Part 20

Antigonus Deson, king of Macedon, had taken possession of the isthmus and citadel of Corinth, which were called the fetters of Greece, because he who was the master of them dominated over that country. Aratus, chief of the Achæans, formed the project of depriving him of this important place; and the following is the manner in which he had the good fortune to succeed. Erginus, an inhabitant of Corinth, having come to Sicyon, formed an intimacy with a well-known banker, a friend of Aratus. In the course of conversation, they happened to speak of the citadel of Corinth, and Erginus said that, going to see his brother Diocles, who was in garrison there, he had remarked, on the steepest side, a little path, cut crosswise in the rock, which led to a place where the wall was very low. The banker asked him, with a laugh, if he and his brother had a mind to make their fortunes? Erginus guessed what he meant, and promised to sound his brother upon the subject. A few days after he returned, and undertook to conduct Aratus to the spot where the wall was not more than fifteen feet high, and, with his brother, to aid him in the rest of the enterprise. Aratus promised to give them sixty thousand crowns if the affair succeeded; but the money must be deposited with the banker, for the security of the two brothers, and as Aratus had it not, and would not borrow it for fear of betraying his secret, the generous Achæan took the greater part of his gold and silver plate, with his wife’s jewels, and placed them in pledge with the banker, for the whole sum. Several accidents delayed this noble enterprise; but nothing daunted the intrepid defenders of liberty. When all was ready, Aratus ordered his troops to pass the night under arms, and taking with him four hundred picked men, the most part of whom were ignorant of what they were going to do, and who carried ladders with them, he led them straight to the gates of the city, by the side of the walls of the Temple of Juno. It was a beautiful moonlight night, which made them justly fear they should be discovered. Fortunately, there arose on the side towards the sea a thick mist, which covered all the environs of the city, and created a complete darkness. There all the troops sat down, and took off their shoes, in order that they might make less noise in marching, and might ascend the ladders better. In the mean time, Aratus, with seven brave, determined young men, equipped as travellers, slipped into the city without being perceived, and in the first place killed the sentinel and the guards on duty. They then applied their ladders to the walls, and Aratus made a hundred of the most resolute ascend with him, desiring the others to follow as best they could. He drew up the ladders, descended into the city, and, at the head of his troops, marched, full of joy, straight towards the citadel, without being perceived. As they advanced, they met a guard of four men, who carried a light. The shade concealed the adventurers, and, crouching against some walls, they waited for these soldiers, who, on passing before the Achæans, were attacked all at once. Three of them lost their lives; the fourth, wounded by a sword in the head, fled away crying that the enemy was in the city. A moment after, all the trumpets sounded the alarm, and the whole city was roused by the noise. The streets were soon filled with people, who ran hither and thither; and were illuminated by a multitude of flambeaux, which were lighted everywhere, both down in the city, and upon the walls, the ramparts, and the citadel. Aratus, without being dismayed, held on his way, climbing, with difficulty, the steep sides of the rocks, from having missed the path which led to the wall in a winding, circuitous manner. But, as if by a miracle, the clouds passed from before the moon, and revealed to him the whole labyrinth, till he had gained the bottom of the fortifications. Then, by a similar fortunate chance, the clouds gathered again, and the moon being concealed, replunged both besieged and besiegers into profound darkness. The three hundred soldiers whom Aratus had left without, near the Temple of Juno, having obtained entrance into the city, which they found filled with confusion and tumult, and not being able to find the path their leader had taken, clung close to the foot of a precipice, under the shadow of a great rock which concealed them, and waited in that retired place to see how fortune should dispose of their fate. The general of the Achæans in the mean time was fighting valiantly upon the ramparts of the citadel. They heard the noise of this combat, but could not tell whence it came, from the cries of the warriors being repeated a thousand times by the surrounding echoes. The Macedonians defended themselves with vigour: Archelaus, who commanded for King Antigonus, thought to overwhelm the Achæans by charging them in the rear. He placed himself at the head of a good body of troops, and, with sound of trumpet, marched against Aratus, filing before the three hundred concealed soldiers, without seeing them. The Achæans allowed him to pass on; then, rising all at once, as from an ambuscade in which they had been placed on purpose, they fell upon his party, killed many of them, put the rest to flight, and came to the succour of their general, uttering loud cries of victory. The moon once again shone forth in its splendour, and by favour of its light, the soldiers of Aratus united, and made so vigorous a charge that they drove the enemy from the walls, and when the first rays of the sun gleamed upon the citadel, it was as if to shed glory upon their victory. The Corinthians flocked to the standard of Aratus, who refused to sheath the sword till he had taken prisoners all the soldiers of the king of Macedon, and thus secured both his conquest and the liberty of Corinth.

SECOND SIEGE, A.C. 145.

