Charles MacKay .......................................................................................................................................1

"Il est bon de connaitre les delires de l'esprit humain. Chaque people a ses folies plus ou moins grossieres."

Every age has its peculiar folly some scheme, project, or phantasy into which it plunges, spurred on either

by the love of gain, the necessity of excitement, or the mere force of imitation. Failing in these, it has some

madness, to which it is goaded by political or religious causes, or both combined. Every one of these causes

influenced the Crusades, and conspired to render them the most extraordinary instance upon record of the

extent to which popular enthusiasm can be carried. History in her solemn page informs us, that the crusaders

were but ignorant and savage men, that their motives were those of bigotry unmitigated, and that their

pathway was one of blood and tears. Romance, on the other hand, dilates upon their piety and heroism and

pourtrays in her most glowing and impassioned hues their virtue and magnanimity, the imperishable honour

they acquired for themselves, and the great services they rendered to Christianity. In the following pages we

shall ransack the stores of both, to discover the true spirit that animated the motley multitude who took up

arms in the service of the Cross, leaving history to vouch for facts, but not disdaining the aid of contemporary

In order to understand thoroughly the state of public feeling in Europe at the time when Peter the Hermit

preached the holy war, it will be necessary to go back for many years anterior to that event. We must make

acquaintance with the pilgrims of the eighth, ninth, and tenth centuries, and learn the tales they told of the

dangers they had passed, and the wonders they had seen. Pilgrimages to the Holy Land seem at first to have

been undertaken by converted Jews, and by Christian devotees of lively imagination, pining with a natural

curiosity to visit the scenes which of all others were most interesting in their eyes. The pious and the impious

alike flocked to Jerusalem, the one class to feast their sight on the scenes hallowed by the life and

sufferings of their Lord, and the other, because it soon became a generally received opinion, that such a

pilgrimage was sufficient to rub off the long score of sins, however atrocious. Another and very numerous

class of pilgrims were the idle and roving, who visited Palestine then as the moderns visit Italy or Switzerland

now, because it was the fashion, and because they might please their vanity by retailing, on their return, the

adventures they had met with. But the really pious formed the great majority. Every year their numbers

increased, until at last they became so numerous as to be called the "armies of the Lord." Full of enthusiasm,

they set the danger and difficulty of the way at defiance, and lingered with holy rapture on every scene

described in the Evangelists. To them it was bliss indeed to drink the clear waters of the Jordan, or be

baptized in the same stream where John had baptized the Saviour. They wandered with awe and pleasure in

the purlieus of the Temple, on the solemn Mount of Olives, or the awful Calvary, where a God had bled for

sinful men. To these pilgrims every object was precious. Relics were eagerly sought after; flagons of water

from Jordan, or paniers of mould from the hill of the Crucifixion, were brought home, and sold at extravagant

prices to churches and monasteries. More apocryphical relics, such as the wood of the true cross, the tears of

the Virgin Mary, the hems of her garments, the toenails and hair of the Apostles even the tents that Paul

had helped to manufacture were exhibited for sale by the knavish in Palestine, and brought back to Europe

"with wondrous cost and care." A grove of a hundred oaks would not have furnished all the wood sold in

little morsels as remnants of the true cross; and the tears of Mary, if collected together, would have filled a

For upwards of two hundred years the pilgrims met with no impediment in Palestine. The enlightened Haroun

Al Reschid, and his more immediate successors, encouraged the stream which brought so much wealth into

Syria, and treated the wayfarers with the utmost courtesy. The race of Fatemite caliphs, who, although in

other respects as tolerant, were more distressed for money, or more unscrupulous in obtaining it, than their

predecessors of the house of Abbas, imposed a tax of a bezant for each pilgrim that entered Jerusalem.

This was a serious hardship upon the poorer sort, who had begged their weary way across Europe, and

arrived at the bourne of all their hopes without a coin. A great outcry was immediately raised, but still the tax

was rigorously levied. The pilgrims unable to pay were compelled to remain at the gate of the holy city until

some rich devotee arriving with his train, paid the tax and let them in. Robert of Normandy, father of William

the Conqueror, who, in common with many other nobles of the highest rank, undertook the pilgrimage, found

on his arrival scores of pilgrims at the gate, anxiously expecting his coming to pay the tax for them. Upon no

The sums drawn from this source were a mine of wealth to the Moslem governors of Palestine, imposed as

the tax had been at a time when pilgrimages had become more numerous than ever. A strange idea had taken

possession of the popular mind at the close of the tenth and commencement of the eleventh century. It was

universally believed that the end of the world was at hand; that the thousand years of the Apocalypse were

near completion, and that Jesus Christ would descend upon Jerusalem to judge mankind. All Christendom

was in commotion. A panic terror seized upon the weak, the credulous, and the guilty, who in those days

formed more than nineteen twentieths of the population. Forsaking their homes, kindred, and occupation,

they crowded to Jerusalem to await the coming of the Lord, lightened, as they imagined, of a load of sin by

their weary pilgrimage. To increase the panic, the stars were observed to fall from heaven, earthquakes to

shake the land, and violent hurricanes to blow down the forests. All these, and more especially the meteoric

phenomena, were looked upon as the forerunners of the approaching judgments. Not a meteor shot athwart

the horizon that did not fill a district with alarm, and send away to Jerusalem a score of pilgrims, with staff in

hand and wallet on their back, praying as they went for the remission of their sins. Men, women, and even

children, trudged in droves to the holy city, in expectation of the day when the heavens would open, and the

Son of God descend in his glory. This extraordinary delusion, while it augmented the numbers, increased also

the hardships of the pilgrims. Beggars became so numerous on all the highways between the west of Europe

and Constantinople that the monks, the great almsgivers upon these occasions, would have brought

starvation within sight of their own doors, if they had not economized their resources, and left the devotees to

shift for themselves as they could. Hundreds of them were glad to subsist upon the berries that ripened by the

road, who, before this great flux, might have shared the bread and flesh of the monasteries.

But this was not the greatest of their difficulties. On their arrival in Jerusalem they found that a sterner race

had obtained possession of the Holy Land. The caliphs of Bagdad had been succeeded by the harsh Turks of

the race of Seljook, who looked upon the pilgrims with contempt and aversion. The Turks of the eleventh

century were more ferocious and less scrupulous than the Saracens of the tenth. They were annoyed at the

immense number of pilgrims who overran the country, and still more so because they showed no intention of

quitting it. The hourly expectation of the last judgment kept them waiting; and the Turks, apprehensive of

being at last driven from the soil by the swarms that were still arriving, heaped up difficulties in their way.

Persecution of every kind awaited them. They were plundered, and beaten with stripes, and kept in suspense

for months at the gates of Jerusalem, unable to pay the golden bezant that was to facilitate their entrance.

When the first epidemic terror of the day of judgment began to subside, a few pilgrims ventured to return to

Europe, their hearts big with indignation at the insults they had suffered. Everywhere as they passed they

related to a sympathizing auditory the wrongs of Christendom. Strange to say, even these recitals increased

the mania for pilgrimage. The greater the dangers of the way, the more chance that sins of deep dye would be

atoned for. Difficulty and suffering only heightened the merit, and fresh hordes issued from every town and

village, to win favour in the sight of Heaven by a visit to the holy sepulchre. Thus did things continue during

The train that was to explode so fearfully was now laid, and there wanted but the hand to apply the torch. At

last the man appeared upon the scene. Like all who have ever achieved so great an end, Peter the hermit was

exactly suited to the age; neither behind it, nor in advance of it; but acute enough to penetrate its mystery ere

it was discovered by any other. Enthusiastic, chivalrous, bigoted, and, if not insane, not far removed from

insanity, he was the very prototype of the time. True enthusiasm is always persevering and always eloquent,

and these two qualities were united in no common degree in the person of this extraordinary preacher. He was

a monk of Amiens, and ere he assumed the hood had served as a soldier. He is represented as having been ill

favoured and low in stature, but with an eye of surpassing brightness and intelligence. Having been seized

with the mania of the age, he visited Jerusalem, and remained there till his blood boiled to see the cruel

persecution heaped upon the devotees. On his return home he shook the world by the eloquent story of their

Before entering into any further details of the astounding results of his preaching, it will be advisable to cast a

glance at the state of the mind of Europe, that we may understand all the better the causes of his success. First

of all, there was the priesthood, which, exercising as it did the most conspicuous influence upon the fortunes

of society, claims the largest share of attention. Religion was the ruling idea of that day, and the only civiliser

capable of taming such wolves as then constituted the flock of the faithful. The clergy were all in all; and

though they kept the popular mind in the most slavish subjection with regard to religious matters, they

furnished it with the means of defence against all other oppression except their own. In the ecclesiastical

ranks were concentrated all the true piety, all the learning, all the wisdom of the time; and, as a natural

consequence, a great portion of power, which their very wisdom perpetually incited them to extend. The

people knew nothing of kings and nobles, except in the way of injuries inflicted. The first ruled for, or more

properly speaking against, the barons, and the barons only existed to brave the power of the kings, or to

trample with their iron heels upon the neck of prostrate democracy. The latter had no friend but the clergy,

and these, though they necessarily instilled the superstition from which they themselves were not exempt, yet

taught the cheering doctrine that all men were equal in the sight of heaven. Thus, while Feudalism told them

they had no rights in this world, Religion told them they had every right in the next. With this consolation

they were for the time content, for political ideas had as yet taken no root. When the clergy, for other reasons,

recommended the Crusade, the people joined in it with enthusiasm. The subject of Palestine filled all minds;

the pilgrims' tales of two centuries warmed every imagination; and when their friends, their guides, and their

instructors preached a war so much in accordance with their own prejudices and modes of thinking, the

But while religion inspired the masses, another agent was at work upon the nobility. These were fierce and

lawless; tainted with every vice, endowed with no virtue, and redeemed by one good quality alone, that of

courage. The only religion they felt was the religion of fear. That and their overboiling turbulence alike

combined to guide them to the Holy Land. Most of them had sins enough to answer for. They lived with their

hand against every man; and with no law but their own passions. They set at defiance the secular power of the

clergy, but their hearts quailed at the awful denunciations of the pulpit with regard to the life to come. War

was the business and the delight of their existence; and when they were promised remission of all their sins

upon the easy condition of following their favourite bent, is it to be wondered at that they rushed with

enthusiasm to the onslaught, and became as zealous in the service of the Cross as the great majority of the

people, who were swayed by more purely religious motives? Fanaticism and the love of battle alike impelled

them to the war, while the kings and princes of Europe had still another motive for encouraging their zeal.

Policy opened their eyes to the great advantages which would accrue to themselves, by the absence of so

many restless, intriguing, and bloodthirsty men, whose insolence it required more than the small power of

royalty to restrain within due bounds. Thus every motive was favourable to the Crusades. Every class of

society was alike incited to join or encourage the war; kings and the clergy by policy, the nobles by

turbulence and the love of dominion, and the people by religious zeal and the concentrated enthusiasm of two

It was in Palestine itself that Peter the Hermit first conceived the grand idea of rousing the powers of

Christendom to rescue the Christians of the East from the thraldom of the Mussulmans, and the sepulchre of

Jesus from the rude hands of the infidel. The subject engrossed his whole mind. Even in the visions of the

night he was full of it. One dream made such an impression upon him, that he devoutly believed the Saviour

of the world himself appeared before him, and promised him aid and protection in his holy undertaking. If his

Peter, after he had performed all the penances and duties of his pilgrimage, demanded an interview with

Simeon, the Patriarch of the Greek Church at Jerusalem. Though the latter was a heretic in Peter's eyes, yet he

was still a Christian, and felt as acutely as himself for the persecutions heaped by the Turks upon the

followers of Jesus. The good prelate entered fully into his views, and, at his suggestion, wrote letters to the

Pope, and to the most influential monarchs of Christendom, detailing the sorrows of the faithful, and urging

them to take up arms in their defence. Peter was not a laggard in the work. Taking an affectionate farewell of

the Patriarch, he returned in all haste to Italy. Pope Urban II. occupied the apostolic chair. It was at that time

far from being an easy seat. His predecessor, Gregory, had bequeathed him a host of disputes with the

Emperor Henry IV. of Germany, and he had made Philip I. of France his enemy by his strenuous opposition

to an adulterous connexion formed by that monarch. So many dangers encompassed him about, that the

Vatican was no secure abode, and he had taken refuge in Apulia, under the protection of the renowned Robert

Guiscard. Thither Peter appears to have followed him, though in what spot their meeting took place is not

stated with any precision by ancient chroniclers or modern historians. Urban received him most kindly; read,

with tears in his eyes, the epistle from the Patriarch Simeon, and listened to the eloquent story of the Hermit

with an attention which showed how deeply he sympathised with the woes of the Christian church.

Enthusiasm is contagious, and the Pope appears to have caught it instantly from one whose zeal was so

unbounded. Giving the Hermit full powers, he sent him abroad to preach the holy war to all the nations and

potentates of Christendom. The Hermit preached, and countless thousands answered to his call. France,

Germany, and Italy started at his voice, and prepared for the deliverance of Zion. One of the early historians

of the Crusade, who was himself an eyewitness of the rapture of Europe, [Guibert de Nogent] describes the

personal appearance of the Hermit at this time. He says, that there appeared to be something of divine in

every thing which he said or did. The people so highly reverenced him, that they plucked hairs from the mane

of his mule, that they might keep them as relics. While preaching, he wore in general a woollen tunic, with a

darkcoloured mantle, which fell down to his heels. His arms and feet were bare, and he ate neither flesh nor

bread, supporting himself chiefly upon fish and wine. "He set out," says the chronicler, "from whence I know

not; but we saw him passing through the towns and villages, preaching every where, and the people

surrounding him in crowds, loading him with offerings, and celebrating his sanctity with such great praises

that I never remember to have seen such honours bestowed upon any one." Thus he went on, untired,

inflexible, and full of devotion, communicating his own madness to his hearers, until Europe was stirred from

While the Hermit was appealing with such signal success to the people, the Pope appealed with as much

success to those who were to become the chiefs and leaders of the expedition. His first step was to call a

council at Placentia, in the autumn of the year 1095. Here, in the assembly of the clergy, the Pope debated the

grand scheme, and gave audience to emissaries who had been sent from Constantinople by the Emperor of

the East to detail the progress made by the Turks in their design of establishing themselves in Europe. The

clergy were of course unanimous in support of the Crusade, and the council separated, each individual

But Italy could not be expected to furnish all the aid required; and the Pope crossed the Alps to inspire the

fierce and powerful nobility and chivalrous population of Gaul. His boldness in entering the territory, and

placing himself in the power of his foe, King Philip of France, is not the least surprising feature of his

mission. Some have imagined that cool policy alone actuated him, while others assert, that it was mere zeal,

as warm and as blind as that of Peter the Hermit. The latter opinion seems to be the true one. Society did not

calculate the consequences of what it was doing. Every man seemed to act from impulse only; and the Pope,

in throwing himself into the heart of France, acted as much from impulse as the thousands who responded to

his call. A council was eventually summoned to meet him at Clermont, in Auvergne, to consider the state of

the church, reform abuses, and, above all, make preparations for the war. It was in the midst of an extremely

cold winter, and the ground was covered with snow. During seven days the council sat with closed doors,

while immense crowds from all parts of France flocked into the town, in expectation that the Pope himself

would address the people. All the towns and villages for miles around were filled with the multitude; even the

fields were encumbered with people, who, unable to procure lodging, pitched their tents under the trees and

During the seven days' deliberation, a sentence of excommunication was passed upon King Philip for

adultery with Bertrade de Montfort, Countess of Anjou, and for disobedience to the supreme authority of the

apostolic see. This bold step impressed the people with reverence for so stern a church, which in the

discharge of its duty showed itself no respecter of persons. Their love and their fear were alike increased, and

they were prepared to listen with more intense devotion to the preaching of so righteous and inflexible a

pastor. The great square before the cathedral church of Clermont became every instant more densely crowded

as the hour drew nigh when the Pope was to address the populace. Issuing from the church in his frill

canonicals, surrounded by his cardinals and bishops in all the splendour of Romish ecclesiastical costume, the

Pope stood before the populace on a high scaffolding erected for the occasion, and covered with scarlet cloth.

A brilliant array of bishops and cardinals surrounded him; and among them, humbler in rank, but more

important in the world's eye, the Hermit Peter, dressed in his simple and austere habiliments. Historians differ

as to whether or not Peter addressed the crowd, but as all agree that he was present, it seems reasonable to

suppose that he spoke. But it was the oration of the Pope that was most important. As he lifted up his hands to

ensure attention, every voice immediately became still. He began by detailing the miseries endured by their

brethren in the Holy Land; how the plains of Palestine were desolated by the outrageous heathen, who with

the sword and the firebrand carried wailing into the dwellings and flames into the possessions of the faithful;

how Christian wives and daughters were defiled by pagan lust; how the altars of the true God were

desecrated, and the relics of the saints trodden under foot. "You," continued the eloquent pontiff, (and Urban

the Second was one of the most eloquent men of the day,) "you, who hear me, and who have received the true

faith, and been endowed by God with power, and strength, and greatness of soul, whose ancestors have

been the prop of Christendom, and whose kings have put a barrier against the progress of the infidel, I call

upon you to wipe off these impurities from the face of the earth, and lift your oppressed fellowchristians

from the depths into which they have been trampled. The sepulchre of Christ is possessed by the heathen, the

sacred places dishonoured by their vileness. Oh, brave knights and faithful people! offspring of invincible

fathers! ye will not degenerate from your ancient renown. Ye will not be restrained from embarking in this

great cause by the tender ties of wife or little ones, but will remember the words of the Saviour of the world

himself, 'Whosoever loves father and mother more than me is not worthy of me. Whosoever shall abandon

for my name's sake his house, or his brethren, or his sisters, or his father, or his mother, or his wife, or his

children, or his lands, shall receive a hundredfold, and shall inherit eternal life.'"

The warmth of the pontiff communicated itself to the crowd, and the enthusiasm of the people broke out

several times ere he concluded his address. He went on to pourtray, not only the spiritual but the temporal

advantages, that should accrue to those who took up arms in the service of the Cross. Palestine was, he said, a

land flowing with milk and honey, and precious in the sight of God, as the scene of the grand events which

had saved mankind. That land, he promised, should be divided among them. Moreover, they should have full

pardon for all their offences, either against God or man. "Go, then," he added, "in expiation of your sins; and

go assured, that after this world shall have passed away, imperishable glory shall be yours in the world which

is to come." The enthusiasm was no longer to be restrained, and loud shouts interrupted the speaker; the

people exclaiming as if with one voice, "Dieu le veult! Dieu le veult!" With great presence of mind Urban

took advantage of the outburst, and as soon as silence was obtained, continued: "Dear brethren, today is

shown forth in you that which the Lord has said by his evangelist, 'When two or three are gathered together in

my name, there will I be in the midst of them to bless them.' If the Lord God had not been in your souls, you

would not all have pronounced the same words; or rather God himself pronounced them by your lips, for it

was He that put them in your hearts. Be they, then, your warcry in the combat, for those words came forth

from God. Let the army of the Lord when it rushes upon His enemies shout but that one cry, 'Dieu le veult!

Dieu le veult!' Let whoever is inclined to devote himself to this holy cause make it a solemn engagement, and

bear the cross of the Lord either on his breast or his brow till he set out, and let him who is ready to begin his

march place the holy emblem on his shoulders, in memory of that precept of our Saviour, 'He who does not

The news of this council spread to the remotest parts of Europe in an incredibly short space of time. Long

before the fleetest horseman could have brought the intelligence it was known by the people in distant

provinces, a fact which was considered as nothing less than supernatural. But the subject was in everybody's

mouth, and the minds of men were prepared for the result. The enthusiastic only asserted what they wished,

and the event tallied with their prediction. This was, however, quite enough in those days for a miracle, and

For several months after the council of Clermont, France and Germany presented a singular spectacle. The

pious, the fanatic, the needy, the dissolute, the young and the old, even women and children, and the halt and

lame, enrolled themselves by hundreds. In every village the clergy were busied in keeping up the excitement,

promising eternal rewards to those who assumed the red cross, and fulminating the most awful denunciations

against all the worldlyminded who refused or even hesitated. Every debtor who joined the crusade was freed

by the papal edict from the claims of his creditors; outlaws of every grade were made equal with the honest

upon the same conditions. The property of those who went was placed under the protection of the church, and

St. Paul and St. Peter themselves were believed to descend from their high abode, to watch over the chattels

of the absent pilgrims. Signs and portents were seen in the air to increase the fervour of the multitude. An

auroraborealis of unusual brilliancy appeared, and thousands of the crusaders came out to gaze upon it,

prostrating themselves upon the earth in adoration. It was thought to be a sure prognostic of the interposition

of the Most High; and a representation of his armies fighting with and overthrowing the infidels. Reports of

wonders were everywhere rife. A monk had seen two gigantic warriors on horseback, the one representing a

Christian and the other a Turk, fighting in the sky with flaming swords, the Christian of course overcoming

the Paynim. Myriads of stars were said to have fallen from heaven, each representing the fall of a Pagan foe.

It was believed at the same time that the Emperor Charlemagne would rise from the grave, and lead on to

victory the embattled armies of the Lord. A singular feature of the popular madness was the enthusiasm of the

women. Everywhere they encouraged their lovers and husbands to forsake all things for the holy war. Many

of them burned the sign of the cross upon their breasts and arms, and coloured the wound with a red dye, as a

lasting memorial of their zeal. Others, still more zealous, impressed the mark by the same means upon the

Guibert de Nogent tells of a monk who made a large incision upon his forehead in the form of a cross, which

he coloured with some powerful ingredient, telling the people that an angel had done it when he was asleep.

This monk appears to have been more of a rogue than a fool, for he contrived to fare more sumptuously than

any of his brother pilgrims, upon the strength of his sanctity. The crusaders everywhere gave him presents of

food and money, and he became quite fat ere he arrived at Jerusalem, notwithstanding the fatigues of the way.

If he had acknowledged in the first place that he had made the wound himself, he would not have been

All those who had property of any description rushed to the mart to change it into hard cash. Lands and

houses could be had for a quarter of their value, while arms and accoutrements of war rose in the same

proportion. Corn, which had been excessively dear in anticipation of a year of scarcity, suddenly became

plentiful; and such was the diminution in the value of provisions, that seven sheep were sold for five

deniers.[Guibert de Nogent] The nobles mortgaged their estates for mere trifles to Jews and unbelievers, or

conferred charters of immunity upon the towns and communes within their fiefs, for sums which, a few years

previously, they would have rejected with disdain. The farmer endeavoured to sell his plough, and the artisan

his tools, to purchase a sword for the deliverance of Jerusalem. Women disposed of their trinkets for the same

purpose. During the spring and summer of this year (1096) the roads teemed with crusaders, all hastening to

the towns and villages appointed as the rendezvous of the district. Some were on horseback, some in carts,

and some came down the rivers in boats and rafts, bringing their wives and children, all eager to go to

Jerusalem. Very few knew where Jerusalem was. Some thought it fifty thousand miles away, while others

imagined that it was but a month's journey, while at sight of every town or castle, the children exclaimed, "Is

that Jerusalem ? Is that the city ?"[Guibert de Nogent] Parties of knights and nobles might be seen travelling

eastward, and amusing themselves as they went with the knightly diversion of hawking to lighten the fatigues

Guibert de Nogent, who did not write from hearsay, but from actual observation, says, the enthusiasm was so

contagious, that when any one heard the orders of the Pontiff, he went instantly to solicit his neighbours and

friends to join with him in "the way of God," for so they called the proposed expedition. The Counts Palatine

were full of the desire to undertake the journey, and all the inferior knights were animated with the same zeal.

Even the poor caught the flame so ardently, that no one paused to think of the inadequacy of his means, or to

consider whether he ought to yield up his house and his vine and his fields. Each one set about selling his

property, at as low a price as if he had been held in some horrible captivity, and sought to pay his ransom

without loss of time. Those who had not determined upon the journey, joked and laughed at those who were

thus disposing of their goods at such ruinous prices, prophesying that the expedition would be miserable and

their return worse. But they held this language only for a day. The next, they were suddenly seized with the

same frenzy as the rest. Those who had been loudest in their jeers gave up all their property for a few crowns,

and set out with those they had so laughed at a few hours before. In most cases the laugh was turned against

them, for when it became known that a man was hesitating, his more zealous neighbouts sent him a present of

a knitting needle or a distaff, to show their contempt of him. There was no resisting this, so that the fear of

Another effect of the crusade was, the religious obedience with which it inspired the people and the nobility

for that singular institution "The Truce of God." At the commencement of the eleventh century, the clergy of

France, sympathizing for the woes of the people, but unable to diminish them, by repressing the rapacity and

insolence of the feudal chiefs, endeavoured to promote universal goodwill by the promulgation of the

famous "Peace of God." All who conformed to it bound themselves by oath not to take revenge for any

injury, not to enjoy the fruits of property usurped from others, nor to use deadly weapons; in reward of which

they would receive remission of all their sins. However benevolent the intention of this "Peace," it led to

nothing but perjury, and violence reigned as uncontrolled as before. In the year 1041 another attempt was

made to soften the angry passions of the semibarbarous chiefs, and the "Truce of God" was solemnly

proclaimed. The truce lasted from the Wednesday evening to the Monday morning of every week, in which

interval it was strictly forbidden to recur to violence on any pretext, or to seek revenge for any injury. It was

impossible to civilize men by these means; few even promised to become peaceable for so unconscionable a

period as five days a week; or, if they did, they made ample amends on the two days left open to them. The

truce was afterwards shortened from the Saturday evening to the Monday morning; but little or no diminution

of violence and bloodshed was the consequence. At the council of Clermont, Urban II. again solemnly pro

claimed the truce. So strong was the religious feeling, that every one hastened to obey. All minor passions

disappeared before the grand passion of crusading; the noble ceased to oppress, the robber to plunder, and the

people to complain; but one idea was in all hearts, and there seemed to be no room for any other.

The encampments of these heterogeneous multitudes offered a singular aspect. Those vassals who ranged

themselves under the banners of their lord, erected tents around his castle; while those who undertook the war

on their own account, constructed booths and huts in the neighbourhood of the towns or villages, preparatory

to their joining some popular leader of the expedition. The meadows of France were covered with tents. As

the belligerents were to have remission of all their sins on their arrival in Palestine, hundreds of them gave

themselves up to the most unbounded licentiousness: the courtezan, with the red cross upon her shoulders,

plied her shameless trade with sensual pilgrims, without scruple on either side: the lover of good cheer gave

loose rein to his appetite, and drunkenness and debauchery flourished. Their zeal in the service of the Lord

was to wipe out all faults and follies, and they had the same surety of salvation as the rigid anchorite. This

reasoning had charms for the ignorant, and the sounds of lewd revelry and the voice of prayer rose at the

It is now time to speak of the leaders of the expedition. Great multitudes ranged themselves under the

command of Peter the Hermit, whom, as the originator, they considered the most appropriate leader of the

war. Others joined the banner of a bold adventurer, whom history has dignified with no other name than that

of Gautier sans Avoir, or Walter the Pennyless, but who is represented as having been of noble family, and

well skilled in the art of war. A third multitude from Germany flocked around the standard of a monk, named

Gottschalk, of whom nothing is known, except that he was a fanatic of the deepest dye. All these bands,

which together are said to have amounted to three hundred thousand men, women, and children, were

composed of the vilest rascality of Europe. Without discipline, principle, or true courage, they rushed through

the nations like a pestilence, spreading terror and death wherever they went. The first multitude that set forth

was led by Walter the Pennyless early in the spring of 1096, within a very few months after the Council of

Clermont. Each man of that irregular host aspired to be his own master: like their nominal leader, each was

poor to penury, and trusted for subsistence on his journey to the chances of the road. Rolling through

Germany like a tide, they entered Hungary, where, at first, they were received with some degree of kindness

by the people. The latter had not yet caught sufficient of the fire of enthusiasm to join the crusade themselves,

but were willing enough to forward the cause by aiding those embarked in it. Unfortunately, this good

understanding did not last long. The swarm were not contented with food for their necessities, but craved for

luxuries also: they attacked and plundered the dwellings of the country people, and thought nothing of murder

where resistance was offered. On their arrival before Semlin, the outraged Hungarians collected in large

numbers, and, attacking the rear of the crusading host, slew a great many of the stragglers, and, taking away

their arms and crosses, affixed them as trophies to the walls of the city. Walter appears to have been in no

mood or condition to make reprisals; for his army, destructive as a plague of locusts when plunder urged

them on, were useless against any regular attack from a determined enemy. Their rear continued to be thus

harassed by the wrathful Hungarians until they were fairly out of their territory. On his entrance into

Bulgaria, Walter met with no better fate; the cities and towns refused to let him pass; the villages denied him

provisions; and the citizens and country people uniting, slaughtered his followers by hundreds. The progress

of the army was more like a retreat than an advance; but as it was impossible to stand still, Walter continued

his course till he arrived at Constantinople, with a force which famine and the sword had diminished to

The greater multitude, led by the enthusiastic Hermit, followed close upon his heels, with a bulky train of

baggage, and women and children, sufficient to form a host of themselves. If it were possible to find a rabble

more vile than the army of Walter the Pennyless it was that led by Peter the Hermit. Being better provided

with means, they were not reduced to the necessity of pillage in their progress through Hungary; and had they

taken any other route than that which led through Semlin, might perhaps have traversed the country without

molestation. On their arrival before that city, their fury was raised at seeing the arms and red crosses of their

predecessors hanging as trophies over the gates. Their pentup ferocity exploded at the sight. The city was

tumultuously attacked, and the besiegers entering, not by dint of bravery, but of superior numbers, it was

given up to all the horrors which follow when Victory, Brutality, and Licentiousness are linked together.

Every evil passion was allowed to revel with impunity, and revenge, lust, and avarice, each had its

hundred victims in unhappy Semlin. Any maniac can kindle a conflagration, but it requires many wise men to

put it out. Peter the Hermit had blown the popular fury into a flame, but to cool it again was beyond his

power. His followers rioted unrestrained, until the fear of retaliation warned them to desist. When the King of

Hungary was informed of the disasters of Semlin, he marched with a sufficient force to chastise the Hermit,

who at the news broke up his camp and retreated towards the Morava, a broad and rapid stream that joins the

Danube a few miles to the eastward of Belgrade. Here a party of indignant Bulgarians awaited him, and so

harassed him as to make the passage of the river a task both of difficulty and danger. Great numbers of his

infatuated followers perished in the waters, and many fell under the swords of the Bulgarians. The ancient

chronicles do not mention the amount of the Hermit's loss at this passage, but represent it in general terms as

At Nissa the Duke of Bulgaria fortified himself, in fear of an assault; but Peter, having learned a little wisdom

from experience, thought it best to avoid hostilities. He passed three nights in quietness under the walls, and

the duke, not wishing to exasperate unnecessarily so fierce and rapacious a host, allowed the townspeople to

supply them with provisions. Peter took his departure peaceably on the following morning, but some German

vagabonds falling behind the main body of the army, set fire to the mills and house of a Bulgarian, with

whom, it appears, they had had some dispute on the previous evening. The citizens of Nissa, who had

throughout mistrusted the crusaders, and were prepared for the worst, sallied out immediately, and took

signal vengeance. The spoilers were cut to pieces, and the townspeople pursuing the Hermit, captured all the

women and children who had lagged in the rear, and a great quantity of baggage. Peter hereupon turned

round and marched back to Nissa, to demand explanation of the Duke of Bulgaria. The latter fairly stated the

provocation given, and the Hermit could urge nothing in palliation of so gross an outrage. A negotiation was

entered into which promised to be successful, and the Bulgarians were about to deliver up the women and

children when a party of undisciplined crusaders, acting solely upon their own suggestion, endeavoured to

scale the walls and seize upon the town. Peter in vain exerted his authority; the confusion became general,

and after a short but desperate battle, the crusaders threw down their arms and fled in all directions. Their vast

host was completely routed, the slaughter being so great among them as to be counted, not by hundreds, but

It is said that the Hermit fled from this fatal field to a forest a few miles from Nissa, abandoned by every

. . . . . . . . . . "His enpierced breast Sharp sorrow did in thousand pieces rive,"

or whether his fiery zeal still rose superior to calamity, and pictured the eventual triumph of his cause. He, so

lately the leader of a hundred thousand men, was now a solitary skulker in the forests, liable at every instant

to be discovered by some pursuing Bulgarian, and cut off in mid career. Chance at last brought him within

sight of an eminence where two or three of his bravest knights had collected five hundred of the stragglers.

These gladly received the Hermit, and a consultation having taken place, it was resolved to gather together

the scattered remnants of the army. Fires were lighted on the hill, and scouts sent out in all directions for the

fugitives. Horns were sounded at intervals to make known that friends were near, and before nightfall the

Hermit saw himself at the head of seven thousand men. During the succeeding day he was joined by twenty

thousand more, and with this miserable remnant of his force he pursued his route towards Constantinople.

On his arrival at Constantinople, where he found Walter the Pennyless awaiting him, he was hospitably

received by the Emperor Alexius. It might have been expected that the sad reverses they had undergone

would have taught his followers common prudence; but, unhappily for them, their turbulence and love of

plunder were not to be restrained. Although they were surrounded by friends, by whom all their wants were

liberally supplied, they could not refrain from rapine. In vain the Hermit exhorted them to tranquillity; he

possessed no more power over them, in subduing their passions, than the obscurest soldier of the host, They

set fire to several public buildings in Constantinople, out of pure mischief, and stripped the lead from the

roofs of the churches, which, they afterwards sold for old metal in the purlieus of the city. From this time may

be dated the aversion which the Emperor Alexius entertained for the crusaders, and which was afterwards

manifested in all his actions, even when he had to deal with the chivalrous and more honourable armies

which arrived after the Hermit. He seems to have imagined that the Turks themselves were enemies less

formidable to his power than these outpourings of the refuse of Europe: he soon found a pretext to hurry them

into Asia Minor. Peter crossed the Bosphorus with Walter, hut the excesses of his followers were such, that,

despairing of accomplishing any good end by remaining at their head, he left them to themselves, and

returned to Constantinople, on the pretext of making arrangements with the government of Alexius for a

proper supply of provisions. The crusaders, forgetting that they were in the enemy's country, and that union,

above all things, was desirable, gave themselves up to dissensions. Violent disputes arose between the

Lombards and Normans, commanded by Walter the Pennyless, and the Franks and Germans, led out by Peter.

The latter separated themselves from the former, and, choosing for their leader one Reinaldo, or Reinhold,

marched forward, and took possession of the fortress of Exorogorgon. The Sultan Solimaun was on the alert,

with a superior force. A party of crusaders, which had been detached from the fort, and stationed at a little

distance as an ambuscade, were surprised and cut to pieces, and Exorogorgon invested on all sides. The siege

was protracted for eight days, during which the Christians suffered the most acute agony from the want of

water. It is hard to say how long the hope of succour or the energy of despair would have enabled them to

hold out: their treacherous leader cut the matter short by renouncing the Christian faith, and delivering up the

fort into the hands of the Sultan. He was followed by two or three of his officers; all the rest, refusing to

become Mahometans, were ruthlessly put to the sword. Thus perished the last wretched remnant of the vast

Walter the Pennyless and his multitude met as miserable a fate. On the news of the disasters of Exorogorgon,

they demanded to be led instantly against the Turks. Walter, who only wanted good soldiers to have made a

good general, was cooler of head, and saw all the dangers of such a step. His force was wholly insufficient to

make any decisive movement in a country where the enemy was so much superior, and where, in case of

defeat, he had no secure position to fall back upon; and he therefore expressed his opinion against advancing

until the arrival of reinforcements. This prudent counsel found no favour: the army loudly expressed their

dissatisfaction at their chief, and prepared to march forward without him. Upon this, the brave Walter put

himself at their head, and rushed to destruction. Proceeding towards Nice, the modern Isnik, he was

intercepted by the army of the Sultan: a fierce battle ensued in which the Turks made fearful havoc; out of

twentyfive thousand Christians, twentytwo thousand were slain, and among them Gautier himself, who fell

pierced by seven mortal wounds. The remaining three thousand retreated upon Civitot, where they intrenched

Disgusted as was Peter the Hermit at the excesses of the multitude, who, at his call, had forsaken Europe, his

heart was moved with grief and pity at their misfortunes. All his former zeal revived: casting himself at the

feet of the Emperor Alexius, he implored him, with tears in his eyes, to send relief to the few survivors at

Civitot. The Emperor consented, and a force was sent, which arrived just in time to save them from

destruction. The Turks had beleaguered the place, and the crusaders were reduced to the last extremity.

Negotiations were entered into, and the last three thousand were conducted in safety to Constantinople.

Alexius had suffered too much by their former excesses to be very desirous of retaining them in his capital:

he therefore caused them all to be disarmed, and, furnishing each with a sum of money, he sent them back to

their own country. While these events were taking place, fresh hordes were issuing from the woods and wilds

of Germany, all bent for the Holy Land. They were commanded by a fanatical priest, named Gottschalk, who,

like Gautier and Peter the Hermit, took his way through Hungary. History is extremely meagre in her details

of the conduct and fate of this host, which amounted to at least one hundred thousand men. Robbery and

murder seem to have journeyed with them, and the poor Hungarians were rendered almost desperate by their

numbers and rapacity. Karloman, the king of the country, made a bold effort to get rid of them; for the

resentment of his people had arrived at such a height, that nothing short of the total extermination of the

crusaders would satisfy them. Gottschalk had to pay the penalty, not only for the ravages of his own bands,

but for those of the swarms that had come before him. He and his army were induced, by some means or

other, to lay down their arms: the savage Hungarians, seeing them thus defenceless, set upon them, and

slaughtered them in great numbers. How many escaped their arrows, we are not informed; but not one of

Other swarms, under nameless leaders, issued from Germany and France, more brutal and more frantic than

any that had preceded them. Their fanaticism surpassed by far the wildest freaks of the followers of the

Hermit. In bands, varying in numbers from one to five thousand, they traversed the country in all directions,

bent upon plunder and massacre. They wore the symbol of the crusade upon their shoulders, but inveighed

against the folly of proceeding to the Holy Land to destroy the Turks, while they left behind them so many

Jews, the still more inveterate enemies of Christ. They swore fierce vengeance against this unhappy race, and

murdered all the Hebrews they could lay their hands on, first subjecting them to the most horrible mutilation.

According to the testimony of Albert Aquensis, they lived among each other in the most shameless

profligacy, and their vice was only exceeded by their superstition. Whenever they were in search of Jews,

they were preceded by a goose and goat, which they believed to be holy, and animated with divine power to

discover the retreats of the unbelievers. In Germany alone they slaughtered more than a thousand Jews,

notwithstanding all the efforts of the clergy to save them. So dreadful was the cruelty of their tormentors, that

great numbers of Jews committed selfdestruction to avoid falling into their hands.

Again it fell to the lot of the Hungarians to deliver Europe from these pests. When there were no more Jews

to murder, the bands collected in one body, and took the old route to the Holy Land, a route stained with the

blood of three hundred thousand who had gone before, and destined also to receive theirs. The number of

these swarms has never been stated; but so many of them perished in Hungary, that contemporary writers,

despairing of giving any adequate idea of their multitudes, state that the fields were actually heaped with their

corpses, and that for miles in its course the waters of the Danube were dyed with their blood. It was at

Mersburg, on the Danube, that the greatest slaughter took place, a slaughter so great as to amount almost

to extermination. The Hungarians for a while disputed the passage of the river, but the crusaders forced their

way across, and attacking the city with the blind courage of madness, succeeded in making a breach in the

walls. At this moment of victory an unaccountable fear came over them. Throwing down their arms they fled

panicstricken, no one knew why, and no one knew whither. The Hungarians followed, sword in hand, and

cut them down without remorse, and in such numbers, that the stream of the Danube is said to have been

This was the worst paroxysm of the madness of Europe; and this passed, her chivalry stepped upon the scene.

Men of cool heads, mature plans, and invincible courage stood forward to lead and direct the grand

movement of Europe upon Asia. It is upon these men that romance has lavished her most admiring epithets,

leaving to the condemnation of history the vileness and brutality of those who went before. Of these leaders

the most distinguished were Godfrey of Bouillon Duke of Lorraine, and Raymond Count of Toulouse. Four

other chiefs of the royal blood of Europe also assumed the Cross, and led each his army to the Holy Land:

Hugh, Count of Vermandois, brother of the King of France; Robert, Duke of Normandy, the elder brother of

William Rufus; Robert Count of Flanders, and Boemund Prince of Tarentum, eldest son of the celebrated

Robert Guiscard. These men were all tinged with the fanaticism of the age, but none of them acted entirely

from religious motives. They were neither utterly reckless like Gautier sans Avoir, crazy like Peter the

Hermit, nor brutal like Gottschalk the Monk, but possessed each of these qualities in a milder form; their

valour being tempered by caution, their religious zeal by worldly views, and their ferocity by the spirit of

chivalry. They saw whither led the torrent of the public will; and it being neither their wish nor their interest

to stem it, they allowed themselves to be carried with it, in the hope that it would lead them at last to a haven

of aggrandizement. Around them congregated many minor chiefs, the flower of the nobility of France and

Italy, with some few from Germany, England, and Spain. It was wisely conjectured that armies so numerous

would find a difficulty in procuring provisions if they all journeyed by the same road. They, therefore,

resolved to separate, Godfrey de Bouillon proceeding through Hungary and Bulgaria, the Count of Toulouse

through Lombardy and Dalmatia, and the other leaders through Apulia to Constantinople, where the several

divisions were to reunite. The forces under these leaders have been variously estimated. The Princess Anna

Comnena talks of them as having been as numerous as the sands on the seashore, or the stars in the

firmament. Fulcher of Chartres is more satisfactory, and exaggerates less magnificently, when he states, that

all the divisions, when they had sat down before Nice in Bithynia, amounted to one hundred thousand

horsemen, and six hundred thousand men on foot, exclusive of the priests, women and children. Gibbon is of

opinion that this amount is exaggerated; but thinks the actual numbers did not fall very far short of the

calculation. The Princess Anna afterwards gives the number of those under Godfrey of Bouillon as eighty

thousand foot and horse; and supposing that each of the other chiefs led an army as numerous, the total would

be near half a million. This must be over rather than under the mark, as the army of Godfrey of Bouillon was

confessedly the largest when it set out, and suffered less by the way than any other.

The Count of Vermandois was the first who set foot on the Grecian territory. On his arrival at Durazzo he

was received with every mark of respect and courtesy by the agents of the Emperor, and his followers were

abundantly supplied with provisions. Suddenly however, and without cause assigned, the Count was arrested

by order of the Emperor Alexius, and conveyed a close prisoner to Constantinople. Various motives have

been assigned by different authors as having induced the Emperor to this treacherous and imprudent

proceeding. By every writer he has been condemned for so flagrant a breach of hospitality and justice. The

most probable reason for his conduct appears to be that suggested by Guibert of Nogent, who states that

Alexius, fearful of the designs of the crusaders upon his throne, resorted to this extremity in order afterwards

to force the Count to take the oath of allegiance to him, as the price of his liberation. The example of a prince

so eminent as the brother of the King of France, would, he thought, be readily followed by the other chiefs of

the Crusade. In the result he was wofully disappointed, as every man deserves to be who commits positive

evil that doubtful good may ensue. But this line of policy accorded well enough with the narrowmindedness

of the Emperor, who, in the enervating atmosphere of his highly civilized and luxurious court, dreaded the

influx of the hardy and ambitious warriors of the West, and strove to nibble away by unworthy means, the

power which he had not energy enough to confront. If danger to himself had existed from the residence of the

chiefs in his dominions, he might easily have averted it, by the simple means of placing himself at the head of

the European movement, and directing its energies to their avowed object, the conquest of the Holy Land.

But the Emperor, instead of being, as he might have been, the lord and leader of the Crusades, which he had

himself aided in no inconsiderable degree to suscitate by his embassies to the Pope, became the slave of men

who hated and despised him. No doubt the barbarous excesses of the followers of Gautier and Peter the

Hermit made him look upon the whole body of them with disgust, but it was the disgust of a little mind,

which is glad of any excuse to palliate or justify its own irresolution and love of ease.

Godfrey of Bouillon traversed Hungary in the most quiet and orderly manner. On his arrival at Mersburg he

found the country strewed with the mangled corpses of the Jewkillers, and demanded of the King of

Hungary for what reason his people had set upon them. The latter detailed the atrocities they had committed,

and made it so evident to Godfrey that the Hungarians had only acted in selfdefence, that the highminded

leader declared himself satisfied and passed on, without giving or receiving molestation. On his arrival at

Philippopoli, he was informed for the first time of the imprisonment of the Count of Vermandois. He

immediately sent messengers to the Emperor, demanding the Count's release, and threatening, in case of

refusal, to lay waste the country with fire and sword. After waiting a day at Philippopoli he marched on to

Adrianople, where he was met by his messengers returning with the Emperor's refusal. Godfrey, the bravest

and most determined of the leaders of the Crusade, was not a man to swerve from his word, and the country

was given up to pillage. Alexius here committed another blunder. No sooner did he learn from dire

experience that the crusader was not an utterer of idle threats, than he consented to the release of the prisoner.

As he had been unjust in the first instance, he became cowardly in the second, and taught his enemies (for so

the crusaders were forced to consider themselves) a lesson which they took care to remember to his cost, that

they could hope nothing from his sense of justice, but every thing from his fears. Godfrey remained

encamped for several weeks in the neighbourhood of Constantinople, to the great annoyance of Alexius, who

sought by every means to extort from him the homage he had extorted from Vermandois. Sometimes he acted

as if at open and declared war with the crusaders, and sent his troops against them. Sometimes he refused to

supply them with food, and ordered the markets to be shut against them, while at other times he was all for

peace and goodwill, and sent costly presents to Godfrey. The honest, straightforward crusader was at last so

wearied by his false kindness, and so pestered by his attacks, that, allowing his indignation to get the better of

his judgment, he gave up the country around Constantinople to be plundered by his soldiers. For six days the

flames of the farmhouses around struck terror into the heart of Alexius, but as Godfrey anticipated they

convinced him of his error. Fearing that Constantinople itself would be the next object of attack, he sent

messengers to demand an interview with Godfrey, offering at the same time to leave his son as a hostage for

his good faith. Godfrey agreed to meet him, and, whether to put an end to these useless dissensions, or for

some other unexplained reason, he rendered homage to Alexius as his liege lord. He was thereupon loaded

with honours, and, according to a singular custom of that age, underwent the ceremony of the "adoption of

honour," as son to the Emperor. Godfrey, and his brother Baudouin de Bouillon, conducted themselves with

proper courtesy on this occasion, but were not able to restrain the insolence of their followers, who did not

conceive themselves bound to keep any terms with a man so insincere as he had shown himself. One

barbarous chieftain, Count Robert of Paris, carried his insolence so far as to seat himself upon the throne, an

insult which Alexius merely resented with a sneer, but which did not induce him to look with less mistrust

It is impossible, notwithstanding his treachery, to avoid feeling some compassion for the Emperor, whose life

at this time was rendered one long scene of misery by the presumption of the crusaders, and his not altogether

groundless fears of the evil they might inflict upon him, should any untoward circumstance force the current

of their ambition to the conquest of his empire. His daughter, Anna Comnena, feelingly deplores his state of

life at this time, and a learned German, [M. Wilken's Geschichte der Kreuzzuge.] in a recent work, describes

"To avoid all occasion of offence to the Crusaders, Alexius complied with all their whims, and their (on many

occasions) unreasonable demands, even at the expense of great bodily exertion, at a time when he was

suffering severely under the gout, which eventually brought him to his grave. No crusader who desired an

interview with him was refused access: he listened with the utmost patience to the longwinded harangues

which their loquacity or zeal continually wearied him with: he endured, without expressing any impatience,

the unbecoming and haughty language which they permitted themselves to employ towards him, and severely

reprimanded his officers when they undertook to defend the dignity of the Imperial station from these rude

assaults; for he trembled with apprehension at the slightest disputes, lest they might become the occasion of

greater evil. Though the Counts often appeared before him with trains altogether unsuitable to their dignity

and to his sometimes with an entire troop, which completely filled the Royal apartment the Emperor

held his peace. He listened to them at all hours; he often seated himself on his throne at daybreak to attend

to their wishes and requests, and the evening twilight saw him still in the same place. Very frequently he

could not snatch time to refresh himself with meat and drink. During many nights he could not obtain any

repose, and was obliged to indulge in an unrefreshing sleep upon his throne, with his head resting on his

hands. Even this slumber was continually disturbed by the appearance and harangues of some newlyarrived

rude knights. When all the courtiers, wearied out by the efforts of the day and by nightwatching, could no

longer keep themselves on their feet, and sank down exhausted some upon benches and others on the floor

Alexius still rallied his strength to listen with seeming attention to the wearisome chatter of the Latins,

that they might have no occasion or pretext for discontent. In such a state of fear and anxiety, how could

Alexius, however, had himself to blame, in a great measure, for the indignities he suffered: owing to his

insincerity, the crusaders mistrusted him so much, that it became at last a common saying, that the Turks and

Saracens were not such inveterate foes to the Western or Latin Christians as the Emperor Alexius and the

Greeks.[Wilken] It would be needless in this sketch, which does not profess to be so much a history of the

Crusades as of the madness of Europe, from which they sprang, to detail the various acts of bribery and

intimidation, cajolery and hostility, by which Alexius contrived to make each of the leaders in succession, as

they arrived, take the oath of allegiance to him as their Suzerain. One way or another he exacted from each

the barren homage on which he had set his heart, and they were then allowed to proceed into Asia Minor.

One only, Raymond de St. Gilles, Count of Toulouse, obstinately refused the homage.

Their residence in Constantinople was productive of no good to the armies of the Cross. Bickerings and

contentions on the one hand, and the influence of a depraved and luxurious court on the other, destroyed the

elasticity of their spirits, and cooled the first ardour of their enthusiasm. At one time the army of the Count of

Toulouse was on the point of disbanding itself; and, had not their leader energetically removed them across

the Bosphorus, this would have been the result. Once in Asia, their spirits in some degree revived, and the

presence of danger and difficulty nerved them to the work they had undertaken. The first operation of the war

was the siege of Nice, to gain possession of which all their efforts were directed.

Godfrey of Bouillon and the Count of Vermandois were joined under its walls by each host in succession, as

it left Constantinople. Among the celebrated crusaders who fought at this siege, we find, besides the leaders

already mentioned, the brave and generous Tancred, whose name and fame have been immortalized in the

Gerusalemme Liberata, the valorous Bishop of Puy, Baldwin, afterwards King of Jerusalem, and Peter the

Hermit, now an almost solitary soldier, shorn of all the power and influence he had formerly possessed. Kilij

Aslaun, the Sultan of Roum, and chief of the Seljukian Turks, whose deeds, surrounded by the false halo of

romance, are familiar to the readers of Tasso, under the name of Soliman, marched to defend this city, but

was defeated after several obstinate engagements, in which the Christians showed a degree of heroism that

quite astonished him. The Turkish chief had expected to find a wild undisciplined multitude, like that under

Peter the Hermit, without leaders capable of enforcing obedience; instead of which he found the most

experienced leaders of the age at the head of armies that had just fanaticism enough to be ferocious, but not

enough to render them ungovernable. In these engagements, many hundreds fell on both sides; and on both

sides the most revolting barbarity was practised: the crusaders cut off the heads of the fallen Mussulmans,

and sent them in paniers to Constantinople, as trophies of their victory. After the temporary defeat of Kilij

Aslaun, the siege of Nice was carried on with redoubled vigour. The Turks defended themselves with the

greatest obstinacy, and discharged showers of poisoned arrows upon the crusaders. When any unfortunate

wretch was killed under the walls, they let down iron hooks from above, and drew the body up, which, after

stripping and mutilating, they threw back again at the besiegers. The latter were well supplied with

provisions, and for sixandthirty days the siege continued without any relaxation of the efforts on either

side. Many tales are told of the almost superhuman heroism of the Christian leaders how one man put a

thousand to flight; and how the arrows of the faithful never missed their mark. One anecdote of Godfrey of

Bouillon, related by Albert of Aix, is worth recording, not only as showing the high opinion entertained of his

valour, but as showing the contagious credulity of the armies a credulity which as often led them to the

very verge of defeat, as it incited them to victory. One Turk, of gigantic stature, took his station day by day

on the battlements of Nice, and, bearing an enormous bow, committed great havoc among the Christian host.

Not a shaft he sped, but bore death upon its point; and, although the Crusaders aimed repeatedly at his breast,

and he stood in the most exposed position, their arrows fell harmless at his feet. He seemed to be invulnerable

to attack; and a report was soon spread abroad, that he was no other than the Arch Fiend himself, and that

mortal hand could not prevail against him. Godfrey of Bouillon, who had no faith in the supernatural

character of the Mussulman, determined, if possible, to put an end to the dismay which was rapidly

paralyzing the exertions of his best soldiers. Taking a huge crossbow, he stood forward in front of the army,

to try the steadiness of his hand against the muchdreaded archer: the shaft was aimed directly at his heart,

and took fatal effect. The Moslem fell amid the groans of the besieged, and the shouts of Deus adjuva! Deus

At last the crusaders imagined that they had overcome all obstacles, and were preparing to take possession of

the city, when to their great astonishment they saw the flag of the Emperor Alexius flying from the

battlements. An emissary of the Emperor, named Faticius or Tatin, had contrived to gain admission with a

body of Greek troops at a point which the crusaders had left unprotected, and had persuaded the Turks to

surrender to him rather than to the crusading forces. The greatest indignation prevailed in the army when this

stratagem was discovered, and the soldiers were, with the utmost difficulty, prevented from renewing the

The army, however, continued its march, and by some means or other was broken into two divisions; some

historians say accidentally, [Fulcher of Chartres. Guibert de Nogent. Vital.] while others affirm by

mutual consent, and for the convenience of obtaining provisions on the way. [William of Tyre. Mills.

Wilken, The one division was composed of the forces under Bohemund, Tancred, and the Duke of

Normandy; while the other, which took a route at some distance on the right, was commanded by Godfrey of

Bouillon and the other chiefs. The Sultan of Roum, who, after his losses at Nice, had been silently making

great efforts to crush the crusaders at one blow, collected in a very short time all the multitudinous tribes that

owed him allegiance, and with an army which, according to a moderate calculation, amounted to two hundred

thousand men, chiefly cavalry, he fell upon the first division of the Christian host in the valley of Dorylaeum.

It was early in the morning of the 1st of July 1097, when the crusaders saw the first companies of the Turkish

horsemen pouring down upon them from the hills. Bohemund had hardly time to set himself in order, and

transport his sick and helpless to the rear, when the overwhelming force of the Orientals was upon him. The

Christian army, composed principally of men on foot, gave way on all sides, and the hoofs of the Turkish

steeds, and the poisoned arrows of their bowmen, mowed them down by hundreds. After having lost the

flower of their chivalry, the Christians retreated upon their baggage, when a dreadful slaughter took place.

Neither women nor children, nor the sick, were spared. Just as they were reduced to the last extremity,

Godfrey of Bouillon and the Count of Toulouse made their appearance on the field, and turned the tide of

battle. After an obstinate engagement the Turks fled, and their rich camp fell into the bands of the enemy.

