Antioch, now Anthakia, was a celebrated city, the capital of Syria. It was seated on the river Orontes, now called Assi, fifteen miles east of the Mediterranean, and forty miles south-west of Aleppo. We have been thus particular, because Antioch is not only a conspicuous city in the history of the early Christian church, but because it has undergone some of the most remarkable sieges to be found in this volume.

FIRST SIEGE, A.D. 540.

ChosroËs, king of Persia, having spread terror and dismay throughout Syria by the capture of Sour (ancient Tyre) and other places, presented himself before Antioch. The attack and defence were equally warm and terrible in their results. The besieged surrendered, after having exhausted all their resources, and admitted the Persians within their walls. The confusion was horrible in this populous and unfortunate city. Men, women, and children crowded over each other to escape the murderous sword of the conqueror; the streets could not afford passage wide enough for the multitude. The soldiers of the garrison, mingled with the fugitives, overthrew the unhappy citizens, trampled them under their horses’ feet, and crushed them to death in their own city and by their own troops. The conquerors, spread throughout all the quarters, indulged in a license almost unheard of even in such scenes: they pillaged and sacked the houses; they pulled down and burnt all the public edifices; they profaned and plundered the churches; they insulted and violated the virgins consecrated to God; and the maidens and women whose virtue they outraged were immolated before the eyes of their husbands and parents. ChosroËs himself animated his troops to the carnage, and excited them to plunder. He took possession of the gold and silver vases of the great church, and sent into Persia all the valuable statues, rare pictures, and precious objects that decorated that superb city. When despoiled of all its ornaments and deprived of its wealth, he ordered it to be reduced to ashes. This cruel order was so punctually obeyed, that only one single quarter escaped the flames. Thus was for the first time destroyed, in the month of June, 540, a city which, by its size, wealth, and population, rivalled Rome and Constantinople. Such of the inhabitants as escaped the sword of the conqueror were by him reduced to slavery, and sold by public auction in Persia.

SECOND SIEGE, A.D. 638.

Antioch, however, soon arose again from its ruins, under the protection of the emperors of the West. Great and well-situated cities are not easily destroyed past recovery. Antioch became once more rich and populous; but it seemed to be its fate to succumb to the attacks of barbarians. It was again besieged about a hundred years after the above-stated catastrophe, by the Saracens, before the eyes of Prince Constantine, son of the emperor Heraclius. The infidels approached a bridge at a short distance from Antioch, called the Bridge of Iron. Two towers, each furnished with three hundred soldiers, were intrusted with the defence of it. These degenerate Romans surrendered their posts to the enemy; Constantine, in despair, could trust neither the courage nor the fidelity of his troops. Very unlike the Romans of the days of Pyrrhus, who would have thought themselves dishonoured by taking advantage of a crime, this prince resorted to the baseness of assassination as the surest means of averting the storm which threatened Antioch. He hoped to terminate the war by assassinating the caliph who directed the enterprises of the Saracens. An assassin was sent to Medina. Trembling at the sight of Omar, the wretch confessed his intentions, and the name of the person who employed him. Omar, so far from losing his life, acquired the honour of pardoning the man who attempted it: the Christian prince acquired the disgrace of having attempted a crime, and failed in it. The two armies encamped near Antioch. A general, named Nestorius, commanded the Romans: endowed with the valour of a soldier, he for a moment forgot that his life belonged to his army, and challenged the bravest of the Mussulmans to single combat. Dames, who had acquired the reputation of being invincible at the siege of Aleppo, presented himself. His horse stumbling whilst he was engaged with his enemy, Dames was seized and conveyed a prisoner to the tent of the challenger. Nestorius, proud of this chance victory, was desirous of a fresh triumph. He offered a second challenge, which was accepted by Dehac. The two champions fought for a long time with equal success; when, exhausted by fatigue, and their horses being jaded and breathless, they separated to recruit their strength. During the second conflict, Dames, having deceived the slaves who guarded him, contrived to escape, and rejoined his comrades. A few days after, the two armies engaged, and the Romans were cut to pieces after a severe and bloody battle. A fresh perfidy of Youckinna, formerly governor of Aleppo, contributed greatly to the defeat of the Romans. This traitor guarded in Antioch Derar and two hundred other Mussulman prisoners. At the moment of the combat, he set them at liberty, joined them to the troop he commanded, and ranged himself under the standard of Mahomet. At the sight of these new enemies, the Roman legions lost all courage; they fancied the whole population of Antioch was pouring out upon them. The field of battle was strewed with dead. The inhabitants of Antioch, finding themselves without resource, capitulated; to avoid being pillaged, they paid the conqueror three hundred thousand pieces of gold, amounting to about one hundred and seventy thousand pounds sterling,—a sum which seems to us incredibly small from such a city so circumstanced. Abou-ObÉidah entered Antioch on the 21st of August. As he dreaded for his soldiers the pleasures of this voluptuous city more than he feared the Roman armies, he only allowed them to remain there three days.

THIRD SIEGE, A.D. 1097.

After a disastrous march, in which they had met with many unexpected accidents and reverses, as well as triumphs, the great army of the Crusaders, under Godfrey of Bouillon and his chivalrous companions, advanced towards Antioch. As we have seen in a former siege, the approach to this great city of the East was guarded by a bridge over the Orontes, on which were placed two towers covered with iron. But nothing could resist the van led by the duke of Normandy: the Normans soon took the bridge and passed the river. Terror was spread amongst the Mussulmans, who all flocked to the city as a place of refuge. The whole Christian army drew up in battle-array, with trumpets sounding and ensigns flying, and then encamped within a mile of Antioch.

The aspect of this city, so celebrated in the annals of Christianity, revived the religious enthusiasm of the Crusaders. It was within the walls of Antioch that the disciples of Christ had first assumed the name of Christians, and that the apostle Peter was named the first pastor of the nascent church. Antioch was as much celebrated in the annals of the Roman empire as in those of the church. The magnificence of its buildings, and its having been the abode of several emperors, had acquired for it the name of the Queen of the East. Its situation in a pleasant and fertile country was, in all ages, attractive to foreigners. Within two leagues, on the west, was a lake abounding in fish, which communicated with the Orontes; on the south were the faubourg and the fountain of Daphne, so celebrated in pagan poetry. Not far from it arose the mountain of Orontes, covered with gardens and houses of pleasure; and on the north was another mountain, sometimes called the Black Mountain, on account of its forests, and sometimes the Water Mountain, on account of its numerous springs. The river Orontes flowed at the foot of the ramparts of Antioch, on the western side, and paid its tribute to the sea three or four leagues from the city.

The walls inclosed four hills, separated by a torrent, which threw itself into the river. Upon the western hill was built a very strong citadel, which dominated the city. The ramparts of Antioch, which were as solid as a rock, were three leagues in circumference, and along them were built no less than three hundred and sixty strong towers. Broad ditches, the river Orontes, and marshes, still further protected the inhabitants of Antioch, and prevented all access to the city. At the approach of the Christians, most of the inhabitants of the neighbouring provinces and cities sought refuge in Antioch, with their families and their property. Accien, the grandson of Malek-Schah, who had obtained the sovereignty of the city, had shut himself up in it with twenty thousand foot and seven thousand horse.

The siege of Antioch presented so many obstacles and dangers, that the Crusaders deliberated whether they ought in prudence to undertake it. The first who spoke in the council thought it would be rash to commence a siege at the approach of winter. They did not at all dread the arms of the Saracens, but rains, frosts, storms, disease, and famine. They advised the Crusaders to wait for the succours promised by Alexius, and the return of the spring, by which time the army would have repaired its losses, and would have received under its standards fresh reinforcements from the West. This advice was listened to very impatiently by most of the leaders, who insisted upon the necessity of taking advantage of the terror experienced by the Mussulmans. They should have, they said, the caliph of Bagdad and the king of Persia both upon them: delay would strengthen the enemy’s army more than it would theirs; they wanted no Greeks to assist them; and as to a little rain and cold, it was an insult to the soldiers of Christ to suppose they could not bear them!—why it was like comparing them to birds of passage, who fly away and hide themselves at the coming of winter! What need have they to fear famine and want? Had not the Crusaders, till that time, made war provide for itself? Victory had always supplied the wants of the Christians, and abundance awaited them in the city of Antioch, which would speedily open its gates.

