both the pilgrims of the West and the Christians of Palestine. Asia
was about once again to change masters, and tremble beneath a fresh
tyranny. During several centuries, the rich countries of the East had
been subject to continual invasions from the wild hordes of Tartary.
As fast as the victorious tribes became effeminated by luxury and
prosperity, they were replaced by others retaining all the barbarism of
the deserts. The Turks issuing from countries situated beyond the Oxus,
had rendered themselves masters of Persia, where the uncalculating
policy of Mamouh had received and encouraged their wandering tribes.
The son of Mamouh fought a battle with them, in which he performed
prodigies of valour; “but fortune,” says Feristha, “had declared
herself unpropitious to his arms; he looked around during the fight,
and except the body which he immediately commanded, his whole army had
_devoured the paths of flight_.” Upon the very theatre of their victory
the Turks proceeded to the election of a king. A large number of arrows
were collected into a bundle. Upon each of these arrows was inscribed
the name of a tribe, of a family, and of a warrior. A child drew three
of the arrows in the presence of the whole army, and chance assigned
the throne to Togrul-Beg, grandson of Seldjouc. Togrul-Beg, whose
ambition equalled his courage, embraced, together with his soldiers,
the faith of Mahomet, and soon joined to the title of conqueror that of
protector of the Mussulman religion.
The banks of the Tigris and the Euphrates were then troubled by the
revolt of the emirs, who shared the spoils of the caliphs of Bagdad:
the caliph Cayem implored the assistance of Togrul, and promised the
conquest of Asia to the new master of Persia. Togrul, whom he had
named his temporal vicar, marched at the head of an army, dispersed
the factious and the rebellious, ravaged the provinces, and entered
Bagdad, to prostrate himself at the feet of the caliph, who proclaimed
the triumph of his liberators and their sacred claims to the empire.
In the midst of an imposing ceremony, Togrul was successively clothed
with seven robes of honour; and seven slaves born in the seven climates
of Arabia were presented to him. Two crowns were placed upon his head,
and, as an emblem of his dominion over the East and the West, they
girded him with two scimitars. This ceremony rendered the usurpation
of the Turks legitimate in the eyes of the Mussulmans. The empire
which the vicar of Mahomet pointed out to their ambition was speedily
conquered by their arms. Under the reign of Alp-Arsland, and that of
Malek-Scha, the successors of Togrul, the seven branches of the dynasty
of Seldjouc shared amongst them the largest kingdoms of Asia. Thirty
years had scarcely passed away since the Tartars conquered Persia, and
already their military and pastoral colonies extended from the Oxus to
the Euphrates, and from the Indus to the Hellespont.
One of the lieutenants of Malek-Scha carried the terror of his arms to
the banks of the Nile, and wrested Syria from the hands of the Fatimite
caliphs. Palestine yielded to the power of the Turks, and the black
flag of the Abassides floated triumphantly over the walls of Jerusalem.
The conquerors spared neither the Christians nor the children of Aly,
whom the caliph of Bagdad represented to be the enemies of God. The
Egyptian garrison was massacred, and the mosques and the churches were
delivered up to pillage. The holy city was flooded with the blood of
Christians and Mussulmans.
The possession of Jerusalem in no degree arrested the barbarous fury of
the Turks. As their empire was recent and ill-established, as they were
threatened with the armies of Cairo, and even with those of the West,
their tyranny became restless, jealous, and violent. The Christians
trembled under the hardest and most humiliating subjugation; they were
despoiled of their property, and reduced to the most frightful degree
of misery. They underwent much greater evils than they had suffered
during the reign of Hakim.
A great number of those who had quitted their families and their
country to visit the tomb of Christ, lost their lives before they were
able to enjoy the felicity of saluting the holy city; and they who
arrived at Jerusalem after having escaped a thousand dangers, found
themselves exposed to the insults and cruelties of the new masters
of Judea. The pilgrims of the Latin Church who returned into Europe,
related all that they had suffered in their voyage, and told, with
groans, of the outrages committed upon the religion of Christ. They had
seen the holy sepulchre profaned, and the ceremonies of the Christians
become the sport of the infidels; they had seen the patriarchs of
Jerusalem and the venerable guardians of the holy places dragged from
their sanctuary and cast ignominiously into dungeons. These recitals,
exaggerated by repetition, flew from mouth to mouth, and drew tears
from the eyes of the faithful.
Whilst the Turks, under the command of Toutousch and Ortock, were
desolating Syria and Palestine, other tribes of that nation, led by
Soliman, nephew of Malek-Scha, had penetrated into Asia Minor. They
took possession of all the provinces through which pilgrims were
accustomed to pass on their way to Jerusalem. These countries, in which
the Christian religion had first shone forth, and the greater part of
the Greek cities whose names were conspicuous in the annals of the
primitive church, sunk under the yoke of the infidels. The standard
of the prophet floated over the walls of Edessa, Iconium, Tarsus, and
Antioch. Nicea had become the seat of a Mussulman empire, and the
divinity of Christ was insulted in that city wherein the first œcumenic
council had declared it to be an article of faith. The modesty of the
virgins had been sacrificed to the brutal lust of the conquerors.
Thousands of children had been circumcised.[35] Everywhere the laws of
the Koran took place of those of the Evangelists and of Greece. The
black or white tents of the Turks covered the plains and the mountains
of Bithynia and Cappadocia, and their flocks pastured among the ruins
of the monasteries and churches.
The Greeks had never had to contend against more cruel and terrible
enemies than the Turks. Whilst the court of Alp-Arslan and Malek-Scha
blazed with magnificence and cultivated the knowledge and intelligence
of the ancient Persians, the rest of the people remained in a state
of barbarism, and preserved, amidst the conquered nations, all the
ferocious and savage manners of Tartary. The children of Seldjouc loved
better to abide under their tents than in the walls of cities; they
lived upon the milk of their flocks, disdaining both agriculture and
commerce, in the conviction that war would supply all their wants.
For themselves, their home was every region in which their arms could
prevail and their flocks find rich pastures. When they passed from
one country into another, all the members of the same family marched
together; they took with them all that they loved, and all that they
possessed. A constantly wandering life, and frequent quarrels among
themselves and with their neighbours, kept up their military spirit.
Every warrior carried his name inscribed upon his javelin, and swore to
make it respected by his enemies. So eager were the Turks for battle,
that it was quite sufficient if a chief sent his bow or his arrows
among his tribe, to make them all instantly fly to arms.
