L I E) R.A I^Y 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 823 
 C248c 
 
 V.I
 
 h-^'J li , . fsy^ 

 
 
 y^H^^^Af^'3 
 
 CHRISTABELLE; 
 
 OR, 
 
 ANGEL-FOOTSTEPS
 
 CHRISTABELLE; 
 
 OR, 
 
 ANGEL-FOOTSTEPS 
 
 BY 
 
 MES. EGBERT CAETWEIGHT, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "LAMIA, A CONFESSION." 
 
 ' Ascend, I follow thee, safe guide, the path 
 Thou lead'st me I and to the hand of Heaven submit, 
 However chast'ning, to the evil turn 
 My obvious breast ; arming to overcome 
 By suffeiing, and earn rest by labour won, 
 If so, I may attain." 
 
 Pabadise Lo8T, Book XI. 
 
 IN THEEE Y0LU:MES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 W. SHOBERL, PUBLISHER, 
 
 20, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 
 MDCCCLII.
 
 8SS 
 
 TO 
 
 SIR JOHN HEESCHEL, BAET., F.R.S., &c. &c.&c. 
 
 WHOSE PBOFOUXD SCIENCE AND GREAT rNTEULECTCAl. ATTAINMENTS 
 
 HAVE BEEN AN OBJECT OF THE HIGHEST REVERENCE 
 
 TO THE AUTHOR OF THESE PAGES, 
 
 FROM HER EARLY YOUTH UP TO THE PRESENT DAY, 
 
 STijt's Wioxit is CnscrrteU, 
 
 AS A SLIGHT TRIBUTE OF ESTEEM AND ADaHRATlON : 
 
 IT BEING, THOUGH ONLY IN THE FORM OF FICTITIOUS NARRATIVE, 
 
 AN HUMBLE ATTEMPT TO POURTRAY THE EFFECTS 
 
 OF AN EDUCATION CONDUCTED UPON PHILOSOPHICAL PRINCIPLES 
 
 TOWARDS THE ACQUISITION OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE, 
 
 WHILE BASED ON THEIR ONLY SURE AND PERMAN'ENT FOUN'DATION, 
 
 THE TRUTHS OF REVEALED RELIGION.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The Author, in submitting this work to the 
 public, takes occasion to remark, that it is 
 written in the same spirit, and with the same 
 views, as her former novel of '^ Lamia." 
 
 As in that work the effects of a want of reli- 
 gious training upon a gifted mind were exem- 
 plified in a life exhausted in unsatisfactory 
 purposes, and terminated by a state narrowly 
 rescued from despair; so, in the present story, 
 the results of a sound religious education upon 
 a mind of equal intelligence, are exhibited in a 
 happy reliance upon the promises of religion, 
 and an humble resignation to the trials of this 
 world. 
 
 The old Jewish dispensation, the judgment 
 of the sins of the fathers upon the children, is
 
 VIU PREFACE. 
 
 also shadowed forth in Christabelle : the author 
 havino; observed that in real life the innocent 
 children of erring parents are often myste- 
 riously tried by Divine Justice, apparently 
 as sin-offerings, for transgressions not their 
 own. 
 
 She has also endeavoured to enforce the neg- 
 lected truth, that the gifts of fortune, station, 
 or talent, far from exempting their envied pos- 
 sessors from the ills of life, on the contrary, 
 expose them in a peculiar degree to the cares 
 and sorrows which especially beset the higher 
 and more cultivated portion of society. 
 
 In the prosecution of this task, the author 
 hopes that she may have expressed no senti- 
 ments that can give umbrage to any class of 
 thinking Christians; and trusts that, having 
 confined herself to the province of a narrator, 
 she may have escaped all imputation of a desire 
 to dictate on religious topics, or even to pro- 
 voke controversy.
 
 CHRISTABELLE 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Take her up tenderly, 
 Lift her with care; 
 
 Fashion'd so slenderly, 
 Young and so fair. 
 
 Touch her not scornfully, 
 Think of her mournfully, 
 
 Gently and humanly; 
 Not of the stains of her, 
 All that remains of her 
 
 Now, is pure womanly. 
 
 Make no deep scrutiny 
 Into her mutiny, 
 Rash and undutiful : 
 
 Past all dishonour; 
 
 Death has left on her 
 Only the beautiful. 
 
 T. IIOOD. 
 
 It was a wet foggy morning in the middle of 
 March. The streets of London were in that 
 dismal and murky state in which it seems 
 doubtful whether earth or water predominate 
 in the muddy covering that hides the pavement 
 
 VOL. 1. B
 
 2 CIIRISTABELLE. 
 
 — the atmosphere absohitely resisting the feeble 
 efforts of a wintry sun to penetrate the coifee- 
 coloured mist. Spring, in London, is not the 
 spring of the poets; on the contrary, if prose 
 be ever visibly embodied in the scenery that 
 surrounds us, it is so in the palpable obscure of 
 a London dawn. 
 
 The faithfulness of this picture will not be 
 disputed by those who have seen it; and if 
 there be a part of London which is more pre- 
 eminently dull and disfigured by smoke and 
 obscurity under these circumstances, any thing 
 still more lowering to the spirits than even the 
 dingy hue of our dirty streets, it is the view 
 over the Thames, as seen — if seeing be possible 
 — from any of the bridges ; a view so grand by 
 nature, and so enriched by art, as to be foremost 
 among the beauties of our capital, whenever 
 the skies kindly permit us to enjoy it. 
 
 On the morning in question the air about 
 London bridge, from which central spot our 
 tale begins, was more loaded with brown fog, 
 and more thoroughly opaque than usual. 
 People of various classes were beginning to 
 appear in the streets, resorting to their various 
 occupations; workmen of various trades re- 
 pairing towards the interior of the city, and
 
 CHRISTABELLE, 3 
 
 watermen taking their stand at the different 
 stairs leading down to the banks of the river. 
 
 Observe one man in particular, who seems 
 distinguished from the rest of his class by a 
 certain air of respectability, though clad like 
 the others; he has just parted from a middle- 
 aged woman, apparently his wife, who leaves 
 him with a happy and contented air to seek 
 some little articles for their breakfast. She 
 disappears round a corner; he descends the 
 stairs to his wherry. 
 
 Others there were, not enjoying the advantage 
 of such employment, nor perhaps so respectable 
 in their various callings — if they could be said 
 to have any : a few idle sallow-faced youths, 
 some operatives out of work, and not seeming 
 very anxious to obtain it. These seemed to 
 loiter about the river, on the watch for what- 
 ever might turn up. In short, before the sun 
 was half an hour risen, to the world if not to 
 the eye, there were the materials for a consider- 
 able crowd gathered about the ends of London 
 bridge, but there seemed no immediate chance 
 of any event that should draw them together. 
 On the contrary, the departure of one or two 
 small steamers had rather the effect of dividhig 
 the assemblage, as the early boats are always
 
 4 CHRISTABKLLE. 
 
 thronged by persons going to their daily work 
 up and down the river. 
 
 Suddenly, through the midst of the gloom, 
 a woman, poorly clad, was seen to rush madly 
 from one side of the bridge to the other, and, 
 climbing the balustrade with almost superhu- 
 man force, to plunge headlong into the flood 
 below. The fog was so thick that it could not 
 be seen whether she issued from house, or lane ; 
 and none but a group of watermen, standing 
 by the corner of the bridge, could observe the 
 occurrence plainly enough to be aware of the 
 fearful catastrophe. Something the poor unfor- 
 tunate held in her arms dropped from her as 
 she fell, to be drowned or crushed among the 
 barges, as it seemed inevitable. A short cry 
 was heard, which roused the watermen's atten- 
 tion. With instinctive courage and generosity, 
 they flew to their boats, and strove manfully 
 to rescue a fellow creature from a watery grave. 
 The man before mentioned, as seeming superior 
 to his fellows, saw instantly that the falling 
 bundle was an infant, caught by its clothes 
 upon a corner of the bridge, from which it 
 was in momentary danger of dropping. The 
 man pulled round to it, raised himself as high 
 as he could to seize the unconscious being, and
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 5 
 
 after some trouble, succeeded in lodging it safely 
 in his boat. He then joined the other men who 
 had rowed down the stream after the body ; but, 
 although successftd, they found it only after 
 life was extinct. Some hours had elapsed, the 
 remains of this poor victim of misfortune had 
 been brought to shore, and a crowd was quickly 
 gathering round, when the attention of the 
 people was drawn off by the rapid passing of 
 three travelling carriages, which suddenly pulled 
 up on finding their w^ay obstructed. 
 
 A handsome man of middle age, seated in 
 the carriage beside a young and blooming 
 lady, evidently many years his j unior, now put 
 his head out of the window, and calling to his 
 courier, exclaimed, " Luigi, che cosa fa tutta 
 questa gente che ci sta intorno ? Aviamo 
 mancato il momento cli metterci in mare. Va 
 vedere se la barca del Ringdove si trova a suo 
 porto." 
 
 Luigi, an Italian of no very prepossessing 
 countenance, stood, for some not apparent rea- 
 son, pale and trembling by the side of the 
 carriage. His master, naturally impatient, and 
 not understanding the cause of his servant's 
 agitation, hastily opened the carriage-door on 
 his side, which was that farthest from the
 
 ^ CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 river, and jumped out. His wife, meanwhile, 
 w^as so intensely absorbed in watching the 
 movements of the crowd on her side, which 
 was towards the river, that she hardly per- 
 ceived her husband's absence. He was some 
 time making his way through the crowd, which 
 was moving against him, and had some dif- 
 ficulty in passing round the horses' heads, to 
 get to the quay, where he expected to find his 
 boat. It was only then that Luigi, who stood 
 on that side, roused himself from his stupor, 
 and prepared to look out for the boat. But he 
 still, from time to time, looked back to the 
 thickest of the crowed, which, together with 
 the fall of the ground towards the river stairs, 
 prevented his master from seeing what was 
 going forward. AVhat that was will appear 
 hereafter. 
 
 The Duke and Duchess of Tintagel were on 
 the point of embarking in their own yacht, the 
 Rinordove, for the Mediterranean — bride and 
 bridegroom — for such they were, in the full 
 happiness of newly- wedded love. 
 
 Cornelia, for so was she called, was the 
 daughter of Mr. Lovel of Clieyne, in York- 
 shire, a man of very large fortune, which would 
 eventually be hers, or her children's. To a
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 7 
 
 handsome person she joined not only consider- 
 able talents, but also a sweetness of temper and 
 a soundness of judgment which do not always 
 fall to the share of those whom fortune favours 
 so highly. Fully aware of the great advan- 
 tages which wealth and a high position in 
 society give to their possessors, she was deter- 
 mined to use those gifts, as far as lay in her 
 power, in such a manner as to make them a 
 source of blessings to others, as well as of 
 satisfaction to herself. Her education had been 
 carefully conducted; and, although married at 
 the early age of seventeen, she had uniformly 
 shown such strong good sense and mature 
 discretion, that her father, however unwilling 
 to part with her, could not feel any uneasiness 
 as to her entrance into the world. Cares she 
 knew that she must expect; and she was wise 
 enough to know that she must not depend 
 upon her riches either to avoid them or to cure 
 them; but she thought (and, if Avrong, her 
 inexperience of the world must be her excuse) 
 that, by a voluntary self-denial of luxuries and 
 pleasures for her own sake, she might, so to 
 speak, earn the immunity from those sorrows 
 which she would have been conscious of deserv-
 
 8 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 ing, had she squandered her wealth in objects 
 of self-gratification. 
 
 These were but delusions — delusions, it is to 
 be feared, but too common among the unso- 
 phisticated, and so far innocent, young persons, 
 who begin life with tolerably correct ideas of 
 their own duties, but very incorrect ones of 
 the field in which they are to be exercised. 
 Cornelia had to learn, that no exercise of pru- 
 dence, no precaution of experience, will preserve 
 the most gifted in mind, or the best endowed 
 with this world's good, from the common 
 liability of mortals to grief and sorrow. Even 
 the perfection of moral intentions, and the 
 most exemplary practice of moral virtues, will 
 not cover that liability. Sorrow, grief, and 
 care are made to beset man's soul, as much as 
 pain and sickness to torment his body. It is 
 not the lot of man to be able to purchase an 
 exemption from them, even by virtues of his 
 own choosing. 
 
 However, in her praiseworthy intentions, 
 and in the laborious efforts which she made to 
 keep pace with them in practice, Cornelia 
 was the happiest of the happy. Whether she 
 had acted wisely or not, in giving herself to
 
 CHllISTABELLE. 9 
 
 the mail who now called her wife, in spite of 
 all his worldly qualifications, is a question. 
 
 Cornelia's beauty was of that kind which is 
 generally considered as being peculiarly Eng- 
 lish : her long fair hair shaded a face whose 
 lovely bloom seemed the personification of 
 spring; her delicate features, of almost infantine 
 mould, when lighted up by the brilliancy of her 
 large melting blue eyes, acquired a serene and 
 benevolent expression, which faithfully beto- 
 kened the generous heart within, — a heart so 
 devoid of all selfishness that it scarcely asked 
 a return of its own love. Such a return, how- 
 ever, her own brilliant and amiable qualities 
 were sufficient to ensure, and the duke, though 
 blase enough in society, seemed now wholly 
 devoted to his beautiful and amiable bride. 
 
 The happy couple, to adopt the most hack- 
 neyed expression that exists in the English 
 language, were now, in their first honeymoon, 
 on the point of their departure for the Medi- 
 terranean : the husband, at once spoilt by, and 
 tired of the world, for the purpose of dissipat- 
 ing his ennui by the excitement of novelty; 
 the young wife, new to every thing beyond her 
 father's hall, in the eager hope of enjoying and 
 profiting by the sight of all the objects of in-
 
 10 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 terest abroad, which had long been her study 
 at home. The husband's yacht, which she had 
 never seen — the sea voyage, of which she had 
 as yet no correct notion — the change of climate 
 — the birds — the fish, that she expected to find 
 at every day's sail, were all looked for with the 
 anxious earnestness of an unsophisticated child. 
 
 We have seen how, in turning a corner near 
 the end of London bridge, next the stairs by 
 which they were to take boat to reach the 
 yacht, the carriage was stopped by a dense and 
 apparently a highly-excited crowd, who were 
 passing in the direction contrary to that in 
 which the carriage was advancing. 
 
 One may be a long time in the middle, and 
 still longer on the outside of a London mob, 
 witliout being a whit nearer to a knowledge of 
 the cause which has drawn them together : few 
 know it, fewer care about it, but all are eager 
 to see and to say something. 
 
 The crowd at last gave way before the 
 reiterated efforts of the servants; and with cu- 
 riosity partly satisfied, partly diverted into a 
 new channel by tlie arrival of these splendid 
 carriages, turned from the river, and began to 
 scrutinize the equipage and its owner. Still, 
 there were some, particularly women, less care-
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 1 1 
 
 less and indiiFerent than the generality, who 
 were heard to say, as they filed off towards their 
 various destinations, — " Poor creature ! how 
 young, how handsome! — shocking thing! — the 
 child, too — workhouse — starvation," — and the 
 accents of momentary pity died away, but not 
 before they had excited a deep and painful 
 curiosity in the breast of Cornelia, who gazed 
 intently on every group that passed. 
 
 At length some police-officers and watermen 
 appeared, forcibly making their way through 
 the throng, followed by others bearing the life- 
 less body of a female, decently clad, w^hich they 
 had recovered from the water. Another rough, 
 but not unkindly-looking fellow, carried a young 
 child of a few months old, that gave token of 
 life by its cries — happier, but yet perhaps not 
 much happier, in having escaped the fate of its 
 poor unfortunate mother. 
 
 That mother, alas! whose spirit had now fled 
 from the cares and deceits of this world, shewed 
 in the very arms of death the uncommon beauty 
 which had perhaps had no small share in lead- 
 ing her to a life of sorrows, and ultimately to 
 an untimely grave. 
 
 Her ivory brow was shaded with dark luxu- 
 riant tresses, now hanging loosely over her
 
 12 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 neck, her eyes, closed for ever, were fringed 
 with the long black lash, and surmounted by 
 the finely pencilled eyebrow, that marks the 
 blood of a southern race; while her clothes, 
 dripping with water, evidently covered a frame 
 of no common symmetry. The child, a fine 
 little boy, bore a striking resemblance to its 
 mother, and excited a great degree of sym- 
 pathy among the cold and usually apathetic 
 bystanders. 
 
 But of all the witnesses to this melancholy 
 scene, was there none touched by something 
 deeper than a mere passing shudder, or the 
 transient shock that all feel when suddenly re- 
 minded that the victim of to-day may be a 
 stranger — that of to-morrow — thyself? 
 
 " Will no one pity — will no one take com- 
 passion on that poor innocent?" cried Cornelia, 
 with difiiculty suppressing her emotion. The 
 crowd made an effort to pass on. " Oh stop, 
 stop! where are they going?" she exclaimed — 
 " To the inquest, to be sure, ma'am," answered 
 one of the policemen; and the still, lifeless 
 corpse was borne on. Cornelia saw it no more. 
 Some stoppage intervened between the bearers 
 and the man who Avas carrying the child, which 
 separated them for a time, nay — for ever — and
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 13 
 
 delayed the terrified infant close to the carriage 
 window, so that Cornelia had a full view of the 
 poor unconscious victim of his wretched mother's 
 desperate suicide. 
 
 The child rolled its large dark eyes around, 
 and fixed them, as if attracted, on the kind 
 countenance of Cornelia, which acted like mamc 
 on its fears. Its tears ceased to flow — it held 
 out its little hands towards the carriage, and a 
 faint attempt at a smile played around its lips. 
 '' But w^hither will they take that child?" said 
 Cornelia. " To the workhouse, of course, ma'am," 
 said a woman ; " it's parish business, quite a 
 plain job; as for the poor little thing, it caught 
 by its clothes on the edge of the bridge, or it 
 would have been safe with its mother before 
 now." 
 
 Safe! safe — where? in the grave — safe! how 
 that word struck deep into Cornelia's soul! 
 Here was she in the height of human happiness 
 and luxury, and yet a poor child barely saved 
 from destruction, was thought to have ex- 
 chanofed a safer lot in death for the trials of 
 life, and the chances of a wretched . existence in 
 this world. 
 
 And who was the utterer of that apparently 
 hard sentence? A poor woman meaning no ill
 
 14 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 to the child, or she would not have called its 
 escape lucky, but one who knew the hardships 
 of life, and the many chances against it, in the 
 case of a poor orphan. 
 
 Cornelia was now so deeply moved, and she 
 felt her heart so keenly interested in the fate of 
 this little friendless being, that she begged and 
 implored her husband, who now had rejoined her 
 again, as he loved her, to allow her to alight from 
 the carriage, andfollow the baby to the workhouse, 
 the police-office, or whatever might be its des- 
 tination. She felt that it was an opportunity for 
 doino; orood, which Providencehad thrown in her 
 way expressly to test the firmness of her good 
 intentions; she felt also that to flinch before 
 difficulties would be a virtual dereliction of her 
 best resolves. And, to her infinite satisfaction, 
 perhaps a little to her surprise, her husband 
 made no objection to her going. The secret 
 of this easy compliance may as well be told — 
 they had lost the tide. 
 
 Cornelia took her husband's arm, and, pre- 
 ceded by two of their servants, they made their 
 way with difficulty to the door of the police- 
 office. Fortunately the body of the unhappy 
 mother was carried on to the place where the 
 Coroner s Inquest was to be held, while the
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 15 
 
 parish-beadle, with a high and consequential air, 
 conducted the man (who still held the child in 
 his arms, and was followed by a woman who 
 proved to be his wife), first to allow the occur- 
 rence to be reported by the policemen, and then 
 to take the new charge under his own scowling 
 eye, to the parish workhouse. This produced 
 a division of the crowd, and while the greater 
 part, out of curiosity, flocked to the inquest, a 
 much smaller number followed to the work- 
 house. 
 
 To those who are used to the common routine 
 of public business, and are hardened to the 
 unavoidable scenes of distress and poverty that 
 are daily visible in -the hall or receiving-room 
 of a workhouse, description is unnecessary : to 
 those who are not familiarized with similar 
 occurrences, it would be repulsive; and the 
 sequel of our story requires us only to say, that 
 the courage and patience of Cornelia were 
 hardly taxed in carrying through her bene- 
 volent design. 
 
 No sooner were she and her husband arrived 
 before the guardians, and their quality made 
 known, than all eyes were turned, with a more 
 than unceremonious gaze, upon such distin- 
 guished and unusual visiters. The guardians
 
 16 CHRIST ABELLE. 
 
 requested them to be seated, and called upon 
 the sailor (for such was the man who carried 
 the child) for an account of the event of the 
 morning. The man, after having transferred 
 the baby to his wife, much to the little creature's 
 seeming satisfaction, began thus: — 
 
 " Please your worship, I'm a waterman. 
 I'm a real sailor too, your worship, and I've 
 served aboard her majesty's ships of war. I've 
 been wounded in an action with pirates in the 
 West Indies, and was last in the surveying 
 service all round the Mediterranean." 
 
 '' My good man, we don't want to hear all 
 that; we've no doubt you're a good fellow and 
 a good sailor." — " So he is, your worship, one 
 of the best men at the Stairs," — interrupted 
 more than one voice among the parish con- 
 stables. " Silence!" said the chairman — " now 
 tell us, how comes this baby brought upon our 
 parish?" 
 
 " Why, your worship, as I was lying at the 
 Stairs, waiting for a fare, and looking sometimes 
 up the river, and sometimes down, I hears a 
 sort of a rustling over head ; and so, as I 
 couldn't see nothino; for the fo^:, down came a 
 thing splash into the water beside my wherry, 
 and went down. I was up with my skulls in
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 17 
 
 a jiiFey, misgiving as how it was something 
 wrong, and so, after pulling about down the 
 river for an hour or more, I, and some other lads 
 in a punch-bowl as pulled oiF at the same time, 
 came up with the body of as fine a young woman 
 as ever I saw. Poor creetur, thinks I, you've 
 had neither law nor justice in your favour, I'll 
 be bound, if the truth was known, so we gets 
 her into the boat and begins rubbing her, but 
 all to no purpose ; the water she tooked in had 
 choked her mayhap, or she had knocked her 
 head again the barge, but she never came to life 
 again ; if that did not do it all, grief had done 
 the rest. Well, we brought the body to shore, 
 where the police took it, and glad I was to have 
 it ofi" my hands, such a sweet handsome creetur, 
 too. But, first of all, as I forgot to say, afore I 
 went searching for she in the boat, I hears a 
 young child cry — ^now, for the life o' me, I never 
 could abide to hear a child a crying and making 
 of a noise, it takes away one's heart — on look- 
 ing up, I saw that little creetur sticking to the 
 banisters of the bridge in a miraculous manner. 
 Hoa, says I, if nobody will get you down from 
 your berth, I must go aloft and see what I can 
 do. So ofi* I goes, and being used to climb the 
 rocks in the islands where we did use to go after 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 18 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 them pirates, I soon got up the side of the bridge 
 with the help of a rope and stick, and sure as I 
 stand here, your worship, tliere was that poor 
 innocent sticking by its clothes only to some of 
 the carvings of the bridge, and so having made 
 fast the babby in a basket, my good woman 
 here" — and he looked\round with satisfaction at 
 his wife — " made me take, I handed the little 
 creetur down safely, and the police told me I 
 was bound to bring and leave it here, poor 
 thing, and here it is safe and sound, God help it." 
 Several of the bystanders here stepped for- 
 wards as witnesses to the occurrence, and 
 corroborated the waterman's story in every 
 particular. The inspector of the district also 
 said that Johnson was one of the most respect- 
 able men on the river; that having been in the 
 surveying service, he was looking out for a 
 place as pilot, for which his testimonials were 
 sufficient, but had no immediate chance of one. 
 His wife, too, had had a place on board one of 
 the packets, and was known in the neighbour- 
 hood as a kind-hearted woman, but one who 
 could rough it, and had roughed it in voyages 
 across the Atlantic. She had m.et and married 
 Johnson at Gibraltar on his return from the 
 surveying duty in the Mediterranean, and, since
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 19 
 
 on shore, had been assistant nurse at the 
 FoundHng. She evidently longed to have 
 charge of the poor child. 
 
 Cornelia, who had been waiting with breath- 
 less attention till the scene was over, and who 
 was nearly overcome by her emotion, which she 
 strove to master rather than conceal, whispered 
 something to her husband, Avho begged the 
 people behind him to allow the lady to pass out, 
 in order to breathe a little fresh air. They 
 civilly gave way, and Cornelia no sooner found 
 herself in the lobby than she entreated her hus- 
 band to allow her to take the little orphan on 
 board, and to bring him up as an act of charity, 
 the very inducement to which seemed to have 
 been purposely thrown in their way by the 
 events of the morning. 
 
 At first she found him not a little opposed 
 to what he called her romantic scheme; but 
 with the powers of persuasion, which a beautiful 
 wife in the very commencement of her honey- 
 moon is usually conscious of, strengthened by 
 the suggestion that Johnson and his wife would 
 be of the greatest use on board the yacht, he as 
 pilot, and she as an extra maid-servant used to 
 the sea, besides her attending on the child, she 
 at last succeeded. A piercing cry from the poor
 
 20 GHRISTABELLE. 
 
 unconscious object of all this solicitude, who 
 had opened its eyes and missed the continuance 
 of her whom it had instinctively recognised as 
 its protectress, sealed the compact, and recalled 
 her to the hall. As soon as the infant saw her, 
 it became quiet ; and the woman, who was 
 kindly nursing it, looked up with surprise. 
 
 Her husband addressing the guardians, after 
 giving his name, stated, that he had only at- 
 tended the investigation as having been in- 
 terested in the fate of the innocent sufferer, 
 from a catastrophe which a few minutes only 
 had prevented his being a witness of; that he 
 was on the point of sailingfor the Mediterranean, 
 and that such a pilot for that navigation as 
 Johnson, and such a woman as stewardess, in 
 which capacity he had no female on board, his 
 wife's maid being perfectly unused to the sea, 
 would suithimif they were prepared to start next 
 tide, and could produce proper testimonials — 
 that his wife was penetrated with compassion 
 for the poor infant, and would take it oif the 
 hands of the parish, if those two persons could 
 accompany them, the wife engaging to take 
 charge of the child. 
 
 So liberal an offer struck the whole assembly 
 with admiration: the joy and gratitude of
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 21 
 
 Johnson and his wife may be conceived. He 
 asked but an hour to fetch a fresh certificate 
 from the Admiralty, and from some officers 
 under whom he had served, as well as a similar 
 testimonial from the Packet department in 
 favour of his wife. As to general good character, 
 the guardians and magistrates present, who had 
 frequent opportunities of knowing much of 
 both of them, satisfied the duke and duchess 
 on that head, and after a receipt, duly signed 
 and witnessed, had been delivered to the chair- 
 man, the child was handed over to its new pro- 
 tectors, and put on board. Johnson and his 
 vdfe returned with ample testimonials, and out- 
 fits being at hand in Ratcliffe highway, they 
 rigged themselves, and joined the yacht before 
 the tide served.
 
 22 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Mighty sea! 
 Cameleon-like thou changest, but there's love 
 In all thy change, and constant sympathy 
 With yonder sky — thy mistress; from her brow 
 Tliou tak'st thy moods, and wear'st her colours on 
 Tliy faithful bosom — morning's milky white, 
 Noon's sapphire, or the safl'ron glow of eve. 
 
 Earth has her gorgeous towns ; the earth-circling sea 
 Has spires and mansions more amusive still — 
 Men's volant homes, that measure liquid space, 
 On wheel or wing. The chariot of the land, 
 With pain'd and panting steeds, and clouds of dust, 
 Has no sight-gladdening motion like these fair 
 Careerers with the foam beneath their bows, 
 Whose streaming ensigns charm the waves by day, 
 Whose carols and whose watch-bells cheer the night; 
 Moor'd, as they cast the shadows of their masts 
 In long array, or hither flit, and yond 
 Mysteriously, with slow and crossing lights, 
 Like spirits on the darkness of the deep. 
 
 Campbell. 
 
 There is nothmg that has so natural a ten- 
 dency to excite the imagination of youth, or to 
 enliven the spirits even of mature age, as the 
 commencement of a voyage. The remark would
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 23 
 
 not apply to travelling generally, or at least in 
 an inferior degree, but change of air, of scene, 
 of life and ideas, take place so suddenly on em- 
 barking for a sea voyage, that it is not wonderful 
 that those who have the world's lesson yet to 
 learn, should feel their expectations raised at 
 that moment to the highest pitch of enthusiasm. 
 
 To those whose knowledo^e of foreiorn countries 
 has hitherto been entirely confined to books, 
 much of what they read makes only the impres- 
 sion of a picture, or of a well -acted representation ; 
 the idea is there, but the reality is wanting. It 
 is in vain that we figure to ourselves manners 
 so remote from ours as those of South America 
 — of Turkey — or of China: that we look at 
 prints or drawings of scenery on the banks of 
 the Mississippi, the coasts of New Zealand, or 
 the lofty Alps of the continent : the illusion is 
 imperfect, it is our reason and not our senses 
 that are affected. 
 
 But the reality of finding one's self forthe first 
 time on shipboard, the unquestionable certainty 
 of not standing on terra firma, — the new and 
 unintelligible nautical language, perhaps foreign 
 sailors, and a thousand other small but un- 
 doubted facts, concur in giving us the notion 
 that we are indeed in a new world. All the
 
 24 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 power of novelty, not as a passing amusement,- 
 but as a change in the material circumstances 
 of our being, acts at once upon the mind as 
 well as on the senses — with this addition, that 
 the further we go, the more does this feeling 
 increase. 
 
 So it was with Cornelia. She had scarcely 
 ever left her father's home, and knew little of 
 foreign lands but from the reports of old officers, 
 contemporaries of her father, whose services had 
 led them to acquire first that experience of a 
 variety of countries, which in description is 
 calculated to awaken curiosity, not to satisfy 
 it. Indeed, Cornelia had scarcely so much 
 knowledge of foreign Europe as falls to the 
 share of most young persons in these days : her 
 ecstasy therefore at the prospect of a voyage, and 
 in such an agreeable manner, may easily be 
 conceived. 
 
 With the evening tide, all were on board ; and 
 although neither masters nor servants expected 
 to make things quite comfortable till they had 
 been at the least four-and-twenty hours on board, 
 if then, they took a slight and rather hurried 
 repast as the yacht dropped down the river ; and 
 the night being very dark and foggy, the pilot 
 brought them to an anchor near Gravesend.
 
 CHllISTABELLE. 25 
 
 The fatigues and excitement of the morning 
 had so far overcome Cornelia, that she was 
 happy to seek repose in her snug and neatly- 
 furnished cabin. Every thing fit for sea wear 
 and tear had been carefully selected for her 
 comfort; nothing fragile, nothing tawdry nor out 
 of keeping with that which, however glossed 
 over, is a rough life, was to be seen in her little 
 floating abode. She had good taste enough to 
 beg of her husband that it might be so ; for she 
 thought that many of the luxuries of the land 
 would appear greatly misplaced at sea. The 
 costly decorations and rich gildings of some of 
 the splendidly-fitted vessels in the port of Lon- 
 don, must seem like a bitter mockery in a storm, 
 and the elegant paintings, and garlands of 
 flowers, with Avhich their cabins are decked, 
 must be very inappropriate to the dangers of a 
 lee shore. Fancy the ironical expression that 
 the best copy of the dancing Faun, or a smiling 
 Cupid, would acquire when your topgallant 
 mast is carried away; the dance of the Muses 
 would look very like the dance of Death, when 
 you ship a sea on the coast of Norway. 
 
 But the gallant Ringdove was still in the 
 mouth of the Thames, and no perils were to be 
 apprehended.
 
 26 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 Cornelia, before retiring to her couch, made 
 it her chief business to see to the wants and 
 comforts of the poor little orphan whom she 
 had so charitably taken to her bosom. Its 
 little outfit had not been the last thought of in 
 their haste; it had been bathed and newly 
 clothed, and fed, and was now in as fast and un- 
 conscious a sleep as happy infancy could enjoy. 
 It was a beautiful child, and only wanted the 
 affectionate care of a mother to restore its tem- 
 porary weakness to the full strength and vigour 
 of its age. 
 
 Nothing could exceed the care of the worthy 
 Mrs. Johnson for the adopted orphan. She 
 told Cornelia, that, even singular as this occupa- 
 tion might seem to her, it was not the first 
 time she had had the care of infants on board 
 ship, one having been born during her last 
 passage across the Atlantic, of which she had 
 successfully taken charge. She assured Cornelia 
 that infants were the best of sailors, that being 
 insensible to almost all outward impressions, and 
 having no cares to disturb the equanimity of 
 their minds, they were removed from the chief 
 causes of sickness at sea; besides, they were 
 easily kept quiet, and if quiet, slept. 
 
 Innocent and happy, Cornelia, well satisfied
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 27 
 
 with her day's work, thanked God for having 
 given her the opportunity of doing good ; and 
 then, with almost as few cares as the poor child 
 whom she had rescued from a watery grave, 
 laid her head upon her narrow pilloAV, and slept 
 soundly till morning. 
 
 Nobody sleeps late on board ship. Indepen- 
 dently of regulation, the indescribable noises, 
 thumps, and rubbings that go on overhead, the 
 bustle and cries of the men heaving the anchor, 
 alone in a small vessel are enough to banish 
 sleep at an early hour. The tide serving, they 
 made sail and were not long before they were 
 out of the river, and fairly pursuing their 
 course with a favourable breeze down the Bri- 
 tish Channel. 
 
 Once fairly pushed off from shore, the sensa- 
 tions of having left the world that one knew, 
 and of having entered upon one hitherto un- 
 known, press heavily upon the mind and spirits 
 of those unaccustomed to the sea. The first 
 going is exciting, pleasurable in the extreme; 
 but once on the wide bosom of the ocean, a 
 feeling of melancholy, of remembrances and 
 regrets, of, as it were, a tie broken, comes over 
 the heart that has left any thing it loves behind. 
 
 So it was with the yet untried and inexperi-
 
 28 CHRIST ABELLE. 
 
 enced Cornelia. Enchanted as she had felt at 
 the prospect of her voyage, which had begun 
 with fine weather and fair winds, with every 
 comfort possible under the circumstances, she 
 yet felt a degree of sadness she could not 
 account for. She knew her voyage was not to 
 be of great length, that it was only to visit the 
 coasts of Europe; but once out of sight of land 
 it seemed as if they were going to America — to 
 India — or to the Antipodes. These feelings 
 were but temporary; and though visions of 
 home, of her father's house, and many other 
 domestic associations, would force themselves 
 upon her mind, she soon accustomed herself to 
 her new way of life, and by degrees recovered 
 her natural spirits. 
 
 Her little protege, Nicholas, for so he was to 
 be called, contributed not a little to this revival 
 of her faculties. The care that he required, 
 was at once an occupation and an amusement 
 to Cornelia, who watched him with the love and 
 the inexperience of a young mother; while 
 the pilot's wife was faithful to her trust, and 
 tended the interesting charge as if he had been 
 her own child. In rough weather the good 
 woman's attentions were indispensable, as neither 
 the lady nor the female servants could at such
 
 CFIRISTABELLE. 29' 
 
 times look after any but themselves. Tlie first 
 week at sea made such an improvement in the 
 health and good looks of the infant, whose good 
 temper and attachment to his benefactress were 
 such, that she really wished it had been her own. 
 
 The Ringdove was a yacht that had been built 
 expressly for the Duke of Tintagel some years 
 before, and he had made more than one voyage 
 in her previously to his marriage. She was what 
 is called an excellent sea-boat, and a swift 
 sailer, besides being built on a plan which com- 
 bined, or was said to combine, all the merits of 
 the American and French school of shipbuilding. 
 Her crew, who were retained from year to year, 
 were deservedly proud of her; and, as she 
 had already won several sailing-matches, they 
 scrupled not to call every craft a " tub" that 
 was not her equal. 
 
