and Courtenay, succeeded to the Imperial throne, and Constantinople was for sixty years in possession of the Latins. Few of the conquerors recollected their original solemn engagement to succour Jerusalem, and only those repaired thither who could gain none of the spoils of the Greeks. Some of the Imperial family of the Comneni preserved the wreck of the empire, and founded two small kingdoms, one at Nice, in Bithynia, the other at Tribisond, between the sea and Mount Caucasus. They took Villchardouin, Prince of Achaia, prisoner, and thus deprived the Latins of their most powerful vassal. The Genoese took part with the Greeks, and some Greek peasants engaged in a stratagem to admit a party of soldiers by a secret way into the city. They succeeded, set it on fire in four different places, and caused Baldwin, the affrighted emperor, precipitately to fly with Justinian the patriarch, and some of his friends (1261.) Michael Palæologus, with the empress his wife, and their little son Andronicus, entered the city in solemn procession, on foot, by || the golden gate, and gained the throne. He caused Alexius Cæsar, his General, by whose address and bravery he had recovered it, to be carried in triumph. He wore a crown scarcely inferior to the Imperial diadem, and his statue was placed upon a lofty pillar. THE PIFTH CRUSADE (1207.) This furnished, at its commencement, another instance of the Christians assuming the badge of the Cross, not against Infidels, but against those who professed the same faith with themselves. Innocent the Third, who established the inquisition, and to whose legate, John, King of England, resigned his crown, instigated Simon de Montford, at the head of a great army, to extirpate the Albigsés, who were stigmatised as heretics. He likewise excited Andrew, King of Hungary, and John de Brienne, to make a crusade to Egypt, where their camp was inundated by the crafty Sultan; and they were happy to capitulate, for a secure but disgraceful return to Europe, on condition of not invading Egypt for eight years. THE SIXTH AND SEVENTH CRUSADES (A. D. 1249, AND 1270). || Louis the Ninth of France, commonly called St. Louis, as he was canonized after his death. He was a prince eminent for his love of justice, and his strict impartiality in adjusting the claims of the neighbouring states, who, from his wellknown honour, frequently appealed to his decisions. His virtues, however, were clouded by the fanatical spirit of the times, and the ardour with which he twice encountered the Infidels, was by no means inferior to any of his predecessors. With a fleet of 1800 ships, and a well appointed army of 50,000 men, he made an expedition to the coast of Egypt. At the first assault he took Damietta, but this was the only trophy of his conquest, for advancing along the banks of the Nile, his troops were harassed by the Egyptian gallies, and the Arabs of the desert. They intercepted all provisions, and his army, reduced by sickness and famine, were obliged to surrender ; all who could not redeem their lives by service, or ransom, were inhumanly massacred, and the walls of Cairo were covered with Christian heads. The king was loaded with chains, but the conqueror, a descendant of Saladin, sent him a robe of honour, and ransomed him and his nobles, on condition that Damietta should be restored, and a vast sum of gold should be paid. The King of France, with the relics of his army, was permitted to embark for Palestine, where he passed four years without being able to efface the impression of his military disgrace. After a repose of sixteen years, he undertook the last of the crusades. He steered for the coast of Africa, accompanied by his three sons, his nephew, and the great lords of his court, either to punish the King of Tunis for interrupting the free passage of the Mediterranean, or to con vert him to the Christian faith. On the barren sands of Africa, his army, sinking under the heat of a burning sun, was quickly reduced to a small number, and the king expired in his tent. His brother, the King of Sicily, arrived soon after, and saved the relics of the gallant crusaders from destruction. His son Phillip, named the Hardy, defeated the King of Tunis; and, after making a truce, in which it was stipulated that the Moors should pay a double tribute for fifteen years, and the Christian missionaries be allowed to preach in his dominions, which were conditions imposed to save the honour of these crusaders, he returned to The two last crusades were undertaken by Europe. A HISTORY OF BELISE. A STORY FOUNDED ON WELL KNOWN FACTS. Her IN the county of Devon lived a lady, whom, for particular reasons, I shall call Belise. father was a gentleman of the neighbourhood, a man of birth and ample estate. She was an only child, and this was the first misfortune of her life. Her parents, with a blind fondness too usual with such children, indulged her from earliest infancy in every wish, and thus encouraged in her that sickly delicacy of mind which was of so fatal consequence to her future happiness. Her next misfortune was the loss of her mother, when she had scarcely attained her twelfth year. Belise upon this event left school, whence she was called to the consolation of her father; and his affection would not suffer her to return. A governess was taken in the house, and every master of eminence in every elegant accomplishment engaged to attend her. With advantages like these, the most inferior talents might have become respectable; but the quick mind, the lively imagination of Belise, her ready || wit, and prompt conception turned these oppor tunities to the best account. In the neighbourhood of Belise, and within a few miles of her house, lived two gentlemen, who, by the death of their fathers, had obtained an early