A.D. 1097-1099.
THE great army of the Crusaders had traversed the states of the sultan
of Nice and Iconium; throughout its passage the mosques were given
up to the flames or converted into churches; but the Christians had
neglected to fortify the cities of which they had rendered themselves
masters, or to found a military colony in a country wherein the Turks
were always able to rally and re-establish their formidable power. This
fault, which must be attributed to a too great confidence in victory,
became fatal to the Crusaders, who, in the midst of their triumphs,
lost the means of communication with Europe, and thus deprived
themselves of the assistance they might have received from Greece and
the West.
Terror opened to the pilgrims all the passages of Mount Taurus.
Throughout their triumphant march the Christians had nothing to dread
but famine, the heat of the climate, and the badness of the roads.
They had, particularly, much to suffer in crossing a mountain situated
between Coxon and Marash, which their historians denominate “_The
Mountain of the Devil_.” This mountain was very steep, and offered only
one narrow path, in which the foot-soldiers marched with difficulty;
the horses, which could not keep their footing, dragged each other
down the abysses; and the army lost a great part of its baggage. In
the course of this disastrous march, says an historian who was an
eye-witness, the soldiers gave themselves up to despair, and refused
to proceed. Being encumbered with their arms, they either sold them at
a low price or cast them down the precipices. On all sides were to be
seen warriors wounded by their frequent falls, and pilgrims exhausted
with fatigue, who could not continue their route, and filled the air
and mountains with their cries and groans. The passage of the Christian
army across this mountain occupied several days; but when they had at
length passed the chains of Mount Taurus and Mount Amanus, the sight of
Syria revived their courage, and made them quickly forget all their
fatigues. That country into which they were about to enter embraced
within its territories PALESTINE, the object of all their wishes,
prayers, and labours. In all ages Syria has attracted conquerors, by
the fertility of its soil and its wealth. In the time of David and
Solomon, it already boasted several flourishing cities. At the period
of the Crusades it had undergone a great many revolutions, but its
fields, though covered with celebrated ruins, still preserved some
portion of their fecundity.
The first of the Syrian provinces that presented itself to the eyes
of the Christians was the territory of Antioch. Towards the east
extended the states of the sultans of Aleppo and Mousoul. Further, at
the foot of Mount Libanus, was seen the principality of Damascus; on
the coast stood Laodicea, Tripoli, and the cities of Sidon and Tyre,
so celebrated in both sacred and profane antiquity. All these cities,
which scarcely maintained a shadow of their former splendour, were
governed by emirs who had shaken off the yoke of the sultans of Persia,
and reigned as sovereign princes over the ruins of the empire of
Malek-Scha.
The Crusaders advanced as far as the ancient Chalcis, then called
Artesia, of which they made themselves masters. To arrive before
Antioch they had to pass over a bridge built over the Orontes, and
defended by two towers masked with iron. Nothing could resist the van,
commanded by the duke of Normandy. The Normans soon got possession of
the bridge, and passed the river. Terror seized upon the Mussulman
ranks, and they sought shelter, with the greatest haste, within the
walls of the city. The whole Christian army, drawn up in battle array,
with trumpets sounding and flags flying, marched towards Antioch and
encamped within a mile of its walls.
The sight of this city, so celebrated in the annals of Christianity,
revived the enthusiasm of the Crusaders. It was within the walls of
Antioch that the disciples of Jesus Christ first assumed the title of
Christians, and the apostle Peter was named the first pastor of the
young church. No city had contained within its bosom a greater number
of martyrs, saints, and doctors; no city had beheld more miracles
worked for the faith. During many centuries, the faithful had been
accustomed to come into one of its suburbs to pray at the tomb of St.
Babylas, who, during the reign of Julian, had silenced the oracles of
Apollo. For a long time Antioch was considered in Christendom as the
eldest daughter of Sion; it bore the name of Theopolis ’the city of
God), and pilgrims visited it with no less respect than Jerusalem.
Antioch was as much celebrated in the annals of Rome as in those of
the Church. The magnificence of its edifices and the residence of
several emperors had obtained it the name of the Queen of the East. Its
situation, amidst a smiling and fertile country, attracted strangers
to it at all times. At two leagues eastward was a lake abounding in
fish, which communicated with the Orontes; whilst on the south, were
the suburbs and the fountain of Daphne, so renowned in paganism. Not
far from this arose the mountain of Orontes, covered with gardens and
country houses; on the north was another mountain, sometimes called
the Black Mountain, on account of its forests, and sometimes the Water
Mountain, on account of its numerous springs. The river Orontes[94]
flowed at the foot of the ramparts of Antioch towards the west, and
fell into the sea at a distance of three or four leagues from the city.
Within the walls were four hills separated by a torrent, which cast
itself into the river. Upon the western hill was built a very strong
citadel, which dominated over the city. The ramparts of Antioch, whose
solidity equalled that of a rock, were three leagues in extent. “This
place,” says an old author, “was an object of terror to those who
looked upon it, for the number of its strong and vast towers, which
amounted to three hundred and sixty.” Wide ditches, the river Orontes
and marshes, still further protected the inhabitants of Antioch, and
cut off an approach to the city.
In spite of all these fortifications of nature and art,[95] Antioch
had been several times taken. It fell at once into the power of the
Saracens, in the first age of the Hegira; it was afterwards retaken by
the Greeks, under Nicephorus Phocas; and, fourteen years before, the
Turks had rendered themselves masters of it. At the approach of the
Christians, the greater part of the Saracens of the neighbouring cities
and provinces had sought security in Antioch for themselves, their
wives, and treasures. Baghisian,[96] or Accien, grandson of Malek-Scha,
who had obtained the sovereignty of the city, had shut himself up in
it, with seven thousand horse and twenty thousand foot-soldiers.