The consul Mummius, having succeeded Metellus in the command of the Roman troops, prosecuted the war against the Achæans with much vigour, and in order to subdue them by one great effort, he laid siege to Corinth. This city, in addition to its advantageous situation and its natural strength, was defended by a numerous garrison, composed of experienced and determined soldiers. These troops, perceiving that a corps-de-garde was negligently kept, made a sudden sortie, attacked it vigorously, killed a great many, and pursued the rest to their camp. This trifling success singularly inflamed the courage of these warriors, but it became fatal to them; for Dicæus, their leader, having rashly given battle to the Romans, who feigned to dread his forces, fell into an ambush laid by the consul, was beaten, took to flight, and lost the greater part of his men. After this rout, the inhabitants lost all hopes of defending themselves. Without counsel, without a leader, without courage, without concert, no citizen put himself forward to rally the wrecks of the defeat, to make a show of resistance, and oblige the conqueror, who wished to terminate the war quickly, to grant them tolerable conditions. All the Achæans, and most of the Corinthians, abandoned, during the night, their unfortunate country, and sought refuge in other lands. Mummius entered the city without resistance, and gave it up to pillage. The furious and greedy soldiery immolated all who stood in the way of the sword, and bore away everything that could feed their avarice. Women and children were sold by auction, like flocks of sheep. Statues, pictures, valuable furniture, all the superb ornaments of this opulent city, were sent to adorn the proud capital of the universe. The towers and walls were levelled with the ground; all the houses were set fire to, and during several days the whole city was nothing but one vast conflagration. It is pretended, but perhaps without foundation, that the gold, silver, and brass melted together in this fire, formed a new and precious metal, whose name became proverbial as Corinthian brass. It was in obedience to his masters, and not for his private interest, that the conqueror acted in this manner. Mummius was as disinterested a man as he was a great captain. To his virtues he joined that warlike simplicity so common among the Romans of his time, who made it their glory to be ignorant of the arts of refinement, or indeed of anything which did not relate to the great arts of defending their country or fighting to promote its glory. He employed trustworthy persons to transport several pictures and statues of the most excellent masters to Rome. Had they been lost or injured, nothing could have replaced them; and yet the consul, whilst recommending care to be taken of them, said very seriously that if these things were damaged, others must be found in their place, and at the expense of those who undertook to convey them!

The Achæan league was buried under the ruins of Corinth; and Rome, always inexorable towards obstinate courage, which preferred dangerous liberty to tranquil servitude, reduced the whole of Achaia to a province.

TARENTUM.

A.C. 212.

Some years after the entrance of Hannibal into Italy, the Tarentines, an inconstant, fickle people, believing Rome without resources, opened their gates to the Carthaginians; but they could not force the citadel, which was held by a Roman garrison. These soldiers kept the enemy at bay for a length of time. Rome, having regained its superiority, turned its attention to Tarentum, and resolved to punish it for its infidelity. The consul Q. Fabius laid siege to it, and found means to terminate his important enterprise very speedily. Hannibal had placed in the city a body of Brutians, the commander of whom was passionately in love with a woman whose brother served in the army of the consul. This brother, with the consent of his general, threw himself into Tarentum, and, aided by the caresses of his sister, gained the confidence of the officer. In a party of pleasure, he prevailed upon him to deliver up to the Romans the quarter of the city intrusted to his guard. When measures were ready, the soldier made his escape and informed Fabius of his success. The consul gave the concerted signal to the Romans who defended the citadel, and to the Brutians, and placed himself, with a chosen body of troops, immediately opposite the place agreed upon. The noise of trumpets and of loud cries issued at the same moment from the citadel, the port, and the vessels at anchor. The consul, concealed at his post, maintained a profound silence. The general officer who guarded the quarter of the city near which Fabius was in ambush, seeing all quiet, thought he had nothing to fear, and flew towards the side whence the tumult came. The consul perceiving this, planted his ladders against that part of the wall where the Brutian cohorts were posted, and entered quietly into the city. He broke down the nearest gate, which gave access to more troops, and advanced towards the public place. The besieged defended themselves there for some time; but, overwhelmed by numbers, they were obliged to disperse. A great carnage ensued. Tarentum was pillaged; and, it is said, eighty-seven thousand pounds weight of gold rewarded the victors. Fabius had the wisdom to be satisfied with the money and rich moveables; with the exception of a single brazen statue from the hand of Lysippus, he let the statues and pictures remain, using this memorable expression: “Let us leave the voluptuous Tarentines their angry gods, whom they have so ill served.” Had all Roman generals followed the example of Fabius, and left objects of luxury and indulgence to the peoples they had corrupted, Rome would not, in its turn, have fallen a victim to sensuality and the corruption employed to support it.

TUNIS.

A.C. 334.

