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of an ancient family settled at Beriton, near Petersfield, Hampshire. Of delicate health, young EDWARD GIBBON was privately educated, and at the age of fifteen he was placed at Magdalen college, Oxford. He was almost from infancy a close student, but his indiscriminate appetite for books subsided by degrees in the historic line.'

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had long been meditating some historical work, and whilst at Rome, October 15, 1764, his choice was determined by an incident of a striking and romantic nature. As I sat musing,' he says, amidst the ruins of the Capitol, while the barefooted friars were singing vespers in the temple of Jupiter, the He arrived at Ox-idea of writing the decline and fall of the city first started to my mind.' Many years, however, elapsed before he realised his intentions. On returning to England in 1765, he seems to have been fashionable and idle; his father died in 1770, and he then began to form the plan of an independent life. The estate left him by his father was much involved in debt, and he determined on quitting the country and residing permanently in London. He then undertook the composition of the first volume of his history. At the outset,' he remarks, all was dark and doubtful; even the title of the work, the true era of the decline and fall of the empire, the limits of the introduction, the division of the chapters, and the order of the narrative; and I was often tempted to cast away the labour of seven years. The style of an author should be the image of his mind, but the choice and command of lar guage is the fruit of exercise. Many experiments were made before I could hit the middle tone between a dull tone and a rhetorical declamation: three times did I compose the first chapter, and twice the second and third, before I was tolerably satisfied with their effect. In the remainder of the way, I advanced with a more equal and easy pace.'

ford, he says, with a stock of erudition that might have puzzled a doctor, and a degree of ignorance of which a schoolboy would have been ashamed. He spent fourteen months at college idly and unprofitably, as he himself states; and, studying the works of Bossuet and Parsons the Jesuit, he became a convert to the Roman Catholic religion. He went to London, and at the feet of a priest, on the 8th of June 1753, he solemnly, though privately, abjured the errors of heresy.' His father, in order to reclaim him, placed him for some years at Lausanne, in Switzerland, under the charge of M. Pavilliard, a Calvinist clergyman, whose judicious conduct prevailed upon his pupil to return to the bosom of the Protestant church. On Christmas day, 1754, he received the sacrament in the Protestant church at Lausanne. It was here,' says the historian, that I suspended my religious inquiries, acquiescing with implicit belief in the tenets and mysteries which are adopted by the general consent of Catholics and Protestants.' At Lausanne a regular and severe system of study perfected Gibbon in the Latin and

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Edward Gibbon.

French languages, and in a general knowledge of literature. In 1758 he returned to England, and three years afterwards appeared as an author in a slight French treatise, an Essay on the Study of Literature. He accepted the commission of captain in the Hampshire militia; and though his studies were interrupted, 'the discipline and evolutions of a modern battle,' he remarks, gave him a clearer notion of the phalanx and the legion, and the captain of the Hampshire grenadiers was not useless to the historian of the Roman empire.' On the peace of 1762, Gibbon was released from his military duties, and paid a visit to France and Italy. He

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In 1774 he was returned for the borough of Liskeard, and sat in parliament eight sessions during the memorable contest between Great Britain and America. Prudence, he says, condemned him to acquiesce in the humble station of a mute; the great speakers filled him with despair, the bad ones with terror. Gibbon, however, supported by his vote the administration of Lord North, and was by this nobleman appointed one of the lords commissioners of trade and plantations. In 1776 the first quarto volume of his history was given to the world. Its success was almost unprecedented for a grave historical work: 'the first impression was exhausted in a few days; a second and third edition was scarcely adequate to the demand; and the bookseller's property was twice invaded by the pirates of Dublin: the book was on every table, and almost on every toilette.' His brother historians, Robertson and Hume, generously greeted him with warm applause. Whether I consider the dignity of your style,' says Hume, 'the depth of your matter, or the extensiveness of your learning, I must regard the work as equally the object of esteem.' There was another bond of sympathy between the English and the Scottish historian: Gibbon had insidiously, though too unequivocally, evinced his adoption of infidel principles. The various modes of worship which pre vailed in the Roman world were all,' he remarks, 'considered by the people as equally true, by the philosopher as equally false, and by the magistrate as equally useful.' Some feeling of this kind constituted the whole of Gibbon's religious belief: the philosophers of France had triumphed over the lessons of the Calvinist minister of Lausanne, and the historian seems never to have returned to the faith and the humility of the Christian. In the fifteenth and sixteenth chapters of his work he gave an account of the growth and progress of Christianity, which he accounted for solely by secondary causes, without reference to its divine origin. A number of answers were written to these memorable chapters, the only one of which that has kept possession of the public is the reply by Dr Watson, bishop of Llandaff, entitled 'An Apology for Chris

