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                                  THE

                        HISTORY OF THE CRUSADES


                                  BY

                       JOSEPH FRANCOIS MICHAUD.

                      _TRANSLATED BY W. ROBSON._


                            A New Edition,

               WITH PREFACE AND SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTER BY
                          HAMILTON W. MABIE.


                          _IN THREE VOLUMES._


                                VOL. I.


                               NEW YORK:
                        A. C. ARMSTRONG & SON,
                             714 BROADWAY.




PREFACE.


THE publication of a new edition of this standard work finds its
justification in the wide-spread interest in historical study and in
the importance of the events which it describes with such fullness
and accuracy. The popular demand for histories of the best class
is unprecedented in the annals of book-making, and is substantial
evidence of a growing taste for the most important literature. The
standard historians have one after another been published in attractive
editions, and are rapidly filling the libraries of English-speaking
people everywhere. In this remarkable development of popular interest
in historical literature, so striking an episode as that of the
Crusades could not be left without its record, and the story is
nowhere told so entertainingly and comprehensively as in the pages of
Michaud. It is a story worthy of careful study, not only on account
of its intrinsic interest, but because of its significance in that
larger history of Europe of which it forms, in many respects, the most
dramatic and picturesque chapter.

There has been of late an immense advance in the methods of historical
investigation, and the contemporaneous historian studies the events
which he undertakes to portray from a new standpoint. It would be
difficult to find in any other department of literary work a wider
difference of method and aim than that which separates Robertson’s
Charles V. from Freeman’s Norman Conquest of England. The clue is
no longer sought in the hands of trained diplomatists, but in the
broad, though less obvious, unfolding of the popular life. To the
most advanced school of historians Robin Hood is almost as important
as Richard I. The historical writer of the last age worked with a
pictorial imagination, weaving his story about the striking characters
and episodes of an age; the same writer to-day, with an imagination
trained in philosophical methods, discerns the dimly outlined movement
of national life behind the pageantry of courts, the struggles of
parties, and the rush of events. It is doubtless this very deepening
of historical study and broadening of historical effect which has made
the history the rival of the romance in popular interest. The studied
narrative of Hume repels in spite of its trustworthiness, while Green’s
portrayal of the national development against a background of equally
trustworthy fact charms a host of readers into repeated perusals.

The epoch of the Crusades is important from the standpoint of either
school. Prescott and Professor Seeley would each find in it material
to his fancy. Studied with an eye to pictorial effect, what series
of events could be more impressive than that which chronicles the
successive campaigns to capture and hold Jerusalem? If chivalry was
ever anything more than an aftergrowth of fancy and sentiment, it
was in the fierce struggles which centered around the Holy City. The
virtues of Feudalism were never more strikingly illustrated than during
the brief period in which a handful of knights held Jerusalem against a
circle of hostile nations. Separated by long and perilous marches from
Europe, hemmed in by enemies whose multitude made their own scanty
ranks insignificant, sustained by a courage that nothing could daunt,
a purpose that nothing could defeat, a skill in arms which made their
skeleton armies a host, they long maintained the hopeless struggle of a
Christian colony against Asia in arms to destroy it.

Tancred, Godfred de Bouillon, Richard and Saladin, are names which
have made knighthood synonymous with honor, loyalty, and courage.
Their personal exploits, no less than the larger achievements in
which they bore their part, make the age of the Crusades a field
from which literature has been enriched with heroic characters and
dramatic incidents from the days of Raoul de Caen and Tasso to
the present. These expeditions furnish the most striking episode
in European history, inspired as they were by religious emotion,
prosecuted under the most perilous conditions, displaying in the most
effective contrasts the loftiest and the basest passions of men, and
foreordained from the beginning to a disastrous failure, which hangs
over the narrative as invisibly, but as inevitably, as the doom which
overshadows a Greek tragedy. If they had no deeper interest than that
which attaches to wide and varied disclosures of character, to vast and
varied achievements, these warlike pilgrimages would be worthy the most
thoughtful study.

The Crusades have, however, a deeper significance than any isolated
personages or events, however picturesque or imposing, ever possess.
They brought two civilizations into conflict, and no events are
more important than those which secure the contact of different
civilizations. In contemporaneous history nothing is so suggestive of
change as the wonderful return of Western upon Eastern civilization in
Egypt, Syria, India, and Japan. The contact of Western with Eastern
knowledge and thought in the Crusades was by no means so fruitful as
that which came about through the conquests of Alexander and, later, of
Rome, but it was not without great results. The Crusades established
an intercourse between the East and the West, which if often hostile,
has nevertheless kept an open channel for that interchange of thought
and industry, which in the single department of comparative philology
has made possible a marvelous advance into an unsuspected region of
knowledge. The study of Sanskrit has opened an epoch in historical and
literary investigation, which Professor Fiske declares will be not less
fruitful in the intellectual progress of the world than was the age of
the Renaissance.

The Crusades united for the first time the warring States of Europe
in a common purpose and a common enterprise. It accustomed the
overburdened people to the thought of a higher authority than that
of the special tyranny under which they happened to be born, and so
prepared the way for the growth of larger ideas of authority and
citizenship. The power of Feudalism was measurably weakened by the
disasters which overtook successive expeditions led by the flower
of chivalry, and this result made possible the unfolding of the
monarchical principle which was to play so important a part in the
political development of Europe. In short, the wide disturbance
which these successive expeditions to the East introduced, loosened
perceptibly the iron framework of feudal tyranny which held European
society bound and helpless, and by gradual disintegration prepared the
soil for the seeds of popular institutions.

  H. W. M.




BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE.


WE are not of those who think that readers are without curiosity as to
the position in life, actions, and fortunes of the authors who afford
them instruction or pleasure; the eagerness with which the birthplaces
of men of genius are sought for and commemorated; the fondness with
which their most trifling actions are dwelt upon; and the endless
collections that are made of their conversations and sayings, prove
that this cannot be the case.

In a prefatory memoir, we can scarcely go into so many details of the
life of Michaud, as, perhaps, the subject deserves. Michaud was not
a mere author, whose history may be read in his works. He lived at
a momentous period, and was no idle spectator of passing events; a
complete life of Michaud would, indeed, swell to a history of France
from 1790 to 1839.

Joseph François Michaud, born at Albens, in Savoy, on the 19th of
June, in the year 1767, was descended from a family that traced its
nobility beyond the tenth century. One of his ancestors, Hugh Michaud
de Corcelles, was deservedly distinguished by the emperor Charles V.
The father of Joseph was obliged to leave his country, in consequence
of what is termed by his biographer, a piece of boyish rashness, but
which we prefer relating to any of the warlike deeds of the abovenamed
Hugh. Whilst on a shooting party, he sought refreshment in a cottage,
and found the mistress of it in the greatest distress; for, at the
moment of his entrance, officers were bearing away her humble
furniture, for the paltry sum of sixty francs. He offered to pay the
amount if they would come with him to his home; but they refused, and
continued their operations in his presence. This irritated him to such
a degree, that he threatened to make use of his gun; and, at length,
struck one of them so severe a blow with the stock of it, that the
fellow died immediately. He retired to a place near Bourg, in Bresse,
where he married; and he afterwards established himself as a notary
and commissary at Terrier, in that province. An early death left his
widow burdened with a numerous family, of which Joseph was the eldest.
Notwithstanding this calamity, he received an excellent education at
the college of Bourg, and acquired great credit as a rhetorician and
a composer of French verses. His studies and some juvenile travels
completed, it became necessary for him to fix upon a mode of getting
a living; and the narrowness of his mother’s resources confining his
efforts to trade, he went into the house of a bookseller at Lyon,
attracted, no doubt, by the affinity between the bookseller and the man
of letters. He remained here till 1790, when the passage of the rich,
influential, and intellectual Countess Fanny de Beauharnais through
that city, aroused all the provincial muses to make their offerings
to the great lady. Among the poets, Michaud was so successful, that
he thought himself warranted in following her to Paris, with the view
of pursuing a literary career under her auspices. Immediately on his
arrival, he laid the contents of his poetical portfolio before the
public, and soon became the associate of Cerisier, in the _Gazette
Universelle_, and with Esménard, in the _Postillon de la Guerre_. His
opinions and early associations led him towards the Royalist party,
to which the accession of his talents was very acceptable. He may be
said to have been faithful to his colours, through all the disasters
of the unhappy cause he had embraced; for, in spite of imprisonment,
banishment, and repeated concealments, we find him, in 1799, publishing
two satirical pamphlets against Buonaparte, by the orders of Louis
XVIII. One of his escapes was so well managed, and so opportunely
effected, that we will offer an account of it to our readers. He had
been sent prisoner to Paris, walking between two mounted gendarmes,
who were directed not to spare him, and if fatigue relaxed his speed,
they were to refresh him with the flat sides of their sabres. As he
entered Paris in this forlorn condition, he was met by his zealous
friend Giguet, whose sorrow only set his fertile brain to work to
devise means for his escape. As Michaud was, during many days,
conducted from his prison to the Tuileries, to undergo examination,
Giguet at first thought that the best way would be to blow out the
brains of the two gendarmes that escorted him; but this he rejected
as unworthy of a man of genius. Choosing a point in Michaud’s passage
that would answer his purpose, he stopped the party, and affecting
to know nothing of the matter, and not to have seen his friend since
his arrival in Paris, was eager in his inquiries as to how his health
was, what he was doing, where he was going, and insisted upon his
breakfasting with him. “No, no,” answered Michaud, “I have a little
affair yonder, at the Tuileries, just a few words of explanation to
give—only the business of a minute or two.—Begin breakfast without
me, I shall be back presently.” “That won’t do; that won’t do; they
do not despatch people so quickly as all that. Perhaps they won’t
begin with you; let us have our breakfast first. I dare say these
gentlemen (pointing to the gendarmes) have not breakfasted, and will
have no objection to a cutlet and a glass of Bourdeaux wine! and
here’s the best house in Paris, close at hand.” The gendarmes, after
a little faint hesitation, suffered themselves to be seduced; and
prisoner, guards, and friends were soon comfortably seated at table.
They eat, they drink, they pass bumper toasts, and talk a little about
everything; but most particularly about Bresse and the good cheer that
was there always to be met with—but the pullets of Bresse! never was
such eating as the pullets of Bresse! The mouths of the gendarmes
watered at the bare description of them. “Parbleu, gentlemen,” cried
Giguet, “since you have never partaken of our country pullets, I will
undertake to convince you that there are none such in the eighty-three
departments. We have plenty of time; you can eat a little bit more, and
appetite comes with—— drinking (and he filled the glasses). Waiter,
here! a Bresse pullet! no tricks, mind; it must be from Bresse—not
from Mans. But, stop; Michaud, you understand these things better than
anybody; have an eye to these fellows, go down into the kitchen, and
see that they don’t cheat us. Good health to you, gentlemen.” Whilst
they are drinking, Michaud rises, and is soon out of the house. Giguet
had the art to keep the guards another half-hour at table, by saying
his friend was only watching the cooking, for a Bresse pullet was worth
nothing if not roasted à la Bresse; and when they discovered Michaud
was not in the kitchen, he asserted it must either be a joke, or else
he was ill, and gone home; and contrived to lead them a long useless
search in a way directly opposite to that which he knew the late
prisoner had taken. Michaud’s escape was a happy one; for that very
day, the council had condemned him to death. Poor Giguet’s friendly
zeal cost him nearly a month’s imprisonment, and placed his life even
in jeopardy.

The career of Buonaparte was so successful, that, at length, further
resistance seemed useless, and Michaud even wrote complimentary verses
on the marriage of Napoleon with Maria Louisa, and upon the birth
of the young king of Rome. But this submission to circumstances was
no voluntary homage; he was still at heart faithfully attached to
the Bourbons. For a length of time he resisted the tempting offers
of the emperor, and one of his refusals, for its wit, if not for
its patriotism, almost deserves to be placed by the side of Andrew
Marvel’s. Fontaines, Buonaparte’s emissary, said to him: “There must
be an end to all resistance; it is diminishing every day. Come, do as
other men do. Look at Delille, for instance, he has just accepted a
pension of six thousand francs.” “Oh! as to that,” replied Michaud,
“he is so frightened, that he would accept a pension of a hundred
thousand francs, if you were to offer it to him.” Posterity, perhaps,
may be thankful that he was driven from politics to literature. During
one of his necessary exiles, he had written his beautiful poem of “Le
Printemps d’un Proscrit:” he afterwards became associated with his
brother as a bookseller, and planned and executed the works of which
we will furnish a list. Whatever opinion might be entertained of his
talents, it is more than probable that without his implied submission
to Buonaparte, he never would have obtained that object of the hopes of
all French authors, the immortal fauteuil in the Academy. This honour
he attained in 1813, and, upon the publication of his fourth volume of
the “History of the Crusades,” had the gratification of signing himself
“Knight of the Order of St. John of Jerusalem,” and “Knight of the
Holy Sepulchre:” titles bestowed upon him, unasked, by the commanders
representing the order of St. John of Jerusalem in France.

He watched with intense anxiety the madly ambitious career of
Buonaparte, and hailed with unfeigned delight the return of his
patrons, the Bourbons. He had no cause to complain of their
ingratitude, and occupied as good a position as a literary man could
expect, when the escape from Elba, during a hundred days, disturbed
his occupations, and placed him in considerable danger. He left Paris;
returned again, and put himself forward for a struggle: but finding
resistance dangerous and useless, he retired to the department of the
Ain, where he concealed himself till the tempest had blown over; his
celebrated journal, the _Quotidienne_, in the mean time, degenerating
into the _Feuille du Jour_, or rather, as a wit said, “La Feuille de la
veille ’last night’s journal); for it was only edited by scissors, and
contained nothing but scraps from the _Moniteur_ and other inoffensive
journals.” The _Nain Jaune_ ’yellow dwarf) took unfair advantage of an
enemy, who, he knew, could not answer him, and bestowed upon Michaud
the sobriquet of “Grand Master of the Order of the Extinguishers,”
which stuck to him with the burlike pertinacity of sobriquets, for many
years after the second restoration of the Bourbons. He welcomed this
last event by the publication of a pamphlet entitled “The History of
the Fifteen Weeks, or the Last Reign of Buonaparte,” which had a great
sale, twenty-seven editions of it appearing in a very short period.
Having, since his success as an author, separated from his brother as a
bookseller, and sold his share in the printing office, he, after 1815,
gave himself up to the prosecution of his great work on the crusades,
and even parted with his portion of “La Biographie Universelle.” His
love of politics led him, at this time, to get returned as deputy for
the department of the Ain: but alas! he found it a very different
thing for a man with a weak voice, and totally “unaccustomed to
public speaking,” to sit and write uncontrolled and unobserved in his
closet,—and to be subject to the “retort courteous” of an enemy
who watches for your mistakes, corrects your errors, and mercilessly
refutes all your favourite arguments: after the trial of one session,
he retired from his deputyship, and gave up all hopes of fame as an
orator.

During the celebrity of his journal, the _Quotidienne_, he was made
reader to the king, with a salary of 3,000 francs; to which appointment
was attached the somewhat strange stipulation, that he should never
be called upon to perform its duties. After 1819, when a plan was
devised of buying up the influential journals, Michaud and his
fellow-proprietors were offered 500,000 francs for theirs, which our
author declined. “Monseigneur,” said he to the excellency who solicited
him, “there is but one thing for which I could be tempted to sell the
_Quotidienne_, and that would be a little health. If you could give me
that, I might allow myself to be corrupted.” The minister, Villéle,
returned repeatedly to the charge, but when, in consequence of the
increasing weakness of his health, the sexagenarian Michaud parted with
the greater part of his shares of the journal, it was only to pass them
over to another self, his friend Laurentie.