The mercenaries employed by Carthage for its defence not receiving their pay, revolted, to the number of a hundred thousand, and took possession of Tunis, of which they made a place of arms. During three years they had great advantages over the Carthaginians, and several times appeared before the gates of Carthage, with a threat of besieging it. At length Amilcar Barca was placed at the head of the troops of the republic; and this general surprised the army of the rebels, and besieged them in their camp. The famine soon became so terrible, that they were constrained to eat each other. After having suffered for a long time, they gave up their leaders, who were put to death. Amilcar afterwards marched straight to Tunis, where the rest of the rebels were, under the command of a seditious chief named Mathos. Tunis was carried, all the rebels were killed, and Mathos, their leader, terminated by a shameful death a life stained by barbarous cruelties.

SECOND SIEGE, A.D. 1159.

Abdoulmoumen had rendered himself redoutable by his victories, and the whole of northern Africa trembled before this terrible and fortunate leader. Tunis alone was free; it seemed to brave the conqueror, who threatened its ramparts. The Arab monarch was anxious to subdue this proud city. As, in order to approach it, it was necessary to cross vast deserts, he gathered together great masses of corn, which he caused to be buried in wells upon the route he was to take. He left Morocco at the head of a hundred thousand men, and summoned the governor to surrender. This nobleman, faithful to the king of Sicily, his master, replied by a vigorous sortie, in which the barbarians were repulsed. This first success announced a continuation of triumphs; but, in the night, seventeen of the principal inhabitants escaped from the city, and offered to open the gates to Abdoulmoumen. This infamous treachery rendered that prince master of a place which might have defied all his efforts.

THIRD SIEGE, A.D. 1270.

The numberless disasters which accompanied the first expedition of Louis IX. against the infidels had not at all abated the ardour of that monarch, and he never laid down the cross after his return from Palestine. The sad news which he daily received from thence only served to inflame his zeal the more; and at length, in 1270, he resolved to make fresh efforts to liberate the Holy City, and the unfortunate Christians it contained, from the yoke of the Mussulmans. Most of his nobles were eager to accompany their prince, the faithful Joinville being almost the only one who refused to share the perils of his good lord and master. He said, in full assembly, that the last Crusade had ruined him; and that the king could not be advised to undertake this new expedition, without his councillors incurring mortal sin. The good seneschal was so weak and debilitated, that he could not bear the weight of his harness or get on horseback. The French army, consisting of sixty thousand men, embarked at Aigues-Mortes, on the first of July. They steered towards the coast of Barbary, where they soon arrived.

On the western coast of Africa, opposite Sicily, is a peninsula, whose circumference is about forty-two miles. This peninsula advances into the sea between two gulfs, of which the one on the west offers a commodious port. The other, between the east and the south, communicates by a canal with a lake which extends three leagues into the land, and which modern geographers call the Gouletta. It was there that stood the great rival of Rome, spreading itself to the two shores of the sea. The conquests of the Romans, the ravages even of the Vandals, had not utterly destroyed the once proud city of Carthage; but in the seventh century, after being invaded and desolated by the Saracens, it became little more than a heap of ruins; a hamlet upon the port, called Marsa, a tower on the point of the cape, a tolerably strong castle upon the hill of Byrsa,--this was all that remained of that city whose power dominated so long over the Mediterranean and the coasts of Asia and Africa, and contended in three wars with Rome for empire and glory.

At five leagues’ distance from this remarkable site, towards the south-east, a little beyond the Gouletta, stands Tunis, a place so ancient that Scipio made himself master of it before he attacked Carthage. At the time of Louis’ invasion, Tunis was one of the most flourishing cities of Africa. It contained ten thousand houses and three large faubourgs; the spoils of nations, the produce of an immense commerce had enriched it, and all that the art of fortification could invent, had been employed in defending the access to it.

At the sight of the Christian fleet, the inhabitants of the coast of Africa were seized with terror, and all who dwelt on the Carthage coast fled away either towards the mountains or Tunis, abandoning several vessels in the port. The officer sent by the king to reconnoitre, reported that there was no living being on the strand or in the port, and that no time was to be lost. But the king was made over-prudent by the remembrance of past disasters, and it was determined not to land till the morrow.

The next day, at dawn, the coast appeared covered with Saracens, most of them on horseback. This did not at all delay the landing of the Crusaders: at the approach of the Christians, instead of opposing them, the multitude of Saracens disappeared, which, for the former, was a most fortunate circumstance, for, according to an eye-witness, they were in such disorder that a hundred men might have stopped the whole army.

When the army had landed, it was drawn up in order of battle, and according to the laws of war, a herald read with a loud voice a proclamation by which the conquerors took possession of the territory. Louis himself had drawn up this proclamation, which began with these words: “Je vous dis le ban de notre Seigneur Jésus Christ, et de Louis, roi de France, son sergent.”

