Chapter XVI: Part 16

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.

NAPLES.

Mortally chagrined at not being able to charm Ulysses to his destruction, the siren Parthenope drowned herself from pure spite; she was buried on the spot where Naples now stands, and gave her name to that city, one of the most beautifully situated in the world. Naples has undergone a great many sieges,--so many, that of some we shall be able to give but a very short notice.

FIRST SIEGE, A.D. 536.

Belisarius besieged Naples. That city, admirably situated, was defended by good ramparts and a numerous garrison. Its inhabitants had resolved to perish rather than surrender, and for twenty days all the assaults of the Roman general were in vain. He was about to abandon the enterprise, when a happy chance offered him the success he had ceased to hope for. An Isaurian soldier was curious to see the structure of an aqueduct which Belisarius had caused to be cut off at a considerable distance from the city, and there found a rock pierced with a channel large enough to allow water to flow through it, but not sufficiently wide to enable a man to pass. He thought that by enlarging this channel it would be possible to gain entrance into the city, and hastened to inform his general of the discovery. Belisarius secretly charged some Isaurians with the task, which they performed in a few hours, making a passage for an armed man. Belisarius, with his usual humanity, anxious to save life, had an interview with one of the principal citizens, and in vain endeavoured to persuade him to escape the cruelty of the soldiery by a surrender. Reduced to employ force, the Roman general selected that evening a body of four hundred men, completely armed, and as soon as it was dark led them, each being provided with a lantern, towards the aqueduct. They were preceded by two trumpets, which were to be sounded as soon as they were in the place. Belisarius ordered the ladders to be ready for an escalade at the same time, all the troops being under arms. When the detachment had entered the aqueduct, the greater part of them were seized with a panic, and retraced their steps, in spite of the efforts of their conductors to urge them on. Belisarius had them replaced by two hundred of the bravest men of his army, when the others, ashamed of their cowardice, followed close upon their heels. The aqueduct, covered by a brick vault, penetrated far into the city; and the soldiers, without knowing it, were already beneath the streets of Naples, when they arrived at the mouth of the channel, in a basin, whose sides were high and impracticable to armed men. Their embarrassment was extreme; more continued coming, and there was not sufficient room for them in so small a place. One of the soldiers, more active and bold than the rest, took off his arms, climbed to the top, and found himself in the miserable ruins of an old building, inhabited by an old woman: he threatened to kill her if she opened her mouth. He then threw a cord down, the end of which he fastened to an olive-tree, and by this species of ladder the band of soldiers gained the top of the basin two hours before day. They advanced towards the wall on the northern side, surprised the guards of two towers, and put them to the sword. Masters of this part of the wall, they gave the signal agreed upon with the trumpets, and Belisarius immediately had the ladders planted. They were found to be too short; but he ordered two to be tied together, and by that means reached the parapets. The Romans spread themselves through the city, where they met with little resistance. The soldiers gave themselves up to blind indiscriminate cruelty. Belisarius succeeded at length in putting a stop to this frightful course, by threatening some and entreating others. After having abandoned the booty to them as a recompense for their valour, he re-established quiet in the city, and caused children to be restored to their parents, and wives to their husbands.

SECOND SIEGE, A.D. 543.

Totila laid siege to Naples. To intimidate the garrison, the king of the Goths caused Demetrius, the Roman general, taken prisoner in a convoy, to be led close to the walls, loaded with chains and a cord about his neck, and compelled him to cry aloud to the besieged, that the emperor was not in a condition to send them any succours. This speech, but still more the famine which raged in the city, induced the Neapolitans to surrender.

THIRD SIEGE, A.D. 818.

Sicon, prince of Beneventum, declared war against the Neapolitans, and after a long siege, reduced them to the rank of tributaries.

FOURTH SIEGE, A.D. 1253.

Naples had yielded itself up to the Pope, upon which, the emperor Conrad laid siege to it, and shortly brought it back to a sense of its duty.

FIFTH SIEGE, A.D. 1381.