This speech prevailed with the most eager and the most brave, and those who were of a different opinion were silenced by the fear of being accused of timidity. Godfrey and the legate, Adhemar, were both in favour of immediate attack. The council decreed that the siege of Antioch should be immediately commenced, and that same day the whole Christian army advanced to the walls. Now, our readers, in contemplating the army of the Crusaders, must not suppose that, like any other army so joined, there was any spirit of unity in it. It was assembled on various principles: a few, and very few, were brought so far on their way to Jerusalem by a purely religious motive; many, like Robert of Normandy, were seduced by a wild chivalric love of adventure, and a thirst for that military renown which was so great an object with the age; but the bulk of this host were men who had cast their all in an expedition which promised unbounded wealth—the leaders looked for dominions and states, the soldiers for booty. They had, literally, emigrated; their desire was to establish themselves in the fabulously-represented rich countries of the East, and they had neither hope nor intention to revisit Europe. There was no acknowledged leader to direct proceedings or to check want of discipline. We have an idea that Godfrey of Bouillon was the leader; but in no point of fact was he so; the leaders were all governed by their own interests; and if Godfrey had thwarted those of Bohemond, Raymond de St. Gilles, Robert of Normandy, Robert of Flanders, or any other chief of rank, they would have paid no more attention to his authority than to that of one of his horse-boys. From this want of unity in the body, and unity of purpose, arose almost all the disasters of the Crusades, of which silly and wicked enterprises the reader will find an excellent epitome in the account of this interesting siege. As we said at the commencement of this work, the camp of the Crusaders before Antioch was exactly like that of the Greeks before Troy; and, strange to say, great resemblances might be traced in the characters of the leaders, from Agamemnon and Godfrey, Achilles and Tancred, Ulysses and Bohemond, to Thersites and BarthÉlemi, the discoverer of the lance.

Bohemond and Tancred took their posts at the east, opposite the gate of St. Paul, to the right of the Italians, the Normans, the Britons, the Flemings, and the French, commanded by the two Roberts; the count de Vermandois and the count de Chartres encamped towards the north, before the gate of the Dog; the count de Toulouse, the bishop of Puy, and the duke of Lorraine, with their troops, occupied the space from the gate of the Dog to the spot where the Orontes, turning towards the west, approaches the walls of Antioch. The Crusaders neglected to cover the southern part, defended by the mountain of Orontes, as they likewise did the western side of the city, which the river defended, and by which the besieged could make sorties or receive succours.

The Turks shut themselves up close within their walls; all was quiet, all was silent. The Crusaders attributed this to terror, and heedlessly spread themselves over the delightful country, enjoying all the sweets of its climate and productions. Abundance of provisions, the beautiful sky of Syria, the fountain and groves of Daphne, famous in all antiquity for the worship of Venus and Adonis, soon made them lose sight of the Holy Land, and bred license and corruption among the soldiers of Christ.

Whilst thus forgetful of discipline, as well as of their purpose, they were attacked by the garrison of Antioch, which surprised them, some lounging luxuriously in their camp, and others wandering about the country. All whom the hopes of pillage or the love of pleasure had seduced into the neighbouring villages and orchards, met with slavery or death. Young Alberon, archdeacon of Metz, son of Conrad, count of Lunebourg, paid with his life for indulging in amusements very little in accordance with the austerity of his profession. He was found by the Turks, stretched upon the grass, playing at dice with a Syrian courtesan. Two strokes of the sabre removed the heads of the players, which were pitched into the camp of the Crusaders, with those of a great number of Christians. The latter deplored their fault, and swore to avenge themselves.

The desire of repairing one error led them into another. They resolved to scale the walls of Antioch, before they had provided themselves with either ladders or machines of war. Vengeance and fanaticism animated both leaders and soldiers, but they could make no impression upon the walls of the city, or disturb the security of its inhabitants. Several other assaults proved equally useless. Experience, for whose lessons they always paid so dearly, taught them that they must invest the place, and prevent the arrival of any foreign succour.

They established a bridge of boats across the Orontes, and passed over some troops towards the western side of the city. All methods were had recourse to to check the sorties of the enemy; sometimes fortresses of wood were erected close to the ramparts, sometimes they planted balistÆ, which launched large stones at the besieged. To close the gate of the Dog they were obliged to heap large beams, stones, and pieces of rock against it. At the same time they intrenched their camps, and took every precaution against surprise from the Saracens.

The blockade of the city was now their object; but, as in all such cases, the tediousness of a siege did not accord with the impatience of warriors with an ulterior object in view. On their arrival before Antioch, they thought they should never again know want, and they wasted in a few days provisions for several months; they thought about nothing but meeting the enemy in the field of battle, and, confident of victory, they neither provided against the rigours of winter nor against a fast-approaching want of provisions.

The latter was not long in arriving. As soon as winter set in, the unfortunate Crusaders found themselves a prey to all sorts of calamities. Torrents of rain fell every day, and the plains, which had recently been so delightful, were almost covered with water. The camp, particularly in the valley, was submerged several times; tempests and rains carried away the pavilions and tents; humidity relaxed the bows; rust gnawed the lances and swords. Most of the soldiers were left destitute of clothes. Contagious complaints carried off men and animals. Rains, cold, famine, and epidemics made such ravages, that, according to William of Tyre, the Crusaders wanted time and space to bury their dead.

Amidst the general distress, Bohemond and the duke of Normandy were charged with the task of scouring the country in search of provisions. In the course of their incursions they beat several detachments of the Saracens, and returned to the camp with considerable booty. The provisions they brought, however, could not long supply a numerous army. Fresh incursions were made every day, and every day they became less fortunate. All the countries of Upper Syria had been ravaged by the Turks and the Christians. The Crusaders on these parties often put the Saracens to flight; but victory, which was almost always their only resource in the moment of want, could not bring back abundance into the camp. As a completion of their misery, all communication with Constantinople was cut off; the Pisan and Genoese fleets no longer coasted along the shores occupied by the Christians. The port of St. Simeon, situated at three leagues from Antioch, now saw no vessel arrive from Greece or the West. The Flemish pirates who had taken the cross at Tarsus, after gaining possession of Laodicea, had been surprised by the Greeks, and several weeks before had been made prisoners. The most melancholy future threatened the Christians; they talked of nothing but the losses they had experienced, and the evils which hung over them; every day the most afflicting news was spread through the army.

It was related that the son of Sweno, king of Denmark, who had taken the cross, and who was leading to the holy war fifteen hundred knights, had been surprised by the Turks whilst advancing rapidly across the defiles of Cappadocia. Attacked by an enemy superior in numbers, he had defended himself during a whole day, without being able, by his courage or the axes of his warriors, to repulse the attack of the infidels. Florine, daughter of Eudes I., duke of Burgundy, who accompanied the Danish hero, and to whom he was to be married after the taking of Jerusalem, had valiantly fought by his side. Transpierced by seven arrows, and fighting still, she was endeavouring, with Sweno, to open for herself a passage to the mountains, when they were overwhelmed by their enemies. They fell together upon the field of battle, after having seen all their knights and faithful servants perish around them. “Such was the news brought to the Christian camp,” says William of Tyre, “full of sadness and grief, and with which, more than before, were the hearts of all oppressed.”

Famine and disease increased; the Syrians who brought provisions were so extortionate in their prices, that the common soldiers could not purchase any. And not the smallest of their griefs was the daily, almost hourly loss of companions, countrymen, partakers of toils and dangers, to whom a common lot and object had endeared them. Desertion was soon added to the other evils. Most of the army began to lose all hope of reaching the Holy City or even of subduing Antioch; and some went to seek an asylum under Baldwin, in Mesopotamia, whilst others stole away to the cities of Cilicia, subject to the Christians. The duke of Normandy retired to Laodicea, and did not return until he had been thrice summoned by the army, in the name of the religion of Christ. Tactius, the general of Alexius, left the camp with his troops, promising to return with reinforcements and provisions. His departure was not regretted, and no hopes were built upon his promises. The desertion became common even with the most brave and the most zealous; not only did the stout warrior, the viscount de Melun, whose use of the axe in battle had gained him the name of “the carpenter,” turn his back upon famine and his suffering comrades, but even the devotion of Peter the Hermit, the great cause of this monstrous removal of the West to the East, was not proof against the misery all endured, and he fled away secretly. This desertion, says a chronicler, caused great scandal among the Christians, “and did not astonish them less than if the stars had fallen from the heavens.” But the indefatigable Tancred, the truest knight of all the Crusades, pursued them, and brought back both the carpenter and the hermit. Peter was bitterly reproached, and was compelled to swear on the Gospel never to repeat his offence.

But Peter might have urged a better plea than fear for his flight: the Christian camp was the resort of all the vices. “Strange and inconceivable spectacle,” says an eye-witness, “beneath the tents of the deliverers of Sion, were strangely grouped famine and voluptuousness, impure love, a mad passion for play, and all the excesses of debauchery mingled with the most horrid images of death.” The pilgrims seemed so debased by their misfortunes as to disdain the consolations of piety and virtue. The clergy exerted themselves, and punishments were devised; but of what use could these prove, when many of the priesthood were as guilty as the soldiers, and when those who ought to have carried out the inflictions of the law, themselves hourly merited them?

Syrian spies, likewise, stole into the camp, who circulated in the neighbouring cities exaggerated accounts of the distress, the despair, and the vices of the Christians. In order to deliver the army from this annoyance, Bohemond, whom Mr. Gibbon too favourably styles the Ulysses of the Crusades, devised a plan fit even to disgust barbarians. He commanded some Turks, who were his prisoners, to be brought to him. These he ordered to be immediately executed, and their bodies to be roasted over a large fire, like meat preparing for the supper of himself and his people; directing it to be answered, if any one asked what was the cause of the preparations and the smell: “The princes and governors of the camp have decreed in council that, from this day forward, all Turks or spies found in the camp shall, in this manner, be forced to make meat of their bodies, as well for the princes as the army.” Bohemond’s servants followed his instructions, and the strangers in the camp were soon attracted by the report and the stench to the prince of Tarentum’s quarters. “When they saw what was going on,” says an ancient author, “they were marvellously terrified, and fled away to circulate through Syria an account of the cannibalism of the Christians.” Bohemond’s plan, however, succeeded; no more spies were seen in the camp.