 If the pilot's wife made herself useful in one 
 way on board the yacht, her husband did not 
 fail to do so in another. They were well across 
 the bay of Biscay, and were running down the 
 coast of Portugal before a stiff breeze, when the 
 duke, who was enjoying the mild air and 
 southern sky from the quarter-deck, observed 
 in the far west a small, but very dark cloud 
 rising above the distant waves, and contrasting
 
 30 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 strangely with the snowy foam that fringed 
 their curling summits. 
 
 " The wind seems freshening," said he to the 
 pilot. " Yes, my lord," was the man's answer, 
 *'and, if it veers a point or two more to the west- 
 ward, as that rising cloud makes me think it 
 will, this is not the most we shall have of it 
 before morning." 
 
 The duke then desired his wife, who had 
 joined him on deck, to go below, and to take 
 quietly to her berth before the squall, which was 
 now evidently approaching them, should throw 
 every thing into confusion. He, being used to 
 the sea, would remain on deck, at least till the 
 sunset, in order to be able to form some judg- 
 ment of the weather. 
 
 Although the clouds gathered heavily in the 
 western horizon, from which they seemed to 
 rise like stupendous Alps, ever swelling as they 
 neared the frail bark on which they appeared 
 ready to fall, the storm was much slower in its 
 approach than the pilot expected. The wind 
 alternately freshened and fell, for an hour at a 
 time, but without in any degree lessening the 
 swell of the sea, which slowly increased towards 
 evening. The sun went down very red behind 
 those mountainous clouds, which long retained
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 31 
 
 its parting beams upon their broken tops, and 
 the last sad gleam which its expiring rays shot 
 across the wide ocean, gave fearful indication 
 of the coming gale. 
 
 Cornelia was not deficient in constitutional 
 courage, but she could not view the gradually 
 increasing wrath of the angry elements, without 
 some feeling of awe, approaching to terror. To 
 her a storm at sea was fearful, as much from its 
 novelty as from any idea of danger. 
 
 The wind increased to a gale during the 
 night, which, it need hardly be added, was a 
 sleepless one to most on board. The duke was 
 on deck till a late hour, and had ample 
 opportunity to observe the steadiness and skill 
 with which his new seaman, Johnson, acquitted 
 himself of every duty. He replied to the duke's 
 questions with calmness, and gave his opinion 
 that, if this wind would hold without more 
 violence till they were off the Rock of Lisbon, 
 it would probably veer round to the south, and 
 blow them cleverly into the mouth of the 
 Tagus : if not, a calm would ensue, and they 
 would be blown off by a breeze from the land. 
 The pilot's prognostication proved true. 
 After a stormy night, during which they drove 
 before the wind many leagues to the south-
 
 32 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 ward, they were enabled by their position to 
 make use of it to run into the mouth of 
 the Tagus, and, as they neared the land, the 
 wind gradually fL41, and by daybreak they 
 were becalmed within sight of the majestic 
 mountains of Cintra. Having lost the wind, 
 they could of course only trust to the tide for 
 carrying them up to Lisbon, before an off- 
 shore breeze should set in, as it probably would 
 do. 
 
 As soon as the yacht was in comparatively 
 smooth water, Cornelia, rising from a sleepless 
 couch, and equally impatient both to see the 
 coast of a new country, and to breathe the 
 fresh air of the morning, came upon deck to 
 enjoy the brilliant dawn of a southern climate. 
 The pure, clear blue of the eastern horizon was 
 gradually lighted up with that transparent hue 
 which, while you look at it, changes visibly 
 from crysolite to topaz, from topaz to opal: 
 the sky became suddenly traversed by streaks 
 of saffron and orange, melting into a soft rose- 
 colour, reflected from thin clouds which a 
 moment before were imperceptible : whilst the 
 lower mists floated off in deep purple wreaths, 
 tipped here and there with gold, brightening as 
 the resplendent orb approached the moment of
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 33 
 
 its entry on our hemisphere. Then as the 
 globe of fire mounted rapidly into the heavens, 
 casting a ruddy glow over the waters, it gilded 
 successively every tower and turret, every spire 
 and convent, of the royal city, lighting with its 
 beams every quinta and casino, deep set in 
 their dark orange and olive groves along the 
 shore, till the whole basin which forms the 
 superb port of Lisbon, and its noble tributary, 
 the Tagus, studded with ships of war, and 
 merchant vessels of all nations, was opened to 
 the view in a panorama of unrivalled splen- 
 dour. 
 
 Cornelia stood by her husband on the deck, 
 enchanted with a picture so magnificent, and 
 in every way so new to her. She thought she 
 could never tire of looking alternately at the 
 two banks of the river, or of watching the light 
 and picturesque sailing-boats that skimmed the 
 surface of the bay. The singular dresses and 
 physiognomy of the Portuguese, who now sur- 
 rounded them in their skitfs, and only waited 
 the ofiicial notice of free pratique to be able 
 to communicate with them, was another object 
 of interest: and so wrapt up was she in con- 
 templating all that surrounded her, that the 
 yacht slackened sail and came to an anchor 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 CHHISTABELT.E. 
 
 almost before she was aware of it. The officer 
 of the Quarantine came on board, and, after the 
 necessary formahties were gone through, and, 
 above all, the necessary fees paid, the Ring- 
 dove and her inmates were speedily admitted 
 to free pratique with the shore. 
 
 Then began the clamour of boatmen, the 
 din of all the useful or interested persons, who 
 throng round every new vessel when she enters 
 a Portuguese or Mediterranean harbour. 
 Fresh vegetables, fruit, meat, all sorts of com- 
 modities, were offered for sale, or almost thrust 
 upon the unhappy steward, and recommended 
 with all the unintelligible volubility of their 
 very indistinct pronunciation. Out of a float- 
 ing market of supplies sufficient for a man-of- 
 war, the steward was at last enabled to cater 
 for the family and crew of the yacht, while the 
 duke and duchess descended into their gig, 
 and landed in the metropolis of Portugal. 
 
 Their stay was not long at Lisbon : sufficient, 
 however, to give ample food to the enthusiastic 
 mind of Cornelia, who now, for the first time, 
 beheld the manners and customs of a southern 
 people, the varied productions of a warm cli- 
 mate, and, above all, the specious pomp of Roman 
 Catholic worship. All this forcibly struck her
 
 CIIRISTABELLE. 35 
 
 imagination, and gave a bias to her already 
 strong poetical feelings, which henceforth re- 
 ceived a more decided inspiration from the 
 contemplation of so much that was picturesque 
 in art, nature, and costume. At her age, the 
 mind receives new impressions with something 
 more than mere wonder, or even pleasure: new 
 scenes, new images, are received with a degree 
 of favour and partiality almost amounting to 
 affection ; and when, in after life, mature experi- 
 ence renders it necessary to efface some of these 
 early impressions, they are not parted from 
 without pain, as if it were the severance of a 
 youthful friendship. Disappointments of this 
 nature, however, in matters more serious than 
 the associations of travel, await every one in 
 the journey through life. 
 
 Every person who has made the first experi- 
 ment of a southern climate, by a rapid voyage 
 from the bleak shores of England in the spring 
 to those of the Peninsula or the Mediterranean, 
 can bear testimony to the mixed feelings of 
 surprise and admiration excited by the view of 
 a nature, of an existence, so new and hitherto 
 unknown. And if the first landing should 
 happen to be but a little further off — in Africa, 
 Asia, or in Turkey, the difference of races,
 
 86 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 manners, we had almost said of being, is so 
 complete, that contact alone brings us to the 
 conviction that we had never before, from mere 
 report, comprehended its reality. 
 
 The duke and duchess made but a short stay 
 in Lisbon, being anxious to reach Malta before 
 the hot weather should set in. The beauty of 
 the season, then in all the rich freshness of 
 spring, tempted them to make the most of their 
 time in short excursions in the neighbourhood. 
 They explored the lofty rocks of Cintra, the 
 famous aqueduct, and the palaces and convents 
 of the capital and its environs. They made 
 water parties up the Tagus, and across it to the 
 orange gardens of St. Ubes : and, having 
 exhausted all the nearer objects of that inter- 
 esting country, while their steward had carefully 
 employed the time in replenishing their sea 
 stores, they prepared to sail by moonlight on 
 the evening of a splendid day, and to proceed 
 for Gibraltar. 
 
 The approach to a celebrated place has always 
 something exciting in it to a stranger: but 
 when that place, in addition to its historical 
 interest, is remarkable for its natural beauty or 
 sublimity, the first view of it makes an impres- 
 sion beyond any effect which mere reading
 
 CHRIST ABELLE. 3T 
 
 could produce. Such is peculiarly the case 
 with the unique rock, or rather mountain, of 
 Gibraltar. By no effort of previous description 
 can the strikino^ features of such a o^iorantic 
 natural fortress as Gibraltar appears to a ship 
 standing in from sea, be conveyed accurately to 
 the mind : drawings may render intelligible 
 the style of scenery to be expected; but the 
 surpassing effects of light and shade, height 
 and depth, colour and climate, can neither be 
 anticipated by words, nor portrayed by art. 
 
 A short delay being necessary at Gibraltar 
 for various purposes in connexion with what 
 all yacht voyagers know to be one of their 
 necessary troubles, namely, the taking in fresh 
 meat, vegetables, fruit, and other indispensable 
 requisites for comfort not to be had at sea; the 
 duke proposed to his wife a short excursion to 
 Cadiz and Seville, which she readily assented 
 to. Leaving their yacht for the present, as well 
 as the little Niccolo and the greater part of the 
 servants, they hired a swift-sailing country 
 vessel, and ran over to the harbour of Cadiz in 
 a few hours. Cadiz delayed them but a short 
 time — they were more anxious to see the banks 
 of the Guadalquiver, the rich plains of Anda- 
 lusia which it waters, and the famous city of
 
 38 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 Seville, than any merely maritime town, how- 
 ever bustling and prosperous. 
 
 The second day brought them to the gates of 
 Seville, after a hot — and to Cornelia, rather 
 fatiguing — journey. Nothing but the strong 
 desire she had to see Spain in its full attributes 
 of climate, costume, arts, and national peculi- 
 arities, would at that time have made her leave 
 her own comfortable cabin in the Ringdove for 
 a Spanish venta. 
 
 On their arrival at Seville, their first object 
 was to see the celebrated Cathedral, which to a 
 Spaniard embodies all that the history of his 
 country, both religious and artistic, brings with 
 it to his feelings. He there sees the remains of 
 Moorish grandeur and Mahometan infidelity at 
 once surmounted by the cross of Christ and by 
 the emblems of the Spanish monarchy; in its 
 chapels he sees the triumph of Spanish art, the 
 lingering traces of the now faded magnificence 
 of Spain and the Indies : the tower, the famous 
 Giralda, of Moorish architecture at its base, and 
 of Christian taste at its summit, bears noble 
 testimony to the changes of dynasty as well as 
 of creed which it has witnessed. 
 
 On entering the Cathedral, the first object 
 which their too ofiicious guides pointed out, was
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 39 
 
 the number of relics and miraculous figures which 
 it contained, but which not being to the taste 
 of either of the visiters, they eagerly inquired 
 for the paintings of Murillo and Velasquez. To 
 such as still exist they were accordingly con- 
 ducted ; but not even the magic pencil of these 
 great artists could remove the impression, that 
 the noble building, a proud monument of 
 Eoman Catholic grandeur, enriched with every 
 costly appurtenance of Papal worship, was 
 superior in conception and more striking to the 
 imagination of the many — to the heart perhaps 
 of the few — than all the gorgeous things it con- 
 tained. 
 
 After staying two days more at Seville, they 
 returned to Gibraltar. 
 
 On leaving Gibraltar and entering on the 
 calm expanse of the " summer sea" — the Medi- 
 terranean — such as it usually is in the latter half 
 of spring, the duke resolved to make use of 
 the favourable season to visit some of the less 
 frequented places which he had omitted to see 
 in his former travels. For this purpose, he ran 
 down the coast to Carthagena and Valencia, and 
 after a short stay in that part of the country, 
 which is called the garden of Spain, he directed 
 his course to the islands of Minorca and Majorca.
 
 40 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 His own tastes were not his only guides in 
 this instance: he was prompted by a desire to 
 show to Cornelia, as yet so new to the world, 
 some of the less frequented but not least inter- 
 esting parts of the Mediterranean. 
 
 TravelUng is now become so common, and 
 the great points of assemblage among European 
 nations are becoming daily so nearly alike 
 in character, that the mere routine of a voyage, 
 touching only at the usual ports, may be gone 
 through with little advantage, and not much 
 opportunity of observation. For this reason, 
 he preferred visiting those secluded spots where 
 modern civilization has not crept in to the de- 
 triment of ancient simplicity. There are parts 
 of the shore of the Mediterranean, and of the 
 countries adjacent to it, where the manners and 
 customs of the people, their dresses, and way 
 of life, are still what they were in the middle 
 ages; and this at no great distance from the 
 most splendid cities. 
 
 During the voyage, the duke by degrees be- 
 gan to notice the little foundling, whom his 
 wife's charity, rather than his own, had made 
 their fellow-traveller. He more particularly 
 remarked the great beauty of the child's black 
 eyes, and declared his fixed opinion that the
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 41 
 
 mother, whose body it will be remembered he 
 had not seen during the stoppage that followed 
 the catastrophe, must have been a Spaniard or 
 an Italian. " I regret now," said the duke, 
 " that I did not follow the crowd to the inquest, 
 while you, Cornelia, were, as more natural, at- 
 tracted by the child's fate to the workhouse." 
 
 " Much better, Eccellenza, that you did not," 
 officiously interposed Luigi, " Ho visto passare 
 tutta la canaglia di Londra, non era luogo per 
 
 y. E." 
 
 Surprised, and not pleased, at the intrusion 
 of his valet, whom he did not imagine to be 
 within hearing, the duke ordered him below, 
 and continued pacing the deck with Cornelia. 
 It did not come out until long afterwards, that 
 while his master and mistress were engaged 
 with the authorities in the workhouse, and in 
 following up the investigation which ended by 
 placing the friendless orphan in their hands, 
 Luigi, like his countrymen, always ready to pry 
 into concerns not his own, had run off with the 
 speed of a madman to the scene of the inquest, 
 looked for one minute on the corpse, and re- 
 turned with equal celerity. 
 
 The duke's remark about the child's dark 
 eyes drew from Cornelia the rather late in-
 
 .42 CHlilSTABELLE. 
 
 formation, that on her first examination of the 
 little outcast's poor clothing she had found a 
 name written on a crumpled slip of paper and 
 hardly legible — Niccolo — so that he must be 
 considered as evidently of Italian parentage. 
 Her husband wished much to see it, but it had 
 been lost on the voyage, and that universally 
 endearing name '' Baby" having been adopted 
 in this case, as in many others, to the total ex- 
 clusion of any other, it is wonderful that 
 " Niccolo" had not fallen entirely into oblivion. 
 The fact, however, reminded Cornelia that she 
 had still one duty more to perform with regard to 
 the protege — for duties once assumed, however 
 voluntarily or generously, imply obligations not 
 capriciously to be laid aside; namely, that 
 of procuring it to be baptized, as an entrance 
 into the Christian world, of which she was now 
 earnestly desirous to make it a worthy member. 
 She would educate Niccolo as her child, had 
 she any of her own or had she not ; she would 
 make him every thing that young enthusiastic 
 mothers intend their model sons to be. It was 
 therefore resolved by her, and readily assented 
 to by the duke, that on their arrival at Malta, 
 where they were sure to find an English church 
 and chaplain, the little Niccolo should formally
 
 CHEISTABELLE. 43 
 
 receive his name according to the rites and 
 ceremonies of the Church of England. Her 
 husband and herself and some kind friend would 
 be his sponsors. 
 
 It grieved her kind heart, nevertheless, to 
 observe, that the child, though full of animation, 
 and readily attaching itself to her and to all 
 who fondled it, which in turn included almost 
 every one on board, showed little inclination to 
 the duke: it seemed always to turn from his 
 approach to cling the closer to Cornelia or to its 
 nurse. If fear or shyness prevented it from 
 liking the duke, a positive aversion to Luigi 
 seemed to inspire it whenever that person came 
 within its sight. The instinct of the child made it 
 feel that this man was not its friend — and that 
 even the duke was indifferent to it, beyond the 
 mere fact of having taken it up in easy com- 
 pliance with his wife's fancy. 
 
 Meanwhile the Ringdove, impelled by favour- 
 able winds, bore her now rather impatient master 
 and his family successively to Sardinia and 
 Sicily; and after a short but prosperous run 
 from the latter island to the classic shores of 
 Carthage, anddown theadjoining coast of Africa, 
 she again changed her course, and safely entered 
 the great harbour of Valetta, in the isle of Malta.
 
 44 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 This was the term proposed for the first part 
 of the voyage: the whole party had need of rest 
 and refreshment, as well as of some trustworthy 
 and recent information respecting the less 
 civilized countries which they intended to visit, 
 and for which more precaution might be 
 necessary. 
 
 The scenery and attractions of Malta are so 
 different from those of most parts of the south of 
 Europe, that there is no spot among the more 
 frequented islands of the Mediterranean respect- 
 ing which there are such different opinions. 
 It possesses nothing of a romantic nature, and 
 but little of antiquarian interest; yet, para- 
 doxical as the conclusion may sound, there are 
 few places more strikingly picturesque in the 
 artistic sense of the word, and fewer of such 
 limited extent, that have risen to such high 
 political and historical importance. 
 
 Malta is one of the very few islands in the 
 Mediterranean which are not mountainous, or 
 composed of one single mountain ; it has, there- 
 fore, no natural feature which, in the absence 
 of its artificial embellishments, and of its pecu- 
 liar and industrious population, could attract 
 the traveller coming from either the east or the 
 west. Yet tame and monotonous as it may ap-
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 45 
 
 pear to the mere naturalist, or the hardy wan- 
 derer fresh from an exciting town in Spain and 
 Portugal, in the Alps and Italy, in Turkey or 
 in Egypt, Malta is not without great charms 
 for those who consider that scenery w^ithout 
 life furnishes but dry bones to art, and that 
 character, without which even art is but a dead 
 representation, may exist in any portion of the 
 globe to which man and his works have adapted 
 themselves; that is, in any condition, wdiether 
 more or less civilized, to which the natural 
 progress and development of his circumstances 
 and resources have led him. For in highly, 
 nay, over-civilized communities, such as are 
 gaining ground in the world at present, man is 
 fast becomino; a mere thinfy of artifice and imi- 
 tation. 
 
 The summer having now fairly set in, and 
 the weather becoming consequently too hot to 
 travel, or even to sail agreeably, the duke wisely 
 determined to rest ati>Ialta until the time should 
 come when he could safely take his wife to Egypt 
 for the winter. He was sure to find at Valet t a 
 goodlodging and society, besides many resources 
 which are only accessible in that metropolis of 
 the ^lediterranean. Cornelia required tran- 
 quillity and absence from the sun, as far as it
 
 45. CHRIS TABELLE. 
 
 could be procured; the duke, who had pre- 
 viously visited Malta, was acquainted with the 
 governor, and some of the principal officers, 
 both naval and military, and found daily in- 
 terest in the ever-changing scene which the 
 bustling activity of Malta offers to a stranger. 
 Once comfortably established in a large and 
 airy palace, overlooking the great harbour, Cor- 
 nelia thought it necessary to revolve in her own 
 mind, a little more seriously than she had done, 
 the plan to be pursued in the education of her 
 little orphan protege. The first thing to be 
 done was to have him properly baptized, and 
 registered as an English-born child, which was 
 forthwith done under the name of Nicholas .... 
 She would, perhaps, have preferred some other 
 name, and would have given her husband's ; but 
 for the first time in her life she felt her courage 
 fail her. She had a secret missrivino^ that it 
 would not please him ; she thought that some 
 sort of objection, she knew not what, might be 
 taken to it ; in short, she was not too wise to 
 sum up all her private and causeless hesitations 
 in the word "unlucky." She thought it would 
 not do — and perhaps she thought she might 
 have another still dearer and nearer object to 
 herself, for which she might one day claim,
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 47 
 
 without chance of refusal, her husband's chris- 
 tian name. But she asked, and easily obtained 
 his promise, to stand godfather to the child; 
 whom he really began to like, for his bold and 
 sturdy port and fearless demeanour. The boy, 
 however, did not readily accept the duke's kind- 
 ness — he was shy, and averse to play with him, 
 though not absolutely untameable. To the 
 duchess he was all softness and affection; he 
 seemed to know, or, what was still better, to feel, 
 that there was the heart that had saved him from 
 destruction — ^there was the kind mother who had 
 looked to him when unconscious of his fate, and 
 to whom he might ever look for comfort and con- 
 solation. Infant as he still was, thoughts such 
 as these had not yet dawned upon his unawakened 
 mind ; but in after days he knew and acknow- 
 ledged to whom he was indebted for preservation. 
 But still, when he had got over his early repul- 
 sion from the duke, Nicholas always felt that 
 he had owed no care, no protection to him ; and 
 that but for the kind, true, woman's heart of 
 his wife, he might have perished with his ill- 
 fated mother. The duchess repaid the child's 
 instinctive but most sincere affection with a 
 degree of love that produced its usual effect. 
 The boy, by degrees, became in plain words a
 
 48 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 spoilt child: a consequence which perhaps more 
 often befalls a protege than even the own child 
 of a mother: because the very fact of taking up 
 a strange child is in itself a stretch, an excess 
 of love, or of compassion, the bias of which 
 continues through life, while in regard to her 
 own child, a mother's love can never be in excess, 
 and is therefore more likely to be under the 
 constant guidance of reason. 
 
 Among the varied society wdiich one is 
 always sure to find in Malta, a colony which 
 has become by its geographical position the 
 rendezvous of Englishmen from every part of our 
 service, and of foreigners from a great portion 
 of the whole world, it is common to meet with 
 artists, physicians, and scientific travellers on 
 their way to and from the East, or from Italy, 
 Turkey, or Africa. Malta is so convenient a 
 centre of business for persons of all descrip- 
 tions, from the highest ranks of naval and 
 military service to the petty trader of the 
 Levant, that it is resorted to from all the south 
 of Europe by those who wish to connect 
 themselves with, or to profit by, the advantages 
 of an Englisli community. There were at this 
 period in Valetta several young men travelling 
 as artists, both for the purpose of study, or
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 49 
 
 rather of collecting materials for future study- 
 in their career; and there was no want of real, 
 or would be, scientific travellers, medical, chi- 
 rurgical, mineralogical, and others, ready to offer 
 their services to a family like that of the Duke 
 of Tintagel. 
 
 Cornelia, who interested herself much in 
 every branch of the fine arts, and was not 
 indifferent to science, admitted some of these 
 persons to her small circle. Both she and her 
 husband looked forward with some anxiety, 
 though not without greater pleasure, to the 
 prospect of their intended journey in Egypt: 
 both knew the difficulties they could not fail 
 to encounter in some parts of their tour, 
 whether from the nature of the country, or 
 from the climate. 
 
 They thought it advisable, therefore, to engage 
 for the remainder of their travels, the services 
 of a Scotch physician. Dr. Archibald M'Leod, 
 who had previously resided some years in the 
 East in a medical capacity, attached to a 
 factory of European merchants, and Avas well 
 acquainted with the peculiarities of the fine, 
 but treacherous climates of Turkey and Arabia. 
 He had begun liis career in the navy, and 
 was 'therefore calculated to be as useful in case 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 50 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 of illness on board the yacht as in the journey 
 on shore: he had, during his years of naval 
 service, been in far distant parts of the world, 
 and with some eccentricities, not incompatible 
 with a kind heart and earnest desire to be use- 
 ful, possessed a large fund of anecdote and 
 information, which rendered him an agreeable 
 member of society. 
 
 Another addition to their party which the duke 
 contemplated, was that of taking with them 
 some artist, no matter of what nation, but of 
 general if not finished acquirements. In travels 
 into those countries in which objects of ancient 
 art, or the less known features of nature are to be 
 discovered and enjoyed, it is more useful to 
 have the talent of rapid and correct sketching 
 than of skilful colouring or composition. The 
 cleverest grouper of costumes is often unable 
 to draw the remains of antiquity correctly; 
 while the most exact and mathematical copier 
 of antiques has not the picturesque eye or 
 taste requisite to give truth to the scenery 
 wherein his ruins are placed, or life to the 
 figures with which his drawings are to be 
 peopled. In the present age, it is with the 
 arts as with many other accomplishments — 
 genius, and even laborious perfection is not to
 
 CIIRISTABELLE. 51 
 
 be expected in all: but the precision which 
 modern taste requires in all branches of art 
 and science, independently of the extent to 
 which they may be followed out, makes it 
 impossible for mere smatterers to obtain 
 success. 
 
 The duke was fortunate in finding: anions: 
 the numerous German and Swiss artists that 
 visit Malta annually as a completion to their 
 indispensable wandering through Italy and 
 Sicily, a Bavarian named Herman Mayer, who 
 very nearly answered this description. He 
 was a young man, now travelling for the first 
 time, well grounded in all the elements of his 
 profession, and from taste as well as from a 
 conviction of its future utility to himself, 
 studying the commencements of every possible 
 branch of drawing. He knew that an eye for 
 colour was more in favour of a painter than 
 the highest finish : that quickness in mastering 
 proportions, or seizing the true flexure of 
 curvel lines, is a rarer quality than that of 
 copying patterns: he judged that, though no 
 naturalist, his hand was well exercised in trying 
 to gain the power of truly expressing the strati- 
 fication and fracture of rocks, the foliage and cha- 
 racter of trees, the faithful representation and 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF
 
 52 CHKISTABELLE. 
 
 habit of a flower, of a butterfly, a fish, a shell, 
 or a mineral. His acquired Italian taste enabled 
 him to draw figures, sculpture, medals; his 
 previous studies at home, had led him more to 
 nature and still life. In all, he exhibited German 
 earnestness exempt from Dutch minuteness. 
 
 With some diflcrences, there w^ere yet some 
 points of contact between the painter and the 
 physician : points of contact rather than re- 
 semblance. The talents of the one were likely 
 to gain something from the experience of the 
 other, while both profited by the mutual 
 exercise of mind. Mayer was much the 
 younger of the two, not too young to learn, or, 
 which is a difl'erent thing, to be willing to 
 learn ; the doctor was never so happy as when 
 describing his adventures in the South Seas, or 
 recommending his young friend, if other trades 
 should fail, to try historical painting in Cali- 
 fornia. 
 
 The summer months rolled quietly but rapidly 
 away, while our party enjoyed the luxurious 
 climate of Malta. The heat in July is nearly 
 tropical, but is to a certain degree compensated 
 by the delightful freshness of the early morning, 
 and the splendour of the nights. On some days, 
 the temperature was moderated by the Tramon-
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 53 
 
 tana, under whose healthful influence Cornelia 
 was able to make several short excursions on 
 the island; and on calmer days, when the heat 
 from some unassignable cause (as happens in a 
 Mediterranean summer) fell several degrees, a 
 boat was frequently put in requisition. On 
 these occasions, they were usually attended by 
 some of their naval acquaintances. 
 
 There could scarcely be a more delightful 
 picture than their evening society: Cornelia 
 usually rested after the fatigues of the day upon 
 a sofa, placed on a broad terrace overlooking 
 the placid waters of the great harbour. Here 
 she noted her observations in her journal, 
 finished the sketch of the morning, assisted by 
 the counsel of Mayer, or listened to the small 
 conversation of one or two Sicilian ladies, who 
 sat raising and dropping their large fans after 
 their fashion by her side. The duke generally 
 preferred walking up and down the terrace by 
 moonlight, talking to some officer or traveller, 
 who gladly frequented the society of such a 
 family. Xicholas was brought in to play 
 with the cushions, to receive bonbons and 
 kisses, and finally to be taken oif by his 
 worthy nurse with rather noisy expressions of 
 regret.
 
 54 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 The terrace before the windows was broad, 
 and partly covered by a broad striped blue and 
 white awning — beyond it were orange-trees, and 
 various other fragrant and splendid flowers, 
 which add to the natural luxuries of that 
 favoured climate. In a small garden below, 
 formed in a corner between the palace and 
 wall, which joined the nearest part of the em- 
 battled rampart, was a group of tall oleanders, 
 surrounding a taller pomegranate-tree, whose 
 scarlet blossoms were daily unfolded to the 
 view. The little paradise Avas backed by a 
 trellised walk of small extent ending in an 
 arbour, and covered with the finest Muscat 
 grapes, which hung down overhead, while their 
 stems were concealed by the low hedge of 
 Arabian jessamine, the perfume of which con- 
 tended even with that of the orange-trees. The 
 walls w^ere hung with long festoons of the large 
 and fragrant night flowering-cactus, and other 
 gorgeous productions of hotter countries, which 
 now embellish the once bare rock of Malta. 
 Some few vases and pieces of sculpture com- 
 pleted the ornaments of the scene. 
 
 Music frequently added its charms, either in 
 the shape of the country guitar, or in the voice 
 of the naturally musical Mayer.
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 55 
 
 In the neighbourhood of Valetta there are 
 two delightful gardens, to which in the fine 
 summer evenings the best company of the city 
 resort, for the purpose of enjoying the breeze. 
 Seated under the shady orange-trees, they re- 
 main till the rising star or the distant Ave 
 Maria warn them that it is time to return home. 
 The duke and duchess often repaired to the groves 
 of Floriana, or St. Antonio, where they were 
 joined by persons of their society, who after- 
 wards accompanied them either to the opera, 
 or, if the fineness of the night had tempted 
 them to stay out late, to their own house to 
 sup. Cool drinks made of the high flavoured 
 citron, as difi'erent from London lemonade as 
 light from darkness, or water melon ice, made 
 as Sicilians only can make it, were the charac- 
 teristic luxuries of the repast. 
 
 On one of these occasions, when they had 
 stayed out longer than usual to observe the 
 falling stars, whose brilliancy in that climate is 
 remarkable, the dew and night air being rather 
 more fresh than usual, the duke, after tenderly 
 wrapping his wife in her ample Maltese cloak, 
 and telling her to drive quickly home to avoid 
 the night air, said that he sliould himself pre-
 
 56 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 fer to escape the chill by walking, and that he 
 would join her circle in half an hour. 
 
 The walk the duke must return home by, 
 led him of necessity near the ramparts, round 
 a considerable part of which he must pass to 
 reach his own house, as a shorter walk, open in 
 the daytime, was closed at that hour. The 
 duchess's carriage was obliged to make a still 
 longer circuit. 
 
 The duke was accompanied by an English 
 officer of the garrison, who walked with him 
 as far as the gate of Valetta, and then after 
 wishing him good-night, retired to his quar- 
 ters. 
 
 In the towns of southern Europe, though half 
 of their population is abroad during the best 
 part of a summer's night, it is only about the 
 public places, the cafes, the promenades, that 
 there is a throng of people. At that hour it is 
 not business but pleasure, or at least recreation, 
 that draws people together ; and in consequence, 
 though some squares and streets are crowded 
 and noisy, other parts of the town are left in 
 the deepest silence and solitude. In the forti- 
 fied towns particularly, where there are of 
 course large uninhabited spaces, and miles of 
 blank wall, as in Malta, where batteries rise in
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 57 
 
 terrace above terrace all round the city, these 
 desolate parts are specially avoided at night ex- 
 cept by those whose business obliges them to 
 pass that way, or by others who lie in wait 
 for them.
 
 58 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Like as a ship that thro* the ocean wide 
 
 Directs her course unto one certain coast, 
 Is met of many a counterwind and tide 
 
 With which her winged speed is let and crost, 
 And she herself in stormy surges tost; 
 
 Yet making many a horde and many a bay, 
 Still winneth way, nor hath her compass lost: 
 
 Right so it fares with me in this long way, 
 Where course is often stay'd, yet never is astray. 
 
 Spenser. 
 
 But that fair lamp from whose celestial ray 
 That light proceeds which kindleth love's fire, 
 
 Shall never be extinguish'd nor decay; 
 But when the vital spirits do expire. 
 Unto her native planet shall retire. 
 
 Ibid. 
 
 The twiliglit, as usual in all southern coun- 
 tries, began to close in rapidly, and night was 
 quicldy approaching, when the duke reached 
 a turn in the rampart which led him into a plat- 
 form on the top of a long flight of steps, a spot 
 well known to be the rendezvous of all sorts of 
 idle people. He was not surprised, therefore, 
 to see two or three groups engaged in various
 
 CHBISTABELLE. 59 
 
 conversation, but walked on. One figure, 
 standing alone, arrested his attention. He was 
 already near enough to distinguish, by the 
 shape of his dress, that he was a priest; but 
 there was something in his air and attitude 
 unlike the dignity or repose characteristic of a 
 sacred calling, and which at once showed that 
 the wearer of the gown had not been always a 
 churchman. His lounging position, now lean- 
 ing over the parapet, now turning with the 
 restless activity of a man more used to some 
 secular profession than to the priesthood, was 
 in perfect contrast to the demure bearing of two 
 Maltese priests who happened to pass him, with- 
 out notice or recognition, at the moment when 
 the duke was first struck by his appearance. 
 
 On the duke's passing near him, and involun- 
 tarily casting a rapid glance at his physiognomy, 
 the priest quickly stepped forward, and looking 
 at him for a moment, with that hard and 
 unflinching stare that most of the less refined 
 natives of the south are in the habit of fixing 
 on a stranger, exclaimed in a voice between 
 loud and low, but not soft, " Milordo!" 
 
 The duke recognised him almost immediately 
 for a person whom he had well knoAvn some 
 years before, and in another country. The
 
 60 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 duke was at first much agitated at seeing this 
 person, but, recovering himself, addressed him 
 as Signor Mavrosceni. — '^ Ah ! said the man, 
 call me no more by that name, I beg, Eccel- 
 lenza; now I am known only as Padre Silvestro, 
 which is the name I have taken in relio:ion." 
 
 The duke did not appear to be sorry to have 
 met with the now reverend Padre Silvestro; 
 on the contrary, he continued to walk up and 
 down the platform, which was now nearly 
 deserted, by his side for some time. They had 
 a long and earnest conversation. The duke 
 seemed to be for ever questioning his companion 
 about some matters of the highest interest to 
 him; the other, though replying with apparent 
 readiness, and great verbosity, was continually 
 breaking out into exclamations of surprise, that 
 the Signor Duca was not informed, or that he 
 should not have learnt something, on the 
 knowledge of which it seemed depended the 
 whole subject of their discussion. 
 
 It had now grown dark, that is, as dark as 
 it usually is in the brilliant starlight of the 
 Mediterranean: the two speakers paused; they 
 had evidently arrived at the end of the subject- 
 matter of their discourse, and, after a profound 
 obeisance on the part of the priest, and a dis-
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 61 
 
 tant acknowledgment on that of the duke, they 
 separated. 
 
 The duchess, in the meanwhile, had been 
 waiting, rather surprised than impatient, for the 
 return of her husband. She was not alone ; some 
 ladies had, according to the custom of Malta, 
 joined her evening circle soon after her return 
 from the drive ; and she supposed that the duke 
 might have met some officers on the ram- 
 parts, and that they would come home toge- 
 ther. After remaining some time longer in 
 suspense, and after many gentlemen of their 
 acquaintance had come and gone from her 
 salon, Cornelia felt her anxiety every moment 
 increasing, when the door opened, and the 
 duke entered alone, evidently heated by the 
 haste with which he had walked, and to all 
 appearance agitated by something that had 
 occurred. 
 
