The Great Sieges of History (part 3 of 4)

The Great Sieges of History (part 3 of 4)

Notwithstanding his repeated abdications, Maximian Hercules was again anxious for power, and, for the third time, to remount the throne of the Cæsars. In order to engage the Gauls to declare in his favour, he caused a report of the death of Constantine to be circulated. This report had not time to be accredited, for Constantine, at the head of a numerous army, presented himself before Marseilles, into which place Maximian had retired. He at once led on an assault, and would have taken the city if his ladders had not proved too short. Several soldiers, however, succeeded in gaining the top of the walls, but the emperor, to spare the blood of the troops and of the inhabitants, sounded a retreat. Maximian appeared upon the walls; Constantine drew near to them, and represented to the ex-emperor the injustice and futility of his proceedings. Whilst the old man was pouring forth invectives, some of the inhabitants, unknown to him, opened one of the gates, and admitted the soldiers of Constantine. They seized Maximian, led him before the emperor, and terminated this short and foolish war.

THIRD SIEGE, A.D. 1544.

The constable De Bourbon, wishing by his services to merit the favour of Charles V., to whom that perfidious prince had sold himself, undertook the siege of Marseilles. “Three cannon-shot,” said he, “will so astonish the good citizens, that they will come with halters round their necks to present me the keys.” But, far from surrendering, the Marseillese swore to defend themselves to the last extremity. The women took part in the most painful labours of the defence; their ardour was so great, that the countermines which they dug on the side of the attack were called, to perpetuate the memory of the fact, “The Ladies’ Trench.” A cannon-ball, fired from the city, killed two gentlemen, and a priest who was celebrating mass. The constable De Bourbon, attracted by the noise created by this accident, hastened to the spot, and asked what was the cause of the tumult. The marquis de Pescaira, his rival, coolly replied,--“It is only the consuls of Marseilles, Monsieur, who have brought us the keys.” Bourbon well deserved this raillery, for they had already been forty days before a place which he had boasted would surrender as soon as he appeared. Rendered furious by the cannon-ball and the joke, he gave orders for the fire of the artillery to be doubled, and soon a breach was made sufficient for an assault. The engineers who were sent to reconnoitre reported that there was behind it a deep ditch, filled with combustibles, and defended by a great number of soldiers. Pescaira gave a description of it to the council of war, and added, maliciously,--“You see, gentlemen, that the Marseillese keep a well-spread table, in order to entertain properly all who have any desire to visit them; if you have any inclination to sup in Paradise, go there, in heaven’s name; but, for my part, I don’t feel disposed to go thither yet. We should do much better, I think, to return to Italy, where the French may be before us.” The hatred in which the constable De Bourbon was held caused this advice to be approved of. Francis I. came to the relief of the city with an army of forty thousand men. Instructed in the school of misfortune, he obstinately refused to give the Imperialists battle, and contented himself with depriving them of all means of subsistence. His army destroyed all the mills: that of D’Aubagne was the only one left. Francis I. was convinced that the retreat of his enemy was inevitable if this mill were destroyed, and he ordered Barbesieux, who commanded in Marseilles, to undertake it. This general thought the thing impossible, because the post was so well guarded and so near to the Imperialists. Montluc, young, enterprising, and full of resources, thought that, with courage, secrecy, and diligence, it was possible to succeed. Barbesieux laughed at what he called a fanfaronnade; but as it was only at the risk of a hundred and twenty men, he gave his consent. Everything succeeded; the mill was forced and destroyed; and the detachment came off unhurt. This little expedition had a singular influence over the fate of Marseilles. Deprived of provisions, the Imperialists quickly retired, and the constable had the double disgrace of failing against a place whilst fighting against his prince and his country.

ALEXANDRIA.

A.C. 46.

The conqueror of Darius, wishing to raise a monument to his own glory, resolved to build a new city in Egypt, which should become the centre of the commerce of the world, and the capital of his vast empire. He named it Alexandria. This was likewise part of the wise policy of Alexander; either he, or some of the sages who attended him, were excellent judges of situation for a city, and he preferred leaving such a monument behind him to any other. He laid the foundation of, if he did not build, many cities in the course of his conquests; and this was not the only one called Alexandria. The happily-selected situation of this city, not far from the Mediterranean and the Nile, in the centre of Egypt, then renowned for its commercial relations with India and the oriental coasts of Africa, soon rendered it worthy of its high destiny. Under Ptolemy, son of Lagus, one of his lieutenants, who had become his successor in the kingdom of Egypt, Alexandria soon astonished the world by its population and its riches. The Romans, extending their conquests, became first the protectors, then the masters of Egypt. Antiochus, king of Syria, wished to oppress the children of Ptolemy Philopater, and to take possession of Egypt; the Roman people, offended at this proceeding, sent Popilius Lænus to summon the king of Syria to immediately evacuate the states of a king, their ally. He came up with Antiochus as he was besieging Alexandria, and ordered him to evacuate Egypt immediately. As soon as he saw the Roman ambassador, Antiochus saluted him with much respect, but made no direct reply to his demand. Popilius went straight up to him, and tracing a circle around the king in the sand, “Prince,” said he, “I must have an answer to the will of the Roman people before you leave that circle.” Astonished at this noble pride, Antiochus replied that he was ready to obey. Thus Egypt was delivered from war. Respect for the Roman name alone gave it, for this once, peace, and preserved it its sovereigns.

After having defeated Pompey, Cæsar entered Alexandria, to endeavour to regulate the affairs of Egypt, then embroiled by the ambition of Cleopatra. During his abode there, Achilles, minister of King Ptolemy, disgusted at his proceedings, raised an army of twenty thousand disciplined Egyptian troops, and offered battle to the great dictator. Cæsar had only three thousand foot and eight thousand horse. Without giving a moment’s consideration to his weakness, and relying entirely on his constant good fortune, he made a sortie from Alexandria, where the Egyptians besieged him, and drove them to a distance from the walls. He fought several battles with the same results, but, weakened in the end by his own successes,--for, though victorious, he in each conflict necessarily lost some men,--he ceased to be the conqueror. It was in the course of this war that the celebrated Alexandrian library was burnt, the collecting of which had been the work of many kings, and consisted of more than four hundred thousand volumes. It was likewise after a contest in which he had been worsted, that he had to swim for his life, which he did with one hand, holding, it is said, his “Commentaries” in the other. Cæsar did not escape the fascinations of Cleopatra: as she did by all who came within the circle of her machinations, she made him subservient to her ambitious views: she had one son by him, named Cæsarion, afterwards sacrificed to the jealousy of Augustus. After passing through many dangers, he received succour, and was triumphant; he defeated the Egyptians, under their king Ptolemy Bacchus, who drowned himself in the Nile.

SECOND SIEGE, A.D. 260.

Under Gallus, Alexandria, whose population amounted to three hundred thousand freemen, and as many slaves, became the theatre of a frightful civil war, which lasted twelve years. All communication was cut off between the different parts of that unfortunate city; every street was inundated with blood; the major part of the better sort of houses were converted into citadels, and these horrible disorders were not appeased till after most of the inhabitants had perished by the sword, pestilence, or famine.

THIRD SIEGE, A.D. 611.

Chosroës, eleventh king of Persia, after having conquered Syria, Palestine, and the greater part of Asia, attacked Egypt, surprised Pelusium, and advanced as far as Alexandria without obstacle. The city might certainly have been supported by its fleet, but the archbishop and prefect had employed all the vessels in carrying themselves and their enormous wealth to a place of safety in the isle of Cyprus. Chosroës entered this second city of the Greek empire in triumph, and found in it almost incalculable riches. Heraclius sued for peace, which Chosroës granted, but only with a view of preparing for a fresh war. This recommenced in 627. The haughty Chosroës was conquered; his own son caused him to be killed, and restored to the emperor Heraclius all his father’s conquests. Thus Egypt returned, but for a very short time, under the Roman domination.

FOURTH SIEGE, A.D. 640.

Mahomet, who was destined to subdue, by his arms and his religion, half the globe as then known, had made himself master of Arabia. His successors thought it their duty to extend his opinions and his conquests. Amrou, the lieutenant of the caliph Omar, took possession of Palestine, and entered Egypt. He employed thirty days in the siege of Pelusium, and then advanced to the ruins of Heliopolis. Thence he proceeded to ancient Memphis, called the Widow of her Kings, after she was eclipsed by her rival Alexandria: her palaces and temples were sinking into ruins. The two banks of the Nile, here three thousand feet wide, were united by two bridges of sixty-three boats, connected by the little isle of Honda, standing in the middle of the river, and covered with gardens and delightful habitations. At the eastern extremity of the bridge was the city of Babylon, and the camp of a Roman legion defended the passage of the river and the second city of Egypt. Amrou laid siege to this fortress, which might be considered as a part of Memphis. After a siege of seven months, the place was carried by assault. The Greeks, on retiring from Upper Egypt, occupied all the important places of the Delta, but were driven out of them in twenty-two days by Amrou. At length Amrou commenced the siege of Alexandria. This first commercial city in the world was abundantly supplied with all the means of defence and subsistence: the sea was always open to it. If Heraclius could have been roused from his lethargy, considerable reinforcements might have been sent to support the besieged. Alexandria itself furnished excellent means of defence; the two great sides of the long square which it forms being covered by the sea and the lake Mareotis, the fronts of attack were narrow, and easily defended. Amrou, however, never ceased to excite the courage of the besiegers by sending them fresh reinforcements daily. The Egyptians at the same time, tired of the domination of the Greeks, and believing they should be better treated by new masters, devoted themselves to the service of Amrou. The Saracens fought like lions. In every conflict the scimitar and the banner of Amrou were in the first rank; he made all the reconnaissances of the place with his own eyes, and planned all the attacks. Approaching one day, accompanied only by a single slave and one of his principal officers, too near the walls, he was taken prisoner, and conducted to the presence of the prefect of Egypt. This magistrate, on examining his haughty countenance and hearing his audacious language, at first entertained a suspicion, which became a certainty, that it was Amrou he had fortunately become possessed of, and ordered him to be beheaded. This order was about to be executed, when the slave, who understood Greek, gave him a box on the ear, and told him that he, one of the meanest of Mussulmans, ought to know how to behave more respectfully to his superiors. This extraordinary act of presence of mind saved the life of Amrou. The Turkish officer, taking his cue from the slave, then said that they were sent by their general to demand an interview, and that if it could be granted the next day, and the Romans would make any reasonable proposals, he had no doubt peace might be brought about. The governor was the dupe of this story. The prefect, being now persuaded that Amrou was no more than a simple soldier, revoked his order, and sent back the Mussulmans, who had come, he believed, with pacific dispositions. The Romans were soon made aware of their folly by the cries of joy of the Mussulmans at the safe return of their brave general. Instead of coming to the peaceful appointment next day, Amrou appeared with all his troops at the foot of the wall, and commenced the labours of the siege. Heraclius then sent him an ambassador, to prevail upon him to leave Egypt, upon very advantageous conditions. Amrou, who was superintending the construction of machines to batter the great tower, surveyed the envoy with surprise and contempt. After listening to him in profound silence, “Dost thou see,” said he, “that column which stands before us? We will leave Egypt when thou hast swallowed it.” On the instant he commanded an attack upon the tower, and his soldiers entered it, in spite of the brave resistance of the Romans. The governor, however, sent up such strong reinforcements, that the Mussulmans were driven for the time from the tower they were so anxious to obtain. During fourteen months, every day was marked by combats or attacks upon the intrenchments. At length Amrou gave a general assault, and his troops responded so well to his expectations and generalship, that the Christians were beaten in all quarters, and abandoned the place. The Turks lost twenty-five thousand men before Alexandria. At the moment of their entry into the city, the inhabitants, to escape their barbarities, endeavoured to gain their vessels and get out to sea. Amrou pursued them, leaving only troops enough in Alexandria for a common guard. Informed of this circumstance, the Romans re-entered the port, surprised the city, and massacred the Mussulmans. On learning this, Amrou returned, found the Romans masters of the citadel, attacked them, and forced them, after a sanguinary conflict. Such as escaped death then abandoned to its barbarous conquerors this powerful city, the magazine of Constantinople, which it fed, and the centre of the commerce of the East with Europe. Egypt submitted to the conqueror. “I have taken,” said Amrou, in his despatch to the caliph, “the great city of the West; it is impossible for me to describe to you all its riches, all its magnificence; I shall content myself with telling you that it contains four thousand palaces, four thousand baths, four hundred theatres, twelve thousand shops for vegetables and fruits, and forty thousand tributary Jews. The city was taken by force, without either treaty or capitulation, and the Mussulmans are impatient to gather the fruits of their victories.” The commander of the faithful rejected with firmness all ideas of pillage, and ordered his lieutenant to preserve Alexandria and its wealth for the use and propagation of Islamism. Amrou asked him if he must equally respect the famous library of Serapeon, containing more than five hundred thousand volumes, the only archives of the learning of the ancient Egyptians, and of the progress of human knowledge up to the invasion of the Mussulmans. To this the caliph replied: “Either that which the books of which thou speakest contain, agrees with the Koran, or it does not agree. If it agrees with it, the Koran suffices; if it does not agree, they are pernicious: burn them.” Amrou obeyed with regret. During six months the fragments of these books served to heat the baths of Alexandria. This irreparable loss deprived the human race of a mass of useful knowledge, dried up an abundant source of improvement, and contributed greatly to the spreading of the darkness and ignorance in which Europe was plunged for six hundred years.

FIFTH SIEGE, A.C. 645.

Alexandria was tranquil under the government of its conqueror, but after the death of Omar, Amrou was recalled. The Greek emperors feeling keenly the loss of Egypt, took advantage of this circumstance to make a descent upon its coasts. At the sight of their ancient compatriots, the Alexandrians rose, took up arms, drove out the infidels, and opened their gates to the Greeks. Amrou, being informed of this revolt, returned from Libya, chastised Alexandria, and drove the Christians from its walls. Persuaded that such an example would be sufficient to restrain the Egyptians, he again set out for Tripoli; but the Greeks returned once more, and took possession of the port and the city of Alexandria. Amrou, exceedingly irritated, came back; but he had sworn, this time, to dismantle this indocile city. He kept his word; he protected the Alexandrians as much as he could from the fury of the soldiery; but he razed the walls, diminished its extent, and left the inhabitants to exist amidst the ruins of their country.

SIXTH SIEGE, A.D. 1171.

Egypt belonged for three centuries to the Fatimite caliphs; but this race degenerated: divided among themselves for the possession of power, one of its two branches had the imprudence to call in the sultan of Damascus to its aid. After several battles, the latter was the conqueror, but he kept his conquest for himself. Saladin, his son, became, in 1171, sultan of Egypt. The descendants of this great man were, in their turn, displaced by the Mamelukes and their beys, a singular kind of militia, continually recruited by slaves from Mount Caucasus; themselves choosing their sultans, as the prætorian guards had done, and, like them, disposing of power. Egypt was conquered by the Ottomans. Selim I. contented himself with weakening, for the time, the influence of the Mamelukes; but, always ambitious, they resumed, by degrees, their authority under his weak successors, and only left the Ottoman Porte a shadow of power in the provinces over which they tyrannized.

SEVENTH SIEGE, A.D. 1799.

Buonaparte, imitating Alexander, with a view of clearing a passage from Egypt to the possession of India, embarked with a large force, and after having treacherously obtained Malta, appeared off Alexandria. It is rather a singular circumstance, that more than a century before this expedition took place, Leibnitz, a German philosopher, addressed a long and interesting document to Louis XIV., pointing out to him the great advantages that would result to France from the conquest of Egypt. This document was still in existence, and it is believed that it assisted in inducing Buonaparte to leave his European conquests and achieve something extraordinary in the East. His career in Egypt was successful, and, among other places, he took Alexandria, our present subject; but there was nothing in the details of the short siege of it interesting enough to stop us. Nelson’s defeat of his fleet, and his check by Sir Sidney Smith, at Acre, sent the great conqueror of the age back again to his country, with a far smaller crop of laurels than he had anticipated.

LYONS.

A.D. 197.

Albinus, a Roman general, revolted against the emperor Severus, and encamped his rebel troops near Lyons. The emperor marched against him, and the battle commenced the instant the armies came in sight of each other. The conflict was terrible, but Albinus was conquered, and forced to take refuge in Lyons. The conquerors followed him thither, and plundered and ravaged the city. Albinus, finding all was lost, plunged his sword into his own body; but as he was not dead when the adverse party took Lyons, they enjoyed the savage satisfaction of cutting off the head of a man who could not have lived an hour.

SECOND SIEGE, A.D. 1793.

The majority of the Lyonnais had witnessed the revolution of the 10th of August with great regret. Devoted to commerce and the arts, Lyons must necessarily have preferred a stable and tranquil government to the storms of a revolution. Political agitations, the emigration of the nobles, the proscriptions of the rich, were at every instant drying up the springs of its commerce, paralyzing its industry, and deteriorating the products of its manufactures. When private interests were thus injured, it could not be expected that the Lyonnais should feel much revolutionary ardour; they were certain to follow the ideas of the most moderate party. The Convention was recognised, the Republic proclaimed; but the rich trembled at the opening of the clubs; they were terrified at seeing municipal powers pass into the hands of proletaires; their minds revolted at hearing propositions for murder and carnage, the reward of their generosity in paying a loan of many millions. Their horror for the men who oppressed them was soon displaced by a desire for vengeance. Two parties declared themselves in Lyons: that of the Municipals, supported by the Montagne; and that of the Sections, composed of pure republicans and disguised royalists. Both sides assembled, and both spoke of preparations for defence and of measures for attack. Each party designated its enemies, watched its partisans, exaggerated its injuries and causes of alarm; minds were heated, and hearts divided. People became accustomed to consider as irreconcilable enemies all who did not embrace the opinions of the party they had espoused. The storm, which had been growling for a length of time, burst forth on the 29th of May, 1793. Two commissioners from the Convention were sitting with Châlier at the municipality; they had made a place of arms of it. On their side, the Sectionaries had gathered together all their columns. There were three attempts at accommodation, but they all failed through the perfidy of Châlier. A battalion of the Lyonnais approached the municipality, sent for under the pretence of conciliation. The signal for carnage was given; Châlier ordered a discharge of artillery and musketry. The unfortunate Lyonnais were obliged to abandon the bodies of their friends; the whole city was in arms. Two columns left the Place de Bellecourt, and besieged the Hôtel de Ville, defended by eighteen hundred men and two pieces of cannon; the besiegers did not amount to two thousand. The combat lasted two hours; the Hôtel de Ville was carried. The Lyonnais had in their power the men who appeared to have meditated their ruin. There was still more carnage after the victory; the soldiers were obliged to defend their prisoners against the fury of the people. Among them were the two commissioners from the Convention; but liberty was soon restored to them, on condition of their giving an honest account of the provocations which had brought on the combat. These representatives, four days after, notwithstanding a favourable account had been given, described the Lyonnais to the Convention as rebels, and demanded vengeance for the national representation having been unacknowledged, degraded, and insulted in their persons. In the mean time, the Lyonnais had chosen fresh magistrates, and these had created a commission to try the prisoners made in the contest on the 29th of May. Châlier was condemned to death; the rest were spared, and kept as hostages. The Lyonnais endeavoured at this moment to prove their love for their country, by concurring with all their power for the defence of the frontiers. Kellermann, the general of the army of the Alps, demanded of this city some pieces of artillery and articles of provisions. Although threatened with a siege, the Lyonnais were moved by the wants of the very soldiers who were soon to be employed against them. Kellermann was so affected by such kindness, that he became their constant intercessor, but one that was never listened to. Two untoward events then happened which accelerated the misfortunes of the Lyonnais. The moderate party had been crushed in the Convention by the 31st of May. Marseilles sent an army to the succour of Lyons, on the very day when treachery, conducted with great art, had given Toulon up to the English. It was feared, for a moment, that the whole south of France would detach itself from the north, and that Lyons would make common cause with Marseilles and Toulon, and all give themselves up to foreigners. Kellermann despatched Carteau against the Marseillais, with a body of troops very inferior in numbers to theirs, but which was to be recruited en route, with the national guards and the volunteers of the country. Carteau followed the left bank of the Rhône, secured the bridge of St. Esprit and Avignon, met the Marseillais army at Salon, and afterwards at Septêmes, where he entirely defeated them. The succours expected from the south by the Lyonnais were thus annihilated. Lyons made some efforts at conciliation; a deputy replied to them in these words: “Rebels, confess your crime, open your gates, show yourselves obedient, be disarmed, and prove yourselves, by your repentance, worthy of the clemency of the Convention.” The Lyonnais had no faith in this clemency, and could not avert the storm: the siege was resolved upon. Kellermann, then called from the army of the Alps, brought, with much regret, the greater part of it to act against the second city of France. The rivalry and jealousy of the neighbouring cities, with the obedience of the country to the orders of the Convention, soon augmented this army; sixty thousand men surrounded Lyons, of which fifteen thousand were disciplined troops. The besiegers received a hundred pieces of cannon, which were served by skilful gunners. Kellermann, according to the system of the time, had with him two commissioners from the Convention, Dubois-Crancé and Gauthier. During civil troubles, party animosities are more ardent in councils than in camps; the rigour of political principles there yields more easily to the generous sentiments which a military life establishes reciprocally between soldier and soldier. Kellermann endeavoured for a long time to bend the inflexibility of the commissioners; he could not succeed. In the mean time, the Lyonnais never ceased to express their devotion to the National Convention; they accepted the constitution of 1793 in primary assemblies, they celebrated the anniversary of the 10th of August, burnt all feudal titles, and invited Kellermann to be present at that fête. They kept up with him a regular correspondence, although they refused to hold any with the Conventional commissioners; they sought to reunite themselves with the neighbouring departments; but terror had combined all the inhabitants against them. At length, on receiving the last propositions of the Conventional deputies, which were equivalent to surrendering themselves at discretion, they replied: “Citizens, representatives of the people, your propositions are still more atrocious than your conduct; we await you; you will not reach us but over heaps of slain, or the cause of liberty and the republic will triumph.” From that time all hope of accommodation vanished; the parties prepared for attack and defence. Warlike enthusiasm fired every heart in Lyons; the young man who would not have devoted himself to all the dangers of the good cause, would have been expelled from his family as well as from the city. Women appeared upon the breach; a public military chest was formed. The insufficiency of the current coin was covered by the notes of the principal merchants; a considerable quantity of provisions of all kinds was brought in, at great expense, but by no means abundant enough for so immense a population. Lyons, situated at the confluence of the Saône and the Rhône, is dominated on the north by the heights which cover a part of its faubourgs; an engineer named Chennelette traced a plan for redoubts over all this front: they were erected with astonishing celerity. The houses were embattlemented, batteries were built, artillery was cast, powder was manufactured; everything denoted a determination for a vigorous resistance. All who held in Lyons either administrative or military posts, knew that there existed no capitulation for them; and they prepared for defence to the death.

The part of the city situated on the south was occupied by the rich commercial houses; the Rhône covered all this front; but, on the opposite side, the bank is uncovered; the buildings, badly protected by the batteries erected on the quay of the Rhône, were left exposed to the destructive fire which the besiegers would soon direct against them. The corps d’armée of the Centre, commanded by Kellermann, formed the principal attack to the east of the isthmus, between the union of the Rhône and the Saône, at the faubourg of La Croix-Rousse. On the north, the quarter of Fouvières, comprised in the great creek formed by the course of the waters of the Saône, was attacked by the faubourg of Vaise. Another attack at the confluence of the two rivers confined the besieged within the lands newly recovered from the waters by the engineer Purache. The besieging troops were established in the villages of Oullins and Sainte-Foi. In the latter days of the siege, the approaches came up to the point of the isthmus, and the batteries of the besiegers cut off all that part of the city from the inhabitants. On the south, upon the left bank of the Rhône, which defended that front, batteries for bombs and firing red-hot shot were placed. Lyons had armed about twenty-five thousand men, commanded by Prëcy, an old soldier, Virieu, an ex-constituent, and Nervo. The civil and administrative authorities, who necessarily took a great part in the resolutions formed, and even in the operations, were not admitted entirely into the secrets of the military leaders, and the threads of the correspondences which were maintained out of the city were not in their hands: there the insurrection was combined with the movements of the enemies’ armies in Savoy. It was proposed that the Prussians and Austrians should drive the French from the lines of Weissemberg, whilst a corps d’armée, commanded by the prince de Condé, should surprise Huninguen, cross Franche-Comté without stopping for sieges, and should advance towards Lyons. But the ill-success of the preceding year had made these powers circumspect upon such bold questions. This movement failed, as did another, which was to originate in an auxiliary gathering of emigrants, got together in Switzerland. The Helvetic body persisted in its neutrality, and refused to allow the passage of these troops. The Lyonnais had taken up important military positions; their posts advanced considerably beyond the extent of the city, so as to favour their communications with Montbrison and Saint-Etienne, whence they drew their provisions. They occupied the bridge of Oullins, at a league from Lyons, with the heights of Sainte-Foi and those of La Croix-Rousse.

It was with great reluctance that the national battalions gathered around Lyons and turned their arms against their fellow-citizens. In the first council of war assembled at the commencement of the siege, all voices inclined towards conciliation, and were against force and violence. The representative commissioners, armed with the decree of the National Convention, were obliged to exert all the preponderance of their terrible authority. General Kellermann told them in writing, that, whilst deferring to their requisition, he charged himself with no responsibility. The siege was rather a surrounding attack, than a system carried through according to the rules of art. The Lyonnais, to protect their houses from the fire of the besiegers, had carried their exterior works very far out; they had taken advantage of every building for placing posts and cannon. All these posts were daily attacked, defended, taken, disputed, and retaken. In these combats in detail, the losses were equal, the success balanced, and the results nothing. The persistency of the Lyonnais leaders was supported by the hope and expectation of a powerful diversion, to be effected by the Piedmontese army. This army, by a general movement upon its whole front, had descended from the mountains which separate Savoy from Piedmont, and had effected an invasion in Faussigny, Tarantasia, and Mauritta. The army of the Alps being weakened, had retired. Lyons might hope to be some day relieved by the approach of a foreign army. The situation of the French army in Savoy became so embarrassing, that Kellermann was obliged to leave the conducting of the siege to General Du Muy. A few days sufficed for repulsing the Piedmontese. The Convention at this time ordered that Lyons should be set fire to. During several days and nights, the batteries of the three attacks, east, north, and south, poured upon the city a deluge of fire; bombs and red-hot balls carried fire and destruction into all quarters; the public establishments and the beautiful houses of Bellecourt were either battered down by balls or consumed by fire; the quarter of Saint-Clair was the first exposed to the conflagration. Every one was on the watch; all were united in Lyons to endeavour to stop the progress of it. A general cry of horror and indignation arose when the arsenal was seen to be on fire. More than a hundred houses were consumed; magazines of munitions and forage became the prey of the flames. This disaster appeared to be not the effect of the bombs, but the crime of some base incendiary. During the bombardment, traitors gave signals to point out the best places at which to aim. We tremble to relate an instance of a new species of crime. A man bearing the title of a representative of the people, caused bombs to be showered upon the Hôtel-Dieu,--of all the hospitals in France, the one which was perhaps the best conducted. In this asylum, the wounded belonging to the city, and those who were taken prisoners, received equal attention,--a touching lesson of humanity for the Conventional commissioners, who never failed to have all the rebels shot who fell into their hands. The Lyonnais could not believe that there was premeditation in this fire. They hoisted a black flag over the hospital; but instead of averting the bombs, this signal seemed only to attract them. At this period, the besieged began to be sensible of the horrors of famine, their connection with Le Forez being then cut off. The mills having been destroyed by the bombardment, the women proposed that all the barley or wheaten bread should be reserved for the combatants, whilst they should be satisfied with half a pound of oaten bread delivered to them daily. Very soon everything eatable was exhausted. Reduced to this cruel extremity, the besieged thought to gain relief by sending from their walls all the persons useless for the defence of the city. A colleague of Dubois-Cranée committed an act of inhumanity scarcely credible: his own sister, an inhabitant of Lyons, came to the camp of the besiegers, exhausted by hunger and followed by her family. “Let her go back,” cried the Conventional commissioner,--“let her go back and ask the rebels for bread!”

The reiterated efforts of the besiegers rendered them masters of La Croix-Rousse, which dominates over the city very closely. Fresh requisitions had collected new battalions of national guards in the department of the Saône. An army was formed of these, which pressed the works at the point of the isthmus towards Oullins and Sainte-Foi. These reinforcements placed the army in a condition to attempt a general attack in open day upon the two fronts of the west and the south. The besiegers gained possession of the two quarters of the Point Perrache and the Brotteaux, and set fire to them before they retired. At this period also, the Lyonnais lost all hopes of receiving succours from the Piedmontese; General Kellermann had succeeded, by skilful manœuvres, in driving them back over Mont-Cenis. This advantage decided the fate of Lyons; the Conventional commissioners conveyed the news into the city with a proclamation. The public misfortunes, the sufferings from famine, the fatigues of the service, the carelessness of the people in a quarrel in which the leaders were the only persons threatened, together with lassitude, had changed the minds of the multitude. The sections of Lyons assembled; they insisted upon hearing the reading of the proclamation; and named commissioners to enter into negotiations. The leaders of the enterprise felt that it was time to yield. Prëcy and Virieu, accompanied by three thousand men, whom necessity or the just fear for the future attached to them, marched out by the gate of Vaise. Their purpose was, to keep along the banks of the Saône for a time, to cross it at Riottier, and to advance towards the frontiers of Switzerland through the department of L’Ain. But the Conventionalists were aware of this project. The weak remains of the Lyonnais army at first met with but few obstacles; but they were soon pursued by large bodies of cavalry: their retreat became a disorderly flight; they threw themselves into the thickest woods; instead of rejoicing in their silence, the sound of the tocsin came upon their ears from all parts, and that was for them the tocsin of death. Countrymen, armed with forks and scythes, surrounded every issue of the forests, waited for, and massacred men already conquered by hunger and despair. The column led by M. de Virieu was entirely destroyed, and not more than fifty or sixty escaped of that of Prëcy. The next day, the 9th of October, the republican army took possession of all the abandoned posts of Lyons, which city it entered without opposition. The Convention decreed that the walls and public buildings should be destroyed, and the name of the city changed to Ville Affranchie. Of three thousand five hundred and twenty-eight of the insurgents, as they were called, who were brought to trial on account of this siege, one thousand six hundred and eighty-two were either shot or beheaded. In 1794, however, on the destruction of the faction of the Jacobins, the Convention decreed that the city should resume its ancient name, and that measures should be taken to restore its manufactures and commerce. In 1795, the friends of those who were so wantonly put to death in 1793, revenged their fate by a general massacre of the judges of the revolutionary tribunal, and of all the Jacobins who were then confined in the prisons of Lyons.

PALMYRA.

A.D. 273.

Palmyra, with its transitory splendour, and its total annihilation, its association with two extraordinary men,--Longinus and Odenathus, and perhaps a still more extraordinary woman,--Zenobia, has been the subject of the poet’s song, the theme of the historian, and a source of deep reflection for the statesman or the philosopher. The history of Palmyra is a short but highly interesting episode in the annals of mankind, illustrated, in the course of a very few years, by the valour and ability of Odenathus, the wisdom and cultivated taste of Longinus, and the splendid beauty, great talents, and masculine mind of Zenobia. As it is said the sun of the glory of Thebes rose and set with Epaminondas, so the splendour of Palmyra is so connected with the name of Zenobia, that they seem to us to have been entirely co-existent; we look at the nascent prosperity of Palmyra before her birth, as a preparation for her future fortune; and we contemplate the vast ruins of the city as so many monuments remaining undestroyed to perpetuate her memory. No great city was ever so completely identified with a person as Palmyra with Zenobia.

Of the siege itself, even Gibbon has given but a meagre account; and yet, what reader would have pardoned us, if we had neglected to notice the fall of the gorgeous capital of the Queen of the East?

Palmyra was one of those great commercial entrepôts which became important by natural position. Before the great maritime discoveries, an oasis in the deserts which divided the East from the West, as soon as commerce began to flourish, or the power of the West to desire the luxuries of the East, was certain to be wealthy if the industry of the inhabitants responded to its natural advantages. The destruction of the temples of Palmyra might be due to the cruel vengeance of Aurelian; but the neglect of the commercial position is owing to the rise of Venice and other trading nations, in the middle ages, and the great maritime and scientific discoveries of modern times.

As we cannot hope to improve upon the great author of “The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire,” we shall give most of this short siege in his own words.

“After the victories of Trajan, the little republic, grown wealthy by its commerce, sunk peaceably into the bosom of Rome, and flourished more than one hundred and fifty years in the subordinate, though honourable rank of a colony. It was during that peaceful period, if we may judge from a few remaining inscriptions, that the wealthy Palmyrenians constructed those temples, palaces, and porticos of Grecian architecture, whose ruins, scattered over an extent of several miles, have deserved the curiosity of our travellers. The elevation of Odenathus and Zenobia appeared to reflect new splendour on their country, and Palmyra, for a while, stood forth the rival of Rome; but the competition was fatal, and ages of prosperity were sacrificed to a moment of glory.

“Modern Europe has produced several women who have sustained with glory the weight of empire; but if we except the doubtful achievements of Semiramis, Zenobia is perhaps the only female whose superior genius broke through the servile indolence imposed on her sex by the climate and manners of Asia. She claimed her descent from the Macedonian kings of Egypt, equalled in beauty her ancestor Cleopatra, and far surpassed that princess in chastity and valour. Zenobia was esteemed the most lovely as well as the most heroic of her sex. She was of dark complexion (for in speaking of ladies, such things are not trifles), her teeth were of pearly whiteness, and her large black eyes sparkled with uncommon fire, tempered with the most attractive sweetness. Her voice was strong and harmonious; her understanding was strengthened and adorned by study; she was not ignorant of the Latin tongue, but possessed in equal perfection the Greek, the Syriac, and the Egyptian languages. She had drawn up for her own use an epitome of Oriental history, and familiarly compared the beauties of Homer and Plato, under the tuition of the sublime Longinus.

“This accomplished woman gave her hand to Odenathus, who, from a private station, raised himself to the dominion of the East. She soon became the friend and companion of a hero. In the intervals of war, Odenathus passionately delighted in the exercise of hunting; he pursued with ardour the wild beasts of the desert--lions, panthers, and bears; and the ardour of Zenobia in that dangerous amusement was not inferior to his own. She had inured her constitution to fatigue, disdained the use of a covered carriage, generally appeared on horseback in a military habit, and sometimes marched several miles on foot at the head of the troops. The success of Odenathus was in a great measure ascribed to her incomparable prudence and fortitude. Their splendid victories over the Great King, whom they twice pursued as far as the gates of Ctesiphon, laid the foundation of their united fame and power. The armies which they commanded, and the provinces which they had saved, acknowledged not any other sovereigns than their invincible chiefs. The senate and people of Rome revered a stranger who had avenged their captive emperor; and even the insensible son of Valerian accepted Odenathus for his legitimate colleague.

“After a successful expedition against the Gothic plunderers of Asia, the Palmyrenian prince returned to the city Emessa, in Syria. Invincible in war, he was there cut off by domestic treason, and his favourite amusement of hunting was the cause, or at least the occasion, of his death. His nephew Mæonius presumed to dart his javelin before that of his uncle; and, though admonished of his error, repeated the same freedom. As a monarch, and as a sportsman, Odenathus was provoked, took away his horse, a mark of ignominy, and chastised the rash youth by a short confinement.

“The offence was soon forgotten, but the punishment was remembered; and Mæonius, with a few daring associates, assassinated his uncle in the midst of a great entertainment. Herod, the son of Odenathus, though not of Zenobia, a young man of a soft and effeminate temper, was killed with his father. But Mæonius obtained only the pleasure of revenge by this bloody deed. He had scarcely time to assume the title of Augustus, before he was sacrificed by Zenobia to the memory of her husband.

“With the assistance of his most faithful friends, she immediately filled the vacant throne, and governed with manly counsels, Palmyra, Syria, and the East, above five years. By the death of Odenathus, the authority was at an end which the senate had granted him only as a personal distinction; but his martial widow, disdaining both the senate and Gallienus, obliged one of the Roman generals who was sent against her, to retreat into Europe, with the loss of his army and his reputation. Instead of the petty passions which so frequently perplex a female reign, the steady administration of Zenobia was guided by the most judicious maxims of policy. If it was expedient to pardon, she could calm her resentment; if it was necessary to punish, she could impose silence on the voice of pity. Her strict economy was accused of avarice; yet, on every proper occasion, she appeared magnificent and liberal. The neighbouring states of Arabia, Armenia, and Persia dreaded her enmity and solicited her alliance. To the dominions of Odenathus, which extended from the Euphrates to the frontiers of Bithynia, his widow added the inheritance of her ancestors, the populous and fertile kingdom of Egypt. The emperor Claudius acknowledged her merit, and was content that, while he pursued the Gothic war, she should assert the dignity of the empire in the East. The conduct, however, of Zenobia was attended with some ambiguity; nor is it unlikely that she had conceived the design of erecting an independent and hostile monarchy. She blended with the popular manners of Roman princes the stately pomp of the courts of Asia, and exacted from her subjects the same adoration that was paid to the successors of Cyrus. She bestowed on her three sons a Latin education, and often showed them to the troops adorned with the imperial purple. For herself she reserved the diadem, with the splendid but doubtful title of Queen of the East.

“When Aurelian passed over into Asia, against an adversary whose sex alone could render her an object of contempt, his presence restored obedience to the provinces of Bithynia, already shaken by the arms and intrigues of Zenobia. Advancing at the head of his legions, he accepted the submission of Aucyra, and was admitted into Tyana, after an obstinate siege, by the help of a treacherous citizen. The generous though fierce temper of Aurelian abandoned the traitor to the rage of the soldiers: a superstitious reverence induced him to treat with lenity the countrymen of Apollonius, the philosopher. Antioch was deserted on his approach, till the emperor, by his salutary edicts, recalled the fugitives, and granted a general pardon to all who, from necessity rather than choice, had been engaged in the service of the Palmyrenian queen. The unexpected mildness of such a conduct reconciled the minds of the Syrians, and, as far as the gates of Emessa, the wishes of the people seconded the terror of his arms.

“Zenobia would have ill deserved her reputation, had she indolently permitted the emperor of the West to approach within a hundred miles of her capital. The fate of the East was decided in two great battles; so similar in almost every circumstance, that we can scarcely distinguish them from each other, except by observing that the first was fought near Antioch, and the second near Emessa. In both, the queen of Palmyra animated the armies by her presence, and devolved the execution of her orders on Zabdas, who had already signalized his military talents by the conquest of Egypt. The numerous forces of Zenobia consisted, for the most part, of light archers and of heavy cavalry, clothed in complete steel. The Moorish and Illyrian horse of Aurelian were unable to sustain the ponderous charge of their antagonists. They fled in real or affected disorder, engaged the Palmyrenians in a laborious pursuit, harassed them by a desultory combat, and at length discomfited this impenetrable but unwieldy body of cavalry. The light infantry, in the mean time, when they had exhausted their quivers, remaining without protection against a closer onset, exposed their naked sides to the swords of the legions. Aurelian had chosen these veteran troops, who were usually stationed on the Upper Danube, and whose valour had been severely tried in the Alemannic war. After the defeat of Emessa, Zenobia found it impossible to collect another army. As far as the frontier of Egypt, the nations subject to her empire had joined the standard of the conqueror, who detached Probus, the bravest of his generals, to possess himself of the Egyptian provinces. Palmyra was the last resource of the widow of Odenathus. She retired within the walls of her capital, made every preparation for a vigorous resistance, and declared with the intrepidity of a heroine, that the last moment of her reign and her life should be the same.

“In his march over the sandy desert between Emessa and Palmyra, the emperor Aurelian was perpetually harassed by the Arabs; nor could he always defend his army, and especially his baggage, from those flying troops of active and daring robbers, who watched the moment of surprise, and eluded the slow pursuit of the legions. The siege of Palmyra was an object far more difficult and important, and the emperor, who with incessant vigour pressed the attacks in person, was himself wounded with a dart. ‘The Roman people,’ says Aurelian, in an original letter, speak ‘with contempt of the war which I am waging against a woman. They are ignorant both of the character and the power of Zenobia. It is impossible to enumerate her warlike preparations, of stones, of arrows, and of every species of missile weapons. Every part of the walls is provided with two or three balistæ, and artificial fires are thrown from her military engines. The fear of punishment has armed her with a desperate courage. Yet still I trust in the protecting deities of Rome, who have hitherto been favourable to all my undertakings.’ Doubtful, however, of the protection of the gods and of the events of the siege, Aurelian judged it more prudent to offer terms of an advantageous capitulation; to the queen, a splendid retreat; to the citizens, their ancient privileges. His proposals were obstinately rejected, and the refusal was accompanied with insult.

“The firmness of Zenobia was supported by the hope that famine would soon compel the emperor to repass the desert; and by the reasonable expectation that the kings of the East, and particularly the Persian monarch, would arm in defence of their most natural ally. But fortune, and the perseverance of Aurelian, overcame every obstacle. The death of Sapor, which happened about this time, distracted the councils of Persia, and the inconsiderable succours that attempted to relieve Palmyra, were easily intercepted, either by the arms or the liberality of the emperor. From every part of Syria, a succession of convoys safely arrived in the camp, which was increased by the return of Probus, with his victorious troops, from the conquest of Egypt. It was then that Zenobia resolved to fly. She mounted the fleetest of her dromedaries, and had already reached the banks of the Euphrates, about sixty miles from Palmyra, when she was overtaken by the pursuit of Aurelian’s light horse, seized, and brought back a captive to the feet of the emperor. Her capital soon after surrendered, and was treated with unexpected lenity. The arms, horses, and camels, with an immense treasure of gold, silver, silk, and precious stones, were all delivered to the conqueror, who, leaving only a garrison of six hundred archers, returned to Emessa, and employed some time in the distribution of rewards and punishments at the end of so memorable a war, which restored to the obedience of Rome those provinces that had renounced their allegiance since the captivity of Valerian.

“When the Syrian queen was brought into the presence of Aurelian, he sternly asked her how she had presumed to rise in arms against the emperors of Rome? The answer of Zenobia was a prudent mixture of respect and firmness. ‘Because I disdained to consider as Roman emperors an Aureolus or a Gallienus. You alone I acknowledge as my conqueror and my sovereign.’ But as female fortitude is commonly artificial, so it is seldom steady or consistent. The courage of Zenobia deserted her in the hour of trial; she trembled at the angry clamours of the soldiers, who called aloud for her immediate execution; she forgot the generous despair of Cleopatra, which she had proposed as her model; and ignominiously purchased life by the sacrifice of her fame and her friends. It was to their counsels, which governed the weakness of her sex, that she imputed the guilt of her obstinate resistance; it was on their heads she directed the vengeance of the cruel Aurelian. The fame of Longinus, who was included amongst the perhaps innocent victims of her fear, will survive that of the queen who betrayed, or the tyrant who condemned him. Genius and learning were incapable of moving a fierce unlettered soldier, but they had served to elevate and harmonize the soul of Longinus. Without uttering a complaint, he calmly followed the executioner, pitying his unhappy mistress and bestowing comfort on his afflicted friends.

“Returning from the conquest of the East, Aurelian had already crossed the straits which divide Europe from Asia, when he was provoked by the intelligence that the Palmyrenians had massacred the governor and garrison which he had left among them, and again erected the standard of revolt. Without a moment’s deliberation, he once more turned his face towards Syria. Antioch was alarmed by his rapid approach, and the helpless city of Palmyra felt the irresistible weight of his resentment. We have a letter of Aurelian himself, in which he acknowledges that old men, women, children, and peasants had been involved in that dreadful execution, which should have been confined to armed rebellion; and although his principal concern seems directed to the re-establishment of a temple of the Sun, he discovers some pity for the Palmyrenians, to whom he grants the permission of rebuilding and inhabiting their city. But it is easier to destroy than to restore. The seat of commerce, of arts, and of Zenobia, gradually sunk into an obscure town, a trifling fortress, and at length a miserable village. The present citizens of Palmyra, consisting of thirty or forty families, have erected their mud cottages within the spacious court of a magnificent temple.

“Since the foundation of Rome, no general had more nobly deserved a triumph than Aurelian, nor was a triumph ever celebrated with superior pride and magnificence. The pomp was opened by twenty elephants, four royal tigers, and above two hundred of the most curious animals from every climate of the North, the East, and the South. They were followed by sixteen hundred gladiators, devoted to the cruel amusements of the amphitheatre. The wealth of Asia, the arms and ensigns of so many conquered nations, and the magnificent plate and wardrobe of the Syrian queen, were exposed in exact symmetry or artful disorder. The ambassadors of the most remote parts of the earth,--of Ethiopia, Arabia, Persia, Bactriana, India, and China, all remarkable by their rich or singular dresses, displayed the fame and power of the Roman emperor, who exposed likewise to the public view the presents that he had received, and particularly a great number of crowns of gold, the offerings of grateful cities. The victories of Aurelian were attested by the long train of captives who reluctantly attended his triumph,--Goths, Vandals, Sarmatians, Alemanni, Franks, Gauls, Syrians, and Egyptians. Each people was distinguished by its peculiar inscription, and the title of Amazons was bestowed on ten martial heroines of the Gothic nation who had been taken in arms. But every eye, disregarding the crowds of captives, was fixed upon the Queen of the East and the emperor Tetricus. The latter, as well as his son, whom he had created Augustus, was dressed in Gallic trousers, a saffron tunic, and a robe of purple. The beauteous figure of Zenobia was confined by fetters of gold; a slave supported the gold chain which encircled her neck, and she almost fainted under the intolerable weight of jewels. She preceded, on foot, the magnificent chariot in which she once hoped to enter the gates of Rome. It was followed by two other chariots, still more sumptuous, of Odenathus and of the Persian monarch. The triumphal car of Aurelian (it had formerly been used by a Gothic king) was drawn on this memorable occasion either by four stags or by four elephants. The most illustrious of the senate, the people, and the army closed the solemn procession. Unfeigned joy, wonder, and gratitude swelled the acclamations of the multitude; but the satisfaction of the senate was clouded by the appearance of Tetricus; nor could they suppress a rising murmur that the haughty emperor should thus expose to public ignominy the person of a Roman and a magistrate.