The patience with which they supported hunger, thirst, and fatigue,
rendered them invincible. No nation of the East surpassed them in
horsemanship, or in skill with the bow; nothing could exceed the
impetuosity of their attack, and they were at the same time redoubtable
in flight, and implacable in victory. They were not guided in their
expeditions by a desire for glory or a sense of honour, but simply by a
love of destruction and pillage.
The report of their invasions had spread among the nations of Caucasus
and the Caspian Sea, and new migrations appeared to arrive every day
to strengthen their armies. As they were docile in war, and turbulent
and rebellious in peace, it was the policy of their chiefs to lead them
constantly on to new conquests. Malek-Scha, with a view to get rid of
his lieutenants rather than to reward them, had given them permission
to attempt the conquest of the lands of the Greeks and Egyptians. It
was an easy matter to raise armies, to which were promised the spoils
of the enemies of the prophet and his legitimate vicar. All who had not
shared in the booty of preceding wars flocked to the standards, and the
wealth of Greece soon became the prey of Turkish horsemen, who had but
recently issued from their deserts with woollen caps and stirrups of
wood. Of all the hordes subject to the dynasty of Seldjouc the troops
that invaded Syria and Asia Minor were the poorest, the most wild, and
the most intrepid.
In the depth of their misery, the Greeks of the conquered provinces
scarcely dared to lift their eyes to the sovereigns of Byzantium, who
had not had the courage to defend them, and therefore left them no
hope that they would assist them in their troubles. In the midst of
revolutions and civil wars, the Greek empire was hastening to its fall.
Since the reign of Heraclius, Constantinople had seen eleven of its
emperors put to death in their own palace. Six of these masters of the
world had terminated their days in the obscurity of cloisters; several
had been mutilated, deprived of sight, and sent into exile; the purple,
stained and degraded by so many revolutions, decorated only wicked and
contemptible princes, or men without character or virtue. Their whole
employment was their own personal safety; and they were compelled
to share their power with the accomplices of their crimes, of whom
they lived in a constant state of dread. They frequently sacrificed
cities and provinces, to purchase from their enemies a few moments of
security, and appeared to have nothing to ask of fortune beyond the
existence of the empire during their own worthless lives.
The Greeks still cherished great names and great remembrances, of
which they were proud, but which only served to show their present
weakness and degradation. In the midst of the luxury of Asia and the
monuments of Greece and Rome, they were scarcely less barbarous than
other nations. In their theological disputes they had lost the true
spirit of the Evangelists; among them everything was corrupted, even
religion. A universal bigotry, says Montesquieu, depressed their
courage and paralyzed the whole empire. They neglected the dangers
of their country, and became zealots for a relic or for a sect. In
war, superstition pointed out to the Greeks lucky and unlucky days,
in which a general ought or ought not to give battle; and as religion
inspired in them nothing beyond an apathetic resignation in reverses,
they consoled themselves for the loss of provinces by accusing their
inhabitants of heresy.
Among the Greeks, stratagem and perfidy were decorated with the name
of policy, and received the same encomiums as valour; they esteemed
it as glorious to deceive their enemies as to conquer them. Their
soldiers were followed to the seat of war by light chariots, which
carried their arms; and they had perfected every machine which could
supply the place of courage in either sieges or battles. Their armies
displayed great military pomp, but were deficient in soldiers. The only
thing they inherited from their ancestors was a turbulent and seditious
spirit, which mixed itself with their effeminated manners, and was sure
to break out when their country was threatened with danger. Discord
unceasingly reigned among both the army and the people; and they
continued madly to dispute the right to an empire whose very existence
was menaced, and blindly gave up its defence to barbarians and
strangers. In short, the corruption of the Greeks was so great, that
they could neither have endured a good prince nor good laws. Nicephorus
Phocas, who had formed the project of re-establishing discipline, died
assassinated. Zimisces had also paid with his life for his efforts to
rouse the Greeks from their pusillanimous degradation. When the emperor
Romanus-Diogenes was made prisoner by the Turks, his misfortunes were
the signal for a fresh revolt against his person. Sent back with
honours by the sultan of Persia, he met with nothing but executioners
in an empire he had endeavoured to defend, and died with misery and
despair in a desert island of the Propontis.
Whilst the empire of the East approached near to its fall, and appeared
sapped by time and corruption, the institutions of the West were
in their infancy. The empire and the laws of Charlemagne no longer
existed. Nations had no relations with each other, and mistaking their
political interests, made wars without considering their consequences
or their dangers, and concluded peace, without being at all aware
whether it was advantageous or not. Royal authority was nowhere
sufficiently strong to arrest the progress of anarchy and the abuses
of feudalism. At the same time that Europe was full of soldiers, and
covered with strong castles, the states themselves were without support
against their enemies, and had not an army to defend them. In the
midst of general confusion, there was no security but in camps and
fortresses, by turns the safeguards and the terror of the towns and
the country. The largest cities held out no asylum to liberty, and
the life of man was reckoned so trifling an object, that impunity for
murder could be purchased with a few pieces of money. Frequently, to
detect crime, the judges had recourse to water, fire, and iron; upon
the blind and dumb evidence of the elements, victims were condemned to
death; it was sword in hand that justice was invoked; it was by the
sword that the reparation of wrongs and injuries was to be obtained. No
one would then have been understood who would have spoken of the rights
of nature, or the rights of man; the language of the barons and the
lords comprised only such words as treated of _war_; war was the only
science, the only policy of either princes or states.
Nevertheless, this barbarism of the nations of the West did not at all
resemble that of the Turks, whose religion and manners repelled every
species of civilization or cultivation, nor that of the Greeks, who
were nothing but a corrupted and degenerated people. Whilst the one
exhibited all the vices of a state almost savage, and the other all
the corruption of decay; something heroical and generous was mingled
with the barbarous manners of the Franks, which resembled the passions
of youth, and gave promise of a better future. The Turks were governed
by a gross barbarism, which made them despise all that was noble or
great; the Greeks were possessed by a learned and polished barbarism,
which filled them with disdain for heroism or the military virtues.
The Franks were as brave as the Turks, and set a higher value on glory
than any other people. The principle of _honour_, which gave birth to
chivalry in Europe, directed their bravery, and sometimes assumed the
guise of justice and virtue.