Pope Urban VI. having excommunicated Joan, the first queen of Naples, intrusted the execution of the sentence to Charles de Duras, whom that queen, a few years before, had declared her legitimate heir. This prince appeared at the gates of Naples, in which city he had many partisans. A great number of the inhabitants came over the walls to bring refreshments to his troops, by whom he learnt that the city was divided into three factions, the most powerful of which demanded him for king. Two Neopolitan knights serving in Charles’s army, took a novel means of obtaining entrance to a besieged city. It had always been deemed that the sea formed a sufficient defence at what was called the Gate Conciara, and it was neither closed nor guarded. The knights, under the guidance of some deserters, swam close under the ramparts and entered the open gate without obstruction. They then advanced into the market-place, crying aloud, “Long live Charles Duras and Pope Urban!” Followed by the populace, they opened the market gate and admitted Charles and his army. The next day he laid siege to the castle, in which the queen had taken refuge. Joan, reduced to the last extremity by famine, having no vessel in which to escape, and no resource but in her husband, Otho of Brunswick, who was made prisoner by Charles, was obliged to surrender.

SIXTH SIEGE, A.D. 1442.

Alphonso, king of Arragon, the implacable enemy of René of Anjou, who was a kind of titular king of Naples, laid siege to the capital of that country. This René is a character somewhat associated with our national historical recollections, being the father of Margaret of Anjou, one of the most remarkable of our queens. Alphonso was pressing the siege warmly, when a mason, named Anello, informed him that he was acquainted with an aqueduct by which it would be possible to penetrate to a house close to the gate of Capua; and if a number of soldiers and officers were introduced into that house, they could easily render themselves masters of that gate. The king determined to make the attempt, and appointed two companies of infantry for the service. Anello, stimulated by the hope of a great reward, placed himself at their head and conducted them to the _regard_ (opening) of the aqueduct, more than a mile from the city. They proceeded in single files, with large lanterns, and armed with cross-bows and partizans. Whilst Alphonso drew nearer to the walls to watch the event of this expedition, Anello and his troop followed the aqueduct till it brought them to the house of a tailor, near the gate of St. Sophia, where they issued by means of a dry well, to the amount of forty. Not daring to force the guard, they were compelled to terrify the wife and daughter of the owner of the house, in order to keep them quiet. Whilst they were so engaged, the tailor came home, and, surprised at seeing his house filled with soldiers, he turned sharply round and ran out, exclaiming, “The enemies are in the city!” The forty adventurers then, judging they could no longer hesitate, attacked the guard of the gate of St. Sophia; but they met with such resistance, that René had time to come up, when he killed part of them and forced the rest to retreat. Alphonso, not seeing the signal agreed upon, imagined that the enterprise had failed, and was returning to his camp, when he heard the noise of a conflict carried on in the city, and retraced his steps towards the walls. René had reinforced the guard and placed the gate of St. Sophia in safety; but three hundred Genoese charged with the defence of that of St. Januarius, abandoned their post the moment they heard the enemy was in the city. A gentleman named Marino Spezzicaso, a partisan of the house of Arragon, threw down several cords from the walls, by means of which, Pierre de Cardonna, general of the army of Alphonso, climbed up the walls, and was soon followed by a great number of his bravest men. Whilst he was traversing the streets, shouting the war-cry of Arragon, he met an officer named Brancazzo, going on horseback to join King René. He stopped him, made him prisoner, took from him his horse, and mounting it, led on a party of Arragonese to attack René. That prince, on beholding him, believed that the enemy really had possession of the city, and, listening to nothing but the dictates of his courage, he attacked the advancing troop and put them to flight. But they soon rallied and returned to the charge. René, obliged to give way to numbers, opened with his sword a passage for himself to the New Castle. So the king of Arragon made himself master of Naples by means of an aqueduct, as Belisarius had done when he took it from the Goths, ten centuries before. René, being without hope or resources, embarked for Provence, whilst Alphonso entered Naples in triumph, in imitation of the ancient Romans--in a chariot drawn by four white horses. All paid homage to his good fortune and his valour, and the kingdom of Naples was reunited to that of Sicily, from which it had been separated a hundred and sixty years.

SEVENTH SIEGE, A.D. 1503.