The siege of Antioch presented many difficulties and dangers. The
chiefs of the Crusaders deliberated upon the propriety of undertaking
it; and the first who spoke in the council thought that it would be
imprudent to commence a siege at the beginning of winter. They did not
dread the arms of the Saracens, but the rains, the tempests, and the
horrors of famine. They advised the Crusaders to await in the provinces
and neighbouring cities the arrival of the aid promised by Alexius,
and the return of spring, by which time the army would have repaired
its losses, and received beneath its standards fresh reinforcements
from the West. This counsel was listened to with much impatience by the
greater part of the leaders, among whom were conspicuous the legate
Adhemar and the duke of Lorraine. “Ought we not, at once,” said they,
“to take advantage of the terror spread among the enemy? Is it right
to leave them time to rally and recover from their alarm? Is it not
well known that they have implored the succour of the caliph of Bagdad
and the sultan of Persia? Every moment of delay may strengthen the
armies of the Mussulmans, and rob the Christians of the fruits of their
victories. You talk of the arrival of the Greeks; but do we stand in
need of the Greeks to attack enemies already many times conquered? Was
it necessary to await for new Crusaders from the West, who would come
to share the glories and the conquests of the Christian army, without
having shared its dangers and its labours? As to the rigours of winter,
which they appeared so much to dread, it was an insult to the soldiers
of Jesus Christ to think them incapable of enduring cold and rain. It
was, in some sort, to compare them to those birds of passage which fly
away and hide themselves in secret places, when they see the bad season
approach.[97] It was, besides, impossible to think that a siege could
be protracted to any length with an army full of ardour and courage.
The Crusaders had only to remember the siege of Nice, the battle of
Dorylæum, and a thousand other exploits. Why should they be restrained
by the fear of want and famine? Had they not hitherto found in war all
the resources of war? They must know that victory had always supplied
the wants of the Crusaders, and that abundance awaited them in that
city of Antioch, which would not be long in opening its gates to them.”
This discourse won over the most ardent and the most brave. Such as
entertained a contrary opinion dreaded to be accused of timidity, and
remained silent. The council decided that the siege of Antioch should
at once be commenced; and on that very day the whole Christian army
advanced under the walls of the city. Bohemond and Tancred took their
posts on the east, opposite the gate of St. Paul; to the right of the
Italians were the Normans, the Bretons, the Flemings, and the French,
commanded by the two Roberts; the count de Vermandois and the count de
Chartres encamped towards the north, opposite the gate of the Dog; the
count of Thoulouse, the bishop of Puy, and the duke of Lorraine, with
the troops they commanded, occupied the space which extended from the
gate of the Dog to the spot where the Orontes turning towards the west
approaches the walls of Antioch. The Crusaders left open the southern
part, defended by the mountain of Orontes, and likewise neglected to
invest the western side of the city, which the river protected, and
thus gave the besieged liberty to make sorties or receive succours.
The Turks had shut themselves up within their walls; not a soul
appeared upon the ramparts, and not the least noise was heard in
the city. The Crusaders fancied that they saw in this appearance of
inaction and this profound silence the discouragement and terror which
had taken possession of their enemies. Blinded by the hope of an easy
conquest, they took no precautions, and spread themselves about over
the neighbouring country. The abundance of provisions, the beautiful
sky of Syria, the fountain and the shades of Daphne, and the banks of
the Orontes, famous in Pagan antiquity for the worship of Venus and
Adonis, made them lose sight of the holy war, and spread license and
corruption among the soldiers of Christ.
Whilst they thus neglected, amongst scenes of intemperance and
debauchery, the laws of discipline and the precepts of the Scriptures,
they were attacked by the garrison of Antioch, which surprised them,
some scarcely guarding the camp, and the rest scattered about in the
neighbouring country. All whom the hopes of pillage or the attractions
of pleasure had drawn into the villages and orchards bordering upon the
Orontes, met with either slavery or death. Young Albéron, archdeacon
of Metz, and son of Conrad, count of Lunebourg, paid with his life for
the enjoyment of amusements which accorded but very little with the
austerity of his profession. He was surprised by the Turks[98] at the
moment when, stretched upon the grass, he was playing at dice with a
Syrian courtezan. His head was struck off with one blow of a sabre.
The courtezan was not killed till she had satisfied the brutal passion
of their conqueror. Their heads, with those of a great number of
Christians, were cast into the camp of the Crusaders, who now deplored
their disorders, and swore to take revenge for their defeat.
The desire to repair one fault made them commit another. They resolved
upon scaling the walls of Antioch, without having either ladders or
machines of war. The signal was given for a general assault. Vengeance
and fanaticism animated both soldiers and leaders; but their efforts
could neither shake the walls of the city, nor disturb the security
of the besieged. Their attacks, though renewed several times and at
several points, were always unsuccessful. Experience, for whose lessons
they always paid so dearly, at length taught them, that if they wished
to make themselves masters of the place, no other means was left them
but to invest it completely, and prevent the arrival of any succour
from without.
They established a bridge of boats upon the Orontes, and passed some
troops over towards the western side of the city. All the means in
their power were employed to stop the sorties of the enemy—sometimes
they erected wooden fortresses near the ramparts, whilst at others they
prepared balistas, which launched large stones upon the besieged. The
Crusaders, in order to close the gate of the Dog upon the Turks, were
obliged to heap up against it enormous beams and fragments of rock. At
the same time they intrenched their camp, and redoubled their efforts
to secure themselves against surprise on the part of the Saracens.
The Christian army was now solely occupied with the blockade of the
city. Although this determination was dictated by imperious necessity,
the slowness of a siege did not at all agree with the impatience of the
warriors of the West. On their arrival before Antioch, the Christian
soldiers had dissipated in a few days the provisions of several months;
they had only thought of fighting the enemy in the field of battle,
and, ever full of confidence in victory, they had neither sought to
protect themselves against the rigours of winter, nor to prevent the
approaches of the famine with which they were threatened.
The want of provisions was not long before it was felt. As soon as
winter had set in, they found themselves a prey to every species of
calamity. Torrents of rain fell daily, and the plains, an abode upon
which had rendered the soldiers of Christ effeminate, were almost all
buried beneath the waters. The Christian camp, particularly in the
valley, was submerged several times; tempests and inundations carried
away the pavilions and tents; moisture relaxed the bows, and rust
gnawed into both lances and swords. The greater part of the soldiers
were without clothes; and contagious diseases carried off both men and
animals. Rains, cold, famine, epidemic diseases, made such ravages,
that, according to the report of William of Tyre, the Crusaders had not
either time or space to bury their dead.[99]
In the midst of the general distress, Bohemond and the duke of Normandy
were commissioned to go and scour the country in search of provisions.
In the course of their incursion they defeated several detachments of
Saracens, and returned to the camp with a considerable booty. But the
provisions they brought could not be sufficient to support a large
army for any length of time; every day they made fresh incursions, and
every day were less successful. All the country of Upper Syria had been
ravaged by the Turks and Christians. The Crusaders who were sent on
these foraging parties often put the infidels to flight; but victory,
which was almost always their only resource in moments of want, could
not bring back abundance to their camp.