The bishop of Puy carried into execution, about the same time, a ruse of a much more agreeable nature. He caused the neighbouring lands to be ploughed and sown with corn, not only for the benefit of the army, but to prove to the Saracens that they had no intention of abandoning the siege.

Winter at length departed; the contagious diseases abated, the princes and monasteries of Armenia sent in provisions; with the departure of famine hope revived, and, strange to say, all these ameliorations were looked upon as the fruits of their own amendments!

Ambassadors from Egypt then made their appearance, and the Crusaders had recourse to all sorts of expedients to impose upon their visitors. Their most splendid habiliments, their most costly arms were exhibited, and the nobles and knights displayed their skill and courage in jousts and tournaments, and their graces in the dance—behind lingered want and privations; in the eyes of the strangers all was joy and festivity. The Egyptians professed great friendship for the Crusaders, with admiration of their military virtues: their master made vast promises, and said they had liberty to enter the Holy City, provided they went without arms, and only staid one month. If the Crusaders submitted to these conditions, the caliph of Egypt would be their firmest support; but if they scorned his friendship, the peoples of Ethiopia and Egypt, all who inhabit Asia and Africa, from the Strait of Gades to the gates of Bagdad, would rise at the voice of the legitimate vicar of the Prophet, and show the warriors of the West the power of their arms.

To this speech a spirited reply was instantly made, rejecting all Mussulman favours, expressing a reliance upon God for the delivery of the holy places, of which, they said, the Christians were determined to be the guardians and the masters: “Go, and tell him who sent you, that the Christians encamped before Antioch neither fear the peoples of Ethiopia, Egypt, nor Bagdad, and that they only form alliances with powers which respect the laws of justice and the standard of Christ.”

This was the sentiment of the Crusaders; but they, nevertheless, did not entirely reject alliance with the caliph. They sent deputies and presents back with the ambassadors.

Scarcely had they departed, when the Christians gained a fresh victory over the Turks. The sultans of Aleppo and Damascus, with the emirs of CÆsarea, Emessa, and Hierapolis had raised an army of twenty thousand horse, to succour Antioch. This army was already approaching the city, when it was stopped and cut to pieces by Bohemond and the count de St. Gilles, who had gone out to meet it. The Turks lost two thousand men and a thousand horses; and the city of Harem, in which they endeavoured to find safety, likewise fell into the hands of the Christians. At the moment the Egyptian ambassadors were embarking at Port St. Simeon, four camels brought them the heads and the spoils of two hundred Mussulmans. The conquerors threw two hundred other heads into the city of Antioch, the garrison of which was anxiously looking out for succours. A number of heads were also stuck on pikes round the walls. This they did in revenge for some gross insults the Saracens had lavished upon an image of the Virgin which had fallen into their hands.

The Crusaders had soon occasion to display their valour in a much more perilous and sanguinary combat. A fleet of Genoese and Pisans entered the port of St. Simeon; this caused the greatest joy, and the soldiers rushed in crowds towards the port, to get news from Europe and obtain necessaries and provisions. As they returned, laden with what they had acquired, and mostly unarmed, they were attacked by a body of four thousand Saracens, who laid wait for them on their passage. In vain Bohemond, the count de St. Gilles, and Bishop Adhemar hastened to their assistance; the Christians could not sustain the shock of the infidels, and retreated in great disorder.

The report of this defeat soon reached the camp, and Godfrey immediately summoned all to arms. Followed by his brother Eustace, the two Roberts and the count de Vermandois, he crossed the Orontes, and went in pursuit of the pursuers. When he came up with the Saracens, he shouted to his companions “to follow his example,” and fell, sword in hand, upon the ranks of the Mussulmans. Accustomed to distant fight, and to employ the bow and arrow, these could not stand against the sword and the lance of the Crusaders: they took to flight, some towards the mountains, and some towards the city. Accien, who, from the towers of his palace, had beheld the victorious attack of the Crusaders, sent a numerous detachment to assist his flying troops. He accompanied them to the gate of the bridge, which he caused to be shut after them, telling them it should not be re-opened till they had gained the victory.

This fresh body of Saracens was quickly beaten in its turn. The Turks had no other hope but that of regaining the city; but Godfrey had placed himself upon an eminence between the fugitives and the gates. It was there the carnage began; the Christians were animated by their victory, the Saracens by their despair and the cries of the inhabitants assembled on the ramparts. Nothing can paint the tumult of this fresh combat. The clash of arms and the shouts of the soldiers drowned the voices of the commanders; they fought hand to hand, in perfect disorder, whilst clouds of dust hung over the field of battle. Chance directed the blows of both the conquerors and the conquered; the Saracens pressed upon each other, and embarrassed their own flight. The confusion was so great that many Crusaders were killed by their companions in arms. A vast number of Saracens fell beneath the swords of the Christians, almost without resistance; more than two thousand were drowned in the Orontes. “The old men of Antioch,” says William of Tyre, “who contemplated this sanguinary catastrophe from the top of their walls, lamented that they had lived so long; and women, witnesses of the death of their sons, wept that they had ever been mothers.” The slaughter lasted the whole day, and it was not till towards evening that Accien allowed the gates to be opened to the miserable remains of his troops.

The leaders and soldiers of the Christian army had performed prodigies of valour. Bohemond, Raymond, Tancred, Adhemar, Baldwin du Bourg, and Eustace had constantly shown themselves at the head of their warriors. The whole army concurred in admiration of the marvellous lance-thrusts and feats of arms of the count de Vermandois and the two Roberts. Robert of Normandy maintained, alone, a conflict with an infidel chief at the head of his people. With one blow of his sabre he split his head to the shoulder, and laid him at his feet, exclaiming: “I devote thy impure soul to the powers of hell!” “Tancred,” says Ralph of Caen, “distinguished himself among the most intrepid of the knights. In the heat of the mÊlÉe, the Christian hero, as modest as he was brave, made his squire swear not to reveal the exploits of which he was a witness.” Godfrey, who in this battle had displayed the skill of a great captain, likewise signalized his bravery and strength by actions which history and poetry have celebrated. No armour could resist his trenchant blade; lances, casques, and cuirasses flew in splinters beneath its stroke. A Saracen of surpassing stature singled him out in the mÊlÉe, and, at his first blow, shivered Godfrey’s buckler to pieces. Indignant at this audacity, Godfrey raised himself in his stirrups, rushed upon his enemy, and dealt him so terrible a blow on the shoulder, that he split his body into two parts, “the first of which,” say the historians, “fell to the earth, and the other was carried by his horse into the city, to the horror and consternation of the inhabitants.”

Notwithstanding these prodigious exploits, the Christians sustained a considerable loss. Whilst celebrating the valour of the Crusaders, contemporary history is astonished at the multitude of martyrs whom the Saracens sent to heaven, and who, on arriving in the abode of the blessed with crowns upon their heads and palms in their hands, addressed God in these words: “Why have you not defended our blood, which has flowed for you this day?”

The Saracens passed the night in burying their dead near a mosque without the walls. Their sad duty performed, they retired. The Christians, however, knew that the Mussulmans never despoiled the bodies of their countrymen before they inhumed them, and flocked in crowds to the plunder of them. They tore up the bodies, and stripped them of the arms and clothes with which they were covered. They then returned to exhibit to their fellows in the camp the silk stuffs, bucklers, lances, javelins, and rich swords found in the graves. This spectacle did not in the least disgust the knights and barons. The day after the battle, among the spoils of the vanquished, they contemplated with pleasure fifteen hundred heads separated from their trunks, which were paraded in triumph through the army, and reminded them of their victory and of the loss of the infidels.

All these heads cast into the Orontes with the bodies of the Mussulmans who the preceding day had been drowned in the river, went to convey the news of the victory to the Genoese and Pisans at Port St. Simeon.

The leaders now thought of nothing but taking advantage of the terror with which they had inspired the Mussulmans. Masters of the cemetery, they pulled down the mosque, and employed the stones, even of the tombs, to build a fortress before the gate of the bridge by which the besieged made their sorties. Raymond, who had been accused of want of zeal for the holy war, constructed this fort and took charge of the perilous post. It was proposed to raise a new fortress near the first, and as none of the leaders came forward to erect it, Tancred offered his services,—a generous and loyal knight; he had nothing left but his sword and his renown. He asked his companions for money, and undertook the danger of the enterprise. All were eager to second his courageous devotion; the works he directed were soon finished; and from that time the besieged were closely shut up within the inclosure of their walls.

