being stoned to
death, the people insisting they had just fallen overboard from one of
these aerial ships.

We do not here examine whether, in those days, the people literally were
more superstitious and credulous than in the days of paganism. It is
enough to say, that they were of very easy belief; and hence men began
to write their histories in the style of romance, mixing up a thousand
fables with the deeds of great men, such as Roland, nephew to
Charlemagne; which so suited the taste of the age, that no book would
afterwards go down in any other style--witness, for instance, the Manual
of Devotions by James de Voragine, archbishop of Genoa, composed towards
the latter end of the thirteenth century; and in which Melchior Canus, a
learned Spanish bishop, is so scandalized in his eleventh book of Common
Places. Another doctor of divinity,[129] speaking of the depraved state of
the times, says, "It was the error, or rather folly, of some of the
ancients, to think, that in writing the actions of illustrious men, the
style must sink, unless they mixed up with it the ornaments, for so they
called them, of poetical fiction, or something of this sort; and,
consequently, thus blended truth with fable." This being the prevailing
fashion of the times, we are inclined to believe, that in the histories
of the crusades, many apocryphal subjects are introduced, which ought,
consequently, to be read _cum grano salis_. This is decidedly the
opinion of Pere Maimbourg,[130] who, after the relation of the battle of
Iconium, won by Frederick of Barbarossa, 1190, says, "What was chiefly
wonderful after this battle, was the conqueror's sustaining little or no
loss, which most people ascribed to the particular protection of St.
Victor and St. George, names oftenest invoked in the Christian army,
which many of them said they saw engaging at the head of the squadrons.
Whether in reality there might be something in it extraordinary, which
has often happened, as the Scriptures inform us; or whether, by often
hearing of celestial squadrons appearing at the battle of Antioch in the
first crusade, warm imaginations possessed with the belief, and
penetrated with these ideas, formed new apparitions of their own, but
sure it is, that one Louie Helfenstein, a gentleman of reputation, and
far from a visionary, affirmed to the emperor, on his oath, and on the
vow of a pilgrim devoted to the holy sepulchre and the crusade, that _he
often saw St. George