The populace everywhere crowded around him. The preacher of the holy war was received as the special envoy of the Almighty. To be allowed to touch his clothes was considered an inestimable privilege, the hair even of the mule he bestrode was prized and preserved as a relic. The tones of his voice hushed domestic strife, forced the rich to succour the needy, and the profligate to slink ashamed away. His austerities and his miracles, his discourses and his exhortations, were repeated to those who had not been fortunate enough to witness the former or to hear the latter. As his hearers realised the fact that Jerusalem, Holy Jerusalem, was in the power of the infidel, the emotions of pity and the desire for vengeance were kindled within them. Every voice was lifted up to beseech God to restore to his keeping his once-beloved city. Some proffered their wealth, others their prayers, and all their life, to deliver the holy places. Everything in Europe was ready for the great expedition; every heart beat high and every voice re-echoed the solemn hope so ardently and so persistently instilled by Peter the Hermit. Nothing now was wanted but to crown the work so far accomplished, and some watchword that would strike home to every heart, and raise, amidst the pious and countless hosts of the Crusaders, some one central banner around which they could all unite and rally. To this end Urban convoked a council on the very spot in that land of the Franks in which he had been born, a land which had always been foremost to set a noble example to surrounding nations. The council assembled in Clermont, a town in Auvergne, scarcely large enough to contain the crowd of illustrious personages that soon flocked thither, “in such numbers,” says the French chronicler, William Aubert, “that, towards the middle of November, in the year 1096, the neighbouring towns and villages were so full of strangers that many were obliged to pitch their tents in the midst of the fields and meadows, although the season was extremely cold.” The first sittings of this council, about to proclaim war against the enemies of the cross, were employed in decreeing the truce of God between all Christians. Then came the question of the hour. The apostle of the Crusade, Peter the Hermit, spoke first; with that tearful voice, with that burning emotion which had won him so many adherents, he depicted the miseries of the Eastern Church. After him the Pope addressed the assembly, and with such a distinguished and aristocratic audience, it may easily be understood that his skilful and learned eloquence had at least as much influence as the simple and rough speech of the poor hermit who had such sway over the minds of the masses.