 His wife had tact enough to conceal her 
 observations; but some of the party were so 
 much struck with the change in his manner 
 from what it had been but a few hours before, 
 that the duke had to answer not a few enqui- 
 ries, and to receive many friendly cautions 
 from the old residents, as to the necessity 
 of not trifling with a treacherous climate, to
 
 62 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 some sudden effect of which they attributed 
 his lassitude and abstraction. This was so 
 apparent, that though habitual courtesy led 
 him to reply to all the officious questions and 
 advice that was tendered from all quarters, 
 his answers were given with so little of his 
 usual warmth of manner, that they seemed 
 hardly to express a meaning. 
 
 Cornelia was suddenly struck with the idea 
 that her husband must have taken the fever: 
 for, as all travellers in the south well know, 
 there is no part of the Mediterranean, however 
 healthy it may be reputed, that has not its 
 fever, more or less intense, in reserve for stran- 
 gers, especially such as expose themselves in 
 the hot Aveather. As soon, therefore, as all the 
 company were gone, she eagerly inquired if he 
 was ill, or if any thing had happened in his 
 late walk to disturb or affect him. To her 
 infinite surprise, he answered coldly, that 
 nothing was the matter; and when Cornelia, 
 now seriously alarmed, pressed him, he re- 
 turned at first only monosyllables, and at last 
 nothing. Convinced that this depression of 
 spirits could be only the low fit preceding a 
 fever, she sent without loss of time for Dr. 
 M'Leod, who was still living in his own lodg-
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 63 
 
 ing, and was to join them only at the time of 
 their actual departure from Valetta. The doctor 
 smiled good-naturedly at the anxiety of the 
 young bride; but, on seeing his patient, pro- 
 nounced his sudden indisposition the result of 
 a feverish cold, requiring both caution and 
 promptitude in its treatment in this southern 
 climate;* but this slight attack of illness soon 
 passed away, and it proved to be only one of 
 those not uncommon effects of a warm atmo- 
 sphere, which are easily thrown off by an 
 English constitution. Cornelia's anxiety, how- 
 ever, was doomed to be prolonged by one cir- 
 cumstance, and that, to her, no trifling one: 
 her husband's temper was visibly altered, and 
 his usual cheerfulness gave way before a ten- 
 dency to silence and melancholy, to which he 
 had been hitherto a stranger. Both now 
 looked forward to the day of their approach- 
 ing departure from Malta with pleasure. 
 
 Padre Silvestro called often on the duke, 
 with whom he was long closeted alone. Cor- 
 nelia saw him once, and conceived a great 
 disgust at his forward yet cringing manners, 
 as little prepossessing in society as suitable to 
 a clergyman. She thought the duke's business 
 with him was probably connected with their
 
 64 CHKISTABELLE. 
 
 intended Eastern travels, for which, as an 
 Armenian, he might have useful information 
 to offer. Their plans and projects for the 
 voyage to Egypt and up the Nile, were now 
 the all-engrossing subject of their daily con- 
 versation; and it was fixed, that as soon as 
 the weather became perceptibly cooler in Sep- 
 tember, the yacht should sail for Alexandria. 
 
 The day at length arrived. Dr. M'Leod hav- 
 ing for the last week duly reported the falling 
 average of the thermometer (though the heat 
 was still powerful enough to be annoying during 
 part of the day), the order was given, and the 
 duke and duchess, with the doctor, the painter, 
 the stout and scrambling Nicholas, whose brown 
 complexion withstood the southern sun as if 
 he had been a native, and his two nurses, as 
 the worthy pilot and his wife might well be 
 called, and the rest of their suite, embarked 
 on board the Ringdove, in the great harbour 
 of Valetta. It was near sunset, and the moon, 
 already risen, promised a fine night to the 
 gallant vessel, as she spread her canvass to the 
 growing force of the land-breeze, which slowly 
 bore her out into the open sea. 
 
 Whatever may have been the feelings of the 
 rest of the party, Cornelia certainly left Malta
 
 CHBISTABELLE. 65 
 
 with regret. It was the first season of mar- 
 ried life, the first specimen of existence in a 
 totally new scene and country. She had been 
 well received, as might have been expected, and 
 had generally pleased in all the society she had 
 met with in Malta. The pleasures of a warm 
 climate, in a civilized country, with health, 
 friends, and cultivated tastes and habits of 
 employment, particularly wdien external objects 
 contribute, either by their own nature or by 
 historical association, to the interest of the 
 place, are perhaps the greatest enjoyment life 
 can afibrd. 
 
 It was a work of no little time to settle the 
 party comfortably on board, after so many 
 months spent on shore; and it so happened 
 that their voyage to Alexandria was slow, as is 
 usual in the summer months. In return, the 
 calm wreath er allowed them plenty of time for 
 observation, and the devious course of the 
 Ringdove brought them in sight of many a 
 famous shore. 
 
 After losing sight of Malta, and getting a 
 distant view of the coast of Africa, they were 
 driven by a sirocco of three or four days to 
 the coast of Candia. While drifting leisurely 
 down its southern shore, and admiring its lofty 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 mountains, still covered with the snows of win- 
 ter, in spite of the full summer's sun of the 
 Mediterranean, a dispute arose between the 
 doctor and the painter, as to the claims of 
 Mount Ida, towering above the rest, to be the 
 birthplace of Jove or not. 
 
 To those who have seen the Cretan Ida su- 
 preme among the snowy range which forms the 
 backbone of the island, it will be difficult to 
 imagine any mountain throne more sublime, or 
 more appropriate to Jupiter, than the snowy 
 crest which braves the heat of a summer solstice 
 in that latitude. The azure sea is seen washing 
 almost its base, between which and the rocky 
 sides of the mountain, intervene only a few 
 miles of rising and broken country, covered 
 with the luxuriant vegetation of the Greek 
 islands ; the lowlands are strewn with remains 
 of ancient cities, and the remains of the earliest, 
 and, in some respects, finest civilization of man- 
 kind; this island in history, climate, scenery, 
 and nature, is a worthy claimant of the clas- 
 sical honour of having been the cradle of the 
 king of gods and men. 
 
 The painter, as might be well imagined, was 
 entirely for the claims of the Cretan Ida : the 
 doctor, on the contrary, whose imagination was
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 67 
 
 less than his learning, and whose learning was 
 always greater in his own study than on the 
 actual spot consecrated by the greatest histo- 
 rical events, maintained that there were other 
 Idas in Greece, and one near Troy, which had 
 a greater claim to the honourable distinction 
 than this of Crete. " For," said he, " Troy was a 
 famous city: is it not likely that the most 
 famous mountain should be near the city of 
 Priam and Hector?" The painter was obstinate 
 in maintaining his side of the question; no 
 mountain was ever so picturesque as the Cretan 
 Ida, and he looked no deeper than his taste 
 for the picturesque for the solution of every 
 problem. 
 
 The starlight evenings, when they usually 
 sat on deck, passed in these and similar friendly 
 discussions, to which a heavy lurch of the ship, 
 or the more welcome bell to supper, generally 
 put an end. At length the adverse, though 
 gentle winds, carried them near Cyprus, from 
 whence, with a more favouring gale, they made 
 a speedy run to Alexandria.
 
 68 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Beneath this starry arch 
 
 Naught resteth, or is still; 
 
 But all things hold their march, 
 
 As if by one great will. 
 
 Moves one, move all, 
 
 Hark to the footfall, 
 
 On, on, for ever! 
 
 Yon sheaves were once but seed, 
 Will ripens into deed, 
 As eave-drops swell the streams. 
 Day thoughts feed nightly dreams; 
 
 And sorrow tracketh wrong, 
 
 As echo follows song. 
 On, on, for ever. 
 
 By night, like stars on high, 
 
 The hours reveal their train ; 
 They whisper, and go by; 
 I never watch in vain. 
 Moves one, move all, 
 Hark to the footfall, 
 On, on, for ever. 
 
 Harriet Martineau. 
 
 Many trivial observations might be made, 
 and many doubtless have been made, on the 
 feelings and impressions experienced by even 
 the commonest minds on setting foot for 
 the first time on a foreign shore : but there is
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 69 
 
 sometliing so new, and strange, in the sensation 
 of first landing in a truly Oriental country after 
 having lately quitted the gay and busy life of 
 Europe, that it strikes less by the force of 
 change, than by the totally unexpected nature 
 of that change. 
 
 Great change and great surprise may be 
 experienced in travelling from one country of 
 Europe to another, or from Europe to any dis- 
 tant colony where the contrast of climate and 
 nature may be as strong, nay, far stronger than 
 between Malta and Egypt ; but the feeling that 
 makes the strongest impression upon entering 
 a country where new associations of people, of 
 history, of religion and manners, force themselves 
 every moment upon the mind, is that of amaze- 
 ment that one can have lived so long in total 
 ignorance of so much of one's fellow-creatures 
 and their modes of life. Nor does this feeling 
 quickly subside; for the differences between 
 Europe and the East, between Christians and 
 Mussulmen, between the country out of doors, 
 and the life in- doors, in Christendom and 
 Islam, are too great to be easily got over, or to 
 be softened but by habit. 
 
 The voyage from Malta to Egypt is precisely 
 one of those transitions in which all settled
 
 70 CHlilSTABELLE. 
 
 European feelings and habits are most violently 
 met by a necessity of accommodating themselves 
 to others totally opposed to them. The passage 
 from Valetta to Alexandria takes not many 
 days, even without steam ; a perfectly European 
 town (after the manner of the South) is left 
 behind with all its Christian exterior and 
 associations, its Italian religion and buildings, 
 its English soldiers and sailors, its French 
 fashions, and its medley of traders and travellers 
 from all parts of our restless Europe, to be 
 exchanged for the primitive life, the simplicity 
 of manners, and for the general monotony, but 
 occasionally startling novelty, of the East. 
 
 At sea, every thing goes on so habitually in 
 the same manner, that one may sail half round 
 the globe without feeling the real absence from 
 home until landing in a new country. You 
 carry your house, your bed, your dinner, your 
 servants about with you, and only feel the reality 
 of your voyage when for the first time a lodger 
 in some uncomfortable hotel on shore. 
 
 On entering the port of Alexandria, the Arab 
 vessels, and still more the Arab sailors, the 
 distant minarets, and the turbaned population 
 on the quay, the sunburnt faces of the descen- 
 dants of the Pharaohs, the great number of
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 71 
 
 date palms, and the total absence of women, the 
 blank walls, sandy streets, melancholy-looking 
 houses — all combine to remind the European 
 that he is in a new quarter of the globe : almost 
 in a new world. 
 
 Such was the countr}^ of which the party of 
 the Rinordove were to be inhabitants for the next 
 five or six months. 
 
 The two or three days succeeding their land- 
 ing were employed in such necessary arrange- 
 ments as all yacht voyagers, and especially all 
 Eastern and Egyptian travellers, will easily un- 
 derstand. The doctor, who, as he said of him- 
 self, was never so much at home as when he 
 was in a strange place, immediately set out to 
 provide the requisites first for the short journey 
 to Cairo, and then for their voyage up the 
 Kile. The painter, far from being as usefully 
 employed, hastened to sketch the compara- 
 tively modern remains and uninteresting scenery 
 of the neighbourhood of Alexandria. The needful 
 season of repose and of preparation for all hav- 
 ing elapsed, they lost no time in proceeding to 
 Cairo ; there to await the rising of the inunda- 
 tion, which was to allow them to ascend the 
 Kile to the very borders of Ethiopia. 
 
 The summer, or rather the autumnal heats,
 
 72 CHKISTABELLE. 
 
 having subsided, Cornelia was enabled to enjoy 
 the novel sight of one of the finest and most inte- 
 resting of Oriental cities (for such Cairo un- 
 doubtedly is), in as much comfort as a woman 
 and a foreigner can do. She was every where 
 attended by the learned Dr. M'Leod, who was 
 unremitting in his zeal and assiduity. 
 
 Her husband also seemed to recover his spirits 
 with the excitement of new objects of interest, 
 and seemed, while accompanying his wife, to 
 have lost all traces of the passing cloud which 
 had obscured his last days at Malta. He took 
 the greatest pleasure in procuring for Cornelia 
 the information which her constantlv increasincy 
 interest in the country, and the people who sur- 
 rounded her, made her desirous of; he studied 
 the history of the various revolutions which 
 that remarkable land has undergone; and, 
 being himself of a curious and investigating 
 mind, he sought all the sources of explanation 
 which his wife's eagerness in the pursuit of 
 knowledge, made indispensable to her inquiries. 
 
 According to the usual practice of travellers 
 in Egypt, they resolved to make the best of 
 their way by boating up the Nile, without losing 
 time in stopping to visit any thing on its banks 
 until their return. By these means, the furthest
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 73 
 
 point is reached as soon as possible; the most 
 southern, and consequently the hottest, climate 
 is encountered in the middle, and therefore the 
 coolest part of the winter; while, on the return, 
 having the current always favourable, it is easy to 
 halt whenever it may be desirable, and time may 
 be commanded, as far as the season will permit. 
 
 Leaving the Pyramids behind them with 
 regret, the party left Cairo on a brilliant autumnal 
 mornino; in a laro:e and commodious dahabie. 
 provided with every practical luxury and con- 
 venience by the care of Luigi, who, having been 
 more than once in Egypt before, was quite mas- 
 ter of the science of Eastern travelling, and, 
 what is more, of making it as comfortable as 
 possible for English lords and ladies. 
 
 Once fairly on the blue waters of the Nile, 
 the party by degrees settled into that sort of 
 daily round of occupation which was to employ 
 them for many weeks which they were to pass 
 in company. The first things that every body 
 looks at, or for, in Egypt, are the Pyramids on 
 shore, and crocodiles in the Nile; and as there 
 was no doubt about seeing the former, the 
 energies of every individual of the party were 
 directed towards discovering the latter. At 
 every halt they made, the doctor went on shore
 
 74 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 with his apparatus of philosophical instruments, 
 of which he had a large box-full, to take 
 observations, or to collect specimens — and, of 
 course, to look out for crocodiles. Mayer, who 
 could not sketch, like an English traveller, with 
 a neat and portable drawing-book always at 
 hand, and ready to consign to paper the small 
 groups, the characteristic objects, and passing 
 effects which form the picturesque idea of a 
 country, and its features and colouring, — 
 always encumbered himself with a rather heavy 
 portfolio, camp-stool, and stand to draw on, 
 as if studying in the galleries of Dresden, or 
 Florence. His brown casquette, his blouse, his 
 leathern belt and strap, were all in the most 
 approved artistic costume, and were far more 
 appropriate to the cafe Greco than to the sands 
 and climate of Upper Egypt. Yet, day after 
 day, with true German pertinacity, he set to 
 work in the same way, and by toiling early and 
 late while on shore, and working his sketches 
 over again when in the boat, he accomplished 
 a great deal, and nearly worked himself into a 
 fever at the same time. 
 
 In the evening, when they all assembled at 
 supper in the boat, the observations made by 
 these different characters on their respective
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 75 
 
 researches and occupations during the day, 
 were a constant fund of interest and amusement 
 until fatigue compelled them to repose. 
 
 They reached the cataracts the last day of 
 the year, and determined to spend the New- 
 Year's day as a day of rest and contemplation, 
 on this, the furthest point of their peregrina- 
 tions. 
 
 Choosing, therefore, an elevated spot on the 
 summit of a bluff or headland, from whence 
 they could command the most complete view 
 of this (to speak in an historical sense) most 
 ancient of rivers, they pitched their tent under 
 a wall of rock which protected it from the 
 prevailing wind, while it did not intercept the 
 prospect of the yellow desert in the distance, 
 nor of the foaming rapids below. 
 
 It has often been observed how much the 
 presence of water, and more particularly run- 
 ning water, even on a small scale, serves to 
 enliven, and, in some degree, to supply the 
 place of human beings in a landscape. The 
 sparkling light reflected from even a calm sur- 
 face, the slightest ripple when agitated by the 
 breeze, gives an idea of life and motion w^iich 
 seems like company, and the most inobtrusive 
 of company, to one who is alone. Still more
 
 76 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 is this the case, when the water is a foaming 
 cataract, or a noble river, and beneath the sun 
 of Eo^ypt. The cheerfulness, it might almost 
 be called the society, of murmuring fountains, 
 or dashing waves in a tropical country, is a 
 counterpart to that inspired by a blazing fire 
 at an English Christmas. 
 
 One memorable day and two most brilliant 
 nights were spent in pure enjoyment of the 
 tropical climate, and in taking a last view of 
 the distant reo:ions stretchino^ towards the 
 sunny south. Before sunrise, they were on the 
 march to some ruins in the desert, in which 
 the doctor, the antiquary of the party, expected 
 to find inscriptions calculated to throw light on 
 the early connection between Egypt and Ethi- 
 opia, as being nearly upon what he considered 
 the ancient frontier between the two countries. 
 Intent upon this object, he had started a little 
 before his companions, with a hard biscuit in 
 his pocket for a breakfast, and all the necessary 
 instruments for measuring and copying the 
 expected hieroglyphics. Enthusiastic in his 
 pursuit, he thought not of the jackals, nor the 
 liyaBnas, that prowl about the ruins at the dawn 
 of day, if not with the intention, at least with 
 the inclination, should opportunity ofi*er, of
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 77 
 
 breakfasting on the first well-fed European that 
 comes across their path. He was standing near 
 an angle of the ruined building, looking up at a 
 fine frieze composed of Egyptian bas-reliefs, 
 combined with some intricate hieroglyphic 
 characters, which a few minutes more of the 
 clear, light-blue daylight would enable him to 
 read with correctness, when a shrill, child-like 
 cry, issuing from the very stones, startled him 
 beyond measure. 
 
 The doctor looked about him, but saw 
 nothing. After a time, gaining a little con- 
 fidence, he proceeded with his work, and with 
 diligence took ofi* with his apparatus of tracino- 
 paper, &c.,some, as bethought, invaluable lines 
 of smaller inscriptions near his feet. Again, 
 the cry sounded in his ears nearer than before. 
 Alarmed, he let drop his papers, rushed round 
 the corner of the ruin, and beheld a savage 
 wolf-like animal grinning at him, and every 
 minute moving a step nearer, while it uttered 
 a low but hoarse bark; he instantly compre- 
 hended it to be a hyeena. Swiftly turning 
 back, he beheld a jackal, whose cries he had 
 heard, now busy in destroying his papers in the 
 evident hope of finding something for his 
 morning's meal.
 
 78 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 To see this crowning disaster, to utter a 
 scream of despair, and to fly ignominiously, if 
 discreetly, from the fatal spot, was the work of 
 an instant. Leaving his treasures to their fate, 
 he began running, or rather wading, as he best 
 might, across or through the deep sand of the 
 desert, where the wild beasts, had they been 
 so minded, might have come up with, and 
 attacked him with the greatest ease. A hundred 
 yards from the ill-omened building he met 
 Mayer, who had paused in the sand for the 
 purpose of colouring a sunrise in the desert on 
 the spot. The artist, who was preparing in 
 all haste to dash in with colours the evanescent 
 tints of a tropical dawn, was exceedingly put 
 out by the speedy retreat of his comrade, with- 
 out hat, umbrella, or any of his usual scientific 
 paraphernalia. He attempted to stop him, 
 calling out at the top of his voice, " Wohin? 
 mein Herr, wohin?" The doctor ran ra- 
 pidly by him without giving an answer; and 
 Mayer, shouting out, " So, Herr Doctor, sage 
 mal was ixt gescheden?" thought it wiser, on 
 perceiving symptoms of movement among the 
 uins, to gather up his own appurtenances, and 
 follow in the wake of the doctor. Running in 
 Africa is not such cool and pleasant exercise,
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 79' 
 
 even in winter, as it might be at Christmas in 
 England, and the two arrived panting for 
 breath, and fainting with heat and exertion, 
 at the tent which they had left on the brow of 
 the cliiF: Dr. M'Leod, full of vexation and 
 disappointment at the loss of his treasures, 
 instruments, and observations that were to be, 
 and the painter provoked with himself for 
 giving way to a panic he felt ashamed of. Both 
 believed there were dangers, but neither could 
 give an account of them. 
 
 The duke and duchess questioned both 
 minutely, as they themselves intended in the 
 cool of the evening to make an excursion to 
 the ruins, and were more apprehensive of 
 Bedouins than of wild beasts in that localityo 
 
 The day passed tranquilly under shade of 
 the tent, from the door of which a magnificent 
 view of the blue waters, backed by the Libyan 
 mountains, was visible. The fantastic rocks 
 which here and there break the cataract, or the 
 rapids above and below the principal fall of the 
 Nile, stood out in gloomy darkness, unbrightened 
 by the full glare of the noonday sun. The 
 windings of the river, in many places in- 
 terrupted by islands, stretched far away into 
 the plains of Nubia : blue when looked down
 
 80 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 upon from the lofty rock, its waters became as 
 a string of silver traced by its bright reflection 
 through the seemingly endless distance. The 
 fringe of dark green palms which bordered its 
 sandy shores formed a rich edging to the gay 
 verdure of the lately inundated fields, whose 
 crops of rice and other grain were beginning 
 to show their most brilliant verdure. 
 
 The boatmen and servants were partly rest- 
 ing, or employed in the boat at the foot of the 
 cliff, partly in a second tent pitched almost close 
 to that of the master's. Most of the party, 
 however, were enjoying the siesta, to prepare for 
 the evening's excursion. 
 
 About an hour before sunset, they departed 
 in cavalcade, horses, camels, mules, and donkeys, 
 having been eagerly thrust upon them by the 
 villagers, and after a time somewhat longer than 
 the doctor's morning run had required, they 
 found themselves at the ruins. 
 
 Great was the doctor's dismay to find his 
 instruments broken or upset, his papers, some 
 torn, but mostly wanting. The duke gravely 
 asked him whether he feared they had fallen 
 into more scientific hands than his own : when 
 the doctor, turning to one of the Arabs, asked, 
 through their interpreter, if it were not most
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 81 < 
 
 likely the work of a lion? The dark man 
 smiled with an expression ineffably satirical as 
 he silently pointed to a small animal slily turn- 
 ing the corner, and instantly out of sight. 
 " C'est un schakal! c'est un schakal, Milord!" 
 exclaimed the triumphant Mayer, overjoyed to 
 find his learned friend so completely taken in by 
 his fears as to have mistaken the cry of a jackal 
 for the roaring of a lion. As his other enemy, 
 the grinning hyaena, did not make a second 
 appearance, his repeated assertions of the 
 terrific eyes and bloodthirsty countenance of 
 that intruder met with the reception usually 
 given to tales bordering on the fabulous. 
 
 After collecting as well as they could the 
 fragments of the doctor's property, which the 
 animals seemed to have taken special care to 
 disperse as widely as possible among the ruins, 
 the party returned to their tent, lit by a superb 
 tropical moon across the desert. In those 
 climates moonlight is impressive, not because 
 it merely makes darkness visible, but because 
 it illuminates the landscape with a degree of 
 brilliancy just so far inferior to that of day, 
 showing the life that exists throughout the 
 night in the true and proper colours belong- 
 ing to that tranquil but not inanimate period, 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 CHKISTABELLE. 
 
 The splendour of the stars reflected in the calm 
 bosom of the river, the clear blue-black vault 
 from out which they shone, the distant cries of 
 animals, and the nearer hum of insects or flut- 
 ter of night-birds, the thought that, however 
 dangerous to man, the vast deserts of Africa, 
 from Egypt to CafFraria, were yet teeming with 
 life, and bright with a natural beauty of their 
 own, — all this gave a sublimity to the ideas that 
 arose in the gentle but enthusiastic mind of 
 Cornelia, which disposed her to meditation and 
 to silence. 
 
 The next morning they began their down- 
 ward voyage upon the river. The plan now 
 to be pursued was difl'erent from that in ascend- 
 ing the stream : then they were anxious to reach 
 their furthest goal as soon as possible; now 
 they would descend rapidly with the current 
 in their favour, and stop as often as any famous 
 temple, or remarkable site (which they had 
 well noted on their way up), should tempt 
 them to do so. It was with great regret that 
 they turned back from this their nearest ap- 
 proach to the regions of the sun ; but the necessity 
 for travelling in Palestine before summer should 
 have set in, was imperative : and the duchess, 
 unused to the climate and the mode of life,
 
 CHRISTABELLK. 83 
 
 though she enjoyed it at the time, began to 
 have misgivings, that so large a party could 
 hardly hope to escape entirely without illness 
 in the long journey they had before them. The 
 duke had been apparently better ever since they 
 had left Alexandria; but she could not recollect 
 how much he had suffered from his ao^itation 
 at Malta, not to feel an anxiety about her hus- 
 band, to which she had been hitherto a stranger. 
 
 Nor was it for him alone that her forebod- 
 ings were sometimes of a gloomy cast: the lit- 
 tle boy, Nicholas, came in for his share of her 
 silent thoughts: the trial of such a climate is 
 great for a child, particularly if the time be 
 passed, as it was now likely to be, in constant 
 travel. Cornelia was now more than ever at- 
 tached to her little protege, and he repaid her 
 care with the most boisterous proofs of sincere 
 infantine affection. But with nobody else was 
 the boy even manageable, though all liked him 
 as a playfellow, in spite of his rather quick 
 alternations of temp(tr. 
 
 The regret felt by every one on turning back 
 from any enterprise, had its share in making 
 the first few miles of their downward passage 
 rather less cheerful than usual; but after stop- 
 ping to visit the great remains of Kalabshee,
 
 84 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 and admiring the bold river scenery between 
 that point and Phila3, they resolved to halt a 
 full day at the latter place, and to make a full 
 investigation of its venerable temples. The 
 duke had formerly expressed a particular in- 
 terest in these temples, and Cornelia hoped that 
 the curiosity which they would excite, might 
 rouse her husband from his evidently increasing 
 melancholy. The boat arrived off Philse late 
 in the evening, by a splendid moonlight, per- 
 haps the most imposing of all circumstances 
 under which the relics of such remote and 
 historically obscure antiquity can be viewed, 
 especially for the first time. 
 
 While the more sober-minded Dr. M'Leod 
 had prudently retired to rest, deferring his 
 fatigues and his curiosity to a reasonable time 
 after breakfast the next morning, w^ien jackals 
 and hyaenas should have fled from the light of 
 day, the impassioned and enthusiastic German, 
 yielding to a constitutional impatience in every 
 thing which concerned the arts, or which spoke 
 to the imagination, resolved to make his first 
 drawing of these venerable ruins by moonlight, 
 while animated by his first impressions. Ko 
 sooner, therefore, had the boat touched the 
 shore, than he sprang forward with pencils and
 
 CnRlSTABELLE. 85 
 
 portfolio to sketch the groups of building in the 
 mass, under the effects of light and shade, just 
 as they present themselves in approaching them 
 from the water side. Fearless of jackals, or 
 of the worse dangers of the needy Arabs who 
 frequent the dilapidated temples, he proceeded 
 at once to the propylon; and his tall, rather 
 ungainly figure, was soon lost in the deep sha- 
 dows of those colossal gateways. AVhether he 
 lost himself in the intricacies of the building, or 
 found a better bed on the sand than in his 
 cabin on board, he did not make his appearance 
 at the boat until the next morning. 
 
 The temples and other buildings at PhilsB 
 are certainly confused and irregular enough to 
 be a complete labyrinth to a stranger even at 
 noonday; what they are at night, under the 
 rays of a sinking moon, may be easily imagined. 
 Mayer, who was too much a philosopher to be 
 superstitious, but still German enough to be 
 mysterious, chose to be very reserved about 
 this adventure. He was closely questioned on 
 his appearance at breakfast in the boat next 
 morning, but would give no account of himself 
 save that he professed to have gained more in- 
 sight into the depths of the idea of Egyptian 
 art and religion by this one night's lodging in
 
 86 CniilSTABELLE. 
 
 the temples of Phil^e, than he had done by the 
 most laborious study of the highest antiquarian 
 authorities. 
 
 Dr. M'Leod slily enquired whether Isis or 
 Osiris had visited the student during the night, 
 and was forced to put up with a look in reply, 
 which made him averse to asking further 
 questions. 
 
 Mayer had certainly not been idle. He pro- 
 duced a number of roughly shaded, but clever 
 sketches ; and, little as he could have seen of 
 the beauties of the place, he proved a useful 
 guide in going over the ruins by the light of 
 day. 
 
 The sun rose with its usual splendour when, 
 the next morning, the whole party, preceded 
 or followed by the never-failing escort of guides, 
 Arabs, fellahs, and beggars of all races, took 
 their way to the far-famed temples of Philae. 
 And here the previous visit of the artist proved 
 of great service to them; for he led them at once 
 to the points of greatest effect, and saved a vast 
 loss of time in examining the outskirts of the 
 Temple, instead of proceeding to the more 
 wonderful recesses within. 
 
 No style of art strikes the mind with such 
 deep impressions of surprise and admiration as
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 87 
 
 that of tlie ancient Egyptians. In the remains 
 of early Indian antiquity there is much to sur- 
 prise, especially in the rock and cave temples, 
 but little to admire : beauty has no place be- 
 side barbarism. In the finished works of the 
 Greeks, again, there is every thing to admire ; 
 but their very perfection implies so advanced 
 a state of science, as well as of art, that it rather 
 lessens, or more properly overcomes, the sensa- 
 tion of wonder, at any thing which so gifted a 
 people could undertake. 
 
 The arts of Egypt, however, seem to hold a 
 middle place : retaining, as they do, much of 
 the orrandeur of the earliest works of civilized 
 man, they excel at the same time in the finish 
 with which those works have been executed: 
 and they combine, in a way that no other 
 country can exhibit, the sublimity of concep- 
 tion belonging to all the vast labours of the 
 great Asiatic monarchies with a sense of beauty 
 in form, and of dignity in expression, which 
 belong to both the period which preceded, and 
 to that which followed them. 
 
 While they were seated in the shade of one of 
 the colossal pillars of the temple, and gazing with 
 all the mingled feelings of awe and delight at 
 the stupendous scene before them, an animated
 
 88 CHllISTABELLE, 
 
 discussion began between the artist and the 
 doctor as to the truth of physiognomy in the 
 favourite type of the Egyptian countenance. 
 
 '' It is, it must be ideal," said Mayer — " no 
 human form was ever so dignified, so exalted 
 in its beauty." 
 
 "On the contrary," said Dr. M'Leod, "I 
 maintain that the peculiarity of the features is 
 such that no sculptor, whatever might be his 
 talent, could imagine such a combination with- 
 out having found it, not in an individual, but 
 in a nation. Depend upon it, it was either the 
 national type of the Egyptian countenance ana- 
 tomically, and if you please artistically copied ; 
 but I cannot believe that, highly as you are 
 pleased to rate the force of genius, such marked 
 physiognomy can be the fruit of study or ima- 
 gination." 
 
 " If you will," replied Mayer, " that these 
 heavenly faces must be the copy of some 
 physical type, they surely are taken from the 
 demigods who walked on earth, or from the 
 heaven-born Ethiopians, that illustrious race 
 who held a rank between gods and men, of 
 whom unfortunately we know so little, but what 
 we do know is so poetical." 
 
 " And so incredible," said the Doctor. " Look
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 89 
 
 up at these towering figures, and you will see 
 the eye and brow of the Asiatic, the forehead 
 and nose of the European, the mouth and lips 
 of the African, cleverly united, fused together, 
 as it were, with great skill, and animated, I will 
 admit, with a life and soul inspired by the 
 highest art — but that is not invention, my dear 
 Sir," cried the Doctor raising his voice, " that 
 man must have had a physical adviser ere he 
 could combine such various features, a practically 
 experienced surgeon for instance" — Here the 
 Duke, Cornelia, and Mayer, could no longer 
 resist the temptation to laugh at the good 
 doctor's professional enthusiasm, and having 
 sufficiently rested themselves, made haste to 
 explore the remainder of the ruined buildings. 
 Certainly if labour and expense, as testified 
 in their monuments, be a proof of sincerity in 
 religion, never has there been a people who 
 seem to have oiyen themselves with o^reater 
 fervour than the Egyptians to the service of 
 their gods. And this deep devotion to a cause, 
 no matter what, satisfies a great portion of man- 
 kind that it is religion they are working for, 
 and not a mere object or impulse of the mind. 
 One sees the same process even in our days, 
 when the pursuit of learning, of philosophy, or
 
 90 CHRIST ABELLE. 
 
 of some great political object, is to many men 
 the only moving power by which their exertions 
 are directed, or for which sacrifices are made 
 or self-denial exercised. In the days of Sesos- 
 tris the high vocation of man might be mis- 
 taken, and not without excuse, — and mankind 
 might not be the worse for converting the zeal 
 nominally called forth in the service of Apis, 
 into great deeds of science and art, or of almost 
 superhuman mechanical exertion, — but the dei- 
 fication of art and philosophy, of nature, and 
 even of mind, has no apology now that a 
 brighter heaven is opened to man. 
 
 Such were the thoughtsof the goodand simple- 
 minded Cornelia as she trod the majestic halls 
 and dark recesses of Philge. She sometimes 
 gave utterance to her reflections, which had 
 always depth and substance enough in them to 
 call forth the observations of her company, 
 though seldom in accordance with her own 
 quiet and unpretending view of piety. The 
 duke, a man of the world, listened with a smile 
 of fondness to his wife's just remarks, the doc- 
 tor always put in a word for the sublimity and 
 all-pervading essence of nature, while the pain- 
 ter, with all the misty mysticism of a German 
 student, proclaimed the immutable sovereignty
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 91 
 
 of ideas, as pre-existing in all minds born and 
 unborn, as typified in the world, and only to 
 be worthily expressed by the lofty touches of 
 art. 
 
 With such companions, well versed as they were 
 in the real knowledge of their respective call- 
 ings, there was never any want of discussion : 
 there was much information to be elicited, and 
 much lively conversation to be enjoyed. The 
 time passed pleasantly away, and it was not 
 without regret that they all returned to their 
 boat on the Nile. 
 
 Still falling down the river, but stopping 
 occasionally to land and visit any remarkable 
 object on its banks, they arrived full of expec- 
 tation at Thebes. Here they were of course to 
 remain some days, in order to investigate tho- 
 roughly the noble remains on both banks, and 
 to take drawings of some of the later discoveries. 
 For this purpose, the tent was landed and pitched 
 in front of a large ruined building, which served 
 as entrance to what appeared to have been for- 
 merly a tomb ; making use of the dark chambers 
 behind as a part of their temporary dwelling, 
 while the tent in front supplied the place of a 
 light and commodious drawing-room. Part of 
 the suite, however, remained on board the boat.
 
 92 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 The details of a visit to the threefold capital, 
 as it may be called, of Upper Egypt, it is not 
 necessary to give. Medeenet-Haboo, Luxor, 
 and Carnac, each require the study of many 
 days to appreciate either their historic or 
 artistic value. It is laborious even to see and 
 examine, when the object requires that reten- 
 tiveness of memory which is necessary to carry 
 on the comparison of one st^de with another, 
 or of one class of monuments with others far 
 distant. In such researches it is, that, indepen- 
 dently of the pleasure conferred by the exercise 
 of talent, the advantage of the technicalities of 
 art, which can only be mastered by assiduous 
 study, is most apparent : those very technical- 
 ities, which are contemned as dry by the mere 
 frequenter of museums or collector of curio- 
 sities, become as it were a grammar and a 
 dictionary to the scholar, and supply a new 
 memory — it might almost be said, an under- 
 standing — to those who will undergo the trouble 
 requisite for mastering them. 
 
 In this respect, Mayer was excellent. His 
 perfect acquaintance with the history and 
 philosophy of art, enabled him in the shortest 
 time to comprehend, not only the beauty of 
 the monuments continually passing before his
 
 CIIRISTABELLE. 9$ 
 
 eyes, but also to explain \vitli little difficulty 
 the hieroglyphic paintings relating to the 
 mythology of Egypt. He took great pleasure 
 in pointing out to Cornelia the most curious 
 objects in the ruins; -and while she sought to 
 engage her husband in exploring and having 
 excavated some of the least known chambers 
 of the dead, Mayer was always at hand to 
 interpret the symbols, and to sketch off the 
 figures while still fresh in colour. 
 
