Constitutions of Clarendon. He even threatened to excommunicate the king himself if he did not immediately repent; and, to give his censures the greater energy, he got them to be ratified by the pope.

Whatever Henry's contempt of these fulminations might be in the beginning, he, after some deliberation, began to find them more formidable than he had supposed, and secretly wished for an accommodation. Yet there seemed no other way of terminating these disputes, but by the king's appealing to the pope, as umpire between him and the archbishop; and this promised no very favourable decision. However, perceiving that his authority was beginning to decline among his subjects, and that his rivals on the continent had actually availed themselves of his perplexities, he resolved at any rate to apply to the pope for his mediation. The pope himself, on the other hand, was every day threatened by the machinations of an antipope. He was apprehensive that the king of England might join against him; he knew his great abilities, and was sensible that, as yet, no insurrection had been made in consequence of the threats and exhortations of Becket. Thus the disposition of both parties produced frequent attempts towards an accommodation; but their mutual jealousies, and their anxiety not to lose the least advantage in the negociation, often protracted this desirable treaty. At one time the terms being agreed on, were postponed by the king's refusing to sign, but with a salvo to his royal dignity. At another time they were accommodated, but were broken off by Becket's refusing to submit but with a salvo to the honour of God. A third and a fourth negociation followed without effect. In this last all the terms were completely adjusted, when Becket took it into his head to demand a kiss of peace. This the king refused to grant; and both parties once more prepared for mutual annoyance.

A. D.

1170.

These disturbances continued for some time longer: Becket never losing an opportunity of impeaching the king's ministers, and obstructing all his measures. At length, by the mediation of the pope's legate, all difficulties were adjusted; and while the king allowed Becket to return, that prelate consented to waive the kiss of peace. The ceremonial of the interview being regulated, when the archbishop approached, the king advanced to meet him in the most gracious manner; and conversed with him for some time with great ease, familiarity, and kindness. All material points being adjusted, Becket attended Henry on horseback; and as they rode together, the prelate begged some satisfaction for the invasions of his right by the archbishop of York, who had some time before crowned the young prince. To this Henry replied, that what was past could not be undone; but that he would take care that none but he should crown the young queen, which ceremony was soon to be performed. Becket transported at this instance of the king's condescension, alighted instantly, and threw himself at the feet of his sovereign; who, leaping from his horse at the same time, lifted him from the ground, and helped him to remount. The terms of their present agreement were very advantageous to the prelate; and this

might have inspired him, in the ardour of his gratitude, to such a humiliation. It was agreed that he should not give up any of the rights of the church, or resign any of those pretensions which had been the original ground of the quarrel; that Becket and his adherents should be restored to their livings; and that all such possessors of benefices (belonging to the see of Canterbury) as had been installed since the primate's absence, should be expelled, and Becket have liberty to supply the vacancies. In return for these concessions, the king only reaped the advantage of seeing his ministers absolved from the sentence of excommunication, and of preventing an interdict which was preparing to be laid upon all his dominions.

Becket having thus, in some measure, triumphed over the king, was resolved to remit nothing of the power which he had acquired. He soon began to show, that not even a temporary tranquillity was to be the result of his reconciliation. Nothing could exceed the insolence with which he conducted himself upon his first landing in England. Instead of retiring quietly to his diocess with that modesty which became a man just pardoned by his king, he made a progress through Kent in all the splendour and magnificence of a sovereign pontiff. As he approached Southwark, the clergy, the laity, men of all ranks and ages, came forth to meet him, and celebrated his triumphal entry with hymns of joy. Thus confident of the voice and the hearts of the people, he began to launch forth his thunders against those who had been his former opposers. The archbishop of York, who had crowned Henry's eldest son in his absence, was the first against whom he denounced sentence of suspension. The bishops of London and Salisbury he actually excommunicated. Robert de Broc and Nigel de Sackville were exposed to the same censures; and many of the most considerable prelates and ministers, who had assisted at the late coronation of the young prince, were partakers of the common calamity. One man he excommunicated for having spoken against him; and another for having cut off the tail of one of his horses.

