The Monk Knight of St. John. A tale of the Crusaders

Chapter I. Introductory

Returning from San Sebastian in the autumn of 1837, by the way of San Juan de Luz, Bayonne and Bordeaux, and being desirous of visiting Auvergne, where I had heard there was an old chateau, connected with which was some wild traditionary tale, I determined to gratify the strong curiosity I felt, personally, to inform myself if there really was any good foundation for a story which had been related to me by an elderly French gentleman in the latter charming town. Having at my disposal plenty of that commodity which belongs to idle men — leisure — I sent on my baggage by diligence to Amiens, merely reserving a change of linen, &c, which was carefully stowed away in my light knapsack. Thus equipped, with my gun on my shoulder, and with a bottle of the best cogniac the Hotel de Lille could afford, stuck in one ofthe ample side-pockets of my shooting jacket, I set forth en route.

It is need less to fatigue the reader with the details of the journey, therefore, I will at once introduce him to the old garde chasse, who, in the absence of his Seigneur, and indeed in that of every other member of the household, seemed to combine in his person all the offices usual to the establishment, for with the exception of a little shoeless garcon who attended to the cows, and a couple of Spanish pointers, nearly as old as their master, there was nothing bearing life to be seen about the place. When, following the course ofthe narrow Dordogne, I reached the venerable pile, which was situated about three leagues from Clermont, and bordering upon a forest that swept semicircularly round its wings towards the front, I found the sun-burnt garde chasse seated on the bank of a streamlet, which ran outside the grass-covered elevation that denoted the once existence of a battlement, and arranging the flint of his gun — his two old dogs crouching meanwhile at his feet — evidently watching his movements and anticipating sport.

Here was the very man for my purpose, and engaged in the manner in which I most could have desired to have seen him. The freemasonry of the gun is not a bad letter of introduction. " Good morning, brother sportsman," I said, approaching him, for the low growling of his dogs had told him that a stranger was near. He looked up, and I touched my cap to him in salutation. " Ah! pardieu, Monsieur," he exclaimed in his own tongue — that in which I had addressed him ; "lam very glad to see you. I was thinking what dull work it would be without a companion, and here you are, all equipped, as if St. Peter himself had sent you from Heaven to my aid. We shall have capita] sport, sir ; few people venture here to disturb the birds, and I having had a twinge of the rheumatism, have not been out for a week past."

" And so am I well pleased to have met you," I said. " When I venture in pursuit of game I prefer to have an experienced hand like yourself to lead the way. Capital pointers those of yours. Of the real Spanish breed , I perceive ! ' ' " Yes, Monsieur ; neither of them can be less than nine years of age. Their noses are well used to the scent. But, allons. The sun is beginning to get a little fierce, and if we would escape a broiling, we must gain the cover of the wood. But perhaps Monsieur would like some refreshment first. The Chateau de Boiscourt does not afford what it did when my great great-greatgrandfather was steward to the noble Baron, who served in the terre sainte in the time of the crusades, but at least it can furnish Fromage de Rochefort and Neufchatel, bread baked by my own hands, and eau de vie ! comme ca."

Here he had himself touched upon the outwork of the subject I was so anxious to introduce, but I felt that this was not the moment to pursue it. I might startle him*— excite suspicion as to my motive — put him upon his guard, and thus hear nothing. I trusted, however, to my well-filled flask of cogniac to draw forth the garrulity of the garde chasse at a subsequent period of the day — if indeed there was anything to be communicated. " 1 thank you," I said, in reply to his offer of refreshment, " I break fasted at a farm-house about half way between this and Clermont ; besides, voila dc la bonne, govtez en ,-" and I handed him the flask to judge for himself. " Pardieu," he exclaimed, after having sipped a good wine-glass full, " this is indeed la veritable ; I am afraid that I have none such to offer you."

" It will restore us when fatigued with our walk after the birds," I returned. " Let us be off, then." " 1 see Monsieur has no dog," observed the old man, as we moved off to wards a distant copse which he said abounded with partridges, " viens Coco, viens Tolo." " I lost my dog on my way from San Juan de Luz to Bordeaux," I replied. " These are very magnificent grounds," I continued, after a pause, " al though I must confess the chateau is a little the worse for wear. You say that your great-great-grandfather was born here. Have all your family, from him, been born here ?" " Pardieu! and his great-great-grandfather before him. Monsieur forgets I spoke of the time of the crusade in the Holy Land. My fathers have lived with the Barons de Boiscourt from their first existence as a family We know all their secrets ; and," putting his finger on the tip of his nose, " we know how to keep them, too."

