John having strengthened himself by an alliance with his nephew, Otho, Emperor of Germany, and with the Earl of Flanders, showed a front so formidable, that the French monarch employed a wily cardinal to negotiate a peace. The rival kings came to terms, and by the treaty, concluded in the spring of 1200, Philip agreed to restore all that he had taken from the crown of England since the death of Richard, and also bound himself to give no further aid to Arthur of Britanny.

After this, John seemed for a brief period to be in full possession of prosperity. But he was one of those whose evil passions are ever unexpectedly hurrying them into new peril. Ere long he took an imprudent and disgraceful step, before which his prosperity vanished like the morning dew.

While making a progress through that continental empire which his father had extended from the Channel to the Pyrenees, John was fascinated with the beauty of Isabel of Angoulême, a lady who, while in her teens, had been betrothed, if not married, to the Count de la Marche. Notwithstanding this contract the King, as if infatuated, insisted on her parents breaking off the match; and it does not appear that they offered any serious objection. But, whatever might have been their sentiments, the fair Isabel, dazzled with the combined lustre of a crown and a coronal, jilted the poor Count without any reluctance; and John, after obtaining a divorce from his own wife, bore off the faithless beauty in triumph to England.

And now De la Marche, who had patiently bided his time, swore to be avenged, raised his standard, and instigated the whole of Poictou to rebellion. John had scarcely reached England with his bride when news of this outbreak arrived, and roused him from luxurious indolence. Having sent the Earl of Pembroke in all haste to Normandy, John crossed the sea, and journeyed to the court of France, where he was received by Philip with a great display of friendship, and entertained with the utmost hospitality. Nothing could have exceeded the affection and esteem Philip expressed for his royal guest. A master of dissimulation, he was merely playing his game. All this time he was in league with the insurgent barons; and while professing an ardent desire for close concord with his brother-king, he was meditating a decisive war. The King of England, who could frighten none but cowards, marched into Aquitaine without striking a blow. The King of France smiled internally at his departed guest's credulity, and prepared to drive him with ignominy from the Continent.

When, by the treaty of 1200, all his interests were unscrupulously sacrificed, Arthur, though conscious that he was a mere tool in the hands of his royal patron, was so apprehensive of the intentions of John, that he was fain to repress his juvenile indignation, and remain as a dependent at the French court. While there he received intelligence of his mother's death. Constance drew her last breath at Nantes, in Augusį

1201; and Arthur, going from Paris to Rennes, received the oaths of fealty, and took possession of his duchy. But when Philip resolved on pushing matters to extremity, the orphan Plantagenet, who had now reached his fifteenth year, was recalled to the French court, received with marks of high distinction, and once more taken under Philip's protection. "You know your rights, and would like to be a king," said the royal politician. "Most assuredly," exclaimed Arthur, renewed hope lighting up his handsome features. "Here, then," said Philip, "I will give you two hundred knights. March at their head, and take possession of your inheritance, while I make an incursion into Normandy."

After knighting his young protégé, Philip ordered the militia of Berry and Burgundy to take part in the expedition. Having done this, he endeavoured to prove his sincerity by betrothing his youngest daughter to the Prince, whom he was sending forth to something like certain destruction. Arthur, buoyed up with hope, and glowing with youthful enthusiasm, buckled on his armour, bade adieu to his royal host, grasped his sword, mounted his charger, and raised his standard. The very novelty of his position was naturally fascinating to the imagination of an unfledged warrior; and he rode forth to make good his title, not knowing that it was for his life. The Bretons sent him five hundred knights and four hundred foot soldiers; while Touraine and Poictou furnished a hundred and ten men-at-arms; and

at the head of this force, which was utterly inadequate, he entered upon his enterprise.

With his little army Arthur broke into Poictou, and there he was joined by Hugh de la Marche. When passing Mirabeau, Arthur learned that his grandmother, Eleanor of Aquitaine, was residing there with a weak garrison and frail fortifications. The royal dame had always hated her grandson, and refused to acknowledge his title. "If you can get her into your power," argued Count Hugh, "John will come to terms. To do so, we have only to take this town. Let us lay siege to it forthwith."

Glowing with a juvenile passion for martial renown, and totally inexperienced in military affairs, Arthur consented, and Mirabeau was attacked. At first the adventure was so successful that the outworks were tiken by storm, and the town yielded. But Eleanor, though she had seen some fourscore summers, retained her spirit and energy. She threw herself into the citadel, sent to inform John of her peril, and while waiting for his aid made a vigorous defence, and kept her assailants at bay.

While the adherents of Arthur were confident of success, and while the Prince himself was indulging in aspirations never to be realised, an army suddenly appeared before the town. Under the impression that this was a body of roving Brabintins, Arthur and his friends sallied forth to fight them in the open ground. With feelings of horror, and a prescience of evil, the

young Prince's soldiers discovered that they were in front of the army of King John, who, having received intelligence of his mother's peril, had come to her rescue with a celerity of which so indolent a man had naturally been deemed incapable.

On perceiving their error, Arthur's associates rushed back to the town, and were followed so closely that fliers and pursuers, mingled in strife, entered the gates. Betwixt the town and the citadel a fierce conflict took place. When it was over, John was a victor, and Arthur a captive. Two hundred of his knights were taken, placed in carts drawn by oxen, and conveyed to the dungeons of Normandy and England.

Arthur himself, falling into the hands of the tyrant, was carried to Falaise, whither John followed. He begged the boy, in gentle terms, to put faith in him as a kind uncle. "First give me mine inheritance," replied Arthur; "give me the kingdom of England." The usurper, highly enraged, ordered him to be removed to Rouen, to be placed in the castle, and to be vigilantly guarded.

Soon after Arthur's removal to the capital of Normandy some of the king's councillors, having represented how seditious the Bretons were, and how many insurrections they projected in the name of their incarcerated Prince, suggested that he should be severely dealt with. Some wretches were commissioned to put out Arthur's eyes, and mutilate him in a manner revolting to humanity. They found the boy loaded