possession of their estates. These were the chief candidates for her favour. Her father had referred them to Belise herself, informing them that the education he had given his daughter enabled her to chuse for herself, and that, wherever that choice might fall, it should be confirmed by his consent. With this candid answer, the gentlemen began their addresses, and exerted themselves to gain her good opinion. Belise had some difficulty to decide between her lovers. If Lysander had the better wit, Acasto had the better person; if Lysander had more of the manly character, Acasto had more of that suppleness which enabled him to assume the tone No. XIV. Vol. II. of every one with whom he conversed. In the wit of Lysander there was an acuteness which inspired something of dread; Acasto was gay and trifling, easy to his own faults, and indif ferent to those of others: Acasto, in short, was the more agreeable lover, but Lysander seemed best suited for the husband. As Belise and my self have walked up the lanes, we would often dispute on the different qualities of the two lovers. One day, however, a circumstance happened which determined her choice. As it marks the singularity of her character, and has something strange in itself, I will relate it. One morning as we were walking before the house, and conversing as usual on their separate merits, the caprice took me to speak in favour of Acasto, in order to judge how the heart of my friend was disposed. "Well, for my part," I exclaimed, were I to determine, Belise, my choice should fall upon Acasto." "But he is so great a coxcomb," she replied. "That is, my dear," returned I," he has so much of that gaiety and good humour which please the generality of our sex, and is so unusual among men; and if the greater part abuse it, it is that they want talents to reach it. It is a customary kind of policy to affect to despise what they have not the power to attain. It is an artifice that saves our credit, and converts our incapacity to acquire a quality into the seeming virtue of despising it. Shew me any man,” I continued, "with the gifts of a coxcomb, who has not become a coxcomb. Moreover, if we may believe the moralists, those marriages are generally the most happy where the parties are most alike-where there is most harmony of temper and most similitude of pursuit. Now let me ask you, my dear, what can more resemble a woman than a coxcomb?" "Why, with your pardon, Madam, I inust pass over to this side of the house; this lady's preference, I confess, is mine. The value of any quality must be rated according to its utility in life in other words, according to its effect in promoting our happiness. Now, who will deny that good-humour does more to promote this end than all the wit in the world? The happiness of domestic life, the pleasures of society and conversation, depend entirely upon this quality; and there are thousands who, with very moderate pretensions to intellectual distinctions, diffuse joy and life around them by the mere possession of this homely gift. But here comes Lysander to give his sentiments." been defending wit. Pray what is you opinion, infant, and giving her some money, desired her Sir?" to hasten to the next town, as he foresaw a fall of snow. The woman took her leave, but had proceeded only a few steps, when excess of fatigue brought her to the ground. Acasto ran and assisted her, and the woman presently continued on her way. Lysander, as soon as he saw her fall, without seeming to go to her assistance, or telling us his intention, walked to the house of Belise's father, which was not far distant from the road where we were walking. We were at a loss to know what he intended, when in less than a quarter of an hour we saw him return in his phaeton; and bowing as he passed, and telling Belise that he dined with her father, he proceeded onwards, and soon reached the woman and child. He instantly took them up, and having no servant with him, drove off himself. Acasto and myself laughed, but Belise appeared serious, and in a short time pensive. Lysander having joined us, was informed by his rival of the nature of our conversation; and I thought, upon mentioning the dispute between wit and good-humour, he appeared as if he understood the meaning of the argument, which had escaped his more shallow rival. He seemed to perceive that his mistress was comparing her two lovers, and endeavouring to weigh, by their own assistance, their different qualities. "I confess," said he, in giving his opinion, "my preference is for what you are pleased to call wit, but which, with your permission, I will change into understanding. And you must give me leave to remark an error. In setting wit on one side, and good humour on the other, you seem to have adopted as a principle that there is a kind of natural incongruity between them, and that they cannot be mixed together in the same person. A very common error; but there is no such natural distinction. There are many who have been equally known for good understanding, and to use a vulgar expression, for good tempers. There is a difference, indeed, between the insipid good-nature-a blind instinct of a fool, and that higher kind which marks the man of understanding. A man of good-nature will, indeed, relieve any distress which is immediately presented to his eyes, but he will relieve it in a common way. A man of understanding will sometimes step out of his way, and will do things of which the other would have never thought." Lysander had scarcely finished, when a poor woman, apparently the wife of a soldier, came up to us, and asked alms. She had a fine child with her, but both mother and child, though it was a cold wintry day, were so thinly clad, that they seemed sinking beneath the inclemency of the season. Acasto, with