Whilst carrying on his great work, he had been surprised to meet with
a vast quantity of matter which he had not dreamt of when he began it;
and he conceived the idea of not only reconstructing his history, but
of going to the Holy Land, in search of more information. Although it
was too late for such an attempt, his fame procured him encouragement;
and the king, Charles X., so far favoured it as to give him 25,000
francs to defray his expenses. He set out at the beginning of 1830.
Whatever gratification he derived from his voyage, it must have been
sadly damped by the news he received from France during that eventful
year. To complete his griefs, he likewise at this period lost 200,000
francs, the greater part of his fortune, which he had imprudently
placed in unsafe hands. He still, however, had a moderate competence,
and might have passed the remainder of his days in ease, but for that
mismanagement to which the families of literary men are so frequently
subject. On his return from the Holy Land he sojourned for a time in
Italy, where he was kindly welcomed by his natural sovereign, Charles
Albert. In 1837 he was named member of the Académie des Inscriptions;
but honours from monarchs and academies could not put off the fatal
hour, and he died at the elegant village of Passy on the 30th of
September, 1839. On this occasion was exhibited an instance of what
our poet calls “the ruling passion, strong in death.” Few authors
had received more adulation, and no one could be more covetous of
it. Extraordinary instances are told of the copious draughts of this
intoxicating beverage that were offered to him, and of the greediness
with which he swallowed them. “Never,” says his biographer, “although
he loved to be called the _La Fontaine of journalism_, did he think
of the second fable of the good man.”[1] One of the most extravagant
of his flatterers said to a friend, admitted for a last interview,
“With all his weakness, not the least trace of decline of intellect;
still the same facility of expression, still the same lucidity.”—This
aroused Michaud, upon whom the affectionate words of a sincere friend
had just before produced no effect. He started, and sitting upright in
his bed, exclaimed, in a tremulous voice, “Yes! yes! _still_ the same!
still——” and he sunk exhausted and dying on his pillow: these were
his last words!

To criticise the works of Michaud properly would require a volume;
we can therefore only lay before our readers a list of such as from
their merit and celebrity are ever likely to fall under the eye of
English readers. His greatest claim to the attention of posterity is
doubtless the one before us, “The History of the Crusades,” of which
his biographer, who is certainly less of an eulogist than any one we
ever saw assume a similar task, very justly says, “It may be said,
without exaggeration, that it is one of the most valuable historical
works that our age has produced. To its completion he sacrificed almost
every moment of twenty of the best years of his life.” No reader
requires to be told that it was a labour of love.—He was the founder
of, and a considerable contributor to, “La Biographie Universelle,” a
work which England may envy France the conception and execution of; and
if to these we add his beautiful poem of “Le Printemps d’un Proscrit,”
we think we name all that he wrote that would be interesting at the
present day: the other historical works are feeble, and the political
squibs of a journalist after a lapse of half a century, are only
acceptable to him who may be writing the history of the time. In this
latter vein we may, however, suppose him to have excelled; mixed up
from an early age with politics and journalism; possessed of a lively
imagination and great facility of expression; constantly in the world,
and deeply interested in its movements; we can fancy his _vers de
société_, of which so much is said, to have been piquant and sparkling.
We subjoin a specimen, written upon Buonaparte’s expedition to Egypt:—

  Que de lauriers tombés dans l’eau,
  Et que de fortunes perdues!
  Que d’hommes courent au tombeau,
  Pour porter Bonaparte aux nues!
  Ce héros vaut son pesant d’or;
  En France, personne n’en doute;
  Mais il vaudrait bien plus encore,
  S’il valoit tout ce qu’il nous coute.

         *       *       *       *       *

  What laurels in the waters fall,
  What fortunes sink no more to rise!
  What men lie shrouded in death’s pall,
  That Bonaparte may gain the skies!
  This hero’s worth his weight in gold;
  In France of that there’s no one doubts;
  But greater far his worth, if sold
  At what he costs—or thereabouts!

As a conversationalist his reputation stands even higher than that of
our Coleridge; for the stream was quite as constant and abundant, and
at the same time much more pellucid. One of our English biographical
dictionaries says he was censor of the press under Louis XVIII., but
this we believe is not correct; indeed it was an office scarcely
suitable for the editor and proprietor of such a journal as the
_Quotidienne_. He was a member of the Academy and of the Institute, a
knight of St. John of Jerusalem and of the Holy Sepulchre, and for a
short time representative of the department of the Ain. These were his
temporary honours—much more durable and brilliant ones belong to him
as the author of the work before us.

  W. R.




INTRODUCTION.


THE history of the middle ages presents no spectacle more imposing than
the Crusades, in which are to be seen the nations of Asia and of Europe
armed against each other, two religions contending for superiority,
and disputing the empire of the world. After having been several
times threatened by the Mussulmans, and a long time exposed to their
invasions, all at once the West arouses itself, and appears, according
to the expression of a Greek historian,[2] to tear itself from its
foundation, in order to precipitate itself upon Asia. All nations
abandon their interests and their rivalries, and see upon the face of
the earth but one single country worthy of the ambition of conquerors.
One would believe that there no longer exists in the universe any other
city but Jerusalem, or any other habitable spot of earth but that which
contains the tomb of Jesus Christ. All the roads which lead to the holy
city are deluged with blood, and present nothing but the scattered
spoils and wrecks of empires.

In this general confusion we may contemplate the sublimest virtues
mixed with all the disorders of the wildest passions. The Christian
soldiers have at the same time to contend against famine, the influence
of climate, and enemies the most formidable; in the greatest dangers,
in the midst of their successes and their constant discords, nothing
can exhaust either their perseverance or their resignation. After four
years of fatigue, of miseries, and of victories, Jerusalem is taken by
the Crusaders; but as their conquests are not the work of wisdom and
prudence, but the fruit of blind enthusiasm and ill-directed heroism,
they create nothing but a transient power.

The banner of the cross soon passes from the hands of Godfrey de
Bouillon into those of his weak and imbecile successors. Jerusalem, now
a Christian city, is obliged again to apply for succour to the West.
At the voice of St. Bernard, the Christians take arms. Conducted by an
emperor of Germany and a king of France, they fly to the defence of
the Holy Land; but they have no longer great captains among them; they
have none of the magnanimity or heroic resignation of their fathers.
Asia, which beholds their coming without terror, already presents a
new spectacle. The disciples of Mahomet awaken from their apathy;
they are at once seized with a frenzy equal to that which had armed
their enemies; they oppose enthusiasm to enthusiasm, fanaticism to
fanaticism, and in their turn burn with a desire to shed their blood in
a religious war.

The spirit of discord which had destroyed their power is no longer felt
but among the Christians. Luxury and the manners of the East weaken the
courage of the defenders of the cross, and make them forget the object
even of the holy war. Jerusalem, which had cost the Crusaders so much
blood, falls again into the power of the infidels, and becomes the
conquest of a wise and warlike prince, who had united under his banner
the forces of Syria and Egypt.

The genius and fortune of Saladin inflict a mortal blow upon the
ill-assured power of the Christians in the East. In vain an emperor of
the West, and two kings celebrated for their bravery, place themselves
at the head of the whole powers of their states to deliver Palestine;
these new armies of Crusaders meet everywhere with brave enemies and
invincible barriers, and all their united efforts produce nothing but
illustrious disasters. The kingdom of Jerusalem, for whose ruins they
contend, is no longer anything but a vain name; soon even the captivity
and the miseries of the holy city cease to inspire the sentiments
of piety and enthusiasm that they had given birth to among the
Christians. The Crusaders who had taken up arms for its deliverance,
suffer themselves to be seduced by the wealth of Greece, and stop short
to undertake the conquest of Constantinople.

From that time the spirit of the Crusaders begins to change; whilst a
small number of Christians still shed their blood for the deliverance
of the tomb of Jesus Christ, the princes and the knights are deaf
to everything but the voice of ambition. The popes complete the
corruption of the true spirit of the Crusaders, by urging them on, by
their preaching, against other Christian people, and against their own
personal enemies. The holy wars then degenerate into civil wars, in
which both religion and humanity are outraged.

These abuses of the crusades, and the dire passions which had mixed
themselves with them, plunge Europe in disorder and anarchy; when a
pious king undertakes once more to arm the powers of the West against
the infidels, and to revive among the Crusaders the spirit which had
animated the companions of Godfrey. The two wars directed by this
pious chief, are more unfortunate than all the others. In the first,
the world is presented with the spectacle of a captive army and a king
in fetters; in the second, that of a powerful monarch dying in its
ashes. Then it is that the illusion disappears, and Jerusalem ceases to
attract all the attention of the West.

Soon after, the face of Europe is changed; intelligence dissipates
barbarism; the crusades no longer excite the same degree of enthusiasm,
and the first effect of the civilization it begins to spread is to
weaken the spirit of the fanaticism which had given them birth.
Some few useless efforts are at times made to rekindle the fire
which had burnt so fiercely in Europe and Asia. The nations are so
completely recovered from the pious delirium of the Crusades, that
when Germany finds itself menaced by the Mussulmans who are masters of
Constantinople, the banner of the cross can with difficulty gather an
army around it; and Europe, which had risen in a mass to attack the
infidels in Asia, opposes but a feeble resistance to them on its own
territories.

Such is, in a few words, the picture of the events and revolutions
which the historian of the crusades has to describe. A writer who has
preceded us by two centuries and who calls the history of the Crusades
_a right royal history_, is surprised at the silence preserved to his
time.[3] “I esteem it,” says he, “a deplorable thing that such persons
inferior in no way to those who have been so much celebrated by the
Greeks and the Romans, should have fallen into such obscurity, that we
search in vain to discover who they were and what they did; and they
appear to me highly culpable, who, possessing learning and the skill to
write, have left these histories neglected.” Everybody ought now to be
of this opinion, and regret that our great writers have not entertained
the noble subject of the Crusades. When I undertake to supply the want
created by their silence, I am duly impressed with the difficulty of
the task.

They who, among us, have written ancient history, had for guides
the historians of Rome and Athens. The brilliant colours of Livy,
of Tacitus, of Thucydides presented themselves naturally to their
pencils; but I have no models to follow, and am compelled to make
those historians of the middle ages speak whom our times despise. They
have rarely sustained me in my labour by the charm of their style,
or the elegance of their narrations; but if they have afforded me no
lessons in the art of writing, they transmit to me at least events
whose interest will make up for the deficiency of their talent or
mine. Perhaps it will be found, in the perusal of this history, that
a period in which everything is astonishing loses nothing by being
presented in a simple and faithful picture. The unaffected style of
our old historians, in my view, appears to reanimate the persons
and the characters they describe; and if I have profited by that
which they have taught me, the age in which they lived will not be
ill represented in my pages. It would have been easy for me to have
censured with severity, as has usually been done, their ignorance and
their credulity, but I respect in them the frankness and the candour
of the periods of which they are the interpreters. Without yielding
faith to all they say, I have not disdained the fables they relate to
us, and which were believed by their contemporaries; for that which was
thought worthy of credit then serves to picture to us the manners of
our ancestors, and forms an essential part of the history of past ages.

We do not now require much sagacity to discover in our ancient
chronicles what is fabulous and what is not. A far more difficult
thing is to reconcile, upon some points, the frequent contradictory
assertions of the Latins, the Greeks, and the Saracens, and to
separate, in the history of the crusades, that which belongs to
religious fanaticism, to policy, or to human passions. I do not pretend
to resolve more skilfully than others these difficult problems, or to
elevate myself above my subject, by offering positive judgments upon
the nations and ages which will present themselves before me. Without
giving myself up to digressions in which it is always easy to make a
display of learning, after having scrupulously examined the historical
monuments which remain to us, I will tell honestly what I believe to be
the truth, and will leave dissertations to the erudite, and conjectures
to philosophers.

In an age in which some value is set upon an opinion of the crusades,
it will be first asked, if the wars of the Crusades were just. Upon
this head we have but little to answer: whilst the Crusaders believed
that they were obeying God himself, by attacking the Saracens in the
East, the latter, who had invaded a part of Asia possessed by Christian
people, who had got possession of Spain, who threatened Constantinople,
the coasts of Italy, and several countries of the West, did not
reproach their enemies with making an unjust war, and left to fortune
and victory the care of deciding a question almost always useless.

We shall think it of more importance in this history to examine what
was the cause and the nature of these remote wars, and what has proved
to be their influence on civilization. The crusades were produced by
the religious and military spirit which prevailed in Europe during the
middle ages. The love of arms and religious fervour were two dominant
passions, which, mingling in some way, lent each other a mutual energy.
These two great principles united and acting together, gave birth to
the holy war; and carried, among the Crusaders, valour, resignation,
and heroism of character to the highest degree of eminence.

The part which the union of these two principles necessarily had in
the undertaking of the holy wars will be plainly perceived in our
narration. It will be much less easy for us to make all the results of
the crusades appreciated. Some writers have seen nothing in these great
expeditions but the most deplorable excesses, without any advantage to
the ages that succeeded them; others, on the contrary, maintain that we
owe to them all the benefits of civilization. It is not, at present, my
business to examine these two conflicting opinions. Without believing
that the holy wars have done either all the good or all the harm that
is attributed to them, it must be admitted that they were a source of
bitter sorrow to the generations that saw them or took part in them;
but, like the ills and tempests of human life, which render man better,
and often assist the progress of his reason, they have forwarded the
experiences of nations; and it may be said, that after having for a
time seriously agitated and shaken society, they have, in the end,
much strengthened the foundations of it. This opinion, when stripped
of all spirit of exaggeration or system, will, perhaps, appear the
most reasonable; I, besides, experience some pleasure in adopting it,
from its being consolatory to the age in which we live. The present
generation which has witnessed the outbreak of so many passions on
the political scene, which has passed through so many calamities,
will not see without interest that Providence sometimes employs great
revolutions to enlighten mankind, and to ensure the future prosperity
of empires.




CONTENTS TO VOL. I.


  BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES OF THE AUTHOR                          _Page_ vii

  INTRODUCTION TO THE HISTORY OF THE CRUSADES                         xv


  BOOK I.—A.D. 300-1095.

  FIRST CRUSADE.

  Early pilgrimages to the Holy Land—Veneration for the
  Holy Sepulchre—Palestine visited by the early Christians
  —Jerusalem their peaceful asylum—Profaned by Fire
  Worshippers—Recaptured by Heraclius—Spread  of the
  religion of Mahomet—Worship of the Magi annihilated
  by Mohammedanism—Empire of Persia torn by intestine wars
  —Anarchy of the East—Fanaticism and bravery of the
  Saracens—Their conquests—Paganism annihilated by
  Mohammedanism—Monarchy of the Goths overturned—Charles
  Martel—The caliph Omar captures Jerusalem—Christians
  persecuted by the Mussulmans—Pilgrimages of Peter the
  Hermit, &c.—Haroun-al-Raschid—Charlemagne—Siege of
  Constantinople—Bagdad—Conquest of the Arabians—
  St. Bernard—-Commerce of the East—Caliphs of Bagdad—The
  Fatimites—The Greeks—Antioch—Zimisces, emperor of the
  Greeks—Fatimite caliphs capture Jerusalem—Caliphs of
  Cairo—William of Tyre—Persecutions of the Jews—Pilgrims
  welcomed everywhere—King Robert—Memphis—Bethlehem—
  Monasteries for the pilgrims—Hospitals at Jerusalem—
  Mystery of the Redemption—Pilgrimages of distinguished
  persons the forerunner of the Crusades—The Turks—The
  Sultan Mamouh—Togrul-Beg—Victorious career of the Turks
  —Malek-Scha—Jerusalem captured—Nicea—The Greeks—The
  Seldjouc tribes—Eleven emperors of Constantinople put to
  death—Death of Zimisces—Military ardour of the Franks—
  Michael Ducas—Pope Gregory VII.—Power of the popes—Rome
  —Pope Hildebrand—Pope Victor III. incites the Christians
  to take arms against the infidels—Conquests of the
  Genoese and Pisans—Peter the Hermit—His interviews with
  the patriarch of Jerusalem and Pope Urban II.—The
  crusades instigated by Peter—First determined on at the
  council of Clermont, convoked by Urban II.—Enthusiasm in
  their favour                                                 pp. 1-60.