Ferdinand, king of Castille and Arragon, having, in contempt of treaties of the most solemn kind, invaded the part of the kingdom of Naples and Sicily that belonged to France, charged his great captain Gonsalvo with the siege of the capital of that state. At the approach of the Spaniards, the French, who placed no confidence in the inhabitants, retreated to the fortresses of the Château-neuf and the Œuf. Gonsalvo attacked the first of these, and it made a vigorous resistance. The garrison had resolved to bury themselves under the ruins of the place rather than surrender; and without doubt the Spanish general would have failed in his enterprise if he had only employed ordinary means. But he had in his army a soldier called Peter of Navarre, from the name of his country, who opened the gates and destroyed the ramparts of the castle by the help of a new species of thunder, if we may so term it. This soldier, a very intelligent man, had been, in 1487, with an expedition in which the Genoese employed, but without success, those terrible volcanoes called _mines_. He examined the _fourneau_ of one of these mines, and observed that the want of effect in this invention did not arise from any fault in the art, but from that of the workmen, who had not taken their dimensions correctly. He perfected this secret, and communicated it to Gonsalvo, who begged him to put it to the test. Peter of Navarre took his measures so well, that his mine had all the effect he could expect; he then pierced several others, which succeeded with such precision that the New Castle was blown up, and all its defenders were either cut to pieces or buried under the ruins of the walls. The governor of the castle of the Œuf, a brave gentleman from Auvergne named Chavagnac, were not discouraged by the melancholy fate of his compatriots; he was in vain summoned to surrender: he replied that nothing more glorious could happen to him than to die for his master, with his sword in his hand. Peter then commenced some fresh mines, which were sprung with the same terrible consequences as the former: the walls crushed the greater part of the soldiers, and the rest perished in sight of a Genoese fleet which came to their succour.

EIGHTH SIEGE, A.D. 1557.

The greatest captains have often been reproached with avoiding engagements. Their firmness in despising the railleries of the multitude and the scoffing opinions of their rivals, have in almost all cases placed the seal upon their reputations. Francis, duke of Guise, at the head of a French army and some troops furnished by Pope Paul IV., undertook the conquest of Naples. This general, too skilful not to be certain that the expedition could not succeed if it were not begun with some complete advantage, did all in his power to bring the Spaniards to a general action: he offered them so many favourable opportunities, that their officers could not pardon their leader, the duke of Alva, for neglecting them. The duke called a council of war, in which he said, in an animated yet haughty tone,--“I have always prayed God, gentlemen, to inspire my soldiers with a determined firmness and a fiery courage, so that, without fearing or reasoning, they would rush headlong to meet death, and expose themselves to any dangers when commanded to do so. But I ask other qualities of officers: much prudence and great phlegm, to moderate the impetuosity of the soldiers--that is the way by which they attain the rank of great captains. I will not conceal from you that I have been displeased with your ardour, because I have thought it immoderate and opposed to reason. To point out to you the occasions on which a great general should give battle, I will tell you it is when his object is to succour a strong place reduced to extremity, which may form the security of a province; when he knows that the enemy must receive succours which will render them his superior, or even his equal; when, at the beginning of a war, it is desirable to give reputation to his arms, to strengthen the fidelity of wavering subjects, retain allies, and prevent covert enemies from declaring themselves; when fortune not discontinuing to favour us, our enemies are in such consternation that they dare not stand before us; and lastly, when, pressed by famine and disease, and hemmed in on all sides, we must either conquer or die.

“A great captain will never hazard a considerable action if he is not sure of drawing great advantages from it, or unless he is forced into it: tell us what the dangers are which surround us, or what fruit our country can derive from the loss of our lives or of our blood? Suppose we are victorious over the duke of Guise, and the French are cut to pieces, what shall we be the better for it? Is it that the cities of the dominions of the Pope will be united to those of Philip? Is it that the baggage of the French will enrich us? If, on the contrary, the always uncertain fate of arms should prove to be against us, what misfortunes would not our rashness bring upon us? Do not, then, let us trouble ourselves about conquering Guise; he is flying before us. Could a murderous battle procure us anything more solid or more glorious? We gain a complete victory, without shedding a drop of blood. Our name alone serves as a defence and a rampart to all Italy.

