COLLECTED EDITION 
 
 OF THE 
 
 NOVELS AND TALES 
 
 BT 
 
 THE EIGHT HONOEABLE 
 B. DISEAELI. 
 
 VOL. IV. TANCRED.
 
 BALI.ANTTNE, HANSON AND CO. 
 EDINBURGH AMD LONDON
 
 TANCEED 
 
 OB 
 
 THE NEW CKUSADE, 
 
 BT THB 
 
 RIGHT HONORABLE B. DISRAELL 
 
 NEW EDITION. 
 
 LONDON: 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 
 
 1880. 
 
 All righti renroed.
 
 TANCEED 
 
 OR 
 
 THE NEW CKUSADE. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IN that part of the celebrated parish of St. George, which 
 is bounded on one side by Piccadilly and on the other by 
 Curzon Street, is a district of a peculiar character. 'Tis a 
 cluster of small streets of little houses, frequently inter- 
 sected by mews, which here are numerous, and sometimes 
 gradually, rather than abruptly, terminating in a ramifica- 
 tion of those mysterious regions. Sometimes a group of 
 courts develops itself, and you may even chance to find 
 your way into a small market-place. Those, however, who 
 are accustomed to connect these hidden residences of the 
 humble with scenes of misery and characters of violence, 
 need not apprehend in this district any appeal to their 
 sympathies, or any shock to their tastes. All is extremely 
 genteel ; and there is almost as much repose as in the 
 golden saloons of the contiguous palaces. At any rate, if 
 there be as much vice, there is as little crime. 
 
 No sight or sound can be seen or heard at any hour, 
 which could pain the most precise or the most fastidious. 
 Even if a chance oath may float on the air from the stable- 
 yard to the lodging of a French cook, 'tis of the newest 
 iiishion, and, if responded to with less of novel charm, the 
 
 I 
 
 2031065
 
 2 TANCRED; OR 
 
 repartee is at least conveyed in the language of the most polite 
 of nations. They bet upon the Derby in these parts a little, 
 are interested in Goodwood, which they frequent, have 
 perhaps, in general, a weakness for play, live highly, and 
 indulge those passions which luxury and refinement en- 
 courage ; but that is all. 
 
 A policeman would as soon think of reconnoitring these 
 secluded streets as of walking into a house in Park Lane or 
 Berkeley Square, to which, in fact, this population in a 
 great measure belongs. For here reside the wives of house- 
 stewards and of butlers, in tenements furnished by the 
 honest savings of their husbands, and let in lodgings to 
 increase their swelling incomes ; here dwells the retired 
 servant, who now devotes his practised energies to the 
 occasional festival, which, with his accumulations in the 
 three per cents., or in one of the public-houses of the 
 quarter, secures him at the same time an easy living, and 
 the casual enjoyment of that great world which lingers 
 in his memory. Here may be found his grace's coachman, 
 and here his lordship's groom, who keeps a book and bleeds 
 periodically too speculative footmen, by betting odds on his 
 master's horses. But, above all, it is in this district that 
 the cooks have ever sought a favourite and elegant abode. 
 An air of stillness and serenity, of exhausted passions and 
 suppressed emotion, rather than of sluggishness and of dul- 
 ness, distinguishes this quarter during the day. 
 
 When you turn from the vitality and brightness of Pic- 
 cadilly, the park, the palace, the terraced mansions, the 
 sparkling equipages, the cavaliers cantering up the hill, 
 the swarming multitude, and enter the region of which we 
 are speaking, the effect is at first almost unearthly. Not a 
 carriage, not a horseman, scarcely a passenger ; there seems 
 some great and sudden collapse in the metropolitan system, 
 as if a pest had been announced, or an enemy were ex- 
 pected in alarm by a vanquished capital. The approach 
 from Curzon Street has not this effect. Hyde Park has 
 still about it something of Arcadia. There are woods and 
 waters, and the. occasional illusion of an illimitable distance
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 3 
 
 of sylvan joyance. The spirit is allured to gentle thoughts 
 as we wander in what is still really a lane, and, turning 
 down Stanhope Street, behold that house which the great 
 Lord Chesterfield tells us, in one of his letters, he was 
 ' building among the fields.' The cawing of the rooks in 
 his gardens sustains the tone of mind, and Curzon Street, 
 after a long, straggling, sawney course, ceasing to be a 
 thoroughfare, and losing itself in the gardens of another 
 palace, is quite in keeping with all the accessories. 
 
 Tn the night, however, the quarter of which we are 
 speaking is alive. The manners of the population follow 
 those of their masters. They keep late hours. The ban- 
 quet and the ball dismiss them to their homes at a time 
 when the trades of ordinary regions move in their last 
 sleep, and dream of opening shutters and decking the win- 
 dows of their shops. At night, the chariot whirls round 
 the frequent corners of these little streets, and the opening 
 valves of the mews vomit forth their legion of broughams. 
 At night, too, the footman, taking advantage of a ball at 
 Holdernesse, or a concert at Lansdowne House, and know- 
 ing that, in either instance, the link-boy will answer when 
 necessary for his summoned name, ventures to look in at 
 his club, reads the paper, talks of his master or his mistress, 
 and perhaps throws a main. The shops of this district, 
 depending almost entirely for their custom on the classes 
 we have indicated, and kept often by their relations, follow 
 the order of the place, and are most busy when other places 
 of business are closed. 
 
 A gusty March morning had subsided into a sunshiny 
 afternoon, nearly two years ago, when a young man, slender, 
 above the middle height, with a physiognomy thoughtful 
 yet delicate, his brown hair worn long, slight whiskers, on 
 his chin a tuft, knocked at the door of a house in Carrington 
 Street, May Fair. His mien and his costume denoted a 
 character of the class of artists. He wore a pair of green trou- 
 sers, braided with a black stripe down their sides, puckered 
 towards the waist, yet fitting with considerable precision to 
 
 B 2
 
 4 TANCRED; OR 
 
 the boot of French leather that enclosed a well- formed foot. 
 His waistcoat was of maroon velvet, displaying a steel watch- 
 chain of refined manufacture, and a black satin cravat, with 
 a coral brooch. His bright blue frockcoat was frogged and 
 braided like his trousers. As the knocker fell from the prim- 
 rose-coloured glove that screened his hand, he uncovered, 
 and passing his fingers rapidly through his hair, resumed his 
 new silk hat, which he placed rather on one side of his head. 
 
 ' Ah ! Mr. Leander, is it you ? ' exclaimed a pretty girl, 
 who opened the door and blushed. 
 
 ' And how is the good papa, Eugenie ? Is he at home ? 
 For I want to see him much.' 
 
 * I will show you up to him at once, Mr. Leander, for he 
 will be very happy to see you. We have been thinking of 
 hearing of you,' she added, talking as she ushered her 
 guest up the narrow staircase. ' The good papa has a little 
 cold : 'tis not much, I hope ; caught at Sir Wallinger's, a 
 large dinner ; they would have the kitchen windows open, 
 which, spoilt all the entrees, and papa got a cold ; but I 
 think, perhaps, it is as much vexation as anything else ; 
 you know if anything goes wrong, especially with the 
 entrees ' 
 
 ' He feels as a great artist must,' said Leander, finishing 
 her sentence. ' However, I am not sorry at this moment 
 to find him a prisoner, for I am pressed to see him. It is 
 only this morning that I have returned from Mr. Coningsby's 
 at Hellingsley : the house full, forty covers every day, and 
 some judges. One does not grudge one's labour if we 
 are appreciated,' added Leander ; ' but I have had my 
 troubles. One of my marmitons has disappointed me : I 
 thought I had a genius, but on the third day he lost his 
 head ; and had it not been Ah ! good papa,' he ex- 
 claimed, as the door opened, and he came forward and 
 warmly shook the hand of a portly man, advanced in middle 
 life, sitting in an easy chair, with a glass of sugared water 
 by his side, and reading a French newspaper in his cham- 
 ber robe, and with a white cotton nightcap on his head.
 
 THK NEW CRUSADE. 5 
 
 ' Ah ! my child,' said Papa Prevost, ' is it you ? You sec 
 me a prisoner ; Eugenie has told you ; a dinner at a mer- 
 chant's ; dressed in a draught ; everything spoiled, and 
 I ' and sighing, Papa Prevost sipped his eau sucree. 
 
 ' We have all our troubles,' said Leander, in a consoling 
 tone ; ' but we will not speak now of vexations. I have 
 just come from the country ; Daubuz has written to me 
 twice ; he was at my house last night ; I found him on my 
 steps this morning. There is a grand affair on the tapis. 
 The son of the Duke of Bellamont comes of age at Easter ; 
 it is to be a business of the thousand and one nights ; the 
 whole county to be feasted. Camacho's wedding will 
 do for the peasantry ; roasted oxen, and a capon in every 
 platter, with some fountains of ale and good Porto. Our 
 marmitons, too, can easily serve the provincial noblesse ; 
 but there is to be a party at the Castle, of double cream ; 
 princes of the blood, high relatives and grandees of the 
 Golden Fleece. The duke's cook is not equal to the occa- 
 sion. 'Tis an hereditary chef who gives dinners of the 
 time of the continental blockade. They have written to 
 Daubuz to send them the first artist of the age,' said Lean- 
 der ; ' and,' added he, with some hesitation, ' Daubuz has 
 written to me.' 
 
 ' And he did quite right, my child,' said Prevost, ' for 
 there is not a man in Europe that is your equal. What do 
 they say ? That Abreu rivals you in flavour, and that 
 Gaillard has not less invention. But who can combine 
 gout with new combinations ? 'Tis yourself, Leander ; and 
 there is no question, though, you have only twenty-five 
 years, that you are the chef of the age.' 
 
 ' You are always very good to me, sir,' said Leander, bend- 
 ing his head with great respect ; ' and I will not deny, that 
 to be famous when you are young is the fortune of the gods. 
 But we must never forget that I had an advantage which 
 Abren and Gaillard had not, and that I was your pupil.' 
 
 'I hope that I have not injured you,' said Papa Prevost, 
 with an air of proud self-content. ' What you learned
 
 6 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 from me came at least from a good school. It is something to 
 have served under Napoleon,' added Prevost, with the grand 
 air of the Imperial kitchen. ' Had it not been for Waterloo, 
 I should have had the cross. But the Bourbons and the cooks 
 of the Empire never could understand each other. They 
 brought over an emigrant chef, who did not comprehend 
 the taste of the age. He wished to bring everything back 
 to the time of the ceil de bceuf. When Monsieur passed my 
 soup of Austerlitz untasted, I knew the old family was 
 doomed. But we gossip. You wished to consult me ? ' 
 
 ' I want not only your advice but your assistance. This 
 affair of the Duke of Bellamont's requires all our energies. 
 I hope you will accompany me ; and, indeed, we must 
 muster all our forces. It is not to be denied that there is 
 a want, not only of genius, but of men, in our art. The 
 cooks are like the civil engineers : since the middle class 
 have taken to giving dinners, the demand exceeds the 
 supply.' 
 
 ' There is Andrien,' said Papa Prevost ; ' you had some 
 hopes of him ? ' 
 
 ' He is too young; I took him to Hellingsley, and he lost 
 his head on the third day. I entrusted the soufflees to him, 
 and, but for the most desperate personal exertions, all 
 would have been lost. It was an affair of the bridge of 
 Arcola.' 
 
 ' Ah ! mon Dieu ! those are moments ! ' exclaimed Pre- 
 vost. ' Gaillard and Abreu will not serve under you, eh ? 
 And if they would, they could not be trusted. They would 
 betray you at the tenth hour.' 
 
 ' What I want are generals of division, not commanders 
 in chief. Abreu is sufficiently bon garcon, but he has taken 
 an engagement with Monsieur de Sidonia, and is not per- 
 mitted to go out.' 
 
 ' With Monsieur de Sidonia ! You once thought of that, 
 my Leander. And what is his salary ? ' 
 
 ' Not too much ; four hundred and some perquisites. It 
 would not suit me ; besides, I will take no engagement but
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 7 
 
 with a crowned head. But Abreu likes travelling, and he 
 has his own carriage, which pleases him.' 
 
 ' There are Philippon and Dumoreau,' said Prevost ; ' they 
 are very safe.' 
 
 ' I was thinking of them,' said Leander, ' they are safe, 
 under you. And there is an Englishman, Smit, he is chef 
 at Sir Stanley's, but his master is away at this moment. 
 He has talent.' 
 
 ' Yourself, four chefs, with your mannitons ; it would 
 do,' said Prevost. 
 
 ' For the kitchen,' said Leander ; ' but who is to dress the 
 tables?' 
 
 ' A h ! ' exclaimed Papa Prevost, shaking his head. 
 
 ' Daubuz' head man, Trenton, is the only one I could 
 trust; and he wants fancy, though his style is broad and 
 bold. He made a pyramid of pines relieved with grapes 
 without destroying the outline, very good, this last week, 
 at Hellingsley. But Trenton has been upset on the rail- 
 road, and much injured. Even if he recover, his hand will 
 tremble so for the next month that I could have no confidence 
 in him.' 
 
 ' Perhaps you might find some one at the Duke's?' 
 
 ' Out of the question !' said Leander ; ' I make it always 
 a condition that the head of every department shall be ap- 
 pointed by myself. I take Pellerini with me for the con- 
 fectionary. How often have I seen the effect of a first-rate 
 dinner spoiled by a vulgar dessert ! laid flat on the table, 
 for example, or with ornaments that look as if they had 
 been hired at a pastrycook's : triumphal arches, and Chinese 
 pagodas, and solitary pines springing up out of ice-tubs 
 surrounded with peaches, as if they were in the window 
 of a fruiterer of Covent Garden.' 
 
 ' Ah ! it is incredible what uneducated people will do,' 
 said Prevost. ' The dressing of the tables was a depart- 
 ment of itself in the Imperial kitchen.' 
 
 ' It demands an artist of a high calibre,' said Leander. 
 4 1 only know one man who realises my idea, and he is at
 
 8 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 St. Petersburg!!. You do not know Anastase? There is 
 a man ! But the Emperor has him secure. He can scarcely 
 complain, however, since he is decorated, and has the rank 
 of full colonel.' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said Prevost, mournfully, ' there is no recognition 
 of genius in this country. What think you of Yanesse, my 
 child? He has had a regular education.' 
 
 ' In a bad school : as a pis aller one might put up 
 with him. But his eternal tiers of bon-bons ! As if they 
 were ranged for a supper of the Carnival, and my guests 
 were going to pelt each other ! No, I could not stand 
 Vanesse, papa.' 
 
 The dressing of the table : 'tis a rare talent,' said Pre- 
 vost, mournfully, ' and always was. In the Imperial 
 kitchen ' 
 
 ' Papa,' said Eugenie, opening the door, and putting in 
 her head, ' here is Monsieur Vanillette just come from 
 Brussels. He has brought you a basket of truffles from 
 Ardennes. I told him you were on business, but to-night, 
 if you be at home, he could come.' 
 
 ' Vanillette ! ' exclaimed Prevost, starting in his chair, 
 ' our little Vanillette ! There is your man, Leander. He 
 was my first pupil, as you were my last, my child. Bring 
 up our little Vanillette, Eugenie. He is in the household 
 of King Leopold, and his forte is dressing the table ! ' 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE Duke of Bellamont was a personage who, from his 
 rank, his blood, and his wealth, might almost be placed at 
 the bead of the English nobility. Although the grandson 
 of a mere country gentleman, his fortunate ancestor, in the 
 decline of the last century, had captivated the heiress of 
 the Montacutes, Dukes of Bellamont, a celebrated race of 
 the times of the Plantagenets. The bridegroom, at the 
 moment of his marriage, had adopted the illustrious name
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 9 
 
 of his young and beautiful wife. Mr. Montacute was by 
 nature a man of energy and of an enterprising spirit. His 
 vast and early success rapidly developed his native powers. 
 With the castles and domains and boroughs of the Bella- 
 monts, he resolved also to acquire their ancient baronies 
 ;ind their modern coronets. The times were favourable to 
 his projects, though they might require the devotion of a 
 life. He married amid the disasters of the American war. 
 The king and his minister appreciated the independent 
 support afforded them by Mr. Montacute, who represented 
 his county, and who commanded five votes in the House 
 besides his own. He was one of the chief pillars of their 
 cause ; but he was not only independent, he was conscien- 
 tious and had scruples. Saratoga staggered him. The 
 defection of the Montacute votes, at this moment, would 
 have at once terminated the struggle between England and 
 her colonies. A fresh illustration of the advantages of our 
 parliamentary constitution ! The independent Mr. Monta- 
 cute, however, stood by his sovereign ; his five votes con- 
 tinued to cheer the noble lord in the blue ribbon, and their 
 master took his seat and the oaths in the House of Lords, as 
 Earl of Bellamont and Viscount Montacute. 
 
 This might be considered sufficiently well for one genera- 
 tion; but the silver spoon which some fairy had placed in 
 the cradle of the Earl of Bellamont was of colossal propor- 
 tions. The French Revolution succeeded the American 
 war, and was occasioned by it. It was but just, therefore, 
 that it also should bring its huge quota to the elevation of 
 the man whom a colonial revolt had made an earl. Amid 
 the panic of Jacobinism, the declamations of the friends of 
 the people, the sovereign having no longer Hanover for a 
 refuge, and the prime minister examined as a witness in 
 favour of the very persons whom he was trying for high 
 treason, the Earl of Bellamont made a calm visit to 
 Downing Street, and requested the revival of all the 
 honours of the ancient Earls and Dukes ot Bellamont in 
 his own person. Mr. Pitt, who was far from favourable to
 
 10 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 the exclusive character which distinguished the English 
 peerage in the last century, was himself not disinclined to 
 accede to the gentle request of his powerful supporter ; but 
 the king was less flexible. His Majesty, indeed, was on 
 principle not opposed to the revival of titles in families to 
 whom the domains without the honours of the old nobility 
 had descended ; and he recognised the claim of the present 
 Earls of Bellamont eventually to regain the strawberry leaf 
 which had adorned the coronet of the father of the present 
 countess. But the king was of opinion that this supreme 
 distinction ought only to be conferred on the blood of the 
 old house, and that a generation, therefore, must neces- 
 sarily elapse before a Duke of Bellamont could again figure 
 in the golden book of the English aristocracy. 
 
 But George the Third, with all his firmness, was doomed 
 to frequent discomfiture. His lot was cast in troubled 
 waters, and he had often to deal with individuals as in- 
 flexible as himself. Benjamin Franklin was not more 
 calmly contumacious than the individual whom his treason 
 had made an English peer. In that age of violence change 
 and panic, power, directed by a clear brain and an obdurate 
 spirit, could not fail of its aim ; and so it turned out, that, 
 in the very teeth of the royal will, the simple country gentle- 
 man, whose very name was forgotten, became, at the com- 
 mencement of this century, Duke of Bellamont, Marquis 
 of Montacute, Earl of Bellamont, Dacre, and Villeroy, with 
 all the baronies of the Plantagenets in addition. The only 
 revenge of the king was, that he never would give the Duke 
 of Bellamont the garter. It was as well perhaps that there 
 should be something for his son to desire. 
 
 The Duke and Duchess of Bellamont were the hand- 
 somest couple in England, and devoted to each other, but 
 they had only one child. Fortunately, that child was a 
 son. Precious life ! The Marquis of Montacute was married 
 before he was of age. Not a moment was to be lost to find 
 heirs for all these honours. Perhaps, had his parents been 
 less precipitate, their object might have been more securely
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 11 
 
 obtained. The union was not a happy one. The first duke 
 had, however, the gratification of dying a grandfather. 
 His successor bore no resemblance to him, except in that 
 beauty which became a characteristic of the race. He was 
 born to enjoy, not to create. A man of pleasure, the chosen 
 companion of the Regent in his age of riot, he was cut off 
 in his prime ; but he lived long enough to break his wife's 
 heart and his son's spirit ; like himself, too, an only child. 
 
 The present Duke of Bellamont had inherited something 
 of the clear intelligence of his grandsire, with the gentle 
 disposition of his mother. His fair abilities, and his bene- 
 volent inclinations, had been cultivated. His mother had 
 watched over the child, in whom she found alike the charm 
 and consolation of her life. But, at a certain period of 
 youth, the formation of character requires a masculine im- 
 pulse, and that was wanting. The duke disliked his son ; 
 in time he became even jealous of him. The duke had 
 found himself a father at too early a period of life. Himself 
 in his lusty youth, he started with alarm at the form that 
 recalled his earliest and most brilliant hour, and who might 
 prove a rival. The son was of a gentle and affectionate 
 nature, and sighed for the tenderness of his harsh and 
 almost vindictive parent. But he had not that passionate 
 soul which might have appealed, and perhaps not in vain, 
 to the dormant sympathies of the being who had created 
 him. The young Montacute was by nature of an extreme 
 shyness, and the accidents of his life had not tended to dis- 
 sipate his painful want of self-confidence. Physically cou- 
 rageous, his moral timidity was remarkable. He alternately 
 blushed or grew pale in his rare interviews with his father, 
 trembled in silence before the undeserved sarcasm, and 
 often endured the unjust accusation without an attempt to 
 vindicate himself. Alone, and in tears alike of woe and 
 indignation, he cursed the want of resolution or ability 
 which had again missed the opportunity that, both for his 
 mother and himself, might have placed affairs in a happier 
 position. Most persons, under these circumstances, would
 
 12 TAXCBED; OB 
 
 have become bitter, but Montacute was too tender for 
 malice, and so he only turned melancholy. 
 
 On the threshold of manhood, Montacute lost his mother, 
 and this seemed the catastrophe of his unhappy life. His 
 father neither snared his grief, nor attempted to alleviate it. 
 On the contrary, he seemed to redouble his efforts to mortify 
 his son. His great object was to prevent Lord Montacute 
 from entering society, and he was so complete a master of 
 the nervous temperament on which he was acting, that 
 there appeared a fair chance of his succeeding in his bene- 
 volent intentions. When his son's education was com- 
 pleted, the duke would not furnish him with the means of 
 moving in the world in a becoming manner, or even sanc- 
 tion his travelling. His grace was resolved to break his 
 son's spirit by keeping him immured in the country. Other 
 heirs apparent of a rich seignory would soon have removed 
 these difficulties. By bill or by bond, by living usury, or 
 by post-obit liquidation, by all the means that private 
 friends or public offices could supply, the sinews of war 
 would have been forthcoming. They would have beaten 
 their fathers' horses at Newmarket, eclipsed them with 
 their mistresses, and, sitting for their boroughs, voted 
 against their party. But Montacute was not one of those 
 young heroes who rendered so distinguished the earlier part 
 of this century. He had passed his life so much among 
 women and clergymen, that he had never emancipated 
 himself from the old law that enjoined him to honour a 
 parent. Besides, with all his shyness and timidity, he was 
 extremely proud. He never forgot that he was a Monta- 
 cute, though he had forgotten, like the world in general, 
 that his grandfather once bore a different and humbler 
 name. All merged in the great fact, that he was the living 
 representative of those Montacutes of Bellamont, whose 
 wild and politic achievements, or the sustained splendour of 
 whose stately life had for seven hundred years formed a 
 stirring and superb portion of the history and manners of 
 our country. Death was preferable, in his view, to having
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 13 
 
 such a name soiled in the haunts of jockeys and courtezans 
 and usurers ; and, keen as was the anguish which the con- 
 duct of the duke to his mother or himself had often occa- 
 sioned him, it was sometimes equalled in degree by the 
 sorrow and the shame which he endured when he heard of 
 the name of Bellamont only in connection with some stra- 
 tagem of the turf or some frantic revel. 
 
 Without a friend, almost without an acquaintance, 
 Montacute sought refuge in love. She who shed over his 
 mournful life the divine ray of feminine sympathy was his 
 cousin, the daughter of his mother's brother, an English 
 peer, but resident in the north of Ireland, where he had 
 vast possessions. It was a family otherwise little calculated 
 to dissipate the reserve and gloom of a depressed and 
 melancholy youth ; puritanical, severe and formal in their 
 manners, their relaxations a Bible Society, or a meeting 
 for the conversion of the Jews. But Lady Katherine was 
 beautiful, and all were kind to one to whom kindness was 
 strange, and the soft pathos of whose solitary spirit de- 
 manded affection. 
 
 Montacute requested his father's permission to marry his 
 cousin, and was immediately refused. The duke particu- 
 larly disliked his wife's family ; but the fact is, he had no 
 wish that his son should every many. He meant to per- 
 petuate his race himself, and was at this moment, in the 
 midst of his orgies, meditating a second alliance, which 
 should compensate him for his boyish blunder. In this 
 state of affairs, Montacute, at length stung to resistance, 
 inspired by the most powerful of passions, and acted upon 
 by a stronger volition than his own, was planning a mar- 
 riage in spite of his father (love, a cottage by an Irish lake, 
 und seven hundred a-year) when intelligence arrived that 
 his father, whose powerful frame and vigorous health seemed 
 to menace a patriarchal term, was dead. 
 
 The new Duke of Bellamont had no experience of the 
 world ; but, though long cowed by his father, he had a 
 strong character. Though the circle of his ideas was
 
 14 TANCRED; OR 
 
 necessarily contracted, they were all clear and firm. In his 
 moody youth, he had imbibed certain impressions and 
 arrived at certain conclusions, and they never quitted him. 
 Hia mother was his model of feminine perfection, and he 
 had loved his cousin because she bore a remarkable resem- 
 blance to her aunt. Again, he was of opinion that the tie 
 between the father and the son ought to be one of intimate 
 confidence and refined tenderness, and he resolved that, if 
 Providence favoured him with offspring, his child should 
 ever find in him absolute devotion of thought and feeling. 
 
 A. variety of causes and circumstances had impressed 
 him with a conviction that what is called fashionable life 
 was a compound of frivolity and fraud, of folly and vice ; 
 and he resolved never to enter it. To this he was, perhaps, 
 in some degree unconsciously prompted by his reserved 
 disposition, and by his painful sense of inexperience, for he 
 looked forward to this world with almost as much of appre- 
 hension as of dislike. To politics, in the vulgar sense of 
 the word, he had an equal repugnance. He had a lofty 
 idea of his duty to his sovereign and his country, and felt 
 within him the energies that would respond to a conjunc- 
 ture. But he acceded to his title in a period of calmness, 
 when nothing was called in question, and no danger was 
 apprehended ; and as for the fights of factions, the duke 
 altogether held himself aloof from them ; he wanted nothing, 
 not even the blue ribbon which he was soon obliged to 
 take. Next to his domestic hearth, all his being was con- 
 centrated in his duties as a great proprietor of the soil. On 
 these he had long pondered, and these he attempted to 
 fulfil. That performance, indeed, was as much a source of 
 delight to him as of obligation. He loved the country and 
 a country life. His reserve seemed to melt away the 
 moment he was on his own soil. Courteous he ever was, 
 but then he became gracious and hearty. He liked to 
 assemble ' the county ' around him ; to keep ' the county ' 
 together ; ' the county ' seemed always his first thought ; 
 he was proud of ' the county,' where he reigned supi-eme,
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 15 
 
 not more from his vast possessions than from the influence 
 of his sweet yet stately character, which made those devoted 
 to him who otherwise were independent of his sway. 
 
 From straitened circumstances, ar.d without having had 
 a single fancy of youth gratified, the Duke of Bellamont 
 had been suddenly summoned to the lordship of an estate 
 scarcely inferior in size and revenue to some continental 
 principalities; to dwell in palaces and castles, to be sur- 
 rounded by a disciplined retinue, and to find every wish 
 and want gratified before they could be expressed or anti- 
 cipated. Yet he showed no elation, and acceded to his 
 inheritance as serene as if he had never felt a pang or 
 proved a necessity. She whom in the hour of trial he had 
 selected for the future partner of his life, though a remark- 
 able woman, by a singular coincidence of feeling, for it 
 was as much from her original character as from sympathy 
 with her husband, confirmed him in all his moods. 
 
 Katherine, Duchess of Bellamont, was beautiful : small 
 and delicate in structure, with a dazzling complexion, and 
 a smile which, though rare, was of the most winning and 
 brilliant character. Her rich brown hair and her deep 
 blue eye might have become a Dryad ; but her brow denoted 
 intellect of a high order, and her mouth spoke inexorable 
 resolution. She was a woman of fixed opinions, and of firm 
 and compact prejudices. Brought up in an austere circle, 
 where on all matters irrevocable judgment had been passed, 
 which enjoyed the advantages of knowing exactly what 
 was true in dogma, what just in conduct, and what correct 
 in manners, she had early acquired the convenient habit of 
 decision, while her studious mind employed its considerable 
 energies in mastering every writer who favoured those 
 opinions which she had previously determined were the 
 right ones. The duchess was deep in the divinity of the 
 seventeenth century. In the controversies between the 
 two churches, she could have perplexed St. Omers or 
 Maynooth. Chillingworth might be found in her boudoir. 
 Not that her grace's reading was confined to divinity ; on
 
 16 TANCRED; OR 
 
 the contrary, it was various and extensive. Puritan in 
 religion, she was precisian in morals ; but in both she wa,s 
 sincere. She was so in all things. Her nature was frank 
 and simple ; if she were inflexible, she at least wished to 
 be just ; and though very conscious of the greatness of her 
 position, she was so sensible of its duties, that there was 
 scarcely any exertion which she would evade, or any humi- 
 lity from which she would shrink, if she believed she were 
 doing her duty to her God or to her neighbour. 
 
 It will be seen, therefore, that the Duke of Bellamont 
 found no obstacle in his wife, who otherwise much influenced 
 his conduct, to the plans which he had pre-conceived for 
 the conduct of his life after marriage. The duchess shrank, 
 with a feeling of haughty terror from that world of fashion 
 which would have so willingly greeted her. During the 
 greater part of the year, therefore, the Bellamonts resided 
 in their magnificent castle, in their distant county, occupied 
 with all the business and the pleasures of the provinces. 
 While the duke, at the head of the magistracy, in the ma- 
 nagement of his estates, and in the sports of which he was 
 fond, found ample occupation, his wife gave an impulse to 
 the charity of the county, founded schools, endowed 
 churches, received their neighbours, read her books, and 
 amused herself in the creation of beautiful gardens, for 
 which she had a passion. 
 
 After Easter, Parliament requiring their presence, the 
 courtyard of one of the few palaces in London opened, and 
 the world learnt that the Duke and Duchess of Bellamont 
 had arrived at Bellamont House, from Montacute Castle. 
 During their stay in town, which they made as brief as 
 they well could, and which never exceeded three months, 
 they gave a series of great dinners, principally attended by 
 noble relations, and those families of the county who were 
 so fortunate as to have also a residence in London. Regu- 
 larly every year, also, there was a grand banquet given to 
 some members of the royal family by the Duke and Duchess 
 of Bellamont, and regularly every year the Duke and
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 17 
 
 Duchess of Bellarucmt had the honour of dining at the 
 palace. Except at a ball or concert under the royal roof, 
 the duke and duchess were never seen anywhere in the 
 evening. The great ladies indeed, the Lady St. Julians 
 and the Marchionesses of Deloraine, always sent them in- 
 vitations, though they were ever declined. But the Bella- 
 monts maintained a sort of traditional acquaintance with a 
 few great houses, either by the ties of relationship, which, 
 among the aristocracy, are very ramified, or by occasion- 
 ally receiving travelling magnificoes at their hospitable 
 castle. 
 
 To the great body, however, of what is called ' the 
 World,' the world that lives in St. James' Street and Pall 
 Mall, that looks out of a club window, and surveys mankind 
 .is Lucretius from his philosophic tower ; the world of the 
 Georges and the Jemmys ; of Mr. Cassilis and Mr. Melton ; 
 of the Milfords and the Fitzherons, the Berners and the 
 Egertons, the Mr. Ormsbys and the Alfred Mountchesneys, 
 the Duke and Duchess of Bellamont were absolutely un- 
 known. All that the world knew was, that there was a 
 great peer who was called Duke of Bellamont ; that there 
 was a great house in London, with a courtyard, which 
 bore his name ; that he had a castle in the country, ^vhich. 
 was one of the boasts of England ; and that this great duke 
 had a duchess ; but they never met them anywhere, nor 
 did their wives and their sisters, and the ladies whom they 
 admired, or who admired them, either at ball or at break- 
 fast, either at morning dances or at evening dejeuners. It 
 was clear, therefore, that the Bellamonts might be very 
 great people, but they were not in ' society.' 
 
 It must have been some organic law, or some fate which 
 uses structure for its fulfilment, but again it seemed that 
 the continuance of the great house of Montacute should 
 depend upon the life of a single being. The duke, like his 
 father and his grandfather, was favoured only with one 
 child, but that child was again a son. From the moment 
 of his birth, the very existence of his parents seemed iden- 
 
 c
 
 18 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 tified with his welfare. The duke and his wife mutually 
 assumed to each other a secondary position, in comparison 
 with that occupied by their offspring. From the hour of 
 his birth to the moment when this history opens, and when 
 he was about to complete his majority, never had such 
 solicitude been lavished on human being as had been con- 
 tinuously devoted to the life of the young Lord Montacute. 
 During his earlier education he scarcely quitted home. He 
 had, indeed, once been shown to Eton, surrounded by 
 faithful domestics, and accompanied by a private tutor, 
 whose vigilance would not have disgraced a superintendent 
 of police ; but the scarlet fever happened to break out 
 during his first half, and Lord Montacute was instantly 
 snatched away from the scene of danger, where he was 
 never again to appear. At eighteen he went to Christ- 
 church. His mother, who had nursed him herself, wrote 
 to him every day ; but this was not found sufficient, and 
 the duke hired a residence in the neighbourhood of the 
 university, in order that they might occasionally see their 
 son during term. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ' SAW Eskdale just now,' said Mr. Cassilis, at White's, 
 ' going down to the Duke of Bellamont's. Great doings 
 there : son comes of age at Easter. Wonder what sort of 
 fellow he is ? Anybody know anything about him ? ' 
 
 ' I wonder what his father's rent-roll is ? ' said Mr. 
 Ormsby. 
 
 ' They say it is quite clear,' said Lord Fitzheron. 
 
 ' Safe for that,' said Lord Milford ; ' and plenty of ready 
 money, too, I should think, for one never heard of the pre- 
 sent duke doing anything.' 
 
 ' He docs a good deal in his county,' said Lord Valen- 
 tine. 
 
 'I don't call that anything,' said Lord Milford; 'but I
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 19 
 
 mean to say he never played, was never seen at Newmarket, 
 or did anything which anybody can remember. In fact, he 
 is a person whose name you never by any chance hear men- 
 tioned.' 
 
 ' He is a sort of cousin of mine,' said Lord Valentine ; 
 ' and we are all going down to the coming of age : that is, 
 we are asked.' 
 
 ' Then you can tell us what sort of fellow the son is.' 
 
 ' I never saw him,' said Lord Valentine ; ' but I know 
 the duchess told my mother last year, that Montacute, 
 throughout his life, had never occasioned her a single 
 moment's pain.' 
 
 Here there was a general laugh. 
 
 'Well, I have no doubt he will make up for lost time,' 
 said Mr. Ormsby, demurely. 
 
 ' Nothing like mamma's darling for upsetting a coach,' 
 said Lord Milford. ' You ought to bring your cousin here, 
 Valentine ; we would assist the development of his unso- 
 phisticated intelligence.' 
 
 'If I go down, I will propose it to him.' 
 
 ' Why if ? ' said Mr. Cassilis ; ' sort of thing I should like 
 to see once uncommonly : oxen roasted alive, old armour, 
 and the girls of the village all running about as if they were 
 behind the scenes.' 
 
 ' Is that the way you did it at your majority, George ? ' 
 said Lord Fitzheron. 
 
 ' Egad,Ikept myarrival at years of discretion atBrighton. 
 I believe it was the last fun there ever was at the Pavilion. 
 The poor dear king, God bless him ! proposed my health, 
 and made the devil's own speech ; we all began to pipe. He 
 was Regent then. Your father was there, Valentine ; ask 
 him if he remembers it. That was a scene ! I won't say 
 how it ended ; but the best joke is, I got a letter from my 
 governor a few days after, with an account of what they 
 had ail been doing at Brandingham, and rowing me for not 
 coning down, and I found out I had kept my coming of age 
 the wrong day.' 
 
 c 3
 
 20 TANCEED ; OB 
 
 'Did you tell them?' 
 
 ' Not a word : I was afraid we might have had to go 
 through it over again.' 
 
 ' I suppose old Bellamont is the devil's own screw,' said 
 Lord Milford. ' Rich governors, who have never heen hard 
 up, always are.' 
 
 4 No : I believe he is a very good sort of fellow,' said 
 Lord Valentine ; ' at least my people always say so. I do 
 not know much about him, for they never go anywhere.' 
 
 ' They have got Leander down at Montacute,' said Mr. 
 Cassilis. ' Had not such a thing as a cook in the whole 
 county. They say Lord Eskdale arranged the cuisine for 
 them ; so you will feed well, Valentine.' 
 
 ' That is something : and one can eat before Easter ; but 
 when the balls begin ' 
 
 1 Oh ! as for that, you will have dancing enough at 
 Montacute ; it is expected on these occasions : Sir Roger de 
 Coverley, tenants' daughters, and all that sort of thing. 
 Deuced funny, but I must say, if I am to have a lark, I like 
 Vanxhall.' 
 
 4 1 never met the Bellamonts,' said Lord Milford, mus- 
 ingly. ' Are there any daughters ? ' 
 
 'None.' 
 
 ' That is a bore. A single daughter, even if there be a 
 son, may be made something of; because, in nine cases out 
 of ten, there is a round sum in the settlements for the 
 younger children, and she takes it all.' 
 
 ' That is the case of Lady Blanche Bickerstaffe,' said 
 Lord Fitzheron. ' She will have a hundred thousand 
 pounds.' 
 
 ' You don't mean that ! ' said Lord Valentine ; ' and she 
 is a very nice girl, too.' 
 
 'You are quite wrong about the hundred thousand, 
 Fitz,' said Lord Milford ; ' for I made it my business to 
 inquire most particularly into the affair : it is only fifty.' 
 
 * In these cases, the best rule is only to believe half,' said 
 Mr. Ormsby.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 21 
 
 ' Then you have only got twenty thousand a-year, 
 Ormsby,' said Lord Milford, laughing, ' because the world 
 gives you forty.' 
 
 ' Well, we must do the best we can in these hard times,' 
 said Mr. Ormsby, with an air of mock resignation. 
 ' With your Dukes of Bellamont and all these grandees on 
 the stage, we little men shall be scarcely able to hold up 
 our heads.' 
 
 ' Come, Ormsby,' said Lord Milford, ' tell us the amount 
 of your income tax.' 
 
 ' They say Sir Robert quite blushed when he saw the 
 figure at which you were sacked, and declared it was down- 
 right spoliation.' 
 
 ' You young men are always talking about money,' said 
 Mr. Ormsby, shaking his head ; ' you should think of higher 
 things.' 
 
 ' I wonder what young Montacute will be thinking of this 
 time next year,' said Lord Fitzheron. 
 
 ' There will be plenty of people thinking of him,' said Mr. 
 Cassilis. ' Egad, you gentlemen must stir yourselves, if you 
 mean to be turned off. You will have rivals.' 
 
 ' He will be no rival to me,' said Lord Milford ; ' for I am 
 an avowed fortune-hunter, and that you say he does not 
 care for, at least, at present.' 
 
 ' And I marry only for love,' said Lord Valentine, laugh- 
 ing ; ' and so we shall not clash.' 
 
 ' Ay, ay ; but if he will not go to the heiresses, the 
 heiresses will go to him,' said Mr. Ormsby. ' I have seen 
 a good deal of these things, and I generally observe the 
 eldest son of a duke takes a fortune out of the market. 
 Why, there is Beaumanoir, he is like Valentine ; I suppose 
 he intends to marry for love, as he ia always in that way ; 
 but the heiresses never leave him alone, and in the long run 
 you cannot withstand it ; it is like a bribe ; a man is indig- 
 nant at the bare thought, refuses the first offer, and pocketa 
 the second.'
 
 22 TANCEED ; OB 
 
 'It is very immoral, and very unfair,' said Lord Mil- 
 ford, ' that any man should marry for tin, who does not 
 want it.' 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE Forest of Montacute, in the north of England, is the 
 name given to an extensive district, which in many parts 
 offers no evidence of the propriety of its title. The land, 
 especially during the last century, has been effectively 
 cleared, and presents, in general, a champaign view ; rich 
 and rural, but far from picturesque. Over a wide expanse, 
 the eye ranges on cornfields and rich hedgerows, many a 
 sparkling spire, and many a merry windmill. In the ex- 
 treme distance, on a clear day, may be discerned the blue 
 hills of the Border, and towards the north the cultivated 
 country ceases, and the dark form of the old forest spreads 
 into the landscape. The traveller, however, who may be 
 tempted to penetrate these sylvan recesses, will find much 
 that is beautiful, and little that is savage. He will be 
 struck by the capital road that winds among the groves of 
 ancient oak, and the turfy and ferny wilderness which ex- 
 tends on each side, whence the deer gaze on him with 
 haughty composure, as if conscious that he was an intruder 
 into their kingdom of whom they need have no fear. As 
 he advances, he observes the number of cross routes which 
 branch off from the main road, and which, though of less 
 dimensions, are equally remarkable for their masterly struc- 
 ture and compact condition. 
 
 Sometimes the land is cleared, and he finds himself by the 
 homestead of a forest farm, and remarks the buildings, dis- 
 tinguished not only by their neatness, but the propriety of 
 their rustic architecture. Still advancing, the deer become 
 rarer, and the road is formed by an avenue of chestnuts; 
 the forest, on each side, being now transformed into vege- 
 table gardens. The stir of the population is soon evident. 
 Persons are moving to and fro on the side path of the road.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 23 
 
 Horsemen and carts seem returning from market ; women 
 with empty baskets, and then the rare vision of a stage 
 coach. The postilion spurs his horses, cracks his whip, and 
 dashes at full gallop into the town of Montacute, the capital 
 of the forest. 
 
 It is the prettiest little town in the world, built entirely 
 of hewn stone, the well-paved and well-lighted streets as 
 neat as a Dutch village. There are two churches* one of 
 great antiquity, the other raised by the present duke, but 
 in the best style of Christian architecture. The bridge that 
 spans the little but rapid river Belle, is perhaps a trifle too 
 vast and Roman for its site ; but it was built by the first 
 duke of the second dynasty, who was always afraid of 
 underbuilding his position. The town was also indebted to 
 him for their hall, a Palladian palace. Montacute is a cor- 
 porate town, and, under the old system, returned two 
 members to Parliament. The amount of its population, 
 according to the rule generally observed, might have pre- 
 served it fromdisfranchisement,but, as every house belonged 
 to the duke, and as he was what, in the confused phrase- 
 ology of the revolutionary war, was called a Tory, the 
 Whigs took care to put Montacute in Schedule A. 
 
 The town-hall, the market-place, a literary institution, 
 and the new church, form, with some good houses of recent 
 erection, a handsome square, in which there is a fountain, a 
 gift to the town from the present duchess. 
 
 At the extremity of the town, the ground rises, and on a 
 woody steep, which is in fact the termination of a long 
 range of tableland, may be seen the towers of the outer court 
 of Montacute Castle. The principal building, which is vast 
 and of various ages, from the Plantagenets to the Guelphs, 
 rises on a terrace, from which, on the side opposite to the 
 town, you descend into a well-timbered inclosure, called 
 the Home Park. Further on, the forest again appears ; the 
 deer again crouch in their fern, or glance along the vistas ; 
 nor does this green domain terminate till it touches the vast 
 and purple moors that divide the kingdoms of Great Britain.
 
 24 TAXCRED; OR 
 
 It was on an early day of April that the duke was sitting 
 in his private room, a pen in one hand, and looking up with 
 a face of pleasurable emotion at his wife, who stood by his 
 side, her right arm sometimes on the back of his chair and 
 sometimes on his shoulder, while with her other hand, 
 between the intervals of speech, she pressed a handkerchief 
 to her eyes, bedewed with the expression of an affectionate 
 excitement. 
 
 ' It is too much,' said her grace. 
 
 * And done in such a handsome manner ! ' said the duke. 
 
 'I would not tell our dear child of it at this moment,' 
 said the duchess ; ' he has so much to go through ! ' 
 
 ' You are right, Kate. It will keep till the celebration is 
 over. How delighted he will be ! ' 
 
 'My dear George, I sometimes think we are too happy.' 
 
 ' You are not half as happy as you deserve to be,' replied 
 her husband, looking up with a smile of affection ; and then 
 he finished his reply to the letter of Mr. Hungerford, one 
 of the county members, informing the duke, that now Lord 
 Montacute was of age, he intended at once to withdraw 
 from Parliament, having for a long time fixed on the ma- 
 jority of the heir of the house of Bellamout as the signal 
 for that event. ' I accepted the post,' said Mr. Hungerford, 
 ' much against my will. Your grace behaved to me at the 
 time in the handsomest manner, and, indeed, ever since, 
 with respect to this subject. But a Marquis of Montacute 
 is, in my opinion, and, I believe I may add, in that of the 
 whole county, our proper representative ; besides, we want 
 young blood in the House.' 
 
 ' It certainly is done in the handsomest manner,' said the 
 duke. 
 
 ' But then you know, George, you behaved to him in the 
 handsomest manner ; he says so, as you do indeed to every- 
 body ; and this is your reward.' 
 
 ' I should be very sorry, indeed, if Hungerford did not 
 withdraw with perfect satisfaction to himself, and his 
 family too,' urged the duke ; ' they are most respectable
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 25 
 
 people, one of the most respectable families in the county; 
 I should be quite grieved if this step were taken without 
 their entire and hearty concurrence.' 
 
 ' Of course it is,' said the duchess, ' with the entire and 
 hearty concurrence of every one. Mr. Hungerford says 
 so. And I must say that, though few things could have 
 gratified me more, I quite agree with Mr. Hungerford that a 
 Lord Montacute is the natural member for the county ; and 
 I have no doubt that if Mr. Hungerford, or any one else in 
 his position, had not resigned, they never could have met 
 our child without feeling the greatest embarrassment.' 
 
 ' A man though, and a man of Hungerford's position, an 
 old family in the county, does not like to figure as a 
 warming-pan, ' said the duke, thoughtfully. ' I think it has 
 been done in a very handsome manner.' 
 
 'And we will show our sense of it,' said the duchess. 
 ' The Hungerfords shall feel, when they come here on 
 Thursday, that they are among our best friends.' 
 
 ' That is my own Kate ! Here is a letter from your 
 brother. They will be here to-morrow. Eskdale cannot 
 come over till Wednesday. He is at home, but detained by 
 a meeting about his new harbour.' 
 
 'I am delighted that they will be here to-morrow,' said 
 the duchess. ' I am so anxious that he should see Kate 
 before the castle is fall, when he will have a thousand calls 
 upon his time ! I feel persuaded that he will love her at 
 first sight. And as for their being cousins, why, we were 
 cousins, and that did not hinder us from loving each other.' 
 
 ' If she resemble you as much as you resembled your 
 aunt ' said the duke, looking up. 
 
 ' She is my perfect image, my very self, Harriet says, in 
 disposition, as well as face and form.' 
 
 ' Then our son has a good chance of being a very happy 
 man,' said the duke. 
 
 'That he should come of age, enter Parliament, and 
 marry in the same year ! We ought to be very thankfuL 
 What a happy year ! '
 
 26 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 'But not one of these events has yet occurred,' said the 
 duke, smiling. 
 
 ' But they all will,' said the duchess, ' under Providence.' 
 
 ' I would not precipitate marriage.' 
 
 ' Certainly not ; nor should I wish him to think of it 
 before the autumn. I should like him to be married on our 
 wedding-day.' 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE sun shone brightly, there was a triumphal arch at 
 every road; the market-place and the town-hall were 
 caparisoned like steeds for a tournament, every house had 
 its garland ; the flags were flying on every tower and 
 steeple. There was such a peal of bells you could scarcely 
 hear your neighbour's voice ; then came discharges of ar- 
 tillery, and then bursts of music from various bands, all 
 playing different tunes. The country people came trooping 
 in, some on horseback, some in carts, some in procession. 
 The Temperance band made an immense noise, and the 
 Odd Fellows were loudly cheered. Every now and then 
 one of the duke's yeomanry galloped through the town in 
 his regimentals of green and silver, with his dark flowing 
 plume and clattering sabre, and with an air of business-like 
 desperation, as if he were carrying a message from the 
 commander-in- chief in the thickest of the fight. 
 
 Before the eventful day of which this merry morn was 
 the harbinger, the arrivals of guests at the castle had been 
 numerous and important. First came the brother of the 
 duchess, with his countess, and their fair daughter the 
 Lady Katherine, whose fate, unconsciously to herself, had 
 already been sealed by her noble relatives. She was des- 
 tined to be the third Katherine of Bellamont that her for- 
 tunate house had furnished to these illustrious walls. Nor, 
 if unaware of her high lot, did she seem unworthy of it. 
 Her mien was prophetic of the state assigned to her. This 
 was her first visit to Montacute since her early childhood,
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 27 
 
 and she had not encountered her cousin since their nursery 
 days. The day after them, Lord Eskdale came over from 
 his principal seat in the contiguous county, of which he was 
 lord-lieutenant. He was the first-cousin of the duke, his 
 father and the second Duke of Bellamont having married 
 two sisters, and of course intimately related to the duchess 
 and her family. Lord Eskdale exercised a great influence 
 over the house of Montacute, though quite unsought for by 
 him. He was the only man of the world whom they knew, 
 and they never decided upon anything out of the limited 
 circle of their immediate experience without consulting him. 
 Lord Eskdale had been the cause of their son going to 
 Eton ; Lord Eskdale had recommended them to send him to 
 Christchnrch. The duke had begged his cousin to be his 
 trustee when he married ; he had made him his executor, 
 and had intended him as the guardian of his son. Al- 
 though, from the difference of their habits, little thrown 
 together in their earlier youth, Lord Eskdale had shown, 
 even then, kind consideration for his relative ; he had even 
 proposed that they should travel together, but the old duke 
 would not consent to this. AfteY his death, however, being 
 neighbours as well as relatives', Lord Eskdale had become 
 the natural friend and counsellor of his grace. 
 
 The duke deservedly reposed in him implicit confidence, 
 and entertained an almost unbounded admiration of his 
 cousin's knowledge of mankind. He was scarcely less a 
 favourite or less an oracl* with the duchess, though there 
 were subjects on which she feared Lord Eskdale did not 
 entertain views as serious as her own ; but Lord Eskdale, 
 with an extreme carelessness of manner, and an apparent 
 negligence of the minor arts of pleasing, was a consum- 
 mate master of the feminine idiosyncrasy, and, from a 
 French actress to an English duchess, was skilled in guiding 
 women without ever letting the curb be felt. Scarcely a 
 week elapsed, when Lord Eskdale was in the country, that 
 a long letter of difficulties was not received by him from 
 Montacute, with an earnest request for his immediate ad-
 
 28 TANCRED; OK 
 
 vice. His lordship, singularly averse to letter writing, and 
 especially to long letter writing, used generally in reply to 
 say that, in the course of a day or two, he should be in their 
 part of the world, and would talk the matter over with them. 
 
 And, indeed, nothing was more amusing than to see 
 Lord Eskdale, imperturbable, yet not heedless, with his 
 peculiar calmness, something between that of a Turkish 
 pacha and an English jockey, standing up with his back to 
 the fire and his hands in his pockets, and hearing the united 
 statement of a case by the Duke and Duchesa of Bellamont ; 
 the serious yet quiet and unexaggerated narrative of his 
 grace, the impassioned interruptions, decided opinions, and 
 lively expressions of his wife, when she felt the duke was 
 not doing justice to the circumstances, or her view of them, 
 and the Spartan brevity with which, when both his clients 
 were exhausted, their counsel summed up the whole affair, 
 and said three words which seemed suddenly to remove all 
 doubts, and to solve all difficulties. In all the business of 
 life, Lord Eskdale, though he appreciated their native 
 ability, and respected their considerable acquirements, 
 which he did not share, looked upon his cousins as two 
 children, and managed them as children ; but he was really 
 attached to them, and the sincere attachment of such a 
 character is often worth more than the most passionate 
 devotion. The last great domestic embarrassment at Monta- 
 cute had been the affair of the cooks. Lord Eskdale had 
 taken this upon his own shoulders, and, writing to Daubuz, 
 had sent down Leander and his friends to open the minds 
 and charm the palates of the north. 
 
 Lord Valentine and his noble parents, and their daughter, 
 Lady Florentina, who was a great horsewoman, also arrived. 
 The countess, who had once been a beauty with the reputa- 
 tion of a wit, and now set up for being a wit on the reputa- 
 tion of having been a beauty, was the lady of fashion of the 
 party, and scarcely knew anybody present, though there 
 were many who were her equals and some her superiors in 
 Her way was to be a little fine, always smiling and
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 29 
 
 condescendingly amiable ; when alone with her husband 
 shrugging her shoulders somewhat, and vowing that she 
 was delighted that Lord Eskdale was there, as she had 
 somebody to speak to. It was what she called ' quite a 
 relief.' A relief, perhaps, from Lord and Lady Mountjoy, 
 whom she had been avoiding all her life ; unfortunate people, 
 who, with a large fortune, lived in a wrong square, and 
 asked to their house everybody who was nobody ; besides, 
 Lord Mountjoy was vulgar, and laughed too loud, and Lady 
 Mountjoy called you ' my dear,' and showed her teeth. A 
 relief, perhaps, too, from the Hon. and Rev. Montacute 
 Mountjoy, who, with Lady Eleanor, four daughters and two 
 sons, had been invited to celebrate the majority of the future 
 chieftain of their house. The countess had what is called 
 4 a horror of those Mountjoys, and those Montacute Mount- 
 joys,' and what added to her annoyance was, that Lord 
 Valentine was always flirting with the Misses Montacute 
 Mountjoy. 
 
 The countess could find no companions in the Duke and 
 Duchess of Clanronald, because, as she told her husband, as 
 they could not speak English and she could not speak Scotch, 
 it was impossible to exchange ideas. The bishop of the 
 diocese was there, toothless and tolerant, and wishing to be 
 on good terms with all sects, provided they pay church- 
 rates, and another bishop far more vigorous and of greater 
 fame. By his administration the heir of Bellamont had 
 entered the Christian church, and by the imposition of his 
 hands had been confirmed in it. His lordship, a great 
 authority with the duchess, was specially invited to be pre- 
 sent on the interesting occasion, when the babe that he had 
 held at the font, and the child that he had blessed at the 
 altar, was about thus publicly to adopt and acknowledge 
 the duties and responsibility of a man. But the countess, 
 though she liked bishops, liked them, as she told her hus- 
 band, ' in their place.' What that exactly was, she did not 
 define ; but probably their palaces or the House of Lords. 
 
 It was hardly to be expected that her ladyship would find
 
 30 TANCEED; OR 
 
 any relief in the society of the Marquis and Marchioness of 
 Hampshire ; for his lordship passed his life in being the 
 President of scientific and literary societies, and was ready 
 for anything, from the Royal, if his turn ever arrived, to 
 opening a Mechanics' Institute in his neighbouring town. 
 Lady Hampshire was an invalid ; but her ailment was one 
 of those mysteries which still remained insoluble, although, 
 in the most liberal manner, she delighted to afford her 
 friends all the information in her power. Never was a 
 votary endowed with a faith at once so lively and so capri- 
 cious. Each year she believed in some new remedy, and 
 announced herself on the eve of some miraculous cure. But 
 the saint was scarcely canonised, before his claims to be- 
 atitude were impugned. One year Lady Hampshire never 
 quitted Leamington ; another, she contrived to combine the 
 infinitesimal doses of Hahnemann with the colossal distrac- 
 tions of the metropolis. Now her sole conversation was the 
 water cure. Lady Hampshire was to begin immediately 
 after her visit to Montacute, and she spoke in her sawney 
 voice of factitious enthusiasm, as if she pitied the lot of all 
 those who were not about to sleep in wet sheets. 
 
 The members for the county, with their wives and 
 daughters, the Hungerfords and the Hdertons, Sir Russell 
 Malpas, or even Lord Hull, an Irish peer with an English 
 estate, and who represented one of the divisions, were 
 scarcely a relief. Lord Hull was a bachelor, and had 
 twenty thousand a year, and would not have been too old 
 for Florentina, if Lord Hull had only lived in ' society,' 
 learnt how to dress and how to behave, and had avoided 
 that peculiar coarseness of manners and complexion which 
 seem the inevitable results of a provincial life. What are 
 forty- five or even forty- eight years, if a man do not get up 
 too early or go to bed too soon, if he be dressed by the 
 right persons, and, early accustomed to the society of 
 women, he possesses that flexibility of manner and that 
 readiness of gentle repartee which a feminine apprentice- 
 ship can alone confer ? But Lord Hull was a man with a
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 31 
 
 red face and a grey head, on whom coarse indulgence and 
 the selfish negligence of a country life had already conferred 
 a shapeless form ; and who, dressed something like a groom, 
 sate at dinner in stolid silence by Lady Hampshire, who, 
 whatever were her complaints, had certainly the art, if 
 only from her questions, of making her neighbours commu- 
 nicative. The countess examined Lord Hull through her 
 eye-glass with curious pity at so fine a fortune and so good 
 a family being so entirely thrown away. Had he been 
 brought up in a civilised manner, lived six months in May 
 Fair, passed his carnival at Paris, never sported except in 
 Scotland, and occasionally visited a German bath, even 
 Lord Hull might have ' fined down.' His hair need not 
 have been grey if it had been attended to ; his complexion 
 would not have been so glaring ; his hands never could 
 have grown to so huge a shape. 
 
 What a party, where the countess was absolutely driven 
 to speculate on the possible destinies of a Lord Hull ! But 
 in this party there was not a single young man, at least not 
 a single young man one had ever heard of, except her son, 
 and he was of no use. The Duke of Bellamont knew no 
 young men ; the duke did not even belong to a club ; the 
 Duchess of Bellamont knew no young men ; she never gave 
 and she never attended an evening party. As for the 
 county youth, the young Hungerfords and the young 
 Ildertons, the best of them formed part of the London 
 crowd. Some of them, by complicated manoeuvres, might 
 even have made their way into the countess's crowded 
 saloons on a miscellaneous night. She knew the length of 
 their tether. They ranged, as the Price Current says, 
 from eight to three thousand a year. Not the figure that 
 purchases a Lady Florentina ! 
 
 There were many other guests, and some of them notable, 
 though not of the class and character to interest the fasti- 
 dious mother of Lord Valentine ; but whoever and whatever 
 they might be, of the sixty or seventy persons who were 
 seated each day in the magnificent banqueting-room of
 
 32 TANCRED; OR 
 
 Montacute Castle, feasting, amid pyramids of gold plate, on 
 the masterpieces of Leander, there was not a single indivi- 
 dual who did not possess one of the two great qualifications : 
 they were all of them cousins of the Duke of Bellamont, or 
 proprietors in his county. 
 
 But we must not anticipate, the great day of the festival 
 having hardly yet commenced. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 IN the Home Park was a colossal pavilion, which held 
 more than two thousand persons, and in which the towns- 
 folk of Montacute were to dine ; at equal distances were 
 several smaller tents, each of different colours and patterns, 
 and each bearing on a standard the name of one of the sur- 
 rounding parishes which belonged to the Duke of Bella- 
 mont, and to the convenience and gratification of whose 
 inhabitants these tents were to-day dedicated. There was 
 not a man of Buddleton or Fuddleton ; not a yeoman or 
 peasant of Montacute super Mare or Montacute Abbotts, 
 nor of Percy Bellamont nor Friar's Bellamont, nor Winch 
 nor Finch, nor of Mandeville Stokes nor Mandeville Bois ; 
 not a goodman true of Carleton and Ingleton and Kirkby 
 and Dent, and Gillamoor and Padmore and Hutton le Hale ; 
 not a stout forester from the glades of Thorp, or the sylvan 
 homes of Hurst Lydgate and Bishopstowe, that knew not 
 where foamed and flowed the duke's ale. that was to quench 
 the longings of his thirsty village. And their wives and 
 daughters were equally welcome. At the entrance of each 
 tent, the duke's servants invited all to enter, supplied them 
 with required refreshments, or indicated their appointed 
 places at the approaching banquet. In general, though 
 there were many miscellaneous parties, each village entered 
 the park in procession, with its flag and its band. 
 
 At noon the scene presented the appearance of an im- 
 mense but well-ordered fair. In the back-ground, men and
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 33 
 
 boys climbed poles or raced in sacks, while the exploits oi 
 the ginglers, their mischievous manoeuvres and subtile 
 combinations, elicited frequent bursts of laughter. Farther 
 on, two long-menaced cricket matches called forth all the 
 skill and energy of Fuddleton and Buddleton, and Winch 
 and Finch. The great throng of the population, however, 
 was in the precincts of the terrace, where, in the course 
 of the morning, it was known that the duke and duchess, 
 with the hero of the day and all their friends, were to 
 appear, to witness the sports of the people, and especially 
 the feats of the morrice-dancers, who were at this moment 
 practising before a very numerous and delighted audience. 
 In the meantime, bells, drums, and trumpets, an occasional 
 volley, and the frequent cheers and laughter of the multi- 
 tude, combined with the brilliancy of the sun and the 
 brightness of the ale to make a right gladsome scene. 
 
 ' It's nothing to what it will be at night,' said one of the 
 duke's footmen to his family, his father and mother, two 
 sisters and a young brother, listening to him with open 
 mouths, and staring at his state livery with mingled feel- 
 ings of awe and affection. They had come over from 
 Bellamont Friars, and their son had asked the steward to 
 give him the care of the pavilion of that village, in order 
 that he might look after his friends. Never was a family 
 who esteemed themselves so fortunate or felt so happy. 
 This was having a friend at court, indeed. 
 
 ' It's nothing to what it will be at night/ said Thomas. 
 ' Tou will have " Hail, star of Bellamont I" and " God save 
 the Queen!" a crown, three stars, four flags, and two 
 coronets, all in coloured lamps, letters six feet high, on the 
 castle. There will be one hundred beacons lit over the 
 space of fifty miles the moment a rocket is shot off from 
 the Round Tower, and as for fireworks, Bob, you'll see 
 them at last. Bengal lights, and the largest wheels will be 
 as common as squibs and crackers ; and I have heard say, 
 though it is not to be mentioned ' And he paused. 
 
 ' We'll not open our mouths,' said his father, earnestly.
 
 34 TANCRED; OK 
 
 ' You had better not tell us,' said his mother, in a nervous 
 paroxysm ; ' for I am in such a fluster, I am sure I cannot 
 answer for myself, and then Thomas may lose his place for 
 breach of conference.' 
 
 ' Nonsense, mother,' said his sisters, who snubbed their 
 mother almost as readily as is the gracious habit of their 
 betters. ' Pray tell us, Tom.' 
 
 ' Ay, ay, Tom,' said his younger brother. 
 ' Well,' said Tom, in a confidential whisper, ' won't there 
 be a transparency ! I have heard say the queen never had 
 anything like it. You won't be able to see it for the first 
 quarter of an hour, there will be such a blaze of fire and 
 rockets ; but when it does come, they say it's like heaven 
 opening ; the young markiss on a cloud, with his hand on 
 his heart, in his new uniform.' 
 
 ' Dear me ! ' said the mother. ' I knew him before he 
 -?ras weaned. The duchess suckled him herself, which 
 shows her heart is very true ; for they may say what 
 they like, but if another's milk is in your child's veins, he 
 seems, in a sort of way, as much her bairn as your own.' 
 
 ' Mother's milk makes a true-born Englishman,' said the 
 father ; ' and I make no doubt our young markiss will prove 
 the same.' 
 
 ' How I long to see him ! ' exclaimed one of the daughters. 
 ' And so do I ! ' said her sister ; ' and in his uniform ! 
 How beautiful it must be ! ' 
 
 ' Well, I don't know,' said the mother ; ' and perhaps 
 you will laugh at me for saying so, but after seeing my 
 Thomas in his state livery, I don't care much for seeing 
 anything else.' 
 
 ' Mother, how can you say such things ! I am afraid the 
 crowd will be very great at the fireworks. We must try 
 to get a good place.' 
 
 * I have arranged all that,' said Thomas, with a trium- 
 phant look. ' There will be an inner circle for the steward's 
 friends, and you will be let in.' 
 ' Oh ! ' exclaimed his sisters.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 35 
 
 'Well, I hope I shall get through tho day,' said his 
 
 mother; 'but it's rather a trial, after our quiet life.' 
 
 ' And when will they come on the terrace, Thomas ? ' 
 
 'You see, they are waiting for the corporation, that's 
 
 the mayor and town council of Montacute ; they are coming 
 
 up with an address. There ! Do you hear that ? That's 
 
 the signal gun. They are leaving the town- hall at this same 
 
 moment. Now, in three-quarters of an hour's time or so, 
 
 the duke and duchess, and the young markiss, and all of 
 
 them, will come on the terrace. So you be alive, and draw 
 
 near, and get a good place. I must look after these people.' 
 
 About the same time that the cannon announced that the 
 
 corporation had quitted the town-hall, some one tapped at 
 
 the chamber-door of Lord Eskdale, who was sealing a letter 
 
 in his private room. 
 
 ' Well, Harris ? ' said Lord Eskdale, looking up, and re- 
 cognising his valet. 
 
 ' His grace has been inquiring for your lordship several 
 times,' replied Mr. Harris, with a perplexed air. 
 
 ' I shall be with him in good time,' replied his lordship, 
 again looking down. 
 
 'If you could manage to come down at once, my lord,' 
 said Mr. Harris. 
 'Why?' 
 
 ' Mr. Leander wishes to see your lordship very much.' 
 ' Ah ! Leander ! ' said Lord Eskdale, in a more interested 
 tone. ' What does he want ? ' 
 
 ' I have not seen him,' said Mr. Harris ; ' but Mr. Prevosfe 
 tells me that his feelings are hurt.' 
 
 ' I hope he has not struck,' said Lord Eskdale, with a 
 comical glance. 
 
 ' Something of that sort,' said Mr. Harris, very seriously. 
 Lord Eskdale had a great sympathy with artists ; he was 
 well acquainted with that irritability which is said to be the 
 characteristic of the creative power ; genius always found 
 in him an indulgent arbiter. He was convinced that, if the 
 feelings of a rare spirit like Leander were hurt, they were 
 
 D 2
 
 31) TANCRED ; OR 
 
 not to be trifled with. He felt responsible for the presence 
 of one so eminent in a country where, perhaps, he was not 
 properly appreciated ; and Lord Eskdale descended to the 
 steward's room with the consciousness of an important, 
 probably a difficult, mission. 
 
 The kitchen of Montacute Castle was of the old style, 
 fitted for baronial feasts. It covered a great space, and 
 was very lofty. Now they build them in great houses on a 
 different system ; even more distinguished by height, but 
 far more condensed in area, as it is thought that a dish 
 often suffers from the distances which the cook has to move 
 over in collecting its various component parts. The new 
 principle seems sound ; the old practice, however, was more 
 picturesque. The kitchen at Montacute was like the pre- 
 paration for the famous wedding feast of Prince Riquet 
 with the Tuft, when the kind earth opened, and revealed 
 that genial spectacle of white-capped cooks, and endless 
 stoves and stewpans. The steady blaze of two colossal fires 
 was shrouded by vast screens. Everywhere, rich materials 
 and silent artists ; business without bustle, and the all-per- 
 vading magic of method. Philippon was preparing a sauce ; 
 Dumoreau, in another quarter of the spacious chamber, was 
 arranging some truffles ; the Englishman, Smit, was fashion- 
 ing a cutlet. Between these three generals of division 
 aides-de-camp perpetually passed, in the form of active and 
 observant marmitons, more than one of whom, as he looked 
 on the great masters around him, and with the prophetic 
 faculty of genius surveyed the future, exclaimed to himself, 
 like Correggio, 'And I also will be a cook.' 
 
 In this animated and interesting scene was only one un- 
 occupied individual, or rather occupied only with his own 
 sad thoughts. This was Papa Prevost, leaning against 
 rather than sitting on a dresser, with his arms folded, his 
 idle knife stuck in his girdle, and the tassel of his cap awry 
 with vexation. His gloomy brow, however, lit up as Mr. 
 Harris, for whom he was waiting with anxious expectation, 
 entered, and summoned him to the presence of Lord Esk-
 
 THE NEW CRUSADK. 37 
 
 dale, who, with a shrewd yet lounging air, which concealed 
 his own foreboding perplexity, said, ' Well, Prevost, what is 
 the matter ? The people here been impertinent ? ' 
 
 Prevost shook his head. ' We never were in a house, my 
 lord, where they were more obliging. It is something much 
 worse.' 
 
 ' Nothing wrong about your fish, I hope ? Well, what 
 is it?' 
 
 ' Leander, my lord, has been dressing dinners for a week : 
 dinners, I will be bound to say, which were never equalled 
 in the Imperial kitchen, and the duke has never made a 
 single observation, or sent him a single message. Yester- 
 day, determined to outdo even himself, he sent up some 
 escalopes de laitances de carpes a la Bellamont. In my 
 time I have seen nothing like it, my lord. Ask Philippon, 
 ask Dumoreau, what they thought of it ! Even the Eng- 
 lishman, Smit, who never says anything, opened his mouth 
 and exclaimed ; as for the marmitons, they were breathless, 
 and I thought Achille, the youth of whom I spoke to you, 
 my lord, and who appears to me to be born with the true 
 feeling, would have been overcome with emotion. When 
 it was finished, Leander retired to his room; I attended him ; 
 and covered his face with his hands. Would you believe it, 
 my lord ! Not a word ; not even a message. All this 
 morning Leander has waited in the last hope. Nothing, 
 absolutely nothing ! How can he compose when he is not 
 appreciated? Had he been appreciated, he would to-day 
 not only have repeated the escalopes a la Bellamont, but 
 perhaps even invented what might have outdone it. It is 
 unheard of, my lord. The late Lord Monmouth would 
 have sent for Leander the very evening, or have written 
 to him a beautiful letter, which would have been preserved 
 in his family ; M. de Sidonia would have sent him a tankard 
 from his table. These things in themselves are nothing ; 
 but they prove to a man of genius that he is understood. 
 Had Leander been in the Imperial kitchen, or even with 
 the Emperor of Russia, he would have been decorated !'
 
 S8 TANCEED; OB 
 
 ' Where is he ? ' said Lord Eskdale. 
 
 ' He is alone in the cook's room.' 
 
 ' I will go and say a -word to him.' 
 
 Alone, in the cook's room, gazing in listless vacancy on 
 the fire, that fire which, under his influence, had often 
 achieved so many master- works, was the great artist who 
 was not appreciated. No longer suffering under mortifica- 
 tion, but overwhelmed by that exhaustion which follows 
 acute sensibility and the over- tension of the creative faculty, 
 he looked round as Lord Eskdale entered, and when he 
 perceived who was his visitor, he rose immediately, bowed 
 very low, and then sighed. 
 
 ' Prevost thinks we are not exactly appreciated here,' said 
 Lord Eskdale. 
 
 Leander bowed again, and still sighed. 
 
 ' Prevost does not understand the affair,' continued Lord 
 Eskdale. ' Why I wished you to come down here, Leander, 
 was not to receive the applause of my cousin and his guests, 
 but to form their taste.' 
 
 Here was a great idea ; exciting and ennobling. It threw 
 quite a new light upon the position of Leander. He started ; 
 his brow seemed to clear. Leander, then, like other emi- 
 nent men, had duties to perform as well as rights to enjoy ; 
 he had a right to fame, but it was also his duty to form 
 and direct public taste. That then was the reason he was 
 brought down to Bellamont Castle ; because some of the 
 greatest personages in England, who never had eaten a 
 proper dinner in their lives, would have an opportunity, for 
 the first time, of witnessing art. What could the praise of 
 the Duke of Clanronald, or Lord Hampshire, or Lord Hull, 
 signify to one who had shared the confidence of a Lord 
 Monmouth, and whom Sir Alexander Grant, the first judge 
 in Europe, had declared the only man of genius of the age ? 
 Leander erred too in supposing that his achievements had 
 been lost upon the guests at Bellamont. Insensibly his 
 feats had set them a-thinking. They had been like Cossacks 
 in a picture-gallery ; but the Clanronalds, the Hampshires,
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 39 
 
 the Hulls, would return to their homes impressed with a 
 great truth, that there is a difference between eating and 
 dining. Was this nothing for Leander to have effected ? 
 Was it nothing, by this development of taste, to assist in 
 supporting that aristocratic influence which he wished to 
 cherish, and which can alone encourage art ? If anything 
 can save the aristocracy in this levelling age, it is an appre- 
 ciation of men of genius. Certainly it would have been very 
 gratifying to Leander if his grace had only sent him a mes- 
 sage, or if Lord Montacute had expressed a wish to see him. 
 He had been long musing over some dish a la Montacute, 
 for this very day. The young lord was reputed to have 
 talent ; this dish might touch his fancy ; the homage of a 
 great artist natters youth ; this offering of genius might 
 colour his destiny. But what, after all, did this signify ? 
 Leander had a mission to perform. 
 
 ' If I were you, I would exert myself, Leander,' said 
 Lord Eskdale. 
 
 ' Ah ! my lord, if all men were like you ! If artists weie 
 only sure of being appreciated ; if we were but understood, 
 a dinner would become a sacrifice to the gods, and a kitchen 
 would be Paradise.' 
 
 In the meantime, the mayor and town-councillors of 
 Montacute, in their robes of office, and preceded by their 
 bedels and their mace-bearer, have entered the gates of the 
 castle. They pass into the great hall, the most ancient part 
 of the building, with its open roof of Spanish chestnut, its 
 screen and gallery and dais, its painted windows and marble 
 floor. Ascending the dais, they are ushered into an ante- 
 chamber, the first of that suite of state apartments that 
 opens on the terrace. Leaving on one side the principal 
 dining-room and the library, they proceeded through the 
 green drawing-room, so called from its silken hangings, 
 the red drawing-room, covered with ruby velvet, and both 
 adorned, but not encumbered, with pictures of the choicest 
 art, into the principal or duchesses' drawing-room, thus en- 
 titled from its complete collection of portraits of Duchesses
 
 40 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 of Bellamont. It was a spacious and beautifully propor- 
 tioned chamber, hung with amber satin, its ceiling by 
 Zucchero, whose rich colours were relieved by the bur- 
 nished gilding. The corporation trod tremblingly over the 
 gorgeous carpet of Axminster, which displayed, in vivid 
 colours and colossal proportions, the shield and supporters 
 of Bellamont, and threw a hasty glance at the vases of 
 porphyry and malachite, and mosaic tables covered with 
 precious toys, which were grouped about. 
 
 Thence they were ushered into the Montacute room, 
 adorned, among many interesting pictures, by perhaps the 
 finest performance of Lawrence, a portrait of the present 
 duke, just after his marriage. Tall and graceful, with a 
 clear dark complexion, regular features, eyes of liquid ten- 
 derness, a frank brow, and rich clustering hair, the accom- 
 plished artist had seized and conveyed the character of a 
 high-spirited but gentle-hearted cavalier. From the Mon- 
 tacute chamber they entered the ball-room ; very spacious, 
 white and gold, a coved ceiling, large Venetian lustres, and 
 the walls of looking-glass, enclosing friezes of festive sculp- 
 ture. Then followed another antechamber, in the centre of 
 which was one of the master-pieces of Canova. This room, 
 lined with footmen in state liveries, completed the suite that 
 opened on the terrace. The northern side of this chamber 
 consisted of a large door ; divided, and decorated in its 
 panels with emblazoned shields of arms. 
 
 The valves being thrown open, the mayor and town- 
 council of Montacute were ushered into a gallery one hun- 
 dred feet long, and which occupied a great portion of the 
 northern side of the castle. The panels of this gallery en- 
 closed a series of pictures in tapestry, which represented 
 the principal achievements of the third crusade. A Monta- 
 cute had been one of the most distinguished knights in that 
 great adventure, and had saved the life of COBUT de Lion at 
 the siege of Ascalon. In after-ages a Duke of Bellamont, 
 who was our ambassador at Paris, had given orders to the 
 Gobelins factory for the execution of this series of pictures
 
 THE NEW CRUSADK. 41 
 
 from cartoons by the most celebrated artists of the time. 
 The subjects of the tapestry had obtained for the magnifi- 
 cent chamber, which they adorned and rendered so inter- 
 esting, the title of ' The Crusaders' Gallery.' 
 
 At the end of this gallery, surrounded by their guests, 
 their relatives, and their neighbours ; by high nobility, by 
 reverend prelates, by the members and notables of the 
 county, and by some of the chief tenants of the duke, a 
 portion of whom were never absent from any great carous- 
 ing or high ceremony that occurred within his walls, the 
 Duke and Duchess of Bellamont and their son, a little iti 
 advance of the company, stood to receive the congratulatory 
 addresses of the mayor and corporation of their ancient and 
 faithful town of Montacute ; the town which their fathers 
 had built and adorned, which they had often represented in 
 Parliament in the good old days, and which they took care 
 should then enjoy its fair proportion of the good old things ; 
 a town, every house in which belonged to them, and of 
 which there was not an inhabitant who, in his own person 
 or in that of his ancestry, had not felt the advantages of 
 the noble connection. 
 
 The duke bowed to the corporation, with the duchess on 
 his left hand ; and on his right there stood a youth, above 
 the middle height and of a frame completely and gracefully 
 formed. His dark brown hair, in those hyacinthine curls 
 which Grecian poets have celebrated, and which Grecian 
 sculptors have immortalised, clustered over his brow, which, 
 however, they only partially concealed. It was pale, as was 
 his whole countenance, but the liquid richness of the dark 
 brown eye, and the colour of the lip, denoted anything but 
 a languid circulation. The features were regular, and in- 
 clined rather to a refinement which might have imparted to 
 the countenance a character of too much delicacy, had it not 
 been for the deep meditation of the brow, and for the lower 
 part of the visage, which intimated indomitable will and an 
 iron resolution. 
 
 Placed for the first time in his life in a public position,
 
 42 TANCRED; OB 
 
 and under circumstances which might have occasioned some 
 degree of embarrassment even to those initiated in the 
 world, nothing was more remarkable in the demeanour of 
 Lord Montacute than his self-possession ; nor was there 
 in his carriage anything studied, or which had the character 
 of being preconceived. Every luovement or gesture was 
 distinguished by what may be called a graceful gravity. 
 With a total absence of that excitement which seemed so 
 natural to his age and situation, there was nothing in his 
 manner which approached to nonchalance or indifference. 
 It would appear that he duly estimated the importance of 
 the event they were commemorating, yet was not of a habit 
 of mind that over-estimated anything. 
 
 END OF BOOK L
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 43 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THB week of celebration was over : some few guests re- 
 mained, near relatives, and not very rich, the Montacute 
 Mountjoys, for example. They came from a considerable 
 distance, and the duke insisted that they should remain 
 until the duchess went to London, an event, by the bye, 
 which was to occur very speedily. Lady Eleanor was rather 
 agreeable, and the duchess a little liked her. ; there were four 
 daughters, to be sure, and not very lively, but they sang in 
 the evening. 
 
 It was a bright morning, and the duchess, with a heart 
 prophetic of happiness, wished to disburthen it to her son ; 
 she meant to propose to him, therefore, to be her companion 
 in her walk, and she had sent to his rooms in vain, and was 
 inquiring after him, when she was informed that 'Lord 
 Montacnte was with his grace.' 
 
 A smile of satisfaction flitted over her face, as she recalled 
 the pleasant cause of the conference that was now taking 
 place between the father and the son. 
 
 Let us see how it advanced. 
 
 The duke is in his private library, consisting chiefly of the 
 statutes at large, Hansard, the Annual Register, Parlia- 
 mentary Reports, and legal treatises on the powers and 
 duties of justices of the peace. A portrait of his mother 
 is over the mantel-piece : opposite it a huge map of the 
 county. His correspondence on public business with the 
 secretary of state, and the various authorities of the shire, 
 is admirably arranged: for the duke was what is called 
 an excellent man of business, that is to say, methodical,
 
 44 TANCRED; OR 
 
 and an adept in all the small arts of routine. These papers 
 were deposited, after having been ticketed with a date and 
 a summary of their contents, and tied with much tape, in a 
 large cabinet, which occupied nearly one side of the room, 
 and on the top of which were busts in marble of Mr. Pitt, 
 George III., and the Duke of Wellington. 
 
 The duke was leaning back in his chair, which it seemed, 
 from his air and position, he had pushed back somewhat 
 suddenly from his writing table, and an expression of pain- 
 ful surprise, it cannot be denied, dwelt on his countenance. 
 Lord Montacute was on his legs, leaning with his left arm 
 on the chimney-piece, very serious, and, if possible, paler 
 than usual. 
 
 'You take me quite by surprise,' said the duke; 'I 
 thought it was an arrangement that would have deeply 
 gratified you.' 
 
 Lord Montacute slightly bowed his head, but said nothing. 
 His father continued. 
 
 ' Not wish to enter Parliament at present ! Why, that is 
 all very well, and if, as was once the case, we could enter 
 Parliament when we liked, and how we liked, the wish might 
 be very reasonable. If I could ring my bell, and return you 
 member for Montacute with as much ease as I could send 
 over to Bellamont to engage a special train to take us to 
 town, you might be justified in indulging a fancy. But 
 how and when, I should like to know, are you to enter 
 Parliament now ? This Parliament will last : it will go on 
 to the lees. Lord Eskdale told me so not a week ago. 
 Well then, at any rate, you lose three years : for three years 
 you are an idler. I never thought that was your character. 
 I have always had an impression you would turn your 
 mind to public business, that the county might look up to 
 you. If you have what are called higher views, you should 
 not forget there is a great opening now in public life, which 
 may not offer again. The Duke is resolved to give the 
 preference, in carrying on the business of the country, to 
 the aristocracy. He believes this is our only means of
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 45 
 
 preservation. He told me so himself. If it be so, I fear 
 we are doomed. I hope we may be of some use to our 
 country without being ministers of state. But let that 
 pass. As long as the Duke lives, he is omnipotent, and will 
 have his way. If you come into Parliament now, and show 
 any disposition for office, you may rely upon it you will 
 not long be unemployed. I have no doubt I could arrange 
 that you should move the address of next session. I dare 
 nay Lord Eskdale could manage this, and, if he could not, 
 though I abhor asking a minister for anything, I should, 
 under the circumstances, feel perfectly justified in speaking 
 to the Duke on the subject myself, and,' added his grace, 
 in a lowered tone, but with an expression of great earnest- 
 7iess and determination, 'I natter myself that if the Duke 
 of Bellamont chooses to express a wish, it would not be dis- 
 regarded.' 
 
 Lord Montacute cast his dark, intelligent eyes upon the 
 ground, and seemed plunged in thought. 
 
 1 Besides,' added the duke, after a moment's pause, and 
 inferring, from the silence of his son, that he was making 
 an impression, ' suppose Hungerford is not in the same 
 humour this time three years which he is in now. Pro- 
 bably he may be ; possibly he may not. Men do not like 
 to be balked when they think they are doing a very kind 
 and generous and magnanimous thing. Hungerford is not 
 a warming-pan ; we must remember that ; he never was 
 originally, and if he had been, he has been member for the 
 county too long to be so considered now. I should be 
 placed in a most painful position, if, this time three years, 
 I had to withdraw my support from Hungerford, in order 
 to secure your return.' 
 
 ' There would be no necessity, under any circumstances, 
 for that, my dear father,' said Lord Montacute, looking up, 
 and speaking in a voice which, though somewhat low, was 
 of that organ that at once arrests attention ; a voice that 
 comes alike from the brain and from the heart, and seems 
 made to convey both profound thought and deep emotion.
 
 46 TANCRED; OR 
 
 There is no index of character so sure as the voice. There 
 are tones, tones brilliant and gushing, which impart a 
 quick and pathetic sensibility : there are others that, deep 
 and yet calm, seem the just interpreters of a serene and 
 exalted intellect. But the rarest and the most precious of 
 all voices is that which combines passion and repose ; and 
 whose rich and restrained tones exercise, perhaps, on the 
 human frame a stronger spell than even the fascination of 
 the eye, or that bewitching influence of the hand, which is 
 the privilege of the higher races of Asia. 
 
 ' There would be no necessity, under any circumstances, 
 for that, my dear father,' said Lord Montacute ; ' for, to be 
 frank, I believe I should feel as little disposed to enter 
 Parliament three years hence as now.' 
 
 The duke looked still more surprised. ' Air. Fox was not 
 of age when he took his seat,' said his grace. ' Tou know 
 how old Mr. Pitt was when he was a minister. Sir Robert, 
 too, was in harness very early. I have always heard the 
 good judges say, Lord Eskdale, for example, that a man 
 might speak in Parliament too soon, but it was impossible 
 to go in too soon.' 
 
 ' If he wished to succeed in that assembly,' replied Lord 
 Montacute, ' I can easily believe it. In all things an early 
 initiation must be of advantage. But I have not that 
 wish.' 
 
 ' I don't like to see a man take his seat in the House of 
 Lords who has not been in the House of Commons. He 
 seems to me always, in a manner, unfledged.' 
 
 ' It will be a long time, I hope, my dear father, before I 
 take my seat in the House of Lords,' said Lord Montacute, 
 ' if, indeed, I ever do.' 
 
 'In the course of nature 'tis a certainty.' 
 
 ' Suppose the Duke's plan for perpetuating an aristo- 
 cracy do not succeed,' said Lord Montacute, ' and our house 
 ceases to exist ? ' 
 
 His father shrugged his shoulders. ' It is not our busi- 
 ness to suppose that. I hope it never will be the business
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 47 
 
 of any one, at least seriously. This is a great country, and 
 it has become great by its aristocracy.' 
 
 'You think, then, our sovereigns did nothing for our 
 greatness, Queen Elizabeth, for example, of whose visit to 
 Montacute you are so proud ? ' 
 
 4 They performed their part.' 
 
 'And have ceased to exist. We may have performed 
 our part, and may meet the same fate.' 
 
 ' Why, you are talking liberalism ! ' 
 
 ' Hardly that, my dear father, for I have not expressed 
 an opinion.' 
 
 ' I wish I knew what your opinions were, my dear boy, 
 or even your wishes.' 
 
 ' Well, then, to do my duty.' 
 
 ' Exactly; you are a pillar of the State ; support the State.' 
 
 ' Ah ! if any one would but tell me what the State is,' 
 said Lord Montacute, sighing. ' It seems to me your 
 pillars remain, but they support nothing ; in that case, 
 though the shafts may be perpendicular, and the capital 
 very ornate, they are no longer props, they are a ruin.' 
 
 ' You would hand us over, then, to the ten-pounders ? ' 
 
 * They do not even pretend to be a State,' said Lord 
 Montacute ; ' they do not even profess to support anything ; 
 on the contrary, the essence of their philosophy is, that 
 nothing is to be established, and everything is to be left to 
 itself.' 
 
 ' The common sense of this country and the fifty pound 
 clause will carry us through,' said the duke. 
 
 ' Through what ?' inquired his son. 
 
 ' This this state of transition,' replied his father. 
 
 ' A passage to what ?' 
 
 ' Ah ! that is a question the wisest cannot answer.' 
 
 ' But into which the weakest, among whom I class 
 myself, have surely a right to inquire.' 
 
 ' Unquestionably ; and I know nothing that will tend 
 more to assist you in your researches than acting with 
 practical men.'
 
 48 TANCEED; OR 
 
 ' And practising all their blunders,' said Lord Montacute. 
 ' I can conceive an individual who has once been entrapped 
 into their haphazard courses, continuing in the fatal con- 
 fusion to which he has contributed his quota ; but I am at 
 least free, and I wish to continue so.' 
 
 ' And do nothing ? ' 
 
 ' But does it follow that a man is infirm of action because 
 he declines fighting in the dark ? ' 
 
 ' And how would you act, then ? What are your plans ? 
 Have you any ? ' 
 
 ' I have.' 
 
 'Well, that is satisfactory,' said the duke, with anima- 
 tion. ' Whatever they are, you know you may count upon 
 my doing everything that is possible to forward your 
 wishes. I know they cannot be unworthy ones, for I believe, 
 ray child, you are incapable of a thought that is not good 
 or great.' 
 
 ' I wish I knew what was good and great,' said Lord 
 Montacute ; ' I would struggle to accomplish it.' 
 
 ' But you have formed some views ; you have some 
 plans. Speak to me of them, and without reserve ; as to a 
 friend, the most affectionate, the most devoted.' 
 
 ' My father,' said Lord Montacute, and moving, he drew 
 a chair to the table, and seated himself by the duke, ' you 
 possess and have a right to my confidence. I ought not to 
 have said that I doubted about what was good ; for I know 
 you.' 
 
 ' Sons like you make good fathers.' 
 
 ' It is not always so,' said Lord Montacute ; ' you have 
 been to me more than a father, and I bear to you and to 
 my mother a profound and fervent affection ; an affection,' 
 he added, in a faltering tone, ' that is rarer, I believe, in 
 this age than it was in old days. I feel it at this moment 
 more deeply,' he continued, in a firmer tone, ' because I am 
 about to propose that we should for a time separate.' 
 
 The duke turned pale, and leant forward in his chair, 
 but did not speak.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 40 
 
 1 You have proposed to me to-day,' continued Lord 
 Montacute, after a momentary pause, ' to enter public life. 
 I do not shrink from its duties. On the contrary, from the 
 position in which I am born, still more from the impulse of 
 my nature, I am desirous to fulfil them. I have meditated 
 on them, I may say, even for years. But I cannot find 
 that it is part of my duty to maintain the order of things, 
 for I will not call it system, which at present prevails in 
 our country. It seems to me that it cannot last, as nothing 
 can endure, or ought to endure, that is not founded upon 
 principle ; and its principle I have not discovered. In 
 nothing, whether it be religion, or government, or manners, 
 sacred or political or social life, do I find faith ; and if 
 there be no faith, how can there be duty ? Is there such a 
 thing as religious truth ? Is there such a thing as political 
 right? Is there such a thing as social propriety? Are 
 these facts, or are they mere phrases ? And if they be 
 facts, where are they likely to be found in England ? Id 
 truth in our Church ? Why, then, do you support dissent ? 
 Who has the right to govern ? The Monarch ? You have 
 robbed him of his prerogative. The Aristocracy? You 
 confess to me that we exist by sufferance. The People ? 
 They themselves tell you that they are nullities. Every 
 session of that Parliament in which you wish to introduce 
 me, the method by which power is distributed is called in 
 question, altered, patched up, and again impugned. As for 
 our morals, tell me, is charity the supreme virtue, or the 
 greatest of errors ? Our social system ought to depend on 
 a clear conception of this point. Our morals differ in dif- 
 ferent counties, in different towns, in different streets, even 
 in different Acts of Parliament. What is moral in London 
 is immoral in Montacute ; what is crime among the multi- 
 tude is only vice among the few.' 
 
 ' You are going into first principles,' said the duke, much 
 surprised. 
 
 4 Give me then second principles,' replied his son ; ' give 
 me any.'
 
 50 TANCRED; OR 
 
 'We must take a general view of things to form au 
 opinion,' said his father, mildly. ' The general condition 
 of England is superior to that of any other country ; it 
 cannot be denied that, on the whole, there is more political 
 freedom, more social happiness, more sound religion, and 
 more material prosperity among us, than in any nation in 
 the world.' 
 
 'I might question all that,' said his son; ' but they are 
 considerations that do not affect my views. If other States 
 are worse than we are, and I hope they are not, our con- 
 dition is not mended, but the contrary, for we then need 
 the salutary stimulus of example.' 
 
 ' There is no sort of doubt,' said the duke, ' that the state 
 of England at this moment is the most nourishing that has 
 ever existed, certainly in modern times. What with these 
 railroads, even the condition of the poor, which I admit 
 was lately far from satisfactory, is infinitely improved. 
 Every man has work who needs it, and wages are even high.' 
 
 ' The railroads may have improved, in a certain sense, 
 the condition of the working classes almost as much as that 
 of members of Parliament. They have been a good thing 
 for both of them. And if you think that more labour is 
 all that is wanted by the people of England, we may be 
 easy for a time. I see nothing in this fresh development of 
 material industry, but fresh causes of moral deterioration. 
 You have announced to the millions that their welfare is to 
 be tested by the amount of their wages. Money is to be 
 the cupel of their worth, as it is of all other classes. Tou 
 propose for their conduct the least ennobling of all impulses. 
 If you have seen an aristocracy invariably become degraded 
 under such influence ; if all the vices of a middle class may 
 be traced to such an absorbing motive ; why are we to be- 
 lieve that the people should be more pure, or that they 
 should escape the catastrophe of the policy that confounds 
 the happiness with the wealth of nations ? ' 
 
 The duke shook his head, and then said, ' You should not 
 forget we live iu an artificial state.'
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 51 
 
 'So I often hear, sir,' replied his son; 'but where is the 
 art ? It seems to me the very quality wanting to our pre- 
 sent condition. Art is order, method, harmonious results 
 obtained by fine and powerful principles. I see no art in 
 our condition. The people of this country have ceased to 
 be a nation. They are a crowd, and only kept in some rude 
 provisional discipline by the remains of that old system 
 which they are daily destroying.' 
 
 ' But what would you do, my dear boy ? ' said bis grace, 
 looking up very distressed. ' Can you remedy the state of 
 things in which we find ourselves ? ' 
 
 ' I am not a teacher,' said Lord Montacute, mournfully ; 
 ' I only ask you, I supplicate you, my dear father, to save 
 me from contributing to this quick corruption that sur- 
 rounds us.' 
 
 ' You shall be master of your own actions. I offer you 
 counsel, I give no commands ; and, as for the rest, Provi- 
 dence will guard us.' 
 
 ' If an angel would but visit our house as he visited the 
 house of Lot ! ' said Montacute, in a tone almost of anguish. 
 
 ' Angels have performed their part,' said the duke. ' We 
 have received instruction from one higher than angels. It 
 is enough for all of us.' 
 
 ' It is not enough for me,' said Lord Montacute, with a 
 glowing cheek, and rising abruptly. ' It was not enough 
 for the Apostles ; for though they listened to the sermon on 
 the mount, and partook of the first communion, it was still 
 necessary that He should appear to them again, and pro- 
 mise them a Comforter. I require one,' he added, after a 
 momentary pause, but in an agitated voice. ' I must seek 
 one. Yes ! my dear father, it is of this that I would speak to 
 you; it is this which for a long time has oppressed my 
 spirit, and filled me often with intolerable gloom. We 
 must separate. I must leave you, I must leave that dear 
 mother, those beloved parents, in whom are concentred all 
 my earthly affections ; but I obey an impulse that I believo 
 comes from above. Dearest and best of .men, you will not 
 
 E 2
 
 52 TANCRED; OR 
 
 thwart ine ; you will forgive, you will aid me ! ' And he 
 advanced and threw himself into the arms of his father. 
 
 The duke pressed Lord Montacute to his heart, and en- 
 deavoured, though himself agitated and much distressed, 
 to penetrate the mystery of this ebullition. ' He says we 
 must separate,' thought the duke to himself. ' Ah ! he has 
 lived too much at home, too much alone ; he has read and 
 pondered too much ; he has moped. Eskdale was right two 
 years ago. I wish I had sent him to Paris, but his mother 
 was so alarmed ; and, indeed, 'tis a precious life ! The 
 House of Commons would have been just the thing for him. 
 He would have worked on committees and grown practical. 
 But something must be done for him, dear child ! He says 
 we must separate ; he wants to travel. And perhaps he ought 
 to travel. But a life on which so much depends ! And what 
 will Katherine say ? It will kill her. I could screw myself up 
 to it. I would send him well attended. Brace should go with 
 him ; he understands the Continent ; he was in the Peninsular 
 war ; and he should have a skilful physician. I see how it 
 is ; I must act with decision, and break it to his mother.' 
 
 These ideas passed through the duke's mind during the 
 few seconds that he embraced his son, and endeavoured at 
 the same time to convey consolation by the expression of 
 his affection, and his anxiety at all times to contribute 
 to his child's happiness. 
 
 ' My dear son,' said the duke, when Lord Montacute had 
 -esumed his seat, ' I see how it is ; you wish to travel ? ' 
 
 Lord Montacute bent his head, as if in assent. 
 
 ' It will be a terrible blow to your mother ; I say nothing 
 of myself. Tou know what I feel for you. But neither 
 your mother nor myself have a right to place our feelings 
 in competition with any arrangement for your welfare. It 
 would be in the highest degree selfish and unreasonable ; 
 and perhaps it will be well for you to travel awhile ; and, as 
 for Parliament, I am to see Hungerford this morning at 
 Bellamont. I will try and arrange with him to postpone 
 his resignation until the autumn, or, if possible, for some
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 53 
 
 little time longer. You will then have accomplished your 
 purpose. It will do you a great deal of good. You will have 
 seen the world, and you can take yonr seat next year.' 
 
 The duke paused. Lord Montacute looked perplexed 
 and distressed ; he seemed about to reply, and then, lean- 
 ing on the table, with his face concealed from his father, 
 he maintained his silence. The duke rose, looked at hia 
 watch, said he must be at Bellamont by two o'clock, hoped 
 that Brace would dine at the Castle to-day, thought it not 
 at all impossible Brace might, would send on to Montacute 
 for him, perhaps might meet him at Bellamont. Brace 
 understood the Continent, spoke several languages, Spanish 
 among them, though it was not probable his son would 
 have any need of that, the present state of Spain not being 
 very inviting to the traveller. ' As for France,' continued 
 the duke, ' France is Paris, and I suppose that will be your 
 first step ; it generally is. We must see if your cousin, 
 Henry Howard, is there. If so, he will put you in the way 
 of everything. With the embassy and Brace, you would 
 manage very well at Paris. Then, 1 suppose, you would 
 like to go to Italy; that, I apprehend, is your great point. 
 Your mother will not like your going to Rome. Still, at 
 the same time, a man, they say, should see Rome before he 
 dies. I never did. I have never crossed the sea except to 
 go to Ireland. Your grandfather would never let me 
 travel ; I wanted to, but he never would. Not, however, 
 for the same reasons which have kept you at home. Sup- 
 pose you even winter at Rome, which I believe is the right 
 thing, why, you might very well be back by the spring. 
 However, we must manage your mother a little about 
 remaining over the winter, and, on second thoughts, we 
 will get Bernard to go with you, as well as Brace and a 
 physician, and then she will be much more easy. I think, 
 with Brace, Bernard, and a medical man whom we can 
 really trust, Harry Howard at Paris, and the best letters 
 for every other place, which we will consult Lord Eskdala 
 about, I think the danger will not be extreme.'
 
 54 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 * I have no wish to see Paris,' said Lord Montacnte 
 evidently embarrassed, and making a great effort to relieve 
 his mind of some burthen. ' I have no wish to see Paris.' 
 
 ' I am very glad to hear that,' said his father, eagerly. 
 
 ' Nor do I wish either to go to Borne,' continued his son, 
 
 1 Well, well, you have taken a load off my mind, my 
 dear boy. I would not confess it, because I wish to save 
 you pain ; but really, I believe the idea of your going to 
 Borne would have been a serious shock to your mother. It 
 is not so much the distance, though that is great, nor the 
 climate, which has its dangers, but, you understand, with 
 
 her peculiar views, her very strict ' The duke did not 
 
 care to finish his sentence. 
 
 ' Nor, my dear father,' continued Lord Montacute, 
 ' though I did not like to interrupt you when you were 
 speaking with so much solicitude and consideration for me, 
 is it exactly travel, in the common acceptation of the term, 
 that I feel the need of. I wish, indeed, to leave England ; 
 I wish to make an expedition ; a progress to a particular 
 point ; without wandering, without any intervening resi- 
 dence. In a word, it is the Holy Land that occupies my 
 thought, and I propose to make a pilgrimage to the sepul- 
 chre of my Saviour.' 
 
 The duke started, and sank again into his chair. ' The 
 Holy Land ! The Holy Sepulchre ! ' he exclaimed, and re- 
 peated to himself, staring at his son. 
 
 ' Yes, sir, the Holy Sepulchre,' repeated Lord Montacute, 
 and now speaking with his accustomed repose. ' When I 
 remember that the Creator, since light sprang out of dark- 
 ness, has deigned to reveal Himself to His creature only in 
 one land ; that in that land He assumed a manly form, and 
 met a human death ; I feel persuaded that the country 
 sanctified by such intercourse and such events must be 
 endowed with marvellous and peculiar qualities, which man 
 may not in all ages be competent to penetrate, but which, 
 nevertheless, at all times exercise an irresistible influence 
 upon his destiny. It is these qualities that many times
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 55 
 
 drew Europe to Asia during the middle centuries. Out 
 castle has before this sent forth a De Montacute to Pales- 
 tine. For three days and three nights he knelt at the 
 tomb of his Redeemer. Six centuries and more have 
 elapsed since that great enterprise. It is time to restore 
 and renovate our communications with the Most High. I, 
 too, would kneel at that tomb ; I, too, surrounded by the 
 holy hills and sacred groves of Jerusalem, would relieve my 
 spirit from the bale that bows it down ; would lift up my 
 voice to heaven, and ask, What is DUTY, and what is FAITH ? 
 What ought I to DO, and what ought I to BELIEVE ? ' 
 
 The Duke of Bellamont rose from his seat, and walked 
 up and down the room for some minutes, in silence and in 
 deep thought. At length, stopping and leaning against 
 the cabinet, he said, ' What has occurred to-day between 
 us, my beloved child, is, you may easily believe, as strange 
 to me as it is agitating. I will think of all you have said ; 
 I will try to comprehend all you mean and wish. I will 
 endeavour to do that which is best and wisest; placing 
 above all things your happiness, and not our own. At this 
 moment I am not competent to the task : I need quiet, and 
 to be alone. Tour mother, I know, wishes to walk with 
 you this morning. She may be speaking to you of many 
 things. Be silent upon this subject, until I have com- 
 municated with her. At present I will ride over to Bella- 
 mont. I must go ; and, besides, it will do me good. I 
 never can think very well except in the saddle. If Brace 
 comoa, make him dine here. God bless you.' 
 
 The duke left the room ; his son remained in meditation. 
 The first step was taken. He had poured into the inter- 
 view of an hour the results of three years of solitary 
 thought. A sound roused him ; it was his mother. She 
 had only learnt casually that the duke was gone ; she was 
 surprised he had not come into her room before he went ; 
 it seemed the first time since their marriage that the duke 
 had gone out without first coming to speak to her. So she 
 went to seek her son, to congratulate him on being a
 
 56 TANCRED; OR 
 
 member of Parliament, on representing the county of which 
 they were so fond, and of breaking to him a proposition 
 which she doubted not he would find not less interesting 
 and charming. Happy mother, with her only son, on. 
 whom she doted and of whom she was so justly proud, 
 about to enter public life in which he was sure to dis- 
 tinguish himself, and to marry a woman who was sure to 
 make him happy ! With a bounding heart the duchess 
 opened the library door, where she had been informed she 
 should find Lord Montacute. She had her bonnet on, 
 ready for the walk of confidence, and, her face flushed 
 with delight, she looked even beautiful. * Ah ! ' she ex- 
 claimed, ' I have been looking for you, TANCRED ! ' 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE duke returned rather late from Bellamont, and went 
 immediately to his dressing-room. A few minutes before 
 dinner the duchess knocked at his door and entered. She 
 seemed disconcerted, and reminded him, though with great 
 gentleness, that he had gone out to-day without first bid- 
 ding her adieu ; she really believed it was the only time he 
 had done so since their marriage. The duke, who, when 
 she entered, anticipated something about their son, was re- 
 lieved by her remark, embraced her, and would have 
 affected a gaiety which he did not really feel. 
 
 ' I am glad to hear that Brace dines here to-day, Kate, 
 for I particularly wanted to see him.' 
 
 The duchess did not reply, and seemed absent ; the duke, 
 to say something, tying his cravat, kept harping upon Brace. 
 
 ' Never mind Brace, George,' said the duchess ; ' tell 
 me what is this about Tancred ? Why is his coming into 
 Parliament put off ? ' 
 
 The duke was perplexed ; he wished to know how far at 
 this moment his wife was informed upon the matter ; the 
 feminine frankness of the duchess put him out of suspense.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADR. 57 
 
 *I have been walking with Tancred,' she continued, 'and 
 intimated, but with great caution, all our plans and hopes. 
 I asked him what he thought of his cousin ; he agrees with 
 us she is by far the most charming girl he knows, and one 
 of the most agreeable. I impressed upon him how good 
 she was. I wished to precipitate nothing. I never dreamed 
 of their marrying until late in the autumn. I wished him 
 to become acquainted with his new life, which would not 
 prevent him seeing a great deal of Katherine in London, 
 and then to visit them in Ireland, as you visited us, George ; 
 and then, when I was settling everything in the most de- 
 lightful manner, what he was to do when he was kept up 
 very late at the House, which is the only part I don't like, 
 and begging him to be very strict in making his servant 
 always have coffee ready for him, very hot, and a cold fowl 
 too, or something of the sort, he tells me, to my infinite 
 astonishment, that the vacancy will not immediately occur, 
 that he is not sorry for it, as he thinks it may be as 
 well that he should go abroad. What can all this mean ? 
 Pray tell me ; for Tancred has told me nothing, and, when 
 I pressed him, waived the subject, and said we would all of 
 us consult together.' 
 
 ' And so we will, Kate,' said the duke, ' but hardly at 
 this moment, for dinner must be almost served. To be 
 . brief,' he added, speaking in a light tone, ' there are reasons 
 which perhaps may make it expedient that Hungerford 
 should not resign at the present moment ; and as Tancred 
 has a fancy to travel a little, it may be as well that we 
 should take it into consideration whether he might not 
 profitably occupy the interval in this manner.' 
 
 ' Profitably! ' said the duchess. ' I never can understand 
 how going to Paris and Rome, which young men always 
 mean when they talk of travelling, can be profitable to 
 liim ; it is the very thing which, all my life, I have been en- 
 deavouring to prevent. His body and his soul will be both 
 imperilled ; Paris will destroy his constitution, and Rome, 
 perhaps, change his faith.'
 
 58 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 ' 1 have more confidence in his physical power and his 
 religious principle than you, Kate,' said the duke, smiling. 
 ' But make yourself easy on these heads ; Tancred told me 
 this morning that he had no wish to visit either Rome or 
 Paris.' 
 
 ' Well ! ' exclaimed the duchess, somewhat relieved, ' if 
 he wants to make a little tour in Holland, I think I could 
 bear it ; it is a Protestant country, and there are no vermin. 
 And then those dear Disbrowes, I am sure, would take care 
 of him at the Hague.' 
 
 ' We will talk of all this to-night, my love,' said the duke ; 
 and offering his arm to his wife, who was more composed, if 
 not more cheerful, they descended to their guests. 
 
 Colonel Brace was there, to the duke's great satisfaction. 
 The colonel had served as a cornet in a dragoon regiment in 
 the last campaign of the Peninsular war, and had marched 
 into Paris. Such an event makes an indelible impression 
 on the memory of a handsome lad of seventeen, and the 
 colonel had not yet finished recounting his strange and 
 fortunate adventures. 
 
 He was tall, robust, a little portly, but, well buckled, still 
 presented a grand military figure. He was what you call a 
 fine man ; florid, with still a good head of hair though 
 touched with grey, splendid moustaches, large fat hands, 
 and a courtly demeanour not unmixed with a slight swagger. 
 The colonel was a Montacute man, and had inherited a 
 large house in the town and a small estate in the neighbour- 
 hood. Having sold out, he had retired to his native place, 
 where he had become a considerable personage. The duke 
 had put him in the commission, and he was the active ma- 
 gistrate of the district; he had reorganised the Bellamont 
 regiment of yeomanry cavalry, which had fallen into sad 
 decay during the late duke's time, but which now, with 
 Brace for its lieutenant-colonel, was second to none in the 
 kingdom. Colonel Brace was one of the best shots in the 
 county ; certainly the boldest rider among the heavy 
 weights ; and bore the palm from all with the rod, and
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 59 
 
 that, too, in a county famous for its feats in lake and river. 
 The colonel was a man of great energy, of good temper, of 
 ready resource, frank, a little coarse, but hearty and honest. 
 He adored the Duke and Duchess of Bellamont. He was 
 sincere ; he was not a parasite ; he really believed that they 
 were the best people in the world, and I am not sure that 
 he had not some foundation for his faith. On the whole, he 
 might be esteemed the duke's right-hand man. His grace 
 generally consulted the colonel on county affairs ; the com- 
 mand of the yeomanry alone gave him a considerable posi- 
 tion ; he was the chief also of the militia staff; could give 
 his opinion whether a person was to be made a magistrate 
 or not ; and had even been called into council when there 
 was a question of appointing a deputy-lieutenant. The 
 colonel, who was a leading member of the corporation of 
 Montacute, had taken care to be chosen mayor this year ; 
 he had been also chairman of the Committee of Manage- 
 ment during the celebration of Tancred's majority ; had 
 had the entire ordering of the fireworks, and was generally 
 supposed to have given the design, or at least the leading 
 idea, for the transparency. 
 
 We should notice also Mr. Bernard, a clergyman, and re- 
 cently the private tutor of Lord Montacute, a good scholar ; 
 in ecclesiastical opinions, what is called high and dry. 
 He was about five-and-thirty ; well-looking, bashful. The 
 duke intended to prefer him to a living when one was 
 vacant ; in the meantime ho remained in the family, and 
 at present discharged the duties of chaplain and librarian 
 at Montacute, and occasionally assisted the duke as private 
 secretary. Of his Life, one-third had been passed at a rural 
 home, and the rest might be nearly divided between school 
 and college. 
 
 These gentlemen, the distinguished and numerous family 
 of the Montacute Mountjoys, young Hungerford, whom the 
 duke had good-naturedly brought over from Bellamont for 
 the sake of the young ladies, the duke and duchess, and 
 their son, formed the party, which presented rather a
 
 60 TANCRED; OR 
 
 contrast, not only in its numbers, to the series of recent 
 banquets. They dined in the Montacute chamber. The 
 party, without intending it, was rather dull and silent. 
 The duchess was brooding over the disappointment of the 
 morning ; the duke trembled for the disclosures of the mor- 
 row. The Misses Mountjoy sang better than they talked; 
 their mother, who was more lively, was seated by the duke, 
 and confined her powers of pleasing to him. The Honourable 
 and Reverend Montacute himself was an epicure, and dis- 
 liked conversation during dinner. Lord Montacute spoke 
 to Mr. Hungerford across the table, but Mr. Hungerford 
 was whispering despairing nothings in the ear of Arabella 
 Mountjoy, and replied to his question without originating 
 any in return, which of course terminates talk. 
 
 When the second course had arrived, the duke, who 
 wanted a little more noise and distraction, fired off in 
 despair a shot at Colonel Brace, who was on the left hand 
 of the duchess, and set him on his yeomanry charger. 
 From this moment affairs improved. The colonel made 
 continual charges, and carried all before him. Nothing 
 could be more noisy in a genteel way. His voice sounded 
 like the bray of a trumpet amid the din of arms ; it seemed 
 that the moment he began, everybody and everything be- 
 came animated and inspired by his example. All talked ; 
 the duke set them the fashion of taking wine with each 
 other ; Lord Montacute managed to entrap Arminta Mount- 
 joy into a narrative in detail of her morning's ride and 
 adventures ; and, affecting scepticism as to some of the 
 incidents, and wonder at some of the feats, produced a 
 considerable addition to the general hubbub, which he in- 
 stinctively felt that his father wished to encourage. 
 
 ' I don't know whether it was the Great Western or the 
 South Eastern,' continued Colonel Brace ; ' but I know his 
 leg is broken.' 
 
 ' God bless me ! ' said the duke ; ' and only think of my 
 not hearing of it at Bellamont to-day ! ' 
 
 ' I don't suppose they know anything about it,' replied
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. Cl 
 
 the colonel. ' The way I know it is this : I was with Roby 
 to-day, when the post came in, and he said to me, " Here 
 is a letter from Lady Malpas ; I hope nothing is the matter 
 with Sir Russell or any of the children." And then it all 
 came out. The train was blown up behind ; Sir Russell 
 was in a centre carriage, and was pitched right into a 
 field. They took him into an inn, put him to bed, and 
 sent for some of the top-sawyers from London, Sir Ben- 
 jamin Brodie, and that sort of thing; and the moment Sir 
 Russell came to himself, he said, " I must have Roby, send 
 for Roby, Roby knows my constitution." And they sent 
 for Roby. And I think he was right. The quantity of 
 young officers I have seen sent rightabout in the Peninsula, 
 because they were attended by a parcel of men who knew 
 nothing of their constitution ! Why, I might have lost my 
 own leg once, if I had not been sharp. I got a scratch in 
 a little affair at Almeidas, charging the enemy a little too 
 briskly ; but we really ought not to speak of these things 
 before the ladies ' 
 
 * My dear colonel,' said Lord Montacute, ' on the con- 
 trary, there is nothing more interesting to them. Miss 
 Mountjoy was only saying yesterday, that there was nothing 
 she found so difficult to understand as the account of a 
 battle, and how much she wished to comprehend it.' 
 
 ' That is because, in general, they are not written by sol- 
 diers,' said the colonel ; ' but Napier's battles are very clear. 
 I could fight every one of them on this table. That's a 
 great book, that history of Napier ; it has faults, but they 
 are rather omissions than mistakes. Now that affair of 
 Almeidas of which I was just speaking, and which nearly 
 cost me my leg, it is very odd, but he has omitted mention- 
 ing it altogether.' 
 
 ' But you saved your leg, colonel,' said the duke. 
 
 ' Yes, I had the honour of marching into Paris, and that 
 is an event not very easy to be forgotten, let me tell your 
 grace. I saved my leg because I knew my constitution. 
 For the very same reason by which I hope Sir Russell
 
 62 TAXCBED: OR 
 
 Malpas will save his leg. Because he will be attended by a 
 person who knows his constitution. He never did a wiser 
 thing than sending for Roby. For my part, if I were in 
 garrison at Gibraltar to-morrow, and laid up, I would do the 
 same ; I would send for Roby. In all these things, depend 
 upon it, knowing the constitution is half the battle.' 
 
 All this time, while Colonel Brace was indulging in his 
 garrulous comments, the Duke of Bellamont was drawing 
 his moral. He had a great opinion of Mr. Roby, who was 
 the medical attendant of the castle, and an able man. Mr. 
 Roby was perfectly acquainted with the constitution of his 
 son ; Mr. Roby must go to the Holy Sepulchre. Cost what 
 it might, Mr. Roby must be sent to Jerusalem. The duke 
 was calculating all this time the income that Mr. Roby 
 made. He would not put it down at more than five hun- 
 dred pounds per annum, and a third of that was certainly 
 afforded by the castle. The duke determined to offer Roby 
 a thousand and his expenses to attend Lord Montacute. He 
 would not be more than a year absent, and his practice 
 could hardly seriously suffer while away, backed as he would 
 be, when he returned, by the castle. And if it did, the 
 duke must guarantee Roby against loss ; it was a necessity, 
 absolute and of the first class, that Tancred should be at- 
 tended by a medical man who knew his constitution. Tho 
 duke agreed with Colonel Brace that it was half the battle 
 
 CHAPTER m. 
 
 ' MISERABLE mother that I am ! ' exclaimed the duchess, and 
 she clasped her hands in anguish. 
 
 ' My dearest Katherine ! ' said the duke, ' calm yourself.' 
 ' You ought to have prevented this, George ; you ought 
 never to have let things come to this pass.' 
 
 ' But, my dearest Katherine, the blow was as unlooked- 
 for by me as by yourself. I had not, how could I have, a 
 remote suspicion of what was passing through his mind ? '
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 63 
 
 1 What, then, is the use of your boasted confidence with 
 your child, which you tell me you have always cultivated ? 
 Had I been his father, I would have discovered his secret 
 thoughts.' 
 
 ' Very possibly, my dear Katherine ; but you are at least 
 his mother, tenderly loving him, and tenderly loved by him. 
 The intercourse between you has ever been of an extreme 
 intimacy, and especially on the subjects connected with this 
 fancy of his, and yet, you see, even you are completely taken 
 by surprise.' 
 
 * I once had a suspicion he was inclined to the Puseyite 
 heresy, and I spoke to Mr. Bernard on the subject, and 
 afterwards to him, but I was convinced that I was in error. 
 I am sure,' added the duchess, in a mournful tone, ' I have 
 lost no opportunity of instilling into him the principles of 
 religious truth. It was only last year, on his birthday, that 
 I sent him a complete set of the publications of the Parker 
 Society, my own copy of Jewel, full of notes, and my grand- 
 father, the primate's, manuscript commentary on Chilling- 
 worth ; a copy made purposely by myself.' 
 
 ' I well know,' said the duke, ' that you have done every- 
 thing for his spiritual welfare which ability and affection 
 combined could suggest.' 
 
 ' And it ends in this ! ' exclaimed the duchess. ' The Holy 
 Land ! Why, if he even reach it, the climate is certain death. 
 The curse of the Almighty, for more than eighteen centuries, 
 has been on that land. Every year it has become more ste- 
 rile, more savage, more unwholesome, and more unearthly. 
 It is the abomination of desolation. And now my son ia 
 to go there ! Oh ! he is lost to us for ever ! ' 
 
 ' But, my dear Katherine, let us consult a little.' 
 
 'Consult! Why should I consult? You have settled 
 everything, you have agreed to everything. You do not 
 come here to consult me ; I understand all that ; you come 
 here to break a foregone conclusion to a weak and miser- 
 able woman.' 
 
 ' Do not say such things, Katherine! '
 
 64 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 4 What should I say ? What can I say ? ' 
 
 * Anything but that. I hope that nothing will be ever 
 done in this family without your full sanction.' 
 
 * Rest assured, then, that I will never sanction the de- 
 parture of Tancred on this crusade.' 
 
 ' Then he will never go, at least, with my consent,' said 
 the duke ; ' but Katherine, assist me, my dear wife. All 
 shall be, shall ever be, as you wish ; but I shrink from being 
 placed, from our being placed, in collision with our child. 
 The mere exercise of parental authority is a last resource ; 
 I would appeal first, rather to his reason, to his heart ; 
 your arguments, his affection for us, may yet influence 
 him.' 
 
 ' You tell me you have argued with him,* said the 
 duchess, in a melancholy tone. 
 
 'Yes, but you know so much more on these subjects 
 than I do, indeed, upon all subjects ; you are so clever, that 
 I do not despair, my dear Katherine, of your producing an 
 impression on him.' 
 
 ' I would tell him at once,' said the duchess, firmly, 
 ' that the proposition cannot be listened to.' 
 
 The duke looked very distressed. After a momentary 
 pause, he said, ' If, indeed, you think that the best ; but let 
 us consult before we take that step, because it would seem 
 to terminate all discussion, and discussion may yet do 
 good. Besides, I cannot conceal from myself that Tancred 
 in this affair is acting tinder the influence of very powerful 
 motives ; his feelings are highly strung ; you have no idea, 
 you can have no idea from what we have seen of him 
 hitherto, how excited he is. I had no idea of his being 
 capable of such excitement. I always thought him so very 
 calm, and of such a quiet turn. And so, in short, my dear 
 Katherdne, were we to be abrupt at this moment, peremp- 
 tory, you understand, I, I should not be surprised, were 
 Tancred to go without our permission.' 
 
 ' Impossible ! ' exclaimed the duchess, starting in her 
 chair, but with as much consternation as confidence in her
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 65 
 
 countenance. ' Throughout his life he has never dis- 
 obeyed us.' 
 
 ' And that is an additional reason,' said the duke, quietly 
 but in his sweetest tone, ' why we should not treat as a 
 light ebullition this first instance of his preferring his own 
 will to that of his father and mother.' 
 
 ' He has been so much away from us these last three 
 years,' said the duchess in a tone of great depression, ' and 
 they are such important years in the formation of character ! 
 But Mr. Bernard, he ought to have been aware of all this ; 
 he ought to have known what was passing through his 
 pupil's mind ; he ought to have warned us. Let us speak 
 to him ; let us speak to him at once. Ring, my dear George, 
 and request the attendance of Mr. Bernard.' 
 
 That gentleman, who was in the library, kept them wait- 
 ing but a few minutes. As he entered the room, he per- 
 ceived, by the countenances of his noble patrons, that 
 something remarkable, and probably not agreeable, had 
 occurred. The duke opened the case to Mr. Bernard with 
 calmness ; he gave an outline of the great catastrophe ; the 
 duchess filled up the parts, and invested the whole with a 
 rich and even terrible colouring. 
 
 Nothing could exceed the astonishment of the late private 
 tutor of Lord Montacute. He was fairly overcome ; the 
 communication itself was startling, the accessories over- 
 whelmed him. The unspoken reproaches that beamed from 
 the duke's mild eye ; the withering glance of maternal 
 desolation that met him from the duchess ; the rapidity of 
 her anxious and agitated questions ; all were too much for 
 the simple, though correct, mind of one unused to those 
 passionate developments which are commonly called scenes. 
 All that Mr. Bernard for some time could do was to sit 
 with his eyes staring and mouth open, and repeat, with a 
 bewildered air, * The Holy Land, the Holy Sepulchre ! ' 
 No, most certainly not; most assuredly; never in any way, 
 by any word or deed, had Lord Montacute ever given him 
 reason to suppose or imagine that his lordship intended to 
 
 9
 
 66 TANCKED; OR 
 
 make a pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre, or that he waa 
 influenced by any of those views and opinions which he 
 had so strangely and so uncompromisingly expressed to his 
 father. 
 
 ' But, Mr. Bernard, you have been his companion, his 
 instructor, for many years,' continued the duchess, ' for 
 the last three years especially, years so important in the 
 formation of character. You have seen much more of 
 Montacute than we have. Surely you must have had some 
 idea of what was passing in his mind ; you could not help 
 knowing it; you ought to have known it; you ought to 
 have warned, to have prepared us.' 
 
 ' Madam,' at length said Mr. Bernard, more collected, 
 and feeling the necessity and excitement of self- vindication, 
 ' Madam, your noble son, under my poor tuition, has taken 
 the highest honours of his university ; his moral behaviour 
 during that period has been immaculate ; and as for his 
 religious sentiments, even this strange scheme proves that 
 they are, at any rate, of no light and equivocal character.' 
 
 ' To lose such a son ! ' exclaimed the duchess, in a tone 
 of anguish, and with streaming eyes. 
 
 The duke took her hand, and would have soothed her ; 
 and then, turning to Mr. Bernard, he said, in a lowered 
 tone, ' We are very sensible how much we owe you ; the 
 duchess equally with myself. All we regret is, that some 
 of us had not obtained a more intimate acquaintance with 
 the character of my son than it appears we have acquired.' 
 
 ' My lord duke,' said Mr. Bernard, ' had yourself or her 
 grace ever spoken to me on this subject, I would have taken 
 the liberty of expressing what I say now. I have ever 
 found Lord Montacute inscrutable. He has formed himself 
 in solitude, and has ever repelled any advance to intimacy, 
 either from those who were his inferiors or his equals in 
 station. He has never had a companion. As for myself, 
 during the ten years that I have had the honour of being 
 connected with him, I cannot recall a word or a deed on 
 his part which towards me has not been courteous and
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 67 
 
 considerate ; but as a child lie was shy and silent, and as a 
 man, for I have looked upon him as a man in mind for 
 these four or even five years, he has employed me as his 
 machine to obtain knowledge. It is not very flattering to 
 one's-self to make these confessions, but at Oxford he had 
 the opportunity of communicating with some of the most 
 eminent men of our time, and I have always learnt from 
 them the same result. Lord Montacute never disburthened. 
 His passion for study has been ardent ; his power of appli- 
 cation is very great ; his attention unwearied as long as 
 there is anything to acquire ; but he never seeks your 
 opinions, and never offers his own. The interview of 
 yesterday with your grace is the only exception with which 
 I am acquainted, and at length throws some light on the 
 mysteries of -his mind.' 
 
 The duke looked sad ; his wife seemed plunged in pro- 
 found thought ; there was a silence of many moments. At 
 length the duchess looked up, and said, in a calmer tone, 
 and with an air of great seriousness, ' It seems that we 
 have mistaken the character of our son. Thank you very 
 much for coming to us so quickly in our trouble, Mr. 
 Bernard. It was very kind, as you always are.' Mr. 
 Bernard took the hint, rose, bowed, and retired. 
 
 The moment that he had quitted the room, the eyes of 
 the Duke and Duchess of Bellamont met. Who was to 
 speak first ? The duke had nothing to say, and therefore 
 he had the advantage ; the duchess wished her husband to 
 break the silence, but, having something to say herself, she 
 could not refrain from interrupting it. So she said, with 
 a tearful eye, ' Well, George, what do you think we ought 
 to do?' 
 
 The duke had a great mind to propose his plan of send- 
 ing Tancred to Jerusalem, with Colonel Brace, Mr. Bernard, 
 and Mr. Roby, to take care of him, but he hardly thought 
 the occasion was ripe enough for that ; and so he suggested 
 that the duchess should speak to Tancred herself. 
 
 ' No,' said her grace, shaking her head, ' I think it better
 
 68 TAXCBED; OR 
 
 for me to be silent ; at least at present. It is necessary, 
 however, that the most energetic means should be adopted 
 to save him, nor is there a moment to be lost. We must 
 shrink from nothing for such an object. I have a plan. 
 We will put the whole matter in the hands of our friend, 
 the bishop. We will get him to speak to Tancred. I en- 
 tertain not a doubt that the bishop will put his mind all 
 right ; clear all his doubts ; remove all his scruples. The 
 bishop is the only person, because, you see, it is a case 
 political as well as theological, and the bishop is a great 
 statesman as well as the first theologian of the age. Depend 
 upon it, my dear George, that this is the wisest course, 
 and, with the blessing of Providence, will effect our pur- 
 pose. It is, perhaps, asking a good deal of the bishop, 
 considering his important and multifarious duties, to under- 
 take this office, but we must not be delicate when every- 
 thing is at stake ; and, considering he christened and 
 confirmed Tancred, and our long friendship, it is quite out 
 of the question that he can refuse. However, there is no 
 time to be lost. We must get to town as soon as possible ; 
 to-morrow, if we can. I shall advance affairs by writing to 
 the bishop on the subject, and giving him an outline of the 
 case, so that he may be prepared to see Tancred at once on 
 our arrival. What think you, George, of my plan ? ' 
 
 'I think it quite admirable,' replied his grace, only too 
 happy that there was at least the prospect of a lull of a few 
 days in this great embarrassment. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ABOUT the time of the marriage of the Duchess of Bella- 
 mont, her noble family, and a few of their friends, some of 
 whom also believed in the millennium, were persuaded 
 that the conversion of the Roman Catholic population of 
 Ireland to the true faith, which was their own, was at hand. 
 They had subscribed very liberally for the purpose, and
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 69 
 
 formed an amazing number of sub-committees. As 
 long as their funds lasted, their missionaries found prose- 
 lytes. It was the last desperate effort of a Church that 
 had from the first betrayed its trust. Twenty years ago, 
 statistics not being so much in vogue, and the people of 
 England being in the full efflorescence of that public 
 ignorance which permitted them to believe themselves the 
 most enlightened nation in the world, the Irish ' difficulty ' 
 was not quite so well understood as at the present day. It 
 was then an established doctrine, that all that was necessary 
 for Ireland was more Protestantism, and it was supposed 
 to be not more difficult to supply the Irish with Protes- 
 tantism than it had proved, in the instance of a recent 
 famine, 1822, to furnish them with potatoes. What was 
 principally wanted in both cases were, subscriptions. 
 
 When the English public, therefore, were assured by 
 their co-religionists on the other side of St. George's Chan- 
 nel, that at last the good work was doing ; that the flame 
 spread, even rapidly ; that not only parishes but provinces 
 were all agog, and that both town and country were quite 
 in a heat of proselytism, they began to believe that at last 
 the scarlet lady was about to be dethroned ; they loosened 
 their purse-strings ; fathers of families contributed their 
 zealous five pounds, followed by every other member of the 
 household, to the babe in arms, who subscribed its fanatical 
 five shillings. The affair looked well. The journals teemed 
 with lists of proselytes and cases of conversion ; and even 
 orderly, orthodox people, who were firm in their own faith, 
 but wished others to be permitted to pursue their errors in 
 peace, began to congratulate each other on the prospect of 
 our at last becoming a united Protestant people. 
 
 In the blaze and thick of the affair, Irish Protestants jubi- 
 lant, Irish Papists denouncing the whole movement as fraud 
 and trumpery, John Bull perplexed, but excited, and still 
 subscribing, a young bishop rose in his place in the House 
 of Lords, and, with a vehemence there unusual, declared 
 that he saw ' the finger of God in this second Reformation,'
 
 70 TANCSED; OR 
 
 and, pursuing the prophetic vein and manner, denounced 
 ' woe to those who should presume to lift up their hands 
 and voices in vain and impotent attempts to stem the flood 
 of light that was bursting over Ireland.' 
 
 In him, who thus plainly discerned ' the finger of God ' 
 in transactions in which her family and feelings were so 
 deeply interested, the young and enthusiastic Duchess of 
 Bellamont instantly recognised the ' man of God ; ' and, 
 from that moment the right reverend prelate became, in 
 all spiritual affairs, her infallible instructor, although the 
 impending second Reformation did chance to take the un- 
 toward form of the emancipation of the Roman Catholics, 
 followed in due season by the destruction of Protestant 
 bishoprics, the sequestration of Protestant tithes, and the 
 endowment of Maynooth. 
 
 In speculating on the fate of public institutions and the 
 course of public affairs, it is important that we should not 
 permit our attention to be engrossed by the principles on 
 which they are founded and the circumstances which they 
 present, but that we should also remember how much de- 
 pends upon the character of the individuals who are in the 
 position to superintend or to direct them. 
 
 The Church of England, mainly from its deficiency of 
 oriental knowledge, and from a misconception of the priestly 
 character which has been the consequence of that want, has 
 fallen of late years into great straits ; nor has there ever 
 been a season when it has more needed for its guides men 
 possessing the higher qualities both of intellect and dis- 
 position. About five-and-twenty years ago, it began to be 
 discerned that the time had gone by, at least in England, 
 for bishoprics to serve as appanages for the younger sons of 
 great families. The Arch- Mediocrity who then governed 
 this country, and the mean tenor of whose prolonged ad- 
 ministration we have delineated in another work, was im- 
 pressed with the necessity of reconstructing the episcopal 
 bench on principles of personal distinction and ability. But 
 his notion of clerical capacity did not soar higher than a
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 71 
 
 private tutor who had suckled a young noble into university 
 honours ; and his test of priestly celebrity was the decent 
 editorship of a Greek play. He sought for the successors 
 of the apostles, for the stewards of the mysteries of Sinai 
 and of Calvary, among third-rate hunters after syllables. 
 These men, notwithstanding their elevation, with one ex- 
 ception, subsided into their native insignificance ; and 
 during our agitated age, when the principles of all insti- 
 tutions, sacred and secular, have been called in question ; 
 when, alike in th.3 senate and the market-place, both the doc- 
 trine and the discipline of the Church have been impugned, 
 its power assailed, its authority denied, the amount of its 
 revenues investigated, their disposition criticised, and both 
 attacked; not a voice has been raised by these mitred 
 nullities, either to warn or to vindicate ; not a phrase has 
 escaped their lips or their pens, that ever influenced public 
 opinion, touched the heart of nations, or guided the con- 
 science of a perplexed people. If they were ever heard of, 
 it was that they had been pelted in a riot. 
 
 The exception which we have mentioned to their sorry 
 careers was that of the too adventurous prophet of the 
 second Reformation ; the ductor dubitantium appealed to 
 by the Duchess of Bellamont, to convince her son that 
 the principles of religious truth, as well as of political jus- 
 tice, required no further investigation ; at least by young 
 marquesses. 
 
 The ready audacity with which this right reverend pre- 
 late had stood sponsor for the second Reformation is a key 
 to his character. He combined a great talent for action 
 with very limited powers of thought. Bustling, energetic, 
 versatile, gifted with an indomitable perseverance, and 
 stimulated by an ambition that knew no repose, with a 
 capacity for mastering details and an inordinate passion for 
 affairs, he could permit nothing to be done without his 
 interference, and consequently was perpetually involved in 
 transactions which were either failures or blunders. He 
 was one of those leaders who are not guides. Having little
 
 72 TANCRED; OR 
 
 real knowledge, and not endowed with those high qualities 
 of intellect which permit their possessor to generalise the 
 details afforded by study and experience, and so deduce 
 rules of conduct, his lordship, when he received those fre- 
 quent appeals which were the necessary consequence of his 
 officious life, became obscure, confused, contradictory, in- 
 consistent, illogical. The oracle was always dark. Placed 
 in a high post in an age of political analysis, the bustling 
 intermeddler was unable to supply society with a single 
 solution. Enunciating second-hand, with characteristic 
 precipitation, some big principle in vogue, as if he were a 
 discoverer, he invariably shrank from its subsequent appli- 
 cation, the moment that he found it might be unpopular and 
 inconvenient. All his quandaries terminated in the same 
 catastrophe ; a compromise. Abstract principles with him 
 ever ended in concrete expediency. The aggregate of cir- 
 cumstances outweighed the isolated cause. The primor- 
 dial tenet, which had been advocated with uncompromising 
 arrogance, gently subsided into some second-rate measure 
 recommended with all the artifice of an impenetrable am- 
 biguity. 
 
 Beginning with the second Reformation, which was a 
 little rash but dashing, the bishop, always ready, had in the 
 course of his episcopal career placed himself at the head of 
 every movement in the Church which others had originated, 
 and had as regularly withdrawn at the right moment, when 
 the heat was over, or had become, on the contrary, excessive. 
 Furiously evangelical, soberly high and dry, and fervently 
 Puseyite, each phasis of his faith concludes with what the 
 Spaniards term a 'transaction.' The saints are to have 
 their new churches, but they are also to have their rubrics 
 and their canons ; the universities may supply successors 
 to the apostles, but they are also presented with a church 
 commission ; even the Puseyites may have candles on their 
 altars, but they must not be lighted. 
 
 It will be seen, therefore, that his lordship was one of 
 those characters not ill-adapted to an eminent station in an
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 73 
 
 age like the present, and in a country like oar own ; an 
 age of movement, but of confused ideas ; a country of pro- 
 gress, but too rich to risk much change. Under these 
 circumstances, the spirit of a period and a people seeks a 
 safety-valve in bustle. They do something, lest it be said 
 that they do nothing. At such a time, ministers recommend 
 their measures as experiments, and parliaments are ever 
 ready to rescind their votes. Find a man who, totally 
 destitute of genius, possesses nevertheless considerable 
 talents ; who has official aptitude, a volubility of routine 
 rhetoric, great perseverance, a love of affairs ; who, em- 
 barrassed neither by the principles of the philosopher nor 
 by the prejudices of the bigot, can assume, with a cautious 
 facility, the prevalent tone, and disembarrass himself of it, 
 with a dexterous ambiguity, the moment it ceases to be pre- 
 dominant ; recommending himself to the innovator by his 
 approbation of change ' in the abstract,' and to the con- 
 servative by his prudential and practical respect for that 
 which is established ; such a man, though he be one of an 
 essentially small mind, though his intellectual qualities 
 be less than moderate, with feeble powers of thought, no 
 imagination, contracted sympathies, and a most loose 
 public morality ; such a man is the individual whom kings 
 and parliaments would select to govern the State or rule 
 the Church. Change, ' in the abstract,' is what is wanted 
 by a people who are at the same time inquiring and 
 wealthy. Instead of statesmen they desire shufflers ; and 
 compromise in conduct and ambiguity in speech are, though 
 nobody will confess it, the public qualities now most in 
 vogue. 
 
 Not exactly, however, those calculated to meet the case 
 of Tancred. The interview was long, for Tancred listened 
 with apparent respect and deference to the individual 
 under whose auspices he had entered the Church of Christ ; 
 but the replies to his inquiries, though more adroit than 
 the duke's, were in reality not more satisfactory, and could 
 not, in any way, meet the inexorable logic of Lord Mont-
 
 74 TANCRED; OR 
 
 acute. The bishop was as little able as the duke to indicate 
 the principle on which the present order of things in 
 England was founded; neither faith nor its consequence, 
 duty, was at all illustrated or invigorated by his handling. 
 He utterly failed in reconciling a belief in ecclesiastical 
 truth with the support of religious dissent. When he tried 
 to define in whom the power of government should repose, 
 he was lost in a maze of phrases, and afforded his pupil not 
 a single fact. 
 
 ' It cannot be denied,' at length said Tancred, with great 
 calmness, ' that society was once regulated by God, and 
 that now it is regulated by man. For my part, I prefer 
 divine to self-government, and I wish to know how it is to 
 be attained.' 
 
 ' The Church represents God upon earth,' said the 
 bishop. 
 
 ' But the Church no longer governs man,' replied 
 Tancred. 
 
 ' There is a great spirit rising in the Church,' observed 
 the bishop, with thoughtful solemnity ; ' a great and ex- 
 cellent spirit. The church of 1845 is not the Church of 
 1 745. We must remember that ; we know not what may 
 happen. We shall soon see a bishop at Manchester.' 
 
 ' But I want to see an angel at Manchester.' 
 
 * An angel ! ' 
 
 'Why not? Why should there not be heavenly mes- 
 sengers, when heavenly messages are most wanted ? ' 
 
 ' We have received a heavenly message by one greater 
 than the angels,' said the bishop. * Their visits to man 
 ceased with the mightier advent.' 
 
 ' Then why did angels appear to Mary and her com- 
 panions at the holy tomb ?' inquired Tancred. 
 
 The interview from which so much was anticipated was 
 not satisfactory. The eminent prelate did not realise 
 Tancred' a ideal of a bishop, while his lordship did not 
 hesitate to declare that Lord Montacute was a visionary.
 
 TILE NEW CRUSADE. 75 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 WHEN the duchess found that the interview with the bishop 
 l;ad been fruitless of the anticipated results, she was 
 staggered, disheartened ; but she was a woman of too high 
 a spirit to succumb under a first defeat. She was of opinion 
 that his lordship had misunderstood the case, or had mis- 
 managed it ; her confidence in him, too, was not so illimit- 
 able since he had permitted the Puseyites to have candles 
 on their altars, although he had forbidden their being 
 lighted, as when he had declared, twenty years before, that 
 the finger of God was about to protestantise Ireland. His 
 lordship had said and had done many things since that 
 time which had occasioned the duchess many misgivings, 
 although she had chosen that they should not occur to 
 her recollection until he failed in convincing her son that 
 religious truth was to be found in the parish of St. James, 
 and political justice in the happy haunts of Montacute 
 Forest. 
 
 The bishop had voted for the Church Temporalities' Bill 
 in 1833, which at one swoop had suppressed ten Irish 
 episcopates. This was a queer suffrage for the apostle of 
 the second Reformation. True it is that Whiggism was 
 then in the ascendant, and two years afterwards, when 
 Whiggism had received a heavy blow and great discourage- 
 ment ; when we had been blessed in the interval with a 
 decided though feeble Conservative administration, and 
 were blessed at the moment with a strong though undecided 
 Conservative opposition ; his lordship, with characteristic 
 activity, had galloped across country into the right line 
 again, denounced the Appropriation Clause in a spirit 
 worthy of his earlier days, and, quite forgetting the ten 
 Irish Bishoprics, that only four-and- twenty months before 
 he had doomed to destruction, was all for proselytising 
 Ireland again by the efficacious means of Irish Protestant 
 bishops.
 
 76 TANCRED; OR 
 
 ' Tlie bishop says that Tancred is a visionary,' said the 
 duchess to her husband, with an air of great displeasure. 
 ' Why, it is because he is a visionary that we sent him to 
 the bishop. I want to have his false imaginings removed 
 by one who has the competent powers of learning and 
 argument, and the authority of a high and holy office. A 
 visionary, indeed ! Why, so are the Puseyites ; they are 
 visionaries, and his lordship has been obliged to deal with 
 them ; though, to be sure, if he spoke to Tancred in a similar 
 fashion, I am not surprised that my son has returned un- 
 changed ! This is the most vexatious business that ever 
 occurred to us. Something must be done ; but what to fix 
 on? What do you think, George? Since speaking to the 
 bishop, of which you so much approved, has failed, what do 
 yon recommend ? ' 
 
 While the duchess was speaking, slie was seated in her 
 boudoir, looking into the Green Park ; the duke's horses 
 were in the courtyard, and he was about to ride down to 
 the House of Lords ; he had just looked in, as was his cus- 
 tum, to say farewell till they met again. 
 
 ' I am sorry that the interview with the bishop has failed,' 
 said the duke, in a hesitating tone, and playing with his 
 riding-stick ; and then walking up to the window and 
 looking into the Park, he said, apparently after reflection, 
 ' I always think the best person to deal with a visionary is 
 a man of the world.' 
 
 ' But what can men of the world know of such questions ? ' 
 said the duchess, mournfully. 
 
 ' Very little,' said her husband, ' and therefore they are 
 never betrayed into arguments, which I fancy always make 
 people more obstinate, even if they are confuted. Men of 
 the world have a knack of settling everything without dis- 
 cussion ; they do it by tact. It is astonishing how many 
 difficulties I have seen removed ; by Eskdale, for example ; 
 which it seemed that no power on earth could change, and 
 about which we had been arguing for months. There was 
 the Cheadle churches case, for example ; it broke up some
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 77 
 
 of the oldest friendships in the county ; even Hnngerford 
 and Ilderton did not speak. I never had a more anxious 
 time of it ; and, as far as I was personally concerned, I 
 would have made any sacrifice to keep a good understand- 
 ing 111 the county. At last I got the business referred to 
 Eskdale, and the affair was ultimately arranged to every- 
 body's satisfaction. I don't know how he managed : it was 
 quite impossible that he could have offered any new argu- 
 ments, but he did it by tact. Tact does not remove diffi- 
 culties, but difficulties melt away under tact.' 
 
 ' Heigho ! ' sighed the duchess. ' I cannot understand 
 how tact can tell us what is religious truth, or prevent my 
 son from going to the Holy Sepulchre.' 
 
 ' Try,' said the duke. 
 
 4 Shall you see our cousin to-day, George ? ' 
 
 ' He is sure to be at the House,' replied the duke, eagerly. 
 4 1 tell you what I propose, Kate : Tancred is gone to the 
 House of Commons to hear the debate on Maynooth ; I will 
 try and get our cousin to come home and dine with us, and 
 then we can talk over the whole affair at once. What say 
 you?' 
 
 ' Very well.' 
 
 ' We have failed with a bishop ; we will now try a man 
 of the world ; and if we are to have a man of the world, we 
 had better have a firstrate one, and everybody agrees that 
 our cousin ' 
 
 ' Yes, yes, George,' said the duchess, ' ask him to come ; 
 tell him it is very urgent, that we must consult him imme- 
 diately ; and then, if he be engaged, I dare say he will 
 manage to come all the same.' 
 
 Accordingly, about half-past eight o'clock, the two peers 
 arrived at Bellamont House together. They were unexpec- 
 tedly late ; they had been detained at the House. The duke 
 was excited ; even Lord Eskdale looked as if something had 
 happened. Something had happened; there had been a 
 division in the House of Lords. Rare and startling event ! 
 It seemed as if the peers were about to resume their func-
 
 78 TANCKED; OR 
 
 tions. Divisions in the House of Lords are now-a-days so 
 thinly scattered, that, when one occurs, the peers cackle as 
 if they had laid an egg. They are quite proud of the proof 
 of their still procreative powers. The division to-night 
 had not been on a subject of any public interest or impor- 
 tance ; but still it was a division, and, what was more, the 
 Government had been left in a minority. True, the catas- 
 trophe was occasioned by a mistake. The dictator had been 
 asleep during the debate, woke suddenly from a dyspeptic 
 dream, would make a speech, and spoke on the wrong side. 
 A lively colleague, not yet sufficiently broken in to the frigid 
 discipline of the High Court of Registry, had pulled the 
 great man once by his coat tails, a House of Commons prac- 
 tice, permitted to the Cabinet when their chief is blunder- 
 ing, very necessary sometimes for a lively leader, but of 
 which Sir Robert highly disapproves, as the arrangement of 
 his coat tails, next to beating the red box, forms the most 
 important part of his rhetorical accessories. The dictator, 
 when he at length comprehended that he had made a mis- 
 take, persisted in adhering to it ; the division was called, 
 some of the officials escaped, the rest were obliged to vote 
 with their ruthless master ; but his other friends, glad of 
 an opportunity of asserting their independence and ad- 
 ministering to the dictator a slight check in a quiet in- 
 offensive way, put him in a minority ; and the Duke of 
 Bellamont and Lord Eskdale had contributed to this catas- 
 trophe. 
 
 Dinner was served in the library ; the conversation during 
 it was chiefly the event of the morning. The duchess, who, 
 though not a partisan, was something of a politician, 
 thought it was a pity that the dictator had ever stepped 
 out of his military sphere ; her husband, who had never 
 before seen a man's coat tails pulled when he was speaking, 
 dilated much upon the singular circumstance of Lord Spur 
 so disporting himself on the present occasion ; while Lord 
 Eskdale, who had sat for a long time in the House of Com- 
 mons, and who was used to everything, assured his cousin
 
 THE NEW CHUSADE. 79 
 
 that the custom, i hough odd, was by no means irregular. 
 ' I remember,' said his lordship, ' seeing Ripou, when he 
 was Robinson, and Huskisson, each pulling one of Can- 
 ning's coat tails at the same time.' 
 
 Throughout dinner not a word about Tancred. Lord 
 Eskdale neither asked where he was nor how he was. At 
 length, to the great relief of the duchess, dinner -was 
 finished ; the servants had disappeared. The duke pushed 
 away the table ; they drew their chairs round the hearth ; 
 Lord Eskdale took half a glass of Madeira, then stretched 
 his legs a little, then rose, stirred the fire, and then, stand- 
 ing with his back to it and his hands in his pockets, said, 
 in a careless tone approaching to a drawl, ' And so, duchess, 
 Tancred wants to go to Jerusalem?' 
 
 ' George has told yon, then, all our troubles ? ' 
 
 ' Only that; he left the rest to you, and I came to hear it.' 
 
 Whereupon the duchess went off, and spoke for a con- 
 siderable time with great animation and ability, the duke 
 lianging on every word with vigilant interest, Lord Eskdale 
 never interrupting her for an instant ; while she stated the 
 ase not only with the impassioned feeling of a devoted 
 mother, but occasionally with all the profundity of a theo- 
 logian. She did not conceal from him the interview between 
 Tancred and the bishop ; it was her last effort, and had 
 failed ; and so, ' after all our plans,' she ended, ' as far as 1 
 can form an opinion, he is absolutely more resolved than ever 
 to go to Jerusalem.' 
 
 ' Well,' said bis lordship, ' it is at least better than going 
 to the Jews, which most men do at his time of life.' 
 
 ' I cannot agree even to that,' said the duchess ; ' for I 
 would rather that he should be ruined than die.' 
 
 'Men do not die as they used,' said his lordship. 'Ask 
 the annuity offices ; they have all raised their rates.' 
 
 ' I know nothing about annuity offices, but I know that 
 almost everybody dies who goes to those countries ; look at 
 young Fernborough, he was just Tancred's age ; the fevers 
 alone must kill him.'
 
 80 TANCEED; OB 
 
 ' He must take some quinine in his dressing-case,' said 
 Lord Eskdale. 
 
 ' You jest, Henry,' said the duchess, disappointed, ' when 
 I am in despair.' 
 
 ' No,' said Lord Eskdale, looking up to the ceiling, ' I 
 am thinking how you may prevent Tancred from going to 
 Jerusalem, without, at the same time, opposing his wishes.' 
 
 ' Ay, ay,' said the duke, ' that is it.' And he looked tri- 
 umphantly to his wife, as much as to say, ' Now you see 
 what it is to be a man of the world.' 
 
 * A man cannot go to Jerusalem as he would to Birming- 
 ham, by the next train,' continued his lordship ; ' he must 
 get something to take him ; and if you make the sacrifice of 
 consenting to his departure, you have a right to stipulate as 
 to the manner in which he should depart. Your son ought 
 to travel with a suite ; he ought to make the voyage in his 
 own yacht. Yachts are not to be found like hack cabs, 
 though there are several for sale now ; but then they are 
 not of the admeasurement of which you approve for such 
 a voyage and such a sea. People talk very lightly of 
 the Mediterranean, but there are such things as white 
 squalls. Anxious parents, and parents so fond of a son as 
 you are, and a son whose life for so many reasons is so 
 precious, have a right to make it a condition of their consent 
 to his departure, that he should embark in a vessel of con- 
 siderable tonnage. He will find difficulty in buying one 
 second-hand ; if he finds one it will not please him. He will 
 get interested in yacht-building, as he is interested now 
 about Jerusalem : both boyish fancies. He will stay another 
 year in England to build a yacht to take him to the Holy 
 Land ; the yacht will be finished this time twelvemonths ; 
 and, instead of going to Palestine, he will go to Cowes.' 
 
 ' That is quite my view of the case,' said the duke. 
 
 ' It never occurred to me,' said the duchess. 
 
 Lord Eskdale resumed his seat, and took another half- 
 glass of Madeira.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 81 
 
 ' Well, I think it is very satisfactory, Katherine,' said the 
 duke, after a short pause. 
 
 4 And what do you recommend us to do first ? ' said the 
 duchess to Lord Eskdale. 
 
 ' Let Tancred go into society : the best way for him to 
 forget Jerusalem is to let him see London.' 
 
 ' But how can I manage it ? ' said the duchess. ' I never 
 go anywhere ; nobody knows him, and he does not wish to 
 know anybody.' 
 
 ' I will manage it, with your permission ; 'tis not difficult ; 
 a young marquess has only to evince an inclination, and in 
 a week's tune he will be everywhere. I will tell Lady St. 
 Julians and the great ladies to send him invitations ; they 
 will fall like a snow-storm. All that remains is for yon to 
 prevail upon him to accept them.' 
 
 'And how shall I contrive it?' said the duchess. 
 
 ' Easily,' said Lord Eskdale. ' Make his going into society, 
 while his yacht is preparing, one of the conditions of the 
 great sacrifice you are making. He cannot refuse you : 'tis 
 but the first step. A youth feels a little repugnance to 
 launching into the great world : 'tis shyness ; but after the 
 plunge, the great difficulty is to restrain rather than to in- 
 cite. Let him but once enter the world, and be tranquil, 
 he will soon find something to engage him.' 
 
 ' As long as he does not take to play,' said the duke, ' I 
 do not much care what he does.' 
 
 ' My dear George ! ' said the duchess, ' how can you say 
 such things ! I was in hopes,' she added, in a mournful 
 tone, ' that we might have settled him, without his entering 
 what you call the world, Henry. Dearest child ! I fancy 
 him surrounded by pitfalls.'
 
 82 TANCRSD; OB 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 AFTER this consultation with Lord Eskdale, the duchess 
 became easier in her mind. She was of a sanguine temper, 
 and with facility believed what she wished. Affairs stood 
 thus : it was agreed by all that Tancred should go to the 
 Holy Land, but he was to go in his own yacht ; which yacht 
 was to be of a firstrate burthen, and to be commanded by 
 an officer in H.M.S. ; and he was to be accompanied by 
 Colonel Brace, Mr. Bernard, and Mr. Roby ; and the ser- 
 vants were to be placed entirely under the control of some 
 trusty foreigner accustomed to the East, and who was to be 
 chosen by Lord Eskdale. In the meantime, Tancred had 
 acceded to the wish of his parents, that until his departure 
 he should mix much in society. The duchess calculated 
 that, under any circumstances, three months must elapse 
 before all the arrangements were concluded ; and she felt 
 persuaded that, during that period, Tancred must become 
 enamoured of his cousin Katherine, and that the only use of 
 the yacht would be to take them all to Ireland. The duke 
 was resolved only on two points : that his son should do 
 exactly as his son liked, and that he himself would never 
 take the advice, on any subject, of any other person than 
 Lord Eskdale. 
 
 In the meantime Tancred was launched, almost uncon- 
 sciously, into the great world. The name of the Marquess 
 of Montacute was foremost in those delicate lists by which 
 an eager and admiring public is apprised who, among their 
 aristocracy, eat, drink, dance, and sometimes pray. From 
 the saloons of Belgrave and Grosvenor Square to the sacred 
 recesses of the Chapel Royal, the movements of Lord Mon- 
 tacute were tracked and registered, and were devoured 
 every morning, oftener with a keener relish than the matin 
 meal of which they formed a regular portion. England is 
 the only country which enjoys the unspeakable advantage 
 of being thus regularly, promptly, and accurately furnished
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 83 
 
 with catalogues of those favoured beings who are deemed 
 qualified to enter the houses of the great. What condescen- 
 sion in those who impart the information ! What indubi- 
 table evidence of true nobility ! What superiority to all 
 petty vanity ! And in those who receive it, what freedom 
 from all little feelings ! No arrogance on one side ; on the 
 other, no envy. It is only countries blessed with a free 
 press that can be thus favoured. Even a free press is not 
 alone sufficient. Besides a free press, you must have a 
 servile public. 
 
 After all, let us be just. The uninitiated world is apt to 
 believe that there is sometimes, in the outskirts of fashion, 
 an eagerness, scarcely consistent with seif-respect, to enter 
 the mansions of the great. Not at all : few people really 
 want to go to their grand parties. It is not the charms of 
 conversation, the flash of wit or the blaze of beauty, the in- 
 fluential presence of the powerful and celebrated, all the 
 splendour and refinement, which, combined, offer in a 
 polished saloon so much to charm the taste and satisfy the 
 intellect, that the mass of social partisans care anything 
 about. What they want is, not so much to be in her lady- 
 ship's house as in her ladyship's list. After the party at 
 Coningsby Castle, our friend, Mrs. Guy Flouncey, at length 
 succeeded in being asked to one of Lady St. Julians' assem- 
 blies. It was a great triumph, and Mrs. Guy Flouncey 
 determined to make the most of it. She was worthy of 
 the occasion. But, alas ! next morning, though admitted 
 to the rout, Mrs. Guy Flouncey was left out of the list ! It 
 was a severe blow ! But Mrs. Guy Flouncey is in every 
 list now, and even strikes out names herself. But there 
 never was a woman who advanced with such dexterity. 
 
 Lord Montacute was much shocked, when, one morning, 
 taking up a journal, he first saw his name in print. He was 
 alone, and he blushed ; felt, indeed, extremely distressed, 
 when he found that the English people were formally made 
 acquainted with the fact, that ho had dined on the previous 
 Saturday with the Earl and Countess of St. Julians ; ' a 
 
 e '2
 
 84 TANCEED . OE 
 
 grand banquet,' of which he -was quite unconscious until lie 
 read it ; and that he was afterwards ' observed ' at the Opera. 
 
 He found that he had become a public character, and he 
 was not bj any means conscious of meriting celebrity. To 
 be pointed at as he walked the streets, were he a hero, or 
 had done, said, or written anything that anybody remem- 
 bered, though at first painful and embarrassing, for he was 
 shy, he could conceive ultimately becoming endurable, and 
 not without a degree of excitement, for he was ambitious ; 
 but to be looked at because he was a young lord, and that 
 this should be the only reason why the public should be in- 
 formed where he dined, or where he amused himself, seemed 
 to him not only vexatious but degrading. When he arrived, 
 however, at a bulletin of his devotions, he posted off imme- 
 diately to the Surrey Canal to look at a yacht there, and 
 resolved not to lose unnecessarily one moment in setting off 
 for Jerusalem. 
 
 He had from the first busied himself about the prepara- 
 tions for his voyage with all the ardour of youth ; that is, 
 with all the energy of inexperience, and all the vigour of 
 simplicity. As everything seemed to depend upon his ob- 
 taining a suitable vessel, he trusted to no third person ; had 
 visited Cowes several times ; advertised in every paper ; 
 and had already met with more than one yacht which 
 at least deserved consideration. The duchess was quite 
 frightened at his progress. ' I am afraid he has found one, 
 she said to Lord Eskdale ; ' he will be off directly.' 
 
 Lord Eskdale shook his head. ' There are always things 
 of this sort in the market. He will inquire before he pur- 
 chases, and he will find that he has got hold of a slow coach.' 
 
 ' A slow coach ! ' said the duchess, looking inquiringly. 
 'What is that?' 
 
 ' A tub that sails like a collier, and which, instead of 
 taking him to Jerusalem, will hardly take him to Newcastle.' 
 
 Lord Eskdale was right. Notwithstanding all his ardour, 
 all his inquiries, visits to Cowes and the Surrey Canal, ad- 
 vertisements and answers to advertisements, time flew on, 
 and Tancred was still without a vacht.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 85 
 
 In this unsettled state, Tancred found himself one evening 
 at Deloraine House. It was not a ball, it was only a dance, 
 brilliant and select ; but, all the same, it seemed to Tancred 
 that the rooms could not be much more crowded. The 
 name of the Marquess of Montacute, as it was sent along by 
 the servants, attracted attention. Tancred had scarcely 
 entered the world, his appearance had made a sensation, 
 everybody talked of him, many had not yet seen him. 
 
 ' Oh ! that is Lord Montacute,' said a great lady, looking 
 through her glass ; ' very distinguished ! ' 
 
 ' I tell you what,' whispered Mr. Ormsby to Lord Valen- 
 tine, ' you young men had better look sharp ; Lord Monta- 
 cute will cut you all out ! ' 
 
 ' Oh ! he is going to Jerusalem,' said Lord Valentine. 
 
 ' Jerusalem ! ' said Mr. Ormsby, shrugging his shoulders. 
 ' What can he find to do at Jerusalem ? ' 
 
 'What, indeed,' said Lord Milford. 'My brother was 
 there in '39 ; he got leave after the bombardment of Acre, 
 and he says there is absolutely no sport of any kind.' 
 
 ' There used to be partridges in the time of Jeremiah,' 
 said Mr. Ormsby ; ' at least they told us so at the Chapel 
 Royal last Sunday, where, by-the-bye, I saw Lord Monta- 
 cute for the first time ; and a deuced good-looking fellow he 
 is,' he added, musingly. 
 
 ' Well, there is not a bird in the whole country now,' said 
 Lord Milford. 
 
 ' Montacute does not care for sport,' said Lord Valentine. 
 
 ' What does he care for ? ' asked Lord Milford. ' Because, 
 if he wants any horses, I can let him have some.' 
 
 ' He wants to buy a yacht,' said Lord Valentine ; ' and 
 that reminds me that I heard to-day Exmouth wanted to 
 get rid of " The Flower of Yarrow," and I think it would 
 suit my cousin. I'll tell him of it.' And he followed 
 Tancred. 
 
 ' You and Valentine must rub up your harness, Milford,' 
 said Mr. Ormsby ; ' there is a new champion in the field. 
 Wo are talking of Lord Montacute,' continued Mr. Ormsby,
 
 86 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 addressing himself to Mr. Melton, who joined them ; ' I tell 
 Milford he will cut you all out.' 
 
 ' Well,' said Mr. Melton, ' for my part I have had so much 
 success, that I have no objection, by way of change, to be 
 for once eclipsed.' 
 
 ' Well done, Jemmy,' said Lord Milford. 
 
 ' I see, Melton,' said Mr. Ormsby, ' you are reconciled to 
 your fate like a philosopher.' 
 
 'Well, Montacute,' said Lord St. Patrick, a good-tem- 
 pered, witty Milesian, with a laughing eye, ' when are you 
 going to Jericho ? ' 
 
 ' Tell me,' said Tancred, in reply, and rather earnestly, 
 ' who is that ? ' And he directed the attention of Lord St. 
 Patrick to a young lady, rather tall, a brilliant complexion, 
 classic features, a profusion of light brown hair, a face of 
 intelligence, and a figure rich and yet graceful. 
 
 ' That is Lady Constance Rawleigh ; if you like, I will 
 introduce you to her. She is my cousin, and deuced clever. 
 Come along ! ' 
 
 In the meantime, in the room leading to the sculpture 
 gallery where they are dancing, the throng is even exces- 
 sive. As the two great divisions, those who would enter 
 the gallery and those who are quitting it, encounter each 
 other, they exchange flying phrases as tuey pass. 
 
 ' They told me you had gone to Paris ! I have just re- 
 turned. Dear me, how time flies ! Pretty dance, is it not ? 
 Very. Do you know whether the Madlethorpes mean to 
 come up this year ? I hardly know ; their little girl is very 
 ill. Ah ! so I hear ; what a pity, and such a fortune ! Such 
 a, pity with such a fortune ! How d'ye do ? Mr. Coningsby 
 here? No ; he's at the House. They say he is a very close 
 attendant. It interests him. Well, Lady Florentina, you 
 never sent me the dances. Pardon, but you will find them 
 when you return. I lent them to Augasta, and she would 
 copy them. Is it true that I am to congratulate you? 
 Why? Lady Blanche? Oh ! that is a romance of Easter 
 week. Well, I am really delighted ; I think such an excel-
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 87 
 
 lent match for both ; exactly suited to each other. They 
 think so. Well, that is one point. How well Lady Evering- 
 ham is looking ! She is quite herself again. Quite. Tell 
 me, have you seen M. de Talleyrand here ? I spoke to him 
 but this moment. Shall you be at Lady Blair's to-morrow? 
 Xo ; I have promised to go to Mrs. Guy Flouncey's. She 
 has taken Craven Cottage, and is to be at home every 
 Saturday. Well, if you are going, I think I shall. I 
 would ; everybody will be there.' 
 
 Lord Montacute had conversed some time with Lady 
 Constance ; then he had danced with her ; he had hovered 
 about her during the evening. It was observed, particu- 
 larly by some of the most experienced mothers. Lady 
 Constance was a distinguished beauty of two seasons ; 
 fresh, but adroit. It was understood that she had refused 
 offers of a high calibre ; but the rejected still sighed about 
 her, and it was therefore supposed that, though decided, 
 she had the art of not rendering them desperate. One at 
 least of them was of a rank equal to that of Tancred. She 
 had the reputation of being very clever, and of being able, 
 if it pleased her, to breathe scorpions as well as brilliants 
 and roses. It had got about that she admired intellect, 
 and, though she claimed the highest social position, that a 
 booby would not content her, even if his ears were covered 
 with strawberry leaves. 
 
 In the cloak-room, Tancred was still at her side, and was 
 presented to her mother, Lady Charmouth. 
 
 ' I am sorry to separate,' said Tancred. 
 
 'And so am I,' said Lady Constance, smiling ; ' but one 
 advantage of this life is, we meet our friends every day.' 
 
 ' I am not going anywhere to-morrow, where I shall meet 
 you,' said Tancred, ' unless you chance to dine at the Arch- 
 bishop of York's.' 
 
 ' I am not going to dine with the Archbishop of York,' 
 said Lady Constance, ' but I am going, where everybody 
 else is going, to breakfast with Mrs. Guy Flouncey, at 
 Craven Cottage. Why, will not you be there ? '
 
 88 TANCRED; OR 
 
 ' I have not the honour of knowing her,' said Tancred. 
 
 ' That is not of the slightest consequence ; she will be very 
 happy to have the honour of knowing you. I saw her in 
 the dancing-room, but it is not worth while waiting to 
 speak to her now. You shall receive an invitation the mo- 
 ment you are awake.' 
 
 ' But to-morrow I have got an engagement. I have got 
 to look at a yacht.' 
 
 ' But that you can look at on Monday ; besides, if you 
 wish to know anything about yachts, you had better speak 
 to my brother, Fitzheron, who has built more than any 
 man alive.' 
 
 ' Perhaps he has got one that he wishes to part with ? ' 
 said Tancred. 
 
 ' I have no doubt of it. You can ask him to-morrow at 
 Mrs. Guy Flouncey's.' 
 
 'I will. Lady Charmouth's carriage is called. May I 
 have the honour ? ' said Tancred, offering his arm. 
 
 CHAPTER VH. 
 
 THERE is nothing so remarkable as feminine influence. 
 Although the character of Tancred was not completely 
 formed ; for that result depends, in some degree, upon the 
 effect of circumstances at a certain time of life, as well as 
 on the impulse of a natural bent ; still the temper of his 
 being was profound and stedfast. He had arrived, in soli- 
 tude and by the working of his own thought, at a certain 
 resolution, which had assumed to his strong and fervent 
 imagination a sacred character, and which he was deter- 
 mined to accomplish at all costs. He had brought himself 
 to the point, that he would not conceive an obstacle that 
 should balk him. He had acceded to the conditions which 
 had been made by his parents, lor he was by nature dutiful, 
 and wished to fulfil his purpose, if possible, with their 
 sanction.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 89 
 
 Yet he had entered society with repugnance, and found 
 nothing in its general tone with which his spirit harmonised. 
 He was alone in the crowd ; silent, observing, and not 
 charmed. There seemed to him generally a want of sim- 
 plicity and repose ; too much flutter, not a little affectation. 
 People met in the thronged chambers, and interchanged 
 brief words, as if they were always in a hnrry. * Have you 
 been here long ? Where are you going next ? ' These 
 were the questions which seemed to form the staple of the 
 small talk of a fashionable multitude. Why too was there 
 a smile on every countenance, which often also assumed the 
 character of a grin ? No error so common or so grievous 
 as to suppose that a smile is a necessary ingredient of the 
 pleasing. There are few faces that can afford to smile. A 
 smile is sometimes bewitching, in general vapid, often a 
 contortion. But the bewitching smile usually beams from 
 the grave face. It is then irresistible. Tancred, though 
 he was unaware of it, was gifted with this rare spell. He 
 had inherited it from his mother ; a woman naturally 
 earnest and serious, and of a singular simplicity, but whose 
 heart when pleased spoke in the dimpling sunshine of her 
 cheek with exquisite beauty. The smiles of the Duchess of 
 Bellamont, however, were like her diamonds, brilliant, but 
 rarely worn. 
 
 Tancred had not mounted the staircase of Deloraine 
 House with any anticipation of pleasure. His thoughts 
 were far away amid cities of the desert, and by the palmy 
 banks of ancient rivers. He often took refuge in these 
 exciting and ennobling visions, to maintain himself when 
 he underwent the ceremony of entering a great house. He 
 was so shy in little things, that to hear his name sounded 
 from servant to servant, echoing from landing-place to 
 landing-place, was almost overwhelming. Nothing but hia 
 pride, which was just equal to his reserve, prevented him 
 from often turning back on the stairs and precipitately re- 
 treating. And yet he had not been ten minutes in Delo- 
 raine House, before he had absolutely requested to ba
 
 90 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 introduced to a lady. It was the first time he had ever 
 made such a request. 
 
 He returned home, softly musing. A tone lingered in 
 his ear ; he recalled the countenance of one absent. In his 
 dressing room he lingered before he retired, with his arm 
 on the mantel- piece, and gazing with abstraction on the fire. 
 
 When his servant called him in the morning, the servant 
 brought him a card from Mrs. Guy Flouncey, inviting him 
 on that day to Craven Cottage, at three o'clock : ' dejeuner 
 at four o'clock precisely.' Tancred took the card, looked 
 at it, and the letters seemed to cluster together and form 
 the countenance of Lady Constance. ' It will be a good 
 thing to go,' he said, ' because I want to know Lord Fitz- 
 heron ; he will be of great use to me about my yacht.' So 
 he ordered his carriage at three o'clock. 
 
 The reader must not for a moment suppose that Mrs. 
 Guy Flouncey, though she was quite as well dressed, and 
 almost as pretty, as she was when at Coningsby Castle in 
 1837, was by any means the same lady who then strove to 
 amuse and struggled to be noticed. By no means. In 
 1837, Mrs. Guy Flouncey was nobody ; in 1845, Mrs. Guy 
 Flouncey was somebody, and somebody of very great im- 
 portance. Mrs. Guy Flouncey had invaded society, and 
 had conquered it, gradually, but completely, like the 
 English in India. Social invasions are not rare, but they 
 are seldom fortunate, or success, if achieved, is partial, 
 and then only sustained at immense cost, like the French 
 in Algiers. 
 
 The Guy Flounceys were not people of great fortune. 
 They had a good fortune ; seven or eight thousand a-year. 
 But then, with an air of great expenditure, even profusion, 
 there was a basis of good management. And a good fortune 
 with good management, and without that equivocal luxury, a 
 great country-house, is almost equal to the great fortune 
 of a peer. But they not only had no country-house, they 
 had no children. And a good fortune, with good manage- 
 ment, no country-house, and no children, is Aladdin's lamp.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 91 
 
 Mr. Guy Flouncey was a sporting character. His wife 
 had impressed upon him that it was the only way in which 
 he could become fashionable and acquainted with * the best 
 men.' He knew just enough of the affair not to be ridicu- 
 lous; and, for the rest, with a great deal of rattle and 
 apparent heedlessness of speech and deed, he was really an 
 extremely selfish and sufficiently shrewd person, who never 
 compromised himself. It is astonishing with what dex- 
 terity Guy Flouncey could extricate himself from the jaws 
 of a friend, who, captivated by his thoughtless candour and 
 ostentatiously good heart, might be induced to request Mr. 
 Flouncey to lend him a few hundreds, only for a few 
 months, or, more diplomatically, might beg bis friend to 
 become his security for a few thousands, for a few years. 
 Mr. Guy Flouncey never refused these applications, they 
 were exactly those to which it delighted his heart to 
 respond, because nothing pleased him more than serving a 
 friend. But then he always had to write a preliminary 
 letter of preparation to his banker, or his steward, or his 
 confidential solicitor ; and, by some contrivance or other, 
 without offending any one, rather with the appearance of 
 conferring an obligation, it ended always by Mr. Guy 
 Flouncey neither advancing the hundreds, nor guaranteeing 
 the thousands. He had, indeed, managed, like many others, 
 to get the reputation of being what is called ' a good 
 fellow;' though it would have puzzled his panegyrists to 
 allege a single act of his that evinced a good heart. 
 
 This sort of pseudo reputation, whether for good or for 
 evil, is not uncommon in the world. Man is mimetic ; 
 judges of character are rare ; we repeat without thought 
 the opinions of some third person, who has adopted them 
 without inquiry ; and thus it often happens that a proud 
 generous man obtains in time the reputation of being ' a 
 screw,' because he has refused to lend money to some im- 
 pudent spendthrift, who from that moment abuses him ; 
 and a cold-hearted, civil-spoken personage, profuse in cost- 
 less services, with a spice of the parasite in him, or perhaps
 
 92 TAXCREDj OR 
 
 hospitable out of vanity, is invested with all the thoughtless 
 sympathies of society, and passes current as that most popu- 
 lar of characters, ' a good fellow.' 
 
 Guy Flouncey's dinners began to be talked of among 
 men ; it became a sort of fashion, especially among sport- 
 ing men, to dine with Mr. Guy Flouncey, and there they 
 met Mrs. Guy Flouncey. Not an opening ever escaped 
 her. If a man had a wife, and that wife was a personage, 
 sooner or later, much as she might toss her head at first, 
 she was sure to visit Mrs. Guy Flouncey, and, when she 
 knew her, she was sure to like her. The Guy Flounceys 
 never lost a moment ; the instant the season was over, they 
 were at Cowes, then at a German bath, then at Paris, then 
 at an English country-house, then in London. Seven 
 years, to such people, was half a century of social expe- 
 rience. They had half a dozen seasons in every year. 
 Still it was hard work, and not rapid. At a certain point 
 they stuck, as all do. Most people, then, give it up ; but 
 patience, Buffon tells us, is genius, and Mrs. Guy Flouncey 
 was, in her way, a woman of genius. Their dinners were, 
 in a certain sense, established : these in return brought 
 them to a certain degree into the dinner world ; but balls, 
 at least balls of a high calibre, were few, and as for giving 
 a ball herself, Mrs. Guy Flouncey could no more presume 
 to think of that, than of attempting to prorogue Parliament. 
 The house, however, got really celebrated for ' the best 
 men.' Mrs. Guy Flouncey invited all the young dancing 
 lords to dinner. Mothers will bring their daughters where 
 there are young lords. Mrs. Guy Flouncey had an opera- 
 box in the best tier, which she took only to lend to her 
 friends ; and a box at the French play, which she took 
 only to bribe her foes. They were both at everybody's 
 service, like Mr. Guy Flouncey's yacht, provided the per- 
 sons who required them were members of that great world 
 in which Mrs. Guy Flouncey had resolved to plant herself. 
 
 Mrs. Guy Flouncey was pretty ; she was a flirt on 
 principle ; thus she had caught the Marquess of Beauma-
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 93 
 
 noir, who, if they chanced to meet, always spoke to her, 
 which gave Mrs. Guy Flouncey fashion. But Mrs. Guy 
 Flouncey was nothing more than a flirt. She never made 
 a mistake ; she was born with strong social instincts. She 
 knew that the fine ladies among whom, from the first, she 
 had determined to place herself, were moral martinets 
 with respect to any one not born among themselves. That 
 which is not observed, or, if noticed, playfully alluded to in 
 the conduct of a patrician dame, is visited with scorn and 
 contumely, if committed by some ' shocking woman,' who 
 has deprived perhaps a countess of the affections of a hus- 
 band who has not spoken to her for years. But if the 
 countess is to lose her husband, she ought to lose him to a 
 viscountess, at least. In this way the earl is not lost to 
 4 society.' 
 
 A great nobleman met Mrs. Guy Flouncey at a country- 
 house, and was fairly captivated by her. Her pretty looks, 
 her coquettish manner, her vivacity, her charming costume, 
 above all, perhaps, her imperturbable good temper, pierced 
 him to the heart. The great nobleman's wife had the 
 weakness to be annoyed. Mrs. Guy Flouncey saw her 
 opportunity. She threw over the earl, and became the 
 friend of the countess, who could never sufficiently evince 
 her gratitude to the woman who would not make love to 
 her husband. This friendship was the incident for which 
 Mrs. Guy Flouncey had been cruising for years. Men she 
 had vanquished ; they had given her a sort of ton which 
 she had prudently managed. She had not destroyed herself 
 by any fatal preference. Still, her fashion among men 
 necessarily made her unfashionable among women, who, if 
 they did not absolutely hate her, which they would have 
 done had she had a noble lover, were determined not to 
 help her up the social ladder. Now she had a great friend, 
 and one of the greatest of ladies. The moment she had 
 pondered over for years had arrived. Mrs. Guy Flouncey 
 determined at once to test her position. Mrs. Guy 
 Flouncey resolved on giving a ball.
 
 94 TANCRED : OR 
 
 But some of our friends in the country will say, ' Is that 
 all ? Surely it required no very great resolution, no very 
 protracted pondering, to determine on giving a ball ! 
 Where is the difficulty ? The lady has but to light up her 
 house, hire the fiddlers, line her staircase with American 
 plants, perhaps inclose her balcony, order Mr. Gunter to 
 provide plenty of the best refreshments, and at one o'clock 
 a superb supper, and, with the company of your friends, 
 you have as good a ball as can be desired by the young, or 
 endured by the old.' 
 
 Innocent friends in the country ! You might have all 
 these things. Your house might be decorated like a 
 Russian palace, blazing with the most brilliant lights and 
 breathing the richest odours ; you might have Jullien pre- 
 siding over your orchestra, and a banquet worthy of the 
 Romans. As for your friends, they might dance until day- 
 break, and agree that there never was an entertainment 
 more tasteful, more sumptuous, and, what would seem of 
 the first importance, more merry. But, having all these 
 things, suppose you have not a list ? You have given a 
 ball, you have not a list. The reason is obvious : you are 
 ashamed of your guests. You are not in ' society.' 
 
 But even a list is not sufficient for success. You must 
 also get a day : the most difficult thing in the world. 
 After inquiring among your friends, and studying the 
 columns of the 'Morning Post,' you discover that, five 
 weeks hence, a day is disengaged. You send out your 
 cards ; your house is dismantled ; your lights are arranged ; 
 the American plants have arrived ; the band, perhaps two 
 bands, are engaged. Mr. Gunter has half dressed your 
 supper, and made all your ice, when suddenly, within 
 eight-and-forty hours of the festival which you have been 
 five weeks preparing, the Marchioness of Deloraine sends 
 out cards for a ball in honour of some European sovereign 
 who has just alighted on our isle, and means to stay only a 
 week, and at whose court, twenty years ago, Lord Deloraine 
 was ambassador. Instead of receiving your list, you are
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 95 
 
 obliged to send messengers in all directions to announce 
 that your ball is postponed, although you are perfectly 
 aware that not a single individual would have been present 
 whom you would have cared to welcome. 
 
 The ball is postponed ; and next day the ' Morning Post ' 
 informs us it is postponed to that day week ; and tho 
 day after you have circulated this interesting intelligence, 
 you yourself, perhaps, have the gratification of receiving 
 an invitation, for the same day, to Lady St. Julians : with 
 ' dancing,' neatly engraved in the corner. You yield in 
 despair ; and there are some ladies who, with every quali- 
 fication for an excellent ball ; guests, Gunter, American 
 plants, pretty daughters ; have been watching and waiting 
 for years for an opportunity of giving it ; and at last, quite 
 hopeless, at the end of the season, expend their funds in a 
 series of Greenwich banquets, which sometimes fortunately 
 produce the results expected from the more imposing 
 festivity. 
 
 You see, therefore, that giving a ball is not that matter- 
 of-course afiair you imagined ; and that for Mrs. Guy 
 Flouncey to give a ball and succeed, completely, trium- 
 phantly to succeed, was a feat worthy of that fine social 
 general. Yet she did it. The means, like everything that 
 is great, were simple. She induced her noble friend to ask 
 her guests. Her noble friend canvassed for her as if it 
 were a county election of the good old days, when the 
 representation of a shire was the certain avenue to a 
 peerage, instead of being, as it is now, the high road to a 
 poor-law commissionership. Many were very glad to make 
 the acquaintance of Mrs. Guy Flouncey ; many only wanted 
 an excuse to make the acquaintance of Mrs. Guy Flouucey ; 
 they went to her party because they were asked by their 
 dear friend, Lady Kingcastle. As for the potentates, there 
 is no disguise on these subjects among them. They went 
 to Mrs. Guy Flonncey's ball, because one who was their 
 equal, not only in rank, but in social influence, had re- 
 quested it as a personal favour, she herself, when tho
 
 96 TANCEED; OK 
 
 occasion offered, being equally ready to advance their 
 wishes. The fact was, that affairs were ripe for the recog- 
 nition of Mrs. Guy Flouncey as a member of the social 
 body. Circumstances had been long maturing. The Guy 
 Flounceys, who, in the course of their preparatory career, 
 had hopped from Park Crescent to Portman Square, had 
 now perched upon their ' splendid mansion ' in Belgrave 
 Square. Their dinners were renowned. Mrs. Guy Flouncey 
 was seen at all the ' best balls,' and was always surrounded 
 by the 'best men.' Though a flirt and a pretty woman, 
 she was a discreet parvenue, who did not entrap the affec- 
 tions of noble husbands. Above all, she was the friend of 
 Lady Kingcastle, who called her and her husband ' those 
 good Guy Flounceys.' 
 
 The ball was given ; you could not pass through Bel- 
 grave Square that night. The list was published ; it 
 formed two columns of the ' Morning Post.' Lady King- 
 castle was honoured by the friendship of a royal duchess. 
 She put the friendship to the proof, and her royal highness 
 was seen at Mrs. Guy Flouncey's ball. Imagine the recep- 
 tion, the canopy, the scarlet cloth, the ' God save the King ' 
 from the band of the first guards, bivouacked in the hall, 
 Mrs. Guy Flouncey herself performing her part as if she 
 had received princesses of the blood all her life ; so reverent 
 and yet so dignified, so very calm and yet with a sort of 
 winning, sunny innocence. Her royal highness was quite 
 charmed with her hostess, praised her much to Lady King- 
 castle, told her that she was glad that she had come, and 
 even stayed half an hour longer than Mrs. Guy Flouncey 
 had dared to hope. As for the other guests the peerage 
 was gutted. The Dictator himself was there, and, the 
 moment her royal highness had retired, Mrs. Guy Flonncey 
 devoted herself to the hero. All the great ladies, all the 
 ambassadors, all the beauties, a full chapter of the Garter, 
 a chorus among the ' best men ' that it was without doubt 
 the ' best ball ' of the year, happy Mrs. Guy Flouncey ! 
 She threw a glance at her swing-glass while Mr. Guy
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 97 
 
 Flouncey, ' who had not had time to get anything the 
 whole evening,' was eating some supper on a tray in her 
 dressing-room at five o'clock in the morning, and said, ' We 
 have done it at last, my love ! ' 
 
 She was right ; and from that moment Mrs. Guy Flouncey 
 was asked to all the great houses, and became a lady of the 
 most unexceptionable ton. 
 
 But all this time we are forgetting her dejeuner, and 
 that Tancred is winding his way through the garden lanes 
 of Fulham to reach Craven Cottage. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE day was brilliant : music, sunshine, ravishing bonnets, 
 little parasols that looked like large butterflies. The new 
 phaetons glided up, then carriages and four swept by ; in 
 general the bachelors were ensconced in their comfortable 
 broughams, with their glasses down and their blinds drawn, 
 to receive the air and to exclude the dust ; some less provi- 
 dent were cavaliers, but, notwithstanding the well- watered 
 roads, seemed a little dashed as they cast an anxious glance 
 at the rose which adorned their button-hole, or fancied that 
 they felt a flying black from a London chimney light upon 
 the tip of their nose. 
 
 Within, the winding walks dimly echoed whispering 
 words ; the lawn was studded with dazzling groups ; on the 
 terrace by the river a dainty multitude beheld those cele- 
 brated waters which furnish flounders to Richmond and 
 whitebait to Blackwall. 
 
 ' Mrs. Comngsby shall decide,' said Lord Beaumanoir. 
 
 Edith and Lady Theresa Lyle stood by a statue that 
 glittered in the sun surrounded by a group of cavaliers ; 
 among them, Lord Beaumanoir, Lord Milford, Lord Eugene 
 de Vere. Her figure was not less lithe and graceful since 
 her marriage, a little more voluptuous ; her rich complexion, 
 her radiant and abounding hair, and her long grey eye,
 
 98 TANCKED; OR 
 
 now melting with pathos, and now twinkling with mockery, 
 presented one of those faces of witcheiy which are beyond 
 beauty. 
 
 ' Mrs. Coningsby shall decide.' 
 
 ' It is the very thing,' said Edith, ' that Mrs. Coningsby 
 will never do. Decision destroys suspense, and suspense is 
 the charm of existence.' 
 
 ' But suspense may be agony,' said Lord Eugene de 
 Vere, casting a glance that would read the innermost heart 
 of Edith. 
 
 ' And decision may be despair,' said Mrs. Coningsby. 
 
 ' But we agreed the other night that you were to decide 
 everything for us,' said Lord Beaumanoir ; ' and you con- 
 sented.' 
 
 * I consented the other night, and I retract my consent 
 to-day; and I am consistent, for that is indecision.' 
 
 ' You are consistent in being charming,' said Lord 
 Eugene. 
 
 ' Pleasing and original ! ' said Edith. ' By-the-bye, when 
 I consented that the melancholy Jaques should be one of 
 my aides-de-camp I expected him to maintain his reputa- 
 tion, not only for gloom but wit. I think you had better 
 go back to the forest, Lord Eugene, and see if you cannot 
 stumble upon a fool who may drill you in repartee. How 
 do you do, Lady Riddlesworth ? ' and she bowed to two 
 ladies who seemed inclined to stop, but Edith added, ' I 
 heard great applications for you this moment on the terrace.' 
 
 * Indeed ! ' exclaimed the ladies ; and they moved on. 
 'When Lady Riddlesworth joins the conversation it is 
 
 like a stoppage in the streets. I invented a piece of intel- 
 ligence to clear the way, as you would call out Fire ! or 
 The queen is coming ! There used to be things called vers 
 de societe, which were not poetry ; and I do not see why 
 there should not be social illusions which are not fibs.' 
 
 ' I entirely agree with you,' said Lord Milford ; ' and I 
 move that we practise them on a large scale.' 
 
 ' Like the verses, they might make life more light,' said 
 Lady Theresa.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. <J9 
 
 4 We are surrounded by illusions/ said Lord Eugene, in a 
 melancholy tone. 
 
 ' And shams of all descriptions,' said Edith ; ' the greatest, 
 a man who pretends he has a broken heart when all the 
 time he is full of fun.' 
 
 ' There are a great many men who have broken hearts,' 
 said Lord Beaumanoir, smiling sorrowfully. 
 
 ' Cracked heads are much commoner,' said Edith, ' you 
 may rely upon it. The only man I really know with a 
 broken heart is Lord Fitzbooby. I do think that paying 
 Mount-Dullard's debts has broken his heart. He takes 
 on so ; 'tis piteous. " My dear Mrs. Coningsby," he said to 
 me last night, " only think what that young man might have 
 been ; he might have been a lord of the treasury in '35 ; 
 why, if he had had nothing more in '41, why, there's a loss 
 of between four and five thousand pounds ; but with my 
 claims ; Sir Robert, having thrown the father over, was 
 bound on his own principle to provide for the son ; he might 
 have got something better ; and now he comes to me with 
 his debts, and his reason for paving his debts, too, Mrs. 
 Coningsby, because he is going to be married ; to be mar- 
 ried to a woman who has not a shilling. Why, if he had 
 been in office, and only got 1,500Z. a-year, and married a 
 woman with only another 1,500Z., he would have had 3,OOOZ. 
 a-year, Mrs. Coningsby ; and now he has nothing of his 
 own except some debts, which he wants me to pay, and 
 settle 3,OOOZ. a-year on him besides." ' 
 
 They all laughed. 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said Mrs. Coningsby, with a resemblance which 
 made all start, 'you should have heard it with the Fitz- 
 booby voice.' 
 
 The character of a woman i-apidly develops after marriage, 
 and sometimes seems to change, when in fact it is only 
 complete. Hitherto we have known Edith only in her 
 girlhood, bred up in a life of great simplicity, and under 
 the influence of a sweet fancy, or an absorbing passion. 
 Coningsby had been a hero to her before they met, tho 
 
 u 2
 
 100 TANCRED; OK 
 
 hero of nursery hours and nursery tales. Experience had 
 not disturbed those dreams. From the moment they en- 
 countered each other at Millbank, he assumed that place in 
 her heart which he had long occupied in her imagination ; 
 and, after their second meeting at Paris, her existence 
 was merged in love. All the crosses and vexations of their 
 early affection only rendered this state of being on her part 
 more profound and engrossing. 
 
 But though Edith was a most happy wife, and blessed 
 with two children worthy of their parents, love exercises . 
 quite a different influence upon a woman when she has 
 married, and especially when she has assumed a social 
 position which deprives life of all its real cares. Under any 
 circumstances, that suspense, which, with all its occasional 
 agony, is the great spring of excitement, is over ; but, 
 generally speaking, it will be found, notwithstanding the 
 proverb, that with persons of a noble nature, the straitened 
 fortunes which they share together, and manage, and miti- 
 gate by mutual forbearance, are more conducive to the 
 sustainment of a high-toned and romantic passion, than a 
 luxurious and splendid prosperity. The wife of a man of 
 limited means, who, by contrivance, by the concealed sacri- 
 fice of some necessity of her own, supplies him with some 
 slight enjoyment which he has never asked, but which she 
 fancies he may have sighed for, experiences, without doubt, 
 a degree of pleasure far more ravishing than the patrician 
 dame who stops her barouche at Storr and Mortimer's, 
 and out of her pin-money buys a trinket for the husband 
 whom she loves, and which he finds, perhaps, on his dress- 
 ing table, on the anniversary of their wedding-day. That's 
 pretty too and touching, and should be encouraged ; but 
 the other thrills, and ends in an embrace that is still poetry. 
 
 The Coningsbys shortly after their marriage had been 
 called to the possession of a great fortune, for which, in 
 every sense, they were well adapted. But a great fortune 
 necessarily brings with it a great change of habits. The 
 claims of society proportionately increase with your income.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 101 
 
 You live less for yourselves. For a selfish maa, merely 
 looking to liis luxurious ease, Lord Eskrlale's idea of having 
 ten thousand a-year, while the world suppose you have only 
 five, is the right thing. Coningsby, however, looked to a 
 great fortune as one of the means, rightly employed, of 
 obtaining great power. He looked also to his wife to assist 
 him in this enterprise. Edith, from a native impulse, as 
 well as from love for her husband, responded to his wish. 
 When they were in the country, Hellingsley was a perpetual 
 stream and scene of splendid hospitality ; there the flower 
 of London society mingled with all the aristocracy of the 
 county. Leander was often retained specially, like a Wilde 
 or a Kelly, to renovate the genius of the habitual chief: 
 not of the circuit, but the kitchen. A noble mansion in 
 Park Lane received them the moment Parliament assembled. 
 Coningsby was then immersed in affairs, and counted en- 
 tirely on Edith to cherish those social influences which in 
 a public career are not less important than political ones. 
 The whole weight of the management of society rested 
 on her. She had to cultivate his alliances, keep together 
 his friends, arrange his dinner-parties, regulate his engage- 
 ments. What time for romantic love ? They were never 
 an hour alone. Yet they loved not less ; but love had taken 
 the character of enjoyment instead of a wild bewitchment ; 
 and life had become an airy bustle, instead of a storm, an 
 agony, a hurricane of the heart. 
 
 In this change in the disposition, not in the degree, of 
 their affection, for there was the same amount of sweet 
 solicitude, only it was duly apportioned to everything that 
 interested them, instead of being exclusively devoted to 
 each other, the character of Edith, which had been swal- 
 lowed up by the absorbing passion, rapidly developed itself 
 amid the social circumstances. She was endued with great 
 vivacity, a sanguine and rather saucy spirit, with consi- 
 derable talents, and a large share of feminine vanity : that 
 divine gift which makes woman charming. Entirely sympa- 
 thising with her husband, labouring with zeal to advance
 
 ] 02 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 his views, and living perpetually in the world, all these 
 qualities came to light. During her first season she had 
 been very quiet, not less observant, making herself mistress 
 of the ground. It was prepared for her next campaign. 
 When she evinced a disposition to take a lead, although 
 found faultless the first year, it was suddenly remembered 
 that she was a manufacturer's daughter ; and she was once 
 described by a great lady as ' that person whom Mr. Con- 
 ingsby had married, when Lord Monmouth cut him off with 
 a shilling.' 
 
 But Edith had. anticipated these difficulties, and was not 
 to be daunted. Proud of her husband, confident in herself, 
 supported by a great establishment, and having many friends, 
 she determined to exchange salutes with these social sharp- 
 shooters, who are scarcely as courageous as they are arro- 
 gant. It was discovered that Mrs. Coningsby could be as 
 malicious as her assailants, and far more epigrammatic. 
 She could describe in a sentence and personify in a phrase. 
 The mot was circulated, the nom de nique repeated. Sur- 
 rounded by a brilliant band of youth and wit, even her 
 powers of mimickry were revealed to the initiated. More 
 than one social tyrant, whom all disliked, but whom none 
 had ventured to resist, was made ridiculous. Flushed by 
 success and stimulated by admiration, Edith flattered her- 
 self that she was assisting her husband while she was 
 gratifying her vanity. Her adversaries soon vanished, but 
 the powers that had vanquished them were too choice to be 
 forgotten or neglected. The tone of raillery she had assumed 
 for the moment, and extended, in self-defence, to persons, 
 was adopted as a habit, and infused itself over affairs in 
 general. 
 
 Mrs. Coningsby was the fashion ; she was a wit as well 
 as a beauty ; a fascinating droll ; dazzling and bewitching, 
 the idol of every youth. Eugene de Vere was roused from 
 his premature exhaustion, and at last again found excitement. 
 He threw himself at her feet ; she laughed at him. He 
 asked leave to follow her footsteps ; she consented. He
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 103 
 
 was only one of a band of slaves. Lord Beaumanoir, still 
 a bachelor, always hovered about her; feeding on her 
 laughing words with a mild melancholy, and sometimes 
 bandying repartee with a kind of tender and stately despair. 
 His sister, Lady Theresa Lyle, was Edith's great friend. Their 
 dispositions had some resemblance. Marriage had developed 
 in both of them a frolic grace. They hunted in couple ; 
 and their sport was brilliant. Many things may be said by 
 a strong female alliance, that would assume quite a different 
 character were they even to fall from the lips of an Aspasia 
 to a circle of male votaries ; so much depends upon the 
 scene and the characters, the mode and the manner. 
 
 The good-natured world would sometimes pause in its 
 amusement, and, after dwelling with statistical accuracy on 
 the number of times Mrs. Coningsby had danced the Polka, 
 on the extraordinary things she said to Lord Eugene de 
 Vere, and the odd Uiings she and Lady Theresa Lyle were 
 perpetually doing, would wonder, with a face and voice 
 of innocence, ' how Mr. Coningsby liked all this ? ' There 
 is no doubt what was the anticipation by the good-natured 
 world of Mr. Coningsby's feelings. But they were quite 
 mistaken. There was nothing that Mr. Coningsby liked 
 more. He wished his wife to become a social power ; and 
 he wished his wife to be amused. He saw that, with the 
 surface of a life of levity, she already exercised considerable 
 influence, especially over the young ; and independently of 
 such circumstances and considerations, he was delighted 
 to have a wife who was not afraid of going into society by 
 herself ; not one whom he was sure to find at home when 
 he returned from the House of Commons, not reproaching 
 him exactly for her social sacrifices, but looking a victim, 
 and thinking that she retained her husband's heart by being 
 a mope. Instead of that, Coningsby wanted to be amused 
 when he came home, and more than that, he wanted to be 
 instructed in the finest learning in the world. 
 
 As some men keep up their Greek by reading every day 
 a chapter in the New Testament, so Coningsby kept up his
 
 104 TANCRED; OR 
 
 knowledge of the world, by always, once at least in the four 
 and twenty hours, having a delightful conversation with 
 his wife. The processes are equally orthodox. Exempted 
 from the tax of entering general society, free to follow his 
 own pursuits, and to live in that political world which alone 
 interested him, there was not an anecdote, a trait, a good 
 thing said, or a bad thing done, which did not reach him 
 by a fine critic and a lively narrator. He was always be- 
 hind those social scenes which, after all, regulate the poli- 
 tical performers, knew the springs of the whole machinery, 
 the changings and the shiftings, the fiery cars and golden 
 chariots which men might mount, and the trap-doors down 
 which men might fall. 
 
 But the Marquess of Montacute is making his reverence 
 to Mrs. Guy Flouncey. 
 
 There was not at this moment a human being whom that 
 lady was more glad to see at her dejeuner ; but she did not 
 show it in the least. Her self-possession, indeed, was the 
 finest work of art of the day, and ought to be exhibited at 
 the Adelaide Gallery. Like all mechanical inventions of a 
 high class, it had been brought to perfection very gradually, 
 and after many experiments. A variety of combinations, 
 and an almost infinite number of trials, must have been ex- 
 pended before the too- startling laugh of Coningsby Castle 
 could have subsided into the haughty suavity of that sunny 
 glance, which was not familiar enough for a smile, nor 
 foolish enough for a simper. As for the rattling vein which 
 distinguished her in the days of our first acquaintance, that 
 had long ceased. Mrs. Guy Flouncey now seemed to share 
 the prevalent passion for genuine Saxon, and used only 
 monosyllables ; while Fine-ear himself would have been 
 sometimes at fault had he attempted to give a name to her 
 delicate breathings. In short, Mrs. Guy Flouncey never 
 did or said anything but in ' the best taste.' It may, how- 
 ever, be a question, whether she ever would have captivated 
 Lord Monmouth, and those who like a little nature and fun, 
 if she had made her first advances in this style. But that 
 showed the greatness of the woman. Then she was ready
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 105 
 
 Tor anything for promotion. That was the age of forlorn 
 hopes ; but now she was a general of division, and had as- 
 sumed a becoming carriage. 
 
 This was the first dejeuner at which Tancred had been 
 present. He rather liked it. The scene, lawns and groves 
 and a glancing river, the air, the music, our beautiful coun- 
 trywomen, who, with their brilliant complexions and bright 
 bonnets, do not shrink from the daylight, these are circum- 
 stances which, combined with yonth and health, make a 
 morning festival, say what they like, particularly for the 
 first time, very agreeable, even if one be dreaming of Jeru- 
 salem. Strange power of the world, that the moment we 
 enter it, our great conceptions dwarf ! In youth it is quick 
 sympathy that degrades them ; more advanced, it is the 
 sense of the ridiculous. But perhaps these reveries of soli- 
 tude may not be really great conceptions ; perhaps they are 
 only exaggerations ; vague, indefinite, shadowy, formed on 
 no sound principles, founded on no assured basis. 
 
 Why should Tancred go to Jerusalem ? What does it 
 signify to him whether there be religious truth or political 
 justice ? He has youth, beauty, rank, wealth, power, and 
 all in excess. He has a mind that can comprehend their 
 importance and appreciate their advantages. What more 
 does he require ? Unreasonable boy ! And if he reach 
 Jerusalem, why should he find religious truth and political 
 justice there ? He can read of it in the travelling books, 
 written by young gentlemen, with the best letters of intro- 
 duction to all the consuls. They tell us what it is, a third- 
 rate city in a stony wilderness. Will the Providence of 
 Fashion prevent this great folly about to be perpetrated by 
 one born to be Fashion's most brilliant subject ? A folly, 
 too, which may end in a catastrophe ? His parents, indeed, 
 have appealed in vain ; but the sneer of the world will do 
 more than the supplication of the father. A mother's tear 
 may be disregarded, but the sigh of a mistress has changed 
 the most obdurate. We shall see. At present Lady Con- 
 stance Rawleigh expresses her pleasure at Tancred's arrival, 
 and his heart beats a little-
 
 106 TANCRED; OR 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ' THEY are talking about it,' said Lord Eskdale to the 
 duchess, as she looked up to him with an expression of the 
 deepest interest. 
 
 ' He asked St. Patrick to introduce him to her at Delo- 
 raine House, danced with her, was with her the whole even- 
 ing, went to the breakfast on Saturday to meet her, instead 
 of going to Blackwall to see a yacht he was after.' 
 
 'If it were only Katherine,' said the duchess, 'I should 
 be quite happy.' 
 
 ' Don't be uneasy,' said Lord Eskdale ; ' there will be 
 plenty of Katherines and Constances, too, before he finishes. 
 This affair is not much, but it shows, as I foretold, that, the 
 moment he found something more amusing, his taste for 
 yachting would pass off.' 
 
 ' You are right, you always are.' 
 
 What really was this affair, which Lord Eskdale held 
 lightly ? With a 'character like Tancred, everything may 
 become important. Profound and yet simple, deep in self- 
 knowledge yet inexperienced, his reserve, which would 
 screen him from a thousand dangers, was just the quality 
 which would insure his thraldom by the individual who 
 could once effectually melt the icy barrier and reach the 
 central heat. At this moment of his life, with all the re- 
 pose, and sometimes even the high ceremony, on the surface, 
 he was a being formed for high-reaching exploits, ready to 
 dare everything and reckless of all consequences, if he pro- 
 posed to himself an object which he believed to be just and 
 great. This temper of mind would, in all things, have made 
 him act with that rapidity, which is rashness with the weak, 
 and decision with the strong. The influence of woman on 
 him was novel. It was a disturbing influence, on which he 
 had never counted in those dreams and visions in which 
 there had figured more heroes than heroines. In the ima- 
 ginary interviews in which he had disciplined his solitary 
 mind, his antagonists had been statesmen, prelates, sages,
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 107 
 
 and senators, with whom he struggled and whom he van- 
 quished. 
 
 He was not unequal in practice to his dreams. His shy- 
 ness would have vanished in an instant before a great occa- 
 sion ; he could have addressed a public assembly ; he was 
 capable of transacting important affairs. These were all 
 situations and contingencies which he had foreseen, and 
 which for him were not strange, for he had become ac- 
 quainted with them in his reveries. But suddenly he was 
 arrested by an influence for which he was unprepared ; a 
 precious stone made him stumble who was to have scaled 
 the Alps. Why should the voice, the glance, of another 
 agitate his heart ? The cherubim of his heroic thoughts 
 not only deserted him, but he was left without the guardian 
 angel of his shyness. He melted, and the iceberg might 
 degenerate into a puddle. 
 
 Lord Eskdale drew his conclusions like a clever man of 
 the world, and in general he would have been right ; but a 
 person like Tancred was in much greater danger of being 
 captured than a common-place youth entering life with 
 second-hand experience, and living among those who ruled 
 his opinions by their sneers and sarcasms. A malicious tale 
 by a spiteful woman, the chance ribaldry of a club-room 
 window, have often been the impure agencies which have 
 saved many a youth from committing a great folly ; but 
 Tancred was beyond all these influences. If they had been 
 brought to bear on him, they would rather have precipi- 
 tated the catastrophe. His imagination would have im- 
 mediately been summoned to the rescue of his offended 
 pride ; he would have invested the object of his regard with 
 supernatural qualities, and consoled her for the imperti- 
 nence of society by his devotion. 
 
 Lady Constance was clever ; she talked like a married 
 woman, was critical, yet easy ; and having guanoed her 
 mind by reading French novels, had a variety of conclusions 
 on all social topics, which she threw forth with unfaltering 
 promptness, and with the well-arranged air of an im- 
 promptu. These were all new to Tancred, and startling.
 
 108 TANCRED; OR 
 
 He was attracted by the brilliancy, though he often re- 
 gretted the tone, which he ascribed to the surrounding 
 corruption from which he intended to escape, and almost 
 wished to save her at the same time. Sometimes Tancred 
 looked unusually serions ; but at last his rare and brilliant 
 smile beamed upon one who really admired him, was capti- 
 vated by his intellect, his freshness, his difference from all 
 around, his pensive beauty and his grave innocence. Lady 
 Constance was free from affectation ; she was frank and 
 natural; she did not conceal the pleasure she had in his 
 society ; she conducted herself with that dignified facility, 
 becoming a young lady who had already refused the hands 
 of two future earls, and of the heir of the Clan-Alpins. 
 
 A short time after the dejeuner at Craven Cottage, Lord 
 Montacute called on Lady Charmouth. She was at home, 
 and received him with great cordiality, looking up from her 
 frame of worsted work with a benign maternal expression ; 
 while Lady Constance, who was writing an urgent reply to 
 a note that had just arrived, said rapidly some agreeable 
 words of welcome, and continued her task. Tancred seated 
 himself by the mother, made an essay in that small talk in 
 which he was by no means practised, but Lady Charmouth 
 helped him on without seeming to do so. The note was at 
 length dispatched, Tancred of course still remaining at the 
 mother's side, and Lady Constance too distant for his 
 wishes. He had nothing to say to Lady Charmouth ; he 
 began to feel that the pleasure of feminine society consisted 
 in talking alone to her daughter. 
 
 While he was meditating a retreat, and yet had hardly 
 courage to rise and walk alone down a large long room, a 
 new guest was announced. Tancred rose, and murmured 
 good morning ; and yet, somehow or other, instead of quit- 
 ting the apartment, he went and seated himself by Lady 
 Constance. It really was as much the impulse of shyness, 
 which sought a nook of refuge, as any other feeling that 
 actuated him ; but Lady Constance seemed pleased, and 
 said, in a low voice and in a careless tone, ' 'Tis Lady 
 Brancepeth ; do you know her ? Mamma's great friend ;'
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 109 
 
 which meant, you need give yourself no trouble to talk to 
 any one but myself. 
 
 After making herself very agreeable, Lady Constance 
 took up a book which was at hand, and said, ' Do you know 
 this ? ' And Tancred, opening a volume which he had 
 never seen, and then turning to its titlepage, found it was 
 ' The Revelations of Chaos,' a startling work just published, 
 and of which a rumour had reached him. 
 
 ' No,' he replied ; ' I have not seen it.' 
 
 ' I will lend it you if you like : it is one of those books 
 one must read. It explains everything, and is written in 
 a very agreeable style.' 
 
 ' It explains everything !' said Tancred ; ' it must, indeed, 
 be a very remarkable book ! ' 
 
 'I think it will just suit you,' said Lady Constance. 
 ' Do you know, I thought so several times while I was 
 reading it.' 
 
 ' To judge from the title, the subject is rather obscure,' 
 said Tancred. 
 
 'No longer so,' said Lady Constance. 'It is treated 
 scientifically ; everything is explained by geology and astro- 
 nomy, and in that way. It shows you exactly how a star 
 is formed ; nothing can be so pretty ! A cluster of vapour, 
 the cream of the milky way, a sort of celestial cheese, 
 churned into light, you must read it, 'tis charming.' 
 
 ' Nobody ever saw a star formed,' said Tancred. 
 
 ' Perhaps not. You must read the " Revelations ;" it is 
 all explained. But what is most interesting, is the way in 
 which man has been developed. You know, all is develop- 
 ment. The principle is perpetually going on. First, there 
 was nothing, then there was something ; then, I forget the 
 next, I think there were shells, then fishes ; then we came, 
 let me see, did we come next ? Never mind that ; we came 
 at last. And the next change there will be something very 
 superior to us, something with wings. Ah ! that's it : we 
 were fishes, and I believe we shall be crows. But you 
 must read it.' 
 
 'I do not believe I ever was a fish,' said Tancred.
 
 110 TANCRED; OR 
 
 4 Oh ! but it is all proved ; you must not argue on my 
 rapid sketch ; read the book. It is impossible to contra- 
 dict anything in it. You understand, it is all science ; it is 
 not like those books in which one says one thing and 
 another the contrary, and both may be wrong. Every- 
 thing is proved : by geology, you know. You see exactly 
 how everything is made ; how many worlds there have 
 been ; how long they lasted ; what went before, what 
 comes next. We are a link in the chain, as inferior 
 animals were that preceded us : we in turn shall be infe- 
 rior ; all that will remain of us will be some relics in a 
 new red sandstone. This is development. We had fins ; 
 we may have wings.' 
 
 Tancred grew silent and thoughtful ; Lady Brancepeth 
 moved, and he rose at the same time. Lady Charmouth 
 looked as if it were by no means necessary for him to 
 depart, but he bowed very low, and then bade farewell to 
 Lady Constance, who said, ' We shall meet to-night.' 
 
 ' I was a fish, and I shall be a crow,' said Tancred to 
 himself, when the hall door closed on him. ' What a 
 spiritual mistress ! And yesterday, for a moment, I 
 almost dreamed of kneeling with her at the Holy Sepul- 
 chre ! I must get out of this city as quickly as possible ; 
 I cannot cope with its corruption. The acquaintance, how- 
 ever, has been of use to me, for I think I have got a yacht 
 by it. I believe it was providential, and a trial. I will go 
 home and write instantly to Fitzheron, and accept his 
 offer. One hundred and eighty tons : it will do ; it must.' 
 
 At this moment he met Lord Eskdale, who had observed 
 Tancred from the end of Grosvenor Square, on the steps of 
 Lord Charmouth's door. This circumstance ill prepared 
 Lord Eskdale for Tancred's salutation. 
 
 ' My dear lord, you are just the person I wanted to 
 meet. You promised to recommend me a servant who 
 had travelled in the East.' 
 
 ' Well, are you in a hurry ? ' said Lord Eskdale, gaining 
 time, and pumping.
 
 TRU NEW CRUSADE. Ill 
 
 ' 1 should like to get off as soon as practicable.' 
 
 ' Humph ! ' snid Lord Eskdale. ' Have you got a yacht ? ' 
 
 ' I have.' 
 
 ' Oh ! So you want a servant ? ' he added, after a mo- 
 ment's pause. 
 
 ' I mentioned that, because you were so kind as to say 
 you could help me in that respect.' 
 
 ' Ah ! I did,' said Lord Eskdale, thoughtfully. 
 
 ' But I want a great many things,' continued Tancred. 
 ' I must make arrangements about money ; I suppose I 
 must get some letters ; in fact, I want generally your 
 advice.' 
 
 'What are you going to do about the colonel and the 
 rest ? ' 
 
 ' I have promised my father to take them,' said Tancred, 
 ' though I feel they will only embarrass me. They have 
 engaged to be ready at a week's notice ; I shall write to 
 them immediately. If they do not fulfil their engagement, 
 I am absolved from mine.' 
 
 ' So you have got a yacht, eh ? ' said Lord Eskdale. ' I 
 suppose you have bought the " Basilisk " ? ' 
 
 ' Exactly.' 
 
 ' She wants a good deal doing to her.' 
 
 ' Something, but chiefly for show, which I do not care 
 about ; but I mean to get away, and refit, if necessary, at 
 Gibraltar. I must go.' 
 
 ' Well, if you must go,' said his lordship, and then he 
 added, ' and in such a hurry ; let me see. You want a 
 firstrate managing man, used to the East, and letters, and 
 money, and advice. Hem ! You don't know Sidonia ? ' 
 
 Not at all.' 
 
 ' He is the man to get hold of, but that is so difficult 
 now. He never goes anywhere. Let me see, this is 
 Monday ; to-morrow is post-day, and I dine with him alone 
 in the City. Well, you shall hear from me on Wednesday 
 morning early, about everything ; but I would not write to 
 tte colonel and his friends just yet.'
 
 112 TANCRED: OR 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 WHAT is most striking in London is its vastness. It is the 
 illimitable feeling that gives it a special character. London 
 is not grand. It possesses only one of the qualifications 
 of a grand city, size ; but it wants the equally important 
 one, beauty. It is the union of these two qualities that 
 produced the grand cities, the Homes, the Babylons, the 
 hundred portals of the Pharaohs ; multitudes and magnifi- 
 cence ; the millions influenced by art. Grand cities are 
 unknown since the beautiful has ceased to be the principle 
 of 'invention. Paris, of modern capitals, has aspired to 
 this character ; but if Paris be a beautiful city, it certainly 
 is not a grand one ; its population is too limited, and, from 
 the nature of their dwellings, they cover a comparatively 
 small space. Constantinople is picturesque ; nature has 
 furnished a sublime site, but it has little architectural 
 splendour, and you reach the environs with a fatal facility. 
 London overpowers us with its vastness. 
 
 Place a Forum or ar Acropolis in its centre, and the 
 effect of the metropolitan mass, which now has neither 
 head nor heart, instead of being stupefying, would be 
 ennobling. Nothing more completely represents a nation 
 than a public building. A member of Parliament only 
 represents at the most the united constituencies : but the 
 Palace of the Sovereign, a National Gallery, or a Museum 
 baptized with the name of the country, these are monu- 
 ments to which all should be able to look up with pride, 
 and which should exercise an elevating influence upon the 
 spirit of the humblest. What is their influence in London ? 
 Let us not criticise what all condemn. But how remedy 
 the evil ? What is wanted in architecture, as in so many 
 things, is, a man. Shall we find a refuge in a Committee 
 of Taste ? Escape from the mediocrity of one to the 
 mediocrity of many ? We only multiply our feebleness, 
 and aggravate our deficiencies. But one suggestion might
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 1! 3 
 
 be made. No profession in England has done its duty 
 until it has furnished its victim. The pure administration 
 of justice dates from the deposition of Macclesfield. Even 
 our boasted navy never achieved a great victory until we 
 shot an admiral. Suppose an architect were hanged ? 
 Terror has its inspiration as well as competition. 
 
 Though London is vast, it is very monotonous. All those 
 new districts that have sprung up within the last half- 
 century, the creatures of our commercial and colonial 
 wealth, it is impossible to conceive anything more tame, 
 more insipid, more uniform. Pancras is like Mary-le-bone, 
 Mary-le-bone is like Paddington ; all the streets resemble 
 each other, you must read the names of the squares before 
 you venture to knock at a door. This amount of building 
 capital ought to have produced a great city. What an 
 opportunity for Architecture suddenly summoned to fur- 
 nish habitations for a population equal to that of the city 
 of Bruxelles, and a population, too, of great wealth. Mary- 
 le-bone alone ought to have produced a revolution in our 
 domestic architecture. It did nothing. It was built by 
 Act of Parliament. Parliament prescribed even a facade. 
 It is Parliament to whom we are indebted for your Glouces- 
 ter Places, and Baker Streets, and Harley Streets, and 
 Wimpole Streets, and all those flat, dull, spiritless streets, 
 resembling each other like a large family of plain children, 
 with Portland Place and Portman Square for their respect- 
 able parents. The influence of our Parliamentary Govern- 
 ment upon the fine arts is a subject worth pursuing. The 
 power that produced Baker Street as a model for street 
 architecture in its celebrated Building Act, is the power 
 that prevented Whitehall from being completed, and which 
 sold to foreigners all the pictures which the King of 
 England had collected to civilise his people. 
 
 In our own days we have witnessed the rapid creation of 
 a new metropolitan quarter, built solely for the aristocracy 
 by an aristocrat. The Belgrave district is as monotonous aa 
 
 I
 
 114 TANCRED; OR 
 
 Mary-le-bone ; and is so contrived as to be at the same 
 time insipid and tawdry. 
 
 Where London becomes more interesting is Charing 
 Cross. Looking to Northumberland House, and turning 
 your back upon Trafalgar Square, the Strand is perhaps the 
 finest street in Europe, blending the architecture of many 
 periods ; and its river ways are a peculiar feature and rich 
 with associations. Fleet Street, with its Temple, is not 
 unworthy of being contiguous to the Strand. The fit3 of 
 London has deprived us of the delight of a real old quarter 
 of the city ; but some bits remain, and everywhere there is 
 a stirring multitude, and a great crush and crash of carts 
 and wains. The Inns of Court, and the quarters in the 
 vicinity of the port, Thames Street, Tower Hill, Billings- 
 gate, Wapping, Rotherhithe, are the best parts of London ; 
 they are full of character : the buildings bear a nearer 
 relation to what the people are doing than in the more 
 polished quarters. 
 
 The old merchants of the times of the first Georges were 
 a fine race. They knew their position, and built up to it. 
 While the territorial aristocracy, pulling down their family 
 hotels, were raising vulgar streets and squares upon their 
 site, and occupying themselves one of the new tenements, 
 the old merchants filled the straggling lanes, which con- 
 nected the Royal Exchange with the port of London, with 
 mansions which, if not exactly equal to the palaces of 
 stately Venice, might at least vie with many of the hotels 
 of old Paris. Some of these, though the great majority 
 have been broken up into chambers and counting-houses, 
 still remain intact. 
 
 In a long, dark, narrow, crooked street, which is still 
 called a lane, and which runs from the south side of the 
 street of the Lombards towards the river, there is one of 
 these old houses of a century past, and which, both in its 
 original design and present condition, is a noble specimen 
 of its order. A pair of massy iron gates, of elaborate 
 workmanship, separate the street from its spacious and airy
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 115 
 
 court-yard, which is formed on either side by a wing of the 
 mansion, itself a building of deep red brick, with a pedi- 
 ment, and pilasters, and copings of stone. A flight of 
 steps leads to the lofty and central doorway ; in the middle 
 of the court there is a garden plot, inclosing a fountain, 
 and a fine plane tree. 
 
 The stillness, doubly effective after the tumult just 
 quitted, the lulling voice of the water, the soothing aspect 
 of the quivering foliage, the noble building, and the cool 
 and capacious quadrangle, the aspect even of those who 
 enter, and frequently enter, the precinct, and who are 
 generally young men, gliding in and out, earnest and full 
 of thought, all contribute to give to this locality something 
 of the classic repose of a college, instead of a place agitated 
 with the most urgent interests of the current hour ; a place 
 that deals with the fortunes of kings and empires, and 
 regulates the most important affairs of nations, for it is the 
 counting-house in the greatest of modern cities of the 
 most celebrated of modern financiers. 
 
 It was the visit of Tancred to the City, on the Wednes- 
 day morning after he had met Lord Eskdale, that occasions 
 me to touch on some of the characteristics of our capital. 
 It was the first time that Tancred had ever been in the 
 City proper, and it greatly interested him. His visit was 
 prompted by receiving, early on Wednesday morning, the 
 following letter : 
 
 ' DEAR TANCRED : I saw Sidonia yesterday, and spoke to 
 him of what you want. He is much occupied just now, aa 
 his uncle, who attended to affairs here, is dead, and, until 
 he can import another uncle or cousin, he must steer the 
 ship, as times are critical. But he bade me say you might 
 call upon him in the City to-day, at two o'clock. He lives 
 in Sequin Court, near the Bank. You will have no diffi- 
 culty in finding it. I recommend you to go, as he is the 
 sort of man who will really understand what you mean, 
 
 i 2
 
 116 TANCRED; OR 
 
 which neither your father nor myself do exactly ; and, 
 besides, he is a person to know. 
 
 'I inclose a line which you will send in, that there 
 may be no mistake. I should tell you, as you are very 
 fresh, that he is of the Hebrew race ; so don't go on too 
 much about the Holy Sepulchre. 
 
 'Tours faithfully, 
 
 ' ESKDALE.' 
 
 ' Spring Gardens, Wednesday morning.' 
 
 It is just where the street is most crowded, where it 
 nairows, and losing the name of Cheapside, takes that of 
 the Poultry, that the last of a series of stoppages occurred ; 
 a stoppage which, at the end of ten minutes, lost its inert 
 character of mere obstruction, and developed into the live- 
 lier qualities of the row. There were oaths, contradictions, 
 menaces : ' No, you sha'n't ; Yes, I will ; No, I didn't ; 
 Yes, you did ; No, you hav'n't ; Yes, I have ; ' the lashing of 
 a whip, the interference of a policeman, a crash, a scream. 
 Tancred looked out of the window of his brougham. 
 He saw a chariot in distress, a chariot such as would 
 have become an Ondine by the waters of the Serpen- 
 tine, and the very last sort of equipage that you could 
 expect to see smashed in the Poultry. It was really break- 
 ing a butterfly upon a wheel : to crush its delicate springs, 
 and crack its dark brown panels, soil its dainty hammer- 
 cloth, and endanger the lives of its young coachman in a 
 flaxen wig, and its two tall footmen in short coats, worthy 
 of Cinderella. 
 
 The scream, too, came from a fair owner, who was sur- 
 rounded by clamorous carmen and city marshals, and who, 
 in an unknown land, was afraid she might be put in a city 
 Compter, because the people in the city had destroyed her 
 beautiful chariot. Tancred let himself out of his brougham, 
 and not without difficulty contrived, through the narrow 
 and crowded passage formed by the two lines, to reach 
 the chariot, which was coming the contrary way to him.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 117 
 
 Some ruthless officials were persuading a beautiful womau 
 to leave her carriage, the wheel of which was broken. 
 ' But where am I to go ? ' she exclaimed. ' I cannot walk. 
 I will not leave my carriage until you bring me some con- 
 veyance. You ought to punish these people, who have 
 quite ruined my chariot.' 
 
 ' They say it was your coachman's fault : we have nothing 
 to do with that ; besides, you know who they are. Their 
 employers' name is on the cart, Brown, Bugsby, and Co., 
 Limehouse. You can have your redress against Brown, 
 Bugsby, and Co., Limehouse, if your coachman is not in 
 fault ; but you cannot stop up the way, and you had better 
 get out, and let the carriage be removed to the Steel-yard.' 
 
 ' What am I to do ! ' exclaimed the lady, with a tearful 
 eye and agitated face. 
 
 ' I have a carriage at hand,' said Tancred, who at this 
 moment reached her, ' and it is quite at your service.' 
 
 The lady cast her beautiful eyes, with an expression of 
 astonishment she could not conceal, at the distinguished 
 youth who thus suddenly appeared in the midst of insolent 
 carmen, brutal poh'cemen, and all the cynical amateurs of a 
 mob. Public opinion in the Poultry was against her ; her 
 coachman's wig had excited derision ; the footmen had 
 given themselves airs ; there was a strong feeling against 
 the shortooats. As for the lady, though at first awed by 
 her beauty and magnificence, they rebelled against the 
 authority of her manner. Besides, she was not alone. 
 There was a gentleman with her, who wore moustaches, 
 and had taken a part in the proceedings at first, by ad- 
 dressing the carmen in French. This was too much, and 
 the mob declared he was Don Carlos. 
 
 ' You are too good,' said the lady, with a sweet expression. 
 
 Tancred opened the door of the chariot, the policemen 
 pulled down the steps, the servants were told to do the best 
 they could with the wrecked equipage ; in a second the 
 lady and her companion were in Tancred's brougham, who, 
 desiring his servants to obey all their orders, disappeared,
 
 118 TANCRED; OR 
 
 for the stoppage at this moment began to move, and there 
 was no time for bandying compliments. 
 
 He had gained the pavement, and had made his way as 
 far as the Mansion House, when, finding a group of public 
 buildings, he thought it prudent to inquire which was the 
 Bank. 
 
 ' That is tho Bank,' said a good-natured man, in a bustle, 
 but taken by Tancred's unusual appearance. ' What do you 
 want ? I am going there.' 
 
 ' I do not want exactly the Bank,' replied Tancred. 'but 
 a place somewhere near it. Do you happen to know, sir, 
 a place called Sequin Court ? ' 
 
 ' I should think I did,' said the man, smiling. ' So you 
 are going to Sidonia's ? ' 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 TANCRED entered Sequin Court ; a chariot with a foreign 
 coronet was at the foot of the great steps which he as- 
 cended. He was received by a fat hall porter, who would 
 not have disgraced his father's establishment, and who, 
 rising with lazy insolence from his hooded chair, when he 
 observed that Tancred did not advance, asked the new 
 comer what he wanted. 
 
 ' I want Monsieur de Sidonia.' 
 
 ' Can't see him now ; he is engaged.' 
 
 ' I have a note for him.' 
 
 ' Very well, give it me ; it will be sent in. You can sit 
 here.' And the porter opened the door of a waiting-room 
 which Tancred declined to enter. ' I will wait here, thank 
 you,' said Tancred, and he looked round at the old oak 
 hall, on the walls of which were hung several portraits 
 and from which ascended one of those noble staircases never 
 found in a modern London mansion. At the end of the 
 hall, on a slab of porphyry, was a marble bust, with this
 
 THE NEW CEUSADE. 119 
 
 inscription on it, ' FDNDATOB.' It was the first Sidonia, by 
 Chantrey. 
 
 ' I will wait here, thank you,' said Tancred, looking 
 round ; and then, with some hesitation, he added, ' I have 
 an appointment here at two o'clock.' 
 
 As he spoke, that hour sounded from the belfry of an old 
 city church that was at hand, and then was taken up by 
 the chimes of a large German clock in the hall. 
 
 ' It may be,' said the porter, ' but I can't disturb master 
 now ; the Spanish ambassador is with him, and others are 
 waiting. When he is gone, a clerk will take in your letter 
 with some others that are here.' 
 
 At this moment, and while Tancred remained in the hall, 
 various persons entered, and, without noticing the porter, 
 pursued their way across the apartment. 
 
 ' Ar.d where are those persons going ? ' inquired Tancred. 
 
 The porter looked at the enquirer with a blended gaze of 
 curiosity and contempt, and then negligently answered him 
 without looking in Tancred' s face, and while he was brush- 
 ing up the hearth, ' Some are going to the counting-house, 
 and some are going to the Bank, I should think.' 
 
 ' I wonder if our hall porter is such an infernal bully aa 
 Monsieur de Sidonia's ! ' thought Tancred. 
 
 There was a stir. ' The ambassador is coming out,' said 
 the hall porter ; ' you must not stand in the way.' 
 
 Tho well-trained ear of this guardian of the gate was 
 conversant with every combination of sound which the 
 apartments of Sequin Court could produce. Close as the 
 doors might be shut, you could not rise from your chair 
 without his being aware of it ; and in the present instance 
 he was correct. A door at the end of the hall opened, and 
 the Spanish minister came forth. 
 
 ' Stand aside,' said the hall porter to Tancred ; and, sum- 
 moning the servants without, he ushered liis excellency 
 with some reverence to his carriage. 
 
 ' Now your letter will go in with the others,' he said to 
 Tancred, whom for a few moments he left alone, and then
 
 120 TANCRED; OR 
 
 returned, taking no notice of our young friend, but, deposit- 
 ing his bulky form in his hooded chair, he resumed the city 
 article of the ' Times.' 
 The letter ran thus : 
 
 ' DEAR SIDONIA : This will be given you by my cousin 
 Montacute, of whom I spoke to you yesterday. He wants 
 to go to Jerusalem, which very much perplexes his family, 
 for he is an only child. I don't suppose the danger is what 
 they imagine. But still there is nothing like experience, 
 and there is no one who knows so much of these things as 
 yourself. I have promised his father and mother, very in- 
 nocent people, whom, of all my relatives, I most affect, to 
 do what I can for him. If, therefore, you can aid Monta- 
 cute, you will really serve me. He seems to have character, 
 though I can't well make him out. I fear I indulged in 
 the hock yesterday, for I feel a twinge. Yours faithfully, 
 
 ' Wednesday morning.' ' ESKDALE.' 
 
 The hall clock had commenced the quarter chimes, when 
 a young man, fair and intelligent, and wearing spectacles, 
 came into the hall, and, opening the door of the waiting 
 room, looked as if he expected to find some one there ; 
 then, turning to the porter, he said, 'Where is Lord 
 Montacute ? ' 
 
 The porter rose from his hooded chair, and put down the 
 newspaper, but Tancred had advanced when he heard his 
 name, and bowed, and followed the young man in spectacles, 
 who invited Tancred to accompany him. 
 
 Tancred was nshored into a spacious and rather long 
 apartment, panelled with old oak up to the white coved 
 ceiling, which was richly ornamented. Four windows 
 looked upon the fountain and the plane tree. A portrait 
 by Lawrence, evidently of the same individual who had 
 furnished the model to Chantrey, was over the high, old- 
 fashioned, but very handsome marble mantel-piece. A 
 Turkey carpet, curtains of crimson damask, some large 
 tables covered with papers, several easy chairs, against the
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 121 
 
 walls some iron cabinets, these were the furniture of the 
 room, at one corner of which was a glass door, which led 
 to a vista of apartments fitted up as counting-houses, filled 
 with clerks, and which, if expedient, might be covered by 
 a baize screen, which was now unclosed. 
 
 A gentleman writing at a table rose as he came in, and 
 extending his hand said, as he pointed to a seat, ' I am 
 afraid I have made you come out at an unusual hour." 
 
 The young man in spectacles in the meanwhile retired ; 
 Tancred had bowed and murmured his compliments : and 
 his host, drawing his chair a little from the table, con- 
 tinued : ' Lord Eskdale tells me that you have some thoughts 
 of going to Jerusalem.' 
 
 ' I have for some time had that intention.' 
 
 * It is a pity that you did not set out earlier in the year, 
 and then you might have been there during the Easter 
 pilgrimage. It is a fine sight.' 
 
 ' It is a pity,' said Tancred ; ' but to reach Jerusalem is 
 with me an object of so much moment, that I shall be con- 
 tent to find myself there at any time, and under any cir- 
 cumstances.' 
 
 * It is no longer difficult to reach Jerusalem; the real 
 difficulty is the one experienced by the crusaders, to know 
 what to do when you have arrived there.' 
 
 * It is the land of inspiration,' said Tancred, slightly 
 blushing ; ' and when I am there, I would humbly pray that 
 my course may be indicated to me.' 
 
 * And you think that no prayers, however humble, would 
 obtain for you that indication before your departure ? ' 
 
 ' This is not the land of inspiration,' replied Tancred, 
 timidly. 
 
 ' But you have your Church,' said Sidonia. 
 
 ' Which I hold of divine institution, and which should be 
 under the immediate influence of the Holy Spirit,' said 
 Tancred, dropping his eyes, and colouring still more as he 
 found himself already trespassing on that .delicate province 
 of theology, which always fascinated him, but which it had
 
 122 TANCRED; OR 
 
 been inticcAted to him by Lord Eskdale that he should 
 avoid. 
 
 ' Is it wanting to you, then, in this conjuncture ? ' inquired 
 his companion. 
 
 ' I find its opinions conflicting, its decrees contradictory, 
 its conduct inconsistent,' replied Tancred. 'I have con- 
 ferred with one who is esteemed its most eminent prelate, 
 and I have left him with a conviction of what I had for 
 some time suspected, that inspiration is not only a divine 
 but a local quality.' 
 
 'You and I have some reason to believe so,' said Sidonia. 
 ' I believe that God spoke to Moses on Mount Horeb, and 
 you believe that he was crucified, in the person of Jesus, 
 on Mount Calvary. Both were, at least carnally, children 
 of Israel : they spoke Hebrew to the Hebrews. The pro- 
 phets were only Hebrews ; the apostles were only Hebrews. 
 The churches of Asia, which have vanished, were founded 
 by a native Hebrew ; and the church of Rome, which says 
 it shall last for ever, and which converted this island to 
 the faith of Moses and of Christ, vanquishing the Druids, 
 Jupiter Olympius, and Woden, who had successively in- 
 vaded it, was also founded by a native Hebrew. Therefore, 
 I say, your suspicion or your conviction is, at least, not a 
 fantastic one.' 
 
 Tancred listened to Sidonia as he spoke with great in- 
 terest, and with an earnest and now quite unembarrassed 
 manner. The height of the argument had immediately 
 surmounted all his social reserve. His intelligence re- 
 sponded to the great theme that had so long occupied 
 his musing hours ; and the unexpected character of a con- 
 versation which, as he had supposed, would have mainly 
 treated of letters of credit, the more excited him. 
 
 'Then,' said Tancred, with animation, 'seeing how things 
 are, that I am born in an age and in a country divided 
 between infidelity on one side and an anarchy of creeds on 
 the other ; with none competent to guide me, yet feeling 
 that I must believe, for 1 hold that duty cannot exist with-
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 123 
 
 bat faith ; is it so wild as some would think it, I would say 
 is it unreasonable, that I should wish to do that which, 
 HIX centuries ago, was done by my ancestor whose name 
 
 I bear, and that I should cross the seas, and ? ' He 
 
 hesitated. 
 
 'And visit the Holy Sepulchre,' said Sidonia. 
 
 ' And visit the Holy Sepulchre,' said Tancred, solemnly ; 
 ' for that I confess is my sovereign thought.' 
 
 ' Well, the crusades were of vast advantage to Europe,' 
 said Sidonia, ' and renovated the spiritual hold which Asia 
 has always had upon the North. It seems to wane at pre- 
 sent, but it is only the decrease that precedes the new 
 development.' 
 
 ' It must be so,' said Tancred ; ' for who can believe that 
 a country once sanctified by the Divine presence can ever 
 be as other lands ? Some celestial quality, distinguishing 
 it from all other climes, must for ever linger about it. I 
 would ask those mountains, that were reached by angels, 
 why they no longer receive heavenly visitants. I would 
 appeal to that Comforter promised to man, on the sacred 
 spot on which the assurance of solace was made. I require 
 a Comforter. I have appealed to the holy influence in 
 vain in England. It has not visited me ; I know none here 
 on whom it has descended. I am induced, therefore, to 
 believe that it is part of the divine scheme that its influence 
 should be local ; that it should be approached with reve- 
 rence, not thoughtlessly and hurriedly, but with such dif- 
 ficulties and such an interval of time, as a pilgrimage to 
 a spot sanctified can alone secure.' 
 
 Sidonia listened to Tancred with deep attention. Lord 
 Montacute was seated opposite the windows, so that there 
 was a full light upon the play of the countenance, the ex- 
 pression of which Sidonia watched, while his keen and far- 
 reaching vision traced at the same time the formation and 
 development of the head of his visitor. He recognised in 
 this youth not a vain and vague visionary, but a being in 
 whom the faculties of reason and imagination were both of
 
 124 TANCRED; OK 
 
 the highest class, and both equally developed. He observed 
 that he was of a nature passionately affectionate, and that 
 he was of a singular audacity. He perceived that though, 
 at this moment, Tancred was as ignorant of the world as a 
 young monk, he possessed all the latent qualities which in 
 future would qualify him to control society. When Tan- 
 cred had finished speaking, there was a pause of a few 
 seconds, during which Sidonia seemed lost in thought; 
 then, looking up, he said, ' It appears to me, Lord Monta- 
 cute, that what you want is to penetrate the great Asian 
 mystery.' 
 
 ' You have touched my inmost thought,' said Tancred, 
 eagerly. 
 
 At this moment there entered the room, from the glass 
 door, the same young man who had ushered Tancred into 
 the apartment. He brought a letter to Sidonia. Lord 
 Montacute felt confused ; his shyness returned to him ; he 
 deplored the unfortunate interruption, but he felt he was 
 in the way. He rose, and began to say good morning, 
 when Sidonia, without taking his eyes off the letter, saw 
 him, and waving his hand, stopped him, saying, ' I settled 
 with Lord Eskdale that you were not to go away if any- 
 thing occurred which required my momentary attention. 
 So pray sit down, unless you have engagements.' And 
 Tancred again seated himself. 
 
 ' Write,' continued Sidonia to the clerk, ' that my letters 
 are twelve hours later than the despatches, and that the 
 city continued quite tranquil. Let the extract from the 
 Berlin letter be left at the same time at the Treasury. The 
 last bulletin ? ' 
 
 ' Consols drooping at half-past two ; all the foreign funds 
 lower ; shares very active.' 
 
 They were once more alone. 
 
 ' When do you propose going ? ' 
 
 ' I hope in a week.' 
 
 ' Alone ? ' 
 
 ' I fear I shall have many attendants.'
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 125 
 
 ' That is a pity. Well, when you arrive at Jerusalem, 
 yon will naturally go to the convent of Terra Santa. Yon 
 will make there the acquaintance of the Spanish prior, 
 Alonzo Lara. He calls me cousin ; he is a Nuevo of the 
 fourteenth century. Very orthodox ; but the love of the 
 old land and the old language have come out in him, as 
 they will, though his blood is no longer clear, but has been 
 modified by many Gothic intermarriages, which was never 
 our case. We are pure Sephardim. Lara thoroughly 
 comprehends Palestine and all that pertains to it. He has 
 been there a quarter of a century, and might have been 
 Archbishop of Seville. You see, he is master of the old as 
 well as the new learning ; this is very important ; they 
 often explain each other. Your bishops here know nothing 
 about these things. How can they ? A few centuries 
 back they were tattooed savages. This is the advantage 
 which Rome has over you, and which you never can under- 
 stand. That Church was founded by a Hebrew, and the 
 magnetic influence lingers. But you will go to the fountain 
 head. Theology requires an apprenticeship of some thou- 
 sand years at least ; to say nothing of clime and race. You 
 cannot get on with theology as you do with chemistry and 
 mechanics. Trust me, there is something deeper in it. I 
 shall give you a note to Lara ; cultivate him, he is the man 
 you want. You will want others ; they will come ; but 
 Lara has the first key.' 
 
 I am sorry to trouble you about such things,' said Tan- 
 cred, in a hesitating voice, ' but perhaps I may not have 
 the great pleasure to see you again, and Lord Eskdale 
 said that I was to speak to you about some letters of 
 credit.' 
 
 ' Oh ! we shall meet before you go. But what you say 
 reminds me of something. As for money, there is only one 
 banker in Syria ; he is everywhere, at Aleppo, Damascus, 
 Beiroot, Jerusalem. It is Besso. Before the expulsion of 
 the Egyptians, he really ruled Syria, but he is still power- 
 ful, though they have endeavoured to crush him at Con-
 
 J26 TANCBED; OR ; 
 
 stantinople. I applied to Metternich about him, and, be- 
 sides that, he is mine. I shall give you a letter to him, but 
 not merely for your money affairs. I wish you to know 
 him. He lives in splendour at Damascus, moderately at 
 Jerusalem, where there is little to do, but which he loves 
 as a residence, being a Hebrew. I wish you to know him. 
 You will, I am sure, agree with me, that he is, without 
 exception, the most splendid specimen of the animal man 
 you ever became acquainted with. His name is Adam, 
 and verily he looks as if he were in the garden of Eden 
 before the fall. But his soul is as grand and as fine as his 
 body. Tou will lean upon this man as you would on a 
 faithful charger. His divan is charming ; you will always 
 find there the most intelligent people. You must learn to 
 smoke. There is nothing that Besso cannot do ; make him 
 do everything you want ; have no scruples ; he will be 
 gratified. Besides, he is one of those who kiss my signet. 
 These two letters will open Syria to you, and any other land, 
 if you care to proceed. Give yourself no trouble about any 
 other preparations.' 
 
 * And how am I to thank you ? ' said Tancred, rising ; 
 ' and how am I to express to you all my gratitude ? ' 
 
 4 What are you going to do with yourself to-morrow ? ' 
 said Sidonia. ' I never go anywhere ; but I have a few 
 friends who are so kind as to come sometimes to me. 
 There are two or three persons dining with me to-morrow, 
 whom you might like to meet. Will you do so ? ' 
 
 ' I shall be most proud and pleased.' 
 
 ' That's well. It is not here ; it is in Carlton Gardens ; 
 at sunset.' And Sidonia continued the letter which he 
 was writing when Tancred entered.
 
 THE NEW CKUSADE. 127 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 "\VHEX Tancred returned home, musing, from his visit to 
 Sidonia, he found the following note : 
 
 ' Lady Bertie and Bellair returns Lord Montacute his 
 carriage with a thousand compliments and thanks. She 
 fears she greatly incommoded Lord Montacute, but begs 
 to assure him how very sensible she is of his considerate 
 courtesy. 
 
 ' Upper Brook Street, Wednesday.' 
 
 The handwriting was of that form of scripture which 
 attracts ; refined yet energetic ; full of character. Tancred 
 recognised the titles of Bertie and Bellair as those of two 
 not inconsiderable earldoms, now centred in the same indi- 
 vidual. Lady Bertie and Bellair was herself a lady of the 
 high nobility ; a daughter cf the present Duke of Fitz- 
 Aquitaiue ; the son of that duke who was the father-in-law 
 of Lord de Mowbray, and whom Lady Firebrace, the pre- 
 sent Lady Bardolf, and Tadpole, had dexterously converted 
 to conservatism by persuading him that he was to be Sir 
 Robert's Irish viceroy. Lady Bertie and Bellair, therefore, 
 was first-cousin to Lady Joan Mountchesney, and her sister, 
 who is still Lady Maud Fitz-Warene. Tancred was sur- 
 prised that he never recollected to have met before onu 
 so distinguished and so beautiful. His conversation with 
 Sidonia, however, had driven the little adventure of the 
 morning from his memory, and now that it was thus re- 
 called to him, he did not dwell upon it. His being was 
 absorbed in his paramount purpose. The sympathy of 
 Sidonia, so complete, and as instructive as it was anima- 
 ting, was a sustaining power which we often need when we 
 are meditating great deeds. How often, when all seems 
 dark, and hopeless, and spiritless, and tame, when slight 
 obstacles figure in the cloudy landscape as Alps, and the 
 rushing cataracts of our invention have subsided into
 
 128 TANCRED; Oil 
 
 drizzle, a single phrase of a great man instantaneously 
 flings sunshine on the intellectual landscape, and the 
 habitual features of power and beauty, over which we 
 have so long mused in secret confidence and love, resume 
 all their energy and lustre. 
 
 The haunting thought that occasionally, notwithstanding 
 his strong will, would perplex the soul and agitate the 
 heart of Tancred ; the haunting thought that, all this time, 
 he was perhaps the dupe of boyish fantasies, was laid to- 
 day. Sometimes he had felt, Why does no one sympathise 
 with my views ; why, though they treat them with con- 
 ventional respect, is it clear that all I have addressed hold 
 them to be absurd ? My parents are pious and instructed ; 
 they are predisposed to view everything I say, or do, or 
 think, with an even excessive favour. They think me 
 moonstruck. Lord Eskdale is a perfect man of the world ; 
 proverbially shrewd, and celebrated for his judgment ; he 
 looks upon me as a raw boy, and believes that, if my father 
 had kept me at Eton and sent me to Paris, I should by this 
 time have exhausted my crudities. The bishop is what the 
 world calls a great scholar ; he is a statesman who, aloof 
 from faction, ought to be accustomed to take just and com- 
 prehensive views ; and a priest who ought to be under the 
 immediate influence of the Holy Spirit. He says I am 
 a visionary. All this might well be disheartening ; but 
 now comes one whom no circumstances impel to judge my 
 project with indulgence ; who would, at the first glance, 
 appear to have many prejudices arrayed against it, who 
 knows more of the world than Lord Eskdale, and who 
 appears to me to be more learned than the whole bench of 
 bishops, and he welcomes my ideas, approves my Conclu- 
 sions, sympathises withmy suggestions ; developes, illustrates, 
 enforces them ; plainly intimates that I am only on the 
 threshold of initiation, and would aid me to advance to the 
 innermost mysteries. 
 
 There was this night a great ball at Lady Bardolf's, in 
 Belgrave Square. One should generally mention localities, 
 because very often they indicate character. Lady Bardolf
 
 THE NEW CEUSADE. 129 
 
 lived next door to Mrs. Guy Flouncey. Both Lad risen in 
 the world, though it requires some esoteric knowledge to 
 recognise the patrician parvenue ; and both had finally 
 settled themselves down in the only quarter which Lady 
 Bardolf thought worthy of her new coronet, and Mrs. Guy 
 Flouncey of her new visiting list. 
 
 Lady Bardolf had given up the old family mansion of 
 the Firebraces in Hanover Square, at the same time that she 
 had resigned their old title. Politics being dead, in con- 
 sequence of the majority of 1841, who, after a little kicking 
 for the million, satisfactorily assured the minister that there 
 was no vice in them, Lady Bardolf had chalked out a new 
 career, and one of a still more eminent and exciting cha- 
 racter than her previous pursuit. Lady Bardolf was one 
 of those ladies, there are several, who entertain the curious 
 idea that they need only to be known in certain high 
 quarters, to be immediately selected as the principal objects 
 of court favour. Lady Bardolf was always putting herself 
 in the way of it , she never lost an opportunity ; she never 
 missed a drawing-room, contrived to be at all the court 
 balls, plotted to be invited to a costume fete, and expended 
 the tactics of a campaign to get asked to some grand 
 chateau honoured by august presence. Still Her Majesty 
 had not yet sent for Lady Bardolf. She was still very good 
 friends with Lord Masque, for he had social influence, and 
 could assist her ; but as for poor Tadpole, she had sadly 
 neglected him, his sphere being merely political, and that 
 being no longer interesting. The honest gentleman still 
 occasionally buzzed about her, slavering portentous stories 
 about malcontent country gentlemen, mumbling Maynooth, 
 and shaking his head at Young England. Tadpole was 
 wont to say in confidence, that for his part he wished Sir 
 Robert had left alone religion and commerce, and confined 
 himself to finance, which was his forte as long as he had a 
 majority to carry the projects which he found in the pigeon- 
 holes of the Treasury, and which are always at the service 
 of every minister.
 
 130 TANCRED; OR 
 
 Well, it was afc Lady Bardolf's ball, close upon midnight, 
 that Tancred, who had not long entered, and had not very 
 far advanced in the crowded saloons, turning his head, re- 
 cognised his heroine of the morning, his still more recent 
 correspondent, Lady Bertie and Bellair. She was speaking 
 to Lord Valentine. It was impossible to mistake her ; 
 rapid as had been his former observation of her face, it 
 was too remarkable to be forgotten, though the captivating 
 details were only the result of his present more advanta- 
 geous inspection. A small head and large dark eyes, dark 
 as her rich hair which was quite unadorned, a pale but 
 delicate complexion, small pearly teeth, were charms that 
 crowned a figure rather too much above the middle height, 
 yet undulating and not without grace. Her countenance 
 was calm without being grave ; she smiled with her eyes. 
 
 She was for a moment alone ; she looked round, and re- 
 cognised Tancred ; she bowed to him with a beaming glance. 
 Instantly he was at her side. 
 
 ' Our second meeting to-day,' she said, in a low, sweet 
 voice. 
 
 ' How came it that we never met before ? ' he replied. 
 
 ' I have just returned from Paris ; the first time I have 
 been out ; and, had it not been for you,' she added, ' I 
 should not have been here to-night. I think they would 
 have put me in prison.' 
 
 ' Lady Bardolf ought to be very much obliged to me, 
 and so ought the world.' 
 
 ' I am,' said Lady Bertie and Bellair. 
 
 'That is worth everything else,' said Tancred. 
 
 ' What a pretty carriage you have ! I do not think I 
 shall ever get into mine again. I am almost glad they 
 have destroyed my chariot. I am sure I shall never be 
 able to drive in anything else now except a brougham.' 
 
 ' Why did you not keep mine ? ' 
 
 ' You are magnificent ; too gorgeous and oriental for 
 these cold climes. You shower your presents as if you 
 were in the East, which Lord Valentine tells me you are 
 about to visit. When do you leave ^s ? '
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 131 
 
 ' I think of going immediately.' 
 
 ' Indeed ! ' said Lady Bertie and Bellair, and her coun- 
 tenance changed. There was a pause, and then she con- 
 tinued playfully, yet as it were half in sadness, ' I almost 
 wish you had not come to my rescue this morning.' 
 
 ' And why ? ' 
 
 ' Because I do not like to make agreeable acquaintances 
 only to lose them.' 
 
 ' I think that I am most to be pitied,' said Tancred. 
 
 ' You are wearied of the world very soon. Before you 
 can know us, you leave us.' 
 
 ' I am not wearied of the world, for indeed, as you say, 
 I know nothing of it. 1 am here by accident, as you were 
 in the stoppage to-day. It will disperse, and then I shall 
 get on.' 
 
 ' Lord Valentine tells me that you are going to realise 
 my dream of dreams, that you are going to Jerusalem.' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said Tancred, kindling, ' you too have felt that 
 want ? ' 
 
 ' But I never can pardon myself for not having satisfied 
 it,' said Lady Bertie and Bellair in a mournful tone, and 
 looking in his face with her beautiful dark eyes. ' It is 
 the mistake of my life, and now can never be remedied. 
 But I have no energy. I ought, as a girl, when they op- 
 posed my purpose, to have taken up my palmer's staff, and 
 never have rested content till I had gathered my shell on 
 the strand of Joppa.' 
 
 ' It is the right feeling,' said Tancred. ' I am persuaded 
 we ought all to go.' 
 
 ' But we remain here,' said the lady, in a tone of sup- 
 pressed and elegant anguish ; ' here, where we all com- 
 plain of our hopeless lives ; with not a thought beyond the 
 passing hour, yet all bewailing its wearisome and insipid 
 moments.' 
 
 ' Our lot is cast in a material age,' said Tancred. 
 
 ' The spiritual can alone satisfy me,' said Lady Bertie 
 and Bellair. 
 
 x 2
 
 132 TANCEED; OE 
 
 ' Because you have a soul,' continued Tancred, with 
 animation, ' still of a celestial hue. They are rare in the 
 nineteenth century. Nobody now thinks about heaven. 
 They never dream of angels. All their existence is con- 
 centrated in steamboats and railways.' 
 
 ' You are right,' said the lady, earnestly ; ' and you fly 
 from it.' 
 
 ' I go for other purposes ; I would say even higher ones,' 
 said Tancrpd. 
 
 ' I can understand you ; your feelings are my own. 
 Jerusalem has been the dream of my life. I have always 
 been endeavouring to reach it, but somehow or other I 
 never got further than Paris.' 
 
 ' And yet it is very easy now to get to Jerusalem, said 
 Tancred ; ' the great difficulty, as a very remarkable man 
 said to me this morning, is to know what to do when you 
 are there.' 
 
 ' Who said that to you ? ' inquired Lady Bertie and 
 Bellair, bending her head. 
 
 ' It was the person I was going to call upon when I met 
 you ; Monsieur de Sidonia.' 
 
 ' Monsieur de Sidonia ! ' said the lady, with animation. 
 ' Ah ! you know him ? ' 
 
 ' Not as much as I could wish. I saw him to-day for the 
 first time. My cousin, Lord Eskdale, gave me a letter of 
 introduction to him, for his advice and assistance about my 
 journey. Sidonia has been a great traveller.' 
 
 ' There is no person I wish to know so much as M. de 
 Sidonia,' said Lady Bertie and Bellair. ' He is a great 
 friend of Lord Eskdale's, I think ? I must get Lord Esk- 
 dale,' she added, musingly, ' to give me a little dinner, and 
 ask M. de Sidonia to meet me.' 
 
 He never goes anywhere ; at least I have heard so,' said 
 Tancred. 
 
 ' He once used to do, and to give us great fetes. I re- 
 member hearing of them before I was out. We must make 
 him resume them. He is immensely rich.'
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 133 
 
 ' 1 dare say he may be,' said Tancred. ' I wonder how a 
 man with his intellect and ideas can think of the accumu- 
 lation of wealth.' 
 
 ' 'Tis his destiny,' said Lady Bertie. ' He can no more 
 disembarrass himself of his hereditary millions, than a 
 dynasty of the cares of empire. I wonder if he will get 
 the Great Northern. They talked of nothing else at 
 Paris.' 
 
 ' Of what ? ' said Tancred. 
 
 ' Oh ! let us talk of Jerusalem ! ' said Lady Bertie and 
 Bellair. ' Ah, here is Augustus ! Let me make you and 
 my husband acquainted.' 
 
 Tancred almost expected to see the moustached com- 
 panion of the morning, but it was not so. Lord Bertie and 
 Bellair was a tall, thin, distinguished, withered-looking 
 young man, who thanked Tancred for his courtesy of the 
 morning with a sort of gracious negligence, and, after some 
 easy talk, asked Tancred to dine with them on the morrow. 
 He was engaged, but he promised to call on Lady Bertie 
 and Bellair immediately, and see some drawings of the 
 Holy Land. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 PASSING through a marble antechamber, Tancred was 
 ushered into an apartment half saloon and half library ; 
 the choicely-bound volumes, which were not too numerous, 
 were ranged on shelves inlaid in the walls, so that they 
 ornamented, without diminishing, the apartment. These 
 walls were painted in encaustic, corresponding with the 
 coved ceiling, which was richly adorned in the same fashion. 
 A curtain of violet velvet covering if necessary the large 
 window, which looked upon a balcony full of flowers, and 
 the umbrageous Park ; an Axminster carpet, manufactured 
 to harmonise both in colour and design with the rest of tho 
 chamber ; a profusion of luxurious seats ; a large table of
 
 134 TANCRED; OR 
 
 ivory marquetry, bearing a carved silver bell which once 
 belonged to a pope ; a Naiad, whose golden urn served as 
 an inkstand ; some daggers that acted as paper cutters, and 
 some French books just arrived ; a group of beautiful vases 
 recently released from an Egyptian tomb and ranged on 
 a tripod of malachite : the portrait of a statesman, and the 
 bust of an emperor, and a sparkling fire, were all circum- 
 stances which made the room both interesting and comfort- 
 able in which Sidonia welcomed Tancred and introduced 
 him to a guest who had preceded him, Lord Henry 
 Sidney. 
 
 It was a name that touched Tancred, as it has all the 
 youth of England, significant of a career that would rescue 
 public life from that strange union of lax principles and 
 contracted sympathies which now form the special and 
 degrading features of British politics. It was borne by 
 one whose boyhood we have painted amid the fields and 
 schools of Eton, and the springtime of whose earliest youth 
 we traced by the sedgy waters of the Cam. We left him 
 on the threshold of public life ; and, in four years, Lord 
 Henry had created that reputation which now made him a 
 source of hope and solace to millions of his countrymen. 
 But they were four years of labour which outweighed the 
 usual exertions of public men in double that space. His 
 regular attendance in the House of Commons alone had 
 given him as much Parliamentary experience as fell to the 
 lot of many of those who had been first returned in 1837, 
 and had been, therefore, twice as long in the House. He 
 was not only a vigilant member of public and private com- 
 mittees, but had succeeded in appointing and conducting 
 several on topics which he esteemed of high importance. 
 Add to this, that he took an habitual part in debate, and was 
 a frequent and effective public writer ; and we are furnished 
 with an additional testimony, if that indeed were wanting, 
 that there is no incentive to exertion like the passion for a 
 noble renown. Nor should it be forgotten, that, in all he 
 accomplished, he had but one final purpose, and that the
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 135 
 
 highest. The debate, the committee, the article in the 
 Journal or the Review, the public meeting, the private re- 
 search, these were all means to advance that which he had 
 proposed as the object of his public life, namely to elevate 
 the condition of the people. 
 
 Although there was no public man whose powers had 
 more rapidly ripened, still it was interesting to observe that 
 their maturity had been faithful to the healthy sympathies 
 of his earlier years. The boy, whom we have traced intent 
 upon the revival of the pastimes of the people, had ex- 
 panded into the statesman, who, in a profound and compre- 
 hensive investigation of the elements of public wealth, had 
 shown that a jaded population is not a source of national 
 prosperity. What had been a picturesque emotion had now 
 become a statistical argument. The material system that 
 proposes the supply of constant toil to a people as the 
 perfection of polity, had received a staggering blow from 
 the exertions of a young patrician, who announced his 
 belief that labour had its rights as well as its duties. 
 What was excellent about Lord Henry was, that he was 
 not a mere philanthropist, satisfied to rouse public atten- 
 tion to a great social evil, or instantly to suggest for it 
 some crude remedy. 
 
 A scholar and a man of the world, learned in history 
 and not inexperienced in human nature, he was sensible 
 that we must look to the constituent principles of society 
 for the causes and the cures of great national disorders. 
 He therefore went deeply into the question, nor shrank 
 from investigating how far those disorders were produced 
 by the operation or the desuetude of ancient institutions, 
 and how far it might be necessary to call new influences 
 into political existence for their remedy. Richly informed, 
 still studious, fond of labour and indefatigable, of a gentle 
 disposition though of an ardent mind, calm yet energetic, 
 very open to conviction, but possessing an inflexibility 
 amounting even to obstinacy when his course was onoe 
 taken, a ready and improving speaker, an apt and attrac-
 
 136 TANCRED; OR 
 
 tive writer, affable and sincere, and with, the un designing 
 faculty of making friends, Lord Henry seemed to possess 
 all the qualities of a popular leader, if we add to them the 
 golden ones, high, lineage, an engaging appearance, youth, 
 and a temperament in which the reason had not been de- 
 veloped to the prejudice of the heart. 
 
 * And when do you start for the Holy Land ? ' said Lord 
 Henry to Tancred, in a tone and with a countenance which 
 proved his sympathy. 
 
 * I have clutched my staff, but the caravan lingers.' 
 
 * I envy you ! ' 
 
 * Why do you not go ? ' 
 
 Lord Henry slightly shrugged his shoulders, and said, 
 'It is too late. I have begun my work and I cannot 
 leave it.' 
 
 * If a Parliamentary career could save this country,' said 
 Tancred, ' I am sure you would be a public benefactor. I 
 have observed what you and Mr. Coningsby and some of 
 your friends have done and said, with great interest. But 
 Parliament seems to me to be the very place which a man 
 of action should avoid. A Parliamentary career, that old 
 superstition of the eighteenth century, was important when 
 there were no other sources of power and fame. An aristo- 
 cracy at the head of a people whom they had plundered of 
 their means of education, required some cultivated tribunal 
 whose sympathy might stimulate their intelligence and 
 satisfy their vanity. Parliament was never so great as 
 whei they debated with closed doors. The public opinion, 
 of which they never dreamed, has superseded the rhetorical 
 club of our great-grandfathers. They know this well 
 enough, and try to maintain their unnecessary position by 
 affecting the character of men of business, but amateur men 
 of business are very costly conveniences. In this age it 
 is not Parliament that does the real work. It does not 
 govern Ireland, for example. If the manufacturers want 
 to change a tariff, they form a commercial league, and they 
 effect their purpose. It is the same with the abolition of
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 137 
 
 slavery, and all our great revolutions. Parliament has be- 
 come as really insignificant as for two centuries it has kept 
 the monarch. O'Connell has taken a good share of its 
 power ; Cobden has taken another ; and I am inclined to 
 believe,' said Tancred, ' though I care little about it, that, 
 if our order had any spirit or prescience, they would put 
 themselves at the head of the people, and take the rest.' 
 
 'Coningsby dines here to-day,' said Sidonia, who, un- 
 observed, had watched Tancred as he spoke, with a search- 
 ing glance. 
 
 'Notwithstanding what you say,' said Lord Henry, 
 smiling, ' I wish I could induce you to remain and help us. 
 You would be a great ally.' 
 
 ' I go to a land,' said Tancred, ' that has never been 
 blessed by that fatal drollery called a representative govern- 
 ment, though Omniscience once deigned to trace out the 
 polity which should rule it.' 
 
 At this moment the servant announced Lord and Lady 
 Marney. 
 
 Political sympathy had created a close intimacy between 
 Lord Marney and Coningsby. They were necessary to 
 each other. They were both men entirely devoted to pub- 
 lic affairs, and sitting in different Houses, both young, and 
 both masters of fortunes of the first class, they were in- 
 dicated as individuals who hereafter might take a lead, 
 and, far from clashing, would co-operate with each other. 
 Through Coningsby the Marneys had become acquainted 
 with Sidonia, who liked them both, particularly Sybil. 
 Although received by society with open arms, especially by 
 the high nobility, who affected to look upon Sybil quite 
 as one of themselves, Lady Marney, notwithstanding the 
 homage that everywhere awaited her, had already shown a 
 disposition to retire as much as possible within the precinct 
 of a chosen circle. 
 
 This was her second season, and Sybil ventured to think 
 that she had made, in the general gaieties of her first, a 
 sufficient oblation to the genius of fashion, and the imme-
 
 138 TANCRED; OR 
 
 diate requirements of her social position. Her life was 
 faithful to its first impulse. Devoted to the improvement 
 of the condition of the people, she was the moving spring 
 of the charitable development of this great city. Her 
 house, without any pedantic effort, had become the focus 
 of a refined society, who, though obliged to show them- 
 selves for the moment in the great carnival, wear their 
 masks, blow their trumpets, and pelt the multitude with 
 sugar-plums, were glad to find a place where they could at 
 all times divest themselves of their mummery, and return 
 to their accustomed garb of propriety and good taste. 
 
 Sybil, too, felt alone in the world. Without a relation, 
 without an acquaintance of early and other days, she clung 
 to her husband with a devotion which was peculiar as well 
 as profound. Egremont was to her more than a husband 
 and a lover ; he was her only friend ; it seemed to Sybil 
 that he could be her only friend. The disposition of Lord 
 Marney was not opposed to the habits of his wife. Men, 
 when they are married, often shrink from the glare and 
 bustle of those social multitudes which are entered by 
 bachelors with the excitement of knights- errant in a fairy 
 wilderness, because they are supposed to be rife with ad- 
 ventures, and, perhaps, fruitful of a heroine. The adven- 
 ture sometimes turns out to be a catastrophe, and the 
 heroine a copy instead of an original ; but let that pass. 
 
 Lord Marney liked to be surrounded by those who sym- 
 pathised with his pursuit ; and his pursuit was politics, 
 and politics on a great scale. The common-place career 
 of official distinction was at his command. A great peer, 
 with abilities and ambition, a good speaker, supposed to be 
 a Conservative, he might soon have found his way into the 
 cabinet, and, like the rest, have assisted in registering the 
 decrees of one too powerful individual. But Lord Marney 
 had been taught to think at a period of life when he little 
 dreamed of the responsibility which fortune had in store 
 for him. 
 
 The change in his position had not altered the conclusions
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 139 
 
 at which he had previously arrived. He held that the state 
 of England, notwithstanding the superficies of a material 
 prosperity, was one of impending doom, unless it were 
 timely arrested by those who were in high places. A man 
 of fine mind rather than of brilliant talents, Lord Marney 
 found, in the more vivid and impassioned intelligence of 
 Coningsby, the directing sympathy which he required. 
 Tadpole looked upon his lordship as little short of insane. 
 ' Do you see that man ? ' he would say, as Lord Marney 
 rode by. ' He might be Privy Seal, and he throws it all 
 away for the nonsense of Young England ! ' 
 
 Mrs. Coningsby entered the room almost on the footsteps 
 of the Marneys. 
 
 'I am in despair about Harry,' she said, as she gave a 
 finger to Sidonia, ' but he told me not to wait for him later 
 than eight. I suppose he is kept at the House. Do you 
 know anything of him, Lord Henry ? ' 
 
 'You may make yourself quite easy about him,' said 
 Lord Henry. ' He promised Vavasour to support a motion 
 which he has to-day, and perhaps speak on it. I ought to 
 be there too, but Charles Buller told me there would cer- 
 tainly be no division, and so I ventured to pair off with 
 him.' 
 
 ' He will come with Vavasour,' said Sidonia, ' who 
 makes up our party. They will be here before we have 
 seated ourselves.' 
 
 The gentleman had exchanged the usual inquiry, whether 
 there was anything new to-day, without waiting for the 
 answer. Sidonia introduced Tancred and Lord Marney. 
 
 ' And what have you been doing to-day ? ' said Edith to 
 Sybil, by whose side she had seated herself. ' Lady Bar- 
 dolf did nothing last night but grander me, because you 
 never go to her parties. In vain I said that you looked 
 upon her as the most odious of her sex, and her balls the 
 pest of society. She was not in the least satisfied. And 
 how is Gerard ? ' 
 
 1 Why, we really have been very uneasy about him,' said
 
 140 TANCRED; OR 
 
 Lady Marney, 'but the last bulletin,' she added, with a 
 smile, ' announces a tooth.' 
 
 ' Next year you must give him a pony, and let him ride 
 with my Harry ; I mean my little Harry, Harry of Mon- 
 mouth I call him ; he is so like a portrait Mr. Coningsby 
 has of his grandfather, the same debauched look.' 
 
 ' Your dinner is served, sir ! ' 
 
 Sidonia offered his hand to Lady Marney; Edith was 
 attended by Tancred. A door at the end of the room 
 opened into a marble corridor, which led to the dining- 
 room, decorated in the same style as the library. It was a 
 suite of apartments which Sidonia used for an intimate 
 circle like the present. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THEY seated themselves at a round table, on which every- 
 thing seemed brilliant and sparkling ; nothing heavy, 
 nothing oppressive. There was scarcely anything that 
 Sidonia disliked so much as a small table, groaning, as it is 
 aptly termed, with plate. He shrunk from great masses of 
 gold and silver ; gigantic groups, colossal shields, and mobs 
 of tankards and flagons ; and never used them except on 
 great occasions, when the banquet assumes an Egyptian 
 character, and becomes too vast for refinement. At pre- 
 sent, the dinner was served on Sevres porcelain of Rose du 
 Barri, raised on airy golden stands of arabesque workman- 
 ship ; a mule bore your panniers of salt, or a sea- nymph 
 proffered it you on a shell just fresh from the ocean, or you 
 found it in a bird's nest ; by every guest a different pattern. 
 In the centre of the table, mounted on a pedestal, was a 
 group of pages in Dresden china. Nothing could be more 
 gay than their bright cloaks and flowing plumes, more 
 elaborately exquisite than their laced shirts and rosettes, or 
 more fantastically saucy than their pretty affected faces, as
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 141 
 
 each, with extended arm, held a light to a guest. The 
 room was otherwise illumined from the sides. 
 
 The guests had scarcely seated themselves when the two 
 absent ones arrived. 
 
 'Well, you did not divide, Vavasour,' said Lord Henry. 
 
 ' Did I not ? ' said Vavasour ; ' and nearly beat the Go- 
 vernment. You are a pretty fellow ! ' 
 
 ' I was paired.' 
 
 'With some one who could not stay. Your brother, 
 Mrs. Coningsby, behaved like a man, sacrificed his dinner, 
 and made a capital speech.' 
 
 * Oh ! Oswald, did he speak ? Did you speak, Harry ? ' 
 
 ' No ; I voted. There was too much speaking as it was ; 
 if Vavasour had not replied, I believe we should have 
 won.' 
 
 ' But then, my dear fellow, think of my points ; think 
 how they laid themselves open ! ' 
 
 'A majority is always the best repartee,' said Coningsby. 
 
 'I have been talking with Montacute,' whispered Lord 
 Henry to Coningsby, who was seated next to him. ' Won- 
 derful fellow ! You can conceive nothing richer ! Very 
 wild, but all the right ideas ; exaggerated of course. You 
 must get hold of him after dinner.' 
 
 ' But they say he is going to Jerusalem.' 
 
 ' But he will return.' 
 
 ' I do not know that ; even Napoleon regretted that he 
 had ever re-crossed the Mediterranean. The East is a 
 career.' 
 
 Mr. Vavasour was a social favourite ; a poet and a real 
 poet, and a troubadour, as well as a member of Parliament; 
 travelled, sweet-tempered, and good- hearted ; amusing and 
 clever. With catholic sympathies and an eclectic turn of 
 mind, Mr. Vavasour saw something good in everybody and 
 everything, which is certainly amiable, and perhaps just, 
 but disqualifies a man in some degree for the business of 
 life, which requires for its conduct a certain degree of pre- 
 judice. Mr. Vavasour's breakfasts were renowned. What-
 
 142 TANCEED; OR 
 
 ever your creed, class, or country, one might almost add 
 your character, you were a welcome guest at his matutinal 
 meal, provided you were celebrated. That qualification, 
 however, was rigidly enforced. 
 
 It not rarely happened that never were men more incon- 
 gruously grouped. Individuals met at his hospitable house 
 who had never met before, but who for years had been che- 
 rishing in solitude mutual detestation, with all the irritable 
 exaggeration of the literary character. Vavasour liked to 
 be the Amphitryon of a cluster of personal enemies. He 
 prided himself on figuring as the social medium by which 
 rival reputations became acquainted, and paid each other 
 in his presence the compliments which veiled their in- 
 effable disgust. All this was very well at his rooms in the 
 Albany, and only funny ; but when he collected his mena- 
 geries at his ancestral hall in a distant county, the sport 
 sometimes became tragic. 
 
 A real philosopher, alike from his genial disposition 
 and from the influence of his rich and various information, 
 Vavasour moved amid the strife, sympathising with every 
 one ; and perhaps, after all, the philanthropy which was 
 his boast was not untinged by a dash of humour, of which 
 rare and charming quality he possessed no inconsiderable 
 portion. Vavasour liked to know everybody who was 
 known, and to see everything which ought to be seen. He 
 also was of opinion that everybody who was known ought 
 to know him ; and that the spectacle, however splendid or 
 exciting, was not quite perfect without his presence. 
 
 His life was a gyration of energetic curiosity ; an in- 
 satiable whirl of social celebrity. There was not a congre- 
 gation of sages and philosophers in any part of Europe 
 which he did not attend as a brother. He was present at 
 the camp of Kalisch in his yeomanry uniform, and assisted 
 at the festivals of Barcelona in an Andalusian jacket. He 
 was everywhere, and at everything ; he had gone down in 
 a diving-bell and gone up in a balloon. As for his ac- 
 quaintance?, he was welcomed in every land ; his universal
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 143 
 
 sympathies seemed omnipotent. Emperor and king, jaco- 
 bin and carbonaro, alike cherished him. Ha was the 
 steward of Polish balls and the vindicator of Russian 
 humanity ; he dined with Louis Philippe, and gave dinners 
 to Louis Blanc. 
 
 This was a dinner of which the guests came to partake. 
 Though they delighted in each other's society, their meet- 
 ings were not so rare that they need sacrifice the elegant 
 pleasures of a refined meal for the opportunity of conver- 
 sation. They let that take its chance, and ate and drank 
 without affectation. Nothing so rare as a female dinner 
 where people eat, and few things more delightful. On the 
 present occasion, some time elapsed, while the admirable 
 performances of Sidonia's cook were discussed, with little 
 interruption ; a burst now and then from the ringing voice 
 of Mrs. Coningsby crossing a lance with her habitual op- 
 ponent, Mr. Vavasour, who, however, generally withdrew 
 from the skirmish when a fresh dish was handed to him. 
 
 At length, the second course being served, Mrs. 
 Coningsby said, ' I think you have all eaten enough : I 
 have a piece of information for you. There is going to be 
 a costume ball at the Palace.' 
 
 This announcement produced a number of simultaneous 
 remarks and exclamations. ' When was it to be ? What 
 was it to be ? An age, or a country ; or an olio of all ages 
 and all countries ? ' 
 
 ' An age is a masquerade,' said Sidonia. ' The more 
 contracted the circle, the more perfect the illusion.' 
 
 ' Oh, no ! ' said Vavasour, shaking his head. ' An age is 
 the thing ; it is a much higher thing. What can be finer 
 than to represent the spirit of an age?' 
 
 ' And Mr. Vavasonr to perform the principal part,' said 
 Mrs. Coningsby. ' I know exactly what he means. He 
 wants to dance the Polka as Petrarch, and find a Laura in 
 every partner.' 
 
 ' You have no poetical feeling,' said Mr. Vavasour, 
 waving his hand. ' I have often told you so.'
 
 144 TAKCREI); OR 
 
 ' You will easily find Lauras, Mr. Vavasour, if you often 
 write such beautiful verses as I have been reading to-day,' 
 said Lady Marney. 
 
 ' You, on the contrary,' said Mr. Vavasour, bowing, 
 ' have a great deal of poetic feeling, Lady Marney ; I have 
 always said so.' 
 
 ' But give us your news, Edith,' said Coningsby. 
 ' Imagine our suspense, when it is a question, whether we 
 are all to look picturesque or quizzical.' 
 
 ' Ah, you want to know whether you can go as Cardinal 
 Mazarin, or the Duke of Kipperda, Harry. I know exactly 
 what you all are now thinking of ; whether you will draw 
 the prize in the forthcoming lottery, and get exactly the epoch 
 and the character which suit you. Is it not so, Lord Monta- 
 cute ? Would not you like to practise a little with your 
 crusados at the Queen's ball, before you go to the Holy 
 Sepulchre?* 
 
 * I would rather hear your description of it,' said Tancred. 
 
 ' Lord Henry, I see, is half inclined to be your companion 
 as a Redcross Knight,' continued Edith. 'As for Lady 
 Marney, she is the successor of Mrs. Fry, and would wish, 
 I am sure, to go to the ball as her representative.' 
 
 ' And pray what are you thinking of being ? ' said Mr. 
 Vavasour. ' We should like veiy much to be favoured 
 with Mrs. Coningsby 's ideal of herself.' 
 
 ' Mrs. Coningsby leaves the ideal to poets. She is quite 
 satisfied to remain what she is, and it is her intention to do 
 so, though she means to go to Her Majesty's ball.' 
 
 'I see that you are in the secret,' said Lord Marney. 
 
 'If I could only keep secrets, I might turn out some- 
 thing,' said Mrs. Coningsby. ' I am the depositary of so 
 much that is occult joys, sorrows, plots, and scrapes ; but 
 I always tell Harry, and he always betrays me. Well, you 
 must guess a little. Lady Marney begins.' 
 
 ' Well, we were at one at Turin,' said Lady Marney, ' and 
 it was oriental, Lalla Rookh. Are you to be a sultana ? ' 
 Mrs. Coningsby shook her head.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 145 
 
 1 Come, Edith,' said her husband ; ' if you know, which f 
 doubt ' 
 
 ' Oh ! you doubt 
 
 ' Valentine told me yesterday,' said Mr. Vavasour, in a 
 mock peremptory tone, ' that there would not be a ball.' 
 
 ' And Lord Valentine told me yesterday that there would 
 be a ball, and what the ball would be ; and what is more, I 
 have fixed on my dress,' said Mrs. Coningsby. 
 
 ' Such a rapid decision proves that much antiquarian 
 research is not necessary,' said Sidonia. ' Your period is 
 modern.' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said Edith, looking at Sidonia, ' he always finds 
 me out. Well, Mr. Vavasour, you will not be able to 
 crown yourself with a laurel wreath, for the gentlemen 
 will wear wigs.' 
 
 ' Louis Quatorze ? ' said her husband. ' Peel as Louvois.' 
 
 ' No, Sir Robert would be content with nothing less than 
 Le Grand Colbert, rue Richelieu, No. 15, grand magasin de 
 nouveautes tres-anciennes : prix fixe, avec qnelquesrabais.' 
 
 'A description of Conservatism,' said Coningsby. 
 
 The secret was soon revealed : every one had a conjecture 
 and a commentary : gentlemen in wigs, and ladies pow- 
 dered, patched, and sacked. Vavasour pondered somewhat 
 dolefully on the anti-poetic spirit of the age ; Coningsby 
 hailed him as the author of Leonidas. 
 
 ' And you, I suppose, will figure as one of the " boys " 
 arrayed against the great Sir Robert ? ' said Mr. Vavasour, 
 with a countenance of mock veneration for that eminent 
 personage. 
 
 ' The " boys " beat him at last,' said Coningsby ; and 
 then, with a rapid precision and a richness of colouring 
 which were peculiar to him, he threw out a sketch which 
 placed the period before them ; and they began to tear it to 
 tatters, select the incidents, and apportion the characters. 
 
 Two things which are necessary to a perfect dinner are 
 noiseless attendants, and a precision in serving the various 
 dishes of each course, so that they may all be placed upon 
 
 L
 
 146 TANCRED: OR 
 
 the table at the same moment. A deficiency in these re- 
 spects produces that bustle and delay which distract many 
 an agreeable conversation and spoil many a pleasant dish. 
 These two excellent characteristics were never wanting at 
 the dinners of Sidonia. At no house was there less parade. 
 The appearance of the table changed as if by the waving of 
 a wand, and silently as a dream. And at this moment, the 
 dessert being arranged, fruits and their beautiful compa- 
 nions, flowers, reposed in alabaster baskets raised on silver 
 stands of filagree work. 
 
 There was half an hour of merry talk, graceful and gay : 
 a good story, a bon-mot fresh from the mint, some raillery 
 like summer lightning, vivid but not scorching. 
 
 ' And now,' said Edith, as the ladies rose to return to the 
 library, ' and now we leave you to Maynooth.' 
 
 ' By-the-bye, what do they say to it in your House, Lord 
 Marney ? ' inquired Henry Sidney, filling his glass. 
 
 ' It will go down,' said Lord Marney. ' A strong dose 
 for some, but they are used to potent potions.' 
 
 ' The bishops, they say, have not made up their minds.' 
 
 ' Fancy bishops not having made up their minds,' ex- 
 claimed Tancred : ' the only persons who crught never to 
 doubt.' 
 
 ' Except when they are offered a bishopric,' said Lord 
 Marney. 
 
 ' Why I like this Maynooth project,' said Tancred, ' though 
 otherwise it little interests me, is, that all the shopkeepers 
 are against it.' 
 
 'Don't tell that to the minister,' said Coningsby, ' or he 
 will give up the measure.' 
 
 ' Well, that is the very reason,' said Vavasour, ' why, 
 though otherwise inclined to the grant, I hesitate as to my 
 vote. I have the highest opinion of the shopkeepers ; I 
 sympathise even with their prejudices. They are the class 
 of the age; they represent its order, its decency, its industry.' 
 
 ' And you represent them,' said Coningsby. ' Yavasour 
 is the quintessence of order, decency, and industry.'
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 147 
 
 ' You may jest,' said Vavasour, shaking his head with a 
 spice of solemn drollery ; ' but public opinion must and 
 ought to be respected, right or wrong.' 
 
 ' What do you mean by public opinion ? ' said Tancred. 
 
 'The opinion of the reflecting majority,' said Vavasour. 
 
 ' Those who don't read your poems,' said Coningsby. 
 
 ' Boy, boy ! ' said Vavasour, who could endure raillery 
 from one he had been at college with, but who was not 
 over-pleased at Coningsby selecting the present occasion to 
 claim his franchise, when a new man was present like Lord 
 Montacute, on whom Vavasour naturally wished to produce 
 an impression. It must be owned that it was not, as they 
 say, very good taste in the husband of Edith, but prosperity 
 had developed in Coningsby a native vein of sauciness 
 which it required all the solemnity of the senate to repress. 
 Indeed, even there, upon the benches, with a grave face, he 
 often indulged in quips and cranks, that convulsed his 
 neighbouring audience, who often, amid the long dreary 
 nights of statistical imposture, sought refuge in his gay 
 sarcasms, his airy personalities, and happy quotations. 
 
 'I do not see how there can be opinion without thought,' 
 said Tancred ; ' and I do not believe the public ever think. 
 How can they ? They have no time. Certainly we live at 
 present under the empire of general ideas, which are ex- 
 tremely powerful. But the public have not invented those 
 ideas. They have adopted them from convenience. No 
 one has confidence in himself ; on the contrary, every one 
 has a mean idea of his own strength and has no reliance on 
 his own judgment. Men obey a general impulse, they bow 
 before an external necessity, whether for resistance or action. 
 Individuality is dead ; there is a want of inward and per- 
 sonal energy in man ; and that is what people feel and mean 
 when they go about complaining there is no faith.' 
 
 ' You would hold, then,' said Henry Sidney, ' that the 
 progress of public liberty marches with the decay of personal 
 greatness ?' 
 
 * It would seem so.' 
 
 LI
 
 148 TANCRED; OR 
 
 ' But the majority will always prefer public liberty to 
 personal greatness,' said Lord Marney. 
 
 ' But, without personal greatness, you never would have 
 had public liberty,' said Coningsby. 
 
 ' After all, it is civilisation that you are kicking against,' 
 said Vavasour. 
 
 ' I do not understand what you mean by civilisation,' said 
 Tancred. 
 
 ' The progressive development of the faculties of man,' 
 said Vavasour. 
 
 ' Yes, but what is progressive development ? ' said Sido- 
 nia ; ' and what are the faculties of man ? If development 
 be progressive, how do you account for the state of Italy ? 
 One will tell you it is superstition, indulgences, and the 
 Lady of Loretto ; yet three centuries ago, when all these 
 influences were much more powerful, Italy was the soul of 
 Europe. The less prejudiced, a Puseyite for example, like 
 our friend Vavasour, will assure us that the state of Italy 
 has nothing to do with the spirit of its religion, but that it 
 is entirely an affair of commerce ; a revolution of commerce 
 has convulsed its destinies. I cannot forget that the world 
 was once conquered by Italians who had no commerce. 
 Has the development of Western Asia been progressive ? 
 It is a land of tombs and ruins. Is China progressive, the 
 most ancient and numerous of existing societies ? Is 
 Europe itself progressive ? Is Spain a tithe as great as 
 she was ? Is Germany as great as when she invented 
 printing ; as she was under the rule of Charles the 
 Fifth ? France herself laments her relative inferiority to 
 the past. But England flourishes. Is it what you call 
 civilisation that makes England flourish ? Is it the uni- 
 versal development of the faculties of man that has ren- 
 dered an island, almost unknown to the ancients, the 
 arbiter of the world ? Clearly not. It is her inhabitants 
 that have done this ; it is an affair of race. A Saxon race, 
 protected by an insular position, has stamped its diligent 
 and methodic character on the century. And when a snpe-
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 149 
 
 rior race, with a superior idea to Work and Order, advances, 
 its state will be progressive, and we shall, perhaps, follow 
 the example of the desolate countries. All is race ; there ia 
 no other truth.' 
 
 ' Because it includes all others ? ' said Lord Henry. 
 
 'You have said it.' 
 
 ' As for Vavasour's definition of civilisation,' said Co- 
 ningsby, ' civilisation was more advanced in ancient than 
 modern times ; then what becomes of the progressive prin- 
 ciple ? Look at the great centuries of the Roman Empire ! 
 You had two hundred millions of human beings governed 
 by a jurisprudence so philosophical that we have been 
 obliged to adopt its laws, and living in perpetual peace. 
 The means of communication, of which we now make such 
 a boast, were far more vast and extensive in those days. 
 What were the Great Western and the London and Bir- 
 mingham to the Appiaa. and Flaminian roads? After two 
 thousand five hundred years, parts of these are still used. 
 A man under the Antonines might travel from Paris to 
 Antioch with as much ease and security as we go from 
 London to York. As for free trade, there never was a 
 really unshackled commerce except in the days when the 
 whole of the Mediterranean coasts belonged to one power. 
 What a chatter there is now about the towns, and how their 
 development is cited as the peculiarity of the age, and the 
 great security for public improvement. Why, the Roman 
 Empire was the empire of great cities. Man was then 
 essentially municipal.' 
 
 ' What an empire ! ' said Sidonia. ' All the superior 
 races in all the superior climes.' 
 
 ' But how does all this accord with your and Coningsby's 
 favourite theory of the influence of individual character ? ' 
 said Vavasour to Sidonia ; ' which I hold, by-the-bye,' he 
 added rather pompously, ' to be entirely futile.' 
 
 ' What is individual character but the personification of 
 race,' said Sidonia, 'its perfection and choice exemplar? 
 Instead of being an inconsistency, the belief in the influence
 
 150 TANCRED; OB 
 
 of the individual is a corollary of the original propo- 
 sition.' 
 
 ' I look upon a belief in the influence of individual cha- 
 racter as a barbarous superstition,' said Vavasour. 
 
 ' Vavasour believes that there would be no heroes if there 
 Avere a police,' said Coningsby ; 'but I believe that civilisa- 
 tion is only fatal to minstrels, and that is the reason now 
 we have no poets.' 
 
 ' How do you account for the Polish failure in 1831 ? ' 
 said Lord Marney. ' They had a capital army, they were 
 backed by the population, but they failed. They had every- 
 thing but a man.' 
 
 ' Why were the Whigs smashed in 1834,' said Coningsby, 
 ' but because they had not a man ? ' 
 
 4 What is the real explanation of the state of Mexico? ' said 
 Sidonia. ' It has not a man.' 
 
 ' So much for progress since the days of Charles the Fifth,' 
 said Henry Sidney. ' The Spaniards then conquered Mexico, 
 and now they cannot govern it.' 
 
 ' So much for race,' said Vavasour. ' The race is the 
 same ; why are not the results the same ? ' 
 
 ' Because it is worn out,' said Sidonia. ' Why do not 
 the Ethiopians build another Thebes, or excavate the colos- 
 sal temples of the cataracts ? The decay of a race is an 
 inevitable necessity, unless it lives in deserts and never 
 mixes its blood.' 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 ' I AM sorry, my dear mother, that I cannot accompany you ; 
 but I must go down to my yacht this morning, and on my 
 return from Greenwich I have an engagement.' 
 
 This was said about a week after the dinner at Sidonia' s, 
 by Lord Montacute to the duchess. 
 
 ' That terrible yacht ! ' thought the duchess. 
 
 Her Grace, a year ago, had she been aware of it, would
 
 THE NEW CEUSADE. 151 
 
 have deemed Tancred's engagement as fearful an affair. The 
 idea that her son should have called every day for a week 
 on a married lady, beautiful and attractive, would have filled 
 her with alarm amounting almost to horror. Tet such was 
 the innocent case. It might at the first glance seem dim- 
 cult to reconcile the rival charms of the Basilisk and Lady 
 Bertie and Bellair, and to understand how Tancred could 
 be so interested in the preparations for a voyage which was 
 to bear him from the individual in whose society he found 
 a daily gratification. But the truth is, that Lady Bertie 
 and Bellair was the only person who sympathised with his 
 adventure. 
 
 She listened with the liveliest concern to his account of 
 all his progress ; she even made many admirable sugges- 
 tions, for Lady Bertie and Bellair had been a frequent visitor 
 at Cowes, and was quite initiated in the mysteries of the 
 dilettante service of the Tacht Club. She was a capital 
 sailor ; at least she always told Tancred so. But this was 
 not the chief source of sympathy, or the principal bond 
 of union, between them. It was not the voyage, so much as 
 the object of the voyage, that touched all the passion of 
 Lady Bertie and Bellair. Her heart was at Jerusalem. 
 The sacred city was the dream of her life ; and, amid the 
 dissipations of May Fair and the distractions of Belgravia, 
 she had in fact all this time only been thinking of Jehosha- 
 phat and Sion. Strange coincidence of sentiment strange 
 and sweet ! 
 
 The enamoured Montacute hung over her with pious rap- 
 ture, as they examined together Mr. Egberts' Syrian draw- 
 ings, and she alike charmed and astonished him by her 
 familiarity with every locality and each detail. She looked 
 like a beautiful prophetess as she dilated with solemn en- 
 thusiasm on the sacred scene. Tancred called on her every 
 day, because when he called the first time, he had announced 
 his immediate departure, and so had been authorised to pro- 
 mise that he would pay his respects to her every day till he 
 went. It was calculated that by these means, that is to say
 
 152 TANCRED; OR 
 
 three or four visits, they might perhaps travel through Mr. 
 .Roberts' views together before he left England, which would 
 facilitate their correspondence, for Tancred had engaged to 
 write to the only person in the world worthy of receiving 
 his letters. But, though separated, Lady Bertie and Bellair 
 would be with him in spirit ; and once she sighed and 
 seemed to murmur, that if his voyage could only be post- 
 poned awhile, she might in a manner become his fellow- 
 pilgrim, for Lord Bertie, a great sportsman, had a de- 
 sire to kill antelopes, and, wearied with the monotonous 
 slaughter of English preserves, tired even of the eternal 
 moors, had vague thoughts of seeking new sources of 
 excitement amid the snipes of the Grecian marshes, 
 and the deer and wild boars of the desert and the Syrian 
 hills. 
 
 While his captain was repeating his inquiries for instruc- 
 tions on the deck of the Basilisk at Greenwich, moored off 
 the Trafalgar Hotel, Tancred fell into reveries of female 
 pilgrims kneeling at the Holy Sepulchre by his side ; then 
 started, gave a hurried reply, and drove back quickly to 
 town, to pass the remainder of the morning in Brook Street. 
 
 The two or three days had expanded into two or three 
 weeks, and Tancred continued to call daily on Lady Bertie 
 and Bellair, to say farewell. It was not wonderful : she 
 was the only person in London who understood him ; so she 
 delicately intimated, so he profoundly felt. They had the 
 same ideas ; they must have the same idiosyncrasy. The 
 lady asked with a sigh why they had not met before ; Tan- 
 cred found some solace in the thought that they had at least 
 become acquainted. There was something about this lady 
 very interesting besides her beauty, her bright intelligence, 
 and her seraphic thoughts. She was evidently the creature 
 of impulse ; to a certain degree perhaps the victim of her 
 imagination. She seemed misplaced in life. The tone of 
 the century hardly suited her refined and romantic spirit. 
 Her ethereal nature seemed to shrink from the coarse reality 
 which invades in our days even the boudoirs of May Fair.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 
 
 There was something in her appearance and the temper of 
 her being which rebuked the material, sordid, calculating 
 genius of our reign of Mammon. 
 
 Her presence in this world was a triumphant vindication 
 of the claims of beauty and of sentiment. It was evident 
 that she was not happy ; for, though her fair brow always 
 lighted up when she met the glance of Tancred, it was im- 
 possible not to observe that she was sometimes strangely 
 depressed, often anxious and excited, frequently absorbed in 
 reverie. Yet her vivid intelligence, the clearness and pre- 
 cision of her thought and fancy, never faltered. In the 
 unknown yet painful contest, the intellectual always tri- 
 umphed. It was impossible to deny that she was a woman 
 of great ability. 
 
 Nor could it for a moment be imagined that these fitful 
 moods were merely the routine intimations that her do- 
 mestic hearth was not as happy as it deserved to be. On 
 the contrary, Lord and Lady Bertie and Bellair were the 
 very best friends ; she always spoke of her husband with 
 interest and kindness ; they were much together, and there 
 evidently existed between them mutual confidence. His 
 lordship's heart, indeed, was not at Jerusalem ; and perhaps 
 this want of sympathy on a subject of such rare and ab- 
 sorbing interest might account for the occasional musings 
 of his wife, taking refuge in her own solitary and devoutly 
 passionate soul. But this deficiency on the part of his lord- 
 ship could scarcely be alleged against him as a very heinous 
 fault ; it is far from usual to find a British noble who on 
 such a topic entertains the notions and sentiments of Lord 
 Montacute ; almost as rare to find a British peeress who 
 could respond to them with the same fervour and facility as 
 the beautiful Lady Bertie and Bellair. The life of a British 
 peer is mainly regulated by Arabian laws and Syrian cus- 
 toms at this moment ; but, while he sabbatically abstains 
 from the debate or the rubber, or regulates the quarterly 
 performance of his judicial duties in his province by the 
 advent of the sacred festivals, he thinks little of the land
 
 154 TANCEED; OR 
 
 and the race who, under the immediate superintendence of 
 the Deity, have by their sublime legislation established the 
 principle of periodic rest to man, or by their deeds and their 
 dogmas, commemorated by their holy anniversaries, have 
 elevated the condition and softened the lot of every nation 
 except their own. 
 
 ' And how does Tancred get on ? ' asked Lord Eskdale 
 one morning of the Duchess of Bellamont, with a dry 
 smile. ' I understand that, instead of going to Jerusalem, 
 he is going to give us a fish dinner.' 
 
 The Duchess of Bellamont had made the acquaintance 
 of Lady Bertie and Bellair, and was delighted with her, 
 although her Grace had been told that Lord Montacute 
 called upon her every day. The proud, intensely proper, 
 and highly prejudiced Duchess of Bellamont took the most 
 charitable view of this sudden and fervent friendship. A 
 female friend, who talked about Jerusalem, but kept her son 
 in London, was in the present estimation of the duchess a 
 real treasure, the most interesting and admirable of her 
 sex. Their intimacy was satisfactorily accounted for by the 
 invaluable information which she imparted to Tancred ; 
 what he was to see, do, eat, drink ; how he was to avoid 
 being poisoned and assassinated, escape fatal fevers, regu- 
 larly attend the service of the church of England in countries 
 where there were no churches, and converse in languages 
 of which he had no knowledge. He could not have a better 
 counsellor than Lady Bertie, who had herself travelled, at 
 least to the Faubourg St. Honore, and, as Horace Walpole 
 says, after Calais nothing astonishes. Certainly Lady Bertie 
 had not been herself to Jerusalem, but she had read about 
 it, and every other place. The duchess was delighted 
 that Tancred had a companion who interested him. With 
 all the impulse of her sanguine temperament, she had al- 
 ready accustomed herself to look upon the long-dreaded 
 yacht as a toy, and rather an amusing one, and was daily 
 more convinced of the prescient shrewdness of her cousin, 
 Lord Eskdale.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 155 
 
 Tancred was going to give them a fish dinner ! A what ? 
 A sort of banquet which might have served for the mar- 
 riage feast of Neptune and Amphitrite, and be commemo- 
 rated by a constellation ; and which ought to have been 
 administered by the Nereids and the Naiads ; terrines of 
 Turtle, pools of water souchee, flounders of every hue, and 
 eels in every shape, cutlets of salmon, salmis of carp, orto- 
 lans represented by whitebait, and huge roasts carved out 
 of the sturgeon. The appetite is distracted by the variety 
 of objects, and tantalised by the restlessness of perpetual 
 solicitation ; not a moment of repose, no pause for enjoy- 
 ment ; eventually, a feeling of satiety without satisfaction, 
 and of repletion without sustenance ; till, at night, gradu- 
 ally recovering from the whirl of the anomalous repast, 
 famished yet incapable of flavour, the tortured memory can 
 only recall with an effort, that it has dined off pink cham- 
 pagne and brown bread and butter! 
 
 What a ceremony to be presided over by Tancred of 
 Montacute ; who, if he deigned to dine at all, onght to have 
 dined at no less a round table than that of King Arthur. 
 What a consummation of a sublime project ! What a 
 catastrophe of a spiritual career ! A Greenwich party and 
 a tavern bill ! 
 
 All the world now is philosophical, and therefore they 
 can account for this disaster. Without doubt we are the 
 creatures of circumstances ; and, if circumstances take the 
 shape of a charming woman, who insists upon sailing in 
 your yacht, which happens to be at Blackwall or Green- 
 wich, it is not easy to discover how the inevitable con- 
 sequences can be avoided. It would hardly do, off the 
 Nore, to present yonr mistress with a sea-pie, or abruptly 
 remind your farewell friends and sorrowing parents of their 
 impending loss, by suddenly serving up soup hermetically 
 sealed, and roasting the embalmed joint, which ought only 
 to have smoked amid the ruins of Thebes or by the cataracts 
 of Nubia. 
 
 There are, however, two sides of every picture ; a party
 
 156 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 may be pleasant, and even a fish dinner not merely a whirl 
 of dishes and a clash of plates. The guests may be not too 
 numerous, and well assorted ; the attendance not too de- 
 voted, yet regardful ; the weather may be charming, which 
 is a great thing, and the giver of the dinner may be charmed, 
 and that is everything.' 
 
 The party to see the Basilisk was not only the most 
 agreeable of the season, but the most agreeable ever known. 
 They all said so when they came back. Mr. Vavasour, who 
 was there, went to all his evening parties ; to the assembly 
 by the wife of a minister in Carlton Terrace ; to a rout by 
 the wife of the leader of Opposition in Whitehall ; to a 
 literary soiree in "Westminster, and a brace of balls in 
 Portman and Belgrave Squares ; and told them all that 
 they were none of them to be compared to the party of the 
 morning, to which, it must be owned, he had greatly contri- 
 buted by his good humour and merry wit. Mrs. Coningsby 
 declared to every one that, if Lord Montacute would take 
 her, she was quite ready to go to Jerusalem ; such a perfect 
 vessel was the Basilisk, and such an admirable sailor was 
 Mrs. Coningsby, which, considering that the river was like 
 a mill-pond, according to Tancred's captain, or like a 
 mirror, according to Lady Bertie and Bellair, was not sur- 
 prising. The duke protested that he was quite glad that 
 Montacute had taken to yachting, it seemed to agree with 
 him so well ; and spoke of his son's future movements as if 
 there were no such place as Palestine in the world. The 
 sanguine duchess dreamed of Cowes regattas, and resolved 
 to agree to any arrangement to meet her son's fancy, pro- 
 vided he would stay at home, which she convinced herself 
 he had now resolved to do. 
 
 ' Our cousin is so wise,' she said to her husband, as they 
 were returning. ' What could the bishop mean by saying 
 that Tancred was a visionary ? I agree with you, George, 
 there is no counsellor like a man of the world.' 
 
 ' I wish M. de Sidonia had come,' said Lady Bertie and 
 Bellair, gazing from the window of the Trafalgar on the
 
 THE SEW CRUSADE. 157 
 
 moonlit river with an expression of abstraction, and speak- 
 ing in a tone almost of melancholy. 
 
 ' I also wish it, since you do,' said Tancred. ' But they 
 say he goes nowhere. It was almost presumptuous in me 
 to ask him, yet I did so because you wished it.' 
 
 ' I never shall know him,' said Lady Bertie and Bellair, 
 with some vexation. 
 
 4 He interests you,' said Tancred, a little piqued. 
 
 ' I had so many things to say to him,' said her ladyship. 
 
 ' Indeed ! ' said Tancred ; and then he continued, ' I 
 offered him every inducement to come, for I told him it was 
 to meet you ; but perhaps if he had known that you had 
 so many things to say to him, he might have relented.' 
 
 ' So many things ! Oh ! yes. You know he has been a 
 great traveller ; he has been everywhere ; he has been at 
 Jerusalem.' 
 
 ' Fortunate man ! ' exclaimed Tancred, half to himself. 
 ' Would I were there ! ' 
 
 ' Would we were there, you mean,' said Lady Bertie, in 
 a tone of exquisite melody, and looking at Tancred with 
 her rich charged eyes. 
 
 His heart trembled ; he was about to give utterance to 
 some wild words, but they died upon his lips. Two great 
 convictions shared his being : the absolute necessity of at 
 once commencing his pilgrimage, and the persuasion that 
 life, without the constant presence of this sympathising 
 companion, must be intolerable. What was to be done ? 
 In his long reveries, where he had brooded over so many 
 thoughts, some only of which he had as yet expressed to 
 mortal ear, Tancred had calculated, as he believed, every 
 combination of obstacle which his projects might have to 
 encounter; but one, it now seemed, he had entirely omitted, 
 the influence of woman. Why was he here ? Why was ho 
 not away ? Why had he not departed ? The reflection 
 was intolerable ; it seemed to him even disgraceful. The 
 being who would be content with nothing less than com- 
 muning with celestial powers in sacred climes, standing at a
 
 158 TANCRED; OR 
 
 tavern window gazing on the moonlit mudbanks of the 
 barbarous Thames, a river which neither angel nor prophet 
 had ever visited ! Before him, softened by the hour, was 
 the Isle of Dogs ! The Isle of Dogs ! It should at least 
 be Cyprus ! 
 
 The carriages were announced ; Lady Bertie and Bellair 
 placed her arm in his. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 TANCRED passed a night of great disquiet. His mind was 
 agitated, his purposes indefinite ; his confidence in himself 
 seemed to falter. Where was that strong will that had 
 always sustained him ? that faculty of instant decision 
 which had given such vigour to his imaginary deeds ? A 
 shadowy haze had suffused his heroic idol, duty, and he 
 could not clearly distinguish either its form or its propor- 
 tions. Did he wish to go to the Holy Land or not ? What 
 a question ? Had it come to that ? Was it possible that 
 he could whisper such an inquiry, even to his midnight 
 soul ? He did wish to go to the Holy Land ; his purpose 
 was not in the least faltering ; he most decidedly wished to 
 go to the Holy Land, but he wished also to go thither in 
 the company of Lady Bertie and Bellair. 
 
 Tancred could not bring himself to desert the only being 
 perhaps in England, excepting himself, whose heart was at 
 Jerusalem ; and that being a woman ! There seemed some- 
 thing about it unknightly, unkind and cowardly, almost 
 base. Lady Bertie was a heroine worthy of ancient 
 Christendom rather than of enlightened Europe. In the 
 old days, truly the good old days, when the magnetic power 
 of Western Asia on the Gothic races had been more 
 puissant, her noble yet delicate spirit might have been 
 found beneath the walls of Ascalon or by the purple waters 
 of Tyre. When Tancred first met her, she was dreaming 
 of Palestine amid her frequent sadness ; he could not,
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 150 
 
 utterly void of all self-conceit as he was, be insensible to 
 the fact that his sympathy, founded on such a divine 
 congeniality, had often chased the cloud from her brow and 
 lightened the burthen of her drooping spirit. If she were 
 sad before, what would she be now, deprived of the society 
 of the only being to whom she could unfold the spiritual 
 mysteries of her romantic soul ? Was such a character to 
 be left alone in this world of slang and scrip ; of coarse 
 motives and coarser words ? Then, too, she was so in- 
 telligent and so gentle ; the only person who understood 
 him, and never grated for an instant on his high ideal. 
 Her temper also was the sweetest in the world, eminent as 
 her generous spirit. She spoke of others with so much 
 kindness, and never indulged in that spirit of detraction or 
 that love of personal gossip which Tancred had frankly told 
 her he abhorred. Somehow or other it seemed that their 
 tastes agreed on everything. 
 
 The agitated Tancred rose from the bed where the hope 
 of slumber was vain. The fire in his dressing-room was 
 nearly extinguished; wrapped in his chamber robe, he threw 
 himself into a chair, which he drew near the expiring em- 
 bers, and sighed. 
 
 Unhappy youth ! For you commences that great hallu- 
 cination, which all must prove, but which fortunately can 
 never be repeated, and which, in mockery, we call first 
 love. The physical frame has its infantile disorders ; the 
 cough which it must not escape, the burning skin which it 
 must encounter. The heart has also its childish and cradle 
 malady, which may be fatal, but which, if once surmounted, 
 enables the patient to meet with becoming power all the 
 real convulsions and fevers of passion that are the heir-loom 
 of our after-life. They, too, may bring destruction ; but, in 
 their case, the cause and the effect are more proportioned. 
 The heroine is real, the sympathy is wild but at least 
 genuine, the catastrophe is that of a ship at sea which sinks 
 with a rich cargo in a noble venture. 
 
 In our relations with the softer sex it cannot be main-
 
 160 TANCRED; OB 
 
 tained that ignorance is bliss. On the contrary, experience 
 is the best security for enduring love. Love at first sight 
 is often a genial and genuine sentiment, but first love at 
 first sight is ever eventually branded as spurious. Still 
 more so is that first love which suffuses less rapidly the 
 spirit of the ecstatic votary, when he finds that by degrees 
 his feelings, as the phrase runs, have become engaged. 
 Fondness is so new to him that he has repaid it with ex- 
 aggerated idolatry, and become intoxicated by the novel 
 gratification of his vanity. Little does he suspect that all 
 this time his seventh heaven is but the crapulence of self- 
 love. In these cases, it is not merely that everything is ex- 
 aggerated, but everything is factitious. Simultaneously, the 
 imaginary attributes of the idol disappearing, and vanity 
 being satiated, all ends in a crash of iconoclastic surfeit. 
 
 The embers became black, the night air had cooled the 
 turbulent blood of Lord Montacute, he shivered, returned 
 to his couch, and found a deep and invigorating repose. 
 
 The next morning, abont two hours after noon, Tancred 
 called on Lady Bertie. As he drove up to the door, there 
 came forth from it the foreigner who was her companion in 
 the city fray, when Tancred first saw her and went to her 
 rescue. He recognised Lord Montacute, and bowed with 
 much ceremony, though with a certain grace and bearing. 
 He was a man whose wrinkled visage strangely contrasted 
 with his still gallant figure, scrupulously attired ; a blue 
 frock coat with a ribboned button-hole, a well-turned boot, 
 hat a little too hidalgoish, but quite new. There was some- 
 thing respectable and substantial about him, notwithstand- 
 ing hie moustaches, and a carriage a degree too debonair 
 for his years. He did not look like a carbouaro or a re- 
 fugee. Who could he be ? 
 
 Tancred had asked himself this question before. This 
 was not the first time that he had encountered this distin- 
 guished foreigner since their first meeting. Tancred had 
 seen him before this, quitting the door of Lord Bertie and 
 Bellair ; had stumbled over him before this, more than once,
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 161 
 
 on the staircase ; once, to his surprise, had met him as he 
 entered the personal saloon of Lady Bertie. As it was evi- 
 tlent, on that occasion, that his visit had been to the lady, 
 it was thought necessary to say something, and he had been 
 called the Baron, and described, though in a somewhat 
 flurried and excited manner, as a particular friend, a person 
 in whom they had the most entire confidence, who had been 
 most kind to them at Paris, putting them in the way of 
 buying the rarest china for nothing, and who was now over 
 here on some private business of his own, of great impor. 
 tance. The Bertie and Bellairs felt immense interest in his 
 exertions, and wished him every success ; Lord Bertie par. 
 ticularly. It was not at all surprising, considering the in- 
 numerable kindnesses they had experienced at his hands, 
 was it ? 
 
 ' Nothing more natural,' replied Tancred ; and he turned 
 the conversation. 
 
 Lady Bertie was much depressed this morning, so much 
 o, that it was impossible for Tancred not to notice her un- 
 equal demeanour. Her hand trembled as he touched it ; 
 her face, flushed when he entered, became deadly pale. 
 
 ' You are not well,' he said. ' I fear the open carriage 
 last night has made you already repent our expedition.' 
 
 She shook her head. It was not the open carriage, which 
 was delightful, nor the expedition, which was enchanting, 
 that had affected her. Would that life consisted only of 
 such incidents, of barouches and whitebait banquets ! Alas ! 
 no, it was not these. But she was nervous, her slumbers 
 had been disquieted, she had encountered alarming dreams ; 
 she had a profound conviction that something terrible was 
 impending over her. And Tancred took her hand, to pre- 
 vent, if possible, what appeared to be inevitable hysterics. 
 But Lady Bertie and Bellair was a strong-minded woman, 
 and she commanded herself. 
 
 ' I can bear anything,' said Tancred, in a trembling voice, 
 ' but to see you unhappy.' And he drew his chair nearer 
 lo hers.
 
 162 TANCRED; OR 
 
 Her face was hid, her beautiful face in her beautiful hand. 
 There was silence and then a sigh. 
 
 'Dear lady,' said Lord Montacute. 
 
 ' What is it ? ' murmured Lady Bertie and Bellair. 
 
 ' Why do you sigh ? ' 
 
 ' Because I am miserable.' 
 
 ' No, no, no, don't use such words,' said the distracted 
 Tancred. ' You must not be miserable ; you shall not be.' 
 
 ' Can I help it ? Are we not about to part ? ' 
 
 'We need not part,' he said, in a low voice. 
 
 ' Then you will remain ? ' she said, looking up, and her 
 dark brown eyes were fixed with all their fascination on the 
 tortured Tancred. 
 
 ' Till we all go,' he said, in a soothing voice. 
 
 ' That can never be,' said Lady Bertie ; ' Augustus will 
 never hear of it ; he never could be absent more than six 
 weeks from London, he misses his clubs so. If Jerusalem 
 were only a place one could get at, something might be 
 done ; if there were a railroad to it for example.' 
 
 ' A railroad ! ' exclaimed Tancred, with a look of horror. 
 ' A railroad to Jerusalem ! ' 
 
 ' No, I suppose there never can be one,' continued Lady 
 Bertie, in a musing tone. ' There is no traffic. And I am 
 the victim,' she added, in a thrilling voice ; ' I am left here 
 among people who do not comprehend me, and among cir- 
 cumstances with which I can have no sympathy. But go, 
 Lord Montacute, go, and be happy, alone. I ought to have 
 been prepared for all this ; you have not deceived me. You 
 told me from the first you were a pilgrim, but I indulged in 
 a dream. I believed that I should not only visit Palestine, 
 but even visit it with you.' And she leant back in her chair 
 and covered her face with her hands. 
 
 Tancred rose from his seat, and paced the chamber. His 
 heart seemed to burst. 
 
 ' What -is all this ? ' he thought. ' How came all this to 
 occur ? How has arisen this singular combination of un- 
 foreseen causes and undreamed-of circumstances, which
 
 THE NEW CKUSADE. 163 
 
 baffles all my plans and resolutions, and seems, as it were, 
 without my sanction and my agency, to be taking possession 
 of my destiny and life ? I am bewildered, confounded, in- 
 capable of thought or deed.' 
 
 His tumultuous reverie was broken by the sobs of Lady 
 Bertie. 
 
 ' By heaven, I cannot endure this ! ' said Tancred, ad- 
 vancing. 'Death seems to me preferable to her unhap- 
 piness. Dearest of women ! ' 
 
 ' Do not call me that,' she murmured. ' I can bear any- 
 thing from your lips but words of fondness. And pardon 
 all this ; I am not myself to-day. I had thought that I had 
 steeled myself to all, to our inevitable separation ; but I 
 have mistaken myself, at least miscalculated my strength. 
 It is weak ; it is very weak and very foolish, but you must 
 pardon it. I am too much interested in your career to wish 
 you to delay your departure a moment for my sake. I can 
 bear our separation, at least I think I can. I shall quit the 
 world, for ever. I should have done so had we not met. I 
 was on the point of doing so when we did meet, when, when 
 my dream was at length realised. Go, go ; do not stay. 
 Bless you, and write to me, if I be alive to receive your 
 letters.' 
 
 ' I cannot leave her,' thought the harrowed Tancred. ' It 
 never shall be said of me that I could blight a woman's life, 
 or break her heart.' But, just as he was advancing, the 
 door opened, and a servant brought in a note, and, without 
 looking at Tancred, who had turned to the window, dis- 
 appeared. The desolation and despair which had been im- 
 pressed on the countenance of Lady Bertie and Bellair 
 vauished in an instant, as she recognised the handwriting 
 of her correspondent. They were succeeded by an expres- 
 sion of singular excitement. She tore open the note ; a 
 stupor seemed to spread over her features, and, giving a 
 faint shriek, she fell into a swoon. 
 
 Tancred rushed to her side ; she was quite insensible, and 
 pale as alabaster. The note, which was only two Lines, was 
 
 M 2
 
 164 TANCKED; OB 
 
 open and extended in her hands. It was from no idle 
 curiosity, but it was impossible for Tancred not to read it. 
 He had one of those eagle visions that nothing could escape, 
 and, himself extremely alarmed, it was the first object at 
 which he unconsciously glanced in his agitation to discover 
 the cause and the remedy for this crisis. The note ran 
 thus : 
 
 ' 3 o'clock. 
 
 ' TJie Narrow Gauge has won. We are utterly done ; and 
 Snicks tells me you bought Jive hundred more yesterday, at ten. 
 Is it possible? 
 
 'F.' 
 
 ' Is it possible ? ' echoed Tancred, as, entrusting Lady 
 Bertie to her maid, he rapidly descended the staircase of 
 her mansion. He almost ran to Davies Street, where he 
 jumped into a cab, not permitting the driver to descend to 
 let him in. 
 
 ' Where to ? ' asked the driver. 
 
 4 The city.' 
 
 'What part?' 
 
 ' Never mind ; near the Bank.' 
 
 Alighting from the cab, Tancred hurried to Sequin Court, 
 and sent in his card to Sidonia, who in a few moments re- 
 ceived him. As he entered the great financier's room, 
 there came out of it the man called in Brook Street the 
 Baron. 
 
 ' Well, how did your dinner go off ? ' said Sidonia, looking 
 with some surprise at the disturbed countenance of Tancred. 
 
 ' It seems very ridiculous, very impertinent I fear you 
 will think it,' said Tancred, in a hesitating confused man- 
 ner, 'but that person, that person who has just left the 
 room ; I have a particular reason, I have the greatest 
 desire, to know who that person is.' 
 
 ' That is a French capitalist,' replied Sidonia, with a 
 slight smile, ' an eminent French capitalist, the Baron Yille- 
 becque de Chateau Neuf. He wants me to support him in
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 165 
 
 a great railroad enterprise in his country : a new line to 
 Strasbourg, and looks to a great traffic, I suppose, in pasties. 
 But this cannot much interest you. What do you want 
 really to know about him. ? I can tell you everything. I 
 have been acquainted with him for years. He was the in- 
 tendant of Lord Monmouth, who left him thirty thousand 
 pounds, and he set up upon this at Paris as a millionaire. 
 He is in the way of becoming one, has bought lands, is a 
 deputy and a baron. He is rather a favourite of mine,' 
 added Sidonia, ' and I have been able, perhaps, to assist 
 him, for I knew him long before Lord Monmouth did, in a 
 very different position from that which he now fills, though 
 not one for which I have less respect. He was a fine comic 
 actor in the courtly parts, and the most celebrated manager 
 in Europe ; always a fearful speculator, but he is an honest 
 fellow, and has a good heart.' 
 
 ' He is a great friend of Lady Bertie and Bellair,' said 
 Tancred, rather hesitatingly. 
 
 'Naturally,' said Sidonia. 
 
 ' She also,' said Tancred, with a becalmed countenance, 
 but a palpitating heart, 'is, I believe, much interested in 
 railroads ? ' 
 
 ' She is the most inveterate female gambler in Europe,' 
 said Sidonia, ' whatever shape her speculations take. Ville- 
 becque is a great ally of hers. He always had a weakness 
 for the English aristocracy, and remembers that he owed 
 his fortune to one of them. Lady Bertie was in great tri- 
 bulation this year at Paris : that was the reason she did 
 not come over before Easter; and Villebecque extricated 
 her from a scrape. He would assist her now if he could. 
 By-the-bye, the day that I had the pleasure of making your 
 acquaintance, she was here with Villebecque, an hour at 
 my door, but I could not see her ; she pesters me, too, with 
 her letters. But I do not like feminine finance. I hope the 
 worthy baron will be discreet in nis alliance with her, for 
 her affairs, which I know, as I am obliged to know every 
 one's, happen to be at this moment most critical.'
 
 166 TANCRED; OR 
 
 ' I am trespassing on you,' said Tancred, after a painful 
 pause, ' but I am about to set sail.' 
 
 'When?' 
 
 ' To-morrow ; to-day, if I could ; and you were so kind as 
 to promise me ' 
 
 ' A letter of introduction and a letter of credit. I have 
 not forgotten, and I will write them for you at once.' And 
 Sidonia took up his pen and wrote 
 
 A LETTER OF INTRODUCTION. 
 
 To Alonzo Lara, Spanish Prior, at Hie Convent of Terra 
 Santa at Jerusalem, 
 
 ' MOST HOLT FATHER : The youth who will deliver to you 
 this is a pilgrim who aspires to penetrate the great Asian 
 mystery. Be to him what you were to me ; and may the 
 God of Sinai, in whom we all believe, guard over you, and 
 prosper his enterprise ! 
 
 ' London, May, 1845.' ' SIDONIA.' 
 
 'You can read Spanish,' said Sidonia, giving him the 
 letter. ' The other I shall write in Hebrew, which you will 
 soon read.' 
 
 A LETTER OF CREDIT. 
 To Adam Besso at Jerusalem. 
 
 ' London, May, 1845. 
 
 ' MY GOOD ADAM : If the youth who bears this require 
 advances, let him have as much gold as would make the 
 right-hand lion on the first step of the throne of Solomon 
 the king ; and if he want more, let him have as much as 
 would form the lion that is on the left ; and so on, through 
 every stair of the royal seat. For all which will be respon- 
 sible to you the child of Israel, who among the Gentiles is 
 called SIDONIA.' 
 
 END OF BOOKJI.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 167 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE broad moon lingers on the summit of Mount Olivet, 
 but its beam has long left the garden of Gethsemane and 
 the tomb of Absalom, the waters of Kedron and the 
 dark abyss of Jehoshaphat. Full falls its splendour, how- 
 ever, on the opposite city, vivid and denned in its silver 
 blaze. A lofty wall, with turrets and towers and frequent 
 gates, undulates with the unequal ground which it covers, 
 as it encircles the lost capital of Jehovah. It is a city of 
 hills, far more famous than those of Rome : for all Europe 
 has heard of Sion and of Calvary, while the Arab and the 
 Assyrian, and the tribes and nations beyond, are as ignorant 
 of the Capitolian and Aventine Mounts as they are of the 
 Malvern or the Chiltern Hills. 
 
 The broad steep of Sion crowned with the tower of David ; 
 nearer still, Mount Moriah, with the gorgeous temple of 
 the God of Abraham, but built, alas! by the child of Hagar, 
 and not by Sarah's chosen one ; close to its cedars and its 
 cypresses, its lofty spires and airy arches, the moonlight 
 falls upon Bethesda's pool ; further on, entered by the gate of 
 St. Stephen, the eye, though 'tis the noon of night traces 
 with ease the Street of Grief, a long winding ascent to a 
 vast cupolaed pile that now covers Calvary, called the 
 Street of Grief, because there the most illustrious of the 
 human, as well as of the Hebrew, race, the descendant 
 of King David, and the divine Son of the most favoured of 
 women, twice sank under that burden of suffering and shame 
 which is now throughout all Christendom the emblem of 
 triumph and of honour ; passing over groups and masses of 
 houses built of stone, with terraced roofs, or surmounted
 
 lf)8 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 with small domes, we reach the hill of Salem, where Mel- 
 chisedek built his mystic citadel; and still remains the hill 
 of Scopas, where Titus gazed upon Jerusalem, on the eve of 
 his final assault. Titus destroyed the temple. The religion 
 of Judaea has in turn subverted the fanes which were raised 
 to his father and to himself in their imperial capital ; and 
 the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob is now wor- 
 shipped before every altar in Rome. 
 
 Jerusalem by moonlight ! 'Tis a fine spectacle, apart 
 from all its indissoluble associations of awe and beauty. 
 The mitigating hour softens the austerity of a mountain 
 landscape magnificent in outline, however harsh and severe 
 in detail ; and, while it retains all its sublimity, removes much 
 of the savage sternness of the strange and unrivalled scene. 
 A. fortified city, almost surrounded by ravines, and rising 
 in the centre of chains of far-spreading hills, occasionally 
 offering, through their rocky glens, the gleams of a distant 
 and richer land ! 
 
 The moon has sunk behind the Mount of Olives, and the 
 stars in the darker sky shine doubly bright over the sacred 
 city. The all-pervading stillness is broken by a breeze 
 that seems to have travelled over the plain of Sharon from 
 the sea. It wails among the tombs, and sighs among the 
 cypress groves. The palm-tree trembles as it passes, as if it 
 were a spirit of woe. Is it the breeze that has travelled 
 over the plain of Sharon from the sea ? 
 
 Or is it the haunting voice of prophets mourning over the 
 city that they could not save ? Their spirits surely would 
 linger on the land where their Creator had deigned to dwell, 
 and over whose impending fate Omnipotence had shed hu- 
 man tears. From this Mount ! Who can but believe that, at 
 the midnight hour, from the summit of the Ascension, the 
 great departed of Israel assemble to gaze upon the battle- 
 ments of their mystic city ? There might be counted heroes 
 and sages, who need shrink from no rivalry with the brightest 
 and the wisest of other lands ; but the lawgiver of the time of 
 the Pharaohs, whose laws are still obeyed ; the monarch,
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 169 
 
 whose reign has ceased for three thousand years, but whose 
 wisdom is a proverb in all nations of the earth ; the teacher, 
 whose doctrines have modelled civilised Europe ; the greatest 
 of legislators, the greatest of administrators, and the greatest 
 of reformers ; what race, extinct or living, can produce three 
 such men as these ! 
 
 The last light is extinguished in the village of Bethany. 
 The wailing breeze has become a moaning wind ; a white 
 film spreads over the purple sky ; the stars are veiled, the 
 stars are hid ; all becomes as dark as the waters of Kedron 
 and the valley of Jehoshaphat. The tower of David 
 merges into obscurity ; no longer glitter the minarets of the 
 mosque of Omar; Bethesda's angelic waters, the gate of 
 Stephen, the street of sacred sorrow, the hill of Salem, and 
 the heights of Scopas can no longer be discerned. Alone 
 in the increasing darkness, while the very line of the walls 
 gradually eludes the eye, the church of the Holy Sepulchre 
 is a beacon light. 
 
 And why is the church of the Holy Sepulchre a beacon 
 light ? Why, when it is already past the noon of dark- 
 ness, when every soul slumbers in Jerusalem, and not a 
 sound disturbs the deep repose, except the howl of the 
 wild dog crying to the wilder wind ; why is the cupola 
 of the sanctuary illumined, though the hour has long since 
 been numbered, when pilgrims there kneel and monks pray ? 
 
 An armed Turkish guard are bivouacked in the court of 
 the church ; within the church itself, two brethren of the 
 convent of Terra Santa keep holy watch and ward ; while, 
 at the tomb beneath, there kneels a solitary youth, who 
 prostrated himself at sunset, and who will there pass nn- 
 inoved the whole of the sacred night. 
 
 Yet the pilgrim is not in communion with the Latin 
 Church; neither is he of the Church Armenian, or the 
 Church Greek ; Maronite, Coptic, or Abyssinian ; these also 
 are Christian churches which cannot call him child. 
 
 He comes from a distant and a northern isle to bow before 
 the tomb of a descendant of the kings of Israel, beoauso
 
 170 TANCRED; OR 
 
 he, in common with all the people of that isle, recognises 
 in that sublime Hebrew incarnation the presence of a Divine 
 Redeemer. Then why does he come alone ? It is not that 
 he has availed himself of the inventions of modern science, 
 to repair first to a spot, which all his countrymen may 
 equally desire to visit, and thus anticipate their hurrying 
 arrival. Before the inventions of modern science, all his 
 countrymen used to flock hither. Then why do they not 
 now ? Is the Holy Land no longer hallowed ? Is it not the 
 land of sacred and mysterious truths ? The land of heavenly 
 messages and earthly miracles ? The land of prophets 
 and apostles ? Is it not the land upon whose mountains 
 the Creator of the Universe parleyed with man, and the 
 flesh of whose anointed race He mystically assumed, when 
 He struck the last blow at the powers of evil ? Is it to be 
 believed, that there are no peculiar and eternal qualities in 
 a land thus visited, which distinguish it from all others ? 
 That Palestine is like Normandy or Yorkshire, or even 
 Attica or Borne. 
 
 There may be some who maintain this ; there have been 
 some, and those, too, among the wisest and the wittiest of 
 the northern and western races, who, touched by a presump- 
 tuous jealousy of the long predominance of that oriental 
 intellect to which they owed their civilisation, would have 
 persuaded themselves and the world that the traditions of 
 Sinai and Calvary were fables. Half a century ago, Europe 
 made a violent and apparently successful effort to disem- 
 barrass itself of its Asian faith. The most powerful and 
 the most civilised of its kingdoms, about to conquer the 
 rest, shut up its churches, desecrated its altars, massacred 
 and persecuted their sacred servants, and announced that 
 the Hebrew creeds which Simon Peter brought from 
 Palestine, and which his successors revealed to Clovis, 
 were a mockery and a fiction. What has been the result ? 
 In every city, town, village, and hamlet of that great king- 
 dom, the divine image of the most illustrious of Hebrews 
 has been again raised amid the homage of kneeling mil-
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 171 
 
 lions ; while, in the heart of its bright and witty capital, 
 the nation has erected the most gorgeous of modern 
 temples, and consecrated its marble and golden walls to 
 the name, and memory, and celestial efficacy of a Hebrew 
 woman. 
 
 The country of which the solitary pilgrim, kneeling at 
 this moment at the Holy Sepulchre, was a native, had not 
 actively shared in that insurrection against the first and 
 second Testament which distinguished the end of the 
 eighteenth century. But, more than six hundred years 
 before, it had sent its king, and the flower of its peers and 
 people, to rescue Jerusalem from those whom they con- 
 sidered infidels ! and now, instead of the third crusade, 
 they expend their superfluous energies in the construction 
 of railroads. 
 
 The failure of the European kingdom of Jerusalem, on 
 which such vast treasure, such prodigies of valour, and 
 such ardent belief had been wasted, has been one of those 
 circumstances which have tended to disturb the faith of 
 Europe, although it should have carried convictions of a 
 very different character. The Crusaders looked upon the 
 Saracens as infidels, whereas the children of the Desert 
 bore a much nearer affinity to the sacred corpse that had, 
 for a brief space, consecrated the holy sepulchre, than any 
 of the invading host of Europe. The same blood flowed in 
 their veins, and they recognised the divine missions both 
 of Moses and of his greater successor. In an age so defi- 
 cient in physiological learning as the twelfth century, the 
 mysteries of race were unknown. Jerusalem, it cannot be 
 doubted, will ever remain the appanage either of Israel or 
 of Ishmael ; and if, in the course of those great vicissitudes 
 which are no doubt impending for the East, there be any 
 attempt to place upon the throne of David a prince of the 
 House of Coburg or Deuxponts, the same fate will doubt- 
 less await him as, with all their brilliant qualities and 
 all the sympathy of Europe, was the final doom of the 
 Godfreys, the Baldwins, and the Lusignans.
 
 172 TANCRED; OR 
 
 Like them, the ancestor of the kneeling pilgrim had 
 come to Jerusalem with his tall lance and his burnished 
 armour ; but his descendant, though not less daring and 
 not less full of faith, could profit by the splendid but fruit- 
 less achievements of the first Tancred de Montacute. Our 
 hero came on this new crusade with an humble and con- 
 trite spirit, to pour forth his perplexities and sorrows on 
 the tomb of his Redeemer, and to ask counsel of the 
 sacred scenes which the presence of that Redeemer and 
 his great predecessors had consecrated. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 NEAR the gate of Sion there is a small, still, hilly street, 
 the houses of which, as is general in the East, present to 
 the passenger, with the exception of an occasional portal, 
 only blank walls, built, as they are at Jerusalem, of stone, 
 and very lofty. These walls commonly enclose a court, 
 and, though their exterior offers always a sombre and often 
 squalid appearance, it by no means follows that within you 
 may not be welcomed with cheerfulness and even luxury. 
 
 At this moment a man in the Syrian dress, turban and 
 flowing robe, is passing through one of the gateways of 
 this street, and entering the large quadrangle to which it 
 leads. It is surrounded by arcades ; on one side indications 
 of commerce, piles of chests, cases, and barrels ; the other 
 serving for such simple stables as are sufficient in the 
 East. Crossing this quadrangle, the stranger passed by a 
 corridor into a square garden of orange and lemon trees 
 and fountains. This garden court was surrounded by 
 inhabited chambers, and, at the end of it, passing through 
 a low arch at the side, and then mounting a few steps, he 
 was at once admitted into a spacious and stately chamber. 
 Its lofty ceiling was vaulted and lightly painted in ara- 
 besque ; its floor was of white marble, varied with mosaics 
 of fruit and flowers ; it was panelled with cedar, and in six
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 173 
 
 of the principal panels were Arabic inscriptions emblazoned 
 in blue and gold. At the top of this hall, and ranging down 
 its two sides, was a divan or seat raised abont one foot 
 from the ground, and covered with silken cushions ; and 
 the marble floor before this divan was spread at intervals 
 with small bright Persian carpets. 
 
 In this chamber some half dozen persons were seated in 
 the Eastern fashion, and smoking either the choice tobac- 
 coes of Syria through the cherry-wood or jasmine tube of 
 a Turkish or Egyptian chibouque, or inhaling through 
 rose-water the more artificial flavour of the nargilly, which 
 is the hookah of the Levant. If a guest found his pipe 
 exhausted, he clapped his hands, and immediately a negro 
 page appeared, dressed in scarlet or in white, and, learning 
 his pleasure, returned in a few moments, and bowing 
 presented him with a fresh and illumined chibouque. At 
 intervals, these attendants appeared without a summons, 
 and offered cups of Mocha coffee or vases of sherbet. 
 
 The lord of this divan, who was seated at the upper end 
 of the room, reclining on embroidered cushions of various 
 colours, and using a nargilly of fine workmanship, was a 
 man much above the common height, being at least six 
 feet two without his red cap of Fez, though so well pro- 
 portioned, that you would not at the first glance give him 
 credit for such a stature. He was extremely handsome, 
 retaining ample remains of one of those countenances of 
 blended regularity and lustre which are found only in the 
 cradle of the human race. Though he was fifty years of 
 age, time had scarcely brought a wrinkle to his still bril- 
 liant complexion, while his large, soft, dark eyes, his arched 
 brow, his well-proportioned nose, his small mouth and oval 
 cheek presented altogether one of those faces which, in 
 spite of long centuries of physical suffering and moral 
 degradation, still haunt the cities of Asia Minor, the isles 
 of Greece, and the Syrian coasts. It is the archetype of 
 rnanly beauty, the tradition of those races who have wan- 
 dered the least from Paradise ; and who, notwithstanding
 
 174 TAXCRED; OR 
 
 many vicissitudes and much misery, are still acted upon by 
 the same elemental agencies as influenced the Patriarchs ; 
 are warmed by the same sun, freshened by the same air, 
 and nourished by the same earth as cheered and invigorated 
 and sustained the earlier generations. The costume of the 
 East certainly does not exaggerate the fatal progress of 
 time ; if a figure becomes too portly, the flowing robe con- 
 ceals the incuiubrance which is aggravated by a western 
 dress ; he, too, who wears a turban has little dread of grey 
 hairs ; a grizzly beard indeed has few charms, but whether 
 it were the lenity of time or the skill of his barber in those 
 arts in which Asia is as experienced as Europe, the beard 
 of the master of the divan became the rest of his appear- 
 ance, and flowed to his waist in rich dark curls, lending 
 additional dignity to a countenance of which the expression 
 was at the same time grand and benignant. 
 
 Upon the right of the master of the divan was, smoking 
 a jasmine pipe, Scheriff Eflendi, an Egyptian merchant, of 
 Arab race, a dark face in a white turban, mild and imper- 
 turbable, and seated as erect on his cross legs as if he were 
 administering justice ; a remarkable contrast to the indi- 
 vidual who was on the left of the host, who might have 
 been mistaken for a mass of brilliant garments huddled 
 together, had not the gurgling sound of the nargilly oc- 
 casionally assured the spectator that it was animated by 
 human breath. This person was apparently lying on his 
 back, his face hid, his form not to be traced, a wild con- 
 fusion of shawls and cushions, out of which, like some 
 wily and dangerous reptile, glided the spiral involutions of 
 his pipe. Next to the invisible sat a little wiry man with a 
 red nose, sparkling eyes, and a white beard. His black 
 turban intimated that he was a Hebrew, and indeed he was 
 well known as Barizy of the Tower, a description which he 
 had obtained from his residence near the Tower of David, 
 and which distinguished him from his cousin, who was 
 called Barizy of the Gate. Further on an Armenian from 
 Stambool, in his dark robes and black protuberant head-
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 175 
 
 dress, resembling a colossal truffle, solaced himself with a 
 cherry stick which reminded him of the Bosphoms, and he 
 found a companion in this fashion in the young officer of a 
 French brig of war anchored at Beiroot, and who had ob- 
 tained leave to visit the Holy Land, as he was anxious to 
 see the women of Bethlehem, of whose beauty he had heard 
 much. 
 
 As the new comer entered the hall, he shuffled off his 
 slippers at the threshold, and then advancing, and pressing 
 a hand to his brow his mouth and his heart, a salutation 
 which signifies, that in thought, speech, and feeling he was 
 faithful to his host, and which salutation was immediately 
 returned, he took his seat upon the divan, and the master 
 of the house letting the flexible tube of his nargilly fall on 
 one of the cushions, and clapping his hands, a page imme- 
 diately brought a pipe to the new guest. This was Signer 
 Pasqualigo, one of those noble Venetian names that every 
 now and then turn up in the Levant, and borne in the 
 present case by a descendant of a family who for centuries 
 had enjoyed a monopoly of some of the smaller consular 
 offices of the Syrian coast. Signor Pasqualigo had installed 
 his son as deputy in the ambiguous agency at Jaffa, which 
 he described as a vice-consulate, and himself principally 
 resided at Jerusalem, of which he was the prime gossip, or 
 second only to his rival, Barizy of the Tower. He had 
 only taken a preliminary puff of his chibouque, to be con- 
 vinced that there was no fear of its being extinguished, 
 before he said, 
 
 * So there was a fine pilgrimage last night ; the church 
 of the Holy Sepulchre lighted up from sunset to sunrise, an 
 extra guard in the court, and only the Spanish prior and 
 two brethren permitted to enter. It must be 10,000 
 piastres at least in the coffers of the Terra Santa. Well, 
 they want something ! It is a long time since we have had 
 a Latin pilgrim in El Khuds.' 
 
 'And they say, after all, that this was not a Latin 
 pilgrim,' said Barizy of the Tower.
 
 176 TANCBED; OR 
 
 ' He could not have been one of my people,' said the 
 Armenian, 'or he never would have gone to the Holy 
 Sepulchre with the Spanish prior,' 
 
 ' Had he heen one of your people,' said Pasqualigo, ' be 
 could not have paid 10,000 piastres for a pilgrimage.' 
 
 ' I am sure a Greek never would,' said Barizy, ' unless 
 he were a Russian prince.' 
 
 ' And a Russian does not care much for rosaries unless 
 they are made of diamonds,' said Pasqualigo. 
 
 'As far as I can make out this morning,' said Barizy of 
 the Tower, ' it is a brother of the Queen of England.' 
 
 ' I was thinking it might be that,' said Pasqualigo, net- 
 tled at his rival's early information, ' the moment I heard 
 he was an Englishman.' 
 
 ' The English do not believe in the Holy Sepulchre,' said 
 the Armenian, calmly. 
 
 ' They do not believe in our blessed Saviour,' said Pas- 
 qualigo, ' but they do believe in the Holy Sepulchre.' 
 
 Pasqualigo' s strong point was theology, and there were 
 few persons in Jerusalem who on this head ventured to 
 maintain an argument with him. 
 
 ' How do you know that the pilgrim is an Englishman ? ' 
 asked their host. 
 
 ' Because his servants told me so,' said Pasqualigo. 
 
 ' He has got an English general for the principal officer 
 of his household,' said Barizy, ' which looks like blood 
 royal ; a very fine man, who passes the whole day at the 
 English consulate.' 
 
 ' They have taken a house in the Via Dolorosa,' said 
 Pasqualigo. 
 
 ' Of Hassan Nejed ? ' continued Barizy of the Tower, 
 clutching the words out of his rival's grasp ; ' Hassan 
 asked five thousand piastres per month, and they gave it. 
 What think you of that ? ' 
 
 'He must indeed be an Englishman,' said Scheriff 
 Effendi, taking his pipe slowly from his mouth. There 
 was a dead silence when he spoke ; lie was much respected.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 177 
 
 ' He is very young,' said Barizy of the Tower ; ' younger 
 than the queen, which is one reason why he is not on the 
 throne, for in England the eldest always succeeds, except 
 in-moveables, and those always go to the youngest.' 
 
 Barizy of the Tower, though he gave up to Pasqualigo 
 in theology, partly from delicacy, being a Jew, would yield 
 to no man in Jerusalem in his knowledge of law. 
 
 ' If he goes on at this rate,' said the Armenian, ' he will 
 soon spend all his money ; this place is dearer than Stam- 
 bool.' 
 
 'There is no fear of his spending all his money,' said 
 their host, ' for the young man has brought me such a 
 letter, that if he were to tell me to rebuild the temple, I 
 must do it.' 
 
 'And who is this young man, Besso?' exclaimed the 
 Invisible, starting up, and himself exhibiting a youthful 
 countenance; fair, almost effeminate, no beard, a slight 
 moustache, his features too delicate, but his brow finely 
 arched, and his blue eye glittering with fire. 
 
 ' He is an English lord,' said Besso, ' and one of the 
 greatest ; that is all I know.' 
 
 ' And why does he come here ? ' inquired the youth. 
 ' The English do not make pilgrimages.' 
 
 ' Yet you have heard what he has done.' 
 
 'And why is this silent Frenchman smoking your 
 Latakia,' he continued in a low voice. ' He comes to 
 Jerusalem at the same time as this Englishman. There is 
 more in this than meets our eye. You do not know the 
 northern nations. They exist only in political combinations. 
 You are not a politician, my Besso. Depend upon it, we 
 shall hear more of this Englishman, and of his doing some- 
 thing else than praying at the Holy Sepulchre.' 
 
 ' It may be so, most noble Emir, but, as you say, I am no 
 politician.' 
 
 ' Would that you were, my Besso ! It would be well for 
 you and for all of us. See now," he added in a whisper, 
 ' that apparently inanimate mass, Scheriff Effendi, that 
 
 M
 
 178 TANCKED ; OR 
 
 raah has a political head, he understands a combination, he 
 is going to smuggle me five thousand English muskets into 
 the Desert, he will deliver them to a Bedoueen tribe, who 
 have engaged to convey them safely to the Mountain. 
 There, what do you think of that, my Besso! Do you know 
 now what are politics ? Tell the Rose of Sharon of it. She 
 will say it is beautiful. Ask the Rose what she thinks of 
 it, my Besso.' 
 
 ' Well, I shall see her to-morrow.' 
 
 ' I have done well ; have I not ? ' 
 
 ' You are satisfied ; that is well.' 
 
 ' Not quite, my Besso ; but I can be satisfied if you 
 please. You see that Scheriff Efiendi there, sitting like an 
 Afrite ; he will not give me the muskets unless I pay him 
 for them ; and the Bedoueen chief, he will not carry the 
 arms unless I give him 10,000 piastres. Now, if you will 
 pay these people for me, my Besso, and deduct the expenses 
 from my Lebanon Loan when it is negotiated, that would 
 be a great service. Now, now, my Besso, shall it be done? ' 
 he continued with the coaxing voice and with the wheed- 
 ling manner of a girl. ' You shall have any terms you like, 
 and I will always love you so, my Besso. Let it be done, 
 let it be done ! I will go down on my knees and kiss your 
 hand before the Frenchman, which will spread your fame 
 throughout Europe, and make Louis Philippe take you for 
 the first man in Syria, if you will do it for me. Dear, dear 
 Besso, you will pay that old camel Scheriff Effendi for me, 
 will you not ? and please the Rose of Sharon as much as 
 me!' 
 
 ' My prince,' said Besso, ' have a fresh pipe ; I never can 
 transact business after sunset.' 
 
 The reader will remember that Sidonia had given Tan- 
 cred a letter of credit on Besso. He is the same Besso who 
 was the friend at Jerusalem of Contarini Fleming, and 
 this is the same chamber in which Contarini, his host, and 
 others who were present, inscribed one night, before their 
 final separation, certain sentences in the panels of the walls.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 179 
 
 The original writing remains, but Besso, as we have already 
 seen, has had the sentences emblazoned in a manner more 
 permanent and more striking to the eye. They may, how- 
 ever, be both seen by all those who visit Jerusalem, and 
 who enjoy the flowing hospitality and experience the bound- 
 less benevolence of this prince of Hebrew merchants. 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 
 THE Christian convents form one of the most remarkable 
 features of modern Jerusalem. There are three principal 
 ones : the Latin Convent of Terra Santa, founded, it is 
 believed, during the last crusade, and richly endowed by 
 the kings of Christendom ; the Armenian and the Greek 
 convents, whose revenues are also considerable, but derived 
 from the numerous pilgrims of their different churches, who 
 annually visit the Holy Sepulchre, and generally during 
 their sojourn reside within the walls of their respective 
 religious houses. To be competent to supply such accom- 
 modation, it will easily be apprehended that they are of 
 considerable size. They are in truth monastic establish- 
 ments of the first class, as large as citadels, and almost as 
 strong. Lofty stone walls enclose an area of acres, in the 
 centre of which rises an irregular mass of buildings and 
 enclosures; courts of all shapes, galleries of cells, roofs, 
 terraces, gardens, corridors, churches, houses, and even 
 streets. Sometimes as many as five thousand pilgrims have 
 been lodged, fed, and tended during Easter in one of these 
 convents. 
 
 Not in that of Terra Santa, of which a Protestant tra- 
 veller, passing for a pilgrim, is often the only annual guest ; 
 as Tancred at present. In a white- washed cell, clean, and 
 sufficiently airy and spacious, Tancred was lying on an iron 
 bedstead, the only permanent furniture of the chamber, 
 with the exception of a crucifix, but well suited to the 
 fervent and procreative clime. He was smoking a Turkish 
 
 i
 
 180 TANCRED; OR 
 
 pipe which stretched nearly across the apartment, and his 
 Italian attendant, Baroni, on one knee, was arranging the 
 bowl. 
 
 ' I begin rather to like it,' said Tancred. 
 
 ' I am sure you would, my lord. In this country it is 
 like mother's milk, nor is it possible to make way without 
 it. Tis the finest tobacco of Latakia, the choicest in the 
 world, and I have smoked all. I begged it myself from 
 Signer Besso, whose divan is renowned, the day I called on 
 him with your lordship's letter.' 
 
 Saying this, Baroni quickly rose (a man from thirty-two 
 to thirty-five) ; rather under the middle height, slender, 
 lithe, and pliant ; a long black beard, cleared off his chin 
 when in Europe, and concealed under his cravat, but always 
 ready for the Orient ; whiskers closely shaved but strongly 
 marked, sallow, an aquiline nose, white teeth, a sparkling 
 black eye. His costume entirely white, fashion Mamlouk, 
 that is to say, trowsers of a prodigious width, and a light 
 jacket ; a white shawl wound round his waist, enclosing 
 his dagger ; another forming his spreading turban. Tem- 
 perament, remarkable vivacity modified by extraordinary 
 experience. 
 
 * Availing himself of the previous permission of his master, 
 Baroni, having arranged the pipe, seated himself cross- 
 legged on the floor. 
 
 ' And what are they doing about the house ? ' inquired 
 Tancred. 
 
 ' They will be all stowed to-day,' replied Baroni. 
 
 ' I shall not quit this place,' said Tancred ; ' I wish to be 
 quite undisturbed.' 
 
 ' Be not alarmed, my lord ; they are amused. The 
 colonel never quits the consulate ; dines there every day, 
 and tells stories about the Peninsular war and the Bella- 
 mont cavalry, just as he did on board. Mr. Bernard is 
 always with the English bishop, who is delighted to have 
 an addition to his congregation, which is not too much, 
 consisting of his own family, the English and Prussian
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 181 
 
 consuls, and five Jews, whom they have converted at 
 twenty piastres a- week ; but I know they are going to 
 strike for wages. As for the doctor, he has not a minute 
 to himself. The governor's wife has already sent for him. ; 
 he has been admitted to the harem ; has felt all their pulses 
 without seeing any of their faces, and his medicine chest is 
 in danger of being exhausted before your lordship requires 
 its aid.' 
 
 1 Take care that they are comfortable,' said Tancred. 
 
 * And what does your lordship wish to do to-day ? ' 
 
 * I must go to Gethsemane.' 
 
 ' 'Tis the shot of an arrow ; go out by the gate of Sion, 
 pass through the Turkish cemetery, cross the Kedron, 
 which is so dry this weather that you may do so in your 
 slippers, and you will find the remnant of an olive grove at 
 the base of the mount.' 
 
 ' You talk as if you were giving a direction in London.' 
 
 ' I wish I knew London as well as I know Jerusalem ! 
 This is not a very great place, and I think I have been 
 here twenty times. Why, I made eight visits here in '40 
 and '41 ; twice from England, and six times from Egypt.' 
 
 'Active work!' 
 
 ' Ah ! those were times ! If the Pasha had taken M. de 
 Sidonia's advice, in '41, something would have happened in 
 this city ' And here Baroni pulled up : ' Your lord- 
 ship's pipe draws easy ? ' 
 
 ' Very well. And when was your first visit here, Baroni ? ' 
 
 ' When M. de Sidonia travelled. I came in his suite from 
 Naples, eighteen years ago, the next Annunciation of our 
 blessed Lady,' and he crossed himself. 
 
 ' You must have been very young then ? ' 
 
 ' Young enough ; but it was thought, I suppose, that I 
 could light a pipe. We were seven when we left Naples, 
 all picked men ; but I was the only one who was in Para- 
 guay with M. de Sidonia, and that was nearly the end of 
 our travels, which lasted five years.' 
 
 4 And what became of the rest ? '
 
 182 TANCBED; Oli 
 
 ' Got ill or got stupid ; no mercy in either case with M. 
 de Sidonia, packed off instantly, wherever you may be; 
 whatever money you like, but go you must. If you were 
 in the middle of the Desert, and the least grumbling, you 
 would be spliced on a camel, and a Bedoueen tribe would 
 be hired to take you to the nearest city, Damascus or 
 Jerusalem, or anywhere, with an order on Sign or Besso, or 
 some other signer, to pay them.' 
 
 ' And you were never invalided ? ' 
 
 ' Never ; I was young and used to tumble about as long 
 as I can remember day ; but it was sharp practice some- 
 times; five years of such work as few men have been 
 through. It educated me and opened my mind amazingly.' 
 
 ' It seems to have done so,' said Tancred, quietly. 
 
 Shortly after this, Tancred, attended by Baroni, passed 
 the gate of Sion. Not a human being was visible, except 
 the Turkish sentries. It was midsummer, but no words 
 and no experience of other places can convey an idea of the 
 canicular heat of Jerusalem. Bengal, Egypt, even Nubia, 
 are nothing to it ; in these countries there are rivers, trees, 
 shade, and breezes; but Jerusalem at midday in midsummer 
 is a city of stone in a land of iron with a sky of brass. The 
 wild glare and savage lustre of the landscape are themselves 
 awful. We have all read of the man who had lost his 
 shadow ; this is a shadowless world. Everything is so 
 naming and so clear, that it would remind one of a Chinese 
 painting, but that the scene is one too bold and wild for 
 the imagination of the Mongol race. 
 
 ' There,' said Baroni, pointing to a group of most ancient 
 olive trees at the base of the opposite hill, and speaking 
 as if he were showing the way to Kensington, ' there is 
 Gethsemane ; the path to the right leads to Bethany.' 
 
 ' Leave me now,' said Tancred. 
 
 There are moments when we must be alone, and Tancred 
 had fixed upon this hour for visiting Gethsemane, because 
 he felt assured that no one would be stirring. Descending 
 Mount Sion, and crossing Kedron, he entered the sacred 
 grove.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 183 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE sun taxi been declining for some hours, the glare of 
 the earth had subsided, the fervour of the air was allayed. 
 A caravan came winding round the hills, with many camels 
 and persons in rich, bright Syrian dresses ; a congregation 
 that had assembled at the church of the Ascension on Mount 
 Olivet had broken up, and the side of the hill was studded 
 with brilliant and picturesque groups ; the standard of the 
 Crescent floated on the Tower of David ; there was the clang 
 of Turkish music, and the governor of the city, with a 
 numerous cavalcade, might be discerned on Mount Moriah, 
 caracoling without the walls ; a procession of women bear- 
 ing classic vases on their heads, who had been fetching the 
 waters of Siloah from the well of Job, came up the valley of 
 Jehoshaphat, to wind their way to the gate of Stephen and 
 enter Jerusalem by the street of Calvary. 
 
 Tancred came forth from the garden of Gethsemane, his 
 face was flushed with the rapt stillness of pious ecstasy ; 
 hours had vanished during his passionate reverie, and he 
 stared upon the declining sun. 
 
 'The path to the right leads to Bethany.' The force 
 of association brought back the last words that he had 
 heard from a human voice. And can he sleep without see- 
 ing Bethany ? He mounts the path. What a landscape 
 surrounds him as he moves! What need for nature to be 
 fair in a scene like this, where not a spot is visible that is 
 not heroic or sacred, consecrated or memorable ; not a rock 
 that is not the cave of prophets ; not a valley that is not the 
 valley of heaven-anointed kings ; not a mountain that is not 
 the mountain of God ! 
 
 Before him is a living, a yet breathing and existing city, 
 which Assyrian monarchs came down to besiege, which the 
 chariots of Pharaohs encompassed, which Roman Emperors 
 have personally assailed, for which Saladin and Coeur de 
 Lion, the Desert and Christendom, Asia and Europe, strng-
 
 184 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 gled in rival chivalry; a city which Mahomet sighed to 
 rule, and over which, the Creator alike of Assyrian kings 
 and Egyptian Pharaohs and Roman Csesars, the Framer 
 alike of the Desert and of Christendom, poured forth the 
 full effusion of his divinely human sorrow. 
 
 What need of cascade and of cataract, the deep green 
 turf, the foliage of the fairest trees, the impenetrable forest, 
 the abounding river, mountains of glaciered crest, the voice 
 of birds, the bounding forms of beauteous animals ; all sights 
 and sounds of material loveliness that might become the 
 delicate ruins of some archaic theatre, or the lingering 
 fanes of some forgotten faith ! They would not be ob- 
 served as the eye seized on Sion and Calvary ; the gates of 
 Bethlehem and Damascus ; the hill of Titus ; the Mosque 
 of Mahomet and the tomb of Christ. The view of Jerusalem ' 
 is the history of the world ; it is more, it is the history of 
 earth and of heaven. 
 
 The path winding round the southern side of the Mount 
 of Olives at length brought Tancred in sight of a secluded 
 village, situate among the hills on a sunny slope, and shut out 
 from all objects excepting the wide landscape which imme- 
 diately faced it ; the first glimpse of Arabia through the 
 ravines of the Judaean hills ; the rapid Jordan quitting its 
 green and happy valley for the bitter waters of Asphaltites, 
 and, in the extreme distance, the blue mountains of Moab. 
 
 Ere he turned his reluctant steps towards the city, he was 
 attracted by a garden, which issued, as it were, from a gorge 
 in the hills, so that its limit was not perceptible, and then 
 spread over a considerable space, comparatively with the 
 inclosures in its vicinity, until it reached the village. It 
 was surrounded by high stone walls, which every now and 
 then the dark spiral forms of a cypress or a cedar would 
 overtop, and in the more distant and elevated part rose a 
 tall palm tree, bending its graceful and languid head, on 
 which the sunbeam glittered. It was the first palm that 
 Tancred had ever seen, and his heart throbbed as he beheld 
 that fair and sacred tree.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 185 
 
 As he approached the garden, Tancred observed that its 
 portal was open : he stopped before it, and gazed upon its 
 walks of lemon trees with delight and curiosity. Tancred 
 had inherited from his mother a passion for gardens ; and an 
 eastern garden, a garden in the Holy Land, such as Geth- 
 semane might have been in those days of political justice 
 when Jerusalem belonged to the Jews ; the occasion was 
 irresistible ; he could not withstand the temptation of be- 
 holding more nearly a palm-tree ; and he entered. 
 
 Like a prince in a fairy tale, who has broken the mystic 
 boundary of some enchanted pleasaunce, Tancred traversed 
 the alleys which were formed by the lemon and pome- 
 granate tree, and sometimes by the myrtle and the rose. 
 His ear caught the sound of falling water, bubbling with a 
 gentle noise ; more distinct and more forcible every step 
 that he advanced. The walk in which he now found him- 
 self ended in an open space covered with roses ; beyond 
 them a gentle acclivity, clothed so thickly with a small 
 bright blue flower that it seemed a bank of turquoise, and 
 on its top was a kiosk of white marble, gilt and painted ; by 
 its side, rising from a group of rich shrubs, was the palm, 
 whose distant crest had charmed Tancred without the gate. 
 
 In the centre of the kiosk was the fountain, whose allur- 
 ing voice had tempted Tancred to proceed further than he 
 had at first dared to project. He must not retire without 
 visiting the waters which had been speaking to him so long. 
 Following the path round the area of roses, he was conducted 
 to the height of the acclivity, and entered the kiosk ; some 
 small beautiful mats were spread upon its floor, and, repos- 
 ing upon one of them, Tancred watched the bright clear 
 water as it danced and sparkled in its marble basin. 
 
 The reader has perhaps experienced the effect of falling 
 water. Its lulling influence is proverbial. In the present 
 instance, we must remember that Tancred had been ex- 
 posed to the meridian fervour of a Syrian sun, that he 
 had been the whole day under the influence of that ex- 
 citement which necessarily ends in exhaustion ; and that.
 
 186 TANCBED; OR 
 
 in addition to this, he had recently walked some distance ; 
 it will not, therefore, be looked upon as an incident impro- 
 bable or astonishing, that Lord Montacute, after pursuing 
 for some time that train of meditation which was his custom, 
 should have fallen asleep. 
 
 His hat had dropped from his head ; his rich curls fell on 
 his outstretched arm that served as a pillow for a counte- 
 nance which in the sweet dignity of its blended beauty and 
 stillness might have become an archangel ; and, lying on 
 one of the mats, in an attitude of unconscious gracefulness, 
 which a painter might have transferred to his portfolio, 
 Tancred sank into a deep and dreamless repose. 
 
 He woke refreshed and renovated, but quite insensible 
 of all that had recently occurred. He stretched his limbs ; 
 something seemed to embarrass him ; he found himself 
 covered with a rich robe. He was about to rise, resting on 
 his arm, when turning his head he beheld, the form of a 
 woman. 
 
 She was young, even for the East ; her stature rather 
 above the ordinary height, and clothed in the rich dress usual 
 among the Syrian ladies. She wore an amber vest of gold- 
 embroidered silk, fitting closely to her shape, and fastening 
 with buttons of precious stones from the bosom to the waist, 
 there opening like a tunic, so that her limbs were free to 
 range in her huge Mamlouk trowsers, made of that white 
 Cashmere, a shawl of which can be drawn through a ring. 
 These, fastened round her ancles with clasps of rubies, fell 
 again over her small slippered feet. Over her amber vest 
 she had an embroidered pelisse of violet silk, with long hang- 
 ing sleeves, which showed occasionally an arm rarer than 
 the costly jewels which embraced it ; a many- coloured Turk- 
 ish scarf inclosed her waist ; and then, worn loosely over all, 
 was an outer pelisse of amber Cashmere, lined with the fur 
 of the white fox. At the back of her head was a cap, quite 
 unlike the Greek and Turkish caps which we are accustomed 
 to see in England, but somewhat resembling the head-dress 
 of a Mandarin ; round, not flexible, almost flat ; and so
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 187 
 
 thickly Incrusted with pearls, that it was impossible to de- 
 tect the colour of the velvet which covered it. Beneath 
 it descended two broad braids of dark brown hair, which 
 would have swept the ground had they not been turned 
 half-way up, and there fastened with bunches of precious 
 stones ; these, too, restrained the hair which fell, in rich 
 braids, on each side of her face. 
 
 That face presented the perfection of oriental beauty ; such 
 as it existed in Eden, such as it may yet occasionaDy be 
 found among the favoured races in the favoured climes, and 
 such as it might have been found abundantly and for ever, 
 had not the folly and malignity of man been equal to the 
 wisdom and beneficence of Jehovah. The countenance 
 was oval, yet the head was small. The complexion was 
 neither fair nor dark, yet it possessed the brilliancy of the 
 north without its dryness, and the softness peculiar to the 
 children of the sun without its moisture. A rich subdued 
 and equable tint overspread this visage, though the skin was 
 so transparent that you occasionally caught the streaky 
 splendour of some vein like the dappled shades in the fine 
 peel of beautiful fruit. 
 
 But it was in the eye and its overspreading arch that all 
 the Orient spake, and you read at once of the starry vaults 
 of Araby and the splendour of Chaldean skies. Dark, 
 brilliant, with pupil of great size and prominent from its 
 socket, its expression and effect, notwithstanding the long 
 eyelash of the Desert, would have been those of a terrible 
 fascination, had not the depth of the curve in which it re- 
 posed softened the spell and modified irresistible power by 
 ineffable tenderness. This supreme organisation is always 
 accompanied, as in the present instance, by a noble fore- 
 head, and by an eyebrow of perfect form, spanning its space 
 with undeviating beauty ; very narrow, though its roots are 
 invisible. 
 
 The nose was small, slightly elevated, with long oval nos- 
 trils fully developed. The small mouth, the shorl upper 
 lip, the teeth like the neighbouring pearls of Onnuz, the
 
 188 TANCKED; OR 
 
 round chin, polished as a statue, were in perfect harmony 
 with the delicate ears, and the hands with nails shaped like 
 almonds. 
 
 Such was the form that caught the eye of Tancred. She 
 was on the opposite side of the fountain, and stood gazing 
 on him with calmness, and with a kind of benignant curi- 
 osity. The garden, the kiosk, the falling waters, recalled the 
 past, which flashed over his mind almost at the moment 
 when he beheld the beautiful apparition. Half risen, yet 
 not willing to remain until he was on his legs to apologise 
 for his presence, Tancred, still leaning on his arm and look- 
 ing up at his unknown companion, said, 'Lady, I am an 
 intruder.' 
 
 The lady, seating herself on the brink of the fountain, 
 and motioning at the same time with her hand to Tancred 
 not to rise, replied, ' We are so near the Desert that you must 
 not doubt our hospitality.' 
 
 ' I was tempted by the first sight of a palm-tree to a step 
 too bold; and then sitting by this fountain, I know not how 
 it was ' 
 
 ' You yielded to our Syrian sun,' said the lady. ' It has 
 been the doom of many ; but you, I trust, will not find it 
 fatal. Walking in the garden with my maidens, we ob- 
 served you, and one of us covered your head. If you re- 
 main in this land you should wear the turban.' 
 
 ' This garden seems a paradise,' said Tancred. ' I had 
 not thought that anything so fair could be found among 
 these awful mountains. It is a spot that quite becomes 
 Bethany.' 
 
 ' You Franks love Bethany?' 
 
 ' Naturally ; a place to us most dear and interesting.' 
 
 ' Pray, are you of those Franks who worship a Jewess ; or 
 of those other who revile her, break her images, and blas- 
 pheme her pictures ? ' 
 
 ' I venerate, though I do not adore, the mother of God,' 
 said Tancred, with emotion. 
 
 * Ah ! the mother of Jesus ! ' said his companion. ' He ia
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 189 
 
 your God. He lived much, in this village. He was a great 
 man, but he was a Jew ; and you worship him.' 
 
 'And you do not worship him?' said Tancred, looking 
 up to her with an inquiring glance, and with a reddening 
 cheek. 
 
 ' It sometimes seems to me that I ought,' said the lady, 
 ' for I am of his race, and you should sympathise with your 
 race.' 
 
 ' You are, then, a Hebrew ? ' 
 
 ' I am of the same blood as Mary whom you venerate, 
 but do not adore.' 
 
 ' You just now observed,' said Tancred, after a momentary 
 pause, ' that it sometimes almost seems to you, that you 
 ought to acknowledge my Lord and Master. He made 
 many converts at Bethany, and found here some of his 
 gentlest disciples. I wish that you had read the history of 
 his life.' 
 
 ' I have read it. The English bishop here has given me 
 the book. It is a good one, written, I observe, entirely by 
 Jews. I find in it many things with which I agree ; and if 
 there be some from which I dissent, it may be that I do not 
 comprehend them.' 
 
 ' You are already half a Christian ! ' said Tancred, with 
 animation. 
 
 ' But the Christianity which I draw from your book does 
 not agree with the Christianity which you practise,' said the 
 lady, ' and I fear, therefore, it may be heretical.' 
 
 ' The Christian Church would be your guide.' 
 
 ' Which ? ' inquired the lady ; ' there are so many in 
 Jerusalem. There is the good bishop who presented me 
 with this volume, and who is himself a Hebrew : he is a 
 Church ; there is the Latin Church, which was founded by 
 a Hebrew ; there is the Armenian Church, which belongs to 
 an Eastern nation who, like the Hebrews, have lost their 
 country and are scattered in every clime ; there is the 
 Abyssinian Church, who hold us in great honour, and prac- 
 tise many of our rites and ceremonies ; and there are the
 
 190 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 Greek, the Maronite, and the Coptic Churches, who do not 
 favour us, but who do not treat us as grossly as they treat 
 each other. In this perplexity it may be wise to remain 
 within the pale of a church older than all of them, the 
 church in which Jesus was born and which he never quitted, 
 for he was born a Jew, lived a Jew, and died a Jew ; as 
 became a Prince of the House of David, which you do and 
 must acknowledge him to have been. Tour sacred gene- 
 alogies prove the fact ; and if you could not establish it, the 
 whole fabric of your faith falls to the ground.' 
 
 ' If I had no confidence in any Church,' said Tancred, 
 with agitation, ' I would fall down before God and beseech 
 him to enlighten me ; and, in this land,' he added, in a 
 tone of excitement, ' I cannot believe that the appeal to the 
 Mercy- seat would be made in vain.' 
 
 ' But human wit ought to be exhausted before we pre- 
 sume to invoke divine interposition,' said the lady. ' 1 
 observe that Jesus was as fond of asking questions as of 
 performing miracles ; an inquiring spirit will solve mysteries. 
 Let me ask you : you think that the present state of my 
 race is penal and miraculous ? ' 
 
 Tancred gently bowed assent. 
 
 ' Why do you ? ' asked the lady. 
 
 'It is the punishment ordained for their rejection and 
 crucifixion of the Messiah.' 
 
 ' Where is it ordained ? ' 
 
 ' Upon our heads and upon our children be his blood.' 
 
 ' The criminals said that, not the judge. Is it a principle 
 of your jurisprudence to permit the guilty to assign their 
 own punishment ? They might deserve a severer one. 
 Why should they transfer any of the infliction to their 
 posterity? What evidence have you that Omnipotence 
 accepted the offer ? It is not so announced in your his- 
 tories. Tour evidence is the reverse. He, whom you 
 acknowledge as omnipotent, prayed to Jehovah to forgive 
 them on account of their ignorance. But, admit that the 
 offer was accepted, which in my opinion is blasphemy, is
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 191 
 
 the cry of a rabble at a public execution to bind a nation ? 
 There was a great party in the country not disinclined to 
 Jesus at the time, especially in the provinces where he had 
 laboured for three years, and on the whole with success ; 
 are they and their children to suffer ? But you will say 
 they became Christians. Admit it. We were originally 
 a nation of twelve tribes ; ten, long before the advent of 
 Jesus, had been carried into captivity and scattered over the 
 East and the Mediterranean world ; they are probably the 
 source of the greater portion of the existing Hebrews ; for 
 we know that, even in the time of Jesus, Hebrews came up 
 to Jerusalem at the Passover from every province of the 
 Roman Empire. What had they to do with the crucifixion 
 or the rejection ? ' 
 
 ' The fate of the Ten Tribes is a deeply interesting ques- 
 tion,' said Tancred ; 'but involved in, I fear, inexplicable 
 obscurity. In England there are many who hold them to 
 be represented by the Affghans, who state that their 
 ancestors followed the laws of Moses. But perhaps they 
 ceased to exist and were blended with their conquerors.' 
 
 'The Hebrews have never blended with their conquerors,' 
 said the lady, proudly. ' They were conquered frequently, 
 like all small states situate amid rival empires. Syria was 
 the battlefield of the great monarchies. Jerusalem has 
 not been conquered oftener than Athens, or treated worse ; 
 but its people, unhappily, fought too bravely and rebelled 
 too often, so at last they were expatriated. I hold that, to 
 believe that the Hebrew communities are in a principal 
 measure the descendants of the Ten Tribes, and of the 
 other captivities preceding Christ, is a just, and fair, and 
 sensible inference, which explains circumstances that other- 
 wise could not be explicable. But let that pass. We will 
 suppose all the Jews in all the cities of the world to be the 
 lineal descendants of the mob who shouted at the crucifixion. 
 Yet another question ! My grandfather is a Bedoueen 
 sheikh, chief of one of the most powerful tribes of the 
 Desert. My mother was his daughter. He is a Jew ; hia
 
 192 TANCRED; OR 
 
 whole tribe are Jews ; they read and obey the five books, 
 live in tents, have thousands of camels, ride horses of the 
 Nedjed breed, and care for nothing except Jehovah, Moses, 
 and their mares. Were they at Jerusalem at the crucifixion, 
 and does the shout of the rabble touch them ? Yet my 
 mother marries a Hebrew of the cities, and a man, too, fit 
 to sit on the throne of King Solomon ; and a little Christian 
 Yahoor with a round hat, who sells figs at Smyrna, will 
 cross the street if he see her, lest he should be contaminated 
 by the blood of one who crucified his Saviour ; his Saviour 
 being, by his own statement, one of the princes of our 
 royal house. No ; I will never become a Christian, if I am 
 to eat such sand ! It is not to be found in your books. 
 They were written by Jews, men far too well acquainted 
 with their subject to indite such tales of the Philistines as 
 these ! ' 
 
 Tancred looked at her with deep interest as her eye 
 flashed fire, and her beautiful cheek was for a moment 
 suffused with the crimson cloud of indignant passion ; and 
 then he said, ' You speak of things that deeply interest me, 
 or I should not be in this land. But tell me : it cannot be 
 denied that, whatever the cause, the miracle exists ; and 
 that the Hebrews, alone of the ancient races, remain, and 
 are found in every country, a memorial of the mysterious 
 and mighty past.' 
 
 ' Their state may be miraculous without being penal. 
 But why miraculous ? Is it a miracle that Jehovah should 
 guard his people ? And can He guard them better than 
 by endowing them with faculties superior to those of the 
 nations among whom they dwell ? ' 
 
 ' I cannot believe that merely human agencies could 
 have sustained a career of such duration and such vicissi- 
 tudes.' 
 
 ' As for human agencies, we have a proverb : " The will 
 of man is the servant of God." But if you wish to make a 
 race endure, rely upon it you should expatriate them. 
 Conquer them, and they may blend with their conquerors ;
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 193 
 
 exile them, and they will live apart and for ever. To 
 expatriate is purely oriental, quite unknown to the modern 
 world. We were speaking of the Armenians, they are 
 Christians, and good ones, I believe.' 
 
 ' I have understood very orthodox.' 
 
 ' Go to Armenia, and you will not find an Armenian. 
 They, too, are an expatriated nation, like the Hebrews. 
 The Persians conquered their land, and drove out the 
 people. The Armenian has a proverb : " In every city ot 
 the East I find a home." They are everywhere; the rivals 
 of my people, for they are one of the great races, and little 
 degenerated : with all our industry, and much of our 
 energy ; I would say, with all our human virtues, though 
 it cannot be expected that they should possess our divine 
 qualities ; they have not produced Gods and prophets, and 
 are proud that they can trace up their faith to one of the 
 obscurest of the Hebrew apostles, and who never knew his 
 great master.' 
 
 ' But the Armenians are found only in the East,' said 
 Tancred. 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said the lady, with a sarcastic smile ; ' it is exile 
 to Europe, then, that is the curse : well, I think you have 
 some reason. I do not know much of your quarter of the 
 globe : Europe is to Asia what America is to Europe. But 
 I have felt the winds of the Euxine blowing up the Bos- 
 phorus ; and, when the Sultan was once going to cut off 
 our heads for helping the Egyptians, I passed some 
 months at Vienna. Oh ! how I sighed for my beautiful 
 Damascus ! ' 
 
 ' And for your garden at Bethany ? ' said Tancred. 
 
 ' It did not exist then. This is a recent creation,' said 
 the lady. ' I have built a nest in the chink of the hills, 
 that I might look upon Arabia ; and the palm-tree that 
 invited you to honour my domain was the contribution of 
 my Arab grandfather to the only garden near Jerusalem. 
 But I want to ask yon another question. What, on the 
 whole, is the thing most valued in Europe ? ' 
 

 
 1 94 TANCRED ; OK 
 
 Tancred pondered ; and, after a slight pause, said, * I 
 think I know what ought to be most valued in Europe ; it 
 is something very different from what I fear I must confess 
 is most valued there. My cheek burns while I say it ; but 
 I think, in Europe, what is most valued is money. 
 
 ' On the whole,' said the lady, ' he that has most money 
 there is most honoured ? ' 
 
 ' Practically, I apprehend so.' 
 
 ' Which is the greatest city in Europe ? ' 
 
 ' Without doubt, the capital of my country, London.' 
 
 ' Greater I know it is than Vienna ; but is it greater 
 than Paris ? ' 
 
 ' Perhaps double the size of Paris.' 
 
 ' And four times that of Stambool ! What a city ! Why 
 'tis Babylon ! How rich the most honoured man must be 
 there ! Tell me, is he a Christian ? ' 
 
 ' I believe he is one of your race and faith.' 
 
 ' And in Paris ; who is the richest man in Paris ? ' 
 
 ' The brother, I believe, of the richest man in London.' 
 
 ' I know all about Vienna,' said the lady, smiling. 
 ' Caesar makes my countrymen barons of the empire, and 
 rightly, for it would fall to pieces in a week without their 
 support. Well, you must admit that the European part 
 of the curse has not worked very fatally.' 
 
 * I do not see,' said Tancred thoughtfully, after a short 
 pause, ' that the penal dispersion of the Hebrew nation is 
 at all essential to the great object of the Christian scheme. 
 If a Jew did not exist, that would equally have been 
 obtained.' 
 
 ' And what do you hold to be the essential object of the 
 Christian scheme ? ' 
 
 'The Expiation.' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said the lady, in a tone of much solemnity, ' that 
 is a great idea ; in harmony with our instincts, with our 
 traditions, our customs. It is deeply impressed upon the 
 convictions of this land. Shaped as you Christians offer 
 the doctrine, it loses none of its sublimity ; or its associa-
 
 THE NEW CEUSADE. 195 
 
 lions, full at the same time of mystery, power, and solace. 
 A sacrificial Mediator with Jehovah, that expiatory inter- 
 cessor born from the chosen house of the chosen people, 
 yet blending in his inexplicable nature the divine essence 
 with the human elements, appointed before all time, and 
 purifying, by his atoning blood, the myriads that preceded 
 and the myriads that will follow us, without distinction of 
 creed or clime, this is what you believe. I acknowledge 
 the vast conception, dimly as my brain can partially em- 
 brace it. I understand thus much : the human race is 
 saved ; and, without the apparent agency of a Hebrew 
 prince, it could not have been saved. Now tell me : sup- 
 pose the Jews had not prevailed upon the Romans to 
 crucify Jesus, what would have become of the Atonement ? ' 
 ' I cannot permit myself to contemplate such contingen- 
 cies,' said Tancred. ' The subject is too high for me to 
 touch with speculation. I must not even consider an event 
 that had been pre-ordained by the Creator of the world for 
 countless ages.' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said the lady ; ' pre-ordained by the Creator of 
 the world for countless ages ! Where then was the 
 inexpiable crime of those who fulfilled the beneficent 
 intention ? The holy race supplied the victim and the 
 immolators. What other race could have been entrusted 
 with such a consummation ? Was not Abraham prepared 
 to sacrifice even his son ? And with such a doctrine, that 
 embraces all space and time ; nay more, chaos and eternity ; 
 with divine persons for the agents, and the redemption of 
 the whole family of man for the subject ; you can mix up 
 the miserable persecution of a single race ! And this is 
 practical, not doctrinal Christianity. It is not found in 
 your Christian books, which were all written by Jews ; it 
 must have been made by some of those Chnrches to which 
 you have referred me. Persecute us ! Why, if you believed 
 what you profess, you should kneel to us ! You raise 
 statues to the hero who saves a country. We have saved 
 the human race, and you persecute us for doing it.' 
 
 o 2
 
 196 TANCRED; OR 
 
 ' I am no persecutor,' said Tancred, with emotion ; ' and, 
 had I been so, my visit to Bethany would have cleansed 
 my heart of such dark thoughts.' 
 
 ' We have some conclusions in common,' said his com- 
 panion, rising. 'We agree that half Christendom wor- 
 ships a Jewess, and the other half a Jew. Now let me ask 
 you one more question. Which do you think should be 
 the superior race, the worshipped or the worshippers ?' 
 
 Tancred looked up to reply, but the lady had disap- 
 peared. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 BEFORE Tancred could recover from his surprise, the kiosk 
 was invaded by a crowd of little grinning negro pages, 
 dressed in white tunics, with red caps and slippers. They 
 bore a number of diminutive trays of ebony inlaid with 
 tortoiseshell, and the mother-o'-pearl of Joppa, and covered 
 Avith a great variety of dishes. It was in vain that he 
 would have signified to them, that he had no wish to par- 
 take of the banquet, and that he attempted to rise from his 
 mat. They understood nothing that he said, but always grin- 
 ning and moving about him with wonderful quickness, they 
 fastened a napkin of the finest linen, fringed with gold, round 
 his neck, covered the mats and the border of the fountain 
 with their dishes and vases of differently-coloured sherbets, 
 and proceeded, notwithstanding all his attempts at refusal, 
 to hand him their dainties in due order. Notwithstanding 
 his present tone of mind, which was ill-adapted to any 
 carnal gratification, Tancred had nevertheless been an 
 unusual number of hours without food. He had made 
 during the period no inconsiderable exertion, and was 
 still some distance from the city. Though he resigned 
 himself perforce to the care of his little attendants, their 
 solicitude therefore was not inappropriate. He partook of 
 some of their dishes, and when he had at length succeeded
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 197 
 
 in conveying to them his resolution to taste no more, they 
 cleared the kiosk with as marvellous a celerity as they had 
 stored it, and then two of them advanced with a nargilly 
 and a chibouque, to offer their choice to their guest. 
 Tancred placed the latter for a moment to his mouth, and 
 then rising, and making signs to the pages that he would 
 now return, they danced before him in the path till he had 
 reached the other side of the area of roses, and then, with 
 a hundred bows, bending, they took their leave of him. 
 
 The sun had just sunk as Tancred quitted the garden : a 
 crimson glow, shifting, as he proceeded, into rich tints of 
 purple and of gold, suffused the stern Judaean hills, and 
 lent an almost supernatural lustre to the landscape ; light- 
 ing up the wild gorges, gilding the distant glens, and still 
 kindling the superior elevations with its living blaze. The 
 air, yet fervid, was freshened by a slight breeze that came 
 over the wilderness from the Jordan, and the big round 
 stars that were already floating in the skies were the bril- 
 liant heralds of the splendour of a Syrian night. The 
 beauteous hour and the sacred scene were alike in unison 
 with the heart of Tancred, softened and serious. He mused 
 in fascinated reverie over the dazzling incident of the 
 day. Who was this lady of Bethany, who seemed not 
 unworthy to have followed Him who had made her abiding 
 place so memorable ? Her beauty might have baffled the 
 most ideal painter of the fair Hebrew saints. Raffaelle 
 himself could not have designed a brow of more delicate 
 supremacy. Her lofty but gracious bearing, the vigour of 
 her clear, frank mind, her earnestness, free from all ecstasy 
 and flimsy enthusiasm, but founded in knowledge and deep 
 thought, and ever sustained by exact expression and ready 
 argument, her sweet witty voice, the great and all-engaging 
 theme on which she was so content to discourse, and which 
 seemed by right to belong to her : all these were circum- 
 stances which wonderfully affected the imagination of 
 Tancred. 
 
 He was lost in the empyrean of high abstraction, his
 
 198 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 gaze apparently fixed on the purple mountains, and the 
 golden skies, and the glittering orbs of coming night, which 
 yet in truth he never saw, when a repeated shout at length 
 roused him. It bade him stand aside on the narrow path 
 that winds round the Mount of Olives from Jerusalem to 
 Bethany, and let a coming horseman pass. The horseman 
 was the young Emir who was a guest the night before in 
 the divan of Besso. Though habited in the Mamlouk dress, 
 as if only the attendant of some great man, huge trousers 
 and jacket of crimson cloth, a white turban, a shawl round 
 his waist holding his pistols and sabre, the horse he rode 
 was a Kochlani of the highest breed. By him was a run- 
 ning footman, holding his nargilly, to which the Emir 
 frequently applied his mouth as he rode along. He shot a 
 keen glance at Tancred as he passed by, and then throwing 
 his tube to his attendant, he bounded on. 
 
 In the meantime, we must not forget the lady of Bethany 
 after she so suddenly disappeared from the kiosk. Pro- 
 ceeding up her mountain garden, which narrowed as she 
 advanced, and attended by two female slaves, who had 
 been in waiting without the kiosk, she was soon in that 
 hilly chink in which she had built her nest; a long, low 
 pavilion, with a shelving roof, and surrounded by a Sara- 
 cenic arcade ; the whole painted in fresco ; a golden pattern 
 of flowing fancy on a white ground. If there were door or 
 window, they were entirely concealed by the blinds which 
 appeared to cover the whole surface of the building. Step- 
 ping into the arcade, the lady entered the pavilion by a side 
 portal, which opened by a secret spring, and which con- 
 ducted her into a small corridor, and this again through 
 two chambers, in both of which were many females, who 
 mutely saluted her as she passed, without rising from their 
 employments. Then she entered a more capacious and 
 ornate apartment. Its ceiling, which described the horse- 
 shoe arch of the Saracens, was encrusted with that honey- 
 comb work which is peculiar to them, and which, in the 
 present instance, was of rose colour and silver. Mirrors
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 199 
 
 were inserted in the cedar panels of the walls ; a divan of 
 rose-coloured silk surrounded the chamber, and on the 
 thick soft carpet of many colours, which nearly covered 
 the floor, were several cushions surrounding an antique- 
 marble tripod of wreathed serpents. \he lady, disembar- 
 rassing herself of her slippers, seated herself on the divan 
 in the fashion of her country ; one of her attendants brought 
 a large silver lamp, which diffused a delicious odour as well 
 as a brilliant light, and placed it on the tripod ; while the 
 other, clapping her hands, a band of beautiful girls entered 
 the room, bearing dishes of confectionary, plates of choice 
 fruits, and vases of delicious sherbets. The lady, partaking 
 of some of these, directed, after a short time, that they 
 should be offered to her immediate attendants, who there- 
 upon kissed their hands with a grave face, and pressed 
 them to their hearts. Then one of the girls, leaving the 
 apartment for a moment, returned with a nargilly of 
 crystal, set by the most cunning artists of Damascus, in 
 a framework of golden filagree crusted with precious stones. 
 She presented the flexible silver tube, tipped with amber, 
 to the lady, who, waving her hand that the room should be 
 cleared, smoked a confection of roses and rare nuts, while 
 she listened to a volume read by one of her maidens, who 
 was seated by the silver lamp. 
 
 While they were thus employed, an opposite curtain to 
 that by which they had entered was drawn aside, and a 
 woman advanced, and whispered some words to the lady, 
 who seemed to signify her assent. Immediately, a tall 
 negro of Dongola, richly habited in a flowing crimson vest, 
 and with a large silver collar round his neck, entered the 
 hall, and, after the usual salutations of reverence to the 
 lady, spoke earnestly in a low voice. The lady listened 
 with great attention, and then, taking out her tablets from 
 her girdle, she wrote a few words and gave a leaf to the 
 tall negro, who bowed and retired. Then she waved her 
 hand, and the maiden who was reading closed her book, 
 rose, and, pressing her hand to her heart, retired.
 
 200 TANCRED; OR 
 
 It seemed that the young Emir had arrived at the 
 pavilion, and prayed that, without a moment's delay, he 
 might speak with the Lady of Bethany. 
 
 The curtain was again withdrawn, a light step was 
 heard, the young man who had recently passed Tancred on 
 the road to Jerusalem bounded into the room. 
 
 ' How is the Rose of Sharon ? ' he exclaimed. He threw 
 himself at her feet, and pressed the hem of her garment to 
 his lips with an ecstasy which it would have been difficult 
 for a bystander to decide whether it were mockery or 
 enthusiasm, or genuine feeling, which took a sportive air to 
 veil a devotion which it could not conceal, and which it 
 cared not too gravely to intimate. 
 
 ' Ah, Fakredeen ! ' said the lady, ' and when did you 
 leave the Mountain ? ' 
 
 ' I arrived at Jerusalem yesterday by sunset ; never did 
 I want to see you so much. The foreign consuls have 
 stopped my civil war, which cost me a hundred thousand 
 piastres. We went down to Beiroot and signed articles of 
 peace ; I thought it best to attend to escape suspicion. 
 However, there is more stirring than you can conceive : 
 never had I such combinations ! First let me shortly tell 
 you what I have done, then what I wish you to do. I 
 have made immense hits, but I am also in a scrape.' 
 
 ' That I think you always are,' said the lady. 
 
 ' But you will get me out of it, Rose of Sharon ! You 
 always do, brightest and sweetest of friends ! What an 
 alliance is ours ! My invention, your judgment ; my com- 
 binations, your criticism. It must carry everything before it.' 
 
 ' I do not see that it has effected much hitherto,' said the 
 lady. 'However, give me your mountain news. What 
 have you done ? ' 
 
 ' In the first place,' said Fakredeen, ' until this accursed 
 peace intrigue of the foreign consuls, which will not last as 
 long as the carnival, the Mountain was more troubled than 
 ever, and the Porte, backed up by Sir Canning, is obstinate 
 against any prince of our house exercising the rule.'
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 201 
 
 ' Do you call that good news ? ' 
 
 ' It serves. In the first place it keeps my good uncle, 
 the Emir Bescheer and his sons, prisoners at the Seven 
 Towers. Now, I will tell you what I have done. I have 
 sent to my uncle and offered him two hundred thousand 
 piastres a-year for his life and that of his sons, if they will 
 represent to the Porte that none but a prince of the house 
 of Shehaab can possibly pacify and administer Lebanon, and 
 that, to obtain this necessary end, they are ready to resign 
 their rights in favour of any other member of the family.' 
 
 'What then?' said the Lady of Bethany, taking her 
 nargilly from her mouth. 
 
 ' Why then,' said Fakredeen, ' I am by another agent 
 working upon Riza Pacha to this effect, that of all the 
 princes of the great house of Shehaab, there is none so well 
 adapted to support the interests of the Porte as the Emir 
 Fakredeen, and for these three principal reasons : in the 
 first place, because he is a prince of great qualities ' 
 
 ' Your proof of them to the vizir would be better than 
 your assertion.' 
 
 ' Exactly,' said Fakredeen. ' I prove them by my second 
 reason, which is a guarantee to his excellency of the whole 
 revenue of the first year of my princedom, provided I 
 receive the berat.' 
 
 * I can tell you something,' said the lady, ' Riza shakes a 
 little. He is too fond of first-fruits. His nomination will 
 not be popular.' 
 
 ' Yes it will, when the divan takes into consideration the 
 third reason for my appointment,' said the prince. ' Namely, 
 that the Emir Fakredeen is the only prince of the great 
 house of Shehaab who is a good Mussulman.' 
 
 * You a good Mussulman ! Why, I thought you had sent 
 two months ago Archbishop Murad to Paris, urging King 
 Louis to support you, because, amongst other reasons, 
 being a Christian prince, you would defend the faith and 
 privileges of the Maronites.' 
 
 ' And devote myself to France,' said Fakredeen. ' It ia
 
 202 TANCEED ; OR 
 
 very true, and an excellent combination it is, if we could 
 only bring it to bear, which I do not despair of, though 
 affairs, which looked promising at Paris, have taken an 
 unfortunate turn of late.' 
 
 ' I am sorry for that,' said the lady, ' for really, Fakredeen, 
 of all your innumerable combinations, that did seem to me 
 to be the most practical. I think it might have been 
 worked. The Maronites are powerful ; the French nation 
 is interested in them ; they are the link between France 
 and Syria ; and you, being a Christian prince as well as an 
 emir of the most illustrious house, with your intelligence 
 and such aid as we might give you, I think your prospects 
 were, to say the least, fair.' 
 
 1 Why, as to being a Christian prince, Eva, you must 
 remember I aspire to a dominion where I have to govern 
 the Maronites who are Christians, the Metoualis who are 
 Mahometans, the Anzareys who are Pagans, and the Druses 
 who are nothing. As for myself, my house, as you well 
 know, is more ancient even than that of Othman. We are 
 literally descended from the standard-bearer of the Prophet, 
 and my own estates, as well as those of the Emir Bescheer, 
 have been in our registered possession for nearly eight hun- 
 dred years. Our ancestors became Christians to conciliate the 
 Maronites. Now tell me : in Europe, an English or French 
 prince who wants a throne, never hesitates to change his 
 religion, why should I be more nice ? I am of that religion 
 which gives me a sceptre ; and if a Frank prince adopts a 
 new creed when he quits London or Paris, I cannot under- 
 stand why mine may not change according to the part of 
 the mountain through which I am passing. What is the 
 use of belonging to an old family unless to have the 
 authority of an ancestor ready for any prejudice, religious 
 or political, which your combinations may require ? ' 
 
 ' Ah ! Fakredeeu,' said the lady, shaking her head, ' you 
 have no self-respect.' 
 
 * No Syrian has ; it won't do for us. You are an 
 Arabian ; it_-will do for the Desert. Self-respect, too, is a
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 203 
 
 superstition of past centuries, an affair of the Crusades. It 
 is not suited to these times ; it is much too arrogant, too 
 self-conceited, too egotistical. No one is important enough 
 to have self-respect. Don't you see ? ' 
 
 'You boast of being a prince inferior to none in the 
 antiquity of your lineage, and, as far as the mere fact is 
 concerned, you are justified in your boast. I cannot com- 
 prehend how one who feels this pride should deign to do 
 anything that is not princely.' 
 
 ' A prince ! ' exclaimed Fakredeen. ' Princes go for 
 nothing now, without a loan. Get me a loan, and then 
 you turn the prince into a government. That's the thing.' 
 
 ' You will never get a loan till you are Emir of Lebanon,' 
 said the lady. ' And you have shown me to-day that the 
 only chance you have is failing you, for, after all, Paris was 
 your hope. What has crossed you ? ' 
 
 'In the first place,' said Fakredeen, 'what can the 
 French do ? After having let the Egyptians be driven out, 
 fortunately for me, for their expulsion ruined my uncle, 
 the French will never take the initiative in Syria. All 
 that I wanted of them was, that they should not oppose 
 Riza Pacha in his nomination of me. But to secure his 
 success a finer move was necessary. So I instructed Arch- 
 bishop Murad, whom they received very well at Paris, to 
 open secret communications over the water with the Eng- 
 lish. He did so, and offered to cross and explain in detail 
 to their ministers. I wished to assure them in London that 
 I was devoted to their interests ; and I meant to offer to 
 let the Protestant missionaries establish themselves in the 
 mountain, so that Sir Canning should have received in- 
 structions to support my nomination by Riza. Then you 
 see, I should have had the Porte, England, and France. 
 The game was won. Can you believe it ? Lord Aberdeen 
 enclosed my agent's letter to Guizot. I was crushed.' 
 
 ' And disgraced. You deserved it. You never will 
 succeed. Intrigue will be your ruin, Fakredeen.' 
 
 ' Intrigue ! ' exclaimed the prince, starting from the
 
 204 TANCKED ; OB 
 
 cushion near the tripod, on which he sat, speaking with 
 great animation, and using, as was his custom, a superfluity 
 of expression, both of voice and hands and eyes, ' intrigue ' 
 It is life ! It is the only thing ! How do you think Guizot 
 and Aberdeen got to be ministers without intrigue ? Or 
 Biza Pacha himself ? How do you think Mehemet AH got 
 on ? Do you believe Sir Canning never intrigues ? He 
 would be recalled in a week if he did not. Why, I have 
 got one of his spies in my castle at this moment, and I 
 make him write home for the English all that I wish them 
 not to believe. Intrigue ! Why, England won India by 
 intrigue. Do you think they are not intriguing in the 
 Punjaub at this moment ? Intrigue has gained half the 
 thrones of Europe: Greece, France, Belgium, Portugal, 
 Spain, Russia. If you wish to produce a result, you must 
 make combinations ; and you call combinations, Eva, in- 
 trigue ! ' 
 
 ' And this is the scrape that you are in,' said the lady. 
 ' I do not see how I can help you out of it.' 
 
 ' Pardon ; this is not the scrape : and here comes the 
 point on which I need your aid, daughter of a thousand 
 sheikhs ! I can extricate myself from the Paris disaster, 
 even turn it to account. I have made an alliance with the 
 Patriarch of the Lebanon, who manages affairs for the Emir 
 Bescheer. The patriarch hates Murad, whom you see I 
 was to have made patriarch. I am to declare the Arch- 
 bishop an unauthorised agent, an adventurer, and my letter 
 to be a forgery. The patriarch is to go to Stambool, with 
 his long white beard, and put me right with France, through 
 De Bourqueney, with whom he has relations in favour of 
 the Emir Bescheer ; my uncle is to be thrown over ; all the 
 Maronite chiefs are to sign a declaration supplicating the 
 Porte to institute me ; nay, the declaration is signed ' 
 
 ' And the Druses ? Will not this Maronite manifestation 
 put you wrong with the Druses ?' 
 
 'I live among the Druses, you see,' said Fakredeen, shak- 
 ing his head, and looking with his glittering eye a thousand
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 205 
 
 meanings. ' The Druses love me. They know that I am 
 one of themselves. They will only think that I have made 
 the Maronites eat sand.' 
 
 ' And what have you really done for the Maronites to gain 
 all this ? ' asked the lady, quietly. 
 
 4 There it is,' said Fakredeen, speaking in an affected 
 whisper, ' the greatest stroke of state that ever entered the 
 mind of a king without a kingdom, for I am resolved that 
 the mountain shall be a royalty ! You remember when 
 Ibrahim Pacha laid his plans for disarming the Lebanon, 
 the Maronites, urged by their priests, fell into the snare, 
 while the Druses wisely went with their muskets and scimi- 
 tars, and lived awhile with the eagle and the antelope. 
 This has been sand to the Maronites ever since. The 
 Druses put their tongues in their cheek whenever they 
 meet, and treat them as so many women. The Porte, of 
 course, will do nothing for the Maronites ; they even take 
 back the muskets which they lent them for the insurrection. 
 Well, as the Porte will not arm them, I have agreed to do it.' 
 
 ' You ! ' 
 
 ' 'Tis done ; at least the caravan is laden ; we only want 
 a guide. And this is why I am at Jerusalem. Scheriff 
 Effendi, who met me here yesterday, has got me five thou- 
 sand English muskets, and I have arranged with the Be- 
 doueen of Zoalia to carry them to the mountain.' 
 
 'You have indeed Solomon's signet, my dear Fakredeen.' 
 
 ' Would that I had ; for then I could pay two hundred 
 thousand piastres to that Egyptian camel, Scheriff Effendi, 
 and he would give me up my muskets, which now, like a 
 true son of Eblis, he obstinately retains.' 
 
 ' And this is your scrape, Fakredeen. And how much 
 have you towards the sum ? ' 
 
 1 Not a piastre ; nor do I suppose I shall ever see, until I 
 make a great financial stroke, so much of the sultan's gold 
 as is on one of the gilt balls of roses in your nargilly. My 
 crops are sold for next year, my jewels are gone, my studs 
 are to be broken up. There is not a cur in the streets of
 
 206 TANCRED; OR 
 
 Beiroot of whom I have not borrowed money. Riza Pacha 
 ia a sponge that would dry the sea of Galilee.' 
 
 ' It is a great thing to have gained the Patriarch of Leba- 
 non,' said the lady ; ' I always felt that, as long as that man 
 was against you, the Maronites never could be depended on. 
 And yet these arms ; after all they are of no use, for you 
 would not think of insurrection ! ' 
 
 4 No ; but they can quarrel with the Druses, and cut each 
 other's throats, and this will make the mountain more un- 
 manageable than ever, and the English will have no cus- 
 tomers for their calicoes, don't you see ? Lord Palmerston 
 will arraign the minister in the council. I shall pay off 
 Aberdeen for enclosing the Archbishop's letter to Guizot. 
 Combination upon combination ! The calico merchants will 
 call out for a prince of the house of Shehaab ! Riza will 
 propose me ; Bourqueney will not murmur, and Sir Can- 
 ning, finding he is in a mess, will sign a fine note of words 
 about the peace of Europe and the prosperity of Lebanon, 
 and 'tis finished.' 
 
 ' And my father, you have seen him ? ' 
 
 ' I have seen him,' said the young Emir, and he cast his 
 eyes on the ground. 
 
 ' He has done so much,' said Eva. 
 
 ' Ask him to do more, Rose of Sharon,' said Fakredeen, 
 like a child about to cry for a toy, and he threw himself on 
 his knees before Eva, and kept kissing her robe. ' Ask him 
 to do more,' he repeated, in a suppressed tone of heart- 
 rending cajolery ; ' he can refuse you nothing. Ask him, 
 ask him, Eva ! I have no friend in the world but you ; I am 
 so desolate. You have always been my friend, my coun- 
 sellor, my darling, my ruby, my pearl, my rose of Rocna- 
 bad ! Ask him, Eva ; never mind my faults ; you know me 
 by heart ; only ask him ! ' 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 ' Tell him that you are my sister, that I am his son, that 
 I love you so, that I love him so ; tell him anything. Say 
 that he ought to do it because I am a Hebrew.'
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 207 
 
 ' A what ? ' said Eva. 
 
 'A Hebrew; yes, a Hebrew. I am a Hebrew by blood, 
 and we all are by faith.' 
 
 ' Thou son of a slave ! ' exclaimed the lady, ' thou mas- 
 querade of humanity ! Christian or Mussulman, Pagan or 
 Druse, thou mayest figure as ; but spare my race, Fakre- 
 deen, they are fallen ' 
 
 ' But not so base as I am. It may be true, but I love 
 you, Eva, and you love me ; and if I had as many virtues 
 as yourself, you could not love me more ; perhaps less. 
 Women like to feel their superiority ; you are as clever as 
 I am, and have more judgment ; you are generous, and I am 
 selfish ; honourable, and I am a villain ; brave, and I am a 
 coward ; rich, and I am poor. Let that satisfy you, and do 
 not trample on the fallen ;' and Fakredeen took her hand 
 and bedewed it with his tears. 
 
 ' Dear Fakredeen,' said Eva, ' I thought you spoke in 
 jest, as I did.' 
 
 ' How can a man jest, who has to go through what I en- 
 dure ! ' said the young Emir, in a desponding tone, and still 
 lying at her feet. ' O, my more than sister, 'tis hell ! The 
 object I propose to myself would, with the greatest re- 
 sources, be difficult ; and now I have none.' 
 
 4 Relinquish it.' 
 
 ' When I am young and ruined ! When I have the two 
 greatest stimulants in the world to action, Youth and Debt ! 
 No ; such a combination is never to be thrown away. Any 
 young prince ought to win the Lebanon, but a young prince 
 in debt ought to conquer the world ! ' and the Emir sprang 
 from the floor, and began walking about the apartment. 
 
 * I think, Eva,' he said, after a moment's pause, and 
 speaking in his usual tone, ' I think you really might do 
 something with your fatner ; I look upon myself as his son ; 
 he saved my life. And I am a Hebrew ; I was nourished 
 by your mother's breast, her being flows in my veins ; and 
 independent of all that, my ancestor was the standard- 
 bearer of the Prophet, an*? the Prophet was the descendant
 
 208 TAtfCRED; OR 
 
 of Ishmael, and Ishmael and Israel were brothers. I realty 
 think, between my undoubted Arabian origin and being 
 your foster-brother, that I may be looked upon as a Jew, 
 and that your father might do something for me.' 
 
 ' Whatever my father will do, you and he must decide to- 
 gether,' said Eva ; ' after the result of my last interference, I 
 promised my father that I never would speak to him on your 
 affairs again ; and you know, therefore, that I cannot. You 
 ought not to urge me, Fakredeen.' 
 
 ' Ah ! you are angry with me,' he exclaimed, and again 
 seated himself at her feet. ' You were saying in your heart 
 he is the most selfish of beings. It is true, I am. But I 
 have glorious aspirations at least. I am not content to live 
 like my fathers in a beautiful palace, amid my woods and 
 mountains, with Kochlani steeds, falcons that would pull 
 down an eagle, and nargillies of rubies and emeralds. I 
 want something more than troops of beautiful slaves, music 
 and dances. I want Europe to talk of me. I am wearied 
 of hearing of nothing but Ibrahim Pacha, Louis Philippe, 
 and Palmerston. I, too, can make combinations ; and I am 
 of a better family than all three, for Ibrahim is a child of 
 mud, a Bourbon is not equal to a Shehaab, and Lord Pal- 
 merston only sits in the queen's second chamber of council, 
 as I well know from an Englishman who was at Beiroot, 
 and with whom I have formed some political relations, of 
 which perhaps some day you will hear.' 
 
 * Well, we have arrived at a stage of your career, Fakre- 
 deen, in which no combination presents itself ; I am power- 
 less to assist you ; my resources, never very great, are quite 
 exhausted.' 
 
 ' No,' said the Emir, ' the game is yet to be won. Listen, 
 Rose of Sharon, for this is really the point on which I came 
 to hold counsel. A young English lord has arrived at Jeru- 
 salem this week or ten days past ; he is of the highest 
 dignity, and rich enough to buy the grand bazaar of Damas- 
 cus ; he has letters of credit on your father's house without 
 any limit. No one can discover the object of his mission.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 209 
 
 I have some suspicions ; there is also a French officer here 
 Avho never speaks ; I watch them both. The Englishman, 
 I learnt this morning, is going to Mount Sinai. It is not a 
 pilgrimage, because the English are really neither Jews nor 
 Christians, but follow a sort of religion of their own, which 
 is made every year by their bishops, one of whom they have 
 sent to Jerusalem, in what they call a parliament, a college 
 of muftis ; you understand. Now lend me that ear that is 
 like an almond of Aleppo ! I propose that one of the tribes 
 that obey your grandfather shall make this Englishman 
 prisoner as he traverses the Desert. You see ? Ah ! Rose 
 of Sharon, I am not yet beat ; your Fakredeen is not the 
 baffled boy that, a few minutes ago, you looked as if you 
 thought him. I defy Ibrahim, or the King of France, or 
 Palmerston himself, to make a combination superior to 
 this. What a ransom ! The English lord will pay Scheriff 
 Effendi for his five thousand muskets, and for their convey- 
 ance to the mountain besides.' 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 IN one of those civil broils at Damascus which preceded the 
 fall of the Janissaries, an Emir of the house of Shehaab, 
 vrho lost his life in the fray, had, in the midst of. the con- 
 vulsion, placed his infant son in the charge of the merchant 
 Besso, a child most dear to him, not only because the babe 
 was his heir, but because his wife, whom he passionately 
 loved, a beautiful lady of Antioch and of one of the old 
 families of the country, had just sacrificed her life in giving 
 birth to their son. 
 
 The wife of Besso placed the orphan infant at her own 
 breast, and the young Fakredeen was brought up in every 
 respect as. a child of the house ; so that, for some time, he 
 looked upon the little Eva, who was three years younger 
 than himself, as his sister. When Fakredeen had attained 
 an age of sufficient intelligence for the occasion and the cir- 
 
 p
 
 210 TANCKED; OB 
 
 cumstances, liis real position was explained to him ; but he 
 was still too young for the communication to effect any 
 change in his feelings, and the idea that Eva was not his 
 sister only occasioned him sorrow, until his grief was for- 
 gotten when he found that the change made no difference 
 in their lives or their love. 
 
 Soon after the violent death of the father of Fakredeen, 
 affairs had become more tranquil, and Besso had not neg- 
 lected the interests of his charge. The infant was heir to 
 a large estate in the Lebanon ; a fine castle, an illimitable 
 forest, and cultivated lands, whose produce, chiefly silk, 
 afforded a revenue sufficient to maintain the not inconsi- 
 derable state of a mountain prince. 
 
 When Fakredeen was about ten years of age, his relative 
 the Emir Bescheer, who then exercised a sovereign and 
 acknowledged sway over all the tribes of the Lebanon, 
 whatever their religion or race, signified his pleasure that 
 his kinsman should be educated at his court, in the com- 
 pany of his sons. So Fakredeen, with many tears, quitted 
 his happy home at Damascus, and proceeded to Beteddeen, 
 the beautiful palace of his uncle, situate among the moun- 
 tains in the neighbourhood of Beiroot. This was about the 
 time that the Egyptians were effecting the conquest of 
 Syria, and both the Emir Bescheer, the head of the house 
 of Shehaab as well as Prince of the Mountain, and the 
 great commercial confederation of the brothers Besso, had 
 declared in favour of the invader, and were mainly instru- 
 mental to the success of Mehemet AH. Political sympathy, 
 and the feelings of mutual dependence which united the 
 Emir Bescheer and the merchant of Damascus, rendered 
 the communications between the families so frequent that 
 it was not difficult for the family of Besso to cherish those 
 sentiments of affection which were strong and lively in the 
 heart of the young Fakredeen, but which, under any cir- 
 cumstances, depend so much on sustained personal inter- 
 course. Eva saw a great deal of her former brother, and 
 there subsisted between them a romantic friendship. He
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 211 
 
 was their frequent guest at Damascus, and was proud to 
 show her how he excelled in his martial exercises, how 
 skilful he was with his falcon, and what horses of pure race 
 he proudly rode. 
 
 In the year '39, Fakredeen being then fifteen years of 
 age, the country entirely tranquil, even if discontented, 
 occupied by a disciplined army of 80,000 men, commanded 
 by captains equal it was supposed to any conjuncture, the 
 Egyptians openly encouraged by the greatest military 
 nation of Europe, the Turks powerless, and only secretly 
 sustained by the countenance of the ambassador of the 
 weakest government that ever tottered in England, a 
 government that had publicly acknowledged that it had 
 forfeited the confidence of the Parliament which yet it did 
 not dissolve ; everything being thus in a state of flush and 
 affluent prosperity, and both the house of Shehaab and the 
 house of Besso feeling, each day more strongly, how dis- 
 creet and how lucky they had been in the course which 
 they had adopted, came the great Syrian crash ! 
 
 Whatever difference of opinion may exist as to the policy 
 pursued by the foreign minister of England, with respect 
 to the settlement of the Turkish Empire in 1840-41, none 
 can be permitted, by those, at least, competent to decide 
 upon such questions, as to the ability with which that 
 policy was accomplished. When we consider the position 
 of the minister at home, not only deserted by Parliament, 
 but abandoned by his party and even forsaken by his 
 colleagues ; the military occupation of Syria by the Egyp- 
 tians ; the rabid demonstration of France ; that an accident 
 of time or space, the delay of a month or the gathering of 
 a storm, might alone have baffled all his combinations ; it 
 is difficult to fix upon a page in the history of this country 
 which records a superior instance of moral intrepidity. 
 The bold conception and the brilliant performance were 
 worthy of Chatham ; but the domestic difficulties with 
 which Lord Palmerston had to struggle place the exploit 
 beyond the happiest achievement of the elder Pitt. Through- 
 
 p 2
 
 212 TANCRED ; OE 
 
 out the memorable conjuncture, Lord Palmerston, however, 
 had one great advantage, which was invisible to the mil- 
 lions ; he was served by a most vigilant and able diplomacy. 
 The superiority of his information concerning the state of 
 Syria to that furnished to the French minister was the real 
 means by which he baffled the menaced legions of our 
 neighbours. A. timid Secretary of State in the position of 
 Lord Palmerston, even with such advantages, might have 
 faltered ; but the weapon was placed in the hands of one 
 who did not shrink from its exercise, and the expulsion of 
 the Egyptians from Turkey remains a great historic monu- 
 ment alike of diplomatic skill and administrative energy. 
 
 The rout of the Egyptians was fatal to the Emir Bescheer, 
 and it seemed also, for a time, to the Damascus branch of 
 the family of Besso. But in these days a great capitalist 
 has deeper roots than a sovereign prince, unless he is very 
 legitimate. The Prince of the Mountain and his sons were 
 summoned from their luxurious and splendid Beteddeen to 
 Constantinople, where they have ever since remained priso- 
 ners. Young Fakredeen, the moment he heard of the 
 fall of Acre, rode out with his falcon, as if for the pastime 
 of a morning, and the moment he was out of sight made 
 for the Desert, and never rested until he reached the tents 
 of the children of Rechab, where he placed himself under 
 the protection of the grandfather of Eva. As for the 
 worthy merchant himself, having ships at his command, he 
 contrived to escape with his wife and his young daughter to 
 Trieste, and he remained in the Austrian dominions between 
 three and four years. At length the influence of Prince 
 Metternich, animated by Sidonia, propitiated the Porte. 
 Adam Besso, after making his submission at Stambool, and 
 satisfactorily explaining his conduct to Biza Pacha, re- 
 turned to his country, not substantially injured in fortune, 
 though the northern clime had robbed him of his Arabian 
 wife ; for his brothers, who, as far as politics were con- 
 cerned, had ever kept in the shade, had managed affairs in 
 the absence of the more prominent member of their house,
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 213 
 
 and, in truth, the family of Besso were too rich to be long 
 under a cloud. The Pacha of Damascus found his revenue 
 fall very short without their interference ; and as for the 
 Divan, the Bessoes could always find a friend there if they 
 chose. The awkwardness of the Syrian catastrophe was, 
 that it was so sudden and so unexpected, that there was 
 then no time for those satisfactory explanations which after- 
 wards took place between Adam Besso and Ri/.a. 
 
 Though the situation of Besso remained, therefore, un- 
 changed after the subsidence of the Syrian agitation, the 
 same circumstance could not be predicated of the position 
 of his foster-child. Fakredeen possessed all the qualities 
 of the genuine Syrian character in excess ; vain, suscep- 
 tible, endowed with a brilliant though frothy imagination, 
 and a love of action so unrestrained that restlessness de- 
 prived it of energy, with so fine a taste that he was always 
 capricious, and so ingenious that he seemed ever incon- 
 sistent. His ambition was as high as his apprehension 
 was quick. He saw everything and anderstood everybody 
 in a flash; and believed that everything that was said 
 or done ought to be made to contribute to his fortunes. 
 Educated in the sweet order, and amid the decorous virtues 
 of the roof of Besso, Fakredeen, who, from his suscepti- 
 bility, took the colour of his companions, even when he 
 thought they were his tools, had figured for ten years as a 
 soft-hearted and somewhat timid child, dependent on kind 
 words, and returning kindness with a passionate affection. 
 
 His change to the palace of his uncle developed his native 
 qualities, which, under any accidents, could not perhaps 
 have been long restrained, but which the circumstances of 
 the times brought to light, and matured with a celerity 
 peculiar to the East. The character of Fakredeen was 
 formed amid the excitement of the Syrian invasion and its 
 stirring consequences. At ten years of age he was initiated 
 in all the mysteries of political intrigue. His startling 
 vivacity and the keen relish of his infant intelligence for 
 all the passionate interests of men amused and sometimes
 
 214 TANCEED; OR 
 
 delighted bis uncle. Everything was spoken before him ; 
 he lived in the centre of intrigues which were to shake 
 thrones, and perhaps to form them. He became habituated to 
 the idea that everything could be achieved by dexterity, and 
 that there was no test of conduct except success. To dis- 
 semble and to simulate ; to conduct confidential negotia- 
 tions with contending powers and parties at the same time ; 
 to be ready to adopt any opinion and to possess none ; to 
 fall into the public humour of the moment, and to evade 
 the impending catastrophe ; to look upon every man as a 
 tool, and never to do anything which had not a definite 
 though circuitous purpose ; these were his political accom- 
 plishments ; and, while he recognised them as the best 
 means of success, he found in their exercise excitement and 
 delight. To be the centre of a maze of manoeuvres was his 
 empyrean. He was never without a resource. 
 
 Stratagems came to him as naturally as fruit comes to a 
 tree. He lived in a labyrinth of plans, and he rejoiced to 
 involve some one in the perplexities which his magic touch 
 could alone unravel. Fakredeen had no principle of any 
 kind ; he had not a prejudice ; a little superstition, perhaps, 
 like his postponing his journey because a hare crossed his 
 path. But, as for life and conduct in general, forming his 
 opinions from the great men of whom he had experience, 
 princes, pachas, and some others, and from the great trans- 
 actions with which he was connected, he was convinced 
 that all was a matter of force or fraud. Fakredeen pre- 
 ferred the latter, because it was more ingenious, and because 
 he was of a kind and passionate temperament, loving beauty 
 and the beautiful, apt to idealise everything, and of too ex- 
 quisite a taste not to shrink with horror from an unneces- 
 sary massacre. 
 
 Though it was his profession and his pride to simulate 
 and to dissemble, he had a native ingenuousness which was 
 extremely awkward and very surprising, for, the moment he 
 was intimate with you, he told you everything. Though 
 he intended to make a person his tool, and often succeeded,
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 215 
 
 8nch was his susceptibility, and so strong were his sym- 
 pathetic qualities, that he was perpetually, without being 
 aware of it, showing his cards. The victim thought 
 himself safe, but the teeming resources of Fakredeen were 
 never wanting, and some fresh and brilliant combination, as 
 he styled it, often secured the prey which so heedlessly he 
 had nearly forfeited. Recklessness with him was a prin- 
 ciple of action. He trusted always to his fertile expedients 
 if he failed, and ran the risk in the meanwhile of paramount 
 success, the fortune of those who are entitled to be rash. 
 With all his audacity, which was nearly equal to his craft, 
 he had no moral courage ; and, if affairs went wrong, and, 
 from some accident, exhaustion of the nervous system, the 
 weather, or some of those slight causes which occasionally 
 paralyse the creative mind, he felt without a combination, 
 he would begin to cry like a child, and was capable of any 
 action, however base and humiliating, to extricate himself 
 from the impending disaster. 
 
 Fakredeen had been too young to have fatally committed 
 himself during the Egyptian occupation. The moment he 
 found that the Emir Bescheer and his sons were prisoners at 
 Constantinople, he returned to Syria, lived quietly at his 
 own castle, affected popularity among the neighbouring 
 chieftains, who were pleased to see a Shehaab among them, 
 and showed himself on every occasion a most loyal subject 
 of the Porte. At seventeen years of age, Fakredeen was at 
 the head of a powerful party, and had opened relations 
 with the Divan. The Porte looked upon him with confi- 
 dence, and although they intended, if possible, to govern 
 Lebanon in future themselves, a young prince of a great 
 house, and a young prince so perfectly free from all dis- 
 agreeable antecedents, was not to be treated lightly. All 
 the leaders of all the parties of the mountain frequented 
 the castle of Fakredeen, and sach secretly believed that the 
 prince was his pupil and his tool. There was not one of 
 these men, grey though some of them were in years and 
 craft, whom the innocent and ingenuous Fakredeen did not
 
 216 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 bend as a nose of wax, and, when Adam Besso returned to 
 Syria in '43, he found his foster-child by far the most con- 
 siderable person in the country, and all parties amid their 
 doubts and distractions looking up to him with hope and 
 confidence. He was then nineteen years of age, and Eva 
 was sixteen. Fakredeen came instantly to Damascus to 
 welcome them, hugged Besso, wept like a child over his 
 sister, sat up the whole night on the terrace of their house 
 smoking his nargilly, and telling them all his secrets with- 
 out the slightest reserve : the most shameful actions of his 
 career as well as the most brilliant ; and finally proposed 
 to Besso to raise a loan for the Lebanon, ostensibly to pro- 
 mote the cultivation of mulberries, really to supply arms to 
 the discontented population who were to make Fakredeen 
 and Eva sovereigns of the mountain. 
 
 It will have been observed, that to supply the partially 
 disarmed tribes of the mountain with weapons was still, 
 though at intervals, the great project of Fakredeen, and to 
 obtain the result in his present destitution of resources 
 involved him in endless stratagems. His success would at 
 the same time bind the tribes, already well affected to him, 
 with unalterable devotion to a chief capable of such an un- 
 deniable act of sovereignty, and of course render them pro- 
 portionately more efficient instruments in accomplishing 
 his purpose. It was the interest of Fakredeen that the 
 Lebanon should be powerful and disturbed. Besso, who 
 had often befriended him, and who had frequently rescued 
 him from the usurers of Beiroot and Sidon, lent a cold ear 
 to these suggestions. The great merchant was not inclined 
 again to embark in a political career, or pass another three 
 or four years away from his Syrian palaces and gardens. 
 He had seen the most powerful head that the East had 
 produced for a century, backed by vast means, and after 
 having apparently accomplished his purpose, ultimately 
 recoil before the superstitious fears of Christendom, lest 
 any change in Syria should precipitate the solution of the 
 great Eastern problem. He could not believe that it was
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 217 
 
 reserved for Fakredeen to succeed in that which had baffled 
 Mehemet All. 
 
 Eva took the more sanguine view that becomes youth 
 and woman. She had faith in Fakredeen. Though his 
 position was not as powerful as that of the great viceroy, 
 it was, in her opinion, more legitimate. He seemed indi- 
 cated as the natural ruler of the mountain. She had faith, 
 too, in his Arabian origin. With Eva, what is called 
 society assumed the character of a continual struggle 
 between Asia and the North. She dreaded the idea that, 
 after having escaped the crusaders, Syria should fall first 
 under the protection, and then the colonisation of some 
 European power. A link was wanted in the chain of re- 
 sistance which connected the ranges of Caucasus with the 
 Atlas. She idealised her foster-brother into a hero, and 
 saw his standard on Mount Lebanon, the beacon of the 
 oriental races, like the spear of Shami, or the pavilion of 
 Abd el Kader. Eva had often influenced her father for 
 the advantage of Fakredeen, but at last even Eva felt that 
 she should sue in vain. 
 
 A year before, involved in difficulties which it seemed DO 
 combination could control, and having nearly occasioned 
 the occupation of Syria by a united French and English 
 force, Fakredeen burst out a-crying like a little boy, and 
 came whimpering to Eva, as if somebody had broken his 
 toy or given him a beating. Then it was that Eva had 
 obtained for him a final assistance from her father, the 
 condition being, that this application should be the last. 
 
 Eva had given him jewels, had interested other members 
 of her family in his behalf, and effected for him a thousand 
 services, which only a kind-hearted and quick-witted 
 woman could devise. While Fakredeen plundered her 
 without scruple and used her without remorse, he doted on 
 her ; he held her intellect in absolute reverence ; a word 
 from her guided him ; a look of displeasure, and his heart 
 ached. As long as he was under the influence of her pre- 
 sence, he really had no will, scarcely an idea of his own.
 
 218 TANCEED; OR 
 
 lie spoke only to elicit her feelings and opinions. He liad 
 a superstition that she was born under a fortunate star, 
 and that it was fatal to go counter to her. But the moment 
 he was away, he would disobey, deceive, and, if necessary, 
 betray her, loving her the same all the time. But what 
 was to be expected from one whose impressions were 
 equally quick and vivid, who felt so much for himself, and 
 so much for others, that his life seemed a perpetual re-action 
 between intense selfishness and morbid sensibility ? 
 
 Had Fakredeen married Eva, the union might have 
 given him some steadiness of character, or at least its 
 semblance. The young Emir had greatly desired this 
 alliance, not for the moral purpose that we have intimated, 
 not even from love of Eva, for he was totally insensible to 
 domestic joys, but because he wished to connect himself 
 with great capitalists, and hoped to gain the Lebanon loan 
 for a dower. But this alliance was quite out of the ques- 
 tion. The hand of Eva was destined, according to the 
 custom of the family, for her cousin, the eldest son of 
 Besso of Aleppo. The engagement had been entered into 
 while she was at Vienna, and it was then agreed that the 
 marriage should take place soon after she had completed 
 her eighteenth year. The ceremony was therefore at hand ; 
 it was to occur within a few months. 
 
 Accustomed from an early period of life to the contempla- 
 tion of this union, it assumed in the eyes of Eva a character 
 as natural as that of birth or death. It never entered her head 
 to ask herself whether she liked or disliked it. It was one 
 of those inevitable things of which we are always conscious, 
 yet of which we never think, like the years of our life or 
 the colour of our hair. Had her destiny been in her own 
 hands, it is probable that she would not have shared it with 
 Fakredeen, for she had never for an instant entertained the 
 wish that there should be any change in the relations 
 which subsisted between them. According to the custom 
 of the country, it was to Besso that Fakredeen had ex- 
 pressed his wishes and his hopes. The young Emir made
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 219 
 
 liberal offers : his wife and children might follow any reli- 
 gion they pleased ; nay, he was even ready to conform 
 himself to any which they fixed upon. He attempted to 
 dazzle Besso with the prospect of a Hebrew Prince of the 
 Mountains. ' My daughter,' said the merchant, ' would 
 certainly, under any circumstances, marry one of her own 
 faith ; but we need not say another word about it ; she 
 is betrothed, and has been engaged for some years, to her 
 cousin.' 
 
 When Fakredeen, during his recent visit to Bethany, 
 found that Eva, notwithstanding her Bedoueen blood, re- 
 ceived his proposition for kidnapping a young English 
 nobleman with the utmost alarm and even horror, he im- 
 mediately relinquished it, diverted her mind from the con- 
 templation of a project, on her disapproval of which, not- 
 withstanding his efforts at distraction, she seemed strangely 
 to dwell, and finally presented her with a new and more 
 innocent scheme in which he required her assistance. 
 According to Fakredeen, his new English acquaintance at 
 Beiroot, whom he had before quoted, was ready to assist 
 him in the fulfilment of his contract, provided he could 
 obtain sufficient time from Scheriff Effendi ; and what he 
 wished Eva to do was personally to request the Egyptian 
 merchant to grant time for this indulgence. This did not 
 seem to Eva an unreasonable favour for her foster-brother 
 to obtain, though she could easily comprehend why his 
 previous irregularities might render him an unsuccess- 
 ful suitor to his creditor. Glad that it was still in her 
 power in some degree to assist him, and that his present 
 project was at least a harmless one, Eva offered the next 
 day to repair to the city and see Scheriff Effendi on his 
 business. Pressing her hand to his heart, and saluting her 
 with a thousand endearing names, the Emir quitted the 
 Rose of Sharon with the tears in his grateful eyes. 
 
 Now the exact position of Fakredeen was this : he had 
 induced the Egyptian merchant to execute the contract for 
 him by an assurance that Besso would be his security for
 
 220 TANCKED ; OR 
 
 the venture, although the peculiar nature of the transaction 
 rendered it impossible for Besso, in his present delicate 
 position, personally to interfere in it. To keep up appear- 
 ances, Fakredeen, with his usual audacious craft, had 
 appointed Scheriff Effendi to meet him at Jerusalem, at 
 the house of Besso, for the completion of the contract ; 
 and accordingly, on the afternoon of the day preceding his 
 visit to Bethany, Fakredeen had arrived at Jerusalem 
 without money, and without credit, in order to purchase 
 arms for a province. 
 
 The greatness of the conjuncture, the delightful climate, 
 his sanguine temperament, combined, however, to sustain 
 him. As he traversed his delicious mountains, with their 
 terraces of mulberries, and olives, and vines, lounged occa- 
 sionally for a short time at the towns on the coast, and 
 looked in at some of his creditors to chatter charming de- 
 lusions, or feel his way for a new combination most neces- 
 sary at this moment, his blood was quick and his brain 
 creative ; and although he had ridden nearly two hundred 
 miles when he arrived at the ' Holy City,' he was fresh and 
 full of faith that ' something would turn up.' His Egyp- 
 tian friend, awfully punctual, was the first figure that 
 welcomed him as he entered the divan of Besso, where the 
 young Emir remained in the position which we have des- 
 cribed, smoking interminable nargillies while he revolved 
 his affairs, until the conversation respecting the arrival of 
 Tancred roused him from his brooding meditation. 
 
 It was not difficult to avoid Scheriff Effendi for a while. 
 The following morning, Fakredeen passed half a dozen 
 hours at the bath, and then made his visit to Eva with the 
 plot which had occurred to him the night before at the 
 divan, and which had been matured this day while they 
 were shampooing him. The moment that, baffled, he again 
 arrived at Jerusalem, he sought his Egyptian merchant, 
 and thus addressed him : 'You see, Effendi, that you must 
 not talk on this business to Besso, nor can Besso talk to 
 you about it.'
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 221 
 
 'Good!' said the Effendi. 
 
 4 But, if it be managed by another person to your satis- 
 faction, it will be as well.' 
 
 4 One grain is like another.' 
 
 ' It will be managed by another person to your satis- 
 faction.' 
 
 'Good!' 
 
 4 The Rose of Sharon is the same in this business as her 
 father?' 
 
 ' He is a ruby and she is a pearl.' 
 
 4 The Rose of Sharon will see you to-morrow about this 
 business.' 
 
 'Good!' 
 
 ' The Rose of Sharon may ask you for time to settle 
 everything; she has to communicate with other places. 
 You have heard of such a city as Aleppo ? ' 
 
 ' If Damascus be an eye, Aleppo is an ear.' 
 
 'Don't trouble the Rose of Sharon, Eflendi, with any 
 details if she speaks to you ; but be content with all she 
 proposes. She will ask, perhaps, for three months ; women 
 are nervous ; they think robbers may seize the money on 
 its way, or the key of the chest may not be found when it 
 is wanted; you understand ? Agree to what she proposes ; 
 but, between ourselves, I will meet you at Gaza on the 
 day of the new moon, and it is finished.' 
 
 ' Good.' 
 
 Faithful to her promise, at an early hour of the morrow, 
 Eva, wrapped in a huge and hooded Arab cloak, so that 
 hep form could not in the slightest degree be traced, her 
 {'ace covered with a black Arab mask, mounted her horse ; 
 her two female attendants, habited in the same manner, 
 followed their mistress ; before whom marched her janissary 
 armed to the teeth, while four Arab grooms walked on each 
 side of the cavalcade. In this way, they entered Jerusalem 
 by the gate of Sion, and proceeded to the house of Besso. 
 Fakredeen watched her arrival. He was in due time sum- 
 moned to her presence, where he learned the success of her 
 mission.
 
 222 TANCRED; OR 
 
 ' Scheriff Effendi,' she said, ' has agreed to keep the 
 arms for three months, you paying the usual rate of in- 
 terest on the money. This is but just. May your new 
 friend at Beiroot be more powerful than I am, and as 
 faithful!' 
 
 ' Beautiful Rose of Sharon ! who can be like you ! You 
 inspire me ; you always do. I feel persuaded that I shall 
 get the money long before the time has elapsed.' And, so 
 saying, he bade her farewell, to return, as he said, without 
 loss of time to Beiroot. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE dawn was about to break in a cloudless sky, when 
 Tancred, accompanied by Baroni and two servants, all well 
 armed and well mounted, and by Hassan, a sheikh of the 
 Jellaheen Bedoueens, tall and grave, with a long spear 
 tufted with ostrich feathers in his hand, his musket slung 
 at his back, and a scimitar at his side, quitted Jerusalem 
 by the gate of Bethlehem. 
 
 If it were only to see the sun rise, or to become ac- 
 quainted with nature at hours excluded from the experience 
 of civilisation, it were worth while to be a traveller. 
 There is something especially in the hour that precedes a 
 Syrian dawn, which invigorates the frame and elevates the 
 spirit. One cannot help fancying that angels may have 
 been resting on the mountain tops during the night, the 
 air is so sweet and the earth so still. Nor, when it wakes, 
 does it wake to the maddening cares of Europe. The 
 beauty of a patriarchal repose still lingers about its exist- 
 ence in spite of its degradation. Notwithstanding all they 
 have suffered during the European development, the man- 
 ners of the Asiatic races generally are more in harmony 
 with nature than the complicated conventionalisms which 
 harass their fatal rival, and which have increased in exact
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 223 
 
 proportion as the Europeans have seceded from those 
 Arabian and Syrian creeds that redeemed them from their 
 primitive barbarism. 
 
 But the light breaks, the rising beam falls on the 
 gazelles still bounding on the hills of Judah, and gladdens 
 the partridge which still calls among the ravines, as it did 
 in the days of the prophets. About half-way between 
 Jerusalem and Bethlehem, Tancred and his companions 
 halted at the tomb of Rachel : here awaited them a chosen 
 band of twenty stout Jellaheens, the subjects of Sheikh 
 Hassan, their escort through the wildernesses of Arabia 
 Petraea. The fringed and ribbed kerchief of the Desert, 
 which must be distinguished from the turban, and is woven 
 by their own women from the hair of the camel, covered 
 the heads of the Bedoueens ; a short white gown, also of 
 home manufacture, and very rude, with a belt of cords, 
 completed, with slippers, their costume. 
 
 Each man bore a musket and a dagger. 
 
 It was Baroni who had made the arrangement with 
 Sheikh Hassan. Baroni had long known him as a brave 
 and faithful Arab. In general, these contracts with the 
 Bedoueens for convoy through the Desert are made by 
 Franks through their respective consuls, but Tancred was 
 not sorry to be saved from the necessity of such an appli- 
 cation, as it would have excited the attention of Colonel 
 Brace, who passed his life at the British Consulate, and 
 who probably would have thought it necessary to put on 
 the uniform of the Bellamont yeomanry calvary, and have 
 attended the heir of Montacute to Mount Sinai. Tancred 
 shuddered at the idea of the presence of such a being at such 
 a place,, with his large ruddy face, his swaggering, swelter- 
 ing figure, his flourishing whiskers, and his fat hands. 
 
 It was the fifth morn after the visit of Tancred to 
 Bethany, of which he had said nothing to Baroni, the only 
 person at his command who could afford or obtain any in- 
 formation as to the name and quality of her with whom he 
 had there so singularly become acquainted. He was far
 
 224 TANCKED; OR 
 
 from incurious on the subject ; all that he had seen and ail 
 that he had heard at Bethany greatly interested him. But 
 the reserve which ever controlled him, unless under the 
 influence of great excitement, a reserve which was the 
 result of pride and not of caution, would probably have 
 checked any expression of his wishes on this head, even 
 had he not been under the influence of those feelings which 
 now absorbed him. A human being, animated by the hope, 
 almost by the conviction, that a celestial communication is 
 impending over his destiny, moves in a supernal sphere, 
 which no earthly consideration can enter. The long 
 musings of his voyage had been succeeded on the part of 
 Tancred, since his arrival in the Holy Land, by one un- 
 broken and impassioned reverie, heightened, not disturbed, 
 by frequent and solitary prayer, by habitual fasts, and by 
 those exciting conferences with Alonzo Lara, in which he 
 had struggled to penetrate the great Asian mystery, reseived 
 however, if indeed ever expounded, for a longer initiation 
 than had yet been proved by the son of the English noble. 
 
 After a week of solitary preparation, during which he had 
 interchanged no word, and maintained an abstinence which 
 might have rivalled an old eremite of Engedi, Tancred had 
 kneeled before that empty sepulchre of the divine Prince 
 of the house of David, for which his ancestor, Tancred de 
 Montacute, six hundred years before, had struggled with 
 those followers of Mahound, who, to the consternation and 
 perplexity of Christendom, continued to retain it. Chris- 
 tendom cares nothing for that tomb now, has indeed for- 
 gotten its own name, and calls itself enlightened Europe. 
 But enlightened Europe is not happy. Its existence is a 
 fever, which it calls progress. Progress to what ? 
 
 The youthful votary, during his vigils at the sacred tomb, 
 had received solace but not inspiration. No voice from 
 heaven had yet sounded, but his spirit was filled with the 
 sanctity of the place, and he returned to his cell to prepare 
 for fresh pilgrimages. 
 
 One day, in conference with Lara, the Spanish Prior had
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 225 
 
 let drop these words : ' Sinai led to Calvary ; it may be wise 
 to trace your steps from Calvary to Sinai.' 
 
 At this moment, Tancred and his escort are in sight of 
 Bethlehem, with the population of a village but the walls 
 of a town, situate on an eminence overlooking a valley, 
 which seems fertile after passing the stony plain of Rephaim. 
 The first beams of the sun, too, were rising from the moun- 
 tains of Arabia and resting on the noble convent of the 
 Nativity. 
 
 From Bethlehem to Hebron, Canaan is still a land of 
 milk and honey, though not so rich and picturesque as in 
 the great expanse of Palestine to the north of the Holy 
 City. The beauty and the abundance of the promised land 
 may still be found in Samaria and Galilee ; in the magni- 
 ficent plains of Esdraelon, Zabulon, and Gennesareth ; and 
 ever by the gushing waters of the bowery Jordan. 
 
 About an hour after leaving Bethlehem, in a secluded 
 valley, is one of the few remaining public works of the 
 great Hebrew Kings. It is in every respect worthy of 
 them. I speak of those colossal reservoirs cut out of the 
 native rock and fed by a single spring, discharging their 
 waters into an aqueduct of perforated stone, which, until a 
 comparatively recent period, still conveyed them to Jerusa- 
 lem. They are three in number, of varying lengths from 
 five to six hundred feet, and almost as broad ; their depth 
 still undiscovered. They communicate with each other, so 
 that the water of the uppermost reservoir, flowing through 
 the intermediate one, reached the third, which fed the aque- 
 duct. They are lined with a hard cement like that which 
 coats the pyramids, and which remains uninjured ; and it 
 appears that hanging gardens once surrounded them. The 
 Arabs still call these reservoirs the pools of Solomon, nor is 
 there any reason to doubt the tradition. Tradition, perhaps 
 often more faithful than written documents, is a sure and 
 almost infallible guide in the minds of the people where 
 there has been no complicated variety of historic incidents 
 to confuse and break the chain of memory ; where their 
 
 Q
 
 226 TANCRED ; OB 
 
 rare revolutions have consisted of an eruption once in a 
 thousand years into the cultivated world ; where society- 
 lias never been broken up, but their domestic manners have 
 remained the same ; where, too, they revere truth, and are 
 rigid in its oral d eh very, since that is their only means of 
 disseminating knowledge. 
 
 There is no reason to doubt that these reservoirs were 
 the works of Solomon. This secluded valley, then, was 
 once the scene of his imaginative and delicious life. Here 
 were his pleasure gardens ; these slopes were covered with 
 his fantastic terraces, and the high places glittered with his 
 pavilions. The fountain that supplied these treasured waters 
 was perhaps the ' sealed fountain,' to which he compared 
 his bride ; and here was the garden palace where the charm- 
 ing Queen of Sheba vainly expected to pose the wisdom of 
 Israel, as she held at a distance before the most dexterous of 
 men the two garlands of flowers, alike in form and colour, 
 and asked the great king, before his trembling court, to 
 decide which of the wreaths was the real one. 
 
 They are gone, they are vanished, these deeds of beauty 
 and these words of wit ! The bright and glorious gardens 
 of the tiaraed poet and the royal sage, that once echoed 
 with his lyric voice, or with the startling truths of his 
 pregnant aphorisms, end in this wild and solitary valley, in 
 which with folded arms and musing eye of long abstraction, 
 Tancred halts in his ardent pilgrimage, nor can refrain from 
 asking himself, ' Can it then be true that all is Vanity ? ' 
 
 Why, what, is this desolation ? Why are there no more 
 kings, whose words are the treasured wisdom of countless 
 ages, and the mention of whose name to this moment thrills 
 the heart of the Oriental, from the waves of the midland 
 ocean to the broad rivers of the farthest Ind ? Why are 
 there no longer bright-witted queens to step out of their 
 Arabian palaces and pay visits to the gorgeous ' house of 
 the forest of Lebanon,' or to where Baalbec, or Tadmor in 
 the wilderness, rose on those plains now strewn with the 
 superb relics of their inimitable magnificence ? 
 
 And yet some flat-nosed Frank, full of bustle and puffed
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 227 
 
 up with self-conceit (a race spawned perhaps in the morasses 
 of some Northern forest hardly yet cleared), talks of Pro- 
 gress ! Progress to what, and from whence ? Amid em- 
 pires shrivelled into deserts, amid the wrecks of great 
 cities, a single column or obelisk of which nations import 
 for the prime ornament of their mud-built capitals, amid 
 arts forgotten, commerce annihilated, fragmentary litera- 
 tures and populations destroyed, the European talks of 
 progress, because, by an ingenious application of some 
 scientific acquirements, he has established a society which 
 has mistaken comfort for civilisation. 
 
 The soft beam of the declining sun fell upon a serene 
 landscape ; gentle undulations covered with rich shrubs or 
 highly cultivated ; corn-fields and olive groves ; sometimes 
 numerous flocks ; and then vineyards fortified with walls 
 and with watch-towers, as in the time of David, whose city 
 Tancred was approaching. Hebron, too, was the home of 
 the great Sheikh Abraham ; and the Arabs here possess his 
 tomb, which no Christian is permitted to visit. It is strange 
 and touching, that the children of Ishmael should have 
 treated the name and memory of the Sheikh Abraham with 
 so much reverence and affection. But the circumstance 
 that he was the friend of Allah appears with them entirely 
 to have outweighed the recollection of his harsh treatment 
 of their great progenitor. Hebron has even lost with them 
 its ancient Judaean name, and they always call it, in honour 
 of the tomb of the Sheikh, the ' City of the Friend.' 
 
 About an hour after Hebron, in a fair pasture, and near 
 an olive grove, Tancred pitched his tent, prepared on the 
 morrow to quit the land of promise, and approach that 
 ' great and terrible wilderness where there was no water.' 
 
 ' The children of Israel,' as they were called according to 
 the custom then and now universally prevalent among the 
 Arabian tribes (as, for example, the Beni Kahtan, Beni 
 Kelb, Beni Salem, Beni Sobh, Beni Ghamed, Beni Seydan, 
 Beni Ali, Beni Hateym, all adopting for their description 
 the name of their founder) the ' children of Israel ' were 
 
 a 2
 
 228 TANCEED; OR 
 
 originally a tribe of Arabia Petraea. Under the guidance 
 of sheikhs of great ability, they emerged from their stony 
 wilderness and settled on the Syrian border. 
 
 But they could not maintain themselves against the dis- 
 ciplined nations of Palestine, and they fell back to their 
 desert, which they found intolerable. Like some of the 
 Bedoueen tribes of modern times in the rocky wastes conti- 
 guous to the Red Sea, they were unable to resist the temp- 
 tations of the Egyptian cities ; they left their free but 
 distressful wilderness, and became Fellaheen. The Pharaohs, 
 however, made them pay for their ready means of suste- 
 nance, as Mehemet Ali has made the Arabs of our days 
 who have quitted the Desert to eat the harvests of the Nile. 
 They enslaved them, and worked them as beasts of burden. 
 But this was not to be long borne by a race whose chiefs in 
 the early ages had been favoured by Jehovah ; the Patriarch 
 Emirs, who, issuing from the Caucasian cradle of the great 
 races, spread over the plains of Mesopotamia, and dissemi- 
 nated their illustrious seed throughout the Arabian wilder- 
 ness. Their fiery imaginations brooded over the great 
 traditions of their tribe, and at length there arose among 
 them one of those men whose existence is an epoch in the 
 history of human nature : a great creative spirit and organ- 
 ising mind, in whom the faculties of conception and of 
 action are equally balanced and possessed in the highest 
 degree ; in every respect a man of the complete Caucasian 
 model, and almost as perfect as Adam when he was just 
 finished and placed in Eden. 
 
 But Jehovah recognised in Moses a human instrument too 
 rare merely to be entrusted with the redemption of an Ara- 
 bian tribe from a state of Fellaheen to Bedoueen existence. 
 And, therefore, he was summoned to be the organ of an 
 eternal revelation of the Divine will, and his tribe were 
 appointed to be the hereditary ministers of that mighty and 
 mysterious dispensation. 
 
 It is to be noted, although the Omnipotent Creator might 
 have found, had it pleased him, in the humblest of his crea-
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 229 
 
 tions, an efficient agent for his purpose, however difficult 
 and sublime, that Divine Majesty has never thought fit to 
 communicate except with human beings of the very highest 
 powers. They are always men who have manifested an ex- 
 traordinary aptitude for great affairs, and the possession of a 
 fervent and commanding genius. They are great legislators, 
 or great warriors, or great poets, or orators of the most 
 vehement and impassioned spirit. Such were Moses, Joshua, 
 the heroic youth of Hebron, and his magnificent son ; such, 
 too, was Isaiah, a man, humanly speaking, not inferior to 
 Demosthenes, and struggling for a similar and as beautiful 
 a cause, the independence of a small state, eminent for its 
 intellectual power, against the barbarian grandeur of a 
 military empire. All the great things have been done by 
 the little nations. It is the Jordan and the Ilyssus that 
 have civilised the modern races. An Arabian tribe, a clan 
 of the ^jgean, have been the promulgators of all our know- 
 ledge ; and we should never have heard of the Pharaohs, of 
 Babylon the great and Nineveh the superb, of Cyrus and of 
 Xerxes, had not it been for Athens and Jerusalem. 
 
 Tancred rose with the sun from his encampment at 
 Hebron, to traverse, probably, the same route pursued by 
 the spies when they entered the Land of Promise. The 
 transition from Canaan to the stony Arabia is not abrupt. 
 A range of hills separates Palestine from a high but level 
 country similar to the Syrian Desert, sandy in some places, 
 but covered in all with grass and shrubs ; a vast expanse of 
 downs. Gradually the herbage disappears, and the shrubs 
 are only found tufting the ridgy tops of low undulating 
 sandhills. Soon the sand becomes stony, and no trace of 
 vegetation is ever visible excepting occasionally some thorny 
 plant. Then comes a land which alternates between plains 
 of sand and dull ranges of monotonous hills covered with 
 loose flints ; sometimes the pilgrim winds his way through 
 their dull ravines, sometimes he mounts the heights and 
 beholds a prospect of interminable desolation. 
 
 For three nights had Tancred encamped in this wilder-
 
 230 TANCEED; OR 
 
 ness, halting at some spot where they could find some 
 Desert shrubs that might serve as food for the camels and 
 fuel for themselves. His tent was soon pitched, the night 
 fires soon crackling, and himself seated at one with the 
 Sheikh and Baroni, he beheld with interest and amuse- 
 ment the picturesque and flashing groups around him. 
 Their fare was scant and simple : bread baked upon the 
 spot, the dried tongue of a gazelle, the coffee of the neigh- 
 bouring Mocha, and the pipe that ever consoles, if indeed 
 the traveller, whatever his hardships, could need any suste- 
 nance but his own high thoughts in such a scene, canopied, 
 too, by the most beautiful sky and the most delicious climate 
 in the world. 
 
 They were in the vicinity of Mount Seir ; on the morrow 
 they were to commence the passage of the lofty range which 
 stretches on to Sinai. The Sheikh, who had a feud with a 
 neighbouring tribe, and had been anxious and vigilant while 
 they crossed the open country, riding on with an advanced 
 guard before his charge, reconnoitring from sandhill to 
 sandhill, often creeping up and lying on his breast, so as not 
 to be visible to the enemy, congratulated Tancred that all 
 imminent danger was past. 
 
 ' Not that I am afraid of them,' said Hassan, proudly ; 
 'but we must kill them or they will kill ns.' Hassan, 
 though Sheikh of his own immediate family and followers, 
 was dependent on the great Sheikh of the Jellaheen tribe, 
 and was bound to obey his commands in case the complete 
 clan were summoned to congregate in any particular part of 
 the Desert. 
 
 On the morrow they commenced their passage of the 
 mountains, and, after clearing several ranges, found them- 
 selves two hours after noon in a defile so strangely beau- 
 tiful, that to behold it would alone have repaid all the 
 exertions and perils of the expedition. It was formed by 
 precipitous rocks of a picturesque shape and of great 
 height, and of colours so brilliant and so blended that to 
 imagine them you must fancy the richest sunset you have
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 231 
 
 ever witnessed, aud that would be inferior, from the inevi- 
 table defect of its fleeting character. Here the tints, some- 
 times vivid, sometimes shadowed down, were always equally 
 iair : light blue heights, streaked, perhaps, with scarlet and 
 .shaded off to lilac or purple ; a cleft of bright orange ; a 
 broad peach-coloured expanse, veined in delicate circles and 
 wavy lines of exquisite grace ; sometimes yellow and purple 
 stripes ; sometimes an isolated steep of every hue flaming iu 
 the sun, and then, like a young queen on a gorgeous throne, 
 from a vast rock of crimson and gold rose a milk-white 
 summit. The frequent fissures of this defile were filled with 
 rich woods of oleander and shrubs of every shade of green, 
 from which rose acacia, and other trees unknown to Tan- 
 cred. Over all this was a deep and cloudless sky, and 
 through it a path winding amid a natural shrubbery, which 
 princes would have built colossal conservatories to pre- 
 serve. 
 
 ' "Tis a scene of enchantment that has risen to mock us in 
 the middle of the Desert,' exclaimed the enraptured pilgrim ; 
 ' surely it must vanish even as we gaze ! ' 
 
 About half-way up the defile, when they had traversed it 
 for about a quarter of an hour, Sheikh Hassan suddenly 
 galloped forward and hurled his spear with great force at 
 an isolated crag, the base of which was covered with 
 oleanders, and then looking back he shouted to his com- 
 panions. Tancred and the foremost hurried up to him. 
 
 ' Here are tracks of horses and camels that have entered 
 the valley thus far and not passed through it. They are 
 fresh ; let all be prepared.' 
 
 ' We are twenty-five men well armed,' said Baroni. * It 
 is not the Tyahas that will attack such a band.' 
 
 'Nor are they the Gherashi or the Mezeines,' said the 
 Sheikh, ' for we know what they are after, and we are 
 brothers.' 
 
 4 They must be Alouins,' said an Arab. 
 
 At this moment the little caravan was apparently land- 
 locked, the defile again winding, but presently it became
 
 232 TANCRED ; OK 
 
 quite straight, and its termination was visible, though at a 
 considerable distance. 
 
 ' I see horsemen,' said the Sheikh ; ' several of them ad- 
 vance ; they are not Alouins.' 
 
 He rode forward to meet them, accompanied by Tancred 
 and Baroni. 
 
 ' Salaam,' said the Sheikh, ' how is it ? ' and then he added, 
 aside to Baroni, ' They are strangers ; why are they here ? ' 
 
 ' Aleikoum ! We know where you come from,' was the 
 reply of one of the horsemen. ' Is that the brother of the 
 Queen of the English ? Let him ride with us, and you may 
 go on in peace.' 
 
 ' He is my brother,' said Sheikh Hassan, ' and the 
 brother of all here. There is no feud between us. Who 
 are you ? ' 
 
 ' We are children of Jethro, and the great Sheikh has 
 sent us a long way to give you salaam. Your desert here is 
 not fit for the camel that your Prophet cursed. Come, let 
 us finish our business, for we wish to see a place where there 
 are palm- trees.' 
 
 ' Are these children of Eblis ? ' said Sheikh Hassan to 
 Baroni. 
 
 ' It is the day of judgment,' said Baroni, looking pale ; 
 ' such a thing has not happened in my time. I am lost.' 
 
 ' What do these people say ? ' inquired Tancred. 
 
 ' There is but one God,' said Sheikh Hassan, whose men 
 had now reached him, ' and Mahomet is his Prophet. 
 Stand aside, sons of Eblis, or you shall bite the earth which 
 curses you ! ' 
 
 A wild shout from every height of the defile was the an- 
 swer. They looked up, they looked round ; the crest of 
 every steep was covered with armed Arabs, each man with 
 his musket levelled. 
 
 ' My lord,' said Baroni, ' there is something hidden in all 
 this. This is not an ordinary Desert foray. You are known, 
 and this tribe comes from a distance to plunder you ;' and 
 then he rapidly detailed what had already passed.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 233 
 
 ' What is your force, sons of Eblis ? ' said the Sheikh to 
 the horsemen. 
 
 ' Count your men, and your muskets, and your swords, and 
 your horses, and your camels ; and if they were all double, 
 they would not be our force. Our great Sheikh would have 
 come in person with ten thousand men, were not your wil- 
 derness here fit only for Giaours.' 
 
 ' Tell the young chief,' said the Sheikh to Baroni, ' that 
 I am his brother, and will shed the last drop of my blood in 
 his service, as I am bound to do, as much as he is bound to 
 give me ten thousand piastres for the journey, and ask him 
 what he wishes ? ' 
 
 ' Demand to know distinctly what these men want,' said 
 Tancred to Baroni, who then conferred with them. 
 
 ' They want your lordship,' said Baroni, ' whom they call 
 the brother of the Queen of the English ; their business is 
 clearly to carry you to their great Sheikh, who will release 
 you for a large ransom.' 
 
 ' And they have no feud with the Jellaheens ? ' 
 
 ' None ; they are strangers ; they come from a distance for 
 this purpose ; nor can it be doubted that this plan has been 
 concocted at Jerusalem.' 
 
 ' Our position, I fear, is fatal in this defile,' said Tancred ; 
 ' it is bitter to be the cause of exposing so many brave men 
 to almost inevitable slaughter. Tell them, Baroni, that I am 
 not the brother of the Queen of the English ; that they are 
 ridiculously misled, and that their aim is hopeless, for all that 
 will be ransomed will be my corpse.' 
 
 Sheikh Hassan sat on his horse like a statue, with his 
 spear in his hand and his eye on his enemy ; Baroni, ad- 
 vancing to the strange horsemen, who were in position about 
 ten yards from Tancred and his guardian, was soon engaged 
 in animated conversation. He did all that an able diplo- 
 matist could effect ; told lies with admirable grace, and made 
 a hundred propositions that did not commit his principal. 
 He assured them very heartily that Tancred was not the 
 brother of the Queen of the English ; that he was only a
 
 234 TANCKKD; OR 
 
 young Sheikh, whose father was alive, and in possession of 
 all the flocks and herds, camels and horses ; that he had 
 quarrelled with his father ; that his father, perhaps, would 
 not be sorry if he were got rid of, and would not give a 
 hundred piastres to save his life. Then he offered, if he 
 would let Tancred pass, himself to go with them as prisoner 
 to their great Sheikh, and even proposed Hassan and halt' 
 his men for additional hostages, whilst some just and equi- 
 table arrangement could be effected. All, however, was in 
 vain. The enemy had no discretion ; dead or alive, the young 
 Englishman must be carried to their chief. 
 
 ' I can do nothing,' said Baroni, returning; ' there is some- 
 thing in all this which I do not understand. It has never 
 happened in my time.' 
 
 ' There is, then, but one course to be taken,' said Tancred ; 
 ' we must charge through the defile. At any rate we shall 
 have the satisfaction of dying like men. Let us each fix on 
 our opponent. That audacious-looking Arab in a red kefia 
 shall be my victim, or my destroyer. Speak to the Sheikh, 
 and tell him to prepare his men. Freeman and Trueman,' 
 said Tancred, looking round to his English servants, ' we 
 are in extreme peril ; I took you from your homes ; if we 
 outlive this day, and return to Montacute, you shall live on 
 your own land.' 
 
 ' Never mind us, my lord : if it worn't for those rocks we 
 would beat these niggers.' 
 
 ' Are you all ready ? ' said Tancred to Baroni. 
 
 ' We are all ready.' 
 
 ' Then I commend my soul to Jesus Christ, and to the God 
 of Sinai, in whose cause I perish.' So saying, Tancred shot 
 the Arab in the red kefia through the head, and with his re- 
 maining pistol disabled another of the enemy. This he did, 
 while he and his band were charging, so suddenly and so 
 boldly, that those immediately opposed to them were scat- 
 tered. There was a continuous volley, however, from every 
 part of the defile, and the scene was so involved in smoke 
 that it was impossible for Tancred to see a yard around
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 235 
 
 him ; still he galloped on and felt conscious that he had 
 companions, though the shouting -was so great that it was 
 impossible to communicate. The smoke suddenly drifting, 
 Tancred caught a glimpse of hia position ; he was at the 
 mouth of the defile, followed by several of his men, whom 
 he had not time to distinguish, and awaited by innumerable 
 foes. 
 
 ' Let us sell our li ves dearly ! ' was all that he could ex- 
 claim. His sword fell from his wounded arm ; his horse, 
 stabbed underneath, sank with him to the ground. He was 
 overpowered and bound. ' Every drop of his blood,' ex- 
 claimed the leader of the strange Arabs, ' is worth ten thou- 
 sand piastres.' 
 
 END OF BOOK in.
 
 236 TANCEED; OB 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ' WHERE is Besso ? ' said Barizy of the Tower, as the Con- 
 sul Pasqualigo entered the divan of the merchant, about ten 
 days after the departure of Tancred from Jerusalem for 
 Mount Sinai. 
 
 ' Where is Besso ? I have already smoked two chibouques, 
 and no one has entered except yourself. I suppose you 
 have heard the news ? ' 
 
 ' Who has not ? It is in every one's mouth.' 
 
 ' What have you heard ? ' asked Barizy of the Tower, 
 with an air of malicious curiosity. 
 
 ' Some things that everybody knows,' replied Pasqualigo, 
 ' and some things that nobody knows.' 
 
 ' Hah, hah ! ' said Barizy of the Tower, pricking up his 
 ears, and preparing for one of those diplomatic encounters 
 of mutual pumping, in which he and his rival were prac- 
 tised. ' I suppose you have seen somebody, eh ? ' 
 
 ' Somebody has been seen,' replied Pasquah'go, and then 
 he busied himself with his pipe just arrived. 
 
 ' But nobody has seen somebody who was on the spot ? ' 
 said Barizy. 
 
 ' It depends upon what you mean by the spot,' replied 
 Pasqualigo. 
 
 ' Your information is second-hand,' observed Barizy. 
 
 ' But you acknowledge it is correct ? ' said Pasqualigo, 
 more eagerly. 
 
 ' It depends upon whether your friend was present ' 
 
 and here Barizy hesitated. 
 
 ' It does,' said Pasqualiero.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 237 
 
 4 Then he was present ? ' said Barizy. 
 
 ' He was.' 
 
 4 Then he knows,' said Barizy, eagerly, ' whether the 
 young English prince was murdered intentionally or by 
 hazard.' 
 
 ' A h,' said Pasqualigo, whom not the slighest rumour 
 of the affair had yet reached, ' that is a great question.' 
 
 ' But everything depends upon it,' said Barizy. ' If he 
 was killed accidentally, there will be negotiations, but the 
 business will be compromised ; the English want Cyprus, 
 and they will take it as compensation. If it is an affair of 
 malice prepense, there will be war, for the laws of England 
 require war if blood royal be spilt.' 
 
 The Consul Pasqualigo looked very grave ; then, with- 
 drawing his lips for a moment from his amber mouthpiece, 
 he observed, ' It is a crisis.' 
 
 1 It will be a crisis,' said Barizy of the Tower, excited by 
 finding his rival a listener, ' but not for a long time. The 
 crisis has not commenced. The first question is : to whom 
 does the Desert belong ; to the Porte, or to the Viceroy ? ' 
 
 ' It depends upon what part of the Desert is in question,' 
 Raid Pasqualigo. 
 
 ' Of course the part where it took place. I say the 
 Arabian Desert belongs to the Viceroy ; my cousin, Barizy 
 of the Gate, says " No, it belongs to the Porte." Raphael 
 Tafna says it belongs to neither. The Bedoueens are inde- 
 pendent.' 
 
 4 But they are not recognised,' said the Consul Pasqualigo. 
 'Without a diplomatic existence, they are nullities. England 
 will hold all the recognised powers in the vicinity respon- 
 sible. You will see ! The murder of an English prince, 
 under such circumstances too, will not pass unavenged. 
 The whole of the Turkish garrison of the city will march 
 out directly into the Desert.' 
 
 ' The Arabs care shroff for your Turkish garrison of the 
 city,' said Barizy, with great derision. 
 
 ' They are eight hundred strong,' said Pasqualigo.
 
 238 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 ' Eight hundred weak, you mean. No, as Raphael Tafha 
 was saying, when Mehemet AH was master, the tribes were 
 quiet enough. But the Turks could never manage the 
 Arabs, even in their best days. If the Pacha of Damascus 
 were to go himself, the Bedoueens would unveil his harem 
 while he was smoking his nargilly.' 
 
 'Then England will call upon the Egyptians,' said the 
 Consul. 
 
 ' Hah ! ' said Barizy of the Tower, ' have I got you at 
 last ? Now comes your crisis, I grant you. The English 
 will send a ship of war with a protocol, and one of their 
 lords who is a sailor : that is the way. They will call upon 
 the pacha to exterminate the tribe who have murdered the 
 brother of their queen ; the pacha will reply, that when he 
 was in Syria the brothers of queens were never murdered, 
 and put the protocol in his turban. This will never satisfy 
 Palmerston ; he will order ' 
 
 'Palmerston has nothing to do with it,' screamed out 
 Pasqualigo ; ' he is no longer Reis Effendi ; he is in exile ; 
 he is governor of the Isle of Wight.' 
 
 ' Do you think I do not know that ? ' said Barizy of the 
 Tower; 'but he will be recalled for this purpose. The 
 English will not go to war in Syria without Palmerston. 
 Palmerston will have the command of the fleet as well as of 
 the army, that no one shall say " No " when he says " Yes." 
 The English will not do the business of the Turks again 
 for nothing. They will take this city ; they will keep it. 
 They want a new market for their cottons. Mark me : 
 England will never be satisfied till the people of Jerusalem 
 wear calico turbans.' 
 
 Let us inquire also with Barizy of the Tower, where was 
 Besso ? Alone in his private chamber, agitated and trou- 
 bled, awaiting the return of his daughter from the bath ; 
 and even now, the arrival may be heard of herself and her 
 attendants in the inner court. 
 
 ' You want me, my father ? ' said Eva, as she entered. 
 ' Ah ! you are disturbed. What has happened ? '
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 239 
 
 'The tenth plague of Pharaoh, my child,' replied Besso, 
 in a tone of great vexation. ' Since the expulsion of Ibrahim, 
 there has been nothing which has crossed me so much.' 
 
 ' Fakredeen ? ' 
 
 ' No, no ; 'tis nothing to do with him, poor boy ; but of 
 one as young, and whose interests, though I know him not, 
 scarcely less concern me.' 
 
 ' You know him not ; 'tis not then my cousin. You per- 
 plex me, my father. Tell me at once.' 
 
 ' It is the most vexatious of all conceivable occurrences,' 
 replied Besso, ' and yet it is about a person of whom you 
 never heard, and whom I never saw ; and yet there are 
 circumstances connected with him. Alas ! alas ! you must 
 know, my Eva, there is a young Englishman here, and a 
 young English lord, of one of their princely families ' 
 
 ' Yes ! ' said Eva, in a subdued but earnest tone. 
 
 ' He brought me a letter from the best and greatest of 
 men,' said Besso, with much emotion, ' to whom I, to whom 
 we, owe everything : our fortunes, our presence here, per- 
 haps our lives. There was nothing which I was not bound 
 to do for him, which I was not ready and prepared to do. 
 I ought to have guarded over him ; to have forced my ser- 
 vices on his acceptance ; I blame myself now when it is too 
 late. But he sent me his letter by the Intendant of his 
 household, whom I knew. I was fearful to obtrude myself. 
 I learnt he was fanatically Christian, and thought perhaps 
 he might shrink from my acquaintance.' 
 
 ' And what has happened ? ' inquired Eva, with an agi- 
 tation which proved her sympathy with her father's 
 sorrow. 
 
 ' He left the city some days ago to visit Sinai ; well 
 armed and properly escorted. He has been waylaid in the 
 wilderness and captured after a bloody struggle.' 
 ' A bloody struggle ? ' 
 
 1 Yes ; they of course would gladly not have fought, but, 
 though entrapped into an ambush, the young Englishman 
 would not yield, but fought with desperation. His assailants
 
 240 TANCRED; OR 
 
 have suffered considerably ; his own party comparatively 
 little, for they were so placed ; surrounded, you understand, 
 in a mountain defile, that they might have been all massa- 
 cred, but the fear of destroying their prize restrained at first 
 the marksmen on the heights ; and, by a daring and violent 
 charge, the young Englishman and his followers forced the 
 pass, but they were overpowered by numbers.' 
 
 ' And he wounded ? ' 
 
 ' I hope not severely. But you have heard nothing. They 
 have sent his Intendant to Jerusalem with a guard of Arabs 
 to bring back his ransom. What do you think they want ? ' 
 
 Eva signified her inability to conjecture. 
 
 ' Two millions of piastres ! ' 
 
 ' Two millions of piastres ! Did you say two ? 'Tis a 
 great sum ; but we might negotiate. They would accept 
 less, perhaps much less, than two millions of piastres.' 
 
 ' If it were four millions of piastres, I must pay it,' said 
 Besso. "Tis not the sum alone that so crosses me. The 
 father of this young noble is a great prince, and could 
 doubtless pay, without serious injury to himself, two millions 
 of piastres for the ransom of his son ; but that's not it. 
 He comes here ; he is sent to me. I was to care for him, 
 think for him, guard over him : I have never even seen 
 him ; and he is wounded, plundered, and a prisoner ! ' 
 
 ' But if he avoided you, my father ? ' murmured Eva, with 
 her eyes fixed upon the ground. 
 
 ' Avoided me ! ' said Besso ; ' he never thought of me but 
 as of a Jew banker, to whom he would send his servant for 
 money when he needed it. Was I to stand on punctilios 
 with a great Christian noble ? I ought to have waited at 
 his gate every day when he came forth, and bowed to the 
 earth, until it pleased him to notice me ; I ought ' 
 
 ' No, no, no, my father ! you are bitter. This youth is 
 not such as you think ; at least, in all probability is not,' 
 said Eva. ' You hear he is fanatically Christian ; he may 
 be but deeply religious, and his thoughts at this moment 
 may rest on other things than the business of the world.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 241 
 
 He who makes a pilgrimage to Sinai can scarcely think us 
 so vile as you would intimate.' 
 
 ' What will he think of those whom he is among ? Here 
 is the wound, Eva ! Guess, then, child, who has shot this 
 arrow. 'Tis my father ! ' 
 
 ' traitor ! traitor ! ' said Eva, quickly covering her face 
 with her hands. ' My terror was prophetic ! There is none 
 so base ! ' 
 
 ' Nay, nay,' said Besso ; ' these, indeed, are women's 
 words. The great Sheikh in this has touched me nearly , 
 but I see no baseness in it. He could not know the intimate 
 relation that should subsist between me and this young 
 .Englishman. He has captured him in the Desert, according 
 to the custom of his tribe. Much as Amalek may injure 
 me, I must acquit him of treason and of baseness.' 
 
 ' Yes, yes,' said Eva, with an abstracted air. ' You mis- 
 conceive me. I was thinking of others ; and what do you 
 purpose, my father ? ' 
 
 ' First, to clear myself of the deep stain *hat I now feel upon 
 my life,' said Besso. ' This Englishman comes to Jerusalem 
 with an unbounded credit on my house : he visits the wil- 
 derness, and is made prisoner by my father-in-law, who is 
 in ambush in a part of the Desert which his tribe never 
 frequents, and who sends to me for a princely ransom for 
 his captive. These are the apparent circumstances. These 
 are the facts. There is but one inference from them. I daro 
 say 'tis drawn already by all the gossips of the city : they 
 are hard at it, I doubt not, at this moment, in my own divan, 
 winking their eyes and shrugging their shoulders, while 
 they are smoking my choice tobaccos, and drinking my 
 sherbet of pomegranate. And can I blame them ? ' 
 
 ' A pure conscience may defy city gossips.' 
 
 * A pure conscience must pay the ransom out of my own 
 coffers. I am not over fond of paying two millions of pias- 
 tres, or even half, for one whose shadow never fell upon my 
 threshold. And yet I must do it : do it for my father-in- 
 law, the Sheikh of the Rechabites, whose peace I made with
 
 242 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 Mehemet All, for whom I gained the guardianship of the 
 Mecca caravan through the Syrian Desert for five years, who 
 has twelve thousand camels which he made by that office. 
 Oh, were it not for you, my daughter, I would curse the 
 hour that I ever mixed my blood with the children of Jethro. 
 After all, if the truth were known, they are sons of Ishmael.' 
 ' No, no, dear father, say not such things. You will send 
 
 to the great Sheikh ; he will listen ' 
 
 ' I send to the great Sheikh ! You know not your grand- 
 father, and you know not me. The truth is, the Sheikh and 
 myself mutually despise each other, and we have never met 
 without parting in bitterness. No, no ; I would rather pay 
 the ransom myself than ask a favour of the great Sheikh. 
 But how can I pay the ransom, even if I chose ? This 
 young Englishman is a fiery youth : he will not yiela 
 even to an ambush and countless odds. Do you think a 
 man who charges through a defile crowned with match- 
 locks, and shoots men through the head, as I am told he 
 did, in the name of Christ, will owe his freedom to my 
 Jewish charity ? He will burn the Temple first. This 
 young man has the sword of Gideon. You know little of the 
 world, Eva, and nothing of young Englishmen. There is not 
 a race so proud, so wilful, so rash, and so obstinate. They live 
 in a misty clime, on raw meats, and wines of fire. They 
 laugh at their fathers, and never say a prayer. They pass 
 their days in the chase, gaming, and all violent courses. 
 They have all the power of the State, and all its wealth ; 
 and when they can wring no more from their peasants, they 
 plunder the kings of India.' 
 
 ' But this young Englishman, you say, is pious ? ' said Eva. 
 
 ' Ah ! this young Englishman ; why did he come here ? 
 What is Jerusalem to him, or he to Jerusalem ? His Inten- 
 dant, himself a prisoner, waits here. I must see him ; he 
 is one of the people of my patron, which proves our great 
 friend's interest in this youth. day thrice cursed ! day 
 of a thousand evil eyes ! day of a new captivity ' 
 
 'My father, my dear father, these bursts of grief do
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 243 
 
 not become your fame for wisdom. We must inquire, 
 we must hold counsel. Let me see the Intendant of this 
 English youth, and hear more than I have yet learnt. I 
 cannot think that affairs are so hopeless as you paint them : 
 I will believe that there is a spring near.' 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 IN an almost circular valley, surrounded by mountains, 
 Amalek, great Sheikh of the Rechabite Bedoueea, after 
 having crossed the peninsula of Petrsea from the great Syriau 
 Desert, pitched his camp amid the magnificent ruins of an 
 ancient Idumsean city. The pavilion of the chief, facing 
 the sunset, was raised in the arena of an amphitheatre cut 
 out of the solid rock, and almost the whole of the seats of 
 which were entire. The sides of the mountains were covered 
 with excavated tombs and temples, and, perhaps, dwelling- 
 places ; at any rate, many of them were now occupied by 
 human beings. Fragments of columns were lying about, 
 and masses of unknown walls. From a defile in the moun- 
 tains issued a stream, which wound about in the plain, its 
 waters almost hid, but its course beautifully indicated by 
 the undulating shrubbery of oleanders, fig-trees, and willows. 
 On one side of these, between the water and the amphi- 
 theatre, was a crescent of black tents, groups of horses, and 
 crouching camels. Over the whole scene the sunset threw 
 a violet hue, while the moon, broad and white, floated over 
 the opposite hills. 
 
 The carpet of the great Sheikh was placed before his 
 pavilion, and, seated on it alone, and smoking a chibouque 
 of date wood, the patriarch ruminated. He had no appear- 
 ance of age, except from a snowy beard, which was very 
 long : a wiry man, with an nnwrinkled face ; dark, regular, 
 and noble features, beautiful teeth. Over his head, a crim- 
 son kefia, ribbed and fringed with gold ; his robe was of the 
 same colour, and his boots were of red leather ; the chief of 
 
 B -J
 
 244 TANCEED; OR 
 
 one of the great tribes, and said, when they were united, to 
 be able to bring ten thousand horsemen into the field. 
 
 One at full gallop, with a long spear, at this moment 
 darted from the ravine, and, without stopping to answer 
 several who addressed him, hurried across the plain, and 
 did not halt until he reached the Sheikh. 
 
 ' Salaam, Sheikh of Sheikhs, it is done ; the brother of 
 the Queen of the English is your slave.' 
 
 4 Good ! ' said Sheikh Amalek, very gravely, and taking 
 his pipe from his mouth. ' May your mother eat the hump 
 of a young camel ! When will they be here ? ' 
 
 ' They will be the first shadows of the moon.' 
 
 ' Good ! is the brother of the Queen with Sheikh Salem ? ' 
 
 ' There is only one God : Sheikh Salem will never drink 
 leban again, unless he drink it in Paradise.' 
 
 ' Certainly, there is only one God. What ! has he fallen 
 asleep into the well of Nummula ? ' 
 
 ' No ; but we have seen many evil eyes. Four hares 
 crossed our path this morning. Our salaam to the English 
 prince was not a salaam of peace. The brother of the Queen 
 of the English is no less than an Antar. He will fight, yea 
 or nay ; and he has shot Sheikh Salem through the head.' 
 
 ' There is but one God, and his will be done. I have lost 
 the apple of mine eye. The Prince of the English is alive ? ' 
 
 1 He is alive.' 
 
 ' Good ! camels shall be given to the widow of Sheikh 
 Salem, and she shall be married to a new husband. Are 
 there other deeds of Gin ? ' 
 
 ' One grape will not make a bunch, even though it be a 
 great one.' 
 
 ' Let truth always be spoken. Let your words flow as 
 bhe rock of Moses.' 
 
 ' There is only one God : if you call to Ibrahim-ben- 
 Hassan, to Molgrabi Teuba, and Teuba-ben-Amin, they will 
 not be roused from their sleep : there are also wounds.' 
 
 ' Tell all the people there is only one God : is it the Sheikh 
 of the Jellaheens that has done these deeds of Gin ? '
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 245 
 
 ' Let truth always be spoken ; my words shall flow as the 
 rock of Moses. The Sheikh of the Jellaheens counselled 
 the young man not to fight, but the young man is a very 
 Zatanai. Certainly there are many devils, but there is no 
 devil like a Frank in a round hat.' 
 
 The evening advanced ; the white moon, that had only 
 gleamed, now glittered ; the necks of the camels looked tall 
 and silvery in its beam. The night-fires began to blaze, 
 the lamps to twinkle in the crescent of dark tents. There 
 was a shout, a general stir, the heads of spears were seen 
 glistening in the ravine. They came ; a winding line of 
 warriors. Some, as they emerged into the plain, galloped 
 forward and threw their spears into the air ; but the 
 main body preserved an appearance of discipline, and pro- 
 ceeded at a slow pace to the pavilion of the Sheikh. A 
 body of horsemen came first ; then warriors on dromedaries ; 
 Sheikh Hassan next, grave and erect as if nothing had hap- 
 pened, though he was wounded, and followed by his men, 
 disarmed, though their chief retained his spear, Baron i 
 followed. He was unhurt, and rode between two Bedoueens, 
 with whom he continually conversed. After them, the bodies 
 of Sheikh Salem and his comrades, covered with cloaks and 
 stowed on camels. And then came the great prize, Tancred, 
 mounted on a dromedary, his right arm bound up in a sling 
 which Baroni had hastily made, and surrounded and fol- 
 lowed by a large troop of horsemen, who treated him with 
 the highest consideration, not only because he was a great 
 prince, whose ransom could bring many camels to their 
 tribe, but because he had shown those feats of valour which 
 the wild Desert honours. 
 
 Notwithstanding his wound, which, though slight, began 
 to be painful, and the extreme vexation of the whole affair, 
 Tancred could not be insensible to the strange beauty of the 
 scene which welcomed him. He had read of these deserted 
 cities, carved out of the rocks of the wilderness, and once 
 the capitals of flourishing and abounding kingdoms. 
 
 They stopped before the pavilion of the great Sheih ;
 
 246 TASCRED; OK 
 
 the arena of the amphitheatre became filled with camels, 
 horses, groups of warriors ; many mounted on the scats, that 
 they might overlook the scene, their arms and shawled 
 heads glistening in the silver blaze of the moon or the ruddy 
 flames of the watch-fires. They assisted Tancred to descend, 
 they ushered him with courtesy to their chief, who made 
 room for Tancred on his own carpet, and motioned that he 
 should be seated by his side. A small carpet was placed for 
 Sheikh Hassan, and another for Baroni. 
 
 ' Salaam, brother of many queens, all that you see is 
 yours ; Salaam Sheikh Hassan, we are brothers. Salaam,' 
 added Amalek, looking at Baroni, ' they tell me that you 
 can speak our language, which is beautiful as the moon 
 and many palm-trees ; tell the prince, brother of many 
 queens, that he mistook the message that I sent him this 
 morning, which was an invitation to a feast, not to a war. 
 Tell him we are brothers.' 
 
 ' Tell the Sheikh,' said Tancred, ' that I have no appetite 
 for feasting, and desire to be informed why he has made me 
 a prisoner.' 
 
 ' Tell the prince, brother of many queens, that he is not 
 a prisoner, but a guest.' 
 
 'Ask the Sheikh, then, whether we can depart at once.' 
 
 ' Tell the prince, brother of many queens, that it would 
 be rude in me to let him depart to-night.' 
 
 'Ask the Sheikh whether I may depart in the morning.' 
 
 ' Tell the prince that, when the morning comes, he will 
 find I am his brother.' So saying, the great Sheikh took 
 his pipe from his mouth and gave it to Tancred : the 
 greatest of distinctions. In a few moments, pipes were 
 also brought to Sheikh Hassan and Baroni. 
 
 ' No harm can come to you, my lord, after smoking that 
 pipe,' said Baroni. ' We must make the best of affairs. I 
 have been in worse straits with M. de Sidonia. What 
 think you of Malay pirates ? These are all gentlemen.' 
 
 While Baroni was speaking, a young man slowly and 
 with dignity passed through the by-standers, advanced,
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 247 
 
 find, looking very earnestly at Tancred, seated himself on 
 the same carpet as the grand Sheikh. This action alone 
 would have betokened the quality of the new comer, had 
 not his kefia, similar to that of Sheikh Amalek, and his 
 whole bearing, clearly denoted his princely character. He 
 was very young ; and Tancred, while he was struck by his 
 earnest gaze, was attracted by his physiognomy, which, 
 indeed, from its refined beauty and cast of impassioned 
 intelligence, was highly interesting. 
 
 Preparations all this time had been making for the 
 feast. Half a dozen sheep had been given to the returning 
 band ; everywhere resounded the grinding of coffee ; men 
 passed, carrying pitchers of leban and panniers of bread 
 cakes hot from their simple oven. The great Sheikh, who 
 had asked many questions after the oriental fashion : which 
 was the most powerful nation, England or France ; what 
 was the name of a third European nation of which he had 
 heard, white men with flat noses in green coats ; whether 
 the nation of white men with flat noses in green coats could 
 have taken Acre as the English had, the taking of Acre 
 being the test of military prowess ; how many horses the 
 Queen of the English had, and how many slaves ; whether 
 English pistols are good ; whether the English drink wine ; 
 whether the English are Christian giaours or Pagan giaours r 
 and so on, now invited Tancred, Sheikh Hassan, and two 
 or three others, to enter his pavilion and partake of the 
 banquet. 
 
 ' The Sheikh must excuse me,' said Tancred to Baroni ; 
 ' I am wearied and wounded. Ask if I can retire and have 
 a tent.' 
 
 ' Are you wounded ? ' said the young Sheikh, who was 
 sitting on the carpet of Amalek, and speaking, not only in 
 a tone of touching sympathy, but in the language of 
 Franguestan. 
 
 ' Not severely,' said Tancred, less abruptly than he had 
 yet spoken, for the manner and the appearance of the 
 youth touched him ; ' but this is my first fight, and perhaps
 
 248 TANORED ; OR 
 
 I make too much of it. However, my arm is painful and 
 stiff, and indeed, you may conceive after all this, I could 
 wish for a little repose.' 
 
 ' The great Sheikh has allotted you a compartment of hie 
 pavilion,' said the youth ; ' but it will prove a noisy resting- 
 place, I fear, for a wounded man. I have a tent here, an 
 humbler one, but which is at least tranquil. Let me be 
 your host ! ' 
 
 ' You are most gracious, and I should be much inclined 
 to be your guest, but I am a prisoner,' he said, haughtily, 
 ' and cannot presume to follow my own will.' 
 
 'I will arrange all,' said the youth, and he conversed 
 with Sheikh Amalek for some moments. Then they all 
 rose, the young man advancing to Tancred, and saying in 
 a sweet coaxing voice, ' You are under my care. I will 
 not be a cruel gaoler ; I could not be to you.' So saying, 
 making their reverence to the great Sheikh, the two young 
 men retired together from the arena. Baroni would have 
 followed them, when the youth stopped him, saying, with 
 decision, ' The great Sheikh expects your presence ; you 
 must on no account be absent. I will tend your chief : 
 you will permit me ? ' he inquired in a tone of sympathy, 
 and then, offering to support the arm of Tancred, he mur- 
 mured, ' It kills me to think that you are wounded.' 
 
 Tancred was attracted to the young stranger : his pre- 
 possessing appearance, his soft manners, the contrast which 
 they afforded to all around, and to the scenes and circum- 
 stances which Tancred had recently experienced, were 
 winning. Tancred, therefore, gladly accompanied him to 
 his pavilion, which was pitched outside the amphitheatre, 
 and stood apart. Notwithstanding the modest description 
 of his tent by the young Sheikh, it was by no means incon- 
 siderable in size, for it possessed several compartments, and 
 was of a different colour and fashion from those of the rest 
 of the tribe. Several steeds were picketed in Arab fashion 
 near its entrance, and a group of attendants, smoking and 
 conversing with great animation, were sitting in a circla
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 249 
 
 close at band. They pressed their hands to their hearts as 
 Tancred and his host passed them, but did not rise. Within 
 the pavilion, Tancred found a luxurious medley of cushions 
 and soft carpets, forming a delightful divan ; pipes and 
 arms, and, to his great surprise, several numbers of a 
 French newspaper published at Smyrna. 
 
 ' Ah ! ' exclaimed Tancred, throwing himself on the divan, 
 ' after all I have gone through to-day, this is indeed a great 
 and an unexpected relief.' 
 
 ' 'Tis your own divan,' said the young Arab, clapping 
 his hands ; ' and when I have given some orders for your 
 comfort, I shall only be your guest, though not a distant 
 one.' He spoke some words in Arabic to an attendant who 
 entered, and who returned very shortly with a silver lamp 
 fed with palm oil, which he placed on the ground. 
 
 ' I have two poor Englishmen here,' said Tancred, ' my 
 servants ; they must be in sad straits ; unable to speak a 
 word ' 
 
 ' I will give orders that they shall attend you. In the 
 meantime you must refresh yourself, however lightly, 
 before you repose.' At this moment there entered the tent 
 several attendants with a variety of dishes, which Tancred 
 would have declined, but the young Sheikh, selecting one 
 of them, said, ' This, at least, I must urge you to taste, for 
 it is a favourite refreshment with us after great fatigue, and 
 has some properties of great virtue.' So saying, he handed 
 to Tancred a dish of bread, dates, and prepared cream, 
 which Tancred, notwithstanding his previous want of 
 relish, cheerfully admitted to be excellent. After this, as 
 Tancred would partake of no other dish, pipes were brought 
 to the two young men, who, reclining on the divan, smoked 
 and conversed. 
 
 ' Of all the strange things that have happened to me 
 to-day,' said Tancred, ' not the least surprising, and cer- 
 tainly the most agreeable, has been making your acquaint- 
 ance. Your courtesy has much compensated me for the 
 rude treatment of your tribe ; but, I confess, such refinement
 
 250 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 is what, under any circumstances, I should not have ex- 
 pected to find among the tents of the Desert, any more than 
 this French journal.' 
 
 4 I am not an Arab,' said the young man, speaking slowly 
 and with an air of some embarrassment. 
 
 ' Ah ! ' exclaimed Tancred. 
 
 4 1 am a Christian prince.' 
 
 ' Yes ! ' 
 
 ' A prince of the Lebanon, devoted to the English, and 
 one who has suffered much in their cause.' 
 
 ' You are not a prisoner here, like myself ? ' 
 
 4 No, I am here, seeking some assistance for those suf- 
 ferers who should be my subjects, were I not deprived of 
 my sceptre, and they of a prince whose family has reigned 
 over and protected them for more than seven centuries. 
 The powerful tribe of which Sheikh Amalek is the head 
 often pitch their tents in the great Syrian Desert, in the 
 neighbourhood of Damascus, and there are affairs in which 
 they can aid my unhappy people.' 
 
 'It is a great position, yours,' said Tancred, in an ani- 
 mated tone, ' at the same time a Syrian and a Christian 
 prince ! ' 
 
 4 Yes,' said the young Emir, eagerly, ' if the English 
 would only understand their own interests, with my co- 
 operation Syria might "be theirs.' 
 
 4 The English ! ' said Tancred, ' why should the English 
 take Syria?' 
 
 ' France will take it if they do not.' 
 
 4 1 hope not,' said Tancred. 
 
 4 But something must be done,' said the Emir. ' The 
 Porte never could govern it. Do you think anybody in 
 Lebanon really cares for the Pacha of Damascus ? If the 
 Egyptians had not disarmed the mountain, the Turks would 
 be driven out of Syria in a week.' 
 
 4 A Syrian and a Christian prince ! ' said Tancred, mus- 
 ingly, ' There are elements in that position stronger than 
 the Porte, stronger than England, stronger than united
 
 THE NEW CKUSADE. 251 
 
 Europe. Syria was a great country when France and Eng- 
 land were forests. The tricolour has crossed the Alps and 
 the Rhine, and the flag of England has beaten even the tri- 
 colour ; but if I were a Syrian prince, I would raise the 
 cross of Christ and ask for the aid of no foreign banner.' 
 
 ' If I could only raise a loan,' said the Emir, ' I could do 
 without France and England.' 
 
 ' A loan ! ' exclaimed Tancred ; ' I see the poison of mo- 
 dern liberalism has penetrated even the Desert. Believe 
 me, national redemption is not an affair of usury.' 
 
 At this moment there was some little disturbance with- 
 out the tent, which it seems was occasioned by the arrival 
 of Tancred's servants, Freeman and Trueman. These ex- 
 cellent young men persisted in addressing the Arabs in 
 their native English, and, though we cannot for a moment 
 believe that they fancied themselves understood, still, from 
 a mixture of pride and perverseness peculiarly British, 
 they continued their valuable discourse as if every word 
 told, or, if not apprehended, was a striking proof of. the 
 sheer stupidity of their new companions. The noise be- 
 came louder and louder, and at length Freeman and True- 
 raan entered. 
 
 ' Well,' said Tancred, ' and how have you been getting 
 on?' 
 
 ' Well, my lord, I don't know,' said Freeman, with a sort 
 of jolly sneer ; ' we have been dining with the savages.' 
 
 ' They are not savages, Freeman.' 
 
 ' Well, my lord, they have not much more clothes, any- 
 how ; and as for knives and forks, there is not such a thing 
 known.' 
 
 ' As for that, there was not such a thing known as a fork 
 in England little more than two hundred years ago, and we 
 were not savages then ; for the best part of Monjtacute 
 Castle was built long before that time.' 
 
 ' I wish we were there, my lord ! ' 
 
 * I dare say you do : however, we must make the best of 
 present circumstances. I wanted to know, in the first place,
 
 252 TANCRED; OB 
 
 whether you had food ; as for lodging, Mr. Baroni, I dare 
 say, will manage something for you ; and if not, you had 
 better quarter yourselves by the side of this tent. With 
 your own cloaks and mine, you will manage very well.' 
 
 ' Thank you, my lord. We have brought your lordship's 
 things with us. I don't know what I shall do to-morrow 
 about your lordship's boots. The savages have got hold of 
 the bottle of blacking and have been drinking it like any- 
 thing.' 
 
 ' Never mind my boots,' said Tancred ; ' we have got 
 other things to think of now.' 
 
 ' I told them what it was,' said Freeman, ' but they wenf- 
 on just the same.' 
 
 ' Obstinate dogs ! ' said Tancred. 
 
 ' I think they took it for wine, my lord,' said Trueman. 
 ' I never see such ignorant creatures.' 
 
 ' You find now the advantage of a good education, True- 
 man.' 
 
 ' Yes, my lord, we do, and feel very grateful to your lord- 
 ship's honoured mother for the same. When we came down 
 out of the mountains and see those blazing fires, if I didn't 
 think they were going to burn us alive, unless we changed 
 our religion ! I said the catechism as hard as I could the 
 whole way, and felt as much like a blessed martyr as 
 could be.' 
 
 'Well, well,' said Tancred, 'I dare say they will spare 
 our lives. I cannot much assist you here ; but if there be 
 anything you particularly want, I will try and see what can 
 be done.' 
 
 Freeman and Trueman looked at each other, and their 
 speaking faces held common consultation. At length, the 
 former, with some slight hesitation, said, ' We don't like to 
 be troublesome, my lord, but if your lordship would ask 
 for some sugar for us ; we cannot drink their coffee without 
 sugar.'
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 253 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 ' I WOULD not mention it to your lordship last night,' said 
 Baroni ; ' I thought enough had happened for one day.' 
 
 ' But now you think I am sufficiently fresh for new 
 troubles.' 
 
 ' He spoke it in Hebrew, that myself and Sheikh Hassan 
 should not understand him, but I know something of that 
 dialect.' 
 
 ' In Hebrew ! And why in Hebrew ? ' 
 
 4 They follow the laws of Moses, this tribe.' 
 
 ' Do you mean that they are Jews ? ' 
 
 ' The Arabs are only Jews upon horseback,' said Baroni. 
 ' This tribe, I find, call themselves Rechabites.' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' exclaimed Tancred, and he began to muse. ' I 
 have heard of that name before. Is it possible,' thought 
 he, ' that my visit to Bethany should have led to this cap- 
 tivity ? ' 
 
 ' This affair must have been planned at Jerusalem,' said 
 Baroni ; ' I saw from the first it was not a common foray. 
 These people know everything. They will send imme- 
 diately to Besso ; they know he is your banker, and that if 
 you want to build the Temple, he must pay for it, and un- 
 less a most immoderate ransom is given, they will carry us 
 all into the interior of the Desert.' 
 
 ' And what do you counsel ? ' 
 
 ' In this, as in all things, to gain time ; and principally 
 because I am without resource, but with time expedients 
 develope themselves. Naturally, what is wanted will come ; 
 expediency is a law of nature. The camel is a wonderful 
 animal, but the Desert made the camel. I have already im- 
 pressed upon the great Sheikh that you are not a prince of 
 the blood ; that your father is ruined, that there has been a 
 murrain for three years among his herds and flocks ; and 
 that, though you appear to be travelling for amusement, 
 you are, ir fact, a political exile. All these are grounds for
 
 2,54 TAXCEED; OB 
 
 a reduced ransom. At present he believes nothing that I 
 say, because his mind has been previously impressed with 
 contrary and more cogent representations, but what I say 
 will begin to work when he has experienced some dis- 
 appointment, and the period of re-action arrives. Re-action 
 is the law of society ; it is inevitable. All success depends 
 upon seizing it.' 
 
 ' It appears to me that you are a great philosopher, Ba- 
 roni,' said Tancred. 
 
 ' I travelled five years with M. de Sidonia,' said Baroni. 
 ' We were in perpetual scrapes, often worse than this, and 
 my master moralised upon every one of them. I shared his 
 adventures, and I imbibed some of his wisdom ; and the 
 consequence is, that I always ought to know what to say, 
 and generally what to do.' 
 
 ' Well, here at least is some theatre for your practice ; 
 though, as far as I can form an opinion, our course is 
 simple, though ignominious. We must redeem ourselves 
 from captivity. If it were only the end of my crusade, one 
 might submit to it, like Cceur de Lion, after due suffering ; 
 but occurring at the commencement, the catastrophe is 
 mortifying, and I doubt whether I shall have heart enough 
 to pursue my way. Were I alone, I certainly would not 
 submit to ransom. I would look upon captivity as one of 
 those trials that await me, and I would endeavour to ex- 
 tricate myself from it by courage and address, relying ever 
 on Divine aid ; but I am not alone. I have involved you in 
 this mischance, and these poor Englishmen, and, it would 
 seem, the brave Hassan and his tribe. I can hardly ask you 
 to make the sacrifice which I would cheerfully endure ; and 
 therefore it seems to me that we have only one course, to 
 march under the forks.' 
 
 ' With submission,' said Baroni, ' I cannot agree with any 
 of your lordship's propositions. You take an extreme view 
 of our case. Extreme views are never just ; something 
 always turns up which disturbs the calculations formed 
 upon their decided data. This something is Circumstance.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 255 
 
 Circumstance has decided every crisis which I have ex- 
 perienced, and not the primitive facts on which we have 
 consulted. Rest assured that Circumstance will clear us 
 now.' 
 
 ' I see no room, in our situation, for the accidents on 
 which you rely,' said Tancred. ' Circumstance, as you call 
 it, is the creature of cities, where the action of a multitude, 
 influenced by different motives, produces innumerable and 
 ever-changing combinations ; but we are in the Desert. 
 The great Sheikh will never change his mind any more than 
 his habits of life, which are the same as his ancestors pur- 
 sued thousands of years ago ; and, for an identical reason, 
 he is isolated and superior to all influences.' 
 
 ' Something always turns up,' said Baroni. 
 
 ' It seems to me that we are in a cul-de-sac,' said Tancred. 
 
 ' There is always an outlet ; one can escape from a cul- 
 de-sac by a window.' 
 
 ' Do you think it would be advisable to consult the mas- 
 ter of this tent ? ' said Tancred, in a lower tone. ' He is 
 very friendly.' 
 
 ' The Emir Fakredeen,' said Baroni. 
 
 ' Is that his name ? ' 
 
 ' So I learnt last night. He is a prince of the house of 
 Shehaab ; a great house, but fallen.' 
 
 ' He is a Christian,' said Tancred, earnestly. 
 
 ' Is he ? ' said Baroni carelessly ; ' I have known a good 
 many Shehaabs, and if you will tell me their company, I 
 will tell you their creed.' 
 
 ' He might give us some advice.' 
 
 ' No doubt of it, my lord ; if advice could break our 
 chains, we should soon be free ; but in these countries my 
 only confidant is my camel. Assuming that this affair is to 
 end in a ransom, what we want now is to change the im- 
 pressions of the great Sheikh respecting your wealth. This 
 can only be done from the same spot where the original 
 ideas emanated. I must induce him to permit me to accom- 
 pany his messenger to Besso. This mission will take time,
 
 256 TANCRED; OR 
 
 and he who gains time gains everything, as M. de Sidonia 
 said to me when the savages were going to burn us alive, 
 and there came on a thunder-storm which extinguished 
 their fagots.' 
 
 ' You must really tell me your history some day, Baroni,' 
 said Tancred. 
 
 'When my mission has failed. It will perhaps relieve 
 your imprisonment ; at present, I repeat, we must work for 
 a moderate ransom, instead of the millions of which they 
 talk, and during the negotiation take the chance of some 
 incident which will more agreeably free us.' 
 
 ' Ah ! I despair of that.' 
 
 ' I do not, for it is presumptuous to believe that man can 
 foresee the future, which will be your lordship's case, if you 
 owe your freedom only to your piastres.' 
 
 ' But they say that everything is Calculation, Baroni.' 
 
 ' No,' said Baroni, with energy, ' everything is Adven- 
 ture.' 
 
 In the meantime the Emir Fakredeen was the prey of 
 contending emotions. Tancred had from the first, and in 
 an instant, exercised over his susceptible temperament that 
 magnetic influence to which he was so strangely subject. 
 In the heart of the wilderness and in the person of his 
 victim, the young Emir suddenly recognised the heroic 
 character which he had himself so vaguely and, as it now 
 seemed to him, so vainly attempted to realise. The ap- 
 pearance and the courage of Tancred, the thoughtful re- 
 pose of his manner, his high bearing amid the distressful 
 circumstances in which he was involved, and the large 
 views which the few words that had escaped from him on 
 the preceding evening would intimate that he took of public 
 transactions, completely captivated Fakredeen, who seemed 
 at length to have found the friend for whom he had often 
 sighed ; the steadfast and commanding spirit, whose control, 
 he felt conscious, was often required by his quick but whim- 
 sical temperament. And in what relation did he stand to 
 this being whom he longed to press to his heart, and then.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 257 
 
 go forth with him and conquer the world ? It would not 
 bear contemplation. The arming of the Maronites became 
 quite a secondary object in comparison with obtaining the 
 friendship of Tancred. Would that he had not involved 
 himself in this conspiracy ! and yet, but for this conspiracy, 
 Tancred and himself might never have met. It was im- 
 possible to grapple with the question ; circumstances must 
 be watched, and some new combination formed to extri- 
 cate both of them from their present perplexed position. 
 
 Fakredeen sent one of his attendants in the morning to 
 offer Tancred horses, should his guest, as is the custom o t 
 Englishmen, care to explore the neighbouring ruins which 
 were celebrated ; but Tancred's wound kept him confined 
 to his tent. Then the Emir begged permission to pay him 
 a visit, which was to have lasted only a quarter of an hour ; 
 but when Fakredeen had cnce established himself in the 
 divan with his nargilly, he never quitted it. It would 
 have been difficult for Tancred to have found a more 
 interesting companion; impossible to have made an ac- 
 quaintance more singularly unreserved. His frankness was 
 startling. Tancred had no experience of such self-revela- 
 tions ; such a jumble of sublime aspirations and equivocal 
 conduct ; such a total disregard of means, such complicated 
 plots, such a fertility of perplexed and tenebrous intrigue ! 
 The animated manner and the picturesque phrase, too, in 
 which all this was communicated, heightened the interest 
 and effect. Fakredeen sketched a character in a sentence, 
 and you knew instantly the individual whom he described 
 without any personal knowledge. Unlike the Orientals 
 in general, his gestures were as vivid as his words. He 
 acted the interviews, he achieved the adventures before 
 you. His voice could take every tone and his countenance 
 every form. In the midst of all this, bursts of plaintive 
 melancholy ; sometimes the anguish of a sensibility too 
 exquisite, alternating with a devilish mockery and a fatal 
 absence of all self-respect. 
 
 ' It appears to me,' said Tancred, when the young Emir 
 8
 
 258 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 had declared hia star accursed, since, after the ceaseless 
 exertions of years, he was still as distant as ever from the 
 accomplishment of his purpose, ' it appears to me that your 
 system is essentially erroneous. I do not believe that any- 
 thing great is ever effected by management. All this in- 
 trigue, in which you seem such an adept, might be of some 
 service in a court or in an exclusive senate ; but to free a 
 nation you require something more vigorous and more 
 simple. This system of intrigue in Europe is quite old- 
 fashioned. It is one of the superstitions left us by the 
 wretched eighteenth century, a period when aristocracy 
 was rampant throughout Christendom ; and what were the 
 consequences ? All faith in God or man, all grandeur of 
 purpose, all nobility of thought, and all beauty of senti- 
 ment, withered and shrivelled up. Then the dexterous 
 management of a few individuals, base or dull, was the 
 only means of success. But we live in a different age : 
 there are popular sympathies, however imperfect, to appeal 
 to; we must recur to the high primeval practice, and ad- 
 dress nations now as the heroes, and prophets, and legis- 
 lators of antiquity. If you wish to free your country, and 
 make the Syrians a nation, it is not to be done by sending 
 secret envoys to Paris or London, cities themselves which 
 are perhaps both doomed to fall ; you must act like Moses 
 and Mahomet.' 
 
 ' But you forget the religions,' said Fakredeen. ' I have 
 so many religions to deal with. If my fellows were all 
 Christians, or all Moslemin, or all Jews, or all Pagans, I 
 grant you, something might be effected : the cross, the 
 crescent, the ark, or an old stone, anything would do : I 
 would plant it on the highest range in the centre of the 
 country, and I would carry Damascus and Aleppo both in 
 one campaign ; but I am debarred from this immense sup- 
 port ; I could only preach nationality, and, as they all hato 
 each other worse almost than they do the Turks, that 
 would not be very inviting ; nationality, without race as a 
 plea, is like the smoke of this nargilly, a fragrant puff.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 259 
 
 Well, then, there remains only personal influence : ancient 
 family, vast possessions, and traditionary power ; mere per- 
 sonal influence can only be maintained by management, by 
 what you stigmatise as intrigue ; and the most dexterous 
 member of the Shehaab family will be, in the long run, 
 Prince of Lebanon.' 
 
 ' And if you wish only to be Prince of the Lebanon, I 
 dare say you may succeed,' said Tancred, ' and perhaps with 
 much less pains than you at present give yourself. But what 
 becomes of all your great plans of an hour a^o, when you 
 were to conquer the East, and establish the independence 
 of the Oriental races ? ' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' exclaimed Fakredeen with a sigh, ' these are the 
 only ideas for which it is worth while to live.' 
 
 ' The world was never conquered by intrigue : it was 
 conquered by faith. Now, I do not see that you have faith 
 in anything.' 
 
 'Faith,' said Fakredeen, musingly, as if his ear had 
 caught the word for the first time, ' faith ! that is a grand 
 idea. If one could only have faith in something and con- 
 quer the world ! ' 
 
 ' See now,' said Tancred, with unusual animation, ' I find 
 no charm in conquering the world to establish a dynasty : 
 a dynasty, like everything else, wears out ; indeed, it does 
 not last as long as most things ; it has a precipitate ten- 
 dency to decay. There are reasons ; we will not now 
 dwell on them. One should conquer the world not to en- 
 throne a man, but an idea, for ideas exist for ever. But 
 what idea? There is the touchstone of all philosophy! 
 Amid the wreck of creeds, the crash of empires, French 
 revolutions, English reforms, Catholicism in agony, and 
 Protestantism in convulsions, discordant Europe demands 
 the key -note, which none can sound. If Asia be in decay, 
 Europe is in confusion. Your repose may be death, but 
 our life is anarchy.' 
 
 * I am thinking,' said Fakredeen, thoughtfully, ' how we 
 in Syria could possibly manage to have faith in anything ; 
 
 s 2
 
 260 TANCRED; OK 
 
 I Lad faith in Mehemet Ali, but lie is a Turk, and that 
 upset him. If, instead of being merely a rebellious Pacha, 
 he had placed himself at the head of the Arabs, and revived 
 the Caliphate, you would have seen something. Head the 
 Desert and you may do anything. But it is so difficult. If 
 you can once get the tribes out of it, they will go anywhere. 
 See what they -did when they last came forth. It is a 
 simoom, a kamsin, fatal, irresistible. They are as fresh, 
 too, as ever. The Arabs are always young ; it is the only 
 race that never withers. I am an Arab myself ; from my 
 ancestor who was the standard-bearer of the Prophet, the 
 consciousness of race is the only circumstance that some- 
 times keeps up my spirit.' 
 
 ' I am an Arab only in religion,' said Tancred, ' but the 
 consciousness of creed sustains me. I know well, though 
 born in a distant and northern isle, that the Creator of the 
 world speaks with man only in this land ; and that is why 
 I am here.' 
 
 The young Emir threw an earnest glance at his com- 
 panion, whose countenance, though grave, was calm. ' Then 
 you have faith ? ' said Fakredeen, inquiringly. 
 
 ' I have passive faith,' said Tancred. ' I know that there 
 is a Deity who has revealed his will at intervals during 
 different ages ; but of his present purpose I feel ignorant, 
 and therefore I have not active faith ; I know not what to 
 do, and should be reduced to a mere spiritual slothfulness, 
 had I not resolved to struggle with this fearful necessity, 
 and so embarked in this great pilgrimage which has so 
 strangely brought us together.' 
 
 ' But you have your sacred books to consult ? ' said 
 Fakredeen. 
 
 ' There were sacred books when Jehovah conferred with 
 Solomon ; there was a still greater number of sacred books 
 when Jehovah inspired the prophets ; the sacred writings 
 were yet more voluminous when the Creator ordained that 
 there should be for human edification a completely new 
 series of inspired literature. Nearly two thousand years
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 261 
 
 have passed since the last of those works appeared. It is 
 a greater interval than elapsed between the writings of 
 Malachi and the writings of Matthew.' 
 
 ' The prior of the Maronite convent, at Mar Hanna, has 
 often urged on me, as conclusive evidence of the falseness 
 of Mahomet's mission, that our Lord Jesus declared that 
 after him " many false prophets should arise," and warned 
 his followers.' 
 
 ' There spoke the Prince of Israel,' said Tancred, ' not 
 the universal Redeemer. He warned, his tribe against the 
 advent of false Messiahs, no more. Far from terminating 
 by his coming the direct communication between God and 
 man, his appearance was only the herald of a relation be- 
 tween the Creator and his creatures more fine, more per- 
 manent, and more express. The inspiring and consoling 
 influence of the Paraclete only commenced with the as- 
 cension of the Divine Son. In this fact, perhaps, may be 
 found a sufficient reason why no written expression of the 
 celestial will has subsequently appeared. But, instead of 
 foreclosing my desire for express communication, it would, 
 on the contrary, be a circumstance to authorise it.' 
 
 ' Then how do you know that Mahomet was not in- 
 spired ? ' said Fakredeen. 
 
 ' Far be it from me to impugn the divine commission of 
 any of the seed of Abraham,' replied Tancred. ' There are 
 doctors of our church who recognise the sacred office of 
 Mahomet, though they hold it to be, what divine commis- 
 sions, with the great exception, have ever been, limited and 
 local.' 
 
 ' God has never spoken to a European ? ' said Fakredeen, 
 inquiringly. 
 
 ' Never.' 
 
 ' But you are a European? ' 
 
 ' And your inference is just,' said Tancred, in an agitated 
 voice, and with a changing countenance. ' It is one that 
 has for some time haunted my soul. In England, when I 
 prayed in vain for enlightenment, I at last induced myself
 
 262 TANCKED; OR 
 
 to believe that the Supreme Being would not deign to re- 
 veal his will unless in the land which his presence had 
 rendered holy ; but since I have been a dweller within its 
 borders, and poured forth my passionate prayers at all its 
 holy places, and received no sign, the desolating thought 
 has sometimes come over my spirit, that there is a quali- 
 fication of blood as well as of locality necessary for this 
 communion, and that the favoured votary must not only 
 kneel in the Holy Land but be of the holy race.' 
 
 'I am an Arab,' said Fakredeen. 'It is something.' 
 ' If I were an Arab in race as well as in religion,' said 
 Tancred, ' I would not pass my life in schemes to govern 
 some mountain tribes.' 
 
 ' I'll tell you,' said the Emir, springing from his divan, 
 and flinging the tube of his nargilly to the other end of the 
 tent : ' the game is in our hands, if we have energy. There 
 is a combination which would entirely change the whole 
 face of the world, and bring back empire to the East. 
 Though you are not the brother of the Queen of the Eng- 
 lish, you are nevertheless a great English prince, and the 
 Queen will listen to what you say ; especially if you talk to 
 her as you talk to me, and say such fine things in such a 
 beautiful voice. Nobody ever opened my mind like you. 
 You will magnetise the Queen as you have magnetised me. 
 Go back to England and arrange this. You see, gloze it 
 over as they may, one thing is clear, it is finished with 
 England. There are three things which alone must de- 
 stroy it. Primo, O'Connell appropriating to himself the 
 revenues of half of Her Majesty's dominions. Secondo, the 
 cottons ; the world begins to get a little disgusted with 
 those cottons ; naturally everybody prefers silk ; I am sure 
 that the Lebanon in time could supply the whole world 
 with silk, if it were properly administered. Thirdly, steam ; 
 with this steam your great ships have become a respectable 
 Noah's ark. The game is up ; Louis Philippe can take 
 Windsor Castle whenever he pleases, as you took Acre, 
 with the wind in his teeth. It is all over, then. Now, see
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 263 
 
 a coup d'etat that saves all. You must perform the Portu- 
 guese scheme on a great scale ; quit a petty and exhausted 
 position for a vast and prolific empire. Let the Queen of 
 the English collect a great fleet, let her stow away all her 
 treasure, bullion, gold plate, and precious arms ; be accom- 
 panied by all her court and chief people, and transfer the 
 seat of her empire from London to Delhi. There she will 
 find an immense empire ready made, a firstrate army, and 
 a large revenue. In the meantime I will arrange with 
 Mehemet Ali. He shall have Bagdad and Mesopotamia, 
 and pour the Bedoueen cavalry into Persia. I will take 
 care of Syria and Asia Minor. The only way to manage 
 the Afighans is by Persia and by the Arabs. We will acknow- 
 ledge the Empress of India as our suzerain, and secure for 
 her the Levantine coast. If she like, she shall have 
 Alexandria as she now has Malta: it could be arranged. 
 Your queen is young ; she has an avenir. Aberdeen and 
 Sir Peel will never give her this advice ; their habits are 
 formed. They are too old, too ruses. But, you see ! the 
 greatest empire that ever existed ; besides which she gets 
 rid of the embarrassment of her Chambers ! And quite 
 practicable ; for the only difficult part, the conquest of 
 India, which baffled Alexander, is all done ! ' 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 IT was not BO much a conviction as a suspicion that Tan- 
 cred had conveyed to the young Emir, when the pilgrim 
 had confessed that the depressing thought sometimes came 
 over him, that he was deficient in that qualification of race 
 which was necessary for the high communion to which he 
 aspired. Four-and-twenty hours before he was not thus 
 dejected. Almost within sight of Sinai, he was still full of 
 faith. But his vexatious captivity, and the enfeebling con- 
 sequences of his wound, dulled his spirit. Alone, among 
 strangers and foes, in pain and in peril, and without that
 
 264 TANCRED; OR 
 
 energy which finds excitement in difficulty, and can mock 
 at danger, which requires no counsellor but our own quick 
 brain, and no champion but our own right arm, the high 
 spirit of Tancred for the first time flagged. As the twilight 
 descended over the rocky city, its sculptured tombs and 
 excavated temples, and its strewn remains of palaces and 
 theatres, his heart recurred with tenderness to the halls 
 and towers of Montacute and Bellamont, and the beautiful 
 affections beneath those stately roofs, that, urged on, as he 
 had once thought, by a divine influence, now, as he was 
 half tempted to credit, by a fantastic impulse, he had dared 
 to desert. Brooding in dejection, his eyes were suffused 
 with tears. 
 
 It was one of those moments of amiable weakness which 
 make us all akin, when sublime ambition, the mystical pre- 
 dispositions of genius, the solemn sense of duty, all the 
 heaped-up lore of ages, and the dogmas of a high philosophy 
 alike desert us, or sink into nothingness. The voice of his 
 mother sounded in his ear, and he was haunted by his 
 father's anxious glance. Why was he there ? Why was 
 he, the child of a northern isle, in the heart of the Stony 
 Arabi i, far from the scene of his birth and of his duties ? 
 A disheartening, an awful question, which, if it could not 
 be satisfactorily answered by Tancred of Montacute, it 
 seemed to him. that his future, wherever or however passed, 
 must be one of intolerable bale. 
 
 Was he, then, a stranger there ? uncalled, unexpected, 
 intrusive, unwelcome ? Was it a morbid curiosity, or the 
 proverbial restlessness of a satiated aristocrat, that had 
 drawn him to these wilds ? What wilds ? Had he no 
 conn >ction with thorn ? Had he not from his infancy 
 repeated, in the congregation of his people, the laws 
 which, from the awful summit of these surrounding 
 mountains, the Father of all had himself delivered for 
 the government of mankind ? These Arabian laws regu- 
 lated his life. And the wanderings of an Arabian tribo 
 in this ' great and terrible wilderness,' under the im-
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 265 
 
 mediate direction of the Creator, sanctified by his miracles, 
 governed by his counsels, illumined by his presence, had 
 been the first and guiding history that had been entrusted 
 to his young intelligence, from which it had drawn its first 
 pregnant examples of human conduct and divine inter- 
 position, and formed its first dim conceptions of the rela- 
 tions between man and God. Why, then, he had a right 
 to be here ! He had a connection with these regions ; they 
 had a hold upon him. He was not here like an Indian 
 Brahmin, who visits Europe from a principle of curiosity, 
 however rational or however refined. The land which the 
 Hindoo visits is not his land, nor his father's land; the 
 laws which regulate it are not his laws, and the faith 
 which fills its temples is not the revelation that floats upon 
 his sacred Ganges. But for this English youth, words had 
 been uttered and things done, more than thirty centuries 
 ago, in this stony wilderness, which influenced his opinions 
 and regulated his conduct every day of his life, in that 
 distant and seagirt home, which, at the time of their occur- 
 rence, was not as advanced in civilisation as the Polynesian 
 groups or the islands of New Zealand. The life and pro- 
 perty of England are protected by the laws of Sinai. The 
 hard-working people of England are secured in every seven 
 days a day of rest by the laws of Sinai. And yet they 
 persecute the Jews, and hold up to odium the race to 
 whom they are indebted for the sublime legislation which 
 alleviates the inevitable lot of the labouring multitude ! 
 
 And when that labouring multitude cease for a while 
 from a toil which equals almost Egyptian bondage, and 
 demands that exponent of the mysteries of the heart, that 
 soother of the troubled spirit, which poetry can alone 
 afford, to whose harp do the people of England fly for 
 sympathy and solace ? Who is the most popular poet in 
 this country ? Is he to be found among the Mr. Words- 
 worths and the Lord Byrons, amid sauntering reveries or 
 monologues of sublime satiety ? Shall we seek him among 
 the wits of Queen Anne ? Even to the myriad-minded
 
 266 TASCRED ; OB 
 
 Shakspeare can we award the palm ? No ; the most popu- 
 lar poet in England is the sweet singer of Israel. Since 
 the days of the heritage, when every man dwelt safely 
 under his vine and under his fig-tree, there never was a 
 race who sang so often the odes of David as the people of 
 Great Britain. 
 
 Vast as the obligations of the whole human family are to 
 the Hebrew race, there is no portion of the modern popula- 
 tions so much indebted to them as the British people. It 
 was ' the sword of the Lord and of Gideon ' that won the 
 boasted liberties of England ; chanting the same canticles 
 that cheered the heart of Judah amid their glens, the Scotch, 
 upon their hill-sides, achieved their religious freedom. 
 
 Then why do these Saxon and Celtic societies persecute 
 an Arabian race, from whom they have adopted laws of 
 sublime benevolence, and in the pages of whose literature 
 they have found perpetual delight, instruction, and conso- 
 lation ? That is a great question, which, in an enlightened 
 age, may be fairly asked, but to which even the self-com- 
 placent nineteenth century would find some difficulty in 
 contributing a reply. Does it stand thus ? Independently 
 of their admirable laws which have elevated our condition, 
 and of their exquisite poetry which has charmed it ; inde- 
 pendently of their heroic history which has animated us to 
 the pursuit of public liberty, we are indebted to the 
 Hebrew people for our knowledge of the true God and for 
 the redemption from our sins. 
 
 ' Then I have a right to be here,' said Tancred of Monta- 
 cute, as his eyes were fixed in abstraction on the stars of 
 Arabia ; ' I am not a travelling dilettante, mourning over 
 a ruin, or in ecstasies at a deciphered inscription. I come 
 to the land whose laws I obey, whose religion I profess, 
 and I seek, upon its sacred soil, those sanctions which for 
 ages were abundantly accorded. The angels who visited 
 the Patriarchs, and announced the advent of the Judges, 
 who guided the pens of Prophets and bore tidings to the 
 Apostles, spoke also to the Shepherds in the field. I look
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 267 
 
 upon the host of heaven ; do they no longer stand before 
 the Lord ? Where are the Cherubim, where the Seraphs ? 
 Where is Michael the Destroyer ? Gabriel of a thousand 
 missions ? ' 
 
 At this moment, the sound of horsemen recalled Tancred 
 from his reverie, and, looking up, he observed a group of 
 Arabs approaching him, three of whom were mounted. 
 Soon he recognised the great Sheikh Amalek, and Hassan, 
 the late commander of his escort. The young Syrian 
 Emir was their companion. This was a visit of hospitable 
 ceremony from the great Sheikh to his distinguished 
 prisoner. Amalek, pressing his hand to his heart, gave 
 Tancred the salute of peace, and then, followed by Hassan, 
 who had lost nothing of his calm self-respect, but who 
 conducted himself as if he were still free, the great Sheikh 
 seated himself on the carpet that was spread before the 
 tent, and took the pipe, which was immediately offered him 
 by Freeman and Trueman, following the instructions of an 
 attendant of the Emir Fakredeen. 
 
 After the usual compliments and some customary obser- 
 vations about horses and pistols, Fakredeen, who had seated 
 himself clvse to Tancred, with a kind of shrinking cajolery, 
 as if he were seeking the protection of some superior being, 
 addressing Amalek in a tone of easy assurance, which 
 remarkably contrasted with the sentimental deference he 
 displayed towards his prisoner, said : 
 
 1 Sheikh of Sheikhs, there is but one God : now is it Allah, 
 or Jehovah ? ' 
 
 ' The palm-tree is sometimes called a date-tree,' replied 
 Amalek, ' but there is only one tree.' 
 
 1 Good,' said Fakredeen, ' but you do not pray to Allah ? ' 
 
 ' I pray as my fathers prayed,' said Amalek. 
 
 ' And you pray to Jehovah ? ' 
 
 ' It is said.' 
 
 ' Sheikh Hassan,' said the Emir, ' there is but one God, 
 and his name is Jehovah. Why do you not pray to Jehovah ? ' 
 
 ' Truly there is but one God,' said Sheikh Hassan, ' and
 
 2G8 TANCEED; OR 
 
 Mahomet is his Prophet. He told my fathers to pray to 
 Allah, and to Allah I pray.' 
 
 ' Is Mahomet the prophet of God, Sheikh of Sheikhs ? ' 
 
 ' It may be,' replied Amalek, -with a nod of assent. 
 
 ' Then why do you not pray as Sheikh Hassan ? ' 
 
 ' Because Moses, without doubt the prophet of God, for 
 all believe in him, Sheikh Hassan, and Emir Fakredeen, 
 and you too, Prince, brother of queens, married into our 
 family and taught us to pray to Jehovah. There may be 
 other prophets, but the children of Jethro would indeed 
 ride on asses were they not content with Moses.' 
 
 ' And you have his five books ? ' inquired Tancred. 
 
 ' We had them from the beginning, and we shall keep 
 them to the end.' 
 
 ' And you learnt in them that Moses married the daughter 
 of Jethro?' 
 
 ' Did I learn in them that I have wells and camels ? We 
 want no books to tell us who married our daughters.' 
 
 ' And yet it is not yesterday that Moses fled from Egypt 
 into Midian ? ' 
 
 ' It is not yesterday for those who live in cities, where 
 they say at one gate that it is morning, and at another it is 
 night. Where men tell lies, the deed of the dawn is the 
 secret of sunset. But in the Desert nothing changes ; 
 neither the acts of a man's life, nor the words of a man's 
 lips. We drink at the same well where Moses helped Zip- 
 porah, we tend the same flocks, we live under the same 
 tents ; our words have changed as little as our waters, our 
 habits, or our dwellings. What my father learnt from those 
 before him, he delivered to me, and I have told it to my 
 son. What is time and what is truth, that I should forget 
 that a prophet of Jehovah married into my house ? ' 
 
 ' Where little is done, little is said,' observed Sheikh 
 Hassan, ' and Silence is the mother of Truth. Since the 
 Hegira, nothing has happened in Arabia, and before that 
 was Moses, and before him the giants.' 
 
 ' Let truth always be spoken,' said Amalek ; ' your words
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 269 
 
 are a flowing stream, and the children of Rechab and the 
 tribes of the Senites never joined him of Mecca, for they 
 had the five books, and they said, " Is not that enough ? " 
 They withdrew to the Syrian wilderness, and they multi- 
 plied. But the sons of Koreidha, who also had the five 
 books, but who were not children of Rechab, but who came 
 into the Desert near Medina after Nebuchadnezzar had de- 
 stroyed El Khuds, they first joined him of Mecca, and then 
 they made war on him, and he broke their bows and led 
 them into captivity ; and they are to be found in the cities 
 of Yemen to this day ; the children of Israel who live in the 
 cities of Yemen are the tribe of Koreidha.' 
 
 'Unhappy sons of Koreidha, who made war upon the 
 Prophet, and who live in cities ! ' said Sheikh Hassan, 
 taking a fresh pipe. 
 
 'And perhaps,' said the young Emir, 'if you had not 
 been children of Jethro, you might have acknowledged him 
 of Mecca, Sheikh of Sheikhs.' 
 
 ' There is but one God,' said Amalek ; ' but there may 
 be many prophets. It becomes not a son of Jethro to seek 
 other than Moses. But I will not say that the Koran 
 comes not from God, since it was written by one who was 
 of the tribe of Koreish, and the tribe of Koreish are the 
 lineal descendants of Ibrahim.' 
 
 ' And you believe that the Word of God could come only 
 to the seed of Abraham ? ' asked Tancred, eagerly. 
 
 ' I and my fathers have watered our flocks in the wilder- 
 ness since time was,' replied Amalek ; ' we have seen the 
 Pharaohs, and Nebuchadnezzar, and Iskander, and the 
 Romans, and the Sultan of the French : they conquered 
 everything except us ; and where are they ? They are 
 sand. Let men doubt of unicorns : but of one thing there 
 can be no doubt, that God never spoke except to an Arab.' 
 
 Tancred covered his face with his hands. Then, after 
 a few moments' pause, looking up, he said, ' Sheikh of 
 Sheikhs, I am your prisoner ; and was, when you captured 
 me, a pilgrim to Mount Sinai, a spot which, in your belief
 
 270 TANCEED ; OR 
 
 is not less sacred than in mine. We are, as I have learned, 
 only two days' journey from that holy place. Grant me 
 this boon, that I may at once proceed thither, guarded as 
 you will. I pledge you the word of a Christian noble, that 
 I will not attempt to escape. Long before you have received 
 a reply from Jerusalem, I shall have returned ; and, what- 
 ever may be the result of the visit of Baroni, I shall, at 
 least, have fulfilled my pilgrimage.' 
 
 'Prince, brother of queens,' replied Amalek, with that 
 politeness which is the characteristic of the Arabian chief- 
 tains ; ' under my tents you have only to command ; go 
 where you like, return when you please. My children shall 
 attend you as your guardians, not as your guards.' And 
 the great Sheikh rose and retired. 
 
 Tancred re-entered his tent, and, reclining, fell into a 
 reverie of distracting thoughts. The history of his life and 
 mind seemed with a whirling power to pass before him ; 
 his birth, in a clime unknown to the Patriarchs ; his educa- 
 tion, unconsciously to himself, in an Arabian literature ; 
 his imbibing, from his tender infancy, oriental ideas and 
 oriental creeds ; the contrast that the occidental society in 
 which he had been reared presented to them ; his dissatis- 
 faction with that social .system ; his conviction of the grow- 
 ing melancholy of enlightened Europe, veiled, as it may be, 
 with sometimes a conceited bustle, sometimes a desperate 
 shipwreck gaiety, sometimes with all the exciting empiricism 
 of science ; his perplexity that, between the Asian revela- 
 tion and the European practice, there should be so little 
 conformity, and why the relations between them should be 
 so limited and imperfect ; above all, his passionate desire 
 to penetrate the mystery of the elder world, and share its 
 celestial privileges and divine prerogative. Tancred sighed. 
 
 He looked round ; some one had gently drawn his hand. 
 It was the young Emir kneeling, his beautiful blue eyes 
 bedewed with tears. 
 
 ' You are -unhappy,' said Fakredeen, in a tone of plain- 
 tiveness.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 271 
 
 * ]> is the doom of man,' replied Tancred ; ' and in my 
 position sadness should not seem strange.' 
 
 ' The curse of ten thousand mothers on those who made 
 you a prisoner ; the curse of twenty thousand mothers on 
 him who inflicted on you a wound ! ' 
 
 ' 'Tis the fortune of life,' said Tancred, more cheerfully ; 
 ' and in truth I was perhaps thinking of other things.' 
 
 ' Do you know why I trouble you when your heart is 
 dark ? ' said the young Emir. ' See now, if you will it, you 
 are free. The great Sheikh has consented that you should 
 go to Sinai. I have two dromedaries here, fleeter than the 
 Kamsin. At the well of Mokatteb, where we encamp for 
 the night, I will serve raki to the Bedoueens ; I have some 
 with me, strong enough to melt the snow of Lebanon ; if 
 it will not do, they shall smoke some timbak, that will 
 make them sleep like pachas. I know this Desert as a man 
 knows his father's house ; we shall be at Hebron before 
 they untie their eyelids. Tell me, is it good ? ' 
 
 ' Were I alone,' said Tancred, ' without a single guard, I 
 must return.' 
 
 'Why?' 
 
 ' Because I have pledged the word of a Christian noble.' 
 
 ' To a man who does not believe in Christ. Faugh ! Is 
 it not itself a sin to keep faith with heretics ? ' 
 
 ' But is he one ? ' said Tancred. ' He believes in Moses; 
 he disbelieves in none of the seed of Abraham. He is of 
 that seed himself! Would I were such a heretic as Sheikh 
 Amalek ! ' 
 
 ' If you will only pay me a visit in the Lebanon, I would 
 introduce you to our patriarch, and he would talk as much 
 theology with you as you like. For my own part it is not 
 a kind of knowledge that I have much cultivated ; you 
 know I am peculiarly situated, we have so many religions 
 on the mountain ; but time presses ; tell me, my prince, 
 shall Hebron be our point ? ' 
 
 ' If Amalek believed in Baal, I must return,' said Tan- 
 cred ; ' even if it were to certain death. Besides, I could
 
 272 TANCRED; OR 
 
 not desert my men ; and Baroni, what would become of 
 him?' 
 
 ' We could easily make some plan that would extricate 
 them. Dismiss them from your mind, and trust yourself 
 to me. I know nothing that would delight me more than 
 to balk these robbers of their prey.' 
 
 ' I should not talk of such things,' said Tancred ; ' I must 
 remain here, or I must return.' 
 
 ' What can you want to do on Mount Sinai ? ' murmured 
 the prince rather pettishly. ' Now if it were Mount Le- 
 banon, and you had a wish to employ yourself, there is an 
 immense field ! We might improve the condition of the 
 people ; we might establish manufactures, stimulate agri- 
 culture, extend commerce, get an appal to of the silk, buy it 
 all up at sixty piastres per oke, and sell it at Marseilles at 
 two hundred, and at the same time advance the interests of 
 true religion as much as you please.' 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 TEN days had elapsed since the capture of Tancred; Amalek 
 and his Arabs were still encamped in the rocky city ; the 
 beams of the early sun were just rising over the crest of the 
 amphitheatre, when four horsemen, who were recognised as 
 the children of Rechab, issued from the ravine. They gal- 
 loped over the plain, shouted, and threw their lances in the 
 air. From the crescent of black tents came forth the war- 
 riors, some mounted their horses and met their returning 
 brethren, others prepared their welcome. The horses 
 neighed, the camels stirred their long necks. All living 
 things seemed conscious that an event had occurred. 
 
 The four horsemen were surrounded by their brethren ; 
 but one of them, giving and returning blessings, darted 
 forward to the pavilion of the great Sheikh. 
 
 ' Have you brought camels, Shedad, son of Amroo ? ' in- 
 quired one of the welcomers to the welcomed.
 
 THE NEW CEUSADE. 273 
 
 I We have been to El Khuds,' was the reply. ' What 
 we have brought back is a seal of Solomon.' 
 
 ' From Mount Seir to the City of the Friend, what hare 
 you seen in the joyful land ? ' 
 
 ' We found the sons of Hamar by the well- side of Jumda; 
 we found the marks of many camels in the pass of Gharen- 
 del, and the marks in the pass of Gharendel were not the 
 marks of the camels of the Beni- Hamar.' 
 
 I 1 had a dream, and the children of Tora said to me, 
 " Who art thou in the lands of our father's flocks ? Are 
 none but the sons of Rechab to drink the sweet waters of 
 Edom?" Methinks the marks in the pass of Gharendel 
 were the marks of the camels of the children of Tora.' 
 
 ' There is feud between the Beni-Tora and the Beni- 
 Hamar,' replied the other Arab, shaking his head. 'The 
 Beni-Tora are in the wilderness of Akiba, and the Beni- 
 Hamar have burnt their tents and captured their camels and 
 their women. This is why the sons of Hamar are watering 
 their flocks by the well of Jumda.' 
 
 In the meantime, the caravan, of which the four horsemen 
 were the advanced guard, issued from the pass into the plain. 
 
 ' Shedad, son of Amroo,' exclaimed one of the Bedoueens, 
 ' what ! have you captured an hareem? ' For he beheld dro- 
 medaries and veiled women. 
 
 The great Sheikh came forth from his pavilion and sniffed 
 the morning air ; a dignified smile played over his benignant 
 features, and once he smoothed his venerable beard. 
 
 'My son-in-law is a true son of Israel,' he murmured 
 complacently to himself. ' He will trust his gold only to 
 his own blood.' 
 
 The caravan wound about the plain, then crossed the 
 stream at the accustomed ford, and approached the amphi- 
 theatre. 
 
 The horsemen halted, some dismounted, the dromedaries 
 knelt down, Baroni assisted one of the riders from her seat ; 
 the great Sheikh advanced and said, ' Welcome in the name 
 of God ! welcome with a thousand blessings ! ' 
 
 T
 
 274 TANCEED; OR 
 
 ' I come in the name of God ; I come with a thousand 
 blessings,' replied the lady. 
 
 ' And with a thousand something else,' thought Amalek 
 to himself; but the Arabs are so polished, that they never 
 make unnecessary allusions to business. 
 
 ' Had I thought the Queen of Sheba was going to pay me 
 a visit,' said the great Sheikh, ' I would have brought the 
 pavilion of Miriam. How is the Rose of Sharon ? ' he con- 
 tinued, as he ushered Eva into his tent. ' How is the son 
 of my heart ; how is Besso, more generous than a thousand 
 kings?' 
 
 ' Speak not of the son of thy heart,' said Eva, seating 
 herself on the divan. ' Speak not of Besso, the generous 
 and the good, for his head is strewn with ashes, and his 
 mouth is full of sand.' 
 
 ' What is this ? ' thought Amalek. * Besso is not ill, or 
 his daughter would not be here. This arrow flies not 
 straight. Does he want to scrape my piastres? These 
 sons of Israel that dwell in cities will mix their pens with 
 oUr spears. I will be obstinate as an Azafeer camel.' 
 
 Slaves now entered, bringing coffee and bread, the Sheikh 
 asking questions as they ate, as to the time Eva quitted 
 Jerusalem, her halting-places in the Desert, whether she 
 had met with any tribes; then he offered to his grand- 
 daughter his own chibouque, which she took with cere- 
 mony, and instantly returned, while they brought her 
 aromatic nargilly. 
 
 Eva scanned the imperturbable countenance of her grand- 
 father : calm, polite, benignant, she knew the great Sheikh 
 too well to suppose for a moment that its superficial expres- 
 sion was any indication of his innermost purpose. Suddenly 
 she said, in a somewhat careless tone, ' And why is the Lord 
 of the Syrian pastures in this wilderness, that has been so 
 long accursed ? ' 
 
 The great Sheikh took his pipe from his mouth, and then 
 slowly sent forth its smoke through his nostrils, a feat of 
 which he was proud. Then he placidly replied : ' For the
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 275 
 
 same reason that the man named Baroni made a visit to 
 El Kinds.' 
 
 ' The man named Baroni came to demand snccour for his 
 lord, who is your prisoner.' 
 
 'And also to obtain two millions of piastres,' added 
 Amalek. 
 
 ' Two millions of piastres ! Why not at once ask for the 
 throne of Solomon?' 
 
 'Which wonld be given, if required,' rejoined Amalek. 
 ' Was it not said in the divan of Besso, that if this Prince 
 of Franguestan wished to rebuild the Temple, the treasure 
 would not be wanting?' 
 
 ' Said by some city gossip,' said Eva, scornfully. 
 
 * Said by your father, daughter of Besso, who, though he 
 lives in cities, is not a man who will say that almonds are 
 pearls.' 
 
 Eva controlled her countenance, though it was difficult 
 to conceal her mortification as she perceived how well in- 
 formed her grandfather was of all that passed under their 
 roof, and of the resources of his prisoner. It was neces- 
 sary, after the last remark of the great Sheikh, to take new 
 ground, and, instead of dwelling, as she was about to do, 
 on the exaggeration of public report, and attempting to 
 ridicule the vast expectations of her host, she said, in a soft 
 tone, ' You did not ask me why Besso was in such affliction, 
 father of my mother ? ' 
 
 ' There are many sorrows : has he lost ships ? If a man 
 is in sound health, all the rest are dreams. And Besso 
 needs no hakeem, or you would not be here, my Rose of 
 Sharon.' 
 
 ' The light may have become darkness in our eyes, though 
 we may still eat and drink,' said Eva. ' And that has hap- 
 pened to Besso which might have turned a child's hair grey 
 in its cradle.' 
 
 ' Who has poisoned his well ? Has he quarrelled with 
 the Porte ?' said the Sheikh, without looking at her. 
 
 ' It is not hit" enemies who have pierced him in the back.' 
 T 2
 
 276 TANCEED; OB 
 
 ' Humph,' said the great Sheikh. 
 
 ' And that makes his heart more heavy,' said Eva. 
 
 ' He dwells too much in walls,' said the great Sheikh. 
 ' He should have rode into the Desert, instead of you, my 
 child. He should have brought the ransom himself ;' and 
 the great Sheikh sent two curling streams out of his nostrils. 
 
 ' Whoever be the bearer, he is the payer,' said Eva. * It 
 is he who is the prisoner, not this son of Franguestan, who, 
 you think, is your captive.' 
 
 ' Your father wishes to scrape my piastres,' said the great 
 Sheikh, in a stern voice, and looking his grand- daughter 
 full in the face. 
 
 ' If he wanted to scrape piastres from the Desert,' said 
 Eva, in a sweet but mournful voice, ' would Besso have 
 given you the convoy of the Hadj without condition or 
 abatement ? ' 
 
 The great Sheikh drew a long breath from his chibouque. 
 After a momentary pause, he said, ' In a family there should 
 ever be unity and concord ; above all things, words should 
 not be dark. How much will the Queen of the English give 
 for her brother?' 
 
 'He is not the brother of the Queen of the English,' said 
 Eva. 
 
 ' Not when he is my spoil, in my tent,' said Amalek, with 
 a cunning smile ; ' but put him on a round hat in a walled 
 city, and then he is the brother of the Queen of the Eng- 
 lish.' 
 
 ' Whatever his rank, he is the charge of Besso, my 
 father and your son,' said Eva ; ' and Besso has pledged his 
 heart, his life, and his honour, that this young prince shall 
 not be hurt. For him he feels, for him he speaks, for him 
 he thinks. Is it to be told in the bazaars of Franguestan 
 that his first office of devotion was to send this youth into 
 the Desert to be spoiled by the father of his wife ? ' 
 
 ' Why did my daughters marry men who live in cities ? ' 
 exclaimed the old Sheikh. 
 
 ' Why did they marry men who made your peace with
 
 THE NEW CKUSADE. 277 
 
 the Egyptian, when not even the Desert could screen you ? 
 Why did they marry men who gained you the convoy of 
 the Hadj, and gave you the milk of ten thousand camels ? ' 
 
 ' Truly, there is but one God in the Desert and In the 
 city,' said Amalek. * Now, tell me, Rose of Sharon, how 
 many piastres nave you brought me ? ' 
 
 ' If you be in trouble, Besso will aid you as he has done ; 
 if you wish to buy camels, Besso will assist you as before ; 
 but, if you expect ransom for his charge, whom you ought 
 to have placed on your best mare of Nedgid, then I have 
 not brought a para.' 
 
 ' It is clearly the end of the world,' said Amalek, with a 
 savage sigh. 
 
 ' Why I am here,' said Eva, ' I am only the child of your 
 child, a woman without spears ; why do you not seize me 
 and send to Besso ? He must ransom me, for I am the 
 only offspring of his loins. Ask for four millions of piastres ! 
 He can raise them. Let him send round to all the cities of 
 Syria, and tell his brethren that a Bedoueen Sheikh has 
 made his daughter and her maidens captive, and, trust me, 
 the treasure will be forthcoming. He need not say it is 
 one on whom he has lavished a thousand favours, whose 
 visage was darker than the simoom when he made the 
 great Pacha smile on him ; who, however he may talk of 
 living in cities now, could come cringing to El Sham to ask 
 for the contract of the Hadj, by which he had gained ten 
 thousand camels ; he need say nothing of all this, and, least 
 of all, need he say that the spoiler is his father ! ' 
 
 ' What is this Prince of Franguestan to thee and thine ? ' 
 said Amalek. ' He comes to our land like his brethren, to 
 see the sun and seek for treasure in our ruins, and he bears, 
 like all of them, some written words to your father, saying, 
 Give to this man what he asks, and we will give to your 
 people what they ask. I understand all this : they all come 
 to your father because he deals in money, and is the only 
 man in Syria who has money. What he pays, he is again 
 paid. Is it not so, Eva ? Daughter of my blood, let there
 
 278 TANCKED; OR 
 
 not be strife between us ; give me a million piastres, and a 
 hundred camels to the widow of Sheikh Salem, and take 
 the brother of the queen.' 
 
 ' Camels shall be given to the widow of Sheikh Salem,' 
 said Eva, in a conciliatory voice ; ' but for this ransom of 
 which you speak, my father, it is not a question as to the 
 number of piastres. If you want a million of piastres, shall 
 it be said that Besso would not lend, perhaps give, them to 
 the great Sheikh he loves ? But, you see, my father of 
 fathers, piastres and this Frank stranger are not of the 
 same leaven. Name them not together, I pray you ; mix 
 not their waters. It concerns the honour, and welfare, and 
 safety, and glory of Besso that you should cover this youth 
 with a robe of power, and place him upon your best drome 
 dary, and send him back to El Khuds.' 
 
 The great Sheikh groaned. 
 
 ' Have I opened a gate that I am unable to close ? ' he at 
 length said. ' What is begun shall be finished. Have the 
 children of Rechab been brought from the sweet wells of 
 Costal to this wilderness ever accursed to fill their purses 
 with stones ? Will they not return and say that my beard 
 is too white ? Yet do I wish that this day was finished. 
 Name then at once, my daughter, the piastres that you will 
 give ; for the prince, the brother of queens, may to-morrow 
 be dust.' 
 
 ' How so ? ' eagerly inquired Eva. 
 
 'He is a Mejnoun,' replied Amalek. 'After the man 
 named Baroni departed for El Khuds, the Prince of Fran- 
 guestan would not rest until he visited Gibel Mousa, and I 
 said " Yes " to all his wishes. Whether it were his wound 
 inflamed by his journey, or grief at his captivity, for these 
 Franks are the slaves of useless sorrow, he returned as 
 wild as Kais, and now lies in his tent, fancying he is still 
 on Mount Sinai. 'Tis the fifth day of the fever, and 
 Shedad, the son of Amroo, tells me that the sixth will be 
 fatal unless we can give him the gall of a phoenix, and 
 such a bird is not to be found in this part of Arabia. Now,
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 279 
 
 you are a great hakeem, my child of children ; go then to 
 the young prince, and see what can be done : for if he die, 
 we can scarcely ransom him, and I shall lose the piastres, 
 and your father the backsheesh which I meant to have 
 given him on the transaction.' 
 
 ' This is very woful,' murmured Eva to herself, and not 
 listening to the latter observations of her grandfather. 
 
 At this moment the curtain of the pavilion was with- 
 drawn, and there stood before them Fakredeen. The mo- 
 ment his eyes met those of Eva, he covered his face with 
 both his hands. 
 
 ' How is the Prince of Franguestan ? ' inquired Amalek. 
 
 The young Emir advanced, and threw himself at the feet 
 of Eva. ' We must entreat the Rose of Sharon to visit 
 him,' he said, ' for there is no hakeem in Arabia equal to 
 her. Yes, I came to welcome you, and to entreat you to 
 do this kind office for the most gifted and the most in- 
 teresting of beings ; ' and he looked up in her face with a 
 supplicating glance. 
 
 ' And you too, are you fearful,' said Eva, in a tone of 
 tender reproach, 'that by his death you may lose your 
 portion of the spoil ? ' 
 
 The Emir gave a deprecating glance of anguish, and 
 then, bending his head, pressed his lips to the Bedoueen 
 robes which she wore. ' 'Tis the most unfortunate of coin- 
 cidences, but believe me, dearest of friends, 'tis only a 
 coincidence. I am here merely by accident ; I was hunt- 
 ing, I was ' 
 
 ' You will make me doubt your intelligence as well as 
 your good faith,' said Eva, ' if you persist in such assurances.' 
 
 'Ah ! if you but knew him,' exclaimed Fakredeen, 'you 
 would believe me when I tell yon that I am ready to 
 sacrifice even my life for his. Far from sharing the spoil,' 
 he added, in a rapid and earnest whisper, ' I had already 
 proposed, and could have insured, his escape; when he 
 went to Sinai, to that unfortunate Sinai. I had two 
 dromedaries here, thorough bred, we might have reached 
 Hebron before '
 
 280 TANCRED; OR 
 
 ' You went with him to Sinai ? ' 
 
 ' He would not suffer it ; he desired, he said, to be silent 
 and to be alone. One of the Bedoueen, who accompanied 
 him, told me that they halted in the valley, and that he 
 went up alone into the mountain, where he remained a day 
 and night. When he returned hither, I perceived a great 
 change in him. His words were quick, his eye glittered 
 like fire ; he told me that he had seen an angel, and in the 
 morning he was as he is now. I have wept, I have prayed 
 for him in the prayers of every religion, I have bathed his 
 temples with liban, and hung his tent with charms. O 
 Rose of Sharon ! Eva, beloved, darling Eva, I have faith in 
 no one but in you. See him, I beseech you, see him ! If 
 you but knew him, if you had but listened to his voice, and 
 felt the greatness of his thoughts and spirit, it would not 
 need that I should make this entreaty. But, alas ! you 
 know him not ; you have never listened to him ; you have 
 never seen him ; or neither he, nor I, nor any of us, would 
 have been here, and have been thus.' 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 NOTWITHSTANDING all the prescient care of the Duke and 
 Duchess of Bellamont, it was destined that the stout arm of 
 Colonel Brace should not wave by the side of their son 
 when he was first attacked by the enemy, and now that he 
 was afflicted by a most severe, if not fatal illness, the prac- 
 tised skill of the Doctor Roby was also absent. Eresh 
 exemplification of what all of us so frequently experience, 
 that the most sagacious and matured arrangements are of 
 little avail ; that no one is present when he is wanted, and 
 that nothing occurs as it was foreseen. Nor should we 
 forget that the principal cause of all these mischances might 
 perhaps be recognised in the inefficiency of the third person 
 whom the parents of Tancred had, with so much solicitude 
 and at so great an expense, secured to him as a companion
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 281 
 
 and counsellor in his travels. It cannot be denied, that if 
 the theological attainments of the Rev. Mr. Bernard had 
 been of a more profound and comprehensive character, it is 
 possible that Lord Montacute might not have deemed it 
 necessary to embark upon this new crusade, and ultimately to 
 find himself in the deserts of Mou~.t Sinai. However this 
 may be, one thing was certain, that Tancred had been 
 wounded without a single sabre of the Bellamont yeomanry 
 being brandished in his defence ; was now lying danger- 
 ously ill in an Arabian tent, without the slightest medical 
 assistance; and perhaps was destined to quit this world, 
 not only without the consolation of a priest of his holy 
 church, but surrounded by heretics and infidels. 
 
 ' We have never let any of the savages come near my 
 lord,' said Freeman to Baroni, on his return, 
 
 'Except the fair young gentleman,' added Trueman, 
 ' and he is a Christian, or as good.' 
 
 ' He is a prince,' said Freeman, reproachfully. ' Have I 
 not told you so twenty times ? He is what they call in 
 this country a Hameer, and lives in a castle, where he 
 wanted my lord to visit him. I only wish he had gone 
 with my lord to Mount Siny ; I think it would have come 
 to more good.' 
 
 ' He has been very attentive to my lord all the time,' 
 said Trueman ; ' indeed, he has never quitted my lord night 
 or day ; and only left his side when we heard the caravan 
 had returned.' 
 
 ' I have seen him,' said Baroni ; ' and now let us enter 
 the tent.' 
 
 Upon the divan, his head supported by many cushions, 
 clad in a Syrian robe of the young Emir, and partly 
 covered with a Bedoueen cloak, lay Tancred, deadly pale, 
 his eyes open and fixed, and apparently unconscious of 
 their presence. He was lying on his back, gazing on the 
 roof of the tent, and was motionless. Fakredeen had 
 raised his wounded arm, which had fallen from the conch, 
 and had supported it with a pile made of cloaks and
 
 282 TANCRED; OR 
 
 pillows. The countenance of Tancred was much changed 
 since Baroni last beheld him; it was greatly attenuated, 
 but the eyes glittered with an unearthly fire. 
 
 ' We don't think he has ever slept,' said Freeman, in a 
 whisper. 
 
 ' He did nothing but talk to himself the first two days,' 
 said Trueman ; ' but yesterday he has been more quiet.' 
 
 Baroni advanced to the divan behind the head of Tan- 
 cred, so that he might not be observed, and then, letting 
 himself fall noiselessly on the carpet, he touched with a 
 light finger the pulse of Lord Montacute. 
 
 ' There is not too much blood here," he said, shaking his 
 head. 
 
 ' You don't think it is hopeless ? ' said Freeman, beginning 
 to blubber. 
 
 * And all the great doings of my lord's coming of age to 
 end in this ! ' said Trueman. ' They sat down only two less 
 than a hundred at the steward's table for more than a 
 week ! ' 
 
 Baroni made a sign to them to leave the tent. ' God of 
 my fathers ! ' he said, still seated on the ground, his arms 
 folded, and watching Tancred earnestly with his bright 
 black eyes ; ' this is a bad business. This is death or mad- 
 ness, perhaps both. What will M. de Sidonia say ? He 
 loves not men who fail. All will be visited on me. I shall 
 be shelved. In Europe they would bleed him, and they 
 would kill him ; here they will not bleed him, and he may 
 die. Such is medicine, and such is life ! Now, if I only 
 had as much opium as would fill the pipe of a mandarin, 
 that would be something. God of my fathers ! this is a 
 bad business.' 
 
 He rose softly ; he approached nearer to Tancred, and 
 examined his countenance more closely ; there was a slight 
 foam upon the lip, which he gently wiped away. 
 
 ' The brain has worked too much,' said Baroni to him- 
 self. 'Often have I watched him pacing the deck during our 
 voyage ; never have I witnessed an abstraction so prolonged
 
 THE NEW CRUSADK 283 
 
 and so profound. He thinks as much as M. de Sidonia, ami 
 feels more. There is his weakness. The strength of my 
 master is his superiority to all sentiment. No affections and 
 a great brain ; these are the men to command the world. No 
 affections and a little brain ; such is the stuff of which they 
 make petty villains. And a great brain and a great heart, 
 what do they make ? Ah ! I do not know. The last, per- 
 haps, wears off with time ; and yet I wish I could save this 
 youth, for he ever attracts me to him.' 
 
 Thus he remained for some time seated on the carpet 
 by the side of the divan, revolving in his mind every pos- 
 sible expedient that might benefit Tancred, and finally being 
 convinced that none was in his power. What roused him 
 from his watchful reverie was a voice that called his name 
 very softly, and, looking round, he beheld the Emir Fakre- 
 deen on tiptoe, with his finger on his mouth. Baroni rose, 
 and, Fakredeen inviting him with a gesture to leave the 
 tent, he found without the lady of the caravan. 
 
 * I want the Hose of Sharon to see your lord,' said the 
 young Emir, very anxiously, ' for she is a great hakeem 
 among our people.' 
 
 4 Perhaps in the Desert, where there is none to be useful, 
 1 might not be useless,' said Eva, with some reluctance and 
 reserve. 
 
 ' Hope has only one arrow left,' said Baroni, mournfully. 
 
 ' Is it indeed so bad ? ' 
 
 * Oh ! save him, Eva, save him ! ' exclaimed Fakredeen, 
 distractedly. 
 
 She placed her finger on her lip. 
 
 ' Or I shall die,' continued Fakredeen ; ' nor indeed have 
 I any wish to live, if he depart from us.' 
 
 Eva conversed apart for a few minutes with Baroni, in a 
 low voice, and then drawing aside the curtain of the tent, 
 they entered. 
 
 There was no change in the appearance of Tancred, but 
 as they approached him he spoke. Baroni dropped into 
 his former position, Fakredeen fell upon his knees, Eva
 
 284 TAXCRED ; OR 
 
 alone was visible when the eyes of Tancred met hers. His 
 vision was not unconscious of her presence ; he stared at 
 her -with intentness. The change in her dress, however, 
 would, in all probability, have prevented his recognising 
 her even under indifferent circumstances. She was habited 
 as a Bedoueen girl ; a leathern girdle encircled her blue 
 robe, a few gold coins were braided in her hair, and her 
 head was covered with a fringed kefia. 
 
 Whatever was the impression made upon Tancred by this 
 unusual apparition, it appeared to be only transient. His 
 glance withdrawn, his voice again broke into incoherent 
 but violent exclamations. Suddenly he said, with more 
 moderation, but with firmness and distinctness, 'I am 
 guarded by angels.' 
 
 Fakredeen shot a glance at Eva and Baroni, as if to 
 remind them of the tenor of the discourse for which he 
 had prepared them. 
 
 After a pause, he became somewhat violent, and seemed 
 as if he would have waved his wounded arm ; but Baroni, 
 whose eye, though himself unobserved, never quitted his 
 charge, laid his finger upon the arm, and Tancred did not 
 struggle. Again he spoke of angels, but in a milder and 
 mournful tone. 
 
 ' Methinks you look like one,' thought Eva, as she beheld 
 his spiritual countenance lit up by a superhuman fire. 
 
 After a few minutes, she glanced at Baroni, to signify 
 her wish to leave the tent, and he rose and accompanied 
 her. Fakredeen also rose, with streaming eyes, and making 
 the sign of the cross. 
 
 ' Forgive me,' he said to Eva, ' but I cannot help it. 
 Whenever I am in affliction I cannot help remembering 
 that I am a Christian.' 
 
 ' I wish you would remember it at all times,' said Eva, 
 ' and then, perhaps, none of us need have been here ; ' and 
 then, not waiting for his reply, she addressed herself to 
 Baroni. ' I agree with you,' she said. ' If we cannot give 
 him sleep, he will soon sleep for ever.'
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 285 
 
 * OJh, give him sleep, Eva,' said Fakredeen, wringing his 
 hands ; ' you can do anything.' 
 
 ' I suppose,' said Baroni, ' it is hopeless to think of find- 
 ing any opium here.' 
 
 ' Utterly,' said Eva ; ' its practice is quite unknown 
 among them.' 
 
 ' Send for some from El Khuds,' said Fakredeen. 
 
 ' Idle ! ' said Baroni ; ' this is an affair of hours, not of 
 
 4 Oh, but I will go,' exclaimed Fakredeen ; ' you do not 
 know what I can do on one of my dromedaries ! I will 
 
 Eva placed her hand on his arm without looking at him, 
 and then continued to address Baroni. ' Through the pass 
 I several times observed a small white and yellow flower in 
 patches. I lost it as we advanced, and yet I should think 
 it must have followed the stream. If it be, as I think, but 
 I did not observe it with much attention, the flower of the 
 mountain Arnica, I know a preparation from that shrub 
 which has a marvellous action on the nervous system.' 
 
 ' I am sure it is the mountain Arnica, and I am sure it 
 will cure him,' said Fakredeen. 
 
 ' Time presses,' said Eva to Baroni. ' Call my maidens 
 to our aid ; and first of all let us examine the borders of the 
 stream.' 
 
 While his friends departed to exert themselves, Fakre- 
 deen remained behind, and passed his time partly in watch- 
 ing Tancred, partly in weeping, and partly in calculating 
 the amount of his debts. This latter was a frequent, and 
 to him inexhaustible, source of interest and excitement. 
 His creative brain was soon lost in reverie. He conjured 
 up Tancred restored to health, a devoted friendship between 
 them, immense plans, not inferior achievements, and inex- 
 haustible resources. Then, when he remembered that he 
 was himself the cause of the peril of that precious life on 
 which all his future happiness and success were to depend, 
 he cursed himself. Involved as were the circumstances in 
 which he habitually found himself entangled, the present
 
 286 TAUCRED ; OR 
 
 complication was certainly not inferior to any of the per- 
 plexities which he had hitherto experienced. 
 
 He was to become the bosom friend of a being whom he 
 had successfully plotted to make a prisoner and plunder, 
 and whose life was consequently endangered ; he had to 
 prevail on Amalek to relinquish the ransom which had 
 induced the great Sheikh to quit his Syrian pastures, and 
 had cost the lives of some of his most valuable followers ; 
 while, on the other hand, the new moon was rapidly ap- 
 proaching, when the young Emir had appointed to meet 
 Scheriff Effendi at Gaza, to receive the arms and munitions 
 which were to raise him to empire, and for which he had 
 purposed to pay by a portion of his share in the great 
 plunder which he had himself projected. His baffled brain 
 whirled with wild and impracticable combinations, till, at 
 length, frightened and exhausted, he called for his nargilly, 
 and sought, as was his custom, serenity from its magic 
 tube. In this wise more than three hours had elapsed, the 
 young Emir was himself again, and was calculating the 
 average of the various rates of interest in every town in 
 Syria, from Gaza to Aleppo, when Baroni returned, bearing 
 in his hand an Egyptian vase. 
 
 ' You have found the magic flowers ? ' asked Fakredeen, 
 eagerly. 
 
 ' The flowers of Arnica, noble Emir, of which the lady 
 Eva spoke. I wish the potion had been made in the new 
 moon ; however, it has been blessed. Two things alone 
 now are wanting, that my lord should drink it, and that it 
 should cure him.' 
 
 It was not yet noon when Tancred quaffed the potion. 
 He took it without difficulty, though apparently uncon- 
 scious of the act. As the sun reached its meridian height, 
 Tancred sank into a profound slumber. Fakredeen rushed 
 away to tell Eva, who had now retired into the innermost 
 apartments of the pavilion of Amalek ; Baroni never quitted 
 the tent of his lord. 
 
 The sun set ; the same beautiful rosy tint suffused tho
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 287 
 
 tombs and temples of the city as on the evening of their 
 first forced arrival : still Tancred slept. The camels returned 
 from the river, the lights began to sparkle in the circle of 
 black tents : still Tancred sfept. He slept during the day, 
 and he slept during the twilight, and, when the night came, 
 still Tancred slept. The silver lamp, fed by the oil of the 
 palm tree, threw its delicate white light over the couch on 
 which he rested. Mute, but ever vigilant, Fakredeen and 
 Baroni gazed on their friend and master: still Tancred slept. 
 
 It seemed a night that would never end, and, when the 
 first beam of the morning came, the Emir and his com- 
 panion mutually recognised on their respective counte- 
 nances an expression of distrust, even of terror. Still 
 Tancred slept ; in the same posture and with the same 
 expression, unmoved and pale. "Was it, indeed, sleep ? 
 Baroni touched his wrist, but could find no pulse ; Fakre- 
 deen held his bright dagger over the mouth, yet its bril- 
 liancy was not for a moment clouded. But he was not cold. 
 
 The brow of Baroni was knit with deep thought, and his 
 searching eye fixed upon the recumbent form ; Fakredeen, 
 frightened, ran away to Eva. 
 
 ' I am frightened, because you are frightened,' said 
 Fakredeen, ' whom nothing ever alarms. Rose of 
 Sharon ! why are you so pale ? ' 
 
 ' It is a stain upon our tents if this youth be lost,' said 
 Eva in a low voice, yet attempting to speak with calmness. 
 
 ' But what is it on me ! ' exclaimed Fakredeen, dis- 
 tractedly. 'A stain ! I shall be branded like Cain. No, I 
 will never enter Damascus again, or any of the cities of the 
 coast. I will give up all my castles to my cousin Francis 
 El Kazin, on condition that he does not pay my creditors. 
 I will retire to Mar Hanna. I will look upon man no more.' 
 
 ' Be calm, my Fakredeen ; there is yet hope ; my responsi- 
 bility at this moment is surely not lighter than yours.' 
 
 * Ah ! you did not know him, Eva ! ' exclaimed Fakredeen, 
 passionately ; ' you never listened to him ! He cannot bo 
 to you wbat he is to me. I loved him ! '
 
 288 TANCRED; OB 
 
 She pressed her finger to her lips, for they had arrived at 
 the tent of Tancred. The young Emir, drying his stream- 
 ing eyes, entered first, and then came back and ushered iu 
 Eva. They stood together by the couch of Tancred. The 
 expression of distress, of suffering, of extreme tension, 
 which had not marred, but which, at least, had mingled with 
 the spiritual character of his countenance the previous day, 
 had disappeared. If it were death, it was at least beautiful. 
 Softness and repose suffused his features, and his brow 
 looked as if it had been the temple of an immortal spirit, 
 
 Eva gazed upon the form with a fond, deep melancholy ; 
 Fakredeen and Baroni exchanged glances. Suddenly Tan- 
 cred moved, heaved a deep sigh, and opened his dark eyes. 
 The unnatural fire which had yesterday lit them up had 
 fled. Calmly and thoughtfully he surveyed those around 
 him, and then he said, ' The Lady of Bethany ! ' 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 BETWEEN the Egyptian and the Arabian Deserts, formed by 
 two gulfs of the Erythraean Sea, is a peninsula of granite 
 mountains. It seems as if an ocean of lava, when its waves 
 were literally running mountains high, had been suddenly 
 commanded to stand still. These successive summits, with 
 their peaks and pinnacles, enclose a series of valleys, in 
 general stern and savage, yet some of which are not devoid 
 of pastoral beauty. There may be found brooks of silver 
 brightness, and occasionally groves of palms and gardens of 
 dates, while the neighbouring heights command sublime 
 landscapes, the opposing mountains of Asia and of Afric, 
 and the blue bosom of two seas. On one of these elevations, 
 more than five thousand feet above the ocean, is a convent ; 
 again, nearly three thousand feet above this convent, is a 
 towering peak, and this is Mount Sinai. 
 
 On the top of Mount Sinai are two ruins, a Christian 
 church and a Mahometan mosque. In this, the sublimest
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 289 
 
 scene of Arabian glory, Israel and Ishmael alike raised their 
 altars to the great God of Abraham. Why are they in 
 ruins ? Is it that human structures are not to be endured 
 amid the awful temples of nature and revelation ; and that 
 the column and the cupola crumble into nothingness in 
 sight of the hallowed Horeb and on the soil of the eternal 
 Sinai ? 
 
 Ascending the mountain, about half way between the 
 convent and the utmost height of the towering peak, is a 
 small plain surrounded by rocks. In its centre are a cypress 
 tree and a fountain. This is the traditional scene of the 
 greatest event of time. 
 
 'Tis night ; a solitary pilgrim, long kneeling on the sacred 
 soil, slowly raises his agitated glance to the starry vault of 
 Araby, and, clasping his hands in the anguish of devotion, 
 thus prays : 
 
 ' O Lord God of Israel, Creator of the Universe, ineffable 
 Jehovah ! a cliild of Christendom, I come to thine ancient 
 Arabian altars to pour forth the heart of tortured Europe. 
 Why art thou silent ? Why no longer do the messages of 
 thy renovating will descend on earth ? Faith fades and 
 duty dies. A profound melancholy has fallen on the spirit 
 of man. The priest doubts, the monarch cannot rule, the 
 multitude moans and toils, and calls in its frenzy upon 
 unknown gods. If this transfigured mount may not again 
 behold Thee ; if not again, upon thy sacred Syrian plains, 
 Divinity may teach and solace men ; if prophets may not 
 rise again to herald hope ; at least, of all the starry messen- 
 gers that guard thy throne, let one appear, to save thy 
 creatures from a terrible despair ! ' 
 
 A dimness suffused the stars of Arabia ; the surrounding 
 heights, that had risen sharp and black in the clear purple 
 air, blended in shadowy and fleeting masses, the huge 
 branches of the cypress tree seemed to stir, and the kneel- 
 ing pilgrim sank upon the earth senseless and in a trance. 
 
 And there appeared to him a form ; a shape that should 
 be human, but vast as the surrounding hills. Yet such was 
 
 D
 
 290 TANCRED; OR 
 
 the symmetry of the vision that the visionary felt his little- 
 ness rather than the colossal proportions of the apparition. 
 It was the semblance of one who, though not young, was 
 still untouched by time ; a countenance like an oriental 
 night, dark yet lustrous, mystical yet clear. Thought, 
 rather than melancholy, spoke from the pensive passion of 
 his eyes, while on his lofty forehead glittered a star that 
 threw a solemn radiance on the repose of his majestic 
 features. 
 
 ' Child of Christendom,' said the mighty form, as he seemed 
 slowly to wave a sceptre fashioned like a palm tree, ' I am 
 the angel of Arabia, the guardian spirit of that land which 
 governs the world ; for power is neither the sword nor the 
 shield, for these pass away, but ideas, which are divine. 
 The thoughts of all lands come from a higher source than 
 man, but the intellect of Arabia comes from the Most High. 
 Therefore it is that from this spot issue the principles which 
 regulate the human destiny. 
 
 ' That Christendom which thou hast quitted, and over 
 whose expiring attributes thou art a mourner, was a savage 
 forest while the cedars of Lebanon, for countless ages, had 
 built the palaces of mighty kings. Yet in that forest 
 brooded infinite races that were to spread over the globe, 
 and give a new impulse to its ancient life. It was decreed 
 that, when they burst from their wild woods, the Arabian 
 principles should meet them on the threshold of the old 
 world to guide and to civilise them. All had been prepared. 
 The Caesars had conquered the world to place the Laws of 
 Sinai on the throne of the Capitol, and a Galilean Arab 
 advanced and traced on the front of the rude conquerors of 
 the Caesars the subduing symbol of the last development 
 of Arabian principles. 
 
 'Yet again, and Europe is in the throes of a great birth. 
 The multitudes again are brooding ; but they are not now 
 in the forest ; they are in the cities and in the fertile plains. 
 Since the first sun of this century rose, the intellectual 
 colony of Arabia, once called Christendom, has been in a
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 291 
 
 state of partial and blind revolt. Discontented, they attri- 
 buted their suffering to tbe principles to which they owed 
 all their happiness, and in receding from which they had 
 become proportionably miserable. They have hankered after 
 other gods than the God of Sinai and of Calvary, and they 
 have achieved only desolation. Now they despair. But 
 the eternal principles that controlled barbarian vigour can 
 alone cope with morbid civilisation. The equality of man 
 can only be accomplished by the sovereignty of God. The 
 longing for fraternity can never be satisfied but under the 
 sway of a common father. The relations between Jehovah 
 and his creatures can be neither too numerous nor too near. 
 In the increased distance between God and man have grown 
 up all those developments that have made life mournful. 
 Cease, then, to seek in a vain philosophy the solution of the 
 social problem that perplexes you. Announce the sublime 
 and solacing doctrine of theocratic equality. Fear not, 
 faint not, falter not. Obey the impulse of thine own spirit, 
 and find a ready instrument in every human being.' 
 
 A sound, as of thunder, roused Tancred from his trance. 
 He looked around and above. There rose the mountains 
 sharp and black in the clear purple air ; there shone, with 
 undimmed lustre, the Arabian stars ; but the voice of the 
 angel still lingered in his ear. He descended the mountain : 
 at its base, near the convent, were his slumbering guards, 
 some steeds, and crouching camels. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE beautiful daughter of Besso, pensive and abstracted, 
 played with her beads in the pavilion of her grandfather. 
 Two of her maidens, who had attended her, in a corner of 
 this inner compartment, accompanied the wild murmur of 
 their voices on a stringed instrument, which might in the 
 old days have been a psaltery. They sang the loves of
 
 292 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 Antar and of Ibla, of Leila and of Mejnoun ; the romance 
 of the Desert, tales of passion and of plunder, of the rescue 
 of women and the capture of camels, of heroes with a lion 
 heart, and heroines brighter and softer than the moon. 
 
 The beautiful daughter of Besso, pensive and abstracted, 
 played with her beads in the pavilion of her grandfather. 
 Why is the beautiful daughter of Besso pensive and ab- 
 stracted ? What thoughts are flitting over her mind, 
 silent and soft, like the shadows of birds over the sun- 
 shiny earth ? 
 
 Something that was neither silent nor soft disturbed the 
 lady from her reverie ; the voice of the 'great Sheikh, in a 
 tone of altitude and harshness, with him most unusual. He 
 was in an adjacent apartment, vowing that he would sooner 
 eat the mother of some third person, who was attempting 
 to influence him, than adopt the suggestion offered. Then 
 there were softer and more persuasive tones from his com- 
 panion, but evidently ineffectual. Then the voices of both 
 rose together in emulous clamour one roaring like a bull, 
 the other shrieking like some wild bird ; one full of menace, 
 and the other taunting and impertinent. All this was fol- 
 lowed by a dead silence, which continuing, Eva assumed 
 that the Sheikh and his companion had quitted his tent. 
 While her mind was recurring to those thoughts which 
 occupied them previously to this outbreak, the voice of 
 Fakredeen was heard outside her tent, saying, ' Rose of 
 Sharon, let me come into the hareem ; ' and, scarcely 
 waiting for permission, the young Emir, flushed and ex- 
 cited, entered, and almost breathless threw himself on the 
 divan. 
 
 ' Who says I am a coward ? ' he exclaimed, with a glance 
 of devilish mockery . ' I may run away sometimes, but what 
 of that ? I have got moral courage, the only thing worth 
 having, since the invention of gunpowder. The beast is not 
 killed, but I have looked into the den ; 'tis something. 
 Courage, my fragrant Rose, have faith in me at last. I may 
 make an imbroglio sometimes, but, for getting out of a
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 2J3 
 
 scrape, I would back myself against any picaroon in tho 
 Levant ; and that is saying a good deal.' 
 
 ' Another imbroglio ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, no ! the same ; part of the great blunder. You must 
 have heard us raging like a thousand Afrites. I never knew 
 the great Sheikh so wild.' 
 
 'And why?' 
 
 ' He should take a lesson from Mehemet Ali,' continued 
 the Emir. ' Giving up Syria, after the conquest, was a much 
 greater sacrifice than giving up plunder which he has not 
 yet touched. And the great Pacha did it as quietly as if he 
 were marching into Stambool instead, which he might have 
 done if he had been an Arab instead of a Turk. Every- 
 thing comes from Arabia, my dear Eva, at least everything 
 that is worth anything. We two ought to thank our stars 
 every day that we were born Arabs.' 
 
 ' And the great Sheikh still harps upon this ransom ? ' 
 inquired Eva. 
 
 ' He does, and most unreasonably. For, after all, what 
 do we ask him to give up? a bagatelle.' 
 
 ' Hardly that,' said Eva ; ' two millions of piastres can 
 scarcely be called a bagatelle.' 
 
 ' It is not two millions of piastres,' said Fakredeen ; ' there 
 is your fallacy, 'tis the same as your grandfather's. In the 
 first place, he would have taken one million ; then half be- 
 longed to me, which reduces his share to five hundred 
 thousand ; then I meant to have borrowed his share of him.' 
 
 ' Borrowed his share ! ' said Eva. 
 
 ' Of course I should have allowed him interest, good in- 
 terest. What could the great Sheikh want five hundred 
 thousand piastres for ? He has camels enough ; he has so 
 many horses, that he wants to change some with me for 
 arms at this moment. Is he to dig a hole in the sand by 
 a well-side to put his treasure in, like the treasure of 
 Solomon ; or to sew up his bills of exchange in his turban ? 
 The thing is ridiculous. I never contemplated, for a 
 moment, that the great Sheikh should take any hard
 
 294 TANCKED; OR 
 
 piastres out of circulation, to lock them up in the wilder- 
 ness. It might disturb the currency of all Syria, upset the 
 exchanges, and very much injure your family, Eva, of 
 whose interests I am never unmindful. I meant the great 
 Sheikh to invest his capital ; he might have made a good 
 thing of it. I could have afforded to pay him thirty per 
 cent, for his share, and made as much by the transaction 
 myself; for you see, as I am paying sixty per cent, at 
 Beiroot, Tripoli, Latakia, and every accursed town of the 
 coast at this moment, the thing is clear ; and I wish you 
 would only get your father to view it in the same light, and 
 we might do immense things ! Think of this, my Rose of 
 Sharon, dear, dear Eva, think of this : your father might 
 make his fortune and mine too, if he would only lend me 
 money at thirty per cent.' 
 
 ' You frighten me always, Fakredeen, by these allusions 
 to your affairs. Can it be possible that they are so very 
 bad!' 
 
 ' Good, Eva, you mean good. I should be incapable of 
 anything, if it were not for my debts. I am naturally so 
 indolent, that if I did not remember in the morning that I 
 was ruined, I should never be able to distinguish myself.' 
 
 'You never will distinguish yourself,' said Eva; 'you 
 never can, with these dreadful embarrassments.' 
 
 ' Shall I not ? ' said Fakredeen, triumphantly. ' What 
 are my debts to my resources ? That is the point. You 
 cannot judge of a man by only knowing what his debts are ; 
 you must be acquainted with his resources.' 
 
 'But your estates are mortgaged, your crops sold, at 
 least you tell me so,' said Eva, mournfully. 
 
 ' Estates ! crops ! A man may have an idea worth 
 twenty estates, a principle of action that will bring him in 
 a greater harvest than all Lebanon.' 
 
 'A principle of action is indeed precious,' said Eva ; 'but 
 although you certainly have ideas, and very ingenious ones, 
 a principle of action is exactly the thing which I have 
 always thought you wanted.'
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 295 
 
 'Well, I have got it at last,' said Fakredeen; 'every- 
 thing comes if a man will only wait.' 
 
 ' And what is your principle of action ? ' 
 
 ' Faith.' 
 
 ' In yourself ? Surely in that respect you have not 
 hitherto been sceptical ? ' 
 
 ' No ; in Mount Sinai.' 
 
 ' In Mount Sinai ! ' 
 
 ' You may well be astonished ; but so it is. The English 
 prince has been to Mount Sinai, and he has seen an angel. 
 What passed between them I do not yet know ; but one 
 thing is certain, he is quite changed by the interview. He 
 is all for action : so far as I can form an opinion in the 
 present crude state of affairs, it is not at all impossible that 
 he may put himself at the head of the Asian movement. 
 If you have faith, there is nothing you may not do. One 
 thing is quite settled, that he will not at present return to 
 Jerusalem, but, for change of air and other reasons, make a 
 visit with me to Canobia.' 
 
 ' He seems to have great purpose in him,' said Eva, with 
 an air of some constraint. 
 
 'By-the-bye,' said Fakredeen, 'how came you, Eva, never 
 to tell me that you were acquainted with him ? ' 
 
 ' Acquainted with him ? ' said Eva. 
 
 ' Yes ; he recognised you immediately when he recovered 
 himself, and he has admitted to me since that he has seen 
 you before, though I could not get much out of him about 
 it. He will talk for ever about Arabia, faith, war, and 
 angels; but, if you touch on anything personal, I observe 
 he is always very shy. He has not my fatal frankness. 
 Did you know him at Jerusalem ? ' 
 
 ' I met him by hazard for a moment at Bethany. I 
 neither asked then, nor did he impart to me, his name. 
 How then could I tell you we were acquainted ? or be 
 aware that the stranger of my casual interview was this 
 young Englishman whom you have made a captive ? ' 
 
 * Hush ! ' said Fakredeen, with an air of real or affected
 
 296 TANCEED ; OR 
 
 alarm. ' He is going to be my guest at my principal castle. 
 What do you mean by captive ? You mean whom I have 
 saved from captivity, or am about to save ? ' 
 
 ' Well, that would appear to be the real question to which 
 you ought to address yourself at this moment,' said Eva. 
 ' Were I you, I should postpone the great Asian movement 
 until you had disembarrassed yourself from your present 
 position, rather an equivocal one both for a patriot and a 
 friend.' 
 
 ' Oh! I'll manage the great Sheikh,' said Fakredeen, 
 carelessly. ' There is too much plunder in the future for 
 Amalek to quarrel with me. When he scents the possi- 
 bility of the Bedoueen cavalry being poured into Syria and 
 Asia Minor, we shall find him more manageable. The only 
 thing now is to heal the present disappointment by extenu- 
 ating circumstances. If I could screw up a few thousand 
 piastres for backsheesh,' and he looked Eva in the face, 
 ' or could put anything in his way ! What do you think, 
 Eva?' 
 
 Eva shook her head. 
 
 'What an obstinate Jew dog he is!' said Fakredeen. 
 ' His rapacity is revolting! ' 
 
 ' An obstinate Jew dog!' exclaimed Eva, rising, her eyes 
 flashing, her nostrils dilating with contemptuous rage. The 
 manner of Fakredeen had not pleased her this morning. 
 His temper was very uncertain, and, when crossed, he was 
 deficient in delicacy. Indeed, he was too selfish, with all 
 his sensibility and refined breeding, to be ever sufficiently 
 considerate of the feelings of others. He was piqued also 
 that he had not been informed of the previous acquaintance 
 of Eva and Tancred. Her reason for not apprising him of 
 their interview at Bethany, though not easily impugnable, 
 was not as satisfactory to his understanding as to his ear. 
 Again, his mind and heart were so absorbed at this moment 
 by the image of Tancred, and he was so entirely under the 
 influence of his own idealised conceptions of his new and 
 latest friend, that, according to his custom, no other being
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 297 
 
 could interest him. Although he was himself the sole 
 cause of all the difficult and annoying circumstances in 
 which he found himself involved, the moment that his 
 passions and his interests alike required that Tancred 
 should be free and uninjured, he acted, and indeed felt, as 
 if Amalek alone were responsible for the capture and the 
 detention of Lord Montacute. 
 
 The young Emir indeed was, at this moment, in one of 
 those moods, which had often marred his popularity, but 
 in which he had never indulged towards Eva before. She 
 had, throughout his life, been the commanding influence of 
 his being. He adored and feared her, and knew that she 
 loved, and rather despised him. But Eva had ceased to be 
 the commanding influence over Fakredeen. At this mo- 
 ment Fakredeen would have sacrificed the whole family 
 of Besso to secure the devotion of Tancred ; and the coarse 
 and rude exclamation to which he had given vent, indi- 
 cated the current of his feelings and the general tenor of 
 his mind. 
 
 Eva knew him by heart. Her clear sagacious intellect 
 acting upon an individual, whom sympathy and circum- 
 stances had combined to make her comprehend, analysed 
 with marvellous facility his complicated motives, and in 
 general successfully penetrated his sovereign design. 
 
 ' An obstinate Jew dog ! ' she exclaimed ; ' and who art 
 thou, thou jackal of this lion! who should dare to speak 
 thus ? Is it not enough that you have involved us all in 
 unspeakable difficulty and possible disgrace, that we are to 
 receive words of contumely from lips like yours ? One 
 would think you were the English Consul arrived here to 
 make a representation in favour of his countryman, instead 
 of being the individual who planned his plunder, occasioned 
 his captivity, and endangered his life! It is a pity that 
 this young noble is not acquainted with your claims to his 
 confidence.' 
 
 The possibility that in a moment of irritation Eva might 
 reveal his secret, some rising remorse at what he had said,
 
 298 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 and the superstitions reverence with which he still clung to 
 her, all acting upon Fakredeen at the same time, he felt 
 that he had gone too far, and thereupon he sprang from 
 the divan, on which he had been insolently lolling, and 
 threw himself at the feet of his foster-sister, whimpering 
 and kissing her slippers, and calling her, between his sobs, 
 a thousand fond names. 
 
 ' I am a villain,' he said, ' but yon know it ; yon have 
 always known it. For God's sake stand by me now ; 'tis 
 my only chance. Yon are the only being I love in the 
 world, except your family. You know how I respect them. 
 Is not Besso my father ? And the great Sheikh, I honour 
 the great Sheikh. He is one of my allies. Even this ac- 
 cursed business proves it. Besides, what do you mean, by 
 words of contumely from my lips ? Am I not a Jew my- 
 self, or as good ? Why should I insult them ? I only wish 
 we were in the Land of Promise, instead of this infernal 
 wilderness.' 
 
 ' Well, well, let ns consult together,' said Eva, 'reproaches 
 are barren.' 
 
 'Ah! Eva,' said Fakredeen, ' I am not reproaching you ; 
 but if, the evening I was at Bethany, yon had only told me 
 that yon had just parted with this Englishman, all this 
 would not have occurred.' 
 
 ' How do yon know that I had then just parted with this 
 Englishman ? ' said Eva, colouring and confused. 
 
 ' Because I marked him on the road. I little thought 
 then that he had been in your retreat. I took him for 
 some Frank, looking after the tomb of Lazarus.' 
 
 ' I found him in my garden,' said Eva, not entirely at 
 her ease, 'and sent my attendants to him.' 
 
 Fakredeen was walking up and down the tent, and 
 seemed lost in thought. Suddenly he stopped and said, 
 ' I see it all ; I have a combination that will put all right.' 
 
 'Pnt all right?' 
 
 ' See, the day after to-morrow I have appointed to meet 
 a friend of mine at Gaza, who has a caravan that wants
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 299 
 
 convoy through the Desert to the mountain. The Sheikh 
 of Sheikhs shall have it. It will be as good as ten thou- 
 sand piastres. That will be honey in his mouth. He will 
 forget the past, and our English friend can return with 
 you and me to El Khuds.' 
 
 I shall not return to El Khuds,' said Eva. ' The great 
 Sheikh will convoy me to Damascus, where I shall remain 
 till I go to Aleppo.' 
 
 ' May you never reach Aleppo ! ' said Fakredeen, with a 
 clouded countenance, for Eva in fact alluded to her ap- 
 proaching marriage with her cousin. 
 
 ' But after all,' resumed Eva, wishing to change the cur- 
 rent of his thoughts, ' all these arrangements, so far as I am 
 interested, depend upon the success of my mission to the 
 great Sheikh. If he will not release my father's charge, 
 the spears of his people will never guard me again. And I 
 see little prospect of my success ; nor do I think ten thou- 
 sand piastres, however honestly gained, will be more tempt- 
 ing than the inclination to oblige our house.' 
 
 ' Ten thousand piastres is not much,' said Fakredeen. 
 ' I give it every three months for interest to a little Copt at 
 Beiroot, whose property I will confiscate the moment I have 
 the government of the country in my hands. Bat then I 
 only add my ten thousand piastres to the amount of my 
 debt. Ten thousand piastres in coin are a very different 
 affair. They will jingle in the great Sheikh's purse. His 
 people will think he has got the treasure of Solomon. It 
 will do ; he will give them all a gold kaireen apiece, and 
 they will braid them in their girls' hair.' 
 
 ' It will scarcely buy camels for Sheikh Salem's widow,' 
 said Eva. 
 
 * I will manage that,' said Fakredeen. ' The great Sheikh 
 has camels enough, and I will give him arms in exchange.' 
 
 ' Arms at Canobia will not reach the Stony wilderness.' 
 
 ' No ; but I have got arms nearer at hand ; that is, my 
 friend, my friend whom I am going to meet at Gaza, has 
 some ; enough, and to spare. By the Holy Sepulchre, I see
 
 300 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 it ! ' said Fakredeen. ' I tell you how I will manage the 
 whole business. The great Sheikh wants arms ; well, I 
 will give him five hundred muskets for the ransom, and he 
 shall have the convoy besides. He'll take it. I know him. 
 He thinks now all is lost, and, when he finds that he is to 
 have a jingling purse and English muskets enough to con- 
 quer Tadmor, he will close.' 
 
 ' But how are we to get these arms ? ' said Eva. 
 
 ' Why, Scheriff Effendi, to be sure. You know I am to 
 meet him at Gaza the day after to-morrow, and receive his 
 five thousand muskets. Well, five hundred for the great 
 Sheikh will make them four thousand five hundred; no 
 great difference.' 
 
 ' Scheriff Effendi ! ' said Eva, with some surprise. ' I 
 thought I had obtained three months' indulgence for you 
 with Scheriff Effendi.' 
 
 ' Ah ! yes, no,' said Fakredeen, blushing. ' The fact is, 
 Eva, darling, beloved Eva, it is no use telling any more lies. 
 I only asked you to speak to Scheriff Effendi to obtain time 
 for me about payment, to throw you off the scent, as you 
 so strongly disapproved of my buccaneering project. But 
 Scheriff Effendi is a camel. I was obliged to agree to meet 
 him at Gaza on the new moon, pay him his two hundred 
 thousand piastres, and receive the cargo. Well, I turn cir- 
 cumstances to account. The great Sheikh will convey the 
 muskets to the mountains.' 
 
 ' But who is to pay for them ?' inquired Eva. 
 
 ' Why, if men want to head the Asian movement, they 
 must have muskets,' said Fakredeen ; ' and, after all, as we 
 are going to save the English prince two millions of piastres, 
 I do not think he can object to paying Scheriff Effendi for 
 his goods ; particularly as he will have the muskets for his 
 money.'
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 301 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 TAKCHED rapidly recovered. On tlio second day after Ms 
 recognition of Eva, he had held that conversation with Fa- 
 kredeen, which had determined the young Emir not to lose 
 a moment in making the effort to induce Amalek to forego 
 his ransom, the result of which he had communicated to 
 Eva on their subsequent interview. On the third day, Tan- 
 cred rose from his couch, and would even have quitted the 
 tent, had not Baroni dissuaded him. He was the more in- 
 duced to do so, for on this day he missed his amusing com- 
 panion, the Emir. It appeared from the account of Baroni, 
 that his highness had departed at dawn, on his dromedary 
 and without an attendant. According to Baroni, nothing 
 was yet settled either as to the ransom or the release of 
 Tancred. It seemed that the great Sheikh had been im- 
 patient to return to his chief encampment, and nothing but 
 the illness of Tancred would probably have induced him to 
 remain in the Stony Arabia as long as he had done. The 
 lady Eva had not, since her arrival at the ruined city, en- 
 couraged Baroni in any communication on the subject, 
 which heretofore during their journey had entirely occupied 
 her consideration, from which he inferred that she had no- 
 thing very satisfactory to relate ; yet he was not without 
 hope, as he felt assured that Eva would not have remained 
 a day were she convinced that there was no chance of effect- 
 ing her original purpose. The comparative contentment of 
 the great Sheikh at this moment, her silence, and the sud- 
 den departure of Fakredeen, induced Baroni to believe that 
 there was yet something on the cards, and, being of a san- 
 guine disposition, he sincerely encouraged his master, who, 
 however, did not appear to be very desponding. 
 
 ' The Emir told me yesterday that he was certain to ar- 
 range everything,' said Tancred, ' without in any way com- 
 promising us. We cannot expect such an adventure to end 
 like a day of hunting. Some camels must be given, and,
 
 302 TASCKED; OB 
 
 perhaps, something else. I am sure the Emir will manage 
 it all, especially with the aid and counsel of that beauteous 
 Lady of Bethany, in whose wisdom and goodness I have 
 implicit faith.' 
 
 ' I have more faith in her than in the Emir,' said Baroni. 
 ' I never know what these Shehaabs are after. Now he has 
 not gone to El Khuds this morning ; of that I am sure.' 
 
 ' I am under the greatest obligations to the Emir Fakre- 
 deen,' said Tancred, ' and, independently of such circum- 
 stances, I very much like him.' 
 
 'I know nothing against the noble Emir,' said Baroni, 
 ' and I am sure he has been extremely polite and attentive 
 to your lordship ; but still those Shehaabs, they are such a 
 set, always after something ! ' 
 
 ' He is ardent and ambitious,' said Tancred, ' and he is 
 young. Are these faults ? Besides, he has not had the 
 advantage of our stricter training. He has been without 
 guides ; and is somewhat undisciplined, and self-formed. 
 But he has a great and interesting position, and is brilliant 
 and energetic. Providence may have appointed him to ful- 
 fil great ends.' 
 
 ' A Shehaab will look after the main chance,' said Baroni. 
 
 ' But his main chance may be the salvation of his coun- 
 try,' said Tancred. 
 
 ' Nothing can save his country,' said Baroni. ' The 
 Syrians were ever slaves.' 
 
 ' I do not call them slaves now,' said Tancred ; ' why, 
 they are armed and are warlike ! All that they want is a 
 cause.' 
 
 ' And that they never will have,' said Baroni. 
 
 Why ? ' 
 
 ' The East is used up.' 
 
 * It is not more used up than when Mahomet arose,' said 
 Tancred. ' Weak and withering as may be the government 
 of the Turks, it is not more feeble and enervated than that 
 of the Greek empire and the Chosroes.' 
 
 ' I don't know anything about them,' replied Baroni ; 
 but I know there is nothing to be done with the people
 
 THE NEW CBUSADE. 303 
 
 here. I have seen something of them,' said B&roni. ' M, 
 de Sidonia tried to do something in '39, and, if there had 
 been a spark of spirit or of sense in Syria, that was the 
 time, but ' and here Baroni shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 ' But what was your principle of action in '39 ?' inquired 
 Tancred, evidently interested. 
 
 ' The only principle of action in this world,' said Baroni ; 
 ' we had plenty of money ; we might have had three millions.' 
 
 ' And if yon had had six, or sixteen, your efforts would 
 have been equally fruitless. I do not believe in national 
 regeneration in the shape of a foreign loan. Look at Greece ! 
 And yet a man might climb Mount Carmel, and utter three 
 words which would bring the Arabs again to Grenada, and 
 perhaps further.' 
 
 ' They have no artillery,' said Baroni. 
 
 ' And the Turks have artillery and cannot use it,' said 
 Lord Montacute. 'Why, the most favoured part of the 
 globe at this moment is entirely defenceless ; there is not a 
 soldier worth firing at in Asia except the Sepoys. The Per- 
 sian, Assyrian, and Babylonian monarchies might be gained 
 in a morning with faith and the flourish of a sabre.' 
 
 'You would have the Great Powers interfering,' said 
 Baroni. 
 
 ' What should I care for the Great Powers, if the Lord 
 of Hosts were on my side ! ' 
 
 ' Why, to be sure they could not do much at Bagdad or 
 Ispahan.' 
 
 'Work out a great religious truth on the Persian and 
 Mesopotamian plains, the most exuberant soils in the 
 world with the scantiest population, it would revivify Asia. 
 It must spread. The peninsula of Arabia, when in action, 
 must always command the peninsula of the Lesser Asia. 
 Asia revivified would act upon Europe. The European 
 comfort, which they call civilisation, is, after all, confined 
 to a very small space : the island of Great Britain, France, 
 and the course of a single river, the Rhine. The greater 
 part of Europe is as dead as Asia, without the consolation 
 of climate and the influence of immortal traditions.'
 
 304 TANCRED: OR 
 
 'T just found time, my lord, when I was at Jerusalem, to 
 call in at the Consulate, and see the ColoneJ,' said Baroui ; 
 1 1 thought it as well to explain the affair a little to him. 1 
 found that even the rumour of our mischance had not 
 reached him ; so I said enough to prevent any alarm when 
 it arrived ; he will believe that we furnished him with the 
 priority of intelligence, and he expects your daily return.' 
 
 ' You did well to call ; we know not what may happen. 
 I doubt, however, whether I shall return to Jerusalem. If 
 affairs are pleasantly arranged here, I think of visiting the 
 Emir, at his castle of Canobia. A change of air must be 
 the best thing for me, and Lebanon, by his account, is deli- 
 cious at this season. Indeed, I want air, and I must go out 
 now, Baroni ; I cannot stay in this close tent any longer ; 
 the sun has set, and there is no longer any fear of those 
 fatal heats of which you are in such dread for me.' 
 
 It was the first night of the new moon, and the white 
 beams of the young crescent were just beginning to steal 
 over the lately flushed and empurpled scene. The air was 
 still glowing, and the evening breeze, which sometimes 
 wandered through the ravines from the gulf of Akabah, had 
 not yet arrived. Tancred, shrouded in his Bedoueen cloak, 
 and accompanied by Baroni, visited the circle of black tents, 
 which they found almost empty, the whole band, with the 
 exception of the scouts, who are always on duty in an Arab 
 encampment, being assembled in the ruins of the amphi- 
 theatre, in whose arena, opposite to the pavilion of the great 
 Sheikh, a celebrated poet was reciting the visit of Antar to 
 the temple of the fire-worshippers, and the adventures 
 of that greatest of Arabian heroes among the effeminate 
 and astonished courtiers of the generous and magnificent 
 Nushirvan. 
 
 The audience was not a scanty one, for this chosen de- 
 tachment of the children of Rechab had been two hundred 
 strong, and the great majority of them were now assem- 
 bled; some seated, as the ancient Idumaeans, on the still 
 entire seats of the amphitheatre ; most squatted in groups
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 305 
 
 upon the ground, though at a respectful distance from the 
 poet ; others standing amid the crumbling pile and leaning 
 against the tall dark fragments just beginning to be silvered 
 by the moon-beam ; but in all their countenances, their 
 quivering features, their flashing eyes, the mouth open with 
 absorbing suspense, were expressed a wild and vivid ex- 
 citement, the heat of sympathy, and a ravishing delight. 
 
 When Antar, in the tournament, overthrew the famous 
 Greek knight, who had travelled from Constantinople to 
 beard the court of Persia ; when he caught in his hand the 
 assassin spear of the Persian satrap, envious of his Arabian 
 chivalry, and returned it to his adversary's heart ; when he 
 shouted from his saddle that he was the lover of Ibla and 
 the horseman of the age ; the audience exclaimed with rap- 
 turous earnestness, ' It is true, it is true ! ' although they 
 were guaranteeing the assertions of a hero who lived, and 
 loved, and fought more than fourteen hundred years before. 
 Antar is the Iliad of the Desert ; the hero is the passion of 
 the Bedoueens. They will listen for ever to his forays, 
 when he raised the triumphant cry of his tribe, ' Oh! by 
 Abs ; oh ! by Adnan,' to the narratives of the camels he 
 captured, the men he slew, and the maidens to whose 
 charms he was indifferent, for he was ' ever the lover of 
 Ibla.' What makes this great Arabian invention still more 
 interesting is, that it was composed at a period antecedent 
 to the Prophet ; it describes the Desert before the Koran ; 
 and it teaches us how little the dwellers in it were changed 
 by the introduction and adoption of Islamism. 
 
 As Tancred and his companion reached the amphitheatre, 
 a ringing laugh resounded. 
 
 'Antar is dining with the King of Persia after his vic- 
 tory,' said Baroni ; ' this is a favourite scene with the Arabs. 
 Antar asks the courtiers the name of every dish, and whe- 
 ther the king dines so every day. He bares his arms, and 
 chucks the food into his mouth without ever moving his 
 jaws. They have heard this all their lives, but always 
 
 X
 
 306 TANCRED; OR 
 
 laugh at it with the same heartiness. Why, Shedad, son 
 of Amroo,' continued Baroni to an Arab near him, ' you 
 have listened to this ever since you first tasted liban, and it 
 .still pleases you ! ' 
 
 ' I am never wearied with listening to fine language,' said 
 the Bedoueen ; ' perfumes are always sweet, though you may 
 have smelt them a thousand times.' 
 
 Except when there was some expression of feeling elicited 
 by the performance, a shout or a laugh, the silence was ab- 
 solute. Not a whisper could be heard ; and it was in a 
 muffled tone that Baroni intimated to Tancied that the 
 great Sheikh was present, and that, as this was his first 
 appearance since his illness, he must pay his respects to 
 Amalek. So saying, and preceding Tancred, in order that 
 he might announce his arrival, Baroni approached the pavi- 
 lion. The great Sheikh welcomed Tancred with a benignant 
 smile, motioned to him to sit upon his carpet ; rejoiced that 
 he was recovered ; hoped that he should live a thousand 
 years ; gave him his pipe, and then, turning again to tho 
 poet, was instantly lost in the interest of his narrative. 
 Baroni, standing as near Tancred as the carpet would per- 
 mit him, occasionally leant over and gave his lord an inti- 
 mation of what was occurring. 
 
 After a little while, the poet ceased. Then there was a 
 general hum and great praise, and many men said to each 
 other, ' All this is true, for my father told it to me before.' 
 The great Sheikh, who was highly pleased, ordered his 
 slaves to give the poet a cup of coffee, and, taking from his 
 own vest an immense purse, more than a foot in length, he 
 extracted from it, after a vast deal of research, one of the 
 smallest of conceivable coins, which the poet pressed to his 
 lips, and, notwithstanding the exiguity of the donation, 
 declared that God was great. 
 
 ' Sheikh of Sheikhs,' said the poet, ' what I have re- 
 cited, though it is by the gift of God, is in fact written, and 
 has been ever since the days of the giants ; but I have also 
 dipped my pen into my own brain, and now I would recite
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 307 
 
 a poem which I hope some day may be suspended in the 
 temple of Mecca. It is in honour of one who, were she to 
 rise to our sight, would be as the full moon when it rises 
 over the Desert. Yes, I sing of Eva, the daughter of Ama- 
 lek (the Bedoueens always omitted Besso in her genealogy), 
 Eva, the daughter of a thousand chiefs. May she never quit 
 the tents of her race ! May she always ride upon Nejid 
 steeds and dromedaries, with harness of silver! May she 
 live among us for ever ! May she show herself to the people 
 like a free Arabian maiden ! ' 
 
 ' They are the thoughts of truth,' said the delighted 
 Bedoueens to one another ; ' every word is a pearl.' 
 
 And the great Sheikh sent a slave to express his wish 
 that Eva and her maidens should appear. So she came to 
 listen to the ode which the poet had composed in her 
 honour. He had seen palm trees, but they were not as tall 
 and graceful as Eva ; he had beheld the eyes of doves and 
 antelopes, but they were not as bright and soft as hers ; he 
 had tasted the fresh springs in the wilderness, but they 
 were not more welcome than she ; and the soft splendour of 
 the Desert moon was not equal to her brow. She was the 
 daughter of Amalek, the daughter of a thousand chiefs. 
 Might she live for ever in their tents ; ever ride on Nejid 
 steeds and on dromedaries with silver harness ; ever show 
 herself to the people like a free Arabian maiden ! 
 
 The poet, after many variations on this theme, ceased 
 amid great plaudits. 
 
 ' He is a true poet,' said au Arab, who was, like most of 
 his brethren, a critic ; ' he is in truth a second Antar.' 
 
 ' If he had recited these verses before the King of Persia, 
 he would have given him a thousand camels,' replied his 
 neighbour, gravely. 
 
 * They ought to be suspended in the temple of Mecca,' 
 said a third. 
 
 ' What I most admire is his image of the full moon ; that 
 cannot be too often introduced,' said a fourth. 
 
 ' Truly the moon should ever shine,' said a fifth. ' Also 
 z 2
 
 308 TANCRED; OR 
 
 in all truly fine verses there should be palm trees and fresh 
 springs.' 
 
 Tancred, to whom Baroni had conveyed the meaning of 
 the verses, was also pleased : having observed that, on a 
 previous occasion, the great Sheikh had rewarded the bard, 
 Tancred ventured to take a chain, which he fortunately 
 chanced to wear, from his neck, and sent it to the poet of 
 Eva. This made a great sensation, and highly delighted 
 the Arabs. 
 
 ' Truly this is the brother of queens,' they whispered to 
 each other. 
 
 Now the audience was breaking up and dispersing, and 
 Tancred, rising, begged permission of his host to approach 
 Eva, who was seated at the entrance of the pavilion, some- 
 what withdrawn from them. 
 
 'If I were a poet,' said Tancred, bending before her, 'I 
 would attempt to express my gratitude to the Lady of 
 Bethany. I hope,' he added, after a moment's pause, ' that 
 Baroni laid my message at your feet. When I begged your 
 permission to thank you in person to-morrow, I had not 
 imagined that I should have been so wilful as to quit the 
 tent to-night.' 
 
 'It will not harm you,' said Eva ; ' our Arabian nights 
 bear balm.' 
 
 * I feel it,' said Tancred ; ' this evening will complete the 
 cure you so benignantly commenced.' 
 
 ' Mine were slender knowledge and simple means,' said 
 Eva ; ' but I rejoice that they were of use, more especially 
 as I learn that we are all interested in your pilgrimage.' 
 
 ' The Emir Fakredeen has epoken to you? ' said Tancred, 
 inquiringly, and with a countenance a little agitated. 
 
 ' He has spoken to me of some things, for which cur pre- 
 vious conversation had not entirely unprepared me.' 
 
 'Ah! ' said Tancred, musingly, ' our previous conversation. 
 It is not very long ago since I slumbered by the side of your 
 fountain, and yet it seems to me an age, an age of thought 
 and events.'
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 309 
 
 4 Yet even then your heart was turned towards our un- 
 happy Asia,' said the Lady of Bethany. 
 
 ' Unhappy Asia ! Do you call it unhappy Asia! This 
 land of divine deeds and divine thoughts ! Its slumber is 
 more vital than the waking life of the rest of the globe, as 
 the dream of genius is more precious than the vigils of 
 ordinary men. Unhappy Asia, do you call it? It is the 
 unhappiness of Europe over which I mourn.' 
 
 'Europe, that has conquered Ilindostan, protects Persia 
 and Asia Minor, affects to have saved Syria,' said Eva, with 
 some bitterness. ' Oh ! what can we do against Europe ? ' 
 
 ' Save it,' said Tancred. 
 
 ' We cannot save ourselves ; what means have we to save 
 others?' 
 
 ' The same you have ever exercised, Divine Truth. Send 
 forth a great thought, as you have done before, from Mount 
 Sinai, from the villages of Galilee, from the deserts of 
 Arabia, and you may again remodel all their institutions, 
 change their principles of action, and breathe a new spirit 
 into the whole scope of their existence.' 
 
 ' I have sometimes dreamed such dreams,' murmured 
 Eva, looking down. ' No, no,' she exclaimed, raising her 
 head, after a moment's pause, ' it is impossible. Europe is 
 too proud, with its new command over nature, to listen 
 even to prophets. Levelling mountains, riding without 
 horses, sailing without winds, how can these men believe 
 that there is any power, human or divine, superior to 
 themselves?' 
 
 ' As for their command over nature,' said Tancred, ' let 
 us see how it will operate in a second deluge. Command 
 over nature ! Why the humblest root that serves for the 
 food of man has mysteriously withered throughout Europe, 
 and they are already pale at the possible consequences. 
 This slight eccentricity of that nature, which they boast 
 they can command, has already shaken empires, and may 
 decide the fate of nations. No, gentle lady, Europe is not 
 happy. Amid its false excitement, its bustling invention,
 
 310 TANCRED; OB 
 
 and its endless toil, a profound melancholy broods over its 
 spirit and gnaws at its heart. In vain they baptize their 
 tumult by the name of progress ; the whisper of a demon 
 is ever asking them, " Progress, from whence and to what ? " 
 Excepting those who still cling to your Arabian creeds, 
 Europe, that quarter of the globe to which God has never 
 spoken, Europe is without consolation.' 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THREE or four days had elapsed since the departure of 
 Fakredeen, and during each of them Tancred saw Eva ; in- 
 deed, his hours were much passed in the pavilion of the 
 great Sheikh, and, though he was never alone with the 
 daughter of Besso, the language which they spoke, un- 
 known to those about them, permitted them to confer with- 
 out restraint on those subjects in which they were interested. 
 Tancred opened his mind without reserve to Eva, for he 
 liked to test the soundness of his conclusions by her clear 
 intelligence. Her lofty spirit harmonised with his own 
 high-toned soul. He found both sympathy and inspiration 
 in her heroic purposes. Her passionate love of her race, 
 her deep faith in the destiny and genius of her Asian land, 
 greatly interested him. To his present position she re- 
 ferred occasionally, but with reluctance ; it seemed as if 
 she thought it unkind entirely to pass it over, yet that to 
 be reminded of it was not satisfactory. Of Fakredeen she 
 spoke much and frequently. She expressed with frankness, 
 even with warmth, her natural and deep regard for him, the 
 interest she took in his career, and the high opinion she 
 entertained of his powers ; but she lamented his inventive 
 restlessness, which often arrested action, and intimated 
 how much he might profit by the counsels of a friend more 
 distinguished for consistency and sternness of purpose. 
 
 In the midst of all this, Fakredeen returned. He came 
 in the early morning, and immediately repaired to the
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE 311 
 
 pavilion of the great Sheikh, with whom he was long 
 closeted. Baroni first brought the news to Tancred, and 
 subsequently told him that the quantity of nargilliea 
 smoked by the young Emir indicated not only a prolonged, 
 but a difficult, controversy. Some time after this, Tancred, 
 lounging in front of liis tent, and watching the shadows as 
 they stole over the mountain tombs, observed Fakredeen 
 issue from the pavilion of Amalek. His flushed and radiant 
 countenance would seem to indicate good news. As he re- 
 cognised Tancred, he saluted him in the Eastern fashion, 
 liastily touching his heart, his lip, and his brow. When he 
 had reached Tancred, Fakredeen threw himself in his arms, 
 and, embracing him, whispered in an agitated voice on the 
 breast of Lord Montacute, 'Friend of my heart, you are free! ' 
 
 In the meantime, Amalek announced to his tribe that 
 at sunset the encampment would break up, and they would 
 commence their return to the Syrian wilderness, through 
 the regions eastward of the Dead Sea. The lady Eva 
 would accompany them, and the children of Bechab were 
 to have the honour of escorting her and her attendants to 
 the gates of Damascus. A detachment of five-and-twenty 
 Beni-Rechab were to accompany Fakredeen and Tancred, 
 Hassan and his Jellaheens, in a contrary direction of the 
 Desert, until they arrived at Gaza, where they were to await 
 further orders from the young Emir. 
 
 No sooner was this intelligence circulated, than the 
 silence which had pervaded the Desert ruins at once ceased. 
 Men came out of every tent and tomb. All was bustle and 
 noise. They chattered, they sang, they talked to their 
 horses, they apprised their camels of the intended expe- 
 dition. They declared that the camels had consented to 
 go ; they anticipated a prosperous journey ; they speculated 
 oil what tribes they might encounter. 
 
 It required all the consciousness of great duties, all the 
 i aspiration of a great purpose, to sustain Tancred under 
 this sudden separation from Eva. Much he regretted that 
 it was not also his lot to traverse the Syrian wilderness,
 
 312 TANCRED; OR 
 
 but it was not for him to interfere with arrangements 
 which he could neither control nor comprehend. All that 
 passed amid the ruins of this Desert city was as incoherent 
 and restless as the incidents of a dream ; yet not without 
 the bright passages of strange fascination, which form part 
 of the mosaic of our slumbering reveries. At dawn a 
 prisoner, at noon a free man, yet still, from his position, 
 unable to move without succour, and without guides ; why 
 he was captured, how he was enfranchised, alike mysteries ; 
 Tancred yielded without a struggle to the management of 
 that individual who was clearly master of the situation. 
 Fakredeen decided upon everything, and no one was in- 
 clined to impugn the decrees of him whose rule commenced 
 by conferring freedom. 
 
 It was only half an hour to sunset. The advanced guard 
 of the children of E-echab, mounted on their dromedaries, 
 and armed with lances, had some hours ago quitted the 
 ruins. The camels, laden with the tents and baggage, 
 attended by a large body of footmen with matchlocks, and 
 who, on occasion, could add their own weight to the 
 burden of their charge, were filing through the mountains ; 
 some horsemen were galloping about the plain and throw- 
 ing the jereed ; a considerable body, most of them dis- 
 mounted, but prepared for the seat, were collected by the 
 river side ; about a dozen steeds of the purest race, one or 
 two of them caparisoned, and a couple of dromedaries, were 
 picketed before the pavilion of the great Sheikh, which 
 was not yet struck, and about which some grooms were 
 squatted, drinking coffee, and every now and then turning 
 to the horses, and addressing them in tones of the greatest 
 affection and respect. 
 
 Suddenly one of the grooms jumped up and said, ' He 
 comes ; ' and then going up to a bright bay mare, whose 
 dark prominent eye equalled in brilliancy, and far exceeded 
 in intelligence, the splendid orbs of the antelope, he ad- 
 dressed her, and said, ' Diamond of Derayeh, the Princess 
 of the Desert can alone ride on thee ! '
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 313 
 
 There came forth from his pavilion the great Amalek, 
 accompanied by some of his Sheikhs ; there came forth 
 from the pavilion Eva, attended by her gigantic Nubian 
 and her maidens ; there came forth from the pavilion the 
 Emir Fakredeen and Lord Montacute. 
 
 ' There is but one God,' said the great Sheikh as he 
 pressed his hand to his heart, and bade farewell to the 
 Emir and his late prisoner. ' May he guard over us all ! ' 
 
 ' Truly, there is but one God,' echoed the attendant 
 Sheikhs. ' May you find many springs ! ' 
 
 The maidens were placed on their dromedaries ; the 
 grooms, as if by magic, had already struck the pavilion of 
 their Sheikh, and were stowing it away on the back of a 
 camel; Eva, first imprinting on the neck of the mare a 
 gentle embrace, vaulted into the seat of the Diamond of 
 Derayeh, which she rode in the fashion of Zenobia. To 
 Tancred, with her inspired brow, her cheek slightly 
 flushed, her undulating figure, her eye proud of its do- 
 minion over the beautiful animal which moved its head 
 with haughty satisfaction at its destiny, Eva seemed the 
 impersonation of some young classic here going forth to 
 conquer a world. 
 
 Striving to throw into her countenance and the tones of 
 her voice a cheerfulness which was really at this moment 
 strange to them, she said, ' Farewell, Fakredeen ! ' and 
 then, after a moment's hesitation, and looking at Tancred 
 with a faltering glance which yet made his heart tremble, 
 she added, ' Farewell, Pilgrim of Sinai.' 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE Emir of the Lebanon and his English friend did not 
 depart from the Desert city until the morrow, Fakredeeu 
 being so wearied by his journey that he required repose. 
 Unsustained by his lively conversation, Tancred felt all the 
 depression natural to his position ; and, restless and dis-
 
 314 TANCEED ; OR 
 
 quieted, wandered about the valley in the moonlight, re- 
 calling the vanished images of the past. After some time, 
 unable himself to sleep, and finding Baroni disinclined to 
 slumber, he reminded his attendant of the promise he had 
 once given at Jerusalem, to tell something of his history. 
 Baroni was a lively narrator, and, accompanied by his 
 gestures, his speaking glance, and all the pantomime of his 
 energetic and yet controlled demeanour, the narrative, as 
 he delivered it, would have been doubtless much more 
 amusing than the calmer form in which, upon reflection, 
 we have thought fit to record some incidents, which the 
 reader must not in any degree suppose to form merely an 
 episode in this history. With this observation we solicit 
 attention to 
 
 We f^istorp of tbe 23aront Jpamtlj). 
 
 BEING A CHAPTER IN THE LIFE OP SIDONIA. 
 1. 
 
 ' I HAD no idea that you had a garrison here,' said Sidonia, 
 as the distant sounds of martial music were wafted down 
 a long, ancient street, that seemed narrower than it was 
 from the great elevation of its fantastically- shaped houses, 
 into the principal square in which was situate his hotel. 
 The town was one of the least frequented of Flanders ; and 
 Sidonia, who was then a youth, scarcely of twenty sum- 
 mers, was on his rambling way to Frankfort, where he 
 then resided. 
 
 ' It is not the soldiers,' said the Flemish maiden in 
 attendance, and who was dressed in one of those pretty 
 black silk jackets that seem to blend so well with the 
 sombre yet picturesque dwellings of the Spanish Nether- 
 lands. ' It is not the soldiers, sir ; it is only the Baroni 
 family.' 
 
 ' And who are the Baroni family ? ' 
 
 'They are Italians, sir, and have been here this week 
 past, giving some representations.'
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 315 
 
 'Of what kind?' 
 
 ' I hardly know, sir, only I have heard that they are 
 very beautiful. There is tumbling, I know for certain ; 
 and there was the Plagues of Egypt; but I believe it 
 changes every night.' 
 
 ' And you have not yet seen them ? ' 
 
 ' Oh no, sir, it is not for such as me ; the second places 
 are half a franc ! ' 
 
 ' And what is your name ? ' said Sidonia. 
 
 ' Therese ; at your service, sir.' 
 
 ' You shall go and see the Baroni family to-night, 
 Therese, if your mistress will let you.' 
 
 ' I am sure she would if you would ask her, sir,' said 
 Therese, looking down and colouring with delight. The 
 little jacket seemed very agitated. 
 
 ' Here they come ! ' said Sidonia, looking out of the 
 window on the great square. 
 
 A man, extremely good-looking and well made, in the 
 uniform of a marshal of France, his cocked hat fringed and 
 plumed, and the colour of his coat almost concealed by its 
 embroidery, played a clarionet like a master ; four youths 
 of a tender age, remarkable both for their beauty and their 
 grace, dressed in very handsome scarlet uniforms, with 
 white scarfs, performed upon French horns and similar in- 
 struments with great energy and apparent delight : behind 
 them an honest Blouse, hired for the occasion, beat the 
 double drum. 
 
 ' Two of them are girls,' said Therese ; ' and they are all 
 the same family, except the drummer, who belongs, I hear, 
 to Ypres. Sometimes there are six of them, two little 
 ones, who, I suppose, are left at home to-day ; they look 
 quite like little angels ; the boy plays the triangle and his 
 sister beats a tambourine.' 
 
 ' They are great artistes,' murmured Sidonia to himself, 
 as he listened to their performance of one of Donizetti's 
 finest compositions. The father stood in the centre of the 
 great square, the other musicians formed a circle round
 
 316 TANCEED; OB 
 
 him ; they continued their performance for about ten 
 minutes to a considerable audience, many of whom had 
 followed them, while the rest had collected at their appear- 
 ance. There was an inclination in the curious multitude to 
 press around the young performers, who would have been 
 in a great degree hidden from general view by this dis- 
 courteous movement, and even the sound of their instru- 
 ments in some measure suppressed. Sidonia marked with 
 interest the calm and commanding manner with which, 
 under these circumstances, the father controlled the people. 
 They yielded in an instant to his will : one tall blacksmith 
 seemed scarcely to relish his somewhat imperious de- 
 meanour, and stood rooted to the ground ; but Baroni, 
 placing only one hand on the curmudgeon's brawny 
 shoulder, while he still continued playing on his instru- 
 ment with the other, whirled him away like a puppet. 
 The multitude laughed, and the disconcerted blacksmith 
 slunk away. 
 
 When the air was finished, Baroni took off his grand hat, 
 and in a loud voice addressed the assembled people, inform- 
 ing them that this evening, in the largest room of the 
 Auberge of St. Nicholas, there would be a variety of enter- 
 tainments, consisting of masterpieces of strength and agility, 
 dramatic recitations, dancing and singing, to conclude with 
 the mystery of the Crucifixion of our blessed Lord and 
 Saviour ; in which all the actors in that memorable event, 
 among others the blessed Virgin, the blessed St. Mary 
 Magdalene, the Apostles, Pontius Pilate, the High Priest 
 of the Jews, and many others, would appear, all to be re- 
 presented by one family. 
 
 The speaker having covered himself, the band again 
 formed and passed the window of Sidonia's hotel, followed 
 by a stream of idle amateurs, animated by the martial strain, 
 and attracted by the pleasure of hearing another fine per- 
 formance at the next quarter of the town, where the Baroni 
 family might halt to announce the impending amusements 
 of the evening.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 317 
 
 The moon was beginning to glitter, when Sidonia threw 
 Ids cloak around him, and asked the way to the Auberge of 
 St. Nicholas. It was a large, ungainly, whitewashed house, 
 at the extremity of a suburb where the straggling street 
 nearly ceased, and emptied itself into what in England 
 would have been called a green. The many windows flared 
 with lights, the doorway was filled with men smoking, and 
 looking full of importance, as if, instead of being the usual 
 loungers of the tavern, they were about to perform a prin- 
 cipal part in the exhibition ; they made way with respectful 
 and encouraging ceremony to any one who entered to form 
 part of the audience, and rated with sharp words, and some- 
 times a ready cuff, a mob of little boys who besieged the 
 door, and implored every one who entered to give them 
 tickets to see the Crucifixion. ' It's the last piece,' they 
 perpetually exclaimed, ' and we may come in for five sous 
 a head.' 
 
 Sidonia mounted the staircase, and, being a suitor for a 
 ticket for the principal seats, was received with a most 
 gracious smile by a pretty woman, fair-faced and arch, with 
 a piquant nose and a laughing blue eye, who sat at the door 
 of the room. It was a long and rather narrow apartment ; 
 at the end, a stage of rough planks, before a kind of cur- 
 tain, the whole rudely but not niggardly lighted. Unfortu- 
 nately for the Baroni family, Sidonia found himself the 
 only first-class spectator. There was a tolerable sprinkling 
 of those who paid half a franc for their amusement. These 
 were separated from the first row, which Sidonia alone was 
 to occupy ; in the extreme distance was a large space not 
 fitted up with benches, where the miscellaneous multitude, 
 who could summon up five sous apiece later in the evening, 
 to see the Crucifixion, were to be stowed. 
 
 ' It hardly pays the lights,' said the pretty woman at the 
 door. ' We have not had good fortune in this town. It 
 seems hard, when there is so much for the money, and 
 the children take such pains in going the rounds in the 
 morning.'
 
 318 TANCRED; OB 
 
 ' And you are Madame Baroni ? ' said Sidonia. 
 
 ' Yes ; I am the mother,' she replied. 
 
 ' I should have thought you had heen their sister,' said 
 Sidonia. 
 
 ' My eldest son is fifteen ! I often wish tLat he was any- 
 thing else but what he is, but we do not like to separate. 
 We are all one family, sir, and that makes us bear many 
 tilings.' 
 
 ' Well, I think I know a way to increase your audience,' 
 said Sidonia. 
 
 ' Indeed ! I am sure it is very kind of you to say so 
 much ; we have not met with a gentleman like you the 
 whole time we have been here.' 
 
 Sidonia descended the stairs; the smoking amateurs 
 made way for him with great parade, and pushed back 
 with equal unkindness the young and wistful throng who 
 still hovered round the portal. 
 
 ' Don't you see the gentleman wants to go by ? Get 
 back, you boys ! ' 
 
 Sidonia halted on the doorway, and, taking advantage of 
 a momentary pause, said, ' All the little boys are to come 
 in free.' 
 
 What a rush ! 
 
 The performances commenced by the whole of the Baroni 
 family appearing in a row, and bowing to the audience. 
 The father was now dressed in a Greek costume, which ex- 
 hibited to perfection his compact frame : he looked like the 
 captain of a band of Palikari ; on his left appeared the 
 mother, who, having thrown off her cloak, seemed a sylph 
 or a sultana, for her bonnet had been succeeded by a turban. 
 The three girls were on her left hand, and on the right of 
 her husband were their three brothers. The eldest son, 
 Francis, resembled his father, or rather was what his father 
 must have been in all the freshness of boyhood ; the same 
 form of blended strength and symmetry ; the same dark 
 ^ye, the same determined air and regular features which 
 in time would become strongly marked. The second boy,
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 319 
 
 Alfred, about eleven, was delicate, fair, and fragile, like his 
 mother ; his sweet countenance full of tenderness, changed 
 before the audience with a rapid emotion. The youngest 
 son, Michel, was an infant of four years, and with his large 
 blue eyes and long golden hair, might have figured as one 
 of the seraphs of Murillo. 
 
 There was analogy in the respective physical appearances 
 of the brothers and the sisters. The eldest girl, Josephine, 
 though she had only counted twelve summers, was in 
 stature, and almost in form, a woman. She was strikingly 
 handsome, very slender, and dark as night. Adelaide, in 
 colour, in look, in the grace of every gesture, and in the 
 gushing tenderness of her wild, yet shrinking glance, 
 seemed the twin of Alfred. The little Carlotta, more than 
 two years older than Michel, was the miniature of her 
 mother, and had a piquant coquettish air, mixed with an 
 expression of repose in one so young quite droll, like a 
 little opera dancer. The father clapped his hands, and all, 
 except himself, turned round, bowed to the audience, and 
 retired, leaving Baroni and his two elder children. Then 
 commenced a variety of feats of strength. Baroni stretched 
 forth his right arm, and Josephine, with a bound, instantly 
 sprang upon his shoulder ; while she thus remained, 
 balancing herself only on her left leg, and looking like a 
 flying Victory, her father stretched forth his left arm, and 
 Francis sprang upon the shoulder opposite to his sister, 
 and formed with her a group which might have crowned a 
 vase. Infinite were the postures into which, for more than 
 half an hour, the brother and sister threw their flexible 
 forms, and all alike distinguished for their agility, their 
 grace, and their precision. At length, all the children, 
 with the exception of Carlotta, glided from behind the 
 curtain, and clustered around their father with a quickness 
 which baffled observation. Alfred and Adelaide suddenly 
 appeared, mounted upon Josephine and Francis, who had 
 already resumed their former positions on the shoulders of 
 their father, and stood immovable with outstretched arms,
 
 320 TANCEED; OE 
 
 while their brother and sister balanced themselves above. 
 This being arranged, Baroni caught up the young Michel, 
 and, as it were, flung him up on high ; Josephine received 
 the urchin, and tossed him up to Adelaide, and in a mo- 
 ment the beautiful child was crowning the living pyramid, 
 his smiling face nearly touching the rough ceiling of the 
 chamber, and clapping his little hands with practised 
 triumph, as Baroni walked about the stage with the 
 breathing burden. 
 
 He stopped, and the children disappeared from his 
 shoulders, like birds from a tree when they hear a sound. 
 He clapped his hands, they turned round, bowed, and 
 vanished. 
 
 'As this feat pleases you,' said the father, 'and as we 
 have a gentleman here to-night who has proved himself a 
 liberal patron of artists, I will show you something that 3 
 rarely exhibit ; I will hold the whole of the Baroni family 
 with my two hands ; ' and hereupon addressing some stout- 
 looking fellows among his audience, he begged them to 
 come forward and hold each end of a plank that was lean- 
 ing against the wall, one which had not been required for 
 the quickly- constructed stage. This they did with some 
 diffidence, and with that air of constraint characteristic of 
 those who have been summoned from a crowd to perform 
 something which they do not exactly comprehend. 
 
 ' Be not afraid, my good friends,' said Baroni to them, 
 as Francis lightly sprang on one end of the plank, and 
 Josephine on the other ; then Alfred and Adelaide skipped 
 up together at equal distances ; so that the four children 
 were now standing in attitude upon the same basis, which 
 four stout men endeavoured, with difficulty, to keep firm. 
 At that moment Madame Baroni, with the two young 
 children, came from behind the curtain, and vaulted 
 exactly ou the middle of the board, so that the bold Michel 
 on the one side, and the demure Carlotta on the other, 
 completed the group. ' Thank you, my friends,' said 
 Baroni, slipping under the plank, which was raised to &
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 321 
 
 height which just admitted him to pass under it, ' I will 
 release you,' and with his outstretched hands he sustained 
 the whole burthen, the whole of the Baroni family sup- 
 ported by the father. 
 
 After this there was a pause of a few minutes, the stage 
 was cleared, and Baroni, in a loose great- coat, appeared at 
 its side with a violin. He played a few bars, then turning 
 to the audience, said with the same contemptuous expres- 
 sion, which always distinguished him when he addressed 
 them, ' Now you are going to hear a scene from a tragedy 
 of the great Racine, one of the greatest tragedy writers 
 that ever existed, if you may never have heard of him ; but 
 if you were at Paris, and went to the great theatre, you 
 would find that what I am telling you is true.' And Jose- 
 phine advanced, warmly cheered by the spectators, who 
 thought that they were going to have some more tumbling. 
 She advanced, however, as Andromache. It seemed to 
 Sidonia that he had never listened to a voice more rich and 
 passionate, to an elocution more complete ; he gazed with 
 admiration on her lightning glance and all the tumult of 
 her noble brow. As she finished, he applauded her with 
 vehemence. He was standing near to her father leaning 
 against the wall. 
 
 'Your daughter is a great actress,' he said to Baroni. 
 
 'I sometimes think so,' said the father, turning round 
 with some courtesy to Sidonia, whom he recognised as thfc 
 liberal stranger who had so kindly increased his meagre 
 audience ; ' I let her do this to please herself. She is a 
 good girl, but very few of the respectable savages here 
 speak French. However, she likes it. Adelaide is now 
 going to sing; that will suit them better.' 
 
 Then there were a few more bars scraped on the violin, 
 and Adelaide, glowing rather than blushing, with her eyes 
 first on the ground and then on the ceiling, but in all her 
 movements ineffable grace, came forward and courtesied. 
 She sang an air of Auber and of Bellini ; a voice of the 
 
 v
 
 322 TANCRED; OR 
 
 rarest quality, and, it seemed to Sidonia, promising almost 
 illimitable power. 
 
 ' Your family is gifted,' he said to Baroni, as he ap- 
 plauded his second daughter as warmly as the first ; and 
 the audience appfauded her too. 
 
 ' I sometimes think so. They are all very good. I am 
 afraid, however, that this gift will not serve her much. 
 The good-natured savages seem pleased. Carlotta now is 
 going to dance ; that will suit them better. She has had 
 good instruction. Her mother was a dancer.' 
 
 And immediately, with her lip a little curling, a look of 
 complete self-possession, willing to be admired, yet not 
 caring to conceal her disgust, the little Carlotta advanced, 
 and, after pointing her toe, threw a glance at her father to 
 announce that he might begin. He played with more care 
 and energy than for the other sisters, for Carlotta was ex- 
 ceedingly wilful and imperious, and, if the music jarred, 
 would often stop, shrug her shoulders, and refuse to pro- 
 ceed. Her mother doted on her ; even the austere Baroni, 
 who ruled his children like a Pacha, though he loved 
 them, was a little afraid of Carlotta. 
 
 The boards were coarse and rough, come even not suffi- 
 ciently tightened, but it seemed to Sidonia, experienced as 
 he was in the schools of Paris, London, and Milan, that he 
 had never witnessed a more brilliant facility than that now 
 displayed by this little girl. Her soul, too, was entirely in 
 her art ; her countenance generally serious and full of 
 thought, yet occasionally, when a fine passage had been 
 successfully achieved, radiant with triumph and delight. 
 She was cheered, and cheered, and cheered ; but treated 
 the applause, when she retired, with great indifference. 
 Fortunately, Sidonia had a rose in his button-hole, and he 
 stepped forward and presented it to her. This gratified 
 Carlotta, who bestowed on him a glance full of coquetry. 
 
 'And now,' said Baroni to the people, 'you are going to 
 see the crucifixion of Jesus Christ : all the tableaux are 
 taken from pictures by the most famous artists that ever
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 323 
 
 lived, Raphael, Rubens, and others. Probably you never 
 heard of them. I can't help that ; it is not my fault ; all I 
 can say is, that if you go to the Vatican and other galleries, 
 you may see them. There will be a pause of ten minutes, 
 for the children want rest.' 
 
 Now there was a stir and a devouring of fruit ; Baroni, 
 who was on the point of going behind the curtain, came 
 forward, and there was silence again to listen to him. 
 
 ' I understand,' he said, roughly, ' there is a collection 
 going to be made for the children ; mind, I ask no one to 
 subscribe to it ; no one obliges me by giving anything to 
 it; it is for the children and the children alone, they 
 have it to spend, that is all.' 
 
 The collectors were Michel and Adelaide. Michel was 
 always successful at a collection. He was a great favourite, 
 and wonderfully bold ; he would push about in the throng 
 like a Hercules, whenever anyone called out to him to 
 fetch a Hard. Adelaide, who carried the box, was much too 
 retiring, and did not like the business at all ; but it was her 
 turn, and she could not avoid it. No one gave them more 
 than a sou. It is due, however, to the little boys who 
 were admitted free, to state that they contributed hand- 
 somely ; indeed, they expended all the money they had in 
 the exhibition room, either in purchasing fruit, or in be- 
 stowing backsheesh on the performers. 
 
 ' Encore un Hard pour Michel,' was called out by several 
 of them, in order to make Michel rush back, which he did 
 instantly at the exciting sound, ready to overwhelm the 
 hugest men in his resistless course. 
 
 At last, Adelaide, holding the box in one hand and her 
 brother by the other, came up to Sidonia, and cast her eyes 
 upon the ground. 
 
 ' For Michel,' said Sidonia, dropping a five- franc pieco 
 into the box. 
 
 ' A piece of a hundred sons ! ' said Michel. 
 
 ' And a piece of a hundred sous for yourself and each of 
 T 2
 
 324 TANCRED; OR 
 
 your brothers and sisters, Adelaide,' said Sidonia, giving 
 her a purse. 
 
 Michel gave a shout, but Adelaide blushed very much, 
 kissed his hand, and skipped away. When she had got 
 behind the curtain, she jumped on her father's neck, and 
 burst into tears. Madame Baroni, not knowing what had 
 occurred, and observing that Sidonia could command from 
 his position a view of what was going on in their sanctuary, 
 pulled the curtain, and deprived Sidonia of a scene which 
 interested him. 
 
 About ten minutes after this, Baroni again appeared in 
 his rough great-coat, and with his violin. He gave a scrape 
 or two, and the audience became orderly. He played an 
 air, and then turning to Sidonia, looking at him with great 
 scrutiny, he said, ' Sir, you are a prince.' 
 
 ' On the contrary,' said Sidonia, ' I am nothing ; I am 
 only an artist like yourself.' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said Baroni, ' an artist like myself ! I thought 
 so. You have taste. And what is your line ? Some great 
 theatre, I suppose, where even if one is ruined, one at least 
 has the command of capital. "Tis a position. I have none. 
 But I have no rebels in my company, no traitors. With 
 
 one mind and heart we get on, and yet sometimes ' 
 
 and here a signal near him reminded him that he must be 
 playing another air, and in a moment the curtain separated 
 in the middle, and exhibited a circular stage on which 
 there were various statues representing the sacred story. 
 
 There were none of the usual means and materials of 
 illusion at hand ; neither space, nor distance, nor cunning 
 lights ; it was a confined tavern room with some glaring 
 tapers, and Sidonia himself was almost within arm's reach 
 of the performers. Yet a representation more complete, 
 more finely conceived, and more perfectly executed, he had 
 never witnessed. It was impossible to credit that these 
 marble forms, impressed with ideal grace, so still, so sad, so 
 sacred, could be the little tumblers, who, but half-an-hour 
 before, were disporting on the coarse boards at his side.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 325 
 
 The father always described, before the curtain was 
 withdrawn, with a sort of savage terseness, the subject of 
 the impending scene. The groups did not continue long ; 
 a pause of half a minute, and the circular stage revolved, 
 and the curtain again closed. This rapidity of representa- 
 tion was necessary, lest delay should compromise the indis^ 
 pensable immovableness of the performers. 
 
 ' Now,' said Baroni, turning his head to the audience, 
 and slightly touching his violin, ' Christ falls under the 
 weight of the cross.' And immediately the curtain parted, 
 and Sidonia beheld a group in the highest style of art, and 
 which, though deprived of all the magic of colour, almost 
 expressed the passion of Correggio. 
 
 * It is Alfred,' said Baroni, as Sidonia evinced his admi- 
 ration. ' He chiefly arranges all this, under my instruc- 
 tions. In drapery his talent is remarkable.' 
 
 At length, after a series of representations, which were 
 all worthy of being exhibited in the pavilions of princes, 
 Baroni announced the last scene. 
 
 * What you are going to see now is the Descent from the 
 Cross ; it is after Rubens, one of the greatest masters that 
 ever lived, if you ever heard of such a person,' he added, 
 in a grumbling voice, and then turning to Sidonia, he said, 
 ' This crucifixion is the only thing which these savages 
 seem at all to understand ; but I should like you, sir, as 
 you are an artist, to see the children in some Greek or 
 Roman story: Pygmalion, or the Death of Agrippina. I 
 think you would be pleased.' 
 
 ' I cannot be more pleased than I am now,' said Sidonia. 
 ' I am also astonished.' 
 
 But here Baroni was obliged to scrape his fiddle, for the 
 curtain moved. 
 
 ' It is a triumph of art,' said Sidonia, as he beheld the 
 immortal group of Rubens reproduced with a precision and 
 an exquisite feeling which no language can sufficiently con- 
 vey, or too much extol. 
 
 The performances were over, the little artists were sum-
 
 326 TANCRED; OR 
 
 moned to the front scene to be applauded, the scanty 
 audience were dispersing : Sidonia lingered. 
 
 ' You are living in this house, I suppose ? ' he said to 
 Baroni. 
 
 Baroni shook his head. ' I can afford no roof except my 
 own.' 
 
 ' And where is that f ' 
 
 4 On four wheels, on the gicen here. We are vagabonds, 
 and, I suppose, must always be so; but, being one family, 
 we can bear it. I wish the children to have a good supper 
 to-night, in honour ol your kindness. I have a good deal 
 to do. I must put theso things in order,' as he spoke he 
 was working ; ' there is the grandmother who lives with 
 us ; all this time she is alone, guarded, however, by the 
 dog. I should like them to have meat to-night, if I can 
 get it. Their mother cooks the supper. Then I have got 
 to hear them say theii prayers. All this takes time, par- 
 ticularly as we have to rise early, and do many things be- 
 fore we make our first course through the city.' 
 
 ' I will come and see you to-morrow,' said Sidonia, ' after 
 your first progress.' 
 
 'An hour after noon, if you please,' said Baroni. 4 It is 
 pleasant for me to become acquainted with a fellow artist, 
 and one so liberal as yourself.' 
 
 ' Your name is Baroni,' said Sidonia, looking at him 
 earnestly. 
 
 4 My name is Baroni.' 
 
 4 An Italian name.' 
 
 4 Yes, I come from Cento.' 
 
 'Well, we shall meet to-morrow. Good night, Baroni. 
 I am going to send you some wine for your supper, and 
 take care the grandmamma drinks my health.' 
 
 ii. 
 
 It was a sunny morn : upon the green contiguous to the 
 Auberge of St. Nicholas was a house upon wheels, a sort of 
 monster omnibus, its huge shafts idle on the ground, while
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 327 
 
 three fat Flemish horses cropped the surrounding pasture. 
 From the door of the house were some temporary steps, 
 like an accommodation ladder, on which sat Baroni, dressed 
 something like a Neapolitan fisherman, and mending his 
 clarionet; the man in the blouse was eating his dinner, 
 seated between the shafts, to which also was fastened the 
 little dog, often the only garrison, except the grandmother, 
 of this strange establishment. 
 
 The little dog began barking vociferously, and Baroni, 
 looking up, instantly bade him be quiet. It was Sidonia, 
 whose appearance in the distance had ronsed the precau- 
 tionary voice. 
 
 ' Well,' said Sidonia, 'I heard your trumpets this morning.' 
 
 ' The grandmother sleeps/ said Baroni, taking off his 
 cap, and slightly rising. ' The rest also are lying down 
 after their dinner. Children will never repose unless there 
 are rules, and this with them is invariable.' 
 
 'But your children surely cannot be averse to repose, 
 for they require it.' 
 
 ' Their blood is young,' continued Baroni, still mending 
 his clarionet ; ' they are naturally gay, except my eldest 
 son. He is restless, but he is not gay.' 
 
 1 He likes his art ? ' 
 
 ' Not too much ; what he wants is to travel, and, after 
 all, though we are always moving, the circle i& limited.' 
 
 ' Yes ; you have many to move. And can this ark con- 
 tain them all ? ' said Sidonia, seating himself on some 
 timber that was at hand. 
 
 ' "With convenience even,' replied Baroni ; ' but everything 
 can be effected by order and discipline. I rule and regu- 
 late my house like a ship. In a vessel, there is not as 
 much accommodation for the size as in a house of this 
 kind ; yet nowhere is there more decency and cleanliness 
 than on board ship.' 
 
 ' You have an obedient crew,' said Sidonia, ' and that in 
 much.' 
 
 ' Yes ; when they waJce, my children sny their prayers,
 
 328 TANCRED; OK 
 
 and then they come to embrace me and their mother. This 
 they have never omitted daring their lives. I have taught 
 them from their birth to obey God and to honour their 
 parents. These two principles have made them a religious 
 and a moral family. They have kept us united, and sus- 
 tained us under severe trials.' 
 
 ' Yet such talents as you all possess,' said Sidonia, ' should 
 have exempted you from any very hard struggle, especially 
 when united, as apparently in your case, with well-ordered 
 conduct.' 
 
 ' It would seem that they should,' said Baroni, ' but less 
 talents than we possess would, probably, obtain as high a 
 reward. The audiences that we address have little feeling 
 for art, and all these performances, which you so much 
 applauded last night, would not, perhaps, secure even the 
 feeble patronage we experience, if they were not preceded 
 by some feats of agility or strength.' 
 
 ' You have never appealed to a higher class of audience ? ' 
 
 ' No ; my father was a posture-master, as his father was 
 before him. These arts are traditionary in our family, and 
 I care not to say for what length of time and from what 
 distant countries we believe them to have been received by 
 us. My father died by a fall from a tight rope in the midst 
 of a grand illumination at Florence, and left me a youth. 
 I count now only six-and-thirty summers. I married, as 
 soon as I could, a dancer at Milan. We had no capital, but 
 our united talents found success. We loved our children ; 
 it was necessary to act with decision, or we should have 
 been separated and trampled into the mud. Then I devised 
 this Louse and wandering life, and we exist in general as 
 you see us. In the winter, if our funds permit it, we reside 
 in some city, where we educate our children in the arts 
 which they pursue. The mother can still dance, sings 
 prettily, and has some knowledge of music. For myself, I 
 can play in some fashion upon every instrument, and have 
 almost taught them as much ; I can paint, too, a scene, 
 compose a group, and with the aid of my portfolio of prints,
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 329 
 
 have picked up more knowledge of the costume of different 
 centuries than you would imagine. If you see Josephine 
 to-night in the Maid of Orleans you would perhaps be sur 
 prised. A great judge, like yourself a real artist, once 
 told me at Bruxelles, that the grand opera could not pro- 
 duce its equal.' 
 
 ' I can credit it,' said Sidonia, ' for I perceive in Josephine, 
 as well as indeed in all your children, a rare ability.' 
 
 'I will be frank,' said Baroni, looking at Sidonia very 
 earnestly, and laying down his clarionet. ' I conclude from 
 what you said last night, and the interest that you take in 
 the children, that you are something in our way, though on 
 a great scale. I apprehend you are looking out for novelties 
 for the next season, and sometimes in the provinces things 
 are to be found. If you will take us to London or Paris, I 
 will consent to receive no remuneration if the venture fail ; 
 all I shall then require will be a decent maintenance, which 
 you can calculate beforehand : if the speculation answer, I 
 will not demand more than a third of the profits, leaving it 
 to your own liberality to make me any regalo in addition, 
 that you think proper.' 
 
 * A very fair proposal,' said Sidonia. 
 
 ' Is it a bargain ? ' 
 
 ' I must think over it,' said Sidonia. 
 
 ' Well ; God prosper your thoughts, for, from what I see 
 of you, you are a man I should be proud to work with.' 
 
 ' Well, we may yet be comrades.' 
 
 The children appeared at the door of the house, and, not 
 to disturb their father, vaulted down. They saluted Sidonia 
 with much respect, and then withdrew to some distance. 
 The mother appeared at the door, and, leaning down, whis- 
 pered something to Baroni, who, after a little hesitation, 
 said to Sidonia, ' The grandmother is awake ; she has a 
 wish to thank you for your kindness to the children. It 
 will not trouble you ; merely a word ; but women have 
 their fancies, and we like always to gratify her, because she 
 is much alone and never complains.'
 
 330 TANCRED; OB 
 
 ' By all means,' said Sidonia. 
 
 Whereupon they ushered forward a venerable woman with 
 a true Italian face ; hair white as snow, and eyes still glit- 
 tering with fire, with features like a Roman bust, and an 
 olive complexion. Sidonia addressed her in Italian, which 
 greatly pleased her. She was profuse, even solemn, in her 
 thanks to him ; she added, she was sure, from all that she 
 had heard of him, if he took the children with him, he would 
 be kind to them. 
 
 ' She has overheard something I said to my wife,' said 
 Baroni, a little embarrassed. 
 
 ' I am sure I should be kind to them,' said Sidonia, ' for 
 many reasons, and particularly for one ; ' and he whispered 
 something in Baroni's ear. 
 
 Baroni started from his seat with a glowing cheek, but 
 Sidonia, looking at bis watch and promising to attend their 
 evening performance, bade them adieu. 
 
 in. 
 
 The performances were more meagrely attended this even- 
 ing than even on the preceding one, but had they been con- 
 ducted in the royal theatre of a capital, they could not have 
 been more elaborate, nor the troop have exerted themselves 
 with greater order and effect. It mattered not a jot to 
 them whether their benches were thronged or vacant ; the 
 only audience for whom the Baroni family cared was the 
 foreign manager, young, generous, and speculative, whom 
 they had evidently without intention already pleased, and 
 whose good opinion they resolved to-night entirely to secure. 
 And in this they perfectly succeeded. Josephine was a 
 tragic muse ; all of them, even to little Carlotta, performed 
 as if their destiny depended on the die. Baroni would not 
 permit the children's box to be carried round to-night, as 
 he thought it an unfair tax on the generous stranger, whom 
 he did not the less please by this well-bred abstinence. -A 
 for the mediaeval and historic groups, Sidonia could recall
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 331 
 
 nothing equal to them ; and what surprised him most -was 
 the effect produced by such miserable materials. It seemed 
 that the whole was effected with some stiffened linen and 
 paper ; but the divine touch of art turned everything to 
 gold. One statue of Henri IV. with his flowing plume, and 
 his rich romantic dress, was quite striking. It was the 
 very plume that had won at Ivry, and yet was nothing more 
 than a sheet of paper cut and twisted by the plastic finger 
 of little Alfred. 
 
 There was to be no performance on the morrow; the 
 niggard patronage of the town had been exhausted. Indeed, 
 had it not been for Sidonia, the little domestic troop would, 
 ere this, have quitted the sullen town, where they had 
 laboured so finely, and achieved such an ungracious return. 
 On the morrow, Baroni was to ride one of the fat horses 
 over to Berg, a neighbouring town of some importance, 
 where there was even a little theatre to be engaged, and if 
 he obtained the permission of the mayor, and could make 
 fair terms, he proposed to give there a series of represent- 
 ations. The mother was to stay at home and take care 
 of the grandmother ; but the children, all the children, 
 were to have a holiday, and to dine with Sidonia at his 
 hotel. 
 
 It would have been quite impossible for the most respect- 
 able burgher, even of the grand place of a Flemish city, to 
 have sent his children on a visit in trim more neat, proper, 
 and decorous, than that in which the Baroni family figured 
 on the morrow, when they went to pay their respects to 
 their patron. The girls were in clean white frocks with 
 little black silk jackets, their hair beautifully tied and plaited, 
 and their heads uncovered, according to the fashion of the 
 country : not an ornament or symptom of tawdry taste was 
 visible; not even a necklace, although they necessarily passed 
 their lives in fanciful or grotesque attire ; the boys, in for- 
 aging caps all of the same fashion, were dressed in blouses 
 of holland, with bands and buckles, their broad shirt collars 
 thrown over their shoulders. It is astonishing, as Baroni
 
 332 TANCEED; OR 
 
 said, what order and discipline will do ; but how that won- 
 derful house upon wheels contrived to contain all these 
 articles of dress, from, the uniform of the marshal of France 
 to the diminutive blouse of little Michel, and how their 
 wearers always managed to issue from it as if they came 
 forth from the most commodious and amply- furnished 
 mansion, was truly yet pleasingly perplexing. Sidonia took 
 them all in a large landau to see a famous chateau a few 
 miles off, full of pictures and rich old furniture, and built in 
 famous gardens. This excursion would have been delight- 
 ful to them, if only from its novelty, but, as a substitute 
 for their daily progress through the town, it offered an ad- 
 ditional gratification. 
 
 The behaviour of these children greatly interested and 
 pleased Sidonia. Their conduct to each other was invari- 
 ably tender and affectionate : their carriage to him, though 
 full of respect, never constrained, and touched by an en- 
 gaging simplicity. Above all, in whatever they did or said, 
 there was grace. They did nothing awkwardly ; their voices 
 were musical ; they were merry without noise, and their 
 hearts sparkled in their eyes. 
 
 ' I begin to suspect that these youthful vagabonds, strug- 
 gling for life, have received a perfect education,' thought the 
 ever-musing Sidonia, as he leaned back in the landau, and 
 watched the group that he had made so happy. ' A sublime 
 religious principle sustains their souls ; a tender morality 
 regulates their lives ; and with the heart and the spirit thus 
 developed, they are brought up in the pursuit and pro- 
 duction of the beautiful. It is the complete culture of 
 philosophic dreams ! ' 
 
 IV. 
 
 The children had never sat down before to a regular 
 dinner, and they told Sidonia so. Their confession added 
 a zest to the repast. He gave them occasional instructions, 
 and they listened as if they were receiving directions for a 
 new performance. They were so quick and so tractable,
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 333 
 
 that their progress was rapid ; and at the second course 
 Josephine was instructing Michel, and Alfred guiding the 
 rather helpless but always self-composed Carlotta. After 
 dinner, while Sidonia helped them to sugar-plums, he with- 
 out effort extracted from each their master wish. Josephine 
 desired to be an actress, while Adele confessed that, though 
 she sighed for the boards, her secret aspirations were for 
 the grand opera. Carlotta thought the world was made 
 to dance. 
 
 ' For my part,' said Francis, the eldest son, ' I have no 
 wish to be idle ; but there are two things which I have 
 always desired : first, that I should travel ; and, secondly, 
 that nobody should ever know me.' 
 
 ' And what would Alfred wish to be ? ' said Sidonia. 
 
 ' Indeed, sir, if it did not take me from my brothers and 
 sisters, I should certainly wish to be a painter.' 
 
 'Michel has not yet found out what he wishes,' said 
 Sidonia. 
 
 * I wish to play upon the horn,' said Michel, with great 
 determination. 
 
 When Sidonia embraced them before their departure, he 
 gave each of the girls a French shawl ; to Francis he gave a 
 pair of English pistols, to guard him when he travelled ; 
 Alfred received a portfolio full of drawings of costume. It 
 only arrived after dinner, for the town was too poor to sup- 
 ply anything good enough for the occasion, and Sidonia had 
 sent a special messenger, the day before, for it to Lille. 
 Michel was the guardian of a basket laden with good things, 
 which he was to have the pleasure of dividing among the 
 Baroni family. ' And if your papa come back to-night,' 
 said Sidonia to Josephine, ' tell him I should like to have a 
 word with him.' 
 
 v. 
 
 Sidonia had already commenced that habit which, during 
 subsequent years, he has so constantly and successfully pur- 
 sued, namely, of enlisting in his service all the rare talent
 
 334 TAXCKED ; OR 
 
 which he found lying common and unappropriated in the 
 great wilderness of the world, no matter if the object to 
 which it would apply might not immediately be in sight. 
 The conjuncture would arrive when it would be wanted. 
 Thus he generally had ready the right person for the occa- 
 sion ; and, whatever might be the transaction, the human 
 instrument was rarely wanting. Independent of the power 
 and advantage which this system gave him, his abstract 
 interest in intellect made the pursuit delightful to him. He 
 liked to give ability of all kinds its scope. Nothing was 
 more apt to make him melancholy, than to hear of persons 
 of talents dying without having their chance. A failure is 
 nothing ; it may be deserved, or it may be remedied. In 
 the first instance, it brings self-knowledge ; in the second, 
 it develops a new combination usually triumphant. But 
 incapacity, from not having a chance of being capable, is a 
 bitter lot, which Sidonia was ever ready to alleviate. 
 
 The elder Baroni possessed Herculean strength, activity 
 almost as remarkable, a practised courage, and a controlling 
 mind. He was in the prime of manhood, and spoke several 
 languages. He was a man, according to Sidonia's views, 
 of high moral principle, entirely trustworthy. He was too 
 valuable an instrument to allow to run to seed as the stroll- 
 ing manager of a caravan of tumblers ; and it is not im- 
 probable that Sidonia would have secured his services, even 
 if he had not become acquainted with the Baroni family. 
 But they charmed him. In every member of it he recog- 
 nised character, and a predisposition which might even be 
 genius. He resolved that every one of them should have a 
 chance. 
 
 When therefore Baroni, wearied and a little disgusted 
 with an unpromising journey, returned from Berg in the 
 evening, and, in consequence of the message of his children, 
 repaired instantly to the hotel of Sidonia, his astonishment 
 was great when he found the manager converted into a 
 millionaire, and that too the most celebrated in Europe. 
 But no language can convey his wonder when he learnt
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 335 
 
 the career that was proposed to him, and the fortunes that 
 were carved out for his children. He himself was to repair, 
 with all his family, except Josephine and her elder brother, 
 at once to Vienna, where he was to be installed into a post 
 of great responsibility and emolument. He was made 
 superintendent of the couriers of the house of Sidonia in 
 that capital, and especially of those that conveyed treasure. 
 Though his duties would entail frequent absences on him, 
 he was to be master of a constant and complete establish- 
 ment. Alfred was immediately to become a pupil of the 
 Academy of Painters, and Carlotta of that of dancing ; tho 
 talents of Michel were to be watched, and to be reported ta 
 Sidonia at fitting periods. As for Adele, she was consigned 
 to a lady who had once been a celebrated prima donna, with 
 whom she was to pursue her studies, although, still residing 
 under the paternal roof. 
 
 ' Josephine will repair to Paris at once with her brother,' 
 said Sidonia. ' My family will guard over her. She will 
 enjoy her brother's society until I commence my travels. 
 He will then accompany me.' 
 
 It is nearly twenty years since these incidents occurred, 
 and perhaps the reader may feel not altogether uninterested 
 in the subsequent fate of the children of Baroni. Made- 
 moiselle Josephine is at this moment the glory of the French 
 stage ; without any question the most admirable tragic 
 actress since Clairon, and inferior not even to her. The 
 spirit of French tragedy has risen from the imperial couch 
 on which it had long slumbered since her appearance, at 
 the same time classical and impassioned, at once charmed 
 and commanded the most refined audience in Europe. 
 Adele, under the name of Madame Baroni, is the acknow- 
 ledged Queen of Song in London, Paris, Berlin, and St. 
 Petersburgh ; while her younger sister, Carlotta Baroni, 
 shares the triumphs, and equals the renown, of a Taglioni 
 and a Cerito. At this moment, Madame Baroni performs 
 to enthusiastic audiences in the first opera of her brother 
 Michel, who promises to be the rival of Meyerbeer and
 
 336 TANCRED; OR 
 
 Mendelssohn ; all delightful intelligence to meet the ear of 
 the soft-hearted Alfred, who is painting the new chambers 
 of the Papal palace, a Cavaliere, decorated with many orders, 
 and the restorer of the once famous Roman school. 
 
 ' Thus,' continued Baroni to Tancred, ' we have all suc- 
 ceeded in life because we fell across a great philosopher, 
 who studied our predisposition. As for myself, I told M. 
 de Sidonia that I wished to travel and to be unknown, and 
 so he made of me, a secret agent.' 
 
 ' There is something most interesting,' said Tancred, ' in 
 this idea of a single family issuing from obscurity, and dis- 
 seminating their genius through the world, charming man- 
 kind with so many spells. How fortunate for you all that 
 Sidonia had so much feeling for genius ! ' 
 
 ' And some feeling for his race,' said Baroni. 
 
 ' How ? ' said Tancred, startled. 
 
 ' You remember he whispered something in my father's 
 ear?' 
 
 ' I remember.' 
 
 ' He spoke it in Hebrew, and he was understood.' 
 
 ' You do not mean that you, too, are Jews ? ' 
 
 4 Pure Sephardim, in nature and in name.' 
 
 ' But your name surely is Italian?' 
 
 ' Good Arabic, my lord. Baroni ; that is, the son of 
 Aaron ; the name of old clothesmen in London, and of 
 caliphs at Bagdad.' 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ' JIow do you like my forest ? ' asked Fakredeen of Tancred, 
 as, while descending a range of the Lebanon, an extensive 
 valley opened before them, covered with oak trees, which 
 clothed also, with their stout trunks, their wide- spreading 
 branches, and their rich starry foliage, the opposite and un- 
 dulating hills, one of which was crowned with a convent.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 337 
 
 ' It is the only oak forest in Syria. It will serve some day 
 to build our fleet.' 
 
 At Gaza, which they had reached by easy journeys, for 
 Fakredeen was very considerate of the health of Tancred, 
 whose wound had scarcely healed, and over whom he 
 watched with a delicate solicitude which would have almost 
 l>ecome a woman, the companions met Scheriff Effendi. 
 The magic signature of Lord Montacute settled the long- 
 vexed question of the five thousand muskets, and secured 
 also ten thousand piastres for the commander of the escort 
 to deliver to his chief. The children of Rechab, in convoy 
 of the precious charge, certain cases of which were to be 
 delivered to the great Sheikh, and the rest to be deposited 
 in indicated quarters of the Lebanon, here took leave of the 
 Emir and his friend, and pursued their course to the north 
 of Hebron and the Dead Sea, in the direction of the Hauraan, 
 where they counted, if not on overtaking the great Sheikh, 
 at least on the additional security which his neighbourhood 
 would ensure them. Their late companions remained at 
 Gaza, awaiting Tancred's yacht, which Baroni fetched from 
 the neighbouring Jaffa. A favourite breeze soon carried 
 them from Gaza to Beiroot, where they landed, and where 
 Fakredeen had the political pleasure of exhibiting his new 
 and powerful ally, a prince, an English prince, the brother 
 perhaps of a queen, unquestionably the owner of a splendid 
 yacht^ to the admiring eye of all his, at the same time^ 
 credulous and rapacious creditors. 
 
 The air of the mountains invigorated Tancred. His eye 
 had rested so long on the ocean and the Desert, that the 
 effect produced on the nerves by the forms and colours of a 
 more varied nature were alone reviving. 
 
 There are regions more lofty than the glaciered crests of 
 Lebanon ; mountain scenery more sublime, perhaps even 
 more beautiful : its peaks are not lost in the clouds like 
 the mysterious Ararat ; its forests are not as vast and 
 strange as the towering Himalaya ; it has not the volcanic 
 splendour of the glowing Andes ; in lake and in cataract it
 
 338 TANCRED; OB 
 
 must yield fca the European Alps ; but for life, vigorous, 
 varied, and picturesque, there is no highland territory in 
 the globe that can for a moment compare with the great 
 chain of Syria. 
 
 Man has fled from the rich and servile plains, from the 
 tyranny of the Turk and from Arabian rapine, to clothe the 
 crag with vines, and rest under his fig tree on the mountain 
 top. An ingenious spirit, unwearied industry, and a bland 
 atmosphere have made a perpetual garden of the Syrian 
 mountains. Their acclivities sparkle with terraces of corn 
 and fruit. Castle and convent crown their nobler heights, 
 and flat-roofed villages nestle amid groves of mulberry 
 trees. Among these mountains we find several human 
 races, several forms of government, and several schemes of 
 religion, yet everywhere liberty : a proud, feudal aristocracy ; 
 a conventual establishment, which in its ramifications 
 recalls the middle ages ; a free and armed peasantry, what- 
 ever their creed, Emirs on Arabian steeds, bishops worthy 
 of the Apostles, the Maronite monk, the horned head-gear 
 of the Druses. 
 
 Some of those beautiful horses, for which Fakredeen was 
 celebrated, had awaited the travellers at Beiroot. The 
 journey through the mountain was to last three days before 
 they reached Canobia. They halted one night at a moun- 
 tain village, where the young Emir was received with 
 enthusiastic devotion, and on the next at a small castle 
 belonging to Fakredeen, and where resided one of his kins- 
 men. Two hours before sunset, on the third day, they 
 were entering the oak forest to which we referred, and 
 through whose glades they journeyed for about half an 
 hour. On arriving at the con vent- crowned height opposite, 
 they beheld an expanse of country ; a small plain amid the 
 mountains ; in many parts richly cultivated, studded by 
 several hamlets, and watered by a stream, winding amid 
 rich shrubberies of oleander. Almost in the middle of this 
 plain, on a height superior to the immediate elevations 
 which bounded it, rose a mountain of gradual ascent,
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 339 
 
 covered with sycamores, and crowned by a superb Saracenic 
 castle. 
 
 ' Canobia ! ' said Fakredeen to Tancred, ' which I hope 
 yon never will quit.' 
 
 'It would be difficult,' rejoined Tancred, animated. 'I 
 have seldom seen a sight more striking and more beautiful.' 
 
 In the meantime, Freeman and Trueman, who were far 
 in the rear amid Fakredeen' s attendants, exchanged con- 
 gratulating glances of blended surprise and approbation. 
 
 ' This is the first gentleman's seat I have seen since we 
 left England,' said Freeman. 
 
 ' There must have been a fine coming of age here,' re- 
 joined Trueman. 
 
 ' As for that,' replied Freeman, ' comings of age depend 
 in a manner upon meat and drink. They ain't in noways 
 to be carried out with coffee and pipes. Without oxen 
 roasted whole, and broached hogsheads, they ain't in a 
 manner legal.' 
 
 A horseman, who was ahead of the Emir and Tancred, 
 now began beating with a stick on two small tabors, one on 
 each side of his saddle, and thus announced to those who 
 were already on the watch, the approach of their lord. It 
 was some time, however, before the road, winding through 
 the sycamore trees and gradually ascending, brought them 
 to the outworks of the castle, of which, during their pro- 
 gress, they enjoyed a variety of views. It was a very ex- 
 tensive pile, in excellent condition, and apparently strongly 
 fortified. A number of men in showy dresses and with 
 ornamented arms, were clustered round the embattled 
 gateway, which introduced the travellers into a quad- 
 rangle of considerable size, and of which the light and 
 airy style pleasingly and suitably contrasted with the 
 sterner and more massive character of the exterior walls. 
 A fountain rose in the centre of the quadrangle which was 
 surrounded by arcades. Ranged round this fountain, in a 
 circle, were twenty saddled steeds of the highest race, each 
 held by a groom, and each attended by a man-at-arms. All
 
 340 TANCEED; OR 
 
 pressed their hands to their hearts as the Emir entered, but 
 with a gravity of countenance which was never for a 
 moment disturbed. Whether their presence were habitual, 
 or only for the occasion, it was unquestionably impressive. 
 Here the travellers dismounted, and Fakredeen ushered 
 Tancred through a variety of saloons, of which the furni- 
 ture, though simple, as becomes the East, was luxurious, 
 and, of its kind, superb ; floors of mosaic marbles, bright 
 carpets, arabesque ceilings, walls of carved cedar, and broad 
 divans of the richest stuffs of Damascus. 
 
 'And this divan is for you,' said Fakredeen, showing 
 Tancred into a chamber, which opened upon a flower- 
 garden shaded by lemon trees. ' I am proud of my mirror,' 
 he added, with some exultation, as he called Tancred' s 
 attention to a large French looking-glass, the only one in 
 Lebanon. 'And this,' added Fakredeen, leading Tancred 
 through a suite of marble chambers, ' this is your bath.' 
 
 In the centre of one chamber, fed by a perpetual fountain, 
 was a large alabaster basin, the edges of which were strewn 
 with flowers just culled. The chamber was entirely of 
 porcelain ; a golden flower on a ground of delicate green. 
 
 ' I will send your people to you,' said Fakredeen ; ' but, in 
 the meantime, there are attendants here who are, perhaps, 
 more used to the duty ; ' and, so saying, he clapped his 
 hands, and several servants appeared, bearing baskets of' 
 curious linen, whiter than the snow of Lebanon, and a 
 variety of robes. 
 
 END OF BOOK IT.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 341 
 
 BOOK V. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IT has been long decreed that no poet may introduce the 
 Phcenix. Scylla and Charybdis are both successfully 
 avoided even by provincial rhetoric. The performance of 
 Hamlet with the part of Hamlet omitted, and Mahomet's 
 unhappy coffin, these are illustrations that have long been 
 the prerogative of dolts and dullards. It is not for a 
 moment to be tolerated that an oasis should be met with 
 anywhere except in the Desert. 
 
 We sadly lack a new stock of public images. The current 
 similes, if not absolutely counterfeit, are quite worn out. 
 They have no intrinsic value, and serve only as counters to 
 represent the absence of ideas. The critics should really 
 call them in. In the good old days, when the superscription 
 was fresh, and the mint mark bright upon the metal, we 
 should have compared the friendship of two young men to 
 that of Damon and Pythias. These were individuals then 
 still well known in polite society. If their examples have 
 ceased to influence, it cannot be pretended that the ex- 
 tinction of their authority has been the consequence of 
 competition. Our enlightened age has not produced them 
 any rivals. 
 
 Of all the differences between the ancients and ourselves, 
 none more striking than our respective ideas of friendship. 
 Grecian friendship was indeed so ethereal, that it is diffi- 
 cult to define its essential qualities. They must be sought 
 rather in the pages of Plato, or the moral essays of Plutarch 
 perhaps, and in some other books not quite as well known, 
 but not less interesting and curious. As for modern friend-
 
 342 TANCKED; OR 
 
 ship, it will be found in clubs. It is violent at a house 
 dinner, fervent in a cigar shop, full of devotion at a cricket 
 or a pigeon match, or in the gathering of a steeple chase. 
 The nineteenth century is not entirely sceptical on the head 
 of friendship, but fears 'tis rare. A inan may have friends, 
 but then, are they sincere ones ? Do not they abuse you 
 behind your back, and blackball you at societies where they 
 have had the honour to propose you ? It might philo- 
 sophically be suggested, that it is more agreeable to be 
 abused behind one's back than to one's face ; and, as for 
 the second catastrophe, it should not be forgotten that, if 
 the sincere friend may occasionally put a successful veto on 
 your election, he is always ready to propose you again. 
 Generally speaking, among sensible persons, it would seern 
 that a rich man deems that friend a sincere one who does 
 not want to borrow his money ; while, among the less 
 favoured with fortune's gifts, the sincere friend is generally 
 esteemed to be the individual who is ready to lend it. 
 
 As we must not compare Tancred and Fakredeen to 
 Damon and Pythias, and as we cannot easily find in Pall 
 Mall or Park Lane a parallel more modish, we must be con- 
 tent to say, that youth, sympathy, and occasion combined 
 to create between them that intimacy which each was 
 prompt to recognise as one of the principal sources of his 
 happiness, and which the young Emir, at any rate, was 
 persuaded must be as lasting as it was fervent and profound. 
 
 Fakredeen was seen to great advantage among his 
 mountains. He was an object of universal regard, and, 
 anxious to maintain the repute of which he was proud, and 
 which was to be the basis of his future power, it seemed 
 that he was always in a gracious and engaging position. 
 Brilliant, sumptuous, and hospitable, always doing some- 
 thing kind, or saying something that pleased, the Emirs 
 and Sheikhs, both Maronite and Druse, were proud of the 
 princely scion of their greatest house, and hastened to re- 
 pair to Canobia, where they were welcome to ride any of 
 Ms two hundred steeds, feast on his flocks, quaff his golden
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 343 
 
 wine of Lebanon, or smoke the delicate tobaccos of his 
 celebrated slopes. 
 
 As for Tancred, his life was novel, interesting, and ex- 
 citing. The mountain breezes soon restored his habitual 
 health ; his wound entirely healed ; each day brought new 
 scenes, new objects, new characters; and there was ever at 
 his side a captivating companion, who lent additional in- 
 terest to all he saw and heard by perpetually dwelling on 
 the great drama which they were preparing, and in which 
 all these personages and circumstances were to perform 
 their part and advance their purpose. 
 
 At this moment Fakredeen proposed to himself two 
 objects : the first was, to bring together the principal chiefs 
 of the mountain, both Maronite and Druse, and virtually to 
 carry into effect at Canobia, that reconciliation between the 
 two races which had been formally effected at Beiroot, in 
 the preceding month of June, by the diplomatic interference 
 of the Great Powers, and through the signature of certain 
 articles of peace to which we have alluded. His second 
 object was to increase his already considerable influence 
 with these personages, by exhibiting to them, as his guest 
 and familiar friend, an English prince, whose presence 
 could only be accounted for by duties too grave for 
 ordinary envoys, and who was understood to represent, in 
 their fullest sense, the wealth and authority of the richest 
 and most potent of nations. 
 
 The credulous air of Syria was favourable to the great 
 mystification in which Lord Montacute was an unconscious 
 agent. It was as fully believed in the mountain, by all the 
 Habeishes and the Eldadahs, the Kazins and the Elvasuds, 
 the Elheires and the Haidars, great Maronite families, as 
 well as by the Druse Djinblats and their rivals the House 
 of Yezbeck, or the House of Talhook, or the House of 
 Abuneked, that the brother of the Queen of England was a 
 guest at Canobia as it was in the stony wilderness of Petrsea, 
 Ahmet llaslan the Druse and Bntros Kerauney the Ma- 
 ronite, who agreed upon no other point, were resolved on
 
 344 TANCRED; OR 
 
 this. And was it wonderful, for Butros had already re- 
 ceived privately two hundred muskets since the arrival of 
 Tancred, and Raslan had been promised in confidence a 
 slice of the impending English loan by Fakredeen ? 
 
 The extraordinary attention, almost homage, which the 
 Emir paid his guest, entirely authorised these convictions, 
 although they could justify no suspicion on the part of 
 Tancred. The natural simplicity of his manners, indeed, 
 and his constitutional reserve, recoiled from the state and 
 ceremony with, which he found himself frequently sur- 
 rounded and too often treated ; but Fakredeen peremptorily 
 stopped his remonstrances by assuring him that it was the 
 custom of the country, and that every one present would be 
 offended if a guest of distinction were not entertained with 
 this extreme respect. It is impossible to argue against the 
 customs of a country with which you are not acquainted, 
 but coming home one day from a hawking party, a large 
 assembly of the most influential chieftains, Fakredeen him- 
 self bounding on a Kochlani steed, and arrayed in a dress 
 that would have become Solyman the Magnificent, Tancred 
 about to dismount, the Lord of Canobia pushed forward, 
 and, springing from his saddle, insisted on holding the 
 stirrup of Lord Montacute. 
 
 ' I cannot permit this,' said Tancred, reddening, and 
 keeping his seat. 
 
 ' If you do not, there is not a man here who will not take 
 it as a personal insult,' said the Emir, speaking rapidly 
 between his teeth, yet affecting to smile. ' It has been the 
 custom of the mountain for more than seven hundred 
 years.' 
 
 ' Very strange,' thought Tancred, as he complied and dis- 
 mounted. 
 
 All Syria, from Gaza to the Euphrates, is feudal. The 
 system, generally prevalent, flourishes in the mountain 
 region even with intenseness. An attempt to destroy 
 feudalism occasioned the revolt against the Egyptians in 
 1840, and drove Mehemet Ali from the country which had
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 345 
 
 cost him so much blood and treasure. Every disorder that 
 has subsequently occurred in Syria since the Turkish re- 
 storation may be traced to some officious interposition or 
 hostile encroachment in this respect. The lands of Lebanon 
 are divided into fifteen Mookatas, or feudal provinces, and 
 the rights of the mookatadgis, or landlords, in these pro- 
 vinces, are power of punishment not extending to death, 
 service in war, and labour in peace, and the collection of 
 the imperial revenue from the population, who are in fact 
 their vassals, on which they receive a percentage from the 
 Porte. The administration of police, of the revenue, and 
 indeed the whole internal government of Lebanon, are in 
 the hands of the mookatadgis, or rather of the most power- 
 ful individuals of this class, who bear the titles of Emirs and 
 Sheikhs, some of whom are proprietors to a very great 
 extent, and many of whom, in point of race and antiquity 
 of established family, are superior to the aristocracy of 
 Europe. 
 
 There is no doubt that the founders of this privileged 
 and territorial class, whatever may be the present creeds 
 of its members, Moslemin, Maronite, or Druse, were the 
 old Arabian conquerors of Syria. The Turks, conquerors 
 in their turn, have succeeded in some degree in the plain 
 to the estates and immunities of the followers of the first 
 caliphs ; but the Ottomans never substantially prevailed in 
 the Highlands, and their authority has been recognised 
 mainly by management, and as a convenient compromise 
 amid the rivalries of so many local ambitions. 
 
 Always conspicuous among the great families of the 
 Lebanon, during the last century and a half pre-eminent, 
 has been the house of Shehaab, possessing entirely one of 
 the provinces, and widely disseminated and powerfully en- 
 dowed in several of the others. Since the commencement 
 of the eighteenth century, the virtual sovereignty of the 
 country has been exercised by a prince of this family, under 
 the title of Chief Emir. The chiefs of all the different 
 races have kissed the hand of a Shehaab ; he had the power
 
 346 TANCKED; OR 
 
 of life and death, could proclaim war and confer honours. 
 Of all this family, none were so supreme as the Emir 
 Bescheer, who governed Lebanon during the Egyptian 
 invasion, and to whose subdolous career and its consequences 
 we have already referred. When the Turks triumphed 
 in 1840, the Emir Bescheer was deposed, and with his sons 
 sent prisoner to Constantinople. The Porte, warned at 
 that time by the too easy invasion of Syria and the immi- 
 nent peril which it had escaped, wished itself to assume the 
 government of Lebanon, and to garrison the passes with 
 its troops ; but the Christian Powers would not consent to 
 this proposition, and therefore Kassim Shehaab was called 
 to the Chief Emirate. Acted upon by the patriarch of the 
 Maronites, Kassim, who was a Christian Shehaab, coun- 
 tenanced the attempts of his holiness to destroy the feudal 
 privileges of the Druse mookatadgis, while those of the 
 Maronites were to be retained. This produced the civil 
 war of 1841 in Lebanon, which so perplexed and scandalised 
 England, and which was triumphantly appealed to by 
 France as indubitable evidence of the weakness and un- 
 popularity of the Turks, and the fruitlessness of our previous 
 interference. The Turks had as little to do with it as M. 
 Guizot or Lord Palmerston ; but so limited is our know- 
 ledge upon these subjects, that the cry was successful, and 
 many who had warmly supported the English minister 
 during the previous year, and probably in equal ignorance 
 of the real merits of the question, began now to shake their 
 heads and fear that we had perhaps been too precipitate. 
 
 The Porte adroitly took advantage of the general anarchy 
 to enforce the expediency of its original proposition, to 
 which the Great Powers, however, would not assent. 
 Kassim was deposed, after a reign of a few months, amid 
 burning villages and their slaughtered inhabitants ; and, as 
 the Porte was resolved not to try another Shehaab, and 
 the Great Powers were resolved not to trust the Porte, 
 diplomacy was obliged again to interfere, and undertake to 
 provide Lebanon with a government.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 347 
 
 It was the interest of two parties, whose co-operation 
 was highly essential to the settlement of this question, to 
 prevent the desired adjustment, and these were the Turkish 
 government and the family of Shehaab and their numerous 
 adherents. Anarchy was an argument in the mouth of 
 each, that the Lebanon must be governed by the Porte, or 
 that there never could be tranquillity without a Shehaab 
 prince. The Porte in general contented itself with being 
 passive and watching the fray, while the agents of the 
 Great Powers planned and promulgated their scheme of 
 polity. The Shehaabs were more active, and their efforts 
 were greatly assisted by the European project which was 
 announced. 
 
 The principal feature of this administrative design was 
 the institution of two governors of Lebanon, called Caima- 
 cams, one of whom was to be a Maronite and govern the 
 Maronites, and the other a Druse and govern his fellow- 
 countrymen. Superficially, this seemed fair enough, but 
 reduced into practice the machinery would not work. For 
 instance, the populations in many places were blended. 
 Was a Druse Caimacam to govern the Christians in his 
 district ? Was the government of the two Caimacam s 
 to be sectarian or geographical ? Should the Christian 
 Caimacam govern all the Christians, and the Druse Caima- 
 cam govern all the Druses of the Lebanon ? Or should 
 the Christian Caimacam govern the Christian Mookatas, as 
 well as such Druses as lived mixed with the Christians in 
 the Christian Mookatas, and the Druse Camaicam in the 
 Druse country exercise the same rights ? 
 
 Hence arose the terms of mixed Druses and mixed 
 Christians ; mixed Druses meaning Druses living in the 
 Christian country, and mixed Christians those living in the 
 Druse country. Such was the origin of the mixed popula- 
 tion question, which entirely upset the project of Downing 
 Street ; happy spot, where they draw up constitutions for 
 Syria and treaties for China with the same self-complacency 
 and the same success !
 
 .548 TANCEED; OR 
 
 Downing Street (1842) decided upon the sectarian go- 
 vernment of the Lebanon. It was simple, and probably 
 satisfactory, to Exeter Hall ; but Downing Street was quite 
 unaware, or had quite forgotten, that the feudal system 
 prevailed throughout Lebanon. The Christians in the 
 Druse districts were vassals of Druse lords. The direct 
 rule of a Christian Caimacam was an infringement on all 
 the feudal rights of the Djinblats and Yezbecks, of the Tal- 
 hooks and the Abdel-Maleks. It would be equally fatal 
 to the feudal rights of the Christian chiefs, the Kazins and 
 the Eldadahs, the Elheires and the El Dahers, as regarded 
 their Druse tenantry, unless the impossible plan of the 
 patriarch of the Maronites, which had already produced a 
 civil war, had been adopted. Diplomacy, therefore, seemed 
 on the point of at length succeeding in uniting the whole 
 population of Lebanon in one harmonious action, but un- 
 fortunately against its own project. 
 
 The Shehaab party availed themselves of these circum- 
 stances with great dexterity and vigour. The party was 
 powerful. The whole of the Maronites, a population of 
 more than 150,000, were enrolled in their ranks. The Emir 
 Bescheer was of their faith ; so was the unfortunate Kassim. 
 True, there were several Shehaab princes who were Mosle- 
 min, but they might become Christians, and they were not 
 Druses, at least only two or three of them. The Maronite 
 clergy exercised an unquestioned influence over their flocks. 
 It was powerfully organised : a patriarch, numerous monas- 
 teries, nine prelates, and an active country priesthood. 
 
 Previously to the civil war of 1841, the feeling of the 
 Druses had been universally in favour of the Shehaabs. 
 The peril in which feudalism was placed revived their an- 
 cient sentiments. A Shehaab committee was appointed, 
 with perpetual sittings at Deir El Kamar, the most con- 
 siderable place in the Lebanon ; and, although it was chiefly 
 composed of Christians, there were several Druses at least 
 in correspondence with it. But the most remarkable in- 
 stitution which occurred about this time (1844) was that of
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 349 
 
 ' YOUNG STRIA.' It flourishes : in every town and village 
 of Lebanon, there is a band of youth who acknowledge the 
 title, and who profess nationality as their object, though, 
 behind that plea, the restoration of the house of Shehaab 
 generally peeps out. 
 
 Downing Street, frightened, gave up sectarian diplomacy, 
 and announced the adoption of the geographical principle 
 of government. The Druses, now that their feudal privi- 
 leges were secured, cooled in their ardour for nationality. 
 The Shehaabs, on the other hand, finding that the Druses 
 were not to be depended on, changed their note. ' Is it 
 to be tolerated for a moment, that a Christian should be 
 governed by a Druse ? "Were it a Moslem, one might bear 
 it ; these things will happen ; but a Druse, who adores a 
 golden calf, worshippers of Eblis ! One might as well be 
 governed by a Jew.' 
 
 The Maronite patriarch sent 200,000 piastres to his 
 children to buy arms ; the superior of the convent of 
 Maashmooshi forwarded little less, saying it was much 
 better to spend their treasure in helping the Christians 
 than in keeping it to be plundered by the Druses. Bishop 
 Tubia gave his bond for a round sum, but afterwards re- 
 called it ; Bishop Joseph Djezini came into Sidon with his 
 pockets full, and told the people that a prince of the house 
 of Shehaab would soon be at their head, but explained on a 
 subsequent occasion that he went thither merely to distri- 
 bute charity. 
 
 In this state of affairs, in May 1845 the civil war broke 
 out. The Christians attacked the Druses in several dis- 
 tricts on the same day. The attack was unprovoked, and 
 eventually unsuccessful. Twenty villages were seen burn- 
 ing at the same time from Beiroot. The Druses repulsed 
 the Christians and punished them sharply; the Turkish 
 troops, at the instigation of the European authorities, 
 marched into the mountain and vigorously interfered. Tho 
 Maronites did not show as much courage in the field as 
 iii the standing committee at Deir el Kamar but several of
 
 350 TANCRED; OR 
 
 the Shehaab princes who headed them, especially the Emir 
 Kais, maintained the reputation of their house and dis- 
 played a brilliant courage. The Emir Fakredeen was at 
 Canobia at the time of the outbreak, which, as it often 
 happens, though not unpremeditated, was unexpected. He 
 marched to the scene of action at the head of his troops, 
 and, when he found that Kais had been outflanked and 
 repnlsed, that the Maronites were disheartened in propor- 
 tion to their previous vanity and insolence, and that the 
 Turkish forces had interfered, he assumed the character of 
 mediator. Taking advantage of the circumstances and the 
 alarm of all parties at the conjuncture and its yet unascer- 
 tained consequences, he obtained for the Maronites a long- 
 promised indemnity from the Porte for the ravages of the 
 Druses in the civil war of 1841, which the Druses had been 
 unable to pay, on condition that they should accept the 
 geographical scheme of government; and, having signed, 
 with other Emirs and Sheikhs, the ten articles of peace, he 
 departed, as we have seen, on that visit to Jerusalem, 
 which exercised such control over the career of Lord 
 Montacute, and led to such strange results and such sin- 
 gular adventures. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 GALLOPED up the winding steep of Canobia the Sheikh Said 
 Djinblat, one of the most popular chieftains of the Druses ; 
 amiable and brave, trustworthy and soft- mannered. Four 
 of his cousins rode after him : he came from his castle of 
 Mooktara, wLich was not distant. He was in the prime of 
 manhood, tall and lithe ; enveloped in a bornous which 
 shrouded his dark eye, his white turban, and his gold- 
 embroidered vests ; his long lance was couched in its rest, 
 as he galloped up the winding steep of Canobia. 
 
 Came slowly, on steeds dark as night, up the winding 
 steep of Canobia, with a company of twenty men on
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 351 
 
 iuot armed with muskets and handjars, the two ferocious 
 brothers Abuneked, Nasif and Hamood. Pale is the cheek 
 of the daughters of Maron at the fell name of Abnneked. 
 The Abunekeds were the Druse lords of the town of Deir el 
 Kamar, where the majority of the inhabitants were Chris- 
 tian. When the patriarch tried to deprive the Druses of 
 their feudal rights, the Abunekeds attacked and sacked 
 their own town of Deir el Kamar. The civil war being 
 terminated, and it being agreed, in the settlement of the 
 indemnities from the Druses to the Maronites, that all 
 plunder still in possession of the plunderers should be re- 
 stored, Nasif Abuneked said, ' I have five hundred silver 
 horns, and each of them I took from the head of a Christian 
 woman. Come and fetch them.' 
 
 But all this is forgotten now ; and least of all should it 
 be remembered by the meek-looking individual who is at 
 this moment about to ascend the winding steep of Canobia. 
 Riding on a mule, clad in a coarse brown woollen dress, in 
 Italy or Spain we should esteem him a simple Capuchin, 
 but in truth he is a prelate, and a prelate of great power ; 
 Bishop Nicodemus, to wit, prime councillor of the patri- 
 arch, and chief prompter of those measures that occasioned 
 the civil war of 1841. A single sacristan walks behind him, 
 his only retinue, and befitting his limited resources ; but 
 the .Maronite prelate is recompensed by universal respect ; 
 liis vanity is perpetually gratified, and, when he appears, 
 Sheikh and peasant are alike proud to kiss the hand which 
 his reverence is ever prompt to extend. 
 
 Placed on a more eminent stage, and called upon to con- 
 trol larger circumstances, Bishop Nicodemus might have 
 rivalled the Bishop of Autun ; so fertile was he in resource, 
 and so intuitive was his knowledge of men. As it was, he 
 wasted his genius in mountain squabbles, and in regulating 
 the discipline of his little church ; suspending priests, in- 
 terdicting monks, and inflicting public penance on the laity. 
 He rather resembled De Retz than Talleyrand, for he was 
 naturally turbulent and intriguing. He could under no
 
 352 TANCKED; OE 
 
 circumstances let well alone. He was a thorough Syrian, 
 at once subtile and imaginative. Attached to the house of 
 Shehaab by policy, he was devoted to Fakredeen as much 
 by sympathy as interest, and had contrived the secret 
 mission of Archbishop Murad to Europe, which had so 
 much perplexed M. Guizot, Lord Cowley, and Lord Aber- 
 deen ; and which finally, by the intervention of the same 
 Bishop Nicodemus, Fakredeen had disowned. 
 
 Came caracolling up the winding steep of Canobia a 
 troop of horsemen, showily attired, and riding steeds that 
 danced in the sunny air. These were the princes Kais and 
 Abdullah Shehaab, and Francis El Kazin, whom the Levan- 
 tines called Caseno, and the principal members of the Young 
 Syria party ; some of them beardless Sheikhs, but all 
 choicely mounted, and each holding on his wrist a falcon ; 
 for this was the first day of the year that they might fly. 
 But those who cared not to seek a quarry in the partridge 
 or the gazelle, might find the wild boar or track the panther 
 in the spacious Avoods of Canobia. 
 
 And the Druse chief of the house of Djezbek, who for 
 five hundred years had never yielded precedence to the 
 house of Djinblat, and Sheikh Fahour Kange, who since 
 the civil war had never smoked a pipe with a Maronite, but 
 who now gave the salaam of peace to the crowds of Habeishs 
 and Dahdahes who passed by ; and Butros Keramy, the 
 nephew of the patriarch, himself a great Sheikh, who in- 
 haled his nargilly as he rode, and who looked to the skies 
 and puffed forth his smoke whenever he met a son of 
 Eblis ; and the house of Talhook, and the house of Abdel- 
 Malek, and a swarm of Elvasuds, and Elheires, and El 
 Dahers, Emirs and Sheikhs on their bounding steeds, and 
 musketeers on foot, with their light jackets and bare legs 
 and wooden sandals, and black slaves, carrying vases and 
 tubes ; everywhere a brilliant and animated multitude, and 
 all mounting the winding steep of Canobia. 
 
 The great court of the castle was crowded with men and 
 horses, and fifty mouths at once were drinking at the
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 353 
 
 central basin ; the arcades were full of Sheikhs, smoking 
 and squatted on their carpets, which in general they had 
 spread in this locality in preference to the more formal 
 saloons, whose splendid divans rather embarrassed them; 
 though even these chambers were well attended, the guests 
 principally seated on the marble floors covered with their 
 small bright carpets. The domain immediately around the 
 castle was also crowded with human beings. The moment 
 anyone arrived, his steed was stabled or picketed; his 
 attendants spread his carpet, sought food for him, which 
 was promptly furnished, with coffee and sherbets, and oc- 
 casionally wine ; and when he had sufficiently refreshed 
 himself, he lighted his nargilly. Everywhere there was a 
 murmur, but no uproar ; a stir, but no tumult. And what 
 Avas most remarkable amid these spears and sabres, these 
 muskets, handjars, and poniards, was the sweet and perpe- 
 tually recurring Syrian salutation of ' Peace.' 
 
 Fakredeen, moving about in an immense turban, of the 
 most national and unreformed style, and covered with 
 costly shawls and arms flaming with jewels, recognised and 
 welcomed everyone. He accosted Druse and Maronite 
 with equal cordiality, talked much with Said Djinblat, 
 whom he specially wished to gain, and lent one of his 
 choicest steeds to the Djezbek, that he might not be offended. 
 The Talhook and the Abdel-Malek could not be jealous of 
 the Habeish and the Eldadah. He kissed the hand of 
 Bishop Nicodemus, but then he sent his own nargilly to 
 the Emir Ahmet Raslan, who was Caimacam of the Druses. 
 
 In this strange and splendid scene, Tancred, dressed in a 
 velvet shooting-jacket built in St. James' Street and a 
 wide-awake which had been purchased at Bellamont market, 
 and leaning on a rifle which was the masterpiece of Purday, 
 was not perhaps the least-interesting personage. The 
 Emirs and Sheikhs, notwithstanding the powers of dissimu- 
 lation for which the Orientals are renowned, their habits 
 of self-restraint, and their rooted principle never to seem 
 surprised about anything, have a weakness in respect to 
 
 A A
 
 354 TANCRED; OR 
 
 arms. After eyeing Tancred for a considerable time with 
 imperturbable countenances, Francis El Kazin sent to Fak- 
 redeen to know whether the English prince would favour 
 them by shooting an eagle. This broke the ice, and 
 Fakredeen came, and soon the rifle was in the hands of 
 Francis El Kazin. Sheikh Said Djinblat, who would have 
 died rather than have noticed the rifle in the hands of 
 Tancred, could not resist examining it when in the posses- 
 sion of a brother Sheikh. Kais Shehaab, several Habeishes 
 and Eldadahs gathered round ; exclamationc of wonder and 
 admiration arose ; sundry asseverations that God was great 
 followed. 
 
 Freeman and Trueman, who were at hand, were sum- 
 moned to show their lord's double-barrelled gun, and his 
 pistols with hair-triggers. This they did, with that stupid 
 composure and dogged conceit which distinguish English 
 servants in situations which must elicit from all other 
 persons some ebullition of feeling. Exchanging between 
 themselves glances of contempt at the lords of Lebanon, 
 who were ignorant of what everybody knows, they exhi- 
 bited the arms without the slightest interest or anxiety to 
 make the Sheikhs comprehend them ; till Tancred, mortified 
 at their brutality, himself interfered, and, having already 
 no inconsiderable knowledge of the language of the country, 
 though, from his reserve, Fakredeen little suspected the ex- 
 tent of his acquirements, explained felicitously to his com- 
 panions the process of the arms ; and then taking his rifle, 
 and stepping out upon the terrace, he levelled his piece at 
 a heron which was soaring at a distance of upwards of 
 one hundred yards, and brought the bird down amid the 
 applause both of Maronite and Druse. 
 
 ' He is sent here, I understand,' said Butros Keramy, ' to 
 ascertain for the Queen of the English whether the country 
 is in favour of the Shehaabs. Could you believe it, but 
 I was told yesterday at Deir el Kamar, that the English 
 consul has persuaded the Queen that even the patriarch was 
 against the Shehaabs?'
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 355 
 
 ' IB it possible ? ' said Rafael Farah, a Maronite of tho 
 house of Eldadah. ' It must be the Druses who circulate 
 these enormous falsehoods.' 
 
 * Hush ! ' said Young Syria, in the shape of Francis El 
 Kazin, ' there is no longer Maronite or Druse : we are all 
 Syrians, we are brothers.' 
 
 ' Then a good many of my brothers are sons of Eblis,' 
 said Butros Keramy. ' I hope he is not my father.' 
 
 1 Truly, I should like to see the mountain without the 
 Maronite nation,' said Eafael Farah. ' That would be a 
 year without rain.' 
 
 ' And mighty things your Maronite nation has done ! ' 
 rejoined Francis El Kazin. ' If there had been the Syrian 
 nation instead of the Maronite nation, and the Druse nation, 
 and half a dozen other nations besides, instead of being 
 conquered by Egypt in 1832, we should have conquered 
 Egypt ourselves long ago, and have held it for our farm. 
 We have done mighty things truly with our Maronite 
 nation ! ' 
 
 ' To hear an El Kazin speak against the Maronite nation ! ' 
 exclaimed Rafael Farah, with a look of horror ; ' a nation 
 that has two hundred convents ' ' 
 
 ' And a patriarch,' said Butros Keramy, ' very much re- 
 spected even by the Pope of Rome.' 
 
 'And who were disarmed like sheep,' said Francis. 
 
 'Not because we were beaten,' said Butros, who was 
 brave enough. 
 
 ' We were persuaded to that,' said Rafael. 
 
 ' By our monks,' said Francis ; 'the convents you are BO 
 proud of.' 
 
 ' They were deceived by sons of Eblis,' said Butros. ' I 
 never gave up my arms. I have some pieces now, that, 
 although they are not as fine as those of the English prince, 
 could pick a son of Eblis off behind a rock, whether he be 
 Egyptian or Druse.' 
 
 'Hush!' said Francis El Kazin. 'You love our host, 
 
 Butros ; these are not words that will please him ' 
 
 A A 2
 
 35b TANCKED; OR 
 
 ' Or me, my children,' said Bishop Nicodemus. ' This is 
 a great day for Syria ! to find the chiefs of both nations 
 assembled at the castle of a Shehaab. Why am I here but 
 to preach peace and love ? And Butros Keramy, my friend, 
 my dearly beloved brother Butros, if you wish to please 
 the patriarch, your uncle, who loves you so well, you will 
 no longer call Druses sons of Eblis.' 
 
 ' What are we to call them ? ' asked Rafael Farah, pet- 
 tishly. 
 
 ' Brothers,' replied Bishop Nicodemus ; ' misguided, but 
 still brothers. This is not a moment for brawls, when the 
 great Queen of the English has sent hither her own brother 
 to witness the concord of the mountain.' 
 
 Now arose the sound of tabors, beaten without any attempt 
 at a tune, but with unremitting monotony, then the baying 
 of many hounds more distant. There was a bustle. Many 
 Sheikhs slowly rose ; their followers rushed about ; some 
 looked at their musket locks, some poised their pikes and 
 spears, some unsheathed their haudjars, examined their 
 edge, and then returned them to their sheath. Those who 
 were in the interior of the castle came crowding into the 
 great court, which, in turn, poured forth its current of 
 population into the table-land about the castle. Here, held 
 by grooms, or picketed, were many steeds. The mares of 
 the Emir Fakredeen were led about by his black slaves. 
 Many of the Sheikhs, mounted, prepared for the pastime 
 that awaited them. 
 
 There was to be a grand chase in the oak forest, through 
 part of which Tancred had already travelled, and which 
 spread over a portion of the plain and the low hilly country 
 that encompassed it. Three parties, respectively led by the 
 Emir Fakredeen, and the Caimacams of the two nations, 
 were to penetrate into this forest at different and distant 
 points, so that the sport was spread over a surface of many 
 miles. The heads of the great houses of both nations accom- 
 panied the Emir of Canobia ; their relatives and followers, 
 by the exertions of Francis El Kazin and Young Syria,
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 357 
 
 were in general so distributed, that the Maronites were 
 under the command of the Emir Raslan, the Druse Cai- 
 macam, while the Druses followed the Emir Haidar. This 
 great hunting party consisted of more than eight hundred 
 persons, about half of whom were mounted, but all were 
 armed ; even those who held the dogs in leash were en- 
 titled to join in the sport with the same freedom as tho 
 proudest Sheikh. The three leaders having mounted and 
 bowed gracefully to each other, the cavalcades separated 
 and descended into the plain. The moment they reached 
 the level country, the horsemen shouted and dispersed, 
 galloping in all directions, and many of them throwing 
 their spears ; but, in a short time, they had collected again 
 under their respective leaders, and the three distinct bodies, 
 each a moving and many- coloured mass, might be observed 
 from the castled heights, each instant diminishing in size 
 and lustre, until they vanished at different points in the 
 distance, and were lost amid the shades of the forest. 
 
 For many hours throughout this region nothing was 
 heard but the firing of guns, the baying of hounds, the 
 shouting of men ; not a human being was visible, except 
 some groups of women in the villages, with veils suspended 
 on immense silver horns, like our female headgear of tho 
 middle ages. By-and-by, figures were seen stealing forth 
 from the forest, men on foot, one or two, then larger parties ; 
 some reposed on the plain, some returned to the villages, 
 some re-ascended the winding steeps of Canobia. The 
 firing, the shouting, the baying had become more occasional. 
 Now a wearied horseman picked his slow way over the 
 plain ; then came forth a brighter company, still bounding 
 along. And now they issued, but slowly and in small 
 parties, from various and opposite quarters of the woodland. 
 A great detachment, in a certain order, were then observed 
 to cross the plain and approach the castle. They advanced 
 very gradually, for most of them were on foot, and, joining 
 together, evidently carried burdens; they were preceded 
 and followed by a guard of cavalry. Soon it might be per-
 
 358 TANCEED; OR 
 
 ceived that the produce of the chase was arriving : twenty- 
 five wild boars carried on litters of green branches ; innu- 
 merable gazelles borne by their victors ; transfixed by four 
 spears, and carried by four men, a hyena. 
 
 Not very long after this caravan had reached the castle, 
 the firing, which had died away, recommenced ; the sounds 
 were near at hand ; there was a volley, and almost simul- 
 taneously there issued from various parts of the forest the 
 great body of the hunt. They maintained no order on 
 their return, but dispersed over the plain, blending to- 
 gether, galloping their steeds, throwing their lances, and 
 occasionally firing a shot. Fakredeen and his immediate 
 friends rode up to the Caimacam of the Druses, and they 
 offered each other mutual congratulations on the sport of the 
 morning. They waited for the Caimacam of the Maronites, 
 who, however, did not long detain them ; and, when he ap- 
 peared, their suites joined, and, cantering off at a brisk pace, 
 they soon mounted in company the winding steeps of Canobia. 
 
 The kitchen of Canobia was on a great scale, though 
 simple as it was vast. It was formed for the occasion. 
 About fifty square pits, some four feet in length, and about 
 half as deep, had been dug on the table-land in the vicinity 
 of the castle. At each corner of each pit was a stake, 
 and the four supported a rustic gridiron of green wood, 
 suspended over each pit, which was filled with char- 
 coal, and which yielded an equal and continuous heat to 
 the animal reposing on the gridiron : in some instances a 
 wild boar, in others a sheep occasionally a couple of 
 gazelles. The sheep had been skinned, for there had been 
 time for the operation ; but the game had only been split 
 open, cleared out, and laid on its back, with its feet tied to 
 each of the stakes, so as to retain its position. While this 
 roasting was going on, they filled the stomachs of the 
 animals with lemons gashed with their daggers, and bruised 
 pomegranates, whose fragrant juice, uniting with the bub- 
 bling fat, produced an aromatic and rosy gravy. The hunts- 
 men were the cooks, but the greatest order was preserved ;
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 359 
 
 and though the Emirs and the great Sheikhs, heads of 
 houses, retiring again to their divans, occupied themselves 
 with their nargillies, many a mookatadgi mixed with the ser- 
 vants and the slaves, and delighted in preparing this patri- 
 archal banquet, which indeed befitted a castle and a forest. 
 Within the walls they prepared rice, which they piled on 
 brazen and pewter dishes, boiled gallons of coffee, and 
 stewed the liver of the wild boars and the gazelles in the 
 golden wine of Lebanon. 
 
 The way they dined was this. Fakredeen had his carpet 
 spread on the marble floor of his principal saloon, and the 
 two Caimacams, Tancred and Bishop Nicodemus, Said 
 Djinblat, the heads of the houses of Djezbek, Talhook, and 
 Abdel-Malek, Hamood Abuneked, and five Maronite chief- 
 tains of equal consideration, the Emirs of the house of 
 Shehaab, the Habeish, and the Eldadah, were invited to sit 
 with him. Round the chamber which opened to the air, 
 other chieftains were invited to spread their carpets also ; 
 the centre was left clear. The rest of the Sheikhs and 
 mookatadgis established themselves in small parties, 
 grouped in the same fashion, in the great court and under 
 the arcades, taking care to leave free egress and regress to 
 the fountain. The retainers feasted, when all was over, in 
 the open air. 
 
 Every man found his knife in his girdle, forks were un- 
 known. Fakredeen prided himself on his French porcelain, 
 which the Djinblats, the Talhooks, and the Abunekeds 
 glanced at very queerly. This European luxury was con- 
 fined to his own carpet. There was, however, a consider- 
 able supply of Egyptian earthenware, and dishes of pewter 
 and brass. The retainers, if they required a plate, found 
 one in the large flat barley cake with which each was sup- 
 plied. For the principal guests there was no want of 
 coarse goblets of Bohemian glass ; delicious water abounded 
 in vases of porous pottery, which might be blended, if 
 necessary, with the red or white wine of the mountain. 
 The rice, which had been dressed with a savoury sauce,
 
 360 TANCRED; OR 
 
 was eaten with wooden spoons by those who were supplied 
 with these instruments ; but in general the guests served 
 themselves by handfuls. 
 
 Ten men brought in a framework of oaken branches 
 placed transversely, then covered with twigs, and over these, 
 and concealing everything, a bed, fully an inch thick, of 
 mulberry leaves. Upon this fragrant bier reposed a wild 
 boar ; and on each side of him reclined a gazelle. Their 
 bodies had closed the moment their feet had been loosened 
 from the stakes, so that the gravy was contained within 
 them. It required a most skilful carver not to waste this 
 precious liquid. The chamber was filled with an invigor- 
 ating odour as the practised hand of Habas of Deir el Kamar 
 proceeded to the great performance. His instruments were 
 a silver cup, a poniard, and a handjar. Making a small 
 aperture in the side of the animal, he adroitly introduced 
 the cup, and proportionately baled out the gravy to a group 
 of plates that were extended to him ; then, plunging in the 
 long poniard on which he rested, he made an incision with 
 the keen edge and broad blade of the handjar, and sent 
 forth slice after slice of white fat and ruby flesh. 
 
 The same ceremony was performing in the other parts of 
 the castle. Ten of the pits had been cleared of their burden 
 to appease the first cravings of the appetite of the hunters. 
 The fires had been replenished, the gridirons again covered, 
 and such a supply kept up as should not only satisfy the 
 chieftains, but content their followers. Tancred could not 
 refrain from contrasting the silent, business-like way in 
 which the Shehaabs, the Talhooks, the Djinblats, and the 
 Habeish performed the great operation that was going on, 
 with the conversation which is considered an indispensable 
 accompaniment of a dinner in Franguestan ; for we must 
 no longer presume to call Europe by its beautiful oriental 
 name of Christendom. The Shehaabs, the Talhooks, the 
 Djinblats, and the Habeish were sensible men, who were of 
 opinion, that if you want to talk you should not by any 
 means eat, since from such an attempt at a united per-
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 361 
 
 forinance it generally results, that you neither converse nor 
 refresh yourself in a satisfactory manner. 
 
 There can be no question that, next to the corroding cares 
 of Europeans, principally occasioned by their love of accu- 
 mulating money which they never enjoy, the principal cause 
 of the modern disorder of dyspepsia prevalent among them, 
 is their irrational habit of interfering with the process of 
 digestion by torturing attempts at repartee, and racking 
 their brain, at a moment when it should be calm, to remind 
 themselves of some anecdote so appropriate that they have 
 forgotten it. It has been supposed that the presence of 
 women at our banquets has occasioned this fatal and inop- 
 portune desire to shine ; and an argument has been founded 
 on this circumstance in favour of their exclusion, from an 
 incident which, on the whole, has a tendency to impair that 
 ideal which they should always study and cherish. It may 
 be urged that if a woman eats she may destroy her spell; 
 and that, if she will not eat, she destroys our dinner. 
 
 Notwithstanding all this, and without giving any opinion 
 on this latter point, it should be remembered, that at 
 dinners strictly male, where there is really no excuse 
 for anything of the kind, where, if you are a person of 
 ascertained position, yon are invited for that position and 
 for nothing else, and where, if you are not a person of 
 ascertained position, the more agreeable you make yourself 
 the more you will be hated, and the less chance you will 
 have of being asked there again, or anywhere else, still this 
 fatal frenzy prevails; and individuals are found who, from 
 soup to coffee, from egg to apple, will tell anecdotes, indulge 
 in jests, or, in a tone of levity approaching to jesting, pour 
 forth garrulous secret history with which everyone is ac- 
 quainted, and never say a single thing which is new that 
 is not coolly invented for the occasion. 
 
 The princes of the house of Shehaab, Kais, and Assaad, 
 and Abdullah, the Habeish and the Eldadah, the great 
 houses of the Druses, the Djinblat and the Yezbek, the 
 Abuneked, the Talhook, and the Abdel-Malek, were not of
 
 362 TANCRED; OR 
 
 this school. Silently, determinedly, unceasing, unsatiated, 
 they proceeded with the great enterprise on which they had 
 embarked. If the two nations were indeed to be united, 
 and form a great whole under the sceptre of a Shehaab, let 
 not this banquet pass like the hypocritical hospitality of 
 ordinary life, where men offer what they desire not to be 
 accepted by those who have no wish to receive. This, on 
 the contrary, was a real repast, a thing to be remembered. 
 Practice made the guests accustomed to the porcelain of 
 Paris and the goblets of Prague. Many was the goodly 
 slice of wild boar, succeeded by the rich flesh of the gazelle, 
 of which they disposed. There were also wood-pigeons, 
 partridges, which the falconers had brought down, and 
 quails from the wilderness. At length they called again 
 for rice, a custom which intimated that their appetite for 
 meat was satisfied, and immediately Nubian slaves covered 
 them with towels of fine linen fringed with gold, and, while 
 they held their hands over the basin, poured sweet waters 
 from the ewer. 
 
 In the meantime, Butros Keramy opened his heart to 
 Eafael Farah. 
 
 ' I begin,' said Butros, quaffing a cap of the Vino d'Oro, 
 ' to believe in nationality.' 
 
 ' It cannot be denied,' said Rafael Farah, judiciously shak- 
 ing his head, ' that the two nations were once under the 
 same prince. If the great powers would agree to a Shehaab, 
 and we could sometimes meet together in the present fashion, 
 there is no saying, prejudices might wear off.' 
 
 ' Shall it ever be said that I am of the same nation as 
 Hamood Abuneked ? ' said Butros. 
 
 ' Ah ! it is very dreadful,' said Rafael ; ' a man who has 
 burned convents ! ' 
 
 ' And who has five hundred Maronite horns in his castle,' 
 said Butros. 
 
 ' But suppose he restores them ? ' said Francis El Kazin. 
 
 ' That would make a difference,' said Rafael Farah. 
 
 ' There can be no difference while he lives,' said Butros.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. S63 
 
 ' I fear 'tis an affair of blood,' said Rafael Farah. 
 
 ' Taking horns was never an affair of blood,' said Francis 
 El Kazin. 
 
 ' What should be an affair of blood,' said Butros, ' if ' 
 
 ' But nothing else but taking horns can be proved,' said 
 Francis El Kazin. 
 
 ' There is a good deal in that ! ' said Rafael Farah. 
 
 After confectionary which had been prepared by nuns, 
 and strong waters which had been distilled by the hands 
 of priors, the chieftains praised God, and rose, and took 
 their seats on the divan, when immediately advanced a 
 crowd of slaves, each bearing a nargilly, which they pre- 
 sented to the guests. Then gradually the conversation 
 commenced. It was entirely confined to the exploits of 
 the day, which had been rich in the heroic feats of forest 
 huntsmen. There had been wild boars, too, as brave as 
 their destroyers ; some slight wounds, some narrow escapes. 
 Sheikh Said Djinblat inquired of Lord Montacute whether 
 there were hyenas in England, but was immediately an- 
 swered by the lively and well-informed Kais Shehaab, who 
 apprised him that there were only lions and unicorns. 
 Bishop Nicodemus, who watched the current of observa- 
 tions, began telling hunting stories of the time of the Emir 
 Bescheer, when that prince resided at his splendid castle of 
 Bteddeen, near Deir El Kamar. This was to recall the 
 days when the mountain had only one ruler, and that ruler 
 a Shehaab, and when the Druse lords were proud to be 
 classed among his most faithful subjects. 
 
 In the meantime smoking had commenced throughout 
 the castle, but this did not prevent the smokers from 
 drinking raki as well as the sober juice of Mocha. Four 
 hundred men, armed with nargilly or chibouque, inhaling 
 and puffing with that ardour and enjoyment which men, 
 after a hard day's bunting, and a repast of unusual solidity, 
 can alone experience ! Without the walls, almost as many 
 individuals were feasting in the open air ; brandishing their 
 handjars as they cut ap the huge masses of meat before
 
 364 TANCRED; OR 
 
 them, plunging their eager Lands into the enormous dishes 
 of rice, and slaking their thirst by emptying at a draught 
 a vase of water, which they poured aloft as the Italians 
 would a flask of wine or oil. 
 
 4 And the most curious thing,' said Freeman to True man, 
 as they established themselves under a pine tree, with an 
 ample portion of roast meat, and armed with their travel- 
 ling knives and forks, ' and the most curious thing is, that 
 they say these people are Christians ! Who ever heard of 
 Christians wearing turbans ? ' 
 
 4 Or eating without knives and forks ? ' added Trueman. 
 
 ' It would astonish their weak minds in the steward's 
 room at Bellamont, if they could see all this, John,' said 
 Mr. Freeman, pensively. ' A man who travels has very 
 great advantages.' 
 
 ' And very great hardships too,' said Trueman. ' I don't 
 care for work, but I do like to have my meals regular.' 
 
 4 This is not bad picking, though,' said Mr. Freeman ; 
 4 they call it gazelle, which I suppose is the foreign for 
 venison.' 
 
 ' If you called this venison at Bellamont,' said Trueman, 
 4 they would look very queer in the steward's room.' 
 
 'Bellamont is Bellamont, and this place is this place, 
 John,' said Mr. Freeman. ' The Hameer is a noble gentle- 
 man, every inch of him, and I am very glad my lord has 
 got a companion of his own kidney. It is much better 
 than monks and hermits, and low people of that sort, who 
 are not by no means fit company for somebody I could 
 mention, and might turn him into a papist into the 
 bargain.' 
 
 ' That would be a bad business,' said Trueman ; 4 my lady 
 could never abide that. It would be better that he should 
 turn Turk.' 
 
 4 1 am not sure it wouldn't,' said Mr. Freeman. 4 It 
 would be in a manner more constitutional. The Sultan of 
 Turkey may send an Ambassador to our Queen, but the 
 Pope of Rome may not.'
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 365 
 
 ' I should not like to turn Turk,' said Trueman, very 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 ' I know what you are thinking of, John,' said Mr. Free- 
 man, in a serious tone. ' You are thinking, if anything 
 were to happen to either of us in this heathen land, where 
 we should get Christian burial.' 
 
 ' Lord love you, Mr. Freeman, no I wasn't. I was think- 
 ing of a glass of ale.' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' sighed Freeman, ' it softens the heart to think of 
 Ruch things away from home, as we are. Do you know, 
 John, there are times when I feel very queer, there are 
 indeed. I catched myself a singing " Sweet Home " one 
 night, among those savages in the wilderness. One wants 
 consolation, John, sometimes, one does, indeed ; and, for 
 my part, I do miss the family prayers and the home- 
 brewed.' 
 
 As the twilight died away, they lighted immense bon- 
 fires, as well to cheer them during their bivouac, as to 
 deter any adventurous panther, stimulated by the savoury 
 odours, or hyena, breathing fraternal revenge, from recon- 
 noitring their encampment. By degrees, however, the 
 noise of the revellers without subsided, and at length died 
 away. Having satisfied their hunger, and smoked their 
 chibouques, often made from the branch which they had 
 cut since their return from hunting, with the bud still 
 alive upon the fresh green tube, they wrapped themselves 
 in their cloaks and sheepskins, and sunk into a deep and 
 well-earned repose. 
 
 Within, the Sheikhs and mookatadgis gradually, by no 
 means simultaneously, followed their example. Some, 
 taking off their turbans and loosening their girdles, en- 
 sconced themselves under the arcades, lying on their 
 carpets, and covered with their pelisses and cloaks ; 
 some strolled into the divaned chambers, which were 
 open to all, and more comfortably stowed themselves 
 upon the well-stuffed cushions ; others, overcome with 
 fatigue and their revel, were lying in deep sleep, out-
 
 366 TANCRED; OB 
 
 stretched in the open court, and picturesque in the blazing 
 moonlight. 
 
 The hunting party was to last three days, and few in- 
 tended to leave Canobia on the morrow; but it must not be 
 supposed that the guests experienced any very unusual 
 hardships in what the reader may consider a far from satis- 
 factory mode of passing their night. To say nothing of 
 the warm and benignant climate, the Easterns have not 
 the custom of retiring or rising with the formality of the 
 Occidental nations. They take their sleep when they re- 
 quire it, and meet its embrace without preparation. One 
 cause of this difference undoubtedly is, that the Orientals 
 do not connect the business of the toilet with that of rest. 
 The daily bath, with its elaborate processes, is the spot 
 where the mind ponders on the colour of a robe or the 
 fashion of a turban ; the daily bath, which is the principal 
 incident of Oriental habits, and which can scarcely be said 
 to exist among our own. 
 
 Fakredeen had yielded even his own chambers to his 
 friends. Every divan in Canobia was open, excepting the 
 rooms of Tancred. These were sacred, and the Emir had 
 requested his friend to receive him as a guest during the 
 festival, and apportion him one of his chambers. The head 
 of the house of Talhook was asleep with the tube of his 
 nargilly in his mouth ; the Yezbek had unwound his turban, 
 cast off his sandals, wrapped himself in his pelisses, and 
 fairly turned in ; Bishop Nicodemus was kneeling in a cor- 
 ner, and kissing a silver cross ; and Hamood Abuneked had 
 rolled himself up in a carpet, and was snoring as if he were 
 blowing through one of the horns of the Maronites. Fak- 
 redeen shot a glance at Tancred, instantly recognised. 
 Then, rising and giving the salaam of peace to his guests, 
 the Emir and his English friend made their escape down a 
 corridor, at the bottom of which was one of the few doors 
 that could be found in the castle of Canobia. Baroni re- 
 ceived them, on the watch lest some cruising Sheikh should 
 appropriate their resting-place. The young moon, almost
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 3G7 
 
 as young and bright as it was two months before at Gaza, 
 suffused with lustre the beautiful garden of fruit and 
 flowers without. Under the balcony, Baroni had placed a 
 divan with many cushions, a lamp with burning coffee, and 
 some fresh nargillies. 
 
 ' Thank God, we are alone ! ' exclaimed Fakredeen. 
 ' Tell me, my Tancred, what do you think of it all ? ' 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ' IT has been a great day,' said Tancred, ' not to be for- 
 gotten.' 
 
 ' Yes ; but what do you think of them ? Are they the 
 fellows I described ; the men that might conquer the 
 world ? ' 
 
 ' To conquer the world depends on men not only being 
 good soldiers, but being animated by some sovereign prin- 
 ciple that nothing can resist,' replied Tancred. 
 
 ' But that we have got,' rejoined Fakredeen. 
 
 ' But have they got it ? ' 
 
 ' We can give it to them.' 
 
 * I am not so sure of that. It seems to me that we are 
 going to establish a theocratic equality by the aid of the 
 feudal system.' 
 
 ' That is to say, their present system,' replied Fakredeen. 
 'Islamism was propagated by men who were previously 
 idolaters, and our principle may be established by those 
 whose practice at the present time is directly opposed 
 to it.' 
 
 ' I still cling to my first idea of making the movement 
 from the Desert,' said Tancred: 'the Arabians are entirely 
 unsophisticated ; they are now as they were in the time of 
 Mahomet, of Moses, of Abraham : a sublime devotion is 
 natural to them, and equality, properly developed, is in 
 fact the patriarchal principle.' 
 
 ' But these are Arabians,' said Fakredeen ; ' I am an
 
 368 TANCEED; OR 
 
 Arabian ; there is not a mookatadgi, whatever his present 
 creed, who does not come from Yemen, or the Hedjaz, or 
 the Nejid.' 
 
 ' That is a great qualifi cation,' said Tancred, musingly. 
 
 ' And, see what men these are ! ' continued Fakredeen, 
 with great animation. ' Lebanon can send forth more than 
 fifty thousand well-armed, and yet let enough stay at home 
 to guard the mulberry trees and the women. Then you 
 can keep them for nothing ; a Bedoueen i? not more tem- 
 perate than a Druse, if he pleases : he will get through a 
 campaign on olives and cheese ; they do not require even 
 tents ; they bivouac in a sheepskin.' 
 
 ' And yet,' said Tancred, ' though they have maintained 
 themselves, they have done nothing ; now the Arabs have 
 always succeeded.' 
 
 ' I will tell you how that is,' said Fakredeen. ' It is 
 very true that we have not done much, and that, when we 
 descended into the plain, as we did in '63, under the Emir 
 Yousef, we were beat, beaten back even by the Mutualis ; it 
 is that we have no cavalry. They have always contrived 
 to enlist the great tribes of the Syrian Desert against us, 
 as, for instance, under Daher, of whom you must have 
 heard : it was that which has prevented our development ; 
 but we have always maintained ourselves. Lebanon is the 
 key of Syria, and the country was never unlocked, unless 
 we pleased. But this difficulty is now removed. Through 
 Amalek we shall have the Desert on our side ; he is omni- 
 potent in the Syrian wilderness ; and if he sends messengers 
 through Petrasa to Derayeh, the Nejid, and through the 
 Hedjaz, to Yemen and Oman, we could easily get a cavalry 
 as efficient and not less numerous than our foot.' 
 
 ' The instruments will be found,' said Tancred, ' for it is 
 decreed that the deed should be done. But the favour 
 of Providence does not exempt man from the exercise of 
 human prudence. On the contrary, it is an agent, on 
 whose co-operation they are bound to count. I should like 
 to see something of the great Syrian cities. I should like
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 
 
 also to see Bagdad. It appears to me, at the first chance, 
 that the whole country to the Euphrates might be con- 
 quered in a campaign ; but then I want to know how far 
 artillery is necessary, whether it be indispensable. Then 
 again, the Lesser Asia ; we should never lose sight of the 
 I^esser Asia as the principal scene of our movements ; the 
 richest regions in the world, almost depopulated, and a 
 position from which we might magnetise Europe. But 
 suppose the Turks, through Lesser Asia, conquer Lebanon, 
 while we are overrunning the Babylonian and Assyrian 
 monarchies ? That will never do. I see your strength 
 here with your own people and the Druses, and I do not 
 underrate their qualities : but who is to garrison the north 
 of Syria ? Who is to keep the passes of the North ? What 
 population have you to depend on between Tripoli and 
 Antioch, or between Aleppo and Adanah ? Of all this I 
 know nothing.' 
 
 Fakredeen had entirely imbibed the views of Tancred ; 
 he was sincere in his professions, fervent in his faith. A 
 great feudal proprietor, he was prepared to forsake his 
 beautiful castle, his farms and villages, his vineyards, and 
 mulberry orchards, and forests of oaks, to assist in esta- 
 blishing, by his voice and his sabre, a new social system, 
 which was to substitute the principle of association for that 
 of dependence as the foundation of the Commonwealth, 
 under the sanction and superintendence of the God of Sinai 
 and of Calvary. True it was that the young Syrian Emir 
 intended, that among the consequences of the impending 
 movement should be his enthronement on one of the royal 
 seats of Asia. But we should do him injustice, were we to 
 convey the impression that his ardent co-operation with 
 Tancred at this moment was impelled merely, or even 
 principally, by these coarsely selfish considerations. Men 
 certainly must be governed, whatever the principle of the 
 social system, and Fakredeen felt born with a predisposi- 
 tion to rule. 
 
 But greater even than his desire for empire was his 
 B B
 
 370 TANCEED; OK 
 
 thirst for action. He was wearied with the glittering cage 
 in which he had been born. He panted for a wider field 
 and a nobler theatre, interests more vast and incidents more 
 dazzling and comprehensive ; he wished to astonish Europe 
 instead of Lebanon, and to use his genius in baffling and 
 controlling the thrones and dominations of the world, in- 
 stead of managing the simple Sheikhs and Emirs of his 
 mountains. His castle and fine estates were no sources of 
 satisfaction to him. On the contrary, he viewed Canobia 
 with disgust. It entailed duties, and brought no excite- 
 ment. He was seldom at home and only for a few passing 
 days : continued residence was intolerable to his restless 
 spirit. He passed his life in perpetual movement, scudding 
 about on the fleetest dromedaries, and galloping over the 
 Deserts on steeds of the highest race. 
 
 Though proud of his ancient house, and not unequal, 
 when necessary, to the due representation of his position, 
 unlike the Orientals in general, he disliked pomp, and 
 shrank from the ceremony which awaited him. His rest- 
 less, intriguing, and imaginative spirit revelled in the in- 
 cognito. He was perpetually in masquerade ; a merchant, 
 a Mamlouk, a soldier of fortune, a Tartar messenger, some- 
 times a pilgrim, sometimes a dervish, always in pursuit of 
 some improbable but ingenious object, or lost in the mazes 
 of some fantastic plot. He enjoyed moving alone, without 
 a single attendant ; and seldom in his mountains, he was 
 perpetually in Egypt, Bagdad, Cyprus, Smyrna, and the 
 Syrian cities. He sauntered away a good deal of his time 
 indeed in the ports and towns of the coast, looking after 
 his creditors ; but this was not the annoyance to him which 
 it would be to most men. 
 
 Fakredeen was fond of his debts ; they were the source 
 indeed of his only real excitement, and he was grateful to 
 them for their stirring powers. The usurers of Syria are 
 as adroit and callous as those of all other countries, and 
 possess no doubt all those repulsive qualities which are the 
 consequence of an habitual control over every generous
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 371 
 
 emotion. But, instead of viewing them with feelings of 
 vengeance 01 abhorrence, Fakredeen studied them un- 
 ceasingly with a fine and profound investigation, and found 
 in their society a deep psychological interest. His own 
 rapacious soul delighted to struggle with their rapine, and 
 it charmed him to baffle with his artifice their fraudulent 
 dexterity. He loved to enter their houses with his glitter- 
 ing eye and face radiant with innocence, and, when things 
 were at the very worst and they remorseless, to succeed in 
 circumventing them. In a certain sense, and to a certain 
 degree, they were all his victims. True, they had gorged 
 upon his rents and menaced his domains ; but they had also 
 advanced large sums, and he had so involved one with an- 
 other in their eager appetite to prey upon his youth, and 
 had so complicated the financial relations of the Syrian 
 coast in his own respect, that sometimes they tremblingly 
 calculated that the crash of Fakredeen must inevitably be 
 the signal of a general catastrophe. 
 
 Even usurers have their weak side ; some are vain, some 
 envious ; Fakredeen knew how to titillate their self-love, or 
 when to give them the opportunity of immolating a rival. 
 Then it was, when he had baffled and deluded them, or 
 with that fatal frankness, of which he sometimes blush- 
 ingly boasted, had betrayed some sacred confidence that 
 shook the credit of the whole coast from Scanderoon to 
 Gaza, and embroiled individuals whose existence depended 
 on their mutual goodwill, that, laughing like one of the 
 blue-eyed hyenas of his forests, he galloped away to Cano- 
 bia, and, calling for his nargilly, mused in chuckling calcu- 
 lation over the prodigious sums he owed to them, formed 
 whimsical and airy projects for his quittance, or delighted 
 himself by brooding over the memory of some happy ex- 
 pedient or some daring feat of finance. 
 
 * What should I be without my debts ? ' he would some- 
 times exclaim ; ' dear companions of my life that never 
 desert me ! All my knowledge of human nature is owing 
 to them : it is in managing my affairs that I have sounded 
 
 B B 2
 
 372 TANCRED; OK 
 
 the depths of the human heart, recognised all the com- 
 binations of human character, developed my own powers, 
 and mastered the resources of others. What expedient in 
 negotiation is unknown to me ? What degree of endurance 
 have I not calculated ? What play of the countenance 
 have I not observed ? Yes, among my creditors, I have 
 disciplined that diplomatic ability, that shall some day con- 
 found and control cabinets. Oh, my debts, I feel your pre- 
 sence like that of guardian angels ! If I be lazy, you prick 
 me to action ; if elate, you subdue me to reflection ; and 
 thus it is that you alone can secure that continuous yet 
 controlled energy which conquers mankind.' 
 
 Notwithstanding all this, Fakredeen had grown some- 
 times a little wearied even of the choice excitement of 
 pecuniary embarrassment. It was too often the same 
 story, the adventures monotonous, the characters identical. 
 He had been plundered by every usurer in the Levant, and 
 in turn had taken them in. He sometimes delighted his 
 imagination by the idea of making them disgorge ; that is 
 to say, when he had established that supremacy which 
 he had resolved sooner or later to attain. Although he 
 never kept an account, his memory was so faithful that he 
 knew exactly the amount of which he had been defrauded 
 by every individual with whom he had had transactions. 
 He longed to mulct them, to the service of the State, in 
 the exact amount of their unhallowed appropriations. He 
 was too good a statesman ever to confiscate ; he confined 
 himself to taxation. Confiscation is a blunder that destroys 
 public credit ; taxation, on the contrary, improves it ; and 
 both come to the same thing. 
 
 That the proud soul of Tancred of Montacute, with its 
 sublime aspirations, its inexorable purpose, its empyrean 
 ambition, should find a votary in one apparently so whim- 
 sical, so worldly, and so worthless, may at the first glance 
 seem improbable ; yet a nearer and finer examination may 
 induce us to recognise its likelihood. Fakredeen had a 
 brilliant imagination and a passionate sensibility ; his heart
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 373 
 
 was controlled by his taste, and, when that was pleased 
 and satisfied, he was capable of profound feeling and of 
 earnest conduct. Moral worth had no abstract charms for 
 him, and he could sympathise with a dazzling reprobate ; 
 but virtue in an heroic form, lofty principle, and sovereign 
 duty invested with all the attributes calculated to captivate 
 his rapid and refined perception, exercised over him a re- 
 sistless and transcendent spell. The deep and disciplined 
 intelligence of Tancred, trained in all the philosophy and 
 cultured with all the knowledge of the West, acted with 
 magnetic power upon a consciousness, the bright vivacity 
 of which was only equalled by its virgin ignorance of all 
 that books can teach, and of those great conclusions which 
 the studious hour can alone elaborate. Fakredeen hung 
 upon his accents like a bee, while Tancred poured forth, 
 without an effort, the treasures of his stored memory and 
 long musing mind. He went on, quite unconscious that 
 his companion was devoid of that previous knowledge, 
 which, with all other persons, would have been a prelimi- 
 nary qualification for a profitable comprehension of what 
 he said. Fakredeen gave him no hint of this : the young 
 Emir trusted to his quick perception to sustain him, al- 
 though his literary training was confined to an Arabic 
 grammar, some sentences of wise men, some volumes of 
 poetry, and mainly and most profitably to the clever Courier 
 de Smyrne, and occasionally a packet of French journals 
 which he obtained from a Levantine consul. 
 
 It was therefore with a feeling not less than enthusiastic 
 that Fakredeen responded to the suggestive influence of 
 Tancred. The want that he had long suffered from was 
 supplied, and the character he had long mused over had 
 appeared. Here was a vast theory to be reduced to prac- 
 tice, and a commanding mind to give the leading impulse. 
 However imperfect may have been his general conception 
 of the ideas of Tancred, he clearly comprehended that their 
 fulfilment involved his two great objects, change and ac- 
 tion. Compared with these attainments on a great scale,
 
 374 TANCRED; OR 
 
 his present acquisition and position sank into nothingness. 
 A futurity consisting of a Syrian Emirate and a mountain 
 castle figured as intolerable, and Fakredeen, hoping all 
 things and prepared for anything, flung to the winds all 
 consideration for his existing ties, whether in the shape of 
 domains or of debts. 
 
 The imperturbable repose, the grave and thoughtful 
 daring, with which Tancred developed his revolutionary 
 projects, completed the power with which he could now 
 dispose of the fate of the young Emir. Sometimes, in 
 fluttering moments of disordered reverie, Fakredeen had 
 indulged in dreams of what, with his present companion, 
 it appeared was to be the ordinary business of their lives, 
 and which he discussed with a calm precision which alone 
 half convinced Fakredeen of their feasibility. It was not 
 for an impassioned votary to intimate a difficulty ; but if 
 Fakredeen, to elicit an opinion, sometimes hinted an ad- 
 verse suggestion, the objection was swept away in an instant 
 by an individual whose inflexible will was sustained by the 
 conviction of divine favour. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ' Do you know anything of a people in the north of this 
 country, called the Ansarey ? ' inquired Tancred of Baroni. 
 
 ' No, my lord ; and no one else. They hold the moun- 
 tainous country about Antioch, and will let no one enter 
 it ; a very warlike race ; they beat back the Egyptians ; 
 but Ibrahim Pacha loaded his artillery with piastres the 
 second time he attacked them, and they worked very well 
 with the Pacha after that.' 
 
 ' Are they Moslemin ? ' 
 
 'It is very easy to say what they are not, and that is 
 about the extent of any knowledge that we have of them ; 
 they are not Moslemin, they are not Christians, they are 
 not Druses, and they are not Jews, and certainly they arc
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 375 
 
 not Gnebres, for I have spoken of them to the Indians at 
 Djedda, who are fire- worshippers, and they do not in any 
 degree acknowledge them.' 
 
 ' And what is their race ? Are they Arabs ? ' 
 
 ' I should say not, my lord ; for the only one I ever saw 
 was more like a Greek or an Armenian than a son of the 
 Desert.' 
 
 ' You have seen one of them ? ' 
 
 ' It was at Damascus : there was a city brawl, and M. de 
 Sidonia saved the life of a man, who turned out to be an 
 Ansarey, though disguised. They have secret agents at 
 most of the Syrian cities. They speak Arabic ; but I have 
 heard M. de Sidonia say they have also a language of their 
 own.' 
 
 ' I wonder he did not visit them.' 
 
 ' The plague raged at Aleppo when we were there, and 
 the Ansarey were doubly rigid in their exclusion of all 
 strangers from their country.' 
 
 ' And this Ansarey at Damascus, have you ever seen any- 
 thing of him since ? ' 
 
 'Yes; I have been at Damascus several times since I 
 travelled with M. de Sidonia, and I have sometimes smoked 
 a nargilly with this man : his name is Darkush, and he 
 deals in drugs.' 
 
 Now this was the reason that induced Tancred to inquire 
 of Baroni respecting the Ansarey. The day before, which 
 was the third day of the great hunting party at Canobia, 
 Fakredeen and Tancred had found themselves alone with 
 Hamood Abuneked, and the lord of Canobia had thought 
 it a good occasion to sound this powerful Sheikh of the 
 Druses. Hamood was rough, but frank and sincere. He 
 was no enemy of the house of Shehaab ; but the Abunekeds 
 had suffered during the wars and civil conflicts which had 
 of late years prevailed in Lebanon, and he was evidently 
 disinclined to mix in any movement which was not well 
 matured and highly promising of success. Fakredeen, of 
 course, concealed his ulterior purpose from the Druse, who
 
 376 TANCEED; OR 
 
 associated with the idea of union between the two nations 
 merely the institution of a sole government under one head, 
 and that head a Shehaab, probably dwelling at Canobia. 
 
 'I have fought by the side of the Emir Bescheer,' said 
 Hamood, ' and would he were in his palace of Bteddeen at 
 this moment ! And the Abunekeds rode with the Emir 
 Yousef against Djezzar. It is not the house of Abuneked 
 that would say there should be two weak nations when 
 there might be one strong one. But what I say is sealed 
 with the signet of truth ; it is known to the old, and it is 
 remembered by the wise ; the Emir Bescheer has said it to 
 me as many times as there are oranges on that tree, and the 
 Emir Yousef has said it to my father. The northern passes 
 ire not guarded by Maronite or by Druse.' 
 
 ' And as long as they are not guarded by us ? ' said 
 Fakredeen, inquiringly. 
 
 'We may have a sole prince and a single government,' 
 continued Hamood, ' and the houses of the two nations may 
 be brothers, but every now and then the Osmanli will enter 
 the mountain, and we shall eat sand.' 
 
 * And who holds the northern passes, noble Sheikh ? ' in- 
 quired Tancred. 
 
 ' Truly, I believe,' replied Hamood, ' very sons of Eblis, 
 for the whole of that country is in the hands of the Ansarey, 
 and there never has been evil in the mountain that they 
 have not been against us.' 
 
 ' They never would draw with the Shehaabs,' said Fakre- 
 deen ; ' and I have heard the Emir Bescheer say that, if the 
 Ansarey had acted -with him, he would have baffled, in '40, 
 both the Porte and the Pacha.' 
 
 ' It was the same in the time of the Emir Yousef/ said 
 Sheikh Hamood. 'They can bring twenty- five thousand 
 picked men into the plain.' 
 
 ' And, I suppose, if it were necessary, would not be afraid 
 to meet the Osmanli in Anatoly ? ' said Fakredeen. 
 
 'If the Turkmans or the Kurds would join them,' said 
 Sheikh Hamood, ' there is nothing to prevent their washing 
 their horses' feet in the Bosphorus.'
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 377 
 
 ' It is strange,' said Fakredeen, ' but frequently as I have 
 been at Aleppo and Antioch, I have never been in their 
 country. I have always been warned against it, always 
 kept from it, which indeed ought to have prompted my 
 earliest efforts, when I was my own master, to make them 
 a visit. But, I know not how it is, there are some preju- 
 dices that do stick to one. I have a prejudice against the 
 Ansarey, a sort of fear, a kind of horror. 'Tis vastly absurd. 
 I suppose my nurse instilled it into me, and frightened me 
 with them when I would not sleep. Besides, I had an idea 
 that they particularly hated the Shehaabs. I recollect so 
 well the Emir Bescheer, at Bteddeen, bestowing endless 
 imprecations on them.' 
 
 ' He made many efforts to win them, though,' said 
 Sheikh Hamood, ' and so did the Emir Yousef.' 
 
 ' And you think without them, noble Sheikh,' said Tan- 
 cred, ' that Syria is not secure ? ' 
 
 * I think, with them and peace with the Desert, that Syria 
 might defy Turk and Egyptian.' 
 
 ' And carry the war into the enemy's quarters, if neces- 
 sary ? ' said Fakredeen. 
 
 ' If they would let us alone, I am content to leave them,' 
 said Hamood. 
 
 'Hem!' said the Emir Fakredeen. 'Do you see that 
 gazelle, noble Sheikh ? How she bounds along ! What if 
 we follow her, and the pursuit should lead us into the lands 
 of the Ansarey ? ' 
 
 'It would be a long ride,' said Sheikh Hamood. 'Nor 
 should I care much to trust my head in a country governed 
 by a woman.' 
 
 ' A woman ! ' exclaimed Tancred and Fakredeen. 
 
 ' They say as much,' said Sheikh Hamood ; ' perhaps it 
 is only a coffee-house tale.' 
 
 ' I never heard it before,' said Fakredeen. ' In the time 
 of my uncle, Elderidia was Sheikh. I have heard indeed 
 that the Ansarey worship a woman.' 
 
 ' Then they would be Christians,' said Sheikh Hamood, 
 ' and I never heard that.'
 
 37 & TANCRED; OR 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 IT was destined that Napoleon should never enter Rome, 
 and Mahomet never enter Damascus. What was the reason 
 of this ? They were not uninterested in those cities that 
 interest all. The Emperor selected from the capital of the 
 Caesars the title of his son ; the Prophet, when hg beheld 
 the crown of Syria, exclaimed that it was too delightful, 
 and that he must reserve his paradise for another world. 
 Buonaparte was an Italian, and must have often yearned 
 after the days of Rome triumphant. The son of Abdallah 
 was descended from the patriarchs, whose progenitor had 
 been moulded out of the red clay of the most ancient city 
 in the world. Absorbed by the passionate pursuit of the 
 hour, the two heroes postponed a gratification which they 
 knew how to appreciate, but which, with all their success, all 
 their power, and all their fame, they were never permitted 
 to indulge. What moral is to be drawn from this circum- 
 stance ? That we should never lose an occasion. Oppor- 
 tunity is more powerful even than conquerors and prophets. 
 
 The most ancient city of the world has no antiquity. 
 This flourishing abode is older than many ruins, yet it does 
 not possess one single memorial of the past. In vain has 
 it conquered or been conquered. Not a trophy, a column, 
 or an arch, records its warlike fortunes. Temples have 
 been raised here to unknown gods and to revealed Divinity ; 
 all have been swept away. Not the trace of a palace or a 
 prison, a public bath, a hall of justice, can be discovered in 
 this wonderful city, where everything has been destroyed, 
 and where nothing has decayed. 
 
 Men moralise among ruins, or, in the throng and tumult 
 of successful cities, recall past visions of urban desolation 
 for prophetic warning. London is a modern Babylon; 
 Paris has aped imperial Rome, and may share its catas- 
 trophe. But what do the sages say to Damascus ? It had 
 municipal rights in the days when God conversed with
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 379 
 
 Abraham. Since then, the kings of the great monarchies 
 have swept over it ; and the Greek and the Roman, the 
 Tartar, the Arab, and the Turk have passed through its 
 walls ; yet it still exists and still flourishes ; is full of life, 
 wealth, and enjoyment. Here is a city that has quaffed 
 the magical elixir and secured the philosopher's stone, that 
 is always young and always rich. As yet, the disciples of 
 Progress have not been able exactly to match this instance 
 of Damascus, but it is said that they have great faith in the 
 future of Birkenhead. 
 
 We moralise among ruins : it is always when the game 
 is played that we discover the cause of the result. It is a 
 fashion intensely European, the habit of an organisation 
 that, having little imagination, takes refuge in reason, and 
 carefully locks the door when the steed is stolen. A com- 
 munity has crumbled to pieces, and it is always accounted 
 for by its political forms, or its religious modes. There has 
 been a deficiency in what is called checks in the machinery 
 of government ; the definition of the suffrage has not been 
 correct ; what is styled responsibility has, by some means 
 or other, not answered ; or, on the other hand, people have 
 believed too much or too little in a future state, have been 
 too much engrossed by the present, or too much absorbed 
 in that which was to come. But there is not a form of 
 government which Damascus has not experienced, except- 
 ing the representative, and not a creed which it has not 
 acknowledged, excepting the Protestant. Yet, deprived of 
 the only rule and the only religion that are right, it is still 
 justly described by the Arabian poets as a pearl surrounded 
 by emeralds. 
 
 Yes, the rivers of Damascus still run and revel within 
 and without the walls, of which the steward of Sheikh 
 Abraham was a citizen. They have encompassed them 
 with gardens, and filled them with fountains. They gleam 
 amid their groves of fruit, wind through their vivid meads, 
 sparkle among perpetual flowers, gush from the walls, 
 bubble in the courtyards, dance and carol in the streets :
 
 380 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 everywhere their joyous voices, everywhere their glancing 
 forms, filling the whole world around with freshness, and 
 brilliancy, and fragrance, and life. One might fancy, as 
 we track them in their dazzling course, or suddenly making 
 their appearance in every spot and in every scene, that they 
 were the guardian spirits of the city. You have explained 
 then, says the utilitarian, the age and nourishing fortunes of 
 Damascus : they arise from its advantageous situation ; it is 
 well supplied with water. Is it better supplied than the ruins 
 of contiguous regions ? Did the Nile save Thebes ? Did the 
 Tigris preserve Nineveh ? Did the Euphrates secure Babylon ? 
 Our scene lies in a chamber vast and gorgeous. The 
 reader must imagine a hall, its form that of a rather long 
 square, but perfectly proportioned. Its coved roof, glow- 
 ing with golden and scarlet tints, is highly carved in the 
 manner of the Saracens, such as we may observe in the 
 palaces of Moorish Spain and in the Necropolis of the 
 Mamlouk Sultauns at Cairo, deep recesses of honeycomb 
 work, with every now and then pendants of daring grace 
 hanging like stalactites from some sparry cavern. This 
 roof is supported by columns of white marble, fashioned in 
 the shape of palm trees, the work of Italian artists, and 
 which form arcades around the chamber. Beneath these 
 arcades runs a noble divan of green and silver silk, and the 
 silken panels of the arabesque walls have been covered 
 with subjects of human interest by the finest artists of 
 Munich. The marble floor, with its rich mosaics, was also 
 the contribution of Italian genius, though it was difficult at 
 the present moment to trace its varied, graceful, and 
 brilliant designs, so many were the sumptuous carpets, the 
 couches, sofas, and cushions that were spread about it. 
 There were indeed throughout the chamber many indica- 
 tions of furniture, which are far from usual even among 
 the wealthiest and most refined Orientals : Indian tables, 
 vases of china, and baskets of agate and porcelain filled 
 with flowers. From one side, the large Saracenic windows 
 of this saloon, which were not glazed, but covered only
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 381 
 
 when required by curtains of green and silver silk, now 
 drawn aside, looked on a garden ; vistas of quivering trees, 
 broad parterres of flowers, and everywhere the gleam of 
 glittering fountains, which owned, however, fealty to the 
 superior stream, that bubbled in the centre of the saloon, 
 where four negroes, carved in black marble, poured forth 
 its refreshing waters from huge shells of pearl, into the 
 vast circle of a jasper basin. 
 
 At this moment the chamber was enlivened by the 
 presence of many individuals. Most of these were guests ; 
 one was the master of the columns and the fountains ; a 
 man much above the middle height, though as well pro- 
 portioned as his sumptuous hall ; admirably handsome, for 
 beauty and benevolence blended in the majestic counten- 
 ance of Adam Besso. To-day his Syrian robes were not 
 unworthy of his palace ; the cream- white shawl that en- 
 circled his brow with its ample folds was so fine that the 
 merchant who brought it to him carried it over the ocean 
 and the Desert in the hollow shell of a pomegranate. In 
 his girdle rested a handjar, the sheath of which was of a 
 rare and vivid enamel, and the hilt entirely of brilliants. 
 
 A slender man of middle size, who, as he stood by Besso, 
 had a diminutive appearance, was in earnest conversation 
 with his host. This personage was adorned with more 
 than one order, and dressed in the Frank uniform of one 
 of the Great Powers, though his head was shaven, for he 
 wore a tarboush or red cap, although no turban. This 
 gentleman was Signer Elias de Laurella, a wealthy Hebrew 
 merchant at Damascus, and Austrian consul-general ad 
 lionorem ; a great man, almost as celebrated for his diplo- 
 matic as for his mercantile abilities ; a gentleman who 
 understood the Eastern question ; looked up to for that, 
 but still more, in that he was the father of the two prettiest 
 girls in the Levant. 
 
 The Mesdemoiselles de Laurella, Therese and Sophonisbe, 
 had just completed their education, partly at Smyrna, the 
 last year at Marseilles. This had quite turned their heads ;
 
 382 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 they had come back with a contempt for Syria, the bitter- 
 ness of which was only veiled by the high style of Euro- 
 pean nonchalance, of which they had a supreme command, 
 and which is, perhaps, our only match for Eastern repose. 
 The Mesdemoiselles de Laurella were highly accomplished, 
 could sing quite ravishingly, paint fruits and flowers, and 
 drop to each other, before surrounding savages, mysterious 
 allusions to feats in ball-rooms, which, alas ! no longer 
 could be achieved. They signified, and in some degree 
 solaced, their intense disgust at their present position by 
 a haughty and amusingly impassable demeanour, which 
 meant to convey their superiority to all surrounding cir- 
 cumstances. One of their favourite modes of asserting 
 this pre-eminence was wearing the Frank dress, which 
 their father only did officially, and which no female mem- 
 ber of their family had ever assumed, though Damascus 
 swarmed with Laurellas. Nothing in the dreams of 
 Madame Carson, or Madame Camille, or Madame Devey, 
 nothing in the blazoned pages of the Almanachs des Dames 
 and Belle Assemblee, ever approached the Mdlles. Laurella, 
 on a day of festival. It was the acme. Nothing could be 
 conceived beyond it ; nobody could equal it. It was taste 
 exaggerated, if that be possible ; fashion baffling pursuit, if 
 that be permitted. It was a union of the highest moral 
 and material qualities ; the most sublime contempt and the 
 stiffest cambric. Figure to yourself, in such habiliments, 
 two girls, of the same features, the same form, the same 
 size, but of different colour : a nose turned up, but choicely 
 moulded, large eyes, and richly fringed, fine hair, beautiful 
 lips and teeth, but the upper lip and the cheek bones 
 rather too long and high, and the general expression of 
 the countenance, when not affected, more sprightly than 
 intelligent. Therese was a brunette, but her eye wanted 
 softness as much as the blue orb of the brilliant Sophonisbe. 
 Nature and Art had combined to produce their figures, 
 and it was only the united effort of two such firstrate 
 powers that could have created anything so admirable.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 383 
 
 This was the first visit of the Mesdemoiselles Laurella to 
 the family of Besso, for they had only returned from Mar- 
 seilles at the beginning of the year, and their host had not 
 resided at Damascus until the summer was much advanced. 
 Of course they were well acquainted by reputation with 
 the great Hebrew house of which the lord of the mansion 
 was the chief. They had been brought up to esteem it the 
 main strength and ornament of their race and religion. 
 But the Mesdemoiselles Laurella were ashamed of their 
 race, and not fanatically devoted to their religion, which 
 might be true, but certainly was not fashionable. Therese, 
 who was of a less sanguineous temperament than her sister, 
 affected despair and unutterable humiliation, which per- 
 mitted her to say before her own people a thousand disa- 
 greeable things with an air of artless frankness. The 
 animated Sophonisbe, on the contrary, was always com- 
 bating prejudice, felt persuaded that the Jews would not 
 bo so much disliked if they were better known ; that all 
 they had to do was to imitate as closely as possible the 
 habits and customs of the nation among whom they chanced 
 to live ; and she really did believe that eventually, such 
 was the progressive spirit of the age, a difference in re- 
 ligion would cease to be regarded, and that a respectable 
 Hebrew, particularly if well dressed and well mannered, 
 might be able to pass through society without being dis- 
 covered, or at least noticed. Consummation of the destiny 
 of the favourite people of the Creator of the universe ! 
 
 Notwithstanding their practised nonchalance, the Mes- 
 demoiselles Laurella were a little subdued when they 
 entered the palace of Besso, still more so when they were 
 presented to its master, whose manner, void of all art, yet 
 invested with a natural dignity, asserted in an instant its 
 superiority. Eva, whom they saw for the first time, re- 
 ceived them like a queen, and in a dress which offered as 
 complete a contrast to their modish attire as the beauty of 
 her sublime countenance presented to their pretty and 
 sparkling visages.
 
 384 TANCEED; OR 
 
 Madame Laurella, the mother of these young ladies, 
 would iu Europe have been still styled young. She was a 
 Smyrniote, and had been a celebrated beauty. The rose 
 had since then too richly expanded, but even now, with 
 her dark eyelash charged with yamusk, her cheek touched 
 with rouge, and her fingers tipped with henna, her still 
 fine hair exaggerated by art or screened by her jewelled 
 turban, she would have been a striking personage, e^en if 
 it had not been for the blaze of jewels with which she was 
 suffused and environed. The existence of this lady was 
 concentred in her precious gems. An extreme suscepti- 
 bility on this head is very prevalent among the ladies of 
 the Levant, and the quantity of jewels that they accumu- 
 late far exceeds the general belief. Madame Laurella was 
 without a rival in this respect, and resolved to maintain 
 her throne ; diamonds alone did not satisfy her ; immense 
 emeralds, rubies as big as pigeons' eggs, prodigious ropes 
 of pearls, were studded and wound about every part of her 
 rich robes. Every finger glittered, and bracelets flashed 
 beneath her hanging sleeves. She sat in silent splendour 
 on a divan, now and then proudly moving a fan of feathers, 
 lost in criticism of the jewels of her friends, and in con- 
 templation of her own. 
 
 A young man, tall and well-looking, dressed as an 
 Oriental, but with an affected, jerking air, more French 
 than Syrian, moved jauntily about the room, speaking to 
 several persons for a short time, shrugging his shoulders 
 and uttering commonplaces as if they were poignant origi- 
 nalities. This was Hillel Besso, the eldest son of the Besso 
 of Aleppo, and the intended husband of Eva. Hillel, too, 
 had seen the world, passed a season at Pera, where he had 
 worn the Frank dress, and, introduced into the circles by 
 the lady of the Austrian Internuncio, had found success 
 and enjoyed himself. He had not, however, returned to 
 Syria with any of the disgust shared by the Mesdemoiselles 
 Laurella. Hillel was neither ashamed of his race nor his 
 religion : on the contrary, he was perfectly satisfied with
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 385 
 
 this life, with the family of Besso in general, and with 
 himself particularly. Hillel was a little philosophical, had 
 read Voltaire, and, free from prejudices, conceived himself 
 capable of forming correct opinions. He listened smiling 
 and in silence to Eva asserting the splendour and supe- 
 riority of their race, and sighing for the restoration of 
 their national glory, and then would say, in a whisper to a 
 friend, and with a glance of epigrammatic airiness, ' For 
 my part, I am not so sure that we were ever better off 
 than we are.' 
 
 He stopped and conversed with Therese Laurella, who 
 at first was unbending, but when she found that he was a 
 Besso, and had listened to one or two anecdotes, which 
 indicated personal acquaintance not only with ambassa- 
 dors but with ambassadors' ladies, she began to relax. In 
 general, however, the rest of the ladies did not speak, or 
 made only observations to each other in a hushed voice. 
 Conversation is not the accomplishment of these climes and 
 circles. They seemed content to show their jewels to their 
 neighbours. There was a very fat lady, of prodigious size, 
 the wife of Signer Yacoub Picholoroni, who was also a 
 consul, but not a consul-general in honorem. She looked 
 like a huge Chinese idol ; a perpetual smile played upon 
 her immense good-natured cheeks, and her little black eyes 
 twinkled with continuous satisfaction. There were the 
 Mourad Farhis and the Nassim Farhis. There were Moses 
 Laurella and his wife, who shone with the reflected splen- 
 dour of the great Laurellas, but who were really very nice 
 people ; sensible and most obliging, as all travellers must 
 have found them. Moses Laurella was vice-consul to his 
 brother. The Farhis had no diplomatic lustre, but they 
 were great merchants, and worked with the house of Besso 
 in all their enterpriaes. They had married two sisters, 
 who were also their cousins. Madame Mourad Farhi was 
 in the zenith of her renowned beauty ; in the gorgeous 
 Smyrniote style, brilliant yet languid, like a panther 
 basking in the sunshine. Her sister also had a rich 
 
 c c
 
 386 TANCEED; 0i 
 
 countenance, and a figure like a palm tree, while her fine 
 brow beamed alike with intelligence and beauty. Madame 
 Nassim was highly cultured, enthusiastic for her race, and 
 proud of the friendship of Eva, of which she was worthy. 
 
 There were also playing about the room three or four 
 children of such dazzling beauty and such ineffable grace, 
 that no pen can picture their seraphic glances or gestures 
 of airy frolic. Sometimes serious, from exhaustion not 
 from thought ; sometimes wild with the witchery of infant 
 riot ; a laughing girl with hair almost touching the ground, 
 and large grey eyes bedewed with lustrous mischief, tumbles 
 over an urchin who rises doubtful whether to scream or 
 shout ; sometimes they pull the robe of Besso while he 
 talks, who goes on, as if unconscious of the interruption ; 
 sometimes they rush up to their mother or Eva for an em- 
 brace ; sometimes they run up to the fat lady, look with 
 wondering gravity in her face, and then, bursting into 
 laughter, scud away. These are the children of a sister 
 of Hillel Besso's, brought to Damascus for change of air. 
 Their mother is also here, sitting at the side of Eva : a soft 
 and pensive countenance, watching the children with her 
 intelligent blue eyes, or beckoning to them with a beautiful 
 hand. 
 
 The men in general remained on their legs apart, con- 
 versing as if they were on the Bourse. 
 
 Now entered, from halls beyond of less dimensions, but 
 all decorated with similar splendour, a train of servants, 
 two of whom carried between them a large broad basket of 
 silver filagree, filled with branches of the palm tree entwined 
 with myrtle, while another bore a golden basket of a differ- 
 ent shape, and which was filled with citrons just gathered. 
 These they handed to the guests, and each guest took a 
 branch with the right hand and a citron with the left. The 
 conversation of Besso with Elias Laurella had been broken 
 by their entrance, and a few minutes afterwards, the master 
 of the house, looking about, held up his branch, shook it 
 with a rustling sound, and immediately Eva was at his side.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 387 
 
 The daughter of Besso wore a vest of white silk, fitting 
 close to her shape and descending to her knees ; it was 
 buttoned with large diamonds and restrained by ft girdle of 
 pearls ; anklets of brilliants peeped also, every now and 
 then, from beneath her large Mamlouk trowsers of rose- 
 coloured silk that fell over her slippers, powdered with 
 diamonds. Over her vest she wore the Syrian jacket, 
 made of cherry-coloured velvet, its open arms and back 
 richly embroidered, though these were now much concealed 
 by her outer pelisse, a brocade of India, massy with gold, 
 and yet relieved from heaviness by the brilliancy of its 
 light blue tint and the dazzling fantasy of its pattern. This 
 was loosely bound round her waist by a Moorish scarf of 
 the colour of a blood-red orange, and bordered with a broad 
 fringe of precious stones. Her head-dress was of the same 
 fashion as when we first met her in the kiosk of Bethany, 
 except that, on this occasion, her Syrian cap on the back of 
 her head was covered only with diamonds, and only with 
 diamonds was braided her long dark hair. 
 
 ' They will never come,' said Besso to his daughter. * It 
 was one of his freaks. We will not wait.' 
 
 ' I am sure, my father, they will come,' said Eva, ear- 
 nestly. And indeed, at this very moment, as she stood at 
 his side, holding in one hand her palm branch, which was 
 reposing on her bosom, and in the other her fresh citron, 
 the servants appeared again, ushering in two guests who 
 had just arrived. One was quite a stranger, a young man 
 dressed in the European fashion ; the other was recognised 
 at once by all present as the Emir of Canobia. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 EVA had withdrawn from her father to her former remote 
 position, the moment that she had recognised the two 
 friends, and was, therefore, not in hearing when her father 
 received them, and said, 'Welcome, noble stranger! the 
 
 c c 2
 
 388 TANCRED; OB 
 
 noble Emir here, to whom a thousand welcomes, told me 
 that you would not be averse from joining a festival of my 
 people.' 
 
 ' I would seize any opportunity to pay my respects to 
 you,' replied Tancred ; ' but this occasion is most agreeable 
 to me.' 
 
 * And when, noble traveller, did you arrive at Esh Sham ? ' 
 
 * But this morning ; we were last from Hasbeya.' 
 Tancred then inquired after Eva, and Besso led him to 
 
 his daughter. 
 
 In the meantime the arrival of the new guests made a 
 considerable sensation in the chamber, especially with the 
 Mesdemoiselles Laurella. A young prince of the Lebanon, 
 whatever his religion, was a distinguished and agreeable 
 accession to their circle, but in Tancred they recognised a 
 being at once civilised and fashionable, a Christian who 
 could dance the Polka. Refreshing as springs in the de- 
 sert to their long languishing eyes were the sight of his 
 white cravat and his boots of Parisian polish. 
 
 'It is one of our great national festivals,' said Eva, 
 slightly waving her palm branch ; ' the celebration of the 
 Hebrew vintage, the Feast of Tabernacles.' 
 
 The vineyards of Israel have ceased to exist, but the 
 eternal law enjoins the children of Israel still to celebrate 
 the vintage. A race that persist in celebrating tkeir vin- 
 tage, although they have no fruits to gather, will regain 
 their vineyards. What sublime inexorability in the law ! 
 But what indomitable spirit in the people ! 
 
 It is easy for the happier Sephardim, the Hebrews who 
 have never quitted the sunny regions that are laved by the 
 Midland Ocean ; it is easy for them, though they have lost 
 their heritage, to sympathise, in their beautiful Asian cities 
 or in their Moorish and Arabian gardens, with the graceful 
 rites that are, at least, an homage to a benignant nature. 
 But picture to yourself the child of Israel in the dingy 
 suburb or the squalid quarter of some bleak northern town, 
 where there is never a sun that can at any rate ripen grapes.
 
 THE NEW CRuSADE. 389 
 
 Yet he must celebrate the vintage of purple Palestine ! The 
 law has told him, though a denizen in an icy clime, that he 
 must dwell for seven days in a bower, and that he must 
 build it of the boughs of thick trees ; and the Rabbins 
 have told him that these thick trees are the palm, the 
 myrtle, and the weeping willow. Even Sarmatia may 
 furnish a weeping willow. The law has told him that he 
 must pluck the fruit of goodly trees, and the Rabbins have 
 explained that goodly fruit on this occasion is confined to 
 the citron. Perhaps, in his despair, he is obliged to fly 
 to the candied delicacies of the grocer. His mercantile 
 connections will enable him, often at considerable cost, to 
 procure some palm leaves from Canaan, which he may 
 wave in his synagogue while he exclaims, as the crowd did 
 when the Divine descendant of David entered Jerusalem, 
 ' Hosannah in the highest ! ' 
 
 There is something profoundly interesting in this devoted 
 observance of Oriental customs in the heart of our Saxon 
 and Sclavonian cities; in these descendants of the Bedoueens, 
 who conquered Canaan more than three thousand years ago, 
 still celebrating that success which secured their forefathers, 
 for the first time, grapes and wine. 
 
 Conceive a being born and bred in the Judenstrasse of 
 Hamburg or Frankfort, or rather in the purlieus of our 
 Houndsditch or Minories, born to hereditary insult, with- 
 out any education, apparently without a circumstance that 
 can develop the slightest taste, or cherish the least senti- 
 ment for the beautiful, living amid fogs and filth, never 
 treated with kindness, seldom with justice, occupied with 
 the meanest, if not the vilest, toil, bargaining for frippery, 
 speculating in usury, existing for ever under the concurrent 
 influence of degrading causes which would have worn out, 
 long ago, any race that was not of the unmixed blood of 
 Caucasus, and did not adhere to the laws of Moses ; con- 
 ceive such a being, an object to you of prejudice, dislike, 
 disgust, perhaps hatred. The season arrives, and the mind 
 and heart of that being are filled with images and passion*
 
 390 TANCRED ; OK 
 
 that have been ranked in all ages among the most beautiful 
 sind the most genial of human experience ; filled with a 
 subject the most vivid, the most graceful, the most joyous, 
 and the most exuberant ; a subject which has inspired poets, 
 and which has made gods ; the harvest of the grape in the 
 native regions of the Vine. 
 
 He rises in the morning, goes early to some Whitechapel 
 market, purchases some willow boughs for which he has 
 previously given a commission, and which are brought, 
 probably, from one of the neighbouring rivers of Essex, 
 hastens home, cleans out the yard of his miserable tene- 
 ment, builds his bower, decks it, even profusely, with the 
 finest flowers and fruits that he can procure, the myrtle and 
 the citron never forgotten, and hangs its roof with varie- 
 gated lamps. After the service of his synagogue, he sups 
 late with his wife and his children in the open air, as if he 
 were in the pleasant villages of Galilee, beneath its sweet 
 and starry sky. 
 
 Perhaps, as he is giving the Keedush, the Hebrew blessing 
 to the Hebrew meal, breaking and distributing the bread, 
 and sanctifying, with a preliminary prayer, the goblet of 
 wine he holds, the very ceremony which the Divine Prince 
 of Israel, nearly two thousand years ago, adopted at the 
 most memorable of all repasts, and eternally invested with 
 euchaiistic grace ; or, perhaps, as he is offering up the pe- 
 culiar thanksgiving of the Feast of Tabernacles, praising 
 Jehovah for the vintage which his children may no longer 
 cull, but also for his promise that they may some day again 
 enjoy it, and his wife and his children are joining in a pious 
 Hosanna, that is, Save us! a party of Anglo-Saxons, very 
 respectable men, ten-pounders, a little elevated it may be, 
 though certainly not in honour of the vintage, pass the 
 house, and words like these are heard : 
 
 'I say, Buggins, what's that row?' 
 
 ' Oh ! it's those cursed Jews ! we've a lot of 'em here. It 
 is one of their horrible feasts. The Lord Mayor ought to 
 interfere. However, things are not as bad as they used to
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 391 
 
 lie : they used always to crucify little boys at these hulla- 
 baloos, but now they only eat sausages made of stinking 
 pork.' 
 
 ' To be sure,' replies his companion, ' we all make pro- 
 gress.' 
 
 In the meantime, a burst of music sounds from the 
 gardens of Besso of Damascus. He advances, and invites 
 Tancred and the Emir to follow him, and, without any 
 order or courtesy to the softer sex, who, on the contrary, 
 follow in the rear, the whole company step out of the Sara- 
 cenic windows into the gardens. The mansion of Besso, 
 which was of great extent, appeared to be built in their 
 midst. No other roof or building was in any direction 
 visible, yet the house was truly in the middle of the city, 
 and the umbrageous plane trees alone produced that illi- 
 mitable air which is always so pleasing and effective. The 
 house, though lofty for an eastern mansion, was only one 
 story in height, yet its front was covered with an external 
 and double staircase. This, after a promenade in the garden, 
 the guests approached and mounted. It led to the roof or 
 terrace of the house, which was of great size, an oblong 
 square, and which again was a garden. Myrtle trees of a 
 considerable height, and fragrant with many flowers, were 
 arranged in close order along the four sides of this roof, 
 forming a barrier which no eye from the city beneath or 
 any neighbouring terrace could penetrate. This verdant 
 bulwark, however, opened at each corner of the roof, which 
 was occupied by a projecting pavilion of white marble, a 
 light cupola of chequered carving supported by wreathed 
 columns. From these pavilions the most charming views 
 might be obtained of the city and the surrounding country : 
 Damascus, itself a varied mass of dark green groves, white 
 minarets, bright gardens, and hooded domes ; to the south 
 and east, at the extremity of its rich plain, the glare of the 
 Desert ; to the west the ranges of the Lebanon ; while the 
 city was backed on the north by other mountain regions 
 which Tancred had not yet penetrated.
 
 392 TANCRED; OR 
 
 In the centre of the terrace was a temporary structure of 
 a peculiar character. It was nearly forty feet long, half as 
 many broad, and proportionately lofty. Twelve palm trees 
 clustering with ripe fruit, and each of which seemed to 
 spring from a flowering hedge of myrtles, supported a roof, 
 formed with much artifice of the braided boughs of trees. 
 These, however, only furnished an invisible framework, 
 from which were suspended the most beautiful and delicious 
 fruits, citron and pomegranate, orange, and fig, and banana, 
 and melon, in such thickness and profusion that they formed, 
 as it were, a carved ceiling of rich shades and glowing 
 colours, like the Saracenic ceiling of the mansion, while 
 enormous bunches of grapes every now and then descended 
 like pendants from the main body of the roof. The spaces 
 between the palm trees were filled with a natural trellis- work 
 of orange trees in fruit and blossom, leaving at intervals 
 arches of entrance, whose form was indicated by bunches of 
 the sweetest and rarest flowers. 
 
 Within was a banqueting-table covered with thick white 
 damask silk, with a border of gold about a foot in breadth, 
 and before each guest was placed a napkin of the same 
 fashion. The table, however, lacked none of the con- 
 veniences and luxuries and even ornaments of Europe. What 
 can withstand the united influence of taste, wealth, and 
 commerce ? The choicest porcelain of France, golden gob- 
 lets chiselled in Bond Street, and the prototypes of which 
 had perhaps been won at Goodwood or Ascot, mingled with 
 the rarest specimens of the glass of Bohemia, while the 
 triumphant blades of Sheffield flashed in that very Syrian 
 city whose skill in cutlery had once been a proverb. Around 
 the table was a divan of amber-coloured satin with many 
 cushions, so arranged that the guests might follow either 
 the Oriental or the European mode of seating themselves. 
 Such was the bower or tabernacle of Besso of Damascus, 
 prepared to celebrate the seventh day of his vintage feast
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 393 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 ' WE ought to have met at Jerusalem,' said Tailored to Besso, 
 on whose right hand he was seated, 'but I am happy to 
 thank you for all } r our kindness, even at Damascus.' 
 
 ' My daughter tells me you are not uninterested in our 
 people, which is the reason I ventured to ask you here.' 
 
 ' I cannot comprehend how a Christian can be uninterested 
 in a people who have handed down to him immortal truths.' 
 
 'All the world is not as sensible of the obligation as your- 
 self, noble traveller.' 
 
 ' But who are the world ? Do you mean the inhabitants 
 of Europe, which is a forest not yet cleared ; or the inhabit- 
 ants of Asia, which is a ruin about to tumble ? ' 
 
 ' The railroads will clear the forest,' said Besso. 
 
 'And what is to become of the ruin ? ' asked Tancred. 
 
 God will not forget his land.' 
 
 ' That is the truth ; the government of this globe must 
 be divine, and the impulse can only come from Asia.' 
 
 ' If your government only understood the Eastern ques- 
 tion ! ' said Mr. Consul- General Laurella, pricking up his ears 
 at some half phrase that he had caught, and addressing 
 Tancred across the table. ' It is more simple than you ima- 
 gine, and before you return to England to take your seat 
 in your parliament, I should be very happy to have some 
 conversation with you. I think I could tell yon some 
 
 things ' and he gave a glance of diplomatic mystery. 
 
 Tancred bowed. 
 
 ' For my part,' said Hillel Besso, shrugging his shoulders, 
 and speaking in an airy tone, 'it seems to me that your 
 Eastern question is a great imbroglio that only exists in the 
 cabinets of diplomatists. Why should there be any Eastern 
 question ? All is very well as it is. At least we might be 
 worse : I think we might be worse.' 
 
 ' I nm so happy to find myself once more among you,'
 
 394 TANCRED; OR 
 
 whispered Fakredeen to his neighbour, Madame Mourad 
 Farhi. ' This is my real home.' 
 
 'All here must be happy and honoured to see you, too, 
 noble Emir.' 
 
 'And the good Signer Mourad : I am afraid I am not a 
 favourite of his ? ' pursued Fakredeen, meditating a loan. 
 
 ' I never heard my husband speak of you, noble Emir, 
 but with the greatest consideration.' 
 
 ' There is no man I respect so much,' said Fakredeen ; 
 ' no one in whom I have such a thorough confidence. Ex- 
 cepting our dear host, who is really my father, there is no 
 one on whose judgment I would so implicitly rely. Tell 
 him all that, my dear Madame Mourad, for I wish him to 
 respect me.' 
 
 ' I admire his hair so much,' whispered Therese Laurella, 
 in an audible voice to her sister, across the broad form of 
 the ever-smiling Madame Picholoroni. * 'Tis such a relief 
 after our dreadful turbans.' 
 
 'And his costume, so becoming! I wonder how any 
 civilised being can wear the sort of things we see about us. 
 *Tis really altogether like a wardrobe of the Comedie.' 
 
 'Well, Sophonisbe,' said the sensible Moses Laurella, 'I 
 admire the Franks very much ; they have many qualities 
 which I could wish our Levantines shared ; but I confess 
 that I do not think that their strong point is their costume.' 
 
 ' Oh, my dear uncle ! ' said Therese ; ' look at that beautiful 
 white cravat. What have we like it ? So simple, so dis- 
 tinguished ! Such good taste ! And then the boots. Think 
 of our dreadful slippers ! powdered with pearls and all sorts 
 of trash of that kind, by the side of that lovely French 
 polish.' 
 
 ' He must be terribly ennuye here,' said Therese to 
 Sophonisbe, with a look of the initiated. 
 
 ' Indeed, I should think so : no balls, not an opera ; I quite 
 pity him. What could have induced him to come here ? ' 
 
 'I should think he must be attached to some one,' said 
 Therese ; ' he looks unhappy.'
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 395 
 
 ' There is not a person near him with whom he can have 
 an idea in common.' 
 
 ' Except Mr. Hillel Besso,' said Therese. ' He appears to 
 be quite enlightened. I spoke to him a little before dinner. 
 He has been a winter at Pera, and went to all the balls.' 
 
 ' Lord Palmerston understood the Eastern question to a 
 certain degree,' said Mr. Consul-General Laurella ; ' but, had 
 I been in the service of the Queen of England, I could have 
 told him some things ; ' and he mysteriously paused. 
 
 ' I cannot endure this eternal chatter about Palmerston,' 
 said the Emir, rather pettishly. ' Are there no other states- 
 men in the world besides Palmerston ? And what should 
 he know about the Eastern question, who never was in the 
 East?' 
 
 1 Ah, noble Emir, these are questions of the high diplomacy. 
 They cannot be treated unless by the cabinets which have 
 traditions.' 
 
 ' I could settle the Eastern question in a month, if I were 
 disposed,' said Fakredeen. 
 
 Mr. Consul- General Laurella smiled superciliously, and 
 then said, ' But the question is, what is the Eastern ques- 
 tion?' 
 
 ' For my part,' said Hiflel Besso, in a most epigrammatic 
 manner, ' I do not see the use of settling anything.' 
 
 ' The Eastern question is, who shall govern the Mediter- 
 ranean ? ' said the Emir. ' There are only two powers who 
 can do it: Egypt and Syria. As for the English, the 
 Russians, the Franks, your friends the Austrians, they are 
 strangers. They come, and they will go ; but Syria and 
 Egypt will always remain.' 
 
 ' Egypt has tried, and failed.' 
 
 ' Then let Syria try, and succeed.' 
 
 ' Do you visit Egypt before you return from the East, 
 noble sir ? ' asked Besso, of Tancred. 
 
 ' I have not thought of my return ; but I should not be 
 sorry to visit Egypt. It is a country that rather perplexes 
 us in Europe. It has undergone great changes.'
 
 396 TANCREl); OR 
 
 Besso shook his head, and slightly smiled. 
 
 ' Egypt,' said he, ' never changes. 'Tis the same land as 
 in the days of the Pharaohs : governed on their principles 
 of political economy, with a Hebrew for prime minister.' 
 
 ' A Hebrew for prime minister ! ' 
 
 ' Even so : Artim Bey, the present prime minister of Egypt, 
 formerly the Pacha's envoy at Paris, and by far the best 
 political head in the Levant, is not only the successor but 
 the descendant of Joseph.' 
 
 ' He must be added then to your friend M. de Sidonia's 
 list of living Hebrew statesmen,' said Tancred. 
 
 '"We have our share of the government of the world,' 
 said Besso. 
 
 ' It seems to me that you govern every land except your 
 own. 
 
 ' That might have been done in '39,' said Besso musingly; 
 ' but why speak of a subject which can little interest you ? ' 
 
 'Can little interest me!' exclaimed Tancred. 'What 
 other subject should interest me ? More than six centuries 
 ago, the government of that land interested my ancestor, 
 and he came here to achieve it.' 
 
 The stars were shining before they quitted the Arabian 
 tabernacle of Besso. The air was just as soft as a sweet 
 summer English noon, and quite as still. The pavilions of 
 the terrace and the surrounding bowers were illuminated by 
 the varying tints of a thousand lamps. Bright carpets and 
 rich cushions were thrown about for those who cared to 
 recline ; the brothers Farhi, for example, and indeed most 
 of the men, smoking inestimable nargillies. The Consnl- 
 General Laurella begged permission to present Lord Monta- 
 cute to his daughters Therese and Sophonisbe, who, resolved 
 to show to him that Damascus was not altogether so barbarous 
 as he deemed it, began talking of new dances and the last 
 opera. Tancred would have found great difficulty in sus- 
 taining his part in the conversation, had not the young 
 ladies fortunately been requested to favour those present 
 with a specimen of the art in which they excelled, which
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 397 
 
 they did after much solicitation, vowing that fhey had no 
 voice to-night, and that it was impossible at all times to 
 bing, except in a chamber. 
 
 'For my part,' said Hillel Besso, with an extremely 
 piquant air, 'music in a chamber is very charming, but I 
 think also in the open air it is not so bad.' 
 
 Tancred took advantage of this movement to approach 
 Eva, who was conversing, as they took their evening walk, 
 with the soft-eyed sister of Hillel and Madame Nassim 
 Farhi ; a group of women, that the drawing-rooms of Europe 
 and the hareems of Asia could perhaps not have rivalled. 
 
 ' The Mesdemoiselles Laurella are very accomplished,' 
 said Tancred, ' but at Damascus I am not content to hear 
 anything but sackbuts and psalteries.' 
 
 ' But in Europe your finest music is on the subjects of 
 our history,' said Eva. 
 
 ' Naturally,' said Tancred, ' music alone can do justice to 
 such themes. They baffle the uninspired pen.' 
 
 ' There is a prayer which the Mesdemoiselles Laurella 
 once sang, a prayer of Moses in Egypt,' said Madame 
 Nassim, somewhat timidly. * It is very fine.' 
 
 ' I wish they would favour us with it,' said Eva ; ' I will 
 ask Hillel to request that kindness;' and she beckoned to 
 Hillel, who sauntered toward her, and listened to her whis- 
 pered wish with a smile of supercilious complacency. 
 
 * At present they are going to favour us with Don Pas- 
 quale,' he said, shrugging his shoulders. 'A prayer is a 
 very fine thing, but for my part, at this hour, I think a 
 serenade is not so bad.' 
 
 ' And how do you like my father ? ' said Eva to Tancred, 
 in a hesitating tone, and yet with a glance of blended 
 curiosity and pride. 
 
 ' He is exactly what Sidonia prepared me for ; worthy 
 not only of being your father, but the father of mankind.' 
 
 ' The Moslemin say that we are near paradise at Damas- 
 cus,' said Madame Nassim, ' and that Adam was fashioned 
 out of our red earth.'
 
 398 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 ' He much wished to see you,' said Eva, ' and your meet- 
 ing is as unexpected as to him it is agreeable.' 
 
 ' We ought to have met long before, ' said Tancred. 
 ' When I first arrived at Jerusalem, I ought to have has- 
 tened to his threshold. The fault and the misfortune were 
 mine. I scarcely deserved the happiness of knowing you.' 
 
 ' I am happy we have all met, and that you now under- 
 stand us a little. When you go back to England, you will 
 defend us when we are defamed ? You will not let them 
 persecute us, as they did a few years back, because they 
 said we crucified their children at the feast of our passover? ' 
 
 ' I shall not go back to England,' said Tancred, colouring; 
 ' and if you are persecuted, I hope I shall be able to defend 
 you here.' 
 
 The glowing sky, the soft mellow atmosphere, the bril- 
 liant circumstances around, flowers and flashing gems, rich 
 dresses and ravishing music, and every form of splendour 
 and luxury, combined to create a scene, that to Tancred 
 was startling, as well from its beauty as its novel character. 
 A rich note of Therese Laurella for an instant arrested 
 their conversation. They were silent while it lingered on 
 their ear. Then Tancred said to the soft- eyed sister of 
 Hillel, ' All that we require here to complete the spell are 
 your beautiful children.' 
 
 ' They sleep,' said the lady, ' and lose little by not being 
 present, for, like the Queen of Sheba, I doubt not they are 
 dreaming of music and flowers.' 
 
 'They say that the children of our race are the most 
 beautiful in the world,' said Eva, ' but that when they grow 
 up, they do not fulfil the promise of their infancy.' 
 
 ' That were scarcely possible,' said the soft-eyed mother. 
 
 ' It is the sense of shame that comes on them and dims 
 their lustre,' said Eva. ' Instead of joyousness and frank 
 hilarity, anxiety and a shrinking reserve are soon impressed 
 upon the youthful Hebrew visage. It is the seal of igno- 
 miny. The dreadful secret that they are an expatriated 
 and persecuted race is soon revealed to them, at least among
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 399 
 
 the humbler classes. The children of ou- house are bred 
 in noble thoughts, and taught self-respect. Their coun- 
 tenances will not change.' 
 
 And the countenance, from whose beautiful mouth issued 
 those gallant words, what of that ? It was one that might 
 wilder the wisest. Tancred gazed upon it with serious 
 yet fond abstraction. All heavenly and heroic thoughts 
 gathered around the image of this woman. From the first 
 moment of their meeting at Bethany to this hour of sacred 
 festival, all the passages of his life in which she had been 
 present flashed through his mind. For a moment he was 
 in the ruins of the Arabian Desert, and recalled her glance 
 of sweet solicitude, when, recovered by her skill and her 
 devotion, he recognised the fair stranger whose words had, 
 ere that, touched the recesses of his spirit, and attuned his 
 mind to high and holiest mysteries. Now again their eyes 
 met ; an ineffable expression suffused the countenance of 
 Lord Montacute. He sighed. 
 
 At this moment Hillel and Fakredeen advanced with a 
 hurried air of gaiety. Hillel offered his hand to Eva with 
 jaunty grace, exclaiming at the same time, ' Ladies, if you 
 like to follow us, you shall see a casket just arrived from 
 Marseilles, and which Eva will favour me by carrying to 
 Aleppo. It was chosen for me by the Lady of the Austrian 
 Internuncio, who is now at Paris. For my part, I do not 
 see much advantage in the diplomatic corps, if occasionally 
 they do not execute a commission for one.' 
 
 Hillel hurried Eva away, accompanied by his sister and 
 Madame Nassim. Tancred and Fakredeen remained behind. 
 
 ' Who is this man ? ' said Tancred. 
 
 ' 'Tis her affianced,' said the Emir ; ' the man who has 
 robbed me of my natural bride. It is to be hoped, however, 
 that, when she is married, Besso will adopt me as his son, 
 which in a certain sense I am, having been fostered by his 
 wife. If he do not leave me his fortune, he ought at least 
 to take up all my bills in Syria. Don't you think so, my 
 Tancred ? '
 
 400 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 4 What ? ' said Tancred, with a dreamy look. 
 
 There was a burst of laughter in the distance. 
 
 ' Come, come,' said Fakredeen, ' see how they are all 
 gathering round the marriage casket. Even Nassim Farhi 
 has risen. I must go and talk to him : he has impulses, 
 that man, at least compared with his brother ; Mourad is a 
 stone, a precious stone though, and you cannot magnetise 
 him through his wife, for she has not an idea ; but Madame 
 Nassim is immensely mesmeric. Come, come, Tancred.' 
 
 ' I follow.' 
 
 But instead of following his friend, Tancred entered one 
 of the marble pavilions that jutted out from each corner of 
 the terraced roof, and commanded splendid views of the 
 glittering and gardened city. The moon had risen over 
 that unrivalled landscape ; the white minarets sparkled in 
 its beam, and the vast hoods of the cupolaed mosques were 
 suffused with its radiancy or reposed in dark shadow, almost 
 as black as the cypress groves out of which they rose. IE 
 the extreme distance, beyond the fertile plain, was the 
 Desert, bright as the line of the se ( a, while otherwise around 
 him extended the chains of Lebanon and of the North. 
 
 The countenance of Tancred was more than serious, it 
 was sad, as, leaning against one of the wreathed marble 
 pillars, he sighed and murmured : ' If I were thou, most 
 beautiful Damascus, Aleppo should not rob me of such a 
 gem ! But I must tear up these thoughts from my heart 
 by their roots, and remember that I am ordained for other 
 deeds.' 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 AFTER taking the bath on his arrival at Damascus, having 
 his beard arranged by a barber of distinction, and dressing 
 himself in a fresh white suit, as was his custom when in 
 residence, with his turban of the same colour arranged a 
 little aside, for Baroni was scrupulous as to his appearance, 
 he hired a donkey and made his way to the great bazaar.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 401 
 
 The part of the city through which he proceeded was verv 
 crowded and bustling: narrow streets, with mats slung 
 across, to shield from the sun the swarming population 
 beneath. His accustomed step was familiar with every 
 winding of the emporium of the city ; he threaded without 
 hesitation the complicated mazes of those interminable 
 arcades. Now he was in the street of the armourers, now 
 among the sellers of shawls ; the prints of Manchester were 
 here unfolded, there the silks of India ; sometimes he saun- 
 tered by a range of shops gay with yellow papooshes and 
 scarlet slippers, and then hurried by the stalls and shelves 
 stored with the fatal frippery of the East, in which it is 
 said the plague in some shape or other always lurks and 
 lingers. This locality, however, indicated that Baroni was 
 already approaching the purlieus of the chief places ; the 
 great population had ah-eady much diminished, the bril- 
 liancy of the scene much dimmed ; there was no longer the 
 swarm of itinerant traders who live by promptly satisfying 
 the wants of the visitors to the bazaar in the shape of a pipe 
 or an ice, a cup of sherbet or of coffee, or a basket of deli- 
 cious fruit. The passengers were few, and all seemed busy: 
 some Armenians, a Hebrew physician and his page, the 
 gliding phantoms of some winding-sheets, which were in 
 fact women. 
 
 Baroni turned into an arcade, well built, spacious, airy, 
 and very neatly fitted up. This was the bazaar of the 
 dealers in drugs. Here, too, spices are sold, all sorts of 
 dye-woods, and especially the choice gums for which Arabia 
 is still celebrated, and which Syria would fain rival by the 
 aromatic juices of her pistachio and her apricot trees. 
 
 Seated on what may be called his counter, smoking a 
 nargilly, in a mulberry-coloured robe bordered with far, 
 and a dark turban, was a middle-aged man of sinister coun- 
 tenance and air, a long hook nose and a light blue eye. 
 
 'Welcome, Efiendi,' he said, when he observed Baroni; 
 4 many welcomes ! And how long have you been at Esh 
 Sham?' 
 
 D D
 
 402 TANCRED; OR 
 
 'Not too long,' said Baroni; 'and have you been here 
 since my last visit ? ' 
 
 ' Here and there,' said the man, offering him his pipe. 
 
 ' And how are our friends in the mountains ? ' said 
 Baroni, touching the tube with his lips and returning it. 
 
 ' They live,' said the man. 
 
 ' That's something,' said Baroni. 
 
 ' Have you been in the land of the Franks ? ' said the 
 man. 
 
 ' I am always in the land of the Franks,' said Baroni, 
 ' and about.' 
 
 ' You don't know any one who wants a parcel of scam- 
 mony ? ' said the man. 
 
 ' I don't know that I don't,' said Baroni, mysteriously. 
 
 ' I have a very fine parcel,' said the man ; ' it is very 
 scarce.' 
 
 ' No starch or myrrh in it ? ' asked Baroni. 
 
 ' Do you think I am a Jew ? ' said the man. 
 
 ' I never could make out what you were, friend Darkush ; 
 but as for scammony, I could throw a good deal of business 
 iu your way at this moment, to say nothing of galls and 
 tragacanth.' 
 
 ' As for tragacanth,' said Darkush, ' it is known that no 
 one in Esh Sham has pure tragacanth except me ; as for 
 galls, every foundling in Syria thinks he can deal in afis, 
 but is it afis of Moussoul, Effendi ? ' 
 
 ' What you say are the words of truth, good Darkush ; 
 I could recommend you with a safe conscience. I dreamt 
 last night that there would many piastres pass between us 
 this visit.' 
 
 ' "What is the use of friends unless they help you in the 
 hour of adversity ? ' exclaimed Darkush. 
 
 ' You speak ever the words of truth. I am myself in a 
 valley of dark shadows. I am travelling with a young 
 English capitani, a prince of many tails, and he has de- 
 clared that he will entirely extinguish my existence unless 
 he pays a visit to the Queen of the Ansarey.'
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 403 
 
 Let him first pay a visit to King Soliman in the cities 
 of the Gin,' said Darkush, doggedly. 
 
 ' I am not sure that he will not, some time or other,' 
 replied Baroni, 'for he is a man who will not take nay. 
 But now let us talk of scammony,' he added, vaulting on 
 the counter, and seating himself by the side of Darkush ; 
 ' one might get more by arranging this visit to your moun- 
 tains than by enjoying an appalto of all its gums, friend 
 Darkush ; but if it cannot be, it cannot be.' 
 
 4 It cannot be.' 
 
 ' Let us talk then of scammony. You remember my old 
 master, Darkush ? ' 
 
 ' There are many things that are forgotten, but he is not 
 one.' 
 
 ' This capitani with whom I travel, this prince of many 
 tails, is his friend. If you serve me now, you serve also 
 him who served you.' 
 
 ' There are things that can be done, and there are things 
 that cannot be done.' 
 
 * Let us talk then of scammony. But fifteen years ago, 
 when we first met, friend Darkush, you did not say nay to 
 M. de Sidonia. It was the plague alone that stopped us.' 
 
 ' The snow on the mountain is not the same snow as 
 fifteen years ago, Effendi. All things change ! ' 
 
 ' Let us talk then of scammony. The Ansarey have 
 friends in other lands, but if they will not listen to them, 
 many kind words will be lost. Things also might happen 
 which would make everybody's shadow longer, but if there 
 be no sun, their shadows cannot be seen.' 
 
 Darkush shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 ' If the sun of friendship does not illumine me,' resumed 
 Baroni, ' I am entirely lost in the bottomless vale. Truly, 
 I would give a thousand piastres if I could save my head 
 by taking the capitani to your mountains.' 
 
 'The princes of Franguestan cannot take off heads,' 
 observed Darkush. ' All they can do is to banish you to 
 islands inhabited by demons.' 
 o D 2
 
 404 TANCRED; OR 
 
 ' But the capitam of whom I speak is prince of many 
 tails, is the brother of queens. Even the great Queen of 
 the English, they say, is his sister.' 
 
 ' He who serves queens may expect backsheesh.' 
 
 ' And you serve a queen, Darkush ?' 
 
 ' Which is the reason I cannot give you a pass for the 
 mountains, as I would have done, fifteen years ago, in the 
 time of her father.' 
 
 ' Are her commands, then, so strict ? ' 
 
 ' That she should see neither Moslem nor Christian. She 
 is at war with both, and will be for ever, for the quarrel 
 between them is beyond the power of man to remove.' 
 
 ' And what may it be ? ' 
 
 ' That you can learn only in the mountains of the An- 
 sarey,' said Darkush, with a malignant smile. 
 
 Baroni fell into a musing mood. After a few moments' 
 thought, he looked up, and said : ' What you have told me, 
 friend Darkush, is very interesting, and throws light on 
 many things. This young prince, whom I serve, is a friend 
 to your race, and knows well why you are at war both with 
 Moslem and Christian, for he is so himself. But he is a 
 man sparing of words, dark in thought, and terrible to deal 
 with. Why he wishes to visit your people I dared not 
 inquire, but now I guess, from what you have let fall, that 
 he is an Ansarey himself. He has come from a far land 
 merely to visit his race, a man who is a prince among the 
 people, to whom piastres are as water. I doubt not he has 
 much to say to your Queen : things might have happened 
 that would have lengthened all our shadows ; but never 
 mind, what cannot be, cannot be : let us talk then of 
 scammony.' 
 
 'You think he is one ? ' said Darkush, in a lower tone, 
 and looking very inquiringly. 
 
 ' I do,' said Baroni. 
 
 ' And what do you mean by one ? ' said Darkush. 
 
 ' That is exactly the secret which I never could penetrate.' 
 
 ' I cannot give a pass to the mountains,' said Darkusb
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 405 
 
 but the sympathy of friends is a river flowing in a fair 
 garden. If this prince, whose words and thoughts are 
 dark, should indeed be one Could I see him, Effendi ? ' 
 
 ' It is a subject on which I dare not speak to him,' said 
 Baroni. ' I hinted at his coming here : his brow was the 
 brow of Eblis, his eye flashed like the red lightning of the 
 Kanisiu : it is impossible ! What cannot be done, cannot 
 be done. He must return to the land of his fathers, unseen 
 by your Queen, of whom he is perhaps a brother ; he will 
 live, hating alike Moslem and Christian, but he will banish 
 me for ever to islands of many demons.' 
 
 ' The Queen shall know of these strange things,' said 
 Darkush, ' and we will wait for her words.' 
 
 ' Wait for the Mecca caravan ! ' exclaimed Baroni. ' You 
 know not the child of storms, who is my master, and that 
 is ever a reason why I think he must be one of you. For 
 had he been softened by Christianity or civilised by the 
 Koran ' 
 
 ' Unripe figs for your Christianity and your Koran ! ' 
 exclaimed Darkush. ' Do you know what we think of your 
 Christianity and your Koran ? ' 
 
 ' No,' said Baroni, quietly. ' Tell me.' 
 
 * You will learn in our mountains,' said Darkush. 
 
 ' Then you mean to let me go there ? ' 
 
 ' If the Queen permit you.' said Darkush. 
 
 ' It is three hundred miles to your country, if it be an 
 hour's journey,' said Baroni. ' What with sending the 
 message and receiving the answer, to say nothing of the 
 delays which must occur with a woman and a queen in the 
 case, the fountains of Esh Sham will have run dry before 
 we hear that our advance is forbidden.' 
 
 Darkush shook his head, and yet smiled. 
 
 ' By the sunset of to-morrow, Eflendi, I could say, ay or 
 nay. Tell me what scammony you want, and it shall be 
 done.' 
 
 ' Write down in your tablets how much you can let me 
 have,' said Baroni, ' and I will pay you for it to-morrow-
 
 406 TANCBED; OB 
 
 As for the goods themselves, you may keep them for me, 
 until I ask you for them ; perhaps the next time I travel 
 with a capitani who is one of yourselves.' 
 
 Darkush threw aside the tube of his nargilly, and, putting 
 his hand very gently into the breast of his robe, he drew out 
 a pigeon, dove- coloured, but with large bright black eyes. 
 The pigeon seemed very knowing and very proud, as he 
 rested on his master's two fingers. 
 
 * Hah, hah ! my Karaguus, my black eyes,' exclaimed 
 Darkush. ' What, is he going on a little journey to some- 
 body ! Yes, we can trust Karaguus, for he is one of us. 
 Effendi, to-morrow at sunset, at your khan, for the bazaar 
 will be closed, you shall hear from me.' 
 
 END OF BOOK V.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 407 
 
 BOOK VI. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 AT the black gorge of a mountain pass sat, like sentries, 
 two horsemen. Their dress was that of the Kurds : white 
 turbans, a black shirt girt with cords, on their back a long 
 lance, by their side a crooked sword, and in their girdle a 
 brace of pistols. 
 
 Before them extended a wide, but mountainous land- 
 scape : after the small and very rugged plain on the brink 
 of which they were posted, many hilly ridges, finally a lofty 
 range. The general character of the scene was severe and 
 savage ; the contiguous rocks were black and riven, the hills 
 barren and stony, the granite peaks of the more eminent 
 heights uncovered, except occasionally by the snow. Yet, 
 notwithstanding the general aridity of its appearance, the 
 country itself was not unfruitful. The concealed vegeta- 
 tion of the valleys was not inconsiderable, and was highly 
 cherished ; the less precipitous cliffs, too, were cut into 
 terraces, and covered with artificial soil. The numerous 
 villages intimated that the country was well populated. 
 The inhabitants produced sufficient wine and corn for their 
 own use, were clothed in garments woven by themselves, 
 and possessed some command over the products of other 
 countries by the gums, the bees- wax, and the goats' wool 
 which they could offer in exchange. 
 
 ' I have seen two eagles over Gibel Kiflis twice this 
 morning,' said one of the horsemen to his companion. 
 4 What does that portend ? ' 
 
 ' A good backsheesh for our Queen, comrade. If these 
 children of Franguestan can pay a princess's dower to visit
 
 408 TANCKED; OR 
 
 some columns in tlie Desert, like Tadmor, they may well 
 give us the golden keys of their treasury when they enter 
 where none should go but those who are ' 
 
 ' But they say that this Frank is one.' 
 
 ' It has never been known that there were any among 
 the Franks,' replied his comrade, shaking his head. ' The 
 Franks are all Nazareny, and, before they were Nazareny, 
 they were savages, and lived in caves.' 
 
 ' But Keferinis has given the word, that all are to guard 
 over the strangers as over the Queen herself, and that one is 
 a prince, who is unquestionably one of us.' 
 
 ' My father had counted a hundred and ten years when 
 he left us, Azaz, and he had twenty-four children, and when 
 he was at the point of death he told us two things : one 
 was, never to forget what we were ; and the other, that never 
 in his time had one like us ever visited our country.' 
 
 ' Eagles again fly over Gibel Kiflis : methinks the stran- 
 gers must be at hand.' 
 
 ' May their visit lead to no evil to them or to us ! ' 
 
 ' Have you misgivings ? ' 
 
 ' "We are alone among men : let us remain so.' 
 
 ' You are right. I was once at Haleb (Aleppo) ; I will 
 never willingly find myself there again.' 
 
 ' Give me the mountains, the mountains of our fathers, 
 and the beautiful things that can be seen only by one of us ! ' 
 
 ' They are not to be found in the bazaars of Haleb ; in the 
 gardens of Damascus they are not to be sought.' 
 
 ' Oh. ! who is like the Queen who reigns over us ? I know 
 to whom she is to be compared, but I will not say ; yet 
 you too know, my brother in arms.' 
 
 'Yes ; there are things which are not known in the 
 bazaars of Haleb ; in the gardens of Damascus they are not 
 to be sought.' 
 
 Karagnus, the black-eyed pigeon, brought tidings to the 
 Queen of the Ansarey, from her agent Darkush, that two 
 young princes, one a Syrian the other a Frank, wished to 
 enter her territories to confer with her on grave matters,
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 409 
 
 aud that ne had reason to believe that one of the princes, 
 the Frank, strange, incredible as it might sound, was one 
 of themselves. On the evening of the next day, very weary, 
 came Rubylips, the brother of Blackeyes, with the reply 
 of her majesty, ordering Darkush to grant the solicited pass, 
 but limiting the permission of entrance into her dominions 
 to the two princes and two attendants. As one of these, 
 Baroni figured. They did not travel very rapidly. Tancred 
 was glad to seize the occasion to visit Hameh and Aleppo 
 on his journey. 
 
 It was after quitting the latter city, and crossing the 
 river Koweik, that they approached the region which was 
 the object of their expedition. "What certainly did not con- 
 tribute to render their progress less difficult and dangerous, 
 was the circumstance that war at this moment was waged 
 between the Queen of the Ansarey and the Pacha of Aleppo. 
 The Turkish potentate had levied tribute on some villages 
 which owned her sway, and which, as he maintained, were 
 not included in the ancient composition paid by the Ansarey 
 to the Porte in full of all demands. The consequence was, 
 that parties of the Ansarey occasionally issued from their 
 passes and scoured the plain of Aleppo. There was also an 
 understanding between the Ansarey and the Kurds, that, 
 whenever any quarrel occurred between the mountaineers 
 and the Turks, the Kurds, who resembled the inhabitants 
 of the mountain in their general appearance, should, under 
 the title of Ansarey, take this opportunity of ravage. 
 Darkush, however, had given Baroni credentials to the 
 secret agent of the Ansarey at Aleppo ; and, with his in- 
 structions and assistance, the difficulties, which otherwise 
 might have been insuperable, were overcome ; and thus it 
 was that the sentries stationed at the mouth of the black 
 ravine, which led to the fortress palace of the Queen, were 
 now hourly expecting the appearance of the princes. 
 
 A horseman at full gallop issued from the hills, and came 
 bounding over the stony plain ; he shouted to the sentries 
 as he passed them, announcing the arrival of the strangers,
 
 410 TANCEED ; OK 
 
 and continued his pace through the defile. Soon after- 
 wards appeared the cavalcade of the princes ; themselves, 
 their two attendants, and a party of horsemen with white 
 turbans and long lances. 
 
 Tancred and Fakredeen rode horses of a high race. But 
 great as is the pleasure of being well mounted, it was not 
 that circumstance alone which lit up their eyes with even 
 unwonted fire, and tinged their cheeks with a triumphant 
 glow. Their expedition had been delightful ; full of ad- 
 venture, novelty, and suspense. They had encountered 
 difficulties and they had overcome them. They had a great 
 purpose, they were on the eve of a stirring incident. They 
 were young, daring, and brilliant. 
 
 ' A strong position,' said Tancred, as they entered the defile. 
 
 ' ! my Tancred, what things we have seen together ! ' 
 exclaimed Fakredeen. ' And what is to follow ! ' 
 
 The defile was not long, and it was almost unbending. 
 It terminated in a table-land of very limited extent, bounded 
 by a rocky chain, on one of the front and more moderate 
 elevations of which was the appearance of an extensive 
 fortification ; though, as the travellers approached it, they 
 perceived that, in many instances, art had only availed itself 
 of the natural advantages of the position, and that the 
 towers and turrets were carved out of the living rock 
 which formed the impregnable bulwarks and escarpments. 
 
 The cavalcade, at a quick pace, soon gained the ascend- 
 ing and winding road that conducted them to a tall and 
 massy gateway, the top of which was formed of one pro- 
 digious stone. The iron portal opening displayed a covered 
 way cut out of the rock, and broad enough to permit the 
 entrance of two horsemen abreast. This way was of con- 
 siderable length, and so dark that they were obliged to be 
 preceded by torch-bearers. Thence they issued into a 
 large courtyard, the sunshine of which was startling and 
 almost painful, after their late passage. The court was 
 surrounded by buildings of different styles and proportions ; 
 the farther end, and, as it were, centre of the whole, being
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 411 
 
 a broad, square, and stunted brick tower, immediately be- 
 hind which rose the granite peaks of the mountains. 
 
 There were some horsemen in the court, and many 
 attendants on foot, who came forward and assisted the 
 guests to alight. Tancred and Fakredeen did not speak, but 
 exchanged glances which expressed their secret thoughts. 
 Perhaps they were of the same opinion as Baroni, that, 
 difficult as it -was to arrive there, it might not be more easy 
 to return. However, God is great! a consolatory truth 
 that had sustained Baroni under many trials. 
 
 They were ushered into a pavilion at the side of the 
 court, and thence into a commodious divan, which opened 
 upon another and smaller court, in which were some acacia 
 trees. As usual, pipes and coffee were brought. Baroni 
 was outside, with the other attendant, stowing away the 
 luggage. A man plainly but neatly dressed, slender and 
 wrinkled, with a stooping gait but a glittering eye, came 
 into the chamber, and, in a hushed voice, with many smiles, 
 much humility, but the lurking air of a master, welcomed 
 them to Gindarics. Then, seating himself on the divan, he 
 clapped his hands, and an attendant brought him his nargilly. 
 
 'I presume,' said Tancred, 'that the Emir and myself 
 have the honour of conversing with the Lord Keferinis.' 
 Thus he addressed this celebrated eunuch, who is prime 
 minister of the Queen of the Ansarey. 
 
 ' The Prince of England,' replied Keferinis, bowing, and 
 speaking in a very affected voice and in a very affected 
 manner, ' must not expect the luxuries of the world amid 
 these mountains. Born in London, which is surrounded 
 by the sea, and with an immense slave population at your 
 command, you have advantages with which the Ansarey 
 cannot compete, unjustly deprived, as they have been, of 
 their port ; and unable, in the present diminished supply of 
 the markets, to purchase slaves as heretofore from the 
 Turkomans and the Kurds.' 
 
 ' I suppose the Russians interfere with your market* ? ' 
 said Fakredeen.
 
 412 TANCRED; OR 
 
 ' The noble Emir of the Lebanon has expressed himself 
 with infinite exactitude,' said Keferinis. ' The Russians 
 now entirely stock their hareems from the north of Asia.' 
 
 ' The Lord Keferinis has been a great traveller, I appre- 
 hend ? ' said Tancred 
 
 ' The Prince of England has expressed himself with 
 extreme exactitude, and with nattering grace,' replied 
 Keferinis. ' I have indeed visited all the Syrian cities, 
 except Jerusalem, which no one wishes to see, and which,' 
 he added, in a sweet calm tone, ' is unquestionably a place 
 fit only for hogs.' 
 
 Tancred started, but repressed himself. 
 
 ' Have you been in Lebanon ? ' asked Fakredeen. 
 
 ' Noble Emir, I have been the guest of princes of your 
 illustrious house. Conversations have passed between me 
 and the Emir Bescheer,' he added, with a significant look. 
 ' Perhaps, had events happened which did not occur, the 
 great Emir Bescheer might not at this moment have been a 
 prisoner at Stambool, among those who, with infinite ex- 
 actitude, may be described as the most obscene sons of very 
 intolerable barbarians.' 
 
 ' And why did not you and the Emir Bescheer agree ? ' 
 inquired Fakredeen, eagerly. ' Why has there never been 
 a right understanding between your people and the house 
 of Shehaab ? United, we should not only command Syria, 
 but we might do more : we might control Asia itself ! ' 
 
 'The noble Emir has expressed himself with inexpres- 
 sible grace. The power of the Ansarey cannot be too highly 
 estimated ! ' 
 
 ' Is it true that your sovereign can bring five and twenty 
 thousand men into the field ? ' asked Tancred. 
 
 ' Five and twenty thousand men,' replied Keferinis, with 
 insinuating courtesy, ' each of whom could beat nine 
 Maronites, and consequently three Druses.' 
 
 ' Five and twenty thousand figs for your five and twenty 
 thousand men ! ' exclaimed Fakredeen, laughing. 
 
 At this moment entered four pages and four maidens
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 413 
 
 bringing sweetmeats from the Queen and goblets of iced 
 water. They bowed; Keferinis indicated their purpose, 
 and when they had fulfilled their office they disappeared ; 
 but the seasonable interruption had turned the conversa- 
 tion, and prevented Fakredeen making a sharp retort. 
 Now they talked of the Queen, who, Keferinis said, would 
 be graciously pleased not to see them to-day, and might 
 not even see them for a week, which agreeable intelligence 
 was communicated in the most affable manner, as if it were 
 good news, or a compliment at least. 
 
 ' The name of the Queen's father was Suedia,' said Fak- 
 redeen. 
 
 ' The name of the Queen's father was Suedia,' replied 
 Keferinis. 
 
 * And the name of the Queen's mother ' 
 
 4 Is of no consequence,' observed Keferinis, ' for she was 
 a slave, and not one of us, and therefore may with singular 
 exactitude be described as nothing.' 
 
 ' Is she the first Queen who has reigned over the An- 
 sarey ? ' inquired Tancred. 
 
 ' The first since we have settled in these mountains,' re- 
 plied Keferinis. 
 
 'And where were you settled before?' inquired Fak- 
 redeen. 
 
 ( Truly,' replied Keferinis, ' in cities which never can 
 be forgotten, and therefore need never be mentioned.' 
 
 Tancred and Fakredeen were very desirous of learning 
 the name of the Queen, but were too well-bred directly to 
 make the inquiry of Keferinis. They had endeavoured to 
 obtain the information as they travelled along, but although 
 every Ansarey most obligingly answered their inquiry, 
 they invariably found, on comparing notes, that every time 
 they were favoured with a different piece of information. 
 At last, Baroni informed them that it was useless to pursue 
 their researches, as he was, from various reasons, convinced 
 that no Ansarey was permitted to give any information of 
 his country, race, government, or creed, although he was
 
 414 TANCEED; OE 
 
 far too civil ever to refuse an apparently satisfactory answer 
 to every question. As for Keferinis, although he was very 
 conversable, the companions observed that he always made 
 it a rule to dilate upon subjects and countries with which 
 he had no acquaintance, and he expressed himself in so 
 affected a manner, and with such an amplification of use- 
 less phraseology, that, though he was always talking, they 
 seemed at the end of the day to be little more acquainted 
 with the Ansarey and their sovereign than when Baroni 
 first opened the subject of their visit to Darkush at Da- 
 mascus. 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 ' AWAT, away, Cypros ! I can remain no more ; my heart 
 beats so.' 
 
 ' Sweet lady,' replied Cypros, ' it is surprise that agitates 
 you.' 
 
 ' Is it surprise, Cypros ? I did not know it was surprise. 
 Then I never was surprised before.' 
 
 ' I think they were surprised, sweet lady,' said Cypros, 
 smiling. 
 
 ' Hush, you are laughing very loud, my Cypros.' 
 
 ' Is that laughter, sweet lady ? I did not know it was 
 laughter. Then I never laughed before.' 
 
 ' I would they should know nothing either of our smiles 
 or of our sighs, my Cypros.' 
 
 She who said this was a girl of eighteen summers ; her 
 features very Greek, her complexion radiant, hair dark as 
 night, and eyes of the colour of the violet. Her beautiful 
 countenance, however, was at this moment nearly shrouded 
 by her veil, although no one could possibly behold it, ex- 
 cepting her attendant, younger even than herself, and fresh 
 and fair as a flower. 
 
 They were hurrying along a wooden gallery, which led, 
 behind the upper part of the divan occupied by the tra-
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 415 
 
 vellers, to the great square central tower of the quadrangle, 
 which we have already noticed, and as the truth mnst 
 always, or at least eventually, come out, it shall not be con- 
 cealed that, availing themselves of a convenient, perhaps 
 irresistible position, the fair fugitives had peeped into the 
 chamber, and had made even minute observations on its in- 
 habitants with impunity. Suddenly, Fakredeen rising from 
 his seat, a panic had seized them and they hurried away. 
 
 The gallery led to a flight of steps, and the flight of 
 steps into the first of several chambers without decoration, 
 and with no other furniture than an eastern apartment 
 always offers, the cushioned seat, which surrounds at least 
 two- thirds of the room. At length they entered a small 
 alcove, rudely painted in arabesque, but in a classic Ionic 
 pattern ; the alcove opened into a garden, or rather court 
 of myrtles with a fountain. An antelope, an Angora cat, 
 two Persian greyhounds, were basking on the sunny turf, 
 and there were many birds about, in rude but capacious 
 cages. 
 
 ' We are safe,' said the lady, dropping on the divan ; ' I 
 think we must have been seen.' 
 
 ' That was clearly impossible,' said Cypros. 
 
 1 Well, we must be seen at last,' said the lady. ' Heigho ! 
 I never shall be able to receive them, if my heart beat so.' 
 
 * I would let them wait a few days, sweet lady,' said 
 Cypros, ' and then you would get more used to them.' 
 
 ' I shall never be more used to them. Besides, it is rude 
 and inhospitable not to see them. Yesterday there was an 
 excuse : they were wearied, or I had a right to suppose 
 they were, with their travelling ; and to-day, there ought to 
 be an excuse for not receiving them to-day. What is it, 
 Cypros ? ' 
 
 ' I dare say they will be quite content, if to-day you fix 
 the time when you will receive them, sweet lady.' 
 
 ' But I shall not be content, Cypros. Having seen them 
 once, I wish to see them again, and one cannot always be 
 walking by accident in the gallery.'
 
 416 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 ' Then I would see them to-day, sweet lady. Shall I 
 send for the noble Keferinis ? ' 
 
 ' I wish I were Cypros, and you were Hark ! what 
 
 is that ? ' 
 
 ' 'Tis only the antelope, sweet lady.' 
 
 ' I thought it was Now tell me, my Cypros, which 
 
 of these two princes do you think is he who is one of us ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, really, sweet lady, I think they are both so hand- 
 some ! ' 
 
 ' Yet so unlike,' said the lady. 
 
 ' Well, they are unlike,' said Cypros, ' and yet ' 
 
 'And what?' 
 
 ' The fair one has a complexion almost as radiant as your 
 own, sweet lady.' 
 
 ' And eyes as blue : no, they are too light. And so, as 
 there is a likeness, you think he is the one ? ' 
 
 ' I am sure I wish they were both belonging to us,' said 
 Cypros. 
 
 ' Ah, me ! ' said the lady, ' 'tis not the bright- faced prince 
 whom I hold to be one of us. No, no, my Cypros. Think 
 awhile, sweet girl. The visage, the head of the other, have 
 you not seen them before ? Have you not seen something 
 like them ? That head so proudly placed upon the shoulders ; 
 that hair, that hyacinthine hair, that lofty forehead, that 
 proud lip, that face so refined and yet so haughty, does it 
 not recall anything ? Think, Cypros ; think ' ' 
 
 ' It does, sweet lady.' 
 
 ' Tell me ; whisper it to me ; it is a name not to be lightly 
 mentioned.' 
 
 Cypros advanced, and bending her head, breathed a word 
 in the ear of the lady, who instantly, blushing deeply, 
 murmured with a faint smile, ' Yes.' 
 
 ' It is he then,' said Cypros, ' who is one of us.'
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 417 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 OUB travellers were speculating, not very sanguinely, on 
 the possible resources which Gindarics might supply for 
 the amusement of a week, when, to their great relief, they 
 were informed by Keferinis, that the Queen had fixed noon, 
 on this the day after their arrival, to receive them. And 
 accordingly at that time some attendants, not accompany- 
 ing, however, the chief minister, waited on Tancred and 
 Fakredeen, and announced that they were commanded to 
 usher them to the royal presence. Quitting their apart- 
 ments, they mounted a flight of steps, which led to the 
 wooden gallery, along which they pursued their course. At 
 its termination were two sentries with their lances. Then 
 they descended a corresponding flight of stairs and entered 
 a chamber where they were received by pages ; the next 
 room, of larger size, was crowded, and here they remained for 
 a few minutes. Then they were ushered into the presence. 
 
 The young Queen of the Ansarey could not have received 
 them with an air more impassive had she been holding 
 a levee at St. James'. Seated on her divan, she was 
 clothed in a purple robe ; her long dark hair descended over 
 her shoulders, and was drawn off her white forehead, which 
 was bound with a broad circlet of pure gold, and of great 
 antiquity. On her right hand stood Keferinis, the captain 
 of her guard, and a priestly-looking person with a long 
 white beard, and then at some distance from these three 
 personages, a considerable number of individuals, between 
 whose appearance and that of her ordinary subjects there 
 was little difference. On her left hand were immediately 
 three female attendants, young and pretty ; at some dis- 
 tance from them, a troop of female slaves ; and again, at a 
 still further distance, another body of her subjects in their 
 white turbans and their black dresses. The chamber was 
 spacious, and rudely painted in the Ionic style. 
 
 * It is most undoubtedly requested, and in a vein of tho 
 

 
 418 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 most condescending friendship, by the perfectly irresistible 
 Queen, that the princes should be seated,' said Keferinis, 
 and accordingly Tancred occupied his allotted seat on the 
 right of the Queen, though at some distance, and the 
 young Emir filled his on the left. Fakredeen was dressed 
 in Syrian splendour, a blaze of shawls and jewelled arms ; 
 but Tancred retained on this, as he had done on every 
 other occasion, the European dress, though in the present 
 instance it assumed a somewhat more brilliant shape than 
 ordinary, in the dark green regimentals, the rich embroidery, 
 and the flowing plume of the Bellamont yeomanry cavalry. 
 
 ' You are a prince of the English,' said the Queen to 
 Tancred. 
 
 ' I am an Englishman,' he replied, ' and a subject of our 
 Queen, for we also have the good fortune to be ruled over 
 by the young and the fair.' 
 
 ' My fathers and the house of Shehaab have been ever 
 friends,' she continued, turning to Fakredeen. 
 
 ' May they ever continue so ! ' he replied. ' For if the 
 Shehaabs and the Ansarey are of one mind, Syria is no 
 longer earth, but indeed paradise.' 
 
 ' You live much in ships ? ' said the Queen, turning to 
 Tancred. 
 
 'We are an insular people,' he answered, somewhat con- 
 fusedly, but the perfectly-informed Keferinis came to the 
 succour both of Tancred and of his sovereign. 
 
 ' The English live in ships only during six months of the 
 year, principally when they go to India, the rest entirely 
 at their country houses.' 
 
 ' Ships are required to take you to India ? ' said her 
 majesty. 
 
 Tancred bowed assent. 
 
 ' Is your Queen about my age ? ' 
 
 ' She was as young as your majesty when she began to 
 reign.' 
 
 ' And how long has she reigned ? ' 
 
 ' Some seven years or so.'
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 419 
 
 * Has she a castle ? ' 
 
 ' Her majesty generally resides in a very famous castle.' 
 
 ' Very strong, I suppose ? ' 
 
 ' Strong enough.' 
 
 ' The Emir Bescheer remains at Stambool ? ' 
 
 ' He is now, I believe, at Brusa,' replied Fakredeen. 
 
 ' Does he like Brusa ? ' 
 
 ' Not as much as Stambool.' 
 
 ' Is Stambool the largest city in the world ? ' 
 
 ' I apprehend by no means,' said Fakredeen. 
 
 ' What is larger ? ' 
 
 ' London is larger, the great city of the English, from 
 which the prince comes ; Paris is also larger, bu*. not so 
 large as London.' 
 
 1 How many persons are there in Stambool ? ' 
 
 ' More than half a million.' 
 
 'Have you seen Antakia (Antioch) ?' the Queen inquired 
 of Tancred. 
 
 * Not yet.' 
 
 ' You have seen Beiroot ? ' 
 
 ' I have.' 
 
 ' Antakia is not nearly so great a place as Beiroot,' said 
 the Queen ; ' yet once Antakia was much larger than Stam- 
 bool ; as large, perhaps, as your great city.' 
 
 ' And far more beautiful than either,' said Tancred. 
 
 ' Ah ! you have heard of these things ! ' exclaimed the 
 Queen, with much animation. ' Now tell me, why is An- 
 takia no longer a great city, as great as Stambool and the 
 city of the English, and far more beautiful ? ' 
 
 'It is a question that might perplex the wise,' said 
 Tancred. 
 
 ' I am not wise,' said the Queen, looking earnestly at 
 Tancred, ' yet I could solve it.' 
 
 ' Would that your majesty would deign to do so.' 
 
 ' There are things to be said, and there are things not to 
 be said,' was the reply, and the Queen looked at Keferinifl. 
 
 ' Her majesty has expressed herself with infinite exacti- 
 I
 
 420 TANCRED; OB 
 
 tilde and with condescending propriety,' said the chief 
 minister. 
 
 The Queen was silent for a moment, thoughtful, and then 
 waved gracefully her hands ; whereupon the chamber was 
 immediately cleared. The princes, instructed by Keferinis, 
 alone remained, with the exception of the minister, who, at 
 the desire of his sovereign, now seated himself, but not on 
 the divan. He sat opposite to the Queen on the floor. 
 
 ' Princes,' said the Queen, 'you are welcome to Gindarics, 
 where nobody ever comes. For we are people who wish 
 neither to see nor to be seen. We are not like other 
 people, nor do we envy other people. I wish not for the ships 
 of the Queen of the English, and my subjects are content 
 to live as their fathers lived before them. Our mountains 
 are wild and barren ; our vales require for their cultivation 
 unceasing toil. We have no gold or silver, no jewels ; 
 neither have we silk. But we have some beautiful and 
 consoling thoughts, and more than thoughts, which are 
 shared by all of us and open to all of us, and which only 
 we can value or comprehend. When Darkush, who dwells 
 at Damascus, and was the servant of my father, sent to us 
 the ever-faithful messenger, and said that there were 
 princes who wished to confer with us, he knew well it was 
 vain to send here men who would talk of the English and 
 the Egyptians, of the Porte and of the nations of Fran- 
 guestan. These things to us are like the rind of fruit. 
 ISTeither do we care for cottons, nor for things which are 
 sought for in the cities of the plains, and it may be, noble 
 Emir, cherished also in the mountains of Lebanon. This 
 is not Lebanon, but the mountains of the Ansarey, who are 
 as they have ever been, before the name of Turk or English 
 was known in Syria, and who will remain as they are, un- 
 less that happens which may never happen, but which is 
 too beautiful not to believe may arrive. Therefore I speak 
 to you with frankness, princes of strange countries : Dar- 
 kush, the servant of iny father, and also mine, told me, by 
 the ever- faithful messenger, that it was not of these things,
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 421 
 
 which are to us like water spilt on sand, that you wished 
 to confer, but that there were things to be said which 
 ought to be uttered. Therefore it is I sent back the faith- 
 ful messenger, saying, Send then these princes to Gin- 
 darics, since their talk is not of things which come and go, 
 making a noise on the coast and in the cities of the plains, 
 and then passing away. These we infinitely despise ; but 
 the words of truth uttered in the spirit of friendship 
 will last, if they be grave, and on matters which authorise 
 journeys made by princes to visit queens.' 
 
 Her Majesty ceased, and looked at Keferinis, who bowed 
 profound approbation. Tancred and Fakredeen also ex- 
 changed glances, but the Emir waved his hand, signifying 
 his wish that Tancred should reply, who, after a moment's 
 hesitation, with an air of great deference, thus ventured to 
 express himself: 
 
 ' It seems to me and to my friend, the Prince of tho 
 Lebanon, that we have listened to the words of wisdom. 
 They are in every respect just. We know not, ourselves, 
 Darkush, but he was rightly informed when he apprised 
 your majesty that it was not upon ordinary topics, either 
 political or commercial, that we desired to visit Gindarics. 
 Nor was it out of such curiosity as animates travellers. 
 For we are not travellers, but men who have a purpose 
 which we wish to execute. The world, that, since its 
 creation, has owned the spiritual supremacy of Asia, which 
 is but natural, since Asia is the only portion of the world 
 which the Creator of that world has deigned to visit, and 
 in which he has ever conferred with man, is unhappily 
 losing its faith in those ideas and convictions that hitherto 
 have governed the human race. We think, therefore, the 
 time has arrived when Asia should make one of its periodi- 
 cal and appointed efforts to reassert that supremacy. But 
 though we are acting, as we believe, under a divine impulse, 
 it is our duty to select the most fitting human agents to 
 accomplish a celestial mission. We have thought, there- 
 fore, tha* it should devolve on Syria and Arabia, countries
 
 422 TANCRED; OK 
 
 in which our God has even dwelt, and with which he has 
 been from, the earliest days in direct and regular communi- 
 cation, to undertake the solemn task. Two races of men 
 alike free, one inhabiting the Desert, the other the moun- 
 tains, untainted by any of the vices of the plains, and the 
 virgin vigour of their intelligence not dwarfed by the con- 
 ventional superstitions of towns and cities, one prepared at 
 once to supply an unrivalled cavalry, the other an army 
 ready equipped of intrepid foot-soldiers, appear to us to be 
 indicated as the natural and united conquerors of the world. 
 We wish to conquer that world, with angels at our head, in 
 order that we may establish the happiness of man by a 
 divine dominion, and, crushing the political atheism that is 
 now desolating existence, utterly extinguish the grovelling 
 tyranny of self-government.' 
 
 The Queen of the Ansarey listened with deep and agitated 
 attention to Tancred. When he had concluded, she said, 
 after a moment's pause, ' I believe also in the necessity of 
 the spiritual supremacy of our Asia. And since it has 
 ceased, it seems not to me that man and man's life have 
 been either as great or as beautiful as heretofore. What 
 you have said assures me, that it is well that you have 
 come hither. But when you speak of Arabia, of what 
 God is it you speak ? ' 
 
 ' I speak of the only God, the Creator of all things, the 
 God who spoke on the Arabian Mount Sinai, and expiated 
 our sins upon the Syrian Mount Calvary.' 
 
 ' There is also Mount Olympus,' said the Queen, ' which 
 is in Anatolia. Once the gods dwelt there.' 
 
 ' The gods of poets,' said Tancred. 
 
 ' No ; the gods of the people ; who loved the people, and 
 whom the people loved.' 
 
 There was a pause, broken by the Queen, who, looking 
 at her minister, said, 'Noble Keferinis, the thoughts of 
 these princes are divine, and in every respect becoming 
 celestial things. Is it not well that the gates of the beau- 
 tiful and the sacred should not be closed ? '
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 423 
 
 ' In every sense, irresistible Queen, it is well that the 
 gates of the beautiful and the sacred should not be closed.' 
 
 ' Then let them bring garlands. Princes,' the Queen 
 continued, ' what the eye of no stranger has looked upon, 
 you shall now behold. This also is Asian and divine.' 
 
 Immediately the chamber again filled. The Queen, 
 looking at the two princes and bowing, rose from her seat. 
 They instantly followed her example. One came forward, 
 offering to the Queen, and then to each of them, a garland. 
 Garlands were also taken by Keferinis and a few others. 
 Cypros and her companions walked first, then Keferinis 
 and one who had stood near the royal divan ; the Queen, 
 between her two guests, followed, and after her a small and 
 ordered band. 
 
 They stopped before a lofty portal of bronze, evidently 
 of ancient art. This opened into a covered and excavated 
 way, in some respects similar to that which had led them 
 directly to the castle of Gindarics ; but, although obscure, 
 not requiring artificial light, yet it was of no inconsider- 
 able length. It emerged upon a platform cut out of the 
 natural rock ; on all sides were steep cliffs, above them the 
 bright blue sky. The ravine appeared to be closed on 
 every side. 
 
 The opposite cliff, at the distance of several hundred 
 yards, reached by a winding path, presented, at first, the 
 appearance of the front of an ancient temple ; and Tancred, 
 as he approached it, perceived that the hand of art had 
 assisted the development of an intimation of nature : a 
 pediment, a deep portico, supported by Ionic columns, and 
 a flight of steps, were carved out of the cliff, and led into 
 vast caverns, which art also had converted into lofty and 
 magnificent chambers. When they had mounted the steps, 
 the Queen and her companions lifted their garlands to the 
 skies, and joined in a chorus, solemn and melodious, but 
 which did not sound as the language of Syria. Passing 
 through the portico, Tancred found himself apparently in 
 a vast apartment, where he beheld a strange spectacle.
 
 424 TANCRED; OR 
 
 At the first glance it seemed that, ranged on blocks of 
 the surrounding mountains, were a variety of sculptured 
 figures of costly materials and exquisite beauty ; forms of 
 heroic majesty and ideal grace ; and, themselves serene and 
 unimpassioned, filling the minds of the beholders with awe 
 and veneration. It was not until his eye was accustomed 
 to the atmosphere, and his mind had in some degree re- 
 covered from the first strange surprise, that Tancred 
 gradually recognised the fair and famous images over 
 which his youth had so long and so early pondered. Stole 
 over his spirit the countenance august, with the flowing 
 beard and the lordly locks, sublime on his ivory throne, in 
 one hand the ready thunderbolt, in the other the cypress 
 sceptre ; at his feet the watchful eagle with expanded 
 wings : stole over the spirit of the gazing pilgrim, each 
 shape of that refined and elegant hierarchy made for the 
 worship of clear skies and sunny lands ; goddess and god, 
 genius, and nymph, and faun, all that the wit and heart of 
 man can devise and create, to represent his genius and his 
 passion, all that the myriad developments of a beautiful 
 nature can require for their personification. A beautiful and 
 sometimes flickering light played over the sacred groups 
 and figures, softening the ravages of time, and occasionally 
 investing them with, as it were, a celestial movement. 
 
 ' The gods of the Greeks ! ' exclaimed Tancred. 
 
 ' The gods of the Ansarey,' said the Queen ; ' the gods of 
 my fathers ! ' 
 
 ' I am filled with a sweet amazement,' murmured Tan- 
 cred. ' Life is stranger than I deemed. My soul is, as it 
 were, unsphered.' 
 
 ' Yet you know them to be gods,' said the Queen ; * and 
 the Emir of the Lebanon does not know them to be 
 gods?' 
 
 ' I feel that they are such,' said Fakredeen. 
 
 ' How is this, then ? ' said the Queen, ' How is it that 
 you, the child of a northern isle ' 
 
 'Should recognise the Olympian Jove,' said Tancred.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 425 
 
 ' It seems strange ; but from my earliest youth I learnt 
 these things.' 
 
 'Ah, then,' murmured the Queen to herself, and with 
 an expression of the greatest satisfaction, ' Darkush was 
 rightly informed ; he is one of us.' 
 
 ' I behold then, at last, the gods of the Ansarey,' said 
 Fakredeen. 
 
 ' All that remains of Antioch, noble Emir ; of Antioch 
 the superb, with its hundred towers, and its sacred groves 
 and fanes of flashing beauty.' 
 
 ' Unhappy Asia! ' exclaimed the Emir ; 'thou hast indeed 
 fallen ! ' 
 
 ' When all was over,' said the Queen ; ' when the people 
 refused to sacrifice, and the gods, indignant, quitted earth, 
 I hope not for ever, the faithful few fled to these moun- 
 tains with the sacred images, and we have cherished them. 
 I told you we had beautiful and consoling thoughts, and 
 more than thoughts. All else is lost, our wealth, our arts, 
 our luxury, our invention, all have vanished. The niggard 
 earth scarcely yields us a subsistence ; we dress like Kurds, 
 feed hardly as well ; but if we were to quit these mountains, 
 and wander like them on the plains with our ample flocks, 
 we should lose our sacred images, all the traditions that we 
 yet cherish in our souls, that in spite of our hard lives 
 preserve us from being barbarians ; a sense of the beautiful 
 and the lofty, and the divine hope that, when the rapidly 
 consummating degradation of Asia has been fulfilled, man- 
 kind will return again to those gods who made the earth 
 beautiful and happy; and that they, in their celestial mercy, 
 may revisit that world which, without them, has become a 
 howling wilderness.' 
 
 ' Lady,' said Tancred, with much emotion, 'we must, with 
 your permission, speak of these things. My heart is at 
 present too full.' 
 
 ' Come hither,' said the Queen, in a voice of great soft- 
 ness ; and she led Tancred away. 
 
 They entered a chamber of much smaller dimensions,
 
 426 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 which might be looked upon as a chapel annexed to the 
 cathedral or Pantheon -which they had quitted. At each 
 end of it was a statue. They paused before one. It was 
 not larger than life, of ivory and gold ; the colour purer 
 than could possibly have been imagined, highly polished, 
 and so little injured, that at a distance the general effect 
 was not in the least impaired. 
 
 ' Do you know that ? ' asked the Queen, as she looked at 
 the statue, and then she looked at Tancred. 
 
 ' I recognise the god of poetry and light,' said Tancred ; 
 ' Phoabus Apollo.' 
 
 ' Our god : the god of Antioch, the god of the sacred 
 grove ! Who could look upon him, and doubt his deity ! ' 
 
 ' Is this indeed the figure,' murmured Tancred, ' before 
 which a hundred steers have bled ? before which libations 
 of honeyed wine were poured from golden goblets ? that 
 lived in a heaven of incense ? ' 
 
 ' Ah ! you know all.' 
 
 ' Angels watch over us ! ' said Tancred, ' or my brain will 
 turn. And who is this ? ' 
 
 ' One before whom the pilgrims of the world once kneeled. 
 This is the Syrian goddess ; the Venus of our land, but 
 called among us by a name which, by her favour, I also 
 bear, ASTARTE.' 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ' AND when did men cease from worshipping them ? ' asked 
 Fakredeen of Tancred ; ' before the Prophet ? ' 
 
 ' When truth descended from Heaven in the person of 
 Christ Jesus.' 
 
 ' But truth had descended from Heaven before Jesus,' 
 replied Fakredeen ; ' since, as you tell me, God spoke to 
 Moses on Mount Sinai, and since then to many of the pro- 
 phets and the princes of Israel.' 
 
 ' Of whom Jesus was one, 'said Tancred; 'the descendant
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 427 
 
 of King David as well as the Son of God. But through 
 this last and greatest of their princes it was ordained that 
 the inspired Hebrew mind should mould and govern the 
 world. Through Jesus God spoke to the Gentiles, and not 
 to the tribes of Israel only. That is the great worldly dif- 
 ference between Jesus and his inspired predecessors. Chris- 
 tianity is Judaism for the multitude, but still it is Judaism, 
 and its development was the death-blow of the Pagan 
 idolatry.' 
 
 ' Gentiles,' murmured Fakredeen ; ' Gentiles ! you are a 
 Gentile, Tancred ? ' 
 
 'Alas! I am,' he answered, 'sprung from a horde of 
 Baltic pirates, who never were heard of during the greater 
 annals of the world, a descent which I have been educated 
 to believe was the greatest of honours. What we should 
 have become, had not the Syro-Arabian creeds formed our 
 minds, I dare not contemplate. Probably we should have 
 perished in mutual destruction. However, though rude 
 and modern Gentiles, unknown to the Apostles, we also 
 were in time touched with the sacred symbol, and originally 
 endowed with an organisation of a high class, for our an- 
 cestors wandered from Caucasus ; we have become kings 
 and princss.' 
 
 ' What a droll thing is history,' said Fakredeen. ' Ah ! 
 if I were only acquainted with it, my education would be 
 complete. Should you call me a Gentile ? ' 
 
 ' I have great doubts whether such an appellation could 
 be extended to the descendants of Ishmael. I always look 
 upon you as a member of the sacred race. It is a great 
 thing for any man ; for you it may tend to empire.' 
 
 ' Was Julius Caesar a Gentile ? ' 
 
 ' Unquestionably.' 
 
 ' And Iskander ? ' (Alexander of Macedon.) 
 
 ' No doubt ; the two most illustrious Gentiles that ever 
 existed, and representing the two great races on the shores 
 of the Mediterranean, to which the apostolic views were 
 first directed.'
 
 428 TANCRED ; OB 
 
 ' Well, their blood, though Gentile, led to empire,' said 
 Fakredeen. 
 
 ' But what are their conquests to those of Jesus Christ ? ' 
 said Tancred, with great animation. ' Where are their 
 dynasties ? where their subjects ? They were both deified : 
 who burns incense to them now? Their descendants, both 
 Greek and Roman, bow before the altars of the house of 
 David. The house of David is worshipped at Rome itself, 
 at every seat of great and growing empire in the world, at 
 London, at St. Petersburg, at New York. Asia alone is 
 faithless to the Asian ; but Asia has been overrun by Turks 
 and Tatars. For nearly five hundred years the true 
 Oriental mind has been enthralled. Arabia alone has re- 
 mained free and faithful to the divine tradition. From its 
 bosom we shall go forth and sweep away the mouldering 
 remnants of the Tacaric system ; and then, when the East 
 has resumed its indigenous intelligence, when angels and 
 prophets again mingle with humanity, the sacred quarter 
 of the globe will recover its primeval and divine supre- 
 macy ; it will act upon the modern empires, and the faint- 
 hearted faith of Europe, which is but the shadow of a 
 shade, will become as vigorous as befits men who are in 
 sustained communication with the Creator.' 
 
 ' But suppose,' said Fakredeen, in a captious tone that 
 was unusual with him, ' suppose, when the Tataric system 
 is swept away, Asia reverts to those beautiful divinities 
 that we beheld this morning ? ' 
 
 More than once, since they quitted the presence of 
 Astarte, had Fakredeen harped upon this idea. From that 
 interview the companions had returned moody and un- 
 usually silent. Strange to say, there seemed a tacit under- 
 standing between them to converse little on that subject 
 which mainly engrossed their minds. Their mutual remarks 
 on Astarte were few and constrained ; a little more diffused 
 upon the visit to the temple ; but they chiefly kept np 
 the conventional chat of companionship by rather com- 
 mon-place observations on Keferinis and other incidents
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 429 
 
 and persons comparatively of little interest and impor- 
 tance. 
 
 After their audience, they lined with the minister, not 
 exactly in the manner of Downing Street, nor even with 
 the comparative luxury of Canobia ; but the meal was an 
 incident, and therefore agreeable. A good pilaff was more 
 acceptable than some partridges dressed with oil and honey : 
 but all Easterns are temperate, and travel teaches abstinence 
 to the Franks. Neither Fakredeen nor Tancred were men 
 who criticised a meal : bread, rice, and coffee, a bird or a 
 fish, easily satisfied them. The Emir affected the Moslem 
 when the minister offered him the wine of the mountains, 
 which was harsh and rough after the delicious Vino d'Oro 
 of Lebanon ; but Tancred contrived to drink the health 
 of Queen Astarte without any wry expression of coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 ' I believe,' said Keferinis, ' that the English, in their 
 island of London, drink only to women ; the other natives 
 of Franguestan chiefly pledge men ; we look upon both as 
 barbarous.' 
 
 ' At any rate, you worship the god of wine,' remarked 
 Tancred, who never attempted to correct the self-compla- 
 cent minister. ' I observed to-day the statue of Bacchus.' 
 
 ' Bacchus ! ' said Keferinis, with a smile, half of inquiry, 
 half of commiseration. ' Bacchus : an English name, I 
 apprehend ! All our gods came from the ancient Antakia 
 before either the Turks or the English were heard of. 
 Their real names are in every respect sacred ; nor will they 
 be uttered, even to the Ansarey, until after the divine 
 initiation has been performed in the perfectly admirable 
 and inexpressibly delightful mysteries,' which meant, in 
 simpler tongue, that Keferinis was entirely ignorant of the 
 subject on which he was talking. 
 
 After their meal, Keferinis, proposing that in the course 
 of the day they should fly one of the Queen's hawks, left 
 them, when the conversation, of which we have given a 
 snatch, occurred. Yet, as we have observed, they were
 
 430 TANCKED ; OR 
 
 on the whole moody and unusually silent. Fakredeen in 
 particular was wrapt in reverie, and when he spoke, it was 
 always in reference to the singular spectacle of the morn- 
 ing. His musing forced him to inquiry, having never 
 before heard of the Olympian hierarchy, nor of the woods 
 of Daphne, nor of the bright lord of the silver bow. 
 
 Why were they moody and silent ? 
 
 With regard to Lord Montacute, the events of the morn- 
 ing might sufficiently account for the gravity of his de- 
 meanour, for he was naturally of a thoughtful and brooding 
 temperament. This unexpected introduction to Olympus 
 was suggestive of many reflections to one so habituated to 
 muse over divine influences. Nor need it be denied that 
 the character of the Queen greatly interested him. Her 
 mind was already attuned to heavenly thoughts. She 
 already believed that she was fulfilling a sacred mission. 
 Tancred could not be blind to the importance of such a 
 personage as Astarte in tho great drama of divine regene- 
 ration, which was constantly present to his consideration. 
 Her conversion might be as weighty as ten victories. He 
 was not insensible to the efficacy of feminine influence in 
 the dissemination of religious truth, nor unaware how 
 much the greatest development of the Arabian creeds, in 
 which the Almighty himself deigned to become a personal 
 actor, was assisted by the sacred spell of woman. It is not 
 the Empress Helene alone who has rivalled, or rather sur- 
 passed, the exploits of the most illustrious apostles. The 
 three great empires of the age, France, England, and 
 Russia, are indebted for their Christianity to female lips. 
 We all remember the salutary influence of Clotilde and 
 Bertha which bore the traditions of the Jordan to the 
 Seine and the Thames : it should not be forgotten that to 
 the fortunate alliance of Waldimir, the Duke of Moscovy, 
 with the sister of the Greek Emperor Basil, is to be 
 ascribed the remarkable circumstance, that the intellectual 
 development of all the Russias has been conducted on 
 Arabian principles. It was the fair Giselle, worthy sue-
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 431 
 
 cessor ot the soft-hearted women of Galilee, herself the 
 sister of the Emperor Henry the Second, who opened the 
 mind of her husband, the King of Hungary, to the deep 
 wisdom of the Hebrews, to the laws of Moses and the pre- 
 cepts of Jesus. Poland also found an apostle and a queen 
 in the sister of the Duke of Bohemia, and who revealed to 
 the Sarmatian Micislas the ennobling mysteries of Sinai 
 and of Calvary. 
 
 Sons of Israel, when you recollect that you created 
 Christendom, you may pardon the Christians even their 
 Autos da Fe ! 
 
 Fakredeen Shehaab, Emir of Canobia, and lineal de- 
 scendant of the standard-bearer of the Prophet, had not 
 such faith in Arabian principles as to dream of converting 
 the Queen of the Ansarey. Quite the reverse ; the Queen 
 of the Ansarey had converted him. From the first moment 
 he beheld Astarte, she had exercised over him that mag- 
 netic influence of which he was peculiarly susceptible, and 
 by which Tancred at once attracted and controlled him. 
 But Astarte added to this influence a power to which the 
 Easterns in general do not very easily bow, the influence of 
 sex. With the exception of Eva, woman had never guided 
 the spirit or moulded the career of Fakredeen ; and, in her 
 instance, the sovereignty had been somewhat impaired by 
 that acquaintance of the cradle, which has a tendency to 
 enfeeble the ideal, though it may strengthen the affections. 
 But Astarte rose upon him commanding and complete, a 
 star whose gradual formation he had not watched, and 
 whose unexpected brilliancy might therefore be more 
 striking even than the superior splendour which he had 
 habitually contemplated. Young, beautiful, queenly, im- 
 passioned, and eloquent, surrounded by the accessories that 
 influence the imagination, and invested with fascinating 
 mystery, Fakredeen, silent and enchanted, had yielded his 
 spirit to Astarte, even before she revealed to his unac- 
 customed and astonished mind the godlike forms of her 
 antiqne theogony.
 
 432 TANCKED; OB 
 
 Eva and Tancred had 'talked to him of gods ; Astarte 
 had shown them to him. All visible images of their 
 boasted divinities of Sinai and of Calvary with which he 
 was acquainted were enshrined over the altars of the con- 
 vents of Lebanon. He contrasted those representations 
 without beauty or grace, so mean, and mournful, and 
 spiritless, or if endued with attributes of power, more 
 menacing than majestic, and morose rather than sublime, 
 with those shapes of symmetry, those visages of immortal 
 oeauty, serene yet full of sentiment, on which he had 
 gazed that morning with a holy rapture. The Queen had 
 said that, besides Mount Sinai and Mount Calvary, there 
 was also Mount Olympus. It was true ; even Tancred had 
 not challenged her assertion. And the legends of Olympus 
 were as old as, nay, older than, those of the convent or the 
 mosques. 
 
 This was no mythic fantasy of the beautiful Astarte ; the 
 fond tradition of a family, a race, even a nation. These 
 were not the gods merely of the mountains : they had 
 been, as they deserved to be, the gods of a great world, of 
 great nations, and of great men. They were the gods of 
 Alexander and of Caius Julius ; they were the gods under 
 whose divine administration Asia had been powerful, rich, 
 luxurious and happy. They were the gods who had 
 covered the coasts and plains with magnificent cities, 
 crowded the midland ocean with golden galleys, and filled 
 the provinces that were now a chain of wilderness and 
 desert with teeming and thriving millions. No wonder 
 the Ansarey were faithful to such deities. The marvel was 
 why men should ever have deserted them. But man had 
 deserted them, and man was unhappy. All ; Eva, Tancred, 
 his own consciousness, the surrounding spectacles of his 
 life, assured him that man was unhappy ; degraded, or dis- 
 contented ; at all events, miserable. He was not surprised 
 that a Syrian should be unhappy, even a Syrian prince, for 
 he had no career ; he was not surprised that the Jews were 
 unhappy, because they were the most persecuted of the
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 433 
 
 human race, and, in all probability, very justly so, for such 
 an exception as Eva proved nothing; but here was an 
 Englishman, young, noble, very rich, with every advantage 
 of nature and fortune, and ho had come out to Syria to tell 
 them that all Europe was as miserable as themselves. 
 What if their misery had been caused by their deserting 
 those divinities who had once made them so happy. 
 
 A great question ; Fakredeen indulged in endless com- 
 binations while he smoked countless nargillies. If religion 
 were to cure the world, suppose they tried this ancient and 
 once popular faith, so very popular in Syria. The Queen 
 of the Ansarey could command five and twenty thousand 
 approved warriors, and the Emir of the Lebanon could 
 summon a host, if not as disciplined, far more numerous. 
 Fakredeen, in a frenzy of reverie, became each moment 
 more practical. Asian supremacy, cosmopolitan regene- 
 ration, and theocratic equality, all gradually disappeared. 
 An independent Syrian kingdom, framed and guarded by a 
 hundred thousand sabres, rose up before him ; an estab- 
 lished Olympian religion, which the Druses, at his instiga- 
 tion, would embrace, and toleration for the Maronites till 
 he could bribe Bishop Nicodemus to arrange a general 
 conformity, and convert his great principal from the 
 Patriarch into the Pontiff of Antioch. The Jews might 
 remain, provided they negotiated a loan which should con- 
 solidate tbe Olympian institutions and establish the Gentile 
 dynasty of Fakredeen and Astarte. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 WHEN Fakredeen bade Tancred as usual good night, his 
 voice was different from its accustomed tones ; he had 
 leplied to Tancred with asperity several times during the 
 evening; and when he was separated. from his companion, 
 lie felt relieved. All unconscious of these changes and 
 symptoms was the heir of Bellamont. Though grave, ono 
 
 r r
 
 434 TANCKED; OK 
 
 indeed who never laughed and seldom smiled, Tancred was 
 blessed with the rarest of all virtues, a singularly sweet 
 temper. He was grave, because he was always thinking, 
 and thinking of great deeds. But his heart was soft, and 
 his nature most kind, and remarkably regardful of the 
 feelings of others. To wound them, however uninten- 
 tionally, would occasion him painful disturbance. Though 
 naturally rapid in the perception of character, his inex- 
 perience of life, and the self-examination in which he 
 was so frequently absorbed, tended to blunt a little his ob- 
 servation of others. With a generous failing, which is not 
 uncommon, he was prepared to give those whom he loved 
 credit for the virtues which he himself possessed, and the 
 sentiments which he himself extended to them. Being 
 profound, stedfast, and most loyal in his feelings, he was 
 incapable of suspecting that his elected friend could enter- 
 tain sentiments towards him less deep, less earnest, and 
 less faithful. The change in the demeanour of the Emir 
 was, therefore, unnoticed by him. And what might be 
 called the sullen irritability of Fakredeen was encountered 
 with the usual gentleness and total disregard of self which 
 always distinguished the behaviour of Lord Montacute. 
 
 The next morning they were invited by Astarte to a 
 hawking party, and, leaving the rugged ravines, they de- 
 scended into a softer and more cultivated country, where 
 they found good sport. Fakredeen was an accomplished 
 falcoiier, and loved to display his skill before the Queen. 
 Tancred was quite unpractised, but Astarte seemed re- 
 solved that he should become experienced in the craft 
 among her mountains, which did not please the Emir, as he 
 caracoled in sumptuous dress on a splendid steed, with the 
 superb falcon resting on his wrist. 
 
 The princes dined again with Keferinis ; that, indeed, 
 was to be their custom during their stay ; afterwards, 
 accompanied by the minister, they repaired to the royal 
 divan, where they had received a general invitation. Hero 
 they found Astarte alone, with tte exception of Cypros and 
 her companions, who worked vitl their spindles apart and
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 435 
 
 here, on the pretext of discussing the high topics on which 
 they had repaired to Gindarics, there was much conversa- 
 tion on many subjects. Thus passed one, two, and even 
 three days ; thus, in general, would their hours be occu- 
 pied at Gindarics. In the morning the hawks, or a visit 
 to some green valley, which was blessed with a stream and 
 beds of oleander, and groves of acacia or sycamore. Fakre- 
 deen had no cause to complain of the demeanour of Astarte 
 towards him, for it was most gracious and encouraging. 
 Indeed, he pleased her ; and she was taken, as many had 
 been, by the ingenuous modesty, the unaffected humility, 
 the tender and touching deference of his manner ; he 
 seemed to watch her every glance, and hang upon her 
 every accent: his sympathy with her was perfect; he 
 agreed with every sentiment and observation that escaped 
 her. Blushing, boyish, unsophisticated, yet full of native 
 grace, and evidently gifted with the most amiable disposi- 
 tion, it was impossible not to view with interest, and even 
 regard, one so young and so innocent. 
 
 But while the Emir had no cause to be dissatisfied with 
 the demeanour of Astarte to himself, he could not be unaware 
 that her carriage to Tancred was different, and he doubted 
 whether the difference was in his favour. He hung on the 
 accents of Astarte, but he remarked that the Queen hung 
 upon the accents of Tancred, who, engrossed with great 
 ideas, and full of a great purpose, was unconscious of what 
 did not escape the lynx- like glance of his companion. How- 
 ever, Fakredeen was not, under any circumstances, easily dis- 
 heartened ; in the present case, there were many circumstances 
 to encourage him. This was a great situation; there was 
 room for combinations. He felt that he was not unfavoured 
 by Astarte ; he had confidence, and a just confidence, in his 
 power of fascination. He had to combat a rival, who was, 
 perhaps, not thinking of conquest ; at any rate, who was 
 unconscious of success. Even had he the advantage, which 
 Fakredeen was not now disposed to admit, he might surely 
 be baffled by a competitor with a purpose, devoting his 
 
 FF 2
 
 436 TANCRED; OR 
 
 whole intelligence to his object, and hesitating at no means 
 to accomplish it. 
 
 Fakredeen became great friends with Keferinis. He gave 
 up his time and attentions much to that great personage ; 
 anointed him with the most delicious flattery, most dex- 
 terously applied ; consulted him on great affairs which had 
 no existence ; took his advice on conjunctures which never 
 could occur ; assured Keferinis that, in his youth, the Emir 
 Bescheer had impressed on him the importance of cultivating 
 the friendly feelings, and obtaining the support of the dis- 
 tinguished minister of the Ansarey ; gave him some jewels, 
 and made him enormous promises. 
 
 On the fourth day of the visit, Fakredeen found himself 
 alone with Astarte, at least, without the presence of Tancred, 
 whom Keferinis had detained in his progress to the royal 
 apartment. The young Emir had pushed on, and gained an 
 opportunity which he had long desired. 
 
 They were speaking of the Lebanon ; Fakredeen had been 
 giving Astarte, at her request, a sketch of Canobia, and 
 intimating his inexpressible gratification were she to honour 
 his castle with a visit; when, somewhat abruptly, in a 
 suppressed voice, and in a manner not wholly free from 
 embarrassment, Astarte said, ' What ever surprises me is, 
 that Darkush, who is my servant at Damascus, should have 
 communicated, by the faithful messenger, that one of the 
 princes seeking to visit Gindarics was of our beautiful and 
 ancient faith ; for the Prince of England has assured :nt, 
 that nothing was more unfounded or indeed impossible 
 that the faith, ancient and beautiful, never prevailed in the 
 land of his fathers ; and that the reason why he was ac- 
 quainted with the god-like forms is, that in his country it 
 is the custom (custom to me most singular, and indeed 
 incomprehensible) to educate the youth by teaching them the 
 ancient poems of the Greeks, poems quite lost to us, but in 
 which are embalmed the sacred legends.' 
 
 ' We ought never to be surprised at anything that is done 
 by the English,' observed Fakredeen ; ' who are, after all, in a
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 437 
 
 certain sense, savages. Their country produces nothing ; 
 it is an island, a mere rock, larger than Malta, but not so 
 well fortified. Everything they require is imported from 
 other countries ; they get their corn from Odessa, and their 
 wine from the ports of Spain. I have been assured at 
 Beiroot that they do not grow even their own cotton, but that 
 I can hardly believe. Even their religion is an exotic ; and as 
 they are indebted for that to Syria, it is not surprising that 
 they should import their education from Greece.' 
 
 ' Poor people ! ' exclaimed the Queen ; ' and yet they travel ; 
 they wish to improve themselves ? ' 
 
 ' Darkush, however,' continued Fakredeen, without no- 
 ticing the last observation of Astarte, 'was not wrongly 
 informed.' 
 
 ' Not wrongly informed ? ' 
 
 ' No : one of the princes who wished to visit Gindarics 
 was, in a certain sense, of the ancient and beautiful faith, 
 but it was not the Prince of the English.' 
 
 ' What are these pigeons that you are flying without 
 letters ! ' exclaimed Astarte, looking very perplexed. 
 
 'Ah! beautiful Astarte,' said Fakredeea, with a sigh; 
 ' you did not know my mother.' 
 
 ' How should I know your mother, Emir of the castles of 
 Lebanon ? Have I ever left these mountains, which are 
 dearer to me than the pyramids of Egypt to the great Pacha r* 
 Have I ever looked upon your women, Maronite or Druse, 
 walking in white sheets, as if they were the children of ten 
 thousand Ghouls ; with horns on their heads, as if they were 
 the wild horses of the Desert ? ' 
 
 'Ask Keferinis,' said Fakredeen, still sighing; 'he has 
 been at Bteddeen, the court of the Emir Bescheer. He 
 knew my mother, at least by memory. My mother, beautiful 
 Astarte, was an Ansarey.' 
 
 ' Your mother was an Ansarey ! ' repeated Astarte, in a 
 tone of infinite surprise; 'your mother an Ansarey? Of 
 what family was she a child ?' 
 
 'Ah!' replied Fakredeen, 'there it is; that is the secret
 
 438 TANCEED; OB 
 
 sorrow of my life. A mystery hangs over my mother, for 
 I lost both my parents in extreme childhood ; I was at her 
 heart,' he added, in a broken voice, 'and amid outrage, 
 tumult, and war. Of whom was my mother the child ? I 
 am here to discover that, if possible. Her race and her 
 beautiful religion have been the dream of my life. All I 
 have prayed for has been to recognise her kindred and to 
 behold her gods.' 
 
 ' It is very interesting,' murmured the Queen. 
 
 ' It is more than interesting,' sighed Fakredeen. Ah ! 
 beautiful Astarte ! if you knew all, if you could form even 
 the most remote idea of what I have suffered for this un- 
 known faith ; ' and a passionate tear quivered on the radiant 
 cheek of the young prince. 
 
 ' And yet you came here to preach the doctrines of another,' 
 said Astarte. 
 
 ' I came here to preach the doctrines of another ! ' replied 
 Fakredeen, with an expression of contempt ; his nostril 
 dilated, his lip curled with scorn. ' This mad Englishman 
 came here to preach the doctrines of another creed, and one 
 with which, it seems to me, he has as little connection as 
 his frigid soil has with palm trees. They produce them, I 
 am told, in houses of glass, and they force their foreign 
 faith in the same manner ; but, though they have temples, 
 and churches, and mosques, they confess they have no mira- 
 cles ; they admit that they never produced a prophet ; they 
 own that no God ever spoke to their people, or visited their 
 land ; and yet this race, so peculiarly favoured by celestial 
 communication, aspire to be missionaries ! ' 
 
 ' I have much misapprehended you,' said Astarte ; ' I 
 thought you were both embarked in a great cause.' 
 
 ' Ah, you learnt that from Darkush ! ' quickly replied 
 Fakredeen. ' You see, beautiful Astarte, that I have no 
 personal acquaintance with Darkush. It was the intendant 
 of my companion who was his friend ; and it is through 
 him that Darkush has learnt anything that he has com- 
 municated. The mission, the project, was not mine ; but, 
 when I found my comrade had the means, which had hitherto
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 439 
 
 evaded me, of reaching Gindarics, I threw no obstacles in 
 his crotchetty course. On the contrary, I embraced the 
 opportunity even with fervour, and, far from discouraging 
 my friend from views to which I know he is fatally, even 
 ridiculously, wedded, I looked forward to this expedition as 
 the possible means of diverting his mind from some opinions, 
 and, I might add, some influences, which I am persuaded 
 can eventually entail upon him nothing but disappointment 
 and disgrace.' And here Fakredeen shook his head, with 
 that air of confidential mystery which so cleverly piques 
 curiosity. 
 
 'Whatever may be his fate,' said Astarte, in a tone of 
 seriousness, ' the English prince does not seem to me to be 
 a person who could ever experience disgrace.' 
 
 'No, no,' quickly replied his faithful friend; 'of course I 
 did not speak of personal dishonour. He is extremely proud 
 and rash, and not in any way a practical man ; but he is 
 not a person who ever would do anything to be sent to the 
 bagnio or the galleys. What I mean by disgrace is, that 
 he is mixed up with transactions, and connected with per- 
 sons who will damage, cheapen, in a worldly sense dishonour 
 him, destroy all his sources of power and influence. For 
 instance, now, in his country, in England, a Jew is never 
 permitted to enter England ; they may settle in Gibral- 
 tar, but in England, no. Well, it is perfectly well known 
 among all those who care about these affairs, that this enter- 
 prise of his, this religious-politico-military adventure, is 
 merely undertaken because he happens to be desperately 
 enamoured of a Jewess at Damascus, whom he cannot carry 
 home as his bride.' 
 
 ' Enamoured of a Jewess at Damascus ! ' said Astarte, 
 turning pale. 
 
 ' To folly, to frenzy ; she is at the bottom of the whole of 
 this affair ; she talks Cabala to him, and he Nazareny to 
 her ; and so, between them, they have invented this grand 
 scheme, the conquest of Asia, perhaps the world, with our 
 Syrian sabres, and we are to be rewarded for our pains by 
 eating passover cakes.'
 
 440 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 ' What are they ? ' 
 
 ' Festival bread of the Hebrews, made In the new moon, 
 with the milk of he-goats.' 
 
 ' What horrors ! ' 
 
 ' What a reward for conquest ! ' 
 
 'Will the Queen of the English let one of her princes 
 marry a Jewess ? ' 
 
 ' Never ; he will be beheaded, and she will be burnt alive, 
 eventually ; but, in the meantime, a great deal of mischief 
 may occur, unless we stop it.' 
 
 ' It certainly should be stopped.' 
 
 ' What amuses me most in this affair,' continued Fakre- 
 Jeen, ' is the cool way in which this Englishman comes to 
 us for our assistance. First, he is at Canobia, then at Gin- 
 darics ; we are to do the business, and Syria is spoken of 
 as if it were nothing. Now the fact is, Syria is the only 
 practical feature of the case. There is no doubt that, if we 
 were all agreed, if Lebanon and the Ansarey were to unite, 
 we could clear Syria of the Turks, conquer the plain, and 
 carry the whole coast in a campaign, and no one would ever 
 interfere to disturb us. Why should they ? The Turks 
 could not, and the natives of Franguestan would not. Leave 
 me to manage them. There is nothing in the world I so revel 
 in as hocussing Guizot and Aberdeen. You never heard of 
 Guizot and Aberdeen ? They are the two Reis Effendis of the 
 King of the French and the Queen of the English. I sent 
 them an archbishop last year, one of my fellows, Archbishop 
 Murad, who led them a pretty dance. They nearly made me 
 King of the Lebanon, to put an end to disturbances which 
 never existed except in the venerable Murad's representa- 
 tions.' 
 
 ' These are strange things ! Has she charms, this Jewess ? 
 Very beautiful, I suppose ? ' 
 
 ' The Englishman vows so ; he is always raving of her ; 
 talks of her in his sleep.' 
 
 ' As you say, it would indeed be strange to draw our 
 sabres for a Jewess. Is she dark or fair ? '
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE.. 441 
 
 ' I think, when he writes verses to her, he always calls 
 her a moon or a star ; that smacks nocturnal and somewhat 
 sombre.' 
 
 ' I detest the Jews ; but I have heard their women are 
 beautiful.' 
 
 ' We will banish them all from our kingdom of Syria,' 
 said Fakredeen, looking at Astarte earnestly. 
 
 'Why, if we are to make a struggle, it should be for 
 something. There have been Syrian kingdoms.' 
 
 ' And shall be, beauteous Queen, and you shall rule them. 
 I believe now the dream of my life will be realised.' 
 
 'Why, what's that?' 
 
 ' My mother's last aspiration, the dying legacy of her 
 passionate soul, known only to me, and never breathed to 
 human being until this moment.' 
 
 ' Then yon recollect your mother ? ' 
 
 ' It was my nurse, long since dead, who was the deposi- 
 tary of the injunction, and in due time conveyed it to me.' 
 
 ' And what was it ? ' 
 
 ' To raise, at Deir el Kamar, the capital of our district, a 
 marble temple to the Syrian goddess.' 
 
 ' Beautiful idea ! ' 
 
 ' It would have drawn back the mountain to the ancient 
 faith; the Druses are half-prepared, and wait only my word.' 
 
 ' But the Nazareny bishops,' said the Queen, ' whom you 
 find so useful, what will they say ? ' 
 
 ' What did the priests and priestesses of the Syrian god- 
 dess say, when Syria became Christian ? They turned into 
 bishops and nuns. Let them turn back again.' 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 TANCEED and Fakredeen had been absent from Gindarics for 
 two or three days, making an excursion in the neighbouring 
 districts, and visiting several of those chieftains whose future 
 aid might be of much importance to them. Away from tho
 
 442 TANCBED; OR 
 
 unconscious centre of many passions and intrigues, excited 
 by the novelty of their life, sanguine of the ultimate triumph 
 of his manoeuvres, and at times still influenced by his com- 
 panion, the demeanour of the young Emir of Lebanon to his 
 friend resumed something of its wonted softness, confidence, 
 and complaisance. They were once more in sight of the 
 wild palace-fort of Astarte ; spurring their horses, they 
 dashed before their attendants over the plain, and halted 
 at the huge portal of iron, while the torches were lit, and 
 preparations were made for the passage of the covered way. 
 
 When they entered the principal court, there were un- 
 usual appearances of some recent and considerable occur- 
 rence : groups of Turkish soldiers, disarmed, reclining 
 camels, baggage and steeds, and many of the armed tribes 
 of the mountain. 
 
 ' What is all this ? ' inquired Fakredeen. 
 
 1 'Tis the hareem of the Pacha of Aleppo,' replied a 
 warrior, ' captured on the plain, and carried up into the 
 mountains to our Queen of queens.' 
 
 ' The war begins,' said Fakredeen, looking round at Tan- 
 cred with a glittering eye. 
 
 ' Women make war on women,' he replied. 
 
 ' 'Tis the first step,' said the Emir, dismounting ; ' I care 
 not how it comes. Women are at the bottom of every- 
 thing. If it had not been for the Sultana Mother, I should 
 Lave now been Prince of the Mountain.' 
 
 When they had regained their apartments the lordly 
 Keferinis soon appeared, to offer them his congratulations 
 on their return. The minister was peculiarly refined and 
 mysterious this morning, especially with respect to the 
 great event, which he involved in so much of obscurity, 
 that, after much conversation, the travellers were as little 
 acquainted with the occurrence as when they entered the 
 courtyard of Gindarics. 
 
 ' The capture of a pacha's hareem is not water spilt on 
 sand, lordly Keferinis,' said the Emir. ' We shall hear more 
 of this.'
 
 TIIE NEW CRUSADF 443 
 
 ' What we shall hear,' replied Keferinis, ' is entirely an 
 affair of the future; nor is it in any wpy to be disputed, 
 that there are few men who do not find it more difficult to 
 foretell what is to happen than to remember what has 
 taken place.' 
 
 ' We sometimes find that memory is as rare a quality as 
 prediction,' said Tancred. 
 
 ' In England,' replied the lordly Keferinis ; ' but it is 
 never to be forgotten, and indeed, on the contrary, should 
 be entirely recollected, that the English, being a new people, 
 have nothing indeed which they can remember.' 
 
 Tancred bowed. 
 
 ' And how is the most gracious lady, Queen of queens ? ' 
 inquired Fakredeen. 
 
 ' The most gracious lady, Queen of queens,' replied 
 Keferinis, very mysteriously, ' has at this time many 
 thoughts.' 
 
 ' If she require any aid,' said Fakredeen, ' there is not a 
 musket in Lebanon that is not at her service.' 
 
 Keferinis bent his head, and said, ' It is not in any way 
 to be disputed that there are subjects which require for 
 their management the application of a certain degree of 
 force, and the noble Emir of the Lebanon has expressed 
 himself in that sense with the most exact propriety ; there 
 are also subjects which are regulated by the application of 
 a certain number of words, provided they are well chosen, 
 and distinguished by an inestimable exactitude. It does 
 not by any means follow that from what has occurred there 
 will be sanguinary encounters between the people of the 
 gracious lady, Queen of queens, and those that dwell in 
 plains and cities ; nor can it be denied that war is a means 
 by which many things are brought to a final conjuncture. 
 At the same time courtesy has many charms, even for the 
 Turks, though it is not to be denied, or in any way con- 
 cealed, that a Turk, especially if he be a pacha, is, of all 
 obscene and utter children of the devil, the most entirely 
 contemptible and thoroughly to be execrated.'
 
 444 TANCKED; OB 
 
 ' If I were the Queen, I would not give up tlie hareem,' 
 said Fakredeen ; ' and I would bring affairs to a crisis. The 
 garrison at Aleppo is not strong ; they have been obliged to 
 march six regiments to Deir el Kamar, and, though affairs 
 are comparatively tranquil in Lebanon for the moment, let 
 me send a pigeon to my cousin Francis El Kazin, and young 
 Syria will get up such a stir that old Wageah Pacha will 
 not spare a single man. I will have fifty bonfires on the 
 mountain near Beiroot in one night, and Colonel Rose will 
 send off a steamer to Sir Canning to tell him there is a re- 
 volt in the Lebanon, with a double despatch for Aberdeen, 
 full of smoking villages and slaughtered women ! ' and the 
 young Emir inhaled his nargilly with additional zest as he 
 recollected the triumphs of his past mystifications. 
 
 At sunset it was announced to the travellers that the 
 Queen would receive them. Astarte appeared much grati- 
 fied by their return, was very gracious, although in a differ- 
 ent way, to both of them, inquired much as to what they 
 had seen and what they had done, with whom they had 
 conversed, and what had been said. At length she ob- 
 served, ' Something has also happened at Gindarics in your 
 absence, noble princes. Last night, they brought part of 
 the hareem of the Pacha of Aleppo captive hither. This 
 may lead to events.' 
 
 ' I have already ventured to observe to the lordly Kefe- 
 rinis,' said Fakredeen, ' that every lance in the Lebanon is 
 at your command, gracious Queen.' 
 
 ' We have lances,' said Astarte ; ' it is not of that I was 
 thinking. Nor indeed do I care to prolong a quarrel for 
 this capture. If the Pacha will renounce the tribute of 
 the villages, I am for peace ; if he will not, we will speak 
 of those things, of which there has been counsel between 
 us. I do not wish this affair of the hareem to be mixed up 
 with what has preceded it. My principal captive is a most 
 beautiful woman, and one, too, that greatly interests and 
 charms me. She is not a Turk, but, I apprehend, a Chris- 
 tian lady of the cities. She is plunged in grief, and weeps
 
 THfc: NEW CRUSADE. 445 
 
 sometimes with so much bitterness that I quite share her 
 sorrow ; but it is not so much because she is a captive, but 
 because some one, who is most dear to her, has been slain 
 in this fray. I have visited her, and tried to console her ; 
 and begged her to forget her grief and become my com- 
 panion. But nothing soothes her, and tears flow for ever 
 from eyes which are the most beautiful I ever beheld.' 
 
 ' This is the land of beautiful eyes,' said Tancred, and 
 Astarte almost unconsciously glanced at the speaker. 
 
 Cypros, who had quitted the attendant maidens imme- 
 diately on the entrance of the two princes, after an interval, 
 returned. There was some excitement on her countenance 
 as she approached her mistress, and addressed Astarte in u 
 hushed but hurried tone. It seemed that the fair captive of 
 the Queen of the Ansarey had most unexpectedly expressed 
 to Cypros her wish to repair to the divan of the Queen, 
 although, the whole day, she had frequently refused to 
 descend. Cypros feared that the presence of the two guests 
 of her mistress might prove an obstacle to the fulfilment of 
 this wish, as the freedom of social intercourse that pre- 
 vailed among the Ansarey was unknown even among the 
 ever- veiled women of the Maronites and Druses. But the 
 fair captive had no prejudices on this head, and Cypros had 
 accordingly descended to request the royal permission, or 
 consult the royal will. Astarte spoke to Keferinis, who 
 listened with an air of great profundity, and finally bowed 
 assent, and Cypros retired. 
 
 Astarte had signified to Tancred her wish that he should 
 approach her, while Keferinis at some distance was engaged 
 in earnest conversation with Fakredeen, with whom he had 
 not had previously the opportunity of being alone. His re- 
 port of all that had transpired in his absence was highly 
 favourable. The minister had taken the opportunity of the 
 absence of the Emir and his friend to converse often and 
 amply about them with the Queen. The idea of an united 
 Syria was pleasing to the imagination of the young sove- 
 reign. The suggestion was eminently practicable. It re-
 
 446 TANCRKU ; OR 
 
 quired no extravagant .combinations, no hazardous chances 
 of fortune, nor fine expedients of political skill. A union 
 between Fakredeen and Astarte at once connected the most 
 important interests of the mountains without exciting the 
 alarm or displeasure of other powers. The union was 
 as legitimate as it would ultimately prove irresistible. It 
 ensured a respectable revenue and a considerable force ; 
 and, with prudence and vigilance, the occasion would soon 
 offer to achieve all the rest. On the next paroxysm in the 
 dissolving empire of the Ottomans, the plain would be oc- 
 cupied by a warlike population descending from the moun- 
 tains that commanded on one side the whole Syrian coast, 
 and on the other all the inland cities from Aleppo to 
 Damascus 
 
 The eye of tne young Emir glittered with triumph as he 
 listened to the oily sentences of the eunuch. ' Lebanon,' 
 he whispered, 'is the key of Syria, my Keferinis, never 
 forget that ; and we will lock up the land. Let us never 
 sleep till this affair is achieved. You think she does not 
 dream of a certain person, eh ? I tell you, he must go, or 
 we must get rid of him : I fear him not, but he is in the 
 way ; and the way should be smooth as the waters of El 
 Arish. Remember the temple to the Syrian goddess at 
 Deir el Kamar, my Keferinis ! The religion is half th i 
 battle. How I shall delight to get rid of my bishops and 
 those accursed monks : drones, drivellers, bigots, drinking 
 my golden wine of Canobia, and smoking my delicate 
 Latakia. Ton know Canobia, my Keferinis ; but you have 
 heard of it. You have been at Bteddeen ? Well, Bteddeen 
 to Canobia is an Arab moon to a Syrian sun. The marble 
 alone at Canobia cost a million of piastres. The stables are 
 worthy of the steeds of Solomon. You may kill anything 
 you like in the forest, from panthers to antelopes. Listen, 
 my Keferinis, let this be done, and done quickly, and 
 Canobia is yours.' 
 
 ' Do you ever dream ? ' said Astarte to Tancred. 
 
 ' They say that life is a dream.'
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 447 
 
 1 1 sometimes wish it were. Its pangs are too acute for 
 a shadow.' 
 
 4 But you have no pangs.' 
 
 4 1 had a dream when you were away, in which I was 
 much alarmed,' said Astarte. 
 
 'Indeed!' 
 
 'I thought that Gindarics was taken by the Jews. I 
 suppose you have talked of them to me so much that my 
 slumbering memory wandered.' 
 
 'It is a resistless and exhaustless theme,' said Tancred; 
 ' for the greatness and happiness of everything, Gindarics 
 included, are comprised in the principles of which they 
 were the first propagators.' 
 
 ' Nevertheless, I should be sorry if my dream came to be 
 true,' said Astarte. 
 
 4 May your dreams be as bright and happy as your lot, 
 royal lady ! ' said Tancred. 
 
 ' My lot is not bright and happy,' said the Queen ; ' once 
 I thought it was, but I think so no longer.' 
 
 4 But why ? ' 
 
 4 1 wish you could have a dream and find out,' said the 
 Queen. 4 Disquietude is sometimes as perplexing as plea- 
 sure. Both come and go like birds.' 
 
 ' Like the pigeon you sent to Damascus,' said Tancred. 
 
 4 Ah ! why did I send it ? ' 
 
 ' Because you were most gracious, lady.' 
 
 4 Because I was very rash, noble prince.' 
 
 4 When the great deeds are done to which this visit will 
 lead, you will not think so.' 
 
 4 1 am not born for great deeds ; I am a woman, and I 
 am content with beautiful ones.' 
 
 ' You still dream of the Syrian goddess,' said Tancred. 
 
 ' No ; not of the Syrian goddess. Tell me : they say the 
 Hebrew women are very lovely, is it so ? ' 
 
 * They have that reputation.' 
 
 ' But do you think so ! ' 
 
 4 1 Lave known some distinguished for their beauty.'
 
 448 TANCRED; OR 
 
 ' Do they resemble the statue in our temple ? ' 
 
 ' Their style is different,' said Tancred ; ' the Greek and 
 the Hebrew are both among the highest types of the human 
 form.' 
 
 ' But you prefer the Hebrew ? ' 
 
 'I am not so discriminating a critic,' said Tancred; 'I 
 admire the beautiful.' 
 
 ' Well, here comes my captive,' said the Queen ; ' if you 
 like, you shall free her, for she wonderfully takes me. She 
 is a Georgian, I suppose, and bears the palm from all of us. 
 I will not presume to contend with her : she would van- 
 quish, perhaps, even that fair Jewess of whom, I hear, you 
 are so enamoured.' 
 
 Tancred started, and would have replied, but Cypros 
 advanced at this moment with her charge, who withdrew 
 her veil as she seated herself, as commanded, before the 
 Queen. She withdrew her veil, and Fakredeen and Tan- 
 cred beheld EVA ! 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 IN one of a series of chambers excavated in the mountains, 
 yet connected with the more artificial portion of the palace, 
 chambers and galleries which in the course of ages had 
 served for many purposes, sometimes of security, sometimes 
 of punishment; treasuries not unfrequently, and occasionally 
 prisons ; in one of these vast cells, feebly illumined from 
 apertures above, lying on a rude couch with her counte- 
 nance hidden, motionless and miserable, was the beautiful 
 daughter of Besso, one who had been bred in all the delights 
 of the most refined luxury, and in the enjoyment of a free- 
 dom not common in any land, and most rare among the 
 Easterns. 
 
 The events of her life had been so strange and rapid 
 during the last few days that, even amid her woe, she re- 
 volved in her mind their startling import. It was little
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 449 
 
 more than ten days since, under tlie guardianship of her 
 father, she had commenced her journey from Damascus to 
 Aleppo. When they had proceeded about half way, they 
 were met at the city of Horns by a detachment of Turkish 
 soldiers, sent by the Pacha of Aleppo, at the request of 
 Hillel Besso, to escort them, the country being much trou- 
 bled in consequence of the feud with the Ansarey . Notwith- 
 standing these precautions, and although, from the advices 
 they received, they took a circuitous and unexpected course, 
 they were attacked by the mountaineers within half a day's 
 journey of Aleppo ; and with so much strength and spirit, 
 that their guards, after some resistance, fled and dispersed, 
 while Eva and her attendants, after seeing her father cut 
 down in her defence, was carried a prisoner to Gindaries. 
 
 Overwhelmed by the fate of her father, she was at first 
 "isensible to her own, and was indeed so distracted that 
 she delivered herself up to despair. She was beginning in 
 some degree to collect her senses, and to survey her posi- 
 tion with some comparative calmness, when she learnt from 
 the visit of Cypros that Fakredeen and Tancred were, by a 
 strange coincidence, under the same roof as herself. Then 
 she recalled the kind sympathy and offers ot consolation 
 that had been evinced and proffered to her by the mistress 
 of the castle, to whose expressions at the time she had paid 
 but an imperfect attention. Under these circumstances 
 she earnestly requested permission to avail herself of a 
 privilege, which had been previously offered and refused, to 
 become the companion, rather than the captive of the Queen 
 of the Ansarey ; so that she might find some opportunity 
 of communicating with her two friends, of inquiring about 
 her father, and of consulting with them as to the best steps 
 to be adopted in her present exigency. 
 
 The interview, from which so much was anticipated, had 
 turned out as strange and as distressful as any of the recent 
 incidents to which it was to have brought balm and solace. 
 Recognised instantly by Tancred and the young Emir, and 
 greeted with a tender respect, almost equal to the surprise 
 
 G
 
 450 TANCRED; OR 
 
 and sorrow which they felt at beholding her, Astarte, 
 hitherto so unexpectedly gracious to her captive, appeared 
 suddenly agitated, excited, haughty, even hostile. The 
 Queen had immediately summoned Fakredeen to her side, 
 and there passed between them some hurried and perturbed 
 explanations ; subsequently she addressed some inquiries to 
 Tancred, to which he replied without reserve. Soon after- 
 wards, Astarte, remaining intent and moody, the court was 
 suddenly broken up ; Keferinis signifying to the young men 
 that they should retire, while Astarte, without bestowing 
 on them her usual farewell, rose, and, followed by her 
 maidens, quitted the chamber. As for Eva, instead of re- 
 turning to one of the royal apartments which had been pre- 
 viously allotted to her, she was conducted to what was in 
 fact a prison. 
 
 There she had passed the night and a portion of the en- 
 suing day, visited only by Cypros, who, when Eva would 
 have inquired the cause of all this mysterious cruelty and 
 startling contrast to the dispositions which had preceded it, 
 only shook her head and pressed her finger to her lip, to 
 signify the impossibility of her conversing with her captive. 
 
 It was one of those situations where the most gifted are 
 deserted by their intelligence ; where there is as little to 
 guide as to console ; where the mystery is as vast as the 
 misfortune ; and the tortured apprehension finds it impos- 
 sible to grapple with irresistible circumstances. 
 
 In this state, the daughter of Besso, plunged in a dark 
 reverie, in which the only object visible to her mind's eye 
 was the last glance of her dying father, was roused from 
 her approaching stupor by a sound, distinct yet muffled, as 
 if some one wished to attract her attention, without startling 
 her by too sudden an interruption. She looked up ; again 
 she heard the sound, and then, in a whispered tone, her 
 name 
 
 'Eva!' 
 
 ' I am here.' 
 
 ' Hush ! ' said a figure, stealing into the caverned cham-
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 451 
 
 ber, and then throwing off his Syrian cloak, revealing to 
 her one whom she recognised. 
 
 ' Fakredeen,' she said, starting from her couch, ' what is 
 all this?' 
 
 The countenance of Fakredeen was distressed and agi- 
 tated ; there was an expression of alarm, almost of terror, 
 stamped upon his features. 
 
 ' You must follow me,' he said ; ' there is not a moment 
 to lose ; you must fly ! ' 
 
 ' Why and whither ? ' said Eva. ' This capture is one of 
 plunder not of malice, or was so a few hours back. It is 
 not sorrow for myself that overwhelmed me. But yester- 
 day, the sovereign of these mountains treated me with a 
 generous sympathy, and, if it brought me no solace, it was 
 only because events have borne, I fear, irremediable woe. 
 And now, I suddenly find myself among my friends ; friends, 
 who, of all others, I should most have wished to encounter 
 at this moment, and all is changed. I am a prisoner, 
 under every circumstance of harshness, even of cruelty, 
 and you speak to me as if my life, my immediate existence, 
 was in peril.' 
 
 ' It is.' 
 
 'But why?' 
 
 Fakredeen wrung his hands, and murmured, ' Let us go.' 
 
 ' I scarcely care to live,' said Eva ; ' and I will not move 
 until you give me some clue to all this mystery.' 
 
 ' Well, then, she is jealous of you ; the queen, Astarte ; she 
 is jealous of you with the English prince, that man that has 
 brought us all so many vexations.' 
 
 ' Is it he that has brought us so many vexations ? ' replied 
 Eva. ' The Queen jealous of me, and with the English 
 prince ! "Tis very strange. We scarcely exchanged a doeen 
 sentences together, when all was disturbed and broken up. 
 Jealous of me ! Why then was she anxious that I should 
 descend to her divan ? This is not the truth, Fakredeen.' 
 
 ' Not all ; but it is the truth ; it is, indeed. The Queen is 
 jealous of you : she is in love with Tancred ; a curse be on 
 
 o o 2
 
 452 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 him and her both ! and somebody has told her that Tancred 
 is in love with yon.' 
 
 ' Somebody ! When did they teU her ? ' 
 
 ' Long ago ; long ago. She knew, that is, she had been 
 told, that Tancred was affianced to the daughter of Besso of 
 Damascus ; and so this sudden meeting brought about a 
 crisis. I did what I could to prevent it ; vowed that you 
 were only the cousin of the Besso that she meant ; did every- 
 thing, in short, I could to serve and save you ; but it was of 
 no use. She was wild, is wild, and your life is in peril.' 
 
 Eva mused a moment. Then, looking up, she said, ' Fa- 
 kredeen, it is you who told the Queen this story. You are 
 the somebody who has invented this fatal falsehood. What 
 was your object I care not to inquire, knowing full well, 
 that, if you had an object, you never would spare friend or 
 foe. Leave me. I have little wish to live ; but I believe in 
 the power of truth. I will confront the Queen and tell her 
 all. She will credit what I say ; if she do not, I can meet 
 my fate ; but I will not, now or ever, entrust it to you.' 
 
 Thereupon Fakredeen burst into a flood of passionate 
 tears, and, throwing himself on the ground, kissed Eva's 
 feet, and clung to her garments which he embraced, sob- 
 bing, and moaning, and bestowing on her endless phrases 
 of affection, mixed with imprecations on his own head and 
 conduct. 
 
 ' O Eva ! my beloved Eva, sister of my soul, it is of no 
 use telling you any lies ! Yes, I am that villain and that 
 idiot, who has brought about all this misery, misery enough 
 to turn me mad, and which, by a just retribution, has de- 
 stroyed all the brilliant fortunes which were at last opening 
 on me. This Frank stranger was the only bar to my union 
 with the sovereign of these mountains, whose beauty you 
 have witnessed, whose power, combined with my own, 
 would found a kingdom. I wished to marry her. You can- 
 not be angry with me, Eva, for that. You know very well 
 that, if you had married me yourself, we should neither of 
 us have been in the horrible situation in which we now find 
 ourselves. Ah ! that would have been a happy union !
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 453 
 
 But let that puyy. I have always been the most unfortu- 
 nate of men ; I have never had justice done me. Well, she 
 loved this prince of Franguestan. I saw it ; nothing escapes 
 me. I let her know that he was devoted to another. Why 
 I mentioned your name I cannot well say ; perhaps because 
 it was the first that occurred to me ; perhaps because I have 
 a lurking suspicion that he really does love you. The in- 
 formation worked. My own suit prospered. I bribed her 
 minister. He is devoted to me. All was smiling. How 
 could I possibly have anticipated that you would ever ar- 
 rive here ! When I saw you, I felt that all was lost. I 
 endeavoured to rally affairs, but it was useless. Tancred 
 has no finesse ; his replies neutralised, nay, destroyed, all 
 my counter representations. The Queen is a whirlwind. 
 She is young ; she has never been crossed in her life. You 
 cannot argue with her when her heart is touched. In 
 short, all is ruined ; ' and Fakredeen hid his weeping face in 
 the robes of Eva. 
 
 ' What misery you prepare for yourself, and for all who 
 know you ! ' exclaimed Eva. ' But that has happened which 
 makes me insensible to further grief.' 
 
 'Yes; but listen to what I say, and all will go right. I 
 do not care in the least for my own disappointment. That 
 now is nothing. It is you, it is of you only that I think, 
 whom I wish to save. Do not chide me : pardon me, pardon 
 me, as you have done a thousand times ; pardon and pity 
 me. I am so young and really so inexperienced ; after all, 
 I am only a child ; besides, I have not a friend in the world 
 except you. I am a villain, a fool ; all villains are. I know 
 it. But I cannot help it. I did not make myself. The 
 question now is, How are we to get out of this scrape ? 
 How are we to save your life ? ' 
 
 ' Do you really mean, Fakredeen, that my life is in peril? ' 
 
 ' Yes, I do,' said the Emir, crying like a child. 
 
 ' You do not know the power of truth, Fakredeen. You 
 have no confidence in it. Let me see the Queen.' 
 
 ' Impossible ! ' he said, starting up, and looking very 
 much alarmed.
 
 454 TANCRED; OR 
 
 'Why?' 
 
 ' Because, in the first place, she is mad. Keferinis, that 
 is, her minister, one of my creatures, and the only person 
 who can manage her, told me this moment that it was a 
 perfect kamsin, and that, if he approached her again, it 
 would be at his own risk ; and, in the second place, bad as 
 things are, they would necessarily be much worse if she saw 
 you, because (and it is of no use concealing it any longer) 
 she thinks you already, dead.' 
 
 ' Dead ! Already dead ! ' 
 
 4 Yes.' 
 
 ' And where is your friend and companion ?' said Eva. 
 1 Does he know of these horrors ? ' 
 
 ' No one knows of them except myself. The Queen sent 
 for me last night to speak to me of the subject generally. 
 It was utterly vain to attempt to disabuse her ; it would 
 only have compromised all of us. She would only have 
 supposed the truth to be an invention for the moment. I 
 found your fate sealed. In my desperation, the only tiling 
 that occurred to me was to sympathise with her indignation 
 and approve of all her projects. She apprised me that you 
 should not live four-and-twenty hours. I rather stimulated 
 her vengeance, told her in secresy that your house had 
 nearly effected my ruin, and that there was no sacrifice I 
 would not make, and no danger that I would not encounter, 
 to wreak on your race my long-cherished revenge. I as- 
 sured her that I had been watching my opportunity for 
 years. Well, you see how it is, Eva ; she consigned to me 
 the commission which she would have whispered to one of 
 her slaves. I am here with her cognisance ; indeed, by this 
 time she thinks 'tis all over. You comprehend ?' 
 
 ' You are to be my executioner ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ; I have undertaken that office, in order to save 
 your life.' 
 
 ' I care not to save my life. What is life to me, since he 
 perhaps is gone who gave me that life, and for whom alone 
 I lived ! '
 
 THE NEW CEUSADE. 455 
 
 ' Eva ! Eva ! don't distract me ; don't drive me abso- 
 lutely mad ! When a man is doing what I am for your 
 sake, giving up a kingdom, and more than a kingdom, to 
 treat him thus ! But yon never did me justice.' And Fa- 
 kredeen poured forth renewed tears. ' Keferinis is in my 
 pay ; I have got the signet of the covered way. Here are 
 two Mamlouk dresses ; one you must put on. Without the 
 gates are two good steeds, and in eight-and-forty hours we 
 shall be safe, and smiling again.' 
 
 ' I shall never smile again,' said Eva. ' No, Fakredeen,' 
 she added, after a moment's pause, ' I will not fly, and you 
 cannot fly. Can you leave alone in this wild place that 
 friend, too faithful, I believe, whom you have been the 
 means of leading hither ? ' 
 
 ' Never mind him,' said the Emir. ' I wish we had never 
 seen him. He is quite safe. She may keep him a prisoner 
 perhaps. What then ? He makes so discreet a use of his 
 liberty that a little durance will not be very injurious. His 
 life will be safe enough. Cutting off his head is not the 
 way to gain his heart. But time presses. Come, my sister, 
 my beloved Eva ! In a few hours it may not be in my 
 power to effect all this. Come, think of your father, of his 
 anxiety, his grief. One glimpse of you will do him more 
 service than the most cunning leech.' 
 
 Eva burst into passionate tears. ' He will never see us 
 again. I saw him fall ; never shall I forget that moment ! ' 
 and she hid her face in her hands. 
 
 4 But he lives,' said Fakredeen. ' I have been speaking 
 to some of the Turkish prisoners. They also saw him fall ; 
 but he was borne off the field, and, though insensible, it was 
 believed that the wound was not fatal. Trust me, he is at 
 Aleppo.' 
 
 ' They saw him borne off the field ? ' 
 
 ' Safe, and, if not well, far from desperate.' 
 
 ' God of my fathers !' said Eva, falling on her knees; 
 ' thine is indeed a mercy-seat ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, yes ; there is nothing like the God of your fathers,
 
 456 TANCEED; OR 
 
 Eva. If you knew the things that are going on in this 
 place, even in these vaults and caverns, you would not 
 tarry here an instant. They worship nothing but graven 
 images, and the Queen has fallen in love with Tancred, be- 
 cause he resembles a marble statue older than the times of 
 the pre- Adamite Sultauns. Come, come ! ' 
 
 ' But how could they know that he was far from des- 
 perate ? ' 
 
 ' I will show you the man who spoke to him,' said Fakre- 
 deen ; ' he is only with our horses. Tou can ask him any 
 questions you like. Come, put on your Mamlouk dress, 
 every minute is golden.' 
 
 ' There seems to me something base in leaving him here 
 alone,' said Eva. ' He has eaten our salt, he is the child of 
 our tents, his blood will be upon our heads.' 
 
 ' Well, then, fly for his sake,' said Fakredeen ; ' here you 
 cannot aid him ; but when you are once in safety, a thou- 
 sand things may be done for his assistance. I could return, 
 for example.' 
 
 ' Now, Fakredeen,' said Eva, stopping him, and speaking 
 in a solemn tone, ' if I accompany you, as you now require, 
 will you pledge me your word, that the moment we pass 
 the frontier you will return to him.' 
 
 ' I swear it, by our true religion, and by my hopes of an 
 earthly crown.' 
 
 CHAPTER VIE. 
 
 THE sudden apparition of Eva at Gindarics, and the scene 
 of painful mystery by which it was followed, had plunged 
 Tancred into the greatest anxiety and affliction. It was in 
 vain that, the moment they had quitted the presence of 
 Astarte, he appealed to Fakredeen for some explanation of 
 what had occurred, and for some counsel as to the course 
 they should immediately pursue to assist one in whose fate 
 they were both so deeply interested. The Emir, for the
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 457 
 
 first time since their acquaintance, seemed entirely to have 
 lost himself. He looked perplexed, almost stunned ; his 
 language was incoherent, his gestures those of despair. 
 Tancred, while he at once ascribed all this confused de- 
 meanour to the shock which he had himself shared at find- 
 ing the daughter of Besso a captive, and a captive under 
 circumstances of doubt and difficulty, could not reconcile 
 such distraction, such an absence of all resources and pre- 
 sence of mind, with the exuberant means and the prompt 
 expedients which in general were the characteristics of his 
 companion, under circumstances the most difficult and un- 
 foreseen. 
 
 When they had reached their apartment s,Fakredeen threw 
 himself upon the divan and moaned, and, suddenly starting 
 from the couch, paced the chamber with agitated step, 
 wringing his hands. All that Tancred could extract from 
 him was an exclamation of despair, an imprecation on his 
 own head, and an expression of fear and horror at Eva 
 having fallen into the hands of pagans and idolaters. 
 
 It was in vain also that Tancred endeavoured to commu- 
 nicate with Keferinis. The minister was invisible, not to 
 be found, and the night closed in, when Tancred, after fruit- 
 less counsels with Baroni, and many united but vain efforts 
 to open some communication with Eva, delivered himself 
 not to repose, but to a distracted reverie over the present 
 harassing and critical affairs. 
 
 When the dawn broke, he rose and sought Fakredeen, but, 
 to his surprise, he found that his companion had already 
 quitted his apartment. An unusual stillness seemed to per- 
 vade Gindarics this day ; not a person was visible. Usually 
 at sunrise all were astir, and shortly afterwards Keferinis 
 generally paid a visit to the guests of his sovereign; but 
 this day Keferinis omitted the ceremony, and Tancred, 
 never moro anxious for companions and counsellors, found 
 himself entirely alone ; for Baroni was about making obser- 
 vations, and endeavouring to find some clue to the position 
 of Eva.
 
 458 TANCKED ; OR 
 
 Tailored had resolved, the moment that it was practicable, 
 to solicit an audience of Astarte on the subject of Eva, and 
 to enter into all the representations respecting her, which, 
 in his opinion, were alone necessary to secure for her im- 
 mediately the most considerate treatment, and ultimately a 
 courteous release. The very circumstance that she was 
 united to the Emir of Canobia by ties so dear and intimate, 
 and was also an individual to whom he himself was in- 
 debted for such generous aid and such invaluable services, 
 would, he of course assumed, independently of her own in- 
 teresting personal qualities, enlist the kind feelings of Astarte 
 in her favour. The difficulty was to obtain this audience of 
 Astarte, for neither Fakredeen nor Keferinis was to be found, 
 and no other means of achieving the result were obvious. 
 
 About two hours before noon, Baroni brought word that he 
 had contrived to see Cypros, from whom he gathered that As- 
 tarte had repaired to the great temple of the gods. Instantly, 
 Tancred resolved to enter the palace, and if possible to find 
 his way to the mysterious sanctuary. That was a course by 
 no means easy ; but the enterprising are often fortunate, 
 and his project proved not to be impossible. He passed 
 through the chambers of the palace, which were entirely 
 deserted, and with which he was familiar, and he reached 
 without difficulty the portal of bronze, which led to the 
 covered way that conducted to the temple, but it was closed. 
 Baffled and almost in despair, a distant chorus reached his ear, 
 then the tramp of feet, and then slowly the portal opened. 
 He imagined that the Queen was returning ; but, on the 
 contrary, pages and women and priests swept by without 
 observing him, for he was hidden by one of the opened 
 valves, but Astarte was not there ; and, though the venture 
 was rash, Tancred did not hesitate, as the last individual 
 in the procession moved on, to pass the gate. The portal 
 shut instantly with a clang, and Tancred found himself 
 alone and in comparative darkness. His previous experience, 
 however, sustained him. His eye, fresh from the sunlight, 
 at first wandered in obscurity, but by degrees, habituated
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 4o9 
 
 to the atmosphere, though dim, the way was sufficiently 
 indicated, and he advanced, till the light became each step 
 more powerful, and soon he emerged upon the platform, 
 which faced the mountain temple at the end of the ravine : 
 a still and wondrous scene, more striking now, if possible, 
 when viewed alone, with his heart the prey of many emo- 
 tions. How full of adventure is life ! It is monotonous 
 only to the monotonous. There may be no longer fiery 
 dragons, magic rings, or fairy wands, to interfere in its 
 course and to influence our career ; but the relations of men 
 are far more complicated and numerous than of yore; and 
 in the play of the passions, and in the devices of creative 
 spirits, that have thus a proportionately greater sphere for 
 their action, there are spells of social sorcery more potent 
 than all the necromancy of Merlin or Friar Bacon. 
 
 Tancred entered the temple, the last refuge of the Olym- 
 pian mind. It was race that produced these inimitable 
 forms, the idealised reflex of their own peculiar organisation. 
 Their principles of art, practised by a different race, do not 
 produce the same results. Yet we shut our eyes to the 
 great truth into which all truths merge, and we call upon 
 the Pict, or the Sannatian, to produce the forms of Phidias 
 and Praxiteles. 
 
 Not devoid of that awe which is caused by the presence 
 of the solemn and the beautiful, Tancred slowly traced his 
 steps through the cavern sanctuary. No human being was 
 visible. Upon his right was the fane to which Astorte led 
 Lina on his visit of initiation. He was about to enter it, 
 when, kneeling before the form of the Apollo of Antioch, 
 he beheld the fair Queen of the Ansarey, motionless and 
 speechless, her arms crossed upon her breast, and her eyes 
 fixed upon her divinity, in a dream of ecstatic devotion. 
 
 The splendour of the ascending sun fell full upon the 
 statue, suffusing the ethereal form with radiancy, and spread- 
 ing around it for some space a broad and golden halo. As 
 Tancred, recognising the Queen, withdrew a few paces, his 
 bhadow, clearly defined, rested on the glowing wall of tlio
 
 460 TANCEED.; OR 
 
 rock temple. Astarte uttered an exclamation, rose quickly 
 from her kneeling position, and, looking round, her eyes 
 met those of Lord Montacute. Instantly she withdrew her 
 gaze, blushing deeply. 
 
 ' I was about to retire,' murmured Tancred. 
 
 'And why should you retire ? ' said Astarte, in a soft voice, 
 looking up. 
 
 ' There are moments when solitude is sacred.' 
 
 ' I am too much alone : often, and of late especially, I feel 
 a painful isolation.' 
 
 She moved forward, and they re-entered together the chief 
 temple, and then emerged into the sunlight. They stood 
 beneath the broad Ionic portico, beholding the strange scene 
 around. Then it was that Tancred, observing that Astarte 
 cared not to advance, and deeming the occasion very favour- 
 able to his wishes, proceeded to explain to her the cause of 
 his venturing to intrude on her this morning. He spoke 
 with that earnestness, and, if the phrase may be used, that 
 passionate repose, which distinguished him. He enlarged 
 on the character of Besso, his great virtues, his amiable 
 qualities, his benevolence and unbounded generosity; he 
 sought in every way to engage the kind feelings of Astarte 
 in favour of his family, and to interest her in the character 
 of Eva, on which he dilated with all the eloquence of his 
 heart. Truly, he almost did justice to her admirable quali- 
 ties, her vivid mind, and lofty spirit, and heroic courage ; 
 the occasion was too delicate to treat of the personal charms 
 of another woman, but he did not conceal his own deep 
 sense of obligation to Eva for her romantic expedition to the 
 Desert on his behalf. 
 
 ' You can understand then,' concluded Tancred, ' what 
 must have been my astonishment and grief when I found 
 her yesterday a captive. It was some consolation to me to 
 remember in whose power she had fallen, and I hasten to 
 throw myself at your feet to supplicate for her safety and 
 her freedom.' 
 
 ' Yes, I can understand all this,' said Astarte, in a low tone.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 461 
 
 Tancred looked at her. Her voice had struck him with 
 pain ; her countenance still more distressed him. Nothing 
 could afford a more complete contrast to the soft and glowing 
 visage that a few moments before he had beheld in the fane 
 of Apollo. She was quite pale, almost livid ; her features, 
 of exquisite shape, had become hard and even distorted ; all 
 the bad passions of our nature seemed suddenly to have 
 concentred in that face which usually combined perfect 
 beauty of form with an expression the most gentle, and in 
 truth most lovely. 
 
 ' Yes, I can understand all this,' said Astarte, ' but I shall 
 not exercise any power which I may possess to assist you in 
 violating the laws of your country, and outraging the wishes 
 of your sovereign.' 
 
 ' Violating the laws of my country ! ' exclaimed Tancred, 
 with a perplexed look. 
 
 ' Yes, I know all. Your schemes truly are very heroic 
 and very flattering to our self-love. We are to lend our 
 lances to place on the throne of Syria one who would not 
 be permitted to reside in your own country, much less to 
 rule in it ? ' 
 
 ' Of whom, of what, do you speak ? ' 
 
 ' I speak of the Jewess whom you would marry,' said 
 Astarte, in a hushed yet distinct voice, and with a fell glance, 
 ' against all laws, divine and human.' 
 
 ' Of your prisoner ? ' 
 
 ' Well you may call her my prisoner ; she is secure.' 
 
 ' Is it possible you can believe that I even am a suitor of 
 the daughter of Besso ? ' said Tancred, earnestly. ' I wear 
 the Cross, which is graven on my heart, and have a heavenly 
 mission to fulfil, from which no earthly thought shall ever 
 distract me. But even were I more than sensible to her 
 charms and virtues, she is affianced, or the same as affianced ; 
 nor have I the least reason to suppose that he who will pos- 
 sess her hand does not command her heart.' 
 
 'Affianced?' 
 
 * Not only affianced, but, until this sad adventure, on the
 
 462 TANCRED; OR 
 
 very point of being wedded. She was on her way from 
 Damascus to Aleppo, to be united to her cousin, when she 
 was brought hither, where she will, I trust, not long remain 
 your prisoner.' 
 
 The countenance of Astarte changed ; but, though it lost 
 its painful and vindictive expression, it did not assume one 
 of less distress. After a moment's pause, she murmured, 
 ' Can this be true ? ' 
 
 ' Who could have told you otherwise ? ' 
 
 ' An enemy of hers, of her family,' continued Astarte, in 
 a low voice, and speaking as if absorbed in thought ; ' one 
 who admitted to me his long-hoarded vengeance against her 
 house.' 
 
 Then turning abruptly, she looked Tancred full in the 
 face, with a glance of almost fierce scrutiny. Hi a clear brow 
 and unfaltering eye, with an expression of sympathy and 
 even kindness on his countenance, met her searching look. 
 
 ' No,' she said ; ' it is impossible that you can be false.' 
 
 ' Why should I be false ? or what is it that mixes up my 
 name and life with these thoughts and circumstances ?' 
 
 ' Why should you be false ! Ah ! there it is,' said Astarte, 
 in a sweet and mournful voice. ' What are any of us to 
 you ! ' And she wept. 
 
 'It grieves me to see you in sorrow,' said Tancred, ap- 
 proaching her, and speaking in a tone of kindness. 
 
 ' I am more than sorrowful : this unhappy lady ' and 
 
 the voice of Astarte was overpowered by her emotion. 
 
 ' You will send her back in safety and with honour to her 
 family,' said Tancred, soothingly. ' I would fain believe her 
 father has not fallen. My intendant assures me that there 
 are Turkish soldiers here who saw him borne from the field. 
 A little time, and their griefs will vanish. You will have 
 the satisfaction of having acted with generosity, with that 
 good heart which characterises you ; and as for the daughter 
 of Besso, all will be forgotten as she gives one hand to her 
 father and the other to her husband.' 
 
 ' It is too late,' said Astarte in an almost sepulchral voice.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 463 
 
 1 What is that ? ' 
 
 * It is too late ! The daughter of Besso is no more.' 
 
 ' Jesu preserve us ! ' exclaimed Tancred, starting. ' Speak 
 it again : what is it that yon say ? ' 
 
 Astarte shook her head. 
 
 'Woman!' said Tancred, and he seized her hand, but 
 his thoughts were too wild for utterance, and he remained 
 pallid and panting. 
 
 ' The daughter of Besso is no more ; and I do not lament 
 it, for you loved her.' 
 
 * Oh, grief ineffable ! ' said Tancred, with a groan, looking 
 up to heaven, and covering his face with his hands : ' I 
 loved her, as I loved the stars and sunshine.' Then, after 
 a pause, he turned to Astarte, and said, in a rapid voice, 
 ' This dreadful deed ; when, how, did it happen ? ' 
 
 Is it so dreadful ? ' 
 
 ' Almost as dreadful as such words from woman's lips. 
 A curse be on the hour that I entered these walls ! ' 
 
 ' No, no, no ! ' said Astarte, and she seized his arm dis- 
 tractedly. ' No, no ! No curse ! ' 
 
 * It is not true ! ' said Tancred. ' It cannot be true ! She 
 is not dead.' 
 
 ' Would she were not, if her death is to bring me curses.' 
 ' Tell me when was this ? ' 
 
 * An hour ago, at least.' 
 
 ' I do not believe it. There is not an arm that would 
 have dared to touch her. Let us hasten to her. It is not 
 too late.' 
 
 * Alas ! it is too late,' said Astarte. ' It was an enemy's 
 arm that undertook the deed.' 
 
 * An enemy ! What enemy among your people could the 
 daughter of Besso have found ? ' 
 
 ' A deadly one, who seized the occasion offered to a long 
 cherished vengeance ; one who for years has been alike 
 the foe and the victim of her race and house. There is no 
 hope!' 
 
 ' I am indeed amazed. Who could this be ? '
 
 464 TANCEED; OR 
 
 ' Your friend ; at least, your supposed friend, the Emir 
 of the Lebanon.' 
 
 ' Fakredeen ? ' 
 
 ' You have said it.' 
 
 ' The assassin and the foe of Eva ! ' exclaimed Tancred, 
 with a countenance relieved yet infinitely perplexed. 'There 
 must be some great misconception in all this. Let us hasten 
 to the castle.' 
 
 ' He solicited the office,' said Astarte ; ' he wreaked his 
 vengeance, while he vindicated my outraged feelings.' 
 
 ' By murdering his dearest friend, the only being to whom 
 he is really devoted, his more than friend, his foster-sister, 
 nursed by the same heart ; the ally and inspiration of his 
 life, to whom he himself was a suitor, and might have been 
 a successful one, had it not been for the custom of her 
 religion and her race, which shrink from any connection 
 with strangers and with Nazarenes.' 
 
 ' His foster-sister ! ' exclaimed Astarte. 
 
 At this moment Cypros appeared in the distance, hasten- 
 ing to Astarte with an agitated air. Her looks were dis- 
 turbed ; she was almost breathless when she reached them ; 
 she wrung her hands before she spoke. 
 
 ' Royal lady ! ' at length she said, ' I hastened, as you 
 instructed me, at the appointed hour, to the Emir Fakre- 
 deen, but I learnt that he had quitted the castle. Then I 
 repaired to the prisoner ; but, woe is me! she is not to be 
 found.' 
 
 ' Not to be found ! ' 
 
 ' The raiment that she wore is lying on the floor of her 
 prison. Methinks she has fled.' 
 
 ' She has fled with him who was false to us all,' said 
 Astarte, ' for it was the Emir of the Lebanon who long ago 
 told me that you were affianced to the daughter of Besso, 
 and who warned me against joining in any enterprise which 
 was only to place upon the throne of Syria one whom the 
 laws of your own country would never recognise as your wife. 
 
 'Intriguer! ' said Tancred. 'Vile and inveterate intriguer !'
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 465 
 
 c It is well,' said Astarte. ' My spirit is more serene.' 
 
 ' Would that Eva were with any one else ! ' said Tancred, 
 thoughtfully, and speaking, as it were, to himself. 
 
 'Ycur thoughts are with the daughter of Besso,' said 
 Astarte. ' You wish to follow her, to guard her, to restore 
 her to her family.' 
 
 Tancred looked round and caught the glance of the 
 Queen of the Ansarey, mortified, yet full of affection. 
 
 ' It seems to me,' he said, ' that it ia time for me to ter- 
 minate a visit that has already occasioned you, royal lady, 
 too much vexation.' 
 
 Astarte burst into tears. 
 
 4 Let me go,' she said, ' you want a throne ; this is a 
 rude one, yet accept it. You require warriors,, the Ansarey 
 are invincible. My castle is not like those palaces of 
 Antioch, of which we have often talked, and which were 
 worthy of you, but Gindarics is impregnable, and will 
 eerve you for your head-quarters until you conquer that 
 world which you are born to command.' 
 
 ' I have been the unconscious agent in petty machina- 
 tions,' said Tancred. ' I must return to the Desert to 
 recover the purity of my mind. It is Arabia alone that 
 can regenerate the world.' 
 
 At this moment Cypros, who was standing apart, waved 
 her scarf, and exclaimed, ' Royal lady, I perceive in the 
 distance the ever-faithful messenger ; ' whereupon Astarte 
 looked up, and, as yet invisible to the inexperienced glance 
 of Tancred, recognised what was an infinitely small dusky 
 speck, each moment becoming more apparent, until at 
 length a bird was observed by all of them winging its way 
 towards the Queen. 
 
 ' Is it the ever-faithful Karaguus,' said Astarte; ' or is it 
 Rnbylips that ever brings good news ? ' 
 
 ' It is Karaguus,' said Cypros, as the bird drew nearer 
 and nearer ; ' but it is not Karaguus of Damascus. By the 
 ring on its neck, it is Karaguus of Aleppo.' 
 
 The pigeon now was only a few yards above the head of 
 11 H
 
 466 TANCEED; OK 
 
 the Queen. Fatigued, but with an eye full of resolution, it 
 fluttered for a moment, and then fell upon her bosom. 
 Cvpros advanced and lifted its weary wing, and untied the 
 cartel which it bore, brief words, but full of meaning, and a 
 terrible interest. 
 
 ' The Pacha, at the head of five thousand regular troops, 
 leaves Haleb to-morrow to invade our land.' 
 
 ' Go,' said Astarte to Tancred ; ' to remain here is now 
 dangerous. Thanks to the faithful messenger, you have 
 time to escape with ease from that land which you scorned 
 to rule, and which loved you too well.' 
 
 ' I cannot leave it in the hour of peril,' said Tancred. 
 ' This invasion of the Ottomans may lead to results of 
 which none dream. I will meet them at the head of your 
 warriors ! ' 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ' Is there any news ? ' asked Adam Besso of Issachar, the 
 son of Selim, the most cunning leech at Aleppo, and who 
 by day and by night watched the couch which bore the 
 suffering form of the pride and mainstay of the Syrian 
 Hebrews. 
 
 ' There is news, but it has not yet arrived,' replied 
 Issachar, the son of Selim, a man advanced in life, but 
 hale, with a white beard, a bright eye, and a benignant 
 visage. 
 
 ' There are pearls in the sea, but what are they worth ? ' 
 murmured Besso. 
 
 ' I have taken a Cabala,' said Issachar, the son of Selim, 
 ' and three times that I opened the sacred book, there were 
 three words, and the initial letter of each word is the name 
 of a person who will enter this room this day, and every 
 person will bring news.' 
 
 ' But what news ? ' sighed Besso. ' The news of Tophet 
 and of ten thousand demons ? '
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 467 
 
 ' I have taken a Cabala,' said Issachar, the son of Selim, 
 ' and the news will be good.' 
 
 * To whom and from whom ? Good to the Pacha, but 
 not to me ! good to the people of Haleb, but not, perhaps, 
 to the family of Besso.' 
 
 ' God will guard over his own. In the meanwhile, I must 
 replace this bandage, noble Besso. Let me rest your arm 
 upon this cushion and you will endure less pain.' 
 
 ' Alas ! worthy Issachar, I have wounds deeper than any 
 you can probe.' 
 
 The resignation peculiar to the Orientals had sustained 
 Besso under his overwhelming calamity. He neither wailed 
 nor moaned. Absorbed in a brooding silence, he awaited 
 the result of the measures which had been taken for the 
 release of Eva, sustained by the chance of success, and 
 caring not to survive if encountering failure. The Pacha 
 of Aleppo, long irritated by the Ansarey, and meditating 
 for some time an invasion of their country, had been fired 
 by the all-influential representations of the family of Besso 
 instantly to undertake a step which, although it had been 
 for some time contemplated, might yet, according to Turkish 
 custom, have been indefinitely postponed. Three regiments 
 of the line, disciplined in the manner of Europe, some artil- 
 lery, and a strong detachment of cavalry, had been ordered 
 at once to invade the contiguous territory of the Ansarey. 
 Hillel Besso had accompanied the troops, leaving his nncle 
 under his paternal roof, disabled by his late conflict, but 
 suffering from wounds which in themselves were serious 
 rather than perilous. 
 
 Four days had elapsed since the troops had quitted 
 Aleppo. It was the part of Hillel, before they had recourse 
 to hostile movements, to obtain, if possible, the restoration 
 of the prisoners by fair means ; nor were any resources 
 wanting to effect this purpose. A courier had arrived at 
 Aleppo from Hillel, apprising Adam Besso that the Queen 
 of the Ansarey had not only refused to give up the prisoners, 
 but even declared that Eva had been already released ; but 
 
 H H 2
 
 468 TANCKED; OR 
 
 Hillel concluded that this was merely trifling. This parley- 
 ing had taken place on the border ; the troops were about 
 to force the passes on the following day. 
 
 About an hour before sunset, on the very same day that 
 Issachar, the son of Selim, had taken more than one Cabala, 
 some horsemen, in disorder, were observed from the walls 
 by the inhabitants of Aleppo, galloping over the plain. 
 They were soon recognissd as the cavalry of the Pacha, the 
 irregular heralds, it was presumed, of a triumph achieved. 
 Hillel Besso, covered with sweat and dust, was among 
 those who thus early arrived. He hastened at a rapid pace 
 through the suburb of the city, scattering random phrases 
 to those who inquired after intelligence as he passed, until 
 he reached the courtyard of his own house. 
 
 ' 'Tis well,' he observed, as he closed the gate. ' A battle 
 is a fine thing, but, for my part, I am not sorry to find 
 myself at home.' 
 
 ' What is that ? ' inquired Adam Besso, as a noise reached 
 his ear. 
 
 ' 'Tis the letter of the first Cabala,' replied Issachar, the 
 son of Selim. 
 
 ' Uncle, it is I,' said Hillel, advancing. 
 
 ' Speak,' said Adam Besso, in an agitated voice ; ' my 
 Bight is dark.' 
 
 ' Alas, I am alone ! ' said Hillel. 
 
 ' Bury me in Jehoshaphat,' murmured Besso, as he sank 
 back. 
 
 ' But, my uncle, there is hope.' 
 
 ' Speak then of hope,' replied Besso, with sudden vehe- 
 mence, and starting from his pillow. 
 
 ' Truly I have seen a child of the mountains, who persists 
 in the tale that our Eva has escaped.' 
 
 ' An enemy's device ! Are the mountains ours ? Where 
 are the troops ? ' 
 
 'Were the mountains ours, I should not be here, my 
 uncle. Look from the ramparts, and you will soon see the 
 plain covered with the troops, at least with all of them
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 469 
 
 who have escaped the matchlocks and the lances of the 
 Ansarey.' 
 
 ' Are they such sons of fire ? ' 
 
 ' When the Queen of the Ansarey refused to deliver up the 
 prisoners, and declared that Eva was not in her power, the 
 Pacha resolved to penetrate the passes, in two detachments, 
 on the following morning. The enemy was drawn up in 
 array to meet us, but fled after a feeble struggle. Our artil- 
 lery seemed to carry all before it. But,' continued Hillel, 
 shrugging his shoulders, ' war is not by any means a com- 
 mercial transaction. It seemed that, when we were on the 
 point of victory, we were in fact entirely defeated. Tho 
 enemy had truly made a feigned defence, and had only 
 allured us into the passes, where they fired on us from the 
 heights, and rolled down upon our confused masses huge 
 fragments of rock. Our strength, our numbers, and our 
 cannon, only embarrassed us ; there arose a confusion ; the 
 troops turned and retreated. And, when everything was in 
 the greatest perplexity, and we were regaining the plain, 
 our rear was pursued by crowds of cavalry, Kurds, and 
 other Giaours, who destroyed our men with their long 
 lances, uttering horrible shouts. For my own part, I 
 thought all was over, but a good horse is not a bad thing, 
 and I am here, my uncle, having ridden for twenty hours, 
 nearly, without a pause.' 
 
 ' And when did you see this child of the mountains who 
 spoke of the lost one ? ' asked Besso, in a low and broken 
 voice. 
 
 ' On the eve of the engagement,' said Hillel. ' He had 
 been sent to me with a letter, but, alas ! had been plundered 
 on his way by our troops, and the letter had been destroyed 
 or lost. Nevertheless, he induced them to permit him to 
 reach my tent, and brought these words, that the ever 
 adorable had truly quitted the mountains, and that the lost 
 letter had been written to that effect by the chieftain of the 
 Ansarey.' 
 
 ' Is there yet hope ' What sound is that ? '
 
 470 TANCRED; OR 
 
 ' 'Tis the letter of the second Cabala,' said Issachar, the 
 son of Selim. 
 
 And at this moment entered the chamber a faithful slave, 
 who made signs to the physician, upon which Issachar rose, 
 and was soon engaged in earnest conversation with Vnm who 
 had entered, Hillel tending the side of Besso. After a few 
 minutes, Issachar approached the couch of his patient, and 
 said, ' Here is one, my lord and friend, who brings good 
 tidings of your daughter.' 
 
 ' God of my fathers ! ' exclaimed Besso, passionately, and 
 springing up. 
 
 ' Still we must be calm,' said Issachar; ' still we must be 
 calm.' 
 
 ' Let me see him,' said Besso. 
 
 ' It is one you know, and know well,' said Issachar. ' It 
 is the Emir Fakredeen.' 
 
 ' The son of my heart,' said Besso, ' who brings me news 
 that is honey in my mouth.' 
 
 ' I am here, my father of fathers,' said Fakredeen, gliding 
 to the side of the couch. 
 
 Besso grasped his hand, and looked at him earnestly in the 
 face. ' Speak of Eva,' he at length said, in a voice of chok- 
 ing agitation. 
 
 ' She is well, she is safe. Yes, I have saved her,' said 
 Fakredeen, burying his face in the pillow, exhausted by 
 emotion. ' Yes, I have not lived in vain.' 
 
 * Your flag shall wave on a thousand castles,' said Besso. 
 ' My child is saved, and she is saved by the brother of her 
 heart. Entirely has the God of our fathers guarded over 
 us. Henceforth, my Fakredeen, you have only to wish : we 
 are the same.' And Besso sank down almost insensible ; 
 then he made a vain effort to rise again, murmuring 
 ' Eva ! ' 
 
 ' She will soon be here,' said Fakredeen ; ' she only rests 
 awhile after many hardships.' 
 
 'Will the noble Emir refresh himself after his long 
 journey ?' said Hillel.
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 471 
 
 ' My heart is too elate for the body to need relief,' said the 
 Emir. 
 
 ' That may be very true,' said Hillel. ' At the same 
 time, for my part, I have always thought that the body 
 should be maintained as well as the spirit.' 
 
 ' Withdraw from the side of the couch,' said Issachar, the 
 son of Selim, to his companions. ' My lord and friend has 
 swooned.' 
 
 Gradually the tide of life returned to Besso, gradually the 
 heart beat, the hand grew warm. At length he slowly 
 opened his eyes, and said, ' I have been dreaming of my 
 child, even now I see her.' 
 
 Yes, so vivid had been the vision, that even now, restored 
 entirely to himself, perfectly conscious of the locality and 
 the circumstances that surrounded him, knowing full well 
 that he was in his brother's house at Aleppo, suffering and 
 disabled, keenly recalling his recent interview with Fakre- 
 deen, notwithstanding all these tests of inward and outward 
 perception, still before his entranced and agitated vision 
 hovered the lovely visage of his daughter, a little paler than 
 usual, and an uncommon anxiety blended with its soft ex- 
 pression, but the same rich eyes, and fine contour of counte- 
 nance that her father had so often gazed on with pride, and 
 recalled in her absence with brooding fondness. ' Even now 
 I see her,' said Besso. 
 
 He could say no more, for the sweetest form in the world 
 had locked him in her arms. 
 
 ' Tis the letter of the third Cabala,' said Issachar, the son 
 of Selim. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 TANCRED had profited by his surprise by the children of 
 Bechab in the passes of the Stony Arabia, and had employed 
 the same tactics against the Turkish force. By a simulated 
 defence on the borders, and by the careful dissemination of 
 false intelligence, he had allowed the Pacha and his troops
 
 472 TANCRED; OR 
 
 to penetrate the mountains, and principally by a pass 
 which the Turks were assured by their spies that the An- 
 sarey had altogether neglected. The success of these 
 manoeuvres had been as complete as the discomfiture and 
 rout of the Turks. Tancred, at the head of the cavalry, had 
 pursued them into the plain, though he had halted, for an 
 instant, before he quitted the mountains, to send a courier 
 to Astarte from himself with the assurance of victory, and 
 the horsetails of the Pacha for a trophy. 
 
 It so happened, however, that, while Tancred, with very 
 few attendants, was scouring the plain, and driving before 
 him a panic- struck multitude, who, if they could only have 
 paused and rallied, might in a moment have overwhelmed 
 him, a strong body of Turkish cavalry, who had entered the 
 mountains by a different pass from that in which the prin- 
 cipal engagement had taken place, but who, learning the sur- 
 prise and defeat of the main body, had thought it wise to 
 retreat in order and watch events, debouched at this moment 
 from the high country into the plain and in the rear of Tan- 
 cred. Had they been immediately recognised by the fugi- 
 tives, it would have been impossible for Tancred to escape ; 
 but the only impression of the routed Turks was, that a 
 reinforcement had joined their foe, and their disorder was 
 even increased by the appearance in the distance of their 
 own friends. This misapprehension must, however, in 
 time, have been at least partially removed ; but Baroni, 
 whose quick glance had instantly detected the perilous in- 
 cident, warned Tancred immediately. 
 
 ' We are surrounded, my lord ; there is only one course to 
 pursue. To regain the mountains is impossible ; if we ad- 
 vance, we enter only a hostile country, and must be soon 
 overpowered. We must make for the Eastern Desert.' 
 
 Tancred halted and surveyed the scene : he had with him 
 not twenty men. The Turkish cavalry, several hundreds 
 strong, had discovered their quarry, and were evidently re- 
 solved to cut off their retreat. 
 
 ' Very well,' said Tailored, ' we are well mounted, we
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 473 
 
 must try the mettle of our steeds. Farewell, Gindarics ! 
 Farewell, gods of Olympus ! To the Desert, which I ought 
 never to have quitted ! ' and, so speaking, he and his band 
 dashed towards the East. 
 
 Their start was so considerable that they baffled their 
 pursuers, who, however, did not easily relinquish their in- 
 tended prey. Some shots in the distance, towards night- 
 fall, announced that the enemy had given up the chase. 
 After three hours of the moon, Tancred and his companions 
 rested at a well not far from a village, where they obtained 
 some supplies. An hour before dawn, they again pursued 
 their way over a rich flat country, uninclosed, yet partially 
 cultivated, with, every now and then, a village nestling in a 
 jungle of Indian fig. 
 
 It was the commencement of December, and the country 
 was very parched ; but the short though violent season of 
 rain was at hand : this renovates in the course of a week 
 the whole face of Nature, and pours into little more than 
 that brief space the supplies which in other regions are dis- 
 tributed throughout the year. On the third day, before 
 sunset, the country having gradually become desolate and 
 deserted, consisting of vast plains covered with herds, with 
 occasionally some wandering Turkomans or Kurds, Tancred 
 and his companions came within sight of a broad and 
 palmy river, a branch of the Euphrates. 
 
 The country round, far as the eye could range, was a 
 kind of downs covered with a scanty herbage, now brown 
 with heat and age. When Tancred had gained an undulat- 
 ing height, and was capable of taking a more extensive 
 survey of the land, it presented, especially towards the 
 Routh, the same features through an illimitable space. 
 
 ' The Syrian Desert ! ' said Baroni ; ' a fortnight later, and 
 we shall see this land covered with flowers and fragrant 
 with aromatic herbs.' 
 
 ' My heart responds to it,' said Tancred. ' What is 
 Damascus, with all its sumptuousness, to this sweet 
 liberty ! '
 
 474 TANCRED; OR 
 
 Quitting the banks of the river, they directed their 
 course to the south, and struck as it were into the heart of 
 the Desert ; yet, on the morrow, the winding waters again 
 met them. And now there opened on their sight a wondrous 
 scene : as far as the eye could reach innumerable tents ; 
 strings of many hundred camels going to, or returning 
 from, the waters ; groups of horses picketed about ; proces- 
 sions of women with vases on their heads visiting the 
 palmy banks; swarms of children and dogs; spreading 
 flocks ; and occasionally an armed horseman bounding 
 about the environs of the vast encampment. 
 
 Although scarcely a man was visible when Tancred first 
 caught a glimpse of this Arabian settlement, a band of 
 horsemen suddenly sprang from behind a rising ground 
 and came galloping up to them to reconnoitre and to 
 inquire. 
 
 'We are brothers,' said Baroni, 'for who should be the 
 master of so many camels but the lord of the Syrian 
 pastures?' 
 
 ' There is but one God,' said the Bedoneen, ' and none 
 are lords of the Syrian pastures but the children of Rechab.' 
 
 ' Truly, there is only one God,' said Baroni ; ' go tell 
 the great Sheikh that his friend the English prince has 
 come here to give him a salaam of peace.' 
 
 Away bounded back the Bedoueens, and were soon lost 
 in the crowded distance. 
 
 ' All is right,' said Baroni ; ' we shall sup to-night under 
 the pavilion of Amalek.' 
 
 ' I visit him then, at length, in his beautiful pastures,' 
 said Tancred ; ' but, alas ! I visit him alone.' 
 
 They had pulled up their horses, and were proceeding 
 leisurely towards the encampment, when they observed a 
 cavalcade emerging from the outer boundary of the settle- 
 ment. This was Amalek himself, on one of his steeds of 
 race, accompanied by several of his leading Sheikhs, coming 
 to welcome Tancred to his pavilion in the Syrian pastures. 
 A joyful satisfaction sparkled in the bright eyes of the old
 
 TfTF. NEW CRUSADE. 475 
 
 chieftain, as, at a little distance, he waved his hand \rith 
 graceful dignity, and pressed his hand to his heart. 
 
 ' A thousand salaams,' he exclaimed, when he had reached 
 Tancred ; ' there is but one God. I press you to my heart 
 of hearts. There are also other friends, but they are not 
 here.' 
 
 ' Salaam, great Sheikh ! I feel indeed we are brothers. 
 There are friends of whom we must speak, and indeed of 
 many things.' 
 
 Thus conversing, and riding side by side, Amalek and 
 Tancred entered the camp. Nearly five thousand persons 
 were collected together in this wilderness, and two thou- 
 sand warriors were prepared at a moment's notice to raise 
 their lances in the air. There were nearly as many horses, 
 and ten times as many camels. This wilderness was the 
 principal and favourite resting-place of the great Sheikh of 
 the children of Rechab, and the abundant waters and com- 
 paratively rich pasturage permitted him to gather around 
 him a great portion of his tribe. 
 
 The lamps soon gleamed, and the fires soon blazed ; 
 sheep were killed, bread baked, coffee pounded, and the 
 pipe of honour was placed in the hands of Tancred. For 
 an Arabian revel, the banquet was long and rather elaborate. 
 By degrees, however, the guests stole away ; the women 
 ceased to peep through the curtains ; and the children left 
 off asking Baroni to give them backsheesh. At length, 
 Amalek and Tancred being left alone, the great Sheikh, 
 who had hitherto evinced no curiosity as to the cause of 
 the presence of his guest, said, ' There is a time for all 
 things, for eating and for drinking, also for prayers. There 
 is, also, a season to ask questions. Why is the brother of 
 the Queen of the English in the Syrian Desert ? ' 
 
 'There is much to tell, and much to inquire,' said Tan- 
 cred ; ' but before I speak of myself, let me know whether 
 you can get me tidings of Eva, the daughter of Besso.' 
 
 ' Is she not living in rooms with many divans ? ' said 
 Amalek.
 
 476 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 ' Alas ! ' said Tancred, ' she was a prisoner, and is now 
 a fugitive.' 
 
 ' What children of Gin have done this deed? Are there 
 strange camels drinking at my wells ? Is it some accursed 
 Kurd that has stolen her sheep ; or some Turkoman, blacker 
 than night, that has hankered after her bracelets ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing of all this, yet more than all this. All shall 
 be told to you, great Sheikh, yet before I speak, tell me 
 again, can you get me tidings of Eva, the daughter of 
 Besso?' 
 
 ' Can I fire an arrow that will hit its mark ? ' said 
 Amalek ; ' tell me the city of Syria, where Eva the 
 daughter of Besso may be found, and I will send her a 
 messenger that would reach her even in the bath, were 
 she there.' 
 
 Tancred then gave the great Sheikh a rapid sketch of 
 what had occurred to Eva, and expressed his fear that she 
 might have been intercepted by the Turkish troops. Ama- 
 lek decided that she must be at Aleppo, and, instantly 
 summoning one of his principal men, he gave instructions 
 for the departure of a trusty scout in that direction. 
 
 ' Ere the tenth day shall have elapsed,' said the great 
 Sheikh, ' we shall have sure tidings. And now let me 
 know, prince of England, by what strange cause you could 
 have found yourself in the regions of those children of hell, 
 the Ansarey, who, it is well known, worship Eblis in every 
 obscene form.' 
 
 ' It is a long tale,' said Tancred, ' but I suppose it must 
 be told ; but now that you have relieved my mind by 
 sending to Aleppo, I can hardly forget that I have ridden 
 for more than three days, and with little pause. I am not, 
 alas! a true Arab, though I love Arabia and Arabian 
 thoughts ; and, indeed, my dear friend, had we not met 
 again, it is impossible to say what might have been my lot, 
 for I now feel that I could not have much longer under- 
 gone the sleepless toil I have of late encountered. If Eva 
 be safe, I am content, or would wish to feel so ; but what
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 477 
 
 is content, and what is life, and what is man? Indeed, 
 
 great Sheikh, the longer I live and the more I think ' 
 
 and here the chibouque dropped gently from Tancred's 
 mouth, and he himself sunk upon the carpet. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 ' BESSO is better,' said the Consul Pasqualigo to Barizy 
 of the Tower, as he met him on a December morning in 
 the Via Dolorosa. 
 
 ' Yes, but he is by no means well,' quickly rejoined 
 Barizy. ' The physician of the English prince told me ' 
 
 ' He has not seen the physician of the English prince ! ' 
 screamed Pasqualigo, triumphantly. 
 
 ' I know that,' said Barizy, rallying ; ' but the physician 
 of the English prince says for flesh-wounds ' 
 
 ' There are no flesh-wounds,' said the Consul Pasqualigo. 
 1 They have all healed ; 'tis an internal shock.' 
 
 ' For internal shocks,' said Barizy of the Tower, 'there is 
 nothing like rosemary stewed with salt, and so kept on 
 till it simmers.' 
 
 ' That is very well for a bruise,' said the Consul Pas- 
 qualigo. 
 
 ' A bruise is a shock,' said Barizy of the Tower. 
 
 ' Besso should have remained at Aleppo,' said the Consul. 
 
 ' Besso always comes to Jerusalem when he is indisposed,' 
 said Barizy ; ' as he well says, 'tis the only air that can 
 cure him ; and, if he cannot be cured, why, at least, he can 
 be buried in the Valley of Jehoshaphat.' 
 
 'He is not at Jerusalem,' said the Consul Pasqualigo, 
 maliciously. 
 
 ' How do you mean,' said Barizy, somewhat confused. 
 4 1 am now going to inquire after him, and smoke some of 
 his Latakia.' 
 
 ' He is at Bethany,' said the Consul.
 
 478 TANCKED; OR 
 
 ' Hem ! ' said Barizy, mysteriously. ' Bethany ! Will 
 that marriage come off now, think you ? I always fancy, 
 when, eh ? ' 
 
 ' She will not marry till her father has recovered,' said 
 the Consul. 
 
 ' This is a curious story,' said Barizy. ' The regular 
 troops beaten by the Kurds.' 
 
 ' They were not Kurds,' said the Consul Pasqualigo. 
 ' They were Russians in disguise. Some cannon have been 
 taken, which were cast at St. Petersburgh ; and, besides, 
 there is a portfolio of state papers found on a Cossack, 
 habited as a Turkoman, which betrays all. The documents 
 are to be published in numbers, with explanatory commen- 
 taries. Consul- General Laurella writes from Damascus that 
 the Eastern question is more alive than ever. We are on 
 the eve of great events.' 
 
 ' You don't say so ? ' said Barizy of the Tower, losing 
 his presence of mind from this overwhelming superiority of 
 information. ' I always thought so. Palmerston will never 
 rest till he gets Jerusalem.' 
 
 ' The English must have markets,' said the Consul Pas- 
 qualigo. 
 
 ' Very just,' said Barizy of the Tower. ' There will be 
 a great opening here. I think of doing a little myself 
 in cottons ; but the house of Besso will monopolise every- 
 thing.' 
 
 ' I don't think the English can do much here,' said the 
 Consul, shaking his head. ' What have we to give them 
 in exchange ? The people here had better look to Austria, 
 if they wish to thrive. The Austrians also have cottons, and 
 they are Christians. They will give you their cottons, and 
 take your crucifixes.' 
 
 ' I don't think I can deal in crucifixes,' said Barizy of 
 the Tower. 
 
 ' I tell you what, if you won't, your cousin Barizy of the 
 Grate will. I know he has given a great order to Bethlehem.' 
 
 4 The traitor ! ' exclaimed Barizy of the Tower. ' Well,
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 470 
 
 if people will purchase crucifixes and nothing else, they 
 must be supplied. Commerce civilises man.' 
 
 ' Who is this ? ' exclaimed the Consul Pasqualigo. 
 
 A couple of horsemen, well mounted, but travel- worn, 
 and followed by a guard of Bedoueens, were coming up the 
 Via Dolorosa, and stopped at the house of Hassan Nejid. 
 
 ' 'Tis the English prince,' said Barizy of the Tower. 
 ' He has been absent six months ; he has been in Egypt.' 
 
 ' To see the temples of the fire- worshippers, and to shoot 
 crocodiles. They all do that,' said the Consul Pasqualigo. 
 
 ' How glad he must be to get back to Jerusalem,' said 
 Barizy of the Tower. ' There may be larger cities, but 
 there are certainly none so beautiful.' 
 
 ' The most beautiful city in the world is the city of 
 Venice,' said Pasqualigo. 
 
 ' You have never been there,' said Barizy. 
 
 ' But it was built principally by my ancestors,' said the 
 Consul, ' and I have a print of it in my hall.' 
 
 ' I never heard that Venice was comparable to Jerusalem,' 
 said Barizy. 
 
 1 Jerusalem is, in every respect, an abode fit for swine, 
 compared with Venice,' said Pasqualigo. 
 
 ' I would have you to know, Monsieur Pasqualigo, who 
 call yourself consul, that the city of Jerusalem is not only 
 the city of God, but has ever been the delight and pride of 
 man.' 
 
 'Pish!' said Pasqualigo. 
 
 ' Poh ! ' said Barizy. 
 
 ' I am not at all surprised that Besso got out of it as soon 
 as he possibly could.' 
 
 ' You would not dare to say these things in his presence,' 
 said Barizy. 
 
 'Who says "dare" to the representative of a European 
 Power ! ' 
 
 ' I say " dare " to the son of the janissary of the Austrian 
 Vice- Consul at Sidon.' 
 
 ' You will hear more of tols,' said Pasqualigo, fiercely.
 
 480 TANCKED; OK 
 
 ' I shall make a representation to the Internonce at Stam- 
 bool.' 
 
 ' You had better go there yourself, as you are tired of El 
 Khuds.' 
 
 Pasqualigo, not having a repartee ready, shot at his 
 habitual comrade a glance of withering contempt, and 
 stalked away. 
 
 In the meantime, Tancred dismounted and entered for 
 the first time his house at Jerusalem, of which he had been 
 the nominal tenant for half a year. Baroni was quite at 
 home, as he knew the house in old days, and had also several 
 times visited, on this latter occasion, the suite of Tancred. 
 Freeman and Trueman, who had been forwarded on by the 
 British Consul at Beiroot, like bales of goods, were at their 
 post, bowing as if their master had just returned from a 
 club. But none of the important members of the body 
 were at this moment at hand. Colonel Brace was dininf 
 
 O 
 
 with the English Consul on an experimental plum-pudding, 
 preliminary to the authentic compound, which was to ap- 
 pear in a few days. It was supposed to be the first time 
 that a Christmas pudding had been concocted at Jerusalem, 
 and the excitement in the circle was considerable. The 
 Colonel had undertaken to supervise the preparation, and 
 had been for several days instilling the due instructions 
 into a Syrian cook, who had hitherto only succeeded in 
 producing a result which combined the specific gravity of 
 lead with the general flavour and appearance of a mass of 
 kneaded dates, in a state of fermentation after a long voy- 
 age. The Reverend Mr. Bernard was at Bethlehem, assisting 
 the Bishop in catechising some converts who had passed 
 themselves off as true children of Israel, but who were 
 in fact, older Christians than either of their examinants ; 
 being descendants of some Nestorian families, who had 
 settled in the south of Palestine in the earlier ages of 
 Christianity. As for Dr. Roby, he was culling simples in 
 the valley of the Jordan ; and thus it happened that, when 
 Tancred at length did evince some disposition to settle
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 481 
 
 down quietly under his own roof, and avail himself of the 
 services and society of his friends, not one of them was 
 present to receive and greet him. 
 
 Tancred roamed about the house, surveyed his court and 
 garden, sighed, while Baroni rewarded and dismissed their 
 escort. ' I know not how it is,' he at length said to his in- 
 tendant, ' but I never could have supposed that I could have 
 felt so sad and spiritless at Jerusalem.' 
 
 ' It is the reaction, my lord, after a month's wandering in 
 the Desert. It is always so : the world seems tame.' 
 
 ' I am disappointed that Besso is not here. I am most 
 anxious to see him.' 
 
 ' Shall I send for the Colonel, my lord ? ' said Baroni, 
 shaking Tancred's Arabian cloak. 
 
 ' Well, I think I should let him return naturally,' said 
 Tancred ; ' sending for him is a scene ; and I do not know 
 why, Baroni, but I feel, I feel unstrung. I am surprised 
 that there are no letters from England ; and yet I am rather 
 glad too, for a letter ' 
 
 ' Received some months after its date,' said Baroni, ' is 
 like the visit of a spectre. I shudder at the sight of it.' 
 
 ' Heigho ! ' said Tancred, stretching his arm, and half- 
 speaking to himself, 'I wish the battle of Gindarics had 
 never ceased, but that, like some hero of enchantment, I 
 had gone on for ever fighting.' 
 
 'Ah ! there is nothing like action,' said Baroni, unscrewing 
 his pistols. 
 
 'But what action is there in this world?' said Tancred. 
 ' The most energetic men in Europe are mere busybodies. 
 Empires are now governed like parishes, and a great states- 
 man is only a select vestryman. And they are right: 
 unless we bring man nearer to heaven, unless government 
 become again divine, the insignificance of the human 
 scheme must paralyse all effort.' 
 
 ' Hem ! ' said Baroni, kneeling down and opening Tan- 
 cred's rifle-case. The subject was getting a little too deep 
 for him. ' I perceive,' he said to himself, ' that my lord is 
 
 I i
 
 482 TANCEED; OB 
 
 very restless. There is something at the bottom of his 
 mind which, perhaps, he does not quite comprehend him- 
 self ; but it will come out.' 
 
 Tancred passed the day alone in reading, or walking 
 about his room with an agitated and moody step. Often, 
 when his eye rested on the page, his mind wandered from 
 the subject, and he was frequently lost in profound and 
 protracted reverie. The evening drew on ; he retired early 
 to his room, and gave orders that he was not to be dis- 
 turbed. At a later hour, Colonel Brace returned, having 
 succeeded in his principal enterprise, and having also sung 
 the national anthem. He was greatly surprised to hear 
 that Lord Montacnte had returned ; but Baroni succeeded 
 in postponing the interview until the morrow. An hour 
 after the Colonel, the Rev. Mr. Bernard returned from 
 Bethlehem. He was in great tribulation, as he had been 
 pursued by some of the vagabonds of that ruffianly dis- 
 trict ; a shot had even been fired after him ; but this was 
 only to frighten him. The fact is, the leader of the band 
 was his principal catechumen, who was extremely desirous 
 of appropriating a very splendid copy of the Holy Writings, 
 richly bound, and adorned with massy golden clasps, which 
 the Duchess of Bellamont had presented to the Rev. Mr. 
 Bernard before his departure, and which he always, as a 
 sort of homage to one whom he sincerely respected, dis- 
 played on any eminent instance of conversion. 
 
 The gates of the city were shut when Doctor Roby re- 
 turned, laden with many rare balsams. The consequence 
 was, he was obliged to find quarters in a tomb in the valley 
 of Jehoshaphat. As his attendant was without food, when 
 his employer had sunk into philosophic repose, he supped 
 off the precious herbs and roots, and slaked his thirst with 
 a draught from the fountain of Siloah. 
 
 Tancred passed a night of agitating dreams. Sometimes 
 he was in the starry Desert, sometimes in the caverned 
 dungeons of Gindarics. Then, again, the scene changed to 
 Bellamont Castle, but it would seem that Fakredeen was
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 483 
 
 its lord ; and when Tancred rushed forward to embrace his 
 mother, she assumed the form of the Syrian goddess, and 
 yet the face was the face of Eva. Though disturbed, he 
 slept, and when he woke, he was for a moment quite un- 
 conscious of being at Jerusalem. Although within a week 
 of Christmas, no sensible difference had yet occurred in the 
 climate. The golden sun succeeded the silver moon, and 
 both reigned in a clear blue sky. You may dine at night 
 on the terrace of your house at Jerusalem in January, and 
 find a serene and benignant atmosphere. 
 
 Tancred rose early ; no one was stirring in the house 
 except the native servants, and Mr. Freeman, who was 
 making a great disturbance about hot water. Tancred left 
 a message with this gentleman for the Colonel and his 
 companions, begging that they might all meet at breakfast, 
 and adding that he was about to stroll for half an hour. 
 Saying this, he quitted the house, and took his way by the 
 gate of Stephen to the Mount of Olives. 
 
 It was a delicious morn, wonderfully clear, and soft, and 
 fresh. It seemed a happy and a thriving city, that forlorn 
 Jerusalem, as Tancred, from the heights of Olivet, gazed 
 upon its noble buildings, and its cupolaed houses of free- 
 stone, and its battlemented walls and lofty gates. Nature 
 was fair, and the sense of existence was delightful. It 
 seemed to Tancred that a spicy gale came up the ravines 
 of the wilderness, from the farthest Arabia. 
 
 Lost in prolonged reverie, the hours flew on. The sun 
 was mounting in the heavens when Tancred turned his 
 step, but, instead of approaching the city, he pursued a 
 winding path in an opposite direction. That path led to 
 Bethany.
 
 484 TANCRED; OR 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE crest of the palm-tree in the garden of Eva glittered 
 in the declining sun ; and the lady of Bethany sat in her 
 kiosk on the margin of the fountain, unconsciously play- 
 ing with a flower, and gazing in abstraction on the waters. 
 She had left Tancred with her father, now convalescent. 
 They had passed the morning together, talking over the 
 strange events that had occurred since they first became 
 acquainted on this very spot ; and now the lady of Bethany 
 had retired to her own thoughts. 
 
 A sound disturbed her: she looked up and recognised 
 Tancred. 
 
 ' I could not refrain from seeing the sun set on Arabia,' 
 he said ; ' I had almost induced the noble Besso to be my 
 companion.' 
 
 ' The year is too old.' said Eva, not very composed. 
 
 ' They should be Midsummer nights,' said Tancred, ' as 
 on my first visit here ; that hour thrice blessed ! ' 
 
 ' We know not what is blessed in this world,' said Eva, 
 mournfully. 
 
 ' I feel I do,' murmured Tancred ; and he also seated 
 himself on the margin of the fountain. 
 
 ' Of all the strange incidents and feelings that we have 
 been talking over this day,' said Eva, ' there seems to me 
 but one result ; and that is, sadness.' 
 
 ' It is certainly not joy,' said Tancred. 
 
 ' There comes over me a great despondency,' said Eva, 
 ' I know not why, my convictions are as profound as they 
 were, my hopes should not be less high, and yet ' 
 
 ' And what ? ' said Tancred, in a low, sweet voice, for 
 she hesitated. 
 
 ' I have a vague impression,' said Eva, sorrowfully, 
 ' that there have been heroic aspirations wasted, and noble 
 energies thrown away ; and yet, perhaps,' she added, in a 
 faltering tone, 'there is no one to blame. Perhaps, all
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 485 
 
 this time, we have been dreaming over an unattainable 
 end, and the only source of deception is our own imagina- 
 tion.' 
 
 1 My faith is firm,' said Tancred ; ' but if anything could 
 make it falter, it would be to find you wavering. 1 
 
 ' Perhaps it is the twilight hour,' said Eva, with a faint 
 smile. ' It sometimes makes one sad.' 
 
 ' There is no sadness where there is sympathy,' said 
 Tancred, in a low voice. ' I have been, I am sad, when I 
 am alone ; but when I am with you, my spirit is sustained, 
 and would be, come what might. 
 
 ' And yet ' said Eva ; and she paused. 
 
 And what?' 
 
 4 Your feelings cannot be what they were before all this 
 happened; when you thought only of a divine cause, of 
 stars, of angels, and of our peculiar and gifted land. No, 
 no ; now it is all mixed up with intrigue, and politics, and 
 management, and baffled schemes, and cunning arts of 
 men. You may be, you are, free from all this, but your 
 faith is not the same. You no longer believe in Arabia.' 
 
 ' Why, thou to me art Arabia,' said Tancred, advancing 
 and kneeling at her side. ' The angel of Arabia, and of 
 my life and spirit ! Talk not to me of faltering faith : 
 mine is intense. Talk not to me of leaving a divine cause : 
 why, thon art my cause, and thou art most divine ! 
 Eva ! deign to accept the tribute of my long agitated 
 heart ! Yes, I too, like thee, am sometimes full of des- 
 pair ; but it is only when I remember that I love, and love, 
 perhaps, in vain ! ' 
 
 He had clasped her hand ; his passionate glance met her 
 eye, as he looked up with adoration to a face infinitely dis- 
 tressed. Yet she withdrew not her hand, as she murmured, 
 with averted head, ' We must not talk of these things ; we 
 must not think of them. You know all.' 
 
 ' I know of nothing, I will know of nothing, but of my 
 love.' 
 
 ' There are those to whom I belong ; and to whom yon
 
 486 TANCRED ; OR 
 
 belong. ' Yes,' she said, trying to withdraw her hand. 
 ' Fly, fly from me, son of Europe and of Christ ! ' 
 
 ' I am a Christian in the land of Christ,' said Tancred, 
 ' and I kneel to a daughter of my Redeemer's race. Why 
 should I fly ? ' 
 
 ' Oh ! this is madness ! ' 
 
 ' Say, rather, inspiration,' said Tancred, ' for I will not 
 quit this fountain by which we first met until I am told, as 
 you now will tell me,' he added, in a tone of gushing ten- 
 derness, ' that our united destinies shall advance the sove- 
 reign purpose of our lives. Talk not to me of others, of 
 those who have claims on you or on myself. I have no 
 kindred, no country, and, as for the ties that would bind 
 you, shall such world- worn bonds restrain our consecrated 
 aim ? Say but you love me, and I will trample them to 
 the dust.' 
 
 The head of Eva fell upon his shoulder. He impressed 
 an embrace upon her cheek. It was cold, insensible. Her 
 hand, which he still held, seemed to have lost all vitality. 
 Overcome by contending emotions, the principle of life 
 seemed to have deserted her. Tancred laid her reclining 
 figure with gentleness on the mats of the kiosk ; he sprinkled 
 her pale face with some drops from the fountain ; he chafed 
 her delicate hand. Her eyes at length opened, and she 
 sighed. He placed beneath her head some of the cushions 
 that were at hand. Recovering, she slightly raised herself, 
 leant upon the marble margin of the fountain, and looked 
 about her with a wildered air. 
 
 At this moment a shout was heard, repeated and in- 
 creased ; soon the sound of many voices and the tramp of 
 persons approaching. The vivid but brief twilight had 
 died away. Almost suddenly it had become night. The 
 voices became more audible, the steps were at hand. Tan- 
 cred recognised his name, frequently repeated. Behold a 
 crowd of many persons, several of them bearing torches. 
 There was Colonel Brace in the van ; on his right was the 
 Rev. Mr. Bernard ; on his left, Doctor Roby. Freeman and
 
 THE NEW CRUSADE. 487 
 
 Trueman and several guides and native servants were in 
 the rear, most of them proclaiming the name of Lord 
 Montacute. 
 
 * I am here,' said Tancred, advancing from the kiosk, 
 pale and agitated. ' Why am I wanted ? ' 
 
 Colonel Brace began to explain, but all seemed to speak 
 at the same time. 
 
 The Duke and Duchess of Bellamont had arrived at 
 Jerusalem. 
 
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