“The triumph over, Aurelian behaved generously to his beautiful and royal captive. He presented Zenobia with an elegant villa at Tibur or Tivoli, above twenty miles from the capital; the Syrian queen insensibly sunk into a Roman matron, her daughters married into noble families, and her race was not extinct in the fifth century.”

MILAN.

A.D. 338.

Uraïas, nephew of Vitiges, besieged Milan in 338. That city, then a magnificent one, was esteemed the second of the West. With the assistance of ten thousand Franks, furnished by Theodebert, king of Austrasia, Uraïas pressed the siege warmly during six months. The Goths, masters of the city, delivered it up to pillage, made the garrison prisoners, put the inhabitants to the sword, and carried off the women into captivity.

SECOND SIEGE, A.D. 1139.

In this year the inhabitants of Milan revolted against Frederick Barbarossa. The angry emperor immediately laid siege to that city. The cruel conqueror drove out all the inhabitants, razed the most beautiful of the edifices with the ground, demolished the gates, its triumphal arches, its baths, its most magnificent houses, and sowed salt upon its ruins, to denote that it should never be rebuilt. His cruel design was disappointed; Milan soon arose again from her ashes.

THIRD SIEGE, A.D. 1499.

During the wars of the French in the Milanese, in the reign of Louis XII., the Chevalier Bayard fell in with an Italian party in the neighbourhood of Milan, and attacked it warmly. On his arriving at the gates of Milan, a French gendarme cried out to him with a loud voice, “Turn, man-at-arms, turn!” Bayard, transported by the desire of conquering, was deaf to these repeated cries, and entered the city at full gallop, as if, says an historian, he meant to take that capital alone. Soldiers, people, even women, fell upon him. Cajazzo, whom his valour astonished, ordered his men-at-arms to cover him from these assaults, and made him his prisoner. He took him to his own house, and afterwards to sup with the duke of Milan. Ludovic, who had witnessed the extraordinary feats of the Chevalier from his palace windows, spoke of the brave Frenchman with great admiration, and with a view of ascertaining his character, conversed freely with him. “My brave gentleman,” said the duke, “what brought you hither?” “The desire of conquering, my lord,” replied Bayard. “And pray did you think of taking Milan alone?” “No,” rejoined the knight, “but I reckoned upon being followed by my companions.” “They and you together,” said Ludovic, “could not do it.” “Well,” said Bayard, with his characteristic frankness, “I must admit they are wiser than I have been; they are free, and I am a prisoner, although to one of the bravest and most generous of men.” The prince then asked him, with an air of disdain, “What is the strength of the French army?” “For our parts,” replied Bayard, “we never think of counting our enemies; but what I can assure you is, that my master’s soldiers are all picked men, before whom yours will have no chance.” Ludovic, very much piqued, replied that effects gave a very different idea of his troops, and that a battle would soon proclaim both his right and their courage. “Would to God,” cried Bayard, “that it were to-morrow, and I were free!” “You are free,” replied the prince; “I like your frankness and your courage, and, to the first benefit, I beg to add whatever you desire.” Bayard, penetrated with so much kindness, threw himself on his knees before the duke, and begged him to pardon, in favour of his duty, all that might have appeared too bold in his speech. He then requested to have his horse and his arms, and returned to the French camp, to give a highly favourable account of the generosity of Ludovic.

FOURTH SIEGE, A.D. 1706.

Prince Eugene had made himself master of Milan, but he could not be sure of keeping it without occupying the citadel. The marquis de la Florida was the governor of it. Prince Eugene summoned him to surrender, at the same time threatening to grant no quarter if he did not capitulate within four-and-twenty hours. “I have defended twenty-four places for my masters, the kings of Spain,” replied the governor, “and I have made up my mind to be killed on the breach of the twenty-fifth.” This bold reply, which was known to be the expression of a strong mind, caused the prince to renounce the project of attacking the castle by force, and he was satisfied with blockading it.

Milan was besieged by the king of Sardinia in 1733, by Don Philip of Spain in 1745, by Buonaparte in 1796, by Suwarrow in 1799, and by Buonaparte in 1800; but there is nothing interesting in the details of any of these sieges.

TOURNAI.

A.D. 438.

Towards the middle of the fifth century, Clodio, first of the race of Merovingian kings of the Franks in Gaul, entered Belgium, surprised the Roman troops, defeated them, and laid siege to Tournai, even then a powerful city. But it could not withstand the conqueror long; he took it, and gave it up to pillage.

SECOND SIEGE, A.D. 1340.

After the naval victory gained by Edward III. of England, near Ecluse, that prince presented himself before Tournai. French authors say his army amounted to a hundred and twenty thousand men, which appears an immense number for that period; but Edward was assisted by so many Belgians, and other nations at feud with France, that his forces were great, though principally composed of foreigners. Proud of his strength, he feared no obstacles. But Godemar Dufay, the governor of the city, had prepared for a long defence, and Edward’s plans being known, Dufay had a numerous and well-disciplined garrison. He was likewise assured of the good-will of the inhabitants, and was seconded by the élite of the chivalry of France. Philip VI. soon came himself to animate his brave subjects, and with several battalions, encamped between Lille and Douay. As soon as he began operations, Edward became aware of the rashness of his enterprise; and he sent a challenge to the French king to fight him in single combat, a hundred against a hundred, or in a general battle. This letter was addressed to Philip de Valois, without any other title. Philip replied, “A letter has been brought to our camp, addressed to Philip de Valois, in which letter were several requests which you make to the said Philip de Valois. As it is not for us, we do not reply to it; but we take advantage of the coming of your herald to remind you that you are our liegeman; that by attacking us, and raising the cities of Flanders against their count and against us, their sovereign and yours, you commit an act of rebellion, perjury, and felony, and for which, with the help of God, we hope to subdue you and to punish you. Besides, you propose a duel on very unequal terms; you offer to hazard your own person only against both the kingdom of France and the person of its king. If you will increase the stake, and put also the kingdom of England on the issue of that duel, we will, though the terms would be then very unequal, willingly accept of the challenge.” All this was intended, no doubt, to stimulate the troops on both sides; we do not believe that either of these royal heroes was in earnest. Both sides were tired of the contest, after a siege of about twelve weeks. The inhabitants grew short of provisions, and Edward’s forces decreased daily by death and desertion. In this situation, they listened to the friendly intercession of Joan, countess dowager of Hainault; a truce was concluded, and Tournai was saved.

Dazzled with the glories of Crecy and Poitiers, we English are accustomed to be too proud of the reign of Edward III., that “mighty victor, mighty lord;” whereas few events in our history produced more or longer-endured misery to two great countries than Edward’s unjust claim to the crown of France: unjust, because it was in opposition to the laws of that country, by which all such cases must be settled. This calamitous war lasted a hundred years, and, we have no doubt, by the enmity being thus carried down from father to son, created that unnatural antipathy between two neighbouring nations which is now so happily being removed by their being united in a good and holy cause. For our part, we never take up the thin strip of a sword, which is all time has left of the weapon of this hero, without reflecting on the evil he did and prepared, and turning, with the poet, to his “funeral couch, with not one to grace his obsequies!”

THIRD SIEGE, A.D. 1513.

Henry VIII., king of England, in his famous expedition into France, attacked Terouanne, a town situated on the frontiers of Picardy. This siege is chiefly remarkable for the manner in which Fontrailles, a French officer, contrived to bring in a supply of provisions and ammunition. Henry and his nobles, together with the emperor Maximilian, who was with the English army, carried on the siege so languidly, that the town was more in danger from famine than from its foes. The above-named officer appeared at the head of eight hundred horsemen, each of whom carried a sack of gunpowder behind him and two quarters of bacon. With this small force he made a sudden irruption into the English camp, and advanced to the fosse of the town, where each horseman threw down his burden. They immediately returned at the gallop, and were so fortunate as again to break through the English, and to suffer little or no loss. But the English had soon their revenge. The famous battle of Guinegate shortly followed, in which the French made such good use of their spurs, and in which the pride of their chivalry, Bayard, Bussy d’Amboise, Clermont, Imbrecourt, and others were taken prisoners. After this defeat, Henry made the mistake of returning to the siege of so inconsiderable a town as Terouanne. The place capitulated, and he demolished the fortifications. The army then advanced against Tournai.

This city, by its ancient charters, was exempt from the burden of a garrison, and when Louis XII. sent to ask them if they needed troops to defend their city, they made this boastful and silly reply: “Tournai est tourné, et jamais n’a tourné, et encore ne tournera. Si les Anglais viennent, ils trouveront à qui parler”--(Tournay is turned, and never has turned, and, still further, never will turn. If the English come, they will find somebody to speak to). And so the burgesses undertook the defence themselves. But the fate of Terouanne alarmed them, and in a very short time the place was surrendered. Over its gates was engraved this proud motto: “Tu n’as jamais perdu ta virginité.” Never having been taken, it was what is called a maiden city; which honour it now lost. One of our countrymen, who was always anxiously looking out for personal advantages, derived benefit from this capture. The bishop of Tournai was lately dead; and although a new bishop was elected, he was not installed; so the king bestowed the administration of the see upon his favourite, Wolsey, and put him in immediate possession of the revenues.

FOURTH SIEGE, A.D. 1581.

At this date Tournai was besieged by Spanish forces under the command of the prince of Parma. The Seigneur d’Etréel commanded in the city, but his garrison was weak. The citizens, for the most part Protestants, were obliged to perform the duties of soldiers. The Spanish general invested the place, and formed the attack on the side where the ditch is dry, opposite the longest of the curtains, between the gates of St. Martin and of Valenciennes, which was defended by a salient ravelin and a large platform. As soon as the trenches were opened, three batteries were established against these three works. The besieged kept up a warm fire from the tops of the bulwarks, and signalized themselves by some vigorous sorties. The Princess d’Epinoi, the wife of the governor, who filled with distinction the place of her husband, inflamed their ardour, and acquitted herself with incredible energy of all the functions of a most vigilant commander. The prince of Parma made all haste to terminate the approaches, in order to get at the body of the place. It required but few days to carry the trenches to a great length. His batteries played furiously. He debouched in the fosse; it being dry, he carried, without trouble, the mine up to the wall, which, by both sapping and mining was speedily brought down. The defenders of Tournai, redoubling their ardour, opposed fresh barriers to the Spanish impetuosity, and presented themselves wherever the danger was most imminent. At the end of a few days, the breach was found large enough to give an assault. It was given. The resistance and the attack were equally murderous. In the midst of the combatants the Princess d’Epinoi was particularly conspicuous. Nothing could resist the power of her arm. Flying in the face of peril and death, she continued to cry to the soldiers: “It is I; it is the wife of your governor who marches at your head, and braves death for the service of her country. Follow my example. I would rather quit life than the breach!” She spoke, and rushed amidst the carnage. She was wounded in the arm. The sight of her blood only animates her: she redoubles her efforts; all fly, all disperse before her. The besieged, zealous to imitate her, eagerly follow her, and fight with such ardour, that the Spaniards are repulsed and retreat, after having lost a vast number of men. The hopes of prompt succour alone supported the citizens of Tournai; but as soon as they found their expectations frustrated, they perceived it was impossible to defend themselves longer, and resolved to surrender. On the 29th of November, the garrison was permitted to march out, with its arms and its baggage. The city redeemed itself from pillage; and the intrepid Amazon who had so bravely defended it, left Tournai, with her arm still in a scarf, amidst the enthusiastic acclamations of the royal army, and, in some sort, with all the appearance of a glorious triumph.

FIFTH SIEGE, A.D. 1667.

No monarch ever went to war more wantonly and unnecessarily than Louis XIV. Inflated with vanity and self-love, intoxicated with flattery, he seemed to look upon military glory as the only thing wanting to his fame and his happiness. But never did monarch receive a much stronger rebuke from an overruling Providence! He was taught that the prosperity of nations is not to be trifled with for the gratification of one man’s pride; and the wars he undertook so rashly and wickedly proved to be the sources of misery to which his arrogant self-sufficiency would have led him to believe he could not be subjected.

In 1666, Louis XIV. lost his mother, Anne of Austria; Philip IV., her father, had died the preceding year. When Louis married Maria Theresa, that princess had formally renounced all right of succession to Spain or the Austrian dominions; but Louis, now heedless of this renunciation, immediately laid claim to Flanders, to the exclusion of Charles II., the minor son of Philip IV. The pretence he assigned was, that the queen’s dowry not having been paid, her renunciation was null and void, and he invoked a custom of Brabant, by which eldest daughters inherited in preference to younger sons. He supported these claims by a numerous army; won over the emperor Leopold, by giving him hopes he might share the spoils of Charles II., and took the field at the head of his household. Turenne commanded under him; Vauban, and his minister Louvois, accompanied him. We have often, when contemplating this siege of Tournai, wondered what Louis could really think of himself--what he imagined his position actually was in the scale of humanity. He proceeded to the infliction of war upon an unoffending people--of war, the direst evil we know or can fancy,--with all the “pride, pomp, and circumstance” of a barbarous Eastern despot. Darius, when he met Alexander, was scarcely surrounded with so much splendour, and perhaps not so many indulgent comforts, and, what is still more striking, did not in the eyes of his people so completely violate all that the civilized world deems moral or worthy of being an example. He was accompanied by his queen and his then adored mistress, the fascinating Montespan, with whom he lived in a state of double adultery. His court was with him in all its splendour; he had his historian to record the exploits of his generals and his armies, and his poets to sing his praises and attribute every success to his divine presence. Here was a beleaguered town, suffering all the horrors of a siege, with almost the certainty of being taken; there was an army appearing to invade the rights of another nation in mere wantonness, indulging in voluptuous vice, and, in contrast with the town, passing its nights in festivity, song, music, and dancing; vice and cruelty, pleasure and suffering, throwing each other into the strongest relief.

Louis’ army consisted of thirty-five thousand men. It was on this occasion that the minister Louvois introduced the improvement of supporting armies by magazines. Whatever siege the king undertook, to whichever side he directed his arms, supplies of all kinds were ready, the lodgings of the troops were provided, and the marches regulated. The king had only to present himself before the cities of Flanders to subdue them: he entered Charleroi as he would have entered Paris; Bergues-Saint-Veux, Ath, Furnes, Armentière, and Coutrai, opened their gates at the approach of the French battalions. Tournai showed signs of resistance. It was besieged in form, the artillery brought to bear upon it, and two days after the trenches had been opened it capitulated. The citadel was then closely pressed, and that likewise surrendered on the morrow. The conqueror had both city and citadel fortified; and Mégrigni made the latter, of which he was governor, one of the best places in Europe.

SIXTH SIEGE, A.D. 1745.

Louis XV. opened the campaign against the Allies with great spirit. Marshal Saxe laid siege to Tournai, which was defended by a Dutch garrison, and supported by an English army under the duke of Cumberland. De Saxe was so ill as to be obliged to go through his duties in a litter; but he had posted his army admirably. On the 11th of May the Allies commenced the attack, and De Saxe prepared to meet them. The English, Austrians, and Dutch amounted to a number very nearly equal to the French. After a long resultless cannonade, the English advanced to endeavour to carry the village of Fontenoi, in front of De Saxe’s centre, and succeeded so well, that the battle was supposed to be lost, and the king was advised to retreat; but he refused, and the Marshal guaranteed the victory. De Saxe saw the English were ill supported by their allies. After a terrible slaughter by his judiciously-placed artillery, the French cavalry came up, and determined the fate of day. The English left nine thousand men on the field, and Tournai was taken.

SEVENTH SIEGE, A.D. 1794.

At the commencement of the campaign of 1794, General Pichegru made every possible effort to approach Tournai and besiege it in regular form, but all in vain; he, on every occasion, had to contend with troops superior to his own, beneath its walls. When, however, he had gained several victories, and the Imperialists had been conquered at Fleurus, the allies withdrew from Tournai, which fell into the hands of the French. It was not by causing men to be massacred before places that the French made their conquests, but by beating the enemy in the open field. This campaign suffices to convince military men of the vices of the ancient tactics, which began by laying sieges and sacrificed so many men in the trenches. A well-fortified place is impregnable whilst defended by a good army; but there is no fortress that can hold out, when the troops which ought to defend it are beaten. In the revolutionary wars, the French only besieged the cities that were absolutely necessary to assure the position of their armies. The king of Prussia alone formed a just idea of this new manner of making war. In 1794, he wrote to the emperor of Austria: “It is impossible to save your territories from invasion; the French have fresh armies continually springing up; and, do not deceive yourself, their generals have a good kind of tactics, which disconcerts ours and always puts it at fault.” The above passage is certainly from a French author, but it contains much truth.

ORLEANS.

A.D. 451.

Attila, king of the Huns, entered Gaul in 451, with fire and sword, followed by a countless host of barbarians. After spreading everywhere terror, death, and carnage, he appeared before Orleans. The only defence of this city consisted in the valour of its people and the active zeal of Saint-Agnan, its bishop. Before the Huns had crossed the Seine, he hastened to raise the walls on that side, he collected as much provision as possible, flew to Arles to press the Roman general Ætius to succour Orleans, and then shut himself up within its walls, determined to perish with his flock if the Romans did not second their courage. The Huns arrived and attacked the part of the city situated on the right bank of the Loire, with fury. They reiterated their assaults, they multiplied their efforts, whilst Agnan, having employed all human means, was prostrate at the foot of the altar, imploring the All-Powerful. Heaven appeared to listen to his prayers; a tempestuous rain, which lasted three days, interrupted the attacks. When it had ceased, the barbarians recommenced their assaults, broke down the gates, and were already rushing into the city, when the Roman trumpets were heard. Ætius and Theodoric entered Orleans from the other side of the Loire at the same instant that Attila entered by the opposite gate. The Huns, imagining they were conquerors, dispersed themselves in the wild disorder of pillage, through the streets and houses. The barbarians were stopped, surrounded, pursued, and massacred in all directions. In vain Agnan endeavoured to excite pity for these ferocious men; their character was too well known: they gave none; they met with none. Attila, conquered at the moment he thought himself victorious, retired, darting upon the prey which had escaped him, furious but powerless glances of disappointment and rage.

SECOND SIEGE, A.D. 1429.

We come now to an interesting siege, one connected with many stirring associations for both French and English readers. The miserable condition into which France had fallen at the period of the unjust invasion of our Henry V., can scarcely be conceived. An insane king, ambitious grasping princes, bold, poor, and selfish nobles, all conspired to oppress a sunken and degraded people. With us, Henry V. has a false amiability thrown round his character; except in his bravery and shrewd sense, the historical Henry V. has not much resemblance to the heroic, gay, dissipated but good-natured, Hal of Shakespeare. He and his English rendered themselves hateful to the French, whom they treated as a conquered nation. The early death of Henry made matters still worse. His brother Bedford, with Talbot, Salisbury, and other eminent leaders, upheld the English cause in France for many years, and with occasional success; but the one great directing will and power was gone; where there are many, however able they may be, disunions will take place, and even a good cause will fail. For Englishmen who are proud of the valour and ability of their heroes of all ages, the page now before us is a melancholy one to turn over. Better knights never laid lance in rest; wiser and more prudent men never met in council, than some of the leaders in these ill-starred wars; and yet all seem to be striving against fate, and that fate was that their cause was unjust.

At the period of this siege, the two great actors in the late events, Henry V. of England and Charles VI. of France, were dead. Henry’s son was an infant; Charles’s was still worse: the infant was under the good tutelage of his brave and good uncles, whilst Charles’s son, for a long time called only the dauphin, was a weak, dissipated, indolent youth, a willing prey to mistresses and favourites. By the treaty of Troyes, signed by Henry V. and Charles VI., the crown belonged to Henry VI.; but the bulk of the French nation deemed such a compulsory engagement binding upon no one, and all eagerly waited the opportunity for throwing off the odious foreign yoke.

For a long time the council of the king of England, to assist in ruining the party of Charles VII., disinherited, as they said, by the treaty of Troyes, had fixed their eyes upon Orleans; but numberless considerations had retarded the siege of that city. At length, on the 8th of October, 1428, ten thousand English approached to reconnoitre the environs of the place, after having rapidly conquered Château-Neuf, Rambouillet, Bétancourt, Rochefort, and all the neighbouring places. Gaucourt, the governor of the city, made a vigorous sortie, and repulsed the enemy. They went and sacked some more places, and on the 12th of the same month reappeared before Orleans, on the side of the Sologne. The garrison was weak, but it had as leaders intrepid warriors, the Gaucourts, the Dunois, the Lahires, the Xaintrailles, a crowd of noblesse of that name and that merit, who all inspired the lowest soldiers with the heroic valour which animated them. The inhabitants even, resolved to bury themselves under the ruins of their city rather than submit to a foreign yoke, had become so many heroes. The women partook of this martial ardour, and devoted themselves enthusiastically to the service of their country.

The tête du pont, on the side of the Sologne, was defended by a fortress called Les Tourelles, in front of which a bulwark had been commenced. It was by this intrenchment the earl of Salisbury, the general of the English army, made his first attacks. The faubourgs, set fire to on the approach of the enemy, were not yet entirely consumed. This barrier stopped them at first, but they soon elevated a bastille upon the ruins of the convent of the Augustines, and erected batteries, which kept up a constant discharge against the walls of the city, the Tourelles, and the boulevard, of which they wished to make themselves masters. The cannon made a large breach, and it was resolved to mount it sword in hand. On the 21st of October, the trumpets sounded the signal, and, as if by one motion, the warriors planted their ladders at the foot of the ramparts. They sprang up with incredible intrepidity; but they were received with a firmness equal to it, and both sides fought with the same fury. National hatred and a desire for vengeance added to the natural desire to conquer. Whilst the besieged hurled their foes into the fosses, launched fire-pots, rolled stones of an enormous size upon them, encircled them with rings of red-hot iron, poured torrents of boiling oil, and burning ashes, the women of the city, not less active, in the words of a chronicler, “brought them everything that could assist in the defence; and to refresh their great labour, bread, wine, meats, fruits, and vinegar, with white towels to wipe them. Some were seen, during the assault, repulsing the English with lance-thrusts from the entrance to the boulevard, and beating them down into the fosses.” Such a furious resistance disconcerted Salisbury; he sounded a retreat, and ordered a mine to be instantly commenced. It was soon finished, and they were preparing to spring it. The besieged perceived it, and despairing of maintaining a post threatened on all sides, they set fire to it, in the sight of the English, and retired into the fortress of the Tourelles. To defend this for a short time, they raised a new boulevard on the bridge even, of which they destroyed two arches. Notwithstanding all this, they could not long withstand the multiplied efforts of the English. The fort of the Tourelles was carried, and that advantageous post offered the besiegers a commodious and redoubtable position. The Orléannais then directed all their batteries against that part of their city for which they had so boldly fought. The enemy, on their side, neglected no means to maintain it, and both exhausted, in attack or defence, all the resources the most heroic valour could furnish.

It was then the middle of autumn. Salisbury foreseeing that the siege would be long, resolved to encircle the place with a belt of many forts, which, placed at regular distances, would render the entrance of succours or convoys next to impossible. To draw up his plan according to the situation of the city, he repaired to the Tourelles, from whence a view could be obtained of the whole environs of Orleans. He was earnestly employed on this examination, when a cannon-ball carried away one of his eyes and half of his face. After having exhorted the principal officers to continue the siege according to the plan he had traced for them, he was transported to Meun, where he soon after died. The earl of Suffolk, the lord Pole his brother, Talbot, Glansdale, and other leaders, were clothed with his authority; and these captains, full of respect for their general, continued their operations according to the instructions he had given them.

Every day the besiegers and the besieged received reinforcements. The garrison, which at first scarcely amounted to twelve hundred men, was now composed of three thousand combatants; and the English army, which at the commencement only reckoned ten thousand warriors, was increased to twenty-three thousand soldiers, who thought themselves invincible. The city, which had been attacked on the side of the Sologne alone, was now invested almost entirely on that of the Beauce. Opposite to the principal avenues of Orleans were erected six large bastilles, which communicated with each other by sixty less considerable redoubts, constructed in the intervals. It was impossible to enter the place without passing under the artillery of the forts. More than once the French leaders forced the quarters of the enemy’s army to introduce convoys. The rigour of the season did not at all interrupt the works. Only on Christmas-day the English proposed a suspension of arms, and begged the besieged to send them some musicians, to celebrate that great festival with proper solemnity. The generals made each other presents. The earl of Suffolk sent the bastard of Orleans some refreshments in exchange for a plush robe which he had given him. Up to the beginning of Lent, nothing remarkable took place. Having desolated the country round, the English began to be in want of provisions. In the early part of February, the duke of Bedford sent a convoy, escorted by two thousand five hundred men, under the conduct of the brave Fastolfe. The count de Clermont having collected nearly three thousand soldiers, to whom he added a detachment of the garrison of Orleans, resolved to carry off this convoy. He came up with the English at Rouvray, a village of the Beauce. Fastolfe[9] halted, made an intrenchment of the waggons which contained the provisions, and only left two issues, at one of which he placed his archers. The French army, more courageous than prudent, wished that same night to force this intrenchment, with an impetuosity that has often proved fatal to their countrymen. The French insisted upon fighting on horseback; the Scots would only fight on foot. This deficiency of discipline produced the effect that might have been expected. After an obstinate conflict, the English were conquerors. A hundred and twenty nobles of high rank were left dead upon the field; and the other leaders returned to the city, quite crest-fallen, with scarcely five hundred followers. This battle was called “La journée des harengs,” because the convoy conducted by Fastolfe consisted principally of barrels filled with this fish, which, being broken by the French artillery, their savoury contents were strewed over the field of battle.

In proportion with the triumph of the English in this little battle was the depression of the feeble and voluptuous Charles, then lying encamped at Chinon. Despairing of his fortunes, the timid monarch deliberated whether he had not better seek refuge in Dauphiny. It was his own opinion, and his servile counsellors concurred in it. He was already about to carry this resolution into effect, when two heroines roused the courage of the prince from its effeminate slumbers. The queen, a princess above her sex and her rank, and the fair Agnes[10] Sorel, employed the influence their charms had over him to detain the king, who could but blush to think he had less magnanimity than his wife or his mistress.

In the mean time Orleans seemed daily sinking into the last extremity. The besieged could no longer look for relief to a prince who was in no condition to assist them, and who, indeed, scarcely preserved a shadow of royalty. There only remained one chance of saving the city, and that was to place it in sequestration in the hands of the duke of Burgundy. The envoys, among whom was Xaintrailles, went at once to the duke, who agreed to the proposal, and came with them to Paris, with the design of persuading the duke of Bedford to accept it. But the regent replied that he would only treat with the city upon the condition of its surrender to the English. This intelligence roused the indignation and revived the courage of the Orléannais; they resolved to defend themselves to the last breath.

Whilst terrified France looked for nothing but the blow which was to consummate its ruin, that Invincible Power which sometimes seems to attach the greatest events to the most apparently weak causes, prepared her an avenger. A girl, of about seventeen years of age, was strongly persuaded that God destined her to be the preserver of her country. Our readers will please to observe we speak of La Pucelle according to the opinion entertained of her by the French of her own day, because it was that opinion which produced the revolution which astonishes us: if the majority of the French nation had not had faith in the mission of Joan of Arc, the miracle would not have been effected. Born near the banks of the Meuse, at Dom-Remy, a village of Lorraine, her poor but honest parents had given her an education conformable to the simplicity of her situation. Jeanne d’Arc, or, as we call her, Joan of Arc, had from her childhood been brought up with a horror for the English; she constantly made it the subject of her prayers that the monarchy should be delivered from the eternal enemies who tyrannized over it. Her zeal becoming more ardent with her years, at thirteen she had trances, in which she declared she had conversed with St. Michael, St. Marguerite, and St. Catherine, who told her that God had appointed her to drive out the English and bring about the coronation of the dauphin. With this enthusiasm she possessed all the virtues of which a simple mind is susceptible: innocence, piety, candour, generosity, and courage. Her rustic life had strengthened her naturally robust frame; she had the exterior, and even the natural graces of her sex, without experiencing the infirmities which characterize the weakness of it.

After several years of revelations, Joan, urged more and more by that inward voice which excited her to arm for her country, formed the resolution of presenting herself to Baudricourt, governor of Vaucouleurs, a small city of the neighbourhood:--“Master captain,” said she, “know that God has for some time past often given me to know, and has commanded me to go to the gentil dauphin, who ought, it is true, to be king of France, and that he should place under me men-at-arms, and that I should raise the siege of Orleans, and lead him to be crowned at Reims.” The astonished Baudricourt supposed her to be mad, and wanted to have her exorcised by the curé of the place. Joan continued to urge him for six months, and at length the governor, subdued by her importunities, armed her at all points, gave her in charge to two gentlemen with their servants, and dismissed her, saying, “Go, come of it what may!” Towards the end of February she arrived at Chinon, where the dauphin then was. It was precisely the moment when the vacillating Charles appeared to be sinking under the weight of his ill fortune.[11] She announced herself at the court of the monarch. During two days it was deliberated whether she should be heard or not; but at length curiosity prevailed, and she was admitted. The king, without any mark of superior dignity, mingled with the crowd of courtiers, on purpose to prove her. Joan distinguished him, pointed him out, and in spite of the cries “You are mistaken! you are mistaken!” continued to exclaim, “That is he! that is he!” They all admire her noble boldness; they surround her, and gaze on her with astonished looks. Charles himself cannot explain what passes in his heart at the aspect of this unknown girl: “Gentil dauphin,” said the heroine, without being the least disconcerted, “my name is Jeanne la Pucelle. The King of Heaven has sent me to succour you; if you will please to give me men of war, by divine grace and force of arms I will raise the siege of Orleans, and will lead you to Reims to be crowned, in spite of all your enemies. This is what the King of Heaven has ordered me to tell you, and it is His will that the English should return to their own country, and leave you peaceful in yours, as being the only true and legitimate heir of it; that if you make this offering to God, He will make you much greater and more flourishing than your predecessors have ever been; and He will take it ill of the English if they do not retire.”

Thus spoke La Pucelle; the fire of her words, the naïveté of her manner, her simple but precise replies, everything convinced. The king caused her to be examined by matrons, by theologians, and by his parliament. Yoland of Arragon, queen of Sicily, accompanied by the ladies De Gaucourt, De Tiénes, and several others of the first distinction, visited Joan, and pronounced her to be as pure as she had described herself. The theologians, after many interrogations, decided that she was inspired. The parliament of Poitiers, after the most scrupulous observations, required that she should manifest the truth of her revelations by some prodigy. “I did not come to Poitiers,” she haughtily replied, “to perform miracles; but conduct me to Orleans, and I will give you certain signs of my mission.” This firm reply so astonished her judges, that all with one voice declared that this heavenly instrument which the All-Powerful had sent to their country ought to be instantly employed. Charles ordered a splendid and complete suit of armour to be made for her, gave her a standard, squires, pages, an intendant, a chaplain, and a train becoming the state of a great warlike leader. The new Amazon placed herself at the head of a considerable convoy destined for Orleans; and her warriors soon felt themselves inspired with her enthusiasm. She set out, followed by Marshal De Boussac, Gilles de Rais, the admiral De Couland, Ambroise de Loté, and Lahire, and arrived on the 29th of April within sight of the place. Dunois came to meet her; he begged her to satisfy the desire the inhabitants had to behold their liberator: she yielded to his entreaties, and she entered the city as if in triumph. A thousand cries of joy were heard; at that moment the Orléannais believed themselves invincible, and in fact were so. Everything was changed; the English, to that day conquerors, trembled at the name of Joan of Arc; they as firmly believed her to be a sorceress as the French believed her to be celestially inspired. “English,” wrote the heroine to them, “you who have no right to this kingdom of France, God commands you by me, Jeanne la Pucelle, to abandon your forts and to retire.” The couriers were arrested, and no reply was made to this awful summons but insults. Joan, outraged but dreaded, now prepared to prove her mission. On Wednesday, the 4th of May, she selected a body of troops, and, filled with an ardour more than human, she precipitated herself upon the enemy’s forts, and carried them after an assault of four hours. She then thought of gaining possession of the boulevard and fort of the Tourelles, where the élite of the English were cantoned, under the orders of the celebrated Glansdale. After having made her dispositions during the night, she gave the signal as the first rays of day appeared. The ready troops follow her, mount with her to the breach, fight with ardour, press, pierce through, and overthrow the English, who, nevertheless, defend themselves with great courage. The French were on the point of carrying all before them, when Joan, wounded in the neck, was obliged to retire to put a dressing to her wound. Her absence extinguished the courage of the assailants; the soldiers missed the warlike illusion which rendered them victorious. Each began to desire to place himself in safety: even Dunois judged it most prudent to do so. All at once La Pucelle reappears! She rushes to the foot of the fort, and there plants her standard. Her intrepidity passes into all hearts; the efforts of her followers are redoubled, their fatigues and fears are forgotten, the English fly, the boulevard is carried!

On the morrow the vanquished English draw up in order of battle on the side of La Beauce; the French, still led on, still animated by their heroine, present themselves in the same order, resolved to fight, although inferior in numbers. But their enemies, till that time so proud and so terrible, did not dare to stand before them; they precipitately retreated, leaving behind them their sick, their baggage, their provisions, their artillery, and nearly five thousand dead. Thus, contrary to all hopes and expectations, the city of Orleans was relieved on the 8th of May, 1419. Public gratitude exhausted itself, so to say, to prove to Joan of Arc how deeply the greatness of her benefits was felt; the king ennobled her, with her father, her three brothers, and all her posterity. A statue was erected to her on the bridge of the city she had saved, and, to eternize the memory of this fortunate event, a festival was established, which is still celebrated every year on the 8th of May. At this festival an eulogy is pronounced on Joan of Arc, who, from the period of the raising of the siege, has been styled the Maid of Orleans. During the troubles of the Revolution, ignorant and barbarous men overthrew, in Orleans, the statue of a heroine who had preserved their city from the yoke of the English, and roused the spirit in France which shortly afterwards expelled the invaders from their soil; it was, however, reinstated by Buonaparte, during his consulship, on which occasion he did not forget to introduce a pungent reflection upon his and Joan’s enemies, the English.

The momentary gratitude was such as we have above described it; but what was the conduct of the king she had saved, when she became a captive? After she had fulfilled her mission, and effected the consecration of the king at Reims, she wished to retire, “to be taken back,” as she said, “to her father and mother, and keep their sheep and tend to their cattle.” But Charles’s captains had found the value of the enthusiasm she created, and refused to let her go. She, however, never was again as she had been; if she had had any faith in the divinity of her mission, with its completion it was gone. She was wounded at the siege of Paris, and was afterwards taken prisoner. As no Englishman can speak of her death without a blush, we will pass over that in humbled silence; but what shall we say for her king, who owed her so much, who heard of her imprisonment and death with the utmost indifference, and did not make the least effort to save her, or mitigate the horrors of her punishment? It was twenty-five years before he bethought himself of doing her memory justice: but Charles VII. was then a very different man from what he had been when he was so deeply indebted to Joan of Arc.

Joan of Arc is one of those remarkable characters who have achieved miracles by working upon the current superstitions of the times they lived in. To what a degree they were superstitious, we may judge by the one instance of the duchess of Gloucester, the wife of the king’s uncle, being tried and punished to the full extent the court durst venture, for dabbling in witchcraft. Acknowledging the immense benefit Joan’s efforts produced, and at the same time admitting the spirit and intelligence with which she carried out her plans, when we look at the pretence under which she operated, we are made sceptical, as we are in all such cases, of the first moving cause. In fact, we think it much more probable that the keen-witted Dunois should have trained a bold, shrewd girl to impose upon a weak young king and a superstitious people, than for an instant to imagine there was anything supernatural in her mission, or even that she devised a scheme entirely herself. Shakespeare generally follows the chronicles pretty faithfully; and the manner in which Dunois introduces her to the notice of the king is very suspicious. We do not take Shakespeare’s view of her character, but we are quite as much at variance with those poets who throw a veil of perfection and sickly sentimentality over it. In our opinion, Joan is a person who almost unwittingly effected wonders; neither she nor Dunois contemplated the extent of the good she did for France. Had she appeared under any banner but that of superstition, we should not have said a word against the faith that is placed in her; but no student of history should allow that pretence to pass without the closest investigation. As a high-spirited, intelligent, persevering, patriotic woman, she has much of our admiration, but as the inspired Maid of Orleans, she has none.

Her intervention was critically timed. The nobles were beginning to be ashamed of allowing a foreign power to dominate over the fair fields of France; the patience of the people under an oppressive yoke was exhausted; the English leaders, brave and wise as they were, were many and divided, under a minor king of weak character even when a man. In addition to these causes all beginning to operate favourably for France, Charles VII. was becoming of an age to perceive his legitimate course, and if he had not shaken off the trammels of sloth and pleasure, occasionally showed some little scintillations of what he afterwards became. When paying tribute to the memory of Joan of Arc as the regenerator of France, the French should not forget another remarkable woman to whom they are indebted: Agnes Sorel employed no magic but beauty and good sense, and yet the rousing of the king to a sense of his duty was as much due to her as the rousing of the people was due to Joan.

PAVIA.

A.D. 476.

Orestes having undertaken to dethrone Nepos, the emperor of the West, raised an army, merely showed himself, and the weak monarch abandoned the diadem. The fortunate rebel encircled the head of his son Romulus Augustulus with it. The Roman empire of the West was in its last period of decay. Odoacer, at the head of an army of Goths, Heruli, Scyrri, and Thuringians, came to give it the last blow, and to reign over its vast wreck. Terror and confusion preceded him. All fled, all dispersed at his approach. The plains were deserted, the cities opened their gates to him. Orestes, too weak to withstand him, shut himself up in Pavia. Odoacer pursued him thither, carried the city by storm, made a frightful carnage, and set fire to the churches and houses. Orestes was taken and decapitated on the 28th of August, 476, the very day on which, one year before, he had dragged Nepos from his throne. Augustulus, abandoned by everybody, stripped himself of his dangerous dignity, and delivered up the purple to his conqueror, who, out of compassion for his age, left him his life, with a pension of six thousand golden pence, that is, about three thousand three hundred pounds sterling. Thus disappeared the empire of the West, after having subsisted five hundred and six years from the battle of Actium, and twelve hundred and twenty-nine from the foundation of Rome. Scarcely was its fall perceived, scarcely a look was fixed upon its last moments; it might be compared to an old man who dies of caducity.

SECOND SIEGE, A.D. 572.

Alboin, king of the Lombards, entered Italy for the purpose of founding a state. Pavia alone ventured to oppose him. The new conqueror laid siege to it; and that city, after a vigorous resistance of three years, reduced to the last extremity, was forced to surrender at discretion. The conqueror, exasperated by the obstinacy of the defence, had resolved to put all the inhabitants to the sword, but their submission disarmed his vengeance. He entered Pavia, not as a conqueror, but as a pacific king; forbade murder, violation, or pillage, and made that important place the capital of his new empire.

THIRD SIEGE, A.D. 774.

Two centuries of profound peace had rendered Pavia one of the most flourishing cities of the universe, when it beheld the standards of Didier, king of the Lombards, floating at its gates. This grasping prince, jealous of the power of Pope Adrian, sacked every place belonging to the Pontiff. The holy father fulminated horrible excommunications; but these arms were too weak to stop the usurper, and the Pope had recourse to Charlemagne. That monarch crossed the Alps, combated the enemies of the court of Rome, and made such a carnage of them, that the field of battle took the name of the Plain of the Dead. Didier sought refuge in Pavia. He had provided that capital with everything necessary for a long resistance. Charlemagne blockaded it, and left the command of his troops to his uncle Bernard; he then took the road to Rome, where he was received as the liberator of the Holy See. After having made a sojourn there, he returned to his army before Pavia, and pressed the siege so vigorously, that it opened its gates after an heroic defence of six months. Didier, his wife and children, were made prisoners and banished to Liége. Thus finished the kingdom of the Lombards, which had subsisted two hundred and six years. Charlemagne added to the titles of Emperor of the Franks and Patrician of the Romans, that of King of the Lombards.

FOURTH SIEGE, A.D. 1524.

Francis I. of France, after a brilliant campaign, in which he drove back the Imperialists from Provence to the Milanese, very unwisely employed his army in sieges, instead of pursuing his enemies with vigour to the other side of the Carnic Alps. Accumulating errors, he weakened an army of forty thousand men by dividing it; detaching from it a body of ten thousand soldiers upon an expedition into the kingdom of Naples. He thus left his enemy time to recover, and to remain master, by means of the armies he was able to raise in Germany and Naples. After having taken Milan, he commenced the siege of Pavia. That city, well fortified, had for governor Antonio de Leva, a great captain, commanding a numerous and warlike garrison. The French monarch attacked the place with vigour, but he evinced indecision in his points of attack. The siege was protracted; Pavia was reduced to extremity; the garrison mutinied more than once for want of pay; the governor was even in dread of seeing the city delivered up to the French by his unruly troops; but his genius, equally firm and fertile in resources, contrived to keep them to their duty. Lannoi, viceroy of Naples for Charles V., was informed of the distress of Pavia. The taking of that place might complete the disbanding of the Imperial troops for want of money and subsistence; he felt that this was the moment to venture to attack his enemy, and to attempt an action, hazardous without doubt, but which might re-establish the affairs of Charles V. in Italy. He set out then, accompanied by the marquis de Pescara and the constable De Bourbon. At his approach, the French monarch called a council; prudence would have commanded him to avoid an engagement, to raise the siege, and to refresh and enlarge his army: “Sire,” said La Trémouille to him, “the true honour in war is to succeed. A defeat can never be justified by a battle; you risk your army, your person, and your kingdom, and you risk nothing by raising the siege.” The monarch was deaf to the counsels of wisdom; his romantic spirit fancied that his honour would be compromised. The admiral Bonnevet promised so to dispose his troops that he should conquer his enemies, that the Imperialists should not dare to attack him, and that Pavia should fall into his hands. The king followed this fatal and pernicious advice. The troops were nearly equal in numbers on both sides, each reckoning about thirty thousand men. The Imperialists first fell upon the rear-guard of the French, placed at the castle and in the park of Mirabel. They expected to carry it if the king did not come to its assistance; and, if he did come, they should make him lose the advantage of the position in which he was fortified. What Lannoi anticipated, happened. Scarcely did the French monarch perceive the danger of his brother-in-law the duke of Alençon, who commanded the rear-guard, than, impatient to signalize himself, he rushed forward at the head of his cavalry, and fell upon the Imperialists. His artillery, placed with much skill by Gaillon de Genouillac, and served with great spirit, fired at first with such success, that every volley carried away a file. The Spanish infantry, being unable to resist this terrible fire, precipitately broke their ranks, to seek shelter, in great disorder, in a hollow way. Such a brilliant commencement dazzled Francis; he forgot that he owed all his success to his artillery, believed himself already the conqueror, and came out from his lines. This inconsiderate movement placed the prince between his own artillery and the fugitives, and rendered his cannon useless. The face of the battle was changed in a moment; the viceroy advanced with the gendarmerie and a body of arquebusiers; the king was pressed on all sides. The French gendarmerie did not, in this battle, sustain its ancient reputation; it was beaten and almost destroyed by two thousand Biscayans, of astonishing agility, who, separating by platoons of ten, twenty, or thirty men, attacked it with inconceivable celerity and address. They were seen, all at once, making a discharge, disappearing at the moment they should be in turn attacked, and re-appearing unexpectedly, again to disappear. It is said that Antonio de Leva had, for some time, trained these arquebusiers to fight thus in platoons, between the squadrons of the Spanish cavalry, and that he had borrowed the manœuvre from the Greeks. A stratagem of Pescara’s contributed still further to the success of the day. This general having approached the enemy’s camp a little before the commencement of the battle, returned to his own to announce that the king of France had just published in his army a prohibition, under a capital punishment, to grant quarter to any Spaniard. This information, although false, produced so strong an impression upon his troops, that almost all the Imperialists swore to spare the life of no Frenchman, and to die sooner than surrender. This oath rendered the Spaniard equally invincible in fight, and ferocious after victory. The French monarch sustained the powerful charges of the enemy like a hero. Francis of Lorraine, and Richard De la Pole, the last heir of the house of Suffolk, endeavoured, with some companies of lansquenets, to disengage him; but they were killed, and the soldiers instantly turned their backs. Bonnevet perished fighting, and was regretted by nobody. Louis de la Trémouille shared the same fate; nearly nine thousand warriors, all gentlemen, were left lifeless on the field of battle. The mêlée was terrible around the king. Left almost alone in the midst of a host of enemies, he inspired terror in all who ventured to approach him. He had already immolated five of his assailants, when his horse was killed, the monarch fell, and a rush was made to seize him. Springing up, he recovered himself, and killed two more Spaniards. At this moment, Molac de Kercado, first gentleman of the chamber, perceived the peril of his master, and dispersed or killed all who stood in the way of his zeal. He placed himself before his exhausted sovereign, protected him with his sword, and checked the savage impetuosity of the Spanish soldiery; but Kercado fell whilst defending the king, who refused to surrender to anybody but the viceroy of Naples: “Monsieur de Lannoi,” said he, “there is the sword of a king who deserves consideration, since, before parting with it, he has employed it in shedding the blood of several of your people, and who is not made prisoner by cowardice, but by a reverse of fortune.” Lannoi fell on his knees, received the arms of the king with respect, and kissed his hand, whilst presenting him with another sword, saying, “I beg your majesty to accept of mine, which has spared the blood of many of your subjects. It is not becoming in an officer of the emperor to behold a king disarmed, although a prisoner.” Francis was conducted, after the action, across the field of battle, to the place he was to be confined in. The Imperialists made him observe that all his Swiss guards had fallen in their ranks, and that they lay dead close to one another. “If all my troops had done their duty,” said he, much affected by this spectacle, “as well as these brave fellows, I should not be your prisoner, but you would be mine.” Francis announced this defeat to his mother in the energetic words: “Madame, all is lost but honour.” Whilst the king’s wounds were being dressed, a Spanish soldier, approaching him respectfully, said: “Knowing we should have a battle, Sire, I cast a golden bullet, which I destined for your majesty, and six silver ones, for the principal officers of your army. The six have been used, but yours is left, because I could not find the opportunity I watched for. I implore you, Sire, to accept of it, and to keep it to form part of your ransom.” The king took it, thanked the Spaniard, and praised his intelligence and generosity. The emperor issued a decree, by which he forbade any rejoicings on account of the victory; but this moderation was only apparent. Francis was taken to Madrid. Charles assembled a council to consider how the captive king ought to be treated. “As your brother and your friend,” replied the bishop of Osma; “he must be restored to liberty, without any other condition than that of becoming your ally.” Charles did not follow this wise counsel; he behaved towards the king like a Corsair with a rich prisoner. Francis recovered his liberty thirteen months after, by an onerous treaty, in which he gave up his claims to the Milanese, Genoa, and Asti. He was also to have ceded his rights to the duchy of Burgundy, but when Lannoi came to demand that province in the name of the emperor, Francis, as his only reply, required him to be present at an audience of the deputies of Burgundy, who told the king that he had not the power to dismember a province of the French monarchy. Francis I. preserving a continual desire to avenge himself for the disgrace before Pavia, entered into all the leagues that were formed against Charles V. The emperor derived but little advantage from this event, the most decisive and glorious of his reign. A modern writer has discovered the reason of this. Money constitutes the sinews of war, and the emperor could not pay his troops. He assembled the Cortes of Castille at Madrid, and all orders refused him assistance: the clergy, because they had no power to dispose of the goods consecrated to religion; the nobility would have derogated from their privilege, if they had paid a tribute; and the third estate, because, not having yet had it in their power to pay a gratuitous gift which had been demanded of them of four hundred thousand ducats, it was impossible for them to furnish fresh sums. The emperor, although very much dissatisfied, pretended to find these reasons good, although they defeated all his designs.--Napoleon, with that jealousy which he always professed to have for the honour of France, when master of Spain, caused the unfortunate king, his victim, to restore the sword and armour of Francis I., which were preserved at Madrid as a monument of this victory.

