this disorder. Philip suceeded Lewis king of France; he followed closely the plan of his predecessour, to reduce the great vassals, and the king of England, who was the greatest of them; but he followed it with far more skill and vigour, though he made use of the same instruments in the work. He revived the spirit of rebellion in the princes, Henry's sons. These young princes were never in harmony with each other, but in a confederacy against their father; and the father had no recourse, but in the melancholy safety derived from the disunion of his children. This he thought it expedient to increase; but such policy when discovered has always a dangerous effect. The sons having just quarrelled enough to give room for an explanation of each other's designs, and to display those of their father, enter into a new conspiracy. In the midst of these motions, the young king dies, and showed at his death such signs of a sincere repentance, as served to revive the old king's tenderness, and to take away all comfort for his loss. The death of his third son, Geoffrey, followed close upon the heels of this funeral. He died at Paris, whither he had gone to concert measures against his father. Richard and John remained; Richard, fiery, restless, ambitious, openly took up arms, and pursued the war with implacable rancour, and such success, as drove the king, in the decline of his life, to a dishonourable treaty; nor was he then content, but excited new troubles. John was his youngest and favourite child; in him he reposed all his hopes, and consoled himself for the undutifulness of his other sons; but after concluding the treaty with the king of France and Richard, he found too soon, that John had been as deep as any in the conspiracy. This was his last wound; afflicted by his children in their deaths, and harassed in their lives; mortified as a father and a king; worn down with cares and sorrows, more than with years, he died, cursing his fortune, his children, and the hour of his birth. When he perceived that death approached him, by his own desire, he was carried into a church and laid at the altar's foot. Hardly had he expired, when he was stripped, then forsaken by his attendants, and left a long time a naked and unheeded body, in an empty church; affording a just consolation for the obscurity of a mean fortune, and an instructive lesson how little an outward greatness and enjoy ments foreign to the mind contribute towards a solid felicity, in the example of one who was the greatest of kings and the unhappiest of mankind.

CHAPTER VII.

REIGN OF RICHARD 1.

WHILST Henry lived, the king of France had always an effectual means of breaking his power by the divisions in his family. But now Richard succeeded to all the power of his father, with an equal ambition to extend it, with a temper infinitely more fiery and impetuous, and free from every impediment of internal dissension. These circumstances filled the mind of Philip with great and just uneasiness. There was no security but in finding exercise for the enterprising genius of the young king at a distance from home. The new crusade afforded an advantageous opportunity. A little before his father's death, Richard had taken the cross in conjunction with the king of France. So precipitate were the fears of that monarch, that Richard was hardly crowned when ambassadours were despached to England to remind him of his obligation, and to pique his pride by acquainting him, that their master was even then in readiness to fulfil his part of their common vow. An enterprise of this sort was extremely agreeable to the genius of Richard, where religion sanctified the thirst of military glory; and where the glory itself seemed but the more desirable by being unconnected with interest. He immediately accepted the proposal, and resolved to insure the success as well as the lustre of his expedition by the magnificence of his preparations. Not content with the immense treasures amassed by his father, he drew in vast sums by the sale of almost all the demesnes of the crown, and of every office under it, not excepting those of the highest

trust.

The clergy, whose wealth and policy enabled them to take advantage of the necessity and weakness of the croises, were generally the purchasers of both. To secure his dominions in his absence, he made an alliance with the princes of Wales, and with the king of Scotland. To the latter, he released for a sum of money the homage which had been extorted by his father.

His brother John gave bim most uneasiness; but finding it unworthy or impracticable to use the severe methods of jealous policy, he resolved to secure his fidelity by loading him with benefits. He bestowed on him six earldoms, and gave him in marriage the lady Avisa, sole heiress of the great house of Gloucester; but as he gave him no share in the regency, he increased his power, and left him discon

tented, in a kingdom committed to the care of new men, who had merited their places by their money.

It will be proper to take a view of the condition of the holy land, at the time when this third crusade was set on foot, to repair the faults committed in the two former. The conquests of the croises, extending over Palestine and a part of Syria, had been erected into a sovereignty under the name of the kingdom of Jerusalem. This kingdom, ill ordered within, surrounded on all sides by powerful enemies, subsisted by a strength not its own for near ninety years. But dissensions arising about the succession to the crown between Guy of Lusignan, and Raymond, earl of Tripoli; Guy, either because he thought the assistance of the European princes too distant, or that he feared their decision, called in the aid of Saladine, sultan of Egypt. This able prince immediately entered Palestine. As the whole strength of the Christians in Palestine depended upon foreign succour, he first made himself master of the maritime towns, and then Jerusalem fell an easy prey to his arms; whilst the competitors contended with the utmost violence for a kingdom which no longer existed for either of them. All Europe was alarmed at this revolution. The banished patriarch of Jerusalem filled every place with the distresses of the eastern Christiains. The pope ordered a solemn fast to be for ever kept for this loss; and then exerting all his influence, excited a new crusade, in which vast numbers engaged with an ardour unabated by their former misfortunes; but wanting a proper subordination rather than a sufficient force, they made but a slow progress, when Richard and Philip, at the head of more than one hundred thousand chosen men, the one from Marseilles, the other from Genoa, set sail to their assistance.