his usual good-nature, gave her some loose silver. She next applied to Lysander, who, to our astonishment, pulling off his great coat, threw it over the woman and her In truth, it was this singular and half ludicrous circumstance that determined her choice. Her mind, which had all the warm enthusiasm of re ance, was sensibly struck by a singularity like this; and her heart was, from this day, decided in favour of Lysander. He soon perceived her preference, and pursued her by his importunities into an acknowledgement of his being an accepted lover. As his family and fortune were unexceptionable, the choice of the daughter was confirmed by the consent of the father in short, the day was soon fixed which was to give him Belise for ever. In the meantime, the suc cess of his rival was soon visible to Acasto, and he saw it with an indifference which even astonished those that best knew the easiness of his temper. As Belise and myself were one day walking, Acasto perceived as from a distance, and instantly rode up." I am come," said he, taking Belise's hand, "with a dire intent." however, to the observation, and with as admirable address as candour, added-"I not only agree with you, Sir, but were I myself in that situation, I mean, had 1 two lovers, and had determined in favour of one, the other would have but to ask my sentiments, and my acknowledged preference for his rival should put an end to his future hopes." "Thank you, Madam," said he; "I acknowledge your principle, and I now claim it. Will you be pleased to answer me a plain question?" Belise, well knowing what was coming, blushed, but replied firmly that she was ready to answer him. In short, she acknowledged her preference for Lysander. Acasto rallied his own ill luck with great good humour and wit; and Belise, with an inconsistency but too common among our sex, seemed really disconcerted at the easy indifference with which her rejected lover bore his dismissal. In a few weeks after this, Belise and Lysander were married. For some time they realized the expectations that had been formed; and, as their good qualities deserved, enjoyed the highest portion of domestic felicity. Acasto continued to visit them, and nothing was talked of throughout the country but the long friendship and steady harmony of the rivals--a friendship that held out against their clashing pretensions in the course of so long an address to the same woman. But this astonishment was soon dissipated, this mutual confidence soon destroyed, and all their domestic happiness, in one rash moment, and by one foible, equally in the character of Lysander and his wife, lost for ever. to her own and her husband's peace. This was a kind of haughtiness of mind which, when supported by consciousness of right, disdained to yield, and paid too little regard to the opinions of others. To this was added a lively and unrestrained resentment of any treatment she imagined unjust. In these foibles the source of their subsequent misfortune was found. Acasto, as I have said, continued to visit at their house, and Lysander admitted him with his usual confidence. In giving the character of Acasto, I have described him rather as a coxcomb, than as having any thing mischievous in his designs. He had a levity, however, which is frequently as dangerous as vice, and not unusually leads into it. His love for Belise was not diminished either by her marriage or her cruelty; and though he carefully concealed it from others, and even endeavonred to hide it from himself, the flame yet lived, wanting only opportunity to burst forth, and burn with stronger vigour than ever. The openness of Belise, and a certain playfulness in her temper, which made her addicted to raillery, and therefore easily pardoning it, -fortunately encouraged these imprudent sentiments in Acasto; and he found himself daily more confirmed in his dishonourable passion. He struggled for some time with his principles, which, though not naturally vicious, were yet too weak to maintain the contest; and in a kind of despair of his own virtue, he surrendered himself up to the sweet delusion. Lysander, though not addicted to jealousy, was yet a little displeased with some symptoms he perceived in his friend. His suspicions did not rest here, but were soon increased by a trifling incident, Belise was fond of plays, and this humour would often lead her to declaim and act a favourite part with Acasto. It happened one day that Acasto, according to some passage he was performing, had thrown himself on his knees before Belise, when the door on a sudden opened, and her husband entered. Acasto in great confusion endeavoured to rise; and as the situation had some awkwardness, Belise blushed as she explained it. Lysander said not a word, but left the room. Belise was irritated by this unjust suspicion; and in subservience to that fatal foible, that pride of mind I have mentioned before, disdained submitting to explain, where she was conscious there was nothing to defend. Lysander, with all that manly firmness and constancy of mind which constitute a marked character, had one foible-that of a warm and impetuous temper. In spite of the curbing restraints of his stronger reason, this heat would at times break forth; and if inflamed by the least opposition, rage with a fury that left all decorum far behind—a cast of mind very common; and as to its effects on the happiness of ourselves and o hers, more truly pernicious than any passion whatsoever. Every other vice is attended by some temptation; something is gained, or at least proposed to be gained, and the consciousness of criminality is assuaged by the reflection that if something is lost in peace, something is acquired in profit. But the passionate man is vicious only to his own cost; he works industriously the