Part 24

There was every reason to believe that the siege would last much longer, and occasion a still greater effusion of blood. But on the seventh day there appeared a company of men in the posture and habit of supplicants, who desired no other conditions than that the Romans would please to spare the lives of all those who should be willing to leave the citadel; which request was granted, only excepting the deserters. Accordingly, there came out fifty thousand men and women, who were sent into the fields under a strong guard. The deserters, who were about nine hundred, finding they would not be allowed quarter, fortified themselves in the Temple of Æsculapius, with Asdrubal, his wife, and two children; where, though their numbers were so small, they might have held out a long time, because the temple stood on a very high hill, upon rocks, and the ascent was by sixty steps. But, at last, exhausted by hunger and watching, oppressed with fear, and seeing their destruction at hand, they lost all patience; and abandoning the lower part of the temple, they retired to the uppermost story, resolved not to quit it but with their lives.

In the mean time, Asdrubal, being desirous of saving his own life, came down privately to Scipio, bearing an olive branch in his hand, and threw himself at his feet. Scipio exhibited him immediately to the deserters, who, transported with rage and fury at the sight, vented frightful imprecations against him, and set fire to the temple. Whilst it was kindling, we are told that Asdrubal’s wife, dressing herself as splendidly as possible, and placing herself with her two children in sight of Scipio, addressed him with a loud voice: “I call not down,” said she, “curses upon thy head, O Roman! for thou only takest the privilege allowed thee by the laws of war: but may the gods of Carthage, and thou in concert with them, punish, according to his deserts, the false wretch who has betrayed his country, his gods, his wife, his children!” Then, addressing herself to Asdrubal, “Perfidious wretch!” said she, “thou basest of men! this fire will presently consume both me and my children; but as to thee, unworthy general of Carthage, go--adorn the gay triumph of thy conqueror--suffer, in the sight of all Rome, the tortures thou so justly deservest.” She had no sooner pronounced these words than she seized her children, and, cutting their throats, threw them into the flames, and afterwards rushed into them herself--in which she was imitated by the deserters.

When Scipio saw this famous city, which had been so flourishing for seven hundred years, and might have been compared to the greatest empires, on account of the extent of its dominions both by sea and land; its mighty armies; its fleets, elephants, and riches; while the Carthaginians were even superior to other nations by their courage and greatness of soul; as, notwithstanding their being deprived of arms and ships, they had sustained, for three whole years, all the hardships and calamities of a long siege; seeing, I say, the city entirely ruined, historians relate that he could not refuse his tears to the unhappy fate of Carthage. He reflected that cities, nations, and empires are liable to revolution no less than private men; that the like sad fate had befallen Troy, anciently so powerful; and, in later times, the Assyrians, Medes, and Persians, whose dominions were once of so great an extent; and very recently, the Macedonians, whose empire had been so glorious throughout the world. Full of these mournful ideas, he repeated the following verses from Homer:--

“The day shall come, that great avenging day, Which Troy’s proud glories in the dust shall lay; When Priam’s powers, and Priam’s self shall fall, And one prodigious ruin swallow all.”--POPE.

Thereby denouncing the future destiny of Rome, as he himself confessed to Polybius, who desired Scipio to explain himself on that occasion.[8]

The fate of Carthage was similar to that of most empires or states that have grown inordinately wealthy, either by conquest or commerce: indulgence follows wealth, and luxury, sensuality, and vice follow indulgence. To support these requires more than that which attained them; to industry succeeds corruption--and then, good-night!

Carthage being taken, Scipio gave the plunder of it (the gold, silver, statues, and other offerings, which should be found in the temples, excepted) to his soldiers for some days. He afterwards bestowed several military rewards on them, as well as on the officers, two of whom, Tiberius Gracchus and Caius Tannius, had particularly distinguished themselves: they had been the first to scale the walls. After this, adorning a small ship, an excellent sailer, with the spoils of the enemy, he sent it to Rome with the news of the victory.

TOULOUSE.

A.C. 106.