To fill up the measure of their miseries, all communication was
stopped with Constantinople; the fleets of the Pisans and Genoese no
longer coasted the countries occupied by the Crusaders. The port of
St. Simeon, situated at three leagues from Antioch, saw no vessel now
arrive from either Greece or the West. The Flemish pirates, who had
taken up the cross at Tarsus, after possessing themselves of Laodicea,
had been surprised by the Greeks, and were detained prisoners during
several weeks. The darkest future lay before the Christians; they no
longer talked of anything but of the losses they had sustained, and of
the evils with which they were threatened; each day the most afflicting
intelligence was spread through the army.
It was said that the son of Sweno, king of Denmark, who had assumed
the cross, and was leading fifteen hundred horsemen to the holy war,
had been surprised by the Turks whilst advancing rapidly across the
defiles of Cappadocia. Attacked by an enemy superior in numbers, he
had defended himself during a whole day, without being able to repulse
the infidels, with all the efforts of his courage or the battle-axes
of his warriors. Florine, daughter of Eudes I., duke of Burgundy, who
accompanied the Danish hero, and to whom he was to be married after the
taking of Jerusalem, had valiantly fought by his side. Pierced by seven
arrows, but still fighting, she sought with Sweno to open a passage
towards the mountains, when they were overwhelmed by their enemies.
They fell together on the field of battle, after having seen all their
knights and their most faithful servants perish around them. “Such were
the news that came to the camp of the Christians,” says William of
Tyre, “and so full were they of sadness and grief, that more than ever
were their hearts depressed with the increase of their calamities.”[100]
Each succeeding day famine and disease made greater ravages. The
provisions[101] brought to the camp by a few Syrians were at so high
a price that the soldiers could not obtain any; the multitude filled
the camp with lamentations, and there was not a Crusader who had not
to weep for the death of several of his companions. Desertion was soon
added to the other scourges. The greater part of the Crusaders had lost
all hope of taking Antioch, or of ever reaching the Holy Land. Some
sought refuge from misery in Mesopotamia, now governed by Baldwin;
whilst others repaired to the cities of Cilicia which had fallen into
the hands of the Christians.
The duke of Normandy withdrew to Laodicea, and did not return until he
had received three summonses from the army in the name of religion and
of Jesus Christ. Tatius, the general of Alexius, quitted the camp of
the Crusaders with the troops he commanded, promising to return with
reinforcements and provisions. His departure caused little regret, and
his promises, in which they had no confidence, did not at all alleviate
the despair of the sufferers. This despair was carried to its height
among the defenders of the cross when they saw those who ought to have
set them an example of patience and courage desert them. William,
viscount de Melun, whose extraordinary exploits with the battle-axe
had procured him the name of _the Carpenter_, could not support the
miseries of the siege, and deserted the standard of Christ.[102]
The preacher of the crusade, Peter the Hermit, whom the Christians,
doubtless, blamed for all the miseries of the siege, was unable to
bear their complaints or share their misfortunes; and despairing of
the success of the expedition, he fled secretly from the camp.[103]
His desertion caused a great scandal among the pilgrims, “and did not
astonish them less,” says Abbot Guibert, “than if the stars had fallen
from the heavens.” Pursued and overtaken by Tancred, he and William the
Carpenter were brought back disgraced to the camp. The army reproached
Peter with his base desertion, and made him swear upon the Scriptures
that he would never again abandon a cause which he had preached. They
threatened with the punishment usually inflicted upon homicides all who
should follow the example he had given to his companions and brothers.
But in the midst of the corruption which reigned in the Christian
army, virtue itself might have thought of flight, and have excused
desertion. If contemporary accounts are to be credited, all the vices
of the infamous Babylon prevailed among the liberators of Sion. Strange
and unheard-of spectacle! Beneath the tents of the Crusaders famine
and voluptuousness formed a hideous union; impure love, an unbounded
passion for play, with all the excesses of debauch, were mingled
with images of death.[104] In their misfortunes, the greater part of
the pilgrims seemed to disdain the consolations that might have been
derived from piety and virtue.
And yet the bishop of Puy, and the more virtuous portion of the clergy
used every effort to reform the manners of the Crusaders. They caused
the voice of religion to hurl its thunders against the excesses of
libertinism and licentiousness. They recalled to their minds all
the evils that the Christian army had suffered, and attributed them
entirely to the vices and debaucheries of the defenders of the cross.
An earthquake which was felt at this time, an aurora borealis, which
was a new phenomenon to great part of the pilgrims, were pointed out
to them as an announcement of the anger of Heaven. Fasts and prayers
were ordered, to avert the celestial indignation. The Crusaders made
processions round the camp, and hymns of penitence resounded from
all parts. The priests invoked the wrath of the Church against all
who should betray the cause of Christ by their sins. To add to the
terrors which the threats of religion inspired, a tribunal, composed
of the principal leaders of the army and the clergy, was charged with
the pursuit and punishment of the guilty. Men surprised in a state of
intoxication had their hair cut off; whilst blasphemers, or such as
gave themselves up to a passion for play, were branded with a hot iron.
A monk accused of adultery, and convicted by the ordeal of fire, was
beaten with rods, and led naked through the camp. As the judges became
aware of the guilty, they must have been terrified at their numbers.
The severest punishments could not entirely stop the prostitution
which had become almost general. They determined upon shutting up all
the women in a separate camp—an extreme and imprudent measure, which
confounded vice and virtue, and produced crimes more disgraceful than
those they desired to prevent.
Among all these calamities, the camp of the Crusaders was filled with
Syrian spies, who daily bore into the city accounts of the plans,
the distress, and the despair of the besiegers. Bohemond, in order
to deliver the army, employed a means of a nature to disgust even
barbarians. My pen refuses to trace such pictures, and I leave William
of Tyre, or rather his old translator, to speak. “Bohemond,” says he,
“commanded that several Turks, whom he held in close confinement,
should be brought before him. These he caused instantly to be executed
by the hands of the officers of justice, and then ordering a great fire
to be lighted, he had them spitted and roasted, as flesh prepared for
the supper of himself and his troops; at the same time commanding, that
if any one made inquiries about what was going on, that they should
be answered in this fashion: ‘_The princes and rulers of the camp
have this day decreed in council, that all Turks or spies that shall
henceforward be found in their camp, shall be, in this manner, forced
to make meat with their own bodies, as well for the princes as the
whole army_.’”
