the poor, weary and anxious princesses once more escaped their perils by sea, and reposed themselves on a less unstable element.

The next day Richard again defeated the felon Isaac, and compelled him to surrender. His person being seized, he was himself imprisoned and laden with fetters of iron; when (as if to show to what an extent folly is requisite as an ingredient in the composition of entire knavery) he complained bitterly that the quality of the metal which constrained him was not proportionate to his dignity. The fierce Plantagenet, from whim, ostentation, or some latent feeling of sympathy with this barbaric estimation of the privileges of royalty, yielded to the representations of his captive, and ordered him to be secured with chains of silver. This concession so gratified the vanity of the ignoble Isaac, that he praised his conqueror for his generosity.

In this appropriate isle Richard united himself to the fair Berengaria, amidst all the pomp and circumstances of oriental luxury and feudal power. Moreri says, "Cyprus was formerly consecrated to Venus, whom the poets have stated to have been born there; probably because the inhabitants were exceedingly amorous." In our own times, the dignified Gibbon says of this island, its very "name excites the ideas of eloquence and pleasure." A widely-known dramatic writer makes one of his personages affirm that there is no scandalous story without some foundation; and probably Cyprus never would have obtained its permanent ill renown had not an ample substructure for it existed at some time or another. And, if history is to be believed, King Richard did not escape from the bad influences which seem to be native to, and epidemic in, the place; for, bridegroom as he was, it is asserted that in the very midst of his honeymoon he became enamoured of the daughter of his prisoner Isaac. But whether this imputation be well or ill founded, it is certain that this princess accompanied him to

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Palestine in the train of Berengaria; the intimation of which fact Hume charitably and retrospectively emphasizes, by adding, in a happy Parthian-like manner, the following significant lamentation: "Such were the libertine character and conduct of the heroes engaged in this pious enterprise!"

While Richard was celebrating his nuptials at Cyprus, the memorable siege of Acre, or Ptolemais, was being prosecuted by the Christians with all the strength which their exhausted numbers would permit. The redoubted Saladin had employed every effort and artifice which courage and warlike ingenuity could effect and invent to protract the defence of the place. Between his army and the besieged a regular correspondence was maintained by means of divers and pigeons; and more than once he contrived to withdraw the remnants of the slaughtered garrison, and to substitute fresh and valiant troops. By these, and similar devices of this sagacious and heroic chief, the city seemed to have been rendered impregnable, when Richard and Philip, during the spring of the second year of the siege, cast anchor in the bay of Acre. Their arrival infused new life into the Christians; and for a time the two rivals, acting in concert, and sharing the honour and danger of every action, engendered sanguine hopes that not only Acre would be taken, but that ultimately the great object of the crusade would be achieved, and Jerusalem be regained. While this desirable concord lasted, their vigorous operations were conducted on the agreement that, when the French king prosecuted the attack, the English should guard the trenches; and that Philip, in his turn, should undertake this duty when Richard headed the assault. Thus on each day occurred the alternation of the services of the two great divisions of the besiegers; and the emulation which this judicious arrangement effected was productive of deeds of heroic and almost incredible valour. Richard himself, possessed of a courage amounting to

unbounded temerity, performed actions which dazzled the eyes and fascinated the minds of the whole Latin camp.

The subject of these pages is Berengaria; and glad should we be if we could now give some details of her life and habits during this extraordinary siege; but history is dumb on the subject. The gentle lady seems to have been unnoticed in the glare which drew the universal and concentrated observation to her warlike husband. Even now military glory exerts far too great a sway over the mass of mankind; but in those days, when the minds of all the owners of the soil appear to have been capable of admitting but one idea, that of estimating and coveting martial prowess and success, the chronicler could not well escape the prevalent infatuation. Moreover, there is more incident in unrest than in tranquillity, ex nihilo nihil fit; and perhaps even if a contemporary historian, most eloquent and sympathetic, had existed, he might have found some difficulty in being diffuse on the subject of Berengaria.