In his voyage to the holy land, accident presented Richard with an unexpected conquest. A vessel of his fleet was driven by a storm to take shelter in the Isle of Cyprus. That island was governed by a prince named Isaac, of the imperial family of the Comneni, who not only refused all relief to the sufferers, but plundered them of the little remains of their substance. Richard resenting this inhospitable treatment, aggravated by the insolence of the tyrant, turned his force upon Cyprus, vanquished Isaac in the field, took the capital city, and was solemnly crowned king of that island. But deeming it as glorious to give as to acquire a crown, he soon after resigned it to Lusignan, to satisfy him for his claim on

Jerusalem; in whose descendants it continued for several generations; until passing by marriage into the family of Cornaro, a Venetian nobleman, it was acquired to that state, the only state in Europe which had any real benefit by all the blood and treasure lavished in the holy war.

Richard arrived in Palestine some time after the king of France; his arrival gave new vigour to the operations of the croises. He reduced Acre to surrender at discretion, which had been in vain besieged for two years, and in the siege of which an infinite number of Christains had perished; and so much did he distinguish himself on this and on all occasions, that the whole expedition seemed to rest on his single valour. The king of France, seeing him fully engaged, had all that he desired. The climate was disagreeable to his constitution, and the war, in which he acted but a second part, to his pride. He therefore hastened home to execute his projects against Richard, amusing him with oaths made to be violated; leaving indeed a part of his forces under the duke of Burgundy, but with private orders to give him underhand all possible obstruction. Notwithstanding the desertion of his ally, Richard continued the war with uncommon alacrity. With very unequal numbers, he engaged and defeated the whole army of Saladine, and slew forty thousand of his best troops. He obliged him to evacuate all the towns on the sea-coast; and spread the renown and terrour of his arms over all Asia. A thousand great exploits did not however enable him to extend his conquests to the inland country. Jealousy, envy, cabals, and a total want of discipline, reigned in the army of the croises. The climate, and their intemperance more than the climate, wasted them with a swift decay. The vow which brought them to the holy land, was generally for a limited time, at the conclusion of which they were always impatient to depart. Their armies broke up at the most critical conjunctures; as it was not the necessity of the service, but the extent of their vows, which held them together. As soon, therefore, as they had habituated themselves to the country, and attained some experience, they were gone; and new men supplied their places, to acquire experience by the same misfortunes, and to lose the benefit of it by the same inconstancy. Thus the war could never be carried on with steadiness and uniformity. On the other side, Saladine continually repaired his losses; his resources were at hand; and this great captain very judicously kept possession of that moun

set on foot. It was levied with the same rigour as the former, and still fell short. Ambassadours were sent into Germany with all that could be raised, and with hostages for the payment of whatever remained. The king met these ambassadours as he was carried in chains to plead his cause before the diet of the empire. The ambassadours burst into tears at this affecting sight, and wept aloud; but Richard, though touched no less with the affectionate loyalty of his subjects than with his own fallen condition, preserved his dignity entire in his misfortunes, and with a cheerful air inquired of the state of his dominions, the behaviour of the king of Scotland, and the fidelity of his brother, the Count John. At the diet, no longer protected by the character of a sovereign, he was supported by his personal abilities. He had a ready wit and great natural eloquence; and his high reputation and the weight of his cause pleading for him more strongly, the diet at last interested itself in his favour, and prevailed on the emperour to accept an excessive ransom for dismissing a prisoner whom he detained without the least colour of justice. Philip moved heaven and earth to prevent his enlargement; he negotiated, he promised, he flattered, he threatened, he outbid his extravagant ransom. perour, in his own nature more inclined to the bribe, which tempted him to be base, hesitated a long time between these offers. But as the payment of the ransom was more certain than Philip's promises, and as the instances of the diet and the menaces of the pope, who protected Richard as a prince serving under the cross, were of more immediate consequence than his threats, Richard was at length released; and though, it is said, the emperour endeavoured to seize him again, to extort another ransom, he escaped safely into England.

The em

Richard, on his coming to England, found all things in the utmost confusion; but, before he attempted to apply a remedy to so obstinate a disease, in order to wipe off any degrading ideas which might have arisen from his imprisonment, he caused himself to be new crowned. Then holding his court of great council at Southampton, he made some useful regulations in the distribution of justice. He called some great offenders to a strict account. Count John deserved no favour, and he lay entirely at the king's mercy; who, by an unparalleled generosity, pardoned him his multiplied offences, only depriving him of the power of which he had made so bad a use. Generosity did not oblige him to forget the hostilities VOL. II.-37

of the king of France. But to prosecute the war, money was wanting, which new taxes and new devices supplied with difficulty and with dishonour. All the mean oppressions of a necessitous government were exercised on this occasion. All the grants which were made on the king's departure to the holy land were revoked, on the weak pretence, that the purchasers had sufficient recompense whilst they held them. Necessity seemed to justify this as well as many other measures, that were equally violent. The whole revenue of the crown had been dissipated; means to support its dignity must be found; and these means were the least unpopular, as most men saw with pleasure the wants of government fall upon those who had started into a sudden greatness by taking advantage of those wants.