The servants of Bohemond executed exactly the orders and instructions
which he had given them. The strangers who were in the camp soon
flocked to the quarters of the prince of Tarentum, and when they
saw what was going on, adds our ancient author, _were marvellously
terrified_, fearing to share the fate of the victims. They made haste
to quit the camp of the Christians, and everywhere on their road spread
an account of that which they had seen. Their story flew from mouth to
mouth, even to the most distant countries: the inhabitants of Antioch,
and all the Mussulmans of the Syrian cities, were seized with terror,
and no more ventured to approach the camp of the Crusaders. “By these
means,” says the historian we have above quoted, “it ensued from the
cunning and conduct of the seigneur Bohemond, that the pest of spies
was banished from the camp, and the enterprises of the Christians were
not divulged to the enemy.”
The bishop of Puy, at the same time, employed a stratagem much more
innocent and conformable with the spirit of his ministry and his
profession. He caused the lands in the neighbourhood of Antioch to
be ploughed and sowed, in order to protect the Christian army from
the attacks of famine, and, at the same time to lead the Saracens to
believe that nothing could exhaust the perseverance of the besiegers.
In the meanwhile the winter was stealing away; the contagious diseases
committed fewer ravages; and the princes and the monasteries of Armenia
sent provisions to the Christians.[105] The famine began to be less
felt. The amelioration in the condition of the pilgrims was attributed
to their penitence and their conversion; and they returned thanks to
Heaven for having made them better and more worthy of its protection
and mercy.
It was at this period that ambassadors from the caliph of Egypt arrived
in the camp of the Crusaders. In the presence of the infidels the
Christian soldiers endeavoured to conceal the traces and remembrances
of the lengthened miseries they had undergone. They clothed themselves
in their most precious vestments, and displayed their most brilliant
arms. Knights and barons contended for the glory of strength and skill
in tournaments. Nothing was seen but dancing and festivity, amidst
which abundance and joy appeared to reign. The Egyptian ambassadors
were received in a magnificent tent, in which were assembled all the
principal leaders of the army. They did not disguise, in their address,
the extreme aversion that their master had always entertained for an
alliance with the Christians; but the victories which the Crusaders
had gained over the Turks, those eternal enemies of the race of Ali,
had led him to believe that God himself had sent them into Asia, as
the instruments of his vengeance and justice. The Egyptian caliph
was disposed to ally himself with the victorious Christians, and was
preparing to enter Palestine and Syria. As he had learnt that the
wishes of the Crusaders were confined to an ardent desire to behold
Jerusalem, he promised to restore the Christian churches, to protect
their worship, and open the gates of the Holy City to all the
pilgrims, upon condition that they would repair thither without arms,
and would remain there no longer than one month. If the Crusaders
submitted to these conditions, the caliph promised to become their most
generous supporter; if they declined the blessing of his friendship,
the nations of Egypt and Ethiopia, with all those that inhabit Asia and
Africa, from the Straits of Gades to the gates of Bagdad, would arise
at the voice of the legitimate vicar of the prophet, and would show the
warriors of the West the power of their arms.
This discourse excited violent murmurs in the assembly of the
Christians; one of the chiefs arose to answer it, and addressing
himself to the deputies of the caliph: “The religion that we follow,”
said he to them, “has inspired us with the design of re-establishing
its empire in the places in which it was born; and we stand in no need
of the concurrence of the powers of the earth to accomplish our vows.
We do not come into Asia to receive laws or benefits from Mussulmans,
nor have we forgotten, besides, the outrages committed by Egyptians
upon the pilgrims of the West; we still remember that Christians, under
the reign of the caliph Hakem, were delivered over to executioners,
and that their churches, particularly that of the Holy Sepulchre, were
razed to the ground. Yes, without doubt, we have the intention of
visiting Jerusalem, but we have also taken an oath to deliver it from
the yoke of the infidels. God, who has honoured it by his sufferings,
wills that he shall be there served by his people. The Christians
resolve to be both its guardians and its masters. Go and tell him who
sent you to make choice of peace or war; tell him that the Christians
encamped before Antioch fear neither the nations of Egypt, nor those
of Asia, nor those of Bagdad, and that they only ally themselves with
powers which respect the laws of justice and the standards of Jesus
Christ.”
The orator who spoke thus expressed the opinion and sentiments of the
assembly; nevertheless, they did not entirely reject the alliance
with the Egyptians. Deputies were chosen from the Christian army to
accompany the ambassadors of Cairo on their return, and to bear to the
caliph the definitive propositions of peace of the Crusaders.
Scarcely had the deputies left the camp of the Christians, when the
latter obtained a fresh victory over the Turks. The sultans of Aleppo
and Damascus, with the emirs of Cæesarea, Emessa, and Hieropolis, had
raised an army of twenty thousand horse to succour Antioch; and this
army was already on its march towards the city, when it was surprised
and cut to pieces by the prince of Tarentum and the count de St.
Gilles, who had gone out to meet it. The Turks lost in this battle
two thousand men and one thousand horses; and the city of Harem, in
which they in vain sought an asylum after their defeat, fell into the
hands of the Christians. At the moment the ambassadors from Egypt
were about to embark at the port of St. Simeon, the heads and spoils
of two hundred Mussulmans were brought to them upon four camels. The
conquerors cast two hundred other heads into the city of Antioch, whose
garrison was still in expectation of succour; and they stuck a great
number upon pikes round the walls. They exhibited thus these horrible
trophies, to avenge themselves of the insults the Saracens had, on
their ramparts, heaped upon an image of the Virgin which had fallen
into their hands.
But the Crusaders were soon to signalize themselves in a much more
perilous and murderous battle. A fleet of Genoese and Pisans had
entered the port of St. Simeon, and the news of their arrival causing
the greatest joy in the army, a great number of soldiers left the camp
and hastened towards the port, some to learn news from Europe, and
others to buy the provisions of which they stood so much in need. As
they were returning loaded with provisions, and for the greater part
unarmed, they were unexpectedly attacked and dispersed by a body of
four thousand Turks, who laid wait for them on their passage. In vain
the prince of Tarentum, the count de St. Gilles, and Bishop Adhemar,
flew to their aid with their troops; the Christians could not resist
the shock of the infidels, and retreated in disorder.