“If this manner of making war did not appear to me suited to circumstances, I should remember what I did in Saxony; I would cross the greatest rivers, I would not shrink from wetting my feet with the sea: but whilst I find victory in the retreat of my enemy, I will remain faithful to my maxims, and will endeavour to combat your audacity and rashness. In a word, I will not risk a kingdom against a cassock of cloth of gold, which is all Guise can lose.”

The conjectures of the Spanish general were all verified. The French expedition had the most fatal issue.

It may be said that this speech contains the history of no siege; but Fabius Maximus was no less admirable than Scipio; and he who consumes his enemy in vain enterprises, is not a less able general than he who annihilates him in a battle. Military men will find more instruction in the motives which determined the duke of Alva not to risk a battle, than they would by the description of a siege.

Since the commencement of the French revolution, Naples has been the scene of several important political events, and has more than once succumbed to the power of the French; but as there has been no regular siege, these do not come within the scope of our plan.

EDESSA.

A.D. 503.

The inhabitants of Edessa have, or rather had, a legend that Christ promised their king Abgarus that their city should never be taken. This gave them such confidence, that they on all occasions braved the most formidable enemies. In 503 of the Christian era, Cavadez, king of Persia, approached Edessa at the head of an army. The confidence of the inhabitants was so little shaken by the appearance of this formidable host, that they left their gates wide open during a whole day, and, such is the influence of superstition, the Persians did not make the least attempt to violate the prohibition. It is related that, on this occasion, children even went to the camp of the Persians, and insulted them with impunity. Cavadez proposed an accommodation; but without effect. This prince was preparing his batteries, when the inhabitants made so furious an assault upon him, that, without losing a single man, they repulsed his army with great slaughter. Ashamed of his defeat, the great king regained his dominions at quickest speed.

SECOND SIEGE, A.D. 544.

Chosroës, son of the above king, presented himself before Edessa, but without any better success. Upon the point of abandoning his enterprise, he made it known, by a herald, that he meant to sell all the prisoners he had taken at Antioch. The whole city of Edessa, animated by the zealous and active charity which religion inspires, was in a state of eager impatience to redeem these unhappy victims of war. Every one wished to contribute in proportion to, or even beyond their fortune, to this pious purpose. Each person carried his offering to the great church, which was speedily filled with treasures of various kinds. Courtesans from their vices, honest peasants from their labours, if they had but a goat or a sheep, contributed cheerfully to the liberation of their fellow Christians. This generous emulation produced a sufficient ransom for all the prisoners. But, as is too often the case, this wealth, collected for holy purposes, became so great as to attract the cupidity of Buzes, who commanded the city for the emperor Justinian: when it was collected, he appropriated the whole to himself, and Chosroës took his prisoners to a better market.

THIRD SIEGE, A.D. 549.

Four years after, this prince again laid siege to Edessa, and attacked it vigorously. But the besieged made a sortie, in which, it is said, an officer named Arget killed, with his own hand, twenty-seven of the enemy, and in which Chosroës was repulsed. He then commenced, out of reach of the city missiles, a platform, with the purpose of carrying it up to the walls. The sight of this terrible work induced the inhabitants to have recourse to prayer. The physician Stephen endeavoured to bend the haughty monarch: “Great lord,” said he, “humanity marks the character of good kings. Victories and conquests will procure you other titles, but kindnesses alone will secure you the name dearest to your own age, and most honourable in the eyes of posterity. If there is a city in the world which ought to experience the effects of that kindness, it is that which you now threaten to destroy. Edessa gave me birth. I restored life to your father; I preserved and watched over your infancy. Alas! when I advised the immortal Cavadez to place you on his throne, and to deprive your brothers of it, I was then preparing the ruin of my own country! Blind mortals, we are often the artisans of our own misfortunes! If you remember my services, I ask of you a recompense which will be not less advantageous to you than to my compatriots. By leaving them their lives, you spare yourself the reproach of cruelty.” This well-timed and pathetic discourse produced very little effect upon Chosroës; he made such hard propositions, that the besieged fell back upon their courage and their resources. They destroyed the point of the terrace, by digging a chamber under it, and filling it with the most combustible wood, steeped in oil of cedar, sulphur, and bitumen; fire was easily set to this, and the following night, columns of fire were seen bursting from different parts of the platform. At the same time, the Romans, the better to deceive the enemy, threw upon it a number of fire-pots and ignited torches. The Persians, not suspecting there was any other cause for the fire, came in crowds from their camp to extinguish it, and were received with showers of missiles from the walls. Chosroës himself came to the scene of action, and was the first to discover that the conflagration was in the entrails of his platform. He ordered the whole army to throw earth upon the top, to stifle the flames, and water to extinguish them; but all in vain: when vent was stopped at one place, a hundred more passages were opened in others, the water thrown upon the sulphur and bitumen augmenting the violence of the burning. In the midst of the confusion, the garrison made a happy and vigorous sortie, producing great slaughter among the Persians. At length the flames burst from all parts, and the work was abandoned.