Pavia experienced something approaching to sieges in 1655, 1733, and 1745, but they furnish no details worth relating. In 1796, likewise, it was captured, without any trouble, by Buonaparte, who took the opportunity for uttering one of his glorious fanfaronnades: “If the blood of a single Frenchman,” said he, “had been shed, I would have caused a column to be erected over the ruins of the city, upon which should have been inscribed--HERE STOOD THE CITY OF PAVIA!”

RAVENNA.

A.D. 488.

Thedoric besieged Odoacer in Ravenna, but, too weak to carry the city by force, he resolved to reduce it by famine. Ravenna, being well supplied with provisions, and its port being accessible to light barks, the siege was protracted to two years and a half. Odoacer made frequent sorties by night, and never returned without having signalized his courage. Theodoric, master of all the neighbouring country, at length succeeded in closing the port. Famine then began to be sensibly felt; a bushel of wheat was worth six pieces of gold (more than three pounds sterling); and the inhabitants were reduced to the extremity of eating everything that could be converted into aliment. Odoacer, obliged to treat with his rival, contented himself with sharing with Theodoric the title of king. On the 5th of March, 491, the king of the Goths entered Ravenna. Such was, in Italy, the foundation of the kingdom of the Ostrogoths, which only subsisted sixty years. Odoacer was treated for some time with all the respect due to his dignity, but that prince, worthy of a better fate, was massacred soon after, with his son Silœnes, by Theodoric himself, in the midst of a banquet.

SECOND SIEGE, A.D. 540.

Belisarius, after having deprived Vitiges of the greater part of the places which that prince possessed in Italy, besieged him in Ravenna, which he soon reduced to a state of famine. It was here Belisarius was so near losing his life by an arrow, which was intercepted by a devoted follower, who sacrificed himself to save his master. The city was on the point of surrendering, when two senators arrived from Constantinople, charged with a message from Justinian to his victorious general, directing him to make peace with the king of the Goths. Belisarius was indignant at being thus deprived of the honour of conquering Italy. Under different pretexts he amused the senators, and pressed the siege more closely. Belisarius is one of the fine characters of history upon whom the young imagination loves to dwell. He was of the stamp of Plutarch’s heroes; he was brave, magnanimous, good; and after being eminently successful, was as eminently unfortunate, not from any falling off in himself, but from his master’s weakness and ingratitude. Such being our feeling for Belisarius, we experience regret in being told that, in his eagerness to take Ravenna, he condescended to practices we think unworthy of such a man: he poisoned the waters; circulated, by means of miscreants, reports in Ravenna disadvantageous to Vitiges; and contrived to have the city granaries set on fire by an incendiary. These may come within the line of the proverb, “All is fair in war;” but there is nothing heroic in them; they would have become Justinian better than his really great general. The Goths, believing themselves betrayed by their prince, offered not only to give up the city, but even proposed to Belisarius to become their king. Although this extraordinary man might have accepted the crown without dishonour, he only affected to listen to it that he might the more speedily terminate the war. Ambassadors came from Vitiges with offers of surrendering on any terms he would please to impose. Belisarius entered Ravenna, secured the person of Vitiges, and sent him and his treasures to the emperor.

ANTIOCH.

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

FIRST SIEGE, A.D. 540.

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

SECOND SIEGE, A.D. 638.

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

THIRD SIEGE, A.D. 1097.

After a disastrous march, in which they had met with many unexpected accidents and reverses, as well as triumphs, the great army of the Crusaders, under Godfrey of Bouillon and his chivalrous companions, advanced towards Antioch.

As we have seen in a former siege, the approach to this great city of the East was guarded by a bridge over the Orontes, on which were placed two towers covered with iron. But nothing could resist the van led by the duke of Normandy: the Normans soon took the bridge and passed the river. Terror was spread amongst the Mussulmans, who all flocked to the city as a place of refuge. The whole Christian army drew up in battle-array, with trumpets sounding and ensigns flying, and then encamped within a mile of Antioch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Famine and disease increased; the Syrians who brought provisions were so extortionate in their prices, that the common soldiers could not purchase any. And not the smallest of their griefs was the daily, almost hourly loss of companions, countrymen, partakers of toils and dangers, to whom a common lot and object had endeared them. Desertion was soon added to the other evils. Most of the army began to lose all hope of reaching the Holy City or even of subduing Antioch; and some went to seek an asylum under Baldwin, in Mesopotamia, whilst others stole away to the cities of Cilicia, subject to the Christians.

The duke of Normandy retired to Laodicea, and did not return until he had been thrice summoned by the army, in the name of the religion of Christ. Tactius, the general of Alexius, left the camp with his troops, promising to return with reinforcements and provisions. His departure was not regretted, and no hopes were built upon his promises. The desertion became common even with the most brave and the most zealous; not only did the stout warrior, the viscount de Melun, whose use of the axe in battle had gained him the name of “the carpenter,” turn his back upon famine and his suffering comrades, but even the devotion of Peter the Hermit, the great cause of this monstrous removal of the West to the East, was not proof against the misery all endured, and he fled away secretly. This desertion, says a chronicler, caused great scandal among the Christians, “and did not astonish them less than if the stars had fallen from the heavens.” But the indefatigable Tancred, the truest knight of all the Crusades, pursued them, and brought back both the carpenter and the hermit. Peter was bitterly reproached, and was compelled to swear on the Gospel never to repeat his offence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The peril daily became greater; it was disgraceful to fly, imprudent to fight, and dangerous to temporize. Fear put all the interests of rivalry to silence. The greater the opposition the leaders had at first shown to the proposals of Bohemond, the more abundant did they now find the reasons for adopting them. A divided conquest was no conquest; besides, a partition of Antioch might give birth to a thousand differences in the army, and lead to its ruin. They only gave away that which they did not possess, and they gave it to secure the lives of the Christians. Better one should profit by the labours of all, than that all should perish out of opposition to the good fortune of one. Besides, the taking of Antioch was not the great object of the Crusade; they had taken arms to deliver Jerusalem. Every delay was contrary to what religion hoped for from its soldiers, and to what the West expected from its bravest knights. All the leaders, except the inflexible Raymond, united in granting the principality of Antioch to Bohemond, and conjured him to press the execution of his project.

The moment he left the council, Bohemond informed Phirous of what had taken place, and the latter sent him his son as a hostage. The execution of the plan was fixed for the next day. To leave the garrison of Antioch in the greater security, the Christians were to quit their camp and direct their march towards the route by which Kerbogha’s army was expected, and were to return to the walls of Antioch during the night. The next day, at dawn, the troops received orders to prepare for their departure; they left the camp a few hours before nightfall, with trumpets sounding and ensigns flying, and after a short march retraced their steps, and came in silence towards Antioch. At a signal given by the prince of Tarentum, they halted in a valley west of the city, near the tower of the Three Sisters, commanded by Phirous. It was there that the secret of the great enterprise which was to open the gates to them was revealed to the Christian army.

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

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

The decisive moment arrived. The night was dark, and a storm which had risen, considerably augmented the obscurity. The wind, which shook the roofs of the houses, together with the incessant peals of thunder, prevented the soldiers from hearing any noise round the ramparts. The sky looked inflamed towards the west, and the sight of a comet, which appeared above the horizon, seemed to announce to the superstitious minds of the Crusaders the moment destined for the destruction of the infidels. They awaited the signal with impatience. A Lombard, named Payen, sent by Bohemond, ascended the tower by a ladder of leather. Phirous received him, told him all was prepared, and, to convince him of his fidelity, pointed to the dead body of his brother. Whilst they were talking, an officer of the garrison came to visit the posts. He presented himself with a lantern before the tower. Phirous, without showing the least fear, concealed Bohemond’s messenger, and went forward to meet the officer. He received praises for his vigilance, and then hastened to send back Payen. The Lombard rejoined his comrades, and conjured Bohemond, on the part of Phirous, not to lose a moment.

But all at once a panic seized the soldiers: at the moment of execution, they perceived the full extent of the danger. Not one came forward to mount the ladder. In vain Godfrey and the prince of Tarentum employed by turns promises and threats: both leaders and soldiers remained motionless. Bohemond then ascended by a rope ladder, with the hope that his example would be followed by some of the bravest; but nobody felt it his duty to meet the risk. He arrived alone on the tower, where Phirous reproached him warmly for his tardiness. Bohemond redescended in haste, and told the soldiers all was ready to receive them. His words, but still more his example, at length revived the courage of the men. Sixty Crusaders prepared for the escalade. Encouraged by one Foulcher of Chartres, whom the historian of Tancred compares to an eagle conducting his young ones and flying at their head, they seized the ladder of leather and ascended the tower. Among these sixty was the count of Flanders, with many of the principal leaders. Sixty others soon followed the steps of the first, and these were followed by such numbers, and so precipitately, that the parapet to which the ladder was fastened gave way, and fell with a crash into the ditch. Those who were near the summit of the walls fell upon the lances and swords of their companions. All was confusion and disorder among the assailants; the leaders of the enterprise nevertheless looked on with a tranquil eye. Phirous, over the bloody body of his brother, embraced his new companions, gave up to their swords another brother who was with him, and put them in possession of the three towers confided to his command. Seven other towers soon fell into their hands. Phirous then called upon all the Christian army to advance; he fastened a fresh ladder to the rampart, by which the most impatient ascended, and pointed out to others a gate they could break in, and by which they entered the city in crowds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

NAPLES.

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

FIRST SIEGE, A.D. 536.

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

SECOND SIEGE, A.D. 543.

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

THIRD SIEGE, A.D. 818.

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

FOURTH SIEGE, A.D. 1253.

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

FIFTH SIEGE, A.D. 1381.

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

SIXTH SIEGE, A.D. 1442.

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

SEVENTH SIEGE, A.D. 1503.

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

EIGHTH SIEGE, A.D. 1557.

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

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

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

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

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

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

EDESSA.

A.D. 503.

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

SECOND SIEGE, A.D. 544.

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

THIRD SIEGE, A.D. 549.

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

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

FOURTH SIEGE, A.D. 1097.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

KAIBAR.

A.D. 682.

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

The Jews spread throughout Arabia attempted to cross the ambitious projects of Mahomet. They took up arms, and shut themselves up in the strongly fortified city of Kaibar. Although he had beaten them several times, Mahomet knew that he must not lose his prestige, and at once marched to attack them. Kaibar was carried, but the conquest proved fatal to the conqueror. He lodged at the house of one of the principal inhabitants, whose daughter, named Zainab, gave him for supper a poisoned shoulder of mutton. Mahomet vomited the meat; but such was the activity of the poison that from that moment he became a valetudinarian: he died from the effects of the poison three years after. When questioned as to what could lead her to the commission of such a crime, Zainab coolly replied, “I wished to know if Mahomet were really a prophet.” Notwithstanding such a death would discredit the holiness of his mission, the followers of Mahomet do not deny this poisoning.

CONSTANTINOPLE.

A.D. 559.

The majesty of the Roman people no longer commanded the respect of the universe, the valour of its legions no longer spread terror among the barbarians, in the time of Justinian. A king of the Huns, named Zabergan, ventured to advance, in 559, to the very walls of Constantinople, and to threaten the imperial city with pillage. There was but a feeble garrison within its ramparts, but in the moment of terror it was remembered that they possessed Belisarius. That great man was instantly dragged from the obscurity in which he languished. Called upon to drive from the walls of the capital the dangers by which it was surrounded, he resumed his genius, his activity, and his valour; no one could perceive that years had cooled his ardour. His first care was to surround his camp with a wide ditch, to protect it from the insults of the Huns, and to deceive them with regard to the number of his troops by lighting fires in all parts of the plain. There was only one passage by which the Huns could reach Constantinople, and that was through a hollow way, bordered on each side by a thick forest. Belisarius began by lining the two sides of this defile with two hundred archers; he then advanced at the head of three hundred soldiers, trained to conquer under his orders. He was followed by the rest of his troops, who were ordered to utter loud cries, and to drag along the ground large branches of trees, so as to raise vast clouds of dust round them. Everything succeeded; the barbarians, charged in flank, blinded by the dust which the wind blew in their eyes, terrified by the cries of the Romans, and the noise of their arms, and attacked in front with vigour by Belisarius and his chosen band, took to flight without striking a blow. This horde of barbarians hastily departed, to carry the evils of plunder, fire, and death elsewhere.

SECOND SIEGE, A.D. 670.

Whilst Heraclius was absent, combating the Persians, the khan of the Abares appeared before Constantinople. For once the inhabitants of that magnificent city evinced bravery, and rendered the efforts of the khan useless. He regained his deserts, after having witnessed the destruction of the greater part of his troops.

THIRD SIEGE, A.D. 672.

Tezid, son of the caliph Moavias, proved no less unfortunate in his expedition against Constantinople. His naval force was entirely destroyed, and that loss compelled him to raise the siege. Among the Mussulmans who signalized their courage in this expedition, was the captain Aboux Aioub, one of the companions of Mahomet in the battles of Bedra and Ohod. He was buried at the foot of the walls of the city. His tomb is the place at which the Ottoman emperors are girded with the sword.

FOURTH SIEGE, A.D. 1203.

The great siege of Constantinople by the Latin Crusaders is one of the most tempting subjects to dilate upon that history affords. After casting a retrospective glance at this city, or rather this empire, for, as Paris is said to be France, so was Constantinople the empire of the East; and contemplating its glories and disasters, from its foundation upon Byzantium, by Constantine, to its capture by Mahomet II., of all the events connected with it, its siege and plunder by a handful of Christian knights is one of the most extraordinary and interesting. But to relate all the particulars of this siege would require a volume, and we, alas! can only afford a few pages to it. In this predicament we turn from Michaud, who tells the tale admirably, to the quite as elegant but more brief account of Gibbon, to whose words, or nearly so, we shall confine ourselves.

Europe had taken up the cross for the fifth time: the forces destined to act against the infidels were upon the point of embarking for the Holy Land, when young Alexius, son of Isaac Angelus, the emperor of Constantinople, came to implore the succour of the Christian princes in favour of his father. An ambitious brother had dethroned him, deprived him of sight, and then confined him in a loathsome prison. Touched by his prayers, but still more by the advantages he offered, the Crusaders set sail for Constantinople. Although this Crusade was got up by a pope, and professed to be for the relief of Jerusalem, it was more honest in the public exposition of its views than any other. After studying the history of these most amazing expeditions deeply, we are come to a conviction that real religion had but a very small share in them: they were something like the voyages of the Spanish adventurers to Columbus’s newly-discovered world; the latter, likewise, went under the auspices of a pope, and always hoisted the standard of the cross upon taking possession of a previously unknown land, and to which they had no earthly claim:--the Crusades were capital means for keeping up the influence of the popes, and the fanatics they disseminated through society; but with the princes, barons, and knights, they were nothing but expeditions in search of fortune. That we may include safely the great military orders in this, is proved by the wealth they amassed.

But this fifth Crusade was an adventure commenced by needy and ambitious men, into which the Venetians entered with all the astuteness of usurious money-lenders. Every one feels an interest in fine old Dandolo, but even his chivalric character suffers by the recollection constantly present to the mind, of the motives which brought his noble qualities into action. This Crusade is one of the most instructive passages of history. The real objects of the Crusaders being made apparent by their conduct when success was obtained, we need not hesitate to say that it was framed with a view to wrong; being carried out by men of courage and ability, it succeeded even beyond their hopes: but what was the consequence? There was no principle of good in it; and that which had begun so grandly came to a most “lame and impotent conclusion.” It proved one of the shortest-lived great revolutions in the annals of mankind.

“In relating the invasion of a great empire, it may seem strange that I have not described the obstacles which should have checked the progress of the strangers. The Greeks, in truth, were an unwarlike people; but they were rich, industrious, and subject to the will of a single man,--had that man been capable of fear when his enemies were at a distance, or of courage when they approached his person. The first rumours of his nephew’s alliance with the French and Venetians were despised by the usurper; his flatterers persuaded him that in this contempt he was bold and sincere, and each evening, on the close of the banquet, he thrice discomfited the barbarians of the West. These barbarians had been justly terrified by the report of his naval power; and the sixteen hundred fishing-boats of Constantinople could have manned a fleet to sink them in the Adriatic, or stop their entrance in the mouth of the Hellespont. But all force may be annihilated by the negligence of a prince or the venality of his ministers. The great duke, or admiral, made a scandalous, almost a public, auction of the sails, the masts, and the rigging; the royal forests were reserved for the more important purposes of the chase; and the trees, says Nicetas, were guarded by the eunuchs, like the groves of religious worship. From his dream of pride Alexius was awakened by the siege of Zara, and the rapid advances of the Latins; as soon as he saw the danger was real, he thought it inevitable, and his vain presumption was lost in abject despondency and despair. He suffered these contemptible barbarians to pitch their tents within sight of his palace, and his apprehensions were thinly disguised by the pomp and menace of a suppliant embassy. The sovereign of the Romans was astonished (his ambassadors were instructed to say) at the hostile appearance of the strangers. If these pilgrims were sincere in their views for the deliverance of Jerusalem, his voice must applaud and his treasures should assist their pious design; but should they dare to invade the sanctuary of empire, their numbers, were they ten times more considerable, should not protect them from his just resentment. The answer of the doge and barons was simple and magnanimous. ‘In the cause of honour and justice,’ they said, ‘we despise the usurper of Greece, his threats, and his offers. Our friendship and his allegiance are due to the lawful heir, to the young prince who is seated among us, and to his father, the emperor Isaac, who has been deprived of his sceptre, his freedom, and his eyes, by the crime of an ungrateful brother. Let that brother confess his guilt and implore forgiveness, and we ourselves will intercede, that he may be permitted to live in affluence and security. But let him not insult us by a second message: our reply will be made in arms, in the palace of Constantinople.’

“On the tenth day of their encampment at Scutari, the Crusaders prepared themselves as soldiers and as Catholics for the passage of the Bosphorus. Perilous indeed was the adventure: the stream was broad and rapid; in a calm, the current of the Euxine might drive down the liquid and unextinguishable fire of the Greeks; and the opposite shores of Europe were defended by seventy thousand horse and foot in formidable array. On this memorable day, which happened to be bright and pleasant, the Latins were distributed in six battles or divisions: the first, or vanguard, was led by the count of Flanders, one of the most powerful of the Christian princes in the skill and numbers of his cross-bows. The four successive battles of the French were commanded by his brother Henry, the counts of St. Pol and Blois, and Matthew of Montmorency, the last of whom was honoured by the voluntary service of the marshal and nobles of Champagne. The sixth division, the rear-guard and reserve of the army, was conducted by the marquis of Montferrat, at the head of the Germans and Lombards. The chargers, saddled, with their long caparisons dragging on the ground, were embarked in the flat palanders, and the knights stood by the side of their horses in complete armour, their helmets laced and their lances in their hands. Their numerous train of serjeants and archers occupied the transports, and each transport was towed by the strength and swiftness of a galley. The six divisions traversed the Bosphorus without encountering an enemy or an obstacle; to land the foremost, was the wish; to conquer or die, was the resolution of every division and of every soldier. Jealous of the pre-eminence of danger, the knights in their heavy armour leaped into the sea when it rose as high as their girdle; the serjeants and archers were animated by their valour; and the squires, letting down the drawbridges of the palanders, led the horses to the shore. Before the squadrons could mount and form and couch their lances, the seventy thousand Greeks had vanished from their sight; the timid Alexius gave the example to his troops; and it was only by the plunder of the rich pavilions that the Latins were informed they fought against an emperor. In the first consternation of the flying enemy, they resolved by a double attack to open the entrance of the harbour. The tower of Galata, in the suburb of Pera, was attacked and stormed by the French, while the Venetians assumed the more difficult task of forcing the boom, or chain, that was stretched from that tower to the Byzantine shore. After some fruitless attempts, their intrepid perseverance prevailed; twenty ships of war, the relics of the Grecian navy, were either sunk or taken; the enormous and massy links of iron were cut asunder by the shears or broken by the weight of the galleys; and the Venetian fleet, safe and triumphant, rode at anchor in the port of Constantinople. By these daring achievements, a remnant of twenty thousand Latins preluded the astounding attempt of besieging a capital containing above four hundred thousand inhabitants, able, though not willing, to bear arms in defence of their country. Such an account would, indeed, suppose a population of near two millions; but whatever abatement may be required in the numbers of the Greeks, the belief of these numbers will equally exalt the fearless spirit of their assailants.

“In the choice of attack, the French and Venetians were divided by their habits of life and warfare. The latter affirmed with truth, that Constantinople was most accessible on the side of the sea and the harbour; the former might assert with honour, that they had long enough trusted their lives and fortunes to a frail bark and a precarious element, and loudly demanded a trial of knighthood, a firm ground, and a close onset, either on foot or horseback. After a prudent compromise of employing the two nations by sea and land in the service best suited to their character, the fleet covering the army, they both proceeded from the entrance to the extremity of the harbour. The stone bridge of the river was hastily repaired; and the six battles of the French formed their encampment against the front of the capital, the basis of the triangle which runs about four miles from the port to the Propontis. On the edge of a broad ditch at the foot of a lofty rampart, they had leisure to contemplate the difficulties of their enterprise. The gates to the right and left of their narrow camp poured forth frequent sallies of cavalry and light infantry, which cut off their stragglers, swept the country of provisions, sounded the alarm five or six times in the course of each day, and compelled them to plant a palisade and sink an intrenchment for their immediate safety. In the supplies and convoys, the Venetians had been too sparing, or the Franks too voracious; the usual complaints of hunger and scarcity were heard, and perhaps felt; their stock of flour would be exhausted in three weeks; and their disgust of salt meat tempted them to taste the flesh of their horses. The trembling usurper was supported by Theodore Lascaris, his son-in-law, a valiant youth, who aspired to save and rule his country. The Greeks, regardless of that country, were awakened to the defence of their religion; but their firmest hope was in the strength and spirit of the Varangian guards of Danes and English, as they are named by the writers of the times. After ten days’ incessant labour, the ground was levelled, the ditch filled, the approaches of the besiegers were regularly made, and two hundred and fifty engines of assault exercised their various powers to clear the ramparts, to batter the walls, and to sap the foundations. On the first appearance of a breach, the scaling-ladders were applied; the numbers that defended the vantage-ground repulsed and oppressed the venturous Latins; but they admired the resolution of fifteen knights and serjeants, who, having gained the ascent, maintained their position till they were hurled down or made prisoners by the imperial guards. On the side of the harbour, the naval attack was more successfully conducted by the Venetians; and that industrious people employed every resource that was known and practised before the invention of gunpowder. A double line, three bowshots in front, was formed by the galleys and ships; and the swift motion of the former was supported by the weight and loftiness of the latter, whose decks, and poops, and turrets were the platforms of military engines, that discharged their shot over the heads of the first line. The soldiers who leaped from the galleys on shore, immediately planted and ascended their scaling-ladders, while the large ships, advancing more slowly into the intervals and lowering a drawbridge, opened a way through the air from their masts to the rampart. In the midst of the conflict, the doge, a venerable and conspicuous form, stood aloft in complete armour, on the prow of his galley. The great standard of St. Mark was displayed before him; his threats, promises, and exhortations urged the diligence of the rowers; his vessel was the first that struck, and Dandolo was the first warrior on the shore. The nations admired the magnanimity of the blind old man, without reflecting that his age and infirmities diminished the price of life and enhanced the value of immortal glory. On a sudden, by an invisible hand (for the standard-bearer was probably slain), the banner of the republic was fixed on the rampart; twenty-five towers were rapidly occupied; and, by the cruel expedient of fire, the Greeks were driven from the adjacent quarter. The doge had despatched the intelligence of his success, when he was checked by the danger of his confederates. Nobly declaring that he would rather die with the pilgrims than gain a victory by their destruction, Dandolo relinquished his advantage, recalled his troops, and hastened to the scene of action. He found the six weary battles of the Franks encompassed by sixty squadrons of the Greek cavalry, the least of which was more numerous than the largest of their divisions. Shame and despair had provoked Alexius to the last effort of a general sally; but he was awed by the firm order and manly aspect of the Latins; and after skirmishing at a distance, withdrew his troops in the close of the evening. The silence or tumult of the night exasperated his fears; and the timid usurper, collecting a treasure of ten thousand pounds of gold, basely deserted his wife, his people, and his fortune; threw himself into a bark, stole through the Bosphorus, and landed in shameful safety in an obscure harbour of Thrace. As soon as they were apprised of his flight, the Greek nobles sought pardon and peace in the dungeon where the blind Isaac expected each hour the visit of the executioner. Again saved and exalted by the vicissitudes of fortune, the captive, in his imperial robes, was replaced on the throne and surrounded with prostrate slaves, whose real terror and affected joy he was incapable of discerning. At the dawn of day, hostilities were suspended; and the Latin chiefs were surprised by a message from the lawful and reigning emperor, who was impatient to embrace his son and reward his generous deliverers.

“But these generous deliverers were unwilling to release their hostage till they had obtained from his father the payment, or, at least, the promise of their recompense. They chose four ambassadors,--Montmorency, our historian Villehardouin, and two Venetians, to congratulate the emperor. The gates were thrown open on their approach, the streets on both sides were lined with the battle-axes of the Danish and English guard; the presence-chamber glittered with gold and jewels--the false substitutes of virtue and power. By the side of the blind Isaac was seated his wife, the sister of the king of Hungary; and by her appearance, the noble matrons of Greece were drawn from their domestic retirement, and mingled with the circle of senators and soldiers. The Latins, by the mouth of Villehardouin, spoke like men conscious of their merits, but who respected the work of their own hands; and the emperor clearly understood that his son’s engagements with Venice and the pilgrims must be ratified without hesitation or delay. Withdrawing into a private chamber with the empress, a chamberlain, an interpreter, and the four ambassadors, the father of young Alexius inquired with some anxiety into the nature of his stipulations. The submission of the Eastern empire to the pope; the succour of the Holy Land; and a present contribution of two hundred thousand marks of silver. ‘These conditions are weighty,’ was his prudent reply: ‘they are hard to accept and difficult to perform. But no conditions can exceed the measure of your services and deserts.’ After this satisfactory assurance, the barons mounted on horseback and introduced the heir of Constantinople to the city and palace. His youth and marvellous adventures engaged every heart in his favour; and Alexius was solemnly crowned with his father in the dome of St. Sophia. In the first days of his reign, the people, already blessed with the restoration of plenty and peace, were delighted by the joyful catastrophe of the tragedy; and the discontent of the nobles, their regrets and their fears, were covered by the polished surface of pleasure and loyalty. The mixture of two discordant nations in the same capital might have been pregnant with mischief and danger; and the suburb of Galata, or Pera, was assigned for the quarters of the Franks and the Venetians. But the liberty of trade and familiar intercourse was allowed between the friendly nations; and each day the pilgrims were tempted by devotion or curiosity to visit the churches and palaces of Constantinople. Their rude minds, insensible perhaps of the finer arts, were astonished by the magnificent scenery; and the poverty of their native towns enhanced the populousness and riches of the first metropolis of Christendom. Descending from his state, young Alexius was prompted by interest and gratitude to repeat his frequent and familiar visits to his Latin allies; and in the freedom of the table, the gay petulance of the French sometimes forgot the emperor of the East. In their most serious conferences, it was agreed that the reunion of the two churches must be the result of patience and time; but avarice was less tractable than zeal; and a large sum was instantly disbursed to appease the wants and silence the importunity of the Crusaders. Alexius was alarmed by the approaching hour of their departure; their absence might have relieved him from the engagement he was yet incapable of performing; but his friends would have left him naked and alone, to the caprice and prejudice of a perfidious nation. He wished to bribe their stay, the delay of a year, by undertaking to defray their expense, and to satisfy in their name the freight of the Venetian vessels. The offer was agitated in the council of the barons, and after a repetition of their debates and scruples, a majority of votes again acquiesced in the advice of the doge and the prayer of the young emperor. At the price of sixteen hundred pounds of gold, he prevailed on the marquis of Montferrat to lead him with an army round the provinces of Europe, to establish his authority and pursue his uncle, while Constantinople was awed by the presence of Baldwin and his confederates of France and Flanders. The expedition was successful; the blind emperor exulted in the success of his arms, and listened to the predictions of his flatterers that the same Providence which had raised him from the dungeon to the throne would heal his gout, restore his sight, and watch over the long prosperity of his reign. Yet the mind of the suspicious old man was tormented by the rising glories of his son; nor could his pride conceal from his envy, that whilst his own name was pronounced in faint and reluctant acclamations, the royal youth was the theme of spontaneous and universal praise.

“By the recent invasion the Greeks were awakened from a dream of nine centuries, from the vain presumption that the capital of the Roman empire was impregnable to foreign arms. The strangers of the West had violated the city, and bestowed the sceptre of Constantine; their imperial clients soon became as unpopular as themselves; the well-known vices of Isaac were rendered still more contemptible by his infirmities, and the young Alexius was hated as an apostate, who had renounced the manners and religion of his country. His secret covenant with the Latins was divulged or suspected; the people, and especially the clergy, were devoutly attached to their faith and superstition; and every convent and every shop resounded with the danger of the Church and the tyranny of the Pope. An empty treasury could ill supply the demands of regal luxury and foreign extortion; the Greeks refused to avert, by a general tax, the impending evils of servitude and pillage; the oppression of the rich excited a more dangerous and personal resentment; and if the emperor melted the plate, and despoiled the images of the sanctuary, he seemed to justify the complaints of heresy and sacrilege. During the absence of Marquis Boniface and his imperial pupil, Constantinople was visited with a calamity which might be justly imputed to the zeal and indiscretion of the Flemish pilgrims. In one of their visits to the city, they were scandalized by the aspect of a mosch, or synagogue, in which one God was worshipped without a partner or a son. Their effectual mode of controversy was to attack the infidels with the sword, and their habitations with fire; but the infidels, and some Christian neighbours, presumed to defend their lives and properties; and the flames which bigotry had kindled consumed the most orthodox and innocent structures. During eight days and nights the conflagration spread above a league in front, from the harbour to the Propontis, over the thickest and most populous regions of the city. It is not easy to count the stately palaces and churches that were reduced to a smoking ruin, to value the merchandise that perished in the trading streets, or to number the families that were involved in the common destruction. By this outrage, which the doge and barons in vain affected to disclaim, the name of the Latins became still more unpopular, and the colony of that nation, above fifteen thousand persons, consulted their safety in a hasty retreat from the city to the protection of their standard in the suburb of Pera. The emperor returned in triumph; but the firmest and most dexterous policy would have been insufficient to steer him through the tempest which overwhelmed the person and government of that unhappy youth. His own inclinations and his father’s advice attached him to his benefactors; but Alexius hesitated between gratitude and patriotism, between the fear of his subjects and of his allies. By his feeble and fluctuating conduct he lost the esteem and confidence of both; and while he invited the marquis of Montferrat to occupy the palace, he suffered the nobles to conspire and the people to arm for the deliverance of their country. Regardless of his painful situation, the Latin chiefs repeated their demands, resented his delays, suspected his intentions, and exacted a decisive answer of peace or war. The haughty summons was delivered by three French knights and three Venetian deputies, who girded on their swords, mounted their horses, pierced through the angry multitude, and entered with a fearless countenance the palace and presence of the Greek emperor. In a peremptory tone they recapitulated their services and his engagements, and boldly declared that unless their just claims were fully and immediately satisfied, they should no longer hold him either as a sovereign or a friend. After this defiance, the first that had ever wounded an imperial ear, they departed, without betraying any symptoms of fear; but their escape from a servile palace and a furious city astonished the ambassadors themselves, and their return to the camp was the signal of mutual hostility.

“Among the Greeks all authority and wisdom were overborne by the impetuous multitude, who mistook their rage for valour, their numbers for strength, and their fanaticism for the support and inspiration of Heaven. In the eyes of both nations Alexius was false and contemptible: the base and spurious race of the Angeli was rejected with clamorous disdain; and the people of Constantinople encompassed the senate, to demand at their hands a more worthy emperor. To every senator, conspicuous by his birth or dignity, they successively presented the purple,--by each senator the deadly garment was repulsed; the contest lasted three days, and we may learn from the historian Nicetas, one of the members of the assembly, that fear and weakness were the guardians of their loyalty. A phantom, who vanished in oblivion, was forcibly proclaimed by the crowd; but the author of the tumult and the leader of the war was a prince of the house of Ducas, and his common appellation of Alexius must be discriminated by the epithet of Mourzoufle, which in the vulgar idiom expressed the close junction of his black and shaggy eyebrows. At once a patriot and a courtier, the perfidious Mourzoufle, who was not destitute of cunning and courage, opposed the Latins both in speech and action, inflamed the passions and prejudices of the Greeks, and insinuated himself into the confidence and favour of Alexius, who trusted him with the office of great chamberlain, and tinged his buskins with the colours of royalty. At the dead of night he rushed into the bedchamber with an affrighted aspect, exclaiming that the palace was attacked by the people and betrayed by the guards. Starting from his couch, the unsuspecting prince threw himself into the arms of his enemy, who had contrived his escape by a private staircase. But that staircase terminated in a prison. Alexius was seized, stripped, and loaded with chains, and after tasting some days the bitterness of death, he was poisoned, or strangled, or beaten with clubs, at the command or in the presence of the tyrant. The emperor Isaac Angelus soon followed his son to the grave, and Mourzoufle, perhaps, might spare the superfluous crime of hastening the extinction of impotence and blindness.

“The death of the emperors and the usurpation of Mourzoufle had changed the nature of the quarrel. It was no longer the disagreement of allies who overvalued their services, or neglected their obligations; the French and Venetians forgot their complaints against Alexius, dropped a tear on the untimely fate of their companion, and swore revenge against the perfidious nation which had crowned his assassin. Yet the prudent doge was still inclined to negotiate; he demanded as a debt, a subsidy, or a fine, fifty thousand pounds of gold,--about two millions sterling; nor would the conference have been abruptly broken, if the zeal or policy of Mourzoufle had not refused to sacrifice the Greek church to the safety of the state. Amidst the invectives of his foreign and domestic enemies, we may discover that he was not unworthy of the character which he had assumed, of the public champion. The second siege of Constantinople was far more laborious than the first; the treasury was replenished, and discipline was restored by a severe inquisition into the abuses of the former reign; and Mourzoufle, an iron mace in his hand, visiting the posts, and affecting the port and aspect of a warrior, was an object of terror to his soldiers, at least, and to his kinsmen. Before and after the death of Alexius, the Greeks made two vigorous and well-conducted attempts to burn the navy in the harbour; but the skill and courage of the Venetians repulsed the fire-ships; and the vagrant flames wasted themselves without injury in the sea. In a nocturnal sally, the Greek emperor was vanquished by Henry, brother of the count of Flanders; the advantages of number and surprise aggravated the shame of his defeat; his buckler was found on the field of battle; and the imperial standard, a divine image of the Virgin, was presented as a trophy and a relic to the Cistercian monks, the disciples of St. Bernard. Near three months, without excepting the holy season of Lent, were consumed in skirmishes and preparations, before the Latins were ready or resolved for a general attack. The land fortifications had been found impregnable; and the Venetian pilots represented that on the shore of the Propontis the anchorage was unsafe, and the ships must be driven by the current far away to the straits of the Hellespont; a prospect not unpleasing to the reluctant pilgrims, who sought every opportunity of breaking the army. From the harbour, therefore, the assault was determined by the assailants, and expected by the besieged; and the emperor had placed his scarlet pavilions on a neighbouring height, to direct and animate the efforts of his troops. A fearless spectator, whose mind could entertain the idea of pomp and pleasure, might have admired the long array of two embattled armies, which extended above half a league, the one on the ships and galleys, the other on the walls and towers raised above the ordinary level by several stages of wooden turrets. Their first fury was spent in the discharge of darts, stones, and fire from the engines; but the water was deep; the French were bold; the Venetians were skilful; they approached the walls; and a desperate conflict of swords, spears, and battle-axes was fought on the trembling bridges that grappled the floating to the stable batteries. In more than a hundred places the assault was urged, and the defence was sustained, till the superiority of ground and numbers finally prevailed, and the Latin trumpets sounded a retreat. On the ensuing days the attack was renewed with equal vigour, and a similar event; and in the night the doge and the barons held a council, apprehensive only for the public danger; not a voice pronounced the words of escape or treaty; and each warrior, according to his temper, embraced the hope of victory, or the assurance of a glorious death. By the experience of the former siege the Greeks were instructed, but the Latins were animated; and the knowledge that Constantinople might be taken was of more avail than the local precautions which that knowledge had inspired for its defence. In the third assault, two ships were linked together, to double their strength; a strong north wind drove them on the shore; the bishops of Troyes and Soissons led the van; and the auspicious names of the Pilgrim and the Paradise resounded along the line. The episcopal banners were displayed on the walls; a hundred marks of silver had been promised to the first adventurers; and if their reward was intercepted by death, their names have been immortalized by fame. Four towers were scaled; three gates were burst open, and the French knights, who might tremble on the waves, felt themselves invincible on horseback, on the solid ground. Shall I relate that the thousands who guarded the emperor’s person fled on the approach and before the lance of a single warrior? Their ignominious flight is attested by their countryman Nicetas: an army of phantoms marched with the French hero, and he was magnified to a giant in the eyes of the Greeks. While the fugitives deserted their posts and cast away their arms, the Latins entered the city under the banners of their leaders: the streets and gates opened for their passage; and either design or accident kindled a third conflagration, which consumed in a few hours the measure of three of the largest cities of France. In the close of the evening, the barons checked their troops and fortified their stations; they were awed by the extent and populousness of the capital, which might yet require the labour of a month, if the churches and palaces were conscious of their internal strength. But in the morning, a suppliant procession, with crosses and images, announced the submission of the Greeks, and deprecated the wrath of the conquerors; the usurper escaped through the Golden gate: the palaces of Blachernæ and Boucoleon were occupied by the count of Flanders and the marquis of Montferrat; and the empire, which still bore the name of Constantine, and the title of Roman, was subverted by the arms of the Latin pilgrims.”

We have not space, nor perhaps is it our province, to detail the awful results to Constantinople of this success of the barbarians, for such, notwithstanding our prejudices in favour of the western warriors, were the daring band who had, like pirates, made themselves masters of this magnificent city. No fact in history is better proved than the state of ignorant vandalism of the pilgrims, as the great historian so falsely or ironically calls them. By whatever means they had been gathered together, for whatever purposes they might be intended, or whatever vile passions they gratified, Constantinople, when taken by the Franks and the Venetians, was the most glorious emporium of objects of high art and fine taste the world had ever seen. With the conquerors nothing was valuable but money, and to obtain this all was sacrificed: precious works of art were melted for the sake of the metals they were made of; others were mutilated to facilitate division, and numberless others were destroyed in hopes of finding treasures concealed within them. No building was held sacred that would pay for the demolition; no object remained in the place with which it was naturally associated, if it was of the smallest value elsewhere. We read with horror of the destruction of great cities and holy places by the followers of Mahomet: no Mussulmans ever exceeded in barbarous ignorance or cruel cupidity the band of adventurers who plundered the treasures of ages in the sack of Constantinople. Great historians have run riot in the descriptions of these treasures; and so interesting are they, that it is with the utmost reluctance we turn from them without further notice. “Behold!” cries the justly exasperated historian Nicetas, “behold what you have done! contemplate your exploits! you who term the Greeks vile, and the Saracens barbarous! These barbarians have never behaved towards your compatriots in this manner. They have neither violated the women of the Latins, nor devoured their riches, nor stained the holy sepulchre with horror and carnage. You boasting talkers, you display the cross upon your shoulders, and you, at all times, are ready to trample it under foot for a little paltry gold and silver.” Tired rather than satisfied with plunder, the conquerors proceeded to the election of an emperor: Baldwin I. was crowned in the year 1204. This new domination only lasted fifty-seven years, under the name of the empire of the Latins. Under Baldwin II., brother of Robert de Courtenay, the Greeks revolted, drove out the Franks in 1261, and gave themselves and the throne to Michael Palæologus, whose posterity reigned up to the taking of Constantinople by Mahomet II.

FIFTH SIEGE, A.D. 1453.

We come now to what some historians have termed the greatest event of a period the most surprisingly conspicuous in the history of mankind. We agree with them that the subversion of the Christian empire of Constantinople by the Turks was a great event, but not the greatest: the invention of printing, the discovery of America, and the commencement of the Reformation belong to the same half-century; and either of these we conceive to be of much more importance than whether Constantinople should be under such degraded Christians as the Greeks, or be subjected to the worshippers of the Prophet of Mecca.

Constantinople no longer preserved anything but the proud remembrance of its ancient splendour. In that capital, once so flourishing and so respected, there still breathed an immense population; but that multitude, without force or without courage, seemed only to be waiting to crouch willingly under the strong hand that might be held forth to enchain them. Frivolous acquirements, agreeable arts, preferred by indolence and effeminacy to the exercise of essential duties or useful labours, had annihilated love of country, and dried up the springs of life of this unfortunate empire. They wrote and they disputed: questions of philosophy and theological quarrels were the sole concerns of the lazy citizens, who had never stood in such pressing need of providing for their own safety. Instead of being the heart of an empire, the walls of Constantinople had become frontiers; it had no dominions beyond them. The enemy appeared at their gates: during the eight hundred years that Mahometanism had progressed, the city had often been threatened, and in vain; but the harvest was now ripe, the time was come, and the sickle, in the hands of Mahomet II., was employed in earnest workmanlike fashion. He began by constructing the castle of the Dardanelles on the Bosphorus. Constantine Palæologus, who then reigned, in vain was anxious to prevent this: his own subjects thwarted his correct views; their presumption equalled their blindness; they boasted that they could destroy that fortress the moment it was any annoyance to them. Constantine is an exemplification of the proverb, that it is not the last step of a journey that creates the fatigue, nor the last ruler of an empire that brings about its ruin: few of the predecessors of the emperor had better qualities than he displayed in circumstances of great emergency; and had they all been like him, those circumstances would never have occurred. The subversion of the empire was not due to the doctrines of Mahomet or the valour of their followers--it was an internal decay, produced by the vices and weaknesses of ages.

