him in Normandy, when he demanded that he should be put in immediate possession of either Normandy, England, or Anjou. For this demand there might indeed be some excuse, for it seems to me perfectly certain that Henry had promised the absolute possession of some part of his territories to his eldest son on his marriage with the daughter of the King of France, and that although he did not yield that possession at the time the marriage ceremony took place, it was understood that it should be given as soon as the union of the prince and the princess was consummated. He had also defined what that territory was to be, and had distinctly promised the County of Anjou, in the last treaty of peace with the King of France, so that for refusing that province there could scarcely be any reasonable excuse; for the young prince was by this time of such an age as to be well justified in demanding that which his father had engaged to give, being now in his eighteenth year. Henry, however, distinctly refused to accede to his request, and leaving his eldest son in Normandy, proceeded to spend the winter in Anjou.

All was now apparently calm around the King of England; allied by the closest ties with the French monarch, possessing an immense extent of territory, which displayed at this time a general spirit of submission and desire of tranquillity, triumphant in arms, and successful in negociation, he

*Gervase says that Henry refused indignantly.

could look around him and say that all was peace. The slight movements that took place in Aquitaine and in Wales, were not such as to create any alarm; the Count of Toulouse himself was preparing to make submission in a peaceable manner; and a foreign prince, whose alliance was likely to extend the influence of Henry into Italy itself, was treating with the English King for an union between Prince John and his only child.

The sole cause for serious uneasiness which had afflicted Henry during the autumn of 1172, was now likely to be done away, by the election of such a successor to Becket as would insure a peaceful state of ecclesiastical affairs. It is true the spirit of the turbulent prelate had survived himself, and still dwelt amongst the monks of Canterbury. The prior Odo had shown the same haughty and intractable disposition, and insisted upon a free election, endeavouring, under that name, to confine the choice of an Archbishop to the monks alone, excluding the votes of the Bishops of the province, and the recommendation of the King. In vain Henry attempted to move him, by means unworthy of a monarch to employ. He resisted flattery and entreaties, bribes and commands; although the person whom Henry sought to raise to the archiepiscopal dignity, namely, the Bishop Bayeux, was in every respect unexceptionable. At length, however, it was arranged, that the monks should choose three persons, the election of one of whom was to be made

by the Bishops and ratified by the King. This was accordingly done in February 1173, and the names being submitted to Richard de Lucy, the King's grand Justiciary, he summoned the Bishops, and in the end the Abbot of Beck in Normandy was elected, with the consent and approbation of Henry. The matter did not terminate here, however, but remained in agitation for some months beyond the period to which I have carried the other events of Henry's reign; but it may be as well to pursue this subject to a close, in order that I may terminate the history of the contest between Henry and the see of Canterbury, as far as the actual events are concerned; for the consequences of that contest were protracted into ages beyond, and affected both England and France to the end of the reign of John and Philip Augustus, if not even to a far more remote period.

The Abbot of Beck, though in every respect agreeable to the King of England, possessed those happiest of all mental gifts, humility of spirit, and moderation of desire, and refusing the vast wealth and high dignity offered him, could be prevailed upon by no entreaties whatsoever to accept the mitre and the pall. This rendered another election necessary, and the prior Odo now showed himself more turbulent than ever. He tried by every means to exclude the Bishops from any influence. He wrangled, disputed, and even disgusted the more wise and tranquil members of his own convent, by his intractable temper. At length,

however, it was determined to send over two deputies to the King, in order to ascertain his views and wishes. One of these deputies was Richard, prior of Dover, a man not of the most profound erudition, but still respectable in point of learning, moderate, virtuous, and prudent. The deputies failed to obtain any satisfactory answer from the King; and Henry, having narrowly scrutinized, it would seem, the character and demeanour of the prior of Dover, gave secret orders to those who remained in authority in England, to take such measures as would cause the election to fall upon him. This was managed with great skill; the bishops cöoperated with the King, the monks were pleased to choose one of their own order, and Richard of Dover, was accordingly elected towards the middle of 1173. His consecration however, was suspended for many months, in consequence of some opposition on the part of the young King Henry, who by this time was at enmity with his father, and appealed to the Pope against the election of the prior of Dover. Richard accordingly was obliged to travel into Italy, to sustain his own cause before the Pontiff. Alexander, however, confirmed his election, conferring upon him the legatine power in England; and thus Henry had the happiness of seeing at the head of the English Church a prelate who was inclined to resist rather than to promote the exorbitant demands which Becket had taught the English clergy to put forth.

Thus, as I have said, the aspect of all things

was favourable to Henry towards the end of 1172 and the beginning of 1173, so far at least as external appearances went. Had he, however, been allowed to see below the surface, he would have met with one of the most painful instances of the hollowness of apparent prosperity that the eyes of man ever encountered; for at that very moment he stood, as it were, above a covered volcano, and the earthquake which was to rend the ground beneath his feet and pour forth the fiery stream of civil warfare upon him, was already trembling below him.

Though the King might not know his danger, there seemed to be a general feeling throughout his dominions, that this tranquillity was not to last. Men began to observe portents, and to draw evil auguries -almost always a sign that there exists some more rational cause for anticipating disaster-and we have contemporary records of many marvels and convulsions in the physical world. Tremendous thunder was heard simultaneously, in England, France, and Ireland, in the midst of winter. Terrible floods of water ravaged various districts; earthquakes were reported from distant regions, and the city of Catania was almost entirely destroyed by one of those awful visitations. Amongst the events, in which the eye of superstition saw the foreshadowing of coming evils, was the appearance of the aurora borealis, which is as beautifully, and accurately described by an author of that age, as it ever has been since.* It was pro

*The words of Gervase are as follows: "Idus Februarii ap