The account of this defeat soon spread alarm among the Crusaders who
had remained before the city. Immediately Godfrey, to whom danger
gave supreme authority, ordered the leaders and soldiers to fly to
arms.[106] Accompanied by his brother Eustace, the two Roberts, and
the count de Vermandois, he crossed the Orontes, and hastened to seek
the enemy, still engaged in following up their first advantage. As
soon as he came in presence of the Saracens, he commanded the other
chiefs to follow his example, and rushed, sword in hand, into the
thickest of the enemy’s ranks. The latter, accustomed to fight at
a distance, and principally to employ the bow and arrow, could not
resist the sword and lance of the Crusaders. They took to flight, some
towards the mountains, and others towards the city. Accien, who, from
the towers of his palace, had witnessed the victorious attack of the
Crusaders, immediately sent a numerous detachment to renew the fight.
He accompanied his soldiers as far as the gate of the Bridge, which he
caused to be shut after them, telling them it should only be opened to
them when they returned victorious.
This new body of Saracens were soon beaten and dispersed; and there
remained no hope to them but to endeavour to regain the city. But
Godfrey, who had foreseen everything, had posted himself upon an
eminence between the fugitives and the gates of Antioch. It was there
that the carnage was renewed; the Christians were animated by their
victory, and the Saracens by their despair and the cries of the
inhabitants of the city, who were assembled on the ramparts. Nothing
can paint the frightful tumult of this fresh conflict. The clashing of
arms and the cries of the combatants would not permit the soldiers to
hear the orders of their leaders. They fought man to man, and without
order, whilst clouds of dust covered the field of battle. Chance
directed the blows of both the conquerors and the conquered, and the
Saracens, heaped as it were together by their terror, impeded their
own flight. The confusion was so great that several of the Crusaders
were killed by their companions and brothers in arms. A great number
of Saracens fell almost without resistance under the swords of the
Christians, and more than two thousand, who sought safety in flight,
were drowned in the Orontes. “The old men of Antioch,” says William of
Tyre, “whilst contemplating this bloody catastrophe from the height of
their walls, grieved that they had lived so long, whilst the women who
witnessed the death of their children, lamented their own fecundity.”
The carnage continued during the whole day; and it was not till
nightfall that Accien allowed the gates to be opened for the reception
of the miserable remains of his troops, still hotly pursued by the
Crusaders.
The leaders and soldiers of the army had performed prodigies of valour.
Bohemond, Tancred, Adhemar, Baldwin du Bourg, and Eustace had appeared
everywhere, leading their warriors in the paths of danger. The whole
army spoke of the lance-thrusts and marvellous feats of arms of the
count de Vermandois and the two Roberts. The duke of Normandy sustained
a single combat with a leader of the infidels, who advanced towards
him surrounded by his troop. With one blow of his sword he split his
head to the shoulder, and, as the Saracen fell dead at his feet,
exclaimed, “_I devote thy impure soul to the powers of hell_.” Tancred,
says Raoul de Caen, distinguished himself amongst the most intrepid
of the knights. In the heat of the _mêlée_, the Christian hero, as
modest as he was brave, made his squire swear to preserve silence upon
the exploits of which he was a witness.[107] “Godfrey, who, in this
memorable day, had displayed the skill of a great captain, signalized
his bravery and vast strength by actions which both history and poetry
have celebrated. No armour seemed proof against his trenchant blade;
lances, helmets, and cuirasses flew in shivers beneath its strokes. A
Saracen of surpassing strength and stature offered him single combat
in the midst of the _mêlée_, and with his first blow dashed the shield
of Godfrey in pieces. Indignant at such audacity, the Christian hero
raised himself in his stirrups, and rushing on his antagonist, dealt
him so terrible a blow on the shoulder, that he divided his body into
two parts.[108] The one, say the historians, fell to the ground, whilst
the other remained on the horse, which returned to the city, where
this spectacle redoubled the consternation of the besieged. In spite
of these astonishing exploits, the Christians sustained a considerable
loss. Whilst celebrating the heroic valour of the Crusaders,
contemporary history is astonished at the multitude of martyrs which
the Saracens sent to heaven, and who, on arriving in the abodes of the
elect, with crowns upon their heads, and palm branches in their hands,
addressed God in these words: ‘Why have you not spared our blood which
has flowed for you this day?’”[109]
The infidels passed the night in burying such as had been killed
under the walls of the city. They interred them near a mosque built
on the outer side of the bridge of the Orontes. After the funeral
ceremonies, they returned into Antioch. As, according to the custom of
the Mussulmans, these bodies had been buried with their arms, their
ornaments, and their vestments, this plunder held out too strong a
temptation for the gross multitude that followed the army of the
Crusaders. They crossed the Orontes, precipitated themselves in a
crowd upon the graves of the Saracens, exhumed the dead bodies, and
tore off the arms and habiliments with which they were covered. They
quickly returned to exhibit in the camp the silk stuffs, bucklers,
lances, javelins, and rich swords found in the coffins; nor did this
spectacle at all disgust the knights and barons. On the day following
the battle, among the spoils of the vanquished, they contemplated
with joy fifteen hundred heads separated from their trunks, which
were paraded in triumph through the army, recalling to them their own
victory, and the loss they had inflicted on the infidels. All these
heads were cast into the Orontes, and, together with the bodies of the
Mussulmans drowned in the conflict of the preceding day, carried the
news of the victory to the Genoese and Pisans disembarked at the port
of St. Simeon. The Crusaders, who, at the commencement of the battle,
had fled towards the sea or the mountains, and who had been lamented
as dead, returned to the camp, and joined their brethren in the thanks
offered to heaven for the triumphs of the Christian army. From this
time the chiefs thought of nothing but taking advantage of the terror
with which they had inspired the Saracens. Masters of the cemetery of
the Mussulmans, the Crusaders destroyed the mosque which had been built
outside the walls of the city, and employed the stones of the tombs
even in erecting a fortress before the gate of the bridge, by which the
besieged made their sorties. Raymond, who had been accused of want of
zeal for the holy war, caused the fort to be constructed, and charged
himself with the defence of this dangerous post. It was proposed to
raise another fortress near the first, and as no other of the leaders
presented himself to forward the construction of it, Tancred offered
his services to the Crusaders. But, generous and loyal knight as he
was, he possessed nothing but his sword and his renown. He asked the
necessary money of his companions, and himself undertook the dangers of
the enterprise. All were eager to second his courageous devotedness;
the labours which he directed were soon finished, and from that period
the besieged found themselves completely enclosed within the circle of
their walls.
