And then, to the fiery imagination of the Hermit, strange voices began to whisper, and strange forms began to be seen. “Arise, Peter,” cried our Lord Himself to him, when he was worshipping at the Holy Sepulchre, “Arise, Peter. Hasten to announce the tribulations of my people. It is time that my servants were succoured and my sacred places delivered.” Peter arose and departed to obey what he believed to be a divine command. The pope Urban, who certainly saw in this an opportunity for strengthening himself against the anti-pope, received him with ardour, real or assumed, and authorized him to preach the Crusade over the whole of Europe. He crossed the Alps, and began first to preach in France. His appearance was mean and unprepossessing, his stature low; he rode on a mule, bare-headed and bare-footed, dressed in a gown of the coarsest stuff and with a long rope for a girdle. The fame of his austerity, the purity of his life, the great purpose he had on hand, went before him. The irresistible eloquence of his words moved to their deepest depths the hearts of the people. He preached in country and in town; on the public roads and in the pulpits of churches; he reminded his hearers of the profanation of the holy places; he spoke of the pilgrims, and narrated his own sufferings; he read the letters of the venerable Simeon; and finally he told them how from the very recesses of the Holy Sepulchre the voice of Jesus Himself had called aloud to him, bidding him go forth and summon the people to the recovery of Jerusalem. And as he spoke, the souls of those that heard were moved. With tears, with repentant sobs, with loud cries of anger and sorrow, they vowed to lead better lives, and dedicated themselves for the future to the service of God; women who had sinned, men who had led women astray, robbers who lived by plunder, murderers rich with the rewards of crime, priests burdened with the heavy guilt of long years of hypocrisy—all came alike to confess their sins, to vow amendment, to promise penance by taking the Cross. Peter was reverenced as a saint: such homage as never man had before was his; they tried to get the smallest rag of his garment; they crowded to look upon him, or, if it might be, to touch him. Never in the history of the world has eloquent man had such an audience, or has oratory produced such an effect. And in the midst of this agitation, confined as yet, be it observed, to France, whose soil has ever been favourable to the birth of new ideas, came letters from the emperor Alexis Comnenus, urging on the princes of the West the duty of coming to his help. The leader of the infidels was at his very gates. Were Constantinople to fall, Christendom itself might fall. He might survive the loss of his empire: he could never survive the shame of seeing it pass under the laws of Mohammed. And if more were wanted to urge on the enthusiasm of the people, Constantinople was rich beyond all other cities of the