The Crusaders having thus blockaded the city, seized the Syrians who had been accustomed to bring provisions to Antioch, and only spared their lives upon their swearing to supply the Christian army. Learning that Accien had sent away a great many of his horses to a valley some leagues from the city, they repaired thither by by-roads, and gained possession of the rich booty. Two thousand horses and as many mules were led in triumph to the Christian camp.

Many of the Genoese and Pisans were skilful engineers, and they were employed in directing the labours of the siege. Machines of war were built, and Antioch was threatened on all sides. Whilst despair supplied the place of courage with the Saracens, zeal and emulation increased among the Crusaders; many whom want or fear had driven away, returned to their standards, and sought every opportunity of wiping out the disgrace of their desertion. The besiegers no longer thought of repose, and breathed nothing but fight. The women seconded the valour of the warriors; some fought by their sides in the ranks, whilst others supplied them with food and munitions when they were engaged. The children even formed bands, and went through their military exercises. The inhabitants of Antioch opposed their children to those of the Christians, and several times these young combatants engaged in the presence of the besiegers and the besieged, who took an interest in the fight, and animated their party by voice and gesture when they appeared to give way.

There was formed at the same time another militia, much more formidable to the Saracens. The mendicants and vagabonds who followed the army were employed in the labours of the siege, under the orders of a captain, who took the title of Truand King, or King of the Beggars. They received pay from the general chest; and as soon as they were in a condition to purchase arms and clothes, the king denied them as his subjects, and made them enter into one of the corps of the army. This measure, whilst removing the vagabonds from their dangerous idleness, made useful auxiliaries of them. As they were accused of violating graves and feeding on human flesh, they inspired great horror and fear among the infidels, who fled away at their approach.

Antioch was so warmly pressed, and the garrison had so little means of defence, that the Crusaders expected every day to be masters of it. Accien demanded a truce, and promised to surrender if not speedily succoured. The Crusaders, always full of blind confidence, had the imprudence to accept the proposals of the governor. As soon as they had made a truce with the Saracens, the leaders of the army, who seldom agreed anywhere but in the field of battle, and whom danger even could not always unite, were on the point of declaring war among themselves.

Baldwin, prince of Edessa, had sent some magnificent presents to Godfrey, the two Roberts, the count de Vermandois, and the counts of Blois and Chartres; he had distributed sums of money to the whole army; but in bestowing his largesses, he had purposely left out Bohemond and his soldiers. This was quite enough to create a division. Whilst the Christian army was loud in the praises of the liberality of Baldwin, the prince of Tarentum and his warriors breathed nothing but complaints and murmurs.

At the same time, a richly ornamented tent, which an Armenian prince destined for Godfrey, and which, falling into the hands of Pancratius, was sent to Bohemond, became a fresh subject of trouble and discord. Godfrey haughtily claimed the present which had been intended for him; Bohemond refused to give it up. Both parties proceeded to abuse and threats; they were eager to have recourse to arms, and Christian blood was about to flow in a contemptible quarrel. But at length the prince of Tarentum, abandoned by the greater part of the army and conquered by the prayers of his friends, surrendered the tent to his rival, consoling his vexation with the hope that the chance of war would soon bestow upon him a much richer booty.

Whilst these quarrels occupied the Christian army, the inhabitants of Antioch received reinforcements and prepared for a fresh resistance. When they had obtained all they stood in need of, they broke the truce and recommenced the war with all the advantages a foolishly-granted peace had given them.

Antioch, after a seven months’ siege, would have escaped the hands of the Christians, if cunning, policy, and ambition had not done more for their cause than patience and valour had been able to do. Bohemond, whom the hopes of bettering his fortunes had drawn into the crusade, was always on the watch to realize his projects. The success of Baldwin had roused his jealousy, and pursued him even in his sleep. He ventured to cast his eyes upon Antioch, and was sufficiently favoured by circumstances to find a man who had it in his power to place that city in his hands. This man, who was named Phirous, was the son of an Armenian, a maker of cuirasses. Of a restless, uneasy character, he was constantly in hopes of changing his condition. He had abjured the Christian religion in a spirit of inconstancy and with the expectation of advancing his fortune. He was endowed with wonderful coolness, with unconquerable audacity, and was always ready to do that for money which could scarcely be expected from the most ardent fanaticism. To satisfy his ambition and avarice, nothing appeared unjust or impossible. Being active, cunning, and insinuating, he had obtained the confidence of Accien, who admitted him to his counsels. The prince of Antioch had confided the command of three of his principal towers to him. He at first defended them with zeal, but without any advantage to his fortune: he grew weary of a sterile fidelity as soon as he was brought to think that treachery might be more profitable to him.

In the intervals between the battles he had had frequent opportunities of seeing the prince of Tarentum. These two men divined each other’s character at first sight, and were not long in coming to an understanding. Phirous complained of the outrages he had received from the Mussulmans; he lamented having abandoned the religion of Christ, and wept over the persecutions the Christians of Antioch endured. There required no more than this to make such a man as the prince of Tarentum acquainted with the secret thoughts of the renegade. He commended his remorse, approved of his sentiments, and made him most magnificent promises. Then Phirous opened his heart to him. They swore a mutual and inviolable attachment, and promised to keep up an active correspondence. They afterwards saw each other several times, but always with the greatest secrecy. At every interview, Bohemond told Phirous that the fate of the Crusaders was in his hands, and that it only remained with himself to obtain an immense recompense from them. On his side, Phirous protested that he had a great desire to serve the Crusaders, whom he looked upon as his brothers; and to assure the prince of Tarentum of his fidelity, or to excuse his treachery, he said that Christ had appeared to him and advised him to give Antioch up to the Christians. Bohemond had no need of a similar protestation. He had no trouble in believing what he wished for with so much ardour; and when he had agreed with Phirous upon the means by which the projects they had a long time meditated should be executed, he called an assembly of the principal leaders of the Christian army. He dwelt with great warmth upon the evils which to that period had desolated the Crusaders, and the yet greater evils with which they were still threatened. He added that a powerful army was advancing to the succour of Antioch; that they could not retreat without shame and danger; and that there was no safety for the Christians but in the conquest of the city. The place, it was true, was defended by inexpugnable ramparts; but they must be aware that all victories are not gained by arms or in the field of battle; that those which were obtained by address were neither the least important nor the least glorious. They who could not be conquered might be seduced, and enemies might be overcome by an adroit and generous enterprise. Among the inhabitants of Antioch, widely differing in morals and religion, opposite in interests, there must be some to be found who would be accessible to baits of gold or to brilliant promises. It concerned a service of such importance to the Christian army, that all sorts of attempts were justifiable. The possession even of Antioch itself did not appear to him to be too much to hold out as a reward to him who should be skilful or fortunate enough to throw open the gates to the Crusaders.

Bohemond did not explain himself more clearly, but several of the leaders, who, perhaps, entertained the same views, easily fathomed his meaning. Raymond, in particular, spoke strongly against the artful insinuations of the prince of Tarentum. “We are all,” said he, “brothers and companions in arms, and it would be unjust, that after having all run the same risk, one alone should gather the fruit of our labours. As for myself,” added he, casting a look of anger and contempt at Bohemond, “I have not traversed so many countries, and braved so many perils; I have not been prodigal of my blood, my soldiers, and my treasures, to pay with the price of our conquests some gross artifice, some disgraceful stratagem, the invention of which should be left to women.” As none of the Crusaders were actuated by a more palpable ambition, or by meaner or more sordid views than Bohemond of Tarentum and Raymond of Toulouse, they were upon all occasions at variance, and by their wrangling laid their characters open to the whole army. Raymond’s vehement words produced all the effect that might be expected among warriors accustomed to conquer by arms, and who valued no advantage that was not purchased by bravery. Most of the leaders rejected Bohemond’s proposals, and joined their railleries to those of Raymond. Bohemond, with his Ulyssian tact, did his best to conceal his vexation and malice. He left the council with a smile on his lip, perfectly satisfied that necessity would soon bring the Crusaders to his opinion.

He made it his first business to spread, by means of emissaries, the most alarming reports throughout the camp. Some of the leaders went out to reconnoitre, and to learn if there were any foundation for these rumours. They speedily returned, announcing the approach of Kerbogha, sultan of Mossoul, with an army of two hundred thousand men. This army, which had threatened Edessa and ravaged Mesopotamia, was within seven days’ march of Antioch. At this account the fears of the Crusaders were redoubled. Bohemond went among the ranks, exaggerating the peril; he affected more distress and terror than the rest, but in his heart he rejoiced at the idea of soon seeing his hopes accomplished. The leaders again assembled to deliberate upon the measures that ought to be taken under such perilous circumstances. Two opinions divided the council. Some proposed that they should raise the siege, and go and meet the Saracens; others, that the army should be divided into two bodies, one of which should march against Kerbogha, and the other remain in charge of the camp. This last advice was about to prevail, when Bohemond demanded permission to speak. He had not much difficulty in demonstrating the difficulties of both plans. If they raised the siege, they would be placed between the garrison of Antioch and a formidable army. If they continued the blockade, and half the army only went to meet Kerbogha, they would certainly risk a double defeat. “The greatest perils,” added the prince of Tarentum, “surround us. Time presses; to-morrow, perhaps, it will be too late to act; to-morrow we shall have lost the fruit of all our labours and all our victories. But no, I cannot think so; God, who has conducted us hither, will not permit that we should have fought in his cause in vain. He will save the Christian army, he will lead us to the tomb of His Son. If you will listen to the proposal I am about to make to you, to-morrow the standard of the cross shall float over the walls of Antioch, and we shall march in triumph to Jerusalem.”