The Christian religion, which the Greeks had reduced to little formulæ
and the vain practices of superstition, was, with them, incapable of
inspiring either great designs or noble thoughts. Among the nations
of the West, as they were yet unacquainted with the disputed dogmas of
Christianity, it had more empire over their minds, it disposed their
hearts more to enthusiasm, and formed amongst them, at once, both
saints and heroes.
Although religion might not always preach its doctrines with success,
and its influence was subject to abuse, it had a tendency to soften the
manners of the barbarous people that had invaded Europe; it afforded a
holy authority to the weak; it inspired a salutary fear in the strong,
and frequently corrected the injustice of human laws.
In the midst of the darkness which covered Europe, the Christian
religion alone preserved the memory of times past, and kept up some
degree of emulation among men. It preserved, also, for happier days,
the language of the royal people, the only one capable of expressing
the grand and noble ideas of moral virtue, in which the genius of
legislation had elevated its most splendid monuments. Whilst despotism
and anarchy pervaded the cities and the kingdoms of the West, the
people invoked religion against tyranny, and the princes called in its
aid against license and revolt. Often, mid the troubles of states, the
title of Christian inspired more respect, and awakened more enthusiasm
than did the name of citizen in ancient Rome. As the Christian religion
had preceded all the then existing institutions, it naturally remained
for a long time surrounded by the veneration and love of the people.
Under more than one relation the nations appeared to recognise no other
legislators than the fathers of the councils, no other code than that
of the gospel and the holy Scriptures. Europe might be considered as
a religious society, wherein the preservation of the faith was the
principal interest, and in which men belonged more to the church than
to the country. In such a state of things it was easy to inflame the
minds of the people, by showing them that the cause of religion and of
Christians stood in need of defence.
Ten years before the invasion of Asia Minor by the Turks, Michael
Ducas, the successor of Romanus-Diogenes, had implored the assistance
of the pope and the princes of the West. He had promised to remove
all the barriers which separated the Greek from the Roman Church,
if the Latins would take up arms against the infidels. Gregory VII.
then filled the chair of St. Peter, and his talents, his knowledge,
his activity, his boldness, together with the inflexibility of his
character, rendered him capable of the greatest undertakings. The
hope of extending the religion and the empire of the Holy See into
the East, made him receive kindly the humble supplications of Michael
Ducas. He exhorted the faithful to take up arms against the Mussulmans,
and engaged to lead them himself into Asia. The misfortunes of the
Christians of the East, said he, in his letters, had moved him even to
feel a contempt for death; he would rather expose his life to deliver
the holy places, than live to command the entire universe. Excited by
his discourses, fifty thousand pilgrims agreed to follow Gregory to
Constantinople, and thence to Syria; but he kept not the promise he had
made, and the affairs of Europe, in which the ambition of the pontiff
was more interested than in those of Asia, suspended the execution of
his projects.
Every day the power of the popes was augmented by the progress of
Christianity, and by the ever-increasing influence of the Latin
clergy. Rome was become a second time the capital of the world, and
appeared to have resumed, under the monk Hildebrand, the empire it
had enjoyed under the Cæsars. Armed with the two-edged sword of
Peter, Gregory loudly proclaimed that all the kingdoms of the earth
were under the dominion of the Holy See, and that his authority ought
to be as universal as the church of which he was the head. These
dangerous pretensions, fostered by the opinions of his age, engaged him
immediately in violent disputes with the emperor of Germany. He desired
also to dictate laws to France, Spain, Sweden, Poland, and England;
and thinking of nothing but making himself acknowledged as the great
arbiter of states, he launched his anathemas even against the throne
of Constantinople, which he had undertaken to defend, and gave no more
attention to the deliverance of Jerusalem.
After the death of Gregory, Victor III., although he pursued the
policy of his predecessor, and had at the same time to contend against
the emperor of Germany and the party of the anti-pope Guibert, did
not neglect the opportunity of making war against the Mussulmans.
The Saracens, inhabiting Africa,[36] disturbed the navigation of the
Mediterranean, and threatened the coast of Italy. Victor invited the
Christians to take arms, and promised them the remission of all their
sins if they went to fight against the infidels. The inhabitants
of Pisa, Genoa, and several other cities, urged by their zeal for
religion, and their desire to defend their commerce, equipped fleets,
levied troops, and made a descent upon the coasts of Africa, where,
if we are to believe the chronicles of the time, they cut in pieces
an army of one hundred thousand Saracens. That we may not doubt, says
Baronius, that God interested himself in the cause of the Christians,
on the very day on which the Italians triumphed over the enemies of
Christ, the news of the victory was carried miraculously beyond the
seas. After having given up to the flames two cities, Al-Mahadia and
Sibila,[37] built within the territories of ancient Carthage, and
forced a king of Mauritania to pay a tribute to the Holy See, the
Genoese and the Pisans returned to Italy, where the spoils of the
conquered were employed in ornamenting the churches.
The pope Victor, however, died without realizing his promise of
attacking the infidels in Asia. The glory of delivering Jerusalem
belonged to a simple pilgrim, possessed of no other power than the
influence of his character and his genius. Some assign an obscure
origin to Peter the Hermit; others say he was descended from a noble
family of Picardy; but all agree that he had an ignoble and vulgar
exterior. Born with a restless, active spirit, he sought, in all
conditions of life, for an object which he could meet with in none. The
study of letters, bearing arms, celibacy, marriage, the ecclesiastical
state, offered nothing to him that could fill his heart or satisfy his
ardent mind. Disgusted with the world and mankind, he retired amongst
the most austere cenobites. Fasting, prayer, meditation, the silence
of solitude, exalted his imagination. In his visions he kept up an
habitual commerce with heaven, and believed himself the instrument of
its designs, and the depositary of its will. He possessed the fervour
of an apostle, with the courage of a martyr. His zeal gave way to no
obstacle, and all that he desired seemed easy of attainment. When he
spoke, the passions with which he was agitated animated his gestures
and his words, and communicated themselves to his auditors.[38] Such
was the extraordinary man who gave the signal to the Crusaders, and
who, without fortune and without name, by the ascendancy of his tears
and prayers alone, succeeded in moving the West to precipitate itself
in a mass upon Asia.