Five or six thousand men, taken from the very dregs of the people, composed the national force, which was augmented by a few European troops, under Justinian, a Genoese. These were the only resource of a city inhabited by men incapable of defending themselves, and who trusted entirely to a few mercenary strangers, who still deigned to protect them. All the Greeks individually boasted of their country and its fame; and yet not one of them would have sacrificed to its welfare his pleasures, his luxuries, his comforts, or his opinions. Threatened by the most frightful of misfortunes, they awaited the fatal blow with an insensible stupidity, like the animals who still continue feeding at the foot of the altar which is about to be stained with their blood. The emperor tried to induce them to contribute a portion of their riches to the defence of the state: but he could obtain nothing. In times of prosperity, princes had levied tributes destined solely to swell their treasury or to be wasted in superfluities. The people, plundered without occasion, had unfortunately learnt to confound the abuse of authority with the real wants of a government. As long as the supreme power could make itself respected, it dared to require all: it was no longer feared--everything was denied to it. In this case the solitary virtue of Constantine was powerless--the corruption was deep and universal--a Hercules could not have cleansed the Augæan stable; and, though endowed with many good qualities, Constantine was not a Hercules. Palæologus and his courtiers favoured, at least in appearance, the union of the two churches of the East and West. The holy father promised to send some galleys and troops. The Greeks still further flattered themselves that the exhortations of the pontiff would prevail upon the Christian princes to undertake a crusade: that was their last hope. Cardinal Isidore came to Constantinople as legate from the Holy See. He celebrated divine service in the church of St. Sophia, according to the liturgy of Rome. This threw the whole city into a state of alarm. The people flocked in crowds to the retreat of the monk Gennadius, to consult with him what was to be done. The solitary affixed his reply to the door of his cell. He declared in this document that the agreement drawn up at Florence was not orthodox. He at the same time announced the greatest misfortunes to those who should adopt the impious reconciliation of the Greeks with the Latins. Immediately the devotees, the nuns who were under the direction of Gennadius, the abbots, the priests, the citizens, the soldiers--for the contagion spread to all orders--joined in one unanimous anathema! The church of St. Sophia was considered a defiled place. Communication with the Latins ceased: they would prefer, they said, to see the turban of Mahomet displayed, to the appearance of the Roman purple, or the cardinal’s hat.

But now the sultan, having employed two years in preparations, marched towards Constantinople at the head of an army of four hundred thousand men. This fearful multitude was composed, for the most part, of newly-conquered nations, which he dragged after him. Out of all these he had not more than thirty thousand horse and sixty thousand foot of disciplined troops. The rest were nothing but a collection of slaves, torn by force from the places of their birth, without arms and almost naked, who were obliged to be driven to the combat by strokes of the whip or the scimitar. In all battles they were placed in front, in order to fatigue the enemy with the shedding of blood: the regular reserved troops were then to take advantage of their exhaustion; in sieges they served as fascines, to fill up ditches. Such was the manner of fighting with the Turks, so that when they came in contact with the Christians, it was generally remarked they had the disadvantage at the commencement of a battle, but won it at last.

Whilst Mahomet was investing Constantinople by land, his fleet, consisting of two hundred and fifty sail, advanced to the Dardanelles. This prodigious number of vessels could not, however, prevent four ships from the isle of Chio, after having fought for a whole day against the united strength of the Ottoman, and killed a thousand of their men, from entering the port of Constantinople, and there landing a few troops and some provisions. Enormous iron chains barred the entrance of the Turkish ships. It is affirmed that Mahomet, to surmount this obstacle, had recourse to an expedient till that time unheard of, and which has never been repeated since: he transported by land eighty galleys in the course of one night, and at daybreak launched them into the interior of the basin of the port, before the eyes of the besieged, terrified and astonished at this extraordinary spectacle. The manner in which this transportation was effected, which savours of the marvellous, proves to what an extent the conqueror carried his despotism, and could overcome difficulty by his mere will. The vessels were drawn, by means of machines and human arms, along planks thoroughly greased, which covered a space of road two leagues in length. The sultan had at his command the most skilful engineers of Europe and Asia. The progress of these vessels offered a most curious exhibition. They were commanded by pilots, had their sails unfurled as if upon the sea, and advanced over a hilly piece of ground, by the light of torches and flambeaux, and to the sound of trumpets and clarions, without the Genoese, who inhabited Galata, daring to offer any opposition to the passage. The Greeks, fully occupied in guarding their ramparts, had no suspicion of the design of the enemy. They could not comprehend what could be the object or the cause of all the tumult that was heard during the whole night from the sea-shore, till at dawn they beheld the Mussulman standards flying in their port.

A Hungarian, who had not been able to procure employment among the Greeks, founded for Mahomet some pieces of artillery that would carry balls weighing two hundred pounds. A modern author judiciously observes that each of these balls would have required nearly a hundred pounds of powder, of which only a fifteenth part would have taken fire at the moment of the explosion. These enormous pieces of ordnance appeared more formidable than they really were. The use of artillery fired by gunpowder was not more than a hundred years old; and, with a true Eastern imagination, Mahomet II. wished to have the largest and most powerful cannon that had ever been made. He was satisfied with the answer to the first question he put to the Hungarian artist. “Am I able to cast a cannon capable of throwing a ball or stone of sufficient size to batter the walls of Constantinople?”--“I am not ignorant of their strength, but were they more solid than those of Babylon, I could oppose an engine of superior power: the position and management of that engine must be left to your engineers.” On this assurance a foundry was established at Adrianople. An enormous piece of ordnance was produced within three months; its bore was twelve palms, and it was capable of throwing a ball or stone weighing six hundred pounds. It was tried in a vacant place before the new palace of Adrianople; but notice of its being fired was obliged to be published on the preceding day, to prevent the effects of astonishment and fear. The explosion is said to have been heard over a circuit of a hundred furlongs; the ball was cast by the gunpowder above a mile, and when it fell it buried itself a fathom deep in the ground. To convey this cannon, thirty waggons were linked together, and it was drawn by a team of sixty horses: two hundred men walked by the sides of it, to poise it and keep it steady; two hundred and fifty men went before, to level the way and repair the bridges; and it required two months to draw it a distance of one hundred and fifty miles.

The Turks, masters of the port, established batteries on the side next the sea, whilst the army pressed the city on the land side. They employed trenches, mines, and countermines. The besieged, who defended themselves with some spirit at first, repaired the breaches with incredible diligence. They even made some successful sorties. The hopes of being succoured by Huniades supported them for some time. Mahomet began to relax in his efforts; it is even said that he had thoughts of raising the siege. At length, however, he resolved to make one more attempt. Before he proceeded to the general assault, he proposed to Constantine to leave him the Peloponnesus, upon condition of his giving up the imperial city. He was anxious, he said, to prevent the destruction of Constantinople. The emperor replied he would rather be buried beneath the ruins of his capital. Both Christians and Mahometans prepared themselves, by fast and prayer, for the action of that morrow which was to decide the fate of the two empires. It was the 29th of May. On the evening before, Mahomet gave notice that he should abandon the plunder of the city to his soldiers, only strictly commanding that they should not set fire to any of the edifices.

The besieged from their walls contemplated with terror the numbers of the enemy about to assail them. The disproportion was so great, that every Christian calculated he should have to combat fifty or sixty Turks. The sultan commenced the attack about three o’clock in the morning, by sending to the assault thirty thousand of his worst troops, in order to fatigue the besieged, and that the heaped-up bodies of this multitude might fill the ditches, and render access to the parapets the more easy. The stick and the scimitar were necessary to compel this forlorn hope to march: they all perished. At sunrise Mahomet ordered the trumpets to sound a fresh signal; the artillery thundered from all quarters, and quickly drove away all who had appeared on the walls. The Janissaries rushed to the breach, uttering horrible cries. Mahomet rode behind his troops upon a superb charger, in order to make them march forward with the greater celerity. Never was greater courage exhibited: the first Janissary who mounted the walls of Constantinople was to be made a pacha, and be loaded with wealth. Some climbed over the ruins of the walls, through a shower of arrows, darts, stones, and fire-balls. Standing on the tops of their ladders, others fought with the besieged, who repulsed them with their pikes, whilst others raised themselves upon the shoulders of their comrades to get to the breach. The whole city was busied in succouring its brave defenders; women, children, and old men brought them stones, joists, and bars of red-hot iron to launch at the Turks. The cannons, directed to the points where the Turks were thickest, all at once opened their ranks, and the Ottomans, who already touched the summit of the walls, were hurled into the ditches. Tor two hours they fought thus, with a fury equal to the danger of the besieged and the value of the city to be conquered; a cloud of arrows, dust, and smoke shrouded the combatants. Thirty Janissaries at length succeeded in mounting the walls, and killed and overthrew all who came in their way: they were soon followed by a crowd of daring comrades, animated by their example. In an instant the air resounded with cries of victory: the Turks had penetrated to the port. Zagan Pacha, who commanded the attack there, reproached the sailors with being less brave than the land troops. Encouraged by the success of the Janissaries, they made one more furious charge upon the Greeks. The latter wavered in their resistance; the sailors gained possession of a tower, and hoisted the standard of the crescent, whilst other Turks hewed an opening with their axes at several of the city gates, through which the rest of the army poured in crowds. Constantine, accompanied by a few of his guards and some faithful servants, threw himself, sword in hand, into the thickest of the Ottoman battalions. Less afflicted by the loss of his crown than by the terror of being loaded with irons and led in triumph through Asia, he continued fighting bravely, when a Turk cut off the half of his face with a stroke of his scimitar, and gave him the death he was seeking. With him fell the empire of the East, which had existed eleven hundred and forty-three years. One Constantine had founded it; another of the same name, not less brave but less fortunate, saw it perish. Mahomet caused his body to be sought for, and rendered it all the honours due to the sovereign of a great empire. More than forty thousand men were killed in this day’s conflict, and more than sixty thousand loaded with chains. Neither age nor sex, nor object ever so holy, was respected during three days in this unfortunate city; palaces, cloisters, sacred edifices, and private houses, were stained with the blood of their wretched inhabitants, and disgraced by all the crimes that barbarism, cruelty, and lust could devise. At the end of three days, order and discipline succeeded to carnage. Mahomet restored liberty to many of his captives, sent them back to their houses, promised them his protection, and engaged them to continue to cultivate the arts and commerce in a city he had chosen as the capital of his empire. This great event happened in the year 768 of the Hegira, and in the year of Christ 1453; in the reign of Charles VII. of France, and of Henry VI. of England.

A.D. 1807.

The course of the Mahometan conquests, and the spread of their religion, constitute one of the great events of the history of our globe. In about eight hundred years the disciples of the humble prophet had subdued or extended their influence over great part of Asia and the north of Africa, and had now not only gained a footing in Europe, but had taken its greatest capital. But here their great tide of success seems to have stopped; it was their culminating point. They have made partial conquests since; but, altogether, not so much as was achieved by Mahomet II.

WEINSBERG.

A.D. 1138.

Our only motive for noticing this unimportant siege is a desire of relieving the attention of the reader, too long fixed to perils of “the imminent deadly breach,” by an amusing anecdote.

In the year 1138, the duke of Wittemberg warmly opposed the election of Conrad III., who was proclaimed emperor; and when the new monarch had assumed the diadem, he refused to acknowledge him, and shut himself up in the little city of Weinsberg. The angry emperor immediately laid siege to the place: the garrison resisted his attacks with manly bravery, and only yielded to force and greatly superior numbers. The conqueror, at first, determined to submit all to fire and sword; but he relented in favour of the women, to whom he granted permission to depart, each carrying with her as much as she was able of what she most valued in the world. The wife of the duke took advantage of this indulgence to save the life of her husband. She mounted him upon her shoulders, and all the women of the city followed her example. When Conrad saw them going out loaded with this precious burden, and with the duchess at their head, he could not maintain either his gravity or his anger against such a spectacle: he pardoned the men for the sake of the women, and the city was saved.

LISBON.

A.D. 1147.

Alphonso, a prince of the house of Burgundy, having assumed the title of king of Portugal, felt that he could not truly be considered monarch of that country while his capital remained in the hands of the Saracens. Too weak to undertake the conquest himself, he made a religious crusade of it, and English and Flemings, who had embarked for the Holy Land, were induced by the prospect of greater wealth without going so far to attain it, to take up his cause. The great historian of the Crusades attributes this dereliction to a religious feeling, which operated as well in Portugal as in Palestine. We have no hesitation in agreeing that the Crusaders were acted upon in both countries by similar motives; in this case, it was too transparent to be possibly mistaken. The new auxiliaries covered the sea with their vessels, and blockaded the city, whilst Alphonso besieged it by land with an army much more brave than numerous. During five months, several assaults were given and sanguinary battles were fought. Willing to make one last and great attempt, Alphonso drew up his soldiers in order of battle before the place, and, making his dispositions for a general attack, said to them: “Warriors, I am about to lead you to glory; dare to conquer, and you will triumph. Advance boldly through stones, arrows, and fire; brave death, and nothing can resist your courage. Hasten, my friends, hasten to enrich yourselves with the spoils of the Arabs. You, warriors of the Cross, whom Heaven has sent, God will bless your arms; noble pay and rich possessions will be the reward of your valour.” He had scarcely finished speaking, when all the soldiers rushed to the walls; scrambling over one another up and over the ruins. Alphonso nobly supported the title of their leader; the besieged vainly opposed force to force, the Christians drove them in, in all quarters, and broke down the gate called Alfama. In a moment they were spread through the city; they massacred all found with arms in their hands, pillaged the wealth of the infidels, and planted the prince’s standard upon all the towers. The capture of Lisbon soon rendered Alphonso king of all Portugal.

DAMASCUS.

A.D. 634.

The Saracens attacked Damascus, with the hopes of a speedy capture, but the inhabitants made a brave resistance. The garrison was with difficulty restrained within the walls. At the moment the troops of the emperor Heraclius came to the succour of the city, two brothers, commanders of Damascus, made a vigorous sortie, pillaged the rear-guard of the Saracens, and carried off their women. The most important prisoner was Caulah, sister of Derar, one of the early heroes of Mahometanism, whose fanatical zeal produced such miraculous triumphs. Dazzled by the charms of his prize, Peter, one of the commanders of Damascus, wished to treat her as a conquered captive; but Caulah repulsed him with contempt. As if by a pre-concerted movement, she and her companions in misfortune seized the tent-poles, and ranging themselves back to back, refused to go to Damascus. Whilst hesitating to fight with women, though thus armed and resolute, Caled, the sword of God, came up, charged the Romans and made a horrible carnage: the army of Heraclius was defeated at Ainadin. Caled reappeared before Damascus, carried it by assault, and all the inhabitants were given up to indiscriminate slaughter. When Heraclius learned the fall of Damascus, he exclaimed, “Farewell to Syria!”

SECOND SIEGE, A.D. 1149.

Being compelled by the interest they inspire, to give at considerable length several of the sieges in which the Crusaders were engaged, we cannot spare room for more than a notice of that of Damascus, referring our readers for details, which will repay the research, to the pages of Michaud and Gibbon.

Louis VII., king of France, in company with Conrad III., emperor of Germany, who had led armies from Europe for the recovery of the Holy Land, laid siege to Damascus, one of the most delightfully situated and splendid cities in the world. By its populousness and wealth, Damascus excited the envy of Antioch, Jerusalem, and Tripoli, which were in the hands of the Christians, and probably affected their commerce. But it was neither the religion of the inhabitants nor the beauty of its position that tempted the Crusaders; it was enough for them to know that it was one of the richest cities of the East: nothing so soon induced a knight of the Cross to buckle on his spurs and take his lance, as the prospect of the plunder of an Oriental city. Damascus was well fortified on the east and on the south; but on the north, a multitude of gardens, inclosed with hedges and canals, formed its principal bulwark. And let not our readers smile at such a fortification; when every one of the innumerable hedges formed admirable ambuscades, and when every one of the thousands of trees was filled with archers instead of birds, the Crusaders found these gardens no “bed of roses.” It was these places, cut through by a vast number of sinuous paths, in which the Crusaders had to make their first assaults; and it required five days to carry all the positions, which were defended with the greatest firmness by the Saracens. They would have taken Damascus, if their usual enemy, Discord, had not prevailed among the Crusaders: like the bear-hunters of the fabulist, they quarrelled for the sovereignty of the city before they had taken it. By the perfidious advice of the Syrian barons, they abandoned the attack on the northern side, to make others on the east and the south. The Saracens immediately repossessed themselves of the gardens, which was the only point on which the city was weak: Damascus was missed, and the Crusaders disgracefully raised the siege.

ST. JEAN D’ACRE, or PTOLEMAIS.

A.D. 1191.

The ill success of the first Crusades appeared to redouble the zeal of the Christians for the recovery of the Holy Land. Great misfortunes had attended many of the enterprises, but vast numbers had been enriched by the plunder of magnificent cities, and some of the leaders had acquired territorial possessions. Rome, whose policy it was to keep up the fanaticism, did all in its power to promote these wicked, senseless expeditions, and never ceased calling the attention of Europe to Jerusalem defiled by the infidels, and its holy places profaned. These touching pictures, accompanied by numerous promises of indulgence, had a prodigious effect: France and England for a moment laid aside their quarrels; and their kings, Philip and Richard, levied armies for the delivery of the Holy Land. This was the golden age for ambitious popes and greedy princes or adventurers. Whether Celestine urged Cœur de Lion to undertake a mad expedition to the East, or Innocent III. hounded on Simon de Montfort to his massacre and plunder of the Albigeois, the motives were the same--thirst of power and influence in the pontiffs, and solid gain of wealth in their tools.

Followed by their numerous battalions, accompanied by their most powerful vassals, the two kings embarked and met at Messina. The artful Tancred, king of Sicily, nearly succeeded in his attempt to embroil the two monarchs; but a religious moderation quieted the nascent storm. The French directed their course towards St. Jean d’Acre, which city, having an excellent port, was equally necessary to the Christians to preserve Tyre and Tripoli, as it was to the Saracens to secure a communication between Egypt and Syria. For more than two years, Guy of Lusignan, king of Jerusalem, had besieged this important place with forces much less numerous than were employed in defending it. With an army increased by torrents of Crusaders, with which the West constantly inundated the East, and the wreck of the army of the emperor Frederick, Guy ventured to march against Saladin, who was advancing to succour Acre. Never had the Christian legions evinced more ardour; the combat was bloody, but the success doubtful. Each claimed the honour of the victory; but certainly the loss was least on the part of the Crusaders; they resumed the siege, and the besieged continued to defend themselves with the same vigour, when Philip Augustus arrived in the camp. His presence added greatly to the hopes of the besiegers: the walls of Acre were fast falling beneath the attacks of its numerous assailants; the victorious soldiers would speedily have achieved the long-delayed conquest, if the king of the French had not checked their courage out of courtesy for the English monarch: he thus lost the great opportunity of which the infidels made good use; they repaired their breaches; and with the strength of their walls their spirits revived also. At length Richard arrived, dragging in his train, bound in chains of silver, Isaac Comnenus, king, or as he ostentatiously styled himself, emperor of Cyprus, which island he had conquered during his voyage. A happy harmony presided over the first proceedings of the kings of France and England, who shared by turns both honour and danger. The army calculated upon seeing Acre yield to the first general assault. When the French monarch attacked the city, Richard mounted the trenches. On the following day the king of England conducted the assault, and Philip in his turn provided for the safety of the besiegers. The emulation which prevailed between the two nations and their kings produced extraordinary acts of valour.

Ptolemaïs, or Acre, saw indeed beneath its walls all the illustrious captains and warriors that Europe could then boast, and that in an age excelling most others in chivalric bravery. The tents of the Franks covered a vast plain, and their army presented a noble aspect. A spectator, on glancing his eye along the shore at the towers of Acre and the camp of the Christians, in which they had built houses and traced streets, traversed incessantly by an immense crowd, might have imagined he saw two rival cities which were at war with each other. Each nation had its separate quarter, and so many languages were spoken by the Crusaders, that the Mussulmans could not find interpreters enough to enable them to understand the prisoners. In this confused multitude, each people had a different character, different manners, and different arms; but at the signal of battle, all were animated with the same zeal and the same ardour. The presence of the two monarchs had re-established discipline, and Acre must soon have surrendered, if discord, that eternal enemy of the Christians, had not entered their camp with Richard.

Conrad of Montferrat and Guy de Lusignan both claimed the poor honour of being king of Jerusalem; and the kings of England and France took opposite sides; indeed, it was impossible for the headstrong self-willed Richard and the astute politic Philip to remain long friends in the same camp. Whenever Philip took the field, Richard played Achilles, and sulked in his tent. The besieged had never more than one of the monarchs to contend with at a time; and the Christian army really became less redoubtable for its accession of strength. Amidst their disputes, both monarchs fell dangerously ill; and their hatred and suspicion were so great, that each accused the other with having made an attempt upon his life. As Saladin sent them refreshments and physicians, and as they addressed frequent messages to him, each monarch reproached the other with keeping up an impious understanding with the Saracens.

They, however, began to be convinced that such dissensions jeopardized the safety of the army and the interests of the cause; the Jerusalem monarchy was amicably arranged, and the siege was resumed with fresh vigour. But the besieged had taken advantage of the respite granted to them by the Christian cabals, and had strengthened their fortifications. The besiegers were astonished at the opposition they met with. We should have told our readers that Saladin, with a numerous army, was on the heights above Acre; so that the Christians were between the two fires of his forces and the garrison of the city. Whenever the Crusaders attacked Acre, Saladin made a skirmishing dash at their camp. Many battles were fought at the foot of the hills; but on the two occasions of general assaults on the city, the Christians were obliged to return precipitately to defend their tents.

But time must exhaust the resources of a city so strongly beleaguered: the walls began to crumble under incessant attacks, and war, famine, and disease weakened the garrison; there were not soldiers enough to defend the walls and move about the cumbrous machines; the place wanted provisions, munitions of war, and Greek fire. The troops and the people began to murmur against Saladin and the emirs; and the commander of the garrison at length proposed a capitulation to Philip Augustus; but he swore by the God of the Christians that he would not spare a single inhabitant of Ptolemaïs if the Mussulmans did not restore all the cities that had fallen into their power since the battle of Tiberias.

Irritated by this determination, the chief of the emirs retired, saying that he and his companions would rather bury themselves beneath the ruins of the city than listen to such terms, and that they would defend Acre as a lion defends his blood-stained lair. On his return into the place, he communicated his courage, or rather his despair, to every heart. When the Christians resumed their assaults, they were repulsed with a vigour that astonished them. “The tumultuous waves of the Franks,” says an Arabian author, “rolled towards the place with the rapidity of a torrent; they mounted the half-ruined walls as wild goats ascend the steepest rocks, whilst the Saracens precipitated themselves upon the besiegers like stones detached from the summits of mountains.” In one general assault a Florentine knight of the family of Buonaguisi, followed by a few of his men, fought his way into one of the towers of the infidels, and got possession of the Mussulman banner that floated from it. Overpowered by numbers and forced to retreat, he returned to the camp, bearing off the flag he had so heroically won. In the same assault, Alberic Clement, the first marshal of France of whom history makes mention, scaled the ramparts, and, sword in hand, penetrated into the city, where he found a glorious death. Stephen, count of Blois, and several knights were burnt by the Greek fire, the boiling oil, the melted lead, and heated sand which the besiegers poured down upon all who approached the walls.

The obstinate ardour of the Mussulmans was sustained during several days; but as they received no succour, many emirs, at length despairing of the safety of Ptolemaïs, threw themselves by night into a bark, to seek an asylum in the camp of Saladin, preferring to encounter the anger of the sultan to perishing by the swords of the Christians. This desertion, and the contemplation of their ruined towers, filled the Mussulmans with terror. Whilst pigeons and divers constantly announced to Saladin the horrible distresses of the besieged, the latter came to the resolution of leaving the city by night, and braving every peril to join the Saracen army. But their project being discovered by the Christians, they blocked up and guarded every passage by which the enemy could possibly escape. The emirs, the soldiers, and the inhabitants then became convinced that they had no hope but in the mercy of the Christian leaders, and promised, if they would grant them liberty and life, to give up sixteen hundred prisoners, together with the wood of the true cross. By the capitulation, they engaged to pay two hundred thousand byzants of gold, and the garrison, with the entire population, were to remain hostages for the execution of the treaty.

A Mussulman soldier was sent from the city to announce to Saladin that the garrison had been forced to capitulate. The sultan, who was preparing to make a last effort to save the place, learnt the news with deep regret. He summoned a council to know if they approved of the capitulation; but scarcely were the principal emirs assembled in his tent, when they saw the standards of the Crusaders floating over the walls of Ptolemaïs.

The terms of the capitulation remained unexecuted; Saladin, under various pretexts, deferring the payments. Richard, irritated by a delay which appeared to him a breach of faith, revenged himself upon his prisoners. Without pity for disarmed enemies, or regard for the Christians he exposed to sanguinary reprisals, he massacred five thousand Mussulmans before the city they had so bravely defended, and within sight of Saladin, who shared the disgrace of this barbarity by thus abandoning his bravest and most faithful warriors.

Such was the conclusion of this famous siege, which lasted nearly three years, in which the Crusaders shed more blood and exhibited more bravery than ought to have sufficed for the subjugation of the whole of Asia. More than a hundred skirmishes and nine great battles were fought before the walls of the city; several flourishing armies came to recruit armies nearly annihilated, and were in their turn replaced by fresh armies. The bravest nobility of Europe perished in this siege, swept away by sword or disease.

In this war, both sides exhibited their fanaticism to the utmost extent; bishops and imaums equally promising remission of sins and crowns of martyrdom. Whilst the king of Jerusalem caused the book of the Evangelists to be borne before him, Saladin would often pause on the field of battle to offer up a prayer, or read a chapter from the Koran. The Franks and the Christians mutually accused each other of ignorance of the true God, and of outraging him by their ceremonies. The Christians rushed upon their enemies, shouting Dieu le veut! Dieu le veut! and the Saracens as loudly responded by their war-cry of Islam! Islam!

As it has been our constant wish to scatter a few flowers among the melancholy scenes it is our task to paint, we cannot omit a celebrated story connected with the siege of Acre.

Among the bravest of the French knights was the all-accomplished Raoul de Coucy. He tenderly loved the fair Gabrielle de Vergy, and was by her as warmly loved in return. Fearing to augment the torments which his mistress underwent from the jealousy of her husband, the Seigneur Dufaiël, De Coucy enrolled himself among the heroes of the Cross. Mortally wounded before Acre, he called his faithful squire to his side, and charged him to convey to the lady Dufaiël, a letter from his own hand, together with the jewels he had received from her. On the point of death, he likewise made him promise, under the bond of an oath, to bear his heart to the lady for whom alone it had ever breathed a sigh. Raoul being dead, his faithful squire set out to execute his last wishes: he crossed the seas, and reached Vermandois, never, for a moment, abandoning the care of his precious but sad charge. Arriving in the neighbourhood of the castle of Dufaiël it was his ill fortune to meet with its stern master, the jealous tyrant of Gabrielle, by whom he was immediately recognised. When closely interrogated, he described the death of Raoul, and supposing with that all jealousy must be at an end, told him likewise of the subject of his mission. Dufaiël eagerly seized the fatal deposit; transported with jealousy, he returned to the castle, and caused the heart of the unfortunate De Coucy to be served up to his lady in a dish of hashed meat. She ate of it. “That dish,” said he, with a bitter smile, “must appear very delicious to you, for it is the heart of your lover.” At the same time he threw upon the table the box, the letter, and the jewels. At the sight of these, the lady Dufaiël, convinced of the death of her lover, and of the cruelty of her husband, fainted, and only recovered to swear that that food should be her last. A prey to the deepest despair, continually bathed in tears, she persistently refused all aliment: in a very few days, grief completed the sacrifice. Devoured by remorse, it is said that the barbarous Dufaiël survived her but a short time.

After the siege, Philip’s patience was exhausted by the haughty assumption, and his envy excited by the heroic exploits of Richard, and he returned to France, leaving a body of troops under the command of his rival. We will not venture into the wide field of Cœur de Lion’s miraculous feats on this scene of action. Two of the greatest heroes of history, Richard and Saladin, were matched against each other, and, notwithstanding the superior sagacity and self-command of Saladin, Richard’s extraordinary courage, strength, and prowess maintained for him the character of the bravest soldier of the age. But with all his valour and exertions, he failed in the ostensible object of his enterprise: circumstances of a various but imperative nature prevented his reaching Jerusalem; he reluctantly turned his back upon it, when within three leagues of it, and returned to Europe, after concluding a truce with Saladin for three years, three months, three weeks, three days, and three hours.

SECOND SIEGE, A.D. 1799.

Buonaparte, being informed of the coalition of the Ottomans and the English to drive the French out of Egypt, thought to be beforehand with them by carrying the war into Syria. After taking Gaza and Jaffa, and gaining an advantage over the Turks, on the 18th of March he arrived before Acre. But the fortifications had been recently repaired, under the direction of Sir Sidney Smith, the English commodore, and a French engineer named Phélypeaux. These fortifications consisted of curtains flanked with square towers; the munitions were principally supplied by the English ships. Thus Buonaparte was not only opposed to Turks but to British sailors, led by one of those naval heroes who so gloriously illustrated this war. Ahmet-Djezzar Pasha was governor of Acre, a man addicted to cruelty, and inspired with an inveterate hatred for the French. The Turks easily allowed themselves to be shut up in the place, confident of receiving constant supplies from their English friends. The French were encamped upon an isolated height, extending a league and a half to Cape Blanc. They found abundant provisions in Nazareth and its neighbourhood. On the 10th of March the trenches were opened at five hundred toises from the body of the place; and, by the 28th, the breach-batteries and counter-batteries were ready. For want of siege artillery, field artillery was employed; in one day, the French succeeded in making an opening in the tower of attack; they had at the same time pushed on a mine branch, to blow up the counterscarp. The mine was sprung, and the French felt satisfied of its success. The troops earnestly desired to be led to the assault. They judged the breach would be similar to one in which they had been successful at Jaffa; but scarcely had they rushed upon it, than they found themselves stopped by a fosse fifteen feet wide, backed by a good counterscarp. They planted their ladders against it; the head of the grenadiers had already descended; the breach was still eight feet from them; some ladders were placed there. Adjutant Mailly mounted first, but was struck dead by a ball. The fire of the place was terrible; a simple tunnel had been formed upon the glacis; the counterscarp was not touched; it impeded the French, and forced a party of grenadiers intended to support the first assailants to retreat. Adjutant-Generals Escale and Langier were killed. A momentary panic seized the besieged, and they were flying towards the port; but they as suddenly rallied and returned to the breach. From the top of the tower, they poured down upon the besiegers stones, grenades, and all sorts of inflammable matters. The French grenadiers regained their boyaux, foaming with rage. The taking of Jaffa had led the French into a deceptive contempt for these kinds of fortifications. They treated as a mere field affair a siege which required all the resources of art. At least so say the French authorities; Sir Sidney Smith’s biographer, whilst doing perfect justice to the bravery and efforts of the French, says that the fortifications, though made the most of by Phélypeaux and Sir Sidney, were in a very bad condition. Emboldened by this first success, the Turks made several sorties, in which the loss was great on both sides; that of the French, being, however, sensibly increased by the death of their best engineer, Detroyes. Djezzar made a sortie on the 7th of April; he marched in three columns; at the head of each were English sailors and marines, and all the batteries were served by cannoniers of that nation. The French then perceived what was the object of the sortie; the English wished to gain possession of the first posts and the advanced works. Instantly, a fire so well kept up was opened upon them from the places d’armes and the counterscarp, that all who had advanced were either killed or wounded. The centre column exhibited more firmness. It had been ordered to obtain possession of the entrance to the mine. The commanding officer, Captain Atfield, was shot whilst boldly leading on his men. The English accounts say that the failure in this assault was owing to the impetuosity, noise, and want of discipline of the Turks. The English and Turks returned to the town without having gained their object. The reverses of the parallels remained covered by the English and their allies.

“Though hostilities were carried on with such vigour and apparent rancour in the trenches and on the breach, yet there were frequent suspensions of operations, and the distinguished French generals, on such occasions, derived much pleasure from visiting Sir Sidney on board the Tigre. On one of these occasions, and after the besieging party had made some progress, Generals Kleber and Junot were, with Sir Sidney Smith, walking the quarter-deck of the Tigre, in a very amiable mood of sociability, one on each side the English commander.

“After a few turns in silence, Junot, regarding the battered fortifications that lay before him, and they being dwindled by distance into much insignificance, thus broke out in the spirit of false prophecy:--

“‘Commodore, mark my words! three days hence, by this very hour, the French tricolour shall be flying on the remains of that miserable town.’

“Sir Sidney very quickly replied: ‘My good general, before you shall have that town, I will blow it and you to Jericho.’

“‘Bien obligé,’ observed Kleber, ‘very much obliged, indeed; it will be all in our way to India.’

“‘With all my heart!’ rejoined Sir Sidney; ‘I shall be most happy to assist you, Buonaparte, and your whole army, forward in that style; and we will commence as soon as you please.’

“The offer, though so kindly made, was neither accepted nor replied to.”[12]

Buonaparte had been absent for a time on a successful excursion against some of the small neighbouring cities. He learnt, on his return, that Contre-amiral Pérée had landed at Jaffa three pieces of twenty-four pounds, and six of eighteen, with munitions, which was the first siege artillery he had received. He hoped with this to advance this so unexpectedly difficult attack. On the 24th of April, the mine destined to blow up the tower of attack was finished, and the batteries began to batter Acre: fire was set to the mine, but a souterrain, which was near the tower, diminishing the resistance, a part of the effect was lost, and only a single side of the tower was blown up, leaving it as difficult to climb as before. Buonaparte, however, ordered thirty picked men to effect a lodgment. The grenadiers gained the ruins of the first stage, but the enemy, who occupied the superior stages, poured upon them such showers of combustible matter as compelled them to retreat. A second attack, made the next day, had no better success. The French lost General Cafarelli, one of their most distinguished leaders.

The ardour of the besieged and the besiegers was equal; and the Turks prudently and gratefully availed themselves of the intelligence of the English engineers, to augment their means of defence. They every day received provisions and ammunition from the English ships, and, on all trying occasions, were materially assisted by bands of sailors, led by enterprising officers.

The inhabitants, likewise, were willing and useful accessories in carrying on the works. The French, on the contrary, were obliged to husband the lives of their men, whose numbers were daily lessened by the plague, that cruel scourge of the East, and the burning sun of the climate.

Almost all the front pieces of attack of the besieged were dismounted; to defend himself, Djezzar built a place of arms in front of his right, and a second was established on his left, opposite to his palace. By favour of their fire and of the musketry, these works flanked the breach and the tower advantageously. Four pieces of eighteen were placed en batterie. On the 2nd of April, their fire was directed against the breach, to extend the demolition of it. That evening, twenty grenadiers were commanded to gain a lodgment there; but the enemy, profiting by the boyau established in the fosse, fusilladed the breach crosswise. Want of powder by the 5th of April began to relax the fire of the French, which, of course, redoubled the courage and efforts of the besieged: they worked incessantly at the sapping, their object being to cut off the communication of the besiegers with a new mine. Buonaparte ordered four companies of grenadiers, at ten o’clock in the evening, to throw themselves into the outworks of Acre. The besieged were surprised, and many were slaughtered; the French gained possession of the works, and three of the cannon were spiked; but the incessant, well-directed fire from the ramparts rendered it impossible for them to stay long enough to entirely destroy them. The garrison regained the works immediately afterwards. At the end of two days, the Turks succeeded in giving vent to a fresh mine, destined to blow up the counterscarp established upon a breach of the curtain. Two assaults given on the 5th and 6th of May were equally fruitless. On the 7th, the French heard of the arrival of a convoy of powder at Gaza. Buonaparte gave orders to batter in breach the curtain on the right of the tower of breach, and the breach itself. The curtain fell, and offered a practicable opening. Buonaparte seized the advantage, and ordered an immediate assault. Lannes’ division rushed to the breach and gained possession of it; two hundred men were already in the place; but the general’s orders were not executed with sufficient ensemble: the besieged, issuing from their outer places of arms, filed into the fosses right and left, and succeeded in establishing a cross-fire upon the breach. Not having been dislodged from the second tower dominating the left, they kept up a warm fusillade, and launched all sorts of inflammable matter upon the French. The troops who were scaling began to hesitate; they stopped; indecision appeared in their ranks; and they ceased to rush into the streets with the impetuosity they evinced after gaining the breach. The fire of the houses, of the barricades, of the streets, of Djezzar’s palace, which took in front and crosswise those who descended from the breach and those who entered the city, occasioned a retrograde movement among the troops that had entered the place and did not find themselves supported. They abandoned, behind the rampart, two pieces of cannon and two mortars, of which they had gained possession: the retrograde movement was soon communicated to the whole column. General Lannes succeeded in stopping it, and bringing the column forward again. The guides à pied, who were in reserve, rushed to the breach, where both parties fought hand to hand, with reciprocal animosity. The Turks and English regained their position at the crown of the breach. The effect of the first impulse, the French soldiers’ principal chance of victory, was gone; General Lannes was severely wounded, and General Rambaud had been killed in the city: the Turks had had time to rally. At this moment, the besieged received a considerable reinforcement of troops from the isle of Rhodes: they were landed, and at once joined in the contest: they fought from dawn till night; and all the advantage being on the side of the besieged, the French found it necessary to retreat.

The next day, the fire from the batteries continued. Buonaparte repaired, at two o’clock in the morning, to the breach, and ordered a fresh attack. The éclaireurs, the grenadiers, and the carbiniers mounted to the breach, surprised the enemy’s posts, and slaughtered numbers; but they were stopped by fresh interior intrenchments, and forced to retire. The fire from the batteries continued all the day. At four o’clock in the afternoon, the grenadiers of the twenty-fourth solicited and obtained the honour of mounting first to the assault. These brave men marched coolly to the wall; but a first, second, and third line of defence had been established, which could not be forced without fresh dispositions. Retreat was again sounded. The French had in these assaults two hundred killed and five hundred wounded; they greatly regretted the brave General Bon, who was killed at the head of the grenadiers. This is principally the French account of these two important days: let us hear what Sir Sidney Smith says of them in his well-written despatch to Lord Nelson:--

“We have been in one continued battle ever since the beginning of the siege, interrupted only at short intervals by the excessive fatigue of every individual on both sides. We have been long anxiously looking for a reinforcement, without which we could not expect to be able to keep the place so long as we have. The delay in its arrival being occasioned by Hassan Bey’s having originally had orders to join me in Egypt, I was obliged to be very peremptory in the repetition of my orders for him to join me here; it was not, however, till the evening of the day before yesterday, the fifty-first day of the siege, that his fleet of corvettes and transports made its appearance. The approach of this additional strength was the signal to Buonaparte for a most vigorous and persevering assault, in hopes to get possession of the town before the reinforcement to the garrison could disembark.

“The constant fire of the besiegers was suddenly increased tenfold; our flanking fire afloat was, as usual, plied to the utmost, but with less effect than heretofore, as the enemy had thrown up epaulments and traverses of sufficient thickness to protect them from it. The guns that could be worked to the greatest advantage were a French brass eighteen-pounder, in the Lighthouse castle, manned from the Theseus, under the direction of Mr. Scroder, master’s mate; and the last-mounted twenty-four pounder in the north ravelin, manned from the Tigre, under the direction of Mr. Jones, midshipman. These guns being within grape distance of the head of the attacking column, added to the Turkish musketry, did great execution. The Tigre’s two sixtyeight-pound carronades, mounted on two dgermes lying in the mole, and worked under the direction of Mr. Bray, carpenter of the Tigre (one of the bravest and most intelligent men I ever served with), threw shells into the centre of this column with evident effect, and checked it considerably. Still, however, the enemy gained ground, and made a lodgment in the second story of the north-east tower, the upper part being entirely battered down, and the ruins in the ditch forming the ascent by which they mounted: daylight showed us the French standard on the outer angle of the tower. The fire of the besieged was much slackened in comparison with that of the besiegers, and our flanking fire was become of less effect, the enemy having covered themselves in this lodgment and the approach to it by two traverses across the ditch, which they had constructed under the fire that had been opposed to them during the whole night, and which were now seen, composed of sand-bags and the bodies of their dead built in with them, their bayonets only being visible above them. Hassan Bey’s troops were in the boats, though, as yet, but halfway on shore. This was a most critical point of the contest, and an effort was necessary to preserve the place for a short time till their arrival.

“I accordingly landed the boats at the mole, and took the crews up to the breach, armed with pikes. The enthusiastic gratitude of the Turks, men, women, and children, at the sight of such a reinforcement at such a time, is not to be described.

“Many fugitives returned with us to the breach, which we found defended by a few brave Turks, whose most destructive missile weapons were heavy stones, which, striking the assailants on the head, overthrew the foremost down the slope and impeded the progress of the rest. A succession, however, ascended to the assault, the heap of ruins between the two parties serving as a breastwork to both; the muzzles of their muskets touching, and the spear-heads of their standards locked. Djezzar Pasha, hearing the English were on the breach, quitted his station, where, according to the ancient Turkish custom, he was sitting to reward such as should bring him the heads of the enemy, and distributing musket-cartridges with his own hand. The energetic old man, coming behind us, pulled us down with violence, saying, if any harm happened to his English friends, all was lost. This amicable contest as to who should defend the breach, occasioned a rush of Turks to the spot, and thus time was gained for the arrival of the first body of Hassan’s troops. I had now to combat the pasha’s repugnance to admitting any troops but his Albanians into the garden of his seraglio, which had become a very important place, as occupying the terreplein of the rampart. There were about two hundred of the original thousand Albanians left alive. This was no time for debate, and I overruled his objection by introducing the Chifflick regiment of one thousand men, armed with bayonets, disciplined after the European method under Sultan Selim’s own eye, and placed by his imperial majesty’s express command at my disposal. The garrison, animated by the appearance of such a reinforcement, was now all on foot; and there being consequently enough to defend the breach, I proposed to the pasha to get rid of the object of his jealousy, by opening his gates to let them make a sally and take the assailants in flank. He readily complied; and I gave directions to the colonel to get possession of the enemy’s third parallel or nearest trench, and there fortify himself by shifting the parapet outwards. This order being clearly understood, the gates were opened and the Turks rushed out; but they were not equal to such a movement, and were driven back to the town with loss. Mr. Bray, however, as usual, protected the town gate efficaciously with grape from the sixtyeight-pounders. The sortie had this good effect, that it obliged the enemy to expose themselves above their parapets, so that our flanking fires brought down numbers of them and drew their force from the breach, so that the small number remaining on the lodgment were killed or dispersed by our few remaining hand-grenades, thrown by Mr. Savage, midshipman of the Theseus. The enemy began a new breach, by an incessant fire directed to the southward of the lodgment, every shot knocking down whole sheets of wall, much less solid than that of the tower, on which they had expended so much time and ammunition. The group of generals and aides-de-camp, which the shells from the sixtyeight-pounders had frequently dispersed, was now reassembled on Richard Cœur de Lion’s Mount. Buonaparte was distinguishable in the centre of a semicircle; his gesticulations indicated a renewal of attack, and his despatching an aide-de-camp showed that he waited only for a reinforcement. I gave directions for Hassan Bey’s ships to take their station in the shoal water to the southward, and made the Tigre’s signal to weigh and join the Theseus to the northward. A little before sunset, a massive column appeared advancing to the breach with a solemn step. The pasha’s idea was not to defend the breach this time, but rather to let a certain number of the enemy in, and then close with them according to the Turkish mode of war. The column thus mounted the breach unmolested, and descended from the rampart into the pasha’s garden, where, in a very few minutes, the bravest and most advanced among them lay headless corpses; the sabre, with the addition of a dagger in the other hand, proving more than a match for the bayonet. The rest retreated precipitately; and the commanding officer, who was seen manfully encouraging his men to mount the breach, and whom we have since learnt to be General Lannes, was carried off wounded by a musket-shot. General Rombaud was killed. Much confusion arose in the town from the actual entry of the enemy, it having been impossible, nay impolitic, to give previous information to everybody of the mode of defence adopted, lest the enemy should come to a knowledge of it by means of their numerous spies.

“The English uniform, which had served as a rallying-point for the old garrison wherever it appeared, was now, in the dusk, mistaken for French, the newly-arrived Turks not distinguishing between one hat and another in the crowd; and thus many a severe blow of a sabre was parried by our officers, among which Colonel Douglas, Mr. Ives, and Mr. Jones had nearly lost their lives as they were forcing their way through a torrent of fugitives. Calm was restored by the pasha’s exertions, aided by Mr. Trotte, just arrived with Hassan-Bey; and thus the contest of twenty-five hours ended, both parties being so fatigued as to be unable to move.

“Buonaparte will, no doubt, renew the attack, the breach being, as above described, perfectly practicable for fifty men abreast; indeed the town is not, nor ever has been, defensible, according to the rules of art; but according to every other rule it must and shall be defended: not that it is in itself worth defending, but we feel that it is by this small breach Buonaparte means to march to other conquests. It is on the issue of this contest that depends the opinion of the multitudes of spectators on the surrounding hills, who wait only to see how it ends, to join the victor; and with such a reinforcement for the execution of his known projects, Constantinople, and even Vienna, must feel the shock.

“Be assured, my lord, the magnitude of our obligations does but increase the energy of our efforts in the attempt to discharge our duty; and though we may, and probably shall be overpowered, I can venture to say that the French army will be so much further weakened before it prevails, as to be little able to profit by its dear-bought victory.

“I have the honour to be, &c. &c., “W. SIDNEY SMITH.”

“Rear-Admiral Lord Nelson.”

Sir Sidney Smith was well aware of the nature of this contest. Acre was of no consequence in itself; but the opinion of the Syrians was of incalculable importance. They were already so prepossessed with the irresistibility of the French forces, that all efforts of defence had been paralyzed. Had it not been for the stimulating influence of British courage, Buonaparte would have met with no opposition, and he and his generals would have been wholly unimpeded in whatever plans of conquest, personal aggrandizement, or political vengeance, they might have concerted.

Buonaparte was dreadfully annoyed at this check; he was, perhaps, of all great generals on record, the one least qualified for a siege. In the heat of his vexation he called for the most cruel sacrifices on the part of his brave followers.