The loss of the crusaders amounted to about four thousand men, with several chiefs of renown, among whom

were Count Robert of Paris and William the brother of Tancred. The loss of the Turks, which did not exceed

this number, taught them to pursue a different mode of warfare. The Sultan was far from being defeated. With

his still gigantic army, he laid waste all the country on either side of the crusaders. The latter, who were

unaware of the tactics of the enemy, found plenty of provisions in the Turkish camp; but so far from

economizing these resources, they gave themselves up for several days to the most unbounded extravagance.

They soon paid dearly for their heedlessness. In the ravaged country of Phrygia, through which they

advanced towards Antiochetta, they suffered dreadfully for want of food for themselves and pasture for their

cattle. Above them was a scorching sun, almost sufficient of itself to dry up the freshness of the land, a task

which the firebrands of the Sultan had but too surely effected, and water was not to be had after the first day

of their march. The pilgrims died at the rate of five hundred aday. The horses of the knights perished on the

road, and the baggage which they had aided to transport, was either placed upon dogs, sheep, and swine, or

abandoned altogether. In some of the calamities that afterwards befell them, the Christians gave themselves

up to the most reckless profligacy; but upon this occasion, the dissensions which prosperity had engendered,

were all forgotten. Religion, often disregarded, arose in the stern presence of misfortune, and cheered them as

At length they reached Antiochetta, where they found water in abundance, and pastures for their expiring

cattle. Plenty once more surrounded them, and here they pitched their tents. Untaught by the bitter experience

On the 18th of October they sat down before the strong city of Antioch, the siege of which, and the events to

which it gave rise, are among the most extraordinary incidents of the Crusade. The city, which is situated on

an eminence, and washed by the river Orontes, is naturally a very strong position, and the Turkish garrison

were well supplied with provisions to endure a long siege. In this respect the Christians were also fortunate,

but, unluckily for themselves, unwise. Their force amounted to three hundred thousand fighting men; and we

are informed by Raymond d'Argilles, that they had so much provision, that they threw away the greater part

of every animal they killed, being so dainty, that they would only eat particular parts of the beast. So insane

was their extravagance, that in less than ten days famine began to stare them in the face. After making a

fruitless attempt to gain possession of the city by a coup de main, they, starving themselves, sat down to

starve out the enemy. But with want came a cooling of enthusiasm. The chiefs began to grow weary of the

expedition. Baldwin had previously detached himself from the main body of the army, and, proceeding to

Edessa, had intrigued himself into the supreme power in that little principality. The other leaders were

animated with less zeal than heretofore. Stephen of Chartres and Hugh of Vermandois began to waver, unable

to endure the privations which their own folly and profusion had brought upon them. Even Peter the Hermit

became sick at heart ere all was over. When the famine had become so urgent that they were reduced to eat

human flesh in the extremity of their hunger, Bohemund and Robert of Flanders set forth on an expedition to

procure a supply. They were in a slight degree successful; but the relief they brought was not economized,

and in two days they were as destitute as before. Faticius, the Greek commander and representative of

Alexius, deserted with his division under pretence of seeking for food, and his example was followed by

Misery was rife among those who remained, and they strove to alleviate it by a diligent attention to signs and

omens. These, with extraordinary visions seen by the enthusiastic, alternately cheered and depressed them

according as they foretold the triumph or pictured the reverses of the Cross. At one time a violent hurricane

arose, levelling great trees with the ground, and blowing down the tents of the Christian leaders. At another

time an earthquake shook the camp, and was thought to prognosticate some great impending evil to the cause

of Christendom. But a comet which appeared shortly afterwards, raised them from the despondency into

which they had fallen; their lively imaginations making it assume the form of a flaming cross leading them on

to victory. Famine was not the least of the evils they endured. Unwholesome food, and the impure air from

the neighbouring marshes, engendered pestilential diseases, which carried them off more rapidly than the

arrows of the enemy. A thousand of them died in a day, and it became at last a matter of extreme difficulty to

afford them burial. To add to their misery, each man grew suspicious of his neighbour; for the camp was

infested by Turkish spies, who conveyed daily to the besieged intelligence of the movements and distresses of

the enemy. With a ferocity, engendered by despair, Bohemund caused two spies, whom he had detected, to be

roasted alive in presence of the army, and within sight of the battlements of Antioch. But even this example

failed to reduce their numbers, and the Turks continued to be as well informed as the Christians themselves of

The news of the arrival of a reinforcement of soldiers from Europe, with an abundant stock of provisions,

came to cheer them when reduced to the last extremity. The welcome succour landed at St. Simeon, the port

of Antioch, and about six miles from that city. Thitherwards the famishing crusaders proceeded in tumultuous

bands, followed by Bohemund and the Count of Toulouse, with strong detachments of their retainers and

vassals, to escort the supplies in safety to the camp. The garrison of Antioch, forewarned of this arrival, was

on the alert, and a corps of Turkish archers was despatched to lie in ambuscade among the mountains and

intercept their return. Bohemund, laden with provisions, was encountered in the rocky passes by the Turkish

host. Great numbers of his followers were slain, and he himself had just time to escape to the camp with the

news of his defeat. Godfrey of Bouillon, the Duke of Normandy, and the other leaders had heard the rumour

of this battle, and were at that instant preparing for the rescue. The army was immediately in motion,

animated both by zeal and by hunger, and marched so rapidly as to intercept the victorious Turks before they

had time to reach Antioch with their spoil. A fierce battle ensued, which lasted from noon till the going down

of the sun. The Christians gained and maintained the advantage, each man fighting as if upon himself alone

had depended the fortune of the day. Hundreds of Turks perished in the Orontes, and more than two thousand

were left dead upon the field of battle. All the provision was recaptured and brought in safety to the camp,

whither the crusaders returned singing Allelulia! or shouting Deus adjuva! Deus adjuva!

This relief lasted for some days, and, had it been duly economized, would have lasted much longer; but the

chiefs had no authority, and were unable to exercise any control over its distribution. Famine again

approached with rapid strides, and Stephen Count of Blois, not liking the prospect, withdrew from the camp,

with four thousand of his retainers, and established himself at Alexandretta. The moral influence of this

desertion was highly prejudicial upon those who remained; and Bohemund, the most impatient and ambitious

of the chiefs, foresaw that, unless speedily checked, it would lead to the utter failure of the expedition. It was

necessary to act decisively; the army murmured at the length of the siege, and the Sultan was collecting his

forces to crush them. Against the efforts of the crusaders Antioch might have held out for months; but treason

Baghasihan, the Turkish Prince or Emir of Antioch, had under his command an Armenian of the name of

Phirouz, whom he had intrusted with the defence of a tower on that part of the city wall which overlooked the

passes of the mountains. Bohemund, by means of a spy who had embraced the Christian religion, and to

whom he had given his own name at baptism, kept up a daily communication with this captain, and made him

the most magnificent promises of reward, if he would deliver up his post to the Christian knights. Whether

the proposal was first made by Bohemund or by the Armenian is uncertain, but that a good understanding

soon existed between them, is undoubted; and a night was fixed for the execution of the project. Bohemund

communicated the scheme to Godfrey and the Count of Toulouse, with the stipulation that, if the city were

won, he, as the soul of the enterprise, should enjoy the dignity of Prince of Antioch. The other leaders

hesitated: ambition and jealousy prompted them to refuse their aid in furthering the views of the intriguer.

More mature consideration decided them to acquiesce, and seven hundred of the bravest knights were chosen

for the expedition, the real object of which, for fear of spies, was kept a profound secret from the rest of the

army. When all was ready, a report was promulgated, that the seven hundred were intended to form an

ambuscade for a division of the Sultan's army, which was stated to be approaching.

Every thing favoured the treacherous project of the Armenian captain, who, on his solitary watchtower,

received due intimation of the approach of the crusaders. The night was dark and stormy; not a star was

visible above, and the wind howled so furiously as to overpower all other sounds: the rain fell in torrents, and

the watchers on the towers adjoining to that of Phirouz could not hear the tramp of the armed knights for the

wind, nor see them for the obscurity of the night and the dismalness of the weather. When within shot of the

walls, Bohemund sent forward an interpreter to confer with the Armenian. The latter urged them to make

haste, and seize the favourable interval, as armed men, with lighted torches, patrolled the battlements every

half hour, and at that instant they had just passed. The chiefs were instantly at the foot of the wall: Phirouz let

down a rope; Bohemund attached it to the end of a ladder of hides, which was then raised by the Armenian,

and held while the knights mounted. A momentary fear came over the spirits of the adventurers, and every

one hesitated. At last Bohemund, [Vide William of Tyre.] encouraged by Phirouz from above, ascended a

few steps on the ladder, and was followed by Godfrey, Count Robert of Flanders, and a number of other

knights. As they advanced, others pressed forward, until their weight became too great for the ladder, which,

breaking, precipitated about a dozen of them to the ground, where they fell one upon the other, making a

great clatter with their heavy coats of mail. For a moment they thought that all was lost; but the wind made so

loud a howling as it swept in fierce gusts through the mountain gorges and the Orontes, swollen by the

rain, rushed so noisily along that the guards heard nothing. The ladder was easily repaired, and the knights

ascended two at a time, and reached the platform in safety, When sixty of them had thus ascended, the torch

of the coming patrol was seen to gleam at the angle of the wall. Hiding themselves behind a buttress, they

awaited his coming in breathless silence. As soon as he arrived at arm's length, he was suddenly seized, and,

before he could open his lips to raise an alarm, the silence of death closed them up for ever. They next

descended rapidly the spiral staircase of the tower, and, opening the portal, admitted the whole of their

companions. Raymond of Toulouse, who, cognizant of the whole plan, had been left behind with the main

body of the army, heard at this instant the signal horn, which announced that an entry had been effected, and,

Imagination cannot conceive a scene more dreadful than that presented by the devoted city of Antioch on that

night of horror. The crusaders fought with a blind fury, which fanaticism and suffering alike incited. Men,

women, and children were indiscriminately slaughtered till the streets ran in gore. Darkness increased the

destruction, for when morning dawned the crusaders found themselves with their swords at the breasts of

their fellowsoldiers, whom they had mistaken for foes. The Turkish commander fled, first to the citadel, and

that becoming insecure, to the mountains, whither he was pursued and slain, his grey head brought back to

Antioch as a trophy. At daylight the massacre ceased, and the crusaders gave themselves up to plunder. They

found gold, and jewels, and silks, and velvets in abundance, but, of provisions, which were of more

importance to them, they found but little of any kind. Corn was excessively scarce, and they discovered to

their sorrow that in this respect the besieged had been but little better off than the besiegers.

Before they had time to instal themselves in their new position, and take the necessary measures for

procuring a supply, the city was invested by the Turks. The Sultan of Persia had raised an immense army,

which he intrusted to the command of Kerbogha, the Emir of Mosul, with instructions to sweep the Christian

locusts from the face of the land. The Emir effected junction with Kilij Aslaun, and the two armies

surrounded the city. Discouragement took complete possession of the Christian host, and numbers of them

contrived to elude the vigilance of the besiegers, and escape to Count Stephen of Blots at Alexandretta, to

whom they related the most exaggerated tales of the misery they had endured, and the utter hopelessness of

continuing the war. Stephen forthwith broke up his camp and retreated towards Constantinople. On his way

he was met by the Emperor Alexius, at the head of a considerable force, hastening to take possession of the

conquests made by the Christians in Asia. As soon as he heard of their woeful plight, he turned back, and

proceeded with the Count of Blots to Constantinople, leaving the remnant of the crusaders to shift for

The news of this defection increased the discouragement at Antioch. All the useless horses of the army had

been slain and eaten, and dogs, cats, and rats were sold at enormous prices. Even vermin were becoming

scarce. With increasing famine came a pestilence, so that in a short time but sixty thousand remained of the

three hundred thousand that had originally invested Antioch. But this bitter extremity, while it annihilated the

energy of the host, only served to knit the leaders more firmly together; and Bohemund, Godfrey, and

Tancred swore never to desert the cause as long as life lasted. The former strove in vain to reanimate the

courage of his followers. They were weary and sick at heart, and his menaces and promises were alike thrown

away. Some of them had shut themselves up in the houses, and refused to come forth. Bohemund, to drive

them to their duty, set fire to the whole quarter, and many of them perished in the flames, while the rest of the

army looked on with the utmost indifference. Bohemund, animated himself by a worldly spirit, did not know

the true character of the crusaders, nor understand the religious madness which had brought them in such

shoals from Europe. A priest, more clearsighted, devised a scheme which restored all their confidence, and

inspired them with a courage so wonderful as to make the poor sixty thousand emaciated, sick, and starving

zealots, put to flight the wellfed and six times as numerous legions of the Sultan of Persia.

This priest, a native of Provence, was named Peter Barthelemy, and whether he were a knave or an

enthusiast, or both; a principal, or a tool in the hands of others, will ever remain a matter of doubt. Certain it

is, however, that he was the means of raising the siege of Antioch, and causing the eventual triumph of the

armies of the Cross. When the strength of the crusaders was completely broken by their sufferings, and hope

had fled from every bosom, Peter came to Count Raymond of Toulouse, and demanded an interview on

matters of serious moment. He was immediately admitted. He said that, some weeks previously, at the time

the Christians were besieging Antioch, he was reposing alone in his tent, when he was startled by the shock

of the earthquake, which had so alarmed the whole host. Through violent terror of the shock he could only

ejaculate, God help me! when turning round he saw two men standing before him, whom he at once

recognized by the halo of glory around them as beings of another world. One of them appeared to be an aged

man, with reddish hair sprinkled with grey, black eyes, and a long flowing grey beard. The other was

younger, larger, and handsomer, and had something more divine in his aspect. The elderly man alone spoke,

and informed him that he was the Holy Apostle St. Andrew, and desired him to seek out the Count Raymond,

the Bishop of Puy, and Raymond of Altopulto, and ask them why the Bishop did not exhort the people, and

sign them with the cross which he bore. The Apostle then took him, naked in his shirt as he was, and

transported him through the air into the heart of the city of Antioch, where he led him into the church of St.

Peter, at that time a Saracen mosque. The Apostle made him stop by the pillar close to the steps by which

they ascend on the south side to the altar, where hung two lamps, which gave out a light brighter than that of

the noonday sun; the younger man, whom he did not at that time know, standing afar off, near the steps of the

altar. The Apostle then descended into the ground and brought up a lance, which he gave into his hand,

telling him that it was the very lance that had opened the side whence had flowed the salvation of the world.

With tears of joy he held the holy lance, and implored the Apostle to allow him to take it away and deliver it

into the hands of Count Raymond. The Apostle refused, and buried the lance again in the ground,

commanding him, when the city was won from the infidels, to go with twelve chosen men, and dig it up

again in the same place. The Apostle then transported him back to his tent, and the two vanished from his

sight. He had neglected, he said, to deliver this message, afraid that his wonderful tale would not obtain

credence from men of such high rank. After some days he again saw the holy vision, as he was gone out of

the camp to look for food. This time the divine eyes of the younger looked reproachfully upon him. He

implored the Apostle to choose some one else more fitted for the mission, but the Apostle refused, and smote

him with a disorder of the eyes, as a punishment for his disobedience. With an obstinacy unaccountable even

to himself, he had still delayed. A third time the Apostle and his companion had appeared to him, as he was

in a tent with his master William at St. Simeon. On that occasion St. Andrew told him to bear his command to

the Count of Toulouse not to bathe in the waters of the Jordan when he came to it, but to cross over in a boat,

clad in a shirt and breeches of linen, which he should sprinkle with the sacred waters of the river. These

clothes he was afterwards to preserve along with the holy lance. His master William, although he could not

see the saint, distinctly heard the voice giving orders to that effect. Again he neglected to execute the

commission, and again the saints appeared to him, when he was at the port of Mamistra, about to sail for

Cyprus, and St. Andrew threatened him with eternal perdition if he refused longer. Upon this he made up his

The Count of Toulouse, who, in all probability, concocted this precious tale with the priest, appeared struck

with the recital, and sent immediately for the Bishop of Puy and Raymond of Altapulto. The Bishop at once

expressed his disbelief of the whole story, and refused to have anything to do in the matter. The Count of

Toulouse, on the contrary, saw abundant motives, if not for believing, for pretending to believe; and, in the

end, he so impressed upon the mind of the Bishop the advantage that might be derived from it, in working up

the popular mind to its former excitement, that the latter reluctantly agreed to make search in due form for the

holy weapon. The day after the morrow was fixed upon for the ceremony, and, in the mean time, Peter was

consigned to the care of Raymond, the Count's chaplain, in order that no profane curiosity might have an

Twelve devout men were forthwith chosen for the undertaking, among whom were the Count of Toulouse

and his chaplain. They began digging at sunrise, and continued unwearied till near sunset, without finding the

lance; they might have dug till this day with no better success, had not Peter himself sprung into the pit,

praying to God to bring the lance to light, for the strengthening and victory of his people. Those who hide

know where to find; and so it was with Peter, for both he and the lance found their way into the hole at the

same time. On a sudden, he and Raymond, the chaplain, beheld its point in the earth, and Raymond, drawing

it forth, kissed it with tears of joy, in sight of the multitude which had assembled in the church. It was

immediately enveloped in a rich purple cloth, already prepared to receive it, and exhibited in this state to the

Peter had another vision the same night, and became from that day forth "dreamer of dreams," in general, to

the army. He stated on the following day, that the Apostle Andrew and "the youth with the divine aspect"

appeared to him again, and directed that the Count of Toulouse, as a reward for his persevering piety, should

carry the Holy Lance at the head of the army, and that the day on which it was found should be observed as a

solemn festival throughout Christendom. St. Andrew showed him, at the same time, the holes in the feet and

hands of his benign companion; and he became convinced that he stood in the awful presence of THE

Peter gained so much credit by his visions that dreaming became contagious. Other monks beside himself

were visited by the saints, who promised victory to the host if it would valiantly hold out to the last, and

crowns of eternal glory to those who fell in the fight. Two deserters, wearied of the fatigues and privations of

the war, who had stealthily left the camp, suddenly returned, and seeking Bohemund, told him that they had

been met by two apparitions, who, with great anger, had commanded them to return. The one of them said,

that he recognized his brother, who had been killed in battle some months before, and that he had a halo of

glory around his head. The other, still more hardy, asserted that the apparition which had spoken to him was

the Saviour himself, who had promised eternal happiness as his reward if he returned to his duty, but the

pains of eternal fire if he rejected the cross. No one thought of disbelieving these men. The courage of the

army immediately revived; despondency gave way to hope; every arm grew strong again, and the pangs of

hunger were for a time disregarded. The enthusiasm which had led them from Europe burned forth once more

as brightly as ever, and they demanded, with loud cries, to be led against the enemy. The leaders were not

unwilling. In a battle lay their only chance of salvation; and although Godfrey, Bohemund, and Tancred

received the story of the lance with much suspicion, they were too wise to throw discredit upon an imposture

Peter the Hermit was previously sent to the camp of Kerbogha to propose that the quarrel between the two

religions should be decided by a chosen number of the bravest soldiers of each army. Kerbogha turned from

him with a look of contempt, and said he could agree to no proposals from a set of such miserable beggars

and robbers. With this uncourteous answer Peter returned to Antioch. Preparations were immediately

commenced for an attack upon the enemy: the latter continued to be perfectly well informed of all the

proceedings of the Christian camp. The citadel of Antioch, which remained in their possession, overlooked

the town, and the commander of the fortress could distinctly see all that was passing within. On the morning

of the 28th of June 1098 a black flag, hoisted from its highest tower, announced to the besieging army that

The Moslem leaders knew the sad inroads that famine and disease had made upon the numbers of the foe:

they knew that not above two hundred of the knights had horses to ride upon, and that the foot soldiers were

sick and emaciated; but they did not know the almost incredible valour which superstition had infused into

their hearts. The story of the lance they treated with the most supreme contempt, and, secure of an easy

victory, they gave themselves no trouble in preparing for the onslaught. It is related that Kerbogha was

playing a game at chess, when the black flag on the citadel gave warning of the enemy's approach, and that,

with true oriental coolness, he insisted upon finishing the game ere he bestowed any of his attention upon a

foe so unworthy. The defeat of his advanced post of two thousand men aroused him from his apathy.

The crusaders, after this first victory, advanced joyfully towards the mountains, hoping to draw the Turks to a

place where their cavalry would be unable to manoeuvre. Their spirits were light and their courage high, as

led on by the Duke of Normandy, Count Robert of Flanders, and Hugh of Vermandois, they came within

sight of the splendid camp of the enemy. Godfrey of Bouillon and Adhemar, Bishop of Puy, followed

immediately after these leaders, the latter clad in complete armour, and bearing the Holy Lance within sight

Kerbogha, aware at last that his enemy was not so despicable, took vigorous measures to remedy his mistake,

and, preparing himself to meet the Christians in front, he despatched the Sultan Soliman, of Roum, to attack

them in the rear. To conceal this movement, he set fire to the dried weeds and grass with which the ground

was covered, and Soliman, taking a wide circuit with his cavalry, succeeded, under cover of the smoke, in

making good his position in the rear. The battle raged furiously in front; the arrows of the Turks fell thick as

hail, and their welltrained squadrons trod the crusaders under their hoofs like stubble. Still the affray was

doubtful; for the Christians had the advantage of the ground, and were rapidly gaining upon the enemy, when

the overwhelming forces of Soliman arrived in the rear. Godfrey and Tancred flew to the rescue of

Bohemund, spreading dismay in the Turkish ranks by their fierce impetuosity. The Bishop of Puy was left

almost alone with the Provencals to oppose the legions commanded by Kerbogha in person; but the presence

of the Holy Lance made a hero of the meanest soldier in his train. Still, however, the numbers of the enemy

seemed interminable. The Christians, attacked on every side, began at last to give way, and the Turks made

At this moment a cry was raised in the Christian host that the saints were fighting on their side. The

battlefield was clear of the smoke from the burning weeds, which had curled away, and hung in white

clouds of fantastic shape on the brow of the distant mountains. Some imaginative zealot, seeing this dimly

through the dust of the battle, called out to his fellows, to look at the army of saints, clothed in white, and

riding upon white horses, that were pouring over the hills to the rescue. All eyes were immediately turned to

the distant smoke; faith was in every heart; and the old battlecry, God wills it! God wills it! resounded

through the field, as every soldier, believing that God was visibly sending His armies to his aid, fought with

an energy unfelt before. A panic seized the Persian and Turkish hosts, and they gave way in all directions. In

vain Kerbogha tried to rally them. Fear is more contagious than enthusiasm, and they fled over the mountains

like deer pursued by the hounds. The two leaders, seeing the uselessness of further efforts, fled with the rest;

and that immense army was scattered over Palestine, leaving nearly seventy thousand of its dead upon the

Their magnificent camp fell into the hands of the enemy, with its rich stores of corn, and its droves of sheep

and oxen. Jewels, gold, and rich velvets in abundance were distributed among the army. Tancred followed the

fugitives over the hills, and reaped as much plunder as those who had remained in the camp. The way, as they

fled, was covered with valuables, and horses of the finest breed of Arabia became so plentiful, that every

knight of the Christians was provided with a steed. The crusaders, in this battle, acknowledge to have lost

Their return to Antioch was one of joy indeed: the citadel was surrendered at once, and many of the Turkish

garrison embraced the Christian faith, and the rest were suffered to depart. A solemn thanksgiving was

offered up by the Bishop of Puy, in which the whole army joined, and the Holy Lance was visited by every

The enthusiasm lasted for some days, and the army loudly demanded to be led forward to Jerusalem, the

grand goal of all their wishes: but none of their leaders was anxious to move; the more prudent among

them, such as Godfrey and Tancred, for reasons of expediency; and the more ambitious, such as the Count of

Toulouse and Bohemund, for reasons of selfinterest. Violent dissensions sprang up again between all the

chiefs. Raymond of Toulouse, who was left at Antioch to guard the town, had summoned the citadel to

surrender, as soon as he saw that there was no fear of any attack upon the part of the Persians; and the other

chiefs found, upon their return, his banner waving on its walls. This had given great offence to Bohemund,

who had stipulated the principality of Antioch as his reward for winning the town in the first instance.

Godfrey and Tancred supported his claim, and, after a great deal of bickering, the flag of Raymond was

lowered from the tower, and that of Bohemund hoisted in its stead, who assumed from that time the title of

Prince of Antioch. Raymond, however, persisted in retaining possession of one of the city gates and its

adjacent towers, which he held for several months, to the great annoyance of Bohemund and the scandal of

the army. The Count became in consequence extremely unpopular, although his ambition was not a whit

more unreasonable than that of Bohemund himself, nor of Baldwin, who had taken up his quarters at Edessa,

The fate of Peter Barthelemy deserves to be recorded. Honours and consideration had come thick upon him

after the affair of the lance, and he consequently felt bound in conscience to continue the dreams which had

made him a personage of so much importance. The mischief of it was, that like many other liars he had a very

bad memory, and he contrived to make his dreams contradict each other in the most palpable manner. St.

John one night appeared to him, and told one tale, while, a week after, St. Paul told a totally different story,

and held out hopes quite incompatible with those of his apostolic brother. The credulity of that age had a

wide maw, and Peter's visions must have been absurd and outrageous indeed, when the very men who had

believed in the lance refused to swallow any more of his wonders. Bohemund at last, for the purpose of

annoying the Count of Toulouse, challenged poor Peter to prove the truth of his story of the lance by the fiery

ordeal. Peter could not refuse a trial so common in that age, and being besides encouraged by the Count and

his chaplain, Raymond, an early day was appointed for the ceremony. The previous night was spent in prayer

and fasting, according to custom, and Peter came forth in the morning bearing the lance in his hand, and

walked boldly up to the fire. The whole army gathered round, impatient for the result, many thousands still

believing that the lance was genuine and Peter a holy man. Prayers having been said by Raymond d'Agilles,

Peter walked into the flames, and had got nearly through, when pain caused him to lose his presence of mind:

the heat too affected his eyes, and, in his anguish, he turned round unwittingly, and passed through the fire

again, instead of stepping out of it, as he should have done. The result was, that he was burned so severely,

that he never recovered, and, after lingering for some days, he expired in great agony.

Most of the soldiers were suffering either from wounds, disease, or weariness, and it was resolved by

Godfrey, the tacitly acknowledged chief of the enterprize, that the army should have time to refresh

itself ere they advanced upon Jerusalem. It was now July, and he proposed that they should pass the hot

months of August and September within the walls of Antioch, and march forward in October with renewed

vigour, and numbers increased by fresh arrivals from Europe. This advice was finally adopted, although the

enthusiasts of the army continued to murmur at the delay. In the mean time the Count of Vermandois was

sent upon an embassy to the Emperor Alexius at Constantinople, to reproach him for his base desertion of the

cause, and urge him to send the reinforcements he had promised. The Count faithfully executed his mission,

(of which, by the way, Alexius took no notice whatever,) and remained for some time at Constantinople, till

his zeal, never very violent, totally evaporated. He then returned to France, sick of the Crusade, and

The chiefs, though they had determined to stay at Antioch for two months, could not remain quiet for so long

a time. They would, in all probability, have fallen upon each other, had there been no Turks in Palestine upon

whom they might vent their impetuosity. Godfrey proceeded to Edessa, to aid his brother Baldwin in

expelling the Saracens from his principality, and the other leaders carried on separate hostilities against them

as caprice or ambition dictated. At length the impatience of the army to be led against Jerusalem became so

great that the chiefs could no longer delay, and Raymond, Tancred, and Robert of Normandy marched

forward with their divisions, and laid siege to the small but strong town of Marah. With their usual

improvidence, they had not food enough to last a beleaguering army for a week. They suffered great

privations in consequence, till Bohemund came to their aid and took the town by storm. In connexion with

this siege, the chronicler, Raymond d'Agilles, (the same Raymond, the chaplain, who figured in the affair of

the Holy Lance,) relates a legend, in the truth of which he devoutly believed, and upon which Tasso has

founded one of the most beautiful passages of his poem. It is worth preserving, as showing the spirit of the

age and the source of the extraordinary courage manifested by the crusaders on occasions of extreme

difficulty. "One day," says Raymond, "Anselme de Ribeaumont beheld young Engelram, the son of the Count

de St. Paul, who had been killed at Marsh, enter his tent. 'How is it,' said Anselme to him, 'that you, whom I

saw lying dead on the field of battle, are full of life ?' 'You must know,' replied Engelram, 'that those who

fight for Jesus Christ never die.' ' But whence,' resumed Anselme, 'comes that strange brightness that

surrounds you ?' Upon this Engelram pointed to the sky, where Anselme saw a palace of diamond and crystal.

'It is thence,' said he, 'that I derive the beauty which surprises you. My dwelling is there; a still finer one is

prepared for you, and you shall soon come to inhabit it. Farewell! we shall meet again tomorrow.' With

these words Engelram returned to heaven. Anselme, struck by the vision, sent the next morning for the

priests, received the sacrament; and although full of health, took a last farewell of all his friends, telling them

that he was about to leave this world. A few hours afterwards, the enemy having made a sortie, Anselme went

out against them sword in hand, and was struck on the forehead by a stone from a Turkish sling, which sent

New disputes arose between the Prince of Antioch and the Count of Toulouse with regard to the capture of

this town, which were with the utmost difficulty appeased by the other chiefs. Delays also took place in the

progress of the army, especially before Arches, and the soldiery were so exasperated that they were on the

point of choosing new leaders to conduct them to Jerusalem. Godfrey, upon this, set fire to his camp at

Arches, and marched forward. He was immediately joined by hundreds of the Provencals of the Count of

Toulouse. The latter, seeing the turn affairs were taking, hastened after them, and the whole host proceeded

towards the holy city, so long desired amid sorrow, and suffering, and danger. At Emmaus they were met by

a deputation from the Christians of Bethlehem, praying for immediate aid against the oppression of the

infidels. The very name of Bethlehem, the birthplace of the Saviour, was music to their ears, and many of

them wept with joy to think they were approaching a spot so hallowed. Albert of Aix informs us that their

hearts were so touched that sleep was banished from the camp, and that, instead of waiting till the morning's

dawn to recommence their march, they set out shortly after midnight, full of hope and enthusiasm. For

upwards of four hours the mailclad legions tramped steadfastly forward in the dark, and when the sun arose

in unclouded splendour, the towers and pinnacles of Jerusalem gleamed upon their sight. All the tender

feelings of their nature were touched; no longer brutal fanatics, but meek and humble pilgrims, they knelt

down upon the sod, and with tears in their eyes, exclaimed to one another, "Jerusalem ! Jerusalem!" Some of

them kissed the holy ground, others stretched themselves at full length upon it, in order that their bodies

might come in contact with the greatest possible extent of it, and others prayed aloud. The women and

children who had followed the camp from Europe, and shared in all its dangers, fatigues, and privations, were

more boisterous in their joy; the former from longnourished enthusiasm, and the latter from mere imitation,

[Guibert de Nogent relates a curious instance of the imitativeness of these juvenile crusaders. He says that,

during the siege of Antioch, the Christian and Saracen boys used to issue forth every evening from the town

and camp in great numbers under the command of captains chosen from among themselves. Armed with

sticks instead of swords, and stones instead of arrows, they ranged themselves in battle order, and shouting

each the warcry of their country, fought with the utmost desperation. Some of them lost their eyes, and

many became cripples for life from the injuries they received on these occasions.] and prayed, and wept, and

The first ebullition of their gladness having subsided, the army marched forward, and invested the city on all

sides. The assault was almost immediately begun; but after the Christians had lost some of their bravest

knights, that mode of attack was abandoned, and the army commenced its preparations for a regular siege.

Mangonels, moveable towers, and battering rams, together with a machine called a sow, made of wood, and

covered with raw hides, inside of which miners worked to undermine the walls, were forthwith constructed;

and to restore the courage and discipline of the army, which had suffered from the unworthy dissensions of

the chiefs, the latter held out the hand of friendship to each other, and Tancred and the Count of Toulouse

embraced in sight of the whole camp. The clergy aided the cause with their powerful voice, and preached

union and goodwill to the highest and the lowest. A solemn procession was also ordered round the city, in

which the entire army joined, prayers being offered up at every spot which gospel records had taught them to

The Saracens upon the ramparts beheld all these manifestations without alarm. To incense the Christians,

whom they despised, they constructed rude crosses, and fixed them upon the walls, and spat upon and pelted

them with dirt and stones. This insult to the symbol of their faith raised the wrath of the crusaders to that

height that bravery became ferocity and enthusiasm madness. When all the engines of war were completed

the attack was recommenced, and every soldier of the Christian army fought with a vigour which the sense of

private wrong invariably inspires. Every man had been personally outraged, and the knights worked at the

batteringrams with as much readiness as the meanest soldiers. The Saracen arrows and balls of fire fell thick

and fast among them, but the tremendous rams still heaved against the walls, while the best marksmen of the

host were busily employed in the several floors of the moveable towers in dealing death among the Turks

upon the battlements. Godfrey, Raymond, Tancred, and Robert of Normandy, each upon his tower, fought for

hours with unwearied energy, often repulsed, but ever ready to renew the struggle. The Turks, no longer

despising the enemy, defended themselves with the utmost skill and bravery till darkness brought a cessation

of hostilities. Short was the sleep that night in the. Christian camp. The priests offered up solemn prayers in

the midst of the attentive soldiery for the triumph of the Cross in this last great struggle, and as soon as

morning dawned every one was in readiness for the affray. The women and children lent their aid, the latter

running unconcerned to and fro while the arrows fell fast around them, bearing water to the thirsty

combatants. The saints were believed to be aiding their efforts, and the army, impressed with this idea,

surmounted difficulties under which a force thrice as numerous, but without their faith, would have quailed

and been defeated. Raymond of Toulouse at last forced his way into the city by escalade, while at the very

same moment Tancred and Robert of Normandy succeeded in bursting open one of the gates. The Turks flew

to repair the mischief, and Godfrey of Bouillon, seeing the battlements comparatively deserted, let down the

drawbridge of his moveable tower, and sprang forward, followed by all the knights of his train. In an instant

after, the banner of the Cross floated upon the walls of Jerusalem. The crusaders, raising once more their

redoubtable warcry, rushed on from every side, and the city was taken. The battle raged in the streets for

several hours, and the Christians, remembering their insulted faith, gave no quarter to young or old, male or

female, sick or strong. Not one of the leaders thought himself at liberty to issue orders for staying the

carnage, and if he had, he would not have been obeyed. The Saracens fled in great numbers to the mosque of

Soliman, but they had not time to fortify themselves within it ere the Christians were upon them. Ten

Peter the Hermit, who had remained so long under the veil of neglect, was repaid that day for all his zeal and

all his sufferings. As soon as the battle was over, the Christians of Jerusalem issued forth from their

hidingplaces to welcome their deliverers. They instantly recognized the Hermit as the pilgrim who, years

before, had spoken to them so eloquently of the wrongs and insults they had endured, and promised to stir up

the princes and people of Europe in their behalf. They clung to the skirts of his garments in the fervour of

their gratitude, and vowed to remember him for ever in their prayers. Many of them shed tears about his neck,

and attributed the deliverance of Jerusalem solely to his courage and perseverance. Peter afterwards held

some ecclesiastical office in the Holy City, but what it was, or what was his ultimate fate, history has

forgotten to inform us. Some say that he returned to France and founded a monastery, but the story does not

The grand object for which the popular swarms of Europe had forsaken their homes was now accomplished.

The Moslem mosques of Jerusalem were converted into churches for a purer faith, and the mount of Calvary

and the sepulchre of Christ were profaned no longer by the presence or the power of the infidel. Popular

frenzy had fulfilled its mission, and, as a natural consequence, it began to subside from that time forth. The

news of the capture of Jerusalem brought numbers of pilgrims from Europe, and, among others, Stephen

Count of Chartres and Hugh of Vermandois, to atone for their desertion; but nothing like the former

Thus then ends the history of the first Crusade. For the better understanding of the second, it will be

necessary to describe the interval between them, and to enter into a slight sketch of the history of Jerusalem

under its Latin kings, the long and fruitless wars they continued to wage with the unvanquished Saracens, and

the poor and miserable results which sprang from so vast an expenditure of zeal, and so deplorable a waste of

The necessity of having some recognized chief was soon felt by the crusaders, and Godfrey de Bouillon, less

ambitious than Bohemund, or Raymond of Toulouse, gave his cold consent to wield a sceptre which the latter

chiefs would have clutched with eagerness. He was hardly invested with the royal mantle before the Saracens

menaced his capital. With much vigour and judgment he exerted himself to follow up the advantages he had

gained, and marching out to meet the enemy before they had time to besiege him in Jerusalem, he gave them

battle at Ascalon, and defeated them with great loss. He did not, however, live long to enjoy his new dignity,

being seized with a fatal illness when he had only reigned nine months. To him succeeded his brother,

Baldwin of Edessa. The latter monarch did much to improve the condition of Jerusalem and to extend its

territory, but was not able to make a firm footing for his successors. For fifty years, in which the history of

Jerusalem is full of interest to the historical student, the crusaders were exposed to fierce and constant

hostilities, often gaining battles and territory, and as often losing them, but becoming every day weaker and

more divided, while the Saracens became stronger and more united to harass and root them out. The battles of

this period were of the most chivalrous character, and deeds of heroism were done by the handful of brave

knights that remained in Syria, which have hardly their parallel in the annals of war. In the course of time,

however, the Christians could not avoid feeling some respect for the courage, and admiration for the polished

manners and advanced civilization of the Saracens, so much superior to the rudeness and semibarbarism of

Europe at that day. Difference of faith did not prevent them from forming alliances with the darkeyed

maidens of the East. One of the first to set the example of taking a Paynim spouse was King Baldwin himself,

and these connexions in time became, not only frequent, but almost universal, among such of the knights as

had resolved to spend their lives in Palestine. These Eastern ladies were obliged, however, to submit to the

ceremony of baptism before they could be received to the arms of a Christian lord. These, and their offspring,

naturally looked upon the Saracens with less hatred than did the zealots who conquered Jerusalem, and who

thought it a sin deserving the wrath of God to spare an unbeliever. We find, in consequence, that the most

obstinate battles waged during the reigns of the later Kings of Jerusalem were fought by the new and raw

levies who from time to time arrived from Europe, lured by the hope of glory, or spurred by fanaticism. The

latter broke without scruple the truces established between the original settlers and the Saracens, and drew

down severe retaliation upon many thousands of their brethren in the faith, whose prudence was stronger than

Things remained in this unsatisfactory state till the close of the year 1145, when Edessa, the strong frontier

town of the Christian kingdom, fell into the bauds of the Saracens. The latter were commanded by Zenghi, a

powerful and enterprising monarch, and, after his death, by his son Nourheddin, as powerful and enterprising

as his father. An unsuccessful attempt was made by the Count of Edessa to regain the fortress, but

Nourheddin, with a large army, came to the rescue, and after defeating the Count with great slaughter,

marched into Edessa and caused its fortifications to be rased to the ground, that the town might never more be

a bulwark of defence for the kingdom of Jerusalem. The road to the capital was now open, and consternation

seized the hearts of the Christians. Nourheddin, it was known, was only waiting for a favourable opportunity

to advance upon Jerusalem, and the armies of the Cross, weakened and divided, were not in a condition to

make any available resistance. The clergy were filled with grief and alarm, and wrote repeated letters to the

Pope and the sovereigns of Europe, urging the expediency of a new Crusade for the relief of Jerusalem. By

far the greater number of the priests of Palestine were natives of France, and these naturally looked first to

their own country. The solicitations they sent to Louis the Seventh were urgent and oft repeated, and the

chivalry of France began to talk once more of arming in the defence of the birthplace of Jesus. The kings of

Europe, whose interest it had not been to take any part in the first Crusade, began to bestir themselves in this;

and a man appeared, eloquent as Peter the Hermit, to arouse the people as he had done.

We find, however, that the enthusiasm of the second did not equal that of the first Crusade: in fact, the mania

had reached its climax in the time of Peter the Hermit, and decreased regularly from that period. The third

Crusade was less general than the second, and the fourth than the third, and so on, until the public enthusiasm

was quite extinct, and Jerusalem returned at last to the dominion of its old masters without a convulsion in

Christendom. Various reasons have been assigned for this; and one very generally put forward is, that Europe

was wearied with continued struggles, and had become sick of "precipitating itself upon Asia." M. Guizot, in

his admirable lectures upon European civilization, successfully combats this opinion, and offers one of his

own, which is far more satisfactory. He says, in his eighth lecture, "It has been often repeated, that Europe

was tired of continually invading Asia. This expression appears to me exceedingly incorrect. It is not possible

that human beings can be wearied with what they have not done that the labours of their forefathers can

fatigue them. Weariness is a personal, not an inherited feeling. The men of the thirteenth century were not

fatigued by the Crusades of the twelfth. They were influenced by another cause. A great change had taken

place in ideas, sentiments, and social conditions. The same desires and the same wants were no longer felt.

The same things were no longer believed. The people refused to believe what their ancestors were persuaded

This is, in fact, the secret of the change; and its truth becomes more apparent as we advance in the history of

the Crusades, and compare the state of the public mind at the different periods when Godfrey of Bouillon,

Louis VII. and Richard I. were chiefs and leaders of the movement. The Crusades themselves were the means

of operating a great change in national ideas, and advancing the civilization of Europe. In the time of

Godfrey, the nobles were allpowerful and alloppressive, and equally obnoxious to kings and people.

During their absence along with that portion of the community the deepest sunk in ignorance and

superstition, both kings and people fortified themselves against the renewal of aristocratic tyranny, and in

proportion as they became free, became civliized. It was during this period that in France, the grand centre of

the crusading madness, the communes began to acquire strength, and the monarch to possess a tangible and

not a merely theoretic authority. Order and comfort began to take root, and, when the second Crusade was

preached, men were in consequence much less willing to abandon their homes than they had been during the

first. Such pilgrims as had returned from the Holy Land came back with minds more liberal and expanded

than when they set out. They had come in contact with a people more civilized than themselves; they had

seen something more of the world, and had lost some portion, however small, of the prejudice and bigotry of

ignorance. The institution of chivalry had also exercised its humanizing influence, and coming bright and

fresh through the ordeal of the Crusades, had softened the character and improved the hearts of the

aristocratic order. The Trouveres and Troubadours, singing of love and war in strains pleasing to every class

of society, helped to root out the gloomy superstitions which, at the first Crusade, filled the minds of all those

who were able to think. Men became in consequence less exclusively under the mental thraldom of the

The Crusades appear never to have excited so much attention in England as on the continent of Europe; not

because the people were less fanatical than their neighbours, but because they were occupied in matters of

graver interest. The English were suffering too severely from the recent successful invasion of their soil, to

have much sympathy to bestow upon the distresses of people so far away as the Christians of Palestine; and

we find that they took no part in the first Crusade, and very little in the second. Even then those who engaged

in it were chiefly Norman knights and their vassals, and not the Saxon franklins and population, who no

doubt thought, in their sorrow, as many wise men have thought since, that charity should begin at home.

Germany was productive of more zeal in the cause, and her raw, uncivilized hordes continued to issue forth

under the banners of the Cross in numbers apparently undiminished, when the enthusiasm had long been on

the wane in other countries. They were sunk at that time in a deeper slough of barbarism than the livelier

nations around them, and took, in consequence, a longer period to free themselves from their prejudices. In

fact, the second Crusade drew its chief supplies of men from that quarter, where alone the expedition can be

Such was the state of the mind of Europe when Pope Eugenius, moved by the reiterated entreaties of the

Christians of Syria, commissioned St. Bernard to preach a new crusade. St. Bernard was a man eminently

qualified for the mission. He was endowed with an eloquence of the highest order, could move an auditory to

tears, or laughter, or fury, as it pleased him, and had led a life of such rigid and selfdenying virtue, that not

even calumny could lift her finger and point it at him. He had renounced high prospects in the church, and

contented himself with the simple abbacy of Clairvaux, in order that he might have the leisure he desired, to

raise his powerful voice against abuses wherever he found them. Vice met in him an austere and

uncompromising reprover; no man was too high for his reproach, and none too low for his sympathy. He was

just as well suited for his age as Peter the Hermit had been for the age preceding. He appealed more to the

reason, his predecessor to the passions; Peter the Hermit collected a mob, while St. Bernard collected an

army. Both were endowed with equal zeal and perseverance, springing, in the one, from impulse, and in the

other from conviction, and a desire to increase the influence of the church, that great body of which he was a

One of the first converts he made was in himself a host. Louis VII. was both superstitious and tyrannical, and,

in a fit of remorse for the infamous slaughter he had authorised at the sacking of Vitry, he made a vow to

undertake the journey to the Holy Land. [The sacking of Vitry reflects indelible disgrace upon Louis VII. His

predecessors had been long engaged in resistance to the outrageous powers assumed by the Popes, and Louis

continued the same policy. The ecclesiastical chapter of Bourges, having elected an Archbishop without his

consent, he proclaimed the election to be invalid, and took severe and prompt measures against the refractory

clergy. Thibault, Count de Champagne, took up arms in defence of the Papal authority, and intrenched

himself in the town of Vitry. Louis was immediately in the field to chastise the rebel, and he besieged the

town with so much vigour, that the Count was forced to surrender. Upwards of thirteen hundred of the

inhabitants, fully one half of whom were women and children, took refuge in the church; and, when the gates

of the city were opened, and all resistance had ceased, Louis inhumanly gave orders to set fire to the church,

and a thousand persons perished in the flames.] He was in this disposition when St. Bernard began to preach,

and wanted but little persuasion to embark in the cause. His example had great influence upon the nobility,

who, impoverished as many of them were by the sacrifices made by their fathers in the holy wars, were

anxious to repair their ruined fortunes by conquests on a foreign shore. These took the field with such vassals

as they could command, and, in a very short time, an army was raised amounting to two hundred thousand

men. At Vezelai the monarch received the cross from the hands of St. Bernard, on a platform elevated in sight

of all the people. Several nobles, three bishops, and his Queen, Eleanor of Aquitaine, were present at this

ceremony, and enrolled themselves under the banners of the Cross, St. Bernard cutting up his red sacerdotal

vestments, and making crosses of them, to be sewn on the shoulders of the people. An exhortation from the

Pope was read to the multitude, granting remission of their sins to all who should join the Crusade, and

directing that no man on that holy pilgrimage should encumber himself with heavy baggage and vain

superfluities, and that the nobles should not travel with dogs or falcons, to lead them from the direct road, as

The command of the army was offered to St. Bernard; but he wisely refused to accept a station for which his

habits had unqualified him. After consecrating Louis with great solemnity, at St. Denis, as chief of the

expedition, he continued his course through the country, stirring up the people wherever he went. So high an

opinion was entertained of his sanctity, that he was thought to be animated by the spirit of prophecy, and to

be gifted with the power of working miracles. Many women, excited by his eloquence, and encouraged by his

predictions, forsook their husbands and children, and, clothing themselves in male attire, hastened to the war.

St. Bernard himself wrote a letter to the Pope, detailing his success, and stating, that in several towns there

did not remain a single male inhabitant capable of bearing arms, and that everywhere castles and towns were

to be seen filled with women weeping for their absent husbands. But in spite of this apparent enthusiasm, the

numbers who really took up arms were inconsiderable, and not to be compared to the swarms of the first

Crusade. A levy of no more than two hundred thousand men, which was the utmost the number amounted to,

could hardly have depopulated a country like France to the extent mentioned by St. Bernard. His description

of the state of the country appears, therefore, to have been much more poetical than true.

Suger, the able minister of Louis, endeavoured to dissuade him from undertaking so long a journey at a time

when his own dominions so much needed his presence. But the king was pricked in his conscience by the

cruelties of Vitry, and was anxious to make the only reparation which the religion of that day considered

sufficient. He was desirous moreover of testifying to the world, that though he could brave the temporal

power of the church when it encroached upon his prerogatives, he could render all due obedience to its

spiritual decrees whenever it suited his interest or tallied with his prejudices to so do. Suger, therefore,

implored in vain, and Louis received the pilgrim's staff at St. Denis, and made all preparations for his

In the mean time St. Bernard passed into Germany, where similar success attended his preaching. The renown

of his sanctity had gone before him, and he found everywhere an admiring audience. Thousands of people,

who could not understand a word he said, flocked around him to catch a glimpse of so holy a man; and the

knights enrolled themselves in great numbers in the service of the Cross, each receiving from his hands the

symbol of the cause. But the people were not led away as in the days of Gottschalk. We do not find that they

rose in such tremendous masses of two and three hundred thousand men, swarming over the country like a

plague of locusts. Still the enthusiasm was very great. The extraordinary tales that were told and believed of

the miracles worked by the preacher brought the country people from far and near. Devils were said to vanish

at his sight, and diseases of the most malignant nature to be cured by his touch. [Philip, Archdeacon of the

cathedral of Liege, wrote a detailed account of all the miracles performed by St. Bernard during thirtyfour

days of his mission. They averaged about ten per day. The disciples of St. Bernard complained bitterly that

the people flocked around their master in such numbers, that they could not see half the miracles he

performed. But they willingly trusted the eyes of others, as far as faith in the miracles went, and seemed to

vie with each other whose credulity should be greatest.] The Emperor Conrad caught at last the contagion

The preparations were carried on so vigorously under the orders of Conrad, that in less than three months he

found himself at the head of an army containing at least one hundred and fifty thousand effective men,

besides a great number of women who followed their husbands and lovers to the war. One troop of them rode

in the attitude and armour of men: their chief wore gilt spurs and buskins, and thence acquired the epithet of

the goldenfooted lady. Conrad was ready to set out long before the French Monarch, and in the month of

June 1147, he arrived before Constantinople, having passed through Hungary and Bulgaria without offence to

Manuel Comnenus, the Greek Emperor, successor not only to the throne, but to the policy of Alexius, looked

with alarm upon the new levies who had come to eat up his capital and imperil its tranquillity. Too weak to

refuse them a passage through his dominions, too distrustful of them to make them welcome when they came,

and too little assured of the advantages likely to result to himself from the war, to feign a friendship which he

did not feel, the Greek Emperor gave offence at the very outset. His subjects, in the pride of superior

civilization, called the Germans barbarians, while the latter, who, if semibarbarous, were at least honest and

straightforward, retorted upon the Greeks by calling them doublefaced knaves and traitors. Disputes

continually arose between them, and Conrad, who had preserved so much good order among his followers

during their passage, was unable to restrain their indignation when they arrived at Constantinople. For some

offence or other which the Greeks had given them, but which is rather hinted at than stated by the scanty

historians of the day, the Germans broke into the magnificent pleasure garden of the Emperor, where he had a

valuable collection of tame animals, for which the grounds had been laid out in woods, caverns, groves, and

streams, that each might follow in captivity his natural habits. The enraged Germans, meriting the name of

barbarians that had been bestowed upon them, laid waste this pleasant retreat, and killed or let loose the

valuable animals it contained. Manuel, who is said to have beheld the devastation from his palace windows

without power or courage to prevent it, was completely disgusted with his guests, and resolved, like his

predecessor Alexius, to get rid of them on the first opportunity. He sent a message to Conrad respectfully

desiring an interview, but the German refused to trust himself within the walls of Constantinople. The Greek

Emperor, on his part, thought it compatible neither with his dignity nor his safety to seek the German, and

several days were spent in insincere negotiations. Manuel at length agreed to furnish the crusading army with

guides to conduct it through Asia Minor; and Conrad passed over the Hellespont with his forces, the

advanced guard being commanded by himself, and the rear by the warlike Bishop of Freysinghen.

Historians are almost unanimous in their belief that the wily Greek gave instructions to his guides to lead the

army of the German Emperor into dangers and difficulties. It is certain, that instead of guiding them through

such districts of Asia Minor as afforded water and provisions, they led them into the wilds of Cappadocia,

where neither was to be procured, and where they were suddenly attacked by the Sultaun of the Seljukian

Turks, at the head of an immense force. The guides, whose treachery is apparent from this fact alone, fled at

the first sight of the Turkish army, and the Christians were left to wage unequal warfare with their enemy,

entangled and bewildered in desert wilds. Toiling in their heavy mail, the Germans could make but little

effective resistance to the attacks of the Turkish light horse, who were down upon them one instant, and out

of sight the next. Now in the front and now in the rear, the agile foe showered his arrows upon them, enticing

them into swamps and hollows, from which they could only extricate themselves after long struggles and

great losses. The Germans, confounded by this mode of warfare, lost all conception of the direction they were

pursuing, and went back instead of forward. Suffering at the same time for want of provisions, they fell an

easy prey to their pursuers. Count Bernhard, one of the bravest leaders of the German expedition, was

surrounded, with his whole division, not one of whom escaped the Turkish arrows. The Emperor himself had

nearly fallen a victim, and was twice severely wounded. So persevering was the enemy, and so little able

were the Germans to make even a show of resistance, that when Conrad at last reached the city of Nice, he

found that, instead of being at the head of an imposing force of one hundred thousand foot and seventy

thousand horse, he had but fifty or sixty thousand men, and these in the most worn and wearied condition.

Totally ignorant of the treachery of the Greek Emperor, although he had been warned to beware of it, Louis

VII. proceeded, at the head of his army, through Worms and Ratisbon, towards Constantinople. At Ratisbon

he was met by a deputation from Manuel, bearing letters so full of hyperbole and flattery, that Louis is

reported to have blushed when they were read to him by the Bishop of Langres. The object of the deputation

was to obtain from the French King a promise to pass through the Grecian territories in a peaceable and

friendly manner, and to yield to the Greek Emperor any conquest he might make in Asia Minor. The first part

of the proposition was immediately acceded to, but no notice was taken of the second and more unreasonable.

Louis marched on, and, passing through Hungary, pitched his tents in the outskirts of Constantinople.

On his arrival, Manuel sent him a friendly invitation to enter the city, at the head of a small train. Louis at

once accepted it, and was met by the Emperor at the porch of his palace. The fairest promises were made;

every art that flattery could suggest was resorted to, and every argument employed, to induce him to yield his

future conquests to the Greek. Louis obstinately refused to pledge himself, and returned to his army,

convinced that the Emperor was a man not to be trusted. Negotiations were, however, continued for several

days, to the great dissatisfaction of the French army. The news that arrived of a treaty entered into between

Manuel and the Turkish Sultan changed their dissatisfaction into fury, and the leaders demanded to be led

against Constantinople, swearing that they would raze the treacherous city to the ground. Louis did not feel

inclined to accede to this proposal, and, breaking up his camp, he crossed over into Asia.

Here he heard, for the first time, of the mishaps of the German Emperor, whom he found in a woeful plight

under the walls of Nice. The two monarchs united their forces, and marched together along the seacoast to

Ephesus; but Conrad, jealous, it would appear, of the superior numbers of the French, and not liking to sink

into a vassal, for the time being, of his rival, withdrew abruptly with the remnant of his legions, and returned

to Constantinople. Manuel was all smiles and courtesy. He condoled with the German so feelingly upon his

losses, and cursed the stupidity or treachery of the guides with such apparent heartiness, that Conrad was half

Louis, marching onward in the direction of Jerusalem, came up with the enemy on the banks of the Meander.

The Turks contested the passage of the river, but the French bribed a peasant to point out a ford lower down:

crossing the river without difficulty, they attacked the Turks with much vigour, and put them to flight.