The fame of the pilgrimages to the East drew Peter from his retreat,
and he followed into Palestine the crowd of Christians who went to
visit the holy places. The sight of Jerusalem excited him much more
than any of the other pilgrims, for it created in his ardent mind
a thousand conflicting sentiments. In the city, which exhibited
everywhere marks of the mercy and the auger of God, all objects
inflamed his piety, irritated his devotion and his zeal, and filled him
by turns with respect, terror, and indignation. After having followed
his brethren to Calvary and the tomb of Christ, he repaired to the
patriarch of Jerusalem. The white hairs of Simeon, his venerable
figure, and, above all, the persecution which he had undergone, bespoke
the full confidence of Peter, and they wept together over the ills of
the Christians. The hermit, his heart torn, his face bathed in tears,
asked if there was no termination to be looked for, no remedy to be
devised, for so many calamities? “Oh, most faithful of Christians!”
replied the patriarch, “is it not plain that our iniquities have shut
us out from all access to the mercy of the Lord? All Asia is in the
power of the Mussulmans, all the East is sunk into a state of slavery;
no power on earth can assist us.” At these words Peter interrupted
Simeon, and pointed out to him the hope that the warriors of the West
might one day be the liberators of Jerusalem. “Yes, without doubt,”
replied the patriarch, “when the measure of our afflictions shall
be full, when God will be moved by our miseries, he will soften the
hearts of the princes of the West, and will send them to the succour
of the holy city.” At these words Peter and Simeon felt their hearts
expand with hope, and embraced each other, shedding tears of joy. The
patriarch resolved to implore, by his letters, the help of the pope
and the princes of Europe, and the hermit swore to be the interpreter
of the Christians of the East, and to rouse the West to take arms for
their deliverance.
After this interview, the enthusiasm of Peter knew no bounds; he was
persuaded that Heaven itself called upon him to avenge its cause. One
day, whilst prostrated before the holy sepulchre, he believed that he
heard the voice of Christ, which said to him, “Peter, arise! hasten to
proclaim the tribulations of my people; it is time that my servants
should receive help, and that the holy places should be delivered.”
Full of the spirit of these words, which sounded unceasingly in
his ears, and charged with letters from the patriarch, he quitted
Palestine, crossed the seas, landed on the coast of Italy, and hastened
to cast himself at the feet of the pope. The chair of St. Peter was
then occupied by Urban II., who had been the disciple and confidant of
both Gregory and Victor. Urban embraced with ardour a project which
had been entertained by his predecessors; he received Peter as a
prophet, applauded his design, and bade him go forth and announce the
approaching deliverance of Jerusalem.
Peter the Hermit traversed Italy, crossed the Alps, visited all parts
of France, and the greatest portion of Europe, inflaming all hearts
with the same zeal that consumed his own. He travelled mounted on a
mule, with a crucifix in his hand, his feet bare, his head uncovered,
his body girded with a thick cord, covered with a long frock, and a
hermit’s hood of the coarsest stuff. The singularity of his appearance
was a spectacle for the people, whilst the austerity of his manners,
his charity, and the moral doctrines that he preached, caused him to be
revered as a saint wherever he came.
He went from city to city, from province to province, working upon the
courage of some, and upon the piety of others; sometimes haranguing
from the pulpits of the churches, sometimes preaching in the high
roads or public places. His eloquence was animated and impressive,
and filled with those vehement apostrophes which produce such effects
upon an uncultivated multitude. He described the profanation of the
holy places, and the blood of the Christians shed in torrents in the
streets of Jerusalem. He invoked, by turns, Heaven, the saints, the
angels, whom he called upon to bear witness to the truth of what he
told them. He apostrophized Mount Sion, the rock of Calvary, and the
Mount of Olives, which he made to resound with sobs and groans. When
he had exhausted speech in painting the miseries of the faithful, he
showed the spectators the crucifix which he carried with him; sometimes
striking his breast and wounding his flesh, sometimes shedding torrents
of tears.
The people followed the steps of Peter in crowds. The preacher of the
holy war was received everywhere as a messenger from God. They who
could touch his vestments esteemed themselves happy, and a portion of
hair pulled from the mule he rode was preserved as a holy relic. At
the sound of his voice, differences in families were reconciled, the
poor were comforted, the debauched blushed at their errors, nothing was
talked of but the virtues of the eloquent cenobite; his austerities and
his miracles were described, and his discourses were repeated to those
who had not heard him, and been edified by his presence.
He often met, in his journeys, with Christians from the East, who
had been banished from their country, and wandered over Europe,
subsisting on charity. Peter the Hermit presented them to the people,
as living evidences of the barbarity of the infidels; and pointing
to the rags with which they were clothed, he burst into torrents of
invectives against their oppressors and persecutors. At the sight of
these miserable wretches, the faithful felt, by turns, the most lively
emotions of pity, and the fury of vengeance; all deploring in their
hearts the miseries and the disgrace of Jerusalem. The people raised
their voices towards heaven, to entreat God to deign to cast a look of
pity upon his beloved city; some offering their riches, others their
prayers, but all promising to lay down their lives for the deliverance
of the holy places.
In the midst of this general excitement, Alexius Comnena, who was
threatened by the Turks, sent ambassadors to the pope, to solicit
the assistance of the Latins. Some time before this embassy he
had addressed letters to the princes of the West, in which he had
described to them, in a most lamentable manner, the conquests of
the Turks in Asia Minor. These savage hordes, in their debauches
and in the intoxication of victory, had outraged both nature and
humanity.[39] They were now at the gates of Byzantium, and, without
the prompt assistance of all the Christian states, Constantinople
must fall under the most frightful domination of the Turks. Alexius
reminded the princes of Christianity of the holy relics preserved in
Constantinople, and conjured them to save so sacred an assemblage of
venerated objects from the profanation of the infidels. After having
set forth the splendour and the riches of his capital, he exhorted
the knights and barons to come and defend them; he offered them his
treasures as the reward of their valour, and painted in glowing colours
the beauty of the Greek women, whose love would repay the exploits
of his liberators. Thus, nothing was spared that could flatter the
passions, or arouse the enthusiasm of the warriors of the West. The
invasion of the Turks was, in the eyes of Alexius, the greatest
misfortune that the chief of a Christian kingdom had to dread; and to
avert such a danger, everything appeared to him just and allowable. He
could support the idea of losing his crown, but not the shame of seeing
his states subjected to the laws of Mahomet: if he was doomed one day
to lose his empire, he could console himself for that loss, provided
Greece escaped the Mussulman yoke, and became the prize of the Latins.
