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 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 Saltwode, 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 for 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 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 order 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 returned 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 instructors 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 denominated 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 reinforced 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 whole number did not amount to a thousand, yet such was the barbarous state of the natives, that they were every where put to the rout. The city of Waterford quickly surrendered; Dublin was taken by assault; and Strongbow, marrying Eva, according to treaty, became master of the kingdom of Leinster upon Dermont's decease.

The island being thus in a manner wholly subdued, for nothing was capable of opposing the progress of the English arms, Henry became jealous of the success of the adventurers, and was willing to share in person those honours which they had already secured. He therefore shortly after landed in Ireland, at the head of five hundred knights and some soldiers; not [A. D. 1171. so much to conquer a disputed territory, as to take possession of a subject kingdom. In his progress through the country, he received the homage of the petty chieftains, and left most of them in possession of their ancient territories. In a place so uncultivated and so ill peopled, there was still land enough to satisfy the adventurers who had followed him. Strongbow was made seneschal of Ireland; Hugh de Lacey was made governor of Dublin, and John de Courcy received a patent for conquering the province of Ulster, which yet remained unsubdued. The Irish bishops very gladly admitted the English, as they expected from their superior civilization a greater degree of reverence and respect. Pope Adrian IV. had, in the beginning, encouraged Henry to subdue the Irish by his bull granting him the kingdom. Pope Alexander III. now confirmed him in his conquest; and the kings of England were acknowledged as lords over Ireland for ever. Thus, after a trifling effort, in which very little money was expended, and little blood shed, that island became an appendage to the English crown, resulting, solely, from the valour and policy of Strongbow, who governed there until his death.

The joy which this conquest diffused was very great; and Henry seemed now to have attained the summit of his wishes. He was undisputed monarch of the greatest domain in Europe; father of a numerous progeny, that gave both lustre and authority to his crown; victorious over all his enemies, and cheerfully obeyed by all his subjects. Henry, his eldest son, had been anointed king, and was acknowledged as undoubted successor; Richard, his second son, was invested with the duchy of Guienne and Poictou; Geoffrey, his third son, inherited, in right of his wife, the duchy of Bretagne; and John, his youngest, was designed as king in Ireland. Such was the flattering prospect of grandeur before him; but such is the instability of human happiness, that this very exaltation of his family proved the means of imbittering his future life, and disturbing his government.

Among the few vices ascribed to this monarch, unlimited gallantry was one. Queen Eleanor, whom he married from motives of ambition, and who had been divorced from her former royal consort for her incontinence, was long become disagreeable to Henry; and he sought in others those satisfactions which he could not find with her. Among the number of his mistresses we have the name of Fair Rosamond, whose personal charms and premature death make so conspicuous a figure in the romances and the ballads of this period. It is true, that the severity of criticism has rejected most of these

accounts as fabulous; but even well-known fables, when much celebrated, make a part of the history, at least of the manners, of the age. Rosamond Clifford is said to have been the most beautiful woman that ever was seen in England, if what romances and poets assert be true. Henry loved her with a long and faithful attachment; and in order to secure her from the resentment of his queen, who from having been formerly incontinent herself, now became jealous of his incontinence, he concealed her in a labyrinth in Woodstock Park, where he passed in her company his hours of vacancy and pleasure. How long this secret intercourse continued we are not informed. It was not, however, so closely concealed but that it came to the queen's knowledge, who, as the accounts add, being guided by a clue of silk to her fair rival's retreat, obliged her, by holding a drawn dagger to her breast, to swallow poison. Whatever may be the veracity of this story, certain it is, that this haughty woman, though formerly offensive by her own gallantries, was no less so by her jealousy; and she it was who first sowed the seeds of dissension between the king and his children.

Young Henry was taught to believe himself injured, when, upon being crowned as partner in the kingdom, he was not admitted to a share of the administration. This prince had, from the beginning, shewn a degree of pride that seems to have been hereditary to all the Norman succession. When the ceremony of his coronation was performing, the king, willing to give it all the splendour possible, waited upon him at table; and while he offered him the cup, observed, that no prince ever before had been so magnificently attended. "There is nothing very extraordinary," replied the young prince, "in seeing the son of a count serving the son of a king." From this instance, nothing seemed great enough to satisfy his ambition; and he took the first opportunity to assert his aspiring pretensions. The discontent of young Henry was soon followed by that of Geoffrey and Richard, whom the queen persuaded to assert their title to the territories assigned them; and, upon the king's refusing their undutiful demands, they all fled secretly to the court of France, where Lewis, who was instrumental in increasing their disobedience, gave them countenance and protection. Queen Eleanor herself was meditating an escape to the same court, and had put on man's apparel for that purpose, when she was seized by the king's order, and put into confinement. Thus Henry saw all his long perspective of future happiness totally clouded; his sons, scarcely yet arrived at manhood, eager to share the spoils of their father's possessions; his queen warmly encouraging those undutiful princes in their rebellion; and many potentates of Europe not ashamed to afford assistance for the support of their pretensions. Nor were bis prospects much more pleasing when he looked among his subjects: his licentious barons, disgusted with a vigilant administration, desired to be governed by princes whom they could flatter or intimidate: the clergy had not yet forgotten Becket's death; and the people considered him as a saint and a martyr. In this general disaffection, Henry supported that intrepidity which he had shewn through life, and prepared for a contest from which he could expect to reap neither profit nor glory. Twenty thousand mercenary soldiers, joined to some troops which he brought over from Ireland, and a few barons of approved fidelity, formed the sole force with which he proposed to resist his opponents.