Whether the Turks were really defeated, or merely pretended to be so, is doubtful; but the latter supposition

seems to be the true one. It is probable that it was part of a concerted plan to draw the invaders onwards to

more unfavourable ground, where their destruction might be more certain. If such were the scheme, it

succeeded to the heart's wish of its projectors. The crusaders, on the third day after their victory, arrived at a

steep mountainpass, on the summit of which the Turkish host lay concealed so artfully, that not the slightest

vestige of their presence could be perceived. "With labouring steps and slow," they toiled up the steep ascent,

when suddenly a tremendous fragment of rock came bounding down the precipices with an awful crash,

bearing dismay and death before it. At the same instant the Turkish archers started from their hidingplaces,

and discharged a shower of arrows upon the foot soldiers, who fell by hundreds at a time. The arrows

rebounded harmlessly against the iron mail of the knights, which the Turks observing, took aim at their

steeds, and horse and rider fell down the steep into the rapid torrent which rushed below. Louis, who

commanded the rearguard, received the first intimation of the onslaught from the sight of his wounded and

flying soldiers, and, not knowing the numbers of the enemy, he pushed vigorously forward to stay, by his

presence, the panic which had taken possession of his army. All his efforts were in vain. Immense stones

continued to be hurled upon them as they advanced, bearing men and horse before them; and those who

succeeded in forcing their way to the top, were met handtohand by the Turks, and cast down headlong

upon their companions. Louis himself fought with the energy of desperation, but had great difficulty to avoid

falling into the enemy's hands. He escaped at last under cover of the night, with the remnant of his forces, and

took up his position before Attalia. Here he restored the discipline and the courage of his disorganized and

disheartened followers, and debated with his captains the plan that was to be pursued. After suffering

severely both from disease and famine, it was resolved that they should march to Antioch, which still

remained an independent principality under the successors of Bohemund of Tarentum. At this time the

sovereignty was vested in the person of Raymond, the uncle of Eleanor of Aquitaine. This Prince, presuming

upon his relationship to the French Queen, endeavoured to withdraw Louis from the grand object of the

Crusade the defence of the kingdom of Jerusalem, and secure his cooperation in extending the limits and

the power of his principality of Antioch. The Prince of Tripoli formed a similar design, but Louis rejected the

offers of both, and marched after a short delay to Jerusalem. The Emperor Conrad was there before him,

having left Constantinople with promises of assistance from Manuel Comnenus; assistance which never

A great council of the Christian princes of Palestine and the leaders of the Crusade was then summoned, to

discuss the future operations of the war. It was ultimately determined that it would further the cause of the

Cross in a greater degree if the united armies, instead of proceeding to Edessa, laid siege to the city of

Damascus, and drove the Saracens from that strong position. This was a bold scheme, and, had it been boldly

followed out, would have insured, in all probability, the success of the war. But the Christian leaders never

learned from experience the necessity of union, that very soul of great enterprises. Though they all agreed

upon the policy of the plan, yet every one had his own notions as to the means of executing it. The Princes of

Antioch and Tripoli were jealous of each other, and of the King of Jerusalem. The Emperor Conrad was

jealous of the King of France, and the King of France was disgusted with them all. But he had come out to

Palestine in accordance with a solemn vow; his religion, though it may be called bigotry, was sincere; and he

determined to remain to the very last moment that a chance was left, of effecting any good for the cause he

The siege of Damascus was accordingly commenced, and with so much ability and vigour that the Christians

gained a considerable advantage at the very outset. For weeks the siege was pressed, till the shattered

fortifications and diminishing resistance of the besieged gave evidence that the city could not hold out much

longer. At that moment the insane jealousy of the leaders led to dissensions that soon caused the utter failure,

not only of the siege, but of the Crusade. A modern cookerybook, in giving a recipe for cooking a hare,

says, "first catch your hare, and then kill it;" a maxim of indisputable wisdom. The Christian chiefs on this

occasion had not so much sagacity, for they began a violent dispute among themselves for the possession of a

city which was still unconquered. There being already a Prince of Antioch and a Prince of Tripoli, twenty

claimants started for the principality of Damascus, and a grand council of the leaders was held to determine

the individual on whom the honour should devolve. Many valuable days were wasted in this discussion, the

enemy in the mean while gaining strength from their inactivity. It was at length, after a stormy deliberation,

agreed that Count Robert of Flanders, who had twice visited the Holy Land, should be invested with the

dignity. The other claimants refused to recognise him, or to cooperate in the siege, until a more equitable

arrangement had been made. Suspicion filled the camp; the most sinister rumours of intrigues and treachery

were set afloat; and the discontented candidates withdrew at last to the other side of the city, and commenced

operations on their own account, without a probability of success. They were soon joined by the rest of the

army. The consequence was that the weakest side of the city, and that on which they had already made

considerable progress in the work of demolition, was left uncovered. The enemy was prompt to profit by the

mistake, and received an abundant supply of provisions, and refortified the walls, before the crusaders came

to their senses again. When this desirable event happened, it was too late. Saph Eddin, the powerful Emir of

Mousoul, was in the neighbourhood, at the head of a large army, advancing by forced marches to the relief of

the city. The siege was abruptly abandoned, and the foolish crusaders returned to Jerusalem, having done

The freshness of enthusiasm had now completely subsided; even the meanest soldiers were sick at heart.

Conrad, from whose fierce zeal at the outset so much might have been expected, was wearied with reverses,

and returned to Europe with the poor remnant of his host. Louis lingered a short time longer, for very shame,

but the pressing solicitations of his minister Suger induced him to return to France. Thus ended the second

Crusade. Its history is but a chronicle of defeats. It left the kingdom of Jerusalem in a worse state than when it

quitted Europe, and gained nothing but disgrace for its leaders and discouragement for all concerned.

St. Bernard, who had prophesied a result so different, fell after this into some disrepute, and experienced, like

many other prophets, the fate of being without honour in his own country. What made the matter worse, he

could not obtain it in any other. Still, however, there were not wanting zealous advocates to stand forward in

his behalf, and stem the tide of incredulity, which, unopposed, would have carried away his reputation. The

Bishop of Freysinghen declared that prophets were not always able to prophesy, and that the vices of the

crusaders drew down the wrath of Heaven upon them. But the most ingenious excuse ever made for St.

Bernard is to be found in his life by Geoffroi de Clairvaux, where he pertinaciously insists that the Crusade

was not unfortunate. St. Bernard, he says, had prophesied a happy result, and that result could not be

considered other than happy which had peopled heaven with so glorious an army of martyrs. Geoffroi was a

cunning pleader, and, no doubt, convinced a few of the zealous; but plain people, who were not wanting even

in those days, retained their own opinion, or, what amounts to the same thing, "were convinced against their

We now come to the consideration of the third Crusade, and of the causes which rendered it necessary. The

epidemic frenzy, which had been cooling ever since the issue of the first expedition, was now extinct, or very

nearly so, and the nations of Europe looked with cold indifference upon the armaments of their princes. But

chivalry had flourished in its natural element of war, and was now in all its glory. It continued to supply

armies for the Holy Land when the popular ranks refused to deliver up their ablebodied swarms. Poetry,

which, more than religion, inspired the third Crusade, was then but "caviare to the million," who had other

matters, of sterner import, to claim all their attention. But the knights and their retainers listened with delight

to the martial and amatory strains of the minstrels, minnesangers, trouveres, and troubadours, and burned to

win favour in ladies' eyes by showing prowess in Holy Land. The third was truly the romantic era of the

Crusades. Men fought then, not so much for the sepulchre of Jesus, and the maintenance of a Christian

kingdom in the East, as to gain glory for themselves in the best, and almost only field, where glory could be

obtained. They fought, not as zealots, but as soldiers; not for religion, but for honour; not for the crown of

It is not necessary to enter into a detail of the events by which Saladin attained the sovereignty of the East, or

how, after a succession of engagements, he planted the Moslem banner once more upon the battlements of

Jerusalem. The Christian knights and population, including the grand orders of St. John, the Hospitallers, and

the Templars, were sunk in an abyss of vice, and torn by unworthy jealousies and dissensions, were unable to

resist the welltrained armies which the wise and mighty Saladin brought forward to crush them. But the

news of their fall created a painful sensation among the chivalry of Europe, whose noblest members were

linked to the dwellers in Palestine by many ties, both of blood and friendship. The news of the great battle of

Tiberias, in which Saladin defeated the Christian host with terrible slaughter, arrived first in Europe, and was

followed in quick succession by that of the capture of Jerusalem, Antioch, Tripoli, and other cities. Dismay

seized upon the clergy. The Pope (Urban III.) was so affected by the news that he pined away for grief, and

was scarcely seen to smile again, until he sank into the sleep of death. [James of Vitry William de

Nangis.] His successor, Gregory VIII. felt the loss as acutely, but had better strength to bear it, and instructed

all the clergy of the Christian world to stir up the people to arms for the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre.

William, Archbishop of Tyre, a humble follower in the path of Peter the Hermit, left Palestine to preach to

the Kings of Europe the miseries he had witnessed, and to incite them to the rescue. The renowned Frederick

Barbarossa, the Emperor of Germany, speedily collected an army, and passing over into Syria with less delay

than had ever before awaited a crusading force, defeated the Saracens, and took possession of the city of

Iconium. He was unfortunately cut off in the middle of his successful career, by imprudently bathing in the

Cydnus [The desire of comparing two great men has tempted many writers to drown Frederick in the river

Cydnus, in which Alexander so imprudently bathed (Q. Curt. lib. iii. c. 4, 5.): but, from the march of the

Emperor, I rather judge that his Saleph is the Calycadnus, a stream of less fame, but of a longer course.

Gibbon] while he was overheated, and the Duke of Suabia took the command of the expedition. The latter did

not prove so able a general, and met with nothing but reverses, although he was enabled to maintain a footing

Henry II. of England and Philip Augustus of France, at the head of their chivalry, supported the Crusade with

all their influence, until wars and dissensions nearer home estranged them from it for a time. The two kings

met at Gisors in Normandy in the month of January 1188, accompanied by a brilliant train of knights and

warriors. William of Tyre was present, and expounded the cause of the Cross with considerable eloquence,

and the whole assembly bound themselves by oath to proceed to Jerusalem. It was agreed at the same time

that a tax, called Saladin's tithe, and consisting of the tenth part of all possessions, whether landed or

personal, should be enforced over Christendom, upon every one who was either unable or unwilling to

assume the Cross. The lord of every feof, whether lay or ecclesiastical, was charged to raise the tithe within

his own jurisdiction; and any one who refused to pay his quota, became by that act the bondsman and

absolute property of his lord. At the same time the greatest indulgence was shown to those who assumed the

Cross; no man was at liberty to stay them by process of any kind, whether for debt, or robbery, or murder.

The King of France, at the breaking up of the conference, summoned a parliament at Paris, where these

resolutions were solemnly confirmed, while Henry II. did the same for his Norman possessions at Rouen, and

for England at Geddington, in Northamptonshire. To use the words of an ancient chronicler, [Stowe.] "he

held a parliament about the voyage into the Holy Land, and troubled the whole land with the paying of tithes

But it was not England only that was "troubled" by the tax. The people of France also looked upon it with no

pleasant feelings, and appear from that time forth to have changed their indifference for the Crusade into

aversion. Even the clergy, who were exceedingly willing that other people should contribute half, or even all

their goods in furtherance of their favourite scheme, were not at all anxious to contribute a single sous

themselves. Millot ["Elemens de l'Histoire de France."] relates that several of them cried out against the

impost. Among the rest the clergy of Rheims were called upon to pay their quota, but sent a deputation to the

King, begging him to be contented with the aid of their prayers, as they were too poor to contribute in any

other shape. Philip Augustus knew better, and by way of giving them a lesson, employed three nobles of the

vicinity to lay waste the church lands. The clergy, informed of the outrage, applied to the King for redress. "I

will aid you with my prayers," said the Monarch condescendingly," and will intreat those gentlemen to let the

church alone." He did as he had promised, but in such a manner, that the nobles, who appreciated the joke,

continued their devastations as before. Again the clergy applied to the King. "What would you have of me?"

he replied, in answer to their remonstrances: "You gave me your prayers in my necessity, and I have given

you mine in yours." The clergy understood the argument, and thought it the wiser course to pay their quota of

This anecdote shows the unpopularity of the Crusade. If the clergy disliked to contribute, it is no wonder that

the people felt still greater antipathy. But the chivalry of Europe was eager for the affray: the tithe was

rigorously collected, and armies from England, France, Burgundy, Italy, Flanders, and Germany, were soon

in the field; The two kings who were to have led it, were, however, drawn into broils by an aggression of

Richard; Duke of Guienne, better known as Richard Coeur de Lion, upon the territory of the Count of

Toulouse, and the proposed journey to Palestine was delayed. War continued to rage between France and

England, and with so little probability of a speedy termination, that many of the nobles, bound to the Crusade,

left the two Monarchs to settle their differences at their leisure, and proceeded to Palestine without them.

Death at last stepped in and removed Henry II. from the hostility of his foes, and the treachery and ingratitude

of his children. His son Richard immediately concluded an alliance with Philip Augustus, and the two young,

valiant, and impetuous Monarchs, united all their energies to forward the Crusade. They met with a numerous

and brilliant retinue at Nonancourt in Normandy, where, in sight of their assembled chivalry, they embraced

as brothers, and swore to live as friends and true allies, until a period of forty days after their return from the

Holy Land. With a view of purging their camp from the follies and vices which had proved so ruinous to

preceding expeditions, they drew up a code of laws for the government of the army. Gambling had been

carried to a great extent, and had proved the fruitful source of quarrels and bloodshed, and one of their laws

prohibited any person in the army, beneath the degree of a knight, from playing at any game for money.

[Strutt's "Sports and Pastimes."] Knights and clergymen might play for money, but no one was permitted to

lose or gain more than twenty shillings in a day, under a penalty of one hundred shillings. The personal

attendants of the Monarchs were also allowed to play to the same extent. The penalty in their case for

infraction was that they should be whipped naked through the army for the space of three days. Any crusader,

who struck another and drew blood, was ordered to have his hand cut off; and whoever slew a brother

crusader was condemned to be tied alive to the corpse of his victim and buried with him. No young women

were allowed to follow the army, to the great sorrow of many vicious and of many virtuous dames, who had

not courage to elude the decree by dressing in male attire. But many highminded and affectionate maidens

and matrons, bearing the sword or the spear, followed their husbands and lovers to the war in spite of King

Richard, and in defiance of danger. The only women allowed to accompany the army in their own

habiliments, were washerwomen, of fifty years complete, and any others of the fair sex who had reached the

These rules having been promulgated, the two monarchs marched together to Lyons, where they separated,

agreeing to meet again at Messina. Philip proceeded across the Alps to Genoa, where he took ship, and was

conveyed in safety to the place of rendezvous. Richard turned in the direction of Marseilles, where he also

took ship for Messina. His impetuous disposition hurried him into many squabbles by the way, and his

knights and followers, for the most part as brave and as foolish as himself, imitated him very zealously in this

particular. At Messina the Sicilians charged the most exorbitant prices for every necessary of life. Richard's

army in vain remonstrated. From words they came to blows, and, as a last resource, plundered the Sicilians,

since they could not trade with them. Continual battles were the consequence, in one of which Lebrun, the

favourite attendant of Richard, lost his life. The peasantry from far and near came flocking to the aid of the

townspeople, and the battle soon became general. Richard, irritated at the loss of his favourite, and incited by

a report that Tancred, the King of Sicily, was fighting at the head of his own people, joined the melee with his

boldest knights, and, beating back the Sicilians, attacked the city, sword in hand, stormed the battlements,

tore down the flag of Sicily, and planted his own in its stead. This collision gave great offence to the King of

France, who became from that time jealous of Richard, and apprehensive that his design was not so much to

reestablish the Christian Kingdom of Jerusalem, as to make conquests for himself. He, however, exerted his

influence to restore peace between the English and Sicilians, and shortly afterwards set sail for Acre, with

Richard remained behind for some weeks, in a state of inactivity quite unaccountable in one of his

temperament. He appears to have had no more squabbles with the Sicilians, but to have lived an easy

luxurious life, forgetting, in the lap of pleasure, the objects for which he had quitted his own dominions and

the dangerous laxity he was introducing into his army. The superstition of his soldiers recalled him at length

to a sense of his duty: a comet was seen for several successive nights, which was thought to menace them

with the vengeance of Heaven for their delay. Shooting stars gave them similar warning; and a fanatic, of the

name of Joachim, with his drawn sword in his hand, and his long hair streaming wildly over his shoulders,

went through the camp, howling all night long, and predicting plague, famine, and every other calamity, if

they did not set out immediately. Richard did not deem it prudent to neglect the intimations; and, after doing

A violent storm dispersed his fleet, but he arrived safely at Rhodes with the principal part of the armament.

Here he learned that three of his ships had been stranded on the rocky coasts of Cyprus, and that the ruler of

the island, Isaac Comnenus, had permitted his people to pillage the unfortunate crews, and had refused shelter

to his betrothed bride, the Princess Berengaria, and his sister, who, in one of the vessels, had been driven by

stress of weather into the port of Limisso. The fiery monarch swore to be revenged, and, collecting all his

vessels, sailed back to Limisso. Isaac Comnenus refused to apologize or explain, and Richard, in no mood to

be trifled with, landed on the island, routed with great loss the forces sent to oppose him, and laid the whole

On his arrival at Acre, he found the whole of the chivalry of Europe there before him. Guy of Lusignan, the

King of Jerusalem, had long before collected the bold Knights of the Temple, the Hospital, and St. John, and

had laid siege to Acre, which was resolutely defended by the Sultan Saladin, with an army magnificent both

for its numbers and its discipline. For nearly two years the crusaders had pushed the siege, and made efforts

almost superhuman to dislodge the enemy. Various battles had taken place in the open fields with no decisive

advantage to either party, and Guy of Lusignan had begun to despair of taking that strong position without

aid from Europe. His joy was extreme on the arrival of Philip with all his chivalry, and he only awaited the

coming of Coeur de Lion to make one last decisive attack upon the town. When the fleet of England was first

seen approaching the shores of Syria, a universal shout arose from the Christian camp; and when Richard

landed with his train, one louder still pierced to the very mountains of the south, where Saladin lay with all

It may be remarked as characteristic of this Crusade, that the Christians and the Moslems no longer looked

upon each other as barbarians, to whom mercy was a crime. Each host entertained the highest admiration for

the bravery and magnanimity of the other, and in their occasional truces met upon the most friendly terms.

The Moslem warriors were full of courtesy to the Christian knights, and had no other regret than to think that

such fine fellows were not Mahomedans. The Christians, with a feeling precisely similar, extolled to the skies

the nobleness of the Saracens, and sighed to think that such generosity and valour should be sullied by

disbelief in the Gospel of Jesus. But when the strife began, all these feelings disappeared, and the struggle

The jealousy excited in the mind of Philip by the events of Messina still rankled, and the two monarchs

refused to act in concert. Instead of making a joint attack upon the town, the French monarch assailed it

alone, and was repulsed. Richard did the same, and with the same result. Philip tried to seduce the soldiers of

Richard from their allegiance by the offer of three gold pieces per month to every knight who would forsake

the banners of England for those of France. Richard met the bribe by another, and promised four pieces to

every French knight who should join the Lion of England. In this unworthy rivalry their time was wasted, to

the great detriment of the discipline and efficiency of their followers. Some good was nevertheless effected;

for the mere presence of two such armies prevented the besieged city from receiving supplies, and the

inhabitants were reduced by famine to the most woeful straits. Saladin did not deem it prudent to risk a

general engagement by coming to their relief, but preferred to wait till dissension had weakened his enemy,

and made him an easy prey. Perhaps if he had been aware of the real extent of the extremity in Acre, he

would have changed his plan; but, cut off from the town, he did not know their misery till it was too late.

After a short truce the city capitulated upon terms so severe that Saladin afterwards refused to ratify them.

The chief conditions were, that the precious wood of the true cross, captured by the Moslems in Jerusalem,

should be restored; that a sum of two hundred thousand gold pieces should be paid; and that all the Christian

prisoners in Acre should be released, together with two hundred knights and a thousand soldiers, detained in

captivity by Saladin. The eastern monarch, as may be well conceived, did not set much store on the wood of

the cross, but was nevertheless anxious to keep it, as he knew its possession by the Christians would do more

than a victory to restore their courage. He refused, therefore, to deliver it up, or to accede to any of the

conditions; and Richard, as he had previously threatened, barbarously ordered all the Saracen prisoners in his

The possession of the city only caused new and unhappy dissensions between the Christian leaders. The

Archduke of Austria unjustifiably hoisted his flag on one of the towers of Acre, which Richard no sooner saw

than he tore it down with his own hands, and trampled it under his feet. Philip, though he did not sympathise

with the Archduke, was piqued at the assumption of Richard, and the breach between the two monarchs

became wider than ever. A foolish dispute arose at the same time between Guy of Lusignan and Conrad of

Montferrat for the crown of Jerusalem. The inferior knights were not slow to imitate the pernicious example,

and jealousy, distrust, and illwill reigned in the Christian camp. In the midst of this confusion the King of

France suddenly announced his intention to return to his own country. Richard was filled with indignation,

and exclaimed, "Eternal shame light on him, and on all France, if, for any cause, he leave this work

unfinished!" But Philip was not to be stayed. His health had suffered by his residence in the East, and,

ambitious of playing a first part, he preferred to play none at all, than to play second to King Richard.

Leaving a small detachment of Burgundians behind, he returned to France with the remainder of his army;

and Coeur de Lion, without feeling, in the multitude of his rivals, that he had lost the greatest, became

After his departure, Richard refortified Acre, restored the Christian worship in the churches, and, leaving a

Christian garrison to protect it, marched along the seacoast towards Ascalon. Saladin was on the alert, and

sent his light horse to attack the rear of the Christian army, while he himself, miscalculating their weakness

since the defection of Philip, endeavoured to force them to a general engagement. The rival armies met near

Azotus. A fierce battle ensued, in which Saladin was defeated and put to flight, and the road to Jerusalem left

Again discord exerted its baleful influence, and prevented Richard from following up his victory. His opinion

was constantly opposed by the other leaders, all jealous of his bravery and influence; and the army, instead of

marching to Jerusalem, or even to Ascalon, as was first intended, proceeded to Jaffa, and remained in idleness

Many months were spent in fruitless hostilities and as fruitless negotiations. Richard's wish was to recapture

Jerusalem; but there were difficulties in the way, which even his bold spirit could not conquer. His own

intolerable pride was not the least cause of the evil; for it estranged many a generous spirit, who would have

been willing to cooperate with him in all cordiality. At length it was agreed to march to the Holy City; but

the progress made was so slow and painful, that the soldiers murmured, and the leaders meditated retreat. The

weather was hot and dry, and there was little water to be procured. Saladin had choked up the wells and

cisterns on the route, and the army had not zeal enough to push forward amid such privation. At Bethlehem a

council was held, to debate whether they should retreat or advance. Retreat was decided upon, and

immediately commenced. It is said, that Richard was first led to a hill, whence he could obtain a sight of the

towers of Jerusalem, and that he was so affected at being so near it, and so unable to relieve it, that he hid his

The army separated into two divisions, the smaller falling back upon Jaffa, and the larger, commanded by

Richard and the Duke of Burgundy, returning to Acre. Before the English monarch had made all his

preparations for his return to Europe, a messenger reached Acre with the intelligence that Jaffa was besieged

by Saladin, and that, unless relieved immediately, the city would be taken. The French, under the Duke of

Burgundy, were so wearied with the war, that they refused to aid their brethren in Jaffa. Richard, blushing

with shame at their pusillanimity, called his English to the rescue, and arrived just in time to save the city.

His very name put the Saracens to flight, so great was their dread of his prowess. Saladin regarded him with

the warmest admiration, and when Richard, after his victory, demanded peace, willingly acceded. A truce

was concluded for three years and eight months, during which Christian pilgrims were to enjoy the liberty of

visiting Jerusalem without hindrance or payment of any tax. The crusaders were allowed to retain the cities of

Tyre and Jaffa, with the country intervening. Saladin, with a princely generosity, invited many of the

Christians to visit Jerusalem; and several of the leaders took advantage of his offer to feast their eyes upon a

spot which all considered so sacred. Many of them were entertained for days in the Sultan's own palace, from

which they returned with their tongues laden with the praises of the noble infidel. Richard and Saladin never

met, though the impression that they did will remain on many minds, who have been dazzled by the glorious

fiction of Sir Walter Scott. But each admired the prowess and nobleness of soul of his rival, and agreed to

terms far less onerous than either would have accepted, had this mutual admiration not existed.[Richard left a

high reputation in Palestine. So much terror did his name occasion, that the women of Syria used it to

frighten their children for ages afterwards. Every disobedient brat became still when told that King Richard

was coming. Even men shared the panic that his name created; and a hundred years afterwards, whenever a

horse shied at any object in the way, his rider would exclaim, "What! dost thou think King Richard is in the

The King of England no longer delayed his departure, for messengers from his own country brought

imperative news that his presence was required to defeat the intrigues that were fomenting against his crown.

His long imprisonment in the Austrian dominions and final ransom are too well known to be dwelt upon. And

thus ended the third Crusade, less destructive of human life than the two first, but quite as useless.

The flame of popular enthusiasm now burned pale indeed, and all the efforts of popes and potentates were

insufficient to rekindle it. At last, after flickering unsteadily, like a lamp expiring in the socket, it burned up

The fourth Crusade, as connected with popular feeling, requires little or no notice. At the death of Saladin,

which happened a year after the conclusion of his truce with Richard of England, his vast empire fell to

pieces. His brother Saif Eddin, or Saphaddin, seized upon Syria, in the possession of which he was troubled

by the sons of Saladin. When this intelligence reached Europe, the Pope, Celestine III. judged the moment

favourable for preaching a new Crusade. But every nation in Europe was unwilling and cold towards it. The

people had no ardour, and Kings were occupied with more weighty matters at home. The only Monarch of

Europe who encouraged it was the Emperor Henry of Germany, under whose auspices the Dukes of Saxony

and Bavaria took the field at the head of a considerable force. They landed in Palestine, and found anything

but a welcome from the Christian inhabitants. Under the mild sway of Saladin, they had enjoyed repose and

toleration, and both were endangered by the arrival of the Germans. They looked upon them in consequence

as overofficious intruders, and gave them no encouragement in the warfare against Saphaddin. The result of

this Crusade was even more disastrous than the last for the Germans contrived not only to embitter the

Saracens against the Christians of Judea, but to lose the strong city of Jaffa, and cause the destruction of

ninetenths of the army with which they had quitted Europe. And so ended the fourth Crusade.

The fifth was more important, and had a result which its projectors never dreamed of no less than the

sacking of Constantinople, and the placing of a French dynasty upon the imperial throne of the eastern

Caesars. Each succeeding Pope, however much he may have differed from his predecessors on other points,

zealously agreed in one, that of maintaining by every possible means the papal ascendancy. No scheme was

so likely to aid in this endeavour as the Crusades. As long as they could persuade the kings and nobles of

Europe to fight and die in Syria, their own sway was secured over the minds of men at home. Such being

their object, they never inquired whether a Crusade was or was not likely to be successful, whether the time

were well or ill chosen, or whether men and money could be procured in sufficient abundance. Pope Innocent

III. would have been proud if he could have bent the refractory Monarchs of England and France into so

much submission. But John and Philip Augustus were both engaged. Both had deeply offended the church,

and had been laid under her ban, and both were occupied in important reforms at home; Philip in bestowing

immunities upon his subjects, and John in having them forced from him. The emissaries of the Pope therefore

plied them in vain; but as in the first and second Crusades, the eloquence of a powerful preacher incited

the nobility, and through them a certain portion of the people, Foulque, Bishop of Neuilly, an ambitious and

enterprizing prelate, entered fully into the views of the Court of Rome, and preached the Crusade wherever he

could find an audience. Chance favoured him to a degree he did not himself expect, for he had in general

found but few proselytes, and those few but cold in the cause. Theobald, Count of Champagne, had instituted

a grand tournament, to which he had invited all the nobles from far and near. Upwards of two thousand

knights were present with their retainers, besides a vast concourse of people to witness the sports. In the

midst of the festivities Foulque arrived upon the spot, and conceiving the opportunity to be a favourable one,

he addressed the multitude in eloquent language, and passionately called upon them to enrol themselves for

the new Crusade. The Count de Champagne, young, ardent, and easily excited, received the cross at his

hands. The enthusiasm spread rapidly. Charles Count of Blois followed the example, and of the two thousand

knights present, scarcely one hundred and fifty refused. The popular phrensy seemed on the point of breaking

out as in the days of yore. The Count of Flanders, the Count of Bar, the Duke of Burgundy, and the Marquis

of Montferrat, brought all their vassals to swell the train, and in a very short space of time an effective army

The dangers of an overland journey were too well understood, and the crusaders endeavoured to make a

contract with some of the Italian states to convey them over in their vessels. Dandolo, the aged Doge of

Venice, offered them the galleys of the Republic; but the crusaders, on their arrival in that city, found

themselves too poor to pay even half the sum demanded. Every means was tried to raise money; the crusaders

melted down their plate, and ladies gave up their trinkets. Contributions were solicited from the faithful, but

came in so slowly, as to make it evident to all concerned, that the faithful of Europe were outnumbered by the

prudent. As a last resource, Dandolo offered to convey them to Palestine at the expense of the Republic, if

they would previously aid in the recapture of the city of Zara, which had been seized from the Venetians a

short time previously by the King of Hungary. The crusaders consented, much to the displeasure of the Pope,

who threatened excommunication upon all who should be turned aside from the voyage to Jerusalem. But

notwithstanding the fulminations of the church, the expedition never reached Palestine. The siege of Zara was

speedily undertaken. After a long and brave defence, the city surrendered at discretion, and the crusaders

were free, if they had so chosen it, to use their swords against the Saracens. But the ambition of the chiefs had

After the death of Manuel Comnenus, the Greek empire had fallen a prey to intestine divisions. His son

Alexius II. had succeeded him, but was murdered after a very short reign by his uncle Andronicus, who

seized upon the throne. His reign also was but of short duration. Isaac Angelus, a member of the same family,

took up arms against the usurper, and having defeated and captured him in a pitched battle, had him put to

death. He also mounted the throne only to be cast down from it. His brother Alexius deposed him, and to

incapacitate him from reigning, put out his eyes, and shut him up in a dungeon. Neither was Alexius III.

allowed to remain in peaceable possession of the throne; the son of the unhappy Isaac, whose name also was

Alexius, fled from Constantinople, and hearing that the crusaders had undertaken the siege of Zara, made

them the most magnificent offers if they would afterwards aid him in deposing his uncle. His offers were, that

if by their means he was reestablished in his father's dominions, he would place the Greek church under the

authority of the Pope of Rome, lend the whole force of the Greek Empire to the conquest of Palestine, and

distribute two hundred thousand marks of silver among the crusading army. The offer was accepted, with a

proviso on the part of some of the leaders, that they should be free to abandon the design, if it met with the

disapproval of the Pope. But this was not to be feared. The submission of the schismatic Greeks to the See of

Rome was a greater bribe to the Pontiff, than the utter annihilation of the Saracen power in Palestine would

The crusaders were soon in movement for the imperial city. Their operations were skilfully and courageously

directed, and spread such dismay as to paralyse the efforts of the usurper to retain possession of his throne.

After a vain resistance, he abandoned the city to its fate, and fled no one knew whither. The aged and blind

Isaac was taken from his dungeon by his subjects, and placed upon the throne ere the crusaders were apprized

of the flight of his rival. His son Alexius IV. was afterwards associated with him in the sovereignty.

But the conditions of the treaty gave offence to the Grecian people, whose prelates refused to place

themselves under the dominion of the See of Rome. Alexius at first endeavoured to persuade his subjects to

submission, and prayed the crusaders to remain in Constantinople until they had fortified him in the

possession of a throne which was yet far from secure. He soon became unpopular with his subjects; and

breaking faith with regard to the subsidies, he offended the crusaders. War was at length declared upon him

by both parties; by his people for his tyranny, and by his former friends for his treachery. He was seized in his

palace by his own guards and thrown into prison, while the crusaders were making ready to besiege his

capital. The Greeks immediately proceeded to the election of a new Monarch; and looking about for a man

with courage, energy, and perseverance, they fixed upon Alexius Ducas, who, with almost every bad quality,

was possessed of the virtues they needed. He ascended the throne under the name of Murzuphlis. One of his

first acts was to rid himself of his youngest predecessor a broken heart had already removed the blind old

Isaac no longer a stumbling block in his way and the young Alexius was soon after put to death in his

War to the knife was now declared between the Greeks and the Franks, and early in the spring of the year

1204, preparations were commenced for an assault upon Constantinople. The French and Venetians entered

into a treaty for the division of the spoils among their soldiery, for so confident were they of success, that

failure never once entered into their calculations. This confidence led them on to victory, while the Greeks,

cowardly as treacherous people always are, were paralysed by a foreboding of evil. It has been a matter of

astonishment to all historians, that Murzuphlis, with the reputation for courage which he had acquired, and

the immense resources at his disposal, took no better measures to repel the onset of the crusaders. Their

numbers were as a mere handful in comparison with those which he could have brought against them; and if

they had the hopes of plunder to lead them on, the Greeks had their homes to fight for, and their very

existence as a nation to protect. After an impetuous assault, repulsed for one day, but renewed with double

impetuosity on another, the crusaders lashed their vessels against the walls, slew every man who opposed

them, and, with little loss to themselves, entered the city. Murzuphlis fled, and Constantinople was given over

to be pillaged by the victors. The wealth they found was enormous. In money alone there was sufficient to

distribute twenty marks of silver to each knight, ten to each squire or servant at arms, and five to each archer.

Jewels, velvets, silks, and every luxury of attire, with rare wines and fruits, and valuable merchandise of

every description, also fell into their hands, and were bought by the trading Venetians, and the proceeds

distributed among the army. Two thousand persons were put to the sword; but had there been less plunder to

take up the attention of the victors, the slaughter would in all probability have been much greater.

In many of the bloody wars which defile the page of history, we find that soldiers, utterly reckless of the

works of God, will destroy his masterpiece, man, with unsparing brutality, but linger with respect around the

beautiful works of art. They will slaughter women and children, but spare a picture; will hew down the sick,

the helpless, and the hoaryheaded, but refrain from injuring a fine piece of sculpture. The Latins, on their

entrance into Constantinople, respected neither the works of God nor man, but vented their brutal ferocity

upon the one and satisfied their avarice upon the other. Many beautiful bronze statues, above all price as

works of art, were broken into pieces to be sold as old metal. The finelychiselled marble, which could be put

to no such vile uses, was also destroyed, with a recklessness; if possible, still more atrocious. [The following

is a list of some of the works of art thus destroyed, from Nicetas, a contemporary Greek author: 1st. A

colossal Juno, from the forum of Constantine, the head of which was so large that four horses could scarcely

draw it from the place where it stood to the palace. 2d. The statue of Paris presenting the apple to Venus. 3d.

An immense bronze pyramid, crowned by a female figure, which turned with the wind. 4th. The colossal

statue of Bellerophon, in bronze, which was broken down and cast into the furnace. Under the inner nail of

the horse's hind foot on the left side, was found a seal wrapped in a woollen cloth. 5th. A figure of Hercules,

by Lysimachus, of such vast dimensions that the thumb was equal in circumference to the waist of a man.

6th. The Ass and his driver, cast by order of Augustus after the battle of Actium, in commemoration of his

having discovered the position of Antony through the means of an assdriver. 7th. The Wolf suckling the

twins of Rome. 8th. The Gladiator in combat with a lion. 9th. The Hippopotamus. 10th. The Sphinxes. 11th.

An eagle fighting with a serpent. 12th. A beautiful statue of Helen. 13th. A group, with a monster somewhat

resembling a bull, engaged in deadly conflict with a serpent; and many other works of art, too numerous to

The carnage being over, and the spoil distributed, six persons were chosen from among the Franks and six

from among the Venetians, who were to meet and elect an Emperor, previously binding themselves by oath to

select the individual best qualified among the candidates. The choice wavered between Baldwin, Count of

Flanders, and Boniface, Marquis of Montferrat, but fell eventually upon the former. He was straightway

robed in the imperial purple, and became the founder of a new dynasty. He did not live long to enjoy his

power, or to consolidate it for his successors, who, in their turn, were soon swept away. In less than sixty

years the rule of the Franks at Constantinople was brought to as sudden and disastrous a termination as the

Pope Innocent III, although he had looked with no very unfavourable eye upon these proceedings, regretted

that nothing had been done for the relief of the Holy Land; still, upon every convenient occasion, he enforced

the necessity of a new Crusade. Until the year 1213, his exhortations had no other effect than to keep the

subject in the mind of Europe. Every spring and summer, detachments of pilgrims continued to set out for

Palestine to the aid of their brethren, but not in sufficient numbers to be of much service. These periodical

passages were called the passagiuum Martii, or the passage of March, and the passagium Johannis, or the

passage of the festival of St. John. These did not consist entirely of soldiers, armed against the Saracen, but of

pilgrims led by devotion, and in performance of their vows, bearing nothing with them but their staff and

their wallet. Early in the spring of 1213 a more extraordinary body of crusaders was raised in France and

Germany. An immense number of boys and girls, amounting, according to some accounts, to thirty thousand,

were incited by the persuasion of two monks to undertake the journey to Palestine. They were, no doubt,

composed of the idle and deserted children who generally swarm in great cities, nurtured in vice and daring,

and ready for anything. The object of the monks seems to have been the atrocious one of inveigling them into

slave ships, on pretence of sending them to Syria, and selling them for slaves on the coast of Africa. [See

Jacob de Voragine and Albericus.] Great numbers of these poor victims were shipped at Marseilles; but the

vessels, with the exception of two or three, were wrecked on the shores of Italy, and every soul perished. The

remainder arrived safely in Africa, and were bought up as slaves, and sent off into the interior of the country.

Another detachment arrived at Genoa; but the accomplices in this horrid plot having taken no measures at

that port, expecting them all at Marseilles, they were induced to return to their homes by the Genoese.

Fuller, in his quaint history of the "Holy Warre," says that this Crusade was done by the instinct of the devil;

and he adds a reason, which may provoke mirth now, but which was put forth by the worthy historian in all

soberness and sincerity. He says, "the devil, being cloyed with the murdering of men, desired a cordial of

children's blood to comfort his weak stomach;" as epicures, when tired of mutton, resort to lamb for a change.

It appears from other authors that the preaching of the vile monks had such an effect upon these deluded

children that they ran about the country, exclaiming, "O, Lord Jesus, restore thy cross to us!" and that neither

bolts nor bars, the fear of fathers, nor the love of mothers, was sufficient to restrain them from journeying to

The details of these strange proceedings are exceedingly meagre and confused, and none of the contemporary

writers who mention the subject have thought it worth while to state the names of the monks who originated

the scheme, or the fate they met for their wickedness. Two merchants of Marseilles, who were to have shared

in the profits, were, it is said, brought to justice for some other crime, and suffered death; but we are not

Pope Innocent III does not seem to have been aware that the causes of this juvenile Crusade were such as

have been stated, for, upon being informed that numbers of them had taken the Cross, and were marching to

the Holy Land, he exclaimed, "These children are awake, while we sleep!" He imagined, apparently, that the

mind of Europe was still bent on the recovery of Palestine, and that the zeal of these children implied a sort of

reproach upon his own lukewarmness. Very soon afterwards, he bestirred himself with more activity, and

sent an encyclical letter to the clergy of Christendom, urging them to preach a new Crusade. As usual, a

number of adventurous nobles, who had nothing else to do, enrolled themselves with their retainers. At a

council of Lateran, which was held while these bands were collecting, Innocent announced that he himself

would take the Cross, and lead the armies of Christ to the defence of his sepulchre. In all probability he

would have done so, for he was zealous enough; but death stepped in, and destroyed his project ere it was

ripe. His successor encouraged the Crusade, though he refused to accompany it; and the armament continued

in France, England, and Germany. No leaders of any importance joined it from the former countries. Andrew,

King of Hungary, was the only monarch who had leisure or inclination to leave his dominions. The Dukes of

Austria and Bavaria joined him with a considerable army of Germans, and marching to Spalatro, took ship for

The whole conduct of the King of Hungary was marked by pusillanimity and irresolution. He found himself

in the Holy Land at the head of a very efficient army; the Saracens were taken by surprise, and were for some

weeks unprepared to offer any resistance to his arms. He defeated the first body sent to oppose him, and

marched towards Mount Tabor, with the intention of seizing upon an important fortress which the Saracens

had recently constructed. He arrived without impediment at the Mount, and might have easily taken it; but a

sudden fit of cowardice came over him, and he returned to Acre without striking a blow. He very soon

afterwards abandoned the enterprise altogether, and returned to his own country.

Tardy reinforcements arrived at intervals from Europe; and the Duke of Austria, now the chief leader of the

expedition, had still sufficient forces at his command to trouble the Saracens very seriously. It was resolved

by him, in council with the other chiefs, that the whole energy of the Crusade should be directed upon Egypt,

the seat of the Saracen power in its relationship to Palestine, and from whence were drawn the continual

levies that were brought against them by the Sultan. Damietta, which commanded the river Nile, and was one

of the most important cities of Egypt, was chosen as the first point of attack. The siege was forthwith

commenced, and carried on with considerable energy, until the crusaders gained possession of a tower, which

projected into the middle of the stream, and was looked upon as the very key of the city.

While congratulating themselves upon this success, and wasting in revelry the time which should have been

employed in pushing the advantage, they received the news of the death of the wise Sultan Saphaddin. His

two sons, Camhel and Cohreddin, divided his empire between them. Syria and Palestine fell to the share of

Cohreddin, while Egypt was consigned to the other brother, who had for some time exercised the functions of

Lieutenant of that country. Being unpopular among the Egyptians, they revolted against him, giving the

crusaders a finer opportunity for making a conquest than they had ever enjoyed before. But, quarrelsome and

licentious as they had been from time immemorial, they did not see that the favourable moment had come; or,

seeing, could not profit by it. While they were revelling or fighting among themselves, under the walls of

Damietta, the revolt was put down, and Camhel firmly established on the throne of Egypt. In conjunction

with his brother, Cohreddin, his next care was to drive the Christians from Damietta, and, for upwards of

three months, they bent all their efforts to throw in supplies to the besieged, or draw on the besiegers to a

general engagement. In neither were they successful; and the famine in Damietta became so dreadful, that

vermin of every description were thought luxuries, and sold for exorbitant prices. A dead dog became more

valuable than a live ox in time of prosperity. Unwholesome food brought on disease, and the city could hold

Cohreddin and Camhel were alike interested in the preservation of so important a position, and, convinced of

the certain fate of the city, they opened a conference with the crusading chiefs, offering to yield the whole of

Palestine to the Christians, upon the sole condition of the evacuation of Egypt. With a blindness and

wrongheadedness almost incredible, these advantageous terms were refused, chiefly through the persuasion

of Cardinal Pelagius, an ignorant and obstinate fanatic, who urged upon the Duke of Austria and the French

and English leaders, that infidels never kept their word; that their offers were deceptive, and merely intended

to betray. The conferences were brought to an abrupt termination by the crusaders, and a last attack made

upon the walls of Damietta. The besieged made but slight resistance, for they had no hope, and the Christians

entered the city, and found, out of seventy thousand people, but three thousand remaining: so fearful had been

Several months were spent in Damietta. The climate either weakened the frames or obscured the

understandings of the Christians; for, after their conquest, they lost all energy, and abandoned themselves

more unscrupulously than ever to riot and debauchery. John of Brienne, who, by right of his wife, was the

nominal sovereign of Jerusalem, was so disgusted with the pusillanimity, arrogance, and dissensions of the

chiefs, that he withdrew entirely from them, and retired to Acre. Large bodies also returned to Europe, and

Cardinal Pelagius was left at liberty to blast the whole enterprise whenever it pleased him. He managed to

conciliate John of Brienne, and marched forward with these combined forces to attack Cairo. It was only

when he had approached within a few hours' march of that city, that he discovered the inadequacy of his

army. He turned back immediately, but the Nile had risen since his departure; the sluices were opened, and

there was no means of reaching Damietta. In this strait, he sued for the peace he had formerly spurned, and,

happily for himself, found the generous brothers, Camhel and Cohreddin, still willing to grant it. Damietta

was soon afterwards given up, and the Cardinal returned to Europe. John of Brienne retired to Acre, to mourn

the loss of his kingdom, embittered against the folly of his pretended friends, who had ruined where they

The seventh was more successful. Frederic II, Emperor of Germany, had often vowed to lead his armies to

the defence of Palestine, but was as often deterred from the journey by matters of more pressing importance.

Cohreddin was a mild and enlightened monarch, and the Christians of Syria enjoyed repose and toleration

under his rule: but John of Brienne was not willing to lose his kingdom without an effort; and the Popes in

Europe were ever willing to embroil the nations for the sake of extending their own power. No monarch of

that age was capable of rendering more effective assistance than Frederic of Germany. To inspire him with

more zeal, it was proposed that he should wed the young Princess, Violante, daughter of John of Brienne, and

heiress of the kingdom of Jerusalem. Frederic consented with joy and eagerness. The Princess was brought

from Acre to Rome without delay, and her marriage celebrated on a scale of great magnificence. Her father,

John of Brienne, abdicated all his rights in favour of his soninlaw, and Jerusalem had once more a king,

who had not only the will, but the power, to enforce his claims. Preparations for the new crusade were

immediately commenced, and in the course of six months the Emperor was at the head of a welldisciplined

army of sixty thousand men. Matthew Paris informs us, that an army of the same amount was gathered in

England; and most of the writers upon the Crusades adopt his statement. When John of Brienne was in

England, before his daughter's marriage with the Emperor was thought of, praying for the aid of Henry III.

and his nobles to recover his lost kingdom, he did not meet with much encouragement. Grafton, in his

Chronicle, says, "he departed again without any great comfort." But when a man of more influence in

European politics appeared upon the scene, the English nobles were as ready to sacrifice themselves in the

The army of Frederic encamped at Brundusium; but a pestilential disease having made its appearance among

them, their departure was delayed for several months. In the mean time the Empress Violante died in

childbed. John of Brienne, who had already repented of his abdication, and was besides incensed against

Frederic for many acts of neglect and insult, no sooner saw the only tie which bound them, severed by the

death of his daughter, than he began to bestir himself, and make interest with the Pope to undo what he had

done, and regain the honorary crown he had renounced. Pope Gregory the Ninth, a man of a proud,

unconciliating, and revengeful character, owed the Emperor a grudge for many an act of disobedience to his

authority, and encouraged the overtures of John of Brienne more than he should have done. Frederic,

however, despised them both, and, as soon as his army was convalescent, set sail for Acre. He had not been

many days at sea, when he was himself attacked with the malady, and obliged to return to Otranto, the nearest

port. Gregory, who had by this time decided in the interest of John of Brienne, excommunicated the Emperor

for returning from so holy an expedition on any pretext whatever. Frederic at first treated the

excommunication with supreme contempt; but when he got well, he gave his Holiness to understand that he

was not to be outraged with impunity, and sent some of his troops to ravage the Papal territories. This,

however, only made the matter worse, and Gregory despatched messengers to Palestine, forbidding the

faithful, under severe pains and penalties, to hold any intercourse with the excommunicated Emperor. Thus

between them both, the scheme which they had so much at heart bade fair to be as effectually ruined as even

the Saracens could have wished. Frederic still continued his zeal in the Crusade, for he was now King of

Jerusalem, and fought for himself, and not for Christendom, or its representative, Pope Gregory. Hearing that

John of Brienne was preparing to leave Europe, he lost no time in taking his own departure, and arrived

safely at Acre. It was here that he first experienced the evil effects of excommunication. The Christians of

Palestine refused to aid him in any way, and looked with distrust, if not with abhorrence, upon him. The

Templars, Hospitallers, and other knights, shared at first the general feeling; but they were not men to yield a

blind obedience to a distant potentate, especially when it compromised their own interests. When, therefore,

Frederic prepared to march upon Jerusalem without them, they joined his banners to a man.

It is said, that previous to quitting Europe, the German Emperor had commenced a negotiation with the

Sultan Camhel for the restoration of the Holy Land, and that Camhel, who was jealous of the ambition of his

brother Cohreddin, was willing to stipulate to that effect, on condition of being secured by Frederic in the

possession of the more important territory of Egypt. But before the crusaders reached Palestine, Camhel was

relieved from all fears by the death of his brother. He nevertheless did not think it worth while to contest with

the crusaders the barren corner of the earth which had already been dyed with so much Christian and Saracen

blood, and proposed a truce of three years, only stipulating, in addition, that the Moslems should be allowed

to worship freely in the Temple of Jerusalem. This happy termination did not satisfy the bigoted Christians of

Palestine. The tolerance they fought for themselves, they were not willing to extend to others, and they

complained bitterly of the privilege of free worship allowed to their opponents. Unmerited good fortune had

made them insolent, and they contested the right of the Emperor to become a party to any treaty, as long as he

remained under the ecclesiastical ban. Frederic was disgusted with his new subjects; but, as the Templars and

Hospitallers remained true to him, he marched to Jerusalem to be crowned. All the churches were shut against

him, and he could not even find a priest to officiate at his coronation. He had despised the Papal authority too

long to quail at it now, when it was so unjustifiably exerted, and, as there was nobody to crown him, he very

wisely crowned himself. He took the royal diadem from the altar with his own hands, and boldly and proudly

placed it on his brow. No shouts of an applauding populace made the welkin ring, no hymns of praise and

triumph resounded from the ministers of religion; but a thousand swords started from their scabbards, to

It was hardly to be expected that he would renounce for any long period the dominion of his native land for

the uneasy crown and barren soil of Palestine. He had seen quite enough of his new subjects before he was

six months among them, and more important interests called him home. John of Brienne, openly leagued with

Pope Gregory against him, was actually employed in ravaging his territories at the head of a papal army. This

intelligence decided his return. As a preliminary step, he made those who had contemned his authority feel, to

their sorrow, that he was their master. He then set sail, loaded with the curses of Palestine. And thus ended

the seventh Crusade, which, in spite of every obstacle and disadvantage, had been productive of more real

service to the Holy Land than any that had gone before; a result solely attributable to the bravery of Frederic

Soon after the Emperor's departure a new claimant started for the throne of Jerusalem, in the person of Alice,

Queen of Cyprus, and halfsister of the Mary who, by her marriage, had transferred her right to John of

Brienne. The grand military orders, however, clung to Frederic, and Alice was obliged to withdraw.

So peaceful a termination to the Crusade did not give unmixed pleasure in Europe. The chivalry of France

and England were unable to rest, and long before the conclusion of the truce, were collecting their armies for

an eighth expedition. In Palestine, also, the contentment was far from universal. Many petty Mahomedan

states in the immediate vicinity were not parties to the truce, and harassed the frontier towns incessantly. The

Templars, ever turbulent, waged bitter war with the Sultan of Aleppo, and in the end were almost

exterminated. So great was the slaughter among them that Europe resounded with the sad story of their fate,

and many a noble knight took arms to prevent the total destruction of an order associated with so many high

and inspiring remembrances. Camhel, seeing the preparations that were making, thought that his generosity

had been sufficiently shown, and the very day the truce was at an end assumed the offensive, and marching

forward to Jerusalem took possession of it, after routing the scanty forces of the Christians. Before this

intelligence reached Europe a large body of crusaders was on the march, headed by the King of Navarre, the

Duke of Burgundy, the Count de Bretagne, and other leaders. On their arrival, they learned that Jerusalem

had been taken, but that the Sultan was dead, and his kingdom torn by rival claimants to the supreme power.

The dissensions of their foes ought to have made them united, but, as in all previous Crusades, each feudal

chief was master of his own host, and acted upon his own responsibility, and without reference to any general

plan. The consequence was that nothing could be done. A temporary advantage was gained by one leader,

who had no means of improving it, while another was defeated, without means of retrieving himself. Thus the

war lingered till the battle of Gaza, when the King of Navarre was defeated with great loss, and compelled to

save himself from total destruction by entering into a hard and oppressive treaty with the Emir of Karac.

At this crisis aid arrived from England, commanded by Richard Earl of Cornwall, the namesake of Coeur de

Lion, and inheritor of his valour. His army was strong, and full of hope. They had confidence in themselves

and in their leader, and looked like men accustomed to victory. Their coming changed the aspect of affairs.

The new Sultan of Egypt was at war with the Sultan of Damascus, and had not forces to oppose two enemies

so powerful. He therefore sent messengers to meet the English Earl, offering an exchange of prisoners and the

complete cession of the Holy Land. Richard, who had not come to fight for the mere sake of fighting, agreed

at once to terms so advantageous, and became the deliverer of Palestine without striking a blow. The Sultan

of Egypt then turned his whole force against his Moslem enemies, and the Earl of Cornwall returned to

Europe. Thus ended the eighth Crusade, the most beneficial of all. Christendom had no further pretence for

sending her fierce levies to the East. To all appearance, the holy wars were at an end: the Christians had

entire possession of Jerusalem, Tripoli, Antioch, Edessa, Acre, Jaffa, and, in fact, of nearly all Judea; and,

could they have been at peace among themselves, they might have overcome, without great difficulty, the

jealousy and hostility of their neighhours. A circumstance, as unforeseen as it was disastrous, blasted this fair

prospect, and reillumed, for the last time, the fervour and fury of the Crusades.

Gengis Khan and his successors had swept over Asia like a tropical storm, overturning in their progress the

landmarks of ages. Kingdom after kingdom was cast down as they issued, innumerable, from the far recesses

of the North and East, and, among others, the empire of Korasmin was overrun by these allconquering

hordes. The Korasmins, a fierce, uncivilized race, thus driven from their homes, spread themselves, in their

turn, over the south of Asia with fire and sword, in search of a resting place. In their impetuous course they

directed themselves towards Egypt, whose Sultan, unable to withstand the swarm that had cast their longing

eyes on the fertile valleys of the Nile, endeavoured to turn them from their course. For this purpose, he sent

emissaries to Barbaquan, their leader, inviting them to settle in Palestine; and the offer being accepted by the

wild horde, they entered the country before the Christians received the slightest intimation of their coming. It

was as sudden as it was overwhelming. Onwards, like the simoom, they came, burning and slaying, and were

at the walls of Jerusalem before the inhabitants had time to look round them. They spared neither life nor

property; they slew women and children, and priests at the altar, and profaned even the graves of those who

had slept for ages. They tore down every vestige of the Christian faith, and committed horrors unparalleled in

the history of warfare. About seven thousand of the inhabitants of Jerusalem sought safety in retreat; but

before they were out of sight, the banner of the Cross was hoisted upon the walls by the savage foe to decoy

them back. The artifice was but too successful. The poor fugitives imagined that help had arrived from

another direction, and turned back to regain their homes. Nearly the whole of them were massacred, and the

The Templars, Hospitallers, and Teutonic knights forgot their long and bitter animosities, and joined hand in

hand to rout out this desolating foe. They intrenched themselves in Jaffa with all the chivalry of Palestine that

yet remained, and endeavoured to engage the Sultans of Emissa and Damascus to assist them against the

common enemy. The aid obtained from the Moslems amounted at first to only four thousand men, but with

these reinforcements Walter of Brienne, the Lord of Jaffa, resolved to give battle to the Korasrains. The

conflict was as deadly as despair on the one side, and unmitigated ferocity on the other, could make it. It

lasted with varying fortune for two days, when the Sultan of Emissa fled to his fortifications, and Walter of

Brienne fell into the enemy's hands. The brave knight was suspended by the arms to a cross in sight of the

walls of Jaffa, and the Korasminian leader declared that he should remain in that position until the city

surrendered. Walter raised his feeble voice, not to advise surrender, but to command his soldiers to hold out

to the last. But his gallantry was unavailing. So great had been the slaughter, that out of the grand array of

knights, there now remained but sixteen Hospitallers, thirtythree Templars, and three Teutonic cavaliers.

