The friar disappears. A neighbour, of the new opinions, who has seen him come and go, takes his place, and then begins an argument. One says, 'my father's faith shall be my faith.' And the other, hot and foolish, answers, 'Thy father was a liar and is in hell, and so is my father in hell also. My father never knew Scripture, and now it is come forth.'[1]
The slide again moves. We are in a village church, and there is a window gorgeously painted, representing the various events in the life and death of Thomas à Becket. The King sits on his throne, and speaks fiercely to his four knights. The knights mount their horses and gallop to Canterbury. The Archbishop is at vespers in the quire. The knights stride in and smite him dead. Then follows the retribution. In the great central compartment of the window the haughty prince is kneeling naked before the shrine of the martyr, and the monks stand round him and beat him with their rods. All over England in such images of luminous beauty the memory of the great victory[2] of the clergy
- ↑ Depositions relating to the Protestants in Yorkshire: MS. State Paper Office, second series, vol. xviii.
- ↑ The monkish poetry was pressed into the service. The following is from a MS. in Balliol College, Oxford. It is of the date, perhaps, of Henry VII.
'Listen, lordlings, both great and small,
I will tell you a wonder tale,
How Holy Church was brought in bale,
Cum magnâ injuriâ.
'The greatest clerke in this land,
Thomas of Canterbury I understand,
Slain he was with wicked hand,
Malorum potentiâ.
