once a soldier, who had become a priest, Peter the Hermit, fired the Western nations to a crusade to rescue the Holy Sepulchre from the Saracens. Urban II., then Sovereign Pontiff, heard the Hermit with condescension at first, but finally with an interest that led him enthusiastically to endorse and bless the sacred project. Adverse circumstances had compelled His Holiness to leave Rome and take refuge in the fortress of that prince of freebooters, Robert Guiscard of Apulia, whose power defied the united Majesties of France and Germany. Peter appeared before the Pope and the great Bandit, and obtained His Holiness' authority to preach his warlike gospel. From town to town and village to village he went, wakening a zealous fervour which was soon to send half the men in Europe clamouring to the frontiers of Palestine. It were foreign to the main subject of this book to enter further into the history of the results of Peter the Hermit's preaching. Though the Crusaders, after over a hundred years of endeavour, failed to rescue the Holy Sepulchre, their effort brought Europe into immediate contact with the oldest form of civilisation known. Robert of Normandy, the Conqueror's eldest and most disloyal son, was an enthusiastic follower of Peter, and in his hot haste to immortalise his name by substituting the Cross for the Crescent in Jerusalem, sold his English birthright to his brother William. As long as Rufus reigned, the elder brother refrained from molesting him. When Walter Tyrrell's arrow ended our only bachelor King's inglorious career, Duke Robert was returning from the Holy Land. Fascinated by the beauty and the sunshine of the South, he accepted the tempting hospitality of the Prince of Tarantum, and tarried at the Castle of Conversano in Apulia. Meantime, his crown was seized by his third brother, Henry. The story of Robert-the Robert the Devil of romance and melody—is one of the most tragic in history. He eventually fell into the hands of his brother Henry, who, after depriving him of his eyesight, cast him into Cardiff Castle, where for twenty-eight long years of the harshest captivity he lived in darkness and misery. But Henry's unnatural cruelty was punished. His son and heir, William, together with his half-brother Prince Richard and their sister Maria, Countess of Perche, were drowned at sea on the night of November 26, 1120. The young Princes had been holding a merry carouse on board, when the ill-fated vessel-the Blanche Nef-striking on the rocks of Barfleur, instantly sank. The shrieks of his drowning children were heard by the King himself, on shipboard some miles farther out; but he little realised the terrible meaning of the sound borne to him by the winds. No man daring to do it, a little child was tutored to tell the bereaved father the appalling truth, and with the fearlessness of his age the boy, in his artless way, broke his strong Sovereign's heart. Henry married a second wife, Adelicia of Louvaine,1 the descendant of Charlemagne and ancestress of the present Duke of Norfolk, Lord Mowbrey and Stourton, and Lord Petre. No issue came of this marriage between an old man and a young bride; and there being no likelihood of his having a direct heir, Henry arranged a marriage between his only daughter, the widow of the German Emperor, Henry v., and Geoffrey, son of Fulk, Count of Anjou, commonly called Plantagenet from his custom of wearing a sprig of yellow broom-plante à génét—in his helmet. The Empress was a worthy daughter of such a sire. She and her handsome cousin Stephen, son of King Henry's sister Alice, Countess of Blois, dishonoured the husband chosen for her by her father, and she bore a son whom she passed off as Geoffrey's child, and who eventually became Henry 11. of England. Henry 1. never recovered the loss of his three children, and died in 1135, hated and despised alike by his family and people. Yet he had been a great prince, and Londoners at all events owed him much, for he had restored all or nearly all their liberties. No sooner was Henry dead than Stephen of Blois, setting aside the pretensions of the Empress, seized on the British crown and held it, for a time, without dispute. The Empress Maud was at first almost lethargic in the matter. In due time, however, her husband, ignorant probably of the relations which had existed between her and the new King, forced her to act, and for close on fifteen years England was torn by civil strife. 1 Arundel Castle was her dower, and came into the possession of the Howards through her second marriage with their ancestor, the Count Albini. The people, however, did not take kindly to the Empress, who was never popular. Her adventures were many and romantic. Once she escaped disguised as her own corpse, enclosed in a coffin full of air-holes and hurriedly borne by a train of faithful mock-mourners not to her grave but into safety. At one period fortune was distinctly in her favour. This was in the year 1141, when she had so far triumphed over Stephen as to defeat and even cast him into prison at Bristol. After this success her victorious army marched to London, and her entry into the city was attended by great splendour. The Aldermen of the Wards and burghers of the city paid her homage as the rightful Queen of the Realm. Soon, too soon, however, her character exhibited itself in its true dress. Her nature was vulgar, haughty, and false, and she disgusted all who approached her. The citizens of London had been obliged in the year 1139 to pay Stephen the then enormous sum of 100 marks of goldcirca £60,000 of our money-for the privilege of electing their own sheriffs, a right conceded to them by the Conqueror but abrogated by Rufus. This imposition on Stephen's part had given great offence, and had the Empress shown any token of generosity her success would have been assured. She acted otherwise, and seemed to revel in her power to give gratuitous offence. She, very unwisely, granted Geoffrey, Earl of Essex, her half brother and Generalissimo, all the possessions of the Crown-which his father and grandfather had held-lands, castles, manors, etc., among them the Tower of London, and the Sheriffwicks of London and Middlesex-at a fee-farm rent of £300 per annum. But what most annoyed the citizens was the said Geoffrey's appointment as Supreme Justiciary of the City and County of Middlesex, which gave him a great and undue advantage, since without his consent no one could hold pleas either in or out of the city. To emphasise the importance of this measure, the Empress had the compact drawn up and executed with the utmost solemnity. The clergy and nobility were called upon to sign it, and swear on the Gospels to maintain it in all its integrity. The appointment perhaps gave the new Sovereign the whip-handle for the time-being; but Geoffrey, a brave and able condottiere, was not fit to hold a post of such |