with dread. But they had known the warrior-king of old; they had learned how tender was his regard for their sex; and they perfectly comprehended how to deal with such an antagonist.

With all the faults of that age-and multitudinous they were-it was an age of chivalry, when to appear in arms against a lady was deemed disgraceful to a true knight. Almost while Stephen was before Arundel the Moors of Granada were, in this respect, showing a great example to the warriors of Christendom. The Empress-Queen of Spain, besieged in the Castle of Azeca, reproached the Moslem warriors with their want of courtesy in warring against a woman. The Moors, men who were in the habit of sighing away their souls in moonlight serenades under the balconies of Zegri or Abencerrage ladies, admitted the justice of this rebuke; and when the EmpressQueen displayed herself on the battlements they made their obeisance, and instantly raised the siege.

The war, which after desolating England for years terminated in the peaceful accession of the House of Plantagenet, commenced with an incident somewhat similar. The fair spouse of Albini, inspired by the Empress with a courage not her own, upbraided Stephen. for appearing in martial array before a castle held by a lady, hinted that his conduct indicated a contempt of chivalry which ill became a belted knight, and assured him that Maude was entertained in the character of a near relation, and quite ready to take her departure.

As a true son of chivalry, Stephen had now no choice; so he admitted that Adeliza was in the right, withdrew from before the Castle of Arundel, and refrained from attempting to prevent the Empress joining her brother at Bristol.

But now men in mail gathered to the banners of their chiefs; and the war, which was to prove most disastrous to the country, began in earnest. Maude set up her standard, and from north and west the barons flocked around it. Her cause became so fashionable that Stephen was abandoned even by his own brother, the Bishop of Winchester; but though deserted, his characteristic courage glowed more fiercely than ever. "They have set me on a throne, and now they abandon me," exclaimed the martial monarch; "but, by the birth of God, they never shall call me a deposed king!"

Two years of civil war followed, and never was England a prey to greater miseries than when Eustace of Boulogne was married in France. All government was at an end; frightful atrocities were committed; travellers were plundered without scruple; and withintheir strong castles the Norman nobles tortured and murdered their weak neighbours with impunity. Everything was anarchy, when a fierce battle, fought at Lincoln, decided the campaign in favour of the Empress. Stephen, after fighting with heroic bravery, consented, when his sword was broken, to yield to the Earl of Gloucester; and the royal Lastard, having sent

his prisoner to the Castle of Bristol, ordered him to be loaded with chains.

The fortunes of the Empress now appeared most flourishing, and she repaired forthwith to be crowned in London. But Maude's imperious temper got the better of her discretion, and ere the coronation robes could be prepared she dissipated the popularity which her personal appearance could hardly have failed to create. When courtesy and generosity were so essential, her hauteur and selfishness disgusted everybody. The citizens of London petitioned her to restore the laws of Edward the Confessor; Matilda of Boulogne, with tears in her eyes, implored her husband's liberty, promising that he would be content with a private station; and the Bishop of Winchester demanded that Prince Eustace should be recognised as Earl of Boulogne. These suits the Empress, elate with pride and prosperity, not only rejected, but with language so insolent, that citizens, queen, and bishop expressed deep disgust, and prepared for a new struggle.

Prince Eustace, it appears, had returned from Normandy, and was safe among the men of Kent, when he became aware that forces must be gathered with all speed; and in the name of the royal boy, Matilda of Boulogne and William de Ypres, her husband's favourite knight, summoned the men of Kent and Surrey to the standard of the captive King. A new scene was soon opened up.

One summer day-it was nigh the feast of

John the Baptist-while the Empress was at dinner, a body of horse suddenly appeared on the south side of the Thames, and displayed the banner of King Stephen. The effect seemed magical. London was forthwith in commotion; the alarm was sounded; the church bells were rung; and to aid the Prince in setting his father free, armed men came forth from every house as bees rush from their hives. The Empress, taken by surprise, sprang from table, mounted a swift horse, and galloped hastily towards Oxford, and then to Winchester. So sudden was her flight from London, which she was not destined ever to see again, that she had not even time to take with her a change of raiment.

Much has been said about the martial prowess and knightly achievements of Eustace at this period. Nevertheless, it is a fact that, when Maude was driven from London, he could hardly have been more than eight years of age. The presence of the son of Stephen might, and doubtless did, lend mettle to the army destined to restore his father; but that he could have taken none other than a very slight share in its exploits, appears beyond all question. However, he was at Winchester during that long siege which resulted in the flight of the Empress, in the capture of Gloucester while covering his sister's retreat, and in the exchange of the incarcerated King for his illegitimate kinsman.

When Stephen at length forced the daughter of Beauclerc to betake herself to the Continent, and leave

him master of England, he began to manifest much solicitude for the future of Eustace. At Christmas, 1147, the martial monarch and his spouse kept the festival with unusual splendour at Lincoln, and drew around them the peers and prelates of the land. The object of the royal pair was to have the boy crowned, that he might reign conjointly with his father; but their wish was not destined to be gratified. Though many of the barons did homage to Eustace as Stephen's heir, the proposal to recognise him as king was one to which they would not listen. The refusal of his barons to crown his heir indicated to Stephen by how precarious a tenure he held the kingdom. In truth, there was in the field a rival whose claims, growing stronger year by year, were ultimately to prove irresistible by Stephen, and fatal to the son whose cradle had been cheered by the smile of fortune. Even at this early period the birth of that rival, his education, his intellect, and his fortunes, all rendered him an object of interest to the people of England.

At the time when King Stephen lay fettered in the Castle of Bristol there might have been seen within the walls of the ancient city, watching the weatherbeaten mariners who navigated the ships that carried on the trade with Ireland, or practising the martial exercises of the age, or telling some youthful comrade how sunny was his home beyond the seas, a stout, ruddy lad, who had hardly passed his tenth year. This youth, then studying under a learned man named