 Cornelia did not fail to perceive, after a short 
 time, that her husband seemed to have lost his 
 previous taste for the arts, or for* any other 
 kind of occupation connected with their 
 travels : he who was at first eager in his desire 
 to see all and every thing in Egypt, appeared 
 now to be without energy, and to be gradually 
 sinking into a state of morbid apathy and 
 ennui. She endeavoured by every means to 
 rouse him from this uncomfortable state, and 
 to inspire him with the same delight she her- 
 self experienced in the wonders which sur- 
 rounded them. 
 
 Being determined to make a very complete 
 survey of the three ruined cities, the duke, or 
 rather the duchess, who now did every thing, 
 had all their portable comforts and luxuries,
 
 94 CHRIST ABELLE. 
 
 (such as those of Nile travellers are) carried up 
 to their tent, or rather to their tomb, and con- 
 trived to make that singular habitation as well 
 furnished a tomb as could be seen. Every 
 evening such of the party as had made drawings, 
 or discoveries, detailed them for the benefit of 
 the rest ; a duty which soon devolved upon the 
 artist alone, as the duke took little trouble, and 
 the duchess and the doctor were beginning to 
 be too anxious about his altered health to leave 
 him long alone. The doctor would have pressed 
 his immediate return to Cairo, which was dis- 
 tant but a few days' sail, with the steam ; it was 
 however impossible to overcome the duke's 
 reluctance to move, a symptom in the doctor's 
 eyes of approaching fever, and a bad one. 
 
 Cornelia, now seriously alarmed, and warned, 
 in a friendly manner, by Dr. M'Leod, that if 
 fever once began it would be impossible to 
 move her husband for a length of time which 
 he could not pretend to limit, began to occupy 
 herself with making such arrangements as the 
 tomb and tent together permitted for converting 
 them into a sick chamber. And it was scarcely 
 done before the duke was seized with a violent 
 fit of intermittent fever, which called for all his
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 95 
 
 wife's energy and strength of mind both for his 
 sake and her own. 
 
 The duke was confined full fourteen days 
 with a serious attack of fever, arising partly 
 from fatigue and exposure to the sun, followed 
 by imprudent repose and sleep in the damp 
 atmosphere of the river, and partly from some 
 unknown cause of irritation, which had evidently 
 been more or less preying on his mind ever 
 since leaving Malta. 
 
 Cornelia's anxiety and watchfulness may be 
 easily conceived ; with a serious cause for alarm 
 constantly at hand, neither the beauty of the 
 climate, nor the interest of the place, could 
 divert her aiFectionate attentions from her hus- 
 band. Dr. M'Leod was devoted to him : leavinsr 
 entirely his little oddities and originalities, which 
 made him, while he had no patient to occupy 
 his thoughts, a rather uncouth companion, he 
 became at once the kindest nurse to the invalid, 
 and the most considerate friend to his sorrowing 
 wife. Mayer was equally thoughtful in his 
 attentions; and both, when Cornelia could be 
 induced to absent herself from the sick chamber, 
 employed all their talents to occupy and divert 
 her mind. But most invaluable were the good 
 Mrs. Johnson and her husband, whose care,
 
 96 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 in their respective stations, was beyond all 
 praise : for in no case do the virtues of a good 
 servant shine more than in the capacity of nurse. 
 They alone could keep Nicholas quiet, or knew 
 when to bring him if he was tractable ; they 
 alternately watched or served in the duke's or 
 in Cornelia's apartment; they were in fact so 
 kindly useful as to excite the smothered jealousy 
 of Luigi, who, though a most diligent and 
 attentive servant to his master, evidently dis- 
 liked that any one should approach the duke 
 except himself Such was the state of affairs in 
 the tent during the awful fortnight of the fever. 
 The warm weather was sensibly increasing 
 daily, and the waters sinking, which added to the 
 anxiety which all felt to depart. 
 
 Many were the silent hours that Cornelia 
 was doomed to pass in that sombre dwelling, 
 when not immediately engaged in attendance 
 on her husband. In the evening, seated on her 
 travelling carpet and cushions arranged after the 
 Eastern fashion, with a solitary lamp on a stool, 
 or on a granite block, the fragment of some 
 sculptured relic of three thousand years, she 
 would give way to gloomy apprehensions. It 
 must be confessed, the locality was not cal- 
 culated to inspire the mind with cheerful ideas,
 
 CHHISTABELLE. 97 
 
 even had not the concomitant circumstances of 
 sickness and anxiety been there to cloud her 
 future prospects. 
 
 The walls of the living tomb, as it might be 
 called, which they had rather hastily selected 
 for their temporary habitation, were excavated 
 in the gritty rock Avhich contains the sepulchres 
 of the kinoes. Whether this mio^ht once have 
 held the remains of some great Pharaoh, or of 
 one of the blood of Rameses or Sesostris, was a 
 source of endless disputes between the doctor 
 and the painter, who had become, as every 
 traveller in Egypt does, more or less antiqua- 
 rians of the first water. The sculptures and 
 paintings with which its sides were adorned, 
 w^re in an extraordinary state of preservation, 
 and the colours were so fresh that Mayer had 
 been able to paint his copies of the figures, in 
 parts, with powder of various hues scraped from 
 the surface of the very designs they were in- 
 tended to represent. Long funereal processions, 
 boats conveying the dead to their final abode, 
 solemn judgments before a tribunal obscure 
 indeed in many of its attributes, but evidently 
 meant to shadow forth an image of Almighty 
 power: these and similar compositions, all tend- 
 ing to the same awful end, were represented 
 
 VOL. I. II
 
 98 CHKISTABELLE. 
 
 with that dignity, mixed with the emblems of 
 a dark superstition, which is the special charac- 
 teristic of Egyptian painting. 
 
 The duke's fever increased rapidly ; and the 
 crisis came on, as Dr. M'Leod anticipated, upon 
 the ninth night from his first attack. Cornelia 
 was never absent from his side — she felt at 
 once that her husband's illness was of a most 
 serious character, and being away from home, 
 and from all the comforts and conveniences of 
 Europe, she was conscious that even more 
 depended upon her watchfulness in the Arab 
 tent, than could have been the case had they 
 been at home. This was, indeed, that trying 
 moment for her, which showed at once her deep 
 attachment to her husband, as well as her own 
 individual fortitude as a woman. 
 
 On that awful night she resolved to sit up, 
 if necessary, alone ; or at least with only the 
 duke's personal attendant near her. She sent 
 her two female domestics to rest at an early 
 hour, feeling that she should require their aid 
 more after the fatigues of the night. She also 
 begged Dr. M'Leod to take some repose; but 
 he, devotedly attached to the duke, and to his 
 duty, peremptorily declared his determination 
 to remain. Eor this night, he candidly in-
 
 CHllISTABELLE. 99 
 
 formed the duchess, might be the turning-point 
 of her husband's fate. 
 
 The duke, after some hours of previous 
 excitement, had fallen into a sort of lethargic 
 slumber, from which, however, he now showed 
 sifirns of awakin^r. Ever and anon he started, 
 cast his eyes wildly about, and, after uttering 
 incoherent words and broken sentences, sank 
 again upon his pillow. 
 
 Cornelia's was now a trying situation ; she 
 had entire confidence in the doctor, and a 
 grateful feeling towards Luigi, whose attentions 
 and unremitting care of his master were deserv- 
 ing of all praise. 
 
 Seated by her husband's couch, the anxious 
 wife listened attentively to all the rambling 
 sentences and detached words he uttered in 
 his delirium: sometimes she understood him, 
 but oftener he was perfectly unintelligible. 
 Expressions of remorse, repentance for some 
 unknown deed, escaped his lips — allusions to 
 events of past days, wliich Cornelia knew not 
 how to interpret — frequent mention of names 
 unknown to her, passionate exclamations of 
 Wife! Wife! and that at moments when he 
 did not seem to recognise her, fell painfully 
 on her ear. At last, raving with fury, he
 
 100 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 half raised himself with unusual strength from 
 the couch, and cried, " Veronica! Veronica ! 
 art thou indeed once more beside me, my lost 
 one?" after which he sank back from ex- 
 haustion. 
 
 Cornelia, bewildered, and doubting what she 
 heard, summoned all her mental powers to 
 overcome the rising pangs that wrung her 
 heart : her love for her husband prevailed, and 
 she bent over his now nearly inanimate form 
 with redoubled care and affection. Then she 
 sat still and watched his troubled slumbers; 
 and, as the pale moonbeams entered the tent 
 by an opening which had been left for air, and 
 illumined the colossal figures of the tomb 
 behind, her heated fancy imagined the actual 
 presence of beings of another world. Her hus- 
 band's ravings sounded in her ears, and she 
 shuddered at she knew not what. So passed 
 this anxious night, and many similar to it. 
 When seated by the bed of pain, the affectionate 
 and simple-minded Cornelia watched and suf- 
 fered through this her first trial. Her anxiety 
 for her husband predominated over every feel- 
 ing; but, as is usually the case with very 
 sensitive minds, not to the exclusion of every 
 thing else. On the contrary, it seemed as if
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 101 
 
 every sensation was quickened and rendered 
 more acute to her perception, in consequence 
 of the increased sensibility of her nerves. She 
 would willingly have been deaf, blind, insen- 
 sible; but, alas, she was only too much alive 
 to all around her, even while listening to her 
 unhappy husband's ravings ! The gloomy walls 
 of her prison, for such it seemed, were to her 
 eyes taller and taller, as her flickering lamp 
 threw its wavering light in fitful gleams upon 
 its storied walls: the calm, benignant counte- 
 nances of Isis and Osiris looked down upon her 
 from their vast height in godlike beauty; she 
 saw the long processions, significant of life and 
 death, applied to mortals who are long since 
 dust and ashes, and applicable to other mortals 
 who will soon become the same. Her spirit, 
 unused to gloomy speculations, trembled as it 
 acknowledged the deep import of the truth 
 embodied in these speaking images of what to 
 us is the darkest and most obscure antiquity, 
 namely, that life the most glorious is but a 
 preparation for death. But as she fearfully 
 looked upon these superhuman, rather than 
 supernatural, beings, till she could fancy she 
 saw the dim pageant move through the varied 
 phases of life to the unvarying goal of death —
 
 102 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 her eye rested on the final trophy, the winged 
 globe and serpent, the emblem of eternity ; — 
 then a flush of joy unaccountable animated her 
 sinking spirits, the figures of the Omnipotent 
 smiled benevolently upon their subject world ; 
 and at last her weakened and bewildered 
 understanding would give way to an outburst 
 of tears. Cornelia was probably saved by this 
 natural relief from a fever not less violent than 
 that which had attacked her husband. The 
 crisis once passed, the danger was averted, and 
 recovery no longer doubtful. Days passed on ; 
 and, after lono; watchino; and anxious care on 
 the part of his attached wife, the duke regained 
 his strength, and the party once more resumed 
 their voyage down the Nile. 
 
 Arrived at Cairo, the doctor, whose former 
 experience of warm climates made his opinion 
 a law both to Cornelia and her husband, told 
 them that the journey to Palestine, which they 
 wished to begin without delay, was an under- 
 taking neither of them were yet capable of. 
 He insisted upon a week's rest, both to recruit 
 the duke's strength and Cornelia's spirits, which 
 had perceptibly suffered from her late fatigues 
 and anxieties. 
 
 Sorry as they were to make any fresh delay,
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 103 
 
 in a season already so far advanced, prudence 
 prevailed over impatience. The doctor silenced 
 all remonstrance by saying that little Nicholas, 
 now growing a fine boy, required an outfit for 
 his journey, and the duchess immediately gave 
 way. Mayer too, who on this occasion played 
 willingly into the doctor's hands, declared that 
 he must have time to complete the series of 
 measurements of the Pyramids which the duke 
 had commissioned him to make ; and, as if that 
 was not enough, Cornelia would have at the 
 same time, drawings of all the Arabian and 
 Mauresque buildings in the city of Cairo. 
 
 They stayed there a week. A week in Cairo 
 may be very well occupied. The Pyramids are 
 not to be visited in a hurry. They took their 
 time, and saw those stupendous monuments as 
 they ought to be seen ; with ample leisure not 
 only to behold, but to wonder. And time ought 
 always to be allowed to wonder at the sublime 
 in art, or in nature: a part of the time taken 
 up in seeing sights is necessarily absorbed in 
 coming to understand them ; for what is great 
 and new, that is so great and so new as to fall 
 upon the mind really unexpected, requires pains 
 to comprehend it: and it is only after compre- 
 hension has been arrived at, that the mind has
 
 104 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 liberty to admire. The understanding is as 
 incapable of appreciating two impressions at 
 once, as the body of supporting two acute pains. 
 
 The crowning wonder of Egypt, the great 
 Pyramid, is rightly left to be the last explored 
 marvel of that marvellous land ; whether viewed 
 as distant mountains in the haze of noon, or 
 scanned as gigantic buildings from a nearer 
 station, the first impression left on the mind 
 by the external grandeur of these, in every 
 sense the first and greatest works of men's 
 hands, is that of awe and amazement. Seeing 
 the Pyramids, one can comprehend the tower 
 of Babel: followed by a crowd of loud-mouthed 
 Arabs, beggars, and guides, one can equally 
 imagine the confusion of tongues. 
 
 But if such l)e the efi*ect of the first general 
 view of the Pyramids on entering Egypt, the 
 examination of their wonderful interior, con- 
 struction, and arrangement, strikes the observer, 
 even after having seen the glories of the Nile, 
 with an increased admiration of the genius and 
 the skill of their all but superhuman architects. 
 At first they seem like works of nature, and 
 are regarded more as huge granitic mountains 
 than as fabrics of the human race: at last, all 
 vague amazement gives w^ay to a closer appre-
 
 CHRIST ABELLE. 105 
 
 ciation of the great qualities of that human race 
 that could raise such stupendous monuments. 
 And not mere monuments, dumb piles of stone, 
 however vast ; but speaking historical records 
 of the country and its monarchs, if not of the 
 world and its religion: full of meaning, social 
 or philosophical, ready to tell the largest page 
 in the history of man, to those who know how 
 to question them. Such are the Pyramids — 
 such in their degree are all the ancient monu- 
 ments of the Egyptians !
 
 106 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 When I would comfort myself against sorrow, my heart is faint 
 in me. — Jeremiah viii. 18. 
 
 As one whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort you; and 
 ye shall be comforted in Jerusalem. — Isaiah Ixvi. 13. 
 
 Cornelia had now happily accomplished 
 what she considered her first chapter in her 
 travels. She had seen, and well seen, the 
 marvels of the land of Egypt ; and enjoyed that 
 which to a quick and inquiring mind is one of 
 the greatest of pleasures — the faculty of veri- 
 fying on the spot some of the most wonderful 
 points of art and history which had occupied 
 her youthful imagination. But more exciting 
 scenes were in reserve for her, in the countries 
 she was about to visit. 
 
 A few days' rest at Cairo had sufficed to 
 complete the duke's recovery; and the physi- 
 cian now earnestly recommended him not to 
 delay the prosecution of his journey. They 
 departed, then, from Cairo by the ordinary
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 107 
 
 desert track, and were obliged to submit to 
 difficulties of quite another character from those 
 which they had experienced on the Nile. All 
 the gentlemen of the party were in spirits at 
 the prospect of commencing a more active 
 mode of travelling, and of leaving the lazy 
 Nile boats for the brisk paces of their Arab 
 steeds. 
 
 Camels were also hired; and Cornelia was 
 persuaded to mount, and to travel on one of 
 the famous Maherry breed, in preference to a 
 horse, during their passage through the sandy 
 wastes of El Arish, which lay in their road 
 towards Jerusalem. 
 
 The yacht, meanwhile, was sent round to 
 wait for them at Acre — their first plan em- 
 bracing merely a visit to Jerusalem and the 
 coast. 
 
 As the long train of camels, horses, and bag- 
 gage slowly left the gates of Cairo, the sun 
 sank gradually in the western horizon, leaving 
 that beautiful blue-grey tint of night that cha- 
 racterizes a southern twilight, so different from 
 the black darkness of a northern winter's 
 evening. Their first halt was to be at only a 
 few miles' distance from Cairo, on the road to 
 Suez, merely to gain a point from whence to
 
 108 CniUSTABELLE. 
 
 start commodiously the next morning. But it 
 was not for that in any degree less a desert 
 halting-place : the crowds and heat of Cairo, 
 the traffic and civilization of man, were left 
 behind; and the first night in the vastness and 
 silence of the desert, was as great a contrast to 
 the capital which they had just left, as if it had 
 been in the heart of Arabia. In the east, the 
 influence of a city, however large and prosper- 
 ous, extends but little beyond its walls. The 
 intermediate gradations of suburbs and villages, 
 which the habits and security of Europe have 
 built up round our great towns, do not exist, 
 and the tents of the Ishmaelite are removed 
 but a step from the palace of the Pharaohs. 
 They prepared, for the first time, to rest in 
 the desert. The suite of such a party of tra- 
 vellers in the east is usually very numerous, 
 both for safety and for state. It was to be 
 supposed, then, that the feeling of silence or 
 solitude would be completely destroyed; but, 
 on the contrary, such is the natural quietness 
 and grave demeanour of all classes of Orientals, 
 that, after the tents were pitched and supper 
 prepared, the Arab sheikh and his guards at 
 once took their posts, and the party were left 
 in all tranquillity to their meditations.
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 109 
 
 It was now near midnight. Cornelia, 
 whether from some remains of anxiety with 
 reo^ard to her husband's health, or a slio^ht 
 degree of fatigue from a new mode of travel- 
 ling, was unable to sleep, and therefore sat up 
 to enjoy the loveliness of an eastern night in 
 all its perfection. The moon was just rising 
 in her full splendour, and the stars, distinctly 
 seen in all their brilliancy, shed their mild 
 lustre over the picturesque tents of the Arabs. 
 The mellow light allowed aU objects to be seen 
 distinctly through the gloom, while the deep 
 shadows only served to define in bolder relief 
 the outlines of such as caught the pale but 
 clear beams of the moon. 
 
 Cornelia mused long and anxiously over her 
 past life — her marriage, her singular adoption 
 of the little Nicholas, and last and most, of her 
 own present maternal prospects. She was at 
 ease about her husband's health, but not so 
 with regard to his spirits. Though now well, 
 his melancholy had not left him ; and it seemed 
 as if he indulged in it not unconsciously, though 
 in all matters affecting Cornelia or her com- 
 forts he was kindness itself towards her. The 
 depression of his mind never led to his omitting 
 or neglecting any attention to her, yet his man-
 
 110 CHRIST ABELLE. 
 
 ner to every one else was sensibly altered. 
 The doctor, of course, was not slow to perceive 
 this, but abstained from remarking on it to 
 Cornelia. He knew she was not in a state 
 to support with indifference any additional 
 anxiety. 
 
 The doctor, indeed, was rather solicitous to 
 get her safe to her journey's end, and advised 
 that there should be no unnecessary loitering. 
 He was, therefore, by no means pleased when 
 both duke and duchess agreed the next day to 
 take the longer route to Suez, instead of the 
 shorter one by Gaza and El Arish. However, 
 after seriously pressing the necessity of being 
 at Jerusalem by a certain day, he gave in, 
 reserving to himself the privilege of hurrying 
 the whole party on every occasion. 
 
 Nicholas, a sturdy, fearless boy, was become 
 the great source of amusement to the whole 
 party. He would play with all, but obey 
 none. His boisterous sports were the particu- 
 lar delight of the artist, and the equally great 
 torment of the doctor. Mayer was continually 
 introducing him into all his sketches of scenery, 
 or among the groups which their caravan 
 afforded to his pencil on the road. He admired 
 the bold, fearless character of his countenance.
 
 CHRISTABELLE. Ill 
 
 his free bearing, and animated expression, 
 whether in play or in earnest. The doctor, on 
 the other hand, was always endeavouring, but 
 in vain, to keep the unruly child in some sort of 
 order. When the caravan are to march, Niccolo 
 would not go; when they halt, Niccolo cries to 
 go on. He has always the better of the fight, 
 when the Johnsons only are concerned. The 
 one way of pacifying him is to place him for 
 a few minutes on the duchess's camel, which 
 he screams to mount whenever it meets his 
 sight. In short, he tyrannized, as an untamed 
 child always does, whichever be its sex, over 
 the whole company, the duke only excepted. 
 Indeed, the duke and the boy, the first and 
 last of the party, seemed actuated with a 
 mutual indifference, and now rarely noticed 
 each other. 
 
 After four days' slow travelling, they arrived 
 at Suez, a town that seldom detains any tra- 
 veller long, and which has no attractions for 
 any but those who approach it from sea. 
 Pursuing their track, they saw in the far dis- 
 tance the bold, and almost Alpine, range of 
 Mount Sinai, a refreshing sight in the wilder- 
 ness, from the crown of dark clouds with which 
 its summit is frequently covered, giving to the
 
 112 CHKISTABELLE. 
 
 thirsty Arab visions of fertilizing rains, a cooler 
 atmosphere, and fountains of living water. 
 They skirt the frowning ridge, whose western 
 precipices are in appearance almost abutting 
 on the Red Sea; they leave that dreary coast, 
 so memorable in the early history of mankind, 
 and, proceeding over the rugged chain of Mount 
 Hor, they encamp in the romantic glen of Petra. 
 The two days which are needed for the 
 examination of Petra and its most interesting 
 antiquities, gave a seasonable rest to both 
 the minds and bodies of the whole caravan. 
 Cornelia, in order to avoid fatigue, pitched her 
 tent exactly in the centre of the valley, in a 
 spot from which she could view all the most 
 remarkable edifices, if such they may be called, 
 and where she could at the same time enjoy 
 the fresh breeze which at intervals came sweep- 
 ing down from the mountains. Here there 
 was work for every one — antiquarian, artist, 
 or naturalist; all could reap a rich harvest of 
 discovery, which formed the subject of their 
 evening conversation, when assembled in the 
 duchess's tent at supper. The wondering Be- 
 douins, lazily stretched under the shady rocks, 
 observed with listless looks the occupation of 
 those whom they considered as the mad or
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 113 
 
 foolish Christians: they stirred but to look 
 after their horses, or to fire random shots up 
 and down the gorge, by way of warning to any 
 tribe that might be within hearing. 
 
 Travelling is so different in the East 
 from what it is in the central and western 
 parts of Europe and Africa, that the ex- 
 pectations and disappointments, the feelings 
 of satisfaction or mortification, arise from 
 very different causes, and almost seem to 
 depend on different principles. In Europe, 
 a delay of a few hours is to the traveller the 
 greatest of misfortunes ; in the East, leisure is 
 above all things what he wants. He desires 
 time to study the new and striking appearances 
 of nature, as w^ell as to examine the localities, 
 more or less disputed, of all historically cele- 
 brated sites; he wants time, also, to make, 
 though slowly, an acquaintance with the peo- 
 ple, to listen to their language and observe 
 their manners; he has the modern or Maho- 
 metan history to learn and reflect upon, then 
 the Christian; while in a remoter antiquity 
 the abundant remains of the classical ages — the 
 Roman conquests, the Grecian colonization — 
 must equally be comprehended, before a true 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 view of the Oriental countries and their his- 
 tory can be arrived at. But beyond this, in 
 all the southern regions of the East, lies a 
 dark but vast depth of early civilization to 
 be investigated; Egypt, Arabia, Assyria, 
 have all had their respective archaic periods, 
 which are but now emerging from their pri- 
 meval gloom, under the researches of modern 
 learning and patience. 
 
 Our travellers had felt all this in Egypt, 
 the most interesting, as well as the most 
 nearly open, of all the sealed books of the 
 ancient world. 
 
 Even the comparatively recent caves, and 
 other remains of Petra, were quitted with 
 regret; and after too short a stay in that 
 wonderful glen, they left its deep romantic 
 solitudes for their chief object — Palestine. 
 
 Leaving the sandy deserts of the low coun- 
 try, they journeyed over the rocky hills of 
 Edom, and, gradually traversing the desert 
 that divides it from Judea, had ample reason 
 to see the difference between a natural desert 
 of sand and rocks, as in Arabia, and one onl}^' 
 desert from pohtical circumstances, as in the 
 south of Palestine. Here verdure and flow- 
 ers, springing up after the rains, bore testi-
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 115 
 
 mony to the natural exuberance of the soil; 
 while ruined towns innumerable, w^ere equally 
 good evidence that there had once existed a 
 population which had not neglected its ad- 
 vantages. 
 
 Cornelia had been for some time disposed 
 to a melancholy, which her approach to the 
 scenes of holy writ did not tend to diminish. 
 She had now, in addition to the consider- 
 ations previously mentioned, the grander 
 reflections arising from the Bible, and its 
 venerable lore, to occupy her in respect of 
 every well-known town she came to, and 
 every monument to which tradition had as- 
 signed a name. Her own maternal prospects 
 also frequently plunged her in reveries while 
 seated on the gently undulating camel; and 
 it was a relief to her mind when she arrived 
 at the poor and miserable town of Bethlehem, 
 and took up her abode in the lodging afforded 
 by the convent nearest to the hallowed spot 
 known as the place of the nativity of our 
 Lord. The rest of the cavalcade were fur- 
 nished with apartments near at hand; but 
 the duke and duchess, the doctor, Nicholas,
 
 116 CHKISTABELLE . 
 
 and his nurse, were alone accommodated in 
 the convent buildings. 
 
 Cornelia, wearied with her journey, every 
 hour more sensible of the trial she had soon 
 to undergo, arrived with her feelings wound 
 up to the highest pitch by the excitement of 
 all that her early religion, aided by a warm 
 and virtuous imagination, taught her to 
 venerate at this sanctuary of Christianity. 
 There passed before her mind the lowly crib 
 of the infant Saviour, the murder of the in- 
 nocents, the flight into Egypt; in a later age 
 the deep devotion of the pious Empress 
 Helena (a name so connected with our early 
 British Christianity, and especially with Cor- 
 nelia's own native province of York), then 
 the Mahometan whirlwind of conquest and 
 fanaticism, the romantic episode of the Cru- 
 sades, and finally, the low and pitiable state 
 of both Christians and Jews, as she saw them 
 under their present bigoted Turkish masters 
 — all this flitted before her mental vision, and 
 ill disposed her to the rest that was so need- 
 ful for her. 
 
 The duchess, deeply impressed with the 
 melancholy that such thoughts inspired,
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 117 
 
 anxious about herself, about her husband, 
 and quite unable to sleep, is deeply struck 
 with a desire to descend at midnight into 
 the Holy Grotto of the Nativity, which forms 
 the crypt underneath the chapel, now gor- 
 geously dedicated to the commemoration of 
 the birth of Jesus. There she would kneel 
 — there she would pray for her unborn babe 
 — for her husband — and for herself. On that 
 most holy spot, where the Saviour of mankind 
 first saw the light of that world it was his to 
 redeem, would she, the humble Cornelia, 
 implore God's blessing on the objects nearest 
 her heart, and entreat his pardon for their 
 sins. 
 
 In vain she endeavoured to persuade her 
 husband to accompany her — such bursts of 
 imagination were by no means suited to his 
 temperament; she appealed to the doctor, 
 who, smiling at her enthusiasm, recommends 
 her earnestly to seek repose, and to defer her 
 visit to daylight and a quieter state of mind. 
 
 Cornelia, her nerves in a condition of ex- 
 citement and tension which she had never 
 hitherto experienced, unheeding their remon- 
 strances, full of holy enthusiasm, and strong
 
 118 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 in her pure and simple faith, determines to 
 proceed. She gently takes up her small 
 lamp of antique shape, still generally used in 
 the East, and descends with noiseless step the 
 footworn-stair that leads to the grotto — it 
 might be called the cavern — of the Nativity. 
 
 She passes unmolested, undisturbed, through 
 the guards that encumber, rather than do 
 honour, to the passage ; she heeds not the 
 blaze of the lamps, nor the splendour of the 
 jewels and decorations with which supersti- 
 tion, ancient and modern, has encrusted the 
 shrine. Blind to all these external attractions, 
 and believing that the traditions still current 
 in the age of Helena were inspired by Eternal 
 Truth, and so a sure guide to the pious em- 
 press in her foundation of this church on the 
 true ground of the Nativity, she passes on 
 and kneels — the fairest and most faithful of 
 pilgrims — before the shrine of the infant 
 Eedeemer. 
 
 What were the secret prayers of that pure 
 heart as they were poured forth before this, 
 the very fountain and spring of our re- 
 demption ? In the inmost recesses of her 
 soul Cornelia harboured one, only one, feel-
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 119 
 
 ing, which was not in harmony with her 
 otherwise unbounded sense of gratitude to 
 God for the many blessings she possessed ; 
 and which, unlike many others who are 
 blindly blest with all this world, imperfect 
 as it is, can bestow, she was ever willing to 
 acknowledge, as to return thanks for them. 
 That feeling, scarcely as yet to herself con- 
 fessed, was, that her husband's mind, which 
 had, to her anxious eyes, appeared more or 
 less clouded ever since the awful paroxysm 
 of fever at Carnac, must be loaded with some 
 secret consciousness of sin. She could never 
 forget that trying scene, when his intellec- 
 tual powers had temporarily given way 
 before the tremendous force of his malady, 
 and he had uttered broken words and sen- 
 tences of doubtful meaning, which had not 
 ceased to trouble her attached and affec- 
 tionate heart. 
 
 Full of these feelings, then, and now, if 
 ever, believing herself in the more imme- 
 diate presence of her God, she mentally, nay 
 almost audibly, prayed that her child might 
 participate in the special grace and blessing 
 which she devoutly believed would descend
 
 120 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 on those that worshipped in that holy cell ; 
 she earnestly besought that it might, what- 
 ever its sex, be spared that sad inheritance 
 of sin, by which, as we see daily, the trans- 
 gressions of the parent are suffered to fall 
 heavily upon the children : she prayed for 
 her husband's forgiveness, and for his speedy 
 restoration to a more healthy frame of mind, 
 in which he might become sensible to the 
 blessing of that religious light, which as she 
 now felt, far from home, in a strange though 
 holy land, was the most unspeakable comfort 
 to herself; she bowed her head, and, lan- 
 guage failing her, concluded her simple 
 orisons in tears. At such a moment, not the 
 most eloquent tongue under heaven suffices 
 to give utterance to the innumerable thoughts 
 that the soul would pour out before God. 
 He at least hath no need of language or arti- 
 culate words to understand, to read the 
 hearts of his creatures ; all our senses, all 
 our faculties, fall short of expressing what 
 we feel — what He sees. If there be one 
 exception, if there be one creation — there is 
 no other word which soars towards heaven, 
 and perhaps bears the truest, the purest,
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 121 
 
 emanation of religious feeling directly from 
 the humble soul to the foot of the Almighty 
 throne — it is the superhuman, the divine 
 creation of music — not as an art, still less as a 
 science ; but simply in that quality in which 
 it stands exalted and alone, the quality of 
 being the only universal language — the lan- 
 guage of nature — the language of angels — 
 the language of the heart — intelligible to God 
 and man. 
 
 Cornelia was roused from her almost 
 trancelike state of prayer and enthusiasm, 
 in which the tears of the suppliant were 
 combined with the raptures of the saint, by 
 the gently swelling voices of the choir. The 
 thrilling effect of the Greek choral music, 
 which was quite new to her, and which 
 seemed to come from heaven in support of 
 her now relaxed frame, gave her strength to 
 rise, and when it ceased, with feeble steps 
 she sought the way to the convent above, 
 and laid her over-excited and over-strained 
 body to repose. 
 
 But rest found not its way to those w^eary 
 eyelids : her mind, violently agitated between 
 anxiety for her husband, cares for herself,
 
 122 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 and the emotions of holy love and awe, so 
 natural to the pilgrim who, nurtured in the 
 pure ways of Christianity, finds herself at 
 once on that hallowed spot so long the object 
 of her aspirations, — her mind refused sleep, 
 and bent itself only to a form of supplication 
 for grace and strength from above. Her 
 resolves were fixed ; she would, according to 
 the knowledge which was vouchsafed to her, 
 devote herself to her duties; she would 
 henceforward, if sufi'ering was to be her lot, 
 endeavour to bear the Cross of her Master, 
 with hope blended with resignation. Her 
 religion, which was not of the lip but of the 
 heart, taught her to trust in God; and to 
 hope in all humility, that if a portion of her 
 reward should in mercy be granted to her 
 in this life, it might be in the blessing of 
 seeing her husband restored to peace of 
 mind. 
 
 Cornelia had been piously educated, and 
 felt but too conscious that she had no right 
 to ask for such reward; but, believing most 
 firmly in the merciful dispensations of the 
 Almighty, she ventured to hope that it might 
 be granted to her.
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 123 
 
 One other gentle prayer was also con- 
 stantly in her mind, and returned with 
 redoubled force since she entered the holy 
 precincts of the Nativity — namely, that her 
 child might not be visited with the punish- 
 ment due to the sin of its parent; that it 
 might be a true follower of Jesus, humble in 
 prosperity, sustained by faith in adversity; 
 a follower of his footsteps in truth and in 
 deed, a pilgrim acknowledging this life only 
 as a passage to that better life to come, and 
 strong in that virtuous principle in which it 
 would be the object of its mother's life, if 
 spared, to train it. 
 
 Once more she rises from her couch, and, 
 bending over her husband's sleeping but 
 troubled countenance, she feels returning 
 strength and confidence in his love, and im- 
 prints a kiss of tenderness on his brow, and 
 lays her down to repose by his side. 
 
 She slept not at once tranquilly, but, as is 
 often the case with persons of overstrained 
 feelings, continued to think, sleeping, con- 
 fusedly at first, but at last with sufficient 
 distinctness to be sensible of an overpower- 
 incr deofree of awe arisins: from an ill-defined
 
 124 
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 feeling that she was at once by her husband's 
 side, yet, at the same time, in the very chapel 
 she had lately left. The consciousness of 
 the locality by degrees increased upon her, 
 till she felt perfectly assured she was again 
 brought, as it were by the Spirit, into the 
 Holy Grotto of the Nativity, and found her- 
 self again kneeling before the cradle of Christ. 
 
 By that wonderful intuition in dreams, 
 when the senses are wrapped up in trance, 
 and when feeling and knowledge seem con- 
 veyed miraculously to the soul, without the 
 intervention of the ordinary means of per- 
 ception, she knew at once where she was, 
 though the spot was utterly unlike that at 
 which she had so recently knelt and prayed. 
 
 But what was the change? She had seen 
 the chapel brilliantly lighted, filled with 
 guards, pilgrims, and devotees — now she 
 saw, or rather she was feelingly aware, that 
 she stood in the cave, the actual birthplace 
 of her Saviour. All the o;oro^eous decora- 
 tion, all the tinsel ornament, the attractive 
 lights, the gold, the silver, the gems, which 
 piety or superstition, so rarely allied with 
 taste, had in barbaric splendour accumulated
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 125 
 
 around the shrine — all had faded away, and 
 dissolved into the nothingness of the false 
 and superficial notions of religion which 
 had inspired the votaries who presented 
 them : nothing remained save the pure, the 
 real, the holy. She saw an open cavern 
 lighted by a star, and formed after the 
 Eastern fashion into a stable in the rock, 
 with a broad manger, carved out of the 
 stone, extending along one end of it. By its 
 side sate one young and fair, with the large 
 dovelike eyes, and beautiful, but character- 
 istic features of a Jewish maiden, whose 
 sweet, and almost childish, yet earnest ex- 
 pression, beamed with love and good -will 
 towards all mankind. In her arms she 
 holds, and presses, with gentle motherly 
 affection to her bosom, the blessed babe, 
 who smiles and beckons lovingly to Cornelia; 
 while his youthful mother, with that look of 
 blended reverence and love which Raphael, 
 alone of mortals, Avas privileged to por- 
 tray, watched with intense attention the 
 movements of that infantine hand, whose 
 attributes are power and benediction. 
 