Richard renewed the war with Philip, which continued, though frequently interrupted by truces, for about five years. In this war, Richard signalized himself by that irresistible courage, which, on all occasions, gave him a superiourity over the king of France. But his revenues were exhausted; a great scarcity reigned both in France and England; and the irregular manner of carrying on war in those days prevented a clear decision in favour of either party. Richard had still an eye on the holy land, which he considered as the only province worthy of his arms; and this continually diverted his thoughts from the steady prosecution of the war in France. The crusade, like a superiour orb, moved along with all the particular systems of politics of that time, and suspended, accelerated, or put back all operations, on motives foreign to the things themselves. In this war, it must be remarked, that Richard made a considerable use of the mercenaries who had been so serviceable to Henry the Second; and the king of France, perceiving how much his father Lewis had suffered by a want of that advantage, kept on foot a standing army in constant pay, which none of his predecessors had done before him, and which afterwards for a long time very unaccountably fell into disuse in both kingdoms.

Whilst this war was carried on by intervals and starts, it came to the ears of Richard, that a nobleman of Limoges had found on his lands a considerable hidden treasure. The king, necessitous and rapacious to the last degree, and stimulated by the exaggeration and marvellous circumstances, which always attend the report of such discoveries, immediately sent to demand the treasure, under pretence of the rights of seigniory. The Limosin, either

because he had really discovered nothing, or that he was unwilling to part with so valuable an acquisition, refused to comply with the king's demand, and fortified his castle. Enraged at the disappointment, Richard relinquished the important affairs, in which he was engaged, and laid siege to this castle with all the eagerness of a man, who has his heart set upon a trifle. In this siege he received a wound from an arrow, and it proved mortal; but in the last, as in all the other acts of his life, something truly noble shone out amidst the rash and irregular motions of his mind. The castle was taken before he died. The man, from whom Richard had received the wound, was brought before him. Being asked, why he levelled his arrow at the king, he answered with an undaunted countenance, "That the king with his own hand had slain his two brothers; that he thanked God, who gave him an opportunity to revenge their deaths, even with the certainty of his own." Richard, more touched with the magnanimity of the man than offended at the injury he had received, or the boldness of the answer, ordered that his life should be spared. He appointed his brother John to the succession; and with these acts ended a life and reign distinguished by a great variety of fortunes in different parts of the world, and crowned with great military glory; but without any accession of power to himself or prosperity to his people, whom he entirely neglected, and reduced, by his imprudence and misfortunes, to no small indigence and distress.

In many respects, a striking parallel presents itself between this antient king of England and Charles XII. of Sweden. They were both inordinately desirous of war, and rather generals than kings. Both were rather fond of glory than ambitious of empire. Both of them made and deposed sovereigns. They both carried on their wars at a distance from home. They were both made prisoners by a friend and ally. They were both reduced by an adversary inferiour in war, but above them in the arts of rule. After spending their lives in remote adventures, each perished at last near home, in enterprizes not suited to the splendour of their former exploits. Both died childless; and both, by the neglect of their affairs, and the severity of their government, gave their subjects provocation and encouragement to revive their freedom. In all these respects the two characters were alike; but Richard fell as much short of the Swedish hero in temperance, chastity, and equality of mind, as he exceeded him in wit and eloquence. Some of

his sayings are the most spirited that we find in that time; and some of his verses remain, which in a barbarous age might have passed for poetry.

CHAPTER VIII.

REIGN OF JOHN.

WE are now arrived at one of the most memorable periods in the English story: whether we consider the astonishing revolutions, which were then wrought; the calamities, in which both the prince and people were involved; or the happy consequences, which, arising from the midst of those calamities, have constituted the glory and prosperity of England for so many years. We shall see a throne, founded in arms, and augmented by the successive policy of five able princes, at once shaken to its foundations; first made tributary by the arts of a foreign power: then limited and almost overturned by the violence of its subjects. We shall see a king, to reduce his people to obedience, draw into his territories a tumultuary foreign army, and destroy his country instead of establishing his government. We shall behold the people, grown desperate, call in another foreign army, with a foreign prince at its head, and throw away that liberty which they had sacrificed every thing to preserve. We shall see the arms of this prince successful against an established king in the vigour of his years, ebbing in the full tide of their prosperity, and yielding to an infant; after this, peace, and order, and liberty restored; the foreign force and foreign title purged off, and all things settled as happily as beyond all hope.

Richard dying without lawful issue, the succession to his dominions again became dubious. They consisted of various territories, governed by various rules of descent, and all of them uncertain. There were two competitors; the first was Prince John, youngest son of Henry II.; the other was Arthur, son of Constance of Bretagne, by Geoffrey, the third son of that monarch. If the right of consanguinity were only considered, the title of John to the whole succession had been indubitable. If the right of representation had then prevailed, which now universally prevails, Arthur, as standing in the place of his father Geoffrey, had a solid claim. About Britanny there was no dispute. Anjou, Poitou, Touraine, and Guienne, declared in favour of Arthur, on the principle of represen