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tianity.' Gibbon's method of attacking our faith has that I wrote the last lines of the last page in a been well described by Lord Byron, as

Sapping a solemn creed with solemn sneer,
The lord of irony, that master spell.

summer-house in my garden. After laying down my pen, I took several turns in a berceau, or covered

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Residence of Gibbon at Lausanne.

He nowhere openly avows his disbelief. By tacitly sinking the early and astonishing spread of Christianity during the time of the Apostles, and dwelling with exaggerated colouring and minuteness on the errors and corruption by which it afterwards became debased, the historian in effect conveys an impression that its divine origin is but a poetical fable, like the golden age of the poets, or the mystic absurdities of Mohammedanism. The Christian faith was a bold and successful innovation, and Gibbon hated all innovations. In his after life, he was in favour of retaining even the Inquisition, with its tortures and its tyranny, because it was an ancient institution! Besides the 'solemn sneer' of Gibbon, there is another cardinal defect in his account of the progress of the Christian faith, which has been thus ably pointed out by the Rev. H. H. Milman :'Christianity alone receives no embellishment from the magic of Gibbon's language; his imagination is dead to its moral dignity; it is kept down by a general tone of jealous disparagement, or neutralised by a painfully elaborate exposition of its darker and degenerate periods. There are occasions, indeed, when its pure and exalted humanity, when its manifestly beneficial influence can compel even him, as it were, to fairness, and kindle his unguarded eloquence to its usual fervour; but in general he soon relapses into a frigid apathy; affects an ostentatiously severe impartiality; notes all the faults of Christians in every age with bitter and almost malignant sarcasm; reluctantly, and with exception and reservation, admits their claim to admiration. This inextricable bias appears even to influence his manner of composition. While all the other assailants of the Roman empire, whether warlike or religious, the Goth, the Hun, the Arab, the Tartar, Alaric and Attila, Mahomet, and Zingis, and Tamerlane, are each introduced upon the scene almost with dramatic animation-their progress related in a full, complete, and unbroken narrative-the triumph of Christianity alone takes the form of a cold and critical disquisition. The successes of barbarous energy and brute force call forth all the consummate skill of composition, while the moral triumphs of Christian benevolence, the tranquil heroism of endurance, the blameless purity, the contempt of guilty fame, and of honours destructive to the human race, which, had they assumed the proud name of philosophy, would have been blazoned in his brightest cation of his three last volumes, and afterwards Gibbon went to London to superintend the publiwords, because they own religion as their principle, returned to Lausanne, where he resided till 1793. sink into narrow asceticism. The glories of Chris- The French Revolution had imbittered and divided tianity, in short, touch on no chord in the heart of the society of Lausanne; some of his friends were the writer; his imagination remains unkindled; his dead, and he anxiously wished himself again in words, though they maintain their stately and mea- England. At this time the lady of his most intimate sured march, have become cool, argumentative, and inanimate. The second and third volumes of the friend, Lord Sheffield, died, and he hastened to administer consolation: he arrived at Lord Sheffield's history did not appear till 1781. After their publi-house in London in June 1793. The health of the cation, finding it necessary to retrench his expen-historian had, however, been indifferent for some diture, and being disappointed of a lucrative place time, owing to a long-settled complaint; and, exwhich he had hoped for from ministerial patron-hausted by surgical operations, he died without age, he resolved to retire to Lausanne, where he was offered a residence by a friend of his youth, pain, and apparently without any sense of his danM. Deyverdun. Here he lived very happily for ger, on the 16th of January 1794. about four years, devoting his mornings to composition, and his evenings to the enlightened and polished society which had gathered in that situation. The history was completed at the time and in the circumstances which he has thus stated:It was on the day or rather night of the 27th of June 1787, between the hours of eleven and twelve,