These with the sad remnant of the army fled to Acre, and the Korasmins were masters of Palestine.

The Sultans of Syria preferred the Christians to this fierce horde for their neighbours. Even the Sultan of

Egypt began to regret the aid he had given to such barbarous foes, and united with those of Emissa and

Damascus to root them from the land. The Korasmins amounted to but twenty thousand men, and were

unable to resist the determined hostility which encompassed them on every side. The Sultans defeated them

in several engagements, and the peasantry rose up in masses to take vengeance upon them. Gradually their

numbers were diminished. No mercy was shown them in defeat. Barbaquan, their leader, was slain, and after

five years of desperate struggles they were finally extirpated, and Palestine became once more the territory of

A short time previous to this devastating irruption, Louis IX. fell sick in Paris, and dreamed in the delirium of

his fever that he saw the Christian and Moslem hosts fighting before Jerusalem, and the Christians defeated

with great slaughter. The dream made a great impression on his superstitious mind, and he made a solemn

vow that if ever he recovered his health, he would take a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. When the news of the

misfortunes of Palestine, and the awful massacres at Jerusalem and Jaffa, arrived in Europe, St. Louis

remembered him of his dream. More persuaded than ever, that it was an intimation direct from Heaven, he

prepared to take the Cross at the head of his armies, and march to the deliverance of the Holy Sepulchre.

From that moment he doffed the royal mantle of purple and ermine, and dressed in the sober serge becoming

a pilgrim. All his thoughts were directed to the fulfilment of his design, and although his kingdom could but

ill spare him, he made every preparation to leave it. Pope Innocent IV. applauded his zeal and afforded him

every assistance. He wrote to Henry III. of England to forward the cause in his dominions, and called upon

the clergy and laity all over Europe to contribute towards it. William Longsword, the celebrated Earl of

Salisbury, took the Cross at the head of a great number of valiant knights and soldiers. But the fanaticism of

the people was not to be awakened either in France or England. Great armies were raised, but the masses no

longer sympathized. Taxation had been the great cooler of zeal. It was no longer a disgrace even to a knight if

he refused to take the Cross. Rutebeuf, a French minstrel, who flourished about this time (1250), composed a

dialogue between a crusader and a noncrusader, which the reader will find translated in "Way's Fabliaux."

The crusader uses every argument to persuade the noncrusader to take up arms, and forsake every thing, in

the holy cause; but it is evident from the greater force of the arguments used by the noncrusader, that he was

the favourite of the minstrel. To a most urgent solicitation of his friend, the crusader, he replies,

"I read thee right, thou boldest good To this same land I straight should hie, And win it back with mickle

blood, Nor gaine one foot of soil thereby. While here dejected and forlorn, My wife and babes are left to

mourn; My goodly mansion rudely marred, All trusted to my dogs to guard. But I, fair comrade, well I wot

An ancient saw, of pregnant wit, Doth bid us keep what we have got, And troth I mean to follow it."

This being the general feeling, it is not to be wondered at that Louis IX. was occupied fully three years in

organizing his forces, and in making the necessary preparations for his departure. When all was ready he set

sail for Cyprus, accompanied by his Queen, his two brothers, the Counts d'Anjou and d'Artois, and a long

train of the noblest chivalry of France. His third brother, the Count de Poitiers, remained behind to collect

another corps of crusaders, and followed him in a few months afterwards. The army united at Cyprus, and

amounted to fifty thousand men, exclusive of the English crusaders under William Longsword. Again, a

pestilential disease made its appearance, to which many hundreds fell victims. It was in consequence found

necessary to remain in Cyprus until the spring. Louis then embarked for Egypt with his whole host; but a

violent tempest separated his fleet, and he arrived before Damietta with only a few thousand men. They were,

however, impetuous and full of hope; and although the Sultan Melick Shah was drawn up on the shore with a

force infinitely superior, it was resolved to attempt a landing without waiting the arrival of the rest of the

army. Louis himself in wild impatience sprang from his boat, and waded on shore; while his army, inspired

by his enthusiastic bravery, followed, shouting the old warcry of the first crusaders, Dieu le veut! Dieu le

veut! A panic seized the Turks. A body of their cavalry attempted to bear down upon the crusaders, but the

knights fixed their large shields deep in the sands of the shore. and rested their lances upon them, so that they

projected above, and formed a barrier so imposing, that the Turks, afraid to breast it, turned round and fairly

took to flight. At the moment of this panic, a false report was spread in the Saracen host, that the Sultan had

been slain. The confusion immediately became general the deroute was complete: Damietta itself was

abandoned, and the same night the victorious crusaders fixed their headquarters in that city. The soldiers who

had been separated from their chief by the tempest, arrived shortly afterwards; and Louis was in a position to

But too much confidence proved the bane of his army. They thought, as they had accomplished so much, that

nothing more remained to be done, and gave themselves up to ease and luxury. When, by the command of

Louis, they marched towards Cairo, they were no longer the same men; success, instead of inspiring, had

unnerved them; debauchery had brought on disease, and disease was aggravated by the heat of a climate to

which none of them were accustomed. Their progress towards Massoura, on the road to Cairo, was checked

by the Thanisian canal, on the banks of which the Saracens were drawn up to dispute the passage. Louis gave

orders that a bridge should be thrown across; and the operations commenced under cover of two catcastles,

or high moveable towers. The Saracens soon destroyed them by throwing quantities of Greek fire, the

artillery of that day, upon them, and Louis was forced to think of some other means of effecting his design. A

peasant agreed, for a considerable bribe, to point out a ford where the army might wade across, and the Count

d'Artois was despatched with fourteen hundred men to attempt it, while Louis remained to face the Saracens

with the main body of the army. The Count d'Artois got safely over, and defeated the detachment that had

been sent to oppose his landing. Flushed with the victory, the brave Count forgot the inferiority of his

numbers, and pursued the panicstricken enemy into Massoura. He was now completely cut off from the aid

of his brothercrusaders, which the Moslems perceiving, took courage and returned upon him, with a force

swollen by the garrison of Massoura, and by reinforcements from the surrounding districts. The battle now

became hand to hand. The Christians fought with the energy of desperate men, but the continually increasing

numbers of the foe surrounded them completely, and cut off all hope, either of victory or escape. The Count

d'Artois was among the foremost of the slain, and when Louis arrived to the rescue, the brave advanceguard

was nearly cut to pieces. Of the fourteen hundred but three hundred remained. The fury of the battle was now

increased threefold. The French King and his troops performed prodigies of valour, and the Saracens, under

the command of the Emir Ceccidun, fought as if they were determined to exterminate, in one last decisive

effort, the new European swarm that had settled upon their coast. At the fall of the evening dews the

Christians were masters of the field of Massoura, and flattered themselves that they were the victors.

Selflove would not suffer them to confess that the Saracens had withdrawn, and not retreated; but their

leaders were too wofully convinced that that fatal field had completed the disorganization of the Christian

Impressed with this truth, the crusaders sued for peace. The Sultan insisted upon the immediate evacuation of

Damietta, and that Louis himself should be delivered as hostage for the fulfilment of the condition. His army

at once refused, and the negotiations were broken off. It was now resolved to attempt a retreat; but the agile

Saracens, now in the front and now in the rear, rendered it a matter of extreme difficulty, and cut off the

stragglers in great numbers. Hundreds of them were drowned in the Nile; and sickness and famine worked

sad ravage upon those who escaped all other casualties. Louis himself was so weakened by disease, fatigue,

and discouragement that he was hardly able to sit upon his horse. In the confusion of the flight he was

separated from his attendants, and left a total stranger upon the sands of Egypt, sick, weary, and almost

friendless. One knight, Geffry de Sergines, alone attended him, and led him to a miserable hut in a small

village, where for several days he lay in the hourly expectation of death. He was at last discovered and taken

prisoner by the Saracens, who treated him with all the honour due to his rank and all the pity due to his

misfortunes. Under their care his health rapidly improved, and the next consideration was that of his ransom.

The Saracens demanded, besides money, the cession of Acre, Tripoli, and other cities of Palestine. Louis

unhesitatingly refused, and conducted himself with so much pride and courage that the Sultan declared he

was the proudest infidel he had ever beheld. After a good deal of haggling, the Sultan agreed to waive these

conditions, and a treaty was finally concluded. The city of Damietta was restored; a truce of ten years agreed

upon, and ten thousand golden bezants paid for the release of Louis and the liberation of all the captives.

Louis then withdrew to Jaffa, and spent two years in putting that city, and Cesarea, with the other possessions

of the Christians in Palestine, into a proper state of defence. He then returned to his own country, with great

Matthew Paris informs us that, in the year 1250, while Louis was in Egypt, "thousands of the English were

resolved to go to the holy war, had not the King strictly guarded his ports and kept his people from running

out of doors." When the news arrived of the reverses and captivity of the French King, their ardour cooled;

In France, a very different feeling was the result. The news of the King's capture spread consternation

through the country. A fanatic monk of Citeaux suddenly appeared in the villages, preaching to the people,

and announcing that the Holy Virgin, accompanied by a whole army of saints and martyrs, had appeared to

him, and commanded him to stir up the shepherds and farm labourers to the defence of the Cross. To them

only was his discourse addressed, and his eloquence was such that thousands flocked around him, ready to

follow wherever he should lead. The pastures and the cornfields were deserted, and the shepherds, or

pastoureaux, as they were termed, became at last so numerous as to amount to upwards of fifty thousand,

Millot says one hundred thousand men. [Elemens de l'Histoire de France.] The Queen Blanche, who

governed as Regent during the absence of the King, encouraged at first the armies of the pastoureaux; but

they soon gave way to such vile excesses that the peaceably disposed were driven to resistance. Robbery,

murder, and violation marked their path; and all good men, assisted by the government, united in putting

them down. They were finally dispersed, but not before three thousand of them had been massacred. Many

The ten years' truce concluded in 1264, and St. Louis was urged by two powerful motives to undertake a

second expedition for the relief of Palestine. These were fanaticism on the one hand, and a desire of

retrieving his military fame on the other, which had suffered more than his parasites liked to remind him of.

The Pope, of course, encouraged his design, and once more the chivalry of Europe began to bestir

themselves. In 1268, Edward, the heir of the English monarchy, announced his determination to join the

Crusade; and the Pope (Clement IV.) wrote to the prelates and clergy to aid the cause by their persuasions

and their revenues. In England, they agreed to contribute a tenth of their possessions; and by a parliamentary

order, a twentieth was taken from the corn and moveables of all the laity at Michaelmas.

In spite of the remonstrances of the few clearheaded statesmen who surrounded him, urging the ruin that

might in consequence fall upon his then prosperous kingdom, Louis made every preparation for his departure.

The warlike nobility were nothing loth, and in the spring of 1270, the King set sail with an army of sixty

thousand men. He was driven by stress of weather into Sardinia, and while there, a change in his plans took

place. Instead of proceeding to Acre, as he originally intended, he shaped his course for Tunis, on the African

coast. The King of Tunis had some time previously expressed himself favourably disposed towards the

Christians and their religion, and Louis, it appears, had hopes of converting him, and securing his aid against

the Sultan of Egypt. "What honour would be mine," he used to say, "if I could become godfather to this

Mussulman King." Filled with this idea he landed in Africa, near the site of the city of Carthage, but found

that he had reckoned without his host. The King of Tunis had no thoughts of renouncing his religion, nor

intention of aiding the Crusaders in any way. On the contrary, he opposed their landing with all the forces

that could be collected on so sudden an emergency. The French, however, made good their first position, and

defeated the Moslems with considerable loss. They also gained some advantage over the reinforcements that

were sent to oppose them; but an infectious flux appeared in the army, and put a stop to all future victories.

The soldiers died at the rate of a hundred in a day. The enemy, at the same time, made as great havoc as the

plague. St. Louis himself was one of the first attacked by the disease. His constitution had been weakened by

fatigues, and even before he left France he was unable to bear the full weight of his armour. It was soon

evident to his sorrowing soldiers that their beloved monarch could not long survive. He lingered for some

days, and died in Carthage, in the fiftysixth year of his age, deeply regretted by his army and his subjects,

and leaving behind him one of the most singular reputations in history. He is the modelking of ecclesiastical

writers, in whose eyes his very defects became virtues, because they were manifested in furtherance of their

cause. More unprejudiced historians, while they condemn his fanaticism, admit that he was endowed with

many high and rare qualities; that he was in no one point behind his age, and, in many, in advance of it.

His brother, Charles of Anjou, in consequence of a revolution in Sicily, had become King of that country.

Before he heard of the death of Louis, he had sailed from Messina with large reinforcements. On his landing

near Carthage, he advanced at the head of his army, amid the martial music of drums and trumpets. He was

soon informed how inopportune was his rejoicing, and shed tears before his whole army, such as no warrior

would have been ashamed to shed. A peace was speedily agreed upon with the King of Tunis, and the armies

So little favour had the Crusade found in England, that even the exertions of the heir to the throne had only

collected a small force of fifteen hundred men. With these few Prince Edward sailed from Dover to

Bourdeaux, in the expectation that he would find the French King in that city. St. Louis, however, had left a

few weeks previously; upon which Edward followed him to Sardinia, and afterwards to Tunis. Before his

arrival in Africa, St. Louis was no more, and peace had been concluded between France and Tunis. He

determined, however, not to relinquish the Crusade. Returning to Sicily, he passed the winter in that country,

and endeavoured to augment his little army. In the spring he set sail for Palestine, and arrived in safety at

Acre. The Christians were torn, as usual, by mutual jealousies and animosities. The two great military orders

were as virulent and as intractable as ever; opposed to each other, and to all the world. The arrival of Edward

had the effect of causing them to lay aside their unworthy contention, and of uniting heart to heart, in one last

effort for the deliverance of their adopted country. A force of six thousand effective warriors was soon

formed to join those of the English prince, and preparations were made for the renewal of hostilities. The

Sultan, Bibars or Bendocdar, [Mills, in his history, gives the name of this chief as Al Malek al Dhaker

Rokneddin Abulfeth Bibars al Ali al Bundokdari al Salehi."] a fierce Mamluke, who had been placed on the

throne by a bloody revolution, was at war with all his neighbours, and unable, for that reason, to concentrate

his whole strength against them. Edward took advantage of this; and marching boldly forward to Nazareth,

defeated the Turks and gained possession of that city. This was the whole amount of his successes. The hot

weather engendered disease among his troops, and he himself, the life and soul of the expedition, fell sick

among the first. He had been ill for some time, and was slowly recovering, when a messenger desired to

speak with him on important matters, and to deliver some despatches into his own hand. While the Prince

was occupied in examining them, the traitorous messenger drew a dagger from his belt, and stabbed him in

the breast. The wound fortunately was not deep, and Edward had gained a portion of his strength. He

struggled with the assassin, and put him to death with his own dagger, at the same time calling loudly for

assistance. [The reader will recognise the incident which Sir Walter Scott has introduced into his beautiful

romance, "The Talisman," and which, with the licence claimed by poets and romancers, he represents as

having befallen King Richard I.] His attendants came at his call, and found him bleeding profusely, and

ascertained on inspection that the dagger was poisoned. Means were instantly taken to purify the wound; and

an antidote was sent by the Grand Master of the Templars which removed all danger from the effects of the

poison. Camden, in his history, has adopted the more popular, and certainly more beautiful, version of this

story, which says that the Princess Eleonora, in her love for her gallant husband, sucked the poison from his

wound at the risk of her own life: to use the words of old Fuller, "It is a pity so pretty a story should not be

true; and that so sovereign a remedy as a woman's tongue, anointed with the virtue of loving affection,"

Edward suspected, and doubtless not without reason, that the assassin was employed by the Sultan of Egypt.

But it amounted to suspicion only; and by the sudden death of the assassin, the principal clue to the discovery

of the truth was lost for ever. Edward, on his recovery, prepared to resume the offensive; but the Sultan,

embarrassed by the defence of interests which, for the time being, he considered of more importance, made

offers of peace to the crusaders. This proof of weakness on the part of the enemy was calculated to render a

man of Edward's temperament more anxious to prosecute the war; but he had also other interests to defend.

News arrived in Palestine of the death of his father, King Henry III; and his presence being necessary in

England, he agreed to the terms of the Sultan. These were, that the Christians should be allowed to retain

their possessions in the Holy Land, and that a truce of ten years should be proclaimed. Edward then set sail

The afterfate of the Holy Land may be told in a few words. The Christians, unmindful of their past

sufferings and of the jealous neighbours they had to deal with, first broke the truce by plundering some

Egyptian traders near Margat. The Sultan immediately revenged the outrage by taking possession of Margat,

and war once more raged between the nations. Margat made a gallant defence, but no reinforcements arrived

from Europe to prevent its fall. Tripoli was the next, and other cities in succession, until at last Acre was the

The Grand Master of the Templars collected together his small and devoted band; and with the trifling aid

afforded by the King of Cyprus, prepared to defend to the death the last possession of his order. Europe was

deaf to his cry for aid, the numbers of the foe were overwhelming, and devoted bravery was of no avail. In

that disastrous siege the Christians were all but exterminated. The King of Cyprus fled when he saw that

resistance was vain, and the Grand Master fell at the head of his knights, pierced with a hundred wounds.

Seven Templars, and as many Hospitallets, alone escaped from the dreadful carnage. The victorious Moslems

then set fire to the city, and the rule of the Christians in Palestine was brought to a close for ever.

This intelligence spread alarm and sorrow among the clergy of Europe, who endeavoured to rouse once more

the energy and enthusiasm of the nations, in the cause of the Holy Land: but the popular mania had run its

career; the spark of zeal had burned its appointed time, and was never again to be reillumined. Here and

there a solitary knight announced his determination to take up arms, and now and then a king gave cold

encouragement to the scheme; but it dropped almost as soon as spoken of, to be renewed again, still more

Now what was the grand result of all these struggles? Europe expended millions of her treasures, and the

blood of two millions of her children; and a handful of quarrelsome knights retained possession of Palestine

for about one hundred years! Even had Christendom retained it to this day, the advantage, if confined to that,

would have been too dearly purchased. But notwithstanding the fanaticism that originated, and the folly that

conducted them, the Crusades were not productive of unmitigated evil. The feudal chiefs became better

members of society, by coming in contact, in Asia, with a civilization superior to their own; the people

secured some small instalments of their rights; kings, no longer at war with their nobility, had time to pass

some good laws; the human mind learned some little wisdom from hard experience, and, casting off the

slough of superstition in which the Roman clergy had so long enveloped it, became prepared to receive the

seeds of the approaching Reformation. Thus did the allwise Disposer of events bring good out of evil, and

advance the civilization and ultimate happiness of the nations of the West, by means of the very fanaticism

that had led them against the East. But the whole subject is one of absorbing interest; and if carried fully out

in all its bearings, would consume more space than the plan of this work will allow. The philosophic student

will draw his own conclusions; and he can have no better field for the exercise of his powers than this

The belief that disembodied spirits may be permitted to revisit this world, has its foundation upon that

sublime hope of immortality, which is at once the chief solace and greatest triumph of our reason. Even if

revelation did not teach us, we feel that we have that within us which shall never die; and all our experience

of this life but makes us cling the more fondly to that one repaying hope. But in the early days of "little

knowledge," this grand belief became the source of a whole train of superstitions, which, in their turn,

became the fount from whence flowed a deluge of blood and horror. Europe, for a period of two centuries and

a half, brooded upon the idea, not only that parted spirits walked the earth to meddle in the affairs of men, but

that men had power to summon evil spirits to their aid to work woe upon their fellows. An epidemic terror

seized upon the nations; no man thought himself secure, either in his person or possessions, from the

machinations of the devil and his agents. Every calamity that befell him, he attributed to a witch. If a storm

arose and blew down his barn, it was witchcraft; if his cattle died of a murrainif disease fastened upon his

limbs, or death entered suddenly, and snatched a beloved face from his hearth they were not visitations of

Providence, but the works of some neighbouring hag, whose wretchedness or insanity caused the ignorant to

raise their finger, and point at her as a witch. The word was upon everybody's tongue France, ItaLy,

Germany, England, Scotland, and the far North, successively ran mad upon this subject, and for a long series

of years, furnished their tribunals with so many trials for witchcraft that other crimes were seldom or never

spoken of. Thousands upon thousands of unhappy persons fell victims to this cruel and absurd delusion. In

many cities of Germany, as will be shown more fully in its due place hereafter, the average number of

executions for this pretended crime, was six hundred annually, or two every day, if we leave out the Sundays,

A misunderstanding of the famous text of the Mosaic law, "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live," no doubt

led many conscientious men astray, whose superstition, warm enough before, wanted but a little

corroboration to blaze out with desolating fury. In all ages of the world men have tried to hold converse with

superior beings; and to pierce, by their means, the secrets of futurity. In the time of Moses, it is evident that

there were impostors, who trafficked upon the credulity of mankind, and insulted the supreme majesty of the

true God by pretending to the power of divination. Hence the law which Moses, by Divine command,

promulgated against these criminals; but it did not follow, as the superstitious monomaniacs of the middle

ages imagined, that the Bible established the existence of the power of divination by its edicts against those

who pretended to it. From the best authorities, it appears that the Hebrew word, which has been rendered,

venefica, and witch, means a poisoner and divineress a dabbler in spells, or fortuneteller. The modern

witch was a very different character, and joined to her pretended power of foretelling future events that of

working evil upon the life, limbs, and possessions of mankind. This power was only to be acquired by an

express compact, signed in blood, with the devil himself, by which the wizard or witch renounced baptism,

and sold his or her immortal soul to the evil one, without any saving clause of redemption.

There are so many wondrous appearances in nature, for which science and philosophy cannot, even now,

account, that it is not surprising that, when natural laws were still less understood, men should have attributed

to supernatural agency every appearance which they could not otherwise explain. The merest tyro now

understands various phenomena which the wisest of old could not fathom. The schoolboy knows why, upon

high mountains, there should, on certain occasions, appear three or four suns in the firmament at once; and

why the figure of a traveller upon one eminence should be reproduced, inverted, and of a gigantic stature,

upon another. We all know the strange pranks which imagination can play in certain diseases that the

hypochondriac can see visions and spectres, and that there have been cases in which men were perfectly

persuaded that they were teapots. Science has lifted up the veil, and rolled away all the fantastic horrors in

which our forefathers shrouded these and similar cases. The man who now imagines himself a wolf, is sent to

the hospital, instead of to the stake, as in the days of the witch mania; and earth, air, and sea are unpeopled of

Before entering further into the history of Witchcraft, it may be as well if we consider the absurd

impersonation of the evil principle formed by the monks in their legends. We must make acquaintance with

the primum mobile, and understand what sort of a personage it was, who gave the witches, in exchange for

their souls, the power to torment their fellowcreatures. The popular notion of the devil was, that he was a

large, illformed, hairy sprite, with horns, a long tail, cloven feet, and dragon's wings. In this shape he was

constantly brought on the stage by the monks in their early "miracles" and "mysteries." In these

representations he was an important personage, and answered the purpose of the clown in the modern

pantomime. The great fun for the people was to see him well belaboured by the saints with clubs or cudgels,

and to hear him howl with pain as he limped off, maimed by the blow of some vigorous anchorite. St.

Dunstan generally served him the glorious trick for which he is renowned catching hold of his nose with a

Some of the saints spat in his face, to his very great annoyance; and others chopped pieces off his tail, which,

however, always grew on again. This was paying him in his own coin, and amused the populace mightily; for

they all remembered the scurvy tricks he had played them and their forefathers. It was believed that he

endeavoured to trip people up, by laying his long invisible tail in their way, and giving it a sudden whisk

when their legs were over it; that he used to get drunk, and swear like a trooper, and be so mischievous in

his cups as to raise tempests and earthquakes, to destroy the fruits of the earth and the barns and homesteads

of true believers; that he used to run invisible spits into people by way of amusing himself in the long

winter evenings, and to proceed to taverns and regale himself with the best, offering in payment pieces of

gold which, on the dawn of the following morning, invariably turned into slates. Sometimes, disguised as a

large drake, he used to lurk among the bulrushes, and frighten the weary traveller out of his wits by his awful

quack. The reader will remember the lines of Burns in his address to the "De'il," which so well express the

In all the stories circulated and believed about him, he was represented as an ugly, petty, mischievous spirit,

who rejoiced in playing off all manner of fantastic tricks upon poor humanity. Milton seems to have been the

first who succeeded in giving any but a ludicrous description of him. The sublime pride which is the

quintessence of evil, was unconceived before his time. All other limners made him merely grotesque, but

Milton made him awful. In this the monks showed themselves but miserable romancers; for their object

undoubtedly was to represent the fiend as terrible as possible: but there was nothing grand about their Satan;

on the contrary, he was a low mean devil, whom it was easy to circumvent and fine fun to play tricks with.

But, as is well and eloquently remarked by a modern writer, [See article on Demonology, in the sixth volume

of the "Foreign Quarterly Review."] the subject has also its serious side. An Indian deity, with its wild

distorted shape and grotesque attitude, appears merely ridiculous when separated from its accessories and

viewed by daylight in a museum; but restore it to the darkness of its own hideous temple, bring back to our

recollection the victims that have bled upon its altar, or been crushed beneath its ear, and our sense of the

ridiculous subsides into aversion and horror. So, while the superstitious dreams of former times are regarded

as mere speculative insanities, we may be for a moment amused with the wild incoherences of the patients;

but, when we reflect, that out of these hideous misconceptions of the principle of evil arose the belief in

witchcraft that this was no dead faith, but one operating on the whole being of society, urging on the

wisest and the mildest to deeds of murder, or cruelties scarcely less than murder that the learned and the

beautiful, young and old, male and female, were devoted by its influence to the stake and the scaffold

every feeling disappears, except that of astonishment that such things could be, and humiliation at the thought

Besides this chief personage, there was an infinite number of inferior demons, who played conspicuous parts

in the creed of witchcraft. The pages of Bekker, Leloyer, Bodin, Delrio, and De Lancre abound with

descriptions of the qualities of these imps and the functions which were assigned them. From these authors,

three of whom were commissioners for the trial of witches, and who wrote from the confessions made by the

supposed criminals and the evidence delivered against them, and from the more recent work of M. Jules

Garinet, the following summary of the creed has been, with great pains, extracted. The student who is

desirous of knowing more, is referred to the works in question; he will find enough in every leaf to make his

blood curdle with shame and horror: but the purity of these pages shall not be soiled by anything so ineffably

humiliating and disgusting as a complete exposition of them; what is here culled will be a sufficient sample

of the popular belief, and the reader would but lose time who should seek in the writings of the

Demonologists for more ample details. He will gain nothing by lifting the veil which covers their unutterable

obscenities, unless, like Sterne, he wishes to gather fresh evidence of "what a beast man is." In that case, he

will find plenty there to convince him that the beast would be libelled by the comparison.

It was thought that the earth swarmed with millions of demons of both sexes, many of whom, like the human

race, traced their lineage up to Adam, who, after the fall, was led astray by devils, assuming the forms of

beautiful women to deceive him. These demons "increased and multiplied," among themselves, with the most

extraordinary rapidity. Their bodies were of the thin air, and they could pass though the hardest substances

with the greatest ease. They had no fixed residence or abiding place, but were tossed to and fro in the

immensity of space. When thrown together in great multitudes, they excited whirlwinds in the air and

tempests in the waters, and took delight in destroying the beauty of nature and the monuments of the industry

of man. Although they increased among themselves like ordinary creatures, their numbers were daily

augmented by the souls of wicked men of children stillborn of women who died in childbed, and of

persons killed in duels. The whole air was supposed to be full of them, and many unfortunate men and

women drew them by thousands into their mouths and nostrils at every inspiration; and the demons, lodging

in their bowels or other parts of their bodies, tormented them with pains and diseases of every kind, and sent

them frightful dreams. St. Gregory of Nice relates a story of a nun who forgot to say her benedicite, and make

the sign of the cross, before she sat down to supper, and who, in consequence, swallowed a demon concealed

among the leaves of a lettuce. Most persons said the number of these demons was so great that they could not

be counted, but Wierus asserted that they amounted to no more than seven millions, four hundred and five

thousand, nine hundred, and twentysix; and that they were divided into seventytwo companies or

battalions, to each of which there was a prince or captain. They could assume any shape they pleased. When

they were male, they were called incubi; and when female, succubi. They sometimes made themselves

hideous; and at other times, they assumed shapes of such transcendant loveliness, that mortal eyes never saw

Although the devil and his legions could appear to mankind at any time, it was generally understood that he

preferred the night between Friday and Saturday. If Satan himself appeared in human shape, he was never

perfectly, and in all respects, like a man. He was either too black or too white too large or too small, or

some of his limbs were out of proportion to the rest of his body. Most commonly his feet were deformed; and

he was obliged to curl up and conceal his tall in some part of his habiliments; for, take what shape he would,

he could not get rid of that encumbrance. He sometimes changed himself into a tree or a river; and upon one

occasion he transformed himself into a barrister, as we learn from Wierus, book iv, chapter ix. In the reign of

Philippe le Bel, he appeared to a monk in the shape of a dark man, riding a tall black horse then as a friar

afterwards as an ass, and finally as a coachwheel. Instances are not rare in which both he and his inferior

demons have taken the form of handsome young men; and, successfully concealing their tails, have married

beautiful young women, who have had children by them. Such children were easily recognizable by their

continual shrieking by their requiring five nurses to suckle them, and by their never growing fat.

All these demons were at the command of any individual, who would give up his immortal soul to the prince

of evil for the privilege of enjoying their services for a stated period. The wizard or witch could send them to

execute the most difficult missions: whatever the witch commanded was performed, except it was a good

action, in which case the order was disobeyed, and evil worked upon herself instead.

At intervals, according to the pleasure of Satan, there was a general meeting of the demons and all the

witches. This meeting was called the Sabbath, from its taking place on the Saturday or immediately after

midnight on Fridays. These Sabbaths were sometimes held for one district, sometimes for another, and once

at least, every year, it was held on the Brocken, or among other high mountains, as a general sabbath of the

The devil generally chose a place where four roads met, as the scene of this assembly, or if that was not

convenient, the neighbourhood of a lake. Upon this spot nothing would ever afterwards grow, as the hot feet

of the demons and witches burnt the principle of fecundity from the earth, and rendered it barren for ever.

When orders had been once issued for the meeting of the Sabbath, all the wizards and witches who failed to

attend it were lashed by demons with a rod made of serpents or scorpions, as a punishment for their

In France and England, the witches were supposed to ride uniformly upon broomsticks; but in Italy and

Spain, the devil himself, in the shape of a goat, used to transport them on his back, which lengthened or

shortened according to the number of witches he was desirous of accommodating. No witch, when

proceeding to the Sabbath, could get out by a door or window, were she to try ever so much. Their general

mode of ingress was by the keyhole, and of egress, by the chimney, up which they flew, broom and all, with

the greatest ease. To prevent the absence of the witches from being noticed by their neighbours, some inferior

demon was commanded to assume their shapes and lie in their beds, feigning illness, until the Sabbath was

When all the wizards and witches had arrived at the place of rendezvous, the infernal ceremonies of the

Sabbath began. Satan, having assumed his favourite shape of a large hegoat, with a face in front and another

in his haunches, took his seat upon a throne; and all present, in succession, paid their respects to him, and

kissed him in his face behind. This done, he appointed a master of the ceremonies, in company with whom he

made a personal examination of all the wizards and witches, to see whether they had the secret mark about

them by which they were stamped as the devil's own. This mark was always insensible to pain. Those who

had not yet been marked, received the mark from the master of the ceremonies; the devil at the same time

bestowing nicknames upon them. This done, they all began to sing and. dance in the most furious manner,

until some one arrived who was anxious to be admitted into their society. They were then silent for a while,

until the newcomer had denied his salvation, kissed the devil, spat upon the Bible, and sworn obedience to

him in all things. They then began dancing again with all their might, and singing these words,

In the course of an hour or two, they generally became wearied of this violent exercise, and then they all sat

down and recounted the evil deeds they had done since their last meeting. Those who had not been malicious

and mischievous enough towards their fellowcreatures, received personal chastisement from Satan himself,

who flogged them with thorns or scorpions till they were covered with blood, and unable to sit or stand.

When this ceremony was concluded, they were all amused by a dance of toads. Thousands of these creatures

sprang out of the earth; and standing on their hindlegs, danced, while the devil played the bagpipes or the

trumpet. These toads were all endowed with the faculty of speech, and entreated the witches to reward them

with the flesh of unbaptized babes for their exertions to give them pleasure. The witches promised

compliance. The devil bade them remember to keep their word; and then stamping his foot, caused all the

toads to sink into the earth in an instant. The place being thus cleared, preparation was made for the banquet,

where all manner of disgusting things were served up and greedily devoured by the demons and witches;

although the latter were sometimes regaled with choice meats and expensive wines from golden plates and

crystal goblets; but they were never thus favoured unless they had done an extraordinary number of evil

After the feast, they began dancing again; but such as had no relish for any more exercise in that way, amused

themselves by mocking the holy sacrament of baptism. For this purpose, the toads were again called up, and

sprinkled with filthy water; the devil making the sign of the cross, and all the witches calling out, "In nomine

Patrica, Aragueaco Petrica, agora! agora! Valentia, jouando goure gaits goustia!" which meant, "In the name

When the devil wished to be particularly amused, he made the witches strip off their clothes and dance before

him, each with a cat tied round her neck, and another dangling from her body in form of a tail. When the cock

This is a summary of the belief which prevailed for many centuries nearly all over Europe, and which is far

from eradicated even at this day. It was varied in some respects in several countries, but the main points were

the same in France, Germany, Great Britain, Italy, Spain, and the far North of Europe.

The early annals of France abound with stories of supposed sorcery, but it was not until the time of

Charlemagne that the crime acquired any great importance. "This monarch," says M. Jules Garinet, ["Histoire

de la Magie en France. Rois de la seconde race," page 29.] "had several times given orders that all

necromancers, astrologers, and witches should be driven from his states; but as the number of criminals

augmented daily, he found it necessary at last to resort to severer measures. In consequence, he published

several edicts, which may be found at length in the 'Capitulaire de Baluse.' By these, every sort of magic,

enchantment, and witchcraft was forbidden; and the punishment of death decreed against those who in any

way evoked the devil compounded lovephilters afflicted either man or woman with barrenness

troubled the atmosphere excited tempests destroyed the fruits of the earth dried up the milk of

cows, or tormented their fellowcreatures with sores and diseases. All persons found guilty of exercising

these execrable arts, were to be executed immediately upon conviction, that the earth might be rid of the

burthen and curse of their presence; and those even who consulted them might also be punished with death.

[M. Michaud, in his "History of the Crusades," M. Guinguene, in his "Literary History of Italy," and some

other critics, have objected to Tasso's poem, that he has attributed to the Crusaders a belief in magic, which

did not exist at that time. If these critics had referred to the Edicts of Charlemagne, they would have seen that

Tasso was right, and that a disposition too eager to spy out imperfections in a great work was leading

After this time, prosecutions for witchcraft are continually mentioned, especially by the French historians. It

was a crime imputed with so much ease, and repelled with so much difficulty, that the powerful, whenever

they wanted to ruin the weak, and could fix no other imputation upon them, had only to accuse them of

witchcraft to ensure their destruction. Instances, in which this crime was made the pretext for the most violent

persecution, both of individuals and of communities, whose real offences were purely political or religious,

must be familiar to every reader. The extermination of the Stedinger, in 1234; of the Templars, from 1307 to

1313; the execution of Joan of Arc, in 1429; and the unhappy scenes of Arras, in 1459; are the most

prominent. The first of these is perhaps the least known, but is not among the least remarkable. The following

account, from Dr. Kortum's interesting history ["Entstehungsgeschichte der freistadlischen Bunde im

Mittelalter, von Dr. F. Kortum." 1827.] of the republican confederacies of the Middle Ages, will show the

horrible convenience of imputations of witchcraft, when royal or priestly wolves wanted a pretext for a

The Frieslanders, inhabiting the district from the Weser to the Zuydersee, had long been celebrated for their

attachment to freedom, and their successful struggles in its defence. As early as the eleventh century, they

had formed a general confederacy against the encroachments of the Normans and the Saxons, which was

divided into seven seelands, holding annually a diet under a large oaktree at Aurich, near the Upstalboom.

Here they managed their own affairs, without the control of the clergy and ambitious nobles who surrounded

them, to the great scandal of the latter. They already had true notions of a representative government. The

deputies of the people levied the necessary taxes, deliberated on the affairs of the community, and performed,

in their simple and patriarchal manner; nearly all the functions of the representative assemblies of the present

day. Finally, the Archbishop of Bremen, together with the Count of Oldenburg and other neighbouring

potentates, formed a league against that section of the Frieslanders, known by the name of the Stedinger, and

succeeded, after harassing them, and sowing dissensions among them for many years, in bringing them under

the yoke. But the Stedinger, devotedly attached to their ancient laws, by which they had attained a degree of

civil and religious liberty very uncommon in that age, did not submit without a violent struggle. They arose in

insurrection, in the year 1204, in defence of the ancient customs of their country refused to pay taxes to

the feudal chiefs, or tithes to the clergy, who had forced themselves into their peaceful retreats, and drove out

many of their oppressors. For a period of eightandtwenty years the brave Stedinger continued the struggle

singlehanded against the forces of the Archbishops of Bremen and the Counts of Oldenburg, and destroyed,

in the year 1232, the strong castle of Slutterberg, near Delmenhorst, built by the latter nobleman as a position

from which he could send out his marauders to plunder and destroy the possessions of the peasantry.

The invincible courage of these poor people proving too strong for their oppressors to cope with by the

ordinary means of warfare, the Archbishop of Bremen applied to Pope Gregory IX. for his spiritual aid

against them. That prelate entered cordially into the cause, and launching forth his anathema against the

Stedinger as heretics and witches, encouraged all true believers to assist in their extermination. A large body

of thieves and fanatics broke into their country in the year 1233, killing and burning wherever they went, and

not sparing either women or children, the sick or the aged, in their rage. The Stedinger, however, rallied in

great force, routed their invaders, and killed in battle their leader, Count Burckhardt of Oldenburg, with many

Again the pope was applied to, and a crusade against the Stedinger was preached in all that part of Germany.

The pope wrote to all the bishops and leaders of the faithful an exhortation to arm, to root out from the land

those abominable witches and wizards. "The Stedinger," said his Holiness, "seduced by the devil, have

abjured all the laws of God and man; slandered the Church insulted the holy sacraments consulted

witches to raise evil spirits shed blood like water taken the lives of priests, and concocted an infernal

scheme to propagate the worship of the devil, whom they adore under the name of Asmodi. The devil appears

to them in different shapes; sometimes as a goose or a duck, and at others in the figure of a pale, blackeyed

youth, with a melancholy aspect, whose embrace fills their hearts with eternal hatred against the holy church

of Christ. This devil presides at their Sabbaths, when they all kiss him and dance around him. He then

envelopes them in total darkness, and they all, male and female, give themselves up to the grossest and most

In consequence of these letters of the pope, the Emperor of Germany, Frederic II, also pronounced his ban

against them. The Bishops of Ratzebourg, Lubeck, Osnabruek, Munster, and Minden took up arms to

exterminate them, aided by the Duke of Brabant, the Counts of Holland, of Cloves, of the Mark, of

Oldenburg, of Egmond, of Diest, and many other powerful nobles. An army of forty thousand men was soon

collected, which marched, under the command of the Duke of Brabant, into the country of the Stedinger. The

latter mustered vigorously in defence of their lives and liberties, but could raise no greater force, including

every man capable of bearing arms, than eleven thousand men to cope against the overwhelming numbers of

their foe. They fought with the energy of despair, but all in vain. Eight thousand of them were slain on the

field of battle; the whole race was exterminated; and the enraged conquerors scoured the country in all

directions slew the women and children and old men drove away the cattle fired the woods and

Just as absurd and effectual was the charge brought against the Templars in 1307, when they had rendered

themselves obnoxious to the potentates and prelacy of Christendom. Their wealth, their power, their pride,

and their insolence had raised up enemies on every side; and every sort of accusation was made against them,

but failed to work their overthrow, until the terrible cry of witchcraft was let loose upon them. This effected

its object, and the Templars were extirpated. They were accused of having sold their souls to the devil, and of

celebrating all the infernal mysteries of the witches' Sabbath. It was pretended that, when they admitted a

novice into their order, they forced him to renounce his salvation and curse Jesus Christ; that they then made

him submit to many unholy and disgusting ceremonies, and forced him to kiss the Superior on the cheek, the

navel, and the breech; and spit three times upon a crucifix. That all the members were forbidden to have

connexion with women, but might give themselves up without restraint to every species of unmentionable

debauchery. That when, by any mischance, a Templar infringed this order, and a child was born, the whole

order met, and tossed it about like a shuttlecock from one to the other until it expired; that they then roasted it

by a slow fire, and with the fat which trickled from it anointed the hair and beard of a large image of the

devil. It was also said that, when one of the knights died, his body was burnt into a powder, and then mixed

with wine and drunk by every member of the order. Philip IV, who, to exercise his own implacable hatred,

invented, in all probability, the greater part of these charges, issued orders for the immediate arrest of all the

Templars in his dominions. The pope afterwards took up the cause with almost as much fervour as the King

of France; and in every part of Europe, the Templars were thrown into prison and their goods and estates

confiscated. Hundreds of them, when put to the rack, confessed even the most preposterous of the charges

against them, and by so doing, increased the popular clamour and the hopes of their enemies. It is true that,

when removed from the rack, they denied all they had previously confessed; but this circumstance only

increased the outcry, and was numbered as an additional crime against them. They were considered in a

worse light than before, and condemned forthwith to the flames, as relapsed heretics. Fiftynine of these

unfortunate victims were all burned together by a slow fire in a field in the suburbs of Paris, protesting to the

very last moment of their lives, their innocence of the crimes imputed to them, and refusing to accept of

pardon upon condition of acknowledging themselves guilty. Similar scenes were enacted in the provinces;

and for four years, hardly a month passed without witnessing the execution of one or more of these unhappy

men. Finally, in 1313, the last scene of this tragedy closed by the burning of the GrandMaster, Jacques de

Molay, and his companion, Guy, the Commander of Normandy. Anything more atrocious it is impossible to

conceive; disgraceful alike to the monarch who originated, the pope who supported, and the age which

tolerated the monstrous iniquity. That the malice of a few could invent such a charge, is a humiliating thought

for the lover of his species; but that millions of mankind should credit it, is still more so.

The execution of Joan of Arc is the next most notorious example which history affords us, of the imputation

of witchcraft against a political enemy. Instances of similar persecution, in which this crime was made the

pretext for the gratification of political or religious hatred, might be multiplied to a great extent. But it is

better to proceed at once to the consideration of the bull of Pope Innocent, the torch that set fire to the

longlaid train, and caused so fearful an explosion over the Christian world. It will be necessary, however, to

go back for some years anterior to that event, the better to understand the motives that influenced the Church

Towards the close of the fourteenth and beginning of the fifteenth century, many witches were burned in

different parts of Europe. As a natural consequence of the severe persecution, the crime, or the pretenders to

it, increased. Those who found themselves accused and threatened with the penalties, if they happened to be

persons of a bad and malicious disposition, wished they had the power imputed to them, that they might be

revenged upon their persecutors. Numerous instances are upon record of halfcrazed persons being found

muttering the spells which were supposed to raise the evil one. When religion and law alike recognized the

crime, it is no wonder that the weak in reason and the strong in imagination, especially when they were of a

nervous temperament, fancied themselves endued with the terrible powers of which all the world was

speaking. The belief of their neighbours did not lag behind their own, and execution was the speedy

As the fear of witchcraft increased, the Catholic clergy strove to fix the imputation of it upon those religious

sects, the pioneers of the Reformation, who began about this time to be formidable to the Church of Rome. If

a charge of heresy could not ensure their destruction, that of sorcery and witchcraft never failed. In the year

1459, a devoted congregation of the Waldenses, at Arras, who used to repair at night to worship God in their

own manner in solitary places, fell victims to an accusation of sorcery. It was rumored in Arras that in the

desert places to which they retired, the devil appeared before them in human form, and read from a large

book his laws and ordinances, to which they all promised obedience; that he then distributed money and food

among them, to bind them to his service, which done, they gave themselves up to every species of lewdness

and debauchery. Upon these rumours, several creditable persons in Arras were seized and imprisoned,

together with a number of decrepit and idiotic old women. The rack, that convenient instrument for making

the accused confess anything, was of course put in requisition. Monstrelet, in his Chronicle, says that they

were tortured until some of them admitted the truth of the whole accusations, and said besides, that they had

seen and recognized, in their nocturnal assemblies, many persons of rank; many prelates, seigneurs,

governors of bailliages, and mayors of cities, being such names as the examiners had themselves suggested to

the victims. Several who had been thus informed against, were thrown into prison, and so horribly tortured,

that reason fled, and, in their ravings of pain, they also confessed their midnight meetings with the devil, and

the oaths they had taken to serve him. Upon these confessions judgment was pronounced: the poor old

women, as usual in such cases, were hanged and burned in the marketplace; the more wealthy delinquents

were allowed to escape, upon payment of large sums. It was soon after universally recognized that these trials

had been conducted in the most odious manner, and that the judges had motives of private vengeance against

many of the more influential persons who had been implicated. The Parliament of Paris afterwards declared

the sentence illegal, and the judges iniquitous; but its arret was too late to be of service even to those who had

paid the fine, or to punish the authorities who had misconducted themselves; for it was not delivered until

In the mean time, accusations of witchcraft spread rapidly in France, Italy, and Germany. Strange to say, that

although in the first instance chiefly directed against heretics, the latter were as firm believers in the crime as

even the Catholics themselves. In after times we also find that the Lutherans and Calvinists became greater

witchburners than ever the Romanists had been: so deeply was the prejudice rooted. Every other point of

belief was in dispute, but that was considered by every sect to be as well established as the authenticity of the

But at this early period of the epidemic the persecutions were directed by the heads of the Catholic Church.

The spread of heresy betokened, it was thought, the coming of Antichrist. Florimond, in his work concerning

the Antichrist, lets us fully into the secret of these prosecutions. He says, "All who have afforded us some

signs of the approach of Antichrist agree that the increase of sorcery and witchcraft is to distinguish the

melancholy period of his advent; and was ever age so afflicted as ours? The seats destined for criminals in

our courts of justice are blackened with persons accused of this guilt. There are not judges enough to try

them. Our dungeons are gorged with them. No day passes that we do not render our tribunals bloody by the

dooms which we pronounce, or in which we do not return to our homes, discountenanted and terrified at the

horrible confessions which we have heard. And the devil is accounted so good a master, that we cannot

commit so great a number of his slaves to the flames, but what there shall arise from their ashes a sufficient

Florimond here spoke the general opinion of the Church of Rome; but it never suggested itself to the mind of

any person engaged in these trials, that if it were indeed a devil, who raised up so many new witches to fill

the places of those consumed, it was no other than one in their own employ the devil of persecution. But

so it was. The more they burned, the more they found to burn; until it became a common prayer with women

in the humbler walks of life, that they might never live to grow old. It was sufficient to be aged, poor, and

In the year 1487 there was a severe storm in Switzerland, which laid waste the country for four miles around

Constance. Two wretched old women, whom the popular voice had long accused of witchcraft, were arrested

on the preposterous charge of having raised the tempest. The rack was displayed, and the two poor creatures

extended upon it. In reply to various leading questions from their tormentors, they owned, in their agony, that

they were in the constant habit of meeting the devil, that they had sold their souls to him, and that at their

command he had raised the tempest. Upon this insane and blasphemous charge they were condemned to die.

In the criminal registers of Constance there stands against the name of each the simple but significant phrase,

This case and hundreds of others were duly reported to the ecclesiastical powers. There happened at that time

to be a Pontiff at the head of the Church who had given much of his attention to the subject of witchcraft, and

who, with the intent of rooting out the crime, did more to increase it than any other man that ever lived. John

Baptist Cibo, elected to the Papacy in 1485, under the designation of Innocent VIII, was sincerely alarmed at

the number of witches, and launched forth his terrible manifesto against them. In his celebrated bull of 1488,

he called the nations of Europe to the rescue of the church of Christ upon earth, emperilled by the arts of

Satan, and set forth the horrors that had reached his ears; how that numbers of both sexes had intercourse

with the infernal fiends; how by their sorceries they afflicted both man and beast; how they blighted the

marriage bed, destroyed the births of women and the increase of cattle; and how they blasted the corn on the

ground, the grapes of the vineyard, the fruits of the trees, and the herbs of the field. In order that criminals so

atrocious might no longer pollute the earth, he appointed inquisitors in every country, armed with the

It was now that the Witch Mania, properly so called, may be said to have fairly commenced. Immediately a

class of men sprang up in Europe, who made it the sole business of their lives to discover and burn the

witches. Sprenger, in Germany, was the most celebrated of these national scourges. In his notorious work, the

"Malleus Maleficarum," he laid down a regular form of trial, and appointed a course of examination by which

the inquisitors in other countries might best discover the guilty. The questions, which were always enforced

by torture, were of the most absurd and disgusting nature. The inquisitors were required to ask the suspected

whether they had midnight meetings with the devil? whether they attended the witch's sabbath on the

Brocken? whether they had their familiar spirits? whether they could raise whirlwinds and call down the

Straightway the inquisitors set to work; Cumarius, in Italy, burned fortyone poor women in one province

alone, and Sprenger, in Germany, burned a number which can never be ascertained correctly, but which, it is

agreed on all hands, amounted to more than five hundred in a year. The great resemblance between the

confessions of the unhappy victims was regarded as a new proof of the existence of the crime. But this is not

astonishing. The same questions from the "Malleus Maleficarum," were put to them all, and torture never

failed to educe the answer required by the inquisitor. Numbers of people whose imaginations were filled with

these horrors, went further in the way of confession than even their tormenters anticipated, in the hope that

they would thereby be saved from the rack, and put out of their misery at once. Some confessed that they had

had children by the devil; but no one, who had ever been a mother, gave utterance to such a frantic imagining,

even in the extremity of her anguish. The childless only confessed it, and were burned instanter as unworthy

For fear the zeal of the enemies of Satan should cool, successive Popes appointed new commissions. One was

appointed by Alexander VI, in 1494; another by Leo X, in 1521, and a third by Adrian VI, in 1522. They

were all armed with the same powers to hunt out and destroy, and executed their fearful functions but too

rigidly. In Geneva alone five hundred persons were burned in the years 1515 and 1516, under the title of

Protestant witches. It would appear that their chief crime was heresy, and their witchcraft merely an

aggravation. Bartolomeo de Spina has a list still more fearful. He informs us that, in the year 1524, no less

than a thousand persons suffered death for witchcraft in the district of Como, and that for several years

afterwards the average number of victims exceeded a hundred annually. One inquisitor, Remigius, took great

credit to himself for having, during fifteen years, convicted and burned nine hundred.

In France, about the year 1520, fires for the execution of witches blazed in almost every town. Danaeus, in

his "Dialogues of Witches," says they were so numerous that it would he next to impossible to tell the

number of them. So deep was the thraldom of the human mind, that the friends and relatives of the accused

parties looked on and approved. The wife or sister of a murderer might sympathise in his fate, but the wives

and husbands of sorcerers and witches had no pity. The truth is that pity was dangerous, for it was thought no

one could have compassion on the sufferings of a witch who was not a dabbler in the art: to have wept for a

witch would have insured the stake. In some districts, however, the exasperation of the people broke out, in

spite of superstition. The inquisitor of a rural township in Piedmont burned the victims so plentifully, and so

fast, that there was not a family in the place which did not lose a member. The people at last arose, and the

inquisitor was but too happy to escape from the country with whole limbs. The Archbishop of the diocese

Some of the charges were so utterly preposterous that the poor wretches were at once liberated; others met a

harder, but the usual fate. Some of them were accused of having joined the witches' dance at midnight under

a blasted oak, where they had been seen by creditable people. The husbands of several of these women (two

of whom were young and beautiful) swore positively that at the time stated their wives were comfortably

asleep in their arms; but it was all in vain. Their word was taken, but the Archbishop told them they had been

deceived by the devil and their own senses. It was true they might have had the semblance of their wives in

their beds, but the originals were far away, at the devil's dance under the oak. The honest fellows were

In the year 1561, five poor women of Verneuil were accused of transforming themselves into cats, and in that

shape attending the sabbath of the fiends prowling around Satan, who presided over them in the form of a

goat, and dancing, to amuse him, upon his back. They were found guilty, and burned. [Bodin, page 95.

In 1564, three wizards and a witch appeared before the Presidents Salvert and D'Avanton: they confessed,

when extended on the rack, that they anointed the sheeppens with infernal unguents to kill the sheep that

they attended the sabbath, where they saw a great black goat, which spoke to them, and made them kiss him,

each holding a lighted candle in his hand while he performed the ceremony. They were all executed at

In 1571, the celebrated sorcerer, Trois Echelles, was burned in the Place de Greve, in Paris. He confessed, in

the presence of Charles IX, and of the Marshals de Montmorency, De Retz, and the Sieur du Mazille,

physician to the King, that he could perform the most wonderful things by the aid of a devil to whom he had

sold himself. He described at great length the saturnalia of the fiends the sacrifices which they offered up

the debaucheries they committed with the young and handsome witches, and the various modes of

preparing the infernal unguent for blighting cattle. He said he had upwards of twelve hundred accomplices in

the crime of witchcraft in various parts of France, whom he named to the King, and many of whom were

At Dole, two years afterwards, Gilles Garnier, a native of Lyons, was indicted for being a loupgarou, or

manwolf, and for prowling in that shape about the country at night to devour little children. The indictment

against him, as read by Henri Camus, doctor of laws and counsellor of the King, was to the effect that he,

Gilles Garnier, had seized upon a little girl, twelve years of age, whom he drew into a vineyard and there

killed, partly with his teeth and partly with his hands, seeming like wolf's paws that from thence he trailed

her bleeding body along the ground with his teeth into the wood of La Serre, where he ate the greatest portion

of her at one meal, and carried the remainder home to his wife; that, upon another occasion, eight days before

the festival of All Saints, he was seen to seize another child in his teeth, and would have devoured her had she

not been rescued by the countrypeople and that the said child died a few days afterwards of the injuries

he had inflicted; that fifteen days after the same festival of All Saints, being again in the shape of a wolf, he

devoured a boy thirteen years of age, having previously torn off his leg and thigh with his teeth, and hid them

away for his breakfast on the morrow. He was, furthermore, indicted for giving way to the same diabolical

and unnatural propensities even in his shape of a man, and that he had strangled a boy in a wood with the

intention of eating him, which crime he would have effected if he had not been seen by the neighhours and

Gilles Garnier was put to the rack, after fifty witnesses had deposed against him: he confessed everything that

was laid to his charge. He was, thereupon, brought back into the presence of his judges, when Dr. Camus, in

"Seeing that Gilles Garnier has, by the testimony of credible witnesses, and by his own spontaneous

confession, been proved guilty of the abominable crimes of lycanthropy and witchcraft, this court condemns

him, the said Gilles, to be this day taken in a cart from this spot to the place of execution, accompanied by the

executioner (maitre executeur de la haute justice), where he, by the said executioner, shall be tied to a stake

and burned alive, and that his ashes be then scattered to the winds. The Court further condemns him, the said

In 1578, the Parliament of Paris was occupied for several days with the trial of a man, named Jacques Roller.

