gaged at the siege of Safed, were ignorant of all this, when Saam'eddin arrived with his prisoners in chains.

It

Afterward (proceeded Omad) we came to Koukabac, and we found this fortress as if it were attached to the stars; it appeared like the eirie of eagles, and the dwelling-house of the moon. was inhabited by barking dogs, and perfidious wolves, who excited hatred: they said among each other, "If there be only one of us left, he will maintain the order of the Hospitalers, and will preserve it for ever from infamy, for the Franks will return into t these countries; and in the mean time let us defend ourselves with all our strength." The siege began; the walls, attacked by machines, gave way, and we made large breaches in them. The season was a severe one; the rain was abundant; the torrents increased; the tents were overthown into the dirt. We were constantly occupied in driving into the ground the stakes by which they were held, and which were drawn out every moment: but the cords becoming loosened the tents fell. The sky was darkened by storms. Notwithstanding the torrents of rain, drink was scarce: the roads were either slippery or dirty; and, although once broad, they were become narrow. The Sultan moved his tent to a spot whence he could see the barriers which had been raised. He ordered all the baggage to be transported to the foot of the mountain, and attacked the citadel with great vigour. Every morning and every evening we went to him to offer him our salutation, and proceeded in our work till the miners had succeeded. The Infidels then deemed it proper to submit, and abandoned the citadel. The Sultan offered the government of it to several of his Emirs, and Scheimaz was forced to accept of it, in spite of himself. Saladin then returned to his camp in the province of Gour.

of The following details, relative to what passed at the siege of Koukabac, are to be found in a letter written by Fadel to the Prince of Yémen :'

This city is the dwelling-place of the Hospitalers, and the abode of infidelity. It is the usual residence of the grand masters of this order, it is the depôt of their arms and provisions; and it serves as the point of union of the roads. We have waited for an opportunity to attack it, and this siege has terminated all the others. The roads are now safe and quiet. We are in peaceable. possession of the fortresses, and Tyre is now the only city that is wanting to us. If this town were not succoured by vessels which approach its walls, it would soon be in our power, and the refractory: persons w within it would be forced to yield us obedience, Heaven be praised, they are not in an ark which protects them, but rather in a prison! They are captives, although they may have been freely dismissed; they are dead, although living. God has said, Do not oppress them, but God has appointed their time. We came to Koukabac, after having made ourselves masters of Safed, which belonged to the Templars; we have taken Karac and its citadel. The divan of Syria has learnt how painful, difficult, and embarrassing a work this has been to the Musulmans. Nothing. is heard in the towns of Syria but conversations on the unjust and pre

presumptuous conduct of the Infidels. When we came to Koukabac, the winter was very severe; the sky surcharged with clouds; the hills covered with snow; the vallies resounded with the noise of the waters rushing down into them; overwhelming torrents leaving visible signs of their passage, by furrowing the ground, and depositing their slime and mud at the foot of the mountains. The mud rendered the roads impracticable, and even an unincumbered man walked in them as if his feet were in shackles. Our soldiers, and we ourselves, supported courageously the fatigue of the journey, and combated at once both the enemy and the season: our good fortune crowned us with victory, God knew our motives, and seconded our endeavours. He saw our sincerity, and gave us

success.

There were none among the Franks but barking dogs, deceived by Satan. If we had not attacked them on all sides, they would have rushed on us like lions. Falsehood would have triumphed over truth. Our brothers of Alexandria, the Emperor of Constantinople, and the governors of the western provinces, have all written to acquaint us with what the foe proposed to do against us. They informed us that, excited by anger, our enemies had lighted the flame of war, which they wished us to commence, and they had unsheathed the sword to attack us: but they shall soon restore it to its scabbard. The disciples of error had made a treaty among them. May God confound them! With his assistance we shall repulse his enemies. Let us supplicate God to strengthen our hearts, and to keep us united. If our hearts are weak, it is to be feared that we shall be divided.

"We shall attack Antioch this year, and shall send our son Mozafa to besiege Tripoli. Malek Adel will remain in Egypt, and guard the country; for it is said that the enemies have planned an invasion of this coast, and intend to disperse their troops through this kingdom and in Syria. Our minds will not be perfectly tranquil until Sefaysislam has entered the maritime places; when, with the sword in hand, he will watch over the towns that we have taken, and reduce those that we have not yet been able to render submissive to our power. Great men only can be chosen to perform great actions; honourable men can alone make a figure on the amphitheatre! Whatever God decrees, that will be performed. His will surmounts all obstacles. If he pleases, he can make us conquerors over a great multitude, although we ourselves may be only a small number of warriors.'