walk of acacias, which commands a prospect of the
country, the lake, and the mountains. The air was
temperate, the sky was serene, the silver orb of the
moon was reflected from the waters, and all nature
was silent. I will not dissemble the first emotions
of joy on the recovery of my freedom, and perhaps
the establishment of my fame. But my pride was
soon humbled, and a sober melancholy was spread
over my mind by the idea that I had taken an ever-
lasting leave of an old and agreeable companion,
and that whatsoever might be the future date of
my history, the life of the historian must be short
which have seldom occurred in the composition of
and precarious."*
six or even five quartos; his first rough manuscript,
without an intermediate copy, was sent to the press,
and not a sheet was seen by any person but the
author and the printer. His lofty style, like that of
Johnson, was, in fact, the image of his mind.'

The historian adds two facts

In most of the essential qualifications of a historian, Gibbon was equal to either Hume or Robertson. In some he was superior. He had greater

*The garden and summer-house where he composed are neglected, and the last utterly decayed, but they still show it as his "cabinet," and seem perfectly aware of his memory.'Byron's Letters.

depth and variety of learning, and a more perfect command of his intellectual treasures. It was not merely with the main stream of Roman history that he was familiar. All its accessaries and tributaries -the art of war, philosophy, theology, jurisprudence, geography (down to its minutest point), every shade of manners, opinions, and public character, in Roman and contemporaneous history, he had studied with laborious diligence and complete success. Hume was elaborate, but it was only with respect to style. Errors in fact and theory were perpetuated through every edition, while the author was purifying his periods and weeding out Scotticisms. The labour of Gibbon was directed to higher objects-to the accumulation of facts, and the collation of ancient authors. His style, once fixed, remained unaltered. In erudition and comprehensiveness of intellect, Gibbon may therefore be pronounced the first of English historians. The vast range of his subject, and the tone of dignity which he preserves throughout the whole of his capacious circuit, also give him a superiority over his illustrious rivals. In concentrating his information, and presenting it in a clear and lucid order, he is no less remarkable, while his vivid imagination, quickening and adorning his varied knowledge, is fully equal to his other powers. He identifies himself with whatever he describes, and paints local scenery, national costume or manners, with all the force and animation of a native or eye-witness. These solid and bright acquirements of the historian were not, however, without their drawbacks. His mind was more material or sensual than philosophical-more fond of splendour and display than of the beauty of virtue or the grandeur of moral heroism. His taste was vitiated and impure, so that his style is not only deficient in chaste simplicity, but is disfigured by offensive pruriency and occasional grossness. His lofty ornate diction fatigues by its uniform pomp and dignity, notwithstanding the graces and splendour of his animated narrative. Deficient in depth of moral feeling and elevation of sentiment, Gibbon seldom touches the heart or inspires true enthusiasm. The reader admires his glittering sentences, his tournaments, and battle-pieces, his polished irony and masterly sketches of character; he marvels at his inexhaustible learning, and is fascinated by his pictures of military conquest and Asiatic luxury, but he still feels, that, as in the state of ancient Rome itself, the seeds of ruin are developed

amidst flattering appearances: the florid bloom but ill conceals the fatal malady which preys upon the vitals. The want of one great harmonising spirit of humanity and genuine philosophy to give unity to the splendid mass, becomes painfully visible on a calm review of the entire work. After one attentive study of Gibbon, when the mind has become saturated with his style and manner, we seldom recur to his pages excepting for some particular fact or description. Such is the importance of simplicity and purity in a voluminous narrative, that this great historian is seldom read but as a study, while Hume and Robertson are always perused as a pleasure.