At length, after every resource had been exhausted and every hope destroyed, Acre capitulated, and the lives and liberties of its brave defenders were ransomed at the price of two hundred thousand pieces of gold, the emancipation of one hundred noble and fifteen hundred inferior Christian captives, and the restoration of the wood of the holy cross. These were hard and ungenerous conditions; but still worse befell the unfortunate Saracens, for some doubts and delay occurring during the negotiation, the wrath of the Latins was rekindled, and three thousand prisoners were beheaded almost within the sight of Saladin, by the command of the truculent Richard. This is a sad and indelible blot in the history of a monarch whom the readers of romance and lovers of chivalry would fain admire and exalt.

By the conquest of Acre, the troops acquired a strong town and convenient harbour; but most dearly was this possession purchased. It is stated that more than three hundred thousand

men perished by famine, the sword, or the climate, during this too famous siege.

No sooner had the city been surrendered than the harmony which, with slight interruptions, had hitherto been maintained between the two monarchs suddenly and finally ceased. Michelet says that the death of Henry the Second was a great misfortune for Philip, for it placed upon the throne his great friend Richard, "with whom he ate at the same table, and slept in the same bed." Thus he speaks; for the friendship was, on both sides, factitious and fanciful, begotten of mutual utility and selfish purposes; while the repugnance which subsequently manifested itself was real, cordial, native to the characters of the men. With these feelings it was only necessary for Richard to advocate the claims of Lusignan to the throne of Jerusalem, to incite Philip to declare himself the ally and protector of Conrade of Montferrat, a rival claimant to the same titular sovereignty. This antagonism of the chief leaders soon divided the entire camp into opposite and most hostile factions. The Genoese, the Germans, and the Templars espoused the views of Philip and of Conrade; the Flemings, the Pisans, and the Knights of St. John attached themselves to the party of Richard and Lusignan.

Philip had too much of the statesman and politician in his character ever to have been cordially a crusader; for the species of renown which the part obtained he did not unduly value, and the sacrifices which it required he felt deeply. The result, therefore, of these dissensions was, that he quitted Palestine almost immediately after the conclusion of the siege; glad, probably, to find in expressions of disgust, and of the impossibility of a co-operation with the obstinate and wrong-headed Richard, a plea for indulging his natural inclination. He left behind him the Duke of Burgundy, with five hundred knights and ten thousand foot, to aid in the attempt to recover Jeru

salem. But the crusaders and expectant Europe thought this scanty contingent but a poor equivalent for his desertion, and that of the flower of his army; and the character and reputation of Philip were for a time much sullied by a deed which evinced more of discretion than of chivalry. The consequence was, that Richard's renown obtained, if possible, even additional lustre by the contrast; and undoubtedly the lion-hearted monarch did all that reckless mortal could achieve to obtain for himself the suffrages of the votaries of valour.

After the surrender of Acre, Richard led the crusaders to the conquest of other cities of the coast, and Cesarea and Jaffa were rapidly added to the fragments of the kingdom of Lusignan. A march of one hundred miles from Acre to Ascalon was a great and perpetual battle of eleven days. In the disorder of his troops Saladin remained on the field with seventeen guards, without lowering his standard or suspending the sound of his brazen kettle-drum. Again he rallied, and returned to the charge, and his preachers or heralds called upon the faithful manfully to withstand the Christian idolators. But the progress of these idolators was irresistible; and only by demolishing the walls and buildings of Ascalon could the sultan prevent them from occupying an important fortress on the frontiers of Egypt.

During the succeeding winter, which was unusually severe, hostilities were suspended; but in the spring Richard commenced the campaign by intercepting a caravan convoying seven thousand camels richly laden. Subsequently his successes were so great that at last he advanced within a day's march of Jerusalem. Saladin himself was in the city; nevertheless, it became the prey of discord and consternation. vain he strove to rally the courage of its inhabitants by appeals to their martial feelings; but the indefatigable sultan was not to be discouraged, and he resorted to other expedients to incite

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