sand men, women, and children, were composed of the vilest
rascality of Europe. Without discipline, principle, or true courage,
they rushed through the nations like a pestilence, spreading terror and
death wherever they went. The first multitude that set forth was led by
Walter the Pennyless early in the spring of 1096, within a very few
months after the Council of Clermont. Each man of that irregular host
aspired to be his own master: like their nominal leader, each was poor
to penury, and trusted for subsistence on his journey to the chances of
the road. Rolling through Germany like a tide, they entered Hungary,
where, at first, they were received with some degree of kindness by the
people. The latter had not yet caught sufficient of the fire of
enthusiasm to join the crusade themselves, but were willing enough to
forward the cause by aiding those embarked in it. Unfortunately, this
good understanding did not last long. The swarm were not contented with
food for their necessities, but craved for luxuries also: they attacked
and plundered the dwellings of the country people, and thought nothing
of murder where resistance was offered. On their arrival before Semlin,
the outraged Hungarians collected in large numbers, and, attacking the
rear of the crusading host, slew a great many of the stragglers, and,
taking away their arms and crosses, affixed them as trophies to the
walls of the city. Walter appears to have been in no mood or condition
to make reprisals; for his army, destructive as a plague of locusts
when plunder urged them on, were useless against any regular attack
from a determined enemy. Their rear continued to be thus harassed by
the wrathful Hungarians until they were fairly out of their territory.
On his entrance into Bulgaria, Walter met with no better fate; the
cities and towns refused to let him pass; the villages denied him
provisions; and the citizens and country people uniting, slaughtered
his followers by hundreds. The progress of the army was more like a
retreat than an advance; but as it was impossible to stand still,
Walter continued his course till he arrived at Constantinople, with a
force which famine and the sword had diminished to one-third of its
original number.

The greater multitude, led by the enthusiastic Hermit, followed close
upon his heels, with a bulky train of baggage, and women and children,
sufficient to form a host of themselves. If it were possible to find a
rabble more vile