But we return to this singular siege, and still more singular defence. The gallant antagonist of the future emperor was fully aware of the advantage he had gained, and well knew how to improve it. Rightly judging that the prejudice in favour of the invincibility of the French must be considerably shaken by the late events, and by the fatal check that was given to the advancement of their arms, Sir Sidney wrote a circular letter to the princes and chiefs of Mount Lebanon, and to the shieks of the Druses, exhorting them to do their duty to their sovereign by intercepting the supplies of the enemy. This proceeding had all the success that might be expected. Two ambassadors were sent to the commodore, informing him that measures had been taken to cut off the supplies till that time furnished to the French camp; and eighty French prisoners, who had been captured in the defence of their convoys, were placed at the disposal of the British.

Thus the French had scarcely a choice left but to mount the breach. Accordingly General Kleber’s division was ordered from the fords of the Jordan, where it had been successfully opposed to the army of Damascus, to take its turn in an attempt that had already cost the lives of the flower of the French troops, with more than two-thirds of their officers. But on the arrival of General Kleber and his army, other employment was found for them.

In the sally before mentioned, made by the Chifflick regiment, it had shown a want of steadiness in the presence of the enemy, and was in consequence censured. The commandant, Soliman Aga, being ordered by Sir Sidney Smith to obtain possession of the enemy’s third parallel, availed himself of this opportunity to retrieve the lost honour of his regiment, and the next night carried his orders into execution with so much ardour and resolution, that he not only effected the service he was sent on, but established the reputation of his corps. The third parallel was gained; but the gallant Turk, wishing to elevate the character of his regiment still more, attacked the second trench, but not with the same success, as he lost some standards. He however retained possession of the works long enough to spike four of the guns and do them other mischief.

On Kleber’s arrival, therefore, instead of mounting the breach, he was ordered to recover these works, which, after a furious contest of three hours, and much loss of life, was effected. Notwithstanding this very limited success, the advantage evidently remained on the side of the besieged. Indeed, the resistance displayed damped the zeal of the French troops so seriously, that they could not be again brought to the breach.

We gladly avail ourselves of Sir Sidney Smith’s despatch to conclude this remarkable siege.

“After this failure the French grenadiers absolutely refused to mount the breach any more over the putrid bodies of their unburied companions, sacrificed in former attacks by Buonaparte’s impatience and precipitation, which led him to commit such palpable errors as even seamen could take advantage of. He seemed to have no principle of action but that of pressing forward; and appeared to stick at nothing to obtain the object of his ambition, although it must be evident to everybody else, that even if he had succeeded in taking the town, the fire of the shipping must drive him out of it again in a short time: however, the knowledge the garrison had of the inhuman massacre at Jaffa rendered them desperate in their personal defence. Two attempts to assassinate me in the town having failed, recourse was had to a most flagrant breach of the laws of honour and war. A flag of truce was sent into the town by the hand of an Arab dervish, with a letter to the pasha, proposing a cessation of arms, for the purpose of burying the dead bodies, the stench from which became intolerable. It was natural we should gladly listen to this proposition, and that we should consequently be off our guard during the conference. While the answer was under consideration, a volley of shot and shells on a sudden announced an assault, which, however, the garrison was ready to receive; and the assailants only contributed to increase the number of the dead bodies in question, to the eternal disgrace of the general who thus disloyally sacrificed them. Subordination was now at an end; and all hopes of success having vanished, the enemy had no alternative left but a precipitate retreat, which was put in execution in the night between the 20th and 21st instant. The battering-train of artillery (except the carriages, which were burnt) is now in our hands, amounting to twenty-three pieces. The howitzers and medium twelve-pounders, originally conveyed by land with much difficulty, and successfully employed to make the first breach, were embarked in the country vessels at Jaffa, to be conveyed coastwise, together with the worst among the two thousand wounded, which embarrassed the march of the army. This operation was to be expected; I took care, therefore, to be between Jaffa and Damietta before the French could get as far as the former place. The vessels being turned to sea without seamen to navigate them, and the wounded being in want of every necessary, even water and provisions, they steered straight to his majesty’s ships, in full confidence of receiving the succours of humanity; in which they were not disappointed. I have sent them on to Damietta, where they will receive such further aid as their situation requires, and which it was out of my power to give to so many. Their expressions of gratitude to us were mingled with execrations on the name of their general, who had, as they said, exposed them to peril unnecessarily. Two thousand cavalry are just despatched to harass the French rear, and I am in hopes to overtake their van in time to profit by their disorder.”

A perusal of this siege redounds very little to the honour of the great French general: he was beaten fairly at every point, and on every occasion, by a seaman. Sir Sidney was never taken by surprise or defeated in open fight. The sailor joined to the ardour characteristic of his profession, a coolness and foresight worthy of the greatest captain; the French general exhibited none of the talents of a superior tactician; his conduct was impetuous and headstrong; he was evidently annoyed at receiving a check where he did not expect it, and was weak enough to show it by his actions: he was irritated by the obstacle, but took the worst possible measures to remove it.

Buonaparte told O’Meara, at St. Helena: “Sir Sidney dispersed proclamations among the troops, which certainly shook some of them; and I, in consequence, published an order stating that he was mad, and forbidding all communication with him. Some days after he sent, by a lieutenant or midshipman, a flag of truce, with a challenge to meet me at some place which he pointed out, in order to fight a duel. I laughed at this, and sent back intimation that when he sent Marlborough to fight me, I would meet him. Notwithstanding this, I like the character of the man.” This little anecdote is quite characteristic of Buonaparte and Sir Sidney; the wild chivalry of the sailor being not more striking than the fanfaronnade of the future emperor. As we have done frequently before, we will enliven our account of “perils i’ the deadly breach” with an anecdote. The following is from the “Memoirs of Sir Sidney Smith.”

“The seamen of the squadron took each their turn for the military service on the walls of Acre. One of them had observed, in his spell ashore, the body of a French general, splendid in his uniform, that lay exposed in the very centre of the ditch. This dwelt on the mind of the honest, though--the truth must be told--somewhat obtuse-minded tar. Indeed he had never shown himself remarkable for either intellect or activity, and held no higher office in the ship than a waister. Yet, by some unexplained mental process, the fate and the unburied corpse of the French general had fixed themselves so strongly in his imagination, that he was determined, at all risks, to give his glittering dead opponent the rites of sepulture. The next day, though out of his turn, he asked and obtained permission to take his spell on the walls. Nothing divided the hostile intrenchments but this same ditch, and so closely placed were the foes to each other, that a moderate whisper could be easily heard from one embankment to the other. Nothing appeared above these embankments but a serried line of bayonets; for if a hat, or a head, or anything tangible appeared on either side, it was saluted with a volley of perforating-balls. It was about noon, and the respective hostile lines were preserving a dead silence, anxiously watching for the opportunity of a shot at each other. Our seaman, who, without informing any one of his intention, had provided himself with a spade and pickaxe, suddenly broke the ominous silence by shouting out, in a stentorian voice, ‘Mounsiers, a-hoy! ’vast heaving there a bit, will ye? and belay over all with your poppers for a spell.’ And then he showed his broad unmeaning face over the lines. Two hundred muskets were immediately pointed at him; but seeing him with only the implements of digging, and not exactly understanding his demand for a parley, the French forbore to fire. Jack very leisurely then scrambled over the intrenchment into the ditch, the muzzles of the enemy’s muskets still following his every motion. All this did not the least disturb his sang-froid; but going up to the French general, he took his measure in quite a businesslike manner, and dug a very decent grave alongside the defunct. When this was finished, shaking what was so lately a French general very cordially and affectionately by the hand, he reverently placed him in his impromptu grave, then shovelled the earth upon and made all smooth above him. When all was properly completed, he made his best sailor’s bow and footscrape to the French, shouldered his implements of burial, and climbed over into his own quarters with the same imperturbability that had marked his previous appearance. This he did amidst the cheers of both parties.

“Now our friend the waister seemed to think he had done nothing extraordinary, and only remarked that he should sleep well. A few days after, another gaudily-decorated French general came on board the Tigre, on some matters of negotiation, which, when completed, he anxiously desired to see the interrer of his late comrade. The meeting took place, and Jack was highly praised for his heroism in a long speech, not one word of which, though interpreted to him, could he comprehend. Money was then offered him, which at first he did not like to take; but he at length satisfied his scruples by telling the French officer he should be happy to do the same thing for him as he had done for his brother general--for nothing. The French general begged to be excused; and thus ended the interview.”

DOVER.

A.D. 1216.

We only introduce this little siege on account of a particular circumstance attending it. Whilst the English invasions of France have been more than one, and the sieges and captures of her cities numerous, Dover we believe to be the only English city that has been besieged by the French. We of course except the Conquest, because we do not consider William of Normandy a Frenchman at all: the Normans, or Northmen, were a race of the most successful adventurers of that age, and, not much more than a hundred years before their expedition to England, had gained, in an almost similar manner, an establishment in a remote province of France.

The English barons, disgusted with the levity and tyranny of John, very inconsiderately offered the crown of England to Louis, son of Philip Augustus, and heir to the kingdom of France. This prince, who did not want for spirit, in spite of the anathemas of the court of Rome, under the protection of which the weak John had placed himself, embarked with an army on board a fleet of seven hundred vessels, landed at Sandwich, and took possession of the county of Kent, with the exception of Dover. This place was well provided against an attack, and was governed by Hubert du Bourg, an intrepid and skilful soldier. Louis being unable to overcome his firm resistance, had recourse to more seductive advances, offering him a considerable bribe; but to his honour, Du Bourg repulsed it more indignantly and quite as firmly as he had resisted his arms. The French were obliged to raise the siege.

“This England never did (nor never shall) Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror.”

BAGDAD.

A.D. 1638.

Amurath IV. had twice besieged Bagdad,--in 1625 and 1634; twice his generals had been compelled disgracefully to raise the siege, when the sultan, in 1638, determined to punish a city which had so roused his anger. During thirty days his artillery thundered against its ramparts. Cannon, steel, and fire spread desolation within the walls; assault upon assault was given. The grand seignor appeared, scimitar in hand, striking down such of his own men as even advanced slowly. He killed the vizier Mahommed, who appeared to him not sufficiently eager to court danger. At length the city was carried. Thirty thousand unarmed Persians were slaughtered before the eyes of the cruel conqueror. This savage prince was about to exterminate all the inhabitants of Bagdad, when a musician threw himself at his feet, and spoke as follows: “Sublime emperor! will you permit so divine an art as that of music to perish this day with me, with Schah-Culi, your slave? Ah! preserve, by preserving me, a divine art of which I have not yet discovered all the beauties.” This speech made the sultan laugh, and casting a favourable look upon the artist, he permitted him to prove his talents. Schah-Culi immediately took up a scheydor, a kind of six-stringed harp, and adapting his voice to the sounds of that instrument, he sang the tragic capture of Bagdad and the triumph of Amurath. The sultan at first appeared astonished; fury was depicted in his countenance: he fancied himself amidst his warriors, animating the combatants, and leading them to victory. All at once the artist touched another chord: by plaintive and affecting sounds he subdued the heart of the implacable conqueror: the haughty sultan melted into tears; his stern heart was, for the first time, accessible to pity: he shudders at the barbarous orders he had given to immolate so many thousand victims; he revokes them, and puts a stop to the carnage. Overcome by the charms of music, he restored liberty to the compatriots of Schah-Culi, attached the musician to his personal service, and loaded him with benefits.

CASSEL.

A.D. 1528.

Philip of Valois, scarcely seated on his own throne, turned his arms towards Flanders, to assist the count in subduing his rebellious subjects. His noble army consisted of thirty thousand men, among whom were fourteen thousand gendarmes. Philip marched straight towards the city of Cassel, and laid siege to it. The rebel army, much less numerous than the French, was composed entirely of infantry: they were fishermen, peasants, and artisans. A small dealer in fish, named Colin Zannequin, was at their head, a bold, daring man, in whom audacity and cunning made up for deficiency in military experience. Such was the singular champion opposed to the king of France; such were the troops destined to contend with the proudest nobility of Europe: and this ignoble assemblage was very near destroying the haughty battalions which held them in rather too much contempt. Never was any army more determined or more insolent in its bearing than these newly-made soldiers, encamped and intrenched within sight of Cassel, upon an eminence very difficult of access. They had the audacity to hoist upon one of the towers of the city a kind of standard, upon which was painted a cock, with this inscription:--

“Quand ce coq chanté aura, Le roi Cassel conquérera.”

[When this cock shall have crowed, the king shall conquer Cassel.]

Zannequin conceived a project which might, if successful, have proved of great importance. In his character of a dealer in fish, he went every day, with reckless confidence, to exercise his trade in the royal camp. He sold his fish at a moderate price, in order to get a footing, and afford him an opportunity of seeing what was going on. He found that they sat a long time at table, that they gambled a great deal, that they danced, and they slept in the afternoon. In short, such negligent guard appeared to be kept, that the audacious Fleming conceived the design of carrying off the king and all his quarter. On the 23rd of August, 1528, about two o’clock in the afternoon, at the time when he knew the French were taking their daily nap, he divided his troops into three bodies, ordered one to march quietly to the quarter of the king of Bohemia, the second to advance in silence against the battle commanded by the count of Hainault, whilst he placed himself at the head of the third. He entered the camp without shouting the war-cry, which was at that time always done before commencing a battle, and penetrated nearly to the king’s tent, where too good a watch was not kept. When they appeared, they were supposed to be a reinforcement just arrived, and Renaud Delor, a noble cavalier, came towards them with a smile, saying it was not polite to disturb their friends’ slumbers. He was answered by a javelin through his heart. This proved the signal for fight. The Flemings drew their swords and slaughtered all they met. The alarm was soon spread through the French camp; loud cries announced the danger, and all flew to arms. The king was roused by a Dominican, his confessor. He laughed at the worthy father, telling him that fear disturbed his imagination; but Miles de Noyer, who bore the oriflamme, soon rushed in, confirming the news, and entreating the king to arm. But there was neither squire nor knight to assist his majesty, and the duty was performed by the clerks of his chapel. He sprang upon his war-horse, and marched straight against the assailants. Miles de Noyer stopped him, advising him to wait till his troops should be sufficiently increased to turn the Flemings, and afterwards take them in flank. This brave and prudent knight then raised the royal standard on a point from which it could be seen at a great distance. At this signal, the cavalry drew up around their prince. The Flemings were surrounded, broken, and then cut to pieces. Of sixteen thousand men, who composed this army, not one gave ground, but not one escaped. The French lost but few in the action: armour was then very complete, and the ill-protected Flemings had but little chance against the French chivalry. The other rebel battalions dispersed immediately. Cassel was taken, razed to the ground, and reduced to ashes. After having restored peace, Philip returned to his own dominions, saying to the count of Flanders: “Be more prudent and more humane, and you will have fewer rebels.” This was certainly a well-merited reproof; but it came very ill from such a man as Philip of Valois.

ROMORANTIN.

A.D. 1356.

However insignificant in itself, this siege commands a place in our record, as being the first in which cannon were employed. Our country’s favourite hero, the Black Prince, having entered Sologne with hostile intentions, laid siege to Romorantin. The English were repulsed in their first assault; but were not disheartened. They continued their attacks, but still in vain, till some engineers advised an experiment to be made with the newly-discovered gunpowder. They planted some batteries of cannon so as to enable them to throw into the place a number of inflammable missiles. By this means they set fire to some buildings in the lower court of the castle. The conflagration soon extended to one of the towers. The besieged were then constrained to surrender to the conqueror, and were made prisoners of war. This is the first time that mention is made in history of artillery being employed for besieging places. It was ten years after the battle of Crecy, at which, it is said, cannon were first used in the field.

LA ROCHELLE.

A.D. 1372.

The English having made themselves masters of La Rochelle, the inhabitants of that important city did not endure the yoke without impatience. They were only restrained by their fear of the military who garrisoned the castle, which dominated over both the port and the city. Jean Candorier, mayor of La Rochelle, proposed gaining possession of it by a stratagem. “We shall easily do so, and to our honour,” said he, “for Philip Monsel (the English commander) is not over cunning.” Candorier invited Monsel to dine with him, and took the opportunity of showing him an order which desired him, in his quality of mayor, to review the garrison and the armed burgesses. This order was a fiction. The English commander, like most warriors of the time, could neither read nor write. Candorier showed the order so openly, and read it with a confidence that might have imposed upon any one. On the day appointed for the review, Monsel marched all his garrison out of the castle, with the exception of about twelve men. Scarcely had he passed the fortifications, than a body of armed citizens, placed in ambuscade behind an old wall, got between him and the citadel, whilst a body of two hundred men met him, in good order, in front. The English, finding themselves surrounded, yielded at discretion. The inhabitants then summoned the few left in the citadel to place it immediately in their power. Their number was so small that they complied without hesitation. Charles V. rewarded the Rochellois with great privileges.

SECOND SIEGE, A.D. 1573.

During the various religious wars in France, the Reformers had no more formidable rampart or place of refuge than La Rochelle. Readers not well acquainted with French history, and accustomed to look upon France as one kingdom ruled by a despotic king, can form no idea of the real state of that country quite up to the middle of the reign of Louis XIV. In all the provinces of France there were strongly fortified cities, mostly attached to the governments of these provinces. It was the object of princes of the blood and of the high nobles to obtain a government; after that, upon receiving offence at court, or taking umbrage at even an imaginary insult, they would retire to their fortified city, and set even royalty at defiance. La Rochelle, Sedan, and some other cities, were the great rallying-points of the Huguenots, and, in them, the power of the monarchs was merely nominal. In 1573, they were besieged in La Rochelle by the duke of Anjou, afterwards the infamous Henry III., the most inveterate enemy they ever had to encounter. The massacre of St. Bartholomew has fixed an indelible stain upon the reign of Charles IX.; but more of its horrors were due to this, his successor, than to him. Henry of Anjou was more after Catherine de Medici’s own heart than her second son Charles. This prince could boast of having in his army the flower of the French nobility. In the course of eight months they gave nine general assaults, and formed more than twenty useless attacks. An English fleet endeavoured to throw succours into the city, but it was repulsed, and forced to renounce the enterprise. The Rochellois, notwithstanding, continued to signalize their valour by the most intrepid resistance. The duke of Anjou, returning from visiting a mine, passed by a place within gun-shot of the city. A soldier, recognising him, took a deliberate aim at him, and would have ridded the world of a monster, but for the intervention of his squire, Hubert Devins, who, seeing the danger of the prince, rushed forward, and received the ball instead of him. He was cured of his wound, and lived a long time to enjoy the glory of such an action. Upon the duke being chosen king of Poland, a general assault was given; but it succeeded no better than its predecessors. The prince, who had already lost more than twenty-four thousand men, then resolved to terminate the siege by making peace. The conduct of the royalists during the siege was the height of extravagance, injustice, and ferocity: “They sported there with the lives of men,” says Matthieu the historian; “and I have heard those say who were near the duke of Anjou, that to pass away the time, when they were at a loss what to do, they sent soldiers to the breach.” It is not to be wondered at that an enterprise so conducted should have had a bad end, and that the Rochellois, pretending to submit, to save the honour of the court, should have really remained masters of their city. Near the counterscarp, there was a mill, called Labrande, of which Captain Normand had obtained the proprietorship, upon condition that he should have it guarded. He thought at first of fortifying it; but finding he could not put it in a state of defence, he satisfied himself with keeping a few soldiers in it in the daytime, who retired at night, with the exception of one sentinel. Strozzi, one of the Catholic generals, who fancied he could derive some advantage from this mill, fixed upon a moonlight night to attack it with a detachment and two culverins. A soldier from the Isle of Rhé, named Barbot, sole defender of this bad post, stood his ground, fired, with incredible celerity, many arquebuse-shots at the assailants, and, by varying the inflexions of his voice, made them believe that he had a considerable number of comrades. Captain Normand kept encouraging him from the top of a cavalier, speaking as if there were an entire company in the mill, and telling them to hold out bravely, and they should soon have assistance. Barbot’s artillery being exhausted, he came forward and demanded quarter for himself and his comrades; and, the defence having been so respectable, it was granted. He immediately laid down his arms, and revealed the whole garrison in his own person. Strozzi, enraged at what he ought to have thought heroic, wanted to have him hung for his act of gallantry; but Biron, who was more moderate, satisfied himself with condemning him to the galleys. These men prided themselves upon fighting in a religious cause, and in civilized times: the pagans of old Greece or Rome would not have punished such a man at all. The soldier was fortunate enough to escape by flight a punishment he did not deserve.[13]

THIRD SIEGE, A.D. 1627.

We come now to the most important siege of La Rochelle, a siege which is likewise the great event of the life of so remarkable a man as the Cardinal de Richelieu. Of all the actions of this able, selfish, cruel minister, his policy in subduing the Huguenots is, perhaps, the most defensible. The Huguenots were not only what they pretended to be, a religious party,--they were a political party; and many men carried on their schemes of rebellion or aggrandizement under the shadow of their standard, who cared nothing for religion of any kind. That this is the case in all religious wars we are willing to admit, but it was particularly so in France in the reign of Louis XIII. Louis himself was superstitious enough; as most weak men are; but it would have puzzled the Sorbonne itself to have told what was the heart religion of Louis’ minister.

Cardinal de Richelieu, who governed France and its king, being very desirous to signalize his ministry by the conquest of La Rochelle, ordered the siege of it to be prepared. In the year 1627, an army of twenty-three thousand men, with Louis XIII. at their head, presented itself before this last asylum of the Protestants. The warlike cardinal conducted all the operations in the name of the king. The city was vast, well fortified, well situated, provided with numerous artillery, full of munitions of all kinds, and defended by inhabitants animated by religious zeal. They elected as mayor, governor, and general of their city, Jean Guiton, a man of great firmness and valour. He was scarcely clothed with these important but perilous dignities, than he assembled the inhabitants, and drawing a poniard, said: “I will be your mayor, since you insist upon my being so, but only upon condition that I may be permitted to plunge this poniard into the heart of the first man who shall speak of surrendering. I consent that it shall be employed in the same manner upon me, if I should propose to capitulate; and I require that this poniard shall remain for that purpose upon the table of the chamber in which we assemble.” Richelieu in the mean time continued his works for the blockade of the place. A circumvallation of three leagues was formed, protected by thirteen forts, flanked with redoubts, and bristling with artillery. But the great object was to close the ports, in order to exclude succour. Piles were sunk to embarrass the entrance; a chain of immense force was stretched across the mouth: but all these means proved useless. At length the cardinal resolved to make a dyke. We beg our readers to remember that whenever a grand national operation is successful, the king or minister under whom it is effected is almost sure to have the credit of it, although, perhaps, perfectly innocent of any idea of the kind. This, we have reason to believe, was the fact with respect to Richelieu and his famous dyke, which might have been planned by any soldier in the army. It will not bear a comparison with Alexander’s dyke at the siege of Tyre. Everybody, as is usual in such cases, exclaimed against the project as absurd. Louis Métézeau and Jean Tiriot alone ventured to undertake the execution of it, and they were kindly set down by their contemporaries as madmen. It was necessary to form a canal of seven hundred and forty toises in width, in a place where the current of the sea was very strong. Long posts were sunk in the sea, at twelve feet distance from each other, from the point of Coreille to Fort Louis: other posts, quite as strong, connected them crosswise. Immense dry stones were thrown into the intervals, to which the slime and mud acted as cement. This dyke was so elevated, that in the highest tides the soldiers were dry upon it; its thickness was proof against cannon. It was, towards the bottom, about twelve toises wide, and only about four at the top, so that it resembled a glacis. At each extremity a fort was built; an opening was left in the middle to allow passage for the tides; but, in order to prevent the enemy’s vessels from entering by this opening, forty vessels, filled with hewn stones, were sunk, and a vast number of huge piles were driven. This great and wonderful work, which required the incessant labour of six months, was defended by several batteries erected on firm ground, and by two hundred vessels of all sizes, well armed, which lined the shore. The advantage of this dyke was soon perceived: La Rochelle, which till then had received all its munitions and provisions by sea, became destitute in a very short time. The English made two attempts to deliver or revictual the place, but were obliged to renounce their undertaking. After a year’s blockade, the Rochellois, for some time reduced to subsist upon grass, herbs, and shell-fish, began to be carried off in great numbers by famine. Twelve thousand men had already perished; whole houses were filled with dead bodies. One day the mayor met a person attenuated by famine. “He has but one breath of life left,” said some one to him. “Are you surprised at that?” replied he; “you and I must soon come to that, if we are not relieved.” “But,” added another, “hunger carries off so many daily, that we shall soon have no inhabitants left.” “Well,” rejoined the brave old man, “never mind, so long as there is one left to keep the gates shut.” Such was what Catholic historians call the obstinacy, and Protestant ones the firmness, of the commander of the Rochellois and his soldiers. Although scarcely able to carry their muskets, they preferred death to surrendering. They really had “but one breath of life left,” when, on the 28th of October, 1628, they were compelled to capitulate. The royal troops took possession on the 30th, and on the 1st of November the king made his public entrance. The fortifications were demolished, the ditches filled up, the inhabitants disarmed and made taxable; echevinage and the corporation of the city were abolished for ever. For nearly two hundred years, La Rochelle had scarcely acknowledged any sovereigns but its magistrates. This conquest cost Louis forty millions of francs, but not so many lives as might have been expected.

It is impossible to give an account of the siege of La Rochelle in a work like this, proportioned to the means at command; with half what we have at hand, we could compose a volume. But this very abundance removes the necessity for our going into detail: there are so many interesting accounts of it before the public, that a longer one from us is not required. Whilst Richelieu, Buckingham, and Louis XIII.; whilst the religious wars between Catholics and Huguenots, shall occupy--we were going to say stain--the page of history, the siege of La Rochelle must be familiar to most readers.

CASSOVIA.

A.D. 1389.

The city of Cassovia, in Lower Hungary, was often the theatre of the exploits of the Germans and the Turks, after the entrance of the latter into Europe. In 1389, Amurath I. conquered in these plains the Hungarians, the Wallachians, the Dalmatians, and the Triballian confederates. After a long and sanguinary battle, the sultan went to survey the dead, and walked over the field of carnage. When he had for some time contemplated these sad trophies of his success--“I am astonished,” said he to his grand vizier, who accompanied him, “to see only young beardless men among these dead, and not one old man.”

“It is that that has given us the victory,” replied the vizier; “youth only listens to the wild fire which animates it, and comes to perish at your feet; old age is more tranquil and prudent.”

“But that which still more surprises me,” said the grand seignor, “is, that I have triumphed. I dreamt last night that an unknown enemy’s hand pierced my side. Nevertheless, thanks to God! thanks to His Prophet! I triumph, and I live!”

He had scarcely pronounced these words when a Triballian soldier, concealed among the dead, sprang up in a rage and plunged his dagger into the sultan’s bowels. The murderer was instantly cut to pieces. The proud sultan saw his dream accomplished: a conqueror in thirty battles. He expired two hours after, from the stroke of this assassin.

TROYES.

A.D. 1429.

The Maid of Orleans had announced that her mission was confined to two objects,--the deliverance of Orleans and the consecration of the king at Reims. After having gloriously fulfilled her first promise, she employed the ascendancy she had acquired to execute the second. Although the city of Reims, and all the country from Chinon, where the king then resided, was in the power of the English, the French set forward on their march, with an army of twelve thousand men. All the cities in their route opened their gates to them, with the exception of Troyes, which endeavoured to arrest their progress. A council of war being called, Joan confidently assured them that, within three days, the king should be received in Troyes.

“Say seven days, Joan,” cried the archbishop of Reims, “say seven, Joan; and we shall be right glad to see your prediction fulfilled.”

“Before three days are over,” exclaimed the Maid, “I tell you the king will be master of Troyes.”

They prepared for the attack. Joan appeared before the ramparts, advanced to the edge of the fosses, planted her banner, and called aloud for fascines to fill them up. Terror instantly seized the besieged; they believed their city taken, although there was yet no breach. They capitulated; and Charles entered triumphantly into that city where, eight years before, his ruin had been contemplated by excluding him from the throne. After the reduction of Troyes, Reims was eager to receive the monarch, who repaired thither on the 27th of July, 1429, and was consecrated the next day.

When this august ceremony was completed, Joan advanced towards the king, with the tears streaming from her eyes, and throwing herself at his feet, held his knees embraced for some time; then, checking her emotion, she said,--“At last, gentle king, I have fulfilled the pleasure of God, who willed that you should come to Reims to receive your worthy consecration, by showing that you are king, and are he to whom the kingdom belongs.”

She then supplicated him to permit her to return to her native village; but she was still too useful to him to allow her to depart: he entreated her, he even forced her to continue her services. She yielded to his commands, and experienced nothing but misfortunes afterwards.

BELGRADE.

A.D. 1439.

At the confluence of the Danube and the Save stands the city of Belgrade, the capital of Servia; its advantageous situation upon a hill, the excellence of its port, the strength of its castles, the soundness of its ramparts, caused it for a long time to be considered one of the best bulwarks of Hungary against Turkey; whilst its position and its wealth made it a continual object of desire for the Ottoman monarchs. The first sultan who attacked it was Amurath II. Followed by the flower of his armies, he crossed the Danube in 1439, halted before Belgrade, and thundered against it, night and day, from cannons throwing balls of a hundred pounds weight. In the first attacks the grand seignor battered down a great part of the fortifications, but nothing could intimidate the inhabitants, who were resolved to bury themselves under the ruins of their city rather than surrender; they presented themselves firmly at every breach, and repulsed the Mussulmans with arquebuses and arrows. For several days the Turks did not dare to approach the ramparts; but at length one of their best captains having placed himself at the head of the troops, succeeded in gaining the edge of the ditch; from this advantageous position he drove in the besieged, pursued them through the breach, and gave a vigorous assault; the Turks spread themselves through the city, and believed themselves masters. But all at once the inhabitants rallied in despair, fell upon the Turks close-handed, and killed the greater part of them. Discouraged by this reverse, Amurath raised the siege and returned to his own dominions.

SECOND SIEGE, A.D. 1455.

Sixteen years after, Mahomet II. was anxious to crown his exploits by the capture of Belgrade; he invested it by land with an army of four hundred thousand men, at the same time that his fleet blockaded it upon the Danube. Ladislaus, king of Hungary, was encamped on the other side of the river with a numerous army. Being convinced that he should lose Belgrade if he did not in some way get rid of the Turkish galleys, he embarked the élite of his troops on a vast number of large boats, and fell upon the Turks with such fury that he took twenty of their ships, sunk others, and put the rest to flight. This victory reopened his communication with Belgrade, and he sent in the celebrated John Corvin, known under the name of Huniades. This general was seconded by John Capestran, a Cordelier, sent into Hungary by the Pope, to preach a crusade. This monk appeared at the head of all the sorties, a crucifix in his hand, inducing the warriors to perish rather than give way, by constantly displaying to them the crown of martyrdom suspended over their heads, if they fell by the hands of the infidels. His words and example destroyed all fear, and the troops he led always returned victorious. But the Mussulman artillery had made a large breach; Mahomet commanded an assault, led his troops to the edge of the ditch, carried it, and rushed into the city without meeting with much resistance. Thus were both parties situated, just as in the former siege. This calm was a ruse of Huniades. To surprise the Ottomans in the midst of their fancied triumph, he drew up his troops upon a retired part of the city; at the first sound of the trumpet the garrison of the citadel had orders to join those who, by his direction, had abandoned the breach. The signal was given, and the Hungarians poured from all quarters. The Turks, attacked in front, in rear, in flank, knew not which way to turn; some perished in their astonishment, without offering any defence; others precipitated themselves into the ditches, and a small number succeeded in escaping through the breach. In vain Mahomet endeavoured to rally them; his obstinate valour was constrained to give way; the conqueror of Constantinople was forced to raise the siege of Belgrade shamefully, after losing an eye and his noble army. Huniades survived this triumph but a short time; he quickly died of his wounds.

THIRD SIEGE, A.D. 1521.

So many useless efforts we might think would have for ever discouraged the haughty Ottomans; but the more necessary for them the conquest of Belgrade became, the more it excited their ambition. Soliman II. once more directed the Turkish arms against the city, in 1521; he at first had it blockaded by his generals, and then repaired to the scene of action, to animate his troops by his presence. During six weeks the walls were mined, a continual fire of artillery was kept up, and every day furious assaults were given. At length the exhausted garrison was forced to surrender, and on the 20th of August, 1521, Belgrade became a Turkish city.

FOURTH SIEGE, A.D. 1688.

The Porte held peaceable possession of Belgrade for nearly two hundred years, when the elector of Bavaria, who had become general of the Hungarian armies under the emperor Leopold, began by beating the Turks, who disputed the passage of the Save with him, and pursued them up to the walls of Belgrade, to which place he laid siege on the 30th of July, 1688. After a constant cannonade of twenty-five days, the walls were opened in several places, and the commander was summoned to surrender. Upon his refusal, the signal for a general assault was given, at six o’clock in the morning of the 6th of September, and five different breaches were attacked at the same time. At half-past ten all the corps rallied to the cry of Emmanuel! (God is with us); the Germans fell upon the Turks with such fury, that the latter gave way and retreated before them. The combat was terrible; the whole garrison, composed of nine thousand determined and warlike men, united their efforts to check the progress of the Christians; those who had fled, rallied upon the breaches and fought with desperation. The Imperialists began to waver, and yielded the victory step by step. The elector perceiving this, flew to their head, followed by Prince Eugene, sword in hand: “My children, follow us!” shouted the elector, “we must conquer or die!” The Germans return to the fight; Eugene mounts first to the breach, at the head of the bravest. A Janissary splits his helmet with a stroke of his sabre; the prince turns round calmly, runs his enemy through, and resumes the fight. The garrison is driven from the ramparts, and the assailants penetrate into the city; the Turks endeavour to retreat to the castle, but in great confusion; the Germans, who are pursuing them, enter with them. The combat rages with more fury than ever; the elector is wounded by an arrow in the cheek. Danger redoubles his courage; no enemy can stand against him, and soon his victory is complete. Blood inundates Belgrade; neither age nor sex is respected; the garrison is put to the sword; five thousand Janissaries become the victims of the angry conqueror.--The Germans lost about four thousand men, but the army found motives for consolation in an immense booty.

In this siege we see a prince, who was to become one of the greatest generals the world has known, displaying the character of a cool and brave swordsman. Eugene did not flesh his maiden sword in this siege, but it took place early in his career.

Voltaire claims Eugene as a Frenchman, although his father, the count de Soissons, was the son of Charles Emanuel, duke of Savoy, and his mother was an Italian, one of the notorious nieces of Cardinal Mazarin. But as he was born in Paris in 1663, and his father was settled in France, we suppose we must yield the honour to that country. But France set very little store by him in his youth: he was first known as the Chevalier de Cavignan; he next assumed le petit collet, and was styled the Abbé de Savoie. It is said that he asked the king for a regiment, and that Louis’ refusal was accompanied with reproaches. Being unable to succeed in his darling view in France, he went to serve the emperor against the Turks, in 1683. The two princes de Conti joined him in 1685. Louis XIV. then commanded them all to return; but the Abbé de Savoie was the only one who refused to do so, simply saying he had renounced France. When the king heard this, he said to his courtiers, “Don’t you think I have made a great loss?” And the courtiers replied that the Abbé de Savoie would always be a wild fellow, incapable of anything. They judged him by some youthful extravagances, which should rarely be taken as proofs of what a man may be. Voltaire’s character of him is so just, that we cannot refrain from repeating it. “This prince, too much despised by the court of France, was born with the qualities which make a hero in war, and a great man in peace; a lofty and just mind, possessed of necessary courage both in the field and in the cabinet. He committed faults, as what generals have not? but they were concealed by the number of his great actions. He shook the grandeur of Louis XIV. and the power of the Ottoman; he governed the empire; and, in the course of his victories and his ministry, showed an equal contempt for pomp and wealth. He even cultivated letters, and protected them at the court of Vienna, as much as was in his power.”

FIFTH SIEGE, A.D. 1690.

This famous conquest spread joy throughout the empire; but scarcely had Leopold taken possession of Belgrade than it was torn from him again. The grand vizier, Mustapha Coprogli, presented himself before that city with an army, which its valour, its zeal, and its exploits had rendered formidable: he commenced by blockading it. Learning that the Imperialists were coming to its aid, he opened the trenches with half of his army, and destined the other to dispute the passage of the Save with the Germans: this strategic position was very critical. The grand vizier, uncertain of success, awaited some event capable of forwarding his plans. For eight days the artillery had thundered against the place, without any considerable effect, when a bomb fell upon a tower which served as a powder-magazine, and blew it up, together with all the neighbouring houses, and part of the walls. The Turks immediately exclaimed that God had declared himself by this miracle; and no longer doubting of his assistance, they flew to the breach before the garrison had had time to repair the damage. Although surprised, they resisted a long time with great valour; but overwhelmed by numbers, having killed many Turks, the garrison retired on the 8th of October, by the Danube, to the amount of seven or eight hundred men, commanded by General D’Ospremont and the duke de Croi. Six thousand soldiers, who could not make their escape, were massacred by the Turks; most of the inhabitants shared the same fate, and the barbarians did not discontinue their cruelty till wearied with slaughter.

This disgrace astonished the court of Vienna, without depriving it of hope; the duke de Croi appeared suddenly, in 1694, under the walls of Belgrade, from which place the Turkish army was absent. His batteries were placed in a short time; his artillery and mines were so vigorously worked, that in eight days he had reduced all the advanced works to ashes, when the grand vizier made his appearance with a powerful army; the siege was raised perforce, and the conquest was reserved for Prince Eugene.

SIXTH SIEGE, A.D. 1717.

On the 8th of June, Prince Eugene, who had become the terror of Europe and Asia by a series of triumphs, approached Belgrade with an army of a hundred and fifty thousand men. Several French princes accompanied him, solely for the purpose of learning the art of sieges under so great a captain. On the 16th the army encamped on the heights of Visnitza, and the next day all the baggage arrived, in spite of a cloud of Tartars who scoured the country. The count de Palfi was directed to invest the place.

Two days after, Eugene himself made a grand reconnaissance. When scarcely at a quarter of a league from the camp, twelve hundred Turks fell upon his escort. A Mussulman officer recognised him, drew near to him, and followed him, pistol in hand. He had already penetrated through two ranks, when he paid for his temerity with his life. The Turks proving too weak to take advantage of the occasion, were soon dispersed, and left the prince to continue his operations. Continual discharges of artillery from the Turkish galleys and saiks which covered the Danube, impeded the works of the besiegers, at the same time that this flotilla prevented the complete blockade of Belgrade. Eugene ordered it to be destroyed. A long and obstinate combat ensued on the river; but the Ottomans were conquered, and left the Germans masters of the navigation. The city now was completely invested. Lines of circumvallation and countervallation completed the system of attack and defence. To connect his operations, the prince threw bridges over the Save and the Danube; but they lasted only a short time; being carried away by a violent storm. The Turks endeavoured to profit by this accident to disturb the quarters which were momentarily separated from the main army, and attacked the redoubts of the Hessians, who defended themselves with great courage. The first assault upon the body of the place was not very successful; the prince had charged Colonel De Merci to carry the advanced works on the side of the river, where the approaches were tolerably easy and the fortifications not very redoubtable. At the moment of obeying his instructions, Colonel De Merci was struck with apoplexy, and was carried back to the camp. The prince was unwilling to trust this delicate mission to any other hands, and took it upon himself. He succeeded, but he incurred extreme danger: three balls passed between him and the prince of Dombes, who accompanied him: their hissing was so violent as to startle their horses. On the 22nd of July, all the batteries directed against the city were completed: they were unmasked all at once. The garrison, consisting of twenty thousand men, responded to the fire with much spirit; but their pieces were soon dismounted, and they were constrained to remain quiet spectators of the devastation caused by the enemy’s cannon. All at once, there appeared on the neighbouring heights more than a hundred thousand Turks, marching in good order: this was the army of the grand vizier. Prince Eugene was now in exactly the same situation as Cæsar at the siege of Aliso; he blockaded Belgrade, but he was himself blockaded by all the Ottoman forces, collected for the defence of that place. Surrounded by land on all sides, he would have been lost if his trenches had been forced. The Turks raised several batteries, which began to play upon the besiegers on the 2nd of August. In the night between the 14th and 15th, they opened a trench opposite to the centre of the Imperialists, and pushed their works to within a hundred paces of the lines of the Christian army. To prevent the attack upon his intrenchments by attacking the intrenchments of the Turks, was following the example of Cæsar. Prince Eugene decided upon doing so. In the centre of his army he placed the infantry, under the command of Prince Alexander of Wurtemberg; on the two wings he arrayed his cavalry; in two lines, behind these bodies, were regiments of infantry, to support them. The reserve remained in the trenches, under the orders of the count de Seckendorf, and the garde du camp was confided to the valour of General Vrard. To deceive the Ottoman army, Belgrade was bombarded vigorously during the whole evening of the 16th, the fire only ceasing at midnight. At one o’clock, the report of three bombs was heard: this was the signal for marching. The first line immediately moved forward in silence, and advanced towards the flèche[14] of the intrenchments by the light of the moon. Suddenly a thick fog arose, the right of this line missed its way, and fell into one of the enemy’s boyaux (branch of a trench). But confusion had seized the Turks, and they began to fly: the Janissaries, however, rallied them, and the fight commenced. The error of the Germans had separated them from the centre; and the Mussulmans threw themselves into the interval, in spite of the efforts of Prince Eugene, whose operations were defeated by the fog. During several hours they fought at hazard, in profound darkness. At length, however, the cloud dispersed, and, with the return of light, the general became aware of the danger his army was in. He flew to its aid, and charged the Mussulmans at the head of his volunteers; the Turks resisted bravely, and the battle was sanguinary; Eugene was slightly wounded by a sabre-stroke: but, fighting under the eyes of their general, his soldiers became heroes; they attacked, overthrew, and crushed every obstacle opposed to their valour. In an instant the Turks abandoned the centre. The Bavarian infantry now signalized their courage: led on by a French officer, named La Colonie, they cleared the ditches, ravines, and parapets, surmounted every obstacle, overtook the Turks, charged and broke their battalions, pursued them from trench to trench, and took possession of a battery of eighteen guns defended by twenty thousand Janissaries and four thousand Turks: their intrepidity secured the triumph of the Imperialists. By eleven o’clock in the morning, the Turks, broken and beaten on all sides, took to flight, leaving thirteen thousand dead upon the field of battle, five thousand wounded, and as many prisoners. This victory cost the Germans more than three thousand men, but it procured them an immense booty; a hundred and thirty guns, with all the munitions and provisions of the Ottomans, who lost fifty-two colours, nine horse-tails, and four trumpets. On the morrow, the governor of Belgrade hoisted the white flag: he was permitted to march out without arms or munitions. The conquerors found in the city two hundred cannons and sixty-eight mortars.

SEVENTH SIEGE, A.D. 1739.

Experience has shown that all the armies which have gone to any distance from the Danube, in the wars of Hungary, have been unfortunate, because, at the same time, they have left their means of subsistence behind them. The thirst for command which tormented the Austrian generals in 1739, made them forgetful of these old war maxims. The Imperial army, scattered about in all directions, was formidable nowhere. Multiplied contradictory orders augmented the uncertainty of their generals, and, every day, gave rise to fresh errors among them. General Oliver Wallis replaced, upon this dangerous theatre, Kœningsheck, created grand master of the empress’s household. Very little flattered by this command, General Wallis wrote to the king of Prussia, upon his nomination: “The emperor has confided to me the command of his army: the first who conducted it before me is in prison; he whom I immediately succeed has been made eunuch of the seraglio; my only chance is to lose my head at the end of the campaign.” The Imperial army, sixty thousand strong, assembled near Belgrade. That of the Turks was twice as numerous. Wallis marched against the enemy without having made the least disposition. He attacked the Janissaries with his cavalry, in a hollow way: whilst his horse defiled in this passage, they could not defend themselves against the Janissaries posted among the vines and in the hedges, near the village of Grotska; his cavalry was beaten in this defile before his infantry could come up. The latter were led to slaughter with the same imprudence, the Turks firing upon them at their pleasure, and in safety. The Imperialists retreated with the decline of day, having sustained a loss of twenty thousand men. If the Turks had pursued them, Wallis and his whole army must have been destroyed. Stupified with this disgrace, Wallis continued to heap error upon error. Although joined by General Neuperg, with a large detachment, he did not think himself in safety till within the trenches of Belgrade. Pursued thither by the grand vizier, he again abandoned this city to the Turks, and recrossed the Danube. The emperor, discouraged by these losses, ordered Marshal Neuperg to treat for peace. It cost the Austrian monarch the kingdom of Servia, and Belgrade. Oliver Wallis was not much mistaken in his prognostics: he was imprisoned in the fortress of Brünn, and Marshal Neuperg, although much less culpable, in the fortress of Gratz.

EIGHTH SIEGE, A.D. 1789.

It is the fate of an important fortress, situated on the extreme frontier of powerful and warlike states, to be always exposed to the first blows struck in great quarrels. Belgrade fell again, in 1789, into the hands of the Austrians, commanded by Marshal Laudon.

Restored to the Turks by Austria, in 1791, this city became, in 1798, the theatre of war between the Mussulmans and the rebel Servians, who, disputing the possession of it, fought even in the faubourgs.

CASTILLON.

A.D. 1452.

However unimportant this siege may look in the “great history,” we cannot refrain from giving it, as the scene of the “last fight” of one of the bravest and most esteemed heroes that do honour to our annals.

The army of Charles VII. of France, on the 13th of July, 1452, laid siege to Castillon, a little city of Perigord, on the Dordogne, ten leagues from Bordeaux, then in the occupation of the English. Marshals Lohéac and Jalognes had the conducting of it; Jean Biereau, grand master of the artillery, commanded seven hundred cannoniers. This place, surrounded by lines of circumvallation and an intrenched camp, was brought to bay, when the brave English general Talbot came to its aid. He at once put to flight a body of free-archers. Seduced by this easy success, he marched straight to the intrenchments of the French camp. Its fortifications astonished him, without abating his courage: he gave the assault. During two hours, he braved all the efforts and the murderous fire of the French,--at eighty years of age, he fought with all the ardour of youth: the English gave way; twice he brought them back to the charge, and twice he was repulsed. A fresh French corps came up, fell upon the rear-guard of the English, and overwhelmed it.