The baggage, provisions, and munitions of war were landed. A vast inclosure was marked out, and the tents were pitched. Whilst employed in the ditches and intrenchments, to defend the army from a surprise, a party was sent to take possession of the tower at the point of the cape. The next day five hundred sailors planted the standard of the lilies upon the castle of Carthage. The hamlet of Marsa, which was close to the castle, falling at the same time into the hands of the Crusaders, they sent their women and children thither, and the army remained under canvas.

Louis IX. had formed a strange idea that he could convert the inhabitants of Tunis; but this pious illusion soon faded away. The Mussulman prince replied to his proposal, that he would come and meet him at the head of a hundred thousand men, and would ask baptism of him on the field of battle; the Moorish king added, that he had arrested all the Christians residing in his states, and that every one should be massacred if the Christian army dared to insult his capital.

These bravadoes had no effect upon Louis; the Moors inspired no terrors, and did not conceal their own fears at the sight of the Crusaders. Never venturing to face their enemy, their bands, sometimes scattered, hovered about the Christian army, seeking to surprise wanderers from the camp; and sometimes united, they fell upon the advanced posts, launched a few arrows, just exhibited their naked swords, and then relied upon the swiftness of their horses for safety. They often had recourse to treachery: three of them came to the Christian camp, and said they wished to embrace the Christian faith; and a hundred others followed them, expressing the same intention. They were received with open arms; but, watching their opportunity, they fell, sword in hand, upon some unguarded Frenchmen; but upon the alarm being given, were surrounded, and most of them killed, The three first comers threw themselves on their knees and implored the compassion of the chiefs. The contempt such enemies were held in obtained their pardon, and they were kicked out of the camp.

Rendered bold by the inactivity of the Christian army, the Mussulmans at length presented themselves several times in the plains. Nothing would have been more easy than to attack and conquer them, but Louis had resolved to await the arrival of his brother, Charles of Anjou, before he began the war: a fatal resolution, that ruined everything. The Sicilian monarch, who had principally promoted this ill-starred expedition, was doomed to complete by his delay the evil he had commenced by his counsels.

So much time being afforded them, the Mussulmans flocked from all parts of Africa to defend the cause of Islamism. Thus the army of the Moors became formidable; but it was not this crowd of Saracens that the Crusaders had most to fear. Other dangers, other misfortunes threatened them: the army wanted water; they had none but salt provisions; the soldiers could not support the climate of Africa; winds prevailed, which, coming from the torrid zone, appeared to be accompanied by a devouring flame. The Saracens on the neighbouring mountains stirred up the sand with certain instruments, and the hot dust fell in clouds upon the plain where the Christians were encamped. At length dysentery, the malady of hot climates, attacked them, and the plague, which seemed to spring up of itself from the burning soil, spread its contagion among them.

The men were under arms night and day, not to defend themselves against an enemy who always ran away, but to avoid surprises. Most of the Crusaders sunk under the awful combination of fatigue, famine, and sickness. Some of the most renowned warriors of France fell a prey to the one or the other. They could not bury the dead; the ditches of the camp were filled with carcasses, thrown in _pêle-mêle_, which added to the corruption of the air and the spectacle of the general desolation.

Information was brought that the king of Sicily was about to embark with his army. This gave great joy, but did not mitigate the evils. The heats became insupportable; want of water, bad food, the diseases, and chagrin at being shut up in a camp without being allowed to fight, completed the discouragement of both soldiers and leaders. Louis endeavoured to animate them by his words and his example, but he himself was seized with the dysentery. His sons, Prince Philip, the duke de Nevers, and the king of Navarre, with the legate, all experienced the effects of the contagion. The duke de Nevers, who was much beloved by the king, was so dangerously ill that he was transported on ship-board. Louis was constantly asking news of his son, but his attendants preserved a mournful silence. At length it was announced to the king that his son was dead, and, notwithstanding his piety and resignation, he was deeply affected. A short time after the Pope’s legate died, much regretted by the clergy and the soldiers of the cross, who looked upon him as their spiritual father.

In spite of his sufferings, in spite of his griefs, Louis was constantly engaged in the care of his army. He issued his orders as long as he had strength, dividing his time between the duties of a Christian and those of a monarch. At length the fever increased; no longer able to attend to the wants of the army, or even to exercises of piety, he had a crucifix placed before him, and in silence implored the aid of Him who had suffered for mankind.

The whole army was in mourning; the commonest soldiers moved about in tears; the prayers of all were offered up for the preservation of so good a king. After giving most pious and salutary advice to his son Philip, both as a man and a king, and after taking an affectionate leave of his family, this good, religious, and exemplary man, but most mistaken monarch, expired at three o’clock in the evening of the 25th of August, 1270.