On finishing these words, Bohemond exhibited the letters of Phirous, in which he promised to surrender the three towers he commanded. Phirous declared that he was ready to fulfil his promises, but that he would have nothing to do with any one but the prince of Tarentum. He required, as the price of his services, that Bohemond should remain master of Antioch. The Italian prince affirmed that he had already given considerable sums to Phirous; that he alone had obtained his confidence, and that a reciprocal confidence was the surest guarantee of success in so difficult an enterprise. “As to the rest,” added he, “if a better means of saving the army can be found, I am ready to approve of it, and will willingly renounce my share of a conquest upon which the safety of all the Crusaders depends.”

The peril daily became greater; it was disgraceful to fly, imprudent to fight, and dangerous to temporize. Fear put all the interests of rivalry to silence. The greater the opposition the leaders had at first shown to the proposals of Bohemond, the more abundant did they now find the reasons for adopting them. A divided conquest was no conquest; besides, a partition of Antioch might give birth to a thousand differences in the army, and lead to its ruin. They only gave away that which they did not possess, and they gave it to secure the lives of the Christians. Better one should profit by the labours of all, than that all should perish out of opposition to the good fortune of one. Besides, the taking of Antioch was not the great object of the Crusade; they had taken arms to deliver Jerusalem. Every delay was contrary to what religion hoped for from its soldiers, and to what the West expected from its bravest knights. All the leaders, except the inflexible Raymond, united in granting the principality of Antioch to Bohemond, and conjured him to press the execution of his project. The moment he left the council, Bohemond informed Phirous of what had taken place, and the latter sent him his son as a hostage. The execution of the plan was fixed for the next day. To leave the garrison of Antioch in the greater security, the Christians were to quit their camp and direct their march towards the route by which Kerbogha’s army was expected, and were to return to the walls of Antioch during the night. The next day, at dawn, the troops received orders to prepare for their departure; they left the camp a few hours before nightfall, with trumpets sounding and ensigns flying, and after a short march retraced their steps, and came in silence towards Antioch. At a signal given by the prince of Tarentum, they halted in a valley west of the city, near the tower of the Three Sisters, commanded by Phirous. It was there that the secret of the great enterprise which was to open the gates to them was revealed to the Christian army.

These deeply-laid plans, however, were very near failing. At the moment the army left the camp, a report was circulated in Antioch that a plot was on foot. The Christians and newly-converted Mussulmans were suspected, and the name of Phirous was heard coupled with accusations of keeping up an intelligence with the besiegers. He was obliged to appear before Accien, who interrogated him sternly, with his eyes fixed upon him, to read his purpose in his countenance: but Phirous dispersed all suspicions by his self-possession. He himself proposed measures for detecting the traitors, if there were any; and advised his master to change the commanders of the principal towers. This advice was highly approved of, and Accien said he would follow it the next day. At the same time orders were issued to place all the Christians in the city in chains during the darkness of night. The renegade was then sent to his post, loaded with praises for his exactitude and fidelity. As night approached, everything appeared tranquil in Antioch, and Phirous, thinking his danger was over, awaited the Crusaders in the tower he had engaged to surrender.

As his brother commanded a tower next to his, he went to him, and endeavoured to draw him into the plot. “Brother,” said he, “you know that the Crusaders are gone to meet Kerbogha. When I reflect upon the miseries they have endured, and upon the death which threatens them, I cannot help entertaining a kind of pity for them. You are not ignorant that the Christian inhabitants of Antioch, after having suffered all sorts of outrages, are to be massacred by the orders of Accien. I cannot help pitying them, nor can I forget that we were born of the same religion, and were formerly brethren.” These words did not produce the effect Phirous expected. “I am astonished,” replied his brother, “that you should pity men who ought to inspire you with nothing but horror. Before the Crusaders arrived before Antioch, we were loaded with blessings. We have since passed our lives amidst dangers and alarms. May all the ills they have brought us recoil upon themselves! As for the Christians residing among us, don’t you know that they are almost all traitors, and only wish to deliver us to the swords of our enemies?” At these words he cast a threatening glance upon Phirous. The renegade saw that he was at least suspected. He acknowledged no brother in the man who refused to be his accomplice, and, as his only reply, plunged his dagger into his heart.

The decisive moment arrived. The night was dark, and a storm which had risen, considerably augmented the obscurity. The wind, which shook the roofs of the houses, together with the incessant peals of thunder, prevented the soldiers from hearing any noise round the ramparts. The sky looked inflamed towards the west, and the sight of a comet, which appeared above the horizon, seemed to announce to the superstitious minds of the Crusaders the moment destined for the destruction of the infidels. They awaited the signal with impatience. A Lombard, named Payen, sent by Bohemond, ascended the tower by a ladder of leather. Phirous received him, told him all was prepared, and, to convince him of his fidelity, pointed to the dead body of his brother. Whilst they were talking, an officer of the garrison came to visit the posts. He presented himself with a lantern before the tower. Phirous, without showing the least fear, concealed Bohemond’s messenger, and went forward to meet the officer. He received praises for his vigilance, and then hastened to send back Payen. The Lombard rejoined his comrades, and conjured Bohemond, on the part of Phirous, not to lose a moment. But all at once a panic seized the soldiers: at the moment of execution, they perceived the full extent of the danger. Not one came forward to mount the ladder. In vain Godfrey and the prince of Tarentum employed by turns promises and threats: both leaders and soldiers remained motionless. Bohemond then ascended by a rope ladder, with the hope that his example would be followed by some of the bravest; but nobody felt it his duty to meet the risk. He arrived alone on the tower, where Phirous reproached him warmly for his tardiness. Bohemond redescended in haste, and told the soldiers all was ready to receive them. His words, but still more his example, at length revived the courage of the men. Sixty Crusaders prepared for the escalade. Encouraged by one Foulcher of Chartres, whom the historian of Tancred compares to an eagle conducting his young ones and flying at their head, they seized the ladder of leather and ascended the tower. Among these sixty was the count of Flanders, with many of the principal leaders. Sixty others soon followed the steps of the first, and these were followed by such numbers, and so precipitately, that the parapet to which the ladder was fastened gave way, and fell with a crash into the ditch. Those who were near the summit of the walls fell upon the lances and swords of their companions. All was confusion and disorder among the assailants; the leaders of the enterprise nevertheless looked on with a tranquil eye. Phirous, over the bloody body of his brother, embraced his new companions, gave up to their swords another brother who was with him, and put them in possession of the three towers confided to his command. Seven other towers soon fell into their hands. Phirous then called upon all the Christian army to advance; he fastened a fresh ladder to the rampart, by which the most impatient ascended, and pointed out to others a gate they could break in, and by which they entered the city in crowds.

Godfrey, Raymond, and the count of Normandy were soon in the streets of Antioch with their battalions. All the trumpets were sounded, and the four hills of the city resounded with the terrible cry, “Dieu le veut! Dieu le veut!” At the first report of the tumult, the Christian inhabitants of Antioch believed their last hour to be come, and that the Mussulmans were about to cut their throats. The latter, half-asleep, crawled from their houses to inquire the cause of the noise they heard, and died without knowing who were the traitors, or by what hand they were struck. Some, when aware of the danger, fled towards the mountain upon which the citadel was built; whilst others rushed out at the gates of the city. All who could not fly fell beneath the swords of the conquerors.

Notwithstanding the confusion, Bohemond did not fail to take possession of Antioch; and when day appeared, his red flag was seen floating over one of the highest towers of the city. At sight of this, the Crusaders left in charge of the camp uttered loud shouts of joy, and flocked to the city to partake of the new conquest. The slaughter of the Mussulmans was pursued with fury. The Christians, who had suffered much, exhibited their chains to their liberators, and increased their thirst for blood: the public places were covered with dead bodies, and blood flowed down all the streets. Every house and thing that was not marked with a cross was the object of their fury; all who did not pronounce the name of Christ were massacred without mercy.

In a single night, more than ten thousand of the inhabitants of Antioch perished; many who attempted to escape were brought back to either death or slavery. Accien, finding he was betrayed, and not daring to place confidence in any of his officers, resolved to fly towards Mesopotamia, and meet Kerbogha. After leaving the gates, he was proceeding without any escort, through forests and over mountains, when he fell in with some Armenian woodcutters. These men recognised the prince of Antioch, and as he was without a train, and bore upon his countenance the marks of depression and grief, they judged the city must be taken. One of them went up to him, snatched his sword from him, and plunged it into his heart. His head was brought to the new masters of Antioch, and Phirous was able to contemplate without fear the features of him who, the evening before, might have commanded his death. After having received great wealth as the reward of his treachery, the renegade re-embraced the Christianity he had abandoned, and followed the Crusaders to Jerusalem. Two years after, his ambition not being satisfied, he returned to the religion of Mahomet, and died abhorred by both Mussulmans and Christians, whose cause he had by turns embraced and betrayed.