The Crusaders, after having thus finished the blockade of the place,
surprised the Syrians who had been accustomed to bring provisions into
Antioch, and only gave them liberty and life upon their swearing to
supply the Christian army. Having learnt that Accien had sent a great
part of the horses of his garrison into a valley at a few leagues
from the city, they repaired thither by circuitous routes, and got
possession of this rich booty. Two thousand horses, and as many mules,
were led in triumph into the camp of the Christians.
As the fleet of the Pisans and Genoese had brought with them a great
number of labourers and engineers, they were employed in directing and
carrying on the works of the siege. Machines of war were constructed,
and the city of Antioch was pressed more vigorously, and threatened
on all sides. Whilst despair supplied the place of courage among the
Saracens, the zeal and emulation of the Crusaders were redoubled. Many
whom misery or fear had driven from the Christian army rejoined their
standards, and sought by their exertions to obliterate the remembrance
of their desertion. The besiegers allowed themselves no repose, and
only seemed to live to fight. The women seconded the valour of the
warriors. Some mingled with them in the ranks, whilst others bore
them food and ammunition to the battle-field. Children even formed
themselves into troops, exercised themselves in military evolutions,
and took up arms against the Saracens. The inhabitants of Antioch
opposed their children to those of the Christians, and several times
these young combatants came to blows in the presence of the besiegers
and the besieged, who animated them with voice and gesture, and joined
the combat even to support such of their party as seemed to yield.
There was formed at the same time another military force still more
formidable to the Saracens.[110] The mendicants and vagabonds who
followed the Christian army were employed in the labours of the siege,
and worked under the orders of a captain, who took the title of “_Roi
truant_,” or king of the beggars. They received pay from the general
treasury of the Crusaders, and as soon as they were in a condition to
purchase arms and clothes, the king renounced them as his subjects,
and forced them to enter into one of the troops of the army. This
measure, whilst forcing the vagabonds to abandon a life of dangerous
idleness, changed them into useful auxiliaries. As they were accused
of violating tombs and feeding on human flesh,[111] they inspired great
terror among the infidels, and the sight of them alone put to flight
the defenders of Antioch, who trembled at the thoughts of falling into
their hands.
Antioch was so closely pressed, and the garrison had so little means of
defence left, that the Crusaders expected every day to become masters
of it. Accien demanded a truce of them, and promised to surrender if he
were not soon relieved. The Crusaders, ever full of blind confidence,
had the imprudence to accept the proposals of the governor. As soon as
they had concluded a truce with the Saracens, the leaders of the army,
who scarcely ever agreed, except upon the field of battle, and whom
the presence of danger did not always unite, were upon the point of
declaring war against one another.
Baldwin, prince of Edessa, had sent magnificent presents to Godfrey,
the two Roberts, the count de Vermandois, and the counts of Blois and
of Chartres, but in the distribution of his favours had, designedly,
omitted Bohemond and his soldiers. Nothing more was necessary to create
division. Whilst the rest of the army were celebrating the liberality
of Baldwin, the prince of Tarentum and his warriors breathed nothing
but complaints and murmurs.
At this time a richly-ornamented tent, which an Armenian prince
destined for Godfrey, and which, falling into the hands of Pancracius,
was sent to Bohemond, became a fresh subject of trouble and discord.
Godfrey haughtily claimed the present which had been intended for him,
and Bohemond refused to give it up. On each side they proceeded to
injurious terms and threats; they were even ready to have recourse to
arms, and the blood of the Christians was about to flow for a miserable
quarrel; but at length the prince of Tarentum, abandoned by the greater
part of the army, and overcome by the prayers of his friends, gave up
the tent to his rival, consoling himself in his vexation, with the hope
that war would soon put him in possession of a richer booty.
William of Tyre, who has transmitted to us this account, is astonished
to see the wise Godfrey claim such a frivolous object with so much
heat, and in his surprise he compares the weakness of the hero to the
slumbers of the good Homer. His thought would have been more just if he
had compared the discords and quarrels of the leaders of the crusade
to those which troubled the camp of the Greeks, and so long retarded
the taking of Troy. Whilst these quarrels engaged the attention of
the whole Christian army, the inhabitants of Antioch were introducing
reinforcements into the city, and preparing for a fresh resistance.
When they had received the succours and provisions necessary to defend
themselves and prolong the siege, they broke the truce, and again began
the war, with all the advantages that a peace too easily granted them
had procured.
Antioch, after a siege of seven months, would have escaped from the
hands of the Christians, if stratagem, policy, and ambition had not
effected for them that which patience and bravery had been unable to
achieve. Bohemond, whose sole motive for undertaking the crusade had
been a desire to improve his fortunes, was constantly on the watch for
an opportunity of realizing his projects. Baldwin’s great success had
awakened his jealousy, and haunted him even in his sleep. He dared
to direct his views to the possession of Antioch, and was so far
favoured by circumstances, as to meet with a man who might be able to
place this city in his power. This man, whose name was Phirous, was,
whatever some historians who give him a noble origin may say, the
son of an Armenian, who was by trade a maker of cuirasses.[112] Of a
restless and busy character, he was constantly anxious to change and
improve his condition. He had abjured the Christian religion from a
spirit of inconstancy, and in the hope of advancing his fortune; he
was endowed with admirable self-possession, and with audacity proof
against any accident; and was at all times ready to perform that
for money which could only have been expected from the most ardent
fanaticism. Nothing appeared unjust or impossible to him that promised
to gratify his ambition or his avarice. Being active, adroit, and
insinuating, he had wormed himself into the confidence of Accien, and
was admitted into his council. The prince of Antioch had intrusted
him with the command of three of the principal towers of the place.
