surprised in the morning to find themselves attacked by the enemy, which they thought at such a distance; and their king, venturing with a small body of a hundred horse to oppose the assailants, was quickly surrounded, and taken prisoner. His troops, hearing of his disaster, fled on all sides with the utmost precipitation, and made the best of their way to their own country.

From that time Henry's affairs began to wear a better aspect; the barons who had revolted, or were preparing for a revolt, made instant submission; they delivered up their castles to the victor, and England in a few weeks was restored to perfect tranquillity. Young Henry, who was ready to embark with a large army, to second the efforts of the English insurgents, finding all disturbances quieted at home, abandoned all thoughts of the expedition. Lewis attempted in vain to besiege Rouen, which Henry hastened over to succour. A cessation of arms, and a conference, were once more agreed upon by the two monarchs. Henry granted his sons much less advantageous terms than they formerly refused to accept; the most material were some pensions for their support, some castles for their residence, and an indemnity to all their adherents, Thus England once more emerged from the numerous calamities that threatened to overwhelm it; and the king was left at free liberty to make various provisions for the glory, the happiness, and the security of his people.

His first care was to make his prisoner, the king of Scotland, undergo a proper punishment for his unmerited and ungenerous attack. That prince was obliged to sign a treaty, by which he was compelled to do homage to Henry for his dominions in Scotland. It was agreed, that his barons and bishops also should do the same; and that the fortresses of Edinburgh, Stirling, Berwick, Roxburgh, and Jedburgh, should be delivered into the hands of the conqueror till the articles were performed. This treaty was punctually and rigorously executed: the king, barons, and prelates of Scotland, did homage to Henry in the cathedral of York; so that he might now be considered as monarch of the whole island, the mountainous parts of Wales only excepted.

His domestic regulations were as wise as his political conduct was splendid. He enacted severe penalties against robbery, murder, false coining, and burning of houses; ordaining that these crimes should be punished by the amputation of the right hand and right foot. The ordeal trial by the water, though it still subsisted, was yet so far weakened, that if a person, who came off in this scrutiny, should be afterwards legally convicted by credible testimony, he was condemned to banishment. He partitioned out the kingdom into four divisions, and appointed itinerant justices to go their respective circuits to try causes, to restrain the cruelties of the barons, and to protect the lower ranks of the people in security. He renewed the trial by jury, which, by the barbarous method of camp-fight, was almost grown obsolete. He demolished all the new-erected castles that had been built in the times of anarchy and general confusion; and, to secure the kingdom more effectually against invasion, he established a well-armed militia, which with proper accoutrements, specified in the act, were to defend the realm upon any emergency.

But it was not in the power of wisdom to conciliate the turbulent and ambitious spirits of his sons, who, not contented with rebelling against their father, A. D. 1183.] now warmly prosecuted their enmities against each other. Richard, whom Henry had made master of Guienne, and who had already displayed great marks of valour in humbling his mutinous barons, refused to obey his father's orders in doing homage to his elder brother for that duchy. Young Henry and Geoffrey, uniting their arms, carried war into their brother's dominions; and while the king was endeavouring to compose their dif ferences, he found himself secretly conspired against by all. What the result of this conspiracy might be, is uncertain; for it was defeated by the death of young Henry, who died in the twenty-eighth year of his age, of a fever, at Martel, not without the deepest remorse for his undutiful conduct towards bis father.

As this prince left no posterity, Richard was become heir in his room; and he soon discovered the same ardent ambition that had misled his elder

brother. He refused to obey his father's commands in giving up Guienne, of which he had been put in possession; and even made preparations to attack his brother Geoffrey, who was possessed of Bretagne. No sooner was this breach made up, at the intercession of the queen, than Geoffrey broke out into violence, and demanded Anjou to be annexed to his dominions of Bretagne. This being refused him, he followed the old undutiful method of procuring redress,-fled to the court of France, and prepared to levy an army against his father.

Henry was freed from the danger that threatened him on that quarter, by the death of his son, who was killed in a tournament at Paris. [A. D. 1186. The loss of this prince gave few, except the king himself, any uneasiness, as he was universally hated, and went among the people under the opprobrious name of the Child of Perdition.