In compliance with the prayers of Alexius and the wishes of the
faithful, the sovereign pontiff convoked a council at Plaisance, in
order there to expose the dangers of the Greek and Latin Churches
in the East. The preachings of Peter had so prepared the minds and
animated the zeal of the faithful, that more than two hundred bishops
and archbishops, four thousand ecclesiastics, and thirty thousand of
the laity obeyed the invitation of the Holy See. The council was so
numerous that it was obliged to be held in a plain in the neighbourhood
of the city.
At this assembly all eyes were turned upon the ambassadors of Alexius;
their presence in the midst of a Latin council, announced sufficiently
plainly the disastrous condition of the East. When they had exhorted
the princes and the warriors to save Constantinople and Jerusalem,
Urban supported their discourse and their prayers with all the reasons
which the interests of Christianity and the cause of religion could
furnish. The council of Plaisance, however, came to no determination
upon the war against the infidels. The deliverance of the Holy Land was
far from being the only object of this council: the declarations of the
empress Adelaide, who came to reveal her own shame, and that of her
husband, anathemas against the emperor of Germany and the anti-pope,
Guibert, occupied, during several days, the attention of Urban and the
assembled fathers.
It must be added, too, that among the states of Italy, in which country
this council was held, the spirit of commerce and liberty began to
weaken the enthusiasm of religion. The greater part of the cities only
thought of the advantages that might accrue to them from the troubles;
some entertaining hopes they would increase their wealth, others
looking to them as a means of securing their independence, and none
yielding so freely as other nations to the influence of the popes.
Whilst the Christian world revered in Urban the formidable successor of
Gregory, the Italians, whose charity he had frequently implored, were
best acquainted with his disgraces and misfortunes: his presence did
not in any degree warm their zeal, and his decrees were not always laws
for them, who had seen him, from the depths of misery and in exile,
launch his thunders against the thrones of the West.
The prudent Urban avoided trying to arouse the ardour of the Italians;
he did not think their example at all likely to lead on other nations.
In order to take a decided part in the civil war, and to interest all
Europe in its success, he resolved to assemble a second synod, in the
bosom of a warlike nation, which, from the most distant times, had been
accustomed to give impulsion to Europe. The new council assembled at
Clermont, in Auvergne, was neither less numerous nor respectable than
that of Plaisance; the most renowned holy men and learned doctors came
to honour it with their presence, and enlighten it with their counsels.
The city of Clermont was scarcely able to contain within its walls
all the princes, ambassadors, and prelates who had repaired to the
council; “so that,” says an ancient chronicle,[40] “towards the middle
of the month of November, the cities and villages of the neighbourhood
were so filled with people, that they were compelled to erect tents
and pavilions in the fields and meadows, although the season and the
country were extremely cold.”
Before it gave up its attention to the holy war, the council at first
considered the reform of the clergy and ecclesiastical discipline; and
it then occupied itself in placing a restraint upon the license of wars
among individuals. In these barbarous times even simple knights never
thought of redressing their injuries by any other means than arms. It
was not an uncommon thing to see families, for the slightest causes,
commence a war against each other that would last during several
generations; Europe was distracted with troubles occasioned by these
hostilities. In the impotence of the laws and the governments, the
Church often exerted its salutary influence to restore tranquillity:
several councils had placed their interdict upon private wars during
four days of the week, and their decrees had invoked the vengeance of
Heaven against disturbers of the public peace. The council of Clermont
renewed the truce of God, and threatened all who refused “_to accept
peace and justice_” with the thunders of the Church. One of its decrees
placed widows, orphans, merchants, and labourers under the safeguard of
religion. They declared, as they had already done in other councils,
that the churches should be so many inviolable sanctuaries, and that
crosses, even, placed upon the high roads should become points of
refuge against violence.
Humanity and reason must applaud such salutary decrees; but the
sovereign pontiff, although he presented himself as the defender of
the sanctity of marriage, did not merit the same praises when he
pronounced in this council an anathema against Philip I.: but such was
then the general infatuation, that no one was astonished that a king of
France should be excommunicated in the very bosom of his own kingdom.
The sentence of Urban could not divert attention from an object that
seemed much more imposing, and the excommunication of Philip scarcely
holds a place in the history of the council of Clermont. The faithful,
gathered from all the provinces, had but one single thought; they
spoke of nothing but the evils the Christians endured in Palestine,
and saw nothing but the war which was about to be declared against
the infidels. Enthusiasm and fanaticism, which always increase in
large assemblies, were carried to their full height. Urban at length
satisfied the impatience of the faithful, impatience which he, perhaps,
had adroitly excited, and which was the surest guarantee of success.
The council held its tenth sitting in the great square or place of
Clermont, which was soon filled by an immense crowd. Followed by
his cardinals, the pope ascended a species of throne which had been
prepared for him; at his side was Peter the Hermit, clad in that
whimsical and uncouth garb which had everywhere drawn upon him the
attention and the respect of the multitude. The apostle of the holy war
spoke first of the outrages committed against the religion of Christ;
he reverted to the profanations and the sacrileges of which he had been
a witness; he pictured the torments and persecutions which a people,
enemies to God and man, had caused those to suffer who had been led by
religion to visit the holy places. He had seen, he said, Christians
loaded with irons, dragged into slavery, or harnessed to the yoke, like
the vilest animals; he had seen the oppressors of Jerusalem sell to the
children of Christ permission to salute the temple of their God, tear
from them even the bread of their misery, and torment their poverty
itself to obtain their tribute; he had seen the ministers of God
dragged from their sanctuaries, beaten with rods, and condemned to an
ignominious death. Whilst describing the misfortunes and degradation of
the Christians, the countenance of Peter was cast down, and exhibited
feelings of consternation and horror; his voice was choked with sobs;
his lively emotion penetrated every heart.
Urban, who spoke after Peter, represented, as he had done, the holy
places as profaned by the domination of the infidels. That land,
consecrated by the presence of the Saviour, that mountain whereon he
expiated our sins by his sufferings,—that tomb in which he deigned
to be enclosed as a victim to death, had all become the heritage of
the impious. The altars of false prophets were raised within those
walls which had contained the august assembly of the apostles. God
had no longer a sanctuary in his own city; the East, the cradle of
the Christian religion, now witnessed nothing but sacrilegious pomps;
impiety had spread its darkness over all the richest countries of Asia.
Antioch, Ephesus, Nicea, had become Mussulman cities; the Turks had
carried their ravages and their odious dominion even to the Straits of
the Hellespont, to the very gates of Constantinople, and from thence
they threatened the West.