He defended them at first with zeal, but without any advantage to his
fortune, and he grew weary of a barren fidelity the moment his busy
brain suggested that treason might be more profitable. In the intervals
of the various conflicts he had had many opportunities of seeing the
prince of Tarentum. These two men divined each other’s character at
the first glance, and it was not long before this sympathy produced
mutual confidence. In their first meetings Phirous complained of the
outrages he had experienced from the Mussulmans; he deeply regretted
having abandoned the religion of Christ, and wept over the persecutions
the Christians had suffered in Antioch. No more than this was required
to place the prince of Tarentum in possession of the secret thoughts
of Phirous. He commended both his remorse and his good feeling, and
made him the most magnificent promises. Then the renegado opened his
heart to him. They swore an inviolable friendship to each other, and
planned an active correspondence. They met several times afterwards,
but always with the greatest secrecy. At every interview Bohemond told
Phirous that the fate of the Christians was in his hands, and that it
only rested with himself to merit their gratitude, and receive from
them vast recompenses. On his side, Phirous protested that he was
anxious to serve the Christians, whom he considered as his brothers,
and, in order to assure the prince of Tarentum of his fidelity, or else
to excuse his treason, he said that Jesus Christ had appeared to him,
and had advised him to give up Antioch to the Christians.[113] Bohemond
required no such protestation. He had no difficulty in believing what
he so ardently desired, and as soon as he had agreed with Phirous upon
the means of executing the projects they had so long meditated, he
called an assembly of the principal leaders of the Christian army. He
began by laying before them with much earnestness both the evils with
which the Crusaders had hitherto been afflicted, and the still greater
evils with which they were threatened. He added, that a powerful army
was advancing to the assistance of Antioch; that a retreat could not be
effected without disgrace and danger; and that there remained no safety
for the Christians but in the capture of the city. It was true, the
place was defended by impregnable ramparts; but they should recollect
that all victories were not obtained by force of arms or in the field
of battle; and that such as were won by address were neither the
least important nor the least glorious. They, then, who could not be
conquered must be deceived, and the enemy must be overcome by a great
but skilful enterprise. Among the inhabitants of Antioch, so diverse
in their manners and religions, so opposed in their interests, there
must be some to be found who would be accessible to the bait of gold,
or the allurements of brilliant promises. The question of a service
so important to the Christian army, was of such magnitude that it was
right to promote every kind of undertaking. The possession of Antioch
itself did not appear to him to be too high a reward for the zeal of
him who should be sufficiently adroit, or sufficiently fortunate, as to
throw open the gates of the city to the Crusaders.
Bohemond was careful not to explain himself more clearly, but his
purpose was easily divined by the jealous ambition of some of the
leaders, who perhaps entertained the same views as himself. Raymond,
particularly, warmly refuted the artful insinuations of the prince of
Tarentum. “We are all,” said he, “brothers and companions, and it would
be unjust, after all have run the same risks, that one alone should
gather the fruits of our joint labours. For myself,” added he, casting
a look of anger and contempt upon Bohemond, “I have not traversed so
many countries, braved so many perils, lavished so much blood and
treasure, or sacrificed so many of my soldiers, to repay with the price
of our conquests some gross artifice or shameful stratagem worthy only
of women.” These vehement words had all the success to be expected
among warriors accustomed to prevail by force of arms, and who esteemed
no conquest that was not the reward of valour. The greater number of
the leaders rejected the proposition of the prince of Tarentum, and
added their railleries to those of Raymond. Bohemond, whom history has
surnamed the Ulysses of the Latins, did all in his power to restrain
himself and conceal his vexation. He went out from the council smiling,
persuaded that necessity would soon bring the Crusaders to his opinion.
As soon as he had regained his tent, he sent emissaries through all the
quarters of the camp to spread secretly the most alarming intelligence.
As he foresaw, consternation seized the Christians. Some of the leaders
were sent to ascertain the truth of the reports prevalent in the camp;
and soon returned with an account that Kerboghâ, sultan of Mossoul, was
advancing towards Antioch with an army of two hundred thousand men,
collected on the banks of the Euphrates and the Tigris. This army,
which had threatened the city of Edessa and ravaged Mesopotamia, was
at a distance of only seven days’ march. At this recital the fears
of the Crusaders were redoubled. Bohemond passed through the ranks,
exaggerating the danger, and affecting to show more depression and
terror than all the rest; but in his heart he was delighted, and smiled
at the idea of soon seeing all his hopes accomplished. The leaders
again assembled to deliberate upon the means necessary to be taken in
such perilous circumstances. Two opinions divided the council. Some
wished that the siege should be raised, and that they should march
to meet the Saracens; whilst others were of opinion that the army
should be formed into two bodies, one of which should act against
Kerboghâ, whilst the other should remain to guard the camp. This last
opinion appeared likely to prevail, when Bohemond demanded permission
to speak. He had not much difficulty in making them sensible of the
impracticability of both the plans proposed. If they raised the siege,
they would be placed between the garrison of Antioch and a formidable
army. If they continued the blockade of the city, and half of the army
only went to meet Kerboghâ, they were almost certain of a defeat. “The
greatest perils,” added the prince of Tarentum, “surround us. Time
presses; to-morrow, perhaps, it will be too late to act; by to-morrow
we may have lost the fruits of all our labours and all our victories;
but no, I cannot think so; God, who has led us hitherto by the hand,
will not allow that we shall have fought for his cause in vain. He
_will_ save the Christian army, he _will_ conduct us to the tomb of his
Son. If you will accept the proposal I have made to you, to-morrow the
standard of the cross shall float over the walls of Antioch, and we
will march in triumph to Jerusalem.”
When he had finished these words, Bohemond showed the letters of
Phirous, who promised to give up the three towers which he commanded.
Phirous said that he was ready to perform this promise, but he declared
he would have nothing to do with any one but the prince of Tarentum.
He required, as the price of his services, that Bohemond should remain
master of Antioch. The Italian prince added that he had already
given considerable sums to Phirous; that he alone had obtained his
confidence, and that a reciprocal confidence was the surest guarantee
of the success of so difficult an enterprise. “As for the rest,”
continued he, “if a better means of saving the army can be found, I am
ready to approve of it, and willingly renounce my share in a conquest
upon which the safety of all the Crusaders depends.”
The danger became every day more pressing; it was shameful to fly,
imprudent to fight, and dangerous to temporize. Fear silenced all
interests and all rivalry. The more opposition the leaders had shown
at first to the project of Bohemond, the more eagerly did they now
produce cogent reasons for adopting it. A divided conquest became no
longer a conquest. To divide or share Antioch might give birth to a
crowd of divisions in the army, and lead to its ruin. They only gave
that which was really not yet their own; and they gave it to secure
the lives of the Christians. It were better that one man should profit
by the labours of all, than that all should perish for opposing the
good fortunes of that one. Moreover, the taking of Antioch was not the
object of the crusade—they had taken up arms to deliver Jerusalem.
Every delay was opposed to that which religion looked for from its
soldiers, to that which the West expected from its bravest knights.