He, also, was found guilty of being a loupgarou, and in that shape devouring a little boy. He was burnt alive

In 1579, so much alarm was excited in the neighbourhood of Melun by the increase of witches and

loupgarous, that a council was held to devise some measures to stay the evil. A decree was passed, that all

witches, and consulters with witches, should be punished with death; and not only those, but fortunetellers

and conjurors of every kind. The Parliament of Rouen took up the same question in the following year, and

decreed that the possession of a grimoire, or book of spells, was sufficient evidence of witchcraft; and that all

persons on whom such books were found should be burned alive. Three councils were held in different parts

of France in the year 1583, all in relation to the same subject. The Parliament of Bourdeaux issued strict

injunctions to all curates and clergy whatever, to use redoubled efforts to root out the crime of witchcraft. The

Parliament of Tours was equally peremptory, and feared the judgments of an offended God, if all these

dealers with the devil were not swept from the face of the land. The Parliament of Rheims was particularly

severe against the noueurs d'aiguillette, or "tyers of the knot;" people of both sexes, who took pleasure in

preventing the consummation of marriage, that they might counteract the command of God to our first

parents, to increase and multiply. This Parliament held it to be sinful to wear amulets to preserve from

witchcraft; and that this practice might not be continued within its jurisdiction, drew up a form of exorcism,

which would more effectually defeat the agents of the devil, and put them to flight.

A case of witchcraft, which created a great sensation in its day, occurred in 1588, at a village in the

mountains of Auvergne, about two leagues from Apchon. A gentleman of that place being at his window,

there passed a friend of his who had been out hunting, and who was then returning to his own house. The

gentleman asked his friend what sport he had had; upon which the latter informed him that he had been

attacked in the plain by a large and savage wolf, which he had shot at, without wounding; and that he had

then drawn out his huntingknife and cut off the animal's forepaw, as it sprang upon his neck to devour him.

The huntsman, upon this, put his hand into his bag to pull out the paw, but was shocked to find that it was a

woman's hand, with a weddingring on the finger. The gentleman immediately recognized his wife's ring,

"which," says the indictment against her, "made him begin to suspect some evil of her." He immediately went

in search of her, and found her sitting by the fire in the kitchen, with her arm hidden underneath her apron.

He tore off her apron with great vehemence, and found that she had no hand, and that the stump was even

then bleeding. She was given into custody, and burned at Riom in presence of some thousands of spectators.

[Tablier. See also Boguet, "Discours sur les Sorciers;" and M. Jules Garinet, "Histoire de la Magie," page

In the midst of these executions, rare were the gleams of mercy; few instances are upon record of any

acquittal taking place when the charge was witchcraft. The discharge of fourteen persons by the Parliament of

Paris, in the year 1589, is almost a solitary example of a return to reason. Fourteen persons, condemned to

death for witchcraft, appealed against the judgment to the Parliament of Paris, which for political reasons had

been exiled to Tours. The Parliament named four commissioners, Pierre Pigray, the King's surgeon, and

Messieurs Leroi, Renard, and Falaiseau, the King's physicians, to visit and examine these witches, and see

whether they had the mark of the devil upon them. Pigray, who relates the circumstance in his work on

Surgery, book vii, chapter the tenth, says the visit was made in presence of two counsellors of the court. The

witches were all stripped naked, and the physicians examined their bodies very diligently, pricking them in

all the marks they could find, to see whether they were insensible to pain, which was always considered a

certain proof of guilt. They were, however, very sensible of the pricking, and some of them called out very

lustily when the pins were driven into them. "We found them," continues Pierre Pigray, "to be very poor,

stupid people, and some of them insane; many of them were quite indifferent about life, and one or two of

them desired death as a relief for their sufferings. Our opinion was, that they stood more in need of medicine

than of punishment, and so we reported to the Parliament. Their case was, thereupon, taken into further

consideration, and the Parliament, after mature counsel amongst all the members, ordered the poor creatures

Such was the dreadful state of Italy, Germany, and France, during the sixteenth century, which was far from

being the worst crisis of the popular madness with regard to witchcraft. Let us see what was the state of

England during the same period. The Reformation, which in its progress had rooted out so many errors,

stopped short at this, the greatest error of all. Luther and Calvin were as firm believers in witchcraft as Pope

Innocent himself, and their followers showed themselves more zealous persecutors than the Romanists. Dr.

Hutchinson, in his work on Witchcraft, asserts that the mania manifested itself later in England, and raged

with less virulence than on the Continent. The first assertion only is true; but though the persecution began

It was not until more than fifty years after the issuing of the Bull of Innocent VIII. that the Legislature of

England thought fit to make any more severe enactments against sorcery than those already in operation. The

statute of 1541 was the first that specified the particular crime of witchcraft. At a much earlier period, many

persons had suffered death for sorcery in addition to other offences; but no executions took place for

attending the witches' sabbath, raising tempests, afflicting cattle with barrenness, and all the fantastic

trumpery of the Continent. Two statutes were passed in 1551; the first, relating to false prophecies, caused

mainly, no doubt, by the impositions of Elizabeth Barton, the Holy Maid of Kent, in 1534, and the second

against conjuration, witchcraft, and sorcery. But even this enactment did not consider witchcraft as penal in

itself, and only condemned to death those who by means of spells, incantations, or contracts with the devil,

attempted the lives of their neighbours. The statute of Elizabeth, in 1562, at last recognized witchcraft as a

crime of the highest magnitude, whether exerted or not to the injury of the lives, limbs, and possessions of the

community. From that date, the persecution may be fairly said to have commenced in England. It reached its

climax in the early part of the seventeenth century, which was the hottest period of the mania all over Europe.

A few cases of witch persecution in the sixteenth century will enable the reader to form a more accurate idea

of the progress of this great error than if he plunged at once into that busy period of its history when Matthew

Hopkins and his coadjutors exercised their infernal calling. Several instances occur in England during the

latter years of the reign of Elizabeth. At this time the public mind had become pretty familiar with the details

of the crime. Bishop Jewell, in his sermons before Her Majesty, used constantly to conclude them by a

fervent prayer that she might be preserved from witches. Upon one occasion, in 1598, his words were, "It

may please your Grace to understand that witches and sorcerers, within these last four years, are marvellously

increased within this your Grace's realm. Your Grace's subjects pine away even unto the death; their colour

fadeth their flesh rotteth their speech is benumbed their senses are bereft! I pray God they may

By degrees, an epidemic terror of witchcraft spread into the villages. In proportion as the doctrines of the

Puritans took root this dread increased, and, of course, brought persecution in its train. The Church of

England has claimed, and is entitled to the merit, of having been less influenced in these matters than any

other sect of Christians; but still they were tainted with the superstition of the age. One of the most flagrant

instances of cruelty and delusion upon record was consummated under the authority of the Church, and

commemorated till a very late period by an annual lecture at the University of Cambridge.

This is the celebrated case of the Witches of Warbois, who were executed about thirtytwo years after the

passing of the statute of Elizabeth. Although in the interval but few trials are recorded, there is, unfortunately,

but too much evidence to show the extreme length to which the popular prejudice was carried. Many women

lost their lives in every part of England without being brought to trial at all, from the injuries received at the

The case of the Witches of Warbois merits to be detailed at length, not only from the importance attached to

it for so many years by the learned of the University, but from the singular absurdity of the evidence upon

which men, sensible in all other respects, could condemn their fellowcreatures to the scaffold.

The principal actors in this strange drama were the families of Sir Samuel Cromwell and a Mr. Throgmorton,

both gentlemen of landed property near Warbois, in the county of Huntingdon. Mr. Throgmorton had several

daughters, the eldest of whom, Mistress Joan, was an imaginative and melancholy girl, whose head was filled

with stories of ghosts and witches. Upon one occasion she chanced to pass the cottage of one Mrs. or, as she

was called, Mother Samuel, a very aged, a very poor, and a very ugly woman. Mother Samuel was sitting at

her door knitting, with a black cap upon her head, when this silly young lady passed, and taking her eyes

from her work she looked steadfastly at her. Mistress Joan immediately fancied that she felt sudden pains in

all her limbs, and from that day forth, never ceased to tell her sisters, and everybody about her, that Mother

Samuel had bewitched her. The other children took up the cry, and actually frightened themselves into fits

Mr. and Mrs. Throgmorton, not a whir wiser than their children, believed all the absurd tales they had been

told; and Lady Cromwell, a gossip of Mrs. Throgmorton, made herself very active in the business, and

determined to bring the witch to the ordeal. The sapient Sir Samuel joined in the scheme; and the children

thus encouraged gave loose reins to their imaginations, which seem to have been of the liveliest. They soon

invented a whole host of evil spirits, and names for them besides, which, they said, were sent by Mother

Samuel to torment them continually. Seven spirits especially, they said, were raised from hell by this wicked

woman to throw them into fits; and as the children were actually subject to fits, their mother and her

commeres gave the more credit to the story. The names of these spirits were, "First Smack," "Second

Throgmorton, the father, was so pestered by these idle fancies, and yet so well inclined to believe them, that

he marched valiantly forth to the hut where Mother Samuel resided with her husband and daughter, and

dragged her forcibly into his own grounds. Lady Cromwell, Mrs. Throgmorton, and the girls were in waiting,

armed with long pins to prick the witch, and see if they could draw blood from her. Lady Cromwell, who

seems to have been the most violent of the party, tore the old woman's cap off her head, and plucking out a

handful of her grey hair, gave it to Mrs. Throgmorton to burn, as a charm which would preserve them all

from her future machinations. It was no wonder that the poor creature, subjected to this rough usage, should

give vent to an involuntary curse upon her tormentors. She did so, and her curse was never forgotten. Her

hair, however, was supposed to be a grand specific, and she was allowed to depart, half dead with terror and

ill usage. For more than a year, the families of Cromwell and Throgmorton continued to persecute her, and to

assert that her imps afflicted them with pains and fits, turned the milk sour in their pans, and prevented their

cows and ewes from bearing. In the midst of these fooleries, Lady Cromwell was taken ill and died. It was

then remembered that her death had taken place exactly a year and a quarter since she was cursed by Mother

Samuel, and that on several occasions she had dreamed of the witch and a black cat, the latter being of course

Sir Samuel Cromwell now conceived himself bound to take more energetic measures against the sorceress,

since he had lost his wife by her means. The year and a quarter and the black cat were proofs positive. All the

neighbours had taken up the cry of witchcraft against Mother Samuel; and her personal appearance,

unfortunately for her, the very ideal of what a witch ought to be, increased the popular suspicion. It would

appear that at last the poor woman believed, even to her own disadvantage, that she was what everybody

represented her to be. Being forcibly brought into Mr. Throgmorton's house, when his daughter Joan was in

one of her customary fits, she was commanded by him and Sir Samuel Cromwell to expel the devil from the

young lady. She was told to repeat her exorcism, and to add, "as I am a witch, and the causer of Lady

Cromwell's death, I charge thee, fiend, to come out of her!" She did as was required of her, and moreover

confessed that her husband and daughter were leagued with her in witchcraft, and had, like her, sold their

souls to the devil. The whole family were immediately arrested, and sent to Huntingdon to prison.

The trial was instituted shortly afterwards before Mr. Justice Fenner, when all the crazy girls of Mr.

Throgmorton's family gave evidence against Mother Samuel and her family. They were all three put to the

torture. The old woman confessed in her anguish that she was a witch that she had cast her spells upon the

young ladies, and that she had caused the death of Lady Cromwell. The father and daughter, stronger in mind

than their unfortunate wife and parent, refused to confess anything, and asserted their innocence to the last.

They were all three condemned to be hanged, and their bodies burned. The daughter, who was young and

goodlooking, excited the pity of many persons, and she was advised to plead pregnancy, that she might gain

at ]east a respite from death. The poor girl refused proudly, on the ground that she would not be accounted

both a witch and a strumpet. Her halfwitted old mother caught at the idea of a few weeks' longer life, and

asserted that she was pregnant. The court was convulsed with laughter, in which the wretched victim herself

joined, and this was accounted an additional proof that she was a witch. The whole family were executed on

Sir Samuel Cromwell, as lord of the manor, received the sum of 40 pounds out of the confiscated property of

the Samuels, which he turned into a rentcharge of 40 shillings yearly, for the endowment of an annual

sermon or lecture upon the enormity of witchcraft, and this case in particular, to be preached by a doctor or

bachelor of divinity of Queen's College, Cambridge. I have not been able to ascertain the exact date at which

this annual lecture was discontinued, but it appears to have been preached so late as 1718, when Dr.

To carry on in proper chronological order the history of the witch delusion in the British isles, it will be

necessary to examine into what was taking place in Scotland during all that part of the sixteenth century

anterior to the accession of James VI. to the crown of England. We naturally expect that the Scotch, a

people renowned from the earliest times for their powers of imagination, should be more deeply imbued

with this gloomy superstition than their neighhours of the South. The nature of their soil and climate tended

to encourage the dreams of early ignorance. Ghosts, goblins, wraiths, kelpies, and a whole host of spiritual

beings, were familiar to the dwellers by the misty glens of the Highlands and the romantic streams of the

Lowlands. Their deeds, whether of good or ill, were enshrined in song, and took a greater hold upon the

imagination because "verse had sanctified them." But it was not till the religious reformers began the practice

of straining Scripture to the severest extremes, that the arm of the law was called upon to punish witchcraft as

a crime per se. What Pope Innocent VIII. had done for Germany and France, the preachers of the

Reformation did for the Scottish people. Witchcraft, instead of being a mere article of faith, became enrolled

in the statute book; and all good subjects and true Christians were called upon to take arms against it. The

ninth Parliament of Queen Mary passed an act in 1563, which decreed the punishment of death against

witches and consulters with witches, and immediately the whole bulk of the people were smitten with an

epidemic fear of the devil and his mortal agents. Persons in the highest ranks of life shared and encouraged

the delusion of the vulgar. Many were themselves accused of witchcraft; and noble ladies were shown to have

dabbled in mystic arts, and proved to the world that, if they were not witches, it was not for want of the will.

Among the dames who became notorious for endeavouring to effect their wicked ends by the devil's aid, may

be mentioned the celebrated Lady Buccleugh, of Branxholme, familiar to all the readers of Sir Walter Scott;

the Countess of Lothian, the Countess of Angus, the Countess of Athol, Lady Kerr, the Countess of Huntley,

Euphemia Macalzean (the daughter of Lord Cliftonhall), and Lady Fowlis. Among the celebrated of the other

sex who were accused of wizzardism was Sir Lewis Ballantyne, the Lord Justice Clerk for Scotland, who, if

we may believe Scot of Scotstarvet, "dealt by curiosity with a warlock called Richard Grahame," and prayed

him to raise the devil. The warlock consented, and raised him in propria persona, in the yard of his house in

the Canongate, "at sight of whom the Lord Justice Clerk was so terrified that he took sickness and thereof

died." By such idle reports as these did the envious ruin the reputation of those they hated, though it would

appear in this case that Sir Lewis had been fool enough to make the attempt of which he was accused, and

The enemies of John Knox invented a similar tale, which found ready credence among the Roman Catholics;

glad to attach any stigma to that grand scourge of the vices of their church. It was reported that he and his

secretary went into the churchyard of St. Andrew's with the intent to raise "some sanctes;" but that, by a

mistake in their conjurations, they raised the great fiend himself, instead of the saints they wished to consult.

The popular rumour added that Knox's secretary was so frightened at the great horns, goggle eyes, and long

tail of Satan, that he went mad, and shortly afterwards died. Knox himself was built of sterner stuff, and was

The first name that occurs in the records of the High Court of Justiciary of persons tried or executed for

witchcraft is that of Janet Bowman, in 1572, nine years after the passing of the act of Mary. No particulars of

her crimes are given, and against her name there only stand the words, "convict and brynt." It is not, however,

to be inferred that, in this interval, no trials or executions took place; for it appears on the authority of

documents of unquestioned authenticity in the Advocates' Library at Edinburgh, [Foreign Quarterly Review,

vol. vi. page 41.] that the Privy Council made a practice of granting commissions to resident gentlemen and

ministers, in every part of Scotland, to examine, try, and execute witches within their own parishes. No

records of those who suffered from the sentence of these tribunals have been preserved; but if popular

tradition may be believed, even to the amount of onefourth of its assertions, their number was fearful. After

the year 1572, the entries of executions for witchcraft in the records of the High Court become more frequent,

but do not average more than one per annum; another proof that trials for this offence were in general

entrusted to the local magistracy. The latter appear to have ordered witches to the stake with as little

compunction, and after as summary a mode, as modern justices of the peace order a poacher to the stocks.

As James VI. advanced in manhood, he took great interest in the witch trials. One of them especially, that of

Gellie Duncan, Dr. Fian, and their accomplices, in the year 1591, engrossed his whole attention, and no doubt

suggested in some degree, the famous work on Demonology which he wrote shortly afterwards. As these

witches had made an attempt upon his own life, it is not surprising, with his habits, that he should have

watched the case closely, or become strengthened in his prejudice and superstition by its singular details. No

other trial that could be selected would give so fair an idea of the delusions of the Scottish people as this.

Whether we consider the number of victims, the absurdity of the evidence, and the real villany of some of the

Gellie Duncan, the prime witch in these proceedings, was servant to the Deputy Bailiff of Tranent, a small

town in Hadingtonshire, about ten miles from Edinburgh. Though neither old nor ugly (as witches usually

were), but young and goodlooking, her neighbours, from some suspicious parts of her behaviour, had long

considered her a witch. She had, it appears, some pretensions to the healing art. Some cures which she

effected were so sudden, that the worthy Bailiff, her master, who, like his neighbours, mistrusted her,

considered them no less than miraculous. In order to discover the truth, he put her to the torture; but she

obstinately refused to confess that she had dealings with the devil. It was the popular belief that no witch

would confess as long as the mark which Satan had put upon her remained undiscovered upon her body.

Somebody present reminded the torturing Bailie of this fact, and on examination, the devil's mark was found

upon the throat of poor Gellie. She was put to the torture again, and her fortitude giving way under the

extremity of her anguish, she confessed that she was indeed a witch that she had sold her soul to the devil,

and effected all her cures by his aid. This was something new in the witch creed, according to which, the

devil delighted more in laying diseases on, than in taking them off; but Gellie Duncan fared no better on that

account. The torture was still applied, until she had named all her accomplices, among whom were one

Cunningham, a reputed wizard, known by the name of Dr. Fian, a grave and matronlike witch, named

Agnes Sampson, Euphemia Macalzean, the daughter of Lord Cliftonhall, already mentioned, and nearly forty

other persons, some of whom were the wives of respectable individuals in the city of Edinburgh. Every one

of these persons was arrested, and the whole realm of Scotland thrown into commotion by the extraordinary

About two years previous to this time, James had suddenly left his kingdom, and proceeded gallantly to

Denmark, to fetch over his bride, the Princess of Denmark, who had been detained by contrary weather in the

harbour of Upslo. After remaining for some months in Copenhagen, he set sail with his young bride, and

arrived safely in Leith, on the 1st of May 1590, having experienced a most boisterous passage, and been

nearly wrecked. As soon as the arrest of Gellie Duncan and Fian became known in Scotland, it was reported

by everybody who pretended to be wellinformed that these witches and their associates had, by the devil's

means, raised the storms which had endangered the lives of the King and Queen. Gellie, in her torture, had

confessed that such was the fact, and the whole kingdom waited aghast and openmouthed for the

Agnes Sampson, the "grave and matronlike" witch implicated by Gellie Duncan, was put to the horrible

torture of the pilliewinkis. She laid bare all the secrets of the sisterhood before she had suffered an hour, and

confessed that Gellie Duncan, Dr. Fian, Marion Lineup, Euphemia Macalzean, herself, and upwards of two

hundred witches and warlocks, used to assemble at midnight in the kirk of North Berwick, where they met

the devil; that they had plotted there to attempt the King's life; that they were incited to this by the old fiend

himself, who had asserted with a thundering oath that James was the greatest enemy he ever had, and that

there would be no peace for the devil's children upon earth until he were got rid of; that the devil upon these

occasions always liked to have a little music, and that Gellie Duncan used to play a reel before him on a

James was highly flattered at the idea that the devil should have said that he was the greatest enemy he ever

had. He sent for Gellie Duncan to the palace, and made her play before him the same reel which she had

Dr. Fian, or rather Cunningham, a petty schoolmaster at Tranent, was put to the torture among the rest. He

was a man who had led an infamous life, was a compounder of and dealer in poisons, and a pretender to

magic. Though not guilty of the preposterous crimes laid to his charge, there is no doubt that he was a

sorcerer in will, though not in deed, and that he deserved all the misery he endured. When put on the rack, he

would confess nothing, and held out so long unmoved, that the severe torture of the boots was resolved upon.

He endured this till exhausted nature could bear no longer, when Insensibility kindly stepped in to his aid.

When it was seen that he was utterly powerless, and that his tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth, he was

released. Restoratives were administered; and during the first faint gleam of returning consciousness, he was

prevailed upon to sign, ere he well knew what he was about, a full confession, in strict accordance with those

of Gellie Duncan and Agnes Sampson. He was then remanded to his prison, from which, after two days, he

managed, somehow or other, to escape. He was soon recaptured, and brought before the Court of Justiciary,

James himself being present. Fian now denied all the circumstances of the written confession which he had

signed; whereupon the King, enraged at his "stubborn wilfulness," ordered him once more to the torture. His

finger nails were riven out with pincers, and long needles thrust up to the eye into the quick; but still he did

not wince. He was then consigned again to the boots, in which, to quote a pamphlet published at the time,

[News from Scotland, declaring the damnable life of Dr. Fian.] he continued "so long, and abode so many

blows in them, that his legs were crushed and beaten together as small as might be, and the bones and flesh so

bruised, that the blood and marrow spouted forth in great abundance, whereby they were made unserviceable

The astonishing similarity of the confessions of all the persons implicated in these proceedings has often been

remarked. It would appear that they actually endeavoured to cause the King's death by their spells and

sorceries. Fian, who was acquainted with all the usual tricks of his profession, deceived them with pretended

apparitions, so that many of them were really convinced that they had seen the devil. The sum of their

Satan, who was, of course, a great foe of the reformed religion, was alarmed that King James should marry a

Protestant princess. To avert the consequences to the realms of evil, he had determined to put an end to the

King and his bride by raising a storm on their voyage home. Satan, first of all, sent a thick mist over the

waters, in the hope that the King's vessel might be stranded on the coast amid the darkness. This failing, Dr.

Fian, who, from his superior scholarship, was advanced to the dignity of the devil's secretary, was

commanded to summon all the witches to meet their master, each one sailing on a sieve on the high seas.

On Allhallowmas Eve, they assembled to the number of upwards of two hundred, including Gellie Duncan,

Agnes Sampson, Euphemia Macalzean, one Barbara Napier, and several warlocks; and each embarking in a

riddle, or sieve, they sailed "over the ocean very substantially." After cruising about for some time, they met

with the fiend, bearing in his claws a cat, which had been previously drawn nine times through the fire. This

he delivered to one of the warlocks, telling him to cast it into the sea, and cry "Hola!" This was done with all

solemnity, and immediately the ocean became convulsed the waters hissed loudly, and the waves rose

The witches sailed gallantly through the tempest they had raised, and landing on the coast of Scotland, took

their sieves in their hands, and marched on in procession to the haunted kirk of North Berwick, where the

devil had resolved to hold a preaching. Gellie Duncan, the musician of the party, tripped on before, playing

Arrived at the kirk, they paced around it withershins, that is, in reverse of the apparent motion of the sun. Dr.

Fian then blew into the keyhole of the door, which opened immediately, and all the witches entered. As it

was pitch dark, Fian blew with his mouth upon the candles, which immediately lighted, and the devil was

seen occupying the pulpit. He was attired in a black gown and hat, and the witches saluted him, by crying,

"All hail, master!" His body was hard, like iron; his face terrible; his nose, like the beak of an eagle; he had

great burning eyes; his hands and legs were hairy; and he had long claws upon his hands and feet, and spake

with an exceedingly gruff voice. Before commencing his sermon, he called over the names of his

congregation, demanding whether they had been good servants, and what success had attended their

Gray Meill, a crazy old warlock, who acted as beadle or doorkeeper, was silly enough to answer, "that

nothing ailed the King yet, God be thanked;" upon which the devil, in a rage, stepped down from the pulpit,

and boxed his ears for him. He then remounted, and commenced the preaching, commanding them to be

dutiful servants to him, and do all the evil they could. Euphemia Macalzean and Agnes Sampson, bolder than

the rest, asked him whether he had brought the image or picture of King James, that they might, by pricking

it, cause pains and diseases to fall upon him. "The father of lies" spoke truth for once, and confessed that he

had forgotten it; upon which Euphemia Macalzean upbraided him loudly for his carelessness. The devil,

however, took it all in good part, although Agnes Sampson and several other women let loose their tongues at

him immediately. When they had done scolding, he invited them all to a grand entertainment. A newly buried

corpse was dug up, and divided among them, which was all they had in the way of edibles. He was more

liberal in the matter of drink, and gave them so much excellent wine that they soon became jolly. Gellie

Duncan then played the old tune upon her trump, and the devil himself led off the dance with Euphemia Mac

Agnes Sampson, the wise woman of Keith, as she was called, added some other particulars in her confession.

She stated, that on a previous occasion, she had raised an awful tempest in the sea, by throwing a cat into it,

with four joints of men tied to its feet. She said also, that on their grand attempt to drown King James, they

did not meet with the devil after cruising about, but that he had accompanied them from the first, and that she

had seen him dimly in the distance, rolling himself before them over the great waves, in shape and size not

unlike a huge haystack. They met with a foreign ship richly laden with wines and other good things, which

they boarded, and sunk after they had drunk all the wine, and made themselves quite merry.

Some of these disclosures were too much even for the abundant faith of King James, and he more than once

exclaimed, that the witches were like their master, "extreme lyars." But they confessed many other things of a

less preposterous nature, and of which they were, no doubt, really guilty. Agnes Sampson said she was to

have taken the King's life by anointing his linen with a strong poison. Gellie Duncan used to threaten her

neighbours by saying she would send the devil after them; and many persons of weaker minds than usual

were frightened into fits by her, and rendered subject to them for the remainder of their lives. Dr. Finn also

made no scruple in aiding and abetting murder, and would rid any person of an enemy by means of poison,

who could pay him his fee for it. Euphemia Macalzean also was far from being pure. There is no doubt that

she meditated the King's death, and used such means to compass it as the superstition of the age directed. She

was a devoted partizan of Bothwell, who was accused by many of the witches as having consulted them on

the period of the King's death. They were all found guilty, and sentenced to be hanged and burned. Barbara

Napier, though found guilty upon other counts, was acquitted upon the charge of having been present at the

great witchmeeting in Berwick kirk. The King was highly displeased, and threatened to have the jury

indicted for a wilful error upon an assize. They accordingly reconsidered their verdict, and threw themselves

upon the King's mercy for the fault they had committed. James was satisfied, and Barbara Napier was hanged

along with Gellie Duncan, Agnes Sampson, Dr. Fian, and fiveandtwenty others. Euphemia Macalzean met

a harder fate. Her connexion with the bold and obnoxious Bothwell, and her share in poisoning one or two

individuals who had stood in her way, were thought deserving of the severest punishment the law could

inflict. Instead of the ordinary sentence, directing the criminal to be first strangled and then burned, the

wretched woman was doomed "to be bound to a stake, and burned in ashes, quick to the death." This cruel

These trials had the most pernicious consequences all over Scotland. The lairds and ministers in their

districts, armed with due power from the privy council, tried and condemned old women after the most

summary fashion. Those who still clung to the ancient faith of Rome were the severest sufferers, as it was

thought, after the disclosures of the fierce enmity borne by the devil towards a Protestant King and his

Protestant wife, that all the Catholics were leagued with the powers of evil to work woe on the realm of

Scotland. Upon a very moderate calculation, it is presumed that from the passing of the act of Queen Mary till

the accession of James to the throne of England, a period of thirtynine years, the average number of

executions for witchcraft in Scotland was two hundred annually, or upwards of seventeen thousand

altogether. For the first nine years the number was not one quarter so great; but towards the years 1590 to

1593, the number must have been more than four hundred. The case last cited was one of an extraordinary

character. The general aspect of the trials will be better seen from that of Isabel Gowdie, which, as it would

be both wearisome and disgusting to go through them all, is cited as a fair specimen, although it took place at

a date somewhat later than the reign of James. This woman, wearied of her life by the persecutions of her

neighbours, voluntarily gave herself up to justice, and made a confession, embodying the whole witchcreed

of the period. She was undoubtedly a monomaniac of the most extraordinary kind. She said that she deserved

to be stretched upon an iron rack, and that her crimes could never be atoned for, even if she were to be drawn

asunder by wild horses. She named a long list of her associates, including nearly fifty women and a few

warlocks. They dug up the graves of unchristened infants, whose limbs were serviceable in their

enchantments. When they wanted to destroy the crops of an enemy, they yoked toads to his plough, and on

the following night Satan himself ploughed the land with his team, and blasted it for the season. The witches

had power to assume almost any shape; but they generally chose either that of a cat or a hare, oftenest the

latter. Isabel said, that on one occasion, when she was in this disguise, she was sore pressed by a pack of

hounds, and had a very narrow escape with her life. She reached her own door at last, feeling the hot breath

of the pursuing dogs at her haunches. She managed, however, to hide herself behind a chest, and got time to

pronounce the magic words that could alone restore her to her proper shape. They were :

If witches, when in this shape, were bitten by the dogs, they always retained the marks in their human form;

but she had never heard that any witch had been bitten to death. When the devil appointed any general

meeting of the witches, the custom was that they should proceed through the air mounted on broomsticks, or

They generally left behind them a broom, or a threelegged stool, which, when placed in their beds and duly

charmed, assumed the human shape till their return. This was done that the neighhours might not know when

She added, that the devil furnished his favourite witches with servant imps to attend upon them. These imps

were called "The Roaring Lion," "Thief of Hell," "WaituponHerself," "Ranting Roarer,"

"CareforNaught," and were known by their liveries, which were generally yellow, saddun, seagreen,

peagreen, or grassgreen. Satan never called the witches by the names they had received at baptism; neither

were they allowed, in his presence, so to designate each other. Such a breach of the infernal etiquette

assuredly drew down his most severe displeasure. But as some designation was necessary, he rebaptized

them in their own blood by the names of "AbleandStout," "Overthedikewithit," "Raisethewind,"

"Picklenearestthewind," "BatterthemdownMaggy," "BlowKale," and such like. The devil himself

was not very particular what name they called him so that it was not "Black John." If any witch was

unthinking enough to utter these words, he would rush out upon her, and beat and buffet her unmercifully, or

tear her flesh with a woolcard. Other names he did not care about; and once gave instructions to a noted

warlock that whenever he wanted his aid, he was to strike the ground three times and exclaim, "Rise up, foul

Upon this confession many persons were executed. So strong was the popular feeling, that no one once

accused of witchcraft was acquitted; at least, acquittals did not average one in a hundred trials.

Witchfinding, or witchpricking became a trade, and a set of mercenary vagabonds roamed about the

country, provided with long pins to run into the flesh of supposed criminals. It was no unusual thing then, nor

is it now, that in aged persons there should be some spot on the body totally devoid of feeling. It was the

object of the witchpricker to discover this spot, and the unhappy wight who did not bleed when pricked upon

it, was doomed to the death. If not immediately cast into prison, her life was rendered miserable by the

persecution of her neighbours. It is recorded of many poor women, that the annoyances they endured in this

way were so excessive, that they preferred death. Sir George Mackenzie, the Lord Advocate, at the time when

witchtrials were so frequent, and himself a devout believer in the crime, relates, in his "Criminal Law," first

published in 1678, some remarkable instances of it. He says, "I went, when I was a justicedepute, to

examine some women who had confessed judicially: and one of them, who was a silly creature, told me,

under secrecy, that she had not confessed because she was guilty, but being a poor creature who wrought for

her meat, and being defamed for a witch, she knew she should starve; for no person thereafter would either

give her meat or lodging, and that all men would beat her and set dogs at her; and that, therefore, she desired

to be out of the world; whereupon she wept most bitterly, and upon her knees called God to witness to what

she said." Sir George, though not wholly elevated above the prejudices of his age upon this subject, was

clearsighted enough to see the danger to society of the undue encouragement given to the

witchprosecutions. He was convinced that threefourths of them were unjust and unfounded. He says, in the

work already quoted, that the persons who were in general accused of this crime, were poor ignorant men and

women, who did not understand the nature of the accusation, and who mistook their own superstitious fears

for witchcraft. One poor wretch, a weaver, confessed that he was a warlock, and, being asked why, he replied,

because "he had seen the devil dancing, like a fly, about the candle!" A simple woman, who, because she was

called a witch, believed that she was, asked the judge upon the bench, whether a person might be a witch and

not know it? Sir George adds, that all the supposed criminals were subjected to severe torture in prison from

their gaolers, who thought they did God good service by vexing and tormenting them; "and I know," says this

humane and enlightened magistrate, "that this usage was the ground of all their confession; and albeit, the

poor miscreants cannot prove this usage, the actors in it being the only witnesses, yet the judge should be

jealous of it, as that which did at first elicit the confession, and for fear of which they dare not retract it."

Another author, ["Satan's Invisible World discovered," by the Rev. G. Sinclair.] also a firm believer in

witchcraft, gives a still more lamentable instance of a woman who preferred execution as a witch to live on

under the imputation. This woman, who knew that three others were to be strangled and burned on an early

day, sent for the minister of the parish, and confessed that she had sold her soul to Satan. "Whereupon being

called before the judges, she was condemned to die with the rest. Being carried forth to the place of

execution, she remained silent during the first, second, and third prayer, and then, perceiving that there

remained no more but to rise and go to the stake, she lifted up her body, and, with a loud voice, cried out,

"Now all you that see me this day, know that I am now to die as a witch, by my own confession, and I free all

men, especially the ministers and magistrates, of the guilt of my blood. I take it wholly upon myself. My

blood be upon my own head. And, as I must make answer to the God of heaven presently, I declare I am as

free of witchcraft as any child. But, being delated by a malicious woman, and put in prison under the name of

a witch, disowned by my husband and friends, and seeing no ground of hope of ever coming out again, I

made up that confession to destroy my own life, being weary of it, and choosing rather to die than to live." As

a proof of the singular obstinacy and blindness of the believers in witches, it may be stated, that the minister

who relates this story only saw in the dying speech of the unhappy woman an additional proof that she was a

It is time, however, to return to James VI, who is fairly entitled to share with Pope Innocent, Sprenger,

Bodinus, and Matthew Hopkins the glory or the odium of being at the same time a chief enemy and chief

encourager of witchcraft. Towards the close of the sixteenth century, many learned men, both on the

Continent and in the isles of Britain, had endeavoured to disabuse the public mind on this subject. The most

celebrated were Wierus in Germany, Pietro d'Apone in Italy, and Reginald Scot in England. Their works

excited the attention of the zealous James, who, mindful of the involuntary compliment which his merits had

extorted from the devil, was ambitious to deserve it by still continuing "his greatest enemie." In the year 1597

he published, in Edinburgh, his famous treatise on Demonology. Its design may be gathered from the

following passage in the introduction. "The fearful abounding," says the King, "at this time, and in this

country, of these detestable slaves of the devil, the witches, or enchanters, hath moved me, beloved reader, to

despatch in post this following treatise of mine, not in any wise, as I protest, to serve for a show of mine own

learning and ingene (ingenuity), but only (moved of conscience) to press thereby, so far as I can, to resolve

the doubting hearts of many; both that such assaults of Satan are most certainly practised, and that the

instrument thereof merits most severely to be punished, against the damnable opinions of two, principally in

our age, whereof the one, called Scot, an Englishman, is not ashamed, in public print, to deny that there can

be such thing as witchcraft, and so maintains the old error of the Sadducees, in denying of spirits. The other,

called Wierus, a German physician, sets out a public apology for all these craftsfolks, whereby procuring for

them impunity, he plainly betrays himself to have been one of that profession." In other parts of this treatise,

which the author had put into the form of a dialogue to "make it more pleasant and facile," he says, "Witches

ought to be put to death, according to the law of God, the civil and imperial law, and the municipal law of all

Christian nations: yea, to spare the life, and not strike whom God bids strike, and so severely punish in so

odious a treason against God, is not only unlawful, but doubtless as great a sin in the magistrate, as was Saul's

sparing Agag." He says also, that the crime is so abominable, that it may be proved by evidence which would

not be received against any other offenders, young children, who knew not the nature of an oath, and

persons of an infamous character, being sufficient witnesses against them; but lest the innocent should be

accused of a crime so difficult to be acquitted of, he recommends that in all cases the ordeal should be

resorted to. He says, "Two good helps may be used: the one is, the finding of their mark, and the trying the

insensibleness thereof; the other is their floating on the water; for, as in a secret murther, if the dead carcass

be at any time thereafter handled by the murtherer, it will gush out of blood, as if the blood were crying to

Heaven for revenge of the murtherer, (God having appointed that secret supernatural sign for trial of that

secret unnatural crime); so that it appears that God hath appointed (for a supernatural sign of the monstrous

impiety of witches) that the water shall refuse to receive them in her bosom, that have shaken off them the

sacred water of baptism, and wilfully refused the benefit thereof; no, not so much as their eyes are able to

shed tears (threaten and torture them as you please), while first they repent (God not permitting them to

dissemble their obstinacy in so horrible a crime). Albeit, the womenkind especially, be able otherwise to shed

tears at every light occasion, when they will; yea, although it were dissembling, like the crocodiles."

When such doctrines as these were openly promulgated by the highest authority in the realm, and who, in

promulgating them, flattered, but did not force the public opinion, it is not surprising that the sad delusion

should have increased and multiplied, until the race of wizards and witches replenished the earth. The

reputation which he lost by being afraid of a naked sword, he more than regained by his courage in

combating the devil. The Kirk showed itself a most zealous coadjutor, especially during those halcyon days

when it was not at issue with the King upon other matters of doctrine and prerogative.

On his accession to the throne of England, in 1603, James came amongst a people who had heard with

admiration of his glorious deeds against the witches. He himself left no part of his ancient prejudices behind

him, and his advent was the signal for the persecution to burst forth in England with a fury equal to that in

Scotland. It had languished a little during the latter years of the reign of Elizabeth; but the very first

Parliament of King James brought forward the subject. James was flattered by their promptitude, and the act

passed in 1604. On the second reading in the House of Lords, the bill passed into a committee, in which were

twelve bishops. By it was enacted, "That if any person shall use, practise, or exercise any conjuration of any

wicked or evil spirit, or shall consult, covenant with, or feed any such spirit, the first offence to be

imprisonment for a year and standing in the pillory once a quarter; the second offence to be death."

The minor punishment seems but rarely to have been inflicted. Every record that has been preserved,

mentions that the witches were hanged and burned, or burned without the previous strangling, "alive and

quick." During the whole of James's reign, amid the civil wars of his successor, the sway of the Long

Parliament, the usurpation of Cromwell, and the reign of Charles II, there was no abatement of the

persecution. If at any time it raged with less virulence, it was when Cromwell and the Independents were

masters. Dr. Zachary Grey, the editor of an edition of "Hudibras," informs us, in a note to that work, that he

himself perused a list of three thousand witches who were executed in the time of the Long Parliament alone.

During the first eighty years of the seventeenth century, the number executed has been estimated at five

hundred annually, making the frightful total of forty thousand. Some of these cases deserve to be cited. The

great majority resemble closely those already mentioned, but two or three of them let in a new light upon the

Every one has heard of the "Lancashire witches," a phrase now used to compliment the ladies of that county

for their bewitching beauty; but it is not every one who has heard the story in which it originated. A

villainous boy, named Robinson, was the chief actor in the tragedy. He confessed, many years afterwards,

that he had been suborned by his father and other persons to give false evidence against the unhappy witches

whom he brought to the stake. The time of this famous trial was about the year 1634. This boy Robinson,

whose father was a woodcutter, residing on the borders of Pendle Forest, in Lancashire, spread abroad many

rumours against one Mother Dickenson, whom he accused of being a witch. These rumours coming to the

ears of the local magistracy, the boy was sent for, and strictly examined. He told the following extraordinary

story, without hesitation or prevarication, and apparently in so open and honest a manner, that no one who

heard him doubted the truth of it: He said, that as he was roaming about in one of the glades of the forest,

amusing himself by gathering blackberries, he saw two greyhounds before him, which he thought at the time

belonged to some gentleman of the neighbourhood. Being fond of sport, he proposed to have a course, and a

hare being started, he incited the hounds to run. Neither of them would stir. Angry at the beasts, he seized

hold of a switch, with which he was about to punish them, when one of them suddenly started up in the form

of a woman, and the other, of a little boy. He at once recognised the woman to be the witch Mother

Dickenson. She offered him some money to induce him to sell his soul to the devil; but he refused. Upon this

she took a bridle out of her pocket, and, shaking it over the head of the other little boy, he was instantly

turned into a horse. Mother Dickenson then seized him in her arms, sprang upon the horse; and, placing him

before her, rode with the swiftness of the wind over forests, fields, bogs, and rivers, until they came to a large

barn. The witch alighted at the door; and taking him by the hand, led him inside. There he saw seven old

women, pulling at seven halters which hung from the roof. As they pulled, large pieces of meat, lumps of

butter, loaves of bread, basins of milk, hot puddings, black puddings, and other rural dainties, fell from the

halters on to the floor. While engaged in this charm they made such ugly faces, and looked so fiendish, that

he was quite frightened. After they had pulled, in this manner enough for an ample feast, they setto, and

showed, whatever might be said of the way in which their supper was procured, that their epicurism was a

little more refined than that of the Scottish witches, who, according to Gellie Duncan's confession, feasted

upon dead men's flesh in the old kirk of Berwick. The boy added, that as soon as supper was ready, many

other witches came to partake of it, several of whom he named. In consequence of this story, many persons

were arrested, and the boy Robinson was led about from church to church, in order that he might point out to

the officers, by whom he was accompanied, the hags he had seen in the barn. Altogether about twenty

persons were thrown into prison; eight of them were condemned to die, including Mother Dickenson, upon

this evidence alone, and executed accordingly. Among the wretches who concocted this notable story, not

one was ever brought to justice for his perjury; and Robinson, the father, gained considerable sums by

Among the ill weeds which flourished amid the long dissensions of the civil war, Matthew Hopkins, the

witchfinder, stands eminent in his sphere. This vulgar fellow resided, in the year 1644, at the town of

Manningtree, in Essex, and made himself very conspicuous in discovering the devil's marks upon several

unhappy witches. The credit he gained by his skill in this instance seems to have inspired him to renewed

exertions. In the course of a very short time, whenever a witch was spoken of in Essex, Matthew Hopkins

was sure to be present, aiding the judges with his knowledge of "such cattle," as he called them. As his

reputation increased, he assumed the title of "Witchfinder General," and travelled through the counties of

Norfolk, Essex, Huntingdon, and Sussex, for the sole purpose of finding out witches. In one year he brought

sixty poor creatures to the stake. The test he commonly adopted was that of swimming, so highly

recommended by King James in his "Demonologie." The hands and feet of the suspected persons were tied

together crosswise, the thumb of the right hand to the toe of the left foot, and vice versa. They were then

wrapped up in a large sheet or blanket, and laid upon their backs in a pond or river. If they sank, their friends

and relatives had the poor consolation of knowing they were innocent, but there was an end of them: if they

floated, which, when laid carefully on the water was generally the case, there was also an end of them; for

Another test was to make them repeat the Lord's prayer and creed. It was affirmed that no witch could do so

correctly. If she missed a word, or even pronounced one incoherently, which in her trepidation, it was most

probable she would, she was accounted guilty. It was thought that witches could not weep more than three

tears, and those only from the left eye. Thus the conscious innocence of many persons, which gave them

fortitude to bear unmerited torture without flinching, was construed by their unmerciful tormentors into

proofs of guilt. In some districts the test resorted to was to weigh the culprit against the church Bible. If the

suspected witch proved heavier than the Bible, she was set at liberty. This mode was far too humane for the

witchfinders by profession. Hopkins always maintained that the most legitimate modes were pricking and

Hopkins used to travel through his counties like a man of consideration, attended by his two assistants,

always putting up at the chief inn of the place, and always at the cost of the authorities. His charges were

twenty shillings a town, his expenses of living while there, and his carriage thither and back. This he claimed

whether he found witches or not. If he found any, he claimed twenty shillings a head in addition when they

were brought to execution. For about three years he carried on this infamous trade, success making him so

insolent and rapacious, that high and low became his enemies. The Rev. Mr. Gaul, a clergyman of Houghton,

in Huntingdonshire, wrote a pamphlet impugning his pretensions, and accusing him of being a common

nuisance. Hopkins replied in an angry letter to the functionaries of Houghton, stating his intention to visit

their town; but desiring to know whether it afforded many such sticklers for witchcraft as Mr. Gaul, and

whether they were willing to receive and entertain him with the customary hospitality, if he so far honoured

them. He added, by way of threat, that in case he did not receive a satisfactory reply, "He would waive their

shire altogether, and betake himself to such places where he might do and punish, not only without control,

but with thanks and recompence." The authorities of Houghton were not much alarmed at his awful threat of

letting them alone. They very wisely took no notice either of him or his letter.

Mr. Gaul describes in his pamphlet one of the modes employed by Hopkins, which was sure to swell his

revenues very considerably. It was a proof even more atrocious than the swimming. He says, that the

"Witchfinder General" used to take the suspected witch and place her in the middle of a room, upon a stool

or table, crosslegged, or in some other uneasy posture. If she refused to sit in this manner, she was bound

with strong cords. Hopkins then placed persons to watch her for fourandtwenty hours, during which time

she was to be kept without meat or drink. It was supposed that one of her imps would come during that

interval, and suck her blood. As the imp might come in the shape of a wasp, a moth, a fly, or other insect, a

hole was made in the door or window to let it enter. The watchers were ordered to keep a sharp lookout, and

endeavour to kill any insect that appeared in the room. If any fly escaped, and they could not kill it, the

woman was guilty; the fly was her imp, and she was sentenced to be burned, and twenty shillings went into

the pockets of Master Hopkins. In this manner he made one old woman confess, because four flies had

appeared in the room, that she was attended by four imps, named "Ilemazar," "Pyewackett,"

It is consoling to think that this impostor perished in his own snare. Mr. Gaul's exposure and his own rapacity

weakened his influence among the magistrates; and the populace, who began to find that not even the most

virtuous and innocent were secure from his persecution, looked upon him with undisguised aversion. He was

beset by a mob, at a village in Suffolk, and accused of being himself a wizard. An old reproach was brought

against him, that he had, by means of sorcery, cheated the devil out of a certain memorandumbook, in which

he, Satan, had entered the names of all the witches in England. "Thus," said the populace, "you find out

witches, not by God's aid, but by the devil's." In vain he denied his guilt. The populace longed to put him to

his own test. He was speedily stripped, and his thumbs and toes tied together. He was then placed in a

blanket, and cast into a pond. Some say that he floated; and that he was taken out, tried, and executed upon no

other proof of his guilt. Others assert that he was drowned. This much is positive, that there was an end of

him. As no judicial entry of his trial and execution is to be found in any register, it appears most probable that

he expired by the hands of the mob. Butler has immortalized this scamp in the following lines of his

In Scotland also witchfinding became a trade. They were known under the designation of "common

prickers," and, like Hopkins, received a fee for each witch they discovered. At the trial of Janet Peaston, in

1646, the magistrates of Dalkeith "caused John Kincaid, of Tranent, the common pricker, to exercise his craft

upon her. He found two marks of the devil's making; for she could not feel the pin when it was put into either

of the said marks, nor did the marks bleed when the pin was taken out again. When she was asked where she

thought the pins were put in her, she pointed to a part of her body distant from the real place. They were pins

These common prickers became at last so numerous, that they were considered nuisances. The judges refused

to take their evidence, and in 1678 the privy council of Scotland condescended to hear the complaint of an

honest woman, who had been indecently exposed by one of them, and expressed their opinion that common

But such an opinion was not formed in high places before hundreds of innocent persons had fallen victims.

The Parliaments had encouraged the delusion both in England and Scotland; and, by arming these fellows

with a sort of authority, had in a manner forced the magistrates and ministers to receive their evidence. The

fate of one poor old gentleman, who fell a victim to the arts of Hopkins in 1646, deserves to be recorded. Mr.

Louis, a venerable clergyman, upwards of seventy years of age, and who had been rector of Framlingham, in

Suffolk, for fifty years, excited suspicion that he was a wizard. Being a violent royalist, he was likely to meet

with no sympathy at that time; and even his own parishioners, whom he had served so long and so faithfully,

turned their backs upon him as soon as he was accused. Placed under the hands of Hopkins, who knew so

well how to bring the refractory to confession, the old man, the light of whose intellect had become

somewhat dimmed from age, confessed that he was a wizard. He said he had two imps, that continually

excited him to do evil; and that one day, when he was walking on the seacoast, one of them prompted him

to express a wish that a ship, whose sails were just visible in the distance, might sink. He consented, and saw

the vessel sink before his eyes. He was, upon this confession, tried and condemned. On his trial the flame of

reason burned up as brightly as ever. He denied all that had been alleged against him, and crossexamined

Hopkins with great tact and severity. After his condemnation, he begged that the funeral service of the church

might be read for him. The request was refused, and he repeated it for himself from memory, as he was led to

A poor woman in Scotland was executed upon evidence even less strong than this. John Bain, a common

pricker, swore that, as he passed her door, he heard her talking to the devil. She said in defence, that it was a

foolish practice she had of talking to herself, and several of her neighbours corroborated her statement; but

the evidence of the pricker was received. He swore that none ever talked to themselves who were not witches.

The devil's mark being found upon her, the additional testimony of her guilt was deemed conclusive, and she

From the year 1652 to 1682, these trials diminished annually in number, and acquittals were by no means so

rare as they had been. To doubt in witchcraft was no longer dangerous. Before country justices,

condemnations on the most absurd evidence still continued, but when the judges of the land had to charge the

jury, they took a more humane and philosophical view. By degrees, the educated classes (comprised, in those

days, within very narrow limits), openly expressed their unbelief of modern witchcraft, although they were

not bold enough to deny its existence altogether. Between them and the believers in the old doctrine fierce

arguments ensued, and the sceptics were designated Sadducees. To convince them, the learned and Reverend

Joseph Glanvil wrote his wellknown work, "Sadducismus Triumphatus," and "The Collection of Relations;"

the first part intended as a philosophical inquiry into witchcraft, and the power of the devil "to assume a

mortal shape;" the latter containing what he considered a multitude of wellauthenticated modern instances.

But though progress was made, it was slow. In 1664, the venerable Sir Matthew Hale condemned two

women, named Amy Duny and Rose Cullender, to the stake at St. Edmondsbury, upon evidence the most

ridiculous. These two old women, whose ugliness gave their neighbours the first idea that they were witches,

went to a shop to purchase herrings, and were refused. Indignant at the prejudice against them, they were not

sparing of their abuse. Shortly afterward, the daughter of the herringdealer fell sick, and a cry was raised

that she was bewitched by the old women who had been refused the herrings. This girl was subject to

epileptic fits. To discover the guilt of Amy Duny and Rose Cullender, the girl's eyes were blinded closely

with a shawl, and the witches were commanded to touch her. They did so, and she was immediately seized

with a fit. Upon this evidence they were sent to prison. The girl was afterwards touched by an indifferent

person, and the force of her imagination was so great, that, thinking it was again the witches, she fell down in

a violent fit as before. This, however, was not received in favour of the accused.

The following extract, from the published reports of the trial, will show the sort of evidence which was

"Samuel Pacey, of Leystoff, (a good, sober man,) being sworn, said that, on Thursday the 10th of October

last, his younger daughter, Deborah, about nine years old, was suddenly taken so lame that she could not

stand on her legs, and so continued till the 17th of the same month, when the child desired to be carried to a

bank on the east side of the house, looking towards the sea; and, while she was sitting there, Amy Duny came

to this examinant's house to buy some herrings, but was denied. Then she came twice more, but, being as

often denied, she went away discontented and grumbling. At this instant of time, the child was taken with

terrible fits, complaining of a pain in her stomach, as if she was pricked with pins, shrieking out with a voice

like a whelp, and thus continued till the 30th of the same month. This examinant further saith, that Amy

Duny, having long had the reputation of a witch, and his child having, in the intervals of her fits, constantly

cried out on her, as the cause of her disorder, saying, that the said Amy did appear to her and fright her, he

himself did suspect the said Amy to be a witch, and charged her with being the cause of his child's illness,

and set her in the stocks. Two days after, his daughter Elizabeth was taken with such strange fits, that they

could not force open her mouth without a tap; and the younger child being in the same condition, they used to

her the same remedy. Both children grievously complained that Amy Duny and another woman, whose habit

and looks they described, did appear to them, and torment them, and would cry out, 'There stands Amy Duny!

There stands Rose Cullender!' the other person who afflicted them. Their fits were not alike. Sometimes they

were lame on the right side; sometimes on the left; and sometimes so sore, that they could not bear to be

touched. Sometimes they were perfectly well in other respects, but they could not hear; at other times, they

could not see. Sometimes they lost their speech for one, two, and once for eight, days together. At times they

had swooning fits, and, when they could speak, were taken with a fit of coughing, and vomited phlegm and

crooked pins; and once a great twopenny nail, with above forty pins; which nail he, the examinant, saw

vomited up, with many of the pins. The nail and pins were produced in the court. Thus the children continued

for two months, during which time the examinant often made them read in the New Testament, and observed,

when they came to the words Lord Jesus, or Christ, they could not pronounce them, but fell into a fit. When

they came to the word Satan, or devil, they would point, and say, 'This bites, but makes me speak right well.'

Finding his children thus tormented without hopes of recovery, he sent them to his sister, Margaret Arnold, at

"Margaret Arnold was the next witness. Being sworn, she said, that about the 30th of November, Elizabeth

and Deborah Pacey came to her house, with her brother, who told her what had happened, and that he thought

his children bewitched. She, this examinant, did not much regard it, supposing the children had played tricks,

and put the pins into their mouths themselves. She, therefore, took all the pins from their clothes, sewing

them with thread instead of pinning them. But, notwithstanding, they raised, at times, at least thirty pins, in

her presence, and had terrible fits; in which fits they would cry out upon Amy Duny and Rose Cullender,

saying, that they saw them and heard them threatening, as before; that they saw things, like mice, running

about the house; and one of them catched one, and threw it into the fire, which made a noise, like a rat.