 By an instantaneous transition, Cornelia
 
 126 CIIRISTABELLE. 
 
 finds herself transported to a garden full of 
 roses, blooming under the shade of majestic 
 palms — those princes of the vegetable crea- 
 tion — and, looking up, she sees standing by 
 her side one clothed in woollen garments, 
 whose countenance was stamped with an 
 expression of divine compassion and in- 
 effable melancholy, — he moves towards her, 
 and she knows, she feels him to be her 
 Saviour. Falling on her knees, and gifted 
 with a sudden, and perhaps supernatural, 
 eloquence, she opens her heart, and with an 
 involuntary utterance, as if that heart was 
 miraculously endowed with the faculty of 
 instantly making known its wants, its de- 
 sires, to the heart of Him who sympathizes 
 with all his creatures, — she tells him of her 
 doubts and sufferings, prays that she may 
 learn patience and resignation from Him, the 
 fountain of all good ; she prays for pardon 
 for her husband, and that she herself may, 
 if called upon, show mercy, compassion, and 
 forgiveness to human weakness and error, 
 however much her wounded spirit may suf- 
 fer in the trial; she prays that the child 
 that will be hers mav not be smitten for
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 127 
 
 the sins of its parents; she fearfully seeks 
 to penetrate the dark future, and would fain 
 learn what will be its fate and her own. 
 
 The Saviour touches her eyes with his 
 gentle hand, and holds out to her a lily 
 branch with three fair unopened blossoms 
 on it, — Cornelia numbers them as they fall 
 one by one on the ground, and, as they 
 touch the earth, each seems to her en- 
 raptured eyes a youthful and blooming 
 maiden. She would know their fate, — shall 
 they, though not exempt from mortal frailty, 
 be also scathed by the sin that was before 
 them? Jesus touches her again, and smiles 
 benignantly, — the certainty immediately 
 reaches her inmost soul that trials are ap- 
 pointed them; but that thus only can the 
 knowledge of the better world be acquired, 
 and thoroughly engrafted in the fallen na- 
 ture of man. Her heart inwardly and 
 devoutly responds, " Lord, it is good!" 
 
 Again she sighs to learn her husband's 
 fate, — ^but here he answereth not. His ten- 
 der smile again comforts her. 
 
 Her anxious eyes once more seek the 
 three lovely maidens — and lo, there are but
 
 128 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 two; where then is the third? The same 
 sweet pitying smile stays her fear. Anon, 
 she sees but one — toiUng slowly up the hill 
 towards a shining city. "Where then, Lord, 
 am I, and those other two who should be 
 with her?" The divine glance again sadly, 
 but soothingly, meets her trembling eyes — 
 he seems enshrined in glory, while the silver 
 accents fall upon her ear, " Daughter, be of 
 good cheer, and doubt not." An ineffable 
 thrill shoots through her heart, with the 
 knowledge that she will not be permitted 
 long to tarry here; but that, if she keep 
 steadfast in the faith, her portion is with 
 Him hereafter. Her confidence that her 
 child will be sustained, and brought through 
 her trials, even to the end, strengthens her, 
 and dispels her dread of the awful sentence 
 of hereditary sin and punishment, which 
 was fast acquiring an unnatural power over 
 her intellect. She gazes again at the holy one ; 
 the face calm and sweet, though radiant and 
 bright in glory, seems now passing away, 
 and, as it melts into the skies, Cornelia 
 awakes to renewed health of mind and body,
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 129 
 
 a^nd with tears of joy pours forth a heartfelt 
 strain of blessing and thanksgiving. 
 
 That awful but heavenly dream has con- 
 firmed her in faith, hope, and love ; she 
 awaits her trial in patience. 
 
 The day dawned clear and bright, as it 
 does in the spring of that lovely climate, and 
 Cornelia awoke, strengthened and refreshed 
 by an internal feeling of support, to which 
 she had been hitherto a stranger. While 
 the dew was still hanoins: on the modest 
 flowers that deck the hill -sides of Bethlehem, 
 the party set out, full of expectation, for their 
 first entrance into Jerusalem. 
 
 Cornelia's mind was naturally filled with 
 the remembrance of that awful dream which 
 had occupied, rather than disturbed, her 
 usually peaceful hours of sleep. Agitated, 
 though not painfiiUy, by the ideas which 
 arose in connection with it, she now, for the 
 first time, regretted the absence of any 
 friend or companion to whom she could con- 
 fide her feelings on the occasion. Her hus- 
 band was too much the object of her anxiety, 
 both in the dream itself, and on general 
 grounds, for her to think of imparting the 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 CmilSTABELLE . 
 
 occurrence to him, even supposing him likely 
 to pay a serious attention to it ; and there 
 were no others near her to whom she could 
 open her mind on such a subject. She re- 
 solved, therefore, to bury the secret in her 
 own breast, but at the same time to reflect 
 deeply on it, and ponder those things in her 
 heart. 
 
 As their cavalcade slowly draws near to 
 the holy mount of Zion, the white walls 
 reflecting the morning sun were seen, the 
 sole feature of that sad but interesting land- 
 scape. Until near enough to judge of the 
 noble eminence on which is seated that 
 which once was, and may yet again be, the 
 city of God — the desert and neglected appear- 
 ance of the country, the aridity which, in 
 the climates of the East, characterizes every 
 waste, whatever the quality of the soil, gives 
 a sensation of melancholy impossible to 
 describe, but which every pilgrim to the 
 Holy Land has assuredly felt. Plain white 
 walls, hard and rocky land, scanty herbage, 
 scarcity of water, of trees, and of inhabi- 
 tants, all strike the fresh observer as the signs 
 of a land, however blessed in its capabilities of
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 131 
 
 ministering to the wants of man, now lying 
 under the interdict, not to say the curse, of 
 God. Nor does a nearer approach belie this 
 impression, though the feelings of reverential 
 interest which are excited by every stone 
 within the walls of Jerusalem, soon turn the 
 current of ideas in another direction. 
 
 On their arrival, they took up their abode 
 in the Latin convent, and the evening being 
 yet before them, they lost no time in com- 
 mencing their visits to the places consecrated 
 by religion, or, in her absence, by tradition. 
 Cornelia went only to the Church of the 
 Holy Sepulchre ; no other object could she see 
 or think of until she had once kneeled on the 
 hallowed spot of her Saviour's death, as she 
 had done, the night before, at that of his 
 birth. There she prays, there she once more 
 pours forth the earnest and deepfelt anxieties 
 of her soul at the foot of God's almighty 
 throne. Fain would she also have remained 
 all night in the church ; but feeling seriously 
 unwell, and apprehensive lest increase of pain 
 might render her immovable, she left the 
 holy shrine, and, seeking her bed, quitted it
 
 132 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 not until, after great suiFering, she became 
 the mother of a daughter. 
 
 The new phase in Cornelia's existence, the 
 conscious feeling of maternity, did not a little 
 contribute to impress her with a sense of 
 redoubled responsibility, arising from the ex- 
 traordinary circumstances which had pre- 
 ceded her confinement. It seemed as if the 
 momentous vision with which her slumbers 
 had been visited, had been sent as a gracious 
 forerunner of the birth of a child, who was here- 
 after to be a blessing to her; and the heartfelt 
 pleasure of seeing an infant of her own, whose 
 mind she might fashion, and w^hose smiles 
 and caresses would cheer her mother's future 
 life, compensated her for all her pain and 
 anxiety. The duke, however, could not, in 
 spite of all his habitual kindness to his wife, 
 quite reconcile himself to what he felt as 
 a great disappointment, in not seeing a son 
 and heir in his first-born. The kind attention, 
 if possible even more than the skill and deci- 
 sion, of Dr. M'Leod, during the whole period 
 of Cornelia's illness and recovery, endeared 
 him to both deservedly. 
 
 Mayer, of course, during all this period, 
 
 J
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 133 
 
 was left very much to himself. He employed 
 his time in rambling, and making the mi- 
 nutest researches over all the area of the 
 ancient Zion and its environs. He filled a 
 portfolio with the most beautiful sketches, 
 purposely selected to please the duchess, 
 whenever she should reappear in their domes- 
 tic circle. For this purpose, he had chosen 
 as a subject the Infancy of Christ, and had 
 carefully depicted all the supposed or real 
 remains which related to his design. The 
 idea was happy; to her pious and now mater- 
 nal feelings, nothing could be more appro- 
 priate; but Dr. M'Leod persuaded him to 
 hold back for a time the most elaborate of 
 the whole series — namely, the Massacre of the 
 Innocents — which the laborious Mayer, with 
 true German minuteness, had taken pains to 
 portray with all possible circumstances of 
 horror, the doctor protesting she should see 
 nothing of the kind till her nerves were 
 stronger, lest she should fancy every Arab 
 a Herod, and see in all the murdered babes 
 a likeness of her own darling. Mayer was 
 forced to submit, but promised himself abun-
 
 134 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 dant glory from some future Art-verein at 
 Leipzig or Munich. 
 
 But one who would not be kept quiet, and 
 who gave more trouble at this time than all 
 the caravan, was the perverse, unruly little 
 Nicholas, now a fine rough boy, who would 
 run every where, and make a fearful noise 
 wherever he went. He behaved in truth 
 very ill; and poor Mrs. Johnson, who seldom 
 ventured beyond an ineffectual scold, was 
 once forced to resort to stronger methods of 
 coercion. She, of course, was a valuable 
 auxiliary in the duchess's room at that period, 
 and Nicholas would always scream (for he 
 had caught up with too good an ear the true 
 Arab shriek) to go in with her, which, of 
 course, for many days was not allowed. At 
 last he was admitted, and, as a treat, the lovely 
 little baby was carefully shown to him. To 
 the inexpressible horror of Mrs. Johnson, 
 the fiery little urchin, who thought he saw 
 the cause of his long exclusion from his dear 
 mamma's (as he always called the duchess) 
 apartment, he gave it — fortunately with 
 more spite than force — a slap, which did most 
 effectually secure his exclusion from the nur-
 
 CHRIST ABELLE. 135 
 
 sery for weeks afterwards. It was fortunate 
 that the duchess did not see this escapade of 
 her protege, and, when he was brought to see 
 her occasionally, the infant was always out 
 of his way. His nurse, who was tolerably 
 well used to rough and unruly children, gave 
 him a severe chastisement, but did not think 
 his conduct much worse than that of other 
 bold boys of his age. 
 
 After Cornelia's recovery, she was pressed 
 by all her party, and more particularly by 
 the duke's assiduity to amuse her, to visit 
 every place worth seeing both in and near 
 the Holy City. This was quickly done, as 
 all except herself had had ample time to 
 learn their lesson during the period when she 
 could not leave her room ; she consequently 
 found every information and facility pre- 
 pared for her. 
 
 Among all the environs of Zion there is 
 none that touches the heart of all pilgrims 
 — and to Jerusalem every one may be called 
 a pilgrim — so universally as the Mount of 
 Olives. The scene of Christ's teaching, and 
 of his passion, it impresses itself on the mind 
 chiefly of course by its scriptural associations,
 
 136 CHRIS TABELLE. 
 
 but greatly also by its quiet rural beauty, so 
 con son ant with the sober and humble precepts 
 of his ministry. No one can walk under the 
 shade of those living trees which have seen 
 the Christ, without feeling themselves far 
 nearer to the actual presence of the Saviour, 
 than in any grotto or dead work of stone. 
 
 Here would Cornelia delight to rest, and 
 enjoy the splendid view of Jerusalem : here 
 would she recall the words of the gospel, 
 which was proclaimed indifferently to all 
 mankind, whether Jew or Gentile. 
 
 Sometimes in their walks about the ruined 
 buildings of the city, she would gradually 
 and unintentionally find herself engaged in 
 a half controversial discussion with the phi- 
 losophical artist, who was not slow to bring 
 out his German rational ideas for the mere 
 purpose of exercising his talent for general 
 disquisition. Mayer would have been shocked 
 had any one called him an infidel; he was 
 one of those easy believers who are ready to 
 give credit to any thing, provided it be not 
 in the Bible; he had imbibed the German 
 idea, that Christianity and civilization were 
 synonymous, and that to be a Christian it
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 137 
 
 was only necessary to be a very highly civil- 
 ized man. 
 
 The doctor never entered into controversy, 
 except on anatomical or physiological sub- 
 jects. He would dispute all night upon 
 mesmerism, phrenology, and homoeopathy, 
 and Mayer was not unwilling to discuss such 
 eminently German topics. When these dis- 
 cussions took place in the presence of Cor- 
 nelia, she frequently amused herself with en- 
 couraging the disputants; and often, by her 
 native good sense, succeeded in solving ques- 
 tions which their subtle metaphysics involved 
 in almost hopeless obscurity. 
 
 The time drew near when the travellers 
 must make up their mind to proceed on their 
 journey. Cornelia prepared to leave Jerusa- 
 lem with sincere regret; never had she felt 
 the powers of her mind or the feelings of her 
 heart so strongly excited as in that holy city ; 
 moreover, it was the birthplace of her first- 
 born. She had visited every spot hallowed 
 by the sanctity of tradition — she had read 
 the gospels on the very spots which they 
 celebrate — one and one only venerated scene 
 of Christ's mission was invisible — the temple.
 
 138 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 Desecrated and built over by one of the most 
 revered mosques of the Mahometans, access 
 to the site of the glorious temple of Solomon 
 is denied to all who are not of the faith of 
 Islam. It is true that nothing of the original 
 is now to be seen there ; but the recollections 
 of the history of the Old Testament, which 
 make the temple a sacred place even to the 
 Mussulman, would make it equally so to the 
 Jew and to the Christian; while the subse- 
 quent events of the New Testament, which 
 took place within or near its venerable walls, 
 would render it a tenfold greater object of 
 reverence to the Christian than to any other 
 worshippers. 
 
 At last, the caravan departed from Jeru- 
 salem, and slowly took its way among the 
 hills in the direction of that singular lake 
 known as the Dead Sea. Their travelling 
 was necessarily but slow, and, after skirting 
 the shores of its mournful waters, they left 
 its lifeless sands on the third day for the 
 more fruitful and cheerful banks of the far- 
 famed Jordan. 
 
 Independently of all historical and re- 
 ligious associations, the Jordan may be
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 139 
 
 considered as a fine river of the second or 
 third class, springing from the majestic 
 Alpine range of Lebanon, and flowing- 
 through a naturally rich, though neglected 
 valley, till it mingles its pure flood with the 
 bitter waves of the Dead Sea. Here the 
 caravan found numerous halting-places, — 
 flowery meads forming the most luxuriant 
 pasture, — shady groves, as if planted to 
 shelter the weary pilgrim, by the side of cool 
 waters ready to quench his thirst. One 
 evening the tents were pitched on a grassy 
 spot, bordering by a thicket of dark ever- 
 greens, — the Arabs that formed their escort 
 w^ere scattered in picturesque groups, with 
 their horses and camels, along the river side, 
 while Cornelia sat on her Turkish carpet 
 enjoying the freshness of the evening, after 
 a magnificent sunset. 
 
 She had been reading, and pleased her- 
 self with comparing their primitive life, 
 and the patriarchal character of the pre- 
 sent inhabitants of the country, with what 
 it must have been in the days of Ruth. 
 She descanted to her companions on the 
 blessings of such a life, and the happiness
 
 140 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 inseparable from sucli simplicity of manners. 
 Mayer, whose remarks had been, to say the 
 least of them, ultra-liberal in religion as 
 long as surrounded by the idolatries of 
 Egypt, had suddenly become reserved, and 
 as it were conscience-stricken, on reaching 
 the holy land of promise. He seemed in 
 awe, as if feeling the presence of some supe- 
 rior divinity to any that he acknowledged 
 elsewhere. 
 
 The little Nicholas was romping and run- 
 ning about as wild as the kids of the Arabs ; 
 the baby was duly cared for in the inner tent, 
 or, as their sheikh called it, the hareem. 
 
 Suddenly two camels appeared in the 
 distance, and soon after two horsemen were 
 seen advancing over a height which had 
 previously concealed them. No more was 
 wanted to put the whole Arab part of the 
 caravan in motion. The sheikh seized his 
 spear, those of his men who had horses leapt 
 into the saddle, the rest stood to their arms, 
 prepared for any event. Presently, the 
 sheikh returned, exclaiming, "Friends! 
 friends !" — and a few minutes more brought 
 the new-comers to the tent.
 
 CHRIST ABELLE. 141 
 
 They proved to be an English traveller, 
 Mr. Charteris, and his brother, a clergyman 
 of the university of Cambridge, gentleman- 
 like, intelligent young men, who were 
 travelling purely for instruction and infor- 
 mation in Oriental learning. Their presence 
 was welcomed by the duke and duchess, 
 who were glad of a variety by which their 
 own fellow-travellers might profit as well as 
 themselves; for the duke's melancholy and 
 the duchess's new avocations tended to make 
 their evening circle, whether in house or 
 tent, rather less enlivening than it had been. 
 The duchess, who felt keenly the want of 
 Christian baptism for her infant, and who 
 was possessed with a sort of pious feeling, 
 that, having obtained the mother's blessing 
 in the city of David, it was in some degree 
 incumbent on her to have it christened 
 while within the precincts of the Holy Land, 
 was overjoyed at this occurrence. With her 
 husband's permission, she invited the two 
 gentlemen, who were travelling alone, to 
 join their caravan, and, as their Arabs proved 
 to be of the same tribe as their own, there 
 was no difficulty made by either escort.
 
 142 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 The new-comers immediately pitclied their 
 tent close by the others, and they supped 
 together by the light of one of those brilliant 
 moons which, to the Syrian traveller, ex- 
 plain the worship of Ashtaroth. As it 
 appeared, all were bent on journeying in 
 the same direction, — first, to the cedar- 
 crowned heights of Lebanon, and thence by 
 Tyre and Sidon to Constantinople by sea ; it 
 was soon arranged that, on arriving at the 
 port, all should embark on board the duke's 
 yacht, and they should land wherever it 
 might suit them. 
 
 The next morning the whole caravan was 
 moving at an early hour, and, as they followed 
 the verdant banks of the Jordan, Cornelia 
 requested the Rev. Mr. Charteris to baptize 
 her infant at the next station they might 
 halt at; explaining at the same time, with 
 great earnestness, the reason why she thought 
 it a duty to delay the rite no longer. As 
 might have been expected, she met with ready 
 acquiescence from Mr. Charteris, who, as a 
 clergyman, felt an inward gratification in the 
 prospect of administering the holy sacrament
 
 CHRIST ABE LLE. 143 
 
 of baptism in the land, and with the water, 
 sanctified by the Redeemer. 
 
 Having settled these preliminaries, the 
 caravan journeyed slowly on, and it was 
 resolved to halt the whole of the next day 
 for the purpose of respectfully celebrating 
 the holy ceremony, as well as to give a sea- 
 sonable rest to the whole of their company. 
 
 They arrived that night late at the ap- 
 pointed halting-place. Cornelia, fatigued 
 and anxious about her child, retired to rest 
 as soon as her tent was pitched: her gentle 
 slumbers were at an early hour dissipated by 
 the brilliant sun of the morning. Her heart 
 was cheered by the bright rays which seemed 
 to welcome the innocent babe, whose christen- 
 ing was about to take place in those sacred 
 waters, whose stream had once been hallowed 
 by the same rite on the person of the Saviour 
 and of his forerunner — she left her couch 
 full of thankfulness and joy, and bent, a happy 
 mother, over the cradle of her yet sleeping 
 child. 
 
 She now had time to look about her, and 
 to admire the extreme beauty of the spot 
 where they happened to be encamped. Cer-
 
 144 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 tainly Sheikh Ibrahim had no innate ideas 
 of the picturesque, or of the sublime and 
 beautiful, still less could he or would he have 
 consulted the tastes of a Frank or the religious 
 feelings of a Christian ; yet, had he cared to 
 do so, he could hardly have chosen a lovelier 
 spot than that where, as conductor of the 
 caravan, he had pitched their little camp for 
 the night. 
 
 On a verdant slope, gently inclining to- 
 wards the Jordan, stood a clump of venerable 
 oaks — behind which some ruins of an early 
 age were but half concealed among ivy and 
 other luxuriant creepers. The river flowed 
 with strong but noiseless current below, 
 showing here and there its bright waters in 
 the morning sun, and partly hid from sight 
 by an impenetrable jungle of gracefully 
 waving canes and oleanders, already tipped 
 with their gorgeous blossoms. A thicket of 
 myrtle, and other fragrant Oriental shrubs, 
 fringed a rocky eminence beyond; while a 
 majestic group of palms and dark cypresses 
 completed the seclusion of the spot. 
 
 It is in such sequestered scenes as these, 
 where the creature feels itself more imme-
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 145 
 
 diately in the presence of the Creator, sur- 
 rounded by his beautiful creations, and 
 canopied by his glorious firmament, that the 
 material and human splendour of temples, 
 services, rites, and ceremonies, becomes in 
 idea (for nothing of the kind is there) 
 especially distasteful to the thinking and 
 simple mind. Such artificial helps to devo- 
 tion are, doubtless, when well conducted, and 
 not overloaded with unnecessary formalities, 
 a suitable accompaniment to religious wor- 
 ship in lands far distant from the scenes of 
 Holy Writ; but here, on the very banks of 
 the river sanctified by the baptism of Christ 
 and the ministry of the Baptist, the most 
 fitting service is the unaltered Word of God, 
 the most gorgeous temple is the flowery earth 
 and the vault of heaven, God's handiwork. 
 
 With such feelings, in which the clergy- 
 man fully agreed, did Cornelia, her heart 
 swelling with joy and gratitude as she press- 
 ed her infant closer to her bosom, take her 
 way to the rustic altar and font that had 
 been prepared for her. 
 
 Under the shade of some spreading ever- 
 green trees, whose thick foliage excluded the 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 CHKISTABELLE. 
 
 powerful rays of the newly-risen sun, she found 
 an ancient vase brought from the neighbour- 
 ing ruin, and placed upon a block of marble 
 that happened to be lying on the spot. 
 Mayer had volunteered early in the morning 
 to fill the ample vase with fresh water from 
 the holy Jordan ; the child, the parents, the 
 friends who acted as sponsors were there, 
 and the clergyman performed the impressive 
 rite in the solemn words of the Church. " I 
 baptize thee Christabelle-Helena, in the name 
 of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost." 
 The whole caravan were assembled round 
 in attentive silence : the Arabs thought it 
 an incantation, particularly when they saw 
 the child baptized by immersion — a healthy 
 luxury in that climate — and sprinkled by a 
 priest in a white gown, with a formula of 
 unknown words, whose mysterious import 
 they took for a charm against the evil eye. 
 Nicholas was quiet and well behaved from 
 sheer curiosity and astonishment — and was 
 rewarded, on their return to the tent, with a 
 bunch of golden dates, which amply satisfied 
 his desires. The ceremony concluded, Cor- 
 nelia with her babe retired to her inner tent,
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 147 
 
 where she again threw herself on her knees, 
 and invoked the blessing of Heaven on her 
 innocent child. 
 
 If our conventional, ceremonial -lo vino- 
 Christians, could each pass a day amid the 
 scenes of the Bible in the beauteous valleys 
 of Palestine, how truly would they feel that 
 God, even their God, dwelleth not in temples 
 made with hands — that he who framed " the 
 world without, the mind within," is best 
 worshipped in the pure simplicity of that 
 mind which embodies the humble prayers of 
 the heart, — best honoured in the natural 
 adornments of his creation, of which it is 
 truly said, that Solomon in all his glory was 
 not arrayed like one of these! 
 
 The following day, the encampment broke 
 up, and they journeyed at the usual pace in 
 the direction of Lebanon. 
 
 The weather had gradually become warmer, 
 and the approach to the higher plains and 
 mountain valleys of those famous regions 
 was agreeable to all, from the freshness of 
 the air, the purity of the water, and the un- 
 wonted sight of industry and cultivation. 
 They visited the most celebrated places both
 
 148 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 in Samaria and Galilee, and took leave of 
 the heated expanse of plain which bounds 
 the Sea of Tiberias with less regret, that Dr. 
 M'Leod thought the exposure of the infant 
 — rather a delicate babe — to such a climate, 
 might be attended with danger. Passing 
 Mount Lebanon without accident, they 
 arrived safely on the coast, and were not 
 sorry to enjoy the sea breeze as a refresh- 
 ment after their toil. The yacht met them 
 at Acre, where, dismissing their faithful 
 escort, they embarked for Constantinople, 
 Mr. Charteris and his brother accompanying 
 them.
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 149 
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 And yet how lovely in thine age of woe — 
 Land of lost gods and godlike men — art thou ! 
 Thy vales of evergreen, thy hills of snow, 
 Proclaim thee Nature's varied favourite now ; 
 Thy fanes, thy temples to thy surface bow, 
 Commingling slowly with heroic earth, 
 Broke by the share of every rustic plough : 
 So perish monuments of mortal birth, 
 So perish all in turn, save well-recorded worth. 
 
 Save where some solitary column mourns 
 
 Above its prostrate brethren of the cave ; 
 
 Save where Tritonia's airy shrine adorns 
 
 Colonna's cliff, and gleams along the wave; 
 
 Save o'er some warrior's half-forgotten grave, 
 
 Where the grey stones and unmolested grass, 
 
 Ages, but not oblivion, feebly brave. 
 
 While strangers only not regardless pass, 
 
 Lingering like me, perchance, to gaze, and sigh " Alas !" 
 
 Byron. 
 
 The day was come when it was necessary 
 for Cornelia to leave that favoured land, in 
 which she had passed so many months of 
 various interest and enjoyment. She had 
 visited those scenes of holy writ, and seen 
 the remains consecrated by the founder of
 
 150 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 her faith, with more security and less trouble 
 than falls to the ordinary lot of women, who 
 are usually obliged to remain at home, con- 
 tented with the imperfect descriptions of the 
 traveller, or the meagre delineations of the 
 artist. She had in that land seen the actual 
 diversities of race and faith more nearly — it 
 might be said, more tangibly — than they can 
 be seen in any other country ; and she had 
 not draAvn a favourable conclusion from 
 them, with regard to the honesty or the 
 dignity of human nature. She returned, 
 above all, most thankful, that, however cap- 
 tivating to the enthusiast the pilgrimage to 
 the Holy Land may be, Christ may be as 
 truly worshipped by those faithful Christians 
 who remain at home. 
 
 Still, as those shores receded from her 
 view, and the blue mountains faded into dis- 
 tance, she could not turn from the land in 
 which she at least had prayed with all single- 
 ness of heart at the cradle and at the tomb 
 of Jesus ; where her prayers had been heard 
 and hervows granted, by the gift of her beloved 
 child — without a feeling of deep gratitude 
 for the blessings bestowed upon her.
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 151 
 
 They embarked leisurely on a fine after- 
 noon, and getting under weigh in the evening, 
 as a glorious moon was rising from behind 
 the distant ridges of Mount Carmel, they 
 stood out to sea from the port of Acre with a 
 moderate but favourable breeze from the land. 
 The next morning found them becalmed 
 under the high land of Cyprus, and the whole 
 party, so long unused to the confinement of 
 a cabin, assembled early on deck to admire 
 the picturesque shores of that famous, though 
 unhealthy, island. The baby was of course 
 brought up to inhale the fresh air ; it was 
 rather delicate, and Cornelia was most 
 anxious to bring it into a cooler climate. 
 An awning was spread over the quarter- 
 deck, and the sea was so calm in that tide- 
 less basin of the Mediterranean, that they 
 could sit and pursue their usual occupations 
 without inconvenience. 
 
 From this, the first day after Nicholas 
 came on board, his young mind appeared 
 divided between two dominant feelings ; the 
 one, a jealousy of the innocent child who had, 
 as it seemed to him, usurped his place in the 
 duchess's affection ; the other, a most un-
 
 152 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 bounded admiration for the feats and activity 
 of the sailors, together with no little indica- 
 tion of a fearless wish to emulate them, 
 whenever he should be able. He avoided all 
 sight or contact with the baby ; and it was 
 well, for his temper did but too readily 
 prompt him to be mischievous. Yet, how- 
 ever cross he might show himself towards 
 the child (and also to its Greek dada, or 
 nurse, who came in for her share of his dis- 
 like), he never behaved ill to the duchess 
 herself, who seemed to have a spell over him. 
 The sailors adored him. His fire, his intre- 
 pidity, his willingness to play, and to dare 
 every little trial of nerve to which the}^ and 
 Johnson, his special guardian, would some- 
 times expose him, won their admiration, and 
 many were the prophecies of the brave tar 
 as to what he would some day or other prove 
 himself Sailors are proverbially fond of chil- 
 dren, and equally so as kind to any one they 
 can protect; and it was most remarkable, 
 the boy never was out of temper with them, 
 but only with the household, and, as far as 
 opportunity allowed, with his rival, the baby. 
 Summer sailing in the Mediterranean is
 
 CHRIST ABELLE. 153 
 
 generally slow. The yacht coasted the bold 
 shores of Asia Minor, the weather being still 
 favourable ; but, as they drew nearer to the 
 Archipelago, a region fertile in violent 
 northerly winds, it was thought advisable to 
 put into the harbour of Rhodes. ' 
 
 It was a most agreeable change to most of 
 the party to go on shore after a slow voyage, 
 even in the finest weather, and they resolved 
 to remain a few days, and to visit the most 
 remarkable places in that interesting island. 
 . After leaving countries like Egypt and 
 Palestine, whose wonders consist partly in 
 the preservation of the very earliest records 
 of the human race, conveyed to the mind 
 throuo-h the medium of a rude, or at best of 
 an archaic, style of art; and partly of one of 
 the most striking forms of modern religious 
 and social polity, with all its peculiarities of 
 manners — the sudden transition to lands like 
 Greece, and Italy, and Asia Minor, is most 
 striking and impressive. In the farther East, 
 the middle age (in its larger sense) of man- 
 kind seems almost to have been lost; its re- 
 mains in those wide tracts of early civiliza- 
 tion are comparatively few and paltry, or
 
 154 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 mere imitations of earlier inventions. But 
 in the classic lands of Greece and Rome, and 
 especially in the Greek islands, one sees at 
 once the whole void filled up ; instead of 
 merely the infancy and the decline of art and 
 accompanying civilization, one meets with 
 the vigorous manhood, the graceful beauty 
 of art and skill, in every fragment that lies 
 neglected or in ruin. Temples, coins, sculp- 
 ture, inscriptions are there as the silent — or 
 hardly silent — witnesses of the brilliant past; 
 every object speaks with an intelligible mean- 
 ing to the taste or the understanding. 
 
 Among the whole party none were so de- 
 lighted as Mayer at the opportunity thus 
 afforded him to study the antique in one of 
 its native recesses. Rhodes not being much 
 frequented by the modern race of travellers, 
 there is still much to explore and to decipher, 
 as it w^ere, in the history of the island as ex- 
 plained, or to be explained, by its monu- 
 ments. Mayer thanked the duke again and 
 again for the opportune facility he here found 
 for copying unknown friezes, cornices, bassi- 
 relievi, and other remains not hackneyed in 
 the study of modern artists. He assisted the
 
 CHRISTA BELLE. 155 
 
 duke in selecting a choice but small quantity 
 of authentic medals of the best periods of 
 art, and was even fortunate enough to dis- 
 cover and dig up a beautiful statue of Apollo, 
 almost perfect, which, with other smaller but 
 not inferior pieces of sculpture, the duke 
 transferred to his yacht for ultimate trans- 
 portation to England. 
 
 In all these operations, the Rev. Mr. Char- 
 teris, who was a distinguished classical scho- 
 lar, and most eager in the prosecution of 
 researches, both in an historical and in an 
 artistical point of view, gave useful help to 
 Mayer, whose knowledge of the ancients was 
 derived rather from their works of art than 
 from their writings. Nicholas, always on 
 the alert when any active undertaking was 
 going on, pretended to assist in the work; 
 but ever and anon, if a resplendent green 
 lizard ran over the snow-white marble, or a 
 brilliant dragon-fly fluttered near him in the 
 air, he would leave work and every thing to 
 run and catch it, which he never succeeded 
 in, often getting a fall or some other mishap 
 in the attempt. 
 
 Leavinof Rhodes as soon as the winds
 
 156 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 would allow, the yacht pursued her course 
 northward, threading the intricate maze of 
 islands and rocks which the Archipelago 
 opposes to all who approach it from the south, 
 with a slowness that gave ample time for 
 admiration of its beauties. To ships coming 
 down from the north the navigation is easier, 
 as the prevalent wind and the constant cur- 
 rent is favourable to them. In the present 
 instance, pleasure being the object, and time 
 of more value when employed in observing 
 new objects than in running rapidly through 
 them, delay was no evil. 
 
 They were sitting on deck one fine even- 
 ing, while running through the broad chan- 
 nel between the isles of Samos and Nicaria, 
 when the artist, who seldom allowed a pic- 
 turesque object to pass him unobserved or 
 undelineated, suddenly took out his sketch- 
 book, and rapidly drew the outline of the 
 bold rocky island in front, with a few light 
 Greek caiques with snowy sails scudding 
 along the coast. 
 
 " Those barks," said Mr. Charteris, " are 
 but little changed from the vessels that con- 
 veyed the fair Helen from Greece to Troy;
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 15'7 
 
 and here are we skimming the same seas, 
 and delighting in the story of those same 
 Greeks and Trojans, gazing on their lands, 
 and listening to nearly their own language, 
 but in a ship how different, with all the 
 fruits of the science of five and twenty inter- 
 vening centuries ! " 
 
 " True," said Mayer, "it has always been 
 a problem to me, whether the quick rise of 
 Grecian genius in every branch of knowledge 
 or greatness, was the result of some moral 
 and physical coincidence which has never 
 been repeated; or whether the same spirit of 
 progress does not in turn animate every na- 
 tion, though accidental circumstances pre- 
 vent its being carried out to completion." 
 
 " You mean," replied Mr. Charteris, " that 
 all mankind are alike, and that only external 
 circumstances modify or determine the extent 
 and quality of their genius?" 
 
 " Not exactly," returned Mayer, " I think 
 something peculiarly adapted to invention or 
 creation must have existed in the Egyptian 
 mind, and also some unusual faculty of im- 
 provement, or of what we call taste, in the 
 mind of Greece — that is, in her best times.
 
 158 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 But granting that constitutional fitness for 
 art, for action, for science and literature, to 
 have been spontaneously developed, as we 
 know it was, being indebted to Egypt for 
 only the germ — the first hint, as it were, of 
 its future triumphs — what has been the sin- 
 gular cause of the stationary, or dormant, 
 condition of all the best faculties of Greece 
 until the present day?" 
 
 ^' Turkish conquest and rule," said the 
 Doctor. 
 
 " That is not enough," rejoined Mayer. 
 " They were degraded in taste, and debased 
 in character, long before a Turk set foot in 
 the country. The rule of Mahomet has cer- 
 tainly not been very favourable since that 
 time; yet, to do the Turks justice, their em- 
 pire once established, they seemed to lose 
 their own energy, and their despotism was 
 of that irregular and fitful character, that, 
 like the iron sceptre of our own medieval 
 kings, though it struck hard on some, it did 
 not wither the mass, like our modern Ger- 
 man police. It is uniformity and mediocrity 
 that kill genius and smother talent." The 
 artist was always eloquent upon — that is,
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 159 
 
 against — the police-government of his own 
 country, maintaining that it had been skil- 
 fully contrived to make all Germans appear 
 submissive and contented before their princes 
 on a holiday, and rebels in heart every other 
 day of the week. He had the grandest theo- 
 ries on the subject of German capability 
 and destiny; he thought Germany was to 
 be redeemed by her artists, that he was 
 to be chief among these artists, and that 
 Greece might eventually run the same course. 
 He was, therefore, a warm supporter of the 
 Bavarian dynasty in Greece, and a very dis- 
 contented subject of the same royal family 
 in Bavaria. 
 