Six days after, Chosroës ordered the walls to be scaled, early in the morning; but, after a severe contest, the Persians were repulsed, and obliged to abandon their ladders, which were drawn up over the walls by the besieged, amidst triumphant laughter. On the same day at noon, the Persians attacked one of the gates; but the garrison, the peasants who had retired to the city, with the inhabitants, made a sortie from the gate attacked, and again repulsed their enemies. At length, the king of Persia, enraged at this noble resistance, resolved upon a general assault. The citizens crowded to defend their walls; every human being in Edessa became a soldier; women, children, and old men, were all eager to share the labours of the combatants, or to furnish them with arms and refreshments. The Persians gave way; Chosroës forced them back to the walls with threats and blows; but, notwithstanding his efforts, they yielded to the brave efforts of the besieged. Foaming with vexation and rage, Chosroës regained his camp, and soon after returned to his own states. During this furious attack, an immense elephant, bearing upon his back a lofty tower, filled with archers, advanced towards the wall like a terrible machine, from the top of which poured a continuous shower of darts and arrows. There was great chance of the wall being escaladed at this spot, when a Roman soldier took it into his head to suspend a pig by a cord, and dangle it before the elephant. This animal appeared amazed at the horrible noise made by the suspended pig; he at first looked at it earnestly, and then, turning his back, retreated in such haste as to place his master’s troops in danger.

FOURTH SIEGE, A.D. 1097.

Although the means by which Edessa fell into the hands of one of the Crusaders may not be, correctly speaking, a siege, the circumstances are too interesting to be passed by in silence.

Of all the Crusaders, Baldwin, the brother of Godfrey, was one of the bravest, but at the same time the most intractable. In fact, he had the honesty to confess what many of his comrades really felt, but were ashamed to admit; he came into Asia to make his fortune, and he lost no opportunity for effecting that great purpose.

Seduced by the attractive picture drawn of the provinces upon the banks of the Euphrates, by Pancratius, an ambitious, restless Armenian prince, Baldwin, soon after the siege of Nicea, abandoned the main army of the Crusaders, and may literally be said to _have gone to seek his fortune_ at the head of fifteen hundred foot and two hundred horse, all attracted by the hopes of plunder. He was the more free for this undertaking, from having just lost his wife Gundechilde, who had accompanied him to the Crusade. He witnessed the magnificent obsequies bestowed upon her by his fellow-adventurers, and then departed, unregretted, on his expedition.

The cities of Turbessel and Ravendel were the first places that opened their gates to the fortunate adventurer. These conquests soon produced a division between Baldwin and Pancratius, both being actuated by the same ambitious projects; but this quarrel did not stop the march of the brother of Godfrey a moment. The Crusader opposed open unhesitating force to cunning; he told Pancratius, if he presumed to be his rival, he should at once treat him as an enemy; and thus banished the disappointed Armenian from the theatre of his victories. Baldwin stood in need of neither guide nor help in a country whose inhabitants all came out to hail and meet him. His fame preceded his march; and his exploits were canvassed in Edessa long before he drew near to its walls.