Henry was then in Normandy, while the primate was thus triumphantly parading through the kingdom; and it was not without the utmost indignation that he received information of his turbulent insolence. When the suspended and excommunicated prelates arrived with their complaints, his anger knew no bounds. He broke forth into the most acrimonious expressions against that arrogant churchman, whom he had raised from the lowest station to be the plague of his life, and the continual disturber of his government. The archbishop of York remarked to him, that so long as Becket lived, he could never expect to enjoy peace or tranquillity; and the king himself burst out into an exclamation, that he had no friends about him, or he would not so long have been exposed to the insults of that ungrateful hypocrite. These words excited the attention of the whole court, and armed four of his most resolute attendants to gratify their monarch's secret inclinations. The names of these knights and gentlemen of the his household were Reginald Fitz-Urse,

William de Tracy, Hugh de Morville, and Richard Brito, who immediately communicated their thoughts to each other. They instantly bound themselves by an oath to revenge their king's quarrel; and, secretly retiring from court, took shipping at different ports, and met the next day at the castle of Saltwoode, within six miles of Canterbury. Some menacing expressions which they had dropped, and their sudden departure, gave the king reason to suspect their design. He therefore sent messengers to overtake and forbid them, in his name, to commit any violence; but these orders arrived too late to prevent their fatal purpose. The conspirators, being joined by some assistants at the place of their meeting, proceeded to Canterbury with all the haste their bloody intentions required. Advancing directly to Becket's house, and entering his apartment, they reproached him very fiercely for the rashness and the insolence of his conduct; as if they had been willing to enjoy his terrors before they destroyed him. Becket, however, was not in the least terrified; but vindicated his actions with that zeal and resolution, which nothing probably but the consciousness of his innocence could inspire. The conspirators felt the force of his replies; and were particularly enraged at a charge of ingratitude, which he objected to three of them, who had been formerly retained in his service. During this altercation, the time approached for Becket to assist at vespers, whither he went unguarded, the conspirators following, and preparing for their attempt. As soon as he had reached the altar, where it is just to think he aspired at the glory of martyrdom, they all fell upon him; and when they had cloven his head with repeated blows, he dropped down dead before the altar of St. Benedict, which was besmeared with his blood and brains.

The circumstances of the murder, the place where it was perpetrated, and the fortitude with which the prelate resigned himself to his fate, made a surprising impression on the people. No sooner was his death known than they rushed into the church to see the body, and, dipping their hands in his blood, crossed themselves with it as with that of a saint. The clergy, whose interest it was to have Becket considered as a saint, and many of whom were perhaps sincere in their belief, considering the times we treat of, did all that lay in their power to magnify his sanctity, to extol the merits of his martyrdom, and to hold him out as the fittest object of the veneration of the people. Their endeavours soon prevailed. Innumerable were the miracles said to be wrought at his tomb; for when the people are brought to see a miracle, they generally find or make one. It was not sufficient that his shrine had the power of restoring dead men to life; it restored also cows, dogs, and horses. It was reported, and believed, that he rose from his coffin before he was buried, to light the tapers designed for his funeral: nor was he remiss, when the funeral ceremony was over, in stretching forth his hands to give his benediction to the people. Thus Becket became a saint; and the king was strongly suspected of procuring his assassination. Nothing could exceed the king's consternation upon receiving the

H

first news of this prelate's catastrophe. He was instantly sensible that the murder would be ultimately imputed to him. He was apprised that his death would effect what his opposition could not do, and would procure those advantages to the church which it had been the study of his whole reign to refuse. These considerations gave him the most unfeigned concern. He shut himself up in darkness, refusing even the attendance of his domestics. He even rejected, during three days, all nourishment. The courtiers, dreading the effects of his regret, were at last obliged to break into his solitude, in ord to persuade him to be reconciled to a measure that he could not redress. The pope soon after, being made sensible of the king's innocence, granted him his pardon; but upon condition that he would make every future submission, and perform every injunction that the holy see should require. All things being thus adjusted, the assassins who had murdered Becket retired in safety to the enjoyment of their former dignities and honours; and the king, in order to divert the minds of the people to a different object, undertook an expedition against Ireland.