  BOOK II.—A.D. 1096-1097.

  Immense armies collected in various parts of Europe—Peter
  the Hermit chosen general of the crusade—Opposed by the
  Hungarians and Bulgarians—Semlin—Nissa—The Crusaders
  reach Constantinople—Alexius Comnenus—Rapacity and
  cruelties of the Crusaders—Their defeat and slaughter—
  Fresh armies sent from Europe—Their distinguished leaders
  —They wage war against the Greeks—Alliance of Godfrey
  de Bouillon with Alexius of Constantinople—Wretched
  situation of the remains of Peter’s army in Bithynia—The
  Turkish power—Kingdom of Ezeroum—Siege of Nice—Battle
  of Gorgoni—The Turks defeated by the Crusaders—Sultan of
  Nice desolates the country—Antiochetta—Iconium—Tarsus
  captured by Baldwin—His conflicts with Tancred—Capture
  of Alexandretta and Edessa by the Crusaders—They arrive
  in Mesopotamia                                             pp. 61-125.


  BOOK III.—A.D. 1097-1099.

  The Crusaders everywhere triumphant—Their sufferings in
  passing Mount Taurus—Enter Syria—Damascus—Aleppo—Capture
  of Chalcis and Artesia—Siege of Antioch—Sweno, king of
  Denmark—Barbarous treatment of the Turks—Ambassadors from
  Egypt—City of Harem—The Crusaders relieved by the Pisans
  and Genoese—-Baldwin, prince of Edessa—Antioch captured—
  Quarrel of Godfrey de Bouillon and Bohémond—Kerbogha,
  sultan of Mossoul—Sultan of Persia sends an immense army
  against the Crusaders—Contests before Antioch—Sufferings
  of the Crusaders—Subtle policy of Alexius—Kerbogha
  besieges Antioch—Pretended miracles—The sacred lance—
  Speech of Peter the Hermit to the Saracen leaders, and
  Kerbogha’s haughty reply—Saracens defeated by the
  Crusaders—Instances of heroic bravery—Magnificent
  encampment of Kerbogha—The miraculous influence of the
  holy lance doubted—Death of Baldwin count of Hainault—
  Fatal epidemic at Antioch—Death of Bishop Puy—Docility of
  a lion—Geoffrey de la Tour—Foulque and his widow—Hezas,
  the emir, allies himself with the Crusaders, and defeats
  the sultan of Aleppo—Letters conveyed by pigeons—
  Miraculous prodigies—Capture of Maarah—Conquests in Syria
  by the Crusaders                                          pp. 126-186.


  BOOK IV.—A.D. 1099-1103.

  The Crusaders take their departure from Antioch, and march
  for Palestine—Siege of Archas—Pons de Balasu—Arnold de
  Rohés, and his disbelief in prodigies—Fanaticism, of
  Barthélemi—The holy lance—Ordeal by fire—Hatred of the
  Latins towards the Greeks—Caliph of Cairo—Emir of Tripoli
  defeated—Palestine—Phœnicia—Plain of Berytus—Serpents—
  Ptolemaïs—Emmaus and Bethlehem—Alarm from an eclipse—The
  city of Jerusalem—Enthusiasm of the Crusaders on first
  beholding it—Siege of Jerusalem—Indignities heaped upon
  the Christians—Fountain of Siloë—The Genoese fleet enter
  the port of Jaffa—Gaston de Béarn—Mount of Olives—Address
  of Arnold de Rohés—Speech of Peter the Hermit to the
  Crusaders—Tower of Tancred—Machines used at the siege of
  Jerusalem—The Saracen magicians—Miraculous appearance of
  St. George—The Crusaders enter Jerusalem by storm—Creton
  Rheimhault—Everard de Puysaie—Mosque of Omar—Slaughter of
  the Mussulmans, and pious fervour of the Christians—
  Destruction of the Jews—Wealth found in Jerusalem—
  Discovery of the “true cross”—Speech of the count of
  Flanders—Prophetic visions—Godfrey elected king of
  Jerusalem—Rejoicings among the Christians, and despair of
  the Mussulmans—Elegy of Modhaffer Abyverdy—Afdhal, the
  Mussulman commander—Signal defeat of the Saracens at
  Ascalon—Tasso—Godfrey’s quarrel with Raymond—Siege of
  Ascalon—Riou de Loheac—Stephen de Salviac—Peter de Salviac
  —Death of Gaston de Béarn—Peter the Hermit and many of the
  Christian leaders return to Europe—William IX., count of
  Flanders, sets out for the East—William, count de Nevers,
  defeated by the Turks—Eude, duke of Burgundy, slain—
  Conrad, marshal of Henry I. of Germany—Wolf IX., duke of
  Bavaria—Humbert II., count of Savoy, departs for the Holy
  Land—Alexius, emperor of Constantinople, opposes the
  Crusaders—City of Ancyra captured—The Crusaders defeated
  by the Turks—Capture of Tortosa—Invasions of the Tartars
  —Tasso’s  “Jerusalem Delivered”—Ordinances of Gaston de
  Béarn                                                     pp. 187-264.


  BOOK V.—A.D. 1099-1148.

  Kingdom founded by the victories of the Crusaders—State
  of Palestine at that period—Political measures of Godfrey
  —Tiberias captured by Tancred—Siege of Arsur—Jerusalem
  visited by numerous pilgrims and distinguished Crusaders—
  Archbishop Daimbert elected patriarch of Jerusalem
  “Assizes of Jerusalem”—Death of Godfrey—His brother
  Baldwin elected king—Carries on successful hostilities
  against the Infidels of Palestine, Egypt, &c.—Cæsarea and
  Arsur besieged and captured—City of Ramla taken by the
  Saracens—Hospitallers of St. John—Insidious policy of
  Alexius—Josselin de Courtenay—Baldwin taken prisoner—
  Bohémond, prince of Antioch, visits Italy, and returns
  with a large army against Alexius—His death—Release of
  Baldwin—Distresses of Antioch—Quarrels  between Baldwin
  and the patriarch of Jerusalem—The Genoese and Pisan
  fleets assist the Crusaders—Siege and capture of Ptolemaïs
  —Armies of Egypt defeated—Tripoli, Biblies, Sarepta,
  Berytus, and Sidon, taken by the Crusaders—Sigur, prince
  of Norway—The “true cross”—Death of Tancred—The Christians
  defeated—Palestine devastated—Death of Baldwin—Baldwin du
  Bourg elected king of Jerusalem—Taken prisoner—Eustache
  Grenier, regent—The Venetians destroy the fleet of the
  Saracens, and conquer Tyre—Release of Baldwin—Several
  cities of Egypt captured—The Ismaëlians—Zengui, prince of
  Mossoul—Dynasty of the Atabecks—Flourishing state of
  Antioch, Edessa, Tripoli, &c.—Knights of St. John and of
  the Holy Sepulchre—The Templars—Death of Baldwin du Bourg—
  Foulque of Anjou crowned king of Jerusalem—Raymond of
  Poictiers appointed governor of Antioch—The emperor of
  Constantinople attacks Antioch—Melisende, queen of
  Jerusalem—Baldwin III. ascends the throne—Disastrous
  retreat from Bosra—The country of Traconite—Conquests of
  Zengui—Death of Josselin  de Courtenay—Noureddin, son of
  Zengui, captures Edessa, and  threatens Jerusalem         pp. 265-328.


  BOOK VI.—A.D. 1142-1148.

  SECOND CRUSADE.

  Europe aroused to a second crusade by the impending
  dangers of Jerusalem and the Holy Land—The Abbot St.
  Bernard—Louis VII. of France—He destroys Vitri, repents,
  and determines on a crusade against the infidels—Pope
  Eugenius III. invokes the assistance of the faithful—Pons,
  abbot of Vezelai—Preaching of St. Bernard—State of the
  Germanic empire—Conrad III. invokes a general diet at
  Spires, and engages in the crusade—Many distinguished
  personages take the cross—Enthusiasm of the Germans—Conrad
  and Louis VII. arrive at Constantinople—Hypocritical
  policy of the emperor, and treachery of the Greeks—Alarm
  created by an eclipse of the sun—The Crusaders defeated by
  the Turks—The oriflamme—Fatal blunder of Geoffrey de
  Rançon—Reported death of Louis VII.—Everard des Barres,
  grand master of the Templars—Perfidious policy of the
  Greeks—Sufferings of the Crusaders—Louis VII. arrives at
  Antioch with a small portion of his army—Eleanor of
  Guienne repudiated by her husband, Louis VII.—He proceeds
  to the Holy Land—Conrad arrives at Jerusalem—Baldwin III.
  urges on the war—The Crusaders besiege Damascus, and are
  repulsed—Ayoub, the father of Saladin—The Sclaves—
  Crusaders in Spain and Portugal—Suger, minister of France—
  Unfortunate results of this crusade—The conquests of
  Noureddin—The deaths of Raymond, Josselin, Suger, and
  St. Bernard                                               pp. 329-381.


  BOOK VII.—A.D. 1148-1188.

  THIRD CRUSADE.

  The religion of Mahomet—State of the East at the time of
  the third crusade—Dynasties of the Saracens and the Turks
  almost annihilated—Caliphs of Bagdad, the chiefs of
  Islamism—Heroic character of Noureddin—Capture of Ascalon
  by Baldwin III.—Baldwin’s death—His brother Amaury elected
  his successor—Distracted state of Egypt—Warlike
  preparations against—Capture of Bilbeis by Baldwin—The
  Syrians invade Egypt—Baldwin marries the daughter of the
  emperor Manuel—Makes war on Egypt—Deposition and death of
  the caliph. The Fatimite dynasty extinguished—Extensive
  power of Noureddin, the sultan of Aleppo and Damascus—
  Saladin, the vizier of Egypt—Death of Noureddin—Empire of
  the Atabecks declines—Death of Amaury—The victories of
  Saladin in Syria—Baldwin IV., king of Jerusalem—The
  Mamelukes—Guy of Lusignan—Renaud de Chatillon—Raised to
  the throne of Antioch—His various military adventures—
  Rebellion of Guy de Lusignan—Distracted state of Jerusalem
  —Interview between Henry II. of England and Heraclius,
  patriarch of Constantinople—Philip Augustus, king of
  France—Deaths of Baldwin IV. and V.—Guy de Lusignan, the
  sovereign of Jerusalem—Sybilla, daughter of Amaury—The
  Templars defeated with great slaughter—Tiberias taken by
  Saladin—Disastrous defeat of the Christians—Capture of the
  “true cross”—Guy de Lusignan and many distinguished
  knights taken prisoners or slain—Saladin captures
  Ptolemaïs, Ascalon, Gaza, and numerous other cities in
  Palestine—He takes possession of Jerusalem—Sufferings of
  the Christians—The archbishop of Tyre preaches in support
  of the holy war—Henry II. of England, Richard I. and
  Philip of France determine on renewing the holy war—
  Persecution and massacre of the Jews—Archbishop Baldwin
  preaches the crusade in England—Frederick Barbarossa
  engages in the crusade—Miraculous vision—Contentions
  between the Greeks and the Latins—Andronicus of
  Constantinople dethroned—The Greeks defeated by Barbarossa
  —His victorious career—His death                          pp. 382-450.


  BOOK VIII.—A.D. 1188-1192.

  The conquests of Saladin—Conrad of Montferrat—Siege of
  Tyre—Marquis of Montferrat—The “Green Knight”—Siege of
  Tripoli—William, king of Sicily, engages in the holy war—
  Admiral Margaritt defends Tripoli—Capture of Tortosa—
  Heroic defence of Carac—Release of Guy de Lusignan—His
  siege of Ptolemaïs, and his numerous conflicts with
  Saladin—Description of Ptolemaïs—Karacoush, minister of
  Saladin—Conrad, marquis of Tyre, fits out a fleet for the
  Holy Land—Bravery of the Mamelukes—Death of André de
  Brienne—Defeat of the Crusaders at Ptolemaïs by Saladin—
  Death of Frederick, duke of Swabia, and of Sybilla, wife
  of Guy de Lusignan—Disputes about the succession to the
  kingdom of Jerusalem—Humphrey de Thorone—Conrad—Eleanor of
  Guienne—Philip of France arrives at Palestine—Cyprus
  captured by Richard I.—His marriage to Berengaria of
  Navarre—Jane, queen of Sicily—Isaac Comnenus—Disputes
  respecting the sovereignty of Jerusalem—Arrival of Richard
  I. before the walls of Ptolemaïs—His quarrels with Philip
  of France—Conflicts with Saladin—Ptolemaïs taken by the
  Christians—Guy de Chatillon, Josselin de Montmorency, and
  some of the bravest nobility of Europe, slain—The
  Mohammedans—Leopold, duke of Austria—Philip of France
  quits Palestine, and returns to France—Battle of Arsur—
  Ascalon destroyed by Saladin, and rebuilt by Richard I.—
  Richard marches on Jerusalem—Conrad assassinated—Treaty of
  peace between Richard and Saladin—Guy de Lusignan obtains
  the sovereignty of Cyprus—Palestine ceded to Henry, count
  of Champagne—Characters of Richard I. and of Saladin—
  Leopold of Austria detains Richard as a prisoner—Death of
  Saladin—Malek-Adel takes possession of Egypt              pp. 451-509.




                                HISTORY

                                  OF

                             THE CRUSADES.




BOOK I.

A.D. 300-1095.


FROM the earliest ages of the Church, a custom had been practised
of making pilgrimages to the Holy Land. Judea, full of religious
remembrances, was still the promised land of the faithful; the
blessings of heaven appeared to be in store for those who visited
Calvary, the tomb of Jesus Christ, and renewed their baptism in the
waters of the Jordan. Under the reign of Constantine, the ardour for
pilgrimages increased among the faithful; they flocked from all the
provinces of the empire to worship Jesus Christ upon his own tomb,
and to trace the steps of their God in that city which had but just
resumed its name, and which the piety of an emperor had caused to
issue from its ruins. The Holy Sepulchre presented itself to the eyes
of the pilgrims surrounded by a magnificence which redoubled their
veneration. An obscure cavern had become a marble temple, paved with
precious stones and decorated with splendid colonnades. To the east of
the Holy Sepulchre appeared the church of the Resurrection, in which
they could admire the riches of Asia, mingled with the arts of Greece
and Rome. Constantine celebrated the thirty-first year of his reign by
the inauguration of this church, and thousands of Christians came, on
occasion of this solemnity, to listen to the panegyric of Christ from
the lips of the learned and holy bishop Eusebius.

St. Helena, the mother of the emperor, repaired to Jerusalem, at a very
advanced age, and caused churches and chapels to be built upon Mount
Tabor, in the city of Nazareth, and in the greater part of the places
which Christ had sanctified by his presence and his miracles. From
this period, pilgrimages to the Holy Land became much more frequent.
The pilgrims, no longer in dread of the persecutions of the Pagans,
could now give themselves up, without fear, to the fervour of their
devotion; the Roman eagles, ornamented with the cross of Jesus Christ,
protected them on their march; they everywhere trampled underfoot the
fragments of idols, and they travelled amidst the abodes of their
fellow-Christians.