This city, the metropolis of Mesopotamia, and so celebrated in the history of the primitive church, having escaped the invasions of the Turks and Persians, became the place of refuge for all the neighbouring Christians, who brought their wealth thither for security. A Greek prince, of the name of Theodore, sent by the emperor of Constantinople, was governor at the time, and maintained his position by paying tribute to the Saracens. The approach and the victories of the Crusaders produced a great sensation in Edessa. The people united with the governor in calling Baldwin to their aid. The bishop and twelve of the principal inhabitants were deputed to meet the European adventurer. They spoke to him of the wealth of Mesopotamia, of the devotion of their fellow-citizens to the cause of Christ, and conjured him to save a Christian city from the domination of the infidels. Baldwin easily yielded to their entreaties, and set forward on his march to cross the Euphrates.

He had the good fortune to escape the Turks, who laid wait for him, and without drawing a sword, arrived safely in the territories of Edessa. Having left garrisons in the places which had surrendered to him, when he came near to this great object of his ambition, he had really with him no more than a body of a hundred horsemen. As he approached the city, the whole population came out to meet him, bearing olive-branches, and singing triumphant hymns. It was a singular spectacle to behold such a small number of warriors surrounded by an immense multitude, imploring their support, and proclaiming them their liberators. They were received with so much enthusiasm, that the prince or governor took umbrage at it, and began to see in them enemies much more dangerous than the Saracens. To attach their leader to himself, and to engage him to support his authority, he offered him vast wealth. But the ambitious Baldwin, whether he expected to obtain more from the affection of the people and the good fortune of his arms, or whether he considered it disgraceful to be in the pay of a petty foreign prince, refused the governor’s offers with contempt; he even threatened to leave the city to its fate. The inhabitants, to prevent his departure, assembled in a tumultuous manner, and conjured him with loud cries to remain amongst them; the governor himself made fresh efforts to detain the Crusaders and interest them in their cause. Baldwin gave them all clearly to understand that he would never be at the trouble of defending states that were not his own; and the prince of Edessa, who was old and childless, determined to adopt him as his son, and to designate him as his successor. The ceremony of adoption was gone through in the presence of the Crusaders and the inhabitants. According to the custom of the East, the Greek prince caused Baldwin to pass between his shirt and his naked flesh, giving him a kiss, in token of alliance and parentage. The old wife of the governor repeated the same ceremony, and from that time Baldwin, considered as their son and heir, neglected nothing for the defence of a city which was to belong to him.

An Armenian prince coming to the aid of Edessa, Baldwin, seconded by this useful auxiliary, with his own horsemen and Theodore’s troops, thought himself in a condition to take the field against the Turks. He was at first successful, but, whilst his men were engaged in plunder, they were attacked, and obliged to return to Edessa, where their appearance spread consternation.

As a loser is never welcome, Baldwin and Theodore began now to quarrel. But the people were all in favour of the new prince, and after several disgraceful plots and tumults, the Edessans hurled their old governor from the battlements, dragged his bleeding body through the streets, rejoicing over the murder of an old man as if they had gained a victory over the infidels.

Although Baldwin affected to be passive in this horrid business, he did not fail to seize the advantages that accrued to him in consequence of it. He was proclaimed master and liberator of Edessa. Seated on a bloody throne, and dreading the inconstant humour of the people, he soon inspired as much fear among his subjects as among his enemies. But his firmness of character overcame domestic seditions, and his prudence, tact, and valour speedily extended his dominions. He purchased the city of Samoata with the treasures of his predecessor, and took several other cities by force of arms. As fortune favoured him in everything, the loss even of his wife assisted his projects of aggrandizement. He married the niece of an Armenian prince, and, by this alliance, extended his possessions to Mount Taurus. All Mesopotamia, with the two shores of the Euphrates, acknowledged his authority, and Asia beheld a Frank knight reigning without obstacle over the richest provinces of the ancient kingdom of Assyria.

KAIBAR.

A.D. 682.

Remarkable characters give consequence to insignificant places; Richard Cœur de Lion, who had filled two continents with his fame, was killed at the siege of a paltry castle, and the name of Chaluze is preserved in history. But Kaibar, a city of Arabia, is associated with, and saved from oblivion by, the name of even a greater man than Richard.