Another time the younger child, being out of doors, a thing like a bee would have forced itself into her mouth,

at which the child ran screaming into the house, and before this examinant could come at her, fell into a fit,

and vomited a twopenny nail, with a broad head. After that, this examinant asked the child how she came by

this nail, when she answered, 'The bee brought the nail, and forced it into my mouth.' At other times, the

eldest child told this examinant that she saw flies bring her crooked pins. She would then fall into a fit, and

vomit such pins. One time the said child said she saw a mouse, and crept under the table to look for it; and

afterwards, the child seemed to put something into her apron, saying, 'She had caught it.' She then ran to the

fire, and threw it in, on which there did appear to this examinant something like a flash of gunpowder,

although she does own she saw nothing in the child's hand. Once the child, being speechless, but otherwise

very sensible, ran up and down the house, crying, 'Hush! hush!' as if she had seen poultry; but this examinant

saw nothing. At last the child catched at something, and threw it into the fire. Afterwards, when the child

could speak, this examinant asked her what she saw at the time? She answered, that she saw a duck. Another

time the youngest child said, after a fit, that Amy Duny had been with her, and tempted her to drown herself,

or cut her throat, or otherwise destroy herself. Another time they both cried out upon Amy Duny and Rose

Cullender, saying, 'Why don't you come yourselves? Why do you send your imps to torment us?'"

The celebrated Sir Thomas Brown, the author of "Vulgar Errors," was also examined as a witness upon the

trial. Being desired to give his opinion of the three persons in court, he said, he was clearly of opinion that

they were bewitched. He said, there had lately been a discovery of witches in Denmark, who used the same

way of tormenting persons, by conveying crooked pins, needles, and nails into their bodies. That he thought,

in such cases, the devil acted upon human bodies by natural means, namely, by exciting and stirring up the

superabundant humours, he did afflict them in a more surprising manner by the same diseases their bodies

were usually subject to; that these fits might be natural, only raised to a great degree by the subtlety of the

The evidence being concluded, Sir Matthew Hale addressed the jury. He said, he would waive repeating the

evidence, to prevent any mistake, and told the jury, there were two things they had to inquire into. First,

Whether or not these children were bewitched; secondly, Whether these women did bewitch them. He said,

he did not in the least doubt there were witches; first, Because the Scriptures affirmed it; secondly, Because

the wisdom of all nations, particularly our own, had provided laws against witchcraft, which implied their

belief of such a crime. He desired them strictly to observe the evidence, and begged of God to direct their

hearts in the weighty concern they had in hand, since, to condemn the innocent and let the guilty go free, are

The jury then retired, and, in about half an hour, returned a verdict of guilty upon all the indictments, being

thirteen in number. The next morning the children came with their father to the lodgings of Sir Matthew Hale,

very well, and quite restored to their usual health. Mr. Pacey, being asked at what time their health began to

improve, replied, that they were quite well in half an hour after the conviction of the prisoners.

Many attempts were made to induce the unfortunate women to confess their guilt; but in vain, and they were

Eleven trials were instituted before ChiefJustice Holt for witchcraft between the years 1694 and 1701. The

evidence was of the usual character; but Holt appealed so successfully in each case to the common sense of

the jury, that they were every one acquitted. A general feeling seemed to pervade the country that blood

enough had been shed upon these absurd charges. Now and then, the flame of persecution burnt up in a

remote district; but these instances were no longer looked upon as mere matters of course. They appear, on

the contrary, to have excited much attention; a sure proof, if no other were to be obtained, that they were

A case of witchcraft was tried in 1711, before Lord Chief Justice Powell; in which, however, the jury

persisted in a verdict of guilty, though the evidence was of the usual absurd and contradictory character, and

the enlightened judge did all in his power to bring them to a right conclusion. The accused person was one

Jane Wenham, better known as the Witch of Walkerne; and the persons who were alleged to have suffered

from her witchcraft were two young women, named Thorne and Street. A witness, named Mr. Arthur

Chauncy, deposed, that he had seen Ann Thorne in several of her fits, and that she always recovered upon

prayers being said, or if Jane Wenham came to her. He related, that he had pricked the prisoner several times

in the arms, but could never fetch any blood from her; that he had seen her vomit pins, when there were none

in her clothes or within her reach; and that he had preserved several of them, which he was ready to produce.

The judge, however, told him that was needless, as he supposed they were crooked pins.

Mr. Francis Bragge, another witness, deposed, that strange "cakes" of bewitched feathers having been taken

from Ann Thorne's pillow, he was anxious to see them. He went into a room where some of these feathers

were, and took two of the cakes, and compared them together. They were both of a circular figure, something

larger than a crown piece; and he observed that the small feathers were placed in a nice and curious order, at

equal distances from each other, making so many radii of the circle, in the centre of which the quill ends of

the feathers met. He counted the number of these feathers, and found them to be exactly thirtytwo in each

cake. He afterwards endeavoured to pull off two or three of them, and observed that they were all fastened

together by a sort of viscous matter, which would stretch seven or eight times in a thread before it broke.

Having taken off several of these feathers, he removed the viscous matter with his fingers, and found under it,

in the centre, some short hairs, black and grey, matted together, which he verily believed to be cat's hair. He

also said, that Jane Wenham confessed to him that she had bewitched the pillow, and had practised witchcraft

The judge interrupted the witness at this stage, and said, he should very much like to see an enchanted

feather, and seemed to wonder when he was told that none of these strange cakes had been preserved. His

Lordship asked the witness why he did not keep one or two of them, and was informed that they had all been

burnt, in order to relieve the bewitched person of the pains she suffered, which could not be so well effected

A man, named Thomas Ireland, deposed, that hearing several times a great noise of cats crying and screaming

about his house, he went out and frightened them away, and they all ran towards the cottage of Jane Wenham.

One of them he swore positively had a face very like Jane Wenham's. Another man, named Burville, gave

similar evidence, and swore that he had often seen a cat with Jane Wenham's face. Upon one occasion he was

in Ann Thorne's chamber, when several cats came in, and among them the cat above stated. This witness

would have favoured the court with a much longer statement, but was stopped by the judge, who said he had

The prisoner, in her defence, said nothing, but that "she was a clear woman." The learned judge then summed

up, leaving it to the jury to determine whether such evidence as they had heard was sufficient to take away

the prisoner's life upon the indictment. After a long deliberation they brought in their verdict, that she was

guilty upon the evidence. The Judge then asked them whether they found her guilty upon the indictment of

conversing with the devil in the shape of a cat? The sapient foreman very gravely answered, "We find her

guilty of that." The learned judge then very reluctantly proceeded to pass sentence of death; but, by his

persevering exertions, a pardon was at last obtained, and the wretched old woman was set at liberty. In the

year 1716, a woman and her daughter, the latter only nine years of age, were hanged at Huntingdon for

selling their souls to the devil, and raising a storm by pulling off their stockings and making a lather of soap.

This appears to have been the last judicial execution in England. From that time to the year 1736, the

populace raised at intervals the old cry, and more than once endangered the lives of poor women by dragging

them through ponds on suspicion; but the philosophy of those who, from their position, sooner or later give

the tone to the opinions and morals of the poor, was silently working a cure for the evil. The fear of witches

ceased to be epidemic, and became individual, lingering only in minds lettered by inveterate prejudice or

brutalizing superstition. In the year 1736, the penal statute of James I. was finally blotted from the

statutebook, and suffered no longer to disgrace the advancing intelligence of the country. Pretenders to

witchcraft, fortunetellers, conjurors, and all their train, were liable only to the common punishment of

In Scotland, the delusion also assumed the same phases, and was gradually extinguished in the light of

civilization. As in England the progress of improvement was slow. Up to the year 1665, little or no

diminution of the mania was perceptible. In 1643, the General Assembly recommended that the Privy

Council should institute a standing commission, composed of any "understanding gentlemen or magistrates,"

to try the witches, who were stated to have increased enormously of late years. In 1649, an act was passed,

confirmatory of the original statute of Queen Mary, explaining some points of the latter which were doubtful,

and enacting severe penalties, not only against witches themselves, but against all who covenanted with them,

or sought by their means to pry into the secrets of futurity, or cause any evil to the life, lands, or limbs of their

neighbours. For the next ten years, the popular madness upon this subject was perhaps more furious than

ever; upwards of four thousand persons suffered for the crime during that interval. This was the consequence

of the act of parliament and the unparalleled severity of the magistrates; the latter frequently complained that

for two witches they burned one day, there were ten to burn the next: they never thought that they themselves

were the cause of the increase. In a single circuit, held at Glasgow, Ayr, and Stirling, in 1659, seventeen

unhappy creatures were burned by judicial sentence for trafficking with Satan. In one day, (November 7,

1661,) the Privy Council issued no less than fourteen commissions for trials in the provinces. Next year, the

violence of the persecution seems to have abated. From 1662 to 1668, although "the understanding gentlemen

and magistrates" already mentioned, continued to try and condemn, the High Court of Justiciary had but one

offender of this class to deal with, and she was acquitted. James Welsh, a common pricker, was ordered to be

publicly whipped through the streets of Edinburgh for falsely accusing a woman of witchcraft; a fact which

alone proves that the superior court sifted the evidence in these cases with much more care and severity than

it had done a few years previously. The enlightened Sir George Mackenzie, styled by Dryden "the noble wit

of Scotland," laboured hard to introduce this rule into court that the confessions of the witches should be

held of little worth, and that the evidence of the prickers and other interested persons should be received with

distrust and jealousy. This was reversing the old practice, and saved many innocent lives. Though a firm

believer both in ancient and modern witchcraft, he could not shut his eyes to the atrocities daily committed

under the name of justice. In his work on the Criminal Law of Scotland, published in 1678, he says, "From

the horridness of this crime, I do conclude that, of all others, it requires the clearest relevancy and most

convincing probature; and I condemn, next to the wretches themselves, those cruel and too forward judges

who burn persons by thousands as guilty of this crime." In the same year, Sir John Clerk plumply refused to

serve as a commissioner on trials for witchcraft, alleging, by way of excuse, "that he was not himself good

conjuror enough to be duly qualified." The views entertained by Sir George Mackenzie were so favourably

received by the Lords of Session that he was deputed, in 1680, to report to them on the cases of a number of

poor women who were then in prison awaiting their trial. Sir George stated that there was no evidence against

them whatever but their own confessions, which were absurd and contradictory, and drawn from them by

For the next sixteen years, the Lords of Session were unoccupied with trials for witchcraft; not one is entered

upon the record: but in 1697, a case occurred, which equalled in absurdity any of those that signalized the

dark reign of King James. A girl, named Christiana Shaw, eleven years of age, the daughter of John Shaw of

Bargarran, was subject to fits, and being of a spiteful temper, she accused her maidservant, with whom she

had frequent quarrels, of bewitching her. Her story, unfortunately, was believed. Encouraged to tell all the

persecutions of the devil which the maid had sent to torment her, she in the end concocted a romance that

involved twentyone persons. There was no other evidence against them but the fancies of this lying child,

and the confessions which pain had extorted from them; but upon this no less than five women were

condemned, before Lord Blantyre and the rest of the Commissioners, appointed specially by the Privy

Council to try this case. They were burned on the Green at Paisley. The warlock of the party, one John Reed,

who was also condemned, hanged himself in prison. It was the general belief in Paisley that the devil had

strangled him, lest he should have revealed in his last moments too many of the unholy secrets of witchcraft.

This trial excited considerable disgust in Scotland. The Rev. Mr. Bell, a contemporary writer, observed that,

in this business, "persons of more goodness and esteem than most of their calumniators were defamed for

witches." He adds, that the persons chiefly to blame were "certain ministers of too much forwardness and

absurd credulity, and some topping professors in and about Glasgow." [Preface to "Law's Memorials," edited

After this trial, there again occurs a lapse of seven years, when the subject was painfully forced upon public

attention by the brutal cruelty of the mob at Pittenween. Two women were accused of having bewitched a

strolling beggar, who was subject to fits, or who pretended to be so, for the purpose of exciting

commiseration. They were cast into prison, and tortured until they confessed. One of them, named Janet

Cornfoot, contrived to escape, but was brought back to Pittenween next day by a party of soldiers. On her

approach to the town, she was, unfortunately, met by a furious mob, composed principally of fishermen and

their wives, who seized upon her with the intention of swimming her. They forced her away to the sea shore,

and tying a rope around her body, secured the end of it to the mast of a fishingboat lying alongside. In this

manner they ducked her several times. When she was half dead, a sailor in the boat cut away the rope, and the

mob dragged her through the sea to the beach. Here, as she lay quite insensible, a brawny ruffian took down

the door of his hut, close by, and placed it on her back. The mob gathered large stones from the beach, and

piled them upon her till the wretched woman was pressed to death. No magistrate made the slightest attempt

to interfere, and the soldiers looked on, delighted spectators. A great outcry was raised against this culpable

The next case we hear of is that of Elspeth Rule, found guilty of witchcraft before Lord Anstruther at the

Dumfries circuit, in 1708. She was sentenced to be marked in the cheek with a redhot iron, and banished the

Again there is a long interval. In 1718, the remote county of Caithness, where the delusion remained in all its

pristine vigour for years after it had ceased elsewhere, was startled from its propriety by the cry of witchcraft.

A silly fellow, named William Montgomery, a carpenter, had a mortal antipathy to cats, and, somehow or

other, these animals generally chose his backyard as the scene of their catterwaulings. He puzzled his brains

for a long time to know why he, above all his neighbours, should be so pestered; at last he came to the sage

conclusion that his tormentors were no cats, but witches. In this opinion he was supported by his

maidservant, who swore a round oath that she had often heard the aforesaid cats talking together in human

voices. The next time the unlucky tabbies assembled in his backyard, the valiant carpenter was on the alert.

Arming himself with an axe, a dirk, and a broadsword, he rushed out among them: one of them he wounded

in the back, a second in the hip, and the leg of a third he maimed with his axe; but he could not capture any of

them. A few days afterwards, two old women of the parish died, and it was said that, when their bodies were

laid out, there appeared upon the back of one the mark as of a recent wound, and a similar scar upon the hip

of the other. The carpenter and his maid were convinced that they were the very cats, and the whole county

repeated the same story. Every one was upon the lookout for proofs corroborative: a very remarkable one

was soon discovered. Nanny Gilbert, a wretched old creature of upwards of seventy years of age, was found

in bed with her leg broken; as she was ugly enough for a witch, it was asserted that she, also, was one of the

cats that had fared so ill at the hands of the carpenter. The latter, when informed of the popular suspicion,

asserted that he distinctly remembered to have struck one of the cats a blow with the back of his broadsword,

which ought to have broken her leg. Nanny was immediately dragged from her bed, and thrown into prison.

Before she was put to the torture, she explained, in a very natural and intelligible manner, how she had

broken her limb; but this account did not give satisfaction: the professional persuasions of the torturer made

her tell a different tale, and she confessed that she was indeed a witch, and had been wounded by

Montgomery on the night stated that the two old women recently deceased were witches also, besides about

a score of others whom she named. The poor creature suffered so much by the removal from her own home,

and the tortures inflicted upon her, that she died the next day in prison. Happily for the persons she had

named in her confession, Dundas of Arniston, at that time the King's Advocategeneral, wrote to the

Sheriffdepute, one Captain Ross of Littledean, cautioning him not to proceed to trial, the "thing being of too

great difficulty, and beyond the jurisdiction of an inferior court." Dundas himself examined the precognition

with great care, and was so convinced of the utter folly of the whole case that he quashed all further

We find this same Sheriffdepute of Caithness very active four years afterwards in another trial for

witchcraft. In spite of the warning he had received, that all such cases were to be tried in future by the

superior courts, he condemned to death an old woman at Dornoch, upon the charge of bewitching the cows

and pigs of her neighbours. This poor creature was insane, and actually laughed and clapped her hands at

sight of "the bonnie fire" that was to consume her. She had a daughter, who was lame both of her hands and

feet, and one of the charges brought against her was, that she had used this daughter as a pony in her

excursions to join the devil's sabbath, and that the devil himself had shod her, and produced lameness.

This was the last execution that took place in Scotland for witchcraft. The penal statutes were repealed in

1756, and, as in England, whipping, the pillory, or imprisonment, were declared the future punishments of all

Still, for many years after this, the superstition lingered both in England and Scotland, and in some districts is

far from being extinct even at this day. But before we proceed to trace it any further than to its legal

extinction, we have yet to see the frightful havoc it made in continental Europe from the commencement of

the seventeenth to the middle of the eighteenth century. France, Germany, and Switzerland were the countries

which suffered most from the epidemic. The number of victims in these countries during the sixteenth

century has already been mentioned; but, at the early part of the seventeenth, the numbers are so great,

especially in Germany, that were they not to be found in the official records of the tribunals, it would be

almost impossible to believe that mankind could ever have been so maddened and deluded. To use the words

of the learned and indefatigable Horst, [Zauber Bibliothek. Theil 5.] "the world seemed to be like a large

madhouse for witches and devils to play their antics in." Satan was believed to be at everybody's call, to raise

the whirlwind, draw down the lightning, blight the productions of the earth, or destroy the health and paralyse

the limbs of man. This belief, so insulting to the majesty and beneficence of the Creator, was shared by the

most pious ministers of religion. Those who in their morning and evening prayers acknowledged the one true

God, and praised him for the blessings of the seed time and the harvest, were convinced that frail humanity

could enter into a compact with the spirits of hell to subvert his laws and thwart all his merciful intentions.

Successive popes, from Innocent VIII. downwards, promulgated this degrading doctrine, which spread so

rapidly that society seemed to be divided into two great factions, the bewitching and the bewitched.

The commissioners named by Innocent VIII. to prosecute the witchtrials in Germany, were Jacob Sprenger,

so notorious for his work on demonology, entitled the "Malleus Maleficarum," or "Hammer to knock down

Witches," Henry Institor a learned jurisconsult, and the Bishop of Strasburgh. Barnberg, Treves, Cologne,

Paderborn, and Wurzburg, were the chief seats of the commissioners, who, during their lives alone,

condemned to the stake, on a very moderate calculation, upwards of three thousand victims. The number of

witches so increased, that new commissioners were continually appointed in Germany, France, and

Switzerland. In Spain and Portugal the Inquisition alone took cognizance of the crime. It is impossible to

search the records of those dark, but now happily nonexisting tribunals; but the mind recoils with affright

The mode of trial in the other countries is more easily ascertained. Sprenger, in Germany, and Bodinus and

Delrio, in France, have left but too ample a record of the atrocities committed in the muchabused names of

justice and religion. Bodinus, of great repute and authority in the seventeenth century, says, "The trial of this

offence must not be conducted like other crimes. Whoever adheres to the ordinary course of justice perverts

the spirit of the law, both Divine and human. He who is accused of sorcery should never be acquitted unless

the malice of the prosecutor be clearer than the sun; for it is so difficult to bring full proof of this secret crime,

that out of a million of witches not one would be convicted if the usual course were followed!" Henri Boguet,

a witchfinder, who styled himself "The Grand Judge of Witches for the Territory of St. Claude," drew up a

code for the guidance of all persons engaged in the witchtrials, consisting of seventy articles, quite as cruel

as the code of Bodinus. In this document he affirms, that a mere suspicion of witchcraft justifies the

immediate arrest and torture of the suspected person. If the prisoner muttered, looked on the ground, and did

not shed any tears, all these were proofs positive of guilt! In all cases of witchcraft, the evidence of the child

ought to be taken against its parent; and persons of notoriously bad character, although not to be believed

upon their oaths on the ordinary occasions of dispute that might arise between man and man, were to be

believed, if they swore that any person had bewitched them! Who, when he hears that this diabolical doctrine

was the universally received opinion of the ecclesiastical and civil authorities, can wonder that thousands

upon thousands of unhappy persons should be brought to the stake? that Cologne should for many years burn

its three hundred witches annually? the district of Barnberg its four hundred? Nuremberg, Geneva, Paris,

A few of these trials may be cited, taking them in the order of priority, as they occurred in different parts of

the Continent. In 1595 an old woman residing in a village near Constance, angry at not being invited to share

the sports of the country people on a day of public rejoicing, was heard to mutter something to herself, and

was afterwards seen to proceed through the fields towards a hill, where she was lost sight of. A violent

thunderstorm arose about two hours afterwards, which wet the dancers to the skin, and did considerable

damage to the plantations. This woman, suspected before of witchcraft, was seized and imprisoned, and

accused of having raised the storm, by filling a hole with wine, and stirring it about with a stick. She was

About the same time two sorcerers in Toulouse were accused of having dragged a crucifix about the streets at

midnight, stopping at times to spit upon and kick it, and uttering at intervals an exorcism to raise the devil.

The next day a hailstorm did considerable damage to the crops, and a girl, the daughter of a shoemaker in

the town, remembered to have heard in the night the execrations of the wizards. Her story led to their arrest.

The usual means to produce confession were resorted to. The wizards owned that they could raise tempests

whenever they pleased, and named several persons who possessed similar powers. They were hanged, and

then burned in the marketplace, and seven of the persons they had mentioned shared the same fate.

Hoppo and Stadlin, two noted wizards of Germany, were executed in 1599. They implicated twenty or thirty

witches, who went about causing women to miscarry, bringing down the lightning of heaven, and making

maidens bring forth toads. To this latter fact several girls were found to swear most positively! Stadlin

Bodinus highly praises the exertions of a witchfinder, named Nider, in France, who prosecuted so many that

he could not calculate them. Some of these witches could, by a single word, cause people to fall down dead;

others made women go with child three years instead of nine months; while others, by certain invocations and

ceremonies, could turn the faces of their enemies upside down, or twist them round to their backs. Although

no witness was ever procured who saw persons in this horrible state, the witches confessed that they had the

At Amsterdam a crazy girl confessed that she could cause sterility in cattle, and bewitch pigs and poultry by

merely repeating the magic words Turius und Shurius Inturius! She was hanged and burned. Another woman

in the same city, named Kornelis Van Purmerund, was arrested in consequence of some disclosures the

former had made. A witness came forward and swore that she one day looked through the window of her hut,

and saw Kornelis sitting before a fire muttering something to the devil. She was sure it was to the devil,

because she heard him answer her. Shortly afterwards twelve black cats ascended out of the floor, and danced

on their hind legs around the witch for the space of about half an hour. They then vanished with a horrid

noise, and leaving a disagreeable smell behind them. She also was hanged and burned.

At Bamberg, in Bavaria, the executions from the year 1610 to 1640 were at the rate of about a hundred

annually. One woman, suspected of witchcraft, was seized because, having immoderately praised the beauty

of a child, it had shortly afterwards fallen ill and died. She confessed upon the rack that the devil had given

her the power to work evil upon those she hated, by speaking words in their praise. If she said with unwonted

fervour, "What a strong man!" "What a lovely woman !" "What a sweet child!" the devil understood her, and

afflicted them with diseases immediately. It is quite unnecessary to state the end of this poor creature. Many

women were executed for causing strange substances to lodge in the bodies of those who offended them. Bits

of wood, nails, hair, eggshells, bits of glass, shreds of linen and woollen cloth, pebbles, and even hot cinders

and knives, were the articles generally chosen. These were believed to remain in the body till the witches

confessed or were executed, when they were voided from the bowels, or by the mouth, nostrils, or ears.

Modern physicians have often had cases of a similar description under their care, where girls have swallowed

needles, which have been voided on the arms, legs, and other parts of the body. But the science of that day

could not account for these phenomena otherwise than by the power of the devil; and every needle swallowed

by a servant maid cost an old woman her life. Nay, if no more than one suffered in consequence, the district

might think itself fortunate. The commissioners seldom stopped short at one victim. The revelations of the

Of all the records of the witchtrials preserved for the wonder of succeeding ages, that of Wurzburg, from

1627 to 1629, is the most frightful. Hauber, who has preserved this list in his "Acta et Scripta Magica," says,

in a note at the end, that it is far from complete, and that there were a great many other burnings too

numerous to specify. This record, which relates to the city only, and not to the province of Wurzburg,

contains the names of one hundred and fiftyseven persons, who were burned in two years in twentynine

burnings, averaging from five to six at a time. The list comprises three playactors, four innkeepers, three

common councilmen of Wurzburg, fourteen vicars of the cathedral, the burgomaster's lady, an apothecary's

wife and daughter, two choristers of the cathedral, Gobel Babelin the prettiest girl in the town, and the wife,

the two little sons, and the daughter of the councillor Stolzenberg. Rich and poor, young and old, suffered

alike. At the seventh of these recorded burnings, the victims are described as a wandering boy, twelve years

of age, and four strange men and women, found sleeping in the marketplace. Thirtytwo of the whole

number appear to have been vagrants, of both sexes, who, failing to give a satisfactory account of themselves,

were accused and found guilty of witchcraft. The number of children on the list is horrible to think upon. The

thirteenth and fourteenth burnings comprised four persons, who are stated to have been a little maiden nine

years of age, a maiden still less, her sister, their mother, and their aunt, a pretty young woman of

twentyfour. At the eighteenth burning the victims were two boys of twelve, and a girl of fifteen; at the

nineteenth, the young heir of the noble house of Rotenhahn, aged nine, and two other boys, one aged ten, and

the other twelve. Among other entries appear the names of Baunach, the fattest, and Steinacher, the richest

burgher in Wurzburg. What tended to keep up the delusion in this unhappy city, and indeed all over Europe,

was the number of hypochondriac and diseased persons who came voluntarily forward, and made confession

of witchcraft. Several of the victims in the foregoing list, had only themselves to blame for their fate. Many

again, including the apothecary's wife and daughter already mentioned, pretended to sorcery, and sold

poisons, or attempted by means of charms and incantations to raise the devil. But throughout all this fearful

period the delusion of the criminals was as great as that of the judges. Depraved persons who, in ordinary

times, would have been thieves or murderers, added the desire of sorcery to their depravity, sometimes with

the hope of acquiring power over their fellows, and sometimes with the hope of securing impunity in this

world by the protection of Satan. One of the persons executed at the first burning, a prostitute, was heard

repeating the exorcism, which was supposed to have the power of raising the arch enemy in the form of a

goat. This precious specimen of human folly has been preserved by Horst, in his "Zauberbibliothek." It ran as

follows, and was to be repeated slowly, with many ceremonies and waivings of the hand:

The two last words were uttered quickly, and with a sort of scream, and were supposed to be highly agreeable

to Satan, who loved to be called a king. If he did not appear immediately, it was necessary to repeat a further

exorcism. The one in greatest repute was as follows, and was to be read backwards, with the exception of the

When the witch wanted to get rid of the devil, who was sometimes in the habit of prolonging his visits to an

unconscionable length, she had only to repeat the following, also backwards, when he generally disappeared,

This nonsensical jargon soon became known to all the idle and foolish boys of Germany. Many an unhappy

urchin, who in a youthful frolic had repeated it, paid for his folly the penalty of his life. Three, whose ages

varied from ten to fifteen, were burned alive at Wurzburg for no other offence. Of course every other boy in

the city became still more convinced of the power of the charm. One boy confessed that he would willingly

have sold himself to the devil, if he could have raised him, for a good dinner and cakes every day of his life,

and a pony to ride upon. This luxurious youngster, instead of being horsewhipped for his folly, was hanged

The small district of Lindheim was, if possible, even more notorious than Wurzburg for the number of its

witchburnings. In the year 1633 a famous witch, named Pomp Anna, who could cause her foes to fall sick

by merely looking at them, was discovered and burned, along with three of her companions. Every year in

this parish, consisting at most of a thousand persons, the average number of executions was five. Between the

years 1660 and 1664, the number consumed was thirty. If the executions all over Germany had been in this

frightful proportion, hardly a family could have escaped losing one of its members.

In 1627 a ballad entitled the "Druten Zeitung," or the "Witches Gazette," was very popular in Germany. It

detailed, according to the titlepage of a copy printed at Smalcald in 1627, "an account of the remarkable

events which took place in Franconia, Bamberg, and Wurzburg, with those wretches who from avarice or

ambition have sold themselves to the devil, and how they had their reward at last: set to music, and to be sung

to the tune of Dorothea." The sufferings of the witches at the stake are explained in it with great minuteness,

the poet waxing extremely witty when he describes the horrible contortions of pain upon their countenances,

and the shrieks that rent the air when any one of more than common guilt was burned alive. A trick resorted

to in order to force one witch to confess, is told in this doggrel as an excellent joke. As she obstinately

refused to own that she was in league with the powers of evil, the commissioners suggested that the hangman

should dress himself in a bear's skin, with the horns, tail, and all the et ceteras, and in this form penetrate into

her dungeon. The woman, in the darkness of her cell, could not detect the imposture, aided as it was by her

own superstitious fears. She thought she was actually in the presence of the prince of hell; and when she was

told to keep up her courage, and that she should be relieved from the power of her enemies, she fell on her

knees before the supposed devil, and swore to dedicate herself hereafter body and soul to his service.

Germany is, perhaps, the only country in Europe where the delusion was so great as to have made such

[They sent a hangman's assistant down to her in her prison; they clothed him properly in a bear's skin, as if he

were the devil. Him, when the witch saw, she thought he was her familiar. She said to him quickly, "Why

hast thou left me so long in the magistrate's hands? Help me out of their power, as thou hast promised, and I

will be thine alone. Help me from this anguish, O thou dearest devil (or lover), mine?]

This rare poet adds, that in making such an appeal to the hangman, the witch never imagined the roast that

was to be made of her, and puts in, by way of parenthesis, "was not that fine fun!" "Was das war fur ein

Spiel!" As feathers thrown into the air show how the wind blows, so this trumpery ballad serves to show the

All readers of history are familiar with the celebrated trial of the Marechale d'Ancre, who was executed in

Paris in the year 1617. Although witchcraft was one of the accusations brought against her, the real crime for

which she suffered was her ascendency over the mind of Mary of Medicis, and the consequent influence she

exercised indirectly over the unworthy King, Louis XIII. Her coachman gave evidence that she had sacrificed

a cock at midnight, in one of the churches, and others swore they had seen her go secretly into the house of a

noted witch, named Isabella. When asked by what means she had acquired so extraordinary an influence over

the mind of the Queen Mother, she replied boldly, that she exercised no other power over her, than that which

In two years afterwards scenes far more horrible than any that had yet taken place in France were enacted at

Labourt, at the foot of the Pyrenees. The Parliament of Bourdeaux, scandalised at the number of witches who

were said to infest Labourt and its neighbourhood, deputed one of its own members, the noted Pierre de

l'Ancre, and its President, Espaignel, to inquire into the matter, with full powers to punish the offenders. They

arrived at Labourt in May 1619. De l'Ancre wrote a book, setting forth all his great deeds, in this battle

against the powers of evil. It is full of obscenity and absurdity; but the facts may be relied on as far as they

relate to the number of trials and executions, and the strange confessions which torture forced from the

De l'Ancre states as a reason why so many witches were to be found at Labourt, that the country was

mountainous and sterile! He discovered many of them from their partiality to smoking tobacco. It may be

inferred from this, that he was of the opinion of King James, that tobacco was the "devil's weed." When the

commission first sat, the number of persons brought to trial was about forty a day. The acquittals did not

average so many as five per cent. All the witches confessed that they had been present at the great

Domdaniel, or Sabbath. At these saturnalia the devil sat upon a large gilded throne, sometimes in the form of

a goat; sometimes as a gentleman, dressed all in black, with boots, spurs, and sword; and very often as a

shapeless mass, resembling the trunk of a blasted tree, seen indistinctly amid the darkness. They generally

proceeded to the Domdaniel, riding on spits, pitchforks, or broomsticks, and, on their arrival, indulged with

the fiends in every species of debauchery. Upon one occasion they had had the audacity to celebrate this

festival in the very heart of the city of Bourdeaux. The throne of the arch fiend was placed in the middle of

the Place de Gallienne, and the whole space was covered with the multitude of witches and wizards, who

After two hundred poor wretches had been hanged and burned, there seemed no diminution in the number of

criminals to be tried. Many of the latter were asked upon the rack what Satan had said, when he found that the

commissioners were proceeding with such severity? The general reply was, that he did not seem to care much

about it. Some of them asserted, that they had boldly reproached him for suffering the execution of their

friends, saying, "Out upon thee, false ,fiend! thy promise was, that they should not die! Look! how thou hast

kept thy word! They have been burned, and are a heap of ashes!" Upon these occasions he was never

offended. He would give orders that the sports of the Domdaniel should cease, and producing illusory fires

that did not burn, he encouraged them to walk through, assuring them that the fires lighted by the executioner

gave no more pain than those. They would then ask him, where their friends were, since they had not

suffered; to which the "Father of Lies" invariably replied, that they were happy in a far country, and could see

and hear all that was then passing; and that, if they called by name those they wished to converse with, they

might hear their voices in reply. Satan then imitated the voices of the defunct witches so successfully, that

they were all deceived. Having answered all objections, the orgies recommenced, and lasted till the cock

De l'Ancre was also very zealous in the trial of unhappy monomaniacs for the crime of lycanthropy. Several

who were arrested confessed, without being tortured, that they were weirwolves, and that, at night, they

rushed out among the flocks and herds, killing and devouring. One young man at Besancon, with the full

consciousness of the awful fate that awaited him, voluntarily gave himself up to the commissioner Espaignel,

and confessed that he was the servant of a strong fiend, who was known by the name of "Lord of the Forests."

By his power, he was transformed into the likeness of a wolf. The "Lord of the Forests" assumed the same

shape, but was much larger, fiercer, and stronger. They prowled about the pastures together at midnight,

strangling the watchdogs that defended the folds, and killing more sheep than they could devour. He felt, he

said, a fierce pleasure in these excursions, and howled in excess of joy as he tore with his fangs the warm

flesh of the sheep asunder. This youth was not alone in this horrid confession; many others voluntarily owned

that they were weirwolves, and many more were forced by torture to make the same avowal. Such criminals

were thought to be too atrocious to be hanged first, and then burned: they were generally sentenced to be

burned alive, and their ashes to be scattered to the winds. Grave and learned doctors of divinity openly

sustained the possibility of these transformations, relying mainly upon the history of Nebuchadnezzar. They

could not imagine why, if he had been an ox, modern men could not become wolves, by Divine permission

and the power of the devil. They also contended that, if men should confess, it was evidence enough, if there

had been no other. Delrio mentions that one gentleman accused of lycanthropy was put to the torture no less

than twenty times, but still he would not confess. An intoxicating draught was then given him, and under its

influence he confessed that he was a weirwolf. Delrio cites this to show the extreme equity of the

commissioners. They never burned anybody till he confessed; and if one course of torture would not suffice,

their patience was not exhausted, and they tried him again and again, even to the twentieth time! Well may

The trial of the unhappy Urbain Grandier, the curate of Loudun, for bewitching a number of girls in the

convent of the Ursulines in that town, was, like that of the Marechale d'Ancre, an accusation resorted to by

his enemies to ruin one against whom no other charge could be brought so readily. This noted affair, which

kept France in commotion for months, and the true character of which was known even at that time, merits no

more than a passing notice in this place. It did not spring from the epidemic dread of sorcery then so

prevalent, but was carried on by wretched intriguers, who had sworn to have the life of their foe. Such a

charge could not be refuted in 1634: the accused could not, as Bodinus expresses it, "make the malice of the

prosecutors more clear than the sun;" and his own denial, however intelligible, honest, and straightforward,

was held as nothing in refutation of the testimony of the crazy women who imagined themselves bewitched.

The more absurd and contradictory their assertions, the stronger the argument employed by his enemies that

the devil was in them. He was burned alive, under circumstances of great cruelty. [A very graphic account of

the execution of this unfortunate gentleman is to be found in the excellent romance of M. Alfred de Vigny,

entitled "Cinq Mars ;" but if the reader wishes for a full and accurate detail of all the circumstances of one of

the most extraordinary trials upon record, he is referred to a work published anonymously, at Amsterdam, in

1693, entitled "Histoire des Diables de Loudun, ou de la Possession des Religieuses Ursulines, et de la

A singular instance of the epidemic fear of witchcraft occurred at Lille, in 1639. A pious, but not very sane

lady, named Antoinette Bourignon, founded a school, or hospice, in that city. One day, on entering the

schoolroom, she imagined that she saw a great number of little black angels flying about the heads of the

children. In great alarm, she told her pupils of what she had seen, warning them to beware of the devil, whose

imps were hovering about them. The foolish woman continued daily to repeat the same story, and Satan and

his power became the only subject of conversation, not only between the girls themselves, but between them

and their instructors. One of them at this time ran away from the school. On being brought back and

interrogated, she said she had not run away, but had been carried away by the devil she was a witch, and

had been one since the age of seven. Some other little girls in the school went into fits at this announcement,

and, on their recovery, confessed that they also were witches. At last, the whole of them, to the number of

fifty, worked upon each other's imaginations to such a degree that they also confessed that they were witches

that they attended the Domdaniel, or meeting of the fiends that they could ride through the air on

The citizens of Lille were astounded at these disclosures. The clergy hastened to investigate the matter; many

of them, to their credit, openly expressed their opinion that the whole affair was an imposture: not so the

majority they strenuously insisted that the confessions of the children were valid, and that it was necessary

to make an example by burning them all for witches. The poor parents, alarmed for their offspring, implored

the examining Capuchins with tears in their eyes to save their young lives, insisting that they were bewitched,

and not bewitching. This opinion also gained ground in the town. Antoinette Bourignon, who had put these

absurd notions into the heads of the children, was accused of witchcraft, and examined before the council.

The circumstances of the case seemed so unfavourable towards her that she would not stay for a second

examination. Disguising herself as she best could, she hastened out of Lille and escaped pursuit. If she had

remained four hours longer, she would have been burned by judicial sentence, as a witch and a heretic. It is to

be hoped that, wherever she went, she learned the danger of tampering with youthful minds, and was never

The Duke of Brunswick and the Elector of Menz were struck with the great cruelty exercised in the torture of

suspected persons, and convinced at the same time that no righteous judge would consider a confession

extorted by pain, and contradictory in itself, as sufficient evidence to justify the execution of any accused

person. It is related of the Duke of Brunswick that he invited two learned Jesuits to his house, who were

known to entertain strong opinions upon the subject of witchcraft, with a view of showing them the cruelty

and absurdity of such practises. A woman lay in the dungeon of the city accused of witchcraft, and the Duke,

having given previous instructions to the officiating torturers, went with the two Jesuits to hear her

confession. By a series of artful leading questions, the poor creature, in the extremity of her anguish, was

induced to confess that she had often attended the sabbath of the fiends upon the Brocken that she had

seen two Jesuits there, who had made themselves notorious, even among witches, for their abominations

that she had seen them assume the form of goats, wolves, and other animals; and that many noted witches had

borne them five, six, and seven children at a birth, who had heads like toads and legs like spiders. Being

asked if the Jesuits were far from her, she replied that they were in the room beside her. The Duke of

Brunswick led his astounded friends away, and explained the stratagem. This was convincing proof to both of

them that thousands of persons had suffered unjustly; they knew their own innocence, and shuddered to think

what their fate might have been, if an enemy, instead of a friend, had put such a confession into the mouth of

a criminal. One of these Jesuits was Frederick Spee, the author of the "Cautio Criminalis," published in 1631.

This work, exposing the horrors of the witch trials, had a most salutary effect in Germany: Schonbrunn,

Archbishop and Elector of Menz, abolished the torture entirely within his dominions, and his example was

imitated by the Duke of Brunswick and other potentates. The number of supposed witches immediately

diminished, and the violence of the mania began to subside. The Elector of Brandenburg issued a rescript, in

1654, with respect to the case of Anna of Ellerbrock, a supposed witch, forbidding the use of torture, and

This was the beginning of the dawn after the longprotracted darkness. The tribunals no longer condemned

witches to execution by hundreds in a year. Wurzburg, the grand theatre of the burnings, burned but one,

where, forty years previously, it had burned three score. From 1660 to 1670, the electoral chambers in all

parts of Germany constantly commuted the sentence of death passed by the provincial tribunals into

A truer philosophy had gradually disabused the public mind. Learned men freed themselves from the

trammels of a debasing superstition, and governments, both civil and ecclesiastical, repressed the popular

delusion they had so long encouraged. The Parliament of Normandy condemned a number of women to

death, in the year 1670, on the old charge of riding on broomsticks to the Domdaniel; but Louis XIV.

commuted the sentence into banishment for life. The Parliament remonstrated, and sent the King the

following remarkable request. The reader will, perhaps, be glad to see this document at length. It is of

importance, as the last effort of a legislative assembly to uphold this great error; and the arguments they used,

and the instances they quoted, are in the highest degree curious. It reflects honour upon the memory of Louis

"EMBOLDENED by the authority which your Majesty has committed into our hands in the province of

Normandy, to try and punish offences, and more particularly those offences of the nature of witchcraft, which

tend to the destruction of religion and the ruin of nations, we, your Parliament, remonstrate humbly with your

Majesty upon certain cases of this kind which have been lately brought before us. We cannot permit the letter

addressed by your Majesty's command to the AttorneyGeneral of this district, for the reprieve of certain

persons condemned to death for witchcraft, and for the staying of proceedings in several other cases, to

remain unnoticed, and without remarking upon the consequences which may ensue. There is also a letter

from your Secretary of State, declaring your Majesty's intention to commute the punishment of these

criminals into one of perpetual banishment, and to submit to the opinion of the ProcureurGeneral, and of the

most learned members of the Parliament of Paris, whether, in the matter of witchcraft, the jurisprudence of

the Parliament of Rouen is to be followed in preference to that of the Parliament of Paris, and of the other

"Although by the ordinances of the Kings your predecessors, Parliaments have been forbidden to pay any

attention to lettres de cachet; we, nevertheless, from the knowledge which we have, in common with the

whole kingdom, of the care bestowed by your Majesty for the good of your subjects, and from the submission

and obedience to your commandments which we have always manifested, have stayed all proceedings, in

conformity to your orders; hoping that your Majesty, considering the importance of the crime of witchcraft,

and the consequences likely to ensue from its impunity, will be graciously pleased to grant us once more your

permission to continue the trials, and execute judgment upon those found guilty. And as, since we received

the letter of your Secretary of State, we have also been made acquainted with the determination of your

Majesty, not only to commute the sentence of death passed upon these witches into one of perpetual

banishment from the province, but to reestablish them in the possession of their goods and chattels, and of

their good fame and character, your Parliament have thought it their duty, on occasion of these crimes, the

greatest which men can commit, to make you acquainted with the general and uniform feelings of the people

of this province with regard to them; it being, moreover, a question in which are concerned the glory of God

and the relief of your suffering subjects, who groan under their fears from the threats and menaces of this sort

of persons, and who feel the effects of them every day in the mortal and extraordinary maladies which attack

"Your Majesty knows well that there is no crime so opposed to the commands of God as witchcraft, which

destroys the very foundation of religion, and draws strange abominations after it. It is for this reason, Sire,

that the Scriptures pronounce the punishment of death against offenders, and that the church and the holy

fathers have fulminated their anathemas, and that canonical decisions have one and all decreed the most

severe punishments, to deter from this crime; and that the Church of France, animated by the piety of the

Kings your predecessors, has expressed so great a horror at it, that, not judging the punishment of perpetual

imprisonment, the highest it has the power to inflict, sufficiently severe, it has left such criminals to be dealt

"It has been the general feeling of all nations that such criminals ought to be condemned to death, and all the

ancients were of the same opinion. The law of the "Twelve Tables," which was the principal of the Roman

laws, ordains the same punishment. All jurisconsults agreed in it, as well as the constitutions of the Emperors,

and more especially those of Constantine and Theodosius, who, enlightened by the Gospel, not only renewed

the same punishment, but also deprived, expressly, all persons found guilty of witchcraft of the right of

appeal, and declared them to be unworthy of a prince's mercy. And Charles VIII, Sire, inspired by the same

sentiments, passed that beautiful and severe ordinance (cette belle et severe ordonnance), which enjoined the

judges to punish witches according to the exigencies of the case, under a penalty of being themselves fined or

imprisoned, or dismissed from their office; and decreed, at the same time, that all persons who refused to

denounce a witch, should be punished as accomplices; and that all, on the contrary, who gave evidence

"From these considerations, Sire, and in the execution of so holy an ordinance, your parliaments, by their

decrees, proportion their punishments to the guilt of the offenders: and your Parliament of Normandy has

never, until the present time, found that its practice was different from that of other courts; for all the books

which treat upon this matter cite an infinite number of decrees condemning witches to be burnt, or broken on

the wheel, or to other punishments. The following are examples: In the time of Chilperic, as may be seen

in Gregory of Tours, b. vi, c. 35 of his History of France: all the decrees of the Parliament of Paris passed

according to, and in conformity with, this ancient jurisprudence of the kingdom, cited by Imbert, in his

"Judicial Practice;" all those cited by Monstrelet, in 1459, against the witches of Artois; the decrees of the

same Parliament, of the l3th of October 1573, against Mary Le Fief, native of Saumur; of the 21st of October

1596, against the Sieur de Beaumont, who pleaded, in his defence, that he had only sought the aid of the devil

for the purpose of unbewitching the afflicted and of curing diseases; of the 4th of July 1606, against Francis

du Bose; of the 20th of July 1582, against Abel de la Rue, native of Coulommiers; of the 2nd of October

1593, against Rousseau and his daughter; of 1608, against another Rousseau and one Peley, for witchcraft

and adoration of the devil at the Sabbath, under the figure of a hegoat, as confessed by them; the decree of

4th of February 1615, against Leclerc, who appealed from the sentence of the Parliament of Orleans, and who

was condemned for having attended the Sabbath, and confessed, as well as two of his accomplices, who died

in prison, that he had adored the devil, renounced his baptism and his faith in God, danced the witches' dance,

and offered up unholy sacrifices; the decrees of the 6th of May 1616, against a man named Leger, on a

similar accusation; the pardon granted by Charles IX to Trois Echelles, upon condition of revealing his

accomplices, but afterwards revoked for renewed sorcery on his part; the decree of the Parliament of Paris,

cited by Mornac in 1595; the judgments passed in consequence of the commission given by Henry IV to the

Sieur de Lancre, councillor of the Parliament of Bourdeaux; of the 20th of March 1619, against Etienne

Audibert; those passed by the Chamber of Nerac, on the 26th of June 1620, against several witches; those

passed by the Parliament of Toulouse in 1577, as cited by Gregory Tolosanus, against four hundred persons

accused of this crime, and who were all marked with the sign of the devil. Besides all these, we might recall

to your Majesty's recollection the various decrees of the Parliament of Provence, especially in the case of

Gaufredy in 1611; the decrees of the Parliament of Dijon, and those of the Parliament of Rennes, following

the example of the condemnation of the Marshal de Rays, who was burned in 1441, for the crime of

witchcraft, in presence of the Duke of Brittany; all these examples, Sire, prove that the accusation of

witchcraft has always been punished with death by the Parliaments of your kingdom, and justify the

"These, Sire, are the motives upon which your Parliament of Normandy has acted in decreeing the

punishment of death against the persons lately brought before it for this crime. If it has happened that, on any

occasion, these parliaments, and the Parliament of Normandy among the rest, have condemned the guilty to a

less punishment than that of death, it was for the reason that their guilt was not of the deepest dye; your

Majesty, and the Kings your predecessors, having left full liberty to the various tribunals to whom they

delegated the administration of justice, to decree such punishment as was warranted by the evidence brought

"After so many authorities, and punishments ordained by human and divine laws, we humbly supplicate your

Majesty to reflect once more upon the extraordinary results which proceed from the malevolence of this sort

of people on the deaths from unknown diseases, which are often the consequences of their menaces on

the loss of the goods and chattels of your subjects on the proofs of guilt continually afforded by the

insensibility of the marks upon the accused on the sudden transportation of bodies from one place to

another on the sacrifices and nocturnal assemblies, and other facts, corroborated by the testimony of

ancient and modern authors, and verified by so many eyewitnesses, composed partly of accomplices, and

partly of people who had no interest in the trials beyond the love of truth, and confirmed, moreover, by the

confessions of the accused parties themselves; and that, Sire, with so much agreement and conformity

between the different cases, that the most ignorant persons convicted of this crime have spoken to the same

circumstances, and in nearly the same words, as the most celebrated authors who have written about it, all of

which may be easily proved to your Majesty's satisfaction by the records of various trials before your

"These, Sire, are truths so intimately bound up with the principles of our religion, that, extraordinary although

they be, no person has been able to this time to call them in question. If some have cited, in opposition to

these truths, the pretended canon of the Council of Ancyre, and a passage from St. Augustin, in a treatise

upon the 'Spirit and the Soul', it has been without foundation; and it would be easy to convince your Majesty

that neither the one nor the other ought to be accounted of any authority; and, besides that, the canon, in this

sense, would be contrary to the opinion of all succeeding councils of the church, Cardinal Baronius, and all

learned commentators, agree that it is not to be found in any old edition. In effect, in those editions wherein it

is found, it is in another language, and is in direct contradiction to the twentythird canon of the same

council, which condemns sorcery, according to all preceding constitutions. Even supposing that this canon

was really promulgated by the Council of Ancyre, we must observe that it was issued in the second century,

when the principal attention of the Church was directed to the destruction of paganism. For this reason, it

condemns that class of women who said they could pass through the air, and over immense regions, with

Diana and Herodias, and enjoins all preachers to teach the falsehood of such an opinion, in order to deter

people from the worship of these false divinities; but it does not question the power of the devil over the

human body, which is, in fact, proved by the Holy Gospel of Jesus Christ himself. And with regard, Sire, to

the pretended passage of St. Augustin, everybody knows that it was not written by him, because the writer,

whoever he was, cites Boetius, who died more than eighty years after the time of St. Augustin. Besides, there

is still more convincing proof in the fact, that the same father establishes the truth of witchcraft in all his

writings, and more particularly in his 'City of God;' and in his first volume, question the 25th, wherein he

states that sorcery is a communion between man and the devil, which all good Christians ought to look upon

"Taking all these things into consideration, Sire, the officers of your Parliament hope, from the justice of your

Majesty, that you will be graciously pleased to receive the humble remonstrances they have taken the liberty

to make. They are compelled, for the acquittal of their own consciences and in discharge of their duty, to

make known to your Majesty, that the decrees they passed against the sorcerers and witches brought before

them, were passed after a mature deliberation on the part of all the judges present, and that nothing has been

done therein which is not conformable to the universal jurisprudence of the kingdom, and for the general

welfare of your Majesty's subjects, of whom there is not one who can say that he is secure from the

malevolence of such criminals. We therefore supplicate your Majesty to suffer us to carry into effect the

sentences we passed, and to proceed with the trial of the other persons accused of the same crime; and that

the piety of your Majesty will not suffer to be introduced during your reign an opinion contrary to the

principles of that holy religion for which you have always employed so gloriously both your cares and your

Louis, as we have already mentioned, paid no attention to this appeal. The lives of the old women were

spared, and prosecutions for mere witchcraft, unconnected with other offences, were discontinued throughout

France. In 1680 an act was passed for the punishment, not of witches, but of pretenders to witchcraft,

Thus the light broke in upon Germany, France, England, and Scotland about the same time, gradually

growing clearer and clearer till the middle of the eighteenth century, when witchcraft was finally reckoned

amongst exploded doctrines, and the belief in it confined to the uttermost vulgar. Twice, however, did the

madness burst forth again as furious, while it lasted, as ever it had been. The first time in Sweden, in 1669,

and the second in Germany, so late as 1749. Both these instances merit particular mention. The first is one of

the most extraordinary upon record, and for atrocity and absurdity is unsurpassed in the annals of any nation.

It having been reported to the King of Sweden that the little village of Mohra, in the province of Dalecarlia,

was troubled exceedingly with witches, he appointed a commission of clergy and laymen to trace the rumour

to its source, with full powers to punish the guilty. On the 12th of August 1669, the commissioners arrived in

the bewitched village, to the great joy of the credulous inhabitants. On the following day the whole

population, amounting to three thousand persons, assembled in the church. A sermon was preached,

"declaring the miserable case of those people that suffered themselves to be deluded by the devil," and

fervent prayer was offered up that God would remove the scourge from among them.

The whole assembly then adjourned to the rector's house, filling all the street before it, when the King's

commission was read, charging every person who knew anything of the witchery, to come forward and

declare the truth. A passion of tears seized upon the multitude; men, women, and children began to weep and

sob, and all promised to divulge what they had heard or knew. In this frame of mind they were dismissed to

their homes. On the following day they were again called together, when the depositions of several persons

were taken publicly before them all. The result was that seventy persons, including fifteen children, were

taken into custody. Numbers also were arrested in the neighbouring district of Elfdale. Being put to the

torture, they all confessed their guilt. They said they used to go to a gravelpit that lay hard by the

crossway, where they put a vest upon their heads, and danced "round and round and round about." They

then went to the crossway, and called three times upon the devil; the first time in a low still voice; the

second, somewhat louder; and the third, very loudly, with these words, "Antecessor, come, and carry us to

Blockula!" This invocation never failed to bring him to their view. He generally appeared as a little old man,

in a grey coat, with red and blue stockings, with exceedingly long garters. He had besides a very

highcrowned hat, with bands of manycoloured linen enfolded about it, and a long red beard, that hung

The first question he put to them was, whether they would serve him soul and body? On their answering in

the affirmative, he told them to make ready for the journey to Blockula. It was necessary to procure, in the

first place, "some scrapings of altars and filings of church clocks." Antecessor then gave them a horn, with

some salve in it, wherewith they anointed themselves. These preparations ended, he brought beasts for them

to ride upon, horses, asses, goats, and monkeys; and, giving them a saddle, a hammer, and a nail, uttered the

word of command, and away they went. Nothing stopped them. They flew over churches, high walls, rocks,

and mountains, until they came to the green meadow where Blockula was situated. Upon these occasions they

carried as many children with them as they could; for the devil, they said, "did plague and whip them if they

did not procure him children, insomuch that they had no peace or quiet for him."

Many parents corroborated a part of this evidence, stating that their children had repeatedly told them that

they had been carried away in the night to Blockula, where the devil had beaten them black and blue. They

had seen the marks in the morning, but they soon disappeared. One little girl was examined, who swore

positively that she was carried through the air by the witches, and when at a great height she uttered the holy

name of Jesus. She immediately fell to the ground, and made a great hole in her side. "The devil, however,

picked her up, healed her side, and carried her away to Blockula." She added, and her mother confirmed her

statement, that she had till that day "an exceeding great pain in her side." This was a clencher, and the nail of

The place called Blockula, whither they were carried, was a large house, with a gate to it, "in a delicate

meadow, whereof they could see no end." There was a very long table in it, at which the witches sat down;

and in other rooms "there were very lovely and delicate beds for them to sleep upon."