In the year of Rome 646, Cepio, a man so covetous of wealth as to think both peculation and sacrilege justifiable in the pursuit of it, was sent into Transalpine Gaul. This general commenced his operations by attacking Tolosa, now Toulouse. The Roman garrison had been placed in irons. Cepio was admitted by treachery into the city, which he delivered up to pillage. Nothing was spared, sacred or profane; all became the prey of the soldiery. It is said that the consul’s share of the booty amounted to nearly two millions sterling, principally taken from the temples. It is to be remembered, when we feel astonished at this amount of wealth, that Tolosa was an ancient and very flourishing city, by its position connected with Greece, and sharing considerably in the Mediterranean trade. Notwithstanding its favourable position for commerce, during the last eight hundred years, Toulouse has been more celebrated for its love of the arts and its patronage of the Belles Lettres than for its industrial or trading enterprise. Historians held out the sacrilegious plunder of Cepio as a lesson to other conquerors; for they say he was punished in a striking manner: the Romans were defeated everywhere, and the life of Cepio proved such a continuous series of disasters, that when a man was unfortunate, it became a proverb to say he had “Aurum Tolosanum” (he was possessed of Toulouse gold).

SECOND SIEGE, A.D. 1217.

The next siege of Toulouse is connected with one of the blackest pages in human history, the horrid war, or crusade as it is termed, against the Albigeois. The licentiousness of the clergy and the barefaced venality and ambition of the hierarchy led people to look with jealousy at the doctrines by which these men supported their influence; and the consequence necessarily was, that many seceded from the Church, and formed sects, or shades of belief, according to their intelligence, or perhaps passions. This, in fact, was the commencement of the Reformation, which, though kept under by the power of the Church, silently but unceasingly worked its way, till the ostentatious extravagance of Leo X. and the exasperated genius of Luther, nearly three hundred years after, brought it to a head. The rich provinces of the south of France were the first melancholy scenes of the series of persecutions, under the name of a religion of peace, which have since, in wars, assassinations, and _autos-da-fè_, in dungeons and inquisitions, tortures and the stake, disgraced humanity.

Raymond, count of Toulouse, was the richest prince in Europe when Innocent III. set on the dogs of rapine, by preaching a crusade against him and his beautiful country. In the crusades to the Holy Land many more had been attracted by the fabulous accounts of the riches of the East, than by any care about the redemption of the holy places, so, in this European crusade, the wealth of Toulouse was the principal incentive to the adventurers who flocked to the plunder. At that period, individual enterprise was perhaps stronger than at any other: a prince of Lorraine had become king of Jerusalem; a high-sounding title, though barren of everything but care: a few Norman knights had made themselves masters of Sicily and of part of the south of Italy: William of Normandy, and his wonderful success, were not forgotten; so that, directly there was a chance of territorial plunder, particularly under the sanction of the Church, the unscrupulous, restless, needy spirits of the age were all roused to action, and eager to obtain the first prize. One of the worst of this class, Simon de Montfort, was the leader of this infamous league. A French author describing him, says, “he would have been the hero of his age, if he had not been _ambitious_, _barbarous_, _perfidious_, and _revengeful_.” Plutarch would never have introduced the word _hero_, as in any way compatible with such a character. And here we take leave to warn our young readers against the partiality they may conceive for Simon de Montfort, earl of Leicester, who figured in the reign of our Henry III., from reading a pleasing tale by Mr. James. His De Montfort is a fiction, the real man was of the same character as his father; he was an adventurer, and his quarry was England, as Toulouse had been that of his predecessor.

