedom of the English Church. Single-handed he fights the pride and treachery of his king, the weakness of his bishops, the guile of tireless enemies; until, on that black December night of 1170, the blow of martyrdom is struck. It is a scene noble even to sublimity. Vesper time draws near in the great Cathedral, and two priests are speaking brokenly of their Primate:
At yonder altar of Saint Benedict
He said his mass; then in the chapter-house
Conversed with two old monks of things divine:
Next for his confessor he sent, and made
Confession with his humble wont, but briefly;
Last, sat with us an hour, and held discourse
Full gladsomely. . . . An old monk cried,
"Thank God, my lord, you make good cheer!"
He answered,
"Who goeth to his Master should be glad."