When the emperor Julian, in order to weaken the authority of the
prophecies, undertook to rebuild the temple of the Jews, numerous
were the prodigies related by which God confounded his designs, and
Jerusalem, for that attempt even, became more dear to the disciples
of Jesus Christ. The Christians did not cease to visit Palestine. St.
Jerome, who, towards the end of the fourth century, had retired to
Bethlehem, informs us in one of his letters that pilgrims arrived in
crowds in Judea, and that around the holy tomb the praises of the Son
of God were to be heard, uttered in many languages. From this period,
pilgrimages to the Holy Land were so numerous, that several doctors and
fathers of the Church thought it their duty to point out the abuses
and danger of the practice. They told Christians that long voyages
might turn them aside from the path of salvation; that their God was
not confined to one city; that Jesus Christ was everywhere where faith
and good works were to be found; but such was the blind zeal which
then drew the Christians towards Jerusalem, that the voice of the holy
doctors was scarcely heard.[4] The counsels of enlightened piety were
not able to abate the ardour of the pilgrims, who believed they should
be wanting in faith and zeal, if they did not adore Jesus Christ in
the very places where, according to the expression of St. Jerome, the
light of the gospel first shone from the top of the holy cross.

As soon as the people of the West became converted to Christianity,
they turned their eyes to the East. From the depths of Gaul, from the
forests of Germany, from all the countries of Europe, new Christians
were to be seen hastening to visit the cradle of the faith they had
embraced. An itinerary for the use of pilgrims served them as a guide
from the banks of the Rhone and the Dordogne to the shores of the
Jordan, and conducted them, on their return, from Jerusalem to the
principal cities of Italy.[5]

When the world was ravaged by the Goths, the Huns, and the Vandals,
the pilgrimages to the Holy Land were not at all interrupted. Pious
travellers were protected by the hospitable virtues of the barbarians,
who began to respect the cross of Christ, and sometimes even followed
the pilgrims to Jerusalem. In these times of trouble and desolation, a
poor pilgrim, who bore his scrip and staff, often passed through fields
of carnage, and travelled without fear amidst armies which threatened
the empires of the East and the West.

Illustrious families of Rome came to seek an asylum at Jerusalem, and
upon the tomb of Jesus Christ. Christians then found, on the banks of
the Jordan, that peace which seemed to be banished from the rest of the
world. This peace, which lasted several centuries, was not troubled
before the reign of Heraclius. Under this reign, the armies of Cosroës,
king of Persia, invaded Syria, Palestine, and Egypt; the holy city fell
into the hands of the worshippers of fire; the conquerors bore away
into captivity vast numbers of Christians, and profaned the churches of
Jesus Christ. All the faithful deplored the misfortunes of Jerusalem,
and shed tears when they learned that the king of Persia had carried
off, among the spoils of the vanquished, the cross of the Saviour,
which had been preserved in the church of the Resurrection.

Heaven, at length, touched by the prayers and affliction of the
Christians, blessed the arms of Heraclius, who, after ten years of
reverses, triumphed over the enemies of Christianity and the empire,
and brought back to Jerusalem the Christians whose chains he had
broken. Then was to be seen an emperor of the East, walking barefooted
in the streets of the holy city, carrying on his shoulders to the
summit of Calvary, the wood of the true cross, which he considered the
most glorious trophy of his victories. This imposing ceremony was a
festival for the people of Jerusalem and the Christian church, which,
latter still, every year celebrates the memory of it.[6] When Heraclius
re-entered Constantinople, he was received as the liberator of the
Christians, and the kings of the West sent ambassadors to congratulate
him.

But the joy of the faithful was not of long duration. Towards the
beginning of the seventh century there had arisen, in an obscure
corner of Asia, a new religion, opposed to all others, which preached
dominion and war. Mahomet had promised the conquest of the world to
his disciples, who had issued almost naked from the deserts of Arabia.
By his passionate doctrine he was able to inflame the imagination
of the Arabs, and on the field of battle knew how to inspire them
with his own impetuous courage. His first successes, which must have
greatly exceeded his hopes, were like so many miracles, increasing the
confidence of his partisans, and carrying conviction to the minds of
the weak and wavering. The political state of the East seemed to offer
no obstacle to the progress of a sect, which, from its birth, showed
itself everywhere with fire and sword. The worship of the Magi was
sinking into contempt; the Jews scattered throughout Asia were opposed
to the Sabeans, and divided amongst themselves; and the Christians,
under the names of Eutychians, Nestorians, Maronites, and Jacobites,
were engaged in heaping, reciprocally, anathemas upon one another. The
empire of Persia, torn by intestine wars, and attacked by the barbarous
races of Tartary, had lost both its power and splendour; that of the
Greeks, weakened both within and without, was hastening to its fall;
“every thing was perishing in the East,” says Bossuet. A new religion,
a new empire, sprang up easily in the midst of ruins. The armed
doctrine of Mahomet invaded, within a very short period, the three
Arabias, a part of Syria, and a large division of Persia.

After the death of the Prophet of Mecca, his lieutenants and the
companions of his first exploits carried on his great work. The sight
of conquered provinces only increased the fanaticism and the bravery
of the Saracens. They had no fear of death in the field of battle,
for, according to the words of their prophet, paradise, with all its
voluptuous pleasures, awaited those who precipitated themselves upon
the enemy, and behind them hell opened its abysses. Their conquests
were so much the more rapid, from their uniting, in their military
and religious government, the prompt decision of despotism with all
the passions that are met with in a republic. Masters of Persia and
Syria, they soon took possession of Egypt; their victorious battalions
flowed on into Africa, planted the standard of the Prophet upon the
ruins of Carthage, and carried the terror of their arms to the shores
of the Atlantic. From India to the Straits of Cadiz, and from the
Caspian Sea to the ocean, language, manners, religion, everything was
changed; what had remained of Paganism was annihilated, together with
the worship of the Magi; Christianity scarcely subsisted, and Europe
itself was threatened with a similar destruction. Constantinople, which
was the bulwark of the West, saw before its walls innumerable hordes
of Saracens: several times besieged both by sea and land, the city of
Constantine only owed its safety to the Greek fire, to the assistance
of the Bulgarians, and to the inexperience of the Arabs in the art of
navigation.

During the first age of the Hegira, the conquests of the Mussulmans
were only bounded by the sea which separated them from Europe; but
when they had constructed vessels, no nation was safe from their
invasion; they ravaged the isles of the Mediterranean, the coasts of
Italy and Greece; fortune or treason made them masters of Spain, where
they overturned the monarchy of the Goths; they took advantage of the
weakness of the children of Clovis to penetrate into the southern
provinces of Gaul, and were only stopped in their invasions by the
victories of Charles Martel.

Amidst the first conquests of the Saracens, they had turned their eyes
towards Jerusalem. According to the faith of the Mussulmans, Mahomet
had been in the city of David and Solomon; it was from Jerusalem that
he set out to ascend into heaven in his nocturnal voyage. The Saracens
considered Jerusalem as the house of God, as the city of saints and
miracles. A short time after the death of the Prophet, the soldiers
of Omar besieged it. The Christians, animated by despair, swore to
defend the city. The siege lasted four months, each day being marked
by sorties or attacks; the Saracens approaching the walls repeating
the words of the Koran “Let us enter into the holy land which God has
promised us.” After enduring all the miseries of a long siege, the
inhabitants of Jerusalem at length surrendered to the caliph Omar, who
himself came into Palestine to receive the keys and the submission of
the conquered city.

The Christians had the grief of seeing the church of the Holy Sepulchre
profaned by the presence of the chief of the infidels. The patriarch
Sophronius, who accompanied the caliph, could not refrain from
repeating these words of Daniel, “The abomination of desolation is in
the holy place.” Jerusalem was filled with mourning, a gloomy silence
reigned in the churches, and in all the places in which the hymns of
the Christians had so long resounded. Although Omar had left them the
exercise of their worship, they were obliged to conceal their crosses
and their sacred books. The bell no longer summoned the faithful to
prayer; the pomp of ceremonies was interdicted, and religion appeared
but as a desolate widow. The caliph ordered a mosque to be erected
on the spot whereon the temple of Solomon had been built. The aspect
of this edifice, consecrated to the worship of the infidels, still
further increased the affliction of the Christians. History relates
that the patriarch Sophronius was unable to support the sight of so
many profanations, and died in despair, deploring the misfortunes and
captivity of the holy city.

In the mean time, the presence of Omar, of whose moderation the East
boasts, restrained the jealous fanaticism of the Mussulmans. After his
death the faithful had much more to suffer; they were driven from their
houses, insulted in their churches; the tribute which they had to pay
to the new masters of Palestine was increased, and they were forbidden
to carry arms or to mount on horseback. A leathern girdle, which they
were never allowed to be without, was the badge of their servitude; the
conquerors would not permit the Christians to speak the Arab tongue,
sacred to the disciples of the Koran; and the people who remained
faithful to Jesus Christ had not liberty even to pronounce the name of
the patriarch of Jerusalem without the permission of the Saracens.

All these persecutions could not stop the crowd of Christians who
repaired to Jerusalem; the sight of the holy city sustaining their
courage as it heightened their devotion. There were no evils, no
outrages, that they could not support with resignation, when they
remembered that Christ had been loaded with chains, and had died upon
the cross in the places they were about to visit. Among the faithful of
the West who arrived in Asia in the midst of the early conquests of the
Mussulmans, history has preserved the names of St. Arculphus and St.
Antoninus of Plaisance.[7] The latter had borne arms with distinction,
when he determined to follow the pilgrims who were setting out for
Jerusalem. He traversed Syria, Palestine, and Egypt. On his arrival on
the banks of the Jordan, Judea had not yet fallen into the hands of the
infidels; but the fame of their victories already filled the East, and
their armies were threatening the holy city. Several years after the
pilgrimage of St. Antoninus, Arculphus, accompanied by Peter, a French
hermit, set out from the coast of England in a vessel bound for Syria.
He remained nine months at Jerusalem, then under the dominion of the
enemies of Christ. On his return to Europe, he related what he had seen
in Palestine, and in all the sacred spots visited by the pilgrims of
the West. The account of his pilgrimage was drawn up by a holy monk of
the Hebrides, for the information and edification of the faithful.

The Christians of Palestine, however, enjoyed some short intervals of
security during the civil wars of the Mussulmans.[8] If they were not
freed from their bondage, they could at least weep in peace upon the
tomb of Christ. The dynasty of the Ommiades, which had established
the seat of the Mussulman empire at Damascus, was always odious to
the ever-formidable party of the Alides, and employed itself less in
persecuting the Christians than in preserving its own precarious power.
Merwan II., the last caliph of this house, was the most cruel towards
the disciples of Christ; and when he, with all his family, sunk under
the power of his enemies, the Christians and the infidels united in
thanks to heaven for having delivered the East from his tyranny.

The Abassides, established in the city of Bagdad, which they had
founded, persecuted and tolerated the Christians by turns. The
Christians, always living between the fear of persecution and the hope
of a transient security, saw at last the prospect of happier days dawn
upon them with the reign of Haroun al Raschid, the greatest caliph of
the race of Abbas. Under this reign the glory of Charlemagne, which
had reached Asia, protected the churches of the East.[9] His pious
liberality relieved the indigence of the Christians of Alexandria,
of Carthage, and Jerusalem. The two greatest princes of their age
testified their mutual esteem by frequent embassies: they sent each
other magnificent presents; and, in the friendly intercourse of
two powerful monarchs, the East and the West exchanged the richest
productions of their soil and their industry. The presents of Haroun
created a lively surprise in the court of Charlemagne, and gave a high
idea of the arts and riches of Asia. The monarch of the Franks took
pleasure in showing to the envoys of the caliph the magnificence of the
religious ceremonies of the Christians. Witnesses, at Aix-la-Chapelle,
of several processions, in which the clergy had exhibited all their
most precious ornaments, the ambassadors, on their return to Bagdad,
reported that they had seen _men of gold_.

There was no doubt policy in the marks of esteem which Haroun lavished
upon the most powerful of the princes of the West. He was making war
against the emperors of Constantinople, and might justly fear that
they would interest the bravest among Christian people in their cause.
The popular traditions of Byzantium foretold that the Latins would
some day be the liberators of Greece; and in one of the first sieges
of Constantinople by the Saracens, the report only of the arrival of
the Franks had reanimated the courage of the besieged, and carried
terror into the ranks of the Mussulmans. In the time of Haroun, the
name of Jerusalem already exercised so powerful an influence over
the Christians of the West, that it was sufficient to rouse their
warlike enthusiasm, and raise armies to serve against the infidels. To
take from the Franks every pretext for a religious war, which might
make them embrace the cause of the Greeks, and draw them into Asia,
the caliph neglected no opportunity of obtaining the friendship of
Charlemagne; and caused the keys of the holy city and of the holy
sepulchre[10] to be presented to him. This homage, rendered to the
greatest of the Christian monarchs, was celebrated with enthusiasm
in contemporary legends, which afterwards caused it to be believed
that this prince had made the voyage and completed the conquest of
Jerusalem.[11]

Haroun treated the Christians of the Latin Church as his own subjects;
and the children of the caliph imitated his moderation. Under their
sway, Bagdad was the abode of the sciences and the arts. The caliph
Almamon, says an Arabian historian, was not ignorant that they who
labour in the advancement of reason are the elect of God. Intelligence
polished the manners of the chiefs of Islamism, and inspired them
with a toleration till that time unknown to Mussulmans. Whilst the
Arabians of Africa were pursuing their conquests towards the West,
whilst they took possession of Sicily, and Rome itself saw its suburbs
and its churches of St. Peter and St. Paul invaded and pillaged by
infidels, the servants of Jesus Christ prayed in peace within the
walls of Jerusalem.[12] The pilgrims of the West, who arrived there
without danger, were received in an hospital, the foundation of which
was attributed to Charlemagne. According to the report of the monk
Bernard,[13] who himself performed the pilgrimage to the Holy Land,
about the middle of the ninth century, the hospital for the pilgrims
of the Latin Church was composed of twelve houses or hostelries. To
this pious establishment were attached fields, vineyards, and a garden,
situated in the Valley of Jehoshaphat. This hospital, like those which
the emperor of the West founded in the north of Europe, had a library
always open to Christians and travellers. From the tenth century there
existed in the neighbourhood of the Fountain of Siloë, a cemetery,
in which were interred the pilgrims who died at Jerusalem. Among the
tombs of the faithful dwelt the servants of God. This place, says
the relation of St. Antoninus, covered with fruit-trees, dotted with
sepulchres and humble cells, brings together the dead and the living,
and presents at once a cheerful and a melancholy picture.

To the desire of visiting the tomb of Jerusalem was joined the earnest
wish to procure relics, which were then sought for with eagerness by
the devotion of the faithful. All who returned from the East made
it their glory to bring back to their country some precious remains
of Christian antiquity, and above all the bones of holy martyrs,
which constituted the ornament and the riches of their churches, and
upon which princes and kings swore to respect truth and justice. The
productions of Asia likewise attracted the attention of the people of
Europe. We read in[14] Gregory of Tours, that the wine of Gaza was
celebrated in France in the reign of Gontran;[15] that the silk and
precious stones of the East added to the splendour of the dresses of
the great and the noble; and that St. Eloi, at the court of Dagobert,
did not disdain to clothe himself in the rich stuffs of Asia. Commerce
attracted a great number of Europeans to Egypt, Syria, and Palestine.
The Venetians, the Genoese, the Pisans,—the merchants of Amalfi and
Marseilles,—had all stores at Alexandria, in the maritime cities
of Phenicia, and in the city of Jerusalem. Before the church of St.
Marie-la-Latine, says the monk Bernard, already quoted, extended a
large place or square, which was called the Market of the Franks. Every
year, on the 15th of September, a fair was opened on Mount Calvary, in
which were exchanged the productions of Europe for those of the East.

