One further point, as regards angelic agency—this time the evil angels. Tasso, like Dante in his classic episode of Buonconte (Purg. v. 109 sqq.), attributes to the fiends a certain control over the weather (vii. 115 sqq.) Many of us would like to share this conviction with him when we think of the repeated occasions in which our well-planned offensives in the West have been wrecked by the sudden break-up of a fine spell. And to the intervention of St. Michael, on the contrary, we would blithely ascribe that most opportune change of wind in the early morning of the day when we first played with gas at Loos.

The spiritual motive of the Crusades is finely typified in the character of Godfrey, who like our own loved Lord Roberts, initiated every fresh plan with prayer; whose incorruptible soul saw nothing of the material openings that a Crusade might offer—openings that were the very raison-d’-être of crusading to the shrewd merchants of Venice in later years—Godfrey, to whom was unthinkable the mere notion of such bargaining and traffic as Frederic of Swabia was to employ a century later. “We are not out for gain,” he says to Altamoro of Samarcand, “we are not traders, but Crusaders.”

Che della vita altrui prezzo non cerco;

Guerreggio an Asia, non cambio o merco.

...

We should like to picture Tasso weaving into his stately verse, descriptions of submarine warfare, of the advance of the tanks, of an artillery barrage on a fifty-mile front: and we could find in Gerusalemme Liberata a starting-point for most of these. But space permits us only two more points.

The Hun-spirit, and the glory of our Boy-heroes, are both depicted in Tasso’s magic tapestry: the one succinctly and sternly, the other more diffusely and with all the glamour of his genius.

The brutal measures devised—some of them not put into practice—by the Sultan against the subject Christian population of Jerusalem, and all the other infidel horrors of oppression and cruelty which Tasso evidently puts forth as the ne plus ultra of bygone barbarism, have been matched and exceeded by those wreaked upon Christian populations by the modern Turk with the connivance of his Teutonic ally; matched and exceeded by the votaries of the “good German God” themselves, upon defenceless civil populations of invaded districts, and equally defenceless prisoners of war. But the spirit of “Frightfulness” itself is sharply sketched with a single stroke of the pen in the description of one of the leaders of the Egyptian army (vii. 22): “no true knight, but a fierce, murderous robber.”

Albiazar ch’ è fiero