 Cornelia frequently amused herself by list- 
 ening to these discussions, and, when the 
 disputants were not engaged in any very dry 
 or abstruse argument, she often induced her 
 husband, whose spirits were variable, to take 
 part in the conversation. 
 
 At length, they arrived in safety at Con- 
 stantinople, and entered the mouth of the 
 Bosphorus on one of those soft and rosy 
 summer evenings characteristic of that fine 
 climate. Not a cloud was visible ; the sky,
 
 1 60 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 brilliantly blue in the zenith, suffused with 
 a glowing pink near the horizon, was so clear 
 that the distant snowy tops of Mount Olym- 
 pus seemed near at hand : a rising planet was 
 reflected on the surface of the waters, which 
 shone as a mirror beneath the setting sun ; 
 and the sudden appearance of the gilded 
 domes and minarets of the City of the Sultan, 
 lighted up by its last rays, and seeming 
 every instant to grow out of the sea, com- 
 pleted that unrivalled panorama. Much has 
 been said on the comparison between Lisbon 
 and Constantinople, as upon that between 
 Genoa and Naples : the four rival cities have 
 certainly each their peculiar line of beauty, 
 and Yenice, as a fifth, may claim a beauty 
 quite her own ; but those who have seen all, 
 generally prefer Constantinople. 
 
 The singularity of the site, between two 
 seas, and on a strait that claims, above all 
 others, the poetical title of an ocean- stream — 
 the beauty of the near as of the distant land- 
 scape — the groves or wood of dark cypresses, 
 not gloomy under an Eastern sun — the no- 
 velty of the buildings, the costumes, and a 
 certain charm over the whole, together with
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 161 
 
 the vast historical interest connected with 
 the imperial city, make it second to Rome 
 alone of all the lovely capitals of the Medi- 
 terranean. 
 
 Arriving late, they were constrained to 
 remain on board the yacht till the next 
 morning, when she was brought into port, 
 and they were allowed to land. They went 
 straight to the house of the consul, who had 
 prepared lodgings for them, and resolved to 
 remain in the city only the requisite time 
 for seeing the principal objects, after which 
 they would take a country-house at Therapia 
 for the remainder of the summer. 
 
 The weather had now become very hot, 
 and the doctor congratulated his patients — 
 for he considered every one on board the 
 yacht as necessarily and rightfully his patient, 
 in however rude health he might be — upon 
 being well off their rather tedious voyage 
 before the plague season set in. 
 
 The duke and the doctor set out one 
 morning, with the consul's dragoman, to visit 
 Therapia, and choose one of the Frank or 
 Greek houses there — a Turkish villa, for 
 many reasons, was not to be thought of. 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 They found one, rather crazy in appearance, 
 surrounded with airy galleries and verandas, 
 and placed high above a terraced-garden, de- 
 scending as by so many steps to the edge of 
 the Bosphorus. A fine group of planes shaded 
 one side of it, but the front was clear, and 
 looking over that beauteous bay towards the 
 entrance of the Euxine Sea. 
 
 Cornelia was enchanted with the account 
 they brought back to her, and in a few days 
 they moved to their new habitation. The 
 great difficulty was the moving the precious 
 baby, its mother — when she saw the light 
 canoe-like skiff, in which two brawny Turkish 
 boatmen were to row them against the boil- 
 ing " current of Satan" up the Bosphorus — 
 was imperative that her child should not go 
 in it; and it was only in the yacht's own 
 boat, and under command of the mate, that 
 she would suffer it to embark. 
 
 Nicholas was suffered to do as he liked, — 
 that is, he had been obstreperous to go in 
 the pretty Turkish boat, red and gold, with 
 rowers standing upright, among whom he 
 pushed his little arms and wanted to row 
 himself; but, when he saw the delicate
 
 CHRISTABELLE . 163 
 
 Christabelle more cared for than himself, he 
 flung himself in the bottom of the boat in 
 sullen silence. There he was allowed to lie, not 
 from neglect, as his moody temper suggested, 
 but because it was exactly the best place for 
 him, where he would have been told to seat 
 himself, and certainly would have rebelled 
 against the order. So, it was lucky as it was. 
 The boat flew lightly over the waters; and 
 when Nicholas saw how the Turkish boat- 
 men, in their peculiar manner, got a-head of 
 the yacht's gig, in which were the duchess 
 and the nursery, his pride recovered, and, 
 becoming animated, he fixed his eyes — his 
 dark black eyes — on the rival boat with 
 childish exultation. 
 
 Mayer, who was with him (the doctor 
 being, of course, in the baby's own boat), 
 studied his countenance attentively, and, 
 taking out his tablets, made a hasty sketch 
 of him, wdiich he quickly returned to his 
 pocket. For the child had a nervous dislike 
 to seeing any body attempt to draw his 
 portrait, which j\Iayer had often attempted 
 before, usually with the loss of his pencil or 
 paper, which the urchin would seize, and
 
 164 CHRISTABELLE . 
 
 throw to the waves without the slightest 
 compunction. He would even take the well- 
 merited cuff, which he usually got for such 
 behaviour, with stoical resignation, as if in 
 his boyish mind he had bargained for that, 
 and was content. 
 
 We must suppose the party now lodged, 
 and comfortably settled for some days past, 
 in their new Oriental abode. It was amply 
 large enough, though the rooms were not 
 large; one central hall gave air and coolness 
 to the house. The lower story, or ground- 
 floor, was built, as usual in Turkey, of mas- 
 sive stonework, strong as a castle, and 
 evidently built for defence ; the upper floors 
 were of very light masonry, chiefly lath and 
 plaster, and furnished with projecting bow- 
 windows at the ends, while the front was 
 shaded by verandas. On the roof, which 
 was nearly flat, and whose prominent eaves 
 threw a strong shade over the upper story, 
 stood a kind of pavilion with windows all 
 round, so as to command the most beautiful 
 and extensive views up and down the 
 Bosphorus. 
 
 Below the front of the house three or four
 
 CHRISTABELLE . 165 
 
 terraces descended to the water's edge, at 
 which were a boat-house and convenient land- 
 ing-place. At either end of the principal ter- 
 race was a Turkish kiosk of elegant Oriental 
 architecture, closed with lattices, the walls 
 lined with glazed Persian tiles, and each with 
 a small fountain rising from its marble 
 pavement. A spreading turpentine -tree 
 shaded one of them from the sun, while a 
 group of lofty evergreens partially concealed 
 the other. The terrace was ornamented by 
 few flowers; but the tulip, favourite of the 
 Turks, was there in luxuriance, with the 
 eternal oleander and pomegranate, character- 
 istic of the East. A steep, narrow, ancient 
 paved road, led up from the shore to the 
 entrance at the back of the house, which 
 was nearly hidden by a vast plane-tree of 
 unknown age, such as are not uncommon 
 in the villa i^es and near the wells in that 
 country ; the garden and terraces were 
 bounded by lofty walls on three sides, and 
 on the lower terrace was a row of lofty 
 cypresses, whose dark shade, while it secured 
 a cool and private wall to the inmates, did 
 not intercept the view from above. In
 
 166 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 addition, the lower wall was surmounted by 
 a very high parapet, pierced with small 
 arches, each filled by a light but close 
 lattice, through which those within might, 
 unseen themselves, catch a furtive glimpse 
 of what was passing without. 
 
 This habitation, so much in character 
 with the country, and betraying too clearly 
 the necessity for caution and concealment, 
 which is never absent from the mind of 
 any subject of the Sultan, was now to be 
 the dwelling of Cornelia and her family for 
 the next four or five months. It seemed 
 perfect for the climate in summer, — its com- 
 forts in winter might be doubted; but that 
 they were not called on to try. 
 
 They were soon settled in this new abode, 
 and with sundry articles of furniture from 
 the yacht, which was anchored not far off, 
 they made it tolerably comfortable. The 
 weather was superb, — hot; but tempered 
 by breezes from the Black Sea, upon which 
 they could look from the kiosk on the roof, 
 it soon revived all the travellers. 
 
 During the summer, they made many short 
 expeditions into the country, and along its
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 167 
 
 shores, the alternation between land and 
 water travelling being one of the great sources 
 of interest in a country so geographically di- 
 vided as the greater part of Turkey and 
 Greece. It was the special pleasure of 
 Nicholas to be taken out in one of the swift 
 Turkish boats to the mouth of the Black Sea ; 
 he would exult on meeting the fresh north 
 breeze, and cry out to the boatmen as they 
 rose to the swell coming into the Bosphorus, 
 as if his encouragement was to conquer all 
 difficulties. Johnson always accompanied 
 him, and had some trouble to keep his spirits 
 within bounds. The readiest way he had of 
 quieting his young charge, was to tell him 
 stories of his adventures at sea in different 
 quarters of the globe, and to describe the 
 wonderful places he had seen. Nicholas 
 could not correctly understand half what he 
 heard ; still, as the old man went on upon the 
 subject, inexhaustible to him, of fighting 
 French privateers, Barbary corsairs, bucca- 
 neers of America, and pirates of the Indian 
 seas, or hunting the buffalo, the quagga, and 
 the tiger in various other countries, he would 
 listen in steadfast silence for a long time, till,
 
 168 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 overborne by his excitement, he would clap 
 his little hands and exclaim, " Nicholas will 
 go, too, and hunt!" Johnson had been near 
 the north pole, and had also a store of com- 
 bats with bears, walrus, w^hales, and sea-lions 
 to recount, catastrophes of shipwreck, ice- 
 bergs, and earthquakes, burning mountains, 
 mermaids, and sea-serpents, in all which his 
 own firm faith was imbibed by the ready 
 imagination of the child. But his crowning 
 wonder, which the worthy old seaman de- 
 clared he expected nobody to believe, and, 
 therefore, would not quarrel with them if 
 they did not, and which he would not have 
 believed had he not seen it, was the sight of 
 the cows in Kamtschatka eating fish. He 
 declared he had seen a whole dairy feasted 
 upon a shoal of salmon, turbot, and cod, that 
 would have made the fortune of his cousin, 
 the fishmono:er in Billino^so^ate. However, 
 if nobody else exhibited a proper credulity 
 on this subject, Nicholas, who knew not what 
 cows fed on, was perfectly ready to swallow 
 the whole, cows and fish, together. 
 
 The summer passed. With the returning 
 cool weather of September, the duke began
 
 CHRIST ABELLE. 169 
 
 to think of moving to a milder climate for 
 the ensuing winter. Cornelia had been much 
 interested by the scenery and buildings, by 
 the outside, in short, of every thing in and 
 about Constantinople, where beauty consists 
 more in picturesqueness, than in any sym- 
 metry or principle of art — mosques and 
 dervishes will not go down after the solemn 
 beauties of the Holy Land, and fade before 
 the feelings which sober Christianity calls 
 up with the strong ties of early association, 
 in connection with the history of our faith. 
 Even the light ornamental character of 
 modern or Mahometan oriental taste, appears 
 but flimsy tinsel to eyes fresh from the ma- 
 jestic grandeur of Egyptian antiquity. 
 
 The yacht set sail for Smyrna, and after a 
 few days in that port they went to Scio, and 
 then, after threading the intricacies of the 
 Archipelago, stopping at any of those beau- 
 tiful islands that offered objects worthy of 
 a visit, they landed safely at Athens in Oc- 
 tober. 
 
 The Messrs. Charteris accompanied them 
 to Athens ; their society had been agreeable 
 to all the party, and had contributed a little
 
 1 70 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 to tame the buoyant spirits, or wilful temper 
 of the unruly Nicholas. This boy's last feats 
 had been directed to attempts at running up 
 the rigging, in which, it is needless to say, 
 he did not succeed. He had been rio^o;ed out 
 in the dress of a Greek sailor, in which he 
 took great delight, and Mayer ultimately 
 contrived to transfer him to his sketch-book 
 in that costume, with a beautiful background 
 of the lofty mountains of Negropont, as seen 
 across the channel that divides that island 
 from Attica. The boy's foot was on a skiff, 
 into which he was represented as stepping 
 with an oar in his hand, a perfect model of 
 youthful beauty, but rather more advanced 
 in age, than he actually was at that time. 
 Mayer presented this drawing to the duchess, 
 who was delighted with its spirit and resem- 
 blance, and had it mounted beautifully in a 
 travelling-case or frame upon their arrival at 
 Athens, 
 
 Being prepared to winter in Greece, the 
 yacht was laid up in the Pirseus until the 
 spring. An agreeable house looking upon 
 the sea, and large enough to accommodate 
 the whole party, was taken for the season, 
 
 I
 
 CHBISTABELLE. 171 
 
 and Cornelia now began to think seriously of 
 giving her young charge the rudiments of 
 education. Nicholas was a favourite with 
 every one, except the nursery establishment, 
 when he was in good-humour. He was al- 
 ways affectionate towards his mother, as he 
 called the duchess, and had so far overcome 
 his jealousy towards the unoffending baby as 
 to bear with her, and even to sit gazing on 
 her infantine countenance with evident plea- 
 sure. But one thing the boy was not proof 
 against — the seeing the natural and evident 
 preference the mother gave to her own child 
 whenever the two together were in her pre- 
 sence. Then, though he never transgressed 
 again so far as to slap the baby, he would 
 pout in sullen silence, and retreat into a 
 corner, and brood over his fancied wrongs. If 
 a sugar-plum was given to the baby, Nicholas 
 would hold out his hand for another : if the 
 baby received a kiss from its mother, Nicho- 
 las would cry, "Kiss me, too!" In fact, he 
 was never denied either favour; but his in- 
 nate ambition, or whatever nascent passion 
 began to exercise its power over his childish 
 heart, prompted him always to claim the first
 
 172 C HllIST ABELLE. 
 
 attention as his due; so early are the seeds 
 of envy and discontent implanted in the 
 youthful mind, to become the bane of after 
 life. 
 
 This winter was an eventful one for Cor- 
 nelia. She had hitherto been so happy in 
 her wedded life, and so contented with the lot 
 which had been cast to her; so fully blest in 
 the possession of her little daughter Christa- 
 belle, and in the constant affection of her hus- 
 band — that she could not imagine the mere 
 fact of sex in her children could give rise to 
 a serious feeling of sorrow in a father's heart. 
 She could allow^ for disappointment — she 
 ■would herself, perhaps, have preferred a son 
 — but she could not, as a mother, w^elcome a 
 child less warmly for the accident of sex. 
 While at Athens, she became once more the 
 mother of a girl, and the pleasure she felt in 
 having a sister and future companion to her 
 first-born, w^as unalloyed by any regrets that 
 lasted beyond a moment for the fact of not 
 having a son. 
 
 But it was otherwise with the less calm, 
 and less regulated mind of the duke. He 
 felt as a deep mortification that he had not 
 
 I
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 173 
 
 an heir: the natural desire for a son had. 
 
 since the birth of his first daughter, increased 
 to a positive expectation. His temper, which 
 latterly had greatly inclined to reserve and 
 melancholy, became more gloomy than ever. 
 
 After a short time, however, the extreme 
 beauty of the new-born infant seemed by de- 
 grees to win for it a greater portion of its 
 father's regard. If Christabelle was interest- 
 ing and engaging, lanthe (for so was the 
 little Athenian christened) was all that, with 
 the additional charm of the children of Ra- 
 phael or Titian in infantine grace and ex- 
 pression. 
 
 Nicholas, who was now grown too rough 
 and romping in his sports for the younger 
 part of the nursery, was again, as before, 
 put out of his mother's room, a temporary 
 banishment which he bore very ill, but sub- 
 mitted to. 
 
 He began to show signs of a desire to imi- 
 tate the beautiful figures of horsemen and 
 mountaineers which he saw rising from the 
 canvass of his friend Mayer: no greater treat 
 could be afforded the boy than to dress him 
 up in the habit of a pirate, or a bandit, as a
 
 174 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 model for the artist's skill. Frequently he 
 would seize Mayer's pencil, and attempt to 
 draw his own ideas most unintelligibly, yet 
 with a fervour and earnestness which led 
 Mayer to think that he might soon begin 
 to instruct him in the first rudiments of 
 drawing. 
 
 The doctor, on the other hand, was anxious 
 to teach him Latin and Greek, and to make 
 him acquire the modern Greek language 
 while so fortunately situated for picking it 
 up by ear. By ear Nicholas might, and did 
 pick it up in a way ; for his ear was excellent, 
 and his natural aptitude not less, but study 
 he would not. The child sulked, the doctor 
 despaired; there was war between them, till 
 the good-natured physician would take him 
 some long walk into the mountains to cull 
 simples, when the boy would speedily recover 
 his spirits, and bound over the rocks like a 
 wild kid, eager to bring any object of the 
 doctor's curiosity, and delighting himself in 
 the scramble. 
 
 The fine weather of a Grecian winter was 
 a great refreshment to the travellers, after 
 the sultry climates they had lately been
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 175 
 
 accustomed to. The antiquities, not only of 
 Athens, but of its whole neighbourhood, from 
 Thebes to Argos, from Corinth to Marathon, 
 were diligently examined and explored. 
 There is this peculiarity in the present or 
 late state of Greece and Turkey, that it 
 exhibits what was the condition of the whole 
 of the countries on the Mediterranean a few 
 centuries ago. Modern improvements, or 
 innovations, have not penetrated beyond the 
 surface ; and the face of the interior districts, 
 and the habits of the people, are substantially 
 what they were in the middle ages, and in 
 some particulars, long before. Such, also, 
 were once the^ finest provinces of Italy and 
 Spain. 
 
 The duke, by degrees, became extremely 
 fond of his hitherto neo-lected dau<2rhter: he 
 seemed to take greater pleasure too, than he 
 had done, in the various excursions they 
 made into the country. Nicholas became 
 reconciled to the two children, just in pro- 
 portion as he was admitted to a share in the 
 caresses and attentions they enjoyed : and, as 
 their mother at once perceived his improved 
 manner towards them, he received praises
 
 176 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 and rewards, which tended to keep him 
 generally, if not always, in order. He was 
 trusted on a mule when accompanying some 
 of their rides around Athens, and amused 
 his guardians by constantly longing for a tall 
 horse. He had vague recollections of the Arab 
 horses he had seen proudly galloping in Pa- 
 lestine, and utterly despised the ponies — not 
 the best in the world — that Athens afforded. 
 
 Nicholas enjoyed his new liberty, especially 
 on a visit they made to Troy, during a por- 
 tion of their stay at Athens : he had been 
 placed upon a small horse belonging to their 
 Greek guide, who deputed his own son, a lad 
 of fourteen, to watch over the safety of young 
 Milordo, as he chose to call him. With this 
 youth, Nicholas was continually at some 
 frolic or other, sometimes pulling his sleeves, 
 untying his turban, or catching his sash — 
 while the doctor in vain tried to keep him in 
 order. In truth, the doctor was mostly occu- 
 pied by a discussion with the artist, as to the 
 truth or falsehood of the incidents relating 
 to Troy in the Iliad, and thought more at 
 that moment of Homer than of Nicholas. 
 
 Mayer contended, that the descriptions of 
 
 I
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 177 
 
 Homer were so visibly correct as to scenery 
 and particulars, which seem even now to 
 agree with the localities, that it is impos- 
 sible to doubt the truth of the Iliad, as a 
 poem applicable to that very spot, whatever 
 doubt may exist of the historical correctness 
 of the story which forms its groundwork. 
 He reasoned as he felt : he felt as an artist, 
 and to an artist his own feelings are gene- 
 rally conclusive. Not so the matter-of-fact 
 doctor : he admitted readily that the histori- 
 cal truth might be taken as unimpeachable, 
 but maintained that the scenery was inven- 
 tion, and might suit many countries, espe- 
 cially in that part of the world, while the 
 artistic descriptions were just the skilful 
 workmanship of the poet, and nothing more. 
 Days and weeks might be spent in the 
 neighbourhood of Troy, in itself a very de- 
 lightful country, without the possibility of set- 
 tlinir such discussions. There are no remains 
 sufficiently ancient to throw light on the 
 question; and the pleasure of believing in 
 the honesty of Homer, and of fancying the 
 reality of the events of the Iliad, in such a 
 fascinatmg country and climate, repays the 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 most credulous traveller for his prejudices. 
 No one can see the tomb of Ajax, though it 
 be but traditionary — or look from the heights 
 now called Troy, though it exhibit nothing 
 but rocks and brushwood — upon the blue 
 Hellespont, without feeling that one has a 
 nearer community of soul with the immortal 
 father of song. The duchess, Avho entered 
 into all their disquisitions with great warmth, 
 was determined that Nicholas should not 
 lose the chance of imbibing classical inspira- 
 tion at the fountain-head: so she took care 
 that, on coming in from his hot and weary 
 ride, he should be bathed in the gushing 
 waters of the Scamander, as it springs from 
 its forty sources in the clefts of the rock. 
 The artist compared him to the infant 
 Achilles, plunged by his mother in the stream 
 of Styx. 
 
 Perhaps for real historic interest, such as 
 can be tolerably well depended on, no excur- 
 sion is more satisfactory than that to the 
 Morea. The localities are so well known, the 
 scenery, though less rich than that of Troy 
 and Mount Ida, is more romantic, and the 
 remains of antiquity are numerous, varied,
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 179 
 
 and beautiful. The very names of Sparta, 
 Corinth, Argos, Olympia, and Arcadia, are 
 sufficient to recall so many classical recollec- 
 tions, historical and fabulous, that to a scholar 
 the task of verification of what is already 
 recorded in ancient literature, is a pleasure 
 that requires not the fresh excitement of 
 discovery in antiquarian remains. Yet here 
 the talents and keenness of Mayer, as drafts- 
 man and explorer, added greatly to the re- 
 sources of the party. 
 
 During the latter months of their stay at 
 Athens, the little Nicholas, whose spirits and 
 capacity, as well as occasional outbursts of 
 temper, were now beyond the control of 
 the duchess, was wisely entrusted to the care 
 of a Greek tutor, under whom he quickly 
 learned to talk the language of the country, 
 a faculty he made good use of in their various 
 rides and walks about Athens. 
 
 As the weather became finer, the yacht 
 was frequently employed in short trips and 
 cruises among the lovely islands that sur- 
 round the shores of Greece, now verdant 
 with the brilliant hues of a southern spring. 
 At length, the increasing heat warned our
 
 180 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 travellers that if, as their plan was, Sicily, 
 and perhaps Italy, were to be visited, it was 
 time to depart, and it was resolved, after 
 a last evening visit to the Acropolis, they 
 should sail next morning for Syracuse. 
 
 The evening before their departure Avas 
 devoted to a final visit to that most fault- 
 less of all architectural structures, the Par- 
 thenon. No person with the slightest taste 
 for art, or animated with the smallest respect 
 for all that subsequent ages owe to the age 
 and country of Pericles, in all that tends 
 to the culture of the mind and the progress 
 of civilization, can behold the Acropolis and 
 all its glories, for the first or the last time, 
 without a feeling of emotion. Whatever 
 the Greeks may have derived from the 
 Egyptians and other early Orientals, no 
 one can deny but they made the arts and 
 sciences their own, and stamped on them 
 the indelible character of Grecian genius. 
 Mayer held forth a long discourse to this 
 effect; and after lamenting, Avith the rest, 
 the decline of both artistic and other 
 greatness in the country they were looking 
 down upon, and were shortly about to
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 181 
 
 leave, he added, that it was now only in 
 German universities, and among German 
 students and professors, that an eminence in 
 art and literature, rivalling or surpassing the 
 Greeks, was to be looked for, and, perhaps, 
 even now existed. This called out the 
 remonstrance of all the party, who could 
 not concede to the self-sufficient though 
 patriotic artist, that his countrymen had 
 yet arrived at that point. The sun was 
 now setting beyond the western mountains 
 in more than usual splendour, and the 
 surpassing beauty of the view over sea, 
 islands, and the distant coasts of the Morea, 
 fortunately put an end to the discussion. 
 They returned home by the temple of 
 Theseus, of which the artist made a beau- 
 tiful moonlight sketch as a farewell to 
 Greece. 
 
 This he presented to the duchess, whose 
 portrait he had ingeniously introduced 
 carrying her youngest child, a perfect 
 Grecian baby, and accompanied by the 
 eldest, all in the picturesque costume of the 
 country. They remained out of doors on 
 their own moonlit terrace, perfumed with
 
 I82[ CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 jessamine, nearly all night, and prepared to 
 go on board the yacht at daybreak next 
 morning, which was accomplished, as usual, 
 not without some trouble, some difficulty, 
 or some display of temper, from the little 
 Nicholas. But he was always so warm- 
 hearted, so good afterwards, particularly 
 towards his mam ma- duchess, as he began to 
 call her, that his outbursts were easily par- 
 doned — at least by her. 
 
 The yacht sailed nobly out of the Piraeus, 
 and was the admiration of all the Greek 
 sailors, who crowded the decks and yards of 
 their vessels to see her manoeuvre, with rather 
 difficult wind, oiit of harbour. Being skil- 
 ful with their own vessels, of a totally dif- 
 ferent build, they could appreciate the hand- 
 ling of a British yacht. At last she got out, 
 and made all sail under the promontory of 
 Sunium. 
 
 Long did they gaze at that most striking 
 headland, crowned with the still standing 
 columns of an ancient temple, through which 
 the clear blue sky was seen as through the 
 perspective of a theatre. As there are no 
 temples now standing at Troy, and the in-
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 183 
 
 terest of what remains they had found there 
 belongs to a late date, they had never felt 
 the value of those standing witnesses of the 
 greatness of the classic age, so much as on 
 their return to Athens. Troy, except for 
 the pleasure of roaming about a charming 
 country, might be studied in the closet — 
 Athens by no possibility. 
 
 The yacht sailed prosperously down the 
 coast of the Morea, between two of the 
 finest mountain ranges of which Greece can 
 boast, namely, the lofty group of Taygetas, 
 with its subordinate branches, on the one 
 hand, and the almost Alpine chain of the 
 Cretan Ida on the other. During the next 
 few days, the wind allowed her to near one 
 and the other coast alternately, so as to see 
 the snow-capped mountains on either side 
 rising boldly above the wooded shore and 
 rocky promontories, behind which lay many 
 a village, and almost inaccessible fastness, 
 inhabited by those hardy pirates for which 
 the Archipelago is so famous. Rounding 
 the three bold capes of the Morea, and stand- 
 ing across for Malta, where, however, they 
 did not land, they got sight of the broad mass
 
 184 CimiSTABELLE. 
 
 of Etna, and, after sailing many hours under 
 its deep shadow, finally landed at Syracuse. 
 
 There they proposed to make some stay, 
 and to visit the many spots famous in his- 
 tory and song, in which Sicily abounds. 
 Pretty well inured by this time to hot 
 weather, none of the party were fearful of 
 the climate ; and they looked forward with 
 pleasure to the power of making an excur- 
 sion to the opposite coast of Calabria. The 
 duke's spirits had wonderfully improved ; he 
 was now the first to propose any object of 
 examination, or to enter into any plan of 
 travelling which his companions, to whom, 
 with the greatest kindness and consideration, 
 he left perfect liberty of action, might suggest. 
 
 The first desire experienced by all tourists 
 in Sicily is to ascend Mount Etna. From 
 Syracuse this is easy ; but as it can be 
 accomplished at any time during the whole 
 summer, and as at that season the south 
 coast becomes exceedingly sultry, they 
 thought it more advisable in the first in- 
 stance to make an excursion to the temples 
 of Girgenti, and then return by Catania to 
 Mount Etna.
 
 CHEISTABELLE. 185 
 
 The very early character of the remains at 
 each of these places, as well as of some in 
 the immediate neighbourhood of Syracuse, 
 gave occasion to Mayer, who liked nothing 
 so well as the opportunity of displaying his 
 erudition, to discuss the question whether 
 the Greeks of a somewhat later and more 
 civilized period had really improved upon the 
 principles of archaic art, or whether in 
 their first attempts, after having broken 
 the shackles of Egyptian stiffness and man- 
 nerism, they had not reached, in their then 
 simple style, a higher position than any 
 which their later and acknowledged excel- 
 lence in correctness, taste, and grace had 
 gained for them? His own opinion was, 
 that they would have done well, in architec- 
 ture especially, never to have quitted the 
 Doric of Magna Grecia. 
 
 When these disquisitions of the amiable 
 but enthusiastic artist showed symptoms of 
 becoming what mathematicians would call, 
 capable of being infinitely prolonged, the 
 duchess would playfully interpose, and ask 
 Mayer to exemplify his theories by giving
 
 186 CHKISTABELLE. 
 
 her an explanatory sketch of the instances 
 he could adduce in support of his opinions. 
 
 Next to the temples came the more labori- 
 ous affair of the ascent of the mountain, an 
 exploit which they finally attempted from 
 Catania, when on their return from Girgenti. 
 The season was now so far advanced that 
 Sicily was in full verdure, and even on its 
 liighest grounds the rich foliage of the chest- 
 nut woods defied, in its deep green, the 
 power of the summer sun. The snow, which 
 never leaves the summit of Etna, was visibly 
 less and less every day ; and the lengthening 
 stalks of the aloes, which border every road 
 in the lowlands of Sicily, showed that the 
 heat told forcibly upon the luxuriant vege- 
 tation of that favoured island. There is no 
 combination of natural colouring so beautiful 
 as that of a landscape which unites in itself 
 the threefold requisites of brilliant snow, a 
 glowing verdure, and an azure sea; and how 
 few spots there are in the world which ex- 
 hibit these characteristics is well known to 
 travellers. In Europe none surpass the east 
 coast of Sicily in these particulars, especially 
 in spring, or early summer.
 
 CHRIST ABELLE. 187 
 
 Viewed in detail, Etna has its portion of 
 savage grandeur as well as of Arcadian 
 scenery. The rocks of the Val di Bove con- 
 trast finely with the shady forests above them ; 
 and the ruo'^ed walls of the crater, far be- 
 yond, tipped with a crest of everlasting snow, 
 yet surmounted themselves by a slowly rising 
 column of smoke, witness to the existence of 
 equally everlasting fires, deep-seated in the 
 centre of the globe, formed a sublime finish 
 to the pastoral regions surrounding them. 
 These were scenes in which every one could 
 expatiate, according to the joyous feeling 
 which the fresh mountain air, and the plea- 
 sure of bounding on nimble steeds over 
 enamelled meadows (where Proserpine once 
 gathered bouquets of the same flowers of 
 which Nicholas pulled handfuls to present to 
 his mother-duchess), gives even to the most 
 insensible. Here Mayer held forth in most 
 classic style on the ancient history and tra- 
 ditions of Sicily; here the doctor talked 
 wisely of Archimedes and Theocritus, or 
 compared the scenery to what he had seen 
 in the West Indies, or the volcanic islands of 
 the Pacific; and here the amiable duchess,
 
 188 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 in the society of her loved husband, whose 
 daily revival in health and spirits she attri- 
 buted to the climate of Sicily, poured forth 
 her soul in mental thanksgiving as she 
 passed the humble chapel dedicated in honour 
 of S. Maria della Salute. 
 
 '' How grand!" said Mayer, as they ap- 
 proached the summit, and saw Sicily and 
 Italy, and the sea studded with lesser islands, 
 stretched as a map before them ; ^' how grand 
 is the idea of the giant condemned by Jupiter 
 to lie for ever with the whole island of Sicily 
 pressed upon his breast ! If such be the^^m^ 
 forte et dure to which rebellious Titans were 
 subject, no wonder Jove put down his Olym- 
 pian insurrections more easily than our 
 Kaiser." 
 
 Descending to Catania, they found by the 
 wayside a broken statue, whose inimitable 
 head and features left no doubt, according to 
 Mayer, that it must be that of Proserpine 
 herself, whose profile is acknowledged to be 
 almost the ne plus ultra of classical beauty. 
 
 Arrived at Syracuse, they once more em- 
 barked on board the yacht, which, swiftly 
 borne by a powerful sirocco between Scylla
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 189 
 
 and Charybdis, carried them in safety into 
 the majestic harbour of Palermo. There 
 they remained a week, and found that barely 
 sufficient time to examine its numerous re- 
 mains of ancient and medieval art, or to visit 
 its beautiful scenery; one day to the famous 
 Temple of Segesta, standing alone in the 
 wilderness ; another to the cave of Sta. Rosa- 
 lia; an evening's ride to the splendid Gothic 
 church of Monreale, for the inspection of its 
 mosaics, not inferior to those of Venice, and 
 for the enjoyment of one of the finest land- 
 scapes in Europe. The view of the noble 
 bay of Palermo, as seen from the heights 
 above the abbey, over a vale of orange gar- 
 dens and olive grounds : these few excursions 
 filled up their time. 
 
 The duke and duchess were speculating on 
 the pleasure of prolonging their voyage to 
 Naples and Venice, and of seeing Italy be- 
 fore their return to England, when one day 
 a packet was brought from the banker's, con- 
 taining letters for Cornelia from Yorkshire, 
 which caused her, on reading them, to turn 
 pale with emotion, and sink into a chair.
 
 190 CHRISTABELLE . 
 
 while the duke continued to read to her their 
 contents. They brought the calamitous in- 
 telligence of the gradual but complete depri- 
 vation of eyesight of her father, Air. Lovel. 
 This disastrous event, with which he had 
 been for some time threatened, and which 
 was supposed by his medical attendants to 
 be caused by an inordinate devotion to the 
 pursuit of scientific and philosophical studies 
 (he was one of the greatest astronomers of 
 his time), had been brought to a crisis by a 
 violent chill and inflammation, which he had 
 taken on a cold spring evening in his obser- 
 vatory, and, though partially recovered from 
 the illness, it was feared by them that the 
 loss of vision was permanent. He therefore 
 wished his daughter's immediate return ; feel- 
 ing also a natural desire that the birth of his 
 daughter's next child, an event shortly ex- 
 pected, should take place in England. 
 
 This measure was, of course, instantly de- 
 cided on. Dr. M'Leod and Mayer were both 
 invited to accompany them to England. 
 Nicholas's Greek tutor had left him at Athens. 
 
 A prosperous voyage took them in a few
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 191 
 
 days to Falmouth, whence they posted rapidly 
 through the country to Yorkshire, without 
 even pausing to visit the duke's Cornish 
 property of Botreaux and Tintagel, near 
 which they passed.
 
 192 CHllISTABELLE. 
 
 CHAPTEE YII. 
 
 Ce monde est un temple tres saint, dans lequel I'homme est 
 introduit pour y contempler des statues, non ornees de mortelle 
 main, mais celle que la divine pense'e a fiiit sensibles; le soleil, les 
 etoiles, les eaux, et la terre, pour nous representer les intelligibles. 
 
 Que I'enfance regarde devant elle, la veillesse derriere: estoit 
 ce pas ce que signifioit le double visage de Janus? 
 
 L'EsPRiT DE Montaigne. 
 
 Cheyne Place was an ancient castellated 
 mansion of the sort once not uncommon in 
 the northern counties, in which the adapta- 
 tion for defence in turbulent times was more 
 apparent than its fitness for the days of 
 peace which have happily succeeded to them. 
 Unlike the old manor-houses nearer London, 
 which show evident traces of having been 
 built for a certain degree of civilized and 
 even luxurious enjoyment, Cheyne Place ex- 
 hibited the character of a military post every 
 where predominating over that of the abode 
 of peace. Its plan was an irregular parallelo- 
 gram, and, though placed on a rising ground,
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 193 
 
 it had anciently been surrounded by a ditch, 
 or moat, of which some portion remained, still 
 not filled up, on the western front. It had 
 been founded in the reign of Edward IL, 
 upon the site of a still more ancient but 
 smaller fortress, which had been razed to the 
 ground in the baron's wars under the reign 
 of his grandfather, Henry III. Many addi- 
 tions had been made, and great alterations in 
 the style of the Tudors had been introduced, 
 during the reign of Elizabeth, since which 
 time, it had remained nearly intact. 
 