The work of Gibbon has been translated into French, with notes by M. Guizot, the distinguished philosopher and statesman. The remarks of Guizot, with those of Wenck, a German commentator, and numerous original illustrations and corrections, are embodied in a fine edition by Mr Milman, in twelve volumes, published by Mr Murray, London, in 1838. M. Guizot has thus recorded his own impressions on reading Gibbon's history:- After a first rapid

* Hall on the Causes of the Present Discontents.

perusal, which allowed me to feel nothing but the interest of a narrative, always animated, and, notwithstanding its extent and the variety of objects which it makes to pass before the view, always perspicuous, I entered upon a minute examination of the details of which it was composed, and the opinion which I then formed was, I confess, singularly severe. I discovered, in certain chapters, errors which appeared to me sufficiently important and numerous to make me believe that they had been written with extreme negligence; in others, I was struck with a certain tinge of partiality and prejudice, which imparted to the exposition of the facts that want of truth and justice which the English express by their happy term, misrepresentation. Some imperfect quotations, some passages omitted unintentionally or designedly, have cast a suspicion on the honesty of the author; and his violation of the first law of history-increased to my eyes by the prolonged attention with which I occupied myself with every phrase, every note, every reflection-caused me to form on the whole work a judgment far too rigorous. After having finished my labours, I allowed some time to elapse before I reviewed the whole. A second attentive and regular perusal of the entire work, of the notes of the author, and of those which I had thought it right to subjoin, showed me how much I had exaggerated the importance of the reproaches which Gibbon really deserved: I was struck with the same errors, the same partiality on certain subjects; but I had been far from doing adequate justice to the immensity of his researches, the variety of his knowledge, and, above all, to that truly philosophical discrimination (justesse d'esprit) which judges the past as it would judge the present; which does not permit itself to be blinded by the clouds which time gathers around the dead, and which prevent us from seeing that under the toga as under the modern dress, in the senate as in our councils, men were what they still are, and that events took place eighteen centuries ago as they take place in our days. I then felt that his book, in spite of its faults, will always be a noble work; and that we may correct his errors, and combat his prejudices, without ceasing to admit that few men have combined, if we are not to say in so high a degree, at least in a manner so complete and so well regulated, the necessary qualifications for a writer of history.'

[Opinion of the Ancient Philosophers on the Immortality of the Soul.]

The writings of Cicero represent in the most lively colours the ignorance, the errors, and the uncertainty of the ancient philosophers with regard to the immortality of the soul. When they are desirous of arming their disciples against the fear of death, they inculcate, as an obvious though melancholy position, that the fatal stroke of our dissolution releases us from the calamities of life; and that those can no longer suffer who no longer exist. Yet there were a few sages of Greece and Rome who had conceived a more exalted, and in some respects a juster idea of human nature; though, it must be confessed, that in the sublime inquiry, their reason had often been guided by their imagination, and that their imagination had been prompted by their vanity. When they viewed with complacency the extent of their own mental powers; when they exercised the various faculties of memory, of fancy, and of judgment, in the most profound speculations, or the most important labours; and when they reflected on the desire of fame, which transported them into future ages, far beyond the bounds of death and of the grave; they were unwilling to confound