The sovereign pontiff[41] addressed himself to all the nations that
were represented at the council, and particularly to the French, who
formed the majority: “Nation beloved by God,” said he, “it is in your
courage that the Christian church has placed its hope; it is because
I am well acquainted with your piety and your bravery, that I have
crossed the Alps, and am come to preach the word of God in these
countries. You have not forgotten that the land you inhabit has been
invaded by the Saracens, and that but for the exploits of Charles
Martel and Charlemagne, France would have received the laws of Mahomet.
Recall, without ceasing, to your minds the danger and the glory of your
fathers; led by heroes whose names should never die, they delivered
your country, they saved the West from shameful slavery. More noble
triumphs await you, under the guidance of the God of armies; you will
deliver Europe and Asia; you will save the city of Jesus Christ,—that
Jerusalem which was chosen by the Lord, and from whence the law is come
to us.”
As Urban proceeded, the sentiments by which he was animated penetrated
to the very souls of his auditors. When he spoke of the captivity
and the misfortunes of Jerusalem, the whole assembly was dissolved
in tears; when he described the tyranny and the perfidy of the
infidels, the warriors who listened to him clutched their swords, and
swore in their hearts to avenge the cause of the Christians. Urban
redoubled their enthusiasm by announcing that God had chosen them to
accomplish his designs, and exhorted them to turn those arms against
the Mussulmans which they now bore in conflict against their brothers.
They were not now called upon to revenge the injuries of men, but
injuries offered to divinity; it was now not the conquest of a town or
a castle that was offered to them as the reward of their valour, but
the riches of Asia, the possession of a land in which, according to the
promises of the Scriptures, flowed streams of milk and honey.
The pontiff sought to awaken in their minds, by turns, ambition, the
love of glory, religious enthusiasm, and pity for their Christian
brethren. “There scarcely exists,” said he, “a Christian family into
which the Mussulmans have not brought mourning and despair. How many
Christians every year leave the West, to find in Asia nothing but
slavery or death! Bishops have been delivered over to the executioner;
the virgins of the Lord have been outraged; holy places have been
despoiled of their ornaments; the offerings of piety have become
the booty of the enemies of God; the children of the faithful have
forgotten in bondage the faith of their fathers, and bear upon their
bodies the impression of their opprobrium. Witnesses of so many
calamities, the Christians of Jerusalem would long since have left
the holy city, if they had not imposed upon themselves the obligation
of succouring and consoling pilgrims, if they had not feared to leave
without priests, without altars, without worshippers, a land where
still smokes the blood of Jesus Christ.
“I will not seek to dry the tears which images so painful for a
Christian, for a minister of religion, for the common father of the
faithful, must draw from you. Let us weep, my brethren, let us weep
over the errors which have armed the anger of God against us; let us
weep over the captivity of the holy city! But evil be to us, if, in our
sterile pity, we longer leave the heritage of the Lord in the hands
of the impious! Why should we taste here a moment’s repose whilst the
children of Jesus Christ live in the midst of torments, and the queen
of cities groans in chains?
“Christian warriors, who seek without end for vain pretexts for war,
rejoice, for you have to-day found true ones. You, who have been so
often the terror of your fellow-citizens, go and fight against the
barbarians, go and fight for the deliverance of the holy places; you
who sell for vile pay the strength of your arms to the fury of others,
armed with the sword of the Machabees, go and merit an eternal reward.
If you triumph over your enemies, the kingdoms of the East will be your
heritage; if you are conquered, you will have the glory of dying in the
very same place as Jesus Christ, and God will not forget that he shall
have found you in his holy ranks. This is the moment to prove that you
are animated by a true courage; this is the moment in which you may
expiate so many violences committed in the bosom of peace, so many
victories purchased at the expense of justice and humanity. If you must
have blood, bathe your hands in the blood of the infidels. I speak to
you with harshness, because my ministry obliges me to do so: SOLDIERS
OF HELL, BECOME SOLDIERS OF THE LIVING GOD! When Jesus Christ summons
you to his defence, let no base affections detain you in your homes;
see nothing but the shame and the evils of the Christians; listen to
nothing but the groans of Jerusalem, and remember well what the Lord
has said to you: ‘_He who loves his father and his mother more than me,
is not worthy of me; whoever will abandon his house, or his father, or
his mother, or his wife, or his children, or his inheritance, for the
sake of my name, shall be recompensed a hundredfold, and possess life
eternal._’”
At these words the auditors of Urban displayed an enthusiasm that
human eloquence had never before inspired. The assembly arose in one
mass as one man, and answered him with a unanimous cry, “_It is the
will of God! It is the will of God!_”[42] “Yes, without doubt, it is
the will of God,” continued the eloquent Urban; “you to-day see the
accomplishment of the word of our Saviour, who promised to be in the
midst of the faithful, when assembled in his name; it is He who has
dictated to you the words that I have heard. Let them be your war-cry,
and let them announce everywhere the presence of the God of armies.”
On finishing these words, the pontiff exhibited to the assembled
Christians, the sign of their redemption. “It is Christ himself,”
said he to them, “who issues from his tomb, and presents to you his
cross: it will be the sign raised among the nations, which is to gather
together again the dispersed children of Israel. Wear it upon your
shoulders and upon your breasts; let it shine upon your arms and upon
your standards; it will be to you the surety of victory or the palm of
martyrdom; it will unceasingly remind you that Christ died for you, and
that it is your duty to die for him.”
When Urban had ceased to speak, loud acclamations burst from the
multitude. Pity, indignation, despair, at the same time agitated the
tumultuous assembly of the faithful: some shed tears over Jerusalem and
the fate of the Christians; others swore to exterminate the race of the
Mussulmans; but, all at once, at a signal from the sovereign pontiff,
the most profound silence prevailed. Cardinal Gregory, who afterwards
occupied the chair of St. Peter under the name of Innocent II.,
pronounced, in a loud voice, a form of general confession, the assembly
all fell upon their knees, beat their breasts, and received absolution
for their sins.