In vain Count Raymond, the sovereign of the unfortunate Albigeois, endeavoured to defend them; he was crushed beneath the same anathema, and was obliged to fly before De Montfort. Subdued, a wanderer, and a proscribed heretic, the count was reduced to the most deplorable condition, and abandoned Toulouse to the conqueror. The Toulousians gave up their city very unwillingly. Suffering under the odious yoke, they recalled their ancient master. Montfort, informed of this revolution, hastened to the scene of action, came to the walls, and endeavoured to enter by the Nalbonnais Castle. But he there found intrepid warriors and impregnable fortifications. Finding his first attack, from which he had expected much, fail, he commenced the siege in form; he fought several bloody battles, made many terrible assaults, and spared neither fatigue nor stratagem for more than four months. But he made himself master of the place by means of a horrible piece of treachery, devised and executed by Bishop Foulquet. The latter proposed to all the inhabitants, in the name of the God of peace, to go forth and meet De Montfort, for the purpose of coming to terms. That atrocious commander received them at the head of his knights, and made prisoners of most of them. The war, however, continued with various success, and Toulouse was again in the hands of the inhabitants. Whilst besieging it, this scourge was removed by a death he merited. An enormous stone, cast from a mangonel, and aimed by a woman, struck him senseless to the earth. He was borne to his tent, and expired almost immediately. Thus, like Pyrrhus, perished the ever infamous Simon de Montfort, by an ignoble missile, launched by a woman.

Count Raymond, who was very aged, shortly after died, _and the priests refused his body sepulture_: his coffin remained for many years outside the door of a church. His toleration was his principal crime in the eyes of his clerical persecutors; a great part of his misfortunes may be attributed to the weakness of his character, but far more to the attractions held out to unscrupulous adventurers by his wealth. When we come to the siege of Béziers, we shall again have to turn to this horrible page of history.

SINOPE.

A.C. 71.

There is very little to relate of this siege; but the interest it has acquired by a recent melancholy event, and the contrast between Lucullus and the emperor of Russia, entitle it to a notice.

Irritated by the presumption and vanity of Tigranes, who refused to give up his father-in-law Mithridates, after Lucullus had conquered him, the Roman consul marched into Pontus, and took its cities as fast as he came to them. Among these was Sinope, known to classical readers as the birthplace and residence of the Cynic Diogenes, and of which Mithridates, king of Pontus, had made his capital. Lucullus easily made himself master of the place; he treated the inhabitants with the greatest humanity, restoring them, the moment the Roman power was acknowledged, their liberty and their civic privileges.

PARIS.

A.C. 52.

We now come to treat of one of the most conspicuous cities the world has ever seen. Upon opening such a subject, we feel strongly tempted to dilate upon all that belongs to this great city; but our business is with sieges, and we shall find enough of them to fill more than the space allotted to us.

Julius Cæsar had made the conquest of a part of Gaul, and Labienus, his lieutenant, keeping along the banks of the Seine, determined to take possession of Lutetia, the capital of the Parisians. It was not then the vast city which astonishes by its extent, its population, its wealth, its luxury, and its pleasures. Confined to that which is now called L’Ile du Palais, or Le Cité, it then presented nothing to the eye but a collection of rustic cabins; but its situation, in the middle of a river; its natural fortifications, which made the approach to it difficult and dangerous, with the well-known valour of its inhabitants, who preferred death to slavery, rendered it quite worthy of the efforts of the Romans. At the report of their approach, all the neighbouring peoples assembled in arms, under the orders of a distinguished personage, named Camulogenes. Notwithstanding his extreme old age, he knew and practised all the duties of a great captain. He at first avoided a pitched battle, in order to give his troops, who were much more courageous than disciplined, time to be formed. He took every advantage of his knowledge of the ground to make himself master of favourable opportunities. There was at that time upon the left bank of the Seine, above Lutetia, a large marsh, whose waters flowed into the river, of which he made a rampart. Labienus endeavoured to force him, but was repulsed; he might, indeed, have lost all his legions there, had he not made a speedy retreat. Irritated at this check, the Roman general fell upon Melun, whose inhabitants were in the army of Camulogenes, sacked that hamlet, crossed the Seine there, and following the right bank of the river, presented himself again before Lutetia. The Gaulish general, in order to prevent his taking the city and fortifying himself in it, set fire to it, and destroyed the bridges. Protected by the marsh, he remained in his camp opposite to the Romans, from whom he was separated by the river. In the mean time the nations who peopled the frontiers of the Parisii took up arms, for the purpose of overwhelming the Romans at once. Labienus had brought fifty large boats with him from Melun. At nightfall he despatched them, with orders to descend the river as silently as possible till they came below Lutetia, nearly at the spot where now stands the village of Anteuil, and to wait there without making the least movement. His design was to cross the Seine at that place. In order to deceive the Gauls, he sent towards the confluence of the Seine and the Maine five cohorts, who had charge of all the baggage, and were attended by some barks, filled with sailors. These soldiers marched with as much noise as possible, and the rowers struck the water with all their strength, in order to attract the attention of the Gauls. This stratagem was successful, and the Parisians had no idea of the movement of Labienus, until at daybreak they perceived that general advancing towards them on their side of the river. They were immediately in motion, and rushed forward to meet the Romans. The battle was fought in the plain where now stand the villages of Issi and Vangirard. It was warm and obstinate. The Gauls fought with a courage worthy of greater success. Camulogenes set them the example; though bent beneath the weight of years, this hero appeared, in the midst of his warriors, to regain all the vigour of youth; he was ever found at the post of danger, and threw himself fearlessly into the thickest of the _mêlée_. This first defender of Parisian liberty met with the death great men desire; he expired fighting for his country, amidst a heap of dead which his arm had immolated. The victory of the Romans was complete, and Labienus derived much glory from his achievement.