When tired of slaughter, the Christians turned their attention towards the citadel; but that, being situated upon an almost inaccessible mountain, set their efforts at defiance. They satisfied themselves with surrounding it with machines of war and soldiers, and proceeded to indulge in all the intoxication inspired by their victory. The pillage of Antioch yielded immense treasures; and, although provisions did not abound, they gave themselves up to intemperance and debauchery.

These things took place in the early part of June, 1098; the siege had commenced in the month of October, the preceding year. After this success, for we cannot call it a victory, three days quickly passed away in rejoicings and festivity; but the fourth was a day of fear and of mourning.

A formidable army of Saracens approached Antioch. All the powers of the East were roused by the successes of the Christians, and Asia Minor seemed to be in arms to repel the attack of Europe. Kerbogha, sultan of Mossoul, commanded the Mussulman forces. This formidable leader had gained great experience in civil wars. Despising the Christians and confident in himself, the true model of the fierce Circassian celebrated by Tasso, he already considered himself the liberator of Asia. Three sultans, the governor of Jerusalem, and twenty-eight emirs, marched in his train. Animated by the thirst of vengeance, the Mussulman soldiers swore by their prophet to exterminate the Christians; and, three days after the taking of Antioch, the army of Kerbogha pitched their tents upon the banks of the Orontes. Their approach was announced to the Christians by the appearance of three hundred horsemen, who came under the walls to reconnoitre. Anxiety and alarm instantly succeeded to joy and excess; for they at once perceived that they had not provisions for a siege. Troops were sent to forage in all directions, but as the territory of Antioch had been ravaged for several months, they returned, to the consternation of their comrades, almost empty-handed. The moment the infidels arrived, they attacked the advanced posts of the Crusaders. In these early combats, the Christians had to lament the loss of some of their bravest warriors. Bohemond was wounded in a sortie. In vain Tancred and Godfrey performed progidies of valour; the Mussulmans drove the Christians into the city, in which they were now, in their turn, besieged.

Placed between the vast Mussulman army and the garrison of the citadel, the position of the Crusaders was awful. Kerbogha took possession of the port of St. Simeon, so that no provisions could reach them by sea, and famine very quickly began to exercise cruel ravages upon the besieged.

At the very commencement of the siege, the commonest necessaries were worth their weight in gold. A moderate-sized loaf was worth a byzant, an egg as much as six Lucchese deniers; a pound-weight of silver was given for the head of an ox, of a horse, or of an ass. Godfrey gave fifteen silver marks for a lean camel, and three marks for a goat, which, at other times, would have been disdained by the meanest soldier of his army. Our readers will not fail to observe that these prices did not only bespeak the scarcity of provisions, they announced the abundance of money;—the army was rich with the late plunder of the city. After having slaughtered most of their horses, they were obliged to have recourse to unclean animals. The soldiers and the poor who followed the army lived upon leaves and roots; some even went so far as to devour the leather of their bucklers and shoes: the most destitute exhumed the bodies of the Saracens, and, to support their wretched existence, disputed his prey with Death. In this frightful distress, agonized mothers could no longer support their children, and with them died of despair and hunger. Princes and knights, whose pride had been most conspicuous, were debased to the asking of charity. The count of Flanders went about the streets and to the houses of Antioch, begging for the grossest food, and which he frequently could not obtain. More than one leader sold his equipments and his arms to purchase food for a single day. As long as the duke of Lorraine had anything eatable left, he shared it with his companions; at length he made the sacrifice of his last war-horse, and was, like the other Crusaders, reduced to the most cruel necessity.

Many of the Crusaders endeavoured to fly from a city which presented nothing but the image and the prospect of death; some fled towards the sea, through a thousand dangers; others cast themselves amongst the Mussulmans, where they purchased a morsel of bread by abandonment of Christ and his religion. The soldiers lost courage at seeing the count de Melun fly, for the second time: he could brave any dangers in the field of battle, but he could not endure hunger and misery. His desertion was preceded by that of the count de Blois, who bore the standard of the Crusaders, and presided in council. He had quitted the army two days before the taking of Antioch; and when he learnt the arrival of Kerbogha, marched towards Constantinople. The deserters escaped during the darkness of night. Sometimes they precipitated themselves into the ditches of the city, at the risk of their lives; and others slipped down the rampart with the aid of ropes. The Christians found themselves every day abandoned by a great number of their companions; which added to their despair. Heaven was invoked against these cowards; God was implored that in another life they might share the punishment of the traitor Judas. The ignominious epithet of rope-dancers was affixed to their names, and devoted them to the scorn of their contemporaries. William of Tyre refuses to name any of these fugitives, as he considers them razed from the Book of Life. The ill-wishes of the Christians directed against these fugitives were but too completely fulfilled; most of them perished of want, and the rest were killed by the Saracens.

Stephen, count of Chartres, more fortunate than his companions, arrived safely at the camp of Alexius, who was advancing at the head of an army towards Antioch. To excuse his desertion, he did not fail to paint in the darkest colours the ills and perils of the Christians, and to make it evident by his recital that God had abandoned the cause of the Christians. The despair of some Latin pilgrims who followed the army of the Greeks was so violent, that it inspired them with horrible blasphemies. They demanded with groans why the true God had permitted the destruction of His people? why He had allowed to fall into the hands of His enemies those who came to deliver the tomb of His Son? Nothing was heard among the Latin Crusaders but these strange speeches; the most violent in his despair being Guy, the brother of Bohemond. In the excess of his grief, he blasphemed more than any of the rest, and said he could not understand the mysteries of Providence, which betrayed the cause of the Christians.

The emperor Alexius, who had advanced as far as Philomelum, terrified at all he heard, did not dare to continue his march towards Antioch. He thought, says Anna Comnena, that it would be rash to endeavour to succour a city whose fortifications had been ruined by a long siege, and had no defenders but soldiers reduced to the lowest misery. Alexius still further reflected, adds the same historian, upon the indiscretion and the inconstancy of the Franks, upon their manner of making war without either art or rules; upon the imprudence with which, after having conquered their enemies, they allowed themselves to be surprised by the very people they had conquered. He thought likewise of the difficulty he should have in making his arrival known to the Crusaders, and of the still greater difficulty of agreeing with their leaders respecting the measures to be taken in order to save them.

All these motives were one-sidedly reasonable. Alexius hated the Crusaders quite as much as he did the Turks, and no doubt rejoiced to see them destroy each other. He returned towards Constantinople, dragging in his train half the inhabitants of the countries he passed through, they being afraid of being left to the mercy of the Mussulmans.

The news of this retreat completed the despair of the Christians: hope was gone; deaths increased awfully; their enfeebled hands could scarcely wield the lance or the sword; they had neither the strength to defend their lives nor to bury the dead. Amidst such frightful misery, no more tears were seen to flow, no more groans were heard, the silence was as complete in Antioch as if it had been perpetual night, or that no one was left in it. The Crusaders were abandoned even by the courage of despair. The last feeling of nature, love of life, became fainter in their hearts every day; they dreaded to meet each other in the public places, and remained concealed in the interior of their houses, which they looked upon as their tombs.

The towers and ramparts were almost without defence. Bohemond, as lord of the place, in vain endeavoured by words and exertions to keep up the courage of the Crusaders; the summons of the serjeant-at-arms, or the trumpet-call, was equally unresponded to. Whilst the army without and the garrison of the citadel within renewed their assaults daily, the Christian warriors remained motionless in their dwellings. In order to rouse them, Bohemond set fire to several quarters of the city, destroying, as a pompous poet said, churches and palaces built with the cedar of Lebanon, in which shone marble from the Atlas, crystal from Tyre, brass from Cyprus, lead from Amathonte, and steel from England. The barons, unable to command the obedience of their soldiers, had not the strength to set them an example. And then came the melancholy reflections of home! They thought of their families, their castles, the wealth, the comforts they had abandoned to carry on this unfortunate war; they could not comprehend how such reverses should happen to them, and that the enemies of Christ should triumph, and almost, says William of Tyre, accused God of ingratitude for having rejected so many sacrifices made to the glory of His Son.

They offered to give up the city, upon being permitted to return to their country; but Kerbogha would listen to nothing but unconditional surrender, which implied all the horrors of barbarous revenge. The European invasion of Asia was such an extraordinary event, that the Saracens, perhaps wisely, deemed a severe lesson necessary. If the Roman Catholics of France were to invade England out of reverence for St. Thomas of Canterbury, we should not think such madmen deserving of much mercy.

But some of the leaders, who knew how the minds of many of the Crusaders had been worked upon to undertake the enterprise, had recourse in this extreme distress to similar motives of action: they industriously circulated accounts of visions and supernatural revelations, all pointing to a happy issue.