I was not sorry that Coco at that moment started a covey of partridges, for I felt that I had been imprudent in thus talking of other than general matters. 1 said no more. Our sport throughout the day was fair — the hardy garde chasse bagging twenty brace, and myself sixteen and a half. More than once he had com plained of a return of his rheumatism, and I had prevailed upon him occasionally to rest, and as often to restore himself from my brandy flask. By this time, we were the best friends in the world, and when we had returned home, literally laden with our game, nothing would induce the old man to part with so gpod a camarade until the morning. This was exactly what I had desired, and although I pretended that 1 had ne time to spare, but must be in Clermont that night, I yielded, with what gratification it may be presumed, to his proposal, to give me the only bed room that was kept in any sort of repair, yet which contained the nuptial bed, preserved as a sort of heir-loom, of the first Baron de Boiscourt, who had served in Palestine.

About nine o'clock, our supper of partridges and home-made bread, moistened on my part by the very indifferent eau de vie of the garde chasse having been dispatched, and a pipe smoked, the old man conducted me to my dormitory. The chateau was, as has been represented, very old indeed. The outside being built of stone, had borne the ravages of age pretty well, but it was evident that the interior had many and many a time been renewed. One end of the foundation had evidently sunk, for there was an inclination in that direction which threatened to overthrow it altogether, were it not for the support of strong oaken props placed at the gable-end. The wide staircase that conducted from the lower apartments where we had supped, (indeed, we had taken our meal where we had cooked it — in the kitchen) — was crazy and worm-eaten, the balustrades gone, and the footing. consequently, anything but secure.

Arrived at the first landing, we passed along a corridor of some extent, and then, turning abruptly to the left, entered what had the appearance of having been a salon, at the end of which was a shorter corridor, or passage, opening into a large bed-room — the same alluded to by the garde chasse. The oil lamp, which the latter carried in his hand, did not throw much light upon surrounding objects. Everything wore a sombre look, and was unin viting enough . The high ebony bedstead, which had evidently once been richly carved, exhibited but faint traces of the sculptor's chisel. One of its broken legs had been replaced by another of mahogany, while the bed itself, though far more modern, did not exhibit the most tempting appearance. It needed no great penetration to see that the whole was a relic of by-gone centuries.

The large and tall-backed chairs, of ebony also, were much in the same con dition, and the floors of those rooms, like all others in the chateau, being paved with the rude tiles that were in general use in France in the eleventh century, were in many parts crumbling to decay. There was little of the ornamental in the arrangements of those apartments, and the only things that attracted my attention were a large ebony crucifix, and a group of three figures — tall as life, beautifully carved, in high relief, and, with clasped hands, grouped round a figure of Cupid, bearing a torch in his right hand. ON ST. JOHN. The one was a female of middle size, beautifully formed — the second a knight-crusader in his war dress — and the third a very tall and symmetrically formed, though rather heavy warrior, whose costume, and particularly the cross cut prominently on his left breast, denoted him to be a knight of the brotherhood of St. John.

From what 1 had heard ofthe tradition, the character of this group, which stood between the head of the bedstead and the damp wall, left me no room to doubt that the rumor was correct. I asked, with as much indifference as I could assume, whom the tableau was meant to represent, observing at the same time that its age must be nearly coeval with that of the. chateau. The garde chasse, who had helped himself, as I intended he should, from my cogniac bottle, until he became communicative, was now by no means disposed to taciturnity. " Ah, Monsieur," he said, " there is a curious story about these figures. They represent the Baroness, who is said to have been the best, the kindest hearted, and the most beautiful woman of her day in all France — the Baron, her husband, and Abdallah, a monk knight ofthe Holy Cross, and the sworn friend ofthe Baron."

My curiosity became more and more excited — my interest was intense. " And what, my good friend — but try another gout of brandy. I think the night is chilly, and after walking so much, the night air may bring on a return of the rheumatism. What, my braVe camarade, is the strange story you speak about 1" " Ah, ca, that does one good," as he returned the brandy flask, which was now nearly empty : " why, Monsieur, you see, as my family have from generation to generation been in the service of the Barons de Boiscourt, I seldom open my lips about these things, not that I think there is much harm in the story as it goes, but people don't all think alike, and one does not care to have remarks made." "Well, but surely — " " Yes, Monsieur, I know what you would say — you think that I might make an exception in your favor.