themselves with the beasts of the field, or to suppose double wall was of a circular form; and such was the that a being, for whose dignity they entertained the rapid increase of a capital now dwindled to a provincial most sincere admiration, could be limited to a spot town, that the funeral of a popular saint might be of earth, and to a few years of duration. With this attended by eight hundred thousand men and sixty favourable prepossession, they summoned to their aid thousand women of Bagdad and the adjacent villages. the science, or rather the language, of metaphysics. In this city of peace, amidst the riches of the east, They soon discovered, that as none of the properties the Abbassides soon disdained the abstinence and of matter will apply to the operations of the mind, frugality of the first caliphs, and aspired to emuthe human soul must consequently be a substance late the magnificence of the Persian kings. After his distinct from the body-pure, simple, and spiritual, wars and buildings, Almansor left behind him in gold incapable of dissolution, and susceptible of a much and silver about thirty millions sterling; and this higher degree of virtue and happiness after the release treasure was exhausted in a few years by the vices or from its corporeal prison. From these specious and virtues of his children. His son Mahadi, in a single noble principles, the philosophers who trod in the pilgrimage to Mecca, expended six millions of dinars footsteps of Plato deduced a very unjustifiable conclu- of gold. A pious and charitable motive may sanctify sion, since they asserted not only the future immor- the foundation of cisterns and caravanseras, which he tality, but the past eternity of the human soul, which distributed along a measured road of seven hundred they were too apt to consider as a portion of the infi- miles; but his train of camels, laden with snow, nite and self-existing spirit, which pervades and sus- could serve only to astonish the natives of Arabia, tains the universe. A doctrine thus removed beyond and to refresh the fruits and liquors of the royal banthe senses and the experience of mankind might serve quet. The courtiers would surely praise the liberality to amuse the leisure of a philosophic mind; or, in the of his grandson Almamon, who gave away four-fifths silence of solitude, it might sometimes impart a ray of the income of a province-a sum of two millions of comfort to desponding virtue; but the faint impres- four hundred thousand gold dinars-before he drew sion which had been received in the school was soon his foot from the stirrup. At the nuptials of the same obliterated by the commerce and business of active prince, a thousand pearls of the largest size were life. We are sufficiently acquainted with the eminent showered on the head of the bride, and a lottery of persons who flourished in the age of Cicero, and of the lands and houses displayed the capricious bounty of first Cæsars, with their actions, their characters, and fortune. The glories of the court were brightened their motives, to be assured that their conduct in this rather than impaired in the decline of the empire, life was never regulated by any serious conviction of and a Greek ambassador might admire or pity the the rewards or punishments of a future state.* At magnificence of the feeble Moctader. The caliph's the bar and in the senate of Rome the ablest orators whole army,' says the historian Abulfeda, 'both horse were not apprehensive of giving offence to their hear- and foot, was under arms, which together made a ers by exposing that doctrine as an idle and extra-body of one hundred and sixty thousand men. vagant opinion, which was rejected with contempt by every man of a liberal education and understanding.

Since, therefore, the most sublime efforts of philosophy can extend no farther than feebly to point out the desire, the hope, or at most the probability, of a future state, there is nothing except a divine revelation that can ascertain the existence and describe the condition of the invisible country which is destined to receive the souls of men after their separation from the body.

[The City of Bagdad-Magnificence of the Caliphs.] Almansor, the brother and successor of Saffah, laid the foundations of Bagdad (A.D. 762), the imperial seat of his posterity during a reign of five hundred years. The chosen spot is on the eastern bank of the Tigris, about fifteen miles above the ruins of Modain: the

*This passage of Gibbon is finely illustrated in Hall's Funeral Sermon for Dr Ryland :

If the mere conception of the reunion of good men in a future state infused a momentary rapture into the mind of Tully; if an airy speculation, for there is reason to fear it had little hold on his convictions, could inspire him with such delight, what may we be expected to feel who are assured of such an event by the true sayings of God! How should we rejoice in the prospect, the certainty rather, of spending a blissful eternity with those whom we loved on earth, of seeing them emerge from the ruins of the tomb, and the deeper ruins of the fall, not only uninjured, but refined and perfected, "with every tear wiped from their eyes," standing before the throne of God and the Lamb, "in white robes, and palms in their hands, crying with a loud voice, Salvation to God that sitteth upon the throne, and to the Lamb, for ever and ever!" What delight will it afford to renew the sweet counsel we have taken together,

to recount the toils of combat and the labour of the way, and to approach not the house but the throne of God in company, in order to join in the symphony of heavenly voices, and lose - ourselves amidst the splendours and fruitions of the beatific

vision.'