After a number of ceremonies had been performed, by which they bound themselves, body and soul, to the

service of Antecessor, they sat down to a feast, composed of broth, made of colworts and bacon, oatmeal,

bread and butter, milk and cheese. The devil always took the chair, and sometimes played to them on the harp

or the fiddle, while they were eating. After dinner they danced in a ring, sometimes naked, and sometimes in

their clothes, cursing and swearing all the time. Some of the women added particulars too horrible and too

Once the devil pretended to be dead, that he might see whether his people regretted him. They instantly set up

a loud wail, and wept three tears each for him, at which he was so pleased, that he jumped up among them,

Such were the principal details given by the children, and corroborated by the confessions of the fullgrown

witches. Anything more absurd was never before stated in a court of justice. Many of the accused

contradicted themselves most palpably; but the commissioners gave no heed to discrepancies. One of them,

the parson of the district, stated, in the course of the inquiry, that on a particular night, which he mentioned,

he had been afflicted with a headach so agonizing, that he could not account for it otherwise than by

supposing he was bewitched. In fact, he thought a score of witches must have been dancing on the crown of

his head. This announcement excited great horror among the pious dames of the auditory, who loudly

expressed their wonder that the devil should have power to hurt so good a man. One poor witch, who lay in

the very jaws of death, confessed that she knew too well the cause of the minister's headach. The devil had

sent her with a sledge hammer and a large nail, to drive into the good man's skull. She had hammered at it for

some time, but the skull was so enormously thick, that she made no impression upon it. Every hand was held

up in astonishment. The pious minister blessed God that his skull was so solid, and he became renowned for

his thick head all the days of his life. Whether the witch intended a joke does not appear, but she was looked

upon as a criminal more than usually atrocious. Seventy persons were condemned to death on these so awful

yet so ridiculous confessions. Twentythree of them were burned together, in one fire, in the village of

Mohra, in the presence of thousands of delighted spectators. On the following day fifteen children were

murdered in the same manner; offered up in sacrifice to the bloody Moloch of superstition. The remaining

thirtytwo were executed at the neighbouring town of Fahluna. Besides these, fiftysix children were found

guilty of witchcraft in a minor degree, and sentenced to various punishments, such as running the gauntlet,

Long after the occurrence of this case, it was cited as one of the most convincing proofs upon record of the

prevalence of witchcraft. When men wish to construct or support a theory, how they torture facts into their

service! The lying whimsies of a few sick children, encouraged by foolish parents, and drawn out by

superstitious neighbours, were sufficient to set a country in a flame. If, instead of commissioners as deeply

sunk in the slough of ignorance as the people they were sent amongst, there had been deputed a few men firm

in courage and clear in understanding, how different would have been the result! Some of the poor children

who were burned would have been sent to an infirmary; others would have been well flogged; the credulity of

the parents would have been laughed at, and the lives of seventy persons spared. The belief in witchcraft

remains in Sweden to this day; but, happily, the annals of that country present no more such instances of

In New England, about the same time, the colonists were scared by similar stories of the antics of the devil.

All at once a fear seized upon the multitude, and supposed criminals were arrested day after day in such

numbers, that the prisons were found too small to contain them. A girl, named Goodwin, the daughter of a

mason, who was hypochondriac and subject to fits, imagined that an old Irishwoman, named Glover, had

bewitched her. Her two brothers, in whose constitutions there was apparently a predisposition to similar fits,

went off in the same way, crying out that the devil and Dame Glover were tormenting them. At times their

joints were so stiff that they could not be moved, while at others, said the neighbours, they were so flexible,

that the bones appeared softened into sinews. The supposed witch was seized, and, as she could not repeat the

But the popular excitement was not allayed. One victim was not enough: the people waited agape for new

disclosures. Suddenly two hysteric girls in another family fell into fits daily, and the cry of witchcraft

resounded from one end of the colony to the other. The feeling of suffocation in the throat, so common in

cases of hysteria, was said by the patients to be caused by the devil himself, who had stuck balls in the

windpipe to choke them. They felt the pricking of thorns in every part of the body, and one of them vomited

needles. The case of these girls, who were the daughter and niece of a Mr. Parris, the minister of a Calvinist

chapel, excited so much attention, that all the weak women in the colony began to fancy themselves similarly

afflicted. The more they brooded on it, the more convinced they became. The contagion of this mental

disease was as great as if it had been a pestilence. One after the other the women fainted away, asserting, on

their recovery, that they had seen the spectres of witches. Where there were three or four girls in a family,

they so worked, each upon the diseased imagination of the other, that they fell into fits five or six times in a

day. Some related that the devil himself appeared to them, bearing in his hand a parchment roll, and

promising that if they would sign an agreement transferring to him their immortal souls, they should be

immediately relieved from fits and all the ills of the flesh. Others asserted that they saw witches only, who

made them similar promises, threatening that they should never be free from aches and pains till they had

agreed to become the devil's. When they refused, the witches pinched, or bit, or pricked them with long pins

and needles. More than two hundred persons named by these mischievous visionaries, were thrown into

prison. They were of all ages and conditions of life, and many of them of exemplary character. No less than

nineteen were condemned and executed before reason returned to the minds of the colonists. The most

horrible part of this lamentable history is, that among the victims there was a little child only five years old.

Some women swore that they had seen it repeatedly in company with the devil, and that it had bitten them

often with its little teeth, for refusing to sign a compact with the Evil One. It can hardly increase our feelings

of disgust and abhorrence when we learn that this insane community actually tried and executed a dog for the

One man, named Cory, stoutly refused to plead to the preposterous indictment against him. As was the

practice in such eases, he was pressed to death. It is told of the Sheriff of New England, who superintended

the execution, that when this unhappy man thrust out his tongue in his mortal agony, he seized hold of a cane,

and crammed it back again into the mouth. If ever there were a fiend in human form, it was this Sheriff; a

man, who, if the truth were known, perhaps plumed himself upon his piety thought he was doing God

Arguing still in the firm belief of witchcraft, the bereaved people began to inquire, when they saw their

dearest friends snatched away from them by these widespreading accusations, whether the whole

proceedings were not carried on by the agency of the devil. Might not the great enemy have put false

testimony into the mouths of the witnesses, or might not the witnesses be witches themselves? Every man

who was in danger of losing his wife, his child, or his sister, embraced this doctrine with avidity. The

revulsion was as sudden as the first frenzy. All at once, the colonists were convinced of their error. The

judges put a stop to the prosecutions, even of those who had confessed their guilt. The latter were no sooner

at liberty than they retracted all they had said, and the greater number hardly remembered the avowals which

agony had extorted from them. Eight persons, who had been tried and condemned, were set free; and

gradually girls ceased to have fits and to talk of the persecutions of the devil. The judge who had condemned

the first criminal executed on this charge, was so smitten with sorrow and humiliation at his folly, that he set

apart the anniversary of that day as one of solemn penitence and fasting. He still clung to the belief in

witchcraft; no new light had broken in upon him on that subject, but, happily for the community, the delusion

had taken a merciful turn. The whole colony shared the feeling; the jurors on the different trials openly

expressed their penitence in the churches; and those who had suffered were regarded as the victims, and not

It is related that the Indian tribes in New England were sorely puzzled at the infatuation of the settlers, and

thought them either a race inferior to, or more sinful than the French colonists in the vicinity, amongst whom,

Returning again to the continent of Europe, we find that, after the year 1680, men became still wiser upon

this subject. For twenty years the populace were left to their belief, but governments in general gave it no

aliment in the shape of executions. The edict of Louis XIV. gave a blow to the superstition, from which it

never recovered. The last execution in the Protestant cantons of Switzerland was at Geneva, in 1652. The

various potentates of Germany, although they could not stay the trials, invariably commuted the sentence into

imprisonment, in all cases where the pretended witch was accused of pure witchcraft, unconnected with any

other crime. In the year 1701, Thomasius, the learned professor at the University of Halle, delivered his

inaugural thesis, "De Crimine Magiae," which struck another blow at the falling monster of popular error. But

a faith so strong as that in witchcraft was not to be eradicated at once: the arguments of learned men did not

penetrate to the villages and hamlets, but still they achieved great things; they rendered the belief an

unworking faith, and prevented the supply of victims, on which for so many ages it had battened and grown

Once more the delusion broke out; like a wild beast wounded to the death, it collected all its remaining

energies for the final convulsion, which was to show how mighty it had once been. Germany, which had

nursed the frightful error in its cradle, tended it on its deathbed, and Wurzburg, the scene of so many

murders on the same pretext, was destined to be the scene of the last. That it might lose no portion of its bad

renown, the last murder was as atrocious as the first. This case offers a great resemblance to that of the

witches of Mohra and New England, except in the number of its victims. It happened so late as the year 1749,

A number of young women in a convent at Wurzburg fancied themselves bewitched; they felt, like all

hysteric subjects, a sense of suffocation in the throat. They went into fits repeatedly; and one of them, who

had swallowed needles, evacuated them at abscesses, which formed in different parts of the body. The cry of

sorcery was raised, and a young woman, named Maria Renata Sanger, was arrested on the charge of having

leagued with the devil, to bewitch five of the young ladies. It was sworn on the trial that Maria had been

frequently seen to clamber over the convent walls in the shape of a pig that, proceeding to the cellar, she

used to drink the best wine till she was intoxicated; and then start suddenly up in her own form. Other girls

asserted that she used to prowl about the roof like a cat, and often penetrate into their chamber, and frighten

them by her dreadful howlings. It was also said that she had been seen in the shape of a hare, milking the

cows dry in the meadows belonging to the convent; that she used to perform as an actress on the boards of

Drury Lane theatre in London, and, on the very same night, return upon a broomstick to Wurzburg, and

afflict the young ladies with pains in all their limbs. Upon this evidence she was condemned, and burned

Here ends this frightful catalogue of murder and superstition. Since that day, the belief in witchcraft has fled

from the populous abodes of men, and taken refuge in remote villages and districts too wild, rugged, and

inhospitable to afford a restingplace for the foot of civilization. Rude fishers and uneducated labourers still

attribute every phenomenon of nature which they cannot account for, to the devil and witches. Catalepsy, that

wondrous disease, is still thought by ignorant gossips to be the work of Satan; and hypochondriacs,

uninformed by science of the nature of their malady, devoutly believe in the reality of their visions. The

reader would hardly credit the extent of the delusion upon this subject in the very heart of England at this day.

Many an old woman leads a life of misery from the unfeeling insults of her neighbours, who raise the

scornful finger and hooting voice at her, because in her decrepitude she is ugly, spiteful, perhaps insane, and

realizes in her personal appearance the description preserved by tradition of the witches of yore. Even in the

neighbourhood of great towns the taint remains of this once widelyspread contagion. If no victims fall

beneath it, the enlightenment of the law is all that prevents a recurrence of scenes as horrid as those of the

seventeeth century. Hundreds upon hundreds of witnesses could be found to swear to absurdities as great as

In the Annual Register for 1760, an instance of the belief in witchcraft is related, which shows how

superstition lingers. A dispute arose in the little village of Glen, in Leicestershire, between two old women,

each of whom vehemently accused the other of witchcraft. The quarrel at last ran so high that a challenge

ensued, and they both agreed to be tried by the ordeal of swimming. They accordingly stripped to their shifts

procured some men, who tied their thumbs and great toes together, crosswise, and then, with a cartrope

about their middle, suffered themselves to be thrown into a pool of water. One of them sank immediately, but

the other continued struggling a short time upon the surface of the water, which the mob deeming an

infallible sign of her guilt, pulled her out, and insisted that she should immediately impeach all her

accomplices in the craft. She accordingly told them that, in the neighbouring village of Burton, there were

several old women as "much witches as she was." Happily for her, this negative information was deemed

sufficient, and a student in astrology, or "whitewitch," coming up at the time, the mob, by his direction,

proceeded forthwith to Burton in search of all the delinquents. After a little consultation on their arrival, they

went to the old woman's house on whom they had fixed the strongest suspicion. The poor old creature on

their approach locked the outer door, and from the window of an upstairs room asked what they wanted. They

informed her that she was charged with being guilty of witchcraft, and that they were come to duck her;

remonstrating with her at the same time upon the necessity of submission to the ordeal, that, if she were

innocent, all the world might know it. Upon her persisting in a positive refusal to come down, they broke

open the door and carried her out by force, to a deep gravelpit full of water. They tied her thumbs and toes

together and threw her into the water, where they kept her for several minutes, drawing her out and in two or

three times by the rope round her middle. Not being able to satisfy themselves whether she were a witch or

no, they at last let her go, or, more properly speaking, they left her on the bank to walk home by herself, if

she ever recovered. Next day, they tried the same experiment upon another woman, and afterwards upon a

third; but, fortunately, neither of the victims lost her life from this brutality. Many of the ringleaders in the

outrage were apprehended during the week, and tried before the justices at quartersessions. Two of them

were sentenced to stand in the pillory and to be imprisoned for a month; and as many as twenty more were

fined in small sums for the assault, and bound over to keep the peace for a twelvemonth.

"So late as the year 1785," says Arnot, in his collection and abridgment of Criminal Trials in Scotland, "it

was the custom among the sect of Seceders to read from the pulpit an annual confession of sins, national and

personal; amongst the former of which was particularly mentioned the 'Repeal by Parliament of the penal

Many houses are still to be found in England with the horseshoe (the grand preservative against witchcraft)

nailed against the threshold. If any overwise philosopher should attempt to remove them, the chances are

that he would have more broken bones than thanks for his interference. Let any man walk into Crossstreet,

HattonGarden, and from thence into Bleedingheart Yard, and learn the tales still told and believed of one

house in that neighbourhood, and he will ask himself in astonishment if such things can be in the nineteenth

century. The witchcraft of Lady Hatton, the wife of the famous Sir Christopher, so renowned for his elegant

dancing in the days of Elizabeth, is as devoutly believed as the Gospels. The room is to be seen where the

devil seized her after the expiration of the contract he had made with her, and bore her away bodily to the pit

of Tophet: the pump against which he dashed her is still pointed out, and the spot where her heart was found,

after he had torn it out of her bosom with his iron claws, has received the name of Bleedingheart Yard, in

confirmation of the story. Whether the horseshoe still remains upon the door of the haunted house, to keep

away other witches, is uncertain; but there it was, twelve or thirteen years ago. The writer resided at that time

in the house alluded to, and well remembers that more than one old woman begged for admittance repeatedly,

to satisfy themselves that it was in its proper place. One poor creature, apparently insane, and clothed in rags,

came to the door with a tremendous doubleknock, as loud as that of a fashionable footman, and walked

straight along the passage to the horseshoe. Great was the wonderment of the inmates, especially when the

woman spat upon the horseshoe, and expressed her sorrow that she could do no harm while it remained

there. After spitting upon, and kicking it again and again, she coolly turned round and left the house, without

saying a word to anybody. This poor creature perhaps intended a joke, but the probability is that she imagined

herself a witch. In Saffron Hill, where she resided, her ignorant neighbours gave her that character, and

More than one example of the popular belief in witchcraft occurred in the neighbourhood of Hastings so

lately as the year 1830. An aged woman, who resided in the Ropewalk of that town, was so repulsive in her

appearance, that she was invariably accused of being a witch by all the ignorant people who knew her. She

was bent completely double; and though very old, her eye was unusually bright and malignant. She wore a

red cloak, and supported herself on a crutch: she was, to all outward appearance, the very beau ideal of a

witch. So dear is power to the human heart, that this old woman actually encouraged the popular superstition:

she took no pains to remove the ill impression, but seemed to delight that she, old and miserable as she was,

could keep in awe so many happier and stronger fellowcreatures. Timid girls crouched with fear when they

met her, and many would go a mile out of their way to avoid her. Like the witches of the olden time, she was

not sparing of her curses against those who offended her. The child of a woman who resided within two doors

of her, was afflicted with lameness, and the mother constantly asserted that the old woman had bewitched

her. All the neighbours credited the tale. It was believed, too, that she could assume the form of a cat. Many a

harmless puss has been hunted almost to the death by mobs of men and boys, upon the supposition that the

In the same town there resided a fisherman, who is, probably, still alive, and whose name, for that reason,

we forbear to mention, who was the object of unceasing persecution, because it was said that he had sold

himself to the devil. It was currently reported that he could creep through a keyhole, and that he had made a

witch of his daughter, in order that he might have the more power over his fellows. It was also believed that

he could sit on the points of pins and needles, and feel no pain. His brotherfishermen put him to this test

whenever they had an opportunity. In the alehouses which he frequented, they often placed long needles in

the cushions of the chairs, in such a manner that he could not fail to pierce himself when he sat down. The

result of these experiments tended to confirm their faith in his supernatural powers. It was asserted that he

never flinched. Such was the popular feeling in the fashionable town of Hastings only seven years ago; very

In the north of England, the superstition lingers to an almost inconceivable extent. Lancashire abounds with

witchdoctors, a set of quacks, who pretend to cure diseases inflicted by the devil. The practices of these

worthies may be judged of by the following case, reported in the "Hertford Reformer," of the 23rd of June,

1838. The witchdoctor alluded to is better known by the name of the cunning man, and has a large practice

in the counties of Lincoln and Nottingham. According to the writer in "The Reformer," the dupe, whose name

is not mentioned, had been for about two years afflicted with a painful abscess, and had been prescribed for

without relief by more than one medical gentleman. He was urged by some of his friends, not only in his own

village, but in neighbouring ones, to consult the witchdoctor, as they were convinced he was under some

evil influence. He agreed, and sent his wife to the cunning man, who lived in New Saint Swithin's, in Lincoln.

She was informed by this ignorant impostor that her husband's disorder was an infliction of the devil,

occasioned by his nextdoor neighbours, who had made use of certain charms for that purpose. From the

description he gave of the process, it appears to be the same as that employed by Dr. Fian and Gellie Duncan,

to work woe upon King James. He stated that the neighbours, instigated by a witch, whom he pointed out,

took some wax, and moulded it before the fire into the form of her husband, as near as they could represent

him; they then pierced the image with pins on all sides repeated the Lord's Prayer backwards, and offered

prayers to the devil that he would fix his stings into the person whom that figure represented, in like manner

as they pierced it with pins. To counteract the effects of this diabolical process, the witchdoctor prescribed a

certain medicine, and a charm to be worn next the body, on that part where the disease principally lay. The

patient was to repeat the 109th and 119th Psalms every day, or the cure would not be effectual. The fee which

So efficacious is faith in the cure of any malady, that the patient actually felt much better after a three weeks'

course of this prescription. The notable charm which the quack had given was afterwards opened, and found

to be a piece of parchment, covered with some cabalistic characters and signs of the planets.

The nextdoor neighbours were in great alarm that the witchdoctor would, on the solicitation of the

recovering patient, employ some means to punish them for their pretended witchcraft. To escape the

infliction, they feed another cunning man, in Nottinghamshire, who told them of a similar charm, which

would preserve them from all the malice of their enemies. The writer concludes by saying that, "the doctor,

not long after he had been thus consulted, wrote to say that he had discovered that his patient was not

afflicted by Satan, as he had imagined, but by God, and would continue, more or less, in the same state till his

An impostor carried on a similar trade in the neighbourhood of Tunbridge Wells, about the year 1830. He had

been in practice for several years, and charged enormous fees for his advice. This fellow pretended to be the

seventh son of a seventh son, and to be endowed in consequence with miraculous powers for the cure of all

diseases, but especially of those resulting from witchcraft. It was not only the poor who employed him, but

ladies who rode in their carriages. He was often sent for from a distance of sixty or seventy miles by these

people, who paid all his expenses to and fro, besides rewarding him handsomely. He was about eighty years

of age, and his extremely venerable appearance aided his imposition in no slight degree. His name was Okey,

In France, the superstition at this day is even more prevalent than it is in England. Garinet, in his history of

Magic and Sorcery in that country, cites upwards of twenty instances which occurred between the years 1805

and 1818. In the latter year, no less than three tribunals were occupied with trials originating in this

humiliating belief: we shall cite only one of them. Julian Desbourdes, aged fiftythree, a mason, and

inhabitant of the village of Thilouze, near Bordeaux, was taken suddenly ill, in the month of January 1818.

As he did not know how to account for his malady, he suspected at last that he was bewitched. He

communicated this suspicion to his soninlaw, Bridier, and they both went to consult a sort of idiot, named

Baudouin, who passed for a conjuror, or whitewitch. This man told them that Desbourdes was certainly

bewitched, and offered to accompany them to the house of an old man, named Renard, who, he said, was

undoubtedly the criminal. On the night of the 23rd of January all three proceeded stealthily to the dwelling of

Renard, and accused him of afflicting persons with diseases, by the aid of the devil. Desbourdes fell on his

knees, and earnestly entreated to be restored to his former health, promising that he would take no measures

against him for the evil he had done. The old man denied in the strongest terms that he was a wizard; and

when Desbourdes still pressed him to remove the spell from him, he said he knew nothing about the spell,

and refused to remove it. The idiot Baudouin, the whitewitch, now interfered, and told his companions that

no relief for the malady could ever be procured until the old man confessed his guilt. To force him to

confession they lighted some sticks of sulphur, which they had brought with them for the purpose, and placed

them under the old man's nose. In a few moments, he fell down suffocated and apparently lifeless. They were

all greatly alarmed; and thinking that they had killed the. man, they carried him out and threw him into a

neighbouring pond, hoping to make it appear that he had fallen in accidentally. The pond, however, was not

very deep, and the coolness of the water reviving the old man, he opened his eyes and sat up. Desbourdes and

Bridier, who were still waiting on the bank, were now more alarmed than before, lest he should recover and

inform against them. They, therefore, waded into the pond seized their victim by the hair of the head

They were all three apprehended on the charge of murder a few days afterwards. Desbourdes and Bridier

were found guilty of aggravated manslaughter only, and sentenced to be burnt on the back, and to work in the

galleys for life. The whitewitch Baudouin was acquitted, on the ground of insanity.

M. Garinet further informs us that France, at the time he wrote (1818), was overrun by a race of fellows, who

made a trade of casting out devils and finding out witches. He adds, also, that many of the priests in the rural

districts encouraged the superstition of their parishioners, by resorting frequently to exorcisms, whenever any

foolish persons took it into their heads that a spell had been thrown over them. He recommended, as a remedy

for the evil, that all these exorcists, whether lay or clerical, should be sent to the galleys, and that the number

Many other instances of this lingering belief might be cited both in France and Great Britain, and indeed in

every other country in Europe. So deeply rooted are some errors that ages cannot remove them. The

poisonous tree that once overshadowed the land, may be cut down by the sturdy efforts of sages and

philosophers the sun may shine clearly upon spots where venemous things once nestled in security and

shade; but still the entangled roots are stretched beneath the surface, and may be found by those who dig.

Another king, like James I, might make them vegetate again; and, more mischievous still, another pope, like

Innocent VIII, might raise the decaying roots to strength and verdure. Still, it is consoling to think, that the

delirium has passed away; that the raging madness has given place to a milder folly; and that we may now

count by units the votaries of a superstition which, in former ages, numbered its victims by tens of thousands,

The atrocious system of poisoning, by poisons so slow in their operation, as to make the victim appear, to

ordinary observers, as if dying from a gradual decay of nature, has been practised in all ages. Those who are

curious in the matter may refer to Beckmann on Secret Poisons, in his "History of Inventions," in which he

has collected several instances of it from the Greek and Roman writers. Early in the sixteenth century the

crime seems to have gradually increased, till, in the seventeenth, it spread over Europe like a pestilence. It

was often exercised by pretended witches and sorcerers, and finally became a branch of education amongst

all who laid any claim to magical and supernatural arts. In the twentyfirst year of Henry VIII. an act was

passed, rendering it hightreason: those found guilty of it, were to be boiled to death.

One of the first in point of date, and hardly second to any in point of atrocity, is the murder by this means of

Sir Thomas Overbury, which disgraced the court of James I, in the year 1613. A slight sketch of it will be a

fitting introduction to the history of the poisoning mania, which was so prevalent in France and Italy fifty

Robert Kerr, a Scottish youth, was early taken notice of by James I, and loaded with honours, for no other

reason that the world could ever discover than the beauty of his person. James, even in his own day, was

suspected of being addicted to the most abominable of all offences, and the more we examine his history

now, the stronger the suspicion becomes. However that may be, the handsome Kerr, lending his smooth

cheek, even in public, to the disgusting kisses of his royal master, rose rapidly in favour. In the year 1613, he

was made Lord High Treasurer of Scotland, and created an English peer, by the style and title of Viscount

In this rapid promotion he had not been without a friend. Sir Thomas Overbury, the King's secretarywho

appears, from some threats in his own letters, to have been no better than a pander to the vices of the King,

and privy to his dangerous secrets exerted all his backstair influence to forward the promotion of Kerr, by

whom he was, doubtless, repaid in some way or other. Overbury did not confine his friendship to this, if

friendship ever could exist between two such men, but acted the part of an entremetteur, and assisted

Rochester to carry on an adulterous intrigue with the Lady Frances Howard, the wife of the Earl of Essex.

This woman was a person of violent passions, and lost to all sense of shame. Her husband was in her way,

and to be freed from him, she instituted proceedings for a divorce, on grounds which a woman of any

modesty or delicacy of feeling would die rather than avow. Her scandalous suit was successful, and was no

sooner decided than preparations, on a scale of the greatest magnificence, were made for her marriage with

Sir Thomas Overbury, who had willingly assisted his patron to intrigue with the Countess of Essex, seems to

have imagined that his marriage with so vile a woman might retard his advancement; he accordingly

employed all his influence to dissuade him from it. But Rochester was bent on the match, and his passions

were as violent as those of the Countess. On one occasion, when Overbury and the Viscount were walking in

the gallery of Whitehall, Overbury was overheard to say, "Well, my Lord, if you do marry that base woman,

you will utterly ruin your honour and yourself. You shall never do it with my advice or consent; and, if you

do, you had best look to stand fast." Rochester flung from him in a rage, exclaiming with an oath, "I will be

even with you for this." These words were the deathwarrant of the unfortunate Overbury. He had mortally

wounded the pride of Rochester in insinuating that by his (Overbury's) means he might be lowered in the

King's favour; and he had endeavoured to curb the burning passions of a heartless, dissolute, and reckless

Overbury's imprudent remonstrances were reported to the Countess; and from that moment, she also vowed

the most deadly vengeance against him. With a fiendish hypocrisy, however, they both concealed their

intentions, and Overbury, at the solicitation of Rochester, was appointed ambassador to the court of Russia.

This apparent favour was but the first step in a deep and deadly plot. Rochester, pretending to be warmly

attached to the interests of Overbury, advised him to refuse the embassy, which, he said, was but a trick to get

him out of the way. He promised, at the same time, to stand between him and any evil consequences which

might result from his refusal. Overbury fell into the snare, and declined the embassy. James, offended,

He was now in safe custody, and his enemies had opportunity to commence the work of vengeance. The first

thing Rochester did was to procure, by his influence at court, the dismissal of the Lieutenant of the Tower,

and the appointment of Sir Jervis Elwes, one of his creatures, to the vacant post. This man was but one

instrument, and another being necessary, was found in Richard Weston, a fellow who had formerly been

shopman to a druggist. He was installed in the office of underkeeper, and as such had the direct custody of

In the mean time, the insidious Rochester wrote the most friendly letters to Overbury, requesting him to bear

his illfortune patiently, and promising that his imprisonment should not be of long duration; for that his

friends were exerting themselves to soften the King's displeasure. Still pretending the extreme of sympathy

for him, he followed up the letters by presents of pastry and other delicacies, which could not be procured in

the Tower. These articles were all poisoned. Occasionally, presents of a similar description were sent to Sir

Jervis Elwes, with the understanding that these articles were not poisoned, when they were unaccompanied

by letters: of these the unfortunate prisoner never tasted. A woman, named Turner, who had formerly kept a

house of ill fame, and who had more than once lent it to further the guilty intercourse of Rochester and Lady

Essex, was the agent employed to procure the poisons. They were prepared by Dr. Forman, a pretended

fortuneteller of Lambeth, assisted by an apothecary named Franklin. Both these persons knew for what

purposes the poisons were needed, and employed their skill in mixing them in the pastry and other edibles, in

such small quantities as gradually to wear out the constitution of their victim. Mrs. Turner regularly furnished

the poisoned articles to the underkeeper, who placed them before Overbury. Not only his food, but his drink

was poisoned. Arsenic was mixed with the salt he ate, and cantharides with the pepper. All this time, his

health declined sensibly. Every day he grew weaker and weaker; and with a sickly appetite, craved for sweets

and jellies. Rochester continued to condole with him, and anticipated all his wants in this respect, sending

him abundance of pastry, and occasionally partridges and other game, and young pigs. With the sauce for the

game, Mrs. Turner mixed a quantity of cantharides, and poisoned the pork with lunarcaustic. As stated on

the trial, Overbury took in this manner poison enough to have poisoned twenty men; but his constitution was

strong, and he still lingered. Frank]in, the apothecary, confessed that he prepared with Dr. Forman seven

different sorts of poisons; viz. aquafortis, arsenic, mercury, powder of diamonds, lunarcaustic, great spiders,

and cantharides. Overbury held out so long that Rochester became impatient, and in a letter to Lady Essex,

expressed his wonder that things were not sooner despatched. Orders were immediately sent by Lady Essex

to the keeper to finish with the victim at once. Overbury had not been all this time without suspicion of

treachery, although he appears to have had no idea of poison. He merely suspected that it was intended to

confine him for life, and to set the King still more bitterly against him. In one of his letters, he threatened

Rochester that, unless he were speedily liberated, he would expose his villany to the world. He says, "You

and I, ere it be long, will come to a public trial of another nature." * * * "Drive me not to extremities, lest I

should say something that both you and I should repent." * * * "Whether I live or die, your shame shall never

die, but ever remain to the world, to make you the most odious man living." * * * "I wonder much you should

neglect him to whom such secrets of all kinds have passed." * * * "Be these the fruits of common secrets,

All these remonstrances, and hints as to the dangerous secrets in his keeping, were illcalculated to serve him

with a man so reckless as Lord Rochester: they were more likely to cause him to be sacrificed than to be

saved. Rochester appears to have acted as if he thought so. He doubtless employed the murderer's reasoning

that "dead men tell no tales," when, after receiving letters of this description, he complained to his paramour

of the delay. Weston was spurred on to consummate the atrocity; and the patience of all parties being

exhausted, a dose of corrosive sublimate was administered to him, in October 1613, which put an end to his

sufferings, after he had been for six months in their hands. On the very day of his death, and before his body

was cold, he was wrapped up carelessly in a sheet, and buried without any funeral ceremony in a pit within

Sir Anthony Weldon, in his "Court and Character of James I," gives a somewhat different account of the

closing scene of this tragedy. He says, "Franklin and Weston came into Overbury's chamber, and found him

in infinite torment, with contention between the strength of nature and the working of the poison; and it being

very like that nature had gotten the better in this contention, by the thrusting out of boils, blotches, and blains,

they, fearing it might come to light by the judgment of physicians, the foul play that had been offered him,

consented to stifle him with the bedclothes, which accordingly was performed; and so ended his miserable

life, with the assurance of the conspirators that he died by the poison; none thinking otherwise than these two

The sudden death the indecent haste of the funeral, and the nonholding of an inquest upon the body,

strengthened the suspicions that were afloat. Rumour, instead of whispering, began to speak out; and the

relatives of the deceased openly expressed their belief that their kinsman had been murdered. But Rochester

was still all powerful at court, and no one dared to utter a word to his discredit. Shortly afterwards, his

marriage with the Countess of Essex was celebrated with the utmost splendour, the King himself being

It would seem that Overbury's knowledge of James's character was deeper than Rochester had given him

credit for, and that he had been a true prophet when he predicted that his marriage would eventually estrange

James from his minion. At this time, however, Rochester stood higher than ever in the royal favour; but it did

not last long conscience, that busy monitor, was at work. The tongue of rumour was never still; and

Rochester, who had long been a guilty, became at last a wretched man. His cheeks lost their colour his

eyes grew dim; and he became moody, careless, and melancholy. The King seeing him thus, took at length no

pleasure in his society, and began to look about for another favourite. George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham,

was the man to his mind; quickwitted, handsome, and unscrupulous. The two latter qualities alone were

sufficient to recommend him to James I. In proportion as the influence of Rochester declined, that of

Buckingham increased. A falling favourite has no friends; and Rumour wagged her tongue against Rochester

louder and more pertinaciously than ever. A new favourite, too, generally endeavours to hasten by a kick the

fall of the old one; and Buckingham, anxious to work the complete ruin of his forerunner in the King's good

graces, encouraged the relatives of Sir Thomas Overbury to prosecute their inquiries into the strange death of

James was rigorous enough in the punishment of offences when he was not himself involved. He piqued

himself, moreover, on his dexterity in unravelling mysteries. The affair of Sir Thomas Overbury found him

congenial occupation. He set to work by ordering the arrest of Sir Jervis Elwes. James, at this early stage of

the proceedings, does not seem to have been aware that Rochester was so deeply implicated. Struck with

horror at the atrocious system of slow poisoning, the King sent for all the Judges. According to Sir Anthony

Weldon, he knelt down in the midst of them, and said, "My Lords the Judges, it is lately come to my hearing

that you have now in examination a business of poisoning. Lord! in what a miserable condition shall this

kingdom be (the only famous nation for hospitality in the world) if our tables should become such a snare, as

that none could eat without danger of life, and that Italian custom should be introduced among us! Therefore,

my Lords, I charge you, as you will answer it at that great and dreadful day of judgment, that you examine it

strictly, without layout, affection, or partiality. And if you shall spare any guilty of this crime, God's curse

light on you and your posterity! and if I spare any that are guilty, God's curse light on me and my posterity

The imprecation fell but too surely upon the devoted house of Stuart. The solemn oath was broken, and God's

The next person arrested after Sir Jervis Elwes, was Weston, the underkeeper; then Franklin and Mrs.

Turner; and, lastly, the Earl and Countess of Somerset, to which dignity Rochester had been advanced since

Weston was first brought to trial. Public curiosity was on the stretch. Nothing else was talked of, and the

court on the day of trial was crowded to suffocation. The "State Trials" report, that Lord Chief Justice Coke

"laid open to the jury the baseness and cowardliness of poisoners, who attempt that secretly against which

there is no means of preservation or defence for a man's life; and how rare it was to hear of any poisoning in

England, so detestable it was to our nation. But the devil had taught divers to be cunning in it, so that they

can poison in what distance of space they please, by consuming the nativum calidum, or humidum radicale,

in one month, two or three, or more, as they list, which they four manner of ways do execute; viz. haustu,

When the indictment was read over, Weston made no other reply than, "Lord have mercy upon me! Lord

have mercy upon me!" On being asked how he would be tried, he refused to throw himself upon a jury of his

country, and declared, that he would be tried by God alone. In this he persisted for some time. The fear of the

dreadful punishment for contumacy induced him, at length, to plead "Not guilty," and take his trial in due

[The punishment for the contumacious was expressed by the words onere, frigore, et fame. By the first was

meant that the culprit should be extended on his back on the ground, and weights placed over his body,

gradually increased, until he expired. Sometimes the punishment was not extended to this length, and the

victim, being allowed to recover, underwent the second portion, the frigore, which consisted in his standing

naked in the open air, for a certain space, in the sight of all the people. The third, or fame, was more dreadful,

the statute saying, "That he was to be preserved with the coarsest bread that could be got, and water out of the

next sink or puddle, to the place of execution; and that day he had water he should have no bread, and that

day he had bread, he should have no water;" and in this torment he was to linger as long as nature would hold

All the circumstances against him were fully proved, and he was found guilty and executed at Tyburn. Mrs.

Turner, Franklin, and Sir Jervis Elwes were also brought to trial, found guilty, and executed between the 19th

of October and the 4th of December 1615; but the grand trial of the Earl and Countess of Somerset did not

On the trial of Sir Jervis Elwes, circumstances had transpired, showing a guilty knowledge of the poisoning

on the part of the Earl of Northampton the uncle of Lady Somerset, and the chief falconer Sir Thomas

Monson. The former was dead; but Sir Thomas Monson was arrested, and brought to trial. It appeared,

however, that he was too dangerous a man to be brought to the scaffold. He knew too many of the odious

secrets of James I, and his dying speech might contain disclosures which would compromise the King. To

conceal old guilt it was necessary to incur new: the trial of Sir Thomas Monson was brought to an abrupt

Already James had broken his oath. He now began to fear that he had been rash in engaging so zealously to

bring the poisoners to punishment. That Somerset would be declared guilty there was no doubt, and that he

looked for pardon and impunity was equally evident to the King. Somerset, while in the Tower, asserted

confidently, that James would not dare to bring him to trial. In this he was mistaken; but James was in an

agony. What the secret was between them will now never be known with certainty; but it may be surmised.

Some have imagined it to be the vice to which the King was addicted; while others have asserted, that it

related to the death of Prince Henry, a virtuous young man, who had held Somerset in especial abhorrence.

The Prince died early, unlamented by his father, and, as public opinion whispered at the time, poisoned by

Somerset. Probably, some crime or other lay heavy upon the soul of the King; and Somerset, his accomplice,

could not be brought to public execution with safety. Hence the dreadful tortures of James, when he

discovered that his favourite was so deeply implicated in the murder of Overbury. Every means was taken by

the agonized King to bring the prisoner into what was called a safe frame of mind. He was secretly advised to

plead guilty, and trust to the clemency of the King. The same advice was conveyed to the Countess. Bacon

was instructed by the King to draw up a paper of all the points of "mercy and favour" to Somerset which

might result from the evidence; and Somerset was again recommended to plead guilty, and promised that no

The Countess was first tried. She trembled and shed tears during the reading of the indictment, and, in a low

voice, pleaded guilty. On being asked why sentence of death should not be passed against her, she replied

meekly, "I can much aggravate, but nothing extenuate my fault. I desire mercy, and that the lords will

Next day the Earl was brought to trial. He appears to have mistrusted the promises of James, and he pleaded

not guilty. With a selfpossession and confidence, which he felt, probably, from his knowledge of the King's

character, he rigorously crossexamined the witnesses, and made a stubborn defence. After a trial which

Whatever may have been the secrets between the criminal and the King, the latter, notwithstanding his terrific

oath, was afraid to sign the deathwarrant. It might, perchance, have been his own. The Earl and Countess

were committed to the Tower, where they remained for nearly five years. At the end of this period, to the

surprise and scandal of the community, and the disgrace of its chief magistrate, they both received the royal

pardon, but were ordered to reside at a distance from the court. Having been found guilty of felony, the

estates of the Earl had become forfeited; but James granted him out of their revenues an income of 4,000

Of the after life of these criminals nothing is known, except that the love they had formerly borne each other

was changed into aversion, and that they lived under the same roof for months together without the

The exposure of their atrocities did not put a stop to the practice of poisoning. On the contrary, as we shall

see hereafter, it engendered that insane imitation which is so strange a feature of the human character. James

himself is supposed, with great probability, to have fallen a victim to it. In the notes to "Harris's Life and

Writings of James I," there is a good deal of information on the subject. The guilt of Buckingham, although

not fully established, rests upon circumstances of suspicion stronger than have been sufficient to lead

hundreds to the scaffold. His motives for committing the crime are stated to have been a desire of revenge for

the coldness with which the King, in the latter years of his reign, began to regard him; his fear that James

intended to degrade him; and his hope that the great influence he possessed over the mind of the

heirapparent would last through a new reign, if the old one were brought to a close.

In the second volume of the "Harleian Miscellany," there is a tract, entitled the "Forerunner of Revenge,"

written by George Eglisham, doctor of medicine, and one of the physicians to King James. Harris, in quoting

it, says that it is full of rancour and prejudice. It is evidently exaggerated; but forms, nevertheless, a link in

the chain of evidence. Eglisham says: "The King being sick of an ague, the Duke took this opportunity,

when all the King's doctors of physic were at dinner, and offered to him a white powder to take, the which he

a long time refused; but, overcome with his flattering importunity, he took it in wine, and immediately

became worse and worse, falling into many swoonings and pains, and violent fluxes of the belly, so

tormented, that his Majesty cried out aloud of this white powder, 'Would to God I had never taken it?" He

then tells us "Of the Countess of Buckingham (the Duke's mother) applying the plaister to the King's heart

and breast, whereupon he grew faint and shortbreathed, and in agony. That the physicians exclaimed, that

the King was poisoned; that Buckingham commanded them out of the room, and committed one of them

close prisoner to his own chamber, and another to be removed from court; and that, after his Majesty's death,

his body and head swelled above measure; his hair, with the skin of his head, stuck to his pillow, and his nails

became loose on his fingers and toes." Clarendon, who, by the way, was a partisan of the Duke's, gives a

totally different account of James's death. He says, "It was occasioned by an ague (after a short indisposition

by the gout)which, meeting many humours in a fat unwieldy body of fiftyeight years old, in four or five fits

carried him out of the world. After whose death many scandalous and libellous discourses were raised,

without the least colour or ground; as appeared upon the strictest and most malicious examination that could

be made, long after, in a time of licence, when nobody was afraid of offending majesty, and when

prosecuting the highest reproaches and contumelies against the royal family was held very meritorious."

Notwithstanding this confident declaration, the world will hardly be persuaded that there was not some truth

in the rumours that were abroad. The inquiries which were instituted were not strict, as he asserts, and all the

unconstitutional influence of the powerful favourite was exerted to defeat them. In the celebrated accusations

brought against Buckingham by the Earl of Bristol, the poisoning of King James was placed last on the list,

and the pages of history bear evidence of the summary mode in which they were, for the time, got rid of.

The man from whom Buckingham is said to have procured his poisons was one Dr. Lamb, a conjuror and

empiric, who, besides dealing in poisons, pretended to be a fortuneteller. The popular fury, which broke

with comparative harmlessness against his patron, was directed against this man, until he could not appear

with safety in the streets of London. His fate was melancholy. Walking one day in Cheapside, disguised, as

he thought, from all observers, he was recognized by some idle boys, who began to hoot and pelt him with

rubbish, calling out, "The poisoner! the poisoner! Down with the wizard! down with him!" A mob very soon

collected, and the Doctor took to his heels and ran for his life. He was pursued and seized in Wood Street,

and from thence dragged by the hair through the mire to St. Paul's Cross; the mob beating him with sticks and

Charles I, on hearing of the riot, rode from Whitehall to quell it; but he arrived too late to save the victim.

Every bone in his body was broken, and he was quite dead. Charles was excessively indignant, and fined the

city six hundred pounds for its inability to deliver up the ringleaders to justice.

But it was in Italy that poisoning was most prevalent. From a very early period, it seems to have been looked

upon in that country as a perfectly justifiable means of getting rid of an enemy. The Italians of the sixteenth

and seventeenth centuries poisoned their opponents with as little compunction as an Englishman of the

present day brings an action at law against any one who has done him an injury. The writings of

contemporary authors inform us that, when La Spara and La Tophania carried on their infernal trade, ladies

put poisonbottles on their dressingtables as openly, and used them with as little scruple upon others, as

modern dames use Eau de Cologne or lavenderwater upon themselves. So powerful is the influence of

In the memoirs of the last Duke of Guise, who made a Quixotic attempt, in 1648, to seize upon the

government of Naples, we find some curious particulars relative to the popular feeling with regard to

poisoning. A man, named Gennaro Annese, who, after the short and extraordinary career of Masaniello the

fisherman, had established himself as a sort of captaingeneral of the populace, rendered himself so

obnoxious to the Duke of Guise that the adherents of the latter determined to murder him. The captain of the

guard, as the Duke himself very coolly informs us, was requested to undertake this office. It was suggested to

him that the poniard would be the most effectual instrument, but the man turned up his eyes with pious horror

at the proposition. He was ready to poison Gennaro Annese whenever he might be called upon to do so; but

to poniard him, he said, would be disgraceful, and unbecoming an officer of the guards! At last poison was

agreed upon, and Augustino Molla, an attorney in the Duke's confidence, brought the bottle containing the

"Augustino came to me at night, and told me: 'I have brought you something which will free you from

Gennaro. He deserves death, and it is no great matter after what fashion justice is done upon him. Look at this

vial, full of clear and beautiful water: in four days' time, it will punish all his treasons. The captain of the

guard has undertaken to give it him; and as it has no taste at all, Gennaro will suspect nothing.'"

The Duke further informs us that the dose was duly administered; but that Gennaro, fortunately for himself,

ate nothing for dinner that day but cabbage dressed with oil, which acting as an antidote, caused him to vomit

profusely, and saved his life. He was exceedingly ill for five days, but never suspected that he had been

In process of time, poison vending became a profitable trade. Eleven years after this period, it was carried on

at Rome to such an extent that the sluggish government was roused to interference. Beckmann, in his

"History of Inventions," and Lebret, in his "Magazin zum Gebrauche der Staaten Kirche Geschichte," or

Magazine of Materials for a History of a State Church, relates that, in the year 1659, it was made known to

Pope Alexander VII. that great numbers of young women had avowed in the confessional that they had

poisoned their husbands with slow poisons. The Catholic clergy, who in general hold the secrets of the

confessional so sacred, were shocked and alarmed at the extraordinary prevalence of the crime. Although

they refrained from revealing the names of the penitents, they conceived themselves bound to apprise the

head of the church of the enormities that were practised. It was also the subject of general conversation in

Rome that young widows were unusually abundant. It was remarked, too, that if any couple lived unhappily

together, the husband soon took ill and died. The papal authorities, when once they began to inquire, soon

learned that a society of young wives had been formed, and met nightly, for some mysterious purpose, at the

house of an old woman named Hieronyma Spara. This hag was a reputed witch and fortuneteller, and acted

as president of the young viragos, several of whom, it was afterwards ascertained, belonged to the first

In order to have positive evidence of the practices of this female conclave, a lady was employed by the

Government to seek an interview with them. She dressed herself out in the most magnificent style; and

having been amply provided with money, she found but little difficulty, when she had stated her object, of

procuring an audience of La Spara and her sisterhood. She pretended to be in extreme distress of mind on

account of the infidelities and illtreatment of her husband, and implored La Spara to furnish her with a few

drops of the wonderful elixir, the efficacy of which in sending cruel husbands to "their last long sleep" was so

much vaunted by the ladies of Rome. La Spara fell into the snare, and sold her some of her "drops," at a price

The liquor thus obtained was subjected to an analysis, and found to be, as was suspected, a slow poison

clear, tasteless, and limpid, like that spoken of by the Duke of Guise. Upon this evidence the house was

surrounded by the police, and La Spara and her companions taken into custody. La Spara, who is described as

having been a little, ugly, old woman, was put to the torture, but obstinately refused to confess her guilt.

Another of the women, named La Gratiosa, had less firmness, and laid bare all the secrets of the infernal

sisterhood. Taking a confession, extorted by anguish on the rack, at its true value (nothing at all), there is still

sufficient evidence to warrant posterity in the belief of their guilt. They were found guilty, and condemned,

according to their degrees of culpability, to various punishments. La Spara, Gratiosa, and three young

women, who had poisoned their husbands, were hanged together at Rome. Upwards of thirty women were

whipped publicly through the streets; and several, whose high rank screened them from more degrading

punishment, were banished from the country, and mulcted in heavy fines. In a few months afterwards, nine

women more were hanged for poisoning; and another bevy, including many young and beautiful girls, were

This severity did not put a stop to the practice, and jealous women and avaricious men, anxious to step into

the inheritance of fathers, uncles, or brothers, resorted to poison. As it was quite free from taste, colour, and

smell, it was administered without exciting suspicion. The skilful vendors compounded it of different degrees

of strength, so that the poisoners had only to say whether they wanted their victims to die in a week, a month,

or six months, and they were suited with corresponding doses. The vendors were chiefly women, of whom

the most celebrated was a hag, named Tophania, who was in this way accessory to the death of upwards of

six hundred persons. This woman appears to have been a dealer in poisons from her girlhood, and resided

first at Palermo and then at Naples. That entertaining traveller, Father Lebat, has given, in his Letters from

Italy, many curious particulars relating to her. When he was at Civita Vecchia, in 1719, the Viceroy of Naples

discovered that poison was extensively sold in the latter city, and that it went by the name of aqueta, or

littlewater. On making further inquiry, he ascertained that Tophania (who was by this time near seventy

years of age, and who seems to have begun her evil courses very soon after the execution of La Spara) sent

large quantities of it to all parts of Italy in small vials, with the inscription "Manna of St. Nicholas of Barri."

The tomb of St. Nicholas of Barri was celebrated throughout Italy. A miraculous oil was said to ooze from it,

which cured nearly all the maladies that flesh is heir to, provided the recipient made use of it with the due

degree of faith. La Tophania artfully gave this name to her poison to elude the vigilance of the customhouse

officers, who, in common with everybody else, had a pious respect for St. Nicholas de Barri and his

The poison was similar to that manufactured by La Spara. Hahnemann the physician, and father of the

homoepathic doctrine, writing upon this subject, says it was compounded of arsenical neutral salts,

occasioning in the victim a gradual loss of appetite, faintness, gnawing pains in the stomach, loss of strength,

and wasting of the lungs. The Abbe Gagliardi says that a few drops of it were generally poured into tea,

chocolate, or soup, and its effects were slow, and almost imperceptible. Garelli, physician to the Emperor of

Austria, in a letter to Hoffmann, says it was crystallized arsenic, dissolved in a large quantity of water by

decoction, with the addition (for some unexplained purpose) of the herb cymbalaria. The Neapolitans called it

Aqua Toffnina; and it became notorious all over Europe under the name of Aqua Tophania.

Although this woman carried on her infamous traffic so extensively, it was extremely difficult to meet with

her. She lived in continual dread of discovery. She constantly changed her name and residence; and

pretending to be a person of great godliness, resided in monasteries for months together. Whenever she was

more than usually apprehensive of detection, she sought ecclesiastical protection. She was soon apprised of

the search made for her by the Viceroy of Naples, and, according to her practice, took refuge in a monastery.

Either the search after her was not very rigid, or her measures were exceedingly well taken; for she contrived

to elude the vigilance of the authorities for several years. What is still more extraordinary, as showing the

ramifications of her system, her trade was still carried on to as great an extent as before. Lebat informs us that

she had so great a sympathy for poor wives who hated their husbands and wanted to get rid of them, but

She was not allowed, however, to play at this game for ever; she was at length discovered in a nunnery, and

her retreat cut off. The Viceroy made several representations to the superior to deliver her up, but without

effect. The abbess, supported by the archbishop of the diocese, constantly refused. The public curiosity was

in consequence so much excited at the additional importance thus thrust upon the criminal, that thousands of

The patience of the Viceroy appears to have been exhausted by these delays. Being a man of sense, and not a

very zealous Catholic, he determined that even the Church should not shield a criminal so atrocious. Setting

the privileges of the nunnery at defiance, he sent a troop of soldiers, who broke over the walls and carried her

away vi et armis. The Archbishop, Cardinal Pignatelli, was highly indignant, and threatened to

excommunicate and lay the whole city under interdict. All the inferior clergy, animated by the esprit du

corps, took up the question, and so worked upon the superstitious and bigoted people, that they were ready to

These were serious difficulties; but the Viceroy was not a man to be daunted. Indeed, he seems to have acted

throughout with a rare union of astuteness, coolness, and energy. To avoid the evil consequences of the

threatened excommunication, he placed a guard round the palace of the Archbishop, judging that the latter

would not be so foolish as to launch out an anathema which would cause the city to be starved, and himself in

it. The marketpeople would not have dared to come to the city with provisions, so long as it remained under

the ban. There would have been too much inconvenience to himself and his ghostly brethren in such a

measure; and, as the Viceroy anticipated, the good Cardinal reserved his thunders for some other occasion.

Still there was the populace. To quiet their clamour and avert the impending insurrection, the agents of the

government adroitly mingled with the people, and spread abroad a report that Tophania had poisoned all the

wells and fountains of the city. This was enough. The popular feeling turned against her immediately. Those

who, but a moment before, had looked upon her as a saint, now reviled her as a devil, and were as eager for

her punishment as they had before been for her escape. Tophania was then put to the torture. She confessed

the long catalogue of her crimes, and named all the persons who had employed her. She was shortly

afterwards strangled, and her corpse thrown over the wall into the garden of the convent, from whence she

had been taken. This appears to have been done to conciliate the clergy, by allowing them, at least, the burial

After her death the mania for poisoning seems to have abated; but we have yet to see what hold it took upon

the French people at a somewhat earlier period. So rooted had it become in France between the years 1670

and 1680, that Madame de Sevigne, in one of her letters, expresses her fear that Frenchman and poisoner

As in Italy, the first notice the government received of the prevalence of this crime was given by the clergy,

to whom females of high rank, and some among the middle and lower classes, had avowed in the

confessional that they had poisoned their husbands. In consequence of these disclosures, two Italians, named

Exili and Glaser, were arrested, and thrown into the Bastille, on the charge of compounding and selling the

drugs used for these murders. Glaser died in prison, but Exili remained without trial for several months; and

there, shortly afterwards, he made the acquaintance of another prisoner, named Sainte Croix, by whose

The most notorious of the poisoners that derived their pernicious knowledge from this man was Madame de

Brinvilliers, a young woman connected both by birth and marriage with some of the noblest families of

France. She seems, from her very earliest years, to have been heartless and depraved; and, if we may believe

her own confession, was steeped in wickedness ere she had well entered her teens. She was, however,

beautiful and accomplished; and, in the eye of the world, seemed exemplary and kind. Guyot de Pitaval, in

the "Causes Celebres," and Madame de Sevigne, in her Letters, represent her as mild and agreeable in her

manners, and offering no traces on her countenance of the evil soul within. She was married in 1651 to the

Marquis de Brinvilliers, with whom she lived unhappily for some years. He was a loose dissipated character,

and was the means of introducing Sainte Croix to his wife, a man who cast a blight upon her life, and dragged

her on from crime to crime till her offences became so great that the mind shudders to dwell upon them. For

this man she conceived a guilty passion, to gratify which she plunged at once into the gulf of sin. She was

She had as yet shown a fair outside to the world, and found but little difficulty in effecting a legal separation

from her husband, who had not the art to conceal his vices. The proceeding gave great offence to her family.

She appears, after this, to have thrown off the mask completely, and carried on her intrigues so openly with

her lover, Sainte Croix, that her father, M. D'Aubray, scandalised at her conduct, procured a lettre de cachet,

Sainte Croix, who had been in Italy, was a dabbler in poisons. He knew something of the secrets of the

detestable La Spara, and improved himself in them from the instructions of Exili, with whom he speedily

contracted a sort of friendship. By him he was shown how to prepare, not only the liquid poisons employed in

Italy, but that known as succession powder, which afterwards became so celebrated in France. Like his

mistress, he appeared amiable, witty, and intelligent, and showed no signs to the world of the two fierce

passions, revenge and avarice, which were gnawing at his heart. Both these passions were to be sated on the

unfortunate family of D'Aubray; his revenge, because they had imprisoned him; and his avarice, because they

were rich. Reckless and extravagant, he was always in want of money, and he had no one to supply him but

Madame de Brinvilliers, whose own portion was far from sufficient to satisfy his need. Groaning to think that

any impediment should stand between him and wealth, he conceived the horrid idea of poisoning M.

D'Aubray her father, and her two brothers, that she might inherit the property. Three murders were nothing to

such a villain. He communicated his plan to Madame de Brinvilliers; and she, without the slightest scruple,

agreed to aid him: he undertook to compound the poisons, and she to administer them. The zeal and alacrity

with which she set to work seem hardly credible. Sainte Croix found her an apt scholar; and she soon became

as expert as himself in the manufacture of poisons. To try the strength of the first doses, she used to

administer them to dogs, rabbits, and pigeons. Afterwards, wishing to be more certain of their effects, she

went round to the hospitals, and administered them to the sick poor in the soups which she brought in

apparent charity. [This is denied by Voltaire in his "Age of Louis XIV;" but he does not state for what reason.