Adhémar de Monteil, bishop of Puy, demanded to be first allowed to
enter into the _way of God_, and took the cross from the hands of the
pope; several other bishops following his example. Raymond, count
of Thoulouse, excused himself by his ambassadors for not being able
to be present at the council of Clermont; he had already, he said,
fought against the Saracens in Spain, and he promised to go and fight
against them in Asia, followed by the bravest and most faithful of his
warriors. The barons and knights who had heard the exhortations of
Urban, all took a solemn oath to revenge the cause of Jesus Christ;
they forgot their private quarrels, and even they who were at actual
war had no longer any enemies than the Mussulmans. All the faithful
promised to respect the decrees of the council, and decorated their
garments with a red cross. From that time, all who engaged to combat
the infidels were termed “_Bearers of the Cross_,”[43] and the holy
war took the name of _Crusade_. The faithful solicited Urban to place
himself at their head; but the pontiff, who had not yet triumphed
over the anti-pope Guibert, who was dealing out at the same time his
anathemas against the king of France and the emperor of Germany, could
not quit Europe without compromising the power and the policy of the
Holy See. He refused to be chief of the crusade, and named the bishop
of Puy apostolic legate with the army of the Christians.
He promised to all who assumed the cross, the entire remission of their
sins. Their persons, their families, their property, were all placed
under the protection of the Church, and of the apostles St. Peter and
St. Paul. The council declared that every violence exercised upon the
soldiers of Christ should be punished by anathema, and recommended its
decrees in favour of the bearers of the cross to the watchful care of
all bishops and priests. It regulated the discipline and the departure
of those who had enrolled themselves in the holy ranks, and for fear
reflection might deter any from leaving their homes, it threatened with
excommunication all those who did not fulfil their vows.
Fame soon spread everywhere the war that had just been declared against
the infidels. When the bishops returned to their dioceses, they still
continued to bestow their blessings upon the crosses of the crowds of
Christians that required to be led to the conquest of the Holy Land.
Urban went through several provinces of France, to finish the work he
had so happily begun. In the cities of Rouen, Tours, and Nîmes he held
councils, in which he deplored the fate of the Christians of the East:
everywhere the people and the great, the nobles and the clergy, obeyed
the pressing exhortations of the pontiff, and promised to take arms
against the Mussulmans.
It might be said that the French had no longer any other country than
the Holy Land, and that to it they were bound to sacrifice their ease,
their property, and their lives. This enthusiasm, which had no bounds,
was not long in extending itself to the other Christian nations;
the flame which consumed France was communicated to England, still
disturbed by the recent conquest of the Normans; to Germany, troubled
by the anathemas of Gregory and Urban; to Italy, agitated by its
factions; to Spain even, although it had to combat the Saracens on its
own territory. Such was the ascendancy of the religion outraged by the
infidels, such was the influence of the example given by the French,
that all Christian nations seemed to forget, at once, the objects of
their ambition or their fears, and furnished, for the crusade, soldiers
that they absolutely required to defend themselves. The entire West
resounded with these words: “_He who will not take up his cross and
come with me, is not worthy of me._”
The devotion for pilgrimages, which had been increasing during several
centuries, became a passion and an imperative want for most Christians;
every one was eager to march to Jerusalem, and to take part in the
crusade, which was, in all respects, an armed pilgrimage. The situation
in which Europe was then placed, no doubt contributed to increase the
number of pilgrims: “all things were in such disorder,” says William
of Tyre, “that the world appeared to be approaching to its end, and
was ready to fall again into the confusion of chaos.” Everywhere the
people, as I have already said, groaned under a horrible servitude;
a frightful scarcity of provisions, which had, during several years,
desolated France and the greater part of the kingdoms of the West,
had given birth to all sorts of brigandage and violence; and these
proving the destruction of agriculture and commerce, increased still
further the horrors of the famine. Villages, towns even, became void of
inhabitants, and sank into ruins. The people abandoned a land which no
longer nourished them, or could offer them either repose or security:
the standard of the cross appeared to them a certain asylum against
misery and oppression. According to the decrees of the council of
Clermont, the Crusaders were freed from all imposts, and could not be
pursued for debts during their voyage. At the name of the cross, the
very laws suspended their menaces, tyranny could not seek its victims,
nor justice even the guilty, amidst those whom the Church adopted for
its defenders. The assurance of impunity, the hope of a better fate,
the love of license, and a desire to shake off the most sacred ties,
actuated a vast proportion of the multitude which flocked to the
banners of the crusade.
Many nobles who had not at first taken the cross, and who saw their
vassals set out, without having the power to prevent them, determined
to follow them as military chiefs, in order to preserve some portion
of their authority. The greater part of the counts and barons had no
hesitation in quitting Europe, which the council had declared to be
in a state of peace, as it no longer afforded them an opportunity of
distinguishing themselves by their valour; they had all many crimes
to expiate; “they were promised,” says Montesquieu, “expiation in the
indulgence of their dominant passion,—they took up, therefore, the
cross and arms.”
The clergy themselves set the example. Many of the bishops, who bore
the titles of counts and barons, and who were accustomed to make war
in defence of the rights of their bishoprics, thought it their duty
to arm for the cause of Jesus Christ. The priests, to give greater
weight to their exhortations, themselves assumed the cross; a great
number of pastors resolved to follow their flocks to Jerusalem; not a
few of them, as we shall see hereafter, having in their minds the rich
bishoprics of Asia, and allowing themselves to be led by the hope of
some day occupying the most celebrated sees of the Eastern church.
In the midst of the anarchy and troubles which had desolated Europe
since the reign of Charlemagne, there had arisen an association of
noble knights, who wandered over the world in search of adventures;
they had taken an oath to protect innocence, to fight against infidels,
and, by a singular contrast, called themselves _the Champions of God
and of Beauty_. The religion which had consecrated their institution
and blessed their sword, called them to its defence, and the order of
chivalry, which owes a great part of its splendour and progress to
the holy wars, saw its warriors hasten to range themselves under the
banners of the cross.
Ambition was, perhaps, not foreign to the devotion for the cause of
Christ. If religion promised its rewards to those who were going to
fight for it, fortune promised them, likewise, riches and the thrones
of the earth. All who returned from the East, spoke with enthusiasm
of the wonders they had seen, and of the rich provinces they had
traversed. It was known that two or three hundred Norman pilgrims had
conquered Apulia and Sicily from the Saracens. The lands occupied by
the infidels appeared to be heritages promised to knights whose whole
wealth consisted in their birth, their valour, and their sword.[44]
We should nevertheless deceive ourselves if we did not believe that
religion was the principle which acted most powerfully upon the greater
number of the Crusaders. In ordinary times men follow their natural
inclinations, and only obey the voice of their own interest; but in
the times of the Crusades, religious fever was a blind passion, which
spoke louder than all others. Religion permitted not any other glory,
any other felicity to be seen by its ardent defenders, but those which
she presented to their heated imagination. Love of country, family
ties, the most tender affections of the heart, were all sacrificed
to the ideas and the opinions which then possessed the whole of
Europe. Moderation was cowardice, indifference treason, opposition
a sacrilegious interference. The power of the laws was reckoned as
nothing amongst men who believed they were fighting in the cause of
God. Subjects scarcely acknowledged the authority of princes or lords
in anything which concerned the holy war; the master and the slave had
no other title than that of Christian, no other duty to perform than
that of defending his religion, sword in hand.