It was not long before the young princes had sufficient iufluence upon the continent to raise a powerful confederacy in their favour. Beside the king of France, Philip count of Flanders, Matthew count of Boulogne, Theobald count of Blois, and Henry count of Eu, declared themselves in their interests. William, king of Scotland, also made one of this association; and a plan was concerted for a general invasion of Henry's extensive dominions. This was shortly after put into execution. The king's continental dominions were invaded on one side by the counts of Flanders and Boulogne; on the other by the king of France with a large army, which the young English princes A. D. 1173.] animated by their presence and popularity. But Henry found means to oppose them in every quarter. The count of Boulogne being mortally wounded in the assault of the town of Driencourt, his death stopped the progress of the Flemish arms on that side. The French being obliged

to retire from the siege of Verneuil, Henry attacked their rear, put them to the rout, and took many prisoners. The barons of Bretagne also, who had risen in favour of the young princes, shared no better fate: their troops being defeated in the field, and taking shelter in the town of Dol, were made prisoners of war. These successes repressed the pride and the expectations of the confederate forces; and a conference was demanded by the French king, to which Henry readily agreed. In this interview he had the mortification to see his three sons ranged on the side of his mortal and inveterate enemy; but he was still more disappointed to find that their demands rose with their incapacity to obtain them by compulsion.

While Henry was thus quelling the insolence of his foreign enemies, his English subjects were in no small danger of revolting from their obedience at home. The nobility were in general united to oppose him; and an irruption at this time by the king of Scotland, assisted their schemes of insurrection. The earl of Leicester, at the head of a body of Flemings, invaded Suffolk, but was repulsed with great slaughter. The earl of Ferrars, Roger de Mowbray, and many others of equal dignity, rose in arms; while the more to augment the confusion, the king of Scotland broke into the northern provinces with an army of eighty thousand men, which laid the whole country into one extensive scene of desolation. Henry, from baffling his enemies in France, flew over to oppose those in England; but his long dis- [A. D. 1174. sension with Becket still was remembered against him, and it was his interest to persuade the clergy, as well as the people, that he was no way acces sary to his murder. All the world now began to think the dead prelate a saint; and, if we consider the ignorance of the times, perhaps Henry himself thought so too. He had some time before taken proper precautions to exculpate himself to the pope, and given him the most solemn promises to perform whatever penances the church should inflict. He had engaged at the Christmas following to take the cross, and, if the pope insisted on it, to serve three years against the infidels, either in Spain or Palestine; and promised not to stop appeals to the holy see. These concessions seemed to satisfy the court of Rome for that time; but they were nevertheless every day putting Henry in mind of his promise, and demanding those humiliations, for his offences to the saint, that could alone reconcile him to the church. He now, therefore, found it the most proper conjuncture to obey; and, knowing the influence of superstition over the minds of the people, and perhaps apprehensive that a part of his troubles arose from the displeasure of Heaven, he resolved to do penance at the shrine of Thomas of Canterbury; for that was the name given to Becket upon his canonization. As soon as he came within sight of the church of Canterbury, alighting from his horse, he walked barefoot towards the town, prostrated himself before the shrine of the saint, remained in fasting and prayer a whole day, watched all night the holy relics, made a grant of fifty pounds a year to the convent for a constant supply of tapers to illuminate the shrine; and not satisfied with these submissions, he assembled a chapter of monks, disrobed himself before them, put a scourge of discipline into each of their hands, and presented his bare shoulders to their infliction. Next day he received absolution; and departing for London, received the agreeable news of a victory over the Scots, obtained on the very day of his absolution.

Having thus made his peace with the church, and brought over the minds of the people, he fought upon surer grounds; every victory he obtained was imputed to the favour of the reconciled saint, and every success thus tended to ascertain the growing confidence of his party. The victory which was gained over the Scots was signal and decisive. William, their king, after having committed the most horrible depredations upon the northern frontiers, had thought proper to retreat, upon the advance of an English army, commanded by Ralph de Glanville, the famous English lawyer. As he had fixed his station at Alnwick, he thought himself perfectly secure, from the remoteness of the enemy, against any attack. In this, however, he was deceived; for Glanville, informed of his situation, made a hasty and fatigning march to the place of his encampment, and approached it very nearly during the obscurity of a mist. The Scots, who continued in perfect security, were