His

The

state-officers, the favourite slaves, stood near him in
splendid apparel, their belts glittering with gold and
gems. Near them were seven thousand eunuchs, four
thousand of them white, the remainder black.
porters or doorkeepers were in number seven hundred.
Barges and boats, with the most superb decorations,
were seen swimming upon the Tigris. Nor was the
place itself less splendid, in which were hung up
thirty-eight thousand pieces of tapestry, twelve thou-
sand five hundred of which were of silk embroidered
with gold. The carpets on the floor were twenty-two
thousand. A hundred lions were brought out, with
a keeper to each lion. Among the other spectacles of
rare and stupendous luxury, was a tree of gold and
silver spreading into eighteen large branches, on
which, and on the lesser boughs, sat a variety of birds
made of the same precious metals, as well as the
leaves of the tree. While the machinery affected
spontaneous motions, the several birds warbled their
natural harmony. Through this scene of magnificence
the Greek ambassador was led by the visier to the foot
of the caliph's throne.' In the west, the Ommiades
of Spain supported, with equal pomp, the title of
commander of the faithful. Three miles from Cor-
dova, in honour of his favourite sultana, the third and
greatest of the Abdalrahmans constructed the city,
palace, and gardens of Zehra. Twenty-five years, and
above three millions sterling, were employed by the
founder: his liberal taste invited the artists of Con-
stantinople, the most skilful sculptors and architects
of the age; and the buildings were sustained or
adorned by twelve hundred columns of Spanish and
African, of Greek and Italian marble. The hall of
audience was incrusted with gold and pearls, and a
great bason in the centre was surrounded with the
curious and costly figures of birds and quadrupeds.
In a lofty pavilion of the gardens, one of these basons
and fountains, so delightful in a sultry climate, was
replenished not with water but with the purest quick-
silver. The seraglio of Abdalrahman, his wives, con-
cubines, and black eunuchs, amounted to six thousand

three hundred persons; and he was attended to the field by a guard of twelve thousand horse, whose belts and scimitars were studded with gold.

In a private condition, our desires are perpetually repressed by poverty and subordination; but the lives and labours of millions are devoted to the service of a despotic prince, whose laws are blindly obeyed, and whose wishes are instantly gratified. Our imagination is dazzled by the splendid picture; and whatever may be the cool dictates of reason, there are few among us who would obstinately refuse a trial of the comforts and the cares of royalty. It may therefore be of some use to borrow the experience of the same Abdalrahman, whose magnificence has perhaps excited our admiration and envy, and to transcribe an authentic memorial which was found in the closet of the deceased caliph. 'I have now reigned above fifty years in victory or peace; beloved by my subjects, dreaded by my enemies, and respected by my allies. Riches and honours, power and pleasure, have waited on my call, nor does any earthly blessing appear to have been wanting to my felicity. In this situation I have diligently numbered the days of pure and genuine happiness which have fallen to my lot: they amount to fourteen. O man! place not thy confidence in this present world.'

[Conquest of Jerusalem by the Crusaders, a. D. 1099.] Jerusalem has derived some reputation from the number and importance of her memorable sieges. It was not till after a long and obstinate contest that Babylon and Rome could prevail against the obstinacy of the people, the craggy ground that might supersede the necessity of fortifications, and the walls and towers that would have fortified the most accessible plain. These obstacles were diminished in the age of the crusades. The bulwarks had been completely destroyed and imperfectly restored: the Jews, their nation and worship, were for ever banished; but nature is less changeable than man, and the site of Jerusalem, though somewhat softened and somewhat removed, was still strong against the assaults of an enemy. By the experience of a recent siege, and a three years possession, the Saracens of Egypt had been taught to discern, and in some degree to remedy, the defects of a place which religion as well as honour forbade them to resign. Aladin or Iftikhar, the caliph's lieutenant, was intrusted with the defence; his policy strove to restrain the native Christians by the dread of their own ruin and that of the holy sepulchre; to animate the Moslems by the assurance of temporal and eternal rewards. His garrison is said to have consisted of forty thousand Turks and Arabians; and if he could muster twenty thousand of the inhabitants, it must be confessed that the besieged were more numerous than the besieging army. Had the diminished strength and numbers of the Latins allowed them to grasp the whole circumference of four thousand yards (about two English miles and a half), to what useful purpose should they have descended into the valley of Ben Himmon and torrent of Cedron, or approached the precipices of the south and east, from whence they had nothing either to hope or fear? Their siege was more reasonably directed against the northern and western sides of the city. Godfrey of Bouillon erected his standard on the first swell of Mount Calvary; to the left, as far as St Stephen's gate, the line of attack was continued by Tancred and the two Roberts; and Count Raymond established his quarters from the citadel to the foot of Mount Sion, which was no longer included within the precincts of the city. On the fifth day, the crusaders made a general assault, in the fanatic hope of battering down the walls without engines, and of scaling them without ladders. By the dint of