Ireland was at that time nearly in the same situation in which England had been after the first invasion of the Saxons. Its inhabitants had been early converted to Christianity; and, for three or four centuries after, possessed a very large proportion of the learning of the times being undisturbed by foreign invasions, and perhaps too poor to invite the rapacity of conquerors, they enjoyed a peaceful life, which they gave up to piety, and such learning as was then thought necessary to promote it. Of their learning, their arts, their piety, and even their polished manners, too many monuments remain to this day for us to make the least doubt concerning them; but it is equally true, that in time they fell from these advantages: and their degenerate posterity, at the period we are now speaking of, were involved in the darkest barbarity. This may be imputed to the frequent invasions which they suffered from the Danes and Norwegians, who overran the whole country, and every where spread their ravages, and confirmed their authority. The natives, kept in the strictest bondage, grew every day more ignorant and brutal; and when at last they rose upon their conquerors, and totally expelled them from the island, they wanted instructers to restore them to their former attainments. Henceforward they long continued in the most deplorable state of barbarism. The towns that had been formerly built were suffered to fall into ruin; the inhabitants exercised pasture in the open country, and sought protection from danger by retiring into their forests and bogs. Almost all sense of religion was extinguished; the petty princes exercised continual outrages upon each other's territories; and strength alone was able to procure redress.

At the time when Henry first planned the invasion of the island, it was divided into five small kingdoms, namely, Leinster, Meath, Munster, Ulster, and Connaught. As it had been usual for one or other of the five kings to take the lead in their wars, he was de

nominated monarch of the island, and possessed a power resembling that of the early Saxon monarchs in England. Roderic O'Connor, king of Connaught, then enjoyed this dignity, and Dermot M Morrogh was king of Leinster. This last-named prince, a weak, licentious tyrant, had carried off and ravished the daughter of the king of Meath, who, being strengthened by the alliance of the king of Connaught, invaded the ravisher's dominions, and expelled him from his kingdom. This prince, thus justly punished, had recourse to Henry, who was at that time in Guienne, and offered to hold his kingdom of the English crown, if he should recover it by the king's assistance. Henry readily accepted the offer; but being at that time embarrassed by more near interests, he only gave Dermot letters patent, by which he empowered all his subjects to aid the Irish prince in the recovery of his dominions. Dermot, relying on this authority, repaired to Bristol, where, after some difficulty, he formed a treaty with Richard, surnamed Strongbow, earl of Pembroke, who agreed to reinstate him in his dominions, upon condition of his being married to his daughter Eva, and declared heir of all his territory. He at the same time contracted for succours with Robert Fitzstephen and Maurice Fitzgerald, whom he promised to gratify with the city of Wexford, and the two adjoining districts, which were then in possession of the Easterlings, or descendants of the Norwegians. Being thus assured of assistance, he returned privately to Ireland, and concealed himself during the winter in the monastery of Fernes, which he had founded. Robert Fitzstephen was first able, the ensuing spring, to fulfil his engagements, by landing with thirty knights, sixty esquires, and three hundred archers. They were soon after joined by Maurice Prendergast, who, about the same time, brought over ten knights and sixty archers; and with this small force they resolved on besieging Wexford, which was to be theirs by treaty. This town was quickly reduced; and the adventurers, being re-enforced by another body of men, to the amount of a hundred and fifty, under the command of Maurice Fitzgerald, composed an army that struck the barbarous natives with awe. Roderic, the chief monarch of the island, ventured to oppose them, but he was defeated; and soon after the prince of Ossory was obliged to submit, and give hostages for his future conduct.

Dermot, being thus reinstated in his hereditary dominions, soon began to conceive hopes of extending the limits of his power, and making himself master of Ireland. With these views he endeavoured to expedite Strongbow, who, being personally prohibited by the king, had not yet come over. Dermot tried to inflame his ambition by the glory of the conquest, and his avarice by the advantages it would procure: he expatiated on the cowardice of the natives, and the certainty of his success. Strongbow first sent over Raymond, one of his retinue, with ten knights and seventy archers; and receiving permission shortly after for himself, he landed with two hundred horse and a hundred archers. All these English forces, now joining together, became irresistible; and though the