 The entrance was approached by a long 
 avenue of aged elms, leading to a stately gate- 
 house, under which the road conducted to 
 the lofty flight of steps, by which was the 
 principal access to the great hall. Another 
 door opened into the side of it, by which, in 
 former days, the household and other retain- 
 ers entered, when all the family, in the largest 
 sense of the word, took their daily meal in 
 common. 
 
 The house, or rather, as it was usually and 
 traditionally called, the Place, stood nearly 
 in the centre of a large park, bounded by 
 wooded hills, and commanding a wide ex- 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 194 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 panse of fertile valley, in one of the most 
 cheerful and best cultivated parts of York- 
 shire. The park was studded with groups 
 of old oaks and other forest trees of great 
 age, under which herds of graceful deer pas- 
 tured in tranquil happiness — an image of the 
 contentment that reigned supreme over the 
 inmates of this favoured mansion ; a bright 
 lake gleamed in the distance, and it might 
 be said with truth, that whatever there was 
 of gloom or solemnity in the old building, 
 was instantly dissipated by a glance at the 
 smiling nature without. 
 
 On that side of the house which looked 
 towards the valley, a broad green lawn ter- 
 minated in a grass terrace, which extended 
 on either hand for a very considerable dis- 
 tance, and was skirted on one side by groves of 
 lofty oaks. At one extremity of this terrace 
 stood a Grecian temple, of pure but simple 
 architecture, which contained the astronomi- 
 cal instruments to which Mr. Lovel devoted 
 his leisure hours in the prosecution of his 
 favourite study. A carriage- drive followed 
 the line of the terrace along its whole length 
 — more than a mile — which was now, on the
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 195 
 
 joyful occasion of Cornelia's return to the 
 home of her youth, decorated with rustic 
 arches, festooned with Nature's simplest and 
 most graceful ornaments, the wild-flowers of 
 the neighbourhood. At each verdant portal, 
 stood groups of neatly clad school children, 
 waiting with pardonable curiosity to see and 
 to greet their future mistress, of whom all 
 had heard, but whom some few only remem- 
 bered to have seen. 
 
 The meeting between the aged, and now 
 nearly sightless, Mr. Lovel and his long 
 absent daughter, was most affecting — the 
 chanD:e which time and illness had wrou^^ht 
 in her father's manly and intelligent coun- 
 tenance was most painful to Cornelia, but 
 she cluno^ to the thouo-ht that his illness 
 would be only temporary, and that her pre- 
 sence and affectionate attentions would soon 
 be the means of restoring him to that degree 
 of health which, at his age, he might reason- 
 ably expect. Cornelia threw herself weeping 
 into her father's arms, and was some time 
 before she recovered herself sufficiently to 
 present, or rather to name, her children to 
 their blind grandfather, and the group
 
 196 CHRIST ABELLE. 
 
 around him. These consisted of the Coun- 
 tess Fanny von Arnheim, Mr. Lovel's only 
 sister, who had married in early youth a 
 German count, and had passed more than 
 half her life abroad. Her husband, as is 
 too often the case in ill-assorted matches, 
 spent all her fortune, which had been a con- 
 siderable one, and left her at his death a 
 sort of pensioner on a German court, with 
 the title of Hofdame, and a mind much 
 more fitted for the minutiaB of her adopted 
 situation, than for the larger views and 
 stronger characters of her native country. 
 She was only on a visit, and was constantly 
 talking of her German etiquette, and of the 
 brilliancy of the court, of which she was of 
 course a distinguished ornament. Her 
 brother was kind and liberal to her; but it 
 was evident that their minds were cast in 
 different moulds. 
 
 There was besides a Mrs. Murray, also a 
 widow, and a very amiable person, who had 
 formerly been Cornelia's governess, and who 
 had been living at Cheyne ever since her 
 pupil's marriage, as companion to the aged 
 Mr. Lovel.
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 197 
 
 Behind, stood Mrs. Mitchell, the stiiF and 
 rather consequential housekeeper, who with 
 Hoskins, the steward, were in attendance to 
 receive their young mistress. 
 
 After Cornelia and the duke had severally 
 been welcomed by Mr. Lovel, the latter an- 
 xiously inquired who the party were whom 
 he could not see, but whom, nevertheless, he 
 wished to Avelcome with genuine hospitality. 
 Cornelia then introduced her two girls, 
 Christabelle, now five years old, and a most 
 interesting but delicate-looking child, and 
 the little lanthe, just beginning to run about. 
 Nicholas is not forgotten ; his history, as far 
 as known, had been previously communicated 
 to Mr. Lovel, who had been much interested 
 in the fate of the poor orphan ; and now, 
 when Mr. Lovel patted his head and said a 
 few kind words to him, the boy, who had 
 evidently been struck by the old gentleman's 
 appearance, stepped forward and seized his 
 hand with an energy that pleased him as 
 much as it seemed to displease Countess 
 Fanny. 
 
 The appearance of Nicholas on a stage 
 where for half a century no youthful heir
 
 198 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 had appeared, and the ignorance of the 
 household and of the country-folks as to what 
 the actual family of Cornelia might consist, 
 raised a feeling of interest among the by- 
 standers in behalf of the sunburnt, herculean 
 boy, whom they saw now with a proud and 
 noble bearing by the side of those who seemed 
 to be his parents. The steward and house- 
 keeper exchanged looks, but not a word was 
 said; the old domestics, the traditional 
 chronicles of the family, knew well Cornelia 
 had yet no son: the event would have been 
 too well known had it taken place. They 
 lost no time, however, in stopping the whis- 
 pers that they began to hear circulating 
 behind them. 
 
 "Are you all here, children and grand- 
 children?" asked Mr. Lovel. "Welcome, 
 thrice welcome, to Cheyne, yourselves and 
 friends ! You have told me you have an 
 artist here ; well, though my eyes can no 
 longer, alas! appreciate his works, he will 
 find here much to employ him — much to 
 study. You must show him all that Cheyne 
 and Yorkshire afford worthy of his atten- 
 tion. And your physician — where is he?
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 199 
 
 Present me to him," said the blind old man. 
 " He is ever dear to me who saved my son- 
 in-law from death in a strange and inhospit- 
 able land." 
 
 " Dr. M'Leod went straight to London," 
 answered the duke ; "he had letters from a 
 professional friend, that informed him of a 
 good opening for practice, of which he availed 
 himself immediately, assisted by some re- 
 commendations which I was able to give 
 him." 
 
 "Well, then," said Mr. Lovel, "my 
 beloved child, let me show you your apart- 
 ments, which you will find somewhat altered 
 in appearance since you last inhabited them." 
 The whole family then entered the house, 
 and proceeded to their several rooms. 
 
 After so long an absence, and such a 
 chanore of circumstances as her own marriao;e 
 and increasing family, her father's blindness, 
 and the presence of her aunt, Cornelia had 
 need of rest, both on account of her approach- 
 ing confinement, and as a necessary relaxa- 
 tion after the fatigues of her long voyage. 
 All this tended to keep her much in the 
 house ; and her desire to be constantly with
 
 200 CHKISTABELLE. 
 
 her father, to soothe his advancing and 
 afflicted age by all the consolations in her 
 power, did but add to her sedentary habits. 
 The charm of home, after a long sojourn in 
 lands totally different in aspect and in climate 
 to those of our scenes of infancy, acts with 
 the double power of novelty and recollection. 
 Nicholas was left much at liberty to do 
 what he pleased ; to romp about in boisterous 
 play with the two little girls, to amuse the 
 whole household with his spirits and agility, 
 and to teaze Countess Fanny beyond all 
 measure, by what she termed his unman- 
 nerly conduct. Cornelia could not spare 
 him much of her time, but whenever he 
 obtained it he got doubly spoilt, while the 
 rest of his day being spent in exercise, he 
 was soon reconciled to the change, and was 
 never more caressing to his dear mother, as 
 he called her, than now, when he saw her 
 less often. Mr. Lovel having once, as it 
 were, adopted him, delighted in all that was 
 reported to him of his active and manly 
 spirit, and wished he could see him ride. 
 He even ordered a pony fit for his age, to be 
 taken up for Nicholas to mount under the
 
 CHKISTABELLE. 201 
 
 groom's eye, a proceeding which endeared 
 the generous old gentleman to the eager boy 
 very considerably. Countess Fanny, mean- 
 while, could not understand this misplaced 
 benevolence, and thought her brother must 
 be in his dotage. She even blamed Cornelia 
 for bringing a low-born foundling into the 
 family, and objected exceedingly to Mrs. 
 Murray's partiality to the child. 
 
 The boy's genuine feelings were not to be 
 restrained by any of the exclusive observa- 
 tions of the German countess, who always 
 expected to hear every one's pedigree before 
 she pronounced on the most obvious points 
 of character or disposition. Had Nicholas 
 been acknowledged as the son of a Graf von 
 
 or a Duca di , he would have been 
 
 entitled to a share of her attention ; even as 
 the son of an English esquire, though she 
 did not think much of esquires, it might 
 have passed, but a foundling, unnamed, 
 unknown, had no hold upon the courtly 
 Hofdame, whatever his personal qualities or 
 disposition. The boy, it must be owned, 
 did nothing to acquire her good-will ; and, 
 after taking leave of Mr. Lovel, when the
 
 202 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 children went to bed, and after nearly throt- 
 tling his dear mother by a violent but affec- 
 tionate hug, he would turn away from the 
 Countess Fanny with evident dislike. 
 
 Within a few days after the arrival of the 
 duke and duchess at Cheyne, the festivities 
 which Mr. Lovel had contemplated in cele- 
 bration of that event, were necessarily post- 
 poned by another, namely, the accouchement 
 of the duchess, who was brought to bed of a 
 third daughter — the only one born in the 
 ancient house of her family. Much discus- 
 sion took place as to the name that should 
 be given her — at last, the poetical one of 
 Una was selected at the desire of the duke, 
 whose disappointment was this time felt, but 
 not disclosed to his wife. He had, indeed, 
 during the latter part of his travels, become 
 strongly attached both to his wife and 
 children ; and, with the return of health and 
 spirits, showed too much happiness in their 
 society to allow his feelings, though natural, 
 to disturb his enjoyment. 
 
 In his early life, the duke had been a man 
 of pleasure and expense — his wants, rather 
 than his affections, had led him to seek the
 
 CFIRISTABELLE. 203 
 
 hand of Cornelia, and, in obtaining her, be- 
 sides the large fortune she brought him, he 
 had been blest with a companion who, though 
 beyond his merits at that time, proved her- 
 self capable of raising his mind and character 
 to her own level during the few years they 
 were fated to live together. Theirs Avas one 
 of the cases, not very rare perhaps, in which 
 the moral standard of woman's mind gains a 
 silent, but permanent victory over the ma- 
 terial and worldly tendencies of man's less 
 refined nature. In such cases, no pious 
 lecturer, no moralizing divine, has half the 
 effect of the constant companionship of an 
 attached and delicate-minded wife. 
 
 The duke had lost much money in mining 
 speculations, begun by his father, and in- 
 judiciously continued by himself; he had 
 thereby made it both inconvenient and dis- 
 agreeable to live on his Cornish estate, in 
 the very neighbourhood of his failures, and 
 of other families who would be the unwelcome 
 witnesses of his own impoverishment. It 
 was, therefore, with great satisfaction that, on 
 his marriage, he agreed to Mr. Level's sti- 
 pulation, that, immediately after their return
 
 204 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 from their travels, they should take up their 
 abode at Cheyne, and consider that as their 
 permanent home. Cornelia's son, or eldest 
 daughter, was to inherit the property, taking 
 the name of Lovel on succeeding to it. 
 
 There never existed a simpler-minded 
 heiress than Cornelia. Not caring for wealth, 
 nor even for rank, except for the sake of doing 
 good to others, she left all those selfish and 
 worldly feelings, which are so often disguised 
 under the plausible name of ''family con- 
 siderations," entirely in the background. 
 Most thankful to Providence for the security 
 from care which fortune, rightly managed, 
 affords to its possessor, she valued that for- 
 tune, but little in respect of the things of 
 this world which it might procure for her. 
 Guileless herself, she was unsuspicious of 
 others ; and now, blest with three lovely 
 daughters, she turned with motherly affec- 
 tion to the blue- eyed, flaxen-headed Una, 
 and resolved to devote herself to all the 
 duties of education which the eldest, Chris- 
 tabelle, now began to require, and which 
 the younger two ^iiust equally, in time, 
 demand oi her. She arranged that Mrs.
 
 CHRISTABELLK. 205 
 
 Murray, her tried and valued friend and 
 former governess, should undertake the same 
 post in reference to her daughters. 
 
 Christabelle was very forward for her 
 years, and was at once placed in Mrs. Mur- 
 ray's hands. Her health, however, was un- 
 equal to her mental endowments; and her 
 pale complexion, characteristic of the eastern 
 clime in which she was born, her dark grey 
 eyes, peering with pensive eloquence from 
 under her darker eyelashes, and her sensitive 
 and expressive mouth, bespoke a delicacy of 
 temperament which called for the judicious 
 management both of the mother and of the 
 teacher. 
 
 lanthe, being as yet exposed to no disci- 
 pline but that of the nurse, Mrs. Johnson, 
 who kept her in order, was divided between 
 the childish instinct of imitating her elder 
 sister in every thing, and opening her eyes 
 with wonder at the younger one, whose pre- 
 sence among them she did not seem to un- 
 derstand. 
 
 ISicholas is under no restraint; but having 
 conquered his early jealousy of her, probably 
 from the increasing number of the nursery.
 
 206 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 is now become very fond of playing with 
 Christabelle, who is equally pleased with his 
 society as a playfellow. Mrs. Murray, how- 
 ever, is always in fear from the roughness of 
 his manners. They have a little garden 
 which they cultivate together. 
 
 Mayer, the artist, the hitherto philosophi- 
 cal student, who carried German notions and 
 German theories into the East, and who now 
 returning from the East, carried his cosmo- 
 polite notions of the ultimate realization of 
 the brotherhood of the whole human race — 
 Mayer, was become quite domesticated in the 
 family. The duchess, with her characteris- 
 tic kindness, had detained him nominally on 
 a visit, but rather to give him a temporary 
 home, and to employ him in the decoration 
 of her boudoir, with frescoes and arabesques, 
 representing the principal scenes in the dif- 
 ferent countries in which they had travelled. 
 She knew that it would take a long time for 
 a foreign painter, however great his talent, 
 to make way among the crowd of aspirants 
 in every walk of art who throng the schools 
 and museums of London : she, therefore, took 
 care to employ his abilities at the same time
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 207 
 
 that he could gradually learn something of 
 the country, and fit himself for appearing 
 before the world with advantage. Among 
 his other works, he painted a very beautiful 
 group of the duchess and her family, in which 
 he made a point of showing his gratitude for 
 the kindness which he could not avoid per- 
 ceiving ; and, on finishing it, requested to be 
 allowed to begin to teach drawing to the 
 little Christabelle, the only one as yet of an 
 age to profit by his instructions. 
 
 At his leisure, Mayer often took Nicholas 
 out with him, to study from nature in Cheyne 
 Park, and sometimes prolonged his excur- 
 sions into the wild scenery with which parts 
 of Yorkshire are embellished. He was a 
 good companion for the wild and unruly boy, 
 as his information was great, and he could 
 both interest him and keep him in order, 
 which no other person in the house could do. 
 This was particularly difiicult in their excur- 
 sions on the lake ; for Nicholas, in addition 
 to the strong inclination he always felt to do 
 whatever was forbidden, had been so accus- 
 tomed as a child to bathe and swim on every 
 opportunity while in warm climates, could
 
 208 OHRISTABELLE. 
 
 not understand why, when heated with row- 
 ing, he was not to do the same under the 
 chilly sky of England. 
 
 Countess Fanny's dislike to him in the 
 meanwhile did not diminish, and she fre- 
 quently pressed Cornelia to send the pert 
 boy to a cheap country school, where he 
 may be taught not only manners, but to 
 gain his livelihood by some honest trade. 
 The countess was too well known in the 
 family as a most liberal donor of cheap and 
 unasked-for advice, that her counsels, when 
 given, did not generally carry much weight 
 with them. Cornelia smiled, and promised 
 to think of it ; but, though her good sense and 
 her wishes for the boy's welfare could not 
 but lead her to the same conclusion, she was 
 really too fond of seeing him full of life and 
 spirits, running and leaping about the gar- 
 dens, and unfeignedly fond of herself, to 
 think of parting with him so soon. 
 
 An accident, however, led to a decision on 
 the subject much sooner than the most 
 reasonable discourses of the countess could 
 have done. One day, while she was care- 
 fully explaining to her ignorant niece —
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 20^ 
 
 ignorant because she did not care to know — 
 the pedigree of some illustrious houses of 
 Electoral Saxony, they were alarmed by a 
 loud cry from the duchess's flower-garden, 
 not far from the window at which the ladies 
 were sitting. 
 
 "Those children," exclaimed Countess 
 Fanny, interrupted in the midst of a dis- 
 sertation on the quarterings borne by some 
 Saxon family; " those children are not born 
 to associate with one another!" 
 
 Cornelia, alarmed at the unusual tone of 
 her Christabelle, and knowing, with the in- 
 stinctive knowledge of a mother, that it must 
 have proceeded from some acute pain, flew 
 to the spot where Nicholas and Christabelle 
 had been amusing themselves with planting 
 stocks and wallflowers, in the shapes of 
 letters, and where they still were, though 
 their industry had been suddenly arrested by 
 an accident. 
 
 By the side of a wheelbarrow, turned up- 
 side down upon the gravel-walk, sat the poor 
 little girl, crying piteously, while by her, 
 stood the unintentional cause of her mis- 
 fortune, Nicholas, whose countenance, flushed 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 and intent upon something not apparent to 
 the ladies, betrayed great emotion. He had 
 spread his handkerchief on one shoulder, 
 upon which he was in the act of carefully 
 laying the arm of the sorrowful Christabelle, 
 while he endeavoured with his arm to sup- 
 port the pale and now fainting child, who 
 seemed in danger of falling backwards. 
 
 " Look at that naughty little brat," cried 
 Countess Fanny, " he has half killed your 
 charming angel, Christabelle ;" and forthwith 
 putting Nicholas rather angrily on one side, 
 she would have taken the sobbing child up 
 in her arms, had not her mother been before- 
 hand. Christabelle, who had not much more 
 liking for her aunt than Nicholas, turned 
 away from her, and threw her head upon 
 the neck of her mother, who speedily carried 
 her into the house. 
 
 It was found, on examination, that the 
 child's arm was really broken, though not 
 dangerously, and that after some time she 
 would, by favour of her youth, easily recover 
 the use of it. 
 
 Cornelia's first care had been her child, 
 and it was not until after the bone had been
 
 CHRISTABELLE . 211 
 
 set, and her mind comparatively at ease, that 
 she thought of inquiring of Nicholas how 
 the accident had happened. 
 
 Knowing that he stood before a kind and 
 not unfriendly judge, Nicholas plainly said — 
 "We had been all day at work in our garden : 
 Chrissy said she was tired, and I was wheel- 
 ing her home in the barrow, when my foot 
 caught the spade lying on the ground, and I 
 fell, and the barrow turned over, and Chrissy's 
 arm went between it and the gravel-walk. 
 I did not mean it, mother." He said this 
 calmly, but with forced pauses, till at the 
 word "mother" his feelings overcame him, 
 and he burst into tears. The emotion did 
 not last long, however, for the entrance of 
 the Countess Fanny quite turned the current 
 of his feelings ; he looked at her, and remained 
 proudly silent. "I believe you, my dear 
 boy," said Cornelia. "I do not," gruffly 
 observed the Countess. 
 
 Cornelia, not choosing to have a disagree- 
 able scene, kindly sent Nicholas away, and 
 he heard no more upon the subject till the 
 next day, when the unwelcome intelligence
 
 212 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 was made known to him, that he was to go 
 immediately to school at York. 
 
 Two days afterwards, his things were 
 packed up, and he was sent for to wish good- 
 bye to the family circle. Such partings are 
 sad scenes ; but it may be doubted if there 
 have often been sadder ones than those of 
 Nicholas on this occasion. 
 
 He entered Cornelia's sitting-room with a 
 throbbing heart, and the first sight which 
 awaited him was not calculated to soothe his 
 feelings. The poor little girl was lying still 
 and motionless on a sofa, her pale and evi- 
 dently suffering countenance contrasting 
 painfully with his remembrance of the smil- 
 ing playfellow whom he had with some 
 trouble lifted into the wheelbarrow. With 
 tears in his eyes, which he would fain sup- 
 press, he approached the sofa, when, from the 
 almost motionless lips of the little sufferer, he 
 caught the feeble words, " I know you did 
 not mean it, dear Mcco," which quite upset 
 all his manful resolutions, and nature burst 
 forth in a torrent of tears. The duke and 
 Mr. Lovel gave what falls upon his heart as 
 a cold good-bye ; he passed them silently and
 
 CHIIISTABELLE. 213 
 
 sullenly; but when he came to the duchess, 
 he embraced her convulsively — -feeling now 
 that she, who must feel his oifence most, is 
 yet his truest friend. She gave him many 
 keepsakes, and a locket with her hair — told 
 him to be good at school, and she would 
 drive to see him often — and that he should 
 return to Cheyne for the Christmas holidays. 
 She presented him with a little purse which 
 he had seen her knit; there was money in it, 
 the first he has ever had. — a present, the no- 
 velty of which struck him much more than 
 the value. 
 
 But the most touching part of all this 
 scene, which made the boy feel that his 
 negligence is forgiven (even though he is 
 sent to school for it), is, that Cornelia lifted 
 him up to be kissed by Christabelle on her 
 couch, and little lanthe put out her mouth 
 to do the same. His heart swelled, but he 
 would not kiss either in return ; his sullen 
 pride forbade it, and he left the room under 
 charge of his friend Mayer, who gave him 
 good advice, and took him to the Johnsons. 
 The worthy people saw that his outfit was 
 all in order, and Mayer and Johnson drove
 
 214 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 him in a little pony carriage (Nicholas hold- 
 ing the whip) to the " seminary for young 
 gentlemen" at York, where he was to be 
 placed. 
 
 There is nothing that gives life to a house 
 so much as the presence of a sprightly, ani- 
 mated child. The absence of Nicholas made 
 a very great difference in this respect at 
 Cheyne. The remaining children being 
 younger, and all girls, one an infant, and 
 one kept quiet for her recovery, the free and 
 rather noisy boy was missed by all except the 
 Countess Fanny, who made no secret of her 
 pleasure at getting rid of him. She pro- 
 phesied nothing but evil of him for all future 
 time, and made the most of the liberty which 
 Nicholas's absence afforded her, to bore poor 
 Cornelia with fresh histories of the Dukes of 
 Leignitz, and the Counts of Pappenheim. 
 
 A diversion was, however, soon afterwards 
 created by the preparations which were 
 made for keeping the duchess's birthday — 
 the first since her return — by a dinner and 
 ball to the tenantry and the school-children, 
 and various amusements and largess to the 
 poor on the estate. Dr. M'Leod was to
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 215 
 
 come from London, snatching two days from 
 his increasing practice, on purpose for it, 
 and also to pronounce on the cure of the 
 delicate little Christabelle. Countess Fanny 
 remained a week longer on purpose for it ; but 
 was alarmed lest all should go wrong with her 
 German mistress in her absence, as the Hof- 
 marschal in her little court was her political 
 enemy. 
 
 Cornelia, now in the height of happiness, 
 adored by father, husband, friends, not 
 excepting the whole household, was yet 
 sufficiently alive to the frail tenure of all 
 earthly blessings to feel, that she must not 
 receive them as due to her own merits. She 
 prayed humbly and earnestly to deserve all 
 those now possessed ; and, piously confiding 
 in the goodness of Providence, accepted the 
 happy present, full of gratitude for the past, 
 and of hope for the future.
 
 216 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 CHAPTER YIII. I 
 
 " The sun set; but set not his hope: 
 Stars rose; his faith was earlier up: 
 Fix'd on the enormous galaxy, 
 Deeper and older seem'd his eye: 
 And matched his sufferance sublime 
 The taciturnity of time. 
 He spoke, and words more soft than rain, 
 Brought the Age of Gold again: 
 His action won such reverence sweet, 
 As hid all measure of the feat." 
 
 Emerson. 
 
 "II etoit comme un beau cheval, qui n'a point de bouche; 
 son courage le poussoit au hazard, la sagesse ne moderoit pas sa 
 valeur." — Telemaque. 
 
 Christabelle did but slowly recover from 
 tlie effects of her fall; her natural delicacy 
 of constitution rendering it difficult for her 
 to bear even the gentle exercise which was 
 recommended her. 
 
 The duchess's birthday arrived: Chris- 
 tabelle was sitting as usual on a little low 
 stool by the side of her grandfather's arm- 
 chair, with her book on her knees, reading
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 217 
 
 to him stories, and' making her childish and 
 natural remarks, to which Mr. Lovel was 
 always ready to listen. 
 
 He was very fond of children, and it had 
 been a source of regret to him that his own 
 family, being limited to an only daughter, he 
 had so soon lost the artless and unsophisti- 
 cated conversation which to an attentive 
 mind makes the charm of children's society. 
 Though Christabelle was still too young to 
 learn much from her grandfather, he was 
 careful to answer all her questions in an 
 earnest and reasonable manner, and not to 
 get rid of them by jput-offs^ as many incon- 
 siderately do. The child soon found out 
 that she was attended to, and, with the in- 
 tellio^ence so often found amono: delicate 
 children, attached herself daily more and 
 more to her loving grandfather. 
 
 " Grandpapa," said she, " do you know 
 my dog Flora has got such pretty little pup- 
 pies. There are ^\q of them. I have been 
 to see them, down at the keeper's. Grand- 
 papa, do you know they are all born quite 
 blind, and are only now beginning to open 
 their eyes. Was I born blind, grandpapa?'*
 
 218 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 " No, my dear," said Mr Lovel, gently- 
 stroking her fine silky ringlets, " it is not 
 usual for children to be born blind. If, 
 unfortunately, they are so, their blindness 
 is very difficult to cure." 
 
 " Were you born blind, grandpapa?" 
 
 *^ No, my dear, God gave me the use of as 
 good eyes as most men, and I have employed 
 them in the study of the noblest of his works, 
 as your mamma will explain to you some day. 
 Perhaps my blindness came from my not 
 considering that great gift, whose value I 
 well knew, but whose frail tenure I did not 
 reflect upon." 
 
 " What did you do, grandpapa, that made 
 you so blind?" 
 
 " I looked all night, and many nights, at 
 the moon and the stars, with those long 
 glasses you see in the observatory, and 
 through which, I heard, mamma made you 
 look." 
 
 " Yes, and I saw the moon so near, I could 
 almost touch it." 
 
 " As you grow older, you will find nothing 
 finer, nothing more beautiful to look at, or
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 219 
 
 to think of, than the heavens, the work of 
 God's hands." 
 
 " But will that make me blind, too?" 
 
 "Not if you do not tire your eyes too 
 much, which I did." 
 
 Christabelle, after a long pause — " Grand- 
 papa, why can I not see God? Mrs. Mur- 
 ray says he is every where. I suppose I 
 cannot see him with my eyes open." 
 
 " My child," said Mr. Lovel, gravely, " you 
 have spoken most truly : many are those 
 whose eyes are open to the world, who see 
 not God: may those whose eyes are closed, 
 see him more clearly!" 
 
 " Grandpapa, do you see God now that 
 you are blind?" 
 
 Grandpapa turned his sightless eyes up- 
 wards with a melancholy expression of coun- 
 tenance, and then pressed the child's face 
 tenderly to his own, as if he would fain see 
 either in the heavens above, or, if any where 
 in the earth beneath, in the innocence of 
 childhood, the image of that God which is 
 nearer to the artless mind of infancy, than 
 to the intellectual wisdom of age. But, be- 
 fore an answer could be given, the conversa-
 
 220 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 tion was interrupted by Christabelle's Swiss 
 attendant, who comes to tell her in French, 
 that if grandpapa can spare her, Madame la 
 Duchesse will take her in the pony phaeton, 
 with her two favourite little ponies, to York, 
 to see Master Nicholas on her birthday. 
 Full of joy at this unexpected summons, the 
 child jumped up, and, kissing her grandpapa, 
 coaxingly asked leave to go. Permission 
 being readily given, she darts off to her 
 mamma, and, seated on her lap, they drive off 
 to York. 
 
 The duke, who had business in York, drove 
 the little carriage swiftly over the beautiful 
 road that led to the city, while the delighted 
 Christabelle was never tired of looking at the 
 various carriages, and houses, and groups of 
 people which they passed on the way. The 
 carriage was followed by two outriders, one 
 of whom went on with the duke when the 
 carriage stopped, and left the duchess and 
 her little daughter at the door of the school 
 of which Nicholas was an inmate. 
 
 In the suburbs of York, or rather in the 
 outskirts of the suburbs themselves, stood a 
 single house — not exactly a lone house, for
 
 CHRIST ABELLE. 221 
 
 there were others not far from it — but looking 
 so dull, so dismal, and so uninviting, that it 
 might be called a lone house, and yet have no 
 reason to complain. It was a plain brown, 
 brick house, with many windows, whose 
 panes were certainly made before the inven- 
 tion of plate glass, small squares, dusty and 
 cobwebbed, one only of which was half opened. 
 At this appeared half a dozen of round heads 
 of hair, not particularly well combed, behind 
 which were three or four more, with great 
 efforts striving to get a peep at the beautiful 
 equipage which stopped at the gate. The 
 groom had dismounted, and rang the rather 
 heavy and rusty bell which hung by the side 
 of the grated entrance. A stir was soon 
 heard within (for the house was surrounded, 
 except at the gate, with high brick walls), and 
 the gate being opened by a regular school ser- 
 vant, a sort of ploughboy, in an ill-made 
 livery, the duchess and Christabelle entered 
 Mr. Turner's " Academy for Young Gentle- 
 men," as the public were informed by a shin- 
 ing brass plate on the door. 
 
 They were ushered into a dreary, stiff- 
 looking room, where, after a considerable
 
 222 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 delay, Mrs. Turner, a hard and severe-looking 
 matron, joined them. She made a hundred 
 excuses for keeping her grace waiting, and 
 seemed doubtful whether she ought not to 
 apologise to her ladyship, the little Lady 
 Christabelle, who sat all wonder and astonish- 
 ment at the novelty of the scene around her. 
 The icy-looking parlour, the dull, ill-polished 
 walnut chairs, the dingy green baize on the 
 table, the equally faded carpet, and the harsh 
 tones of Mrs. Turner's voice, which the over- 
 civility of her speeches could not dissemble, 
 all struck the young mind of Christabelle 
 with aversion to the place, though she could 
 not, of course, account for it. Her youth 
 did not prevent her from feeling the gulf 
 that separated the academy from Cheyne 
 Place. 
 
 "But where is Nicco, dear mamma?" whis- 
 pered the little girl, "why does he not 
 come ? " 
 
 " I am sorry to inform your ladyship," 
 said Mrs. Turner, in her most impressive 
 manner, " that Master Brydges (it had been 
 found necessary to give Nicholas a surname
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 223 
 
 on his entrance upon school life) is confined 
 to his room for a serious ojffence." 
 
 Christabelle looked inquiringly at her 
 mamma, who immediately asked what was the 
 nature of this serious offence. 
 
 '' I must make bold to say, your grace," 
 replied Mrs. Turner, "that Master Nicholas 
 Brydges is a most violent and turbulent boy. 
 He had some little quarrel, which we always 
 try to prevent, my lady, with Master BuUen, 
 and not content with beating him in fight, 
 which is against all our rules, my lady, he 
 gave him a double licking, as he said, to teach 
 him to be merciful to the little boys. There 
 goes Master BuUen, you can see him through 
 the window with his head tied up. Of course, 
 Mr. Turner could not leave such conduct 
 unpunished, and so Master Brydges is to be 
 on bread and water for two days. Won't 
 your grace be pleased to take a little of our 
 cake and currant wine?" 
 
 This the duchess politely declined; and, 
 suspecting Nicholas had not had fair play, 
 persisted in requesting to see him, which, 
 with evident unwillingness on Mrs. Turner's 
 part, was at last consented to.
 
 224 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 As soon as the schoolmistress left them, 
 Christabelle ran to the window, and looked 
 out with renewed wonder at the troop of 
 boys on their way to the playground. No 
 Nicholas of course was among them ; but she 
 could not help remarking the scowling looks 
 of his antagonist, Bullen, who was a clumsy 
 boy, twice the size of Nicholas, and whose 
 untidy and slovenly appearance made even 
 the duchess exclaim — " I hope Nicco will 
 never be like that!" Soon after the door 
 opened, and, although Mrs. Turner had the 
 good sense not to enter, her heavy step might 
 be heard down the passage, as Nicholas, the 
 sadly altered Nicholas, came rushing into 
 the room. 
 
 What a change! His matted hair, his 
 untidy dress, his sullen brow and bloodshot 
 eyes, with a large scar across his cheeks, 
 produced, as he afterwards told them, by a 
 redhot slate pencil for refusing to clean his 
 master's boots, giving his brown beauty a very 
 savage appearance, all struck the duchess 
 that this school at least was no fit place for 
 him, and poor Christabelle began to cry. 
 
 He threw himself upon the duchess, and
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 225 
 
 hiding his face in her bosom, dirty and un- 
 combed as he was, he burst into a flood of 
 tears. Perhaps it was the only happy mo- 
 ment the poor boy had felt since he left her. 
 His heart once relieved, he shortly told his 
 o^vn story, which, as may be supposed, put 
 his " highly improper conduct " in its true 
 light, and satisfied the duchess that he had 
 only acted as a high-spirited boy would have 
 done upon provocation. 
 
 It was a beautiful group. The duchess 
 always graceful, and, when animated, beaming 
 kindness and benevolence on all around her; 
 little elegant Christabelle, with her long silken 
 tresses hanging under her flapping straw hat ; 
 contrast with the careless and untidy school- 
 boy, now, perhaps, more than ever neglectful 
 of his attire. While he embraces his dear 
 mother, Christabelle, regardless of the pro- 
 bable damage to her embroidered muslin 
 frock and blue sash, falls upon Nicco's neck, 
 and dries his tears with her little handker- 
 chief. 
 
 Cornelia, much aflccted by this scene, in 
 w4iich she looked like the personification of 
 Charity surrounded by the objects of her 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 beneficence, now imparted to Nicholas her 
 intention of removing him from school for a 
 few days' holiday, and sends for the master, 
 who was not long in making his appear- 
 ance. 
 
 Mr. Turner was a jolly, good-natured 
 looking man, rather tinged with vulgarity, 
 and very much guided in his management of 
 the school by his sour-faced helpmate. 
 
 " I have to make a thousand most humble 
 apologies to your grace, for not having ap- 
 peared to make my respects a little sooner 
 to your grace; but Mrs. Turner (who is a 
 most providential helpmate for me in the 
 arduous undertaking of shaping the rising 
 generation into that form most likely to do 
 credit to ourselves, that is, to themselves, 
 before God and man), Mrs. Turner, I say, 
 desired me to leave it all to her. Very much 
 honoured are we, I may say — I hope not 
 without our own merits — in being honoured 
 with your grace's visit to our poor establish- 
 ment, where, however, I may be bold enough 
 to state, all the highest standing of the gentry 
 of this great and populous, this manufactur- 
 ing, this wealthy, this famous county of York,
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 227 
 
 send their sons to be educated, and finished 
 after the best methods." 
 
 How far the poor man would have run on 
 it is impossible to say; but, fortunately for 
 himself and for all, Cornelia thought it best 
 to put a stop to his harangue by saying, she 
 thought Nicholas would be better at home 
 for a short time, and that she was prepared 
 to take him with her in the carriage. ^' As 
 your grace pleases," smilingly acquiesced Mr. 
 Turner; "he will learn more gentlemanlike 
 manners under your ladyship's eye, than he 
 has brought with him to school." 
 