Greek and Syrian Christians were established even in the city of
Bagdad, where they devoted themselves to trade, exercised the art of
medicine, and cultivated the sciences. They attained by their learning
the most considerable employments, and sometimes even obtained the
command of cities and the government of provinces. One of the caliphs
of the race of Abbas[16] declared that the disciples of Christ were the
most worthy to be trusted with the administration of Persia. In short,
the Christians of Palestine and the Mussulman provinces, the pilgrims
and travellers who returned from the East, seemed no longer to have any
persecutions to dread, when all at once new storms broke out in the
East. The children of Haroun soon shared the fate of the posterity of
Charlemagne, and Asia, like the West, was plunged into the horrors of
anarchy and civil war.

As the empire founded by Mahomet had for its principle the spirit of
conquest; as the state was not defended by any provident institution;
and as all depended upon the personal character of the prince, it
might easily be perceived that symptoms of decay began to appear
as soon as there remained nothing else to conquer, and the chiefs
ceased either to make themselves feared or to inspire respect. The
caliphs of Bagdad, rendered effeminate by luxury, and corrupted by
long prosperity, abandoned the cares of empire, buried themselves in
their seraglios, and appeared to reserve to themselves no other right
than that of being named in the public prayers. The Arabians were no
longer governed by that blind zeal, and that ardent fanaticism which
they had brought from the desert. Degenerated, like their chiefs, they
no longer resembled their warlike ancestors, who would weep at not
having been present at a battle. The authority of the caliphs had lost
its true defenders; and when despotism surrounded itself with slaves
purchased on the banks of the Oxus, this foreign militia, called in to
defend the throne, only precipitated its fall. New sectaries, seduced
by the example of Mahomet, and persuaded that the world would obey
those who should change its manners or opinions, added the danger of
religious dissensions to that of political troubles. In the midst
of the general confusion, the emirs or lieutenants, of whom several
governed vast kingdoms, no longer offered anything beyond a vain homage
to the successor of the Prophet, and refused to send him either money
or troops. The gigantic empire of the Abassides crumbled away on all
sides, and the world, according to the expression of an Arabian writer,
was within the reach of him who would take possession of it. The
spiritual power was itself divided; Islamism beheld at one time five
caliphs, each of whom assumed the title of commander of the faithful,
and vicar of Mahomet.

The numerous dynasties which sprung up amidst the troubles of Asia,
shared amongst them the spoils of the sovereigns of Bagdad; those which
ruled over Persia and upon the banks of the Tigris, under the pretence
of defending the Mussulman religion, subjected their spiritual chiefs
to the most humiliating subserviency. At the same time the Fatimites,
who pretended to be descended from Aly, and who had usurped the title
of caliph, raised armies, and launched anathemas against the Abassides;
they had taken possession of Egypt, and they threatened to invade
Syria, and to march to Bagdad, and dethrone the vicars of the Prophet.

The Greeks then appeared to rouse themselves from their long
supineness, and sought to take advantage of the divisions and the
humiliation of the Saracens. Nicephorus Phocas took the field at the
head of a powerful army, and recaptured Antioch from the Mussulmans.
Already the people of Constantinople celebrated his triumphs, and
styled him “_the star of the East, the death and the scourge of the
infidels_.” He might, perhaps, have merited these titles, if the Greek
clergy had seconded his efforts. Nicephorus was desirous of giving
to this war[17] a religious character, and to place in the rank of
martyrs all who should fall in prosecuting it. The prelates of his
empire condemned his design as sacrilegious, and opposed to him a
canon of St. Basil, the text of which recommended to him who had
killed an enemy to abstain during three years from a participation in
the holy mysteries. Deprived of the powerful stimulus of fanaticism,
Nicephorus found among the Greeks more panegyrists than soldiers, and
could not pursue his advantages against the Saracens, to whom, even in
their decline, religion prescribed resistance and promised victory.
His triumphs, which were celebrated at Constantinople with enthusiasm,
were confined to the taking of Antioch, and only served to create a
persecution against the Christians of Palestine. The patriarch of
Jerusalem, accused of keeping up an understanding with the Greeks,
expired at the stake, and several churches of the holy city were
consigned to the flames.

A Greek army, under the command of Temelicus, had advanced to the gates
of Amida, a city situated on the banks of the Tigris. This army was
attacked, in the midst of a hurricane, by the Saracens, who routed
it, and made a great number of prisoners. The Christian soldiers who
fell into the hands of the infidels, heard, in the prisons of Bagdad,
of the death of Nicephorus; and as Zimisces, his successor, gave no
attention to their deliverance, their chief wrote to him in these
terms: “You who leave us to perish in an accursed land, and who do
not deem us worthy to be buried, according to Christian usages, in
the tombs of our fathers, we cannot recognize you as the legitimate
chief of the holy Greek empire. If you do not avenge those who fell
before Amida, and those who now sigh in foreign lands, God will demand
a strict account of them of you, at the terrible day of judgment.”
When Zimisces received this letter at Constantinople, says an Armenian
historian,[18] he was penetrated with grief, and resolved to avenge
the outrage inflicted upon religion and the empire. On all sides
preparations were set on foot for a fresh war against the Saracens.
The nations of the West were no strangers to this enterprize, which
preceded, by more than a year, the first of the Crusades. Venice, which
then enjoyed the commerce of the East, forbade her people, under pain
of death, to convey to the Mussulmans of Africa and Asia, either iron,
wood, or any species of arms. The Christians of Syria and several
Armenian princes repaired to the standard of Zimisces, who took the
field, and carried war into the territories of the Saracens. So great
was the confusion which then prevailed among the Mussulman powers, and
with such rapidity did one dynasty succeed to another, that history
can scarcely distinguish what prince,[19] or what people ruled over
Palestine and Jerusalem. After having defeated the Mussulmans on the
banks of the Tigris, and forced the caliph of Bagdad to pay a tribute
to the successors of Constantine, Zimisces penetrated, almost without
resistance, into Judea, took possession of Cesarea, of Ptolemaïs, of
Tiberias, Nazareth, and several other cities of the Holy Land. He was
encamped upon Tabor when he received a deputation of the inhabitants
of Ramala and Jerusalem, who promised him obedience, and required of
him troops to defend their cities. Zimisces received their submission
and their request favourably,[20] and pursued the wreck of the Saracen
army, which had sought refuge in some cities of Phenicia and in the
mountains of Libanus.

After this first campaign, the Holy Land appeared to be on the eve
of being delivered entirely from the yoke of the infidels, when the
emperor died poisoned. His death at once put a stop to the execution
of an enterprize of which he was the soul and the leader. The Christian
nations had scarcely time to rejoice at the delivery of Jerusalem, when
they learnt that the holy city had again fallen into the hands of the
Fatimite caliphs, who, after the death of Zimisces, had invaded Syria
and Palestine.

The caliphs of Cairo, who had taken advantage of the transient
conquests of the Greeks to extend their empire, at first treated
the Christians as allies and auxiliaries. In the hope of enriching
their new dominions and repairing the evils of war, they favoured the
commerce of the Europeans, and tolerated the devotion of pilgrimages
to the Holy Land. The markets of the Franks were re-established in
the city of Jerusalem; the Christians rebuilt the hospitals of the
pilgrims, and the churches which were falling to decay. They began
to forget the peaceful domination of the Abassides, and felicitated
themselves upon living under the laws of the sovereigns of Cairo; and
still greater right had they to hope that all their troubles were about
to be at an end, when they saw the caliph Hakim, whose mother was a
Christian, ascend the throne. But God, who, according to the expression
of contemporary authors, wished to try the virtues of the faithful,
did not long delay to confound their hopes and raise new persecutions
against them.

Hakim, the third of the Fatimite caliphs, signalized his reign by
all the excesses of fanaticism and outrage. Unfixed in his own
projects, and wavering between two religions, he by turns protected
and persecuted Christianity. He respected neither the policy of his
predecessors nor the laws which he himself had established. He changed,
on the morrow, that which he had ordained the preceding day, and spread
disorder and confusion throughout his dominions. In the extravagance
of his mind and the intoxication of power, he carried his madness so
far as to believe himself a god. The terror which he inspired procured
him worshippers, and altars were raised to him in the neighbourhood of
Fostat, which he had given up to the flames. Sixteen thousand of his
subjects prostrated themselves before him, and adored him as sovereign
of the living and the dead.

Hakim despised Mahomet, but the Mussulmans were too numerous in his
states to allow him to think of persecuting them. The god trembled
for the authority of the prince, and allowed all his anger to fall
upon the Christians, whom he gave up to the fury of their enemies. The
places which the Christians held in the administration, and the abuses
introduced into the mode of levying the imposts, with which duty they
were charged, had drawn upon them the hatred of all the Mussulmans.
When the caliph Hakim had once given the signal for persecution, he
found himself at no loss for executioners. At first, they who had
abused their power were the objects of pursuit; the Christian religion
became the next crime, and the most pious among the faithful were
deemed the most guilty. The blood of the Christians flowed in all the
cities of Egypt and Syria, their courage in the midst of torments only
adding to the hatred of their persecutors. The complaints which escaped
them in their sufferings, the prayers, even, which they addressed to
Jesus Christ to put an end to their evils, were considered as a revolt,
and punished as the most guilty treasons.

It is probable that motives of policy joined with those of fanaticism
in the persecution of the Christians. Gerbert, archbishop of Ravenna,
who had become pope, under the name of Sylvester II., had witnessed
the ills to which the faithful were subjected in their pilgrimages to
Jerusalem. On his return he excited the nations of the West to take
up arms against the Saracens. In his exhortations, he made Jerusalem
herself speak, made her deplore her misfortunes, and conjure her
Christian children to hasten and break her chains. The people were
deeply moved with the complaints and groans of Sion. The Pisans, the
Genoese, with Boson, king of Arles, undertook a maritime expedition
against the Saracens, and made an incursion upon the coasts of Syria.
These hostilities, and the number of the pilgrims, which increased
every day, might well create distrust in the masters of the East. The
Saracens, alarmed by sinister predictions, and by the imprudent menaces
of the Christians, saw nothing but enemies in the disciples of Christ;
from that time terror and death guarded the gates of Jerusalem.

It is impossible, says William of Tyre, to describe all the species
of persecutions to which the Christians were then exposed. Among the
instances of barbarity cited by the historians, there is one which gave
to Tasso the idea of his affecting episode of Olindus and Sophronia.
One of the bitterest enemies of the Christians, in order to increase
the hatred of their persecutors, threw, in the night, a dead dog into
one of the principal mosques of the city. The first who repaired
thither to morning prayer were seized with horror at the sight of this
profanation, and proclaimed their anger aloud. Threatening clamours
soon resounded in every part of the city; the crowd assembled in a
state of tumultuous excitement around the mosque; the Christians were
at once accused of this act of sacrilege, and all swore to wash out
the outrage to their prophet in the blood of the perpetrators. All
Christians were about to be immolated to the revenge of the Mussulmans,
and already were they prepared for death, when a young man, whose name
history has not preserved, presented himself in the midst of them. “The
greatest misfortune that could happen,” said he, “would be that the
church of Jerusalem should perish. When a people is threatened with
destruction, it is just that a single man should sacrifice himself for
the salvation of all; I here and now offer myself as a victim to die
for you; to you I leave the charge of doing justice to my memory, and I
recommend myself to your prayers.” After pronouncing these words, which
dissolved the assembly in tears, he quitted them, and repaired to the
chiefs of the Mussulmans; he declared himself alone to be the author of
the crime imputed to the Christians, and invoked upon himself the death
with which his brethren were menaced. The Mussulmans, without being in
the least touched by his generous devotion, were satisfied with the
victim who offered himself to their vengeance: the sword was no longer
suspended over the heads of the Christians, and he who had immolated
himself for their safety, went, according to the expression of William
of Tyre,[21] to receive in heaven the reward reserved for those whose
minds burn with a love of perfect charity.

Nevertheless, other misfortunes awaited the Christians of Palestine;
all religious ceremonies were interdicted; the greater part of the
churches were converted into stables; that of the Holy Sepulchre was
completely destroyed. The Christians, driven from Jerusalem, were
scattered throughout the countries of the East. Old historians relate,
that the world took part in the mourning of the holy city, and was
seized with trouble and consternation. Winter, with its frosts and
storms, showed itself in regions where, till that time, it had been
unknown. The Bosphorus and the Nile bore sheets of ice upon their
bosoms. Earthquakes were felt in Syria and Asia Minor; and their
shocks, which were repeated during two months, destroyed several large
cities. When the account of the destruction of the holy places arrived
in the West, it drew tears from all true Christians. We read in the
chronicle of the monk Glaber, that Europe had likewise been presented
with signs which foreboded great calamities: a shower of stones had
fallen in Burgundy, and a comet and threatening meteors had appeared
in the heavens. The agitation was extreme among all Christian nations;
nevertheless, they did not take up arms against the Mussulmans, but the
whole of their vengeance fell upon the Jews, whom all Europe accused of
having provoked the fury of the infidels.

The calamities of the holy city rendered it still more venerable in the
eyes of the faithful; persecution redoubled the pious delirium of those
who went into Asia to contemplate a city covered with ruins, and to
behold an empty sepulchre. It was in Jerusalem, filled with mourning,
that God most manifestly distributed his blessings and delighted to
point out his will. Impostors constantly took advantage of this opinion
of the Christian people, to mislead the credulity of the multitude. To
gain credit for their words, it was quite sufficient to exhibit letters
which, they said, had fallen from heaven into Jerusalem. At this
period, a prediction, which announced[22] the end of the world and the
approaching coming of Jesus Christ into Palestine, very much increased
the veneration of the people for the holy places. The Christians of the
West arrived in crowds at Jerusalem, with the design of dying there,
or there awaiting the coming of the sovereign judge. The monk Glaber
informs us, that the affluence of pilgrims surpassed all that could be
expected from the devotion of these remote times. First were seen on
the holy march the poor and the lower classes, then counts, barons, and
princes, all reckoning as nothing the grandeurs of the earth.

The inconstancy of Hakim had, in a degree, mitigated the misfortunes
of Jerusalem, and he had just granted liberty to the Christians to
rebuild their churches, when he died by the hand of the assassin. His
successor, guided by a wiser policy, tolerated both pilgrimages and the
exercise of the Christian religion. The church of the Holy Sepulchre
was not entirely rebuilt till thirty years after its destruction; but
the spectacle of its ruins still inflamed the zeal and the devotion of
the Christians.

In the eleventh century the Latin Church allowed pilgrimages to suffice
instead of canonical penitences; sinners were condemned to quit their
country for a time, and to lead a wandering life, after the example of
Cain. This mode of performing penance agreed better with the active and
restless character of the people of the West. It ought to be added,
that the devotion of pilgrimages, whatever may be the opinion of an
enlightened philosophy, has been received, and even encouraged, in all
religions. It belongs, too, to a sentiment natural to man. If the sight
of a land once inhabited by heroes and sages awakens in us touching
and noble remembrances; if the soul of the philosopher finds itself
agitated at the sight of the ruins of Palmyra, Babylon, or Athens; what
lively emotions must not the Christians have felt on beholding places
which God had sanctified by his presence and his blessings?

The Christians of the West, almost all unhappy in their own countries,
and who often lost the sense of their evils in long voyages, appeared
to be only employed in seeking upon earth the traces of a consoling
and helpful divinity, or of some holy personage. There existed no
province without its martyr or its apostle, whose support they went to
implore; there was no city or secluded spot which did not preserve
the tradition of a miracle, or had not a chapel open to pilgrims. The
most guilty of sinners, or the most fervent of the faithful, exposed
themselves to the greatest perils, and repaired to the most distant
places. Sometimes they directed their steps to Apulia and Calabria,
they visited Mount Gargan, celebrated by the apparition of St. Michael,
or Mount Cassin, rendered famous by the miracles of St. Benedict;
sometimes they traversed the Pyrenees, and, in a country given up to
the Saracens, esteemed themselves happy in praying before the relics of
St. Jago, the patron saint of Galicia. Some, like King Robert, went to
Rome, and prostrated themselves on the tombs of the apostles St. Peter
and St. Paul; others travelled as far as Egypt, where Christ had passed
his infancy, and penetrated to the solitudes of Scete and Memphis,
inhabited by the disciples of Anthony and Paul.