In vain Talbot, sword in hand, covered with blood and dust, rode through the ranks, animating his men by his words and his example. His war-horse, struck down by a culverin, encumbered him in his fall. He was on the point of expiring, when his son flew to his assistance. “Retire!” cried the generous old man, “reserve your young days for a more useful occasion. I die fighting for my country; live, my son, to serve it.”

After uttering these words, he expired. His son, the young Lord Lisle, fell a few minutes after, whilst endeavouring to avenge his death. The English fled; and Castillon surrendered the next day.

“Thus perished Talbot, whom the English of that day called their Achilles. He had, it is true, the valour of one: he was not only brave, but an excellent negotiator, a faithful subject, a sincere friend, and a generous enemy.”

And this eulogy is written by a Frenchman! So pleased were we with it, that we abstained from calling in Shakespeare, who has immortalized this last scene of the gallant Talbot and his son. When will Frenchmen do equal justice to Nelson and Wellington? When perhaps they have been dead as long as Talbot has.

LIEGE.

A.D. 1468.

We offer this siege to our young readers as a sort of illustration of one of Sir Walter Scott’s best novels. Sir Walter has dealt freely with historical characters; he has made most of them effective, but has not always adhered quite faithfully either to men or events. But no novelist,--and we should have said no dramatist, if a bust of Shakespeare had not been looking down upon us,--ever sketched an historical character so happily as he has done that of Louis XI.;--it is Louis himself! with all his pettinesses, shrewdness, superstition, and duplicity.

Louis XI. had raised the Liégeois against their suzerain, the duke of Burgundy. In an over-cunning attempt at policy, Louis had placed himself in the hands of the bold Burgundian, who, irritated by the outbreak at Liége, compelled the imprudent monarch to hoist the cross of St. Andrew, the ensign of the house of Burgundy, and lead his army against the Liégeois, whose revolt he had excited. Made aware of the storm about to break over their ramparts, the inhabitants prepared for a vigorous defence. Although reduced to a feeble garrison of six hundred men, the burgesses determined to withstand with courage the efforts of an enemy who had sworn to ruin them. The duke of Burgundy opened the trenches, and took up his lodging in one of the faubourgs. The besieged, in a vigorous sortie, killed eight hundred Burgundians, and put the rest of their infantry to flight. Wild, provost of Liége, who had led on this attack, died of his wounds: the loss was irreparable,--no one could replace him. The duke of Burgundy and the king came up. They lodged in houses in the faubourgs, and ordered many useless attacks and assaults. Several days passed without any event of consequence. During this short repose, the Liégeois meditated carrying off the king and the duke by surprise. In the darkness and silence of night, the Liégeois marched, led by the owners of the houses in which the princes were lodged. A hollow way cut through a rock covered their march. They killed some sentinels, arrived at the lodgings without being discovered, and stopped at a pavilion in which dwelt the count du Perche, son of the duke d’Alençon. They missed the decisive moment. The two princes were awakened and put upon their guard. Three hundred men-at-arms were round them instantly. The tumult was horrible. The clash of arms, the uncertainty of the cause of the peril, the darkness, and the cries of the combatants, augmented the confusion of this frightful mêlée. The Liégeois, conscious of the smallness of their numbers, and feeling they must succumb, fought like lions at bay: they perished, but sold their lives dearly. The king and the duke of Burgundy met in the street, at the head of their guards; their presence removed mutual suspicions. They separated, after felicitating each other upon their good fortune and intrepidity upon so perilous an occasion. This fruitless attempt only increased the rage of the irritable duke: he ordered an assault for the 30th of October. At the given signal, towards daybreak, forty thousand men advanced to the foot of the battlements, to the sound of warlike instruments. Nobody appeared upon the walls to defend them; the inhabitants had fled; women, children, and old men awaited in consternation and silence the evils it would please their implacable conqueror to pour upon them. The Burgundians entered without resistance. The poor remains of the population took refuge in the churches from the fury of the soldiery. The duke triumphed: but what triumph could satisfy his brutal nature? Priests were immolated at the foot of the altar; sacred virgins, dragged from their asylums, were violated and then massacred; soldiers went from house to house with the lighted torch and naked sword in their hands; they vented their fury upon defenceless women and children; plunder was the least of their crimes. The unfortunate fugitives perished in the woods of hunger and destitution, or were pitilessly massacred; prisoners, too poor to pay their ransom, were precipitated into the waters of the Meuse. The city, when changed into a desert, presenting no animated creature upon which the barbarous conqueror could exercise his cruel vengeance, he directed his resentment against inanimate objects. Four thousand men of the country of Limbourg were commanded to set fire to the public edifices, and to demolish all that the flames had not devoured. Liége soon became one heap of melancholy ruins.

And this was Charles the Bold, or rather, as téméraire is better translated, “the Rash!” to whom, as the impersonation of brute courage, I dare say the Burgundians have raised statues, as we have raised one to Richard I., just such another hero, who slaughtered his five thousand Saracen captives before Acre! An intelligent foreigner said: “You propose a statue to Richard I.: you have one of George IV.; where is Alfred’s?”

BEAUVAIS.

A.D. 1472.

This siege brings the same actors on the stage, and we are principally induced to offer it to our readers by the circumstance of the detestable homicide meeting in it with a reverse, and that partly occasioned by women.

Charles the Bold, duke of Burgundy, was engaged in an inveterate war with Louis XI. Learning there was but a weak garrison in Beauvais, he marched towards that city, with the expectation of entering it without opposition; and so it proved with the faubourgs, and the Burgundians thought themselves masters of the place; but the citizens, the moment they were aware of their danger, closed their gates, and took their posts on the walls like men. Not only these: the women and maidens insisted upon taking part in this honourable defence. Led by Joan Hachette, they ranged themselves on the parts of the walls the least protected; and one of these heroines even obtained an enemy’s standard, and bore it in triumph into the city. The principal attack of the besiegers was directed against the gate of Bresle: the cannon had already beaten it in; the breach was open, and the city would have been taken, if the inhabitants had not heaped together on the spot an immense mass of fagots and combustible matters. The flames of this pile proved an efficient check to the Burgundians. The assault began at eight o’clock in the morning, and was still raging, when, towards the decline of day, a noble body of troops was seen entering by the Paris gate. These brave fellows, having marched fourteen leagues without halting, gave their horses and equipments to the care of the women and girls, and flew to those parts of the walls where the fight was hottest. The besiegers, though numbering eighty thousand, could not resist the united valour of the garrison and the new comers; they soon wavered, and at length fled to their camp in disorder. More defenders arrived by daybreak; the citizens received them as liberators; they spread tables for them in the streets and public places, cheered them with refreshments, and afterwards accompanied them to the walls. The duke of Burgundy then perceived, but too late, a great error he had committed. Instead of investing Beauvais with a numerous army, he had attacked it on one side only: succours and convoys arrived from all parts. The duke himself began to experience the horrors of famine; the French, scouring the country, intercepted his convoys. Everything announced a fruitless enterprise; but he resolved, before raising the siege, to attempt a general assault. The besieged, under the orders of Marshal De Rouault, prepared to receive him. The marshal wanted to relieve La Roche-Tesson and Fontenailles; but as they had arrived first, and had established themselves at the gate of Bresle, which was the post of danger, they complained of removal as of an affront, and obtained permission to retain a post they had kept night and day. The trumpets sounded, the cannon roared, the Burgundians advanced, fire and sword in hand; they planted their ladders, mounted the breaches, and attacked the besieged: the latter received them with firmness; they precipitated them, they crushed them, or beat them back from their walls. Raging like a wild bull, Charles rallied his soldiers and led them back to the assault; but they were again repulsed, with greater loss than before. How willingly we may suppose, Charles sounded a retreat. Had it not been for the excessive precaution of some of the burgesses, his army must have been entirely destroyed: they had walled up the gates on the side next the Burgundians, which impeded the sortie. Charles raised the siege on the 10th of July. Louis XI. rewarded the valour and fidelity of the inhabitants by an exemption from imposts. As the women had exhibited most ardour in defence of Beauvais, he ordered that they should take precedence of the men in the fête which was celebrated every year, on the 10th of July, in honour of their deliverance from the power of a man known to be a sanguinary conqueror.

GRENADA.

A.D. 1491.

Ferdinand V., king of Arragon, besieged Boabdil, the last king of the Moors of Grenada, in his capital, with an army of fifty thousand men. Grenada, surrounded by a double wall, fortified by one thousand and thirty towers, had two citadels, one of which served as a palace for the king. An army of thirty thousand Moors was within the walls; it had an immense and warlike population, and magnificent stores of munitions and provisions seemed to render it impregnable. Ferdinand did not attack Grenada according to the usual system of sieges; he employed neither lines, nor trenches, nor artillery: he surrounded his own camp with walls and works. His sole aim was to starve the enemy, and make himself master of all the passages; he rooted up the trees, he burnt the houses, and in a moment changed a delightful territory into a dry and arid desert. The garrison endeavoured to make sorties, but it was overwhelmed by numbers, and always proved unfortunate. The Saracens flattered themselves that the rigours of winter would oblige the Christians to depart; but their hopes were disappointed. Ferdinand’s camp became a fortified city, furnished with solid fire-proof houses. The Moors saw with grief that nothing could discourage the Castilians. The rigours of famine began to be felt, and cold augmented both public and private misery. In this extremity it was determined to treat with Ferdinand, and they consented to surrender, if not relieved within sixty days. Scarcely had the Moorish king signed the treaty than he repented of it; the thoughts of descending from his throne plunged him into the deepest grief, and yet he did not dare to retract, so great were the evils that surrounded him. His army could not endure the idea of submitting to the Christians, and the inhabitants incessantly implored the assistance of God and of Mahomet. Suddenly an Alfaique excited the people to revolt; at his voice twenty thousand men took arms. Boabdil required all his eloquence to restore order; he pointed out to them, with tears in his eyes, that if they preferred life to a certain death, they were bound by the stern necessity of observing the capitulation. The sedition was appeased, but the public despair was so great, that the king of the Moors, dreading to see it renewed, hastened to surrender all his forts, and to repair to the camp of the conqueror. Thus, after a duration of seven hundred and sixty-two years, terminated the domination of the Moors in Spain.

VIENNA.

Vienna, from its geographical position and its political importance, has been subjected to several sieges, and yet has occasionally, like Rome, sometimes escaped those fearful visitations when it might have expected them.

FIRST SIEGE, A.D. 1529.

After having subdued Asia, Soliman II. determined to make Europe tremble by the terrors of his constantly victorious arms. In 1529 this redoubtable conqueror entered Hungary with fire and sword; he pillaged, ravaged, and destroyed everything in his passage, and marched over these melancholy ruins to lay siege to Vienna, the capital of Austria and of the whole Western empire, since the house of Austria was said to occupy the throne of Charlemagne. The Ottoman army was immense, and was composed of the brave Janissaries who had just subdued Persia. But Vienna contained within its walls both warlike citizens and intrepid soldiers. The sultan commenced his operations by mining the walls. This immense labour was frequently interrupted by the counter-mines of the besieged; but at length some of these concealed volcanoes burst forth all at once, and threw down a great part of the walls. In an instant the Viennese, men, women, and children, flew to construct a new rampart; and when the infidels came to the assault, they were surprised to find themselves stopped, at a few paces from the breach, by this barrier, which twenty pieces of cannon and tens of thousands of defenders rendered impregnable. They then turned their attention to another side, where there had been only time to intrench with palisades. At this point the bodies of the inhabitants served as bulwarks. The combat here was terrible; rivers of blood and heaps of slain rolled beneath the steps of the warriors. Twice the Turks were repulsed with loss; twice the sultan and his officers rallied them and led them back against the enemy, and twice were they on the point of carrying the city. During four hours they fought and immolated each other, without being able to imagine to which side victory would be favourable. At length the thunders which were incessantly launched from all quarters of the place crushed whole ranks of the infidels, and the invincible courage of the inhabitants drove off an enemy who had more than once shouted clamorous cries of victory. This first check only seemed to inflame the valour of the Turks; on the 12th of October, Soliman harangued them, and gave orders for a general assault. They were preparing for it during a great part of the night; and on the 13th, at break of day, all the bodies of the Turkish army advanced in good order, armed, some with blazing torches, others with muskets, arrows, and axes, and a great number with ladders, and all sorts of machines to force or to get over the walls. But they were expected: the Austrians had placed on the walls all their artillery, all their mortars, and all their soldiers. The city was attacked on more than twenty points at once, and from every one the infidels were obliged to retreat with great loss and disgrace. The fight lasted for twelve hours, without either side thinking of food or rest, and night alone put an end to the fearful slaughter. Soliman, in despair, sounded a retreat: he had vainly consumed forty days before Vienna, and had lost more than forty thousand men in his different assaults upon that city. As a crowning misfortune, snows, frosts, and tempests made still greater havoc with his army than the enemy had done. Even Soliman the Great, the invincible Soliman, could not overcome these obstacles--he raised the siege, and Vienna was saved.

SECOND SIEGE, A.D. 1683.

The grand vizier, Kara Mustapha, charged with the humiliation of the empire and Leopold its master, advanced towards the capital of the states of that prince with terrible preparations. Very unlike what we have seen in the former siege, at the approach of the enemy’s legions the emperor quitted Vienna, with two empresses, his mother-in-law and his wife, with the archdukes and archduchesses, and sixty thousand inhabitants. The country round exhibited nothing but fugitives, equipages, carts laden with goods, the laggard of all which became the prey of the Tartars, who pillaged, ravaged, burnt, slaughtered, and led them away into slavery. On the 7th of July, 1683, the city was invested, and all Europe tremblingly watched the issue of this famous enterprise.

Vienna, bathed by the Danube on the north, was fortified by twelve great bastions in the remainder of its inclosure. The curtains were covered by good half-moons, without any other outworks; the ditch was partly filled with water, and partly dry, and the counterscarp was much neglected. The side of the city which was bathed by the river had no defence but strong walls, flanked by large towers, the whole well terraced. In a plain of three leagues, environed by a circle of mountains, the vizier fixed his camp, which he had the audacity to leave undefended, except with lines of circumvallation and countervallation. Everything was in abundance in the camp--money, munitions of war, and provisions of all sorts. The different quarters boasted pachas as magnificent as kings, and this magnificence was effaced by that of the vizier; to use the phrase of an historian, “he swam in luxury.” The court of a grand vizier generally consists of two thousand officers and domestics; Mustapha had double that number. His park, that is to say, the inclosure of his tents, was as large as the besieged city. The richest stuffs, gold and precious stones, were there contrasted with the polished steel of arms. There were baths, gardens, fountains, and rare animals, as well for the convenience as the amusement of the general, whose effeminacy and frivolity did not in the least relax the operations of the siege. His artillery, composed of three hundred pieces of cannon, was not the less formidable; and the bravery of the Janissaries was not at all enervated by the example of their leader.

The count de Staremberg, a man perfect in the art of war, the governor of Vienna, had set fire to the faubourgs, and to save the citizens, he had destroyed their buildings. He had a garrison estimated at sixteen thousand men, but which in reality consisted of about eleven thousand at most. The citizens and the university were armed; the students mounted guard, and had a physician for their major. Staremberg’s second in command was the count de Capliers, the emperor’s commissary-general, one of those men whom knowledge, vigilance, and activity point out as fit for the highest posts.

The approaches to Vienna were easy. The trenches were opened on the 14th of July, in the faubourg of St. Ulric, at fifty paces from the counterscarp; the attack was directed against the bastion of the court, and that of Lebb. Two days only advanced the works as far as the counterscarp, where the ditch was dry. The duke of Lorraine, who had posted himself in the isle of Leopoldstadt, using every exertion to preserve there a communication with the city, then found himself obliged to retreat by the bridges he had thrown over the Danube, and which he broke down behind him. The country houses, of which the island was full, then lodged the Turks. This proceeding has been considered a great mistake; but if it was one, the duke thoroughly repaired it by his behaviour during the whole siege. With an army which never amounted to thirty thousand men, he covered Hungary, Moravia, Silesia, and Bohemia; he protected Vienna; he checked Tekeli; and he stopped the progress of more than forty thousand Turks and Tartars, who scoured and devastated the country.

But he could not prevent the infidels from carrying on the siege with vigour. With the Turks, there were daily mounds raised, works advanced, new batteries, and a fire which augmented every instant; with the Austrians, it was, in an equal degree, a display of the most intrepid valour and firm resistance. Staremberg, who at the first approaches had been wounded by a fragment of stone struck off from the curtain by a ball, though only half-cured, animated the whole defence by his looks, his actions, and his humanity. He treated all his soldiers like brothers; he praised and recompensed all distinguished actions; and, not content with being with them during the day, he passed the night upon a mattress in the corps de garde of the emperor’s palace, which adjoined a bastion of the court comprised in the attack. By the 22nd of July, the besiegers were at the palisade, which was only defended by the sword. They were so near, that they grappled each other across the pikes in death-struggles. The count de Daun, a general officer of distinguished merit, had scythes fastened to long poles, which destroyed a vast number of the infidels, but which could not diminish the presumptuous confidence which animated them. So certain were they of victory, that they came forward to make bravadoes similar to those of which we read in ancient wars. A champion of extraordinary stature advanced with a threatening air, insulting with both voice and sabre. A Christian soldier, unable to endure this affront, sprang out to encounter him: he at first was wounded, but quickly wounded and disarmed his enemy, cut off his head with his own scimitar, and found fifty gold pieces stitched up in his vest. One would suppose that this brave fellow would be rewarded; not so: he remained a private soldier, and his name, which the Romans would have consecrated in the fasti of history, is not even known to us. The besieged, who beheld the action from the top of the ramparts, drew a good augury from it; it redoubled their constancy and courage.

The enemy did not obtain possession of the counterscarp before the 7th of August, after twenty-three days’ fighting, with a great effusion of blood on both sides. The count de Serini, nephew of the famous Serini whom Leopold had brought to the scaffold, had retarded the taking of this work by a thousand actions of bravery. There was no sortie in which he was not conspicuous. His ardour on one occasion prevented his feeling that he had received an arrow in his shoulder. The Turks had come to the descent of the ditch; no people equal them in turning up the ground. The depth of their work was astonishing: the earth they threw out was carried to the height of nine feet, surmounted by planks and posts in the form of floors, beneath which they worked in safety. Their trenches differ from those of Europeans in shape: they are cuttings in the form of a crescent, which cover one another, preserving a communication like the scales of fish, which conceal a labyrinth from whence they fire without inconveniencing those who are in front, and whence it is almost impossible to dislodge them. When the Janissaries had once entered them, they scarcely ever left them. Their fire became progressively more active, whilst that of the besieged relaxed: the latter began to husband their powder, and grenades were short. The baron de Kielmansegge invented a powder-mill and clay grenades, which proved of great service. Industry employed all its resources; but the hope of holding out much longer began to diminish. The enemy’s mines, the continual attacks, the diminishing garrison, the nearly exhausted munitions and provisions, everything conspired to create the greatest anxiety; and not content with so many real evils, they invented imaginary ones. A report was spread that traitors were working subterranean passages by which to introduce the infidels. Every one was commanded to keep watch in his cellar; and this increase of fatigue completed the weakness of the defenders of Vienna, by robbing them of their necessary rest. Others spoke confidently of incendiaries hired to second the Turks. A young man found in a church which had just been set fire to, although most likely innocent, was torn to pieces by the people. But the Turkish artillery was more to be dreaded than all these phantoms. The inhabitants were incessantly employed in extinguishing the fires which the bombs and red-hot balls kindled in the city, whilst the outworks were falling in one continued crash. The half-moon had already suffered greatly; the ramparts presented in all parts vast breaches; and, but for the invincible courage of the inhabitants and the soldiers, Vienna must have been taken.

In this extremity, Leopold turned his eyes towards Poland. John Sobieski, the terror of the Ottomans, and perhaps the only sovereign of his age who was a great captain, was supplicated to come to the assistance of the empire and the whole Christian world. This monarch instantly responded to the summons by marching thither at the head of twenty-five thousand men. He traversed two hundred leagues of country, and on the 5th of September he crossed the bridge of Tuln with his army, five leagues above Vienna. The Polish cavalry was remarkable for its horses, uniform, and noble bearing. It might be said that they were equipped at the expense of the infantry: among the latter, there was one battalion extremely ill-clothed. Prince Lubomirski advised the king, for the honour of the country, to order them to pass in the night. Sobieski judged otherwise; and when that troop was on the bridge, he said to the spectators,--“Look well at them; that is an invincible troop of men, who have taken an oath never to wear any clothes but those of the enemy. In the last war they were all clothed in the Turkish fashion.” “If these words did not clothe them, they cuirassed them,” pleasantly observes the Abbé Cayer, whose account we follow.

The Poles, after crossing the bridge, extended themselves to the right, exposed during twenty-four hours to being cut to pieces, if Kara Mustapha had taken due advantage of their position. On the 7th, all the German troops joined their allies, and the army was then found to amount to about seventy-four thousand men. There were four sovereign princes among them,--John Sobieski of Poland, Maximilian Emanuel, elector of Bavaria, John George III., elector of Saxony, and Charles V., duke of Lorraine; and twenty-six princes of sovereign houses.

Vienna was driven to bay. The Turks and diseases carried off, as if in concert, both officers and soldiers. Almost all the leaders had disappeared; the warrior, exhausted by fatigue and want of good food, dragged himself to the breach; and he whom the fire of the enemy spared, expired with languor and debility. The people, who had at first undertaken the labours of the siege with such eagerness, now dreamt of no other defence but prayer. They filled the churches, into which bombs and cannon-balls constantly brought terror and death. On the 22nd of August, it appeared certain that they could not hold out more than three days, if the Turks gave a general assault. From that melancholy period, one mine seemed to precipitate itself upon another. The half-moon was taken; breaches of from eighteen to twenty toises laid open the two bastions and the curtain; soldiers served instead of walls. A mine was advancing under the emperor’s palace, already beaten to pieces with bombs, and close to the bastion of the court. Other mines, like snakes, were winding about in all directions; several were discovered; but the Austrian miners were timid, and could not be persuaded to go under ground when once they had heard the enemy at work there. The artillery was no longer able to respond, most of the cannons being either broken or dismounted. Staremberg scarcely preserved a ray of hope, or rather, he did not longer dare to hope; and the general who at the commencement of the siege had said, “I will only surrender the place with the last drop of my blood,” wrote to the duke of Lorraine in this critical moment: “No more time to be lost, monseigneur--no more time to be lost.” Even the most rapid activity would have been of no avail, but for the stupid inaction of the grand vizier, who, for the sake of the riches with which he thought Vienna filled, waited in the expectation of its surrendering by capitulation. Such was his blindness, that he was ignorant of the preparations of the Christians when they were upon the point of overwhelming him.

When about to march, Sobieski gave out the following order of battle, written with his own hand: “The corps de bataille shall be composed of the imperial troops, to whom we will join the regiment of cavalry of the Marshal De la Cour, the Chevalier Lubomirski, and four or five squadrons of our gendarmes, in the place of whom some dragoons or other German troops shall be given. This corps shall be commanded by M. the duke of Lorraine.

“The Polish army will occupy the right wing, which will be commanded by the grand-general Jublonowski, and the other generals of that nation.

“The troops of MM. the electors of Bavaria and Saxony shall form the left wing, to whom we will give also some squadrons of our gendarmes and of our other Polish cavalry, in the place of whom they will give us some dragoons or some infantry.

“The cannons shall be divided; and in case MM. the electors have not enough, M. the duke of Lorraine will furnish them with some.

“The troops of the circles of the empire will extend along the Danube, with the left wing falling back a little on their right; and that for two reasons: the first, to alarm the enemy with the fear of being charged in flank; and the second, to be within reach of throwing succours into the city, in case we should not be able to drive the enemy as soon as we could wish. M. the prince of Waldeck will command this corps.

“The first line will consist entirely of infantry, with cannons, followed closely by a line of cavalry. If these two lines were mixed, they would doubtless embarrass each other in the passages of the defiles, woods, and mountains. But as soon as they shall be on the plain, the cavalry will take its posts in the intervals of the battalions, which will be arranged with this view, particularly our gendarmes, who will charge first.

“If we were to put all our armies in three lines only, it would require more than a German league and a half, which would not be to our advantage; and we should be obliged to cross the little river Vien, which must be our right wing: it is for this reason we must make four lines; and this fourth shall serve as a body of reserve.

“For the greater security of the infantry against the first charge of the Turkish cavalry, which is always impetuous, it will be desirable to employ spanchéraistres, or chevaux de frise, but very light, for convenience of carriage, and at every halt place them in front of the battalions.

“I beg all the messieurs the generals, that as fast as the armies shall descend from the last mountain, as they shall enter the plain, every one will take its post as it is set down in this present order.”

There were but five leagues between them and the Turks, from whom they were separated by that chain of mountains which surrounded the vast plain on which they were encamped. Two routes presented themselves: one by the more elevated part; the other, by the side where the summit, sinking, became more practicable. The first was fixed upon: it was true it was the more difficult, but it was the shorter. On the 9th of September all the troops moved forward. The Germans, after many attempts to bring up their cannon, gave the matter up in despair, and left them in the plain. The Poles had more spirit and perseverance. By manual strength and address they contrived to get over twenty-eight pieces, and these alone were used on the day of battle. This march, bristling with difficulties, lasted three days. At length they approached the last mountain, called Calemberg. There was yet plenty of time for the vizier to repair his faults: he had only to take possession of this height, and mark the defiles, and he would have stopped the Christian army. But he did not do so; and it was at this moment that the Janissaries, indignant at so many blunders, exclaimed: “Come on, come on, ye infidels! The sight of your hats alone will put us to flight.”

This summit of Calemberg, still left free, discovered to the Christians, an hour before nightfall, both the innumerable hosts of the Turks and Tartars, and the smoking ruins of Vienna. Signals incontinently informed the besieged of the succour at hand. We must have suffered all the dangers and miseries of a long siege, and have felt ourselves, our wives, and our children doomed to the sword of a victor, or slavery in a barbarous country, to have an idea of the joy the city experienced. Sobieski, after having examined all the positions of the vizier, said to the German generals, “That man is very badly encamped; he is an ignorant fellow: we shall beat him.” The cannon, on both sides, played the prelude to the grand scene of the morrow. It was the 12th of September. Two hours before dawn, the king, the duke of Lorraine, and several other generals, performed a religious duty, very little practised in our time,--they received the communion; whilst the Mussulmans were crying to the only and solitary God of Abraham, Allah! Allah!

At sunrise, the Christian army descended with slow and measured steps, closing their ranks, rolling their cannon before them, and halting at every thirty or forty paces to fire and reload. This front widened, and took more depth as the space became greater. The Turks were in the greatest astonishment. The khan of the Tartars drew the vizier’s attention to the lances ornamented with banderoles of the Polish gendarmerie, and said, “The king is at their head!”--and terror seized upon the heart of Kara Mustapha. Immediately, after having commanded the Tartars to put all their captives to death, to the amount of thirty thousand, he ordered half of his army to march towards the mountain, whilst the other half approached the walls of the city, to give a general assault. But the besieged had resumed their courage. The hope, and even the certainty of victory, had rendered them invincible.

The Christians continued to descend, and the Turks moved upwards. The action commenced. The first line of the Imperialists, all infantry, charged with so much impetuosity, that it gave place for a line of cavalry, which took part in the intervals of the battalions. The king, the princes, and the generals gained the head, and fought, sometimes with the cavalry and sometimes with the infantry. The two other lines urged the first on warmly, protected by the fire of the artillery, which was incessant and very near. The field of the first shock, between the plain and the mountain, was intersected with vineyards, heights, and small valleys. The enemy having left their cannon at the beginning of the vineyards, suffered greatly from those of the Christians. The combatants, spread over this unequal ground, fought with inveteracy up to mid-day. At length the infidels, taken in flank, and driven from hill to hill, retired into the plain, lining their camp.

During the heat of the mêlée, all the bodies of the Christian army having fought sometimes on the heights, and sometimes in the valleys, they had necessarily doubled over each other, and deranged the order of battle. A short time was given to re-establish it; and the plain became the theatre of a triumph which posterity will always feel difficulty in believing. Seventy thousand men boldly attacked more than two hundred thousand! In the Turkish army, the pacha of Diarbeker commanded the right wing, the pacha of Buda the left. The vizier was in the centre, having by his side the aga of the Janissaries and the general of the Spahis. The two armies remained motionless for some time, the Christians in silence, whilst the Turks and Tartars emulated the clarions with their cries. At length Sobieski gave the signal, and, sabre in hand, the Polish cavalry charged straight upon the vizier in the centre. They broke through the front ranks, they even pierced through the numerous squadrons which surrounded Mustapha. The Spahis disputed the victory; but all the others,--the Wallachians, the Moldavians, the Transylvanians, the Tartars, and even the Janissaries, fought without spirit. In vain the Ottoman general endeavoured to revive confidence: they despised him and disregarded his words. He addressed himself to the pacha of Buda, and to other chiefs, but their only reply was desponding silence. “And thou!” cried he then to the Tartar prince, “wilt not thou assist me?” The khan saw no safety but in flight. The Spahis were making their last efforts: the Polish cavalry opened and dispersed them. The vizier then turned his back, and spread consternation by his flight. The discouragement extended to the wings, which all the bodies of the Christian army pressed at once. Terror deprived of both reflection and strength this immense multitude of men, who ought, in an open plain like that they fought on, to have completely enveloped and crushed their enemy. But all dispersed, and all disappeared, as if by magic; that vast camp, which the eye could not measure, resembled a frightful desert. Night stopped the victorious progress of the Christians, who remained upon the field of battle till daybreak. At six o’clock in the morning, the enemy’s camp was given up to the soldiery, whose cupidity was at first suspended by a horrible spectacle; mothers lay stretched about in all directions, with their throats cut, many of them with their infants still clinging to their breasts. These women were not like those who follow Christian armies--courtesans, as fatal to health as to morals; these were wives, whom the Turks preferred sacrificing thus to exposing them to becoming the victims of unbridled conquerors. They had spared a great part of the children. Live or six hundred of these little innocent victims of war were collected by the bishop of Newstadt, and were fed and brought up in the Christian religion. The Germans and the Poles were greatly enriched by the spoils of the Mussulmans. It was upon this occasion the king wrote to the queen, his wife: “The grand vizier has made me his heir, and I have found in his tents to the value of many millions of ducats. So you will not have to say of me as the Tartar wives say when they see their husbands return empty-handed: ‘You are not men, you come home without booty.’” Thus, without much bloodshed, the valour and skill of John Sobieski saved Vienna, the empire, and religion. In fact, if Vienna had been taken, as at Constantinople, churches would have been changed into mosques, and nobody can say where Mahometanism, which already was spread over so much of the globe, might have ended. Staremberg came, immediately after the victory, to salute the preserver and liberator of Vienna, into which city the hero entered over ruins, but amidst the acclamations of the people. His horse could scarcely pierce through the crowd who prostrated themselves before him, who would kiss his feet, calling him their father, their avenger, the greatest of monarchs. Leopold seemed to be forgotten--they only saw Sobieski.

But, alas for the gratitude of peoples! Poland, whose king thus successfully interfered between Mahometanism and Christianity, to the shame of the European powers is no longer a nation! The great error of its constitution, which made the monarchy elective, created feuds, of which three powerful neighbouring countries took advantage. Poland was, by degrees, partitioned amongst them, and Austria, which owed it so much, was one of the most eager and greedy of the plunderers.

ALGIERS.

A.D. 1541.

The never-ending piracies of Algiers had for centuries made this city or state the object of the hatred of all Christian princes, and the dread of all Christian peoples. The opinion entertained by Europeans of the pirates of Algiers can be compared to nothing but that inculcated of the demons of another world. Among the most daring, ambitious, and successful of this race of marauders was Barbarossa: he aspired to something above the character of a “salt-water thief,” and intruded upon the lands as well as the vessels and subjects of his opposite neighbour, Charles I. of Spain, and V. of Germany.

The emperor was politic as well as brave; he watched for an opportunity of avenging himself with safety; and he thought he had found this when he learnt that the emperor of the corsairs was gone to Constantinople. A volume written upon the power of Barbarossa could not display it so eloquently as the circumstance of the monarch, possessed of more extensive territories in Europe than had been held by one man since the time of Charlemagne, being obliged to wait till this Cacus was absent from his den before he would venture to assail it. Charles prided himself upon being a brave knight, but this was a wide departure from the laws of chivalry, which commanded all who acknowledged them to send due notice to an enemy of an intended hostile attack.

This absence appeared to Charles a favourable opportunity for attempting the subjugation or destruction of Algiers. It was the autumn of 1541, the season of storms at sea and of diseases and plagues on the coast of Africa. Ambitious princes do not often benefit by the study of history; they think their own genius or their own power can overcome obstacles that have been fatal to others; otherwise Charles might have learnt what would be the issue of his enterprise by turning to the melancholy story of the death of Louis IX. of France. Neither did he want for prudent advice from living counsellors. The great seaman Admiral Doria, who was likewise an excellent general, and of approved valour, when consulted by the emperor on the subject, said: “Let me persuade you from this enterprise; for, par Dieu, if we go thither, we shall all perish.” But Charles was never easily turned aside from a favourite project by good advice, and he replied: “Twenty-two years of empire for me, and seventy-two years of life for you, ought to be sufficient to make us both die content.” A few days after this advice had been asked and refused, the emperor and his army embarked; and upon their landing in Africa, were immediately assailed by the diseases and subjected to the famine that had been predicted. Before they commenced the attack, an eloquent and politic gentleman was sent to the old eunuch Hasem, who commanded in the absence of Barbarossa, to endeavour to intimidate him, and, if that could not be effected, to corrupt him. But this trustworthy governor replied, that “it was very foolish to attempt to give advice to an enemy, but it would be still more foolish for the enemy to attend to that advice when it was given.” These dispositions reduced the emperor to the necessity of attacking the place in form. The defence of the Algerines was firm and vigorous; and their valour, assisted by frightful tempests, compelled the emperor to raise a siege in which his army was perishing with famine and misery. When he returned to Europe, Charles V. instantly sent Aretin a gold chain of the value of a hundred ducats, to engage him to be silent on the subject of his disaster. “This,” said Aretin, “is but a poor present for such an enormous piece of folly.” Aretin, we should inform our young readers, was an Italian writer, who by some bold satires directed against princes and other conspicuous characters, had elevated himself to the position of a kind of European censor. As in most such cases, the persons attacked really gave importance to satires which, if they had been left alone, like other bubbles, would have burst very innocuously. But the speculation answered: potentates vied with each other in throwing sops to this Cerberus, whose own life as a man, like, we fear, that of most other satirists, was as obnoxious to censure as any of those he unscrupulously attacked.

SECOND SIEGE, A.D. 1682.

Although the following short passage cannot be said to relate to a siege, yet as it concerns the introduction of an arm employed in sieges, particularly such as are maritime, it becomes our duty to repeat it.

Louis XIV., ever anxious to extend what he and his nation called his glory, turned his attention to the sea. He saw what the Dutch, Portuguese, Spaniards, and English were doing; he knew what Venice, Genoa, and other Italian states had done on that element; and he deemed it inconsistent with that universal fame to which he aspired, to neglect this wide field of enterprise. With her coasts, and her possessions on so many seas, France is legitimately a naval power, and Colbert was not a minister to leave natural advantages unemployed. When the reader of history pauses at this period of the reign of Louis XIV., and contemplates his grandeur,--we may say true grandeur,--the principal thing he must be struck with is the astonishing influence of one great master mind. When Mazarin died, he bequeathed Colbert to Louis XIV., and never did dying minister bestow a richer treasure upon his master: the portion of their ill-got wealth, which Richelieu and Mazarin left to Louis XIII. and Louis XIV., as an indemnity for the rest, was nothing when compared with a bequest which we strongly suspect the cunning Italian would not have ventured to make a gift whilst living: he might avail himself of Colbert’s talents, and take the credit of their efforts, but he would not have proposed that he should assume the place while he lived, which he knew it was for the king’s interest he should occupy when he was gone. The date standing at the head of this passage is only one year before the death of Colbert, and of the decline of all that was great in the reign of Louis XIV. Mazarin died in 1661, Colbert in 1683; and in these twenty-two years alone, out of a reign of more than seventy, did Louis XIV. earn any part of the proud title which is claimed for him.

Under the auspices of Colbert, Louis had a hundred ships of the line built, and engaged sixty thousand sailors. Although he restrained as much as possible these rude men by stringent laws, he did not think it prudent to let them remain idle in port. His squadrons, commanded by Duquesne, swept the seas infested by the pirates of Algiers and Tunis. To punish Algiers, he employed a new invention. This fatal but admirable means of destruction was that of bomb-vessels, with which maritime cities may be reduced to ashes. There was a young man named Bernard Renaud, known by the name of Little Renaud, who, without having served, had become, by the influence of genius, an excellent shipbuilder. Colbert, who always knew how to discern and employ merit wherever he found it, had often consulted him upon naval affairs, even in the king’s presence. It was by the cares and from the intelligence of Renaud that a better plan of shipbuilding was shortly adopted. He ventured to propose in council to have Algiers bombarded by a fleet. Till that time no idea was entertained that bomb-mortars could be placed upon anything but solid ground. This proposition appeared ridiculous, and Renaud met with all the contradictions and railleries that every inventor must expect; but his firmness, and that eloquence which men properly impressed with their inventions generally have, made the king determine to permit a trial of this novelty. Renaud had some vessels constructed, smaller than usual, but stronger with regard to wood, without upper decks, but with a false deck at the bottom of the hold, upon which hollows were built for the reception of mortars. He set sail with this preparation, under the orders of old Duquesne, who was charged with the enterprise, but who anticipated no success from it. But Duquesne and the Algerines were equally astonished at the effects of these bombs; a large part of the city was quickly battered to pieces and consumed by them.

THIRD SIEGE, A.D. 1683.

Although punished, Algiers soon renewed its brigandages, and Louis XIV. repeated his chastisement on the 30th of the following June. Algiers, after being twice bombarded, sent deputies to ask pardon and sue for peace. They restored all their Christian slaves to liberty, and--which is the severest punishment for corsairs--paid a large sum of money. When D’Amfreville, a naval captain, came to Algiers to deliver all the Christian slaves, in the name of the king of France, there were among them many Englishmen, who, after they were on board, persisted in telling D’Amfreville that it was out of consideration for the king of England they were set at liberty. The French captain called back the Algerines, and replacing the English on shore, said, “These people insist upon it that they are set free in the name of their king; that being the case, my king cannot take the liberty of offering them his protection: I restore them to you, and it is for you to show what respect you owe to the king of England.” The weakness of the government of Charles II., and the respect in which most nations then held Louis XIV., are both made evident by this anecdote.

FOURTH SIEGE, A.D. 1689.

Six years after, Marshal D’Etrées once again bombarded Algiers, always unfaithful to its treaties, and still supporting a fearful power by robbery and rapine. Ten thousand bombs ruined this retreat of corsairs despising the laws of nations; six of their vessels were sunk in the port. They were thus taught to respect the French flag, and the liberty of the seas for great powers; but they did not cease to pillage with impunity the subjects of weak states, without bombs or vessels of war to make themselves feared.

FIFTH SIEGE, A.D. 1816.

Although the bombardment of Algiers by a naval force can scarcely be termed a siege, as a conclusion to the above history, a mention of that which took place under Lord Exmouth is necessary.

Exasperated by many acts of wanton cruelty and daring piracy on the part of the dey of Algiers, the greatest naval country took into its hands the chastisement the corsairs so richly deserved. With a comparatively small force with what even great commanders had deemed necessary for the undertaking, Lord Exmouth, by the most judicious management, seconded by the skill and bravery of his officers and men, in one short day brought these sanguinary marauders to an expression of repentance, if not a feeling of it. A treaty of peace was signed, under a salute of twenty-one guns, on the following conditions, which had been dictated by the Prince Regent of England:--

“1. The abolition for ever of Christian slavery.

“2. The delivery to the admiral’s flag of all slaves in the dominions of the dey, to whatever nation they may belong, at noon to-morrow.

“3. To deliver, also to the British admiral’s flag, all money received by him for the redemption of slaves since the commencement of this year, at noon also to-morrow.

“4. Reparation has been made to the British consul for all losses he may have sustained in consequence of his confinement.

“5. The dey has made a public apology, in presence of his ministers and officers, and begged pardon of the consul, in terms dictated by the captain of the Queen Charlotte.”

The killed and wounded in this great settling-day between civilization and barbarism, amounted to between 6,000 and 7,000 on the part of the Algerines, and to 141 killed and 742 wounded on the side of the British and Dutch.

The bombardment of Algiers is deemed important as a military experiment, proving the efficacy of ship artillery against stone fortifications; but the distance, and the nature of the sea, must never be forgotten in such calculations: the season was the most favourable possible as regarded the weather, and Lord Exmouth was enabled to bring his vessels within fifty yards of the Mole, into which he poured his destructive thunders. If Cronstadt had been as favourably circumstanced in these respects as Algiers, we feel confident Sir Charles Napier would not have come “bootless home.”

The operations of the French, in their war of conquest in Algiers, do not come within the scope of our plan.

VALENCIENNES.

A.D. 1557.

Philip II., king of Spain, son and successor to the emperor Charles V., who from the depths of his cabinet, like another Tiberius, shook all Europe with his often cruel policy, wishing to stop the rapid progress of Lutheranism in the provinces of Flanders, put weapons into the hands of executioners, and endeavoured to establish the Inquisition in those happy and tranquil countries. This barbarous tribunal, conforming so little with Scriptural precepts and mildness, disgusted the Flemings, and gave birth to that famous confederation, at the head of which was William of Nassau, surnamed the Taciturn, prince of Orange. All the confederates were clothed in grey, wore upon their caps little wooden porringers, and round their necks a medal, upon one side of which was the portrait of the king, and on the reverse a wallet suspended from two hands, crossed and pressed together in sign of faith, with this inscription: “Faithful to the king and to the wallet.” This was in allusion to the name of beggars, which the count of Barlemont had given them. They exhibited themselves in this guise before Marguerite of Austria, duchess of Parma and gouvernante of the Netherlands. They presented, in a manner sufficiently humble, a petition to this princess, in which they asked for liberty of conscience, and the revocation of the edict which established the Holy Office. An answer to these prayers was eluded, and the yoke of the Protestants, and even of the Catholics, was made so intolerably heavy, that the people in all parts prepared for revolt. The inhabitants of Valenciennes were the first to raise the standard; they were almost all Huguenots, and had intimate connections with what are called the heretics of France. The gouvernante charged the seigneur de Noircarmes, commanding in Hainault, to establish a sufficient garrison in Valenciennes to restrain the audacity of the burgesses. Noircarmes preferred employing mildness; before he approached the walls of the city, he agreed to undertake nothing, if the public exercise of heresy were proscribed. The people consented to this, but retracted the moment after. Noircarmes presenting himself at the gates, for the purpose of entering the city and completing the agreement, one of the populace had the temerity to shut the gates in his face, and to drive him from them by a discharge of arquebuses. Valenciennes was then declared to be in a state of rebellion, and its siege was commanded. The news soon spread. Some French Huguenots immediately flew to the aid of the proscribed city, and these were soon followed by three thousand foot and a few horse, got together in the nearest cantons of Flanders. These troops, provided with several pieces of cannon, advanced under the orders of John Soreas, who had assembled them. Noircarmes immediately got together a few companies of infantry, with some horse, and set forward to combat this rash and inexperienced body of soldiers. Their defeat was the work of a moment: Soreas perished in the action, and his followers were massacred. Some in vain attempted to find refuge in Tournay; the peasants of the neighbourhood pursued and dispersed them. Noircarmes, animated by this success, after having subdued Tournay, advanced towards Valenciennes. The rebels, still obstinate, rejected all his propositions with disdain, and he was therefore forced to think seriously of besieging the city. He quickly established a formidable battery, which destroyed the ramparts, and spread terror and despair among the besieged. They had expected powerful assistance, but, frustrated in their hopes, their courage was changed into consternation, and after several rude attacks they surrendered at discretion. Noircarmes imposed such laws as the gouvernante dictated. The submission of Valenciennes for a time depressed the spirits of the confederates, and the vigorous government of Marguerite seemed to prognosticate obedience; but the glorious results of these beginnings are of the best and most instructive pages of history.

SECOND SIEGE, A.D. 1667.

One of the greatest military exploits of Louis XIV. was the conquest of Valenciennes. Since the wars which had procured liberty for Holland, the possessors of that city had neglected nothing to render it impregnable. The project of the French monarch was considered as the height of temerity. In the first place, it was necessary to gain possession of two half-moons on the right and on the left. Behind these half-moons was a grand crown-work, palisaded, frased (strengthened with pointed stakes), and surrounded by a fosse intersected by many traverses. In this crown-work there was yet a second, well covered and surrounded with another fosse. After these had been mastered, there was an arm of the Scheld to be crossed; this being done, a fresh work was encountered, called a pâté; behind this pâté flowed the great stream of the Scheld, deep and rapid, which served as a fosse between the pâté and the wall; and this wall was supported by large ramparts. All these works were covered with cannon. A garrison of nearly four thousand men, a great quantity of munitions of war and provisions, the hatred of the citizens for the French and their affection for their Spanish governor, seemed to promise a long and firm resistance. At the head of a formidable army, Louis XIV. advanced, seconded by his brother and the marshals Humières, Schomberg, Feuillade, Luxembourg, and Lorges. The celebrated Vauban directed all the operations. On the 9th of March, 1677, they opened the trenches. A few days after, the king called a council upon the best means of attacking the outworks with greatest regard to the lives of the soldiers. Vauban proposed to assault them in open day; but all the marshals exclaimed strongly against such a plan: Louvois condemned it, and yet Vauban held firm to his opinion, with the confidence of a man perfectly understanding all he advanced. “You wish,” said he, “to spare the blood of your soldiers, and this will be best effected by fighting in the daylight, without confusion and without tumult, without fear of one part of our men firing upon another, as too frequently happens. Our object is to surprise the enemy; and they are always in expectation of an attack by night: we shall indeed surprise them when they will be fatigued by watching all night, and they will not be in a condition to resist our fresh troops. Add to this, there may be men among our soldiers who have but little courage, and night will favour their timidity; whereas, during the day, the eye of the master inspires valour and elevates men, particularly the French, above themselves.” The king yielded to the reasoning of Vauban, in opposition to his minister Louvois and five marshals of France.