Well, camarade, I think so too, for you are an honest fellow. But, look you, several people have tried to pump me on the subject before. They never could succeed, for 1 always pretend to know nothing ofthe rumor which, they say, has got abroad about the doings of old in the chateau." " You do know them, then. Well, my friend, since I have had the good fortune to please you, do gratify me so far as to relate the circumstances." " Diantre, it is too long a story for me to tell, but if you give me your word— -foi de gentilhomme — that you will never speak of it while there is one of the family of de Boiscourt living, I will put you in possession of some papers which I found secreted in a small tin case, inserted in the right leg ofthe figure ofthe Baron." " Found secreted in his leg? — How came it there'" " Placed there, pardieu, I suppose, by himself, as the present young Baron, who, entre nous, is a great roue, and prefers Paris to living here on his rentes, declares.

I found it, it is now nearly five years, while dusting and cleaning the figures, and gave it to him. He eagerly opened the case thinking that it might contain money or jewels ; but nothing but written papers, which the exclusion ofthe air had preserved, were to be seen." " Bah, Picard," he said pettishly, after reading a few lines, " these are nothing but fusty old parchments — old as the time of the Crusade itself. It is a sort of history, I believe, of these wooden images. Here," put them back into the case, and take care of them. If I have nothing else to amuse me, when next I visit this old rat-trap of a chateau, I will look over them." " And they are there nowl" I said eagerly. "Where else should they be?" was the reply ofthe garde chasse. If Monsieur will assist me in turning down this heavy tripod, I will soon pro duce them."

The weight of three full length figures in ebony was by no means trifling ; however, with some effort, having in view, as we had, the avoidance of all injury to the figures, we turned them sideways on a blanket which Picard placed on the brick floor. A large cork was removed from the foot he had indicated, and the tin case drawn forth. The figures were suffered to remain in their recumbent position, the garde chasse deeming it unnecessary to restore them to their proper position until the following morning, by which time I said I should have concluded my examination ofthe manuscript. "Ah, ca, camarade, you are all right now, but recollect, foi de gentilhomme, no babbling the secrets of the family, while one of them lives. Votre main la dessus." I took his hand in affirmation of the pledge.

" Depend upon it," I said, " I will keep my promise to the letter. While a Baron de Boiscourt lives, the knowledge of what those papers contain shall never escape me." " Dame ! I know well that you are a man of honor; but," he continued, " 1 must trim your lamp with a little more oil. It burns ( dimly, and wants renewing. I must leave you in the dark, while I go down for a supply." Burning with curiosity to open the case and read its contents, and yet dreading that I never should make out the quaint old French of that day, I awaited with some impatience the re-appearance of the garde chasse, who at length came in, not only with the lamp newly trimmed, but with a supply of oil, in case I should require it before I had completed the deciphering of the parchment. Having properly disposed the lamp near the head of the bed, and lighted another which he had had the precaution to bring with him, Picard shook me by the hand with a " Good night, sir hunter ;" and withdrew.

Left to myself, I was not long in undressing, for my eagerness to open the manuscript was great. I removed the lid ofthe box — examined a few pages, and found to my great joy that there was no difficulty in making them out, although there was an idiom which makes me prefer rendering it in my own language, retaining the original only in the few letters that are introduced. As I stepped impatiently into bed, the old timbers groaned until I thought the whole would come to pieces. Happily they did not, for I would not for worlds have been instrumental in destroying that relic of departed loveliness — the resting-place which, centuries before, had received the beautiful limbs of the woman, whose faultless image was, even then, lying in shadow a few paces beyond me. The first words I read on the first scroll of parchment were these : " Who ever may condemn, while reading these pages, knows not his own heart.

Man is the creature of circumstances. What I have done I repent not of. Be wise also, and make not evil where none exists." Then came the story, which is vividly impressed upon my memory, and, in substance, was as follows : —

Chapter II

During the reign of chivalry in Palestine, it was no uncommon circum stance for the warmest attachments to be formed among the knights and warriors engaged in that sanguinary struggle. Many a Pylades had his Orestes. Many a Damon his Pythias. They fought side by side — ate to gether — slept in the same tent, and, in the hour of danger, were ever ready to lend the hand of succour, either personally or through the forces they led to battle. Community of interest and of position induced community of thought and of purpose. The inmost secrets of their hearts were laid bare ; each delighted not less in the confidence reposed by himself in his brother in arms, than in that which was paid back to him in kind, and the more sacred the character of the disclosures which the glowing heart dictated, the more deeply riveted became the links of the chain which bound them in indisso luble friendship.