In order to realize the promises of Heaven, a priest of the diocese of Marseilles, named Pierre BarthÉlemi, appeared before the council of the leaders, for the purpose of revealing an apparition of St. Andrew, which had been repeated three times whilst he was asleep. The holy apostle had said to him,—“Go to the church of my brother Peter, at Antioch: near the high altar you will find, on digging the earth, the iron of the lance which pierced the side of our Redeemer. In three days, that instrument of eternal salvation shall be manifested to His disciples: that mystic iron, borne at the head of the army, will effect the delivery of the Christians and pierce the hearts of the infidels.”

Adhemar, Raymond, and the other leaders affected to believe this tale. The report of it was soon spread throughout the army. The soldiers said solemnly to each other, that nothing was impossible to the God of the Christians; they likewise believed that the glory of Christ was interested in their safety, and that God ought to perform miracles to save his disciples and defenders. During three days the Christian army prepared itself by fasting and prayer for the discovery of this holy lance.

On the morning of the third day, twelve Crusaders chosen from amongst the most respectable of the clergy and knights, repaired to the great church of Antioch, accompanied by a vast number of labourers provided with the necessary tools. They began to dig the ground under the high altar; the greatest silence prevailed in the church; every instant the spectators expected to behold the glittering of the miraculous iron. The whole army, assembled outside the closed doors, awaited impatiently the result of the search. The diggers had worked during several hours, and had thrown out the earth to the depth of twelve feet, without the appearance of any lance. Night came on, and nothing was discovered; and yet the impatience of the Crusaders seemed to be increased rather than diminished by disappointment. The labourers rested for a while, and then in the darkness of the night resumed their operations. Whilst the twelve witnesses were bent in prayer round the hole, BarthÉlemi leaped into it, and in a very short time reappeared with the sacred iron in his hand. Our readers will smile at this poor trick; but let them glance at the superstitions of the period, and they will be satisfied that historians have not deceived them with respect to this lance or its miraculous effects. A cry of joy was uttered by all present; it was repeated by the anxious army at the doors, and soon resounded through every quarter of the city. The iron to which so many hopes were attached, was exhibited in triumph to the Crusaders; it appeared to them a celestial weapon with which God himself would disperse His enemies. Enthusiasm gave fresh life to the Crusaders, and seemed to restore strength to the soldiers. The horrors of the famine were forgotten; the numbers of their enemies were despised: the most pusillanimous thirsted for the blood of the Saracens; and all demanded with loud cries to be led out to battle.

The leaders of the army who had thus excited the enthusiasm of the soldiers were too prudent to let it slumber. They sent deputies to the Saracens to offer them either a single combat or a general engagement. Peter the Hermit, who had, in the lance-scene, evinced more exaltation than any one, was selected for this embassy. Although received with contempt in the camp of the infidels, he spoke with none the less haughtiness and pride: “The princes assembled in Antioch,” said he to the Saracen leaders, “have sent me to you, to demand justice. These provinces, marked with the blood of martyrs, have belonged to Christian peoples, and as all Christian peoples are brothers, we are come into Asia to avenge the outrages of those who are persecuted, and to defend the heritage of Christ and his disciples. Heaven has allowed the cities of Syria to fall for a time into the power of infidels, as a chastisement for the offences of his people; but learn that the vengeance of the Most High is at length appeased; learn that the tears and repentance of the Christians have wrested the sword from the hand of divine justice, and that the God of armies is risen to combat for us. Nevertheless, we still consent to speak of peace; I conjure you, in the name of the all-powerful God, to abandon the territories of Antioch, and return into your own country. The Christians promise you, by my voice, not to interrupt your retreat. We will put up vows that the true God may touch your hearts, and show you the truth of our faith. If Heaven deigns to listen to us, how delightful it will be to us to give you the name of brethren, and to conclude with you a durable peace! But if you are unwilling to receive either the advantages of peace or the blessings of the Christian religion, let the fate of arms decide the justice of our cause. As the Christians do not wish to be surprised, and as they are incapable of stealing a victory, they offer you the choice of the battle.”

On finishing these words, Peter fixed his eyes upon the countenance of the leader of the Saracens: “Choose,” said he, “the bravest of thy army, and let them fight with a similar number of the Crusaders; fight thyself with one of the Christian princes, or give the signal for a general battle. Whichever be thy choice, thou shalt soon learn what thy enemies are, and shalt know who is the God we serve.”

Kerbogha, who was acquainted with the situation of the Christians, but who knew nothing of the kind of succour they had received in their distress, was extremely surprised at such language. He remained for some time mute with astonishment and rage; but at length recovering himself: “Return,” cried he to Peter, “return to those that sent thee, and tell them that the conquered receive conditions, and do not dictate them. Miserable vagabonds, attenuated wretches, phantoms can inspire fear in none but women. The warriors of Asia are not to be terrified with words. The Christians shall soon learn that the land we tread on belongs to us. Nevertheless, I am desirous of showing them some pity, and if they will acknowledge Mahomet, I may be able to forget that the city, ravaged by hunger, is already in my power; I may leave it in their power, and give them clothes, food, women—all they stand in need of; for the Koran commands us to pardon those who submit to its laws. Tell thy companions to be quick, and profit to-day by my clemency; to-morrow they shall not leave Antioch but by the sword. They will then see if their crucified God, who could not save himself from the cross, can save them from the fate which is prepared for them.”

This speech was warmly applauded by the Saracens, whose fanaticism it rekindled. Peter wanted to reply, but the sultan of Mossoul, laying his hand upon his sabre, commanded the miserable mendicants, who united insolence to blindness, to be driven out of his camp. The Christian deputies retired in haste, and several times ran great risk of their lives in passing through the army of the infidels. On his return to Antioch, Peter gave the assembled princes and barons an account of his mission; and they prepared for the great contest. The heralds-at-arms visited the various quarters of the city, and the impatient valour of the Crusaders was promised battle on the ensuing day.

The priests and bishops exhorted the Christians to render themselves worthy of fighting in the cause of Christ: the whole army passed the night in prayer and acts of devotion. Injuries were forgiven, alms were bestowed; all the churches were filled with warriors, humbling themselves before God, and asking absolution for their sins. The evening before, a considerable quantity of provisions had been discovered, and this unexpected abundance was looked upon as a kind of miracle. The Crusaders repaired their strength by a frugal repast: towards midnight, all the bread and flour that remained in Antioch served for the sacrifice of the mass. A hundred thousand warriors approached the tribunal of penitence, and received, with all the marks of piety, what they believed to be the God for whom they had taken up arms.

At length day appeared; it was the festival of St. Peter and St. Paul. The gates of Antioch were thrown open, and the Christian army marched out, divided into twelve bodies, which reminded them of the twelve apostles. Hugh the Great, although weakened by a long illness, appeared in the foremost ranks, bearing the standard of the Church. All the princes, knights, and barons were at the head of their men-at-arms. The count of Toulouse was the only leader not in the ranks; detained in Antioch, in consequence of a wound, he was charged with keeping the garrison in check whilst the battle was fought.

Raymond of Agiles, one of the historians of the Crusade, bore the holy lance, and exhibited it to the soldiers. Bishop Adhemar marched by his side, announcing to the Crusaders the assistance of the heavenly legions which God had promised them. A part of the clergy advanced in procession at the head of the army, singing the martial psalm: “Let the Lord arise, and let his enemies be dispersed.” The bishops and priests who remained in Antioch, surrounded by the women and children, from the heights of the ramparts, blessed the arms of the Crusaders, and raising their hands towards heaven, prayed the Lord to save His people, and confound the pride of his enemies. The banks of the Orontes and the neighbouring mountains seemed to reply to these invocations, and resounded with the war-cry of the Crusaders, Dieu le veut! Dieu le veut!

Amidst this concert of acclamations and prayers the Christian army advanced into the plain. To consider only the state to which it was reduced, it had rather the appearance of a vanquished army than of one which was marching to victory. A great number of the Crusaders were almost without clothes. Most of the knights and barons marched on foot. Some were mounted on asses, and some on camels; and, which is worthy of note on such a day, Godfrey Bouillon was obliged to borrow a horse of the count of Toulouse. In the ranks were sickly attenuated men, marching with difficulty, and only supported by the hope of either conquering or dying in the cause of Christ.

All the plains near Antioch were covered with Mussulman battalions. The Saracens had divided their army into fifteen bodies, arranged in Échelons. In the midst of all these bodies, that of Kerbogha looked like an inaccessible mountain. The Saracen general, who had no expectation of a battle, at first supposed that the Christians were coming to implore his clemency. A black flag, hoisted on the citadel of Antioch, which was the signal agreed upon to announce the resolution of the Crusaders, soon convinced him that he had not to deal with supplicants. Two thousand men of his army, who guarded the bridge of Antioch, were cut to pieces by the count de Vermandois. The fugitives carried terror to the tent of their general, who was playing at chess at the time. Roused from his false security, Kerbogha ordered the head of a deserter, who had announced to him the speedy surrender of the Christians, to be struck off, and prepared for battle.