brutal force, they burst the first barrier, but they were driven back with shame and slaughter to the camp: the influence of vision and prophecy was deadened by the too frequent abuse of those pious stratagems, and time and labour were found to be the only means of victory. The time of the siege was indeed fulfilled in forty days, but they were forty days of calamity and anguish. A repetition of the old complaint of famine may be imputed in some degree to the voracious or disorderly appetite of the Franks, but the stony soil of Jerusalem is almost destitute of water; the scanty springs and hasty torrents were dry in the summer season; nor was the thirst of the besiegers relieved, as in the city, by the artificial supply of cisterns and aqueducts. The circumjacent country is equally destitute of trees for the uses of shade or building, but some large beams were discovered in a cave by the crusaders: a wood near Sichem, the enchanted grove of Tasso, was cut down: the necessary timber was transported to the camp by the vigour and dexterity of Tancred; and the engines were framed by some Genoese artists, who had fortunately landed in the harbour of Jaffa. Two movable turrets were constructed at the expense and in the stations of the Duke of Lorraine and the Count of Tholouse, and rolled forwards with devout labour, not to the most accessible but to the most neglected parts of the fortification. Raymond's tower was reduced to ashes by the fire of the besieged, but his colleague was more vigilant and successful; the enemies were driven by his archers from the rampart; the drawbridge was let down; and on a Friday, at three in the afternoon, the day and hour of the Passion, Godfrey of Bouillon stood victorious on the walls of Jerusalem. His example was followed on every side by the emulation of valour; and about four hundred and sixty years after the conquest of Omar, the holy city was rescued from the Mohammedan yoke. In the pillage of public and private wealth, the adventurers had agreed to respect the exclusive property of the first occupant; and the spoils of the great mosque-seventy lamps and massy vases of gold and silver-rewarded the diligence and displayed the generosity of Tancred. A bloody sacrifice was offered by his mistaken votaries to the God of the Christians: resistance might provoke, but neither age nor sex could mollify their implacable rage; they indulged themselves three days in a promiscuous massacre, and the infection of the dead bodies produced an epidemical disease. After seventy thousand Moslems had been put to the sword, and the harmless Jews had been burnt in their synagogue, they could still reserve a multitude of captives whom interest or lassitude persuaded them to spare. Of these savage heroes of the cross, Tancred alone betrayed some sentiments of compassion; yet we may praise the more selfish lenity of Raymond, who granted a capitulation and safe conduct to the garrison of the citadel. The holy sepulchre was now free; and the bloody victors prepared to accomplish their vow. Bareheaded and barefoot, with contrite hearts, and in a humble posture, they ascended the hill of Calvary amidst the loud anthems of the clergy; kissed the stone which had covered the Saviour of the world, and bedewed with tears of joy and penitence the monument of their redemption.

[Appearance and Character of Mahomet.]

According to the tradition of his companions, Mahomet was distinguished by the beauty of his personan outward gift which is seldom despised, except by those to whom it has been refused. Before he spoke, the orator engaged on his side the affections of a public or private audience. They applauded his commanding presence, his majestic aspect, his piercing eye, his gracious smile, his flowing beard, his counte

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