The cold and soul-annihilating conventionalisms of modern life were then unknown. Selfishness had not attained that refinement which progressive civilization has nurtured. It was on the evening of a day which had been passed in conflict with the Saiacens, and not six months before the recapture of Jerusalem, that two knights, who had doffed their harness, entered a very handsome tent, part of the encampment without its walls. He who evidently was the youngest was Alfred, the Baron de Boiscourt. He was elegantly dressed ; his doublet being of crimson velvet, embroidered with gold, and on his breast he wore the cross of his order, while a graceful plume floated from the hat which adorned his brow. His features were animated and handsome, and from his deep blue, dark-lashed eye, there beamed the fires of a soul which not even his frank open countenance could belie.

His hair, which fell in rich profusion of ringlets over his fine shoulders, was of a dark chesnut, approaching to an auburn, and through the small and expressive mouth, as he smiled some remark to. his companion, came sounds sweet but powerful, which seemed to have been given to him by nature to warm the heart of her who should be exposed to their influence. His teeth, not too large, were dazzlingly white, and his lips and chin were models of their kind. His height might have been about six feet, but the grace and elegance of his carriage were such that, finely proportioned as it was, his figure might have been taken for some thing less. ON ST. JOHN. 9 His companion was of a different mould. He was of almost Herculean proportion, and in the plain black monkish robe, furnished with its eight pointed white cross, which he wore as was his wont, when not in the armor of his order, seemed even taller and larger.

A low skull-cap covered his head, without however impeding the flow of the masses of dark hair, slightly sprinkled with gray, which fell over shoulders even more ample than those of the younger Knight ; coarse sandals were upon his feet, and from his full chest depended a large crucifix of ebony, to which was attached a chain of solid gold. A coarse mantle of black was thrown across his shoulders, and on the left breast of this was the unsullied cross which denoted him to be a Knight ofthe Holy Order of St. John. The face of this warrior Monk was noble in the extreme. It wore an expression of calm and quiet dignity, which even the fierce tumult of recent battle had not in the slightest degree ruffled — an air of benevolence, which it was impossible to contemplate without being impressed with the most favorable feelings towards their possessor.

His forehead was high, intellectual, full of thought ; and the remainder of his features were fashioned in a spirit of strict harmony with the general character of his most winning countenance. His eyes were large and dark, and although their habitual expression was that of softness, corresponding with his other features, they would occasionally kindle with a fire that proved the soul within to be as capable of animation as that of him who had been the least tutored to command his passion. His hair was, as has just been said, extremely thick, and fell over his shoulders in large masses, adding, as it were, to the majesty, and dignity, and vigor of his striking personal appearance. His frame was firmly knit together, his chest, like that of a Hercules, and his muscles were like cords of iron.

" Beshrew me, Abdallah," said the Baron de Boiscourt, as, having en tered the spacious tent, they now sat down to refresh themselves with a flask of Cyprus wine, which the latter had desired his page, Rudolph — a beautiful and blooming boy, fair as the Narcissus of old — to place before them; " Beshrew me, I say, but my soul yearns to you, as though you were the first-born of my mother's womb. This is the fourth time you have saved my life from those Saracen dogs. But for you to-day that infidel would have carried off my head, instead of pricking my shoulder. In fact, I had given myself up for lost, hemmed in as I was by at least a score, and my last thoughts were, I confess, less of Heaven than of my adored Ernestina, and of you, my friend, my noble Abdallah." " Of me?" said the Monk, with surprise — "that indeed was kind, generous de Boiscourt ; and deep and truthful indeed must be your regard for me, when, in your supposed dying hour, you could suffer my image to mix with that of such a one as you have described the Lady Ernestina to be." ■ t " I thought of you both," pursued the handsome and the enthusiastic Baron, " as being the dearest to my heart, and I determined in my soul that nothing should content me until I obtained your promise, in the event of my fall before this war is over, to abjure your monastic vows, and make the sweet wife of my bosom your own."

The pulsas of the Monk swelled visibly, his pale and noble face became for a moment suffused with a deep flush, but quickly recovering his self possession, he said, with his wonted calmness : " Believe me, de Boiscourt, this could never be. Firstly, 1 could never prove false to my vows of chastity, even at such a price; for think you," he added with sudden energy, while his eyes were lighted up with an un wonted fire, " that I have listened unmoved to the tale of her superhuman loveliness, as told by yourself? No, my friend — no, my generous, noble de Boiscourt, tempt me not. I ain a priest, it is true, yet am I but a man. Even to see her now would be to seal the downfall of my honor ; but wherefore," he resumed, after a pause, " do I talk thus; I have, as you say, saved your life, my friend, for the fourth time.