But the death of the prince did not wholly remove the cause of his revolt; for Philip Augustus, king of France, disputed his title to the wardship of Arthur, the son of Geoffrey, who was now become duke of Bretagne, upon the death of his father. Some other causes of dissension inflamed the dispute between the two monarchs. Philip had once more debauched Richard from his duty; insisted upon his marriage being completed with Adelais, the sister of Philip; and threatened to enforce his pretensions by a formidable invasion. In consequence of this claim, another conference was held be- [A. D. 1188. tween Gisors and Trie, the usual place of meeting, under a vast elm, that is said to have shaded more than an acre. It was in the midst of this conference upon their mutual rights, that a new object of interest was offered to their deliberation, and that quickly bore down all secular considerations before it. The archbishop of Tyre appeared before the assembly in the most miserable habit, and with looks calculated to inspire compassion. He had come from the Holy Land, and had seen the oppressions of the Christians, who were appointed to defend the Holy Sepulchre, and was a witness of the triumph of the infidels. He painted the distresses of those champions of the cross in the most pathetic manner; he deplored their bravery and their misfortunes. The Christians, about a century before, had attacked and taken Jerusalem; but the Saracens recovered courage after the first torrent of success was past, and being every day reinforced by fresh supplies, at last conquered by perseverance a band of warriors, who, in common, preferring celibacy to marriage, had not multiplied in the ordinary methods of population. The holy city itself was soon retaken by the victorious arms of Saladin; and all Palestine, except a few maritime towns, was subdued. Nothing now remained of those boasted conquests that had raised the glory, and inflamed the zeal, of the western world; and nothing was to be seen, of what near a century before had employed the efforts of all the noblest spirits of Europe to acquire. The western Christians were astounded at receiving this dismal intelligence; the whole audience burst into tears; the two kings laid aside their animosity, and agreed to convert their whole attention to the rescue of Jerusalem from the hands of the infidels. They instantly took the cross; many of their most considerable vassals imitated their example; and as the emperor Frederic I. entered into the same confederacy, it was universally expected that nothing could resist their united endeavours. But it was the fate of Henry to be crossed in his most darling pursuits by his undutiful and ungrateful children. Richard, who had long wished to have all the glory of such an expedition to himself, and who could not bear to have even his father a partner in his victories, entered into a confederacy with the king of France, who promised to confirm him in those wishes at which he so ardently aspired. He therefore began by making an inroad into the territories of the count of Thoulouse, a vassal of the king of France; and this monarch, in order to retaliate, carried war into the provinces of Berri and Auvergne. Henry, who was apprised of their secret confederacy, nevertheless attempted to make depredations in turn upon the dominions of the French king. Conferences were proposed, attended, and dismissed. At length, Henry found himself obliged to give up all hopes of taking the cross, and compelled to enter upon a war with France and his eldest son, who were unnaturally leagued against him. He now saw the confederacy daily gaining ground. Ferté-Bernard fell first into the hands

L

A. D. 1189.] of the enemy; Mans was next taken by assault; Amboise Chaumont, and Château de Loire, opened their gates upon the enemy's appearance; Tours was invested; and the king, who had retired to Saumur, and had daily instances of the cowardice and infidelity of his governors, expected the most dismal issue of all his enterprises. While he was in this state of despondency, the duke of Burgundy, the count of Flanders, and the archbishop of Rheinis, interposed their good offices; and at last a treaty was concluded, in which he submitted to many mortifying concessions. It was agreed that Richard should marry the princess Adelais, and be crowned king of England during the lifetime of his father. It was stipulated, that Henry should pay twenty thousand marks to the king of France, as a compensation for the charges of the war; that his own barons should engage to make him observe this treaty, and, in case of violating it, to join Philip and Richard against him; and that all his vassals who espoused the cause of Richard should receive an indemnity for the offence. These were terms sufficiently humiliating to a prince accustomed to give, not receive, commands: but what was his resentment, when, upon demanding a list of the barons that were to be thus pardoned, he found his son John, his favourite child, among the number! He had long borne an infirm state of body with calm resignation; he had seen his children rebel without much emotion; he saw his own son his conqueror, himself bereft of his power, reduced to the condition of a fugitive, and almost suppliant in his old age; and all this he endured with tranquillity of temper; but when he saw that child, whose interests always lay next his heart, among the number of those who were in rebellion against him, he could no longer contain his indignation. He broke out into expressions of the utmost despair; cursed the day in which he had received his miserable being; and bestowed on his ungrateful children a malediction which he never after could be prevailed upon to retract. The more his heart was disposed to friendship and affection, the more he resented this barbarous return; and now, not having one corner in his heart where he could look for comfort, or fly for refuge from his conflicting passions, he lost all his former vivacity. A lingering fever, caused by a broken heart, soon after terminated his life and his miseries. He died at the castle of Chinon, near Saumur.

His corpse was conveyed by his natural son Geoffrey, who of all his children behaved with duty, to the nunnery of Fontevrault; and next day, while it lay in the abbey church, Richard, chancing to enter, was struck with horror at the sight. At his approach, the blood was seen to gush out at the mouth and nostrils of the corpse; and this, which without doubt was accidental, was interpreted by the superstition of the times as the most dreadful rebuke. Richard could not endure the sight; he exclaimed, “that he was his father's murderer;" and expressed a strong, though late sense of that undutiful conduct which brought his parent to an untimely grave. Thus died Henry, in the fifty-seventh year of his age, and the thirty-fifth of his reign; in the course of which he displayed all the abilities of a politician, all the sagacity of a legislator, and all the magnanimity of a hero. He was of a middle stature, strong and well proportioned; his countenance was lively and engaging; his conversation affable and entertaining; his elocution easy, persuasive, and ever at command. When he could enjoy leisure, he recreated himself either in learned conversation or reading, and he cultivated his natural talents by studying above any prince of his time. During his reign, all foreign improvements in literature and politeness, in laws and arts, seem to have been, in a good measure, transplanted into England. The little learning of the Saxon priests, which was confined to church history and legendary tales, was now exchanged for the subtilties of school philosophy. The homely manners of the great were softened by the pomp of chivalry. The people however, were as yet far from being civilized; and even in their cities, where the social arts were best cultivated, there were amazing instances of barbarity. It was common, for instance, in London, for great numbers, to the amount of a hundred or more, of the sons and relatives of eminent citizens, to form themselves into a confederacy, to plunder and rob their more wealthy neighbours. By these crimes, it was become so dangerous to walk the streets at night, that the citizens, after dark, were obliged to continue within doors. A