king and his accursed progeny. Since then everything seemed to have
gone wrong. The last six years of Henry the Second's reign were years
of piteous misery, shame, and bitterness. His two elder sons died in
arms against their father, the one childless, the other, Geoffrey,
with a baby boy never destined to arrive at manhood. The two younger
ones were Richard and John. History has no story more sad than that
of the wretched king, hard at death's door, compelled to submit to
the ferocious vindictiveness of the one son, and turning his face to
the wall with a broken heart when he discovered the hateful treachery
of the other. Ten years after this Richard died childless, and King
John was crowned--the falsest, meanest, worst, and wickedest king
that ever sat upon the throne of England. And now John himself was
dead; and "Woe to thee, O land, when thy king is a child!" for Henry
the Third was crowned, a boy just nine years old.

For eight years England had lain under the terrible interdict; for
most of the time only a single bishop had remained in England. John
had small need to tax the people: he lived upon the plunder of
bishops and abbots. The churches were desolate; the worship of God in
large districts almost came to an end. Only in the Cistercian
monasteries, and in them only for a time, and to a very limited
extent, were the rites of religion continued. It is hardly
conceivable that the places of those clergy who died during the eight
years of the interdict were supplied by fresh ordinations; and some
excuse may have been found for the outrageous demands of the Pope to
present to English benefices in the fact that many cures must have
been vacant, and the supply of qualified Englishmen to succeed them
had fallen short.

Strange to say, in the midst of all this religious famine, and while