You were surrounded by nnmbers, and notwithstanding all your valor — notwithstanding that your good battle-axe had hewn down seven of your assailants, you must indeed have perished against such fearful odds, had not fortune — fortune do I term it ? — had not instinct — friendship — the desire to preserve to her chaste love the lord of your noble lady, whose image, de Boiscourt, you have painted as a thing of light and life, led me to your rescue." ,; Proceed," said the gay and reckless Knight, pleased with the avowal that the heart, hitherto so insensible to the fascinations of women, should thus have been reached through the imagination, by the idol of his own soul. " You do not then include my Ernestina in that almost detestation with which v'ou regard women in general?" " Dear de Boiscourt," answered the Monk solemnly, as he raised his tall figure to its full height, " you know that I do not; I have just now told you that I do not.

But tempt me not further, I entreat you. Do not bring images before my eyes, which I dare not — ought not to think of. Let me regard the Lady Ernestina as a daughter of grace and charity — as a Madonna ofthe church, rather than as a mere daughter of earth." " How charmingly she would look in the coarse garb of a Sister of Charity," pursued de Boiscourt, " only fancy her as such in a cloister, Abdallah. Her graceful carriage — her noble and voluptuous figure — masses of hair of the darkest brown, through which the eager comb can scarcely find its way, falling over shoulders of polished alabaster, and terminating only mid-leg ; eyes of the deepest, softest blue, surmounted by marked brows of the same dark shade, and long eye-lashes which mock the glossiness of the raven's wing. A Grecian nose, most delicately formed — -lips of coral that have stolen all their fragrance from the honeysuckle and the rose — teeth polished and dazzling as the ivory — two sweet dimples on her downy cheek, which ever show themselves when those coral lips divide to blazon forth the gems within — these, with a moulded arm, and hand, and foot — " " De Boiscourt — dear de Boiscourt," interrupted the Monk, trembling, and with the paleness of agony depicted *on his countenance — " is this your friendship for me ?"

" Fancy all these," continued the Baron, with a certain degree of fierce ness, as he felt his blood to glow at the recollection of his wife's beauty, and pressing, at the same time, heavily on the shoulder of the monk — " fancy these — fancy a bosom moulded by the hand of love, on which a divinity might well desire to repose his head." The breast of Abdallah heaved — his brow was knitted — his features were fixed in an expression almost of despair. " Think of these — fancy all her host of charms concealed beneath the sanc tified dress and air of a Sister of Charity, and inhabiting the same cloister with yourself." What then !" said Abdallah, with an effort at composure : " the cloister well merits the self-sacrifice of earth's fairest daughters at the monastic shrine." " Tell me then," he asked, seriously, "since you will not break that fool ish vow by espousing Ernestina in the event of my fall, promise me, at least, that you will clothe her in some such garb, and place her in a cloister near your own."

" Should she desire it, certainly," replied the monk ; " but what reason is there to think that such will be her determination." " Because, should I fall — and I have a vague presentiment that I shall — I am satisfied Ernestina will be nowhere so happy as near yourself. ' ' " Near me !" and the Monk started. " Even so, Abdallah ; you shall hear what she writes. The courier who arrived yesterday in the C3mp from France, brought me this letter from Au vergne." So saying, he took from a small trunk that lay in the corner of the tent, a long scroll of parchment, which, after having removed the string, he read to the Monk, dwelling especially on those passages which related immediately to himself. — Thus the Lady Ernestina wrote : " But though I pine and languish for my lord's return, as one whose lips have simply tasted of the cup of bliss, which has now, for three long years been absent from my touch, it is my great delight to think of my lord and of his noble friend, the warrior Monk, Abdallah.

Indeed, my lord, you must not be jealous, but it is not so certain to me of which I think the most— you, whose dear life has been so often saved by him — three times, I think, you write — or him who has been the means of preserving you to my earnest love and tenderness. Right glad am I that you are bosom friends ; but my lord should not, as he says he does, so often speak my charms upon his holy ear, nor his great manliness on mine. You say he is brave, and learned, and of such majesty of mien as well may rank him with the kings of men — of much mildness, benevolence, sobriety, ehastity : the latter virtue doth become him greatly ; therefore, dear lord, do not, I pray, bring strong disorder to his soul by such relation of my charms as may make him hate me for bringing down his thoughts from God.