SECOND SIEGE, A.D. 885.

From that time Lutetia, or Paris, became a famous city. Rome brought thither its intelligence and its errors, its wisdom and its vices, its wealth and its luxury, its laws and its abuses. But the Parisians, formerly so simple and so brave, changed all at once into sages, lost with their rustic virtue that intense love of liberty which had animated them. During nearly nine centuries they were no longer known than by the different masters they submitted to, and by the consideration they enjoyed among the peoples of Gaul. They were the head of them. Paris was the centre of the Roman dominions in that part of the empire; the Roman governors resided there. Emperors even preferred Lutetia to the most brilliant cities; Julian the Apostate, who embellished it with monuments, never called it anything but his “dear Lutetia.” When Clovis had laid the foundation of the French monarchy, Paris became the capital of his states. Under the reign of this prince and his successors, its extent was so enlarged as to comprise all the space contained between the two arms of the Seine. The irruptions of the barbarians rendered the fortification of it necessary. No entrance could be had to it but by two bridges: each of these was defended by a strong tower, situated nearly where the great and little Châtelet have since been built. In 885 the importance of these precautions was recognised; a swarm of Normans, eager for booty and thirsting for blood, besieged Paris, which they had often before uselessly attacked. Their army consisted of forty thousand men, and more than seven hundred boats covered the Seine for two leagues; fire-ships, towers, cavaliers, all the machines invented for the destruction of cities, were employed by these barbarians. They gave six assaults. The Parisians received them with the greatest courage, were animated by the example of the Count Eudes, whose great qualities afterwards raised him to the throne of the Franks, and by the exhortations of Bishop Gauzlin. This prelate, with helm on head, a quiver at his back, and an axe at his girdle, fought in the breach, within sight of a cross he had planted upon the rampart. He met with death whilst immolating a host of enemies. Anscheric, who succeeded him upon the episcopal seat, inherited his courage and his love of his country. He continued to lead the besieged, ably seconded by Ebole, the nephew of Gauzlin. This intrepid abbot spread astonishment and terror wherever he directed his arms, nature having endowed him with prodigious strength. In the second assault he rushed to the breach, armed with a javelin which looked like a great spit, with which he pierced the Normans, crying out to his compatriots, “Take these to the kitchen, they are all ready spitted.” At length, after eighteen months of successless efforts, the barbarians made a last attempt; they came in crowds to the foot of the walls; they were not expected, and many had already gained the parapets, and were crying victory. At that moment a soldier of moderate height, but of extraordinary valour, named Gerbaut, followed only by five men as brave as himself, killed the first, hurled the others into the ditch, snatched up the ladders, and saved the city. Charles le Gros, who had made but little effort to succour his faithful subjects, treated with the Normans, and induced them to retire, upon promising to pay them seven hundred pounds’ weight of silver in the course of a few months. This cowardly composition, made by a king at the head of an army, excited the general disgust of the Franks. He allowed the Normans to pillage his finest provinces. He was deposed at the diet of Tibur, in 888, and died the same year in indigence, deserted by everybody.

THIRD SIEGE, A.D. 1411.