ART. XIII. Virginie, &c.; i. c. Virginia, or the Enthusiasm of Honor; founded on the Roman History, with Notes. By Madame ELIZABETH C ***, Author of Emile et Rosalie.4 Vols. 12mo. Paris. 1822. Imported by Treuttel and Co. Price 15s. MOR ORE historical novels! and by the pleasing but somewhat trifling writer of " Emile et Rosalie." Really the French Public ought to confess its obligations, by a deputation of

novel-readers (all ladies), to the great unknown Scotch novelist: for he has not only been valuable to them as the skilful ma nufacturer of a new material, but he has set them the example of producing a similar sort of article for themselves. A few of the French ladies, we think, have done themselves credit by the imitation, and seem to have carried their ingenuity of taste in ornamental work into the productions of the imagination. We consider the specimen before us as of a richer and more durable quality than the former efforts of Mad. C., which, nevertheless, underwent too severe a scrutiny from the foreign party-critics of the day: for, since the reign of the De Staels, the Genlis, the Montolieus, and the Cottins, seems to be nearly closed, we do not see how the lighter writers could be better employed than by encouraging a taste for more pure and elevated models than they in general possessed; nor how they could, on the whole, have been expected by the Parisian critics to have acquitted themselves better than they have done, without even taking into consideration that many of them are fair candidates in this new career. Their productions at least cast no disgrace on their names by any of the usual sins of dullness, licentiousness, and frivolity.

The tale before us is written in a series of letters; and the epistolary form has long been the favorite of the French novel-reading public, though it appears to be fast wearing out. In some prefatory remarks on historical romance, the fair author manifests much good sense and good feeling; affording a pleasing earnest of those powers which are by no means wanting in her work. Indeed, it has much more of a Roman air and character than we could have supposed; unless we were inclined to attribute a larger proportion of classical and antiquarian study to the ladies of France, than we might be justified in doing. In this instance, however, we observe a consistency, and, if we may so express ourselves, a native Roman resemblance and probability in the different characters, incidents, and descriptions, which can only be the result of extensive reading and accurate observation. Mad. C. appears, likewise, to have perused the best French critics; and to have so far profited by them, as to avoid the danger of rendering herself obnoxious to the observation quoted from Boileau:

Gardez vous bien de donner, ainsi que dans Clelie L'air ni l'esprit Français à l'antique Italie; Et sans des noms Romains faisant nôtre portrait, dos Peindre Caton galant, et Brutus dameret." lo protetiqu

..

'My

My sex,' she observes, my youth, French habits and education, as well as the character of my first work, all combined to mislead me, and augur the failure of my undertaking. If I do not greatly deceive myself, however, Virginia is SOMETHING more than an elegant young Parisian belle, Terentillia not a mere merveilleuse, nor Virginius a petit-maitre.' Although this species of self-assertion goes a little farther than English feminine courage would venture, we are ready to admit, on the evidence of the book itself, that Madame C. has some ground for the remark. It manifests something more than an attempt to catch what may fairly be supposed to be the spirit and peculiarities belonging to the government, social habits, and manners of the people in republican Rome; and the author, indeed, assures us that she more than once perused Plutarch, Livy, and many others of the antient writers, with the view of rendering her portraits and descriptions more probable and correct. Her delineations are often conveyed in eloquent and pathetic language, with an earnestness of manner which confers an air of originality and truth.

The picture of Appius, flying from the vengeance of the people, is naturally and powerfully touched, and not a little characteristic of the author's general style.

Appius descends precipitately from his tribunal, places himself at the head of his satellites and lictors, and rushes on the consul Valerius, to wreak all the fury with which he is animated by being disappointed of his prey. Virginius beholds him, and, bounding forwards with the spring of the lion, deals desperate blows with the fatal knife: Strike, strike, O citizens;-let

us rid ourselves of a monster, whom the furies have long devoted to the infernal abodes!" The Romans follow him; furiously repulsing the lictors, trampling the sacred ensigns of their power under their feet, and striving to reach Appius himself. Every thing is converted into a weapon in their hands; and their idols, Thermes, broken hatchets, fly in a shower round the decemvir. He hears the imprecations of Virginius, and "Death to the tyrant!" repeated amid a storm of hisses and stones that impede his way. Abandoned at last, fear-stricken, and alone, he covers his ears with his robe from the stunning curses that pursue him, and flies for refuge to the Temple of Courage, whence he had once torn Vitellia; the only place which divine justice offered to his view.

The procession of the dead body of Virginia through the streets of Rome is also sketched with much historical truth and feeling but we have not room for farther quotation, on so well-known a subject.

INDEX

To the REMARKABLE PASSAGES in this Volume.

N. B. To find any particular Book, or Pamphlet, see the
Table of Contents, prefixed to the Volume.