misery of himself and those around him, and his sacrifice of self-esteem is not compensated by any Lysander, as is customary with men of his returning advantages. This foible of her hus-passionate cast, construed this haughtiness of his band was truly painful to Belise, as the long indulgence of her parents had formed her mind to a more than common sensibility. She herself, however, was not without a foible, of equal danger wife into disgust of himself, and disdained with equal pride, to seek that conviction which was not voluntarily offered. Thus was their mutual happiness sacrificed to a false pride and a mise taken delicacy: each considered it a point of honour not to be the first in submission. From Acasto still continued his visits, and both husband and wife, from the same stubborn principle, || still continued to receive them as before. this time, however, a coolness arose between the couple, and terminated shortly in that sure forerunner of wedded misery-separate tables and beds. The maid, who was immediately attendant on the person of Belise, was a French girl, and had all that spirit and zest of intrigue which distinguish that kind of creature. She soon penetrated into the love of Acasto, and the groundless jealousy of her master: and when she had made the discovery, she determined to turn it to account. For this purpose she would contrive to meet Acasto, and beginning an artful conversation with him, endeavoured to make him believe that the indifference of Belise was but pretended, and that she was more favourable to him than he imagined: moreover, that the change in her husband's conduct towards her had worked some change in his favour. The girl, however, with an admirable artifice, had taken care not to ruin her part by overacting it; and in what she reported as having seen, or heard from her mistress, had said nothing which could appear too contradictory to the known modesty of her lady. This gave her words a degree of credit, which the common sense of Acasto would otherwise have refused them; and his ardent love rendered the deception the more easy, as it was thus made the more pleasing. In short, he suffered the girl to persuade him to write to his mistress, and she herself undertook to deliver the letter. Having written a billet, he put it into the hands of this confidante, and accompanying it with a purse, entreated her to execute the commission with care and secrecy. The girl promised every thing, and departed. She had scarcely left him, when he remembered, in his perturbation, that he had forgotten to seal his letter. This, however, gave him little concern at the time; but you will soon see that this trifling circumstance was of more serious consequence than the letter itself-it confirmed a suspicion into a belief. The girl had no sooner departed with the letter, and undertaken to deliver it, than she began considering with herself how she could best execute her trust. Something was necessary to be done; she had received one large bribe already, and expected to receive many more. She was too well persuaded of the virtue of her mistress to attempt at ence delivering into her hands; not but that she entertained hopes that the love and merit of Acasto might at length soften this rigid virtue, and render her services, at some future time, as acceptable to Belise herself as they were now to her lover. Being wrapt in these thoughts, she had entered the house, and passed on to her mistress's room. An open drawer on her lady's dressing table happened to catch her eye; at that moment she heard a step, and in mere despair of any other expedient, she threw the letter into the drawer, where it could not fail to meet the attention of her lady. She had not, however, the confidence to wait the effect of her scheme, but hurried out of the room. At the same moment her mistress entered; she was preparing for a morning visit, and happened to go to another table, and in the hurry of preparation, and her carriage waiting, she did not discover the billet. Lysander happened at this time to be writing some letters in the next chamber, when, wanting a seal, and not having his own at hand, he stepped into Belise's room to seek her's. Going up to the dressing-table, his eye caught the open letter; he seized it with great agitation, and hastily retired to his own room. Here he locked the door, and tore open the letter. Its contents were as follows: TO BELISE. "And are you then at last, my Belise, less insensible to my love? Have I at length touched your heart, and will my passion be rewarded by your pity? Will you add one greater proof? I cannot see you at the house of Lysander. Need I give any further explanation? Your's, "ACASTO," Lysander, blinded with jealousy, was now confirmed in his suspicions. They were still more increased by an incident I have mentioned: Acasto had forgotten to seal his letter, and his messenger had gratified her curiosity by reading it. She was employed, indeed, in this, when, hearing the step of her mistress, she had thrown it into the open drawer. Lysander knew that his wife had but that moment left the room, and that no one but himself had since entered it. This unhappy concurrence of circumstances put the matter beyond doubt. His wife, therefore, had seen the letterthe letter itself acknowledged some prior favour, and with a confidence that could only arise from the most liberal encouragement, requested an appointment. Lysander was convinced. At this instant a sudden thought struck him. He remembered that his wife was gone to pay a visit; this corresponded, he thought, with the request in the note. He had no room for doubthis jealousy was blown into a flame. He loaded his pistols, mounted his horse, and took the road to Acasto's house. In the meantime Belise was proceeding to |