On leaving Antioch, the Christian army advanced westward, towards the point where the mountains approach the Orontes. Drawn up in battle-array on a vast space where the mountains formed a half-circle around them, and secured them from surprise, their line extended into the plain a league from the city. Hugh, the two Roberts, the count de Belesme, and the count of Hainault placed themselves at the head of the left wing; Godfrey was on the right wing, supported by Eustache, Baldwin du Bourg, Tancred, Renaud de Toul, and Erard de Puyset. Adhemar was in the centre, with Gaston de BÉarn, the count de Die, Raimbaut of Orange, William of Montpellier, and Amenjeu d’Albret. Bohemond commanded a body of reserve, ready to fly to any point where the Christians should require help. When Kerbogha saw the dispositions of the Christians, he ordered the sultans of Nicea, Damascus, and Aleppo to make the tour of the mountain, and afterwards reascend the Orontes, so as to place themselves between the Christian army and the city of Antioch. He at the same time drew up his army, to receive the Christians and repulse their attack. He placed his troops partly on the heights, partly in the plain. His right wing was commanded by the emir of Jerusalem, and his left by one of the sons of Accien. For himself, he remained upon a lofty hill, to give his orders, and watch the movements of the two armies.

At the moment the battle began, Kerbogha was seized with fear, and he sent to the Christian princes to propose a combat between a given number on each side, to prevent the general carnage. But this offer, which he had rejected the day before, was not likely to be adopted by the leaders of an army full of ardour and confident of victory. The Christians did not doubt that Heaven would declare for them, and this persuasion must render them invincible. In their enthusiasm they looked upon the most natural events as prodigies which announced the triumph of their arms. A ball of fire, which the evening before had passed over Antioch, and burst over the Saracen camp, appeared to them a certain forerunner of victory. As they left Antioch, a slight rain refreshed the hot air of the season and the climate, and appeared in their eyes a fresh proof of the favour of Heaven. A strong wind, which added speed to their javelins and impeded those of the enemy, was for them like the wind of celestial anger, raised to disperse the infidels. Animated by these persuasions, the Christian army was impatient for the fight. They marched towards the enemy in perfect order: a profound silence prevailed, broken alone by the voices of the commanders, the hymns of the priests, and the exhortations of Adhemar.

All at once the Saracens commenced the attack; they discharged a shower of arrows, and rushed upon the Christians, uttering barbarous howlings. In spite of their impetuous charge, their right wing was quickly repulsed and broken by the Christians. Godfrey met with greater resistance in their left wing; he, however, succeeded in shaking it, and throwing their ranks into disorder. At the moment the troops of Kerbogha began to give way, the sultan of Nicea, who had made the tour of the mountain and returned along the banks of the Orontes, fell upon the rear of the Christians with such impetuosity as to threaten the destruction of the body of reserve under Bohemond. The Crusaders, who fought on foot, could not stand against the first charge of the Saracen cavalry. Hugh the Great, when warned of the danger of Bohemond, abandoned the pursuit of the fugitives and flew to the succour of the reserve. Then the fight was renewed with fresh fury. Kilidj-Arslan, who had to avenge the disgrace of several defeats, as well as the loss of his states, fought like a lion at the head of his troops. A squadron of three thousand Saracen horsemen, all bristling with steel, and armed with clubs, carried disorder and terror into the ranks of the Christians. The standard of the count de Vermandois was borne off and retaken, covered with the blood of Crusaders and infidels. Godfrey and Tancred, who flew to the aid of Hugh and Bohemond, signalized their strength and courage by the death of many Mussulmans. The sultan of Nicea, whom no reverse could subdue, still sustained the shock of the Christians. In the heat of the fight he caused lighted flax to be cast among the heath and dried grass which covered the plain. A conflagration quickly ensued, which encircled the Christians with volumes of fire and smoke. Their ranks were for a moment broken, and they paid no attention to the voices of their leaders. The sultan of Nicea was about to gather the fruit of his stratagem, and victory was on the point of escaping from the hand of the Christians.

At that moment, say the historians, a squadron was seen coming down from the mountains. It was preceded by three horsemen clothed in white, and covered with shining arms: “Behold!” shouted Bishop Adhemar, “behold the celestial succour that was promised you. Heaven declares for the Christians; the holy martyrs, George, Demetrius, and Theodore, are come to fight for us.” Immediately all eyes were turned towards the celestial legion. A new ardour took possession of the hearts of the Crusaders, who were persuaded that God himself was come to their succour; the war-cry Dieu le veut was shouted with as much vigour as at the commencement of the battle. The women and children animated the warriors by their acclamations from the battlements; and the priests continued to pray and sing aloud their hymns and sacred songs of encouragement to the host.

Every Crusader became a hero; nothing could resist their impetuous shock. In a moment the Saracens were shaken everywhere, and only fought in wild disorder. They made an effort to rally on the other side of a torrent, and again on an elevated spot, whence their clarions and trumpets resounded; but the count de Vermandois attacked them in this last intrenchment, and quickly put them to the rout. There was shortly no safety for them but in flight. The banks of the Orontes, the woods, the plains, the mountains, were covered with fugitives, who abandoned their arms and their baggage.

Kerbogha, who had prematurely announced the defeat of the Christians to the caliph of Bagdad and the sultan of Persia, fled with all speed towards the Euphrates, escorted by a small number of his most faithful soldiers. Several emirs had fled before the end of the battle. Tancred and some others, mounted upon the horses of the conquered, pursued till nightfall the sultans of Aleppo and Damascus, the emir of Jerusalem, and the dispersed wreck of the Saracen army. The conquerors set fire to the intrenchments, behind which the enemy’s infantry had taken refuge. A great number of Mussulmans perished there in the flames.

According to many contemporary historians, the infidels left a hundred thousand dead on the field of battle. Four thousand Crusaders lost their lives on this glorious day, and were placed in the list of martyrs.

The Christians found abundance in the tents of their enemies; fifteen thousand camels and a vast number of horses fell into their hands. In the camp of the Saracens, where they passed the night, they admired at leisure the luxury of the Orientals, and examined with surprise the tent of the king of Mossoul, in all parts of which glittered gold and precious stones, and which, divided into long streets, flanked by high towers, resembled a fortified city. They employed several days in carrying into Antioch the spoils of the conquered. The booty was immense, and every soldier found himself richer than when he left Europe.

The Saracen army was composed of newly-raised troops, from nations generally at feud one with another; and of the twenty-eight emirs who accompanied Kerbogha, scarcely any two were disposed to act in concert, or acknowledge the authority of one leader. On the contrary, strange to say, the most perfect union prevailed on that day among the Christians.

When the danger was past, the holy lance, which had given so much confidence to the Crusaders during the battle, lost all its miraculous influence, and no longer enjoyed their veneration. As it remained in the hands of the count of Toulouse and the ProvenÇals, to whom it at first attracted a great number of offerings, the other nations were unwilling to leave them the advantage of a miracle which augmented their consideration and wealth. Some time after, when the Christians had undergone new disasters, the subject of the holy lance was brought before the army by either sceptics or rivals, and BarthÉlemi was urged on by friends and foes, as well as by his own vanity, to undergo the ordeal of fire to prove his truth and the authenticity of the miracle. This resolution satisfied the army, and all the pilgrims were convoked to be witnesses of the judgment of Heaven. On the day fixed, which happened to be Good-Friday, a funeral pile was constructed of olive-branches in the centre of a vast plain. Most of the Crusaders were assembled, and everything was prepared for the redoubtable trial. The flame had already risen to the height of twenty cubits, when BarthÉlemi appeared, accompanied by the priests, who advanced in silence, barefoot, and clothed in their sacerdotal habits. Covered with a simple tunic only, the priest of Marseilles carried the holy lance, surrounded with floating streamers. When he had arrived within a few paces of the pile, one of the principal clergy, in a loud voice, pronounced these words: “If this man has seen Jesus Christ face to face, and if the Apostle Andrew has revealed to him the holy lance, may he pass safe and sound through the flames; if, on the contrary, he is guilty of falsehood, may he be burnt, together with the lance which he bears in his hands.” At these words all present reverently bowed, and responded as with one voice, “The will of God be done!” BarthÉlemi threw himself on his knees, called Heaven to witness the truth of what he said, and recommending himself to the prayers of the priests and bishops, he rushed through the pile, where an opening of about two feet wide had been left for his passage. For a moment all lost sight of him. Several of the pilgrims began to weep, when he was seen to issue on the opposite side to that on which he had entered. He was immediately surrounded and pressed upon by a numberless crowd, who cried “Miracle,” and contended for the honour of touching his garment. But BarthÉlemi was covered with mortal wounds; he was carried in a dying state to the tent of the count of Toulouse, where he expired a few days after, protesting his innocence and his veracity, He was buried on the spot where the pile had stood. Raymond de St. Grilles and the ProvenÇals persisted in looking upon him as an apostle and a martyr; but most of the pilgrims were satisfied with the judgment of God, and the miraculous lance ceased to work prodigies.

We have taken this account principally from Michaud, the elegant author of the “History of the Crusades,” and Gibbon; and we do not fear incurring the censure of our readers for giving it so much in detail, it being, in our opinion, the most interesting siege in all history.