On the evening of the 16th, the two companies of musketeers, a hundred grenadiers of the king’s household, a battalion of the guards, and one of the regiment of Picardy, were commanded to be in readiness, and on the 17th, at nine o’clock in the morning, these warriors marched to the attack of the crown-work, after having overcome the two advanced half-moons. Nothing seemed able to resist them: they mounted the intrenchments in all directions; they seized them; they effected a lodgment. This was all that had been required or hoped for in this attack; but the valour of the musketeers was warmed, and could not be checked. There was across the small arm of the Scheld, a bridge, which communicated with the pâté. The passage over this bridge was closed by a barrier of immense pieces of pointed timber, with a wicket in the middle, through which only one man could pass at a time. Whilst one party of the musketeers was endeavouring to force the wicket, the rest climbed over the barrier, and in spite of pikes and musketry, leaped down on the other side, sword in hand. The enemy, surprised by this extraordinary feat, abandoned the defence of the wicket. The musketeers pursued them, and on reaching the pâté, attacked it with great fury, and carried it in spite of its defenders; but the cannon of the ramparts now threatened destruction to the conquerors. The grey musketeers perceived a little door; they broke it in, and discovered a private staircase constructed in the thickness of the wall; they rushed up this narrow passage and arrived at the top of the pâté. They there remarked another door, which gave entrance to a gallery built over the great canal of the Scheld. They broke that in; they gained the ramparts, and intrenched themselves. They then turned against the city the cannon they found there, and, sheltered from their thunders, descended into the place with the fugitives. They pursued them from intrenchment to intrenchment, from street to street; and they triumphed before the king could have imagined the first work they attacked was taken. But this was not the most astonishing part of this marvellous affair. It was probable that young musketeers, carried away by the ardour of success, should rush blindly upon the troops and the citizens--that they would perish, or that the city would be plundered; but these warriors, scarcely adolescent, led by a cornet named Moissac and a quarter-master named Labarre, formed behind some waggons, and whilst the troops, which came in crowds, were forming leisurely, other musketeers got possession of some neighbouring houses, in order to protect by their fire those who defended the bridge with incredible bravery. They were three times charged by the cavalry of the garrison; but notwithstanding the smallness of their numbers, they maintained all they had won. The infantry endeavoured to take them in rear, but they there encountered the greater part of the black musketeers and the grenadiers of the king’s household, who repulsed them vigorously. The citizens were astonished; the city council assembled. They entered into a parley with Moissac, who received and gave hostages. Deputies were sent to the king; and all this was done without confusion, without tumult, and without the commission of a fault of any kind. The city was obliged to submit without capitulation. The king made the garrison prisoners of war, and entered Valenciennes, to his own great surprise, as master. This conquest only cost him forty men. “I do not know,” says Larrey, “if history furnishes many examples of an action so sharp and prompt, and at the same time so fortunate, and of the capture, in so short a time and with so little loss for the conquerors, of a great and strong city which wanted nothing for its defence. The whole looks like a miracle; and all was attributed to the fortunate rashness of the musketeers.” “It was fortunate,” adds M. de St. Foix, “because coolness and prudence completed that which impetuous courage had begun. Everything in this affair is characteristic of true valour, that valour which elevates man above himself, and which often makes him triumph against all probability, and in spite of the evident danger into which he seems to precipitate himself.”

THIRD SIEGE, A.D. 1793.

In this siege the English have an interest, the duke of York, second son of George III., having had the command of the besiegers.

The allies, having taken Condé in the month of April, directed their forces against Valenciennes. General Ferrand commanded in the place, with a garrison of nine thousand men. To favour the siege, the allies posted an army of observation in the plains of Hérin, in front of the city, a strong force on the other side of Valenciennes, and a third between Lille and Tournay. At the moment that city was invested, these faubourgs were attacked; that named Marli was set fire to on the 24th of May, and taken the day following. The allies opened the attack very close to the place. The duke of York summoned the city on the 14th of June. The governor replied: “The garrison and myself will sooner bury ourselves beneath the ruins than surrender the city.” The bombardment instantly commenced. When the Tournay side was in ashes, the allies transported their bombs to the south-west, and then the conflagration became general; there seemed to be no wish entertained to preserve either the walls or fortifications. An opinion was general in the city, that destruction rather than conquest was the object of the allies, and despair became more tenacious than courage. During the conflagration, the fire caught the arsenal, which blew up. Treachery was suspected, and the subdirector of the artillery, Monestier, destroyed himself. The object of this was to raise the inhabitants, which it succeeded in doing; but order was quickly restored by the two representative commissioners. The works of the besiegers came up to the walls by the 21st of July. A breach was made in the bastion called the Huguenots, and a first assault upon the covered way was repulsed. There was a second on the 26th, whilst the allies, with another body of ten thousand men, assaulted in a different point, in which they gained possession of an advanced work, which was blown up by three mines. The fire drove them from the ramparts, and the work was retaken; but a panic seized upon the garrison, they became deaf to the voices of their officers, rushed pêle-mêle into the city, and nothing could bring them back to the advanced work, which had been retaken and abandoned by both parties. At this time, the duke of York addressed a proclamation to the inhabitants and the soldiers, whilst he sent a second to the municipality and the general. From that moment the disorder was irreparable; the assembled inhabitants, supported by the soldiers, compelled the council of war to enter into a capitulation: it was signed on the 28th of July. The companies of the cannoniers of Douai and Valenciennes alone took no part in this riot: they had served with distinction. The allies lost a great many men in the sieges of Condé, Cateau Cambresis, and Valenciennes.

LEYDEN.

A.D. 1574.

We offer as long a sketch of the siege of Leyden as our limits will allow, this being a portion of history to which we always turn with pleasure: the emancipation of the Netherlands from the domination of Spain is one of the most noble efforts in the annals of mankind.

The cruelties of the duke of Alva had alienated every heart in Holland from the court of Spain, and had left none but harsh means to his successor, Don Louis, of retaining the provinces in their allegiance. Being desirous of distinguishing his accession to power by a bold stroke, he sent Francis Valdes to besiege Leyden. The environs of this city, intersected in all directions by canals, presented incredible difficulties to the making of the approaches. Our readers will perceive this the more clearly when we state that it had eight gates, fifty islands, and one hundred and forty-five bridges, mostly built of freestone. The rapid waters of the Rhine, which bathe its walls, assist in rendering Leyden impregnable. Valdes had already been frequently repulsed in his attacks, when Count Louis, entering Flanders, brought him a formidable army. Valdes then once more presented himself before Leyden, and regularly blockaded it. The Hollanders, having fortified all the passages capable of retarding the progress of the enemy, strengthened with troops the village of Alful, which was built upon a canal, whose sluices could stop or suspend the course of the waters; a sanguinary battle was necessary to make himself master of this point. Possessed of the neighbouring fortifications, the Spanish general pressed Leyden very closely. Having a belief that there was no garrison, the Spaniards threw letters into the place, to persuade the inhabitants to surrender: they received an answer over the walls, “that they must not expect anything of the kind as long as they could hear the dogs of Leyden bark.” Resolved to defend their country to the last extremity, the besieged made a furious sortie, and attacked the garrison of the fort of Lamene; but their impetuosity could not resist the numbers of the Spaniards, and they were obliged to return to their walls. This check did not in the least diminish their courage; they repaired the walls of Leyden, and exhausted the resources of art to create defences. Jean Vanderdoës, a poet known in literature by the name of Janus Douza, commanded in the city; and, notwithstanding his possession of talents so opposite to such a task, performed his difficult duties admirably. He animated and supported his fellow-citizens amidst pressing dangers. Notwithstanding his cares, there was a moment of dissatisfaction. The people, in a seditious manner, demanded food of their leaders; the governor answered coolly, “that it was perfectly indifferent to him whether he died by their hands or those of the Spaniards; that if his flesh would satisfy them, they were welcome to tear him to pieces and eat him.” These words overwhelmed the murmurers with confusion. The Seigneur de Ligne, governor of Harlem, exhorted them to submit to the conditions offered by the king of Spain; but the inhabitants replied: “We know that the project of the Spaniards is to subdue Leyden by famine; but we are not afraid of that. When we have consumed all our provisions, we will eat our left arms and defend ourselves with the right against our tyrants; death is a thousand times preferable to their odious despotism.” After this declaration, a paper currency was fabricated, with this inscription: “For Liberty.” This currency was faithfully exchanged for money when the siege was terminated. But famine made frightful ravages; and, if not promptly succoured, Leyden must succumb. The States of Holland assembled, and after long and earnest deliberation, it was resolved to inundate the province. In the beginning of August, two dykes of the Meuse and the Yssel were cut, between Rotterdam and Gonda. In an instant, the smiling fields in the neighbourhood of Delft, Gonda, Rotterdam, and Leyden were covered with water. The Spaniards were astonished, but their forts secured them, and the place remained besieged. The Hollanders were anxious at least to take advantage of the waters to convey provisions into Leyden; they constructed boats in the shape of galleys, with oars, so that they might the more easily force passages, and attack the forts of the Spaniards. The Dutch admiral Boizot endeavoured to break through the blockade and convey provisions into Leyden, but the waters were not sufficiently high, except in the rivers and lakes, which were well guarded, and he could not approach the city. The Dutch waited with impatience for the high tides, upon which the deliverance of the province seemed to depend. Whilst the Spaniards were constantly employed in securing their redoubts from inundation, by closing up all their issues with earth and hay, the overflowing ocean came rushing in in all its power, swept away these feeble barriers, and made the environs of Leyden one vast sea. The Hollanders immediately set sail; a fleet of a hundred and fifty vessels, laden with provisions, advanced in the best order, and surmounted every obstacle. The terrified Spaniards retired to places of safety, but, in spite of all their celerity, they could not evacuate their redoubts without losing a great number of people. Driven from their fortifications by the waters, and pursued by the enemy, some were massacred, and the rest swallowed up by the waves. Strada relates that a Spanish captain was seized by his clothes, with long hooks, and made a prisoner, and thrown into a bark. This bold man took advantage of the crew being engaged, sprang up, seized a halbert, killed three of the Dutch soldiers, forced the others to save themselves by swimming, and regained his companions, with the bark and the provisions it contained. The Spaniards lost fifteen hundred men in this retreat from the waters. Leyden enjoyed the satisfaction of being delivered from present dangers, but this was sadly embittered by the recollection of having lost six thousand citizens by famine and misery, during the blockade.

LIVRON.

A.D. 1574.

We present this little siege as a monument of the feeling entertained towards the infamous Catherine de Medici and her darling son, Henry III., by many communities in France.

When Henry III. left Poland as a fugitive, to occupy the throne made vacant by the death of Charles IX., he created Roger de St. Lary-Bellegarde, one of his minions, a marshal of France. A short time after his promotion, the new general was repulsed in three assaults which he made upon Livron, a small Huguenot fortified place in Dauphiny, although he attacked it with a good army, and it was defended but by a few inhabitants. The women of the city thought him so contemptible, that, to insult him, they plied their distaffs on the breach. Henry, who passed near the city, stopped for a few hours, to display his valour. The besieged, on learning his arrival, made a general discharge of their artillery, which they followed by continual hissings and hootings, accompanied by cutting railleries against the monarch and the queen his mother. “Ha! ha! you massacrers! you shall not poniard us in our beds, as you did the admiral! Bring us a few of your laced, ruffled, and perfumed minions; let them come and look at our women; they will see if they look like a prey to be easily taken!” Henry ordered a fresh assault to be made, but it was repulsed by the women only, and the siege was raised shortly after this disgraceful defeat.

CAHORS.

A.D. 1580.

Of the numerous sieges on both sides which marked the struggle of Henry IV. of France for his crown, we have selected that of Cahors as best displaying the character of that hero and the men and times he lived in.

Henry IV., whilst king of Navarre, resolved to gain possession of Cahors. That city is surrounded on all sides by the river Lot, which serves it as a fosse. It had a garrison of two thousand men, and Vesins, its governor, was a soldier of acknowledged valour and great experience. Its citizens, always armed, were never off their guard. Henry assembled his council of war, composed of valiant and tried captains, and all pronounced the enterprise hazardous. Their representations were useless. “Everything is possible to me,” said he, “with men as brave as those I consult.” On the 5th of May, he set out from Montauban, in excessively hot weather, and arrived in the middle of the night within a quarter of a league of Cahors. His troops there quenched their thirst at a fountain which flowed under a nursery of young walnut-trees. Twelve soldiers marched forward for the purpose of fastening a petard to the gates of the city. Fifty men, commanded by Captain Saint Martin, followed them closely; Roquilaure came next, with forty gentlemen and sixty soldiers; and after them, Henry of Navarre, with nine hundred men. Twelve hundred arquebusiers, in six platoons, closed the march. There were three gates to be forced. The petard attached to the first made so small an opening, that it was necessary to enlarge it with axes. The first passed through with difficulty; but the soldiers who followed them had time to file through in sufficiently great numbers. A furious storm which raged at the time did not permit the inhabitants to distinguish between the noise of the thunder and the report of the petards, which had broken down their gates. Henry’s soldiers, on first entering the city, met with forty men and two hundred arquebusiers, almost naked. The baron de Salignac cut them to pieces, and advanced into Cahors; but he was stopped in his march by the inhabitants, who, from the tops of the houses, hurled stones, tiles, pieces of wood, and other missiles upon the heads of his soldiers. In the mean time, the king of Navarre entered Cahors by another gate, with which the petard had succeeded better. At length day appeared, persons and objects were distinguishable, and all either rushed to the attack or stood firm in defence of the place. In all the streets it became necessary to force barricades and repulse a garrison much more numerous than the besiegers. Henry commanded and fought everywhere at the same time; his valour shrunk from no danger, though the blows of all the enemies seemed to be directed against him. He broke two partisans, and his armour was pierced in twenty places. This terrible combat lasted five days and five nights. The besieged, in full expectation of assistance, said not a word about surrendering. The assailants, fatigued with the weight of their armour and the excessive heat, maintained their posts with the intrepid courage their leader knew how to inspire. On the fourth day they learnt that the succours promised to the city were drawing near. At this news, his captains assembled round Henry, and conjured him to secure a retreat before the enemy could reach Cahors. Henry, too courageous to know what fear meant, and heedless of the pain caused by his wounds, replied, with that coolness which inspires confidence: “It is decreed above what is to become of me on this occasion. Remember that my retreat from this city without having taken it, will be the retreat of my life from my body. My honour is too deeply pledged to allow me to act otherwise; therefore, only speak to me of fighting, conquering, or dying.” Reanimated by these words, his soldiers made fresh efforts; and fortune seconded the efforts of the brave Béarnais. He received a reinforcement of a hundred horse and five hundred arquebusiers; he secured his posts in the interior, and marched out to meet the approaching enemy. He repulsed them; and on his return to the city, the inhabitants having lost all hope, laid down their arms. There were but few killed in Henry’s army, but many wounded. The brave and virtuous Vesins had perished early in the contest; he had a short time before done himself great honour, by an act of rare generosity. His bravery, degenerating sometimes into ferocity, had made him numerous enemies; among these was a gentleman named Régnier, of a mild and polished character. Their neighbours and friends had exerted themselves in vain to reconcile them. Régnier was a Huguenot, and Vesins a Catholic. Whilst the cities of France were being stained with the blood of Huguenots, Régnier retired to Cahors for safety. But the king had made Vesins governor of that city, and Régnier was living in daily expectation of being sacrificed to the vengeance of his enemy, when his door was broken open, and he saw Vesins, with a drawn sword in his hand, and with the appearance of furious rage, enter, followed by two armed soldiers. Régnier, believing his death certain, fell upon his knees and implored the mercy of Heaven. Vesins in a menacing voice ordered him to get up, follow him, and mount a horse that was standing at the door. Régnier left the city with his enemy, who conducted him as far as Guienne without stopping and without speaking a single word to him. They arrived together at the château of Régnier, where Vesins, without alighting from his horse, said to him: “I had it in my power, as thou mayst see, to profit by the opportunity I have been so long in search of; but I should have been ashamed to avenge myself thus on a man so brave as thou art; the peril must be equal when our quarrel is settled; and it is on that account I have spared thy life. Thou shalt always find me as disposed to terminate our differences in a manner suitable to gentlemen, as thou hast found me prompt to deliver thee from an inevitable death.” “I have no longer, my dear Vesins,” replied Régnier, “either resolution, strength, or courage against you. Your kindness has extinguished the heat of my enmity: it is destroyed by your generosity, which I can never forget. I will henceforward follow you whithersoever you go; I will be always ready to employ in your service the life you have given me, and the little bravery you attribute to me.” Régnier wished to embrace his benefactor; but Vesins, preserving all the asperity of his character, said: “It is thy business to see whether thou art my friend or my enemy; I only saved thy life to put thee in a condition to make a choice.” Without waiting for a reply, he put spurs to his horse, leaving Régnier, stupified with this strange adventure, to wonder at the greatness of soul and generosity of him whom he had considered as his most cruel enemy.

MAESTRICHT.

Maestricht, a city of the Netherlands, about four miles in circumference, seated on the Meuse, opposite Wyck, with which it communicates by a stone bridge, was looked upon as one of the strongest fortified places in Europe, and, from the importance of its position, has endured several remarkable sieges.

FIRST SIEGE, A.D. 1576.

The inhabitants of Maestricht, in concert with their German garrison, drove out the Spaniards in 1576. Their intention was to unite themselves with the Dutch, who had shaken off the yoke of Spain. Vargos, the general of Philip II., hastened to endeavour to regain possession of the place; of which he had the greater hopes from being still master of Wyck. The conquered, humiliated by a disgrace of which they were the more sensible from its having arisen out of their own negligence, were eager to repair their fault by instantly taking back what they had lost. As they saw no other obstacle to their doing so but some pieces of cannon placed upon the bridge which unites the two cities, they formed, to avoid this danger, a most extraordinary resolution. They placed before them all the women of Wyck. Provided with this rampart, they advanced over the bridge, and, covered with these singular bucklers, they fired boldly and safely upon the citizens, who, not being able to defend themselves without shooting their relations, or at least the women of their party, quitted their post, took refuge in their houses, and abandoned the field of battle to the Spaniards, who thus remastered the city without receiving a single wound.

But Maestricht again revolted, and freed itself from the Spanish yoke.

SECOND SIEGE, A.D. 1579.

Three years after the first revolt, this place was invested by the celebrated prince of Parma, governor of Flanders. This general, having secured his quarters and encamped in face of Maestricht, directed a numerous park of artillery against it. Mondragone was charged with the blockade on the side of Wyck. In a short time the circumvallation was secured; and, simultaneously, the Meuse was closed, both below and above the city, by two bridges of boats, sufficiently solid to deprive the enemy of all chance of entrance to the place by water. These bridges served at the same time as means of communication to the army spread over both banks of the river. The trenches were opened. The garrison, being small, could not risk many sorties, but they made some with success. Two attacks were formed: one at the Brussels gate, and the other opposite the curtain which was between the gate of Hoxter and that of the Cross. When the trenches were sufficiently advanced, Hierges set his batteries playing. The Spaniards had already arrived at the counterscarp, and were endeavouring to debouch in the fosse, to fill it promptly and second the operations of the artillery. The Brussels gate was defended by a good ravelin and a large cavalier, which impeded the progress of the besiegers greatly. It was battered by some pieces of large cannon; but the audacity of the besieged seemed to increase with their peril. The Spaniards on their part redoubled their efforts; their ardour was indefatigable; they emulated each other in braving dangers. Within the walls, the citizens and the countrymen who had there sought refuge, vied with the most practised soldiers in intrepidity. The women themselves became redoubtable warriors: three companies of them were formed, one of which was employed at the counter-mines, and the others did garrison duty. They appeared on the ramparts by the side of the bravest soldiers; they cheerfully shared the painful labours of the pioneers, and entered warmly into the repairs of old fortifications, or the erection of new ones. The besiegers, however, remained masters of the fosse, and the breach appeared sufficiently practicable for an assault to be attempted. A signal was given for one; but the Spaniards, after making the most courageous efforts, were constrained to retire with loss. The fire of the batteries increased; the works were perfected; all sorts of means were employed to prevent the enemy from repairing the breaches made in the ramparts of the city. A second assault was prepared. To weaken the resistance of the Flemings by dividing it, it was resolved to give the assault at the two attacks. The trumpets sounded; they rushed to the breaches; the parties met; the contest began; one side impetuously attacking, the other as firmly defending: victory remained doubtful; Herle, in the Spanish ranks, and Tappin, the celebrated defender of Maestricht, performing prodigies of valour. It was a hand-to-hand fight,--pike to pike, and sword to sword. Some barrels of powder caught fire, and blew up; in an instant the ground was covered with mutilated bodies. The combat ceased, and the besiegers were obliged to retreat, without having been able to gain possession of the breach. This fruitless attempt cost the Spaniards very dear. But the greater part of the garrison had perished upon the walls, and the remainder were in want of everything. Disease, fatigue, watching, and famine, made awful ravages. No more confidence could be placed in the succours promised by the prince of Orange; and the inhabitants, determined to die rather than surrender, had no resource but their bravery. The ravelin which covered the Brussels gate annoying the besiegers greatly, the prince of Parma determined to make himself master of it. He ordered some fresh mines, and on the 24th of June succeeded in winning it. The prince, profiting by this advantage, caused the large cavalier constructed at this point to be raised much higher, and turned the fire against the place. The besieged, being without repose and finding safety nowhere, began to despair of holding out, without, however, being at all willing to subscribe to the honourable capitulation offered them by the prince. That general fell sick; the siege appeared to suffer by the circumstance, and the attacks became weaker. In consequence of this, the exhausted citizens relaxed in their vigilance. The prince, who from his bed was still watchful, learnt how matters stood, and immediately ordered an assault. On the morning of the day designed for this last effort, a soldier having crept through an ill-repaired breach, found no one on the walls but some sentinels buried in sleep. He informed the general of this. The troops were commanded to follow him: the breach was mounted, and the city taken. The carnage was so frightful, that scarcely four hundred persons were spared. The life of the brave Tappin, the governor of Maestricht, was however saved, out of respect for his character. The besiegers lost two thousand five hundred men; but a booty of a million of crowns of gold, and the conquest of an important city, compensated for their fatigues and perils.

THIRD SIEGE, A.D. 1632.

In 1632 Maestricht was reduced by the prince of Orange, and was confirmed to the Dutch in 1648.

FOURTH SIEGE, A.D. 1673.

On the 10th of June, Louis XIV. appeared before Maestricht with an army of forty thousand men. This place, esteemed one of the keys of the Netherlands and the United Provinces, was defended by a garrison of five thousand men, and by an intrepid governor, named Farjaux, a Frenchman by birth, but in the service of Holland. On the 17th the trenches were opened, and five batteries were directed against the city. Vauban, who in this siege first distinguished himself, employed the parallels invented by some Italian engineers in the service of the Turks, before Candia. He added places of arms in the trenches, to draw up troops in battle order, and the better to rally them in the event of sorties. Louis proved himself, in this famous expedition, more particular and laborious than he had ever been. By his example he accustomed a nation till that time accused of having nothing but a brilliant courage which fatigue easily exhausted, to patience in labour and endurance in protracted operations. As long as the siege lasted, he was up the whole night, from ten o’clock in the evening till five in the morning. After having ordered everything he thought necessary for the attack, he retired to his tent to take some repose till dinner-time. On leaving table, he mounted on horseback to make the tour of the lines and visit the quarters: in consequence of this, the companions of his labours went to the assaults and performed their duties in the most exemplary manner. The most furious assault was that of the 24th of June, and was made at the counterscarp of the Tongres gate; in it the French and the Dutch were by turns conquerors and conquered, whilst disputing an advanced half-moon. The first company of musketeers was commanded to fall upon this half-moon, whilst the second precipitated itself upon the palisades between that post and the hornwork. “The signal was given,” says M. de Saint-Foix; “they marched, and in spite of the vigorous resistance of the enemy, in spite of the fire of the fourneaux which were sprung, and the terrible reports of the grenades which were incessantly cast among them, these works were carried almost at the same moment.” Four bloody conflicts were necessary; and they only triumphed in the last, after losing many men. Night separated the combatants. The action of the morrow was still more warm and murderous; it was believed that the lodgments were secured, and the musketeers had returned to the camp. The enemy sprang a fourneau, which the French had not discovered, in the half-moon: there was reason to think it was not the only one. Farjaux, who had placed himself at the head of the best troops of his garrison, profiting by this moment of alarm, entered the work and drove out the French soldiers. The musketeers were ordered to take it again, and they did retake it. In an obstinate and sanguinary conflict, fifty-three musketeers were wounded and thirty-seven killed, with the famous count d’Artagnan, commander of the first company. “The musketeers who returned from this fight,” says Pelisson, “had all their swords blooded up to the guards, and bent and notched with the blows they had given.” So many repeated and terrible attacks destroyed the defenders of Maestricht without weakening the courage of the survivors. Farjaux in particular was determined to hold out to the last minute; he preferred a glorious death to life at the hands of a conqueror, and he formed the resolution of making one more attempt. A mine was dug, and set fire to with too much precipitation; the soldiers of Farjaux were blown up by it instead of the French. This accident so completely disconcerted the besieged, that even their bold governor was forced to think of composition. They were satisfied, on the 29th of June, with a favourable capitulation. The remains of the garrison retired with the honours of war, and the inhabitants retained their privileges. This conquest cost France nearly eight thousand men; the besieged lost more than three thousand.

FIFTH SIEGE, A.D. 1676.

Louis XIV., aware of the importance of his victory, placed in the city a garrison of six thousand foot and twelve hundred horse. Three years after, the prince of Orange laid siege to Maastricht with an army of twenty-five thousand men, whilst the duke of Villa-Hermosa on one side, and the count de Waldeck on the other, intrenched in advantageous posts, watched the operations of the French, and held themselves in readiness to prevent their succouring the besieged. The count de Calvo commanded in Maestricht, in the absence of Marshal d’Estrades, the governor. This officer was a Catalan, in the service of France; the king had not a braver soldier; but as he had all his life served in the cavalry, he was thought to be more in his place at the head of a squadron of horse than of a garrison. As soon as the place was invested, he assembled the principal officers: “Gentlemen,” said he, “I have served all my life as a cavalry officer, and have very little acquaintance with the defence of cities. All that I know is that I will never surrender. Concert among you the means of an obstinate and insurmountable resistance, and I will undertake to have them executed with as much vigour as celerity.” The frankness of the commander won all hearts, and the confidence he placed in his subalterns elevated and expanded their minds. There was established, without pride, mistrust, or jealousy, a communication of ideas which saved the city, and which places the name of Calvo among the few that will descend to posterity.

Calvo made a vigorous and considerable sortie, the commencement of which was fortunate. The prince of Orange, informed of what was going on in the trenches, flew to the succour of his people with the greatest courage, drove back the French with the sword to their gates, and being wounded in the arm, exclaimed to those who had fought without spirit, “This is the way you should act, gentlemen! It is you who have caused the wound for which you appear to entertain so much regret.” Calvo first introduced the use of back-handled scythes; his soldiers, armed with these in the sorties, killed three men at a stroke. The trenches were opened on the 19th of July, and the batteries were erected on the 22nd: during eight days the firing never ceased. At length a large breach was made in the Dauphin bastion, and an assault was ordered for the 30th. It was terrible, but proved useless. The Dutch retired with loss. The next day the prince of Orange ordered a second attack, still more sanguinary and quite as unsuccessful. A suspension of arms was then entered into to bury the dead. Not at all discouraged, the prince gave a third assault, and succeeded in gaining the bastion. Scarcely had he gained a lodgment, when the French sprang two mines, the bursting of which they followed up by a furious sortie: they were, however, repulsed, and the work remained in the hands of the Dutch. Some days after they took another bastion, and drew near to the counterscarp. Whilst the Hollanders were preparing to pour their thunders upon this part of the fortifications, the powder and grenades of the besieged were suddenly set fire to. Taking advantage of the consequent disorder, the enemy gained possession of the counterscarp: they then prepared to attack the hornwork. Twice they gave the assault, and twice they were driven back with loss. The dragoons and the cavalry having dismounted to sustain the infantry, discouraged by so many repulses, a third effort was made. It was so terrible that the covered way was choked with dead bodies, and the blood of the slaughtered discoloured the waters of the fosse. But the assailants were forced to regain their former posts, after having lost a host of soldiers.

But now news was brought that Marshal Schomberg was hastening to the succour of the place, and the prince of Orange, having already lost twelve thousand men, did not think it prudent to wait for him. He decamped in the night of the 26th of August, after forty days of open trenches, and, to make the more haste, embarked thirty pieces of cannon, five hundred wounded, and a great quantity of munitions on the Meuse. At daybreak, the garrison perceiving the retreat of the Dutch, pursued them, and took some prisoners.

SIXTH SIEGE, A.D. 1748.

“Peace is in Maestricht,” said the Marshal de Saxe. It was with preparations for this siege that the campaign of 1748 commenced. It was necessary to secure all the passages, to force an army to retreat, to render it powerless for action, to deceive the enemy, and leave his own troops in ignorance of his secret. Marshal Saxe succeeded in all this; he only communicated his views to M. de Cremille; he made the allies believe that his object was Buda, and he went, at the head of twenty-five thousand men, to conduct a convoy to Bergen-op-Zoom, feigning to turn his back towards Maestricht. Three divisions advanced upon Tirlemont, Tongres, and Luxembourg; and at length all four took their route towards Maestricht. The enemy quitted their posts precipitately, abandoned immense magazines, and knew nothing of the designs of the count de Saxe until it was too late to oppose them. The city was invested, without a possibility of any succour being introduced. The siege was pushed on with vigour. The baron d’Aylva, the governor, and the count de Marshal commanding the Austrian garrison, displayed in vain all their skill to dispute the ground, and drive back the besiegers. They were on the point of submitting to the conqueror, when a courier, despatched by the duke of Cumberland, came to announce the cessation of hostilities, and to confirm the saying of Marshal Saxe with which we commenced this article.

There is scarcely a siege on record which does not convey a lesson to students in the military art, even to experienced generals, and above all to kings or ministers directing a war--the lesson in this is secrecy before the attempt: had Maurice de Saxe told all the world what was the object of his preparations, he might as well have attempted to besiege the moon as Maestricht.

Maestricht was besieged in vain by the French, under Meranda, in 1793, but yielded to the troops of that country, commanded by Kleber, in 1794, after eleven days of open trenches.

ANTWERP.

The great commercial city of Antwerp has been several times subjected to sieges, of two of which only we think it necessary to offer any details.

FIRST SIEGE, A.D. 1583.

The Netherlands, tired of the Spanish domination, made the false step of getting rid of one evil by adopting another quite as bad, and elected as their sovereign Francis of France, who, known as the duke d’Alençon, had recently assumed the title of duke d’Anjou. The worthy brother of Francis II., Charles IX., and Henry III.--the son of Catherine de Medici--the duke of Anjou, might have been thought the last prince to be selected for the purpose of reigning over a people so situated as the Netherlanders were; but France was the enemy of Spain, was the most powerful neighbour they had, and the wily Catherine and wicked Henry III. were liberal in their promises.

Very little satisfied with the name of leader and a limited authority, the duke of Anjou soon made an effort to throw off the yoke of the States, and to reign as monarch. His first design was to gain possession of the citadel of Antwerp. On the 17th of January, 1583, he left his palace early in the morning, followed by several Frenchmen on horseback, and passed out of the city, by the gate of St. James. He had scarcely left the city, when those who accompanied him pretended to quarrel among themselves, and fell sword in hand upon the corps de garde, the soldiers of which they massacred, or put to flight, and, at the same time, seized upon that gate. All the citizens of that quarter hastened to the spot, whilst the French took possession of the Emperor’s gate, and of the curtain which was between those two entrances. The troops who had been left in the city, ran through the streets, exclaiming: “The city is won! the city is won! Vive la Messe! Vive la Messe!” which was their rallying cry. Fifteen ensigns of foot and ten cornets of horse came to their assistance. The Swiss were approaching likewise. But an accident they might have prevented, disconcerted the enterprise. They had forgotten to take possession of the portcullis of the St. James gate; and the citizens, on perceiving this omission, rushed to the top of it, let it down, and thus impeded the entrance of the French. The whole people took up arms, every man became a soldier. The enraged citizens combined instantly to drive out an enemy who aimed at their property and their lives. So much in earnest were they, that they took the money from their purses, and moulded or cut it into bullets with their teeth, and loaded their guns with it. The women disputed with the men the glory of defending their country. The disconcerted French were surrounded, pursued, and completely routed. In vain the duke endeavoured to withdraw them from the rage of the Flemings: they were all killed, wounded, or taken prisoners. Fifteen hundred were left on the field of battle; among whom were persons of the most illustrious houses in France: the Flemings did not lose a hundred men.

SECOND SIEGE, A.D. 1585.

This is considered one of the most remarkable sieges of modern times, from its cause, the parties concerned, the events, and the result.

The prince of Parma presented himself, in 1585, before Antwerp, at the head of a powerful army. His operations commenced by the attack of the forts of Lillo and Liestenstoech, constructed by the Dutch upon the banks of the Scheld. The Italians conceived a stratagem which very much facilitated the capture of this last fort. They got together a large number of waggons, loaded with green hay, to which they set fire. The wind carried the smoke directly towards the fort. Smothered and stifled by this cloud, the garrison were constrained to draw a little on one side, and the besiegers taking advantage of this short absence, mounted the ramparts, and carried the place. The prince was not so fortunate at Lillo. Mondragone, not having attacked it briskly enough, allowed a reinforcement to enter, by which six weeks and two thousand men were lost. This enterprise was abandoned, and the Spaniards contented themselves with masking the fort on the land side, and stopping the excursions of the troops who were shut up in it. The duke next undertook to close the Scheld. In the month of September, he built two forts, opposite each other; furnished them with artillery, and then began the construction of a bridge, in appearance a chimerical project, but upon which the success of the siege depended. The Spanish general dug a broad and deep canal, two leagues in length, to facilitate the transport of materials; this was called the Parma Canal. To animate the labourers, the prince fixed his quarters in the village of Beversen. The count de Mansfeld, lieutenant-general, commanded on the Brabant side, and was encamped at Stabrock. Mondragone was intrenched on the banks of the river, opposite Lillo, where he held the enemy in check. On all parts forts were built, to secure the dykes, and prevent the Dutch from inundating the country; communication between the city and the neighbouring places was completely cut off, as was all means of its receiving succour by the Scheld. The marquis de Roubais was charged with the construction of the bridge. He exhibited so much activity in this important work, that a speedy completion of it was hoped for.

The besieged, terrified at the progress of the Spaniards, were a prey to the most serious inquietudes. In this wealthy place, every one trembled for his property, and yet could see no means of escaping the storm which growled over their heads. The firmest hearts were shaken. It was given out that they would no longer sustain a siege which must cost so much blood and treasure. Roused by this, Sainte-Aldegonde, the mayor of Antwerp, ventured, though alone, to combat this resolution. In speeches of fire he revived the fallen courage of his fellow-citizens, he inspired them with republican sentiments, and induced them to swear, with a common voice, an eternal renunciation of the yoke of Philip of Spain. An edict forbade, under pain of death, the least approach to accommodation with the royalists. The greatest ardour was evinced for the defence of their country. To prolong the means of resistance, provisions were distributed very economically, and every preparation that could be devised was made to thwart the construction of the fatal bridge which was to reduce Antwerp.

To prevent or retard this work, and destroy what was done, several singular vessels were employed, which were to be filled with fireworks. The redoubts the prince had built on the banks of the river interfered with the cruises of the Antwerp frigates; a vessel of enormous size was constructed, provided with large guns, for the purpose of attacking them. This immense mass in some sort resembled a floating fortress. The besieged conceived such magnificent hopes from this vessel, that they named it The End of the War; a boastful title, of which the skill and activity of the prince of Parma made the vanity known.

Already the staccadoes, which formed the butments of each end of the bridge, approached completion, in spite of the efforts of the citizens, who gave unceasingly brave and sanguinary battle. In one of these conflicts, Roubais took Teligny prisoner, a captain equally brave and skilful. The count of Hohenloe was named in his place. This able officer did everything possible, both by land and on the Scheld, to impede the operations of the besiegers. But, notwithstanding all his efforts, they at length succeeded in procuring a sufficient number of vessels to close the river in the middle of its course; and, on the 25th of February, 1585, the bridge was entirely finished.

The spot for this famous bridge was chosen between the villages of Ordam and Calloo, because the bed of the river was narrower there than at any other part. Its course made a marked elbow, which would prevent the vessels of the enemy from sailing full upon the bridge. On commencing it they had driven, on each side of the Scheld, long rows of large piles, which were continued as far as the depth of the river would permit. They were joined together transversely, and in all their length, with very strong and solid pieces of wood: this formed what they called staccadoes: that of Calloo was two hundred feet long, and that of Ordam nine hundred. The space left between them was twelve hundred and fifty feet. Upon each of these was formed a kind of place of arms, capable of containing a body of troops sufficient to defend it, and to protect the vessels which were to continue the bridge. These were lined by a parapet, from which the soldiers, protected from the shots of the enemy, could annoy them with their fire. The two forts constructed at the two têtes du pont, that is to say, at the extremity of the staccadoes, on the land side, protected the two flanks of them; for this purpose they were furnished with a numerous artillery. Batteries also were established in the places of arms. To these precautions was added that of bristling, on both sides, the staccadoes with large posts, terminating in sharp iron points. They protruded a considerable distance; and great piles, driven into the bed of the river, held them fast just above the water. It was proposed by this to keep off the enemy’s vessels, and weaken their attacks. When the staccadoes were completed, the vessels were brought up that were intended to close the remainder of the course of the Scheld in the deepest and widest part. Thirty-two barks, sixty feet long and twelve feet wide, were selected for this purpose; they were placed at twenty-two feet from each other; they were fixed in their positions by two good anchors each, and were fastened together by a great number of strong chains. Each bark was manned by thirty soldiers and four sailors, and armed with two cannon at the extremities. The total number of cannon distributed over the staccadoes and the bridge amounted to ninety-seven. The bridge likewise was protected by an outward defence, in order to secure it from surprise. It was known that the garrison were preparing fire-ships, with which they meant to assail the bridge. It was likewise feared that the armed vessels in the besieged city might attack it from above, at the same time that the ships of the confederates might attempt it from below. To secure it from this double danger, some large rafts were made with a great number of masts solidly fastened together, which were set afloat in the width of the bridge, and presented a sort of rampart or large parapet to the enemy. This immense work, which was two miles four hundred feet in length, required for its construction seven months of incessant fatigue and application. The engineers who had the direction of it were named Jean Baptiste Plato and Prosperce Barrochio. It was the latter who formed the idea of the rafts which covered the bridge. The duke of Parma, to reward them for their labours, made them a present of all the materials, after the capture of Antwerp.

The city, however, neglected nothing that might impede or destroy this astonishing undertaking. It retained in its service a celebrated Italian engineer, named Frederic Giambelli, a native of Mantua. It was he who invented and brought into play those destructive vessels since known by the name of infernal machines. They were built of very thick and solidly-joined timbers, among which were constructed chambers for mines, proportioned to their size. These were formed of good bricks and mortar, and required but one light to set fire to the powder with which they were filled. These terrible vessels were loaded with blocks of stone, bullets of different calibres, in short, with all sorts of materials of great weight, heaped together as closely as possible, in order that the effect of the mine might be increased by the resistance opposed to it. Giambelli employed more than eight months in getting everything ready. The large vessel of which we have before spoken was not so soon completed. It was a ship with two very lofty decks: the under one was armed with several large and small cannon; the upper was a large place of arms, whereon were a number of troops, who from the elevation of that deck could keep up a warm fire of musketry. This enormous vessel had but two large masts of equal size, placed at the two extremities, and of nearly the same shape. To facilitate its approach to the redoubts constructed by the royalists upon the banks of the river, it was quite flat, and only sunk into the water in proportion to its weight, being kept afloat upon a vast raft of enormous beams, supported by empty barrels. Such were the means to which the inhabitants of Antwerp had recourse to keep open the navigation of the Scheld. They had placed all their hopes in them. The confederates were expected to aid their endeavours. A great number of armed vessels awaited near Lillo the effects of the infernal machines, with the view of acting at the same time. They attempted to recapture the fort of Liestenstoech, and succeeded.

On the 4th of April at length appeared on the river the two redoubtable machines called Fortune and Hope, followed by some smaller vessels. They were left to the tide, and, having nobody on board, they floated, abandoned to themselves, and were carried by the reflux. Scarcely were they in motion, than there burst from them a column of fire, which, after having burnt for a few instants, appeared to sink and be extinguished. The spectators were astonished. All at once one of the smaller vessels blew up, when at a considerable distance from the bridge, and produced no other effect than a cloud of thick smoke. All that were constructed in the same manner proved equally abortive. There was nothing to be feared but from the two large vessels, which insensibly drew nearer to their object. The first, the Fortune, ran upon the left bank of the river, burst with a horrible crash, destroying the garrison of a neighbouring redoubt and a number of soldiers dispersed about the environs. However serious was the effect of this, that of the Hope promised to be more terrific, and, in fact, caused considerable damage. This vessel had been guided to the point of union of one of the staccadoes and the barks which formed the bridge. It was at this spot it blew up. The air remained for a long time darkened; the shock experienced by the earth extended miles round; the Scheld rushed from its bed, and threw its foaming waters over the neighbouring country; the bodies of the miserable victims to this explosion were so mutilated as to preserve no resemblance to the human figure. The vast mass of stones and instruments of death which were hurled abroad by this frightful volcano, falling in all directions, a great number of unfortunates were killed, wounded, or bruised in the most cruel manner. Five hundred royalists perished, and thousands were either lamed or dangerously hurt. The death of the marquis de Roubais was the crowning incident of this fatal day. The damage sustained by the bridge was not so great as was at first feared; but the disorder was so great, that if the enemy had attacked the work at that moment, all would have been lost. They were quite ignorant of the effect of their own machine; and the good face put upon the affair by the besiegers led them to believe that the bridge had sustained but little injury.

The citizens of Antwerp had now no hope but in the large vessel which they had named The End of the War. It was put to work. This vast castle drew near to one of the redoubts built on the banks of the river, on the Brabant side. The men on board commenced a brisk fire: they amounted to more than a thousand; they supported the effects of the lower cannon by a continual discharge of musketry; they landed for the purpose of attacking a redoubt; but in this they failed. The fort braved their batteries, and their assaults proved useless. On the other side, their enormous vessel was so knocked about by the artillery of the redoubt, that they had much difficulty in repairing it, and rendering it capable of being employed again. A second attempt was as unfortunate as the first; and all the efforts made afterwards, either to carry the works or break down the bridge, proved equally fruitless. The most memorable of the combats fought on these occasions was that of the counter-dyke. The field of battle was only seventeen feet wide. The townspeople were desirous of carrying it, at any price. Animated by the example and exhortations of Sainte-Aldegonde and the count of Hohenloe, they more than once repulsed the royalists, and believed themselves masters of the object of their generous efforts. But, overwhelmed by the number of their enemies, rather than conquered, they yielded their triumph, and retreated within the walls of their city, having lost two thousand five hundred men and thirty ships. After this bloody victory, which had cost him more than a thousand men, the prince of Parma took from the besieged all the neighbouring posts that belonged to them, and shut them up closely in their city. Despair was then at its height; the citizens had no other prospect but the horrors of starvation from famine, which began to be not only dreaded but felt, or the painful necessity of yielding to the conqueror. The people assembled, and openly opposed the leaders who wished to continue the defence; and it became necessary to enter into negotiations. Deputies were sent to the prince of Parma to arrange the articles of surrender. Sainte-Aldegonde, who was at their head, protracted for two months, under various pretexts, the conclusion of the treaty, believing by this skilful delay he should give time for the succours he expected to come up. At length, on the 17th of August, 1585, the capitulation was signed. The conqueror then made his public entrance into the city, with all the pomp of a triumph. Mounted on a superb courser, in complete armour, he marched amidst bodies of cavalry and infantry, which opened and closed this brilliant procession. Like other conquerors, though he had obtained a sanguinary victory over a city which was in arms for freedom of action and opinion, he ended his triumph by offering up thanks to the God of Battles, who holds defeat and victory in his hands.

MALTA.

A.D. 1565.