A great number of pilgrims undertook the voyage to Palestine; they
entered Jerusalem by the gate of Ephraim where they paid a tribute to
the Saracens. After having prepared themselves by fasting and prayer,
they presented themselves in the church of the Holy Sepulchre, covered
with a funeral cloth or robe, which they preserved with care during
the remainder of their lives, and in which they were buried after
their death. They viewed with holy respect Mount Sion, the Mount of
Olives, and the Valley of Jehoshaphat; they quitted Jerusalem to visit
Bethlehem, where the Saviour of the world was born; Mount Tabor,
rendered sacred by the transfiguration; and all the places memorable
for his miracles. The pilgrims next bathed in the waters of the
Jordan,[23] and gathered in the territory of Jericho palms which they
bore back as evidences and relics to the West.

Such were the devotion and spirit of the tenth and eleventh centuries,
that the greater part of the Christians would have thought themselves
wanting in the duties of religion if they had not performed some
pilgrimage. He who had escaped from a danger, or triumphed over his
enemies, assumed the pilgrim’s staff, and took the road to the holy
places; he who had obtained by his prayers the preservation of a
father or of a son, went to return his thanks to heaven far from his
domestic hearth, in places rendered holy by religious traditions. A
father often devoted his child in the cradle to a pilgrimage, and the
first duty of an affectionate and obedient son, when past the age of
childhood, was to accomplish the vow of his parents. More than once a
dream, a vision in the midst of sleep, imposed upon a Christian the
obligation of performing a pilgrimage. Thus, the idea of these pious
journeys mixed itself up with all the affections of the heart, and with
all the prejudices of the human mind.

Pilgrims were welcomed everywhere, and in return for the hospitality
they received, they were only asked for their prayers; often, indeed,
the only treasure they carried with them. One of them, desirous to
embark at Alexandria for Palestine, presented himself with his scrip
and staff on board a ship, and offered a book of the holy Evangelists
in payment for his passage. Pilgrims, on their route, had no other
defence against the attacks of the wicked but the cross of Christ, and
no other guides but those angels whom God has told “_to watch over his
children, and to direct them in all their ways_.”

The greatest merit in the eyes of the faithful, next to that of
pilgrimage, was to devote themselves to the service of the pilgrims.
Hospitals were built upon the banks of rivers, upon the heights of
mountains, in the midst of cities, and in desert places, for the
reception of these travellers. In the ninth century, the pilgrims who
left Burgundy to repair to Italy, were received in a monastery built
upon Mount Cenis. In the following century, two monasteries, in which
were received travellers who had strayed from their way, occupied the
places of the temples of idolatry on Montes Jovis,[24] and thence lost
the name they had received from Paganism, and took that of their pious
founder, St. Bernard de Menton. Christians who travelled to Judea,
found on the frontiers of Hungary, and in the provinces of Asia Minor,
a great number of asylums raised by charity.

Christians established at Jerusalem went to meet the pilgrims, and
often exposed themselves to a thousand dangers whilst conducting them
on their route. The holy city contained hospitals for the reception of
all travellers. In one of these hospitals the women who performed the
pilgrimage to Palestine, were received by religious females devoted to
the offices of charity. The merchants of Amalfi, Venice, and Genoa,
the richest among the pilgrims, and several princes of the West,
furnished, by their benevolence, the means of keeping these houses
open for all poor travellers.[25] Every year monks from the East came
into Europe to collect the self-imposed tribute of the piety of the
Christians. A pilgrim was a privileged being among the faithful. When
he had completed his journey, he acquired the reputation of particular
sanctity, and his departure and his return were celebrated by religious
ceremonies. When about to set out, a priest presented to him his scrip
and staff, together with a gown marked with a cross; he sprinkled
holy water over his vestments, and accompanied him, at the head of a
procession, as far as the boundaries of the next parish. On his return
to his country, the pilgrim gave thanks to God, and presented to the
priest a palm-branch, to be deposited on the altar of the church, as an
evidence of his undertaking being happily terminated.

The poor, in their pilgrimages, found certain resources against misery;
when coming back to their country, they received abundant alms. Vanity
sometimes induced the rich to undertake these long voyages, which made
the monk Glaber say, that many Christians went to Jerusalem to make
themselves admired, and to be enabled, on their return, to relate the
wonders they had seen. Many were influenced by the love of idleness
and change, others by curiosity and an inclination to see various
countries. It was by no means rare to meet with Christians who had
spent their lives in holy pilgrimages, and had visited Jerusalem
several times.

Every pilgrim was obliged to carry with him a letter from his prince
or his bishop, a precaution which must have prevented many disorders.
History does not record a single act of violence committed by one
of the travellers who absolutely covered the route to the East. A
Mussulman governor, who had seen a vast number of them pass to Emessa,
said: “They have not left their homes with any bad design; they only
seek to fulfil their law.”[26]

Every year, at the period of the festivals of Easter, numberless
troops of pilgrims arrived in Judea to celebrate the mystery of the
Redemption, and to behold the miracle of the sacred fire, which a
superstitious multitude believed they saw descend from heaven upon
the lamps of the holy sepulchre. There existed no crime that might
not be expiated by the pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and acts of devotion
at the tomb of Christ. We find in the “Acts of the Saints,” that, in
the time of Lothaire, this opinion was established among the Franks.
An old relation, preserved by a monk of Redon, informs us that a
powerful lord of the duchy of Brittany, named Frotmonde, the murderer
of his uncle and his brother, presented himself in the habit of a
penitent before the king of France and an assembly of bishops. The
monarch and the prelates, as an expiation for the blood he had shed,
caused him to be tightly bound with chains of iron, and ordered him
to visit the holy places, his brow marked with ashes, and his body
clothed in a winding-sheet. Frotmonde, accompanied by his servants and
the accomplices of his crime, set out for Palestine; after having for
some time sojourned at Jerusalem, he crossed the desert, went to the
banks of the Nile, traversed a part of Africa, proceeded as far as
Carthage, and came back to Rome, where Pope Benedict III. advised him
to commence a new pilgrimage, to complete his penance and obtain an
entire remission of his sins. Frotmonde saw Palestine a second time,
penetrated as far as the shores of the Red Sea, remained three years on
Mount Sinai, and went into Armenia, to visit the mountain on which the
ark of Noah had rested after the deluge. On his return to his country
he was received as a saint; he shut himself up in the monastery of
Redon,[27] and died regretted by the cenobites whom he had edified by
the relation of his pilgrimages.

Many years after the death of Frotmonde, Centius, prefect of Rome, who
had used violence to the Pope in the church of St. Mary the Great, who
had dragged him from the altar, and placed him in a dungeon, needed
nothing more to expiate this sacrilege than to perform the pilgrimage
to the Holy Land. Foulque-Nerra, count of Anjou, charged with crimes,
and stained with blood, thought to efface all his cruelties by a voyage
to Jerusalem. His brother, whom he had caused to perish in a dungeon,
presented himself wherever he went, before his eyes; it appeared to him
that the numerous victims sacrificed to his ambition in unjust wars
issued from their tombs to disturb his sleep, and reproach him for his
barbarity. Pursued everywhere by these frightful images, Foulque left
his states, and repaired to Palestine, in the garb of a pilgrim. When
he arrived at Jerusalem, he passed through the streets of the holy
city with a cord about his neck, beaten with rods by his domestics,
repeating in a loud voice these words: “Lord, have pity on a perjured
and fugitive Christian.” During his abode in Palestine,[28] he bestowed
numerous benefactions, comforted the miseries of the pilgrims, and left
everywhere testimonials of his devotion and charity. He returned to his
duchy, bringing with him a portion of the true cross, and the stone
upon which he had knelt when he prayed before the tomb of Christ.

Foulque, on returning to his dominions, was desirous of having always
under his eyes an image of the places he had visited, and caused to
be built, near the castle of Loches, a monastery and a church, which
bore the name of the Holy Sepulchre. In the midst of the remembrances
of his pilgrimage, he still heard the voice of remorse, and set off a
second time for Jerusalem. He once more edified the Christians of the
holy city by the expressions of his repentance and the austerities
of his penance. As he was returning to his duchy, in passing through
Italy, he delivered the Roman state from a brigand who plundered the
towns and villages, and made war upon all merchants and pilgrims. The
pope praised his zeal and his bravery, gave him absolution for his
sins, and permitted him to bear about with him the relics of two holy
martyrs. When he left Rome, he was conducted in triumph by the people
and the clergy, who proclaimed him their liberator. On his arrival
in Anjou, he re-established peace in his dominions, which had been
in great confusion during his absence. Restored to his country, his
family, and his subjects, who had forgotten his cruelties; reconciled
with the Church, which declared him its benefactor, he appeared to
have no more crimes to expiate, or wishes to form for his old age; but
neither the absolution of the pope, nor the peace of his states, nor
the blessings of the people—nothing could calm his soul, for ever
torn with remorse. He could not escape from the image of his brother,
which pursued him still, and recalled to his mind the crimes with which
he had stained himself. Without cessation he was before him, pale,
disfigured, dragging his chains, and invoking heaven to take vengeance
on the fratricide. Foulque resolved to make a third pilgrimage to
Jerusalem; he returned into Palestine, watered anew the tomb of Christ
with his tears, and made the holy places resound with his groans. After
having visited the Holy Land, and recommended his soul to the prayers
of the anchorites charged to receive and console pilgrims, he quitted
Jerusalem to return to his country, which he was doomed never to see
again. He fell sick, and died at Metz. His body was transported to
Loches, and buried in the monastery of the Holy Sepulchre, which he
had caused to be built. His heart was deposited in a church at Metz,
where was shown, for many ages after his death, a mausoleum, which was
called the tomb of Foulque, count of Anjou.

At the same period, towards the middle of the eleventh century,
Robert-le-Frison, count of Flanders, and Berenger II., count of
Barcelona, resolved likewise to expiate their sins by the voyage to
the Holy Land. The latter died in Asia, not being able to support the
rigorous penances he had imposed upon himself. Robert came back to his
dominions, where his pilgrimage caused him to find grace in the eyes
of the clergy, whom he had wished to plunder. These two princes had
been preceded in their pilgrimage by Frederick, count of Verdun.[29]
Frederick was of the illustrious family which was one day to reckon
among its heroes Godfrey de Bouillon. On setting out for Asia, he
renounced earthly grandeur, and gave up his county to the bishop of
Verdun. Returned into Europe, he resolved to terminate his days in a
monastery, and died prior of the abbey of St. Wast, near Arras.

The weak and timid sex was not deterred by the difficulties and the
perils of a long voyage. Helena, born of a noble family of Sweden,
quitted her country, which was buried in idolatry, and travelled on
foot into the East. When, after having visited the holy places, she
returned to her country, she was sacrificed to the resentment of her
relations and her compatriots, and gathered, says an old legend, the
palm of martyrdom.[30] A few of the faithful, touched with her piety,
raised a chapel to her memory in the isle of Zealand, near a fountain,
which is still called the Fountain of St. Helena. The Christians of the
North for a long time went in pilgrimage to this island, where they
contemplated a grotto which Helena had inhabited before her departure
for Jerusalem.

Among the celebrated pilgrims of this age, we observe the name of
Robert II., duke of Normandy, father of William the Conqueror. History
accuses him of having caused his brother Richard to be poisoned.
Remorse urged him to make the pilgrimage to Palestine; and he set
out accompanied by a great number of knights and barons, bearing
the scrip and staff, walking barefoot, and clothed in the sack of
penitence. He attached, he said, more value to the pains he suffered
for Christ’s sake than to the richest city of his dukedom. On his
arrival at Constantinople, he despised the luxury and the presents of
the emperor, and appeared at court in the guise of the humblest of the
pilgrims. Having fallen sick in Asia Minor, he refused the services
of the Christians of his suite, and caused himself to be carried in
a litter by Saracens. Meeting a pilgrim from Normandy, the latter
asked him if he had any message that he could deliver for him to his
country. “Go and tell my people,” said the duke, “that you have seen a
Christian prince being carried to Paradise by devils.” When he arrived
at Jerusalem, he found a crowd of pilgrims, who, not having the means
of paying the tribute to the infidels, awaited the arrival of some rich
lord who might deign, by his charity, to open for them the gates of the
holy city. Robert paid a piece of gold for each of them, and followed
them into Jerusalem amidst the acclamations of the Christians. During
his sojourn here he caused himself to be remarked for his devotion, and
still more for his charity, which he extended even to the infidels. As
he was returning into Europe, he died at Nicea, in Bithynia, regarding
only the relics he had brought with him from Palestine, and regretting
that he had not finished his days in the holy city.

The greatest blessing for the pilgrims, and that which they demanded
of Heaven as a reward for their labours and fatigues, was to die, like
Jesus Christ, in the holy city. When they presented themselves before
the holy sepulchre, they were accustomed to offer up this prayer: “Thou
who died for us, and wast buried in this holy spot, take pity of our
misery, and withdraw us at once from this valley of tears.” History
tells of a Christian, born in the territory of Autun, who, on his
arrival at Jerusalem, sought death in the excess of his fastings and
mortifications. One day he remained a long time in prayer on the Mount
of Olives, with his eyes and his hands raised towards heaven, whither
God seemed to call him. On his return to the hospital of the pilgrims,
he cried three times, “_Glory to thee, oh God!_”[31] and died suddenly
in the sight of his companions, who envied him his fate, and believed
themselves witnesses of a miracle.

The inclination to acquire holiness by the journey to Jerusalem became
at length so general, that the troops of pilgrims alarmed by their
numbers the countries through which they passed, and although they
came not as soldiers, they were designated “_the armies of the Lord_.”
In the year 1054, Litbert, bishop of Cambrai, set out for the Holy
Land, followed by more than three thousand pilgrims from the provinces
of Picardy and Flanders.[32] When he began his march, the people and
the clergy accompanied him three leagues from the city, and with eyes
bathed in tears, implored of God the happy return of their bishop and
their brethren. The pilgrims traversed Germany without encountering
any enemies, but on reaching Bulgaria, they found none but men who
inhabited the forests and subsisted upon plunder. Many were massacred
by these barbarous people, and some perished with hunger in the midst
of the deserts. Litbert arrived with much difficulty at Laodicea,
embarked with those who followed him, and was cast upon the coast of
Cyprus by a tempest. He had seen the greater part of his companions
perish, and the remainder were nearly sinking under their various
miseries. Returned to Laodicea, they learnt that still greater dangers
awaited them on the route to Jerusalem. The bishop of Cambrai felt his
courage abandon him, and believed that God himself was opposed to his
pilgrimage. He returned through a thousand dangers to his diocese,
where he built a church in honour of the holy sepulchre, which he had
never seen.