His words are, "Il est faux qu'elle eut essaye ses poisons dans les hopitaux, comme le disait le peuple et

comme il est ecrit dans les 'Causes Celebres,' ouvrage d'un avocat sans cause et fait pour le peuple."] None of

the poisons were intended to kill at the first dose; so that she could try them once upon an individual without

fear of murder. She tried the same atrocious experiment upon the guests at her father's table, by poisoning a

pigeonpie! To be more certain still, she next poisoned herself! When convinced by this desperate essay of

the potency of the draught, she procured an antidote from Sainte Croix, and all doubts being removed,

commenced operations upon her greyheaded father. She administered the first dose with her own hands, in

his chocolate. The poison worked well. The old man was taken ill, and his daughter, apparently full of

tenderness and anxiety, watched by his bedside. The next day she gave him some broth, which she

recommended as highly nourishing. This also was poisoned. In this manner she gradually wore out his frame,

and in less than ten days he was a corpse! His death seemed so much the result of disease, that no suspicions

When the two brothers arrived from the provinces to render the last sad duties to their sire, they found their

sister as grieved, to all outward appearance, as even filial affection could desire: but the young men only

came to perish. They stood between Sainte Croix and the already halfclutched go]d, and their doom was

sealed. A man, named La Chaussee, was hired by Sainte Croix to aid in administering the poisons; and, in

Suspicion was now excited; but so cautiously had all been done, that it found no one upon whom to attach

itself. The Marquise had a sister, and she was entitled, by the death of her relatives, to half the property. Less

than the whole would not satisfy Sainte Croix, and he determined that she should die the same death as her

father and brothers. She was too distrustful, however; and, by quitting Paris, she escaped the destruction that

The Marquise had undertaken these murders to please her lover. She was now anxious to perpetrate another

on her own account. She wished to marry Sainte Croix; but, though separated from her husband, she was not

divorced. She thought it would be easier to poison him than to apply to the tribunals for a divorce, which

might, perhaps, be refused. But Salute Croix had no longer any love for his guilty instrument. Bad men do

not admire others who are as bad as themselves. Though a villain himself, he had no desire to marry one, and

was not at all anxious for the death of the Marquis. He seemed, however, to enter into the plot, and supplied

her with poison for her husband: but he took care to provide a remedy. La Brinvilliers poisoned him one day,

and Sainte Croix gave him an antidote the next. In this manner he was buffetted about between them for some

But the day of retribution was at hand, and a terrible mischance brought the murders to light. The nature of

the poisons compounded by Salute Croix was so deadly, that, when working in his laboratory, he was obliged

to wear a mask, to preserve himself from suffocation. One day, the mask slipped off, and the miserable

wretch perished in his crimes. His corpse was found, on the following morning, in the obscure lodging where

he had fitted up his laboratory. As he appeared to be without friends or relatives, the police took possession of

his effects. Among other things was found a small box, to which was affixed the following singular

"I humbly beg, that those into whose hands this box may fall, will do me the favour to deliver it into the

hands only of the Marchioness de Brinvilliers, who resides in the Rue Neuve St. Paul, as everything it

contains concerns her, and belongs to her alone; and as, besides, there is nothing in it that can be of use to any

person but her. In case she shall be dead before me, it is my wish that it be burned, with everything it

contains, without opening or altering anything. In order that no one may plead ignorance, I swear by the God

that I adore, and by all that is held most sacred, that I assert nothing but the truth: and if my intentions, just

and reasonable as they are, be thwarted in this point by any persons, I charge their consciences with it, both in

this world and that which is to come, in order that I may unload mine. I protest that this is my last will. Done

This earnest solicitation, instead of insuring respect as was intended, excited curiosity. The box was opened,

and found to contain some papers, and several vials and powders. The latter were handed to a chemist for

analysis, and the documents were retained by the police, and opened. Among them was found a promissory

note of the Marchioness de Brinvilliers, for thirty thousand francs, to the order of Sainte Croix. The other

papers were of greater importance, as they implicated both her and her servant, La Chaussee, in the recent

murders. As soon as she was informed of the death of Sainte Croix, she made an attempt to gain possession

of his papers and the box; but, being refused, she saw that there was no time to be lost, and immediately

quitted. Next morning the police were on her trail; but she succeeded in escaping to England. La Chaussee

was not so fortunate. Altogether ignorant of the fatal mischance which had brought his villanies to light, he

did not dream of danger. He was arrested and brought to trial: being put to the torture, he confessed that he

had administered poison to the Messieurs d'Aubray, and that he had received a hundred pistoles, and the

promise of an annuity for life, from Sainte Croix and Madame de Brinvilliers, for the job. He was condemned

to be broken alive on the wheel, and the Marchioness was, by default, sentenced to be beheaded. He was

La Brinvilliers appears to have resided for nearly three years in England. Early in 1676, thinking that the

rigour of pursuit was over, and that she might venture to return to the Continent, she proceeded secretly to

Liege. Notwithstanding her care, the French authorities were soon apprised of her return; and arrangements

were promptly made with the municipality of that city, to permit the agents of the French police to arrest her

within the limits of their jurisdiction. Desgrais, an officer of the marechaussee, accordingly left Paris for that

purpose. On his arrival in Liege, he found that she had sought shelter within the walls of a convent. Here the

arm of the law, long as it is said to be, could not reach her: but Desgrais was not a man to be baffled, and he

resorted to stratagem to accomplish what force could not. Having disguised himself as a priest, he sought

admission to the convent, and obtained an interview with La Brinvilliers. He said, that being a Frenchman,

and passing through Liege, he could not leave that city without paying a visit to a lady whose beauty and

misfortunes were so celebrated. Her vanity was flattered by the compliment. Desgrais saw, to use a vulgar but

forcible expression, "that he had got on the blind side of her;" and he adroitly continued to pour out the

language of love and admiration, till the deluded Marchioness was thrown completely off her guard. She

agreed, without much solicitation, to meet him outside the walls of the convent, where their amorous intrigue

might be carried on more conveniently than within. Faithful to her appointment with her supposed new lover,

she came, and found herself, not in the embrace of a gallant, but in the custody of a policeman.

Her trial was not long delayed. The proofs against her were abundant. The dying declaration of La Chaussee

would have been alone enough to convict her; but besides that, there were the mysterious document attached

to the box of St. Croix; her flight from France; and, stronger and more damning proof than all, a paper, in her

own handwriting, found among the effects of St. Croix, in which she detailed to him the misdeeds of her life,

and spoke of the murder of her father and brothers, in terms that left no doubt of her guilt. During the trial, all

Paris was in commotion. La Brinvilliers was the only subject of conversation. All the details of her crimes

were published, and greedily devoured; and the idea of secret poisoning was first put into the heads of

On the 16th of July 1676, the Superior Criminal Court of Paris pronounced a verdict of guilty against her, for

the murder of her father and brothers, and the attempt upon the life of her sister. She was condemned to be

drawn on a hurdle, with her feet bare, a rope about her neck, and a burning torch in her hand, to the great

entrance of the cathedral of Notre Dame; where she was to make the amende honorable, in sight of all the

people; to be taken from thence to the Place de Greve, and there to be beheaded. Her body was afterwards to

After her sentence, she made a full confession of her guilt. She seems to have looked upon death without fear;

but it was recklessness, not courage, that supported her. Madame de Sevigne says, that when on the hurdle,

on her way to the scaffold, she entreated her confessor to exert his influence with the executioner to place

himself next to her, that his body might hide from her view "that scoundrel, Desgrais, who had entrapped

her." She also asked the ladies, who had been drawn to their windows to witness the procession, what they

were looking at? adding, "a pretty sight you have come to see, truly!" She laughed when on the scaffold,

dying as she had lived, impenitent and heartless. On the morrow, the populace came in crowds to collect her

ashes, to preserve them as relics. She was regarded as a martyred saint, and her ashes were supposed to be

endowed, by Divine grace, with the power of curing all diseases. Popular folly has often canonised persons

whose pretensions to sanctity were extremely equivocal; but the disgusting folly of the multitude, in this

Before her death, proceedings were instituted against M. de Penautier, treasurer of the province of

Languedoc, and Receivergeneral for the clergy, who was accused by a lady, named St. Laurent, of having

poisoned her husband, the late Receivergeneral, in order to obtain his appointment. The circumstances of

this case were never divulged, and the greatest influence was exerted to prevent it from going to trial. He was

known to have been intimate with Sainte Croix and Madame de Brinvilliers, and was thought to have

procured his poisons from them. The latter, however, refused to say anything which might implicate him. The

inquiry was eventually stifled, after Penautier had been several months in the Bastille.

The Cardinal de Bonzy was accused by the gossips of the day of being an accomplice of Penautier. The

Cardinal's estates were burthened with the payment of several heavy annuities; but, about the time that

poisoning became so fashionable, all the annuitants died off, one after the other. The Cardinal, in talking of

these annuitants, afterwards used to say, "Thanks to my star, I have outlived them all!" A wit, seeing him and

Penautier riding in the same carriage, cried out, in allusion to this expression, "There go the Cardinal de

It was now that the mania for poisoning began to take hold of the popular mind. From this time until the year

1682, the prisons of France teemed with persons accused of this crime; and it is very singular, that other

offences decreased in a similar proportion. We have already seen the extent to which it was carried in Italy. It

was, if possible, surpassed in France. The diabolical ease with which these murders could be effected, by

means of these scentless and tasteless poisons, enticed the evilminded. Jealousy, revenge, avarice, even

petty spite, alike resorted to them. Those who would have been deterred, by fear of detection, from using the

pistol or the dagger, or even strong doses of poison, which kill at once, employed slow poisons without dread.

The corrupt Government of the day, although it could wink at the atrocities of a wealthy and influential

courtier, like Penautier, was scandalised to see the crime spreading among the people. Disgrace was, in fact,

entailed, in the eyes of Europe, upon the name of Frenchman. Louis XIV, to put a stop to the evil, instituted

what was called the Chambre Ardente, or Burning Chamber, with extensive powers, for the trial and

Two women, especially, made themselves notorious at this time, and were instrumental to the deaths of

hundreds of individuals. They both resided in Paris, and were named Lavoisin and Lavigoreux. Like Spars

and Tophania, of whom they were imitators, they chiefly sold their poisons to women who wanted to get rid

of their husbands; and, in some few instances, to husbands who wanted to get rid of their wives. Their

ostensible occupation was that of midwives. They also pretended to be fortunetellers, and were visited by

persons of every class of society. The rich and poor thronged alike to their mansardes, to learn the secrets of

the future. Their prophecies were principally of death. They foretold to women the approaching dissolution of

husbands, and to needy heirs, the end of rich relatives, who had made them, as Byron expresses it, "wait too,

too long already." They generally took care to be instrumental in fulfilling their own predictions. They used

to tell their wretched employers, that some sign of the approaching death would take place in the house, such

as the breaking of glass or china; and they paid servants considerable fees to cause a breakage, as if by

accident, exactly at the appointed time. Their occupation as midwives made them acquainted with the secrets

It is not known how long they had carried on this awful trade before they were discovered. Detection finally

overtook them at the close of the year 1679. They were both tried, found guilty, and burned alive on the Place

de Greve, on the 22nd of February, 1680, after their hands had been bored through with a redhot iron, and

then cut off. Their numerous accomplices in Paris and in the provinces were also discovered and brought to

trial. According to some authors, thirty, and to others, fifty of them, chiefly women, were hanged in the

Lavoisin kept a list of the visiters who came to her house to purchase poisons. This paper was seized by the

police on her arrest, and examined by the tribunals. Among the names were found those of the Marshal de

Luxembourg, the Countess de Soissons, and the Duchess de Bouillon. The Marshal seems only to have been

guilty of a piece of discreditable folly in visiting a woman of this description, but the popular voice at the

time imputed to him something more than folly. The author of the "Memoirs of the Affairs of Europe since

the Peace of Utrecht," says, "The miserable gang who dealt in poison and prophecy alleged that he had sold

himself to the devil, and that a young girl of the name of Dupin had been poisoned by his means. Among

other stories, they said he had made a contract with the devil, in order to marry his son to the daughter of the

Marquis of Louvois. To this atrocious and absurd accusation the Marshal, who had surrendered himself at the

Bastille on the first accusation against him, replied with the mingled sentiment of pride and innocence, 'When

Mathieu de Montmorenci, my ancestor, married the widow of Louis le Gros, he did not have recourse to the

devil, but to the StatesGeneral, in order to obtain for the minor king the support of the house of

Montmorenci.' This brave man was imprisoned in a cell six feet and a half long, and his trial, which was

interrupted for several weeks, lasted altogether fourteen months. No judgment was pronounced upon him."

The Countess of Soissons fled to Brussels, rather than undergo the risk of a trial; and was never able to clear

herself from the stigma that attached to her, of having made an attempt to poison the Queen of Spain by doses

of succession powder. The Duchess of Bouillon was arrested, and tried by the Chambre Ardente. It would

appear, however, that she had nothing to do with the slow poisons, but had merely endeavoured to pry into

the secrets of futurity, and gratify her curiosity with a sight of the devil. One of the presidents of the

Chambre, La Reynie, an ugly little old man, very seriously asked her whether she had really seen the devil; to

which the lady replied, looking him full in the face, "Oh yes! I see him now. He is in the form of a little ugly

old man, exceedingly illnatured, and is dressed in the robes of a counsellor of State." M. la Reynie prudently

refrained from asking any more questions of a lady with so sharp and ready a tongue. The Duchess was

imprisoned for several months in the Bastile; and nothing being proved against her, she was released at the

intercession of her powerful friends. The severe punishment of criminals of this note might have helped to

abate the fever of imitation among the vulgar; their comparative impunity had a contrary tendency. The

escape of Penautier, and the wealthy Cardinal de Bonzy his employer, had the most pernicious effect. For two

years longer the crime continued to rage, and was not finally suppressed till the stake had blazed, or the noose

Who has not either seen or heard of some house, shut up and uninhabitable, fallen into decay, and looking

dusty and dreary, from which, at midnight, strange sounds have been heard to issue aerial knockings

the rattling of chains, and the groaning of perturbed spirits? a house that people have thought it unsafe to

pass after dark, and which has remained for years without a tenant, and which no tenant would occupy, even

were he paid to do so? There are hundreds of such houses in England at the present day; hundreds in France,

Germany, and almost every country of Europe, which are marked with the mark of fear places for the

timid to avoid, and the pious to bless themselves at, and ask protection from, as they pass the abodes of

ghosts and evil spirits. There are many such houses in London; and if any vain boaster of the march of

intellect would but take the trouble to find them out and count them, he would be convinced that intellect

must yet make some enormous strides before such old superstitions can be eradicated.

The idea that such houses exist is a remnant of the witch creed, which merits separate notice from its

comparative harmlessness, and from its being not so much a madness as a folly of the people. Unlike other

notions that sprang from the belief in witchcraft, and which we have already dwelt upon at sufficient length,

it has sent no wretches to the stake or the gibbet, and but a few to the pillory only.

Many houses have been condemned as haunted, and avoided by the weak and credulous, from circumstances

the most trifling in themselves, and which only wanted a vigorous mind to clear up, at once, and dissipate all

alarm. A house in AixlaChapelle, a large desolatelooking building, remained uninhabited for five years,

on account of the mysterious knockings that there were heard within it at all hours of the day and night.

Nobody could account for the noises; and the fear became at last so excessive, that the persons who inhabited

the houses on either side relinquished their tenancy, and went to reside in other quarters of the town, where

there was less chance of interruption from evil spirits. From being so long without an inhabitant the house at

last grew so ruinous, so dingy, and so miserable in its outward appearance, and so like the place that ghosts

might be supposed to haunt, that few persons cared to go past it after sunset. The knocking that was heard in

one of the upper rooms was not very loud, but it was very regular. The gossips of the neighbourhood asserted

that they often heard groans from the cellars, and saw lights moved about from one window to another

immediately after the midnight bell had tolled. Spectres in white habiliments were reported to have gibed and

chattered from the windows; but all these stories could bear no investigation. The knocking, however, was a

fact which no one could dispute, and several ineffectual attempts were made by the proprietor to discover the

cause. The rooms were sprinkled with holy water the evil spirits were commanded in due form, by a

priest, to depart thence to the Red Sea; but the knockings still continued, in spite of all that could be done in

that way. Accident at last discovered the cause, and restored tranquillity to the neighbourhood. The

proprietor, who suffered not only in his mind but in his pocket, had sold the building at a ruinously small

price, to get rid of all future annoyance. The new proprietor was standing in a room on the first floor when he

heard the door driven to at the bottom with a considerable noise, and then fly open immediately, about two

inches and no more. He stood still a minute and watched, and the same thing occurred a second and a third

time. He examined the door attentively, and all the mystery was unravelled. The latch of the door was broken

so that it could not be fastened, and it swung chiefly upon the bottom hinge. Immediately opposite was a

window, in which one pane of glass was broken; and when the wind was in a certain quarter, the draught of

air was so strong that it blew the door to with some violence. There being no latch, it swung open again; and

when there was a fresh gust, was again blown to. The new proprietor lost no time in sending for a glazier, and

the mysterious noises ceased for ever. The house was replastered and repainted, and once more regained its

lost good name. It was not before two or three years, however, that it was thoroughly established in popular

favour; and many persons, even then, would always avoid passing it, if they could reach their destination by

A similar story is narrated by Sir Walter Scott, in his Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft, the hero of

which was a gentleman of birth and distinction, well known in the political world. Shortly after he succeeded

to his title and estates, there was a rumour among the servants concerning a strange noise that used to be

heard at night in the family mansion, and the cause of which no one could ascertain. The gentleman resolved

to discover it himself, and to watch for that purpose with a domestic who had grown old in the family, and

who, like the rest, had whispered strange things about the knocking having begun immediately upon the death

of his old master. These two watched until the noise was heard, and at last traced it to a small storeroom,

used as a place for keeping provisions of various kinds for the family, and of which the old butler had the

key. They entered this place, and remained for some time, without hearing the noises which they had traced

thither. At length the sound was heard, but much lower than it seemed to be while they were further off, and

their imaginations were more excited. They then discovered the cause without difficulty. A rat, caught in an

oldfashioned trap, had occasioned the noise by its efforts to escape, in which it was able to raise the

trapdoor of its prison to a certain height, but was then obliged to drop it. The noise of the fall resounding

through the house had occasioned the mysterious rumours, which, but for the investigation of the proprietor,

would, in all probability, have acquired so bad a name for the dwelling that no servants would have inhabited

it. The circumstance was told to Sir Walter Scott by the gentleman to whom it happened.

But, in general, houses that have acquired this character, have been more indebted for it, to the roguery of

living men, than to accidents like these. Six monks played off a clever trick of the kind upon that worthy

King, Louis, whose piety has procured him, in the annals of his own country, the designation of "the Saint."

Having heard his confessor speak in terms of warm eulogy of the goodness and learning of the monks of the

order of Saint Bruno, he expressed his wish to establish a community of them near Paris. Bernard de la Tour,

the superior, sent six of the brethren, and the King gave them a handsome house to live in, in the village of

Chantilly. It so happened that, from their windows, they had a very fine view of the ancient palace of

Vauvert, which had been built for a royal residence by King Robert, but deserted for many years. The worthy

monks thought the palace would just suit them, but their modesty was so excessive that they were ashamed to

ask the King for a grant of it in due form. This difficulty was not to be overcome, and the monks set their

ingenuity to work to discover another plan. The palace of Vauvert had never laboured under any imputation

upon its character until they became its neighbours; but, somehow or other, it almost immediately afterwards

began to acquire a bad name. Frightful shrieks were heard to proceed from it at night blue, red, and green

lights were suddenly observed to glimmer from the windows, and as suddenly to disappear: the clanking of

chains was heard, and the howling as of persons in great pain. These disturbances continued for several

months, to the great terror of all the country round, and even of the pious King Louis, to whom, at Paris, all

the rumours were regularly carried, with whole heaps of additions, that accumulated on the way. At last a

great spectre, clothed all in peagreen, with a long white beard and a serpent's tail, took his station regularly

at midnight in the principal window of the palace, and howled fearfully and shook his fists at the passengers.

The six monks of Chantilly, to whom all these things were duly narrated, were exceedingly wroth that the

devil should play such antics right opposite their dwelling, and hinted to the commissioners, sent down by

Saint Louis to investigate the matter, that, if they were allowed to inhabit the palace, they would very soon

make a clearance of the evil spirits. The King was quite charmed with their piety, and expressed to them how

grateful he felt for their disinterestedness. A deed was forthwith drawn up the royal signmanual was

affixed to it, and the palace of Vauvert became the property of the monks of Saint Bruno. The deed is dated in

1259. [Garinet. Histoire de la Magie en France, page 75.] The disturbances ceased immediately the lights

disappeared, and the green ghost (so said the monks) was laid at rest for ever under the waves of the Red Sea.

In the year 1580, one Gilles Blacre had taken the lease of a house in the suburbs of Tours, but repenting him

of his bargain with the landlord, Peter Piquet, he endeavoured to prevail upon him to cancel the agreement.

Peter, however, was satisfied with his tenant and his terms, and would listen to no compromise. Very shortly

afterwards, the rumour was spread all over Tours that the house of Gilles Blacre was haunted. Gilles himself

asserted that he verily believed his house to be the general rendezvous of all the witches and evil spirits of

France. The noise they made was awful, and quite prevented him from sleeping. They knocked against the

wall howled in the chimneys broke his windowglass scattered his pots and pans all over his

kitchen, and set his chairs and tables a dancing the whole night through. Crowds of persons assembled around

the house to hear the mysterious noises; and the bricks were observed to detach themselves from the wall and

fall into the streets upon the heads of those who had not said their paternoster before they came out in the

morning. These things having continued for some time, Gilles Blacre made his complaint to the Civil Court

of Tours, and Peter Piquet was summoned to show cause why the lease should not be annulled. Poor Peter

could make no defence, and the court unanimously agreed that no lease could hold good under such

circumstances, and annulled it accordingly, condemning the unlucky owner to all the expenses of the suit.

Peter appealed to the Parliament of Paris; and, after a long examination, the Parliament confirmed the lease.

"Not," said the judge, "because it bas not been fully and satisfactorily proved that the house is troubled by

evil spirits, but that there was an informality in the proceedings before the Civil Court of Tours, that rendered

A similar cause was tried before the Parliament of Bordeaux, in the year 1595, relative to a house in that city

which was sorely troubled by evil spirits. The Parliament appointed certain ecclesiastics to examine and

report to them, and on their report in the affirmative that the house was haunted, the lease was annulled, and

the tenant absolved from all payment of rent and taxes. [Garinet. Histoire de la Magie en France, page 156.]

One of the best stories of a haunted house is that of the royal palace of Woodstock, in the year 1649, when

the commissioners sent from London by the Long Parliament to take possession of it, and efface all the

emblems of royalty about it, were fairly driven out by their fear of the devil and the annoyances they suffered

from a roguish cavalier, who played the imp to admiration. The commissioners, dreading at that time no

devil, arrived at Woodstock on the 13th of October, 1649. They took up their lodgings in the late King's

apartmentsturned the beautiful bedrooms and withdrawingrooms into kitchens and sculleries the

councilhall into a brewhouse, and made the diningroom a place to keep firewood in. They pulled down

all the insignia of royal state, and treated with the utmost indignity everything that recalled to their memory

the name or the majesty of Charles Stuart. One Giles Sharp accompanied them in the capacity of clerk, and

seconded their efforts, apparently with the greatest zeal. He aided them to uproot a noble old tree, merely

because it was called the King's Oak, and tossed the fragments into the diningroom to make cheerful fires

for the commissioners. During the first two days, they heard some strange noises about the house, but they

paid no great attention to them. On the third, however, they began to suspect they had got into bad company;

for they heard, as they thought, a supernatural dog under their bed, which gnawed their bedclothes. On the

next day, the chairs and tables began to dance, apparently of their own accord. On the fifth day, something

came into the bedchamber and walked up and down, and fetching the warmingpan out of the

withdrawingroom, made so much noise with it that they thought five churchbells were ringing in their ears.

On the sixth day, the plates and dishes were thrown up and down the diningroom. On the seventh, they

penetrated into the bedroom in company with several logs of wood, and usurped the soft pillows intended for

the commissioners. On the eighth and ninth nights, there was a cessation of hostilities; but on the tenth, the

bricks in the chimneys became locomotive, and rattled and danced about the floors, and round the heads of

the commissioners, all the night long. On the eleventh, the demon ran away with their breeches, and on the

twelfth filled their beds so full of pewterplatters that they could not get into them. On the thirteenth night,

the glass became unaccountably seized with a fit of cracking, and fell into shivers in all parts of the house. On

the fourteenth, there was a noise as if forty pieces of artillery had been fired off, and a shower of

pebblestones, which so alarmed the commissioners that, "struck with great horror, they cried out to one

They first of all tried the efficacy of prayers to drive away the evil spirits; but these proving unavailing, they

began seriously to reflect whether it would not be much better to leave the place altogether to the devils that

inhabited it. They ultimately resolved, however, to try it a little longer; and having craved forgiveness of all

their sins, betook themselves to bed. That night they slept in tolerable comfort, but it was merely a trick of

their tormentor to lull them into false security. When, on the succeeding night, they heard no noises, they

began to flatter themselves that the devil was driven out, and prepared accordingly to take up their quarters

for the whole winter in the palace. These symptoms on their part became the signal for renewed uproar

among the fiends. On the 1st of November, they heard something walking with a slow and solemn pace up

and down the withdrawingroom, and immediately afterwards a shower of stones, bricks, mortar, and broken

glass pelted about their ears. On the 2nd the steps were again heard in the withdrawingroom, sounding to

their fancy very much like the treading of an enormous bear, which continued for about a quarter of an hour.

This noise having ceased, a large warmingpan was thrown violently upon the table, followed by a number

of stones and the jawbone of a horse. Some of the boldest walked valiantly into the withdrawingroom,

armed with swords, and pistols; but could discover nothing. They were afraid that night to go to sleep, and sat

up, making fires in every room, and burning candles and lamps in great abundance; thinking that, as the

fiends loved darkness, they would not disturb a company surrounded with so much light. They were

deceived, however: buckets of water came down the chimneys and extinguished the fires, and the candles

were blown out, they knew not how. Some of the servants who had betaken themselves to bed were drenched

with putrid ditchwater as they lay, and arose in great fright, muttering incoherent prayers, and exposing to

the wondering eyes of the commissioners their linen all dripping with green moisture, and their knuckles red

with the blows they had at the same time received from some invisible tormentors. While they were still

speaking, there was a noise like the loudest thunder, or the firing of a whole park of artillery, upon which they

all fell down upon their knees and implored the protection of the Almighty. One of the commissioners then

arose, the others still kneeling, and asked in a courageous voice, and in the name of God, who was there, and

what they had done that they should be troubled in that manner. No answer was returned, and the noises

ceased for a while. At length, however, as the commissioners said, "the devil came again, and brought with it

seven devils worse than itself." Being again in darkness, they lighted a candle and placed it in the doorway,

that it might throw a light upon the two chambers at once; but it was suddenly blown out, and one

commissioner said that he had "seen the similitude of a horse's hoof striking the candle and candlestick into

the middle of the chamber, and afterwards making three scrapes on the snuff to put it out." Upon this, the

same person was so bold as to draw his sword; but he asserted positively that he had hardly withdrawn it

from the scabbard before an invisible hand seized hold of it and tugged with him for it, and prevailing, struck

him so violent a blow with the pommel that he was quite stunned. Then the noises began again; upon which,

with one accord, they all retired into the presencechamber, where they passed the night, praying and singing

They were by this time convinced that it was useless to struggle any longer with the powers of evil, that

seemed determined to make Woodstock their own. These things happened on the Saturday night; and, being

repeated on the Sunday, they determined to leave the place immediately, and return to London. By Tuesday

morning early, all their preparations were completed; and, shaking the dust off their feet, and devoting

Woodstock and all its inhabitants to the infernal gods, they finally took their departure. [Dr. H. More's

Many years elapsed before the true cause of these disturbances was discovered. It was ascertained, at the

Restoration, that the whole was the work of Giles Sharp, the trusty clerk of the commissioners. This man,

whose real name was Joseph Collins, was a concealed royalist, and had passed his early life within the

bowers of Woodstock; so that he knew every hole and corner of the place, and the numerous trapdoors and

secret passages that abounded in the building. The commissioners, never suspecting the true state of his

opinions, but believing him to be revolutionary to the backbone, placed the utmost reliance upon him; a

confidence which he abused in the manner above detailed, to his own great amusement, and that of the few

Quite as extraordinary and as cleverly managed was the trick played off at Tedworth, in 1661, at the house of

Mr. Mompesson, and which is so circumstantially narrated by the Rev. Joseph Glanvil, under the title of "The

Demon of Tedworth," and appended, among other proofs of witchcraft, to his noted work, called

"Sadducismus Triumphatus." About the middle of April, in the year above mentioned, Mr. Mompesson,

having returned to his house, at Tedworth, from a journey he had taken to London, was informed by his wife,

that during his absence they had been troubled with the most extraordinary noises. Three nights afterwards he

heard the noise himself; and it appeared to him to be that of "a great knocking at his doors, and on the outside

of his walls." He immediately arose, dressed himself, took down a pair of pistols, and walked valiantly forth

to discover the disturber, under the impression that it must be a robber: but, as he went, the noise seemed to

travel before or behind him; and, when he arrived at the door from which he thought it proceeded, he saw

nothing, but still heard "a strange hollow sound." He puzzled his brains for a long time, and searched every

corner of the house; but, discovering nothing, he went to bed again. He was no sooner snug under the clothes,

than the noise began again more furiously than ever, sounding very much like a "thumping and drumming on

These things continued for several nights, when it came to the recollection of Mr. Mompesson that some time

before, he had given orders for the arrest and imprisonment of a wandering drummer, who went about the

country with a large drum, disturbing quiet people and soliciting alms, and that he had detained the man's

drum, and that, probably, the drummer was a wizard, and had sent evil spirits to haunt his house, to be

revenged of him. He became strengthened in his opinion every day, especially when the noises assumed, to

his fancy, a resemblance to the beating of a drum, "like that at the breaking up of a guard." Mrs. Mompesson

being brought to bed, the devil, or the drummer, very kindly and considerately refrained from making the

usual riot; but, as soon as she recovered strength, began again "in a ruder manner than before, following and

vexing the young children, and beating their bedsteads with so much violence that every one expected they

would fall in pieces." For an hour together, as the worthy Mr. Mompesson repeated to his wondering

neighbours, this infernal drummer "would beat 'Roundheads and Cuckolds," the 'Tattoo,' and several other

points of war, as cleverly as any soldier." When this had lasted long enough, he changed his tactics, and

scratched with his iron talons under the children's bed. "On the 5th of November," says the Rev. Joseph

Glanvil, "it made a mighty noise; and a servant, observing two boards in the children's room seeming to

move, he bid it give him one of them. Upon which the board came (nothing moving it, that he saw), within a

yard of him. The man added, 'Nay, let me have it in my hand ;' upon which the spirit, devil, or drummer

pushed it towards him so close, that he might touch it. "This," continues Glanvil, "was in the daytime, and

was seen by a whole room full of people. That morning it left a sulphureous smell behind it, which was very

offensive. At night the minister, one Mr. Cragg, and several of the neighhours, came to the house, on a visit.

Mr. Cragg went to prayers with them, kneeling at the children's bedside, where it then became very

troublesome and loud. During prayer time, the spirit withdrew into the cockloft, but returned as soon as

prayers were done; and then, in sight of the company, the chairs walked about the room of themselves, the

children's shoes were hurled over their heads, and every loose thing moved about the chamber. At the same

time, a bedstaff was thrown at the minister, which hit him on the leg, but so favourably, that a lock of wool

could not have fallen more softly." On another occasion, the blacksmith of the village, a fellow who cared

neither for ghost nor devil, slept with John, the footman, that he also might hear the disturbances, and be

cured of his incredulity, when there "came a noise in the room, as if one had been shoeing a horse, and

somewhat came, as it were, with a pair of pincers," snipping and snapping at the poor blacksmith's nose the

greater part of the night. Next day it came, panting like a dog out of breath; upon which some woman present

took a bedstaff to knock at it, "which was caught suddenly out of her hand, and thrown away; and company

coming up, the room was presently filled with a bloomy noisome smell, and was very hot, though without

fire, in a very sharp and severe winter. It continued in the bed, panting and scratching for an hour and a half,

and then went into the next room, where it knocked a little, and seemed to rattle a chain."

The rumour of these wonderful occurrences soon spread all over the country, and people from far and near

flocked to the haunted house of Tedworth, to believe or doubt, as their natures led them, but all filled with

intense curiosity. It appears, too, that the fame of these events reached the royal ear, and that some gentlemen

were sent by the King to investigate the circumstances, and draw up a report of what they saw or heard.

Whether the royal commissioners were more sensible men than the neighbours of Mr. Mompesson, and

required more clear and positive evidence than they, or whether the powers with which they were armed to

punish anybody who might be found carrying on this deception, frightened the evildoers, is not certain; but

Glanvil himself reluctantly confesses, that all the time they were in the house, the noises ceased, and nothing

was heard or seen. "However," says he, "as to the quiet of the house when the courtiers were there, the

intermission may have been accidental, or perhaps the demon was not willing to give so public a testimony of

those transactions which might possibly convince those who, he had rather, should continue in unbelief of his

As soon as the royal commissioners took their departure, the infernal drummer recommenced his antics, and

hundreds of persons were daily present to hear and wonder. Mr. Mompesson's servant was so fortunate as not

only to hear, but to see this pertinacious demon; for it came and stood at the foot of his bed. "The exact shape

and proportion of it he could not discover; but he saw a great body, with two red and glaring eyes, which, for

some time, were fixed steadily on him, and at length disappeared." Innumerable were the antics it played.

Once it purred like a cat; beat the children's legs black and blue; put a long spike into Mr. Mompesson's bed,

and a knife into his mother's; filled the porrengers with ashes; hid a Bible under the grate; and turned the

money black in people's pockets. "One night," said Mr. Mompesson, in a letter to Mr. Glanvil, "there were

seven or eight of these devils in the shape of men, who, as soon as a gun was fired, would shuffle away into

an arbour;" a circumstance which might have convinced Mr. Mompesson of the mortal nature of his

persecutors, if he had not been of the number of those worse than blind, who shut their eyes and refuse to see.

In the mean time the drummer, the supposed cause of all the mischief, passed his time in Gloucester gaol,

whither he had been committed as a rogue and a vagabond. Being visited one day by some person from the

neighbourhood of Tedworth, he asked what was the news in Wiltshire, and whether people did not talk a

great deal about a drumming in a gentleman's house there? The visiter replied, that he heard of nothing else;

upon which the drummer observed, "I have done it; I have thus plagued him; and he shall never be quiet until

he hath made me satisfaction for taking away my drum." No doubt the fellow, who seems to have been a

gipsy, spoke the truth, and that the gang of which he was a member knew more about the noises at Mr.

Mompesson's house than anybody else. Upon these words, however, he was brought to trial at Salisbury, for

witchcraft; and, being found guilty, was sentenced to transportation; a sentence which, for its leniency,

excited no little wonder in that age, when such an accusation, whether proved or not, generally insured the

stake or the gibbet. Glanvil says, that the noises ceased immediately the drummer was sent beyond the seas;

but that, some how or other, he managed to return from transportation; "by raising storms and affrighting the

seamen, it was said;" when the disturbances were forthwith renewed, and continued at intervals for several

years. Certainly, if the confederates of this roving gipsy were so pertinacious in tormenting poor weak Mr.

Mompesson, their pertinacity is a most extraordinary instance of what revenge is capable of. It was believed

by many, at the time, that Mr. Mompesson himself was privy to the whole matter, and permitted and

encouraged these tricks in his house for the sake of notoriety; but it seems more probable that the gipsies

were the real delinquents, and that Mr. Mompesson was as much alarmed and bewildered as his credulous

neighhours, whose excited imaginations conjured up no small portion of these stories,

Many instances, of a similar kind, during the seventeenth century, might be gleaned from Glanvil and other

writers of that period; but they do not differ sufficiently from these to justify a detail of them. The most

famous of all haunted houses acquired its notoriety much nearer our own time; and the circumstances

connected with it are so curious, and afford so fair a specimen of the easy credulity even of wellinformed

and sensible people, as to merit a little notice in this chapter. The Cock Lane Ghost, as it was called, kept

London in commotion for a considerable time, and was the theme of conversation among the learned and the

illiterate, and in every circle, from that of the prince to that of the peasant.

At the commencement of the year 1760, there resided in Cock Lane, near West Smithfield, in the house of

one Parsons, the parish clerk of St. Sepulchre's, a stockbroker, named Kent. The wife of this gentleman had

died in childbed during the previous year, and his sisterinlaw, Miss Fanny, had arrived from Norfolk to

keep his house for him. They soon conceived a mutual affection, and each of them made a will in the other's

favour. They lived some months in the house of Parsons, who, being a needy man, borrowed money of his

lodger. Some difference arose betwixt them, and Mr. Kent left the house, and instituted legal proceedings

While this matter was yet pending, Miss Fanny was suddenly taken ill of the smallpox; and, notwithstanding

every care and attention, she died in a few days, and was buried in a vault under Clerkenwell church. Parsons

now began to hint that the poor lady had come unfairly by her death, and that Mr. Kent was accessory to it,

from his too great eagerness to enter into possession of the property she had bequeathed him. Nothing further

was said for nearly two years; but it would appear that Parsons was of so revengeful a character, that he had

never forgotten or forgiven his differences with Mr. Kent, and the indignity of having been sued for the

borrowed money. The strong passions of pride and avarice were silently at work during all that interval,

hatching schemes of revenge, but dismissing them one after the other as impracticable, until, at last, a notable

one suggested itself. About the beginning of the year 1762, the alarm was spread over all the neighbourhood

of Cock Lane, that the house of Parsons was haunted by the ghost of poor Fanny, and that the daughter of

Parsons, a girl about twelve years of age, had several times seen and conversed with the spirit, who had,

moreover, informed her, that she had not died of the smallpox, as was currently reported, but of poison,

administered by Mr. Kent. Parsons, who originated, took good care to countenance these reports; and, in

answer to numerous inquiries, said his house was every night, and had been for two years, in fact, ever since

the death of Fanny, troubled by a loud knocking at the doors and in the walls. Having thus prepared the

ignorant and credulous neighhours to believe or exaggerate for themselves what he had told them, he sent for

a gentleman of a higher class in life, to come and witness these extraordinary occurrences. The gentleman

came accordingly, and found the daughter of Parsons, to whom the spirit alone appeared, and whom alone it

answered, in bed, trembling violently, having just seen the ghost, and been again informed that she had died

from poison. A loud knocking was also heard from every part of the chamber, which so mystified the not

very clear understanding of the visiter, that he departed, afraid to doubt and ashamed to believe, but with a

promise to bring the clergyman of the parish and several other gentlemen on the following day, to report upon

On the following night he returned, bringing with him three clergymen, and about twenty other persons,

including two negroes, when, upon a consultation with Parsons, they resolved to sit up the whole night, and

await the ghost's arrival. It was then explained by Parsons, that although the ghost would never render itself

visible to anybody but his daughter, it had no objection to answer the questions that might be put to it, by any

person present, and that it expressed an affirmation by one knock, a negative by two, and its displeasure by a

kind of scratching. The child was then put into bed along with her sister, and the clergymen examined the bed

and bedclothes to satisfy themselves that no trick was played, by knocking upon any substance concealed

among the clothes. As on the previous night, the bed was observed to shake violently.

After some hours, during which they all waited with exemplary patience, the mysterious knocking was heard

in the wall, and the child declared that she saw the ghost of poor Fanny. The following questions were then

gravely put by the clergyman, through the medium of one Mary Frazer, the servant of Parsons, and to whom

it was said the deceased lady had been much attached. The answers were in the usual fashion, by a knock or

"Do you make this disturbance on account of the ill usage you received from Mr. Kent ?" "Yes."

"Can your former servant, Carrots, give any information about the poison?" "Yes."

[Here there was heard a mysterious noise, which some wiseacre present compared to the fluttering of wings.]

"How long before your death did you tell your servant, Carrots, that you were poisoned? An hour?"

[Carrots, who was present, was appealed to; but she stated positively that such was not the fact, as the

deceased was quite speechless an hour before her death. This shook the faith of some of the spectators, but

The answer to this question was four knocks, very distinctly heard by every person present; and accordingly,

at four o'clock precisely, the ghost took its departure to the Wheatsheaf publichouse, close by, where it

frightened mine host and his lady almost out of their wits by knocking in the ceiling right above their bed.

The rumour of these occurrences very soon spread over London, and every day Cock Lane was rendered

impassable by the crowds of people who assembled around the house of the parish clerk, in expectation of

either seeing the ghost or of hearing the mysterious knocks. It was at last found necessary, so clamorous were

they for admission within the haunted precincts, to admit those only who would pay a certain fee, an

arrangement which was very convenient to the needy and moneyloving Mr. Parsons. Indeed, things had

taken a turn greatly to his satisfaction; he not only had his revenge, but he made a profit out of it. The ghost,

in consequence, played its antics every night, to the great amusement of many hundreds of people and the

Unhappily, however, for the parish clerk, the ghost was induced to make some promises which were the

means of utterly destroying its reputation. It promised, in answer to the questions of the Reverend Mr.

Aldritch of Clerkenwell, that it would not only follow the little Miss Parsons wherever she went, but would

also attend him, or any other gentleman, into the vault under St. John's Church, where the body of the

murdered woman was deposited, and would there give notice of its presence by a distinct knock upon the

coffin. As a preliminary, the girl was conveyed to the house of Mr. Aldritch near the church, where a large

party of ladies and gentlemen, eminent for their acquirements, their rank, or their wealth, had assembled.

About ten o'clock on the night of the 1st of February, the girl having been brought from Cock Lane in a

coach, was put to bed by several ladies in the house of Mr. Aldritch; a strict examination having been

previously made that nothing was hidden in the bedclothes. While the gentlemen,. in an adjoining chamber,

were deliberating whether they should proceed in a body to the vault, they were summoned into the bedroom

by the ladies, who affirmed, in great alarm, that the ghost was come, and that they heard the knocks and

scratches. The gentlemen entered accordingly, with a determination to suffer no deception. The little girl, on

being asked whether she saw the ghost, replied, "No; but she felt it on her back like a mouse." She was then

required to put her hands out of bed, and they being held by some of the ladies, the spirit was summoned in

the usual manner to answer, if it were in the room. The question was several times put with great solemnity;

but the customary knock was not heard in reply in the walls, neither was there any scratching. The ghost was

then asked to render itself visible, but it did not choose to grant the request. It was next solicited to give some

token of its presence by a sound of any sort, or by touching the hand or cheek of any lady or gentleman in the

There was now a considerable pause, and one of the clergymen went downstairs to interrogate the father of

the girl, who was waiting the result of the experiment. He positively denied that there was any deception, and

even went so far as to say that he himself, upon one occasion, had seen and conversed with the awful ghost.

This having been communicated to the company, it was unanimously resolved to give the ghost another trial;

and the clergyman called out in a loud voice to the supposed spirit that the gentleman to whom it had

promised to appear in the vault, was about to repair to that place, where he claimed the fulfilment of its

promise. At one hour after midnight they all proceeded to the church, and the gentleman in question, with

another, entered the vault alone, and took up their position alongside of the coffin of poor Fanny. The ghost

was then summoned to appear, but it appeared not; it was summoned to knock, but it knocked not; it was

summoned to scratch, but it scratched not; and the two retired from the vault, with the firm belief that the

whole business was a deception practised by Parsons and his daughter. There were others, however, who did

not wish to jump so hastily to a conclusion, and who suggested that they were, perhaps, trifling with this

awful and supernatural being, which, being offended with them for their presumption, would not condescend

to answer them. Again, after a serious consultation, it was agreed on all hands that, if the ghost answered

anybody at all, it would answer Mr. Kent, the supposed murderer; and he was accordingly requested to go

down into the vault. He went with several others, and summoned the ghost to answer whether he had indeed

poisoned her. There being no answer, the question was put by Mr. Aldritch, who conjured it, if it were indeed

a spirit, to end their doubtsmake a sign of its presence, and point out the guilty person. There being still no

answer for the space of half an hour, during which time all these boobies waited with the most praiseworthy

perseverance, they returned to the house of Mr. Aldritch, and ordered the girl to get up and dress herself. She

was strictly examined, but persisted in her statement that she used no deception, and that the ghost had really

So many persons had, by their openly expressed belief of the reality of the visitation, identified themselves

with it, that Parsons and his family were far from being the only persons interested in the continuance of the

delusion. The result of the experiment convinced most people; but these were not to be convinced by any

evidence, however positive, and they, therefore, spread abroad the rumour, that the ghost had not appeared in

the vault because Mr. Kent had taken care beforehand to have the coffin removed. That gentleman, whose

position was a very painful one, immediately procured competent witnesses, in whose presence the vault was

entered and the coffin of poor Fanny opened. Their deposition was then published; and Mr. Kent indicted

Parsons and his wife, his daughter, Mary Frazer the servant, the Reverend Mr. Moor, and a tradesman, two of

the most prominent patrons of the deception, for a conspiracy. The trial came on in the Court of King's

Bench, on the 10th of July, before Lord ChiefJustice Mansfield, when, after an investigation which lasted

twelve hours, the whole of the conspirators were found guilty. The Reverend Mr. Moor and his friend were

severely reprimanded in open court, and recommended to make some pecuniary compensation to the

prosecutor for the aspersions they had been instrumental in throwing upon his character. Parsons was

sentenced to stand three times in the pillory, and to be imprisoned for two years: his wife to one year's, and

his servant to six months' imprisonment in the Bridewell. A printer, who had been employed by them to

publish an account of the proceedings for their profit, was also fined fifty pounds, and discharged.

The precise manner in which the deception was carried on has never been explained. The knocking in the

wall appears to have been the work of Parsons' wife, while the scratching part of the business was left to the

little girl. That any contrivance so clumsy could have deceived anybody, cannot fail to excite our wonder. But

thus it always is. If two or three persons can only be found to take the lead in any absurdity, however great,

there is sure to be plenty of imitators. Like sheep in a field, if one clears the stile, the rest will follow.

About ten years afterwards, London was again alarmed by the story of a haunted house. Stockwell, near

Vauxhall, the scene of the antics of this new ghost, became almost as celebrated in the annals of superstition

as Cock Lane. Mrs. Golding, an elderly lady, who resided alone with her servant, Anne Robinson, was sorely

surprised on the evening of TwelfthDay, 1772, to observe a most extraordinary commotion among her

crockery. Cups and saucers rattled down the chimney pots and pans were whirled down stairs, or through

the windows; and hams, cheeses, and loaves of bread disported themselves upon the floor as if the devil were

in them. This, at least, was the conclusion that Mrs. Golding came to; and being greatly alarmed, she invited

some of her neighbours to stay with her, and protect her from the evil one. Their presence, however, did not

put a stop to the insurrection of china, and every room in the house was in a short time strewed with the

fragments. The chairs and tables joined, at last, in the tumults, and things looked altogether so serious and

inexplicable, that the neighbours, dreading that the house itself would next be seized with a fit of motion, and

tumble about their ears, left poor Mrs. Golding to bear the brunt of it by herself. The ghost in this case was

solemnly remonstrated with, and urged to take its departure; but the demolition continuing as great as before,

Mrs. Golding finally made up her mind to quit the house altogether. She took refuge with Anne Robinson in

the house of a neighbour; but his glass and crockery being immediately subjected to the same persecution, he

was reluctantly compelled to give her notice to quit. The old lady thus forced back to her own house, endured

the disturbance for some days longer, when suspecting that Anne Robinson was the cause of all the mischief,

she dismissed her from her service. The extraordinary appearances immediately ceased, and were never

afterwards renewed; a fact which is of itself sufficient to point out the real disturber. A long time afterwards,

Anne Robinson confessed the whole matter to the Reverend Mr. Bray field. This gentleman confided the

story to Mr. Hone, who has published an explanation of the mystery. Anne, it appears, was anxious to have a

clear house, to carry on an intrigue with her lover, and resorted to this trick to effect her purpose. She placed

the china on the shelves in such a manner that it fell on the slightest motion, and attached horsehairs to other

articles, so that she could jerk them down from an adjoining room without being perceived by any one. She

was exceedingly dexterous at this sort of work, and would have proved a formidable rival to many a juggler

by profession. A full explanation of the whole affair may be found in the "Everyday Book."

The latest instance of the popular panic occasioned by a house supposed to be haunted, occurred in Scotland,

in the winter of the year 1838. On the 5th of December, the inmates of the farmhouse of Baldarroch, in the

district of Banchory, Aberdeenshire, were alarmed by observing a great number of sticks, pebblestones, and

clods of earth flying about their yard and premises. They endeavoured, but in vain, to discover who was the

delinquent; and the shower of stones continuing for five days in succession, they came at last to the

conclusion that the devil and his imps were alone the cause of it. The rumour soon spread over all that part of

the country, and hundreds of persons came from far and near to witness the antics of the devils of Baldarroch.

After the fifth day, the shower of clods and stones ceased on the outside of the premises, and the scene shifted

to the interior. Spoons, knives, plates, mustardpots, rollingpins, and flatirons appeared suddenly endued

with the power of selfmotion, and were whirled from room to room, and rattled down the chimneys in a

manner which nobody could account for. The lid of a mustardpot was put into a cupboard by the

servantgirl in the presence of scores of people, and in a few minutes afterwards came bouncing down the

chimney to the consternation of everybody. There was also a tremendous knocking at the doors and on the

roof, and pieces of stick and pebblestones rattled against the windows and broke them. The whole

neighbourhood was a scene of alarm; and not only the vulgar, but persons of education, respectable farmers,

within a circle of twenty miles, expressed their belief in the supernatural character of these events, and

offered up devout prayers to be preserved from the machinations of the Evil One. The note of fear being once

sounded, the visiters, as is generally the case in all tales of wonder, strove with each other who should

witness the most extraordinary occurrences; and within a week, it was generally believed in the parishes of

BanchoryTernan, Drumoak, Durris, KincardineO'Neil, and all the circumjacent districts of Mearns and

Aberdeenshire, that the devil had been seen in the act of hammering upon the housetop of Baldarroch. One

old man asserted positively that, one night, after having been to see the strange gambols of the knives and

mustardpots, he met the phantom of a great black man, "who wheeled round his head with a whizzing noise,

making a wind about his ears that almost blew his bonnet off," and that he was haunted by him in this manner

for three miles. It was also affirmed and believed, that all horses and dogs that approached this enchanted

ground, were immediately affected that a gentleman, slow of faith, had been cured of his incredulity by

meeting the butterchurn jumping in at the door as he himself was going out that the roofs of houses had

been torn off, and that several ricks in the cornyard had danced a quadrille together, to the sound of the

devil's bagpipes reechoing from the mountaintops. The women in the family of the persecuted farmer of

Baldarroch also kept their tongues in perpetual motion; swelling with their strange stories the tide of popular

wonder. The good wife herself, and all her servants, said that, whenever they went to bed, they were attacked

with stones and other missiles, some of which came below the blankets and gently tapped their toes. One

evening, a shoe suddenly darted across a garret where some labourers were sitting, and one of the men, who

attempted to catch it, swore positively that it was so hot and heavy he was unable to hold it. It was also said

that the bearbeater (a sort of mortar used to bruise barley in) an object of such weight that it requires

several men to move it spontaneously left the barn and flew over the housetop, alighting at the feet of

one of the servant maids, and hitting her, but without hurting her in the least, or even causing her any alarm;

it being a fact well known to her, that all objects thus thrown about by the devil lost their specific gravity, and

Among the persons drawn to Baldarroch by these occurrences were the heritor, the minister, and all the elders

of the Kirk, under whose superintendence an investigation was immediately commenced. Their proceedings

were not promulgated for some days; and, in the mean time, rumour continued to travel through all the

Highlands, magnifying each mysterious incident the further it got from home. It was said, that when the

goodwife put her potatopot on the fire, each potato, as the water boiled, changed into a demon, and grinned

horribly at her as she lifted the lid; that not only chairs and tables, but carrots and turnips, skipped along the

floor in the merriest manner imaginable; that shoes and boots went through all the evolutions of the Highland

fling without any visible wearers directing their motions; and that a piece of meat detached itself from the

hook on which it hung in the pantry, and placed itself before the fire, whence all the efforts of the people of

the house were unable to remove it until it was thoroughly roasted; and that it then flew up the chimney with

a tremendous bang. At Baldarroch itself the belief was not quite so extravagant; but the farmer was so

convinced that the devil and his imps were alone the cause of all the disturbance, that he travelled a distance

of forty miles to an old conjuror, named Willie Foreman, to induce him, for a handsome fee, to remove the

enchantment from his property. There were, of course, some sensible and educated people, who, after

stripping the stories circulated of their exaggeration, attributed all the rest to one or other of two causes; first,

that some gipsies, or strolling mendicants, hidden in the neighbouring plantation, were amusing themselves

by working on the credulity of the country people; or, secondly, that the inmates of Baldarroch carried on this

deception themselves, for some reason or other, which was not very clear to anybody. The last opinion gained

but few believers, as the farmer and his family were much respected; and so many persons had, in the most

open manner, expressed their belief in the supernatural agency, that they did not like to stultify themselves by

At last, after a fortnight's continuance of the noises, the whole trick was discovered. The two servant lasses

were strictly examined, and then committed to prison. It appeared that they were alone at the bottom of the

whole affair, and that the extraordinary alarm and credulity of their master and mistress, in the first instance,

and of the neighbours and country people afterwards, made their task comparatively easy. A little common

dexterity was all they had used; and, being themselves unsuspected, they swelled the alarm by the wonderful

stories they invented. It was they who loosened the bricks in the chimneys, and placed the dishes in such a

manner on the shelves, that they fell on the slightest motion. In short, they played the same tricks as those

used by the servant girl at Stockwell, with the same results, and for the same purpose the gratification of a

love of mischief. They were no sooner secured in the county gaol than the noises ceased, and most people

were convinced that human agency alone had worked all the wonder. Some few of the most devoutly

superstitious still held out in their first belief, and refused to listen to any explanation.

These tales of haunted houses, especially those of the last and present century, however they may make us

blush for popular folly, are yet gratifying in their results; for they show that society has made a vast

improvement. Had Parsons and his wife, and the other contrivers of the Cock Lane deception, lived two

hundred years earlier, they would not, perhaps, have found a greater number of dupes, but they would have

been hanged as witches, instead of being imprisoned as vagabonds. The ingenious Anne Robinson and the sly

lasses of Baldarroch would, doubtless, have met a similar fate. Thus it is pleasant to reflect, that though there

may be as much folly and credulity in the world as ever, in one class of society, there is more wisdom and

mercy in another than ever were known before. Lawgivers, by blotting from the statutebook the absurd or

sanguinary enactments of their predecessors, have made one step towards teaching the people. It is to be

hoped that the day is not far distant when lawgivers will teach the people by some more direct means, and

prevent the recurrence of delusions like these, and many worse, which might be cited, by securing to every

child born within their dominions an education in accordance with the advancing state of civilization. If

ghosts and witches are not yet altogether exploded, it is the fault, not so much of the ignorant people, as of