After the conquest of Rhodes by Soliman II., its knights retired to the island of Malta, which asylum was granted to them by the emperor Charles V. In the hands of this military order, Malta soon became the strong bulwark of Christendom. The Mahometans were deeply interested in taking this island, but more particularly in subduing its defenders. Dragut laid siege to it in 1565, with an army of more than thirty thousand men. Several assaults were given, which the knights sustained with their usual bravery, and the Ottoman general met with his death. Mustapha Pacha, who succeeded him, attacked Fort St. Elmo, the smallest of the city, with great impetuosity. One of the knights, Abel de Bridiers de la Gardampe, received a shot which struck him to the earth. He said to some of his comrades, who offered to carry him to a place of safety to have his wound dressed, “Do not consider me among the living; your cares will be much better bestowed in defending our brethren.” He then dragged himself as far as the chapel, and having recommended himself to God, expired at the foot of the altar. The knights who defended St. Elmo having made an heroic defence, proposed to abandon it, and were more intent on that purpose than pleased the governor De la Valette. Such a determination damaged all his plans, and he, somewhat ostentatiously, made some fresh levies to take the place of those who thought of abandoning their post. The enthusiasm became general, and all the Maltese were desirous of enrolling themselves. The knights in the fort were much chagrined at this; the embarrassment of their situation was increased by a letter from De la Valette, who wrote to them with much sternness and hauteur, that he willingly gave them their dismissal; that for one knight who appeared discouraged by the greatness of the danger, ten intrepid soldiers presented themselves, who earnestly asked to brave it; and that he was about to send this fresh garrison to take their post. “Return to the convent, my brethren,” added he, “you will be more in safety there; and, on our part, we shall be more at ease concerning the preservation of an important place, upon which depends the salvation of the isle and of our whole order.” The knights felt very sensibly the contempt with which they were treated. They could not conceal from themselves that by giving up the place to recruits they should be covered with shame. “How,” said they to each other, “shall we support the sight of the grand master, and the reproaches of our brethren, if the new garrison should be fortunate enough to maintain itself in its post? What spot on the earth could we then find to conceal our shame and our grief?” The natural result of this reflection was to meet death rather than be replaced by this militia, or to abandon the fort to the Turks. Although the grand master foresaw, and even prepared for this repentance, he at first would not be softened by it. The knights, terrified at seeing their supplications rejected, asked pardon in the most submissive terms, and caused their prayers to be seconded by worthy men in full possession of his confidence. He at last affected to be appeased, and consented that these brave knights should perish on the breach. It is probable that to the address of De la Valette on this occasion the preservation of Malta was due. This fort held out so long, that the pacha could not refrain from saying, as he entered it, “What will the father do, if the son, who is so small, has cost us so many brave soldiers?” From that time he saw that the conquest of Malta was impossible, and turned his thoughts to retreating with credit. To intimidate the knights, he hung the bodies of all of the order whom he found among the dead, and more particularly those who had a faint breath of life left. He ordered them to be opened, their hearts to be taken out, their bodies to be cut into quarters, to be clothed in their soubrevestes, and, after being fastened to planks, to be cast into the sea. These mutilated bodies were carried into the city by the waves. The grand master, Jean de la Valette, could not restrain his tears. Animated by a just but useless indignation, he employed reprisals, and cut the throats of all his Turkish prisoners, commanding their bloody heads to be thrown into the camp of their compatriots. The preservation of Malta covered the knights with glory.

VACHTENDONCK.

A.D. 1588.

This little city, at a small distance from Venloo, but whose advantages of situation, in a country that could be flooded, and the fortifications which the Dutch had added to its natural defences, rendered its capture difficult, was besieged by the Spaniards, under the command of Pierre Ernest de Mansfeld. Its weak garrison made a noble resistance. Nevertheless, the works of the Spaniards advanced so rapidly, the fire of the batteries, and the sapping and mining were so effective, that on the 3rd of December the besieged capitulated. The reason for our noticing this siege, is the circumstance that it was the first time bombs were used; they had been invented a short time before, by a man of Venloo, a maker of artificial fireworks. The garrison and the citizens, terrified at these globes of fire, which crushed their houses and set fire to everything around them, made but a feeble resistance after they had seen their effects. This destructive arm has been perfected with time, and gave birth to grenades, pot-grenades, and many other murderous machines.

OSTEND.

A.D. 1601–1604.

This celebrated siege, undertaken by the Spaniards, lasted three years and seventy-eight days, and, up to the moment of its termination, doubts were entertained of their success. The besieged, constantly succoured both by sea and land, were unable to tire out the courage and patience of the besiegers, who pushed on their attacks without relaxation, amidst the greatest obstacles. It would be difficult to count the number of batteries they erected, the assaults they made, or the mines they sprung. The last were so frequent, that they might be said to work more beneath the earth than upon its surface. All the resources of art were exhausted in the attack and defence. Machines were invented. The earth and the ocean by turns favoured the two parties, seconding and destroying alternately the works of the Spaniards and the Dutch, who advanced no work upon the land which the sea did not appear to hasten to destroy. This siege cost the Dutch more than seventy thousand men, and more than ten millions of French money. Their adversary likewise lost immensely. The slaughter was terrible on both sides. Both parties were more eager to inflict death upon their enemies than to save their own lives. At length the besieged, after having seen nine commanders perish successively, did not abandon the little heap of ruins on which they had concentrated themselves, and which they contested foot by foot, until it seemed to disappear from under them: an honourable capitulation was granted. The enemy was surprised to see march from untenable ruins more than four thousand vigorous soldiers, whom the abundance they had lived in during the whole siege had kept in the best health. In addition to a numerous artillery, a prodigious quantity of provisions and munitions was found in the city. The archduke, who had begun this celebrated expedition, with the infanta his wife, had the curiosity to go and view the melancholy remains of Ostend. They found nothing but a shapeless heap of ruins, and could trace no vestige of the besieged place. Spinola, who had taken it, was loaded with honours and elevated to the highest dignities. The Dutch, who during the siege had taken Rhenberg, Grave, and Ecluse, very easily consoled themselves for their loss; and to mark by a public monument that they thought they had received full amends, had a medal struck, with the inscription, Jehova plus dederat quam perdidimus:--God has given us more than we have lost.

In a work like this it would be impossible to pass by such a siege as that of Ostend, but at the same time it is equally impossible for us to do the subject justice: the interesting details of this siege would fill a volume.

BERGEN-OP-ZOOM.

A.D. 1585.

This celebrated fortified place has been several times besieged. The Spaniards attacked it in 1585, when it was defended by Morgan, an intelligent and brave English captain. The duke of Parma, knowing all the difficulties of the undertaking, thought to abridge them by attempting to win over two English officers, who passed for being not very delicate. These two soldiers discovered the duke’s proposals to their commander, who ordered them to carry on the negotiations. They went into the enemy’s camp; and a detachment of four thousand men was intrusted to their guidance, to take possession of the place. They marched at the head of them, between two soldiers, who had orders to poniard them if they were treacherous, or if they did not introduce them into the citadel. They did, in fact, introduce them; but scarcely had forty men passed through the gate, when the portcullis was let down. The Spaniards who were within Bergen-op-Zoom did not dare to kill their guides, whilst the artillery of the place opened its thunders upon the detachment under the walls. The dishonour and the defeat of this day both fell to the Spaniards, who, degenerating from Castilian valour, were taken in their own snare.

SECOND SIEGE, A.D. 1622.

The court of Madrid had placed at the head of sixty thousand men the famous Spinola. This general, to carry out the intentions of his master, entered the territories of Holland, and presented himself before Bergen-op-Zoom. The Spaniards took their posts, erected their batteries, thundered against the ramparts, gave many assaults, and caused the timid among the besieged to tremble; but the prince of Orange having thrown in succours, the besiegers retired on the 2nd of October, with the loss of ten thousand men, after two months of useless efforts, leaving Bergen-op-Zoom her glorious title of a Maiden City.

THIRD SIEGE, A.D. 1747.

During more than a century this Maiden remained intact, but in October, 1747, she was deprived of the proud title by the illustrious and impetuous Lowendahl. In order not to lose the fruits of the memorable day of Lanfeld, Louis XV. commanded the siege of this important place. In describing it, we will avail ourselves of the words of Voltaire:--

“Siege was laid to Bergen-op-Zoom, a place esteemed impregnable, less because the celebrated and ingenious Cohorn had there displayed all his art, than from its being constantly supplied with all it could want by the Scheld, which forms an arm of the sea behind it. In addition to these defences and a numerous garrison, there were lines near the fortifications, and in those lines a body of troops, which might at any moment assist the city. Of all the sieges ever undertaken, this was, perhaps, the most difficult. The count de Lowendahl, who had already taken a part of Dutch Brabant, was charged with this enterprise. The allies and the French, the besieged and the besiegers, were all equally of opinion that the undertaking would fail: Lowendahl was almost the only person who reckoned upon success. The allies neglected nothing: the garrison was reinforced; succours, provisions, and munitions, were thrown in from the Scheld; the artillery was well served; the besieged made frequent sorties; the troops from the lines were constant in their attacks, and mines were sprung in several places. The diseases to which the besiegers were subjected, from being encamped in an unhealthy spot, materially seconded the resistance of the city. These contagious maladies placed more than twenty thousand men hors de combat; but that deficiency was soon filled up.

“At length, after three weeks of open trenches, the count de Lowendahl made it apparent that there are occasions on which the rules of art may be exceeded. The breaches were not yet practicable. There were three works scarcely commenced,--the raveline of Edem and two bastions, one of which was called the Cohorn, and the other the Pucelle. The general determined to give the assault at all these three points at the same time, and to carry the city.

“The French, in pitched battles, often meet with their equals, and sometimes with their masters in military discipline; but they have none in those bold strokes and rapid enterprises, in which impetuosity, agility, and ardour overcome all obstacles. The troops were ordered to assemble in profound silence, towards the middle of the night: the besieged imagined themselves in perfect safety. The French descend into the fosses, and go straight to the three breaches; twelve grenadiers only render themselves masters of the fort of Edem, kill all who attempt to defend themselves, and compel the terrified remainder to lay down their arms. The bastions of La Pucelle and Cohorn are assailed and carried with the same spirit. The troops mount in crowds. Everything is carried; they push on to the ramparts, and there form: they then enter the city with fixed bayonets. The marquis de Luzeac seizes the port gate; the commander of the fortress of this port surrenders to him at discretion: all the other forts do the same. The aged baron de Cromstron, who commanded in the city, flies away towards the lines. The prince of Hesse-Philipstadt endeavours to make some resistance in the streets with two regiments, one Scotch and the other Swiss; but they are cut to pieces. The remainder of the garrison flies towards the lines, and carries terror to the body to which they look for protection. All fly; arms, provisions, and baggage, everything is abandoned: the city is given up as legitimate plunder to the conquering soldiers. A seizure was made, in the name of the king, of seventeen large vessels lying in the port, laden with munitions of all kinds, and provisions, which the cities of Holland had sent to the besieged. Upon the chests which contained them there was printed in large characters, TO THE INVINCIBLE GARRISON OF BERGEN-OP-ZOOM. Louis XV., on learning the news of this event, made the count de Lowendahl a marshal of France. The surprise of London was great, but the consternation of the United Provinces was extreme. The army of the allies was discouraged.”

The count de Lowendahl, in the letter he wrote the day after the capture to Marshal de Saxe, estimated his loss at four hundred men only, and that of the enemy at five thousand.

MAGDEBURG.

A.D. 1631.

The city of Magdeburg, capital of a duchy of the same name in Lower Saxony, had entered into an alliance with Gustavus Adolphus, king of Sweden, and had granted him a passage over its bridge of the Elbe, by which the Imperialists were driven from the flat country. But the Austrian general Tilly returned, and blockaded the place very closely. The electors of Brandenburg and Saxony, disapproving of the conduct of the inhabitants of Magdeburg, resolved to maintain their connection with the emperor, and to assemble their arrière-ban, to oppose the king of Sweden. Tilly left some troops to continue the blockade, and marched with the bulk of his forces to Frankfort-on-the-Oder, where he joined Torquato-Conti; he then crossed the electorate to attack the Swedes, who were making progress in Mecklenburg. But the fortune of Gustavus Adolphus had an ascendancy over that of the imperial general. The king of Sweden left Mecklenburg, crossed the Oder, took Lanesberg and Frankfort, and then turned suddenly towards Berlin, for the purpose of succouring Magdeburg, which Tilly was now besieging in person. Gustavus Adolphus advanced beyond Potsdam, and the Imperialists, who held Brandenburg and Rathenau, fell back, at his approach, upon the army which was besieging Magdeburg. The elector of Saxony refused to grant the Swedes a passage over the bridge of the Elbe, at Wittemberg, which prevented Gustavus from succouring the city of Magdeburg, as he had intended.

This unfortunate city, which neither Tilly nor Wallenstein had been able to take by force, at length succumbed to stratagem. The Imperialists had entered into a negotiation with the Magdeburghers, by the intervention of the Hanseatic cities; and they pretended during these conferences not to fire upon the city. The Magdeburghers, at the same time credulous and negligent, slumbered in this apparent security; the citizens who had kept watch upon the ramparts, retired, in great numbers, towards morning, to their own houses. Pappenheim, who directed the siege, and who had advanced his attacks up to the counterscarp of the fosse, perceived this circumstance, and took advantage of it. He made his dispositions one morning, when there were but few people on the ramparts; he gave four assaults at once, and made himself master of them, without meeting with much resistance. At the same time, the Croats, who lay near the Elbe, whose bed was then low, proceeded along it, without departing far from its banks, and took the works on the opposite side. As soon as Tilly was master of the cannons of the rampart, he directed them in such a manner as to sweep the streets, and the numbers of the Imperialists increasing every minute, all the efforts the inhabitants could make became useless. Thus was this city, one of the most ancient and flourishing of Germany, taken when it least expected it, and barbarously given up three consecutive days to pillage. All that the unbridled license of a soldiery can invent when there is no check upon its fury; all that the most ferocious cruelty inspires men with, when blind rage takes possession of their senses, was perpetrated by the Imperialists in this desolated city. The soldiers, in troops, with arms in their hands, rushed tumultuously through the streets, massacring indifferently old men, women, and children, those who attempted to defend themselves, and those who made not the least resistance: the houses were pillaged and sacked, the streets were inundated with blood and covered with dead bodies; nothing was seen but heaps of corpses, some still palpitating, lying in perfect nakedness; the cries of the murdered and the shouts of their murderers mingled in the air, and inspired horror and disgust. In this cruel butchery perished nearly all the citizens: only fourteen hundred were saved. These had shut themselves up in the dome, and obtained their pardon of Tilly. To massacres, very naturally succeeded conflagrations; the flames arose from all parts, and in a few hours, private houses and public edifices only formed one heap of ashes. It seems scarcely credible, but only one hundred and forty houses were left standing of this noble city. Twelve hundred maidens, it is said, drowned themselves to avoid dishonour. All Germany, friends as well as enemies, pitied the fate of this city, and deplored the melancholy extirpation of its inhabitants. The cruelty of the Imperialists created the more horror, from history presenting but few examples of such shocking inhumanity.

TURIN.

A.D. 1706.

Louis XIV. having recalled the duke of Vendôme from Italy, to place him at the head of the troops in Flanders, substituted for him the duke de la Feuillade, the son of the famous marshal who erected a statue to his king in the Place des Victoires. Some few attacks had been already made upon Turin. La Feuillade continued them with an army of forty-six squadrons and a hundred battalions. He hoped to take this city, and, as his reward, looked for a marshal’s baton. The minister Chamillard, his father-in-law, who was very partial to him, spared no means to assure him the victory. “The imagination,” says Voltaire, “is terrified at the preparations for this siege. Readers not accustomed to enter into these matters, will perhaps be glad to find here of what these immense and useless preparations consisted.

“A hundred and forty pieces of cannon were brought up, and it is to be observed that each mounted cannon costs about two thousand crowns.[15] There were a hundred and ten thousand cannon-balls, a hundred and six thousand cartridges of one fashion, and three hundred thousand of another, twenty-one thousand bombs, twenty-seven thousand seven hundred grenades, fifteen thousand sacks of earth, thirty thousand pioneering instruments, and twelve hundred thousand pounds of powder. Add to these munitions lead, iron, and tin, cordage, everything required by miners, such as sulphur, saltpetre, and tools of all kinds. It is certain that the cost of all these preparations for destruction would suffice for the foundation and the prosperity of a numerous colony. Every siege of a great city requires equally enormous expenses, and yet when a ruined village at home stands in need of repair, it is neglected.

“The duke de la Feuillade, full of ardour and activity, more capable than most persons of enterprises which only demand courage, but incapable of such as require skill, thought, and time, pressed on the siege against all rules. The Marshal de Vauban, the only general, perhaps, who loved the state better than himself, had proposed to the duke de la Feuillade to come and direct the siege as an engineer, and to serve in his army as a volunteer; but the haughty De la Feuillade took the offers of Vauban for pride concealed under the mask of modesty. He was weak enough to be piqued because the best engineer in Europe offered to give him advice. He wrote, in a letter which I have seen: ‘I hope to take Turin à la Cohorn.’

“This Cohorn was the Vauban of the allies--a good engineer, a good general, who had more than once taken places fortified by Vauban. After writing such a letter, Turin ought to have been taken. But, having attacked it by the citadel, which was the strongest side, and not having surrounded the whole city, succours and provisions had free entrance. The duke of Savoy could come out when he pleased; and the more impetuosity the duke de la Feuillade exhibited in his reiterated and fruitless attacks, the longer the siege seemed protracted. The duke of Savoy left the city with some troops of cavalry, for the purpose of deceiving De la Feuillade. The latter abandoned the siege to run after the prince, who, being better acquainted with the country, escaped the pursuit. La Feuillade missed the duke of Savoy, and the siege stood still during his absence.

“In the mean time, after the departure of the duke de Vendôme, the duke of Orleans, nephew to the king, came to take the command of the troops of observation. He could not prevent Prince Eugene from joining the duke of Savoy near Asti. This junction compelled him to unite with the duke de la Feuillade, and to enter the camp before Turin. There were but two parts to take; that of waiting for Prince Eugene in the lines of circumvallation, or that of going to meet him while he was still in the neighbourhood of Vegliana. The duke of Orleans called a council of war, composed of Marsin, who lost the battle of Hochstet, La Feuillade, Albergotti, St. Frémont, and other lieutenant-generals. ‘Gentlemen,’ said the prince to them, ‘if we remain in our lines, we shall lose the battle. Our circumvallation is five leagues in extent; we are not able to line all our intrenchments. You see here the regiment of the marine, which is not more than two men’s height: there you may see places entirely unmanned. The Dora, which passes through our camp, will prevent our troops from rendering each other prompt assistance. When Frenchmen wait to be attacked, they lose the greatest of their advantages,--that impetuosity and those first moments of ardour which so often decide the fate of battles. Take my word, we must march to meet the enemy.’ The resolution was agreed to, when Marsin drew from his pocket an order of the king’s, by which it was commanded that, in the event of action being proposed, his opinion was to be deferred to; and his opinion was, that they should remain in the lines. The duke of Orleans saw that he had only been sent to the army as a prince of the blood, and not as a general; and, forced to follow the counsel of the marshal, he made all necessary preparations for the battle, which was fought on the 7th of September.

“The enemy appeared to wish to form several attacks at once. Their movements threw the whole French camp into a state of uncertainty. The duke of Orleans desired one thing; Marsin and Feuillade another: they disputed and argued, but they decided upon nothing. At length they allowed the enemy to cross the Dora. They advanced with eight columns of twenty-five men deep: they must instantly be opposed by battalions equally deep. Albergotti, placed far from the army, upon the mountain of the Capuchins, had with him twenty thousand men, and had in face nothing but some militia, who did not dare attack him. He was asked for twelve thousand men: he replied that he could not spare them, and gave specious reasons for his refusal. He was listened to, and time was lost. Prince Eugene attacked the intrenchments, and, at the end of two hours, forced them. The duke of Orleans, who exposed himself with all the bravery of the heroes of his blood, having received a dangerous wound in the arm, had retired to have it dressed. He was scarcely in the hands of the surgeon, when he was informed that all was lost, that the enemy were masters of the camp, and that the rout was general. Immediate flight was necessary. The lines, the trenches, were abandoned, and the army dispersed. All the baggage, provisions, munitions, and the military chest fell into the hands of the conqueror. Marshal de Marsin, wounded in the thigh, was made prisoner. A surgeon in the service of the duke of Savoy amputated the limb, and he died a few minutes after the operation. The Chevalier Methuen, the English ambassador to the duke of Savoy, the most frank, generous, and brave man his country ever employed in an embassy, had upon all occasions fought at the side of that prince: he saw the Marshal de Marsin taken, and was a witness of his last moments. He told me that Marsin said these very words, ‘At least believe, monsieur, that it was against my advice that we remained in our lines.’ These words appeared to contradict formally what had passed in the council of war; and they were nevertheless true: Marshal de Marsin, on taking leave at Versailles, had represented to the king that the enemy must be met, in case they appeared for the purpose of succouring Turin; but Chamillard, intimidated by preceding defeats, had caused it to be decided that they ought to wait and not offer battle; and this order, given at Versailles, was the cause of sixty thousand men being defeated and dispersed.”

This defeat, which cost nine or ten thousand men killed or made prisoners, was still more fatal to France by its consequences; for it brought on the loss of Modena, Mantua, Milan, Piedmont, and in the end, of the kingdom of Naples.

ARRAS.

A.D. 1654.

Two of the most illustrious generals, not only of France but of the world, were opposed to each other before Arras. The great Condé had allowed party feeling so far to prevail over his sense of duty as to lead him not only to deprive his country of his services, but to turn them against it. It is rather a remarkable fact, that one of the generals of whom France has most to boast, earned his brightest laurels when in arms against her. When his son was desirous of having the history of his father painted in the gallery of Chantilly, he found himself at a loss on account of the above-mentioned circumstance. In order to avoid being quite silent on these subjects, he ordered the muse of history to be portrayed holding a book, upon the back of which was written, Life of the Prince de Condé. This muse was tearing leaves from the book and throwing them on the ground, and on the leaves appeared,--“Succour of Cambrai,” “Succour of Valenciennes,” “Retreat from before Arras;” in short, all the great actions of Condé during his sojourn in the Low Countries,--actions which would have been worthy of the highest praise, if the hero who performed them had worn another scarf.

Condé proposed to the Spanish court to besiege Arras, to avenge itself for the siege of Stenay. Arras contained a garrison of little more than two thousand men; the army of the archduke Leopold consisted of thirty-two thousand men, Italians, Lorrains, Flemings, Spaniards, and discontented Frenchmen. Alarmed at this enterprise, Mazarin had recourse to Turenne, and an army of fourteen thousand men was sent under his command to succour Arras. Six hundred determined Frenchmen broke through the enemy’s lines, and threw themselves into the place before the Spaniards had completed their intrenchments. The army of Turenne, too weak to venture to contend with the superior forces of the enemy in an open country, awaited some time at Peronne for the necessary provisions. Turenne’s first object was to starve his enemy, and to occupy a position, the strength of which might render his army respectable. His camp was at first at Monchi-le-Preux, upon a height which commanded a valley, watered on one side by the Scarpe, and on the other by the Cogel. From this point he intercepted the enemy’s communication with Douai, Bouchain, and Valenciennes; the marquis de Beauvais, sent to Bapaume, prevented their receiving anything from Cambrai. Two thousand men, posted towards Lens, intercepted the passage of Lille, whilst Lilleboane, with fifteen hundred men, was to scour the country and block up the roads of Aire and Saint-Omer. The Spanish army, thus inclosed, might have been forced by famine to raise the siege, if it had been possible to stop up the road of Saint-Pol; but that could not be accomplished. The Spaniards opened their trenches on the 14th of July; the besieged defended their ground so completely foot by foot, that they had only lost a single hornwork at the end of a month; still more, they had cost the besiegers two thousand men. Marshal d’Hocquincourt, having entered Stenay, came to reinforce the viscount before Arras. On his route he took Saint-Pol, and carried off a detachment of five hundred men from the abbey of Saint-Eloi. Turenne, who had been to meet him with fifteen squadrons, made on his return a reconnaissance upon all the enemy’s lines to the north: they were of two toises in width, and ten feet in depth; in front was a fosse, nine feet wide and six feet deep. Twelve rows of trous de loup, placed chequerwise, were between the intrenchments and the avant-fossé; little palisades of a foot and a half high were planted in the intervals of these, to prevent the approach of cavalry. The Spaniards, commanded by the count de Fuensaldagne, occupied the north of these long lines, on the road to Lens; the prince de Condé was on the opposite side with the French. The archduke, with the Germans and the Flemings, extended to the east, from the road of Cambrai to the Scarpe; Don Ferdinand de Solis completed the investment from the west to the south, with Italians and Lorrains. In a second reconnaissance, the marshal went so close to the quarters of Fuensaldagne, that some of his officers represented to him that he would expose himself to an almost certain defeat if the Spaniards availed themselves of the opportunity offered. “Oh! there is nothing to fear,” said Turenne; “they will employ more time in consulting and holding council than it will take me to examine their lines.” He was right: the Spaniards did not put themselves in motion till he was out of sight. Terrified by these formidable lines, none of the French generals dared attempt to succour Arras; Turenne alone maintained that certainly some weak point would be found if they were attacked by night; he often conversed with his officers on the conduct to be observed on entering intrenchments, and upon the means of overcoming all the obstacles that art can oppose to valour. The court were of the opinion of Turenne, and gave orders for an attack on the 24th of August.

The principal effort was to be made against the quarter of Don Ferdinand de Solis, and on the part nearest to that of Fuensaldagne: these points had been considered as the weakest or the most remote from the prince de Condé, whose activity and talents they dreaded, and from the French, whose vivacity and vigilance were likewise formidable. To divert the attention of the enemy and divide their forces, false attacks were to be made at the same time: one on the quarter of the prince de Condé, another upon the most distant part of the camp of Fuensaldagne, and the third upon the lines of the prince of Lorraine. At sunset, the armies crossed the Scarpe upon four bridges, the soldiers being provided with hurdles and fascines. The march was conducted with good order and in profound silence; its precision was such, that the troops arrived exactly at the time appointed for forming a junction with Marshal d’Hocquincourt. Without waiting for him, marshals Turenne and De la Ferté marched directly to the lines, from which they were distant half a league: favoured by a dark night, in which the moon only appeared at intervals, and lighted only by the fires of the matches of the musketeers, they marched till within a hundred paces of their works, without the enemy’s having the least suspicion of the enterprise. Here the report of three cannon gave the alarm, and a row of cresset-lights appeared all along the lines of circumvallation. The Italians were still preparing for fight, when the foot of Turenne’s first line had already passed the avant-fossé, covered the puits[16] or wells, and pulled up the palisades. Meeting with little resistance, the French easily gained the second fosse, some troops even leaped over it before it was entirely filled up with the fascines. Fiscia, a captain of the regiment of Turenne, planted the colour of his company upon the parapet; so much courage and good fortune were requisite to keep up the spirits of the rest of the troops. In the darkness they were afraid to advance; but at the cry of “Vive Turenne!” all were animated with equal ardour. Five battalions broke in at several points at the same time, and cleared the way for the cavalry. Marshal de la Ferté had not been so fortunate on the quarter of the Spaniards; his soldiers, repulsed, only penetrated the lines by favour of the large gaps made by Turenne’s troops. As for Marshal d’Hocquincourt, arriving towards the end of the night in the midst of the enemy’s consternation, he easily made himself a passage. Forced in almost all directions, the Italians and the Lorrains abandoned their posts, and, flying into the other quarters, carried disorder and terror wherever they went.

At daybreak the prince de Condé, crossing the quarter of the archduke, advised him to retreat. To protect this movement, Condé marched with the cavalry to meet the French, and check their victorious impetuosity. He at first gained a not very difficult advantage over those engaged in pillage, and then beat the Marshal de la Ferté, who had imprudently descended from a height; but he did not dare to pursue him. The marshal had been replaced upon that height by a considerable body of troops. At seeing this, Condé took possession of a neighbouring elevation, to wait for his infantry. His intention was then to attack the column which appeared upon the height. Marshal Turenne had there fortified himself. Some artillery and fresh troops had joined him at this respectable post. Condé led his troops to the attack, but his soldiers were stopped by the fire of Turenne’s cannon: in spite of all his efforts, the prince was obliged to fall back. A sortie of the garrison of Arras made him hasten his retrograde movement the more; Condé and Turenne, in face of each other, divined who their opponent was by his manœuvres. The prudent Turenne did not pursue Condé; the marquis de Bellefonds, not so wise, attacked his rear-guard at the passage of the Scarpe, and was repulsed with loss. Still formidable in the midst of a reverse, Condé left his intrenchments, like a general quitting a camp he is tired of occupying, rallied his scattered troops, and retired to Cambrai, always presenting a bold and redoubtable front to his enemies. His fine retreat, in which he covered the conquered Spaniards, formed a striking contrast with the shameful flight of the archduke and the count de Fuensaldagne, who escaped with a few squadrons through some French baggage-waggons. Turenne lost but few men, but he was wounded; the loss of the Spaniards amounted to three thousand men, sixty-three cannon, two thousand horses, two thousand waggons, and all the equipages of the army. To recompense the eminent services rendered to the Spaniards by the prince de Condé, the king of Spain wrote to him in the following words:--“My cousin, I was told that all was lost, but your highness has saved everything.” The glory of Turenne was at its height; nevertheless a priest, intoxicated with power, dared for a time to rob him of the honours of his triumph: Mazarin caused all the success of this day to be attributed to himself by an infant monarch, whom he led by the hand. At that time people feigned to believe him, but now posterity avenges Turenne, and he enjoys the glory due to him.

Buonaparte had no faith in retreats; he said a general’s only business was to conquer. His error, as a great captain, is proved by his history; he never knew how to retreat, and the consequence was St. Helena. In this siege we behold Condé’s retreat very little inferior in glory to Turenne’s victory.

VERCHERES.

A.D. 1697.

Although this cannot be termed a siege, still, being of the nature of one, and very extraordinary in its circumstances, we cannot resist giving it to our readers.

Mademoiselle de Verchères, little more than fifteen years of age, was walking on the banks of the St. Lawrence, when she heard the hissing of bullets, and beheld a party of Iroquois on the point of surrounding her. She fled at her best speed, and they pursued her; she threw herself into the fort, shut the gates, and gave the alarm. She heard the cries of the terrified women, and fearing they would impede rather than assist the defence, she shut them up in a secure place. A single soldier was on duty in the fort. She flew to join him, put on a hat and a uniform coat, armed herself with a musket, showed herself on the walls, and fired on the Iroquois. She then affected a loud manly voice, pretended to have a numerous troop under her command, and flew from sentry-box to sentry-box, as if to distribute the posts. Warming with her work, the heroine then loaded a cannon, and discharged it herself. This spread terror among the Iroquois; it at the same time warned the garrisons of the neighbouring forts to be on the defensive, and quickly the banks of the river resounded with the roar of artillery.

Thus this young person saved the fort of Verchères, and, perhaps, the whole colony. This courage, hereditary in her family, seemed to be transmitted to the women as well as to the men. Her mother, two years before, had displayed the same intrepidity. The place had been invested by the Iroquois at a time when the garrison was absent. There were only three soldiers, who were all killed. When Madame de Verchères saw the last fall, while defending herself like a brave man, in a redoubt fifty paces from the fort, she armed herself in haste, advanced alone along the covered way, gained the redoubt before the enemy could scale it, fired at them, and at every shot brought down an assailant. They were astonished and terrified, and were on the point of flying before a woman, when the approach of a body of French completed their dispersion.

Thus we see as much courage and presence of mind may be displayed in a siege in which there is only one defender, as if numerous hosts were engaged.

STRALSUND.

A.D. 1713.

Charles XII. of Sweden, when he had taken refuge in Turkey, after being beaten by Peter of Russia, at length exhausted the obstinacy which had detained him so long at Demirtocka, meditating on means to excite the Ottoman Porte against his great rival, passed all at once, with characteristic energy, from excessive inactivity to equally excessive exertion. He set out from Demirtocka with prodigious speed, crossed the hereditary states of the emperor, Franconia and Mecklenburg, on horseback, and arrived at Stralsund when least expected. His first proceeding was to protest against the sequestration of the city of Stettin. He hastened to declare that, not having made any convention, he was not obliged to recognise that which his generals had done in his absence to place Pomerania and Stettin in a state of sequestration. With a character so obstinate as that of this prince, no other argument could be employed but force. Frederick William, king of Prussia, declared that he would not allow the Swedes to enter Saxony, and immediately joined the league of the Russians, Saxons, and Hanoverians. In order to force, with the strong hand, the king of Sweden to hold his engagements, he ordered a body of Prussian troops to advance close to Stettin. Charles XII. took possession of Anclam, Wolgaste, and Gripswalde, in which were Prussian garrisons; nevertheless, with a slight show of prudence, he dismissed the Prussian troops without violence. At the commencement of the following campaign, the Swedes dislodged the Prussians from the isle of Usedom, and made prisoners of a detachment of five hundred men. By this act of hostility they broke the neutrality of the Prussians, and became the aggressors. Frederick William, jealous of Charles’s glory, and irritated at this proceeding, declared war against Sweden. Twenty thousand Prussians joined the Saxons and the Danes in Pomerania. Europe then beheld two kings, in person, besieging another shut up in Stralsund; but this king was Charles XII., fighting at the head of fifteen thousand warlike Swedes, loving to idolatry the heroism of their prince. Besides, his great reputation and the prejudices of the universe fought in his favour. In the army of the allies, the king of Prussia examined the plans, decided upon the operations, and persuaded the Danes to adopt his views. The king of Denmark, a bad soldier, and not at all military in his tastes, had only come to Stralsund in the hope of seeing Charles XII. humiliated. Under these two kings the prince of Anhalt was the soul of all the military enterprises. “He was,” says the king of Prussia, in his Memoirs, “a man of a violent and obstinate character, who, with the valour of a hero, had the experience of the finest campaigns of Prince Eugene. His manners were ferocious, his ambition boundless; deeply versed in the art of sieges, a fortunate soldier, a bad citizen, he was capable of all the enterprises of both Marius and Sylla, if fortune had seconded his ambition.” This army laid siege to Stralsund, a city on the shores of the Baltic, the Swedish fleet being able to supply it constantly with provisions, munitions, and troops. Its situation is strong; an impracticable marsh defends two-thirds of its circumference; the only side by which it is accessible is furnished by a good intrenchment, which from the north extends to the sea-shore, and touches on the marsh towards the east. In this intrenchment were encamped twelve thousand Swedes, with Charles XII. at their head. The besiegers removed successively all the obstacles opposed to them. The first point was to drive away the Swedish fleet from the coasts of Pomerania, in order to deprive the Swedes of the succours they might receive by sea. Nevertheless the king of Denmark was unwilling to risk an action with a squadron he had on those coasts. All the influence of the king of Prussia was required to persuade him of the necessity for such a contest. The two kings were spectators of the action, which took place at a short distance from the shore, and threw the sea open to the allies. The Prussians afterwards drove the Swedes from the isle of Usedom, and took the fort of Pennamende at the point of the sword. They shortly afterwards prepared to attack the intrenchments. A Prussian officer singularly facilitated this undertaking, the most difficult and most dangerous of the whole siege. Being perfectly acquainted with the ground, he knew that the arm of the sea which washes the intrenchments was neither deep nor muddy; he sounded it by night, and found that it was possible to ford it, to turn this post by its left, and thus take the Swedes in flank and rear. This project was successfully executed. They attacked them by night; whilst one Prussian corps marched straight to the intrenchments, another passed along the sea-shore, and were in the Swedish camp before they were perceived. The surprise of an unexpected attack, the confusion natural to a night affair, and, above all, the numbers of the body which fell upon their flanks, threw them quickly into a state of rout: they abandoned their intrenchments, and sought refuge in the city. Enraged at being deserted by his own troops, Charles would have continued to fight alone. His generals dragged him from the scene of action, and had much difficulty in saving him from the hands of the allies; all who did not promptly gain Stralsund were either killed or made prisoners. The numbers taken in this attack amounted to more than four hundred men. The more closely to press the city, it became necessary for the allies to render themselves masters of the isle of Rugen, whence the besieged could likewise obtain succours. The prince of Anhalt, at the head of twenty thousand men, crossed in transports the space which divides Pomerania. This fleet kept the same order of battle the troops observed on the land. They pretended to land on the eastern coast, but turning suddenly to the left, the prince of Anhalt disembarked his troops at the port of Strezow, where the enemy did not expect him. He posted himself in a quarter of a circle, so that his two wings leant upon the sea, and during the whole day caused intrenchments to be dug, fortified by chevaux de frise. His disposition was such, that two lines of infantry supported his intrenchment. His cavalry formed the third, with the exception of six squadrons which he had posted without the lines, in order to be able to fall upon the left flank of those who might attack him on that side. Charles XII., deceived by the prince of Anhalt’s feint, could not arrive in time to oppose the disembarkation. Aware of the importance of this isle, he advanced by night upon the Prussians, although he had but four thousand men. He marched at the head of his infantry, which he led to the very edge of the ditch, assisting to pull up the chevaux de frise which bordered it with his own hands; he was slightly wounded in this attack, and General Dureng was killed at his side. The inequality of numbers, the darkness of the night, the six Prussian squadrons, but still more than all the king’s wound, made the Swedes lose the fruits of their valour. Fortune had turned her back upon that nation; everything seemed to tend to its decline. The king retired to have his wound dressed; his discomfited troops fled. The next day twelve hundred Swedes were made prisoners at Lafich-Schanz, and the isle of Rugen was entirely occupied by the allies. After this misfortune Charles XII. returned to Stralsund. That city was almost reduced to extremity. The besiegers having gained the counterscarp, had already begun to construct their gallery upon the principal fosse. It was the character of the king of Sweden to bear up firmly against reverses; he endeavoured to withstand his ill-fortune, and was able to preserve an inexpressible sang-froid under all circumstances. The citizens, far from murmuring, filled with admiration for their master, whose exertions, sobriety, and courage astonished them, had all become soldiers under him. One day, when the king was dictating letters for Sweden to a secretary, a bomb fell upon the house, penetrated the roof, and burst close to the king’s apartment. At the noise of the bomb and the crash of the house, which seemed falling about their ears, the pen fell from the hand of the secretary. “What’s the matter?” said the king, with a tranquil air; “why don’t you write on?” “Oh, sire, the bomb!” “Well,” rejoined the king, “what has the bomb to do with the letter I am dictating to you? Go on!” When he saw the breach open, he wanted to defend it in person, the besiegers threatening to give a general assault. His generals threw themselves at his feet to conjure him not to risk his life so uselessly. Seeing their prayers had no effect, they pointed out to him the danger to which he exposed himself of falling into the hands of his enemies. This apprehension at length made him determine to abandon the city. He embarked in a light boat, in which he passed, favoured by the darkness, through the Danish fleet which blockaded Stralsund, and gained with much trouble one of his own vessels, which conveyed him to Sweden. Fourteen years before, he had left this city as a conqueror about to subdue the world; he returned thither a fugitive, pursued by his enemies, despoiled of his finest provinces, and abandoned by his army. As soon as the king was gone, the garrison of Stralsund capitulated, and surrendered themselves prisoners of war.

FREDERIKSHALL.

A.D. 1718.

Charles XII. being desirous, for the second time, of making the conquest of Norway, laid siege to Frederikshall, an important place, situated at the mouth of the river Tistendall, near the Channel of Denmark. It was in the month of December, 1718. The winter was severe, and the cold killed a number of soldiers. The works, nevertheless, advanced quickly, and the city was soon pressed very closely.

“On the 11th of December,” says Voltaire, “the king went, at nine o’clock in the evening, to visit the trenches, and not finding the parallels advanced to his mind, he appeared much dissatisfied. M. Mégrel, a French engineer, who conducted the siege, assured him that the place would be taken in eight days. ‘We shall see,’ said the king, and continued his examination of the works, in company with the engineer. He stopped at a place where the boyau made an angle with the parallel. He knelt down upon the interior talus, and, resting his elbows upon the parapet, he remained for some time watching the labourers, who were continuing the trenches by star-light.”

Almost half the person of the king was exposed to a battery of cannon pointed at the right angle, where he was, and which was firing cartridges. At this moment his officers saw him fall upon the parapet, breathing a heavy sigh. They rushed towards him, but Charles XII. was no more. A ball, weighing half a pound, had struck him on the temple, and had made a hole in which three fingers could be introduced. When dying, he had had the strength to place, as by a natural movement, his hand upon the guard of his sword. Mégrel, an indifferent and singular man, was content with saying, as he surveyed the lifeless monarch: “We may retire, the piece is played out.” To keep the knowledge of this misfortune from the troops, until the prince of Hesse, Charles’s brother-in-law, should be informed of it, his body was enveloped in a grey mantle, with a wig and hat upon his head. In this disguise, the king was conveyed away, under the name of Captain Carlsberg.

SCHWEIDNITZ.

A.D. 1761.

As one of our principal objects is to lay before young military students sieges in which masters of the art of war have been engaged, we cannot pass by two of this city, both containing lessons worthy of being remembered.

The capture of Schweidnitz offers a fresh proof that no precaution is unnecessary in war. The smallest negligence in the service of places contiguous to the enemy, is most frequently punished by unexpected reverses. Five hundred prisoners were negligently guarded in the fortress of Schweidnitz. Amongst them was a Major Rocca, a clever Italian partisan. This major formed the idea of placing the fortress in which he was confined in the hands of the Austrians. He had the address to insinuate himself so completely into the good graces of the commander, that he had liberty to walk among all the works, to become acquainted with the places of all the sentinels and of all the corps-de-garde; he frequently saw the Austrians, prisoners like himself, intrigued in the city, and regularly informed General Laudon of all he saw, perceived, or imagined, that would facilitate the surprise of Schweidnitz. According to these instructions, the general drew up his plan of attack, which he executed in the night between the 30th of September and the 1st of October. He distributed twenty battalions in four attacks, one upon the Breslau gate, another upon the Striegau gate, the third upon the fort of Boeckendorff, and the fourth upon the Water fort. M. de Zastrow, governor of Schweidnitz, having some suspicions of the enemy’s intentions, called his garrison to arms about the middle of the night, and spread them about the works; but he committed the faults of not giving his officers instructions how to act, of not sending cavalry to a certain distance on the look-out, and of not discharging fire-bombs to throw a light upon the approach of the enemy. The Austrians advanced to the palisades, without being discovered. There were only twelve cannon fired upon them, and the musketry was so weak that it did them no harm. The guard of the Striegau gate was surprised, and they penetrated thence through the works. During this confusion, the Austrian prisoners threw off the mask, took possession of the interior gate of the city, threw it open to the enemy’s advancing troops, and made themselves masters of the whole place. The only person who held out was the commander of the Water fort; but his resistance was useless. Such an unexpected misfortune changed all the plans of the king of Prussia, who could only, during the remainder of this campaign, defend, against a superior enemy, the fortresses and territories he had left.

SECOND SIEGE, A.D. 1762.

The principal object of the next campaign was, for the king of Prussia, the recapture of Schweidnitz. Frederick had not one man more than was requisite for the execution of this important enterprise. Seventy thousand Austrians composed the army of Marshal Daun and the corps of Laudon, Hadduck, Brentano, De Beck, and Ellershausen. The Prussian army was not inferior, but troops must be detached from it for the siege, of which M. de Tauziern had the direction. He invested the place on the 4th of August, and opened the trenches on the 7th; they commenced at Briqueterie, and turned towards Warben, to embrace the polygon of Jauernick, upon which the principal attack was directed. M. de Guasco made a sortie, but it did not answer his expectations; the Prussian dragoons beating the Austrians back into the place. The king of Prussia thought that Laudon, in order to succour the place, would take the route of Sibelberg, Warther, and Langen-Brelau; he went, therefore, to place himself at Pfaffendorff, whilst he caused the post of Peila to be taken by the prince of Bevern. Everything happened as the king of Prussia had foreseen. Marshal Daun took the route of Langen-Brelau, attacked the Prussians at Peila, was beaten and retreated. The check experienced by Marshal Daun gave M. de Guasco a bad augury of the fate of the place, and he made an attempt to obtain an advantageous capitulation, with a free departure for his garrison. The king of Prussia refused to comply, because it would have been a capital error to allow ten thousand men to march out of a city, of which, with a little patience, he should render himself master; the Prussian army would be weakened at least by four thousand men necessary to garrison Schweidnitz, and the Prussian strength would be lessened to the amount of fourteen thousand men. The king of Prussia repaired in person, on the 20th of September, before Schweidnitz, in order to push on the works with more vigour. Lefebvre, the chief engineer, was opposed to Gribeauvel, esteemed one of the first men of the age for the defence of places. Lefebvre was soon outwitted by the activity of the French engineer, who countermined his mines and thwarted all his plans. Frederick was obliged to take the details of the siege upon himself; the third parallel was lengthened; a battery in breach was placed there; ricochets were there established against Briqueterie, with another battery upon Kuhberg; and the works of the Austrians were taken in rear. Some branches of the mines of the besieged were likewise sprung. The garrison made two sorties, and dislodged the Prussians from a crowned tunnel, from which they wished to debouch by fresh branches. These manœuvres prolonged the duration of the siege, because they rendered a subterranean war necessary. All the cannon of the place were, however, either évasés[17] or dismounted; provisions were beginning to be scarce, and the enemy would have been compelled to surrender on that account, if a bomb, falling in front of the powder-magazine of Jauernick, had not set fire to it, knocked down a part of that fort, and killed three hundred Austrian grenadiers. This accident, which laid the place open, obliged M. de Guasco to beat a parley; he surrendered himself and his garrison prisoners of war, on the 9th of October, and they were marched away into Prussia.

The palpable lessons in these two sieges are--in the first, the imprudence of the governor in granting opportunities for treachery in prisoners; and in the second, the consummate prudence of the king of Prussia in not allowing the garrison to march out free, for the sake of quickly terminating the siege.

ISMAIL.

A.D. 1790.

This siege is particularly interesting at the present moment, from the same parties being engaged in a war arising from the same motives as those which led to this sanguinary and memorable contest.

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