Ten years after the voyage of Litbert, seven thousand Christians,
among whom were the archbishop of Mayence, and the bishops of Spires,
Cologne, Bamberg, and Utrecht, set out together from the banks of the
Rhine, to repair to Palestine. This numerous caravan, which was the
forerunner of the Crusades,[33] crossed Germany, Hungary, Bulgaria, and
Thrace, and was welcomed at Constantinople by the emperor Constantine
Ducas. After having visited the churches of Byzantium, and the numerous
relics which were the objects of the veneration of the Greeks, the
pilgrims of the West traversed Asia Minor and Syria without danger; but
when they approached Jerusalem, the sight of their riches aroused the
cupidity of the Bedouin Arabs, undisciplined hordes, who had neither
country nor settled abode, and who had rendered themselves formidable
in the civil wars of the East. The Arabs attacked the pilgrims of the
West, and compelled them to sustain a siege in an abandoned village;
and this was on a Good Friday. On such a sacred day, the pilgrims even
who had arms employed them with much hesitation and scruple. Enclosed
within the ruins of an old castle, they resisted for a time, but on
the third day famine compelled them to capitulate. When they came to
the arrangement of the conditions of the peace, there arose a violent
quarrel, which was near leading to the massacre of all the Christians
by the Arabs. The emir of Ramala, informed by some fugitives, came
happily to their rescue, delivered them from the death with which they
were threatened, and permitted them to continue their journey. As the
report of their combats and their perils had preceded them, their
arrival created a great sensation in Jerusalem. They were received in
triumph by the patriarch, and conducted, to the sound of timbrels and
by the light of torches, to the church of the Holy Sepulchre. During
their abode at Jerusalem, the misery into which they were fallen
excited the pity of the Christians. They could not visit the banks of
the Jordan, or the places most renowned in Judea, as these were all now
infested by the Arabs and exposed to their incursions. After having
lost more than three thousand of their companions, they returned to
Europe, to relate their tragical adventures, and the dangers of a
pilgrimage to the Holy Land.[34]

New perils and the most violent persecutions at this period threatened
both the pilgrims of the West and the Christians of Palestine. Asia
was about once again to change masters, and tremble beneath a fresh
tyranny. During several centuries, the rich countries of the East had
been subject to continual invasions from the wild hordes of Tartary.
As fast as the victorious tribes became effeminated by luxury and
prosperity, they were replaced by others retaining all the barbarism of
the deserts. The Turks issuing from countries situated beyond the Oxus,
had rendered themselves masters of Persia, where the uncalculating
policy of Mamouh had received and encouraged their wandering tribes.
The son of Mamouh fought a battle with them, in which he performed
prodigies of valour; “but fortune,” says Feristha, “had declared
herself unpropitious to his arms; he looked around during the fight,
and except the body which he immediately commanded, his whole army had
_devoured the paths of flight_.” Upon the very theatre of their victory
the Turks proceeded to the election of a king. A large number of arrows
were collected into a bundle. Upon each of these arrows was inscribed
the name of a tribe, of a family, and of a warrior. A child drew three
of the arrows in the presence of the whole army, and chance assigned
the throne to Togrul-Beg, grandson of Seldjouc. Togrul-Beg, whose
ambition equalled his courage, embraced, together with his soldiers,
the faith of Mahomet, and soon joined to the title of conqueror that of
protector of the Mussulman religion.

The banks of the Tigris and the Euphrates were then troubled by the
revolt of the emirs, who shared the spoils of the caliphs of Bagdad:
the caliph Cayem implored the assistance of Togrul, and promised the
conquest of Asia to the new master of Persia. Togrul, whom he had
named his temporal vicar, marched at the head of an army, dispersed
the factious and the rebellious, ravaged the provinces, and entered
Bagdad, to prostrate himself at the feet of the caliph, who proclaimed
the triumph of his liberators and their sacred claims to the empire.
In the midst of an imposing ceremony, Togrul was successively clothed
with seven robes of honour; and seven slaves born in the seven climates
of Arabia were presented to him. Two crowns were placed upon his head,
and, as an emblem of his dominion over the East and the West, they
girded him with two scimitars. This ceremony rendered the usurpation
of the Turks legitimate in the eyes of the Mussulmans. The empire
which the vicar of Mahomet pointed out to their ambition was speedily
conquered by their arms. Under the reign of Alp-Arsland, and that of
Malek-Scha, the successors of Togrul, the seven branches of the dynasty
of Seldjouc shared amongst them the largest kingdoms of Asia. Thirty
years had scarcely passed away since the Tartars conquered Persia, and
already their military and pastoral colonies extended from the Oxus to
the Euphrates, and from the Indus to the Hellespont.

One of the lieutenants of Malek-Scha carried the terror of his arms to
the banks of the Nile, and wrested Syria from the hands of the Fatimite
caliphs. Palestine yielded to the power of the Turks, and the black
flag of the Abassides floated triumphantly over the walls of Jerusalem.
The conquerors spared neither the Christians nor the children of Aly,
whom the caliph of Bagdad represented to be the enemies of God. The
Egyptian garrison was massacred, and the mosques and the churches were
delivered up to pillage. The holy city was flooded with the blood of
Christians and Mussulmans.

The possession of Jerusalem in no degree arrested the barbarous fury of
the Turks. As their empire was recent and ill-established, as they were
threatened with the armies of Cairo, and even with those of the West,
their tyranny became restless, jealous, and violent. The Christians
trembled under the hardest and most humiliating subjugation; they were
despoiled of their property, and reduced to the most frightful degree
of misery. They underwent much greater evils than they had suffered
during the reign of Hakim.

A great number of those who had quitted their families and their
country to visit the tomb of Christ, lost their lives before they were
able to enjoy the felicity of saluting the holy city; and they who
arrived at Jerusalem after having escaped a thousand dangers, found
themselves exposed to the insults and cruelties of the new masters
of Judea. The pilgrims of the Latin Church who returned into Europe,
related all that they had suffered in their voyage, and told, with
groans, of the outrages committed upon the religion of Christ. They had
seen the holy sepulchre profaned, and the ceremonies of the Christians
become the sport of the infidels; they had seen the patriarchs of
Jerusalem and the venerable guardians of the holy places dragged from
their sanctuary and cast ignominiously into dungeons. These recitals,
exaggerated by repetition, flew from mouth to mouth, and drew tears
from the eyes of the faithful.

Whilst the Turks, under the command of Toutousch and Ortock, were
desolating Syria and Palestine, other tribes of that nation, led by
Soliman, nephew of Malek-Scha, had penetrated into Asia Minor. They
took possession of all the provinces through which pilgrims were
accustomed to pass on their way to Jerusalem. These countries, in which
the Christian religion had first shone forth, and the greater part of
the Greek cities whose names were conspicuous in the annals of the
primitive church, sunk under the yoke of the infidels. The standard
of the prophet floated over the walls of Edessa, Iconium, Tarsus, and
Antioch. Nicea had become the seat of a Mussulman empire, and the
divinity of Christ was insulted in that city wherein the first œcumenic
council had declared it to be an article of faith. The modesty of the
virgins had been sacrificed to the brutal lust of the conquerors.
Thousands of children had been circumcised.[35] Everywhere the laws of
the Koran took place of those of the Evangelists and of Greece. The
black or white tents of the Turks covered the plains and the mountains
of Bithynia and Cappadocia, and their flocks pastured among the ruins
of the monasteries and churches.

The Greeks had never had to contend against more cruel and terrible
enemies than the Turks. Whilst the court of Alp-Arslan and Malek-Scha
blazed with magnificence and cultivated the knowledge and intelligence
of the ancient Persians, the rest of the people remained in a state
of barbarism, and preserved, amidst the conquered nations, all the
ferocious and savage manners of Tartary. The children of Seldjouc loved
better to abide under their tents than in the walls of cities; they
lived upon the milk of their flocks, disdaining both agriculture and
commerce, in the conviction that war would supply all their wants.
For themselves, their home was every region in which their arms could
prevail and their flocks find rich pastures. When they passed from
one country into another, all the members of the same family marched
together; they took with them all that they loved, and all that they
possessed. A constantly wandering life, and frequent quarrels among
themselves and with their neighbours, kept up their military spirit.
Every warrior carried his name inscribed upon his javelin, and swore to
make it respected by his enemies. So eager were the Turks for battle,
that it was quite sufficient if a chief sent his bow or his arrows
among his tribe, to make them all instantly fly to arms.

The patience with which they supported hunger, thirst, and fatigue,
rendered them invincible. No nation of the East surpassed them in
horsemanship, or in skill with the bow; nothing could exceed the
impetuosity of their attack, and they were at the same time redoubtable
in flight, and implacable in victory. They were not guided in their
expeditions by a desire for glory or a sense of honour, but simply by a
love of destruction and pillage.

The report of their invasions had spread among the nations of Caucasus
and the Caspian Sea, and new migrations appeared to arrive every day
to strengthen their armies. As they were docile in war, and turbulent
and rebellious in peace, it was the policy of their chiefs to lead them
constantly on to new conquests. Malek-Scha, with a view to get rid of
his lieutenants rather than to reward them, had given them permission
to attempt the conquest of the lands of the Greeks and Egyptians. It
was an easy matter to raise armies, to which were promised the spoils
of the enemies of the prophet and his legitimate vicar. All who had not
shared in the booty of preceding wars flocked to the standards, and the
wealth of Greece soon became the prey of Turkish horsemen, who had but
recently issued from their deserts with woollen caps and stirrups of
wood. Of all the hordes subject to the dynasty of Seldjouc the troops
that invaded Syria and Asia Minor were the poorest, the most wild, and
the most intrepid.

In the depth of their misery, the Greeks of the conquered provinces
scarcely dared to lift their eyes to the sovereigns of Byzantium, who
had not had the courage to defend them, and therefore left them no
hope that they would assist them in their troubles. In the midst of
revolutions and civil wars, the Greek empire was hastening to its fall.
Since the reign of Heraclius, Constantinople had seen eleven of its
emperors put to death in their own palace. Six of these masters of the
world had terminated their days in the obscurity of cloisters; several
had been mutilated, deprived of sight, and sent into exile; the purple,
stained and degraded by so many revolutions, decorated only wicked and
contemptible princes, or men without character or virtue. Their whole
employment was their own personal safety; and they were compelled
to share their power with the accomplices of their crimes, of whom
they lived in a constant state of dread. They frequently sacrificed
cities and provinces, to purchase from their enemies a few moments of
security, and appeared to have nothing to ask of fortune beyond the
existence of the empire during their own worthless lives.

The Greeks still cherished great names and great remembrances, of
which they were proud, but which only served to show their present
weakness and degradation. In the midst of the luxury of Asia and the
monuments of Greece and Rome, they were scarcely less barbarous than
other nations. In their theological disputes they had lost the true
spirit of the Evangelists; among them everything was corrupted, even
religion. A universal bigotry, says Montesquieu, depressed their
courage and paralyzed the whole empire. They neglected the dangers
of their country, and became zealots for a relic or for a sect. In
war, superstition pointed out to the Greeks lucky and unlucky days,
in which a general ought or ought not to give battle; and as religion
inspired in them nothing beyond an apathetic resignation in reverses,
they consoled themselves for the loss of provinces by accusing their
inhabitants of heresy.

Among the Greeks, stratagem and perfidy were decorated with the name
of policy, and received the same encomiums as valour; they esteemed
it as glorious to deceive their enemies as to conquer them. Their
soldiers were followed to the seat of war by light chariots, which
carried their arms; and they had perfected every machine which could
supply the place of courage in either sieges or battles. Their armies
displayed great military pomp, but were deficient in soldiers. The only
thing they inherited from their ancestors was a turbulent and seditious
spirit, which mixed itself with their effeminated manners, and was sure
to break out when their country was threatened with danger. Discord
unceasingly reigned among both the army and the people; and they
continued madly to dispute the right to an empire whose very existence
was menaced, and blindly gave up its defence to barbarians and
strangers. In short, the corruption of the Greeks was so great, that
they could neither have endured a good prince nor good laws. Nicephorus
Phocas, who had formed the project of re-establishing discipline, died
assassinated. Zimisces had also paid with his life for his efforts to
rouse the Greeks from their pusillanimous degradation. When the emperor
Romanus-Diogenes was made prisoner by the Turks, his misfortunes were
the signal for a fresh revolt against his person. Sent back with
honours by the sultan of Persia, he met with nothing but executioners
in an empire he had endeavoured to defend, and died with misery and
despair in a desert island of the Propontis.

Whilst the empire of the East approached near to its fall, and appeared
sapped by time and corruption, the institutions of the West were
in their infancy. The empire and the laws of Charlemagne no longer
existed. Nations had no relations with each other, and mistaking their
political interests, made wars without considering their consequences
or their dangers, and concluded peace, without being at all aware
whether it was advantageous or not. Royal authority was nowhere
sufficiently strong to arrest the progress of anarchy and the abuses
of feudalism. At the same time that Europe was full of soldiers, and
covered with strong castles, the states themselves were without support
against their enemies, and had not an army to defend them. In the
midst of general confusion, there was no security but in camps and
fortresses, by turns the safeguards and the terror of the towns and
the country. The largest cities held out no asylum to liberty, and
the life of man was reckoned so trifling an object, that impunity for
murder could be purchased with a few pieces of money. Frequently, to
detect crime, the judges had recourse to water, fire, and iron; upon
the blind and dumb evidence of the elements, victims were condemned to
death; it was sword in hand that justice was invoked; it was by the
sword that the reparation of wrongs and injuries was to be obtained. No
one would then have been understood who would have spoken of the rights
of nature, or the rights of man; the language of the barons and the
lords comprised only such words as treated of _war_; war was the only
science, the only policy of either princes or states.

Nevertheless, this barbarism of the nations of the West did not at all
resemble that of the Turks, whose religion and manners repelled every
species of civilization or cultivation, nor that of the Greeks, who
were nothing but a corrupted and degenerated people. Whilst the one
exhibited all the vices of a state almost savage, and the other all
the corruption of decay; something heroical and generous was mingled
with the barbarous manners of the Franks, which resembled the passions
of youth, and gave promise of a better future. The Turks were governed
by a gross barbarism, which made them despise all that was noble or
great; the Greeks were possessed by a learned and polished barbarism,
which filled them with disdain for heroism or the military virtues.
The Franks were as brave as the Turks, and set a higher value on glory
than any other people. The principle of _honour_, which gave birth to
chivalry in Europe, directed their bravery, and sometimes assumed the
guise of justice and virtue.

The Christian religion, which the Greeks had reduced to little formulæ
and the vain practices of superstition, was, with them, incapable of
inspiring either great designs or noble thoughts. Among the nations
of the West, as they were yet unacquainted with the disputed dogmas of
Christianity, it had more empire over their minds, it disposed their
hearts more to enthusiasm, and formed amongst them, at once, both
saints and heroes.

Although religion might not always preach its doctrines with success,
and its influence was subject to abuse, it had a tendency to soften the
manners of the barbarous people that had invaded Europe; it afforded a
holy authority to the weak; it inspired a salutary fear in the strong,
and frequently corrected the injustice of human laws.

In the midst of the darkness which covered Europe, the Christian
religion alone preserved the memory of times past, and kept up some
degree of emulation among men. It preserved, also, for happier days,
the language of the royal people, the only one capable of expressing
the grand and noble ideas of moral virtue, in which the genius of
legislation had elevated its most splendid monuments. Whilst despotism
and anarchy pervaded the cities and the kingdoms of the West, the
people invoked religion against tyranny, and the princes called in its
aid against license and revolt. Often, mid the troubles of states, the
title of Christian inspired more respect, and awakened more enthusiasm
than did the name of citizen in ancient Rome. As the Christian religion
had preceded all the then existing institutions, it naturally remained
for a long time surrounded by the veneration and love of the people.
Under more than one relation the nations appeared to recognise no other
legislators than the fathers of the councils, no other code than that
of the gospel and the holy Scriptures. Europe might be considered as
a religious society, wherein the preservation of the faith was the
principal interest, and in which men belonged more to the church than
to the country. In such a state of things it was easy to inflame the
minds of the people, by showing them that the cause of religion and of
Christians stood in need of defence.