 Nicholas darted an indignant look at the 
 master, but relapsed into sullen silence when 
 the duchess said, " Go, Nicholas, and pack 
 up as fast as you can;" words which had a 
 wonderful eflfect upon the boy's physiognomy. 
 He flew out of the room, and in less time 
 than could have been thought possible, re- 
 turned, saying he had packed up every thing, 
 and longed to go home with dear mother (he 
 does not say mamma after going to school), 
 and Chrissy. 
 
 " But Mitchell has sent you a plumcake 
 and sweetmeats, what will you do with them ?"
 
 228 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 said the duchess. " Give them to the boys, 
 and most to the little fellows, and take care 
 that Bullen has some," he replied. 
 
 This was said with rather more of scorn 
 than generosity; and the precious hamper 
 being left behind, together with a haunch of 
 venison for Mr. Turner, the joyful Nicholas 
 leapt into the phaeton, which the duke had 
 now rejoined, and they drove off merrily to 
 Cheyne ; Christabelle clapping her liands for 
 joy, and saying she does not like school at 
 all. It was truly a triumph for Nicholas; 
 for, as the light equipage and spirited horses 
 bounded from the door, a shout, succeeded 
 by a second and a third, from the boys 
 assembled in the playground to look at the 
 " first-rate turn out," greeted his ear. Bul- 
 len, lately the tyrant of the school, skulked 
 alone, and did not join in the cheer. 
 
 On arriving at Cheyne, Nicholas is sent 
 to Mrs. Johnson, who was overjoyed to see 
 him again, even in the shabby state in which 
 he was, which she pronounced a highly un- 
 becoming condition for such a young gen- 
 tleman. He was, in her hands, speedily 
 washed and dressed, and then makes the best 
 
 i
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 229 
 
 of his way to the duchess's room, which he 
 had always the privilege of entering. The 
 return to that happy room, where all was 
 comfort and elegance, and where he had been 
 accustomed to receive the unfailino^ atten- 
 tion and caresses of an affectionate family, 
 whom he knew onlj^ as mother and sisters, 
 contrasted as light to darkness with Mr. 
 Turner's chilling academy, where the only 
 attention he met with was paid to his faults, 
 and where the caresses came in the shape of 
 cuffs from Bullen. 
 
 Mastering with great effort a natural 
 struggle which he could not entirely sup- 
 press, Nicholas sat himself down on the well- 
 known little chair, which had often been his 
 seat, by the side of the duchess's sofa, and, 
 with his hands twisting the fringe of the 
 Turkish table-cover, which he could just re- 
 member havino; jrone to see when bouo^ht in 
 
 Or) O 
 
 the bazaar at Athens, and which was, there- 
 fore, something like an old friend, and fellow- 
 traveller to him; he began, — 
 
 " Dear mother, I am so happy to be at 
 home again, with you and Chrissy." 
 
 " Well, dear Nicco, we are always glad to
 
 230 CHKISTABELLE. 
 
 have you, but you must go and learn some- 
 thing, you know." 
 
 " So I do, mother, and here are my tickets 
 of approbation, and the list of studies I have 
 done, and all my books." 
 
 " Yes, Nicco, I think I heard that for your 
 studies there was no fault to be found with 
 you. You are quick and sharp enough to 
 learn any thing, but you must learn also 
 good behaviour, and not to be quarrelsome. 
 You were passionate sometimes at home, but 
 not wilfully quarrelsome, I am sure." 
 
 "Nor at school either, mother." 
 
 " How came you, then, to get into such 
 scrapes? You told me a little of it; you 
 wished to protect a little boy, did you not? 
 But could not that be done without fighting, 
 and making a disturbance in the school ? How 
 did it begin?" 
 
 Nicholas's colour rose, but he said nothing. 
 
 " Tell me, my dear boy," said Cornelia, 
 kindly; " were you not in the wrong, per- 
 haps?" 
 
 This gentle preparation for reproof, so un- 
 like Mrs. Turner, went to poor Nicholas's 
 heart, and he would have been quite unable
 
 CHEISTABELLE. 231 
 
 to speak had not he, on the spur of the mo- 
 ment, blurted out, " No, I was right ! — I am 
 sure of it ! " 
 
 " Tell me," repeated the duchess, "how it 
 all began?" 
 
 " Bullen was always teasing the little boys, 
 and me too, at first, because he is the biggest; 
 at last he took away a trap-ball that I had 
 lent a boy, and I went and told him to give it 
 up, and then he threw it over the hedge, and 
 whispered to a little boy to call me names 
 — he was afraid himself: the little boy would 
 not because he is a good fellow, but I heard 
 what the names were; and so, when Bullen 
 was licking the little boy, I flew at him and 
 beat him off, and then all the boys said we 
 must have a fair fight, which was to be di- 
 rectly, and the boy who had the trap-ball 
 came up and ofiered to be my second: Bul- 
 len could not find any second for a long 
 time ; nobody would pick him up ; at last a 
 new boy, for fear of being thrashed, was his 
 second: I knocked him down twice, then 
 Mr. Turner parted us; but if he had not 
 come by the green, I would have punished 
 Bullen more ; but because he had the worst,
 
 232 CIIRISTABELLE. 
 
 I was to be punished for it. The boys all 
 walked off the green with me, however," 
 added Nicholas triumphantly. 
 
 Cornelia entered warmly into the feelings 
 of her courageous protege, but did not feel 
 sure she had got at the whole story yet. 
 Nicholas had an evident reluctance to state 
 the names he had been called ; but it came 
 out unexpectedly when she said, '' Nicco, you 
 are always right to defend the weak against 
 the strong; but you must beware of passion. 
 You may have to fight, and justly, for a 
 greater cause; but do not be too ready to go 
 to blows for a word." 
 
 "What!" exclaimed the boy, his eyes 
 flashing fire, " not when I am called ' charity 
 boy, and nobody's son?'" 
 
 A veil fell from the eyes of the astonished 
 Cornelia as she heard these words, uttered 
 in a tone of manly rage and indignation far 
 beyond his years. She was suddenly awak- 
 ened to a new perception of Nicholas's posi- 
 tion. She saw his was a character not to be 
 trifled with, and acknowledged to herself that 
 he had reason to feel exasperated by such 
 insults. It also happened that she had heard
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 233 
 
 among the cheers that had followed Nicholas, 
 on his departure from his school companions, 
 '' Hurra for the young marquis ! " and became 
 sensible that any farther uncertainty respect- 
 ing his peculiar situation in their family 
 would lead to his being placed, among his 
 young and thoughtless playmates, sometimes 
 too high, and sometimes too low, a trial to 
 which it was not fair to expose him. 
 
 Resolving to consult the duke upon the 
 subject, she now yielded to her affection for 
 the friendless orphan, and, kissing him ten- 
 derly on the forehead, said impressively, 
 " Remember, Nicholas, you are always my 
 dear boy, whom God has placed in my 
 hands, and, with his help, I will be your 
 friend throuo^h life, be it Ion 2^ or short." 
 Alas! she saw little into futurity. She then 
 took a small miniature of herself, painted in 
 a locket, and suspended to a gold chain, 
 which she placed round the boy's neck, tell- 
 ing him whenever he felt trial or temptation 
 to do wrong, to look at that, and to think 
 how much pain and regret it would cost her 
 who then looked at him. Nicholas kissed
 
 234 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 the picture with boyish rapture, and pro- 
 mised all she asked of him. 
 
 Cornelia inwardly resolved to place him, 
 as soon as his age and education should 
 permit it, in some active profession, and that 
 meanwhile, he should not stay at a school 
 where reports as to his birth, gathered from 
 the gossip of the neighbourhood, might con- 
 tinue to annoy him. She then looked 
 around her; and, warming with gratitude 
 to Providence for the blessings which had 
 hitherto accompanied her through life, de- 
 termined to repay them as far as she could, 
 in kindness to the poor foundling, whose sole 
 friend in this world she was. 
 
 But it would be previously needful to ac- 
 quaint Nicholas himself with his own history, 
 and, with the exception of the mysterious 
 circumstances of his birth, of which she, with 
 the rest of the world, was ignorant, all his 
 life had, to this period, been passed under 
 her own eye. She therefore, after some con- 
 sideration, called him back to her, and, with 
 much kind and gentle preparation, informed 
 him of all his previous existence, as far as she 
 knew it, as it has been related in this story.
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 235 
 
 The boy, deeply affected, and now penetrated 
 Avith a double sense of her goodness, and of 
 his obligations to her, again embraced his 
 benefactress, and repeated his earnest de- 
 clarations never to forget her counsels. 
 
 Cornelia felt her heart relieved by this 
 act of duty. The secret motive that urged 
 her to so much decision on this occasion, was 
 the early prospect of again increasing her 
 family, and the feeling of a duty undischarged 
 would have laid at that moment a heavy 
 burden on her soul. 
 
 While occupied with these thoughts, her 
 husband came to summon her to the rustic 
 sports, and dinner of the tenantry. Leaning 
 on his arm, and followed by her lovely 
 children, she presented herself, fair and good, 
 to the motley group; she went round saying 
 kind and pleasant things to each, and showed 
 them, with a mother's pride, her beautiful 
 little girls. This honest pride in God's 
 greatest blessing, is never taken amiss even 
 when shown by the great towards the poor; 
 they, too, can enter into the feelings of the 
 parent — they knew and respected the exulta-
 
 236 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 tion of the mother's heart when she bade 
 them look at her children. 
 
 The day was propitious, the sports were gay 
 and cheerful; all were animated and happy, 
 running, dancing, or leaping on the lawn, 
 until the gong sounded, and the tables 
 were laid, and all the countryfolks, young 
 and old, sat down to the hospitable board. 
 It is superfluous to describe the natural mirth 
 of a respectable tenantry, or rather tenantry 
 and peasantry united, when met together on 
 those terms which combine ease on the one 
 side, with respect on the other : it is a sight 
 which few countries, except England, can at 
 the present day exhibit. After the feast, 
 the whole assemblage repaired to a lofty 
 barn, which had been fitted up with festoons 
 of evergreens and flowers in preparation for 
 the ball. 
 
 Some little delay took place while the 
 various parties, unaccustomed to such sights, 
 walked round the room admiring the decora- 
 tions, and the brilliant lights with which the 
 ci-devant barn was illuminated. The farmers 
 could hardly believe it was the place where 
 they had formerly stowed away their gi'ain ;
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 237 
 
 and the young women said it would be a fine 
 use to put their barns to whenever they were 
 empty, an expectation which met with no 
 concurrence from their fathers and brothers. 
 
 It was affecting to see the old and sightless 
 Mr. Lovel, led by his interesting little grand- 
 daughter, Christabelle, as he made his way 
 among them. Having lived constantly in 
 the county, and managed all his own pro- 
 perty as far as possible himself; he knew 
 the names, and even the voices, of many of 
 the older tenants. He made a complete 
 round of the ball-room; and, after having 
 spoken to most of them, and encouraged 
 Christabelle to say something to the young 
 girls, he returned to a seat placed for him 
 in a shady corner, at the head of the room. 
 Cornelia smilingly asks the duke to choose 
 himself a partner, and then she shall not 
 scruple to do the same. 
 
 The younger children, who had surround- 
 ed their grandfather's chair, were now sum- 
 moned to bed ; and Christabelle and Nicholas 
 were alone permitted to remain. The two 
 danced together, and were greatly admired 
 by the countryfolks — Nicholas looking, as
 
 238 CHRIST ABELLE. 
 
 they said, like a proper young gentleman; 
 and Christabelle, a little angel from heaven; 
 but, after Nicholas, nobody had the honour 
 of her hand but Mr. Hoskins, the steward ; 
 while at the same time, the duke, her father, 
 led out Mrs. Mitchell, the stately house- 
 keeper, much to her own pompous satis- 
 faction. 
 
 The other servants of the house were 
 quickly provided wdth partners; for the 
 farmer's daughters were not unknown to 
 the household, in their occasional meetings 
 at church, or in the village. It was a gay 
 and animated scene, and one which gave 
 more satisfaction to both host and guests, 
 and produced more genuine pleasure and 
 good-humour, than many a more splendid 
 festival. As the evening wore on, lights were 
 seen moving about outside the barn, much 
 to the wonder of the younger folks, who 
 could not imagine what was going forward, 
 but in a short time a rushing noise, and a 
 blaze of rockets astonished them, and nearly 
 put an end to the dance at the same time. 
 All the young people who had never seen 
 fireworks before, rushed to the door; and,
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 239 
 
 when the young were departed, few remained 
 to dance. Some of the women were alarmed, 
 as usual on such occasions, and were but 
 slowly comforted, as the beauty of the Ben- 
 gal lights, Catherine wheels, Roman candles, 
 flower-pots, and stars, and meteors such as 
 earth ne'er saw, won upon them by degrees, 
 and more particularly as they found they 
 were not hurt. 
 
 " Luigi has done this capitally," said the 
 duke. The words were scarcely uttered, 
 when a burst of flame, succeeded by a loud 
 explosion, suddenly roused the attention of 
 the whole assembly. A piercing cry was 
 heard, and the noise of a number of people 
 exclaiming in tones of unmistakeable alarm 
 —"He's killed— he's killed!" The duke 
 instantly went ofl" to inquire what had hap- 
 pened, and was met, before he had advanced 
 halfway towards the spot, by several persons 
 running, some from fright, some from 
 anxiety, to relate the misfortune that had 
 happened. 
 
 Every thing had been, up to that moment, 
 so successful; every arrangement for the 
 pleasure of the people had so perfectly well
 
 240 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 answered its purpose, tliat tlie sudden change 
 fell with a double force upon the hearts both 
 of Cornelia and her husband. How dim then 
 did the coloured lamps seem to burn — how 
 funereal did the festoons of flowers now 
 appear to the lately joyous throng ! A thick 
 smoke, and a heavy smell of gunpowder, 
 began to fill the air all round the barn; and 
 although the duke at first hoped that nothing 
 had occurred beyond the alarm, and the 
 accidental burning of a few evergreens, he 
 was but too soon undeceived as to the cause 
 and the fatal effects which had followed it. 
 
 " In God's name what has happened?" 
 cried the duke to the first man he met 
 running from the scene of the accident. 
 
 " Oh, your grace," said the man, out of 
 breath, " a shocking thing ! — a spark from 
 one of the fireworks flew out in a contrary 
 direction to what poor Mr. Louis expected, 
 and the wind carried to a heap of combustibles 
 close by, no water was at hand, and poor Mr. 
 Louis," here the man seemed so terrified he 
 could hardly proceed, — " poor Mr. Louis, he 
 thought to put it out by jumping with all his 
 weight upon it, but that drove the spark
 
 CHRIST ABELLE. 241 
 
 into the other fireworks, and all blew up to- 
 gether : and — we fear — Mr. Louis will never 
 get over it." 
 
 The duke waited to hear no more, but 
 rushed onwards to learn the true state 
 of the case. It was clear something dread- 
 ful had occurred, and, though he did not 
 give entire credence to the hasty account 
 which he had just heard, believing Luigi to 
 be much too careful to have occasioned a 
 catastrophe in such a manner, yet it behoved 
 him to take instant measures for his relief. 
 
 As he went on, he met some of the 
 domestics, who were in all diligence making 
 a sort of bier of benches and poles, with 
 carpets over them, to transport the poor man 
 to the house. Having sent one of them to 
 call Dr. M'Leod, and another to order a man 
 and horse to be sent instantly to York, for 
 the purpose of bringing the most experienced 
 surgeon back with all speed, he approached 
 the unhappy Luigi, lying on the ground, 
 burnt, and apparently suffering great agony. 
 
 No time was to be lost. The unfortunate 
 man was placed as carefully as possible upon 
 the seat prepared for him, and, carried by 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 CHRISTABELLE, 
 
 four of the household servants, while two 
 others supported him on each side, he was 
 conveyed to a room hastily prepared for him 
 on the ground-floor. 
 
 Here was a sad end to the joyful festival. 
 The multitude dispersed; nobody seemed to 
 know how. The whole attention of the 
 house was turned to the yet undecided fate 
 of Luigi. The surgeon arrived from York, 
 and, after a painful examination of the inju- 
 ries the poor man had received, and a few 
 words spoken apart with Dr. M'Leod, he 
 pronounced amputation to be absolutely ne- 
 cessary, and that even then that it would be a 
 doubtful and a dangerous case. 
 
 Nicholas was early next morning sent 
 back to school, as his continued presence at 
 Cheyne would have been only troublesome 
 at that time. He was, however, given to 
 understand, that he was not to stay much 
 longer at that delectable seminary, and it is 
 unnecessary to say what were his feelings in 
 consequence. 
 
 The duke carefully tended the sick man's 
 bed, sitting up with him, and doing and say- 
 ing what was in his power to keep up his
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 243 
 
 spirits. The duchess would, in the kindness 
 of her heart, have done the same ; but it was 
 judged more prudent by Dr. M'Leod, that in 
 her present situation she should be kept 
 away from every cause of agitation. 
 
 It was all in vain. Luigi, with great courage, 
 submitted to the operation, but sank so much 
 after it, that mortification ensued, and the 
 doctors pronounced his case hopeless. He 
 was arrived at that awful point when pain 
 ceases, but life surely follows it. 
 
 Dr. M'Leod then, as having been the 
 longest acquainted with Luigi, and the most 
 capable of speaking to him at the crisis of 
 his fate, told him that his present freedom 
 from suffering was no step towards recovery, 
 but, on the contrary, a sure sign of progress 
 towards the end; and that, all earthly reme- 
 dies being now unavailing, the only relief he 
 could find would be in death. 
 
 At first, Luigi refused to believe the an- 
 nouncement; but gradually becoming more 
 calm, something that seemed to oppress his 
 mind forced him to speak, and, in a feeble 
 tone, he asked to see his master and mistress. 
 Cornelia, whose anxiety had prevented all
 
 '244 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 repose, came immediately to the poor suffer- 
 er's chamber, with her usual compassionate 
 feeling, as soon as the request was made 
 known to her. 
 
 She had not changed her dress since the 
 fete, having only lain down to rest for a 
 limited time ; because her concern for an old 
 and faithful servant of her husband's, prompt- 
 ed her to be in readiness for whatever might 
 occur. The contrast between her appear- 
 ance in her festal costume, her fair hair 
 wreathed with pearls, her dress light and 
 elegant as suited the season, and the bloody 
 traces that could not be entirely removed 
 from the scene of the operation, was strik- 
 ingly and painfully apparent. On one side 
 of the poor man's bed sat the duke, his face 
 .buried in his hands, in a state of repressed 
 agitation, such as his wife had never wit- 
 nessed. Cornelia entered that room happy ; 
 she left it never to smile again. 
 ^ But when her husband raised his head, 
 and she saw the pallid and conscience-stricken 
 countenance of one whom she had never even 
 mentally suspected of guilt, she sank at once 
 into a chair, and, clasping her hands, ex-
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 245 
 
 claimed, " God, what hast thou reserved 
 for me!" 
 
 A deep groan from the now dying man, 
 reminded them that there was one in the 
 room whose imminent fate was yet more 
 urgent than any private feelings of their 
 own, however powerful; and the duke with 
 an humbled, but imploring look towards 
 Cornelia, turned silently to Luigi, and wait- 
 ed as if expecting him to speak. 
 
 " I have told your grace something," said 
 he, " but not all. I have been a miserable 
 man ever since I was first tempted to this 
 career of guilt." 
 
 " Rest yourself awhile, Luigi," said the 
 duke; '' I must speak apart to the duchess." 
 
 He then took Cornelia aside, and commu- 
 nicated to her the story, which he had but 
 in part heard from his servant's confession, 
 the end of which it was necessary he should 
 collect from his now failing intellect as quickly 
 as possible. 
 
 Luigi's narrative, which was long and fre- 
 quently inteiTupted, will be best condensed 
 into one tale, the substance of which was as 
 follows ; —
 
 246 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 He began by reminding the duke of an 
 Italian girl with whom he had in his former 
 travels fallen deeply in love, and whom he 
 had persuaded to elope with him from the 
 convent where she was finishing her educa- 
 tion. She had been taken on board the 
 yacht, where she had been imposed upon by 
 an illegal and incomplete ceremony of mar- 
 riage, by the aid of a Greek renegade priest, 
 whom the duke had picked up at Syracuse, 
 and who had consented to act upon the occa- 
 sion. This man, Mavrosceni by name, and 
 an unprincipled adventurer in character, was 
 no other than the mysterious person whom 
 the duke had unexpectedly met one evening 
 on the ramparts of Malta. 
 
 Luigi continued — that, as the duke must 
 remember, they arrived after a long cruise 
 in France, whence they travelled as man and 
 wife over great part of the Continent, finally 
 settling in a cottage in Switzerland, where 
 the duke had, after a time, heartlessly de- 
 serted her, not knowing her then to be enceinte, 
 and leaving it in charge to Luigi to take her 
 back to her own country, with a large sum 
 of money, sufficient indeed to provide for her
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 247 
 
 future comfort, but unhappily also sufficient 
 to tempt the unfaithful Luigi to appropriate 
 it, or most of it, to his own use. This, the 
 guilty man, in the agonies of conscience more 
 than of body, now acknowledged to have 
 done, and to have left the unfortunate Ve- 
 ronica to struggle as she could with poverty 
 and despair. Luigi went on to confess that 
 the story he had told the duke on his return 
 to England, about having taken Veronica 
 and settled her comfortably in Corsica, and 
 of her death there by fever subsequently, 
 was an unfounded fabrication, and that, as 
 he learned afterwards, she had followed him, 
 though slowly, to England, where she had 
 probably heard of his intended marriage with 
 the duchess. 
 
 Both the duke and duchess learn with 
 horror that the unfortunate woman who 
 committed suicide the morning they left 
 London, and whose destitute orphan Cor- 
 nelia had taken under her motherly care, 
 was no other than the poor, deserted Veronica 
 Lanzi. 
 
 Luigi having seen the body, as drawn 
 dripping from the Thames, could speak
 
 S48 CHRIST ABELLi:* 
 
 positively as to her identity; and the fact 
 of her having an infant of the age of Nicholas 
 iat that time, was accounted for by her having 
 alluded to her expectations of becoming a 
 mother before Luigi had finally left her in 
 Switzerland, though the circumstance was 
 unknown at the time the duke had so 
 cruelly abandoned her. 
 
 All this Luigi, feeling himself about to 
 appear before his eternal judge, solemnly- 
 asserted to be true, and passionately entreated 
 both the duke and duchess, while thanking 
 them for all their past kindness, not only to 
 forgive him, but to believe him. He died 
 penitent, but despairing of mercy from his 
 God. 
 
 The duke knelt, fearful of meeting the 
 agonized, but still pitying countenance of 
 his wife, whose virtuous gaze he dreaded to 
 encounter. He felt as if in the presence of 
 an angel of light, before whom he could only 
 bow himself and tremble. Hiding his head 
 in Cornelia's lap, he sobbed aloud. 
 
 She promised all should be kept secret; 
 but, full of thought for the unhappy boy,
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 249 
 
 exacted that Nicholas should be provided 
 for and treated as a son. 
 
 Long did she hold his hands as he 
 knelt penitent by the dead man's side, and 
 then praying with him, and for him, 
 embraced him sorrowfully but tenderly. 
 Agonized by remorse, and penetrated by her 
 angelic goodness, he throws himself at her 
 feet, and, after long and violent agitation, he 
 leaves the room leaning upon her arm, loving 
 and respecting her more than ever. But 
 for her — feeling and loving woman that she 
 was, pure and trusting wife — ^happiness in 
 this world was at an end !
 
 250 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 For ever hush'd in death — 
 Mute — calm, she lies ; 
 
 Not Sleep, but Death, weighs down 
 Those dreamless eyes. 
 
 No sound — no, all is still; 
 
 Never again 
 Is heard the sob of breath — 
 
 The moan of pain. 
 
 With Presence of its own 
 Here seems to dwell 
 
 An outstretch'd shape — not hers 
 We loved so well. 
 
 A form without a mind, 
 No thought, no soul, 
 
 God's image call'd back, 
 That made it whole. 
 
 Dost doubt? nay, look again; 
 
 Is not this true? 
 Is not this thing — to die — 
 
 Awful to view ? 
 
 Dost fear? nay, flesh will shrink, 
 
 And faint, and fall ; 
 Yet look but once, once more, 
 
 And learn it all. 
 
 An icy midnight sun — 
 
 A desert shore — 
 A sea without a tide: 
 
 All this — and more. 
 
 O Life, consuming fire ! 
 
 Shape me not here. 
 Alone with this dread Death, 
 
 Such thoughts of fear.
 
 CHRIST ABELLE. 251 
 
 O Pride, dissolve to tears! — 
 
 Far better so, 
 Than with vain human quest 
 
 Still seek to know. 
 
 Kneel humbly — sadly strive 
 
 By Death to pray; 
 Once more view that pale form — 
 
 Rise — go thy way. 
 
 The bells are ringing at Cheyne, to pro- 
 claim the birth of an heir to its ancient 
 honours — the infant Marquis of Bude is born. 
 
 Convulsive symptoms appearing soon after 
 his birth, he is hastily baptized by the name 
 of Arthur, and shortly after, passes away 
 from the transient glimpse of that life, to 
 whose honours and gifts, had he lived, he 
 would have had so large a claim. 
 
 Later in the day, a muffled peal is solemnly 
 sounded: the villagers stand about gaping 
 with wonder ; tears and sobs are heard ; all 
 listen with awe and terror to the announce- 
 ment of the sad news, brought by messengers 
 from the hall, which tells them the pride and 
 delight of their hearts, the lovely, the bene- 
 ficent Cornelia, had followed her infant 
 within a few hours to his early grave.
 
 252 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 At Cheyne, all is mute horror and anguish, 
 over which we must draw a veil : the white- 
 haired father, the despairing husband, the 
 innocent children, the sorrowing household, 
 are overwhelmed by this great and terrible 
 bereavement. There she lies in her coffin ; 
 crimson velvet and coronet, gaudy trappings 
 of death, contrasting with her lovely pale 
 face, so calm and still in death — on her bosom 
 her new-born babe. Solemn and touching 
 picture ! 
 
 One sits beside her, one who never raises 
 his head, bowed down and overwhelmed with 
 an anguish never exceeded — the unhappy 
 and despairing husband — muttering from 
 time to time, in broken accents, " Lost, for 
 ever lost, my Cornelia ! " He does not follow 
 her to her grave in the old church; he can- 
 not be roused from his stupor — but her 
 father and sorrowing children are there, and 
 one unexpected mourner — the orphan Nicho- 
 las — who, escaped from his school, like a wild 
 animal, frantic and convulsed with grief, 
 throws himself upon her coffin when it is 
 about to be lowered into the family vault.
 
 CHRISTABELLE. 253 
 
 A fit ensues, and the poor struggling boy is 
 removed into the churchyard by the awe- 
 stricken and weeping bystanders. At last, 
 they bring him to life, and Christabelle — 
 her pale face and falling hair all wet with 
 tears — with the deep sensibility of a mind 
 beyond her years, whispers to him : " I will 
 love you, Nicholas, dear Nicholas, for our 
 darling mother's sake; speak to me." But 
 his grief is heavy at his heart, and despair 
 lends fierceness to the tone in which he cries, 
 " Oh, that I was dead with her, my mother, 
 my sweet, sweet, mother ! " He is taken to 
 the house, and there remains till the duke's 
 pleasure is known about him. Cornelia had 
 left a will, written within a few days of her 
 death, by which she bequeathed to Nicholas 
 £500 per annum for life, and begged that 
 he might be educated in a manner suitable 
 to that provision. The duke, on learning 
 this, when partially recovered from his first 
 agony of grief, though refusing to see the 
 boy, directed that he should be immediately 
 sent to Eton, with an outfit better suited to 
 the condition of a nobleman's son, than to
 
 254 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 his anomalous and real position in the noble 
 family of Tintagel. 
 
 However, all that aiFection beyond the 
 grave could effect had been done for the 
 orphan recipient of her bounty by the 
 thoughtful and benevolent Cornelia, though 
 never more will her wise counsel and pure 
 example direct his wild and ungovernable 
 nature through the trials and struggles of 
 existence. 
 
 The duke recovered slowly — The despair 
 and gloom which the late disclosures had 
 thrown over his mind, were lost in the greater 
 affliction that had befallen him in this over- 
 whelming sense of his irreparable loss. He 
 sought in various distractions, and in absence 
 from the home where he had been, though 
 for so short a time, supremely happy, some 
 relief for his wounded spirit. Living hence- 
 forth much in London, he left his daughters 
 to the care of their grandfather and Mrs. 
 Murray, occasionally visiting them at Cheyne, 
 but especially avoiding the periods of the 
 Eton vacations. Mr. Lovel, however, did not 
 seem to remark this, and was the less likely
 
 CU RISTABELLE. 255 
 
 to do SO as Nicholas was always attentive to 
 the old man, and consequently a favourite of 
 his. He brought from school a character of 
 great cleverness from his masters, accom- 
 panied, however, by observations upon his 
 temper and unruly wildness of disposition. 
 
 " When these lines meet your eye, my 
 dearest and most beloved husband, the crisis 
 of my fate will have been decided. God, who 
 knows what is best for all his creatures, will, 
 before many weeks are over, have delivered 
 me from the pains which are the inevitable 
 judgment pronounced upon our first mother, 
 Eve, and will have either restored me to 
 health and strength for some few years longer 
 struggle with this world, or will have seen 
 fit to call me to himself in that world to 
 w^hich you and all must follow me. What- 
 ever be the event, I seek to be resigned unto 
 his will, and say with such strength of mind 
 as he has granted me, but with all humility, 
 his will be done.
 
 256 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 " It is, however, my duty as long as I am 
 left in possession of life and of my faculties, 
 to exert them to the best of my ability in look- 
 ing calmly and clearly around me, and in see- 
 ing whether it be not in my power to do some- 
 thing for the comfort and happiness of those I 
 shall leave behind me — and oh! my loved and 
 honoured husband, it is not without care and 
 anxiety, though with hearty thankfulness to 
 God for the past, and with confidence in him 
 for all of you for the future, that I con- 
 template the lot of those that will remain 
 when I am gone. Three, perhaps four, chil- 
 dren of tenderest age, will demand a father's 
 deep and anxious care. They will, I know, 
 have every thing that this world can give in 
 means, and care, and nurture, and comfort : 
 but dearest husband, father, believe and 
 know that such gifts are of themselves nothing 
 without the grace of God to guide us in the 
 use of them. Nay, worse than nothing, they 
 are snares. And to escape these snares, so 
 dangerous for girls who are to be one day 
 thrown upon the world without the watchful 
 and ever attendant care of a mother, nothing 
 will serve as a shield but a truly religious
 
 CmUSTABELLE. 257 
 
 education. You cannot be always with 
 them, or understand what are likely in a few 
 years to be their youthful feelings upon many 
 of those momentous subjects. Study, then, 
 watch their tempers, guide their intellects, 
 choose their friends, pray to God for them, 
 and for youself to be able to help them. 
 
 " Above all, trust my dear and early friend, 
 Mrs. Murray. I was once in nearly the 
 same situation that they will be in ; that 
 admirable woman was my counsellor and 
 guide in all the questions that naturally arose 
 as I grew up and became known as the 
 heiress to so large a fortune. 
 
 "The time will come — God grant their 
 father m.ay live to see it! — when my dearest 
 girls will have the same questions to decide 
 for themselves ; but in which no advice that 
 they can ask (even if willing to do so), and 
 no authority that can be exerted to control 
 them (should it unhappily be necessary), will 
 be equivalent to that of their own parent. 
 Watch then, I beseech you, their early ten- 
 dencies, observe their intimacies, let them 
 have enough society to awaken their minds 
 and exercise their understandings; but never 
 
 VOL. I. S
 
 258 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 SO frittered away into mere gaiety or amuse- 
 ment as to make them prefer the world to 
 the home of their youth, the brilliancy of a 
 court to the independent seclusion of Cheyne 
 or Botreaux. 
 
 " If God allow their affectionate father to 
 witness their marriages, I most earnestly 
 in treat, as a thing on which I have much 
 and deeply reflected, that they may be con- 
 trolled in their choice by nothing — except 
 character. The husbands that are likely to 
 be their choice, can hardly be other than 
 men of like education and habits to their 
 own family, let their wealth or rank in the 
 eyes of dthe world be ever so inferior to it. 
 But I beseech you, let not the most brilliant 
 alliance induce you to consent in giving 
 either of them in marriage to a man whose 
 moral worth is not satisfactory to you. 
 
 "Ah! if women did but know how much 
 more effect their refusal of unworthy and 
 dissipated suitors would have in checking 
 vice, than the too common and too easy plan 
 of overlooking all previous frailties as the 
 venial follies of youth, they would perhaps 
 exert more sternly their privilege of rejection.
 
 CHRIST ABELLE. 259 
 
 " Not to pursue this subject — for I cannot 
 believe that my children, brought up, as I am 
 sure they will be, under Mrs. Murray's 
 guidance and your authority — I may add, 
 under the auspices of my venerable father, 
 whose presence adds a sanction and a bless- 
 ing to all around him — my children will 
 never make an objectionable choice. You 
 will be on your guard for them as to the 
 dangers of their own position in regard to 
 the early possession of riches and station in 
 society; be also on the watch to check all 
 vanity, all self-sufficiency, all the insidious 
 encroachments of pride arising from beauty 
 or talent, which I cannot, of colirse, with all 
 a mother's partiality, predict for them. 
 
 " My tears fell fast over the three lovely 
 innocents as I kissed them this night sleeping 
 in heavenly slumbers in their little bed, 
 locked in each other's arms, the very image 
 of spotless innocence and sisterly love. Long 
 may they remain so ! Above all things, en- 
 courage the love of one for another, and the 
 guardianship of the elder over the younger, 
 should her mind and ability, which seem to 
 promise well, be capable of the task.
 
 260 CHRISTABELLE. 
 
 " To my dear and revered father, I feel, I 
 know, that you will be every thing. He 
 already feels the touch of age, he wants your 
 help, he likes your society ; every thing here 
 calls for your presence in a scene which you 
 will not love the less for bringing me to your 
 remembrance. 
 
 " Let not my children ever be kept in 
 ignorance of their mother; bring me to their 
 thoughts; recall your own image of me by 
 causing them to feel they know me, though 
 their infantine memory will be insufficient 
 of itself to assist them ; and lock not up in 
 dead silence for years, perhaps for ever, the 
 name of one'who will be in your mind and 
 on your lips; steeling the heart to the best 
 and most natural vent to what I know, 
 dearest husband, will be your deep affliction. 
 Is it not so to me, at this still moment, when 
 I foresee I must lose you, though I trust in 
 God we shall be re-united ? 
 
 " One more subject I approach with ten- 
 derness, for I feel the delicacy of it ; yet the 
 charity whose attribute is long-suffering, and 
 which thinketh no evil, impels me to do so. 
 
 " Knowing, as I do, the true position of
 
 CHKISTABELLE. 261 
 
 Nicholas, and feeling the greatest interest 
 for himself, as a fine, high-spirited boy, 
 capable of being led to great distinction, but 
 exposed to great dangers and temptation, I 
 not only recommend, but beg, you to treat 
 him as a son, though without acknowledg- 
 ment. I have such confidence in your judg- 
 ment that I say no more on this head : you 
 will find whatever I had to add expressed in 
 my will. 
 
 " And now, dearest husband, accept my 
 earnest and hearty thanks for ,the years of 
 happiness I have enjoyed with you. I have 
 so often uttered them in my prayers to God 
 for your happiness, that I feel as if my last 
 breath must be employed in that which is 
 
 my constant look to God for 
 
 comfort * 
 
 * This letter was found, addressed to her husband, in the 
 duchess's secretaire after her death. . 
 
 END OF YOLUilE FIRST. 
 
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