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M.Besant E.Walter
Jerusalem, the city of Herod and Saladin


Sir John Froissart's Chronicles of England, France, Spain and the Ajoining Countries from the latter part of the reign of Edward II to the coronation of Henry IV in 12 volumes 

Chronicles of Enguerrand De Monstrelet (Sir John Froissart's Chronicles continuation) in 13 volumes 

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M.Besant E.Walter
Jerusalem, the city of Herod and Saladin
page 179

selves up to lamentation and despair; they blasphemed the God who had permitted His soldiers to be destroyed, and for some days would actually permit no prayers to be offered up in their camp. Alexis broke up his camp, and returned to Constantinople. And when the news arrived in Antioch, the Crusaders, too wretched to fight or to hope, shut themselves up in the houses, and refused to come out. Bohemond set fire to the town, and so compelled them to show themselves, but could not make them fight. Where human eloquence failed, one of those miracles, common enough in the ages of credulity, the result of overheated imaginations and excited brains, succeeded. A vision of the night came to one Peter Bartholoruaeus, a monk, of two men in shining raiment. One of them, St. Andrew himself, took the monk into the air, and brought him to the Church of St. Peter, and set him at the south side of the altar. He then showed him the head of a lance. " This," he said, " was the lance which opened the side of- Our Lord. See where I bury it. Get twelve men to dig in the spot till they find it." But in the morning Peter was afraid to tell his vision. This was before the taking of Antioch. But after the town was taken, the vision came again, and in his dream Peter saw once more the apostle, and received his reproaches for neglect of his commands. Peter remonstrated that he was poor and of no account ; and then he saw that the apostle's companion was none other than the Blessed Lord himself, and the humble monk was privileged to fall and kiss His feet. We are not of those who believe that men are found so base as to contrive a story of this kind. There is little doubt in our minds that this poor Peter, starving as he was, full of fervour and enthusiasm, dreamed his dream, not once but twice, and went at last, brimful of pious gratitude, to Adhémar with his tale. Adhémar heard him with incredulity and coldness. But Baymond saw in this in

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