All the leaders, with the exception of the inflexible Raymond, united
in according the principality of Antioch to Bohemond, and conjured him
to hasten the execution of his project.
Upon leaving the council, the prince of Tarentum sent information of
the resolution of the leaders to Phirous, who placed his own son in
the prince’s hands as a hostage. The execution of the plan was fixed
for the next day. To lull the garrison of Antioch in the greatest
security, it was agreed that the Christian army should quit the camp,
and direct its march at first towards the route by which the prince of
Mossoul was expected to arrive, and that at nightfall it should meet
under the walls of Ascalon. On the following day, early in the morning,
the troops received orders to prepare for their departure. At some
hours before night the Crusaders issued from their camp, and marched
away, trumpets sounding and standards flying. After a march of a short
distance, they retraced their steps, and returned in silence under the
walls of Antioch. At a signal given by the prince of Tarentum, they
halted in a valley on the west, and near to the tower of the Three
Sisters, in which Phirous commanded. It was there that the leaders
revealed to the army the secret of the great expedition which was to
open to them the gates of the city.
The projects of Phirous and Bohemond, however, were very near failing.
At the moment that the Christian army quitted their camp, and all was
prepared for carrying out the plot, a report of treason all at once
was spread throughout Antioch. The Christians and newly-converted
Mussulmans were suspected; the name of Phirous even was whispered, and
he was accused of keeping up an intelligence with the Crusaders. He
was obliged to appear before Accien, who interrogated him closely, and
fixed his eyes intently upon him in order to penetrate his thoughts;
but Phirous dispersed all his suspicions by his firm countenance. He
himself proposed the proper measures to be taken against the traitors,
and advised his master to change the commanders of the principal
towers. This advice was approved of, and Accien determined to follow it
on the morrow. In the mean time orders were given to load with chains
and put to death, during the darkness of the night, all the Christians
that should be found in the city. The renegade was then sent back to
his post, loaded with praises for his carefulness and fidelity. At the
approach of night everything appeared tranquil in Antioch, and Phirous,
escaped from such threatening danger, awaited the Crusaders in the
tower which he had agreed to surrender to them.
As his brother commanded a tower near his own, Phirous went to find
him, and sought to engage him in the plot. “Brother,” said he to him,
“you know that the Crusaders have quitted their camp, and that they
are gone to meet the army of Kerboghâ. When I think of the miseries
they have endured, and on the death which threatens them, I cannot
help feeling a sort of pity for them. You are not ignorant, likewise,
that this night all the Christian inhabitants of Antioch, after having
undergone so many outrages, are going to be massacred by the orders of
Accien. I cannot help pitying them; I cannot forget that we were born
in the same religion, and that we were formerly brothers.” These words
did not produce the effect he expected. “I am surprised,” replied his
brother, “that you should pity men who ought to be objects of horror to
us. Before the Christians appeared under the walls of Antioch, we were
loaded with benefits. Since they have besieged the city, we have passed
our lives in dangers and alarms. May all the evils they have brought
upon us recoil upon them! As to the Christians who live amongst us, do
you not know that the greater part of them are traitors, and that they
think of nothing but delivering us up to the sword of our enemies?” On
finishing these words, he cast a threatening look upon Phirous. The
renegade saw that he was suspected. He could not acknowledge a brother
in the man who refused to be his accomplice, and as his only answer,
plunged his dagger into his heart.
At length the decisive moment arrived. The night was dark, and a rising
storm increased the depth of the obscurity. The wind, which rattled
among the roofs of the buildings, and the peals of thunder, prevented
the sentinels from hearing any noise around the ramparts. The heavens
seemed inflamed towards the west, and the sight of a comet which then
appeared in the horizon, seemed to announce to the superstitious minds
of the Crusaders the destined moment for the ruin and destruction of
the infidels.[114]
They awaited the signal with impatience. The garrison of Antioch was
plunged in sleep; Phirous alone watched, and meditated his conspiracy.
A Lombard named _Payen_, sent by Bohemond, mounted the tower by a
ladder of leather. Phirous received him, telling him all was ready;
and as an evidence of his fidelity, pointed to the dead body of his
brother, whom he had just slain. Whilst they were conversing, an
officer of the garrison came to visit the posts. He presented himself,
with a lantern in his hand, before the tower Phirous commanded. The
latter, without appearing the least disturbed, made the emissary of
Bohemond conceal himself, and went forward to meet the officer. After
receiving praise for his vigilance, he hastened to send Payen back with
instructions for the prince of Tarentum. The Lombard, on his return
to the army, related what he had seen, and, on the part of Phirous,
conjured Bohemond not to lose another moment.
But all at once fear took possession of the soldiers; at the moment
of execution all saw the whole extent of the danger, and not one of
them put himself forward to mount the rampart. In vain Godfrey and the
prince of Tarentum employed by turns promises and threats; both leaders
and soldiers remained motionless.[115] Bohemond himself ascended by a
ladder of ropes, in the hope that he should be seconded by the most
brave; but nobody felt it his duty to follow in his footsteps. He
reached the tower alone, where Phirous reproached him warmly for his
delay. Bohemond hastily descended to his soldiers, and repeated to
them that all was ready to receive them. His discourse, and still more,
his example, at length reanimated their courage, and sixty of them
commenced the escalade. They ascended by the ladder of leather, led on
by one Foulcher de Chartres, whom the historian of Tancred compares
to an eagle conducting her young ones, and flying at their head.[116]
Among these sixty brave men was the count of Flanders, together with
several of the principal chiefs. Very soon sixty more Crusaders quickly
pressed upon the heels of the first,[117] and these again were followed
by such numbers and with such precipitation, that the parapet to
which the ladder was fixed tottered, and at length fell with a loud
crash into the ditch. Such as were nearly attaining the summit of the
tower fell upon the lances and swords of their companions who were
following them. Disorder and confusion prevailed among the assailants,
nevertheless the leaders of the plot viewed everything with a tranquil
eye. Phirous embraced his new companions over the bloody corpse of his
brother; he even yielded to their swords another brother who happened
to be with him, and then surrendered to the Crusaders the three towers
intrusted to his command. Seven other towers soon fell into their
hands, and Phirous loudly summoned the whole Christian army to his
aid. He fixed a new ladder to the rampart, by which the most impatient
ascended, and he pointed out to others a gate which they might easily
burst open, and by it crowds rushed into the city.