The night is passed by the two armies in preparations for the morrow’s combat. Disagreement reigns in the camp of the allies. In the council of war the Count of Toulouse, who does not wish to risk a pitched battle with his army of citizens, and advises the fortification of the camp, is cried down by hot-headed fools, and no plan is finally agreed upon. The confusion of the leaders naturally grows worse confounded amongst the motley crowd of soldiers and ill-trained citizens. Simon de Montfort’s scheme, on the other hand, is devised with masterly skill. He desires what Count Raimon tries to avoid—a pitched battle in the open country. Bishop Folquet gives his blessing to the departing army. The catastrophe foreshadowed in the manner alluded to is told briefly, in accordance with the rapidity of the actual disaster. ‘They (the French) march straight to the tents across the fens, their banners floating in the air. The whole meadow is resplendent with their gilt armour. When the good King of Aragon sees them he awaits them with a small number of followers. But the people of Toulouse come running by. They listen neither to king nor count. They never hear a word till the French are come, who all rush to where they know the king to be. He cries out, “I am the king,” but they hear him not, and so cruelly is he wounded, that his blood is shed over the land, and there he fell down, at full length, dead. The others who behold him give themselves over for lost. Every one flies. No one defends himself. The French follow at their heels and kill them all. And so roughly have they handled them that those who escape with their lives think themselves delivered indeed.’ A general stampede of the men of Toulouse, who had remained in the camp, and many of whom are now drowned in the swollen waves of the Garonne, forms the closing scene of this wild battle piece. ‘All their goods,’ the poet once more complains, ‘remained in the camp, and the loss was greatly felt all the world over. For many a man there remained lying on the ground quite dead. Great is the pity!’ Such is the description of the battle of Muret by a contemporary, most likely an eye-witness. For here again the characters of the different leaders, their speeches, and their demeanour, are sketched with a boldness of individualisation which can have been derived from personal knowledge alone. As a historic source, the work under discussion is absolutely invaluable. English students especially ought to give it every attention. For the struggle which it describes involved questions of the utmost importance to the continental dependencies of the English crown.