They whom age or condition appeared to detain in Europe, and whom the
council had exempted from the labours and perils of the crusade, caused
the heaven which called them to the holy war to speak aloud.[45] Women
and children imprinted crosses upon their delicate and weak limbs, to
show the will of God.[46] Monks deserted the cloisters in which they
had sworn to die, believing themselves led by a divine inspiration;
hermits and anchorites issued from forests and deserts, and mingled
with the crowd of Crusaders. What is still more difficult to believe,
thieves and robbers, quitting their secret retreats, came to confess
their crimes, and promised, whilst receiving the cross, to go and
expiate them in Palestine.
Europe appeared to be a land of exile, which every one was eager to
quit. Artisans, traders, labourers, abandoned the occupations by which
they subsisted; barons and lords even renounced the domains of their
fathers. The lands, the cities, the castles for which they had but of
late been at war, all at once lost their value in the eyes of their
possessors, and were given up, for small sums, to those whom the grace
of God had not touched, and who were not called to the happiness of
visiting the holy places and conquering the East.
Contemporary authors relate several miracles which assisted in heating
the minds of the multitude. Stars fell from the firmament; traces of
blood were seen in the heavens; cities, armies, and knights decorated
with the cross, were pictured in the clouds. The monk Robert asserts
that on the very day on which the council of Clermont determined on
the holy war, that decision was proclaimed beyond the seas. “This
news,” adds he, “raised the courage of the Christians in the East, and
caused despair among the nations of Arabia.” As the most effective of
prodigies, saints and kings of preceding ages were said to have issued
from their tombs, and many Frenchmen declared they had seen the shade
of Charlemagne exhorting the Christians to fight against the Mussulmans.
We will not relate all the other miracles reported by historians,
which were believed in an age in which nothing was more common than
prodigies, in which, according to the remark of Fleury, the taste
for the wonderful prevailed greatly over that for the true. The
readers of this history will find quite enough of extraordinary
things in the description of so many great events, for which the
moral world, and even nature herself seemed to have interrupted their
laws. What prodigy, in fact, can more astonish the philosopher, than
to see Europe, which may be said to have been agitated to its very
foundations, move all at once, and like a single man, march in arms
towards the East?
The council of Clermont, which was held in the month of November,
1095, had fixed the departure of the Crusaders for the festival of the
Assumption of the following year. During the winter nothing was thought
of but preparations for the voyage to the Holy Land; every other
care, every other labour was suspended in the cities and the plains.
In the midst of the general excitement, the religion, which animated
all hearts, watched over public order. All at once there was no more
robbery or brigandage heard of.[47] The West was silent, to employ an
expression from the Scripture, and Europe enjoyed during several months
a peace that it had never before known.
They who had taken the cross encouraged each other, and addressed
letters and sent ambassadors to hasten their departure. The
benedictions of the heavens appeared to be promised to those who should
be first ready to march to Jerusalem. Men even, who at the first had
found fault with the delirium of the crusade, accused themselves of
indifference for the cause of religion, and showed no less fervour
than those who had given the example. All were eager to sell their
possessions, but could find no purchasers. The Crusaders despised
everything they could not carry with them; the productions of the earth
were sold at a low price, which all at once brought back abundance even
in the midst of scarcity.
As soon as the spring appeared, nothing could restrain the impatience
of the Crusaders, and they set forward on their march to the places
at which they were to assemble. The greater number went on foot; some
horsemen appeared amongst the multitude; a great many travelled in
cars; they were clothed in a variety of manners, and armed, in the
same way, with lances, swords, javelins, iron clubs, &c. &c. The crowd
of Crusaders presented a whimsical and confused mixture of all ranks
and all conditions; women appeared in arms in the midst of warriors,
prostitution not being forgotten among the austerities of penitence.
Old age was to be seen with infancy, opulence next to misery; the
helmet was confounded with the frock, the mitre with the sword. Around
cities, around fortresses, in the plains, upon the mountains, were
raised tents and pavilions; everywhere was displayed a preparation for
war and festivity. Here was heard the sound of arms or the braying of
trumpets; whilst at a short distance the air was filled with psalms and
spiritual songs. From the Tiber to the ocean, and from the Rhine to the
other side of the Pyrenees, nothing was to be seen but troops of men
marked with the cross, who swore to exterminate the Saracens, and were
chanting their songs of conquest beforehand. On all parts resounded the
war-cry of the Crusaders “_It is the will of God! It is the will of
God!_”
Fathers themselves conducted their children, and made them swear to
conquer or die for Jesus Christ. Warriors tore themselves from the arms
of their wives and from their families, promising to return victorious.
Women or old men, whose weakness was left without support, accompanied
their sons or their husbands to the nearest city, and there, not being
able to separate themselves from the objects of their affections,
determined to follow them to Jerusalem. They who remained in Europe
envied the fate of the Crusaders, and could not restrain their tears;
they who went to seek death in Asia where full of hope and joy.[48]
Families, whole villages set out for Palestine, and drew into their
ranks all they met with on their passage. They marched on without
forethought, and would not believe that he who nourishes the sparrow
would leave pilgrims clothed with the holy cross to perish with want.
Their ignorance added to their illusion, and lent an air of enchantment
to everything they saw; they believed at every moment they were
approaching the end of their pilgrimage. The children of the villagers,
when they saw a city or a castle, asked _if that was Jerusalem_?[49]
Many of the great lords, who had passed their lives in their rustic
donjons, knew very little more on this head than their vassals; they
took with them their hunting and fishing appointments, and marched with
their falcons on their wrists, preceded by their hounds. They expected
to reach Jerusalem, enjoying themselves on the road, and to exhibit to
Asia the rude luxury of their castles.
In the midst of the general delirium, no sage caused the voice of
reason to be heard; nobody was then astonished at that which now
creates so much surprise. These scenes so strange, in which every one
was an actor, could only be a spectacle for posterity.