Ten years before the invasion of Asia Minor by the Turks, Michael
Ducas, the successor of Romanus-Diogenes, had implored the assistance
of the pope and the princes of the West. He had promised to remove
all the barriers which separated the Greek from the Roman Church,
if the Latins would take up arms against the infidels. Gregory VII.
then filled the chair of St. Peter, and his talents, his knowledge,
his activity, his boldness, together with the inflexibility of his
character, rendered him capable of the greatest undertakings. The
hope of extending the religion and the empire of the Holy See into
the East, made him receive kindly the humble supplications of Michael
Ducas. He exhorted the faithful to take up arms against the Mussulmans,
and engaged to lead them himself into Asia. The misfortunes of the
Christians of the East, said he, in his letters, had moved him even to
feel a contempt for death; he would rather expose his life to deliver
the holy places, than live to command the entire universe. Excited by
his discourses, fifty thousand pilgrims agreed to follow Gregory to
Constantinople, and thence to Syria; but he kept not the promise he had
made, and the affairs of Europe, in which the ambition of the pontiff
was more interested than in those of Asia, suspended the execution of
his projects.

Every day the power of the popes was augmented by the progress of
Christianity, and by the ever-increasing influence of the Latin
clergy. Rome was become a second time the capital of the world, and
appeared to have resumed, under the monk Hildebrand, the empire it
had enjoyed under the Cæsars. Armed with the two-edged sword of
Peter, Gregory loudly proclaimed that all the kingdoms of the earth
were under the dominion of the Holy See, and that his authority ought
to be as universal as the church of which he was the head. These
dangerous pretensions, fostered by the opinions of his age, engaged him
immediately in violent disputes with the emperor of Germany. He desired
also to dictate laws to France, Spain, Sweden, Poland, and England;
and thinking of nothing but making himself acknowledged as the great
arbiter of states, he launched his anathemas even against the throne
of Constantinople, which he had undertaken to defend, and gave no more
attention to the deliverance of Jerusalem.

After the death of Gregory, Victor III., although he pursued the
policy of his predecessor, and had at the same time to contend against
the emperor of Germany and the party of the anti-pope Guibert, did
not neglect the opportunity of making war against the Mussulmans.
The Saracens, inhabiting Africa,[36] disturbed the navigation of the
Mediterranean, and threatened the coast of Italy. Victor invited the
Christians to take arms, and promised them the remission of all their
sins if they went to fight against the infidels. The inhabitants
of Pisa, Genoa, and several other cities, urged by their zeal for
religion, and their desire to defend their commerce, equipped fleets,
levied troops, and made a descent upon the coasts of Africa, where,
if we are to believe the chronicles of the time, they cut in pieces
an army of one hundred thousand Saracens. That we may not doubt, says
Baronius, that God interested himself in the cause of the Christians,
on the very day on which the Italians triumphed over the enemies of
Christ, the news of the victory was carried miraculously beyond the
seas. After having given up to the flames two cities, Al-Mahadia and
Sibila,[37] built within the territories of ancient Carthage, and
forced a king of Mauritania to pay a tribute to the Holy See, the
Genoese and the Pisans returned to Italy, where the spoils of the
conquered were employed in ornamenting the churches.

The pope Victor, however, died without realizing his promise of
attacking the infidels in Asia. The glory of delivering Jerusalem
belonged to a simple pilgrim, possessed of no other power than the
influence of his character and his genius. Some assign an obscure
origin to Peter the Hermit; others say he was descended from a noble
family of Picardy; but all agree that he had an ignoble and vulgar
exterior. Born with a restless, active spirit, he sought, in all
conditions of life, for an object which he could meet with in none. The
study of letters, bearing arms, celibacy, marriage, the ecclesiastical
state, offered nothing to him that could fill his heart or satisfy his
ardent mind. Disgusted with the world and mankind, he retired amongst
the most austere cenobites. Fasting, prayer, meditation, the silence
of solitude, exalted his imagination. In his visions he kept up an
habitual commerce with heaven, and believed himself the instrument of
its designs, and the depositary of its will. He possessed the fervour
of an apostle, with the courage of a martyr. His zeal gave way to no
obstacle, and all that he desired seemed easy of attainment. When he
spoke, the passions with which he was agitated animated his gestures
and his words, and communicated themselves to his auditors.[38] Such
was the extraordinary man who gave the signal to the Crusaders, and
who, without fortune and without name, by the ascendancy of his tears
and prayers alone, succeeded in moving the West to precipitate itself
in a mass upon Asia.

The fame of the pilgrimages to the East drew Peter from his retreat,
and he followed into Palestine the crowd of Christians who went to
visit the holy places. The sight of Jerusalem excited him much more
than any of the other pilgrims, for it created in his ardent mind
a thousand conflicting sentiments. In the city, which exhibited
everywhere marks of the mercy and the auger of God, all objects
inflamed his piety, irritated his devotion and his zeal, and filled him
by turns with respect, terror, and indignation. After having followed
his brethren to Calvary and the tomb of Christ, he repaired to the
patriarch of Jerusalem. The white hairs of Simeon, his venerable
figure, and, above all, the persecution which he had undergone, bespoke
the full confidence of Peter, and they wept together over the ills of
the Christians. The hermit, his heart torn, his face bathed in tears,
asked if there was no termination to be looked for, no remedy to be
devised, for so many calamities? “Oh, most faithful of Christians!”
replied the patriarch, “is it not plain that our iniquities have shut
us out from all access to the mercy of the Lord? All Asia is in the
power of the Mussulmans, all the East is sunk into a state of slavery;
no power on earth can assist us.” At these words Peter interrupted
Simeon, and pointed out to him the hope that the warriors of the West
might one day be the liberators of Jerusalem. “Yes, without doubt,”
replied the patriarch, “when the measure of our afflictions shall
be full, when God will be moved by our miseries, he will soften the
hearts of the princes of the West, and will send them to the succour
of the holy city.” At these words Peter and Simeon felt their hearts
expand with hope, and embraced each other, shedding tears of joy. The
patriarch resolved to implore, by his letters, the help of the pope
and the princes of Europe, and the hermit swore to be the interpreter
of the Christians of the East, and to rouse the West to take arms for
their deliverance.

After this interview, the enthusiasm of Peter knew no bounds; he was
persuaded that Heaven itself called upon him to avenge its cause. One
day, whilst prostrated before the holy sepulchre, he believed that he
heard the voice of Christ, which said to him, “Peter, arise! hasten to
proclaim the tribulations of my people; it is time that my servants
should receive help, and that the holy places should be delivered.”
Full of the spirit of these words, which sounded unceasingly in
his ears, and charged with letters from the patriarch, he quitted
Palestine, crossed the seas, landed on the coast of Italy, and hastened
to cast himself at the feet of the pope. The chair of St. Peter was
then occupied by Urban II., who had been the disciple and confidant of
both Gregory and Victor. Urban embraced with ardour a project which
had been entertained by his predecessors; he received Peter as a
prophet, applauded his design, and bade him go forth and announce the
approaching deliverance of Jerusalem.

Peter the Hermit traversed Italy, crossed the Alps, visited all parts
of France, and the greatest portion of Europe, inflaming all hearts
with the same zeal that consumed his own. He travelled mounted on a
mule, with a crucifix in his hand, his feet bare, his head uncovered,
his body girded with a thick cord, covered with a long frock, and a
hermit’s hood of the coarsest stuff. The singularity of his appearance
was a spectacle for the people, whilst the austerity of his manners,
his charity, and the moral doctrines that he preached, caused him to be
revered as a saint wherever he came.

He went from city to city, from province to province, working upon the
courage of some, and upon the piety of others; sometimes haranguing
from the pulpits of the churches, sometimes preaching in the high
roads or public places. His eloquence was animated and impressive,
and filled with those vehement apostrophes which produce such effects
upon an uncultivated multitude. He described the profanation of the
holy places, and the blood of the Christians shed in torrents in the
streets of Jerusalem. He invoked, by turns, Heaven, the saints, the
angels, whom he called upon to bear witness to the truth of what he
told them. He apostrophized Mount Sion, the rock of Calvary, and the
Mount of Olives, which he made to resound with sobs and groans. When
he had exhausted speech in painting the miseries of the faithful, he
showed the spectators the crucifix which he carried with him; sometimes
striking his breast and wounding his flesh, sometimes shedding torrents
of tears.

The people followed the steps of Peter in crowds. The preacher of the
holy war was received everywhere as a messenger from God. They who
could touch his vestments esteemed themselves happy, and a portion of
hair pulled from the mule he rode was preserved as a holy relic. At
the sound of his voice, differences in families were reconciled, the
poor were comforted, the debauched blushed at their errors, nothing was
talked of but the virtues of the eloquent cenobite; his austerities and
his miracles were described, and his discourses were repeated to those
who had not heard him, and been edified by his presence.

He often met, in his journeys, with Christians from the East, who
had been banished from their country, and wandered over Europe,
subsisting on charity. Peter the Hermit presented them to the people,
as living evidences of the barbarity of the infidels; and pointing
to the rags with which they were clothed, he burst into torrents of
invectives against their oppressors and persecutors. At the sight of
these miserable wretches, the faithful felt, by turns, the most lively
emotions of pity, and the fury of vengeance; all deploring in their
hearts the miseries and the disgrace of Jerusalem. The people raised
their voices towards heaven, to entreat God to deign to cast a look of
pity upon his beloved city; some offering their riches, others their
prayers, but all promising to lay down their lives for the deliverance
of the holy places.

In the midst of this general excitement, Alexius Comnena, who was
threatened by the Turks, sent ambassadors to the pope, to solicit
the assistance of the Latins. Some time before this embassy he
had addressed letters to the princes of the West, in which he had
described to them, in a most lamentable manner, the conquests of
the Turks in Asia Minor. These savage hordes, in their debauches
and in the intoxication of victory, had outraged both nature and
humanity.[39] They were now at the gates of Byzantium, and, without
the prompt assistance of all the Christian states, Constantinople
must fall under the most frightful domination of the Turks. Alexius
reminded the princes of Christianity of the holy relics preserved in
Constantinople, and conjured them to save so sacred an assemblage of
venerated objects from the profanation of the infidels. After having
set forth the splendour and the riches of his capital, he exhorted
the knights and barons to come and defend them; he offered them his
treasures as the reward of their valour, and painted in glowing colours
the beauty of the Greek women, whose love would repay the exploits
of his liberators. Thus, nothing was spared that could flatter the
passions, or arouse the enthusiasm of the warriors of the West. The
invasion of the Turks was, in the eyes of Alexius, the greatest
misfortune that the chief of a Christian kingdom had to dread; and to
avert such a danger, everything appeared to him just and allowable. He
could support the idea of losing his crown, but not the shame of seeing
his states subjected to the laws of Mahomet: if he was doomed one day
to lose his empire, he could console himself for that loss, provided
Greece escaped the Mussulman yoke, and became the prize of the Latins.

In compliance with the prayers of Alexius and the wishes of the
faithful, the sovereign pontiff convoked a council at Plaisance, in
order there to expose the dangers of the Greek and Latin Churches
in the East. The preachings of Peter had so prepared the minds and
animated the zeal of the faithful, that more than two hundred bishops
and archbishops, four thousand ecclesiastics, and thirty thousand of
the laity obeyed the invitation of the Holy See. The council was so
numerous that it was obliged to be held in a plain in the neighbourhood
of the city.

At this assembly all eyes were turned upon the ambassadors of Alexius;
their presence in the midst of a Latin council, announced sufficiently
plainly the disastrous condition of the East. When they had exhorted
the princes and the warriors to save Constantinople and Jerusalem,
Urban supported their discourse and their prayers with all the reasons
which the interests of Christianity and the cause of religion could
furnish. The council of Plaisance, however, came to no determination
upon the war against the infidels. The deliverance of the Holy Land was
far from being the only object of this council: the declarations of the
empress Adelaide, who came to reveal her own shame, and that of her
husband, anathemas against the emperor of Germany and the anti-pope,
Guibert, occupied, during several days, the attention of Urban and the
assembled fathers.

It must be added, too, that among the states of Italy, in which country
this council was held, the spirit of commerce and liberty began to
weaken the enthusiasm of religion. The greater part of the cities only
thought of the advantages that might accrue to them from the troubles;
some entertaining hopes they would increase their wealth, others
looking to them as a means of securing their independence, and none
yielding so freely as other nations to the influence of the popes.
Whilst the Christian world revered in Urban the formidable successor of
Gregory, the Italians, whose charity he had frequently implored, were
best acquainted with his disgraces and misfortunes: his presence did
not in any degree warm their zeal, and his decrees were not always laws
for them, who had seen him, from the depths of misery and in exile,
launch his thunders against the thrones of the West.

The prudent Urban avoided trying to arouse the ardour of the Italians;
he did not think their example at all likely to lead on other nations.
In order to take a decided part in the civil war, and to interest all
Europe in its success, he resolved to assemble a second synod, in the
bosom of a warlike nation, which, from the most distant times, had been
accustomed to give impulsion to Europe. The new council assembled at
Clermont, in Auvergne, was neither less numerous nor respectable than
that of Plaisance; the most renowned holy men and learned doctors came
to honour it with their presence, and enlighten it with their counsels.
The city of Clermont was scarcely able to contain within its walls
all the princes, ambassadors, and prelates who had repaired to the
council; “so that,” says an ancient chronicle,[40] “towards the middle
of the month of November, the cities and villages of the neighbourhood
were so filled with people, that they were compelled to erect tents
and pavilions in the fields and meadows, although the season and the
country were extremely cold.”

Before it gave up its attention to the holy war, the council at first
considered the reform of the clergy and ecclesiastical discipline; and
it then occupied itself in placing a restraint upon the license of wars
among individuals. In these barbarous times even simple knights never
thought of redressing their injuries by any other means than arms. It
was not an uncommon thing to see families, for the slightest causes,
commence a war against each other that would last during several
generations; Europe was distracted with troubles occasioned by these
hostilities. In the impotence of the laws and the governments, the
Church often exerted its salutary influence to restore tranquillity:
several councils had placed their interdict upon private wars during
four days of the week, and their decrees had invoked the vengeance of
Heaven against disturbers of the public peace. The council of Clermont
renewed the truce of God, and threatened all who refused “_to accept
peace and justice_” with the thunders of the Church. One of its decrees
placed widows, orphans, merchants, and labourers under the safeguard of
religion. They declared, as they had already done in other councils,
that the churches should be so many inviolable sanctuaries, and that
crosses, even, placed upon the high roads should become points of
refuge against violence.

Humanity and reason must applaud such salutary decrees; but the
sovereign pontiff, although he presented himself as the defender of
the sanctity of marriage, did not merit the same praises when he
pronounced in this council an anathema against Philip I.: but such was
then the general infatuation, that no one was astonished that a king of
France should be excommunicated in the very bosom of his own kingdom.
The sentence of Urban could not divert attention from an object that
seemed much more imposing, and the excommunication of Philip scarcely
holds a place in the history of the council of Clermont. The faithful,
gathered from all the provinces, had but one single thought; they
spoke of nothing but the evils the Christians endured in Palestine,
and saw nothing but the war which was about to be declared against
the infidels. Enthusiasm and fanaticism, which always increase in
large assemblies, were carried to their full height. Urban at length
satisfied the impatience of the faithful, impatience which he, perhaps,
had adroitly excited, and which was the surest guarantee of success.

The council held its tenth sitting in the great square or place of
Clermont, which was soon filled by an immense crowd. Followed by
his cardinals, the pope ascended a species of throne which had been
prepared for him; at his side was Peter the Hermit, clad in that
whimsical and uncouth garb which had everywhere drawn upon him the
attention and the respect of the multitude. The apostle of the holy war
spoke first of the outrages committed against the religion of Christ;
he reverted to the profanations and the sacrileges of which he had been
a witness; he pictured the torments and persecutions which a people,
enemies to God and man, had caused those to suffer who had been led by
religion to visit the holy places. He had seen, he said, Christians
loaded with irons, dragged into slavery, or harnessed to the yoke, like
the vilest animals; he had seen the oppressors of Jerusalem sell to the
children of Christ permission to salute the temple of their God, tear
from them even the bread of their misery, and torment their poverty
itself to obtain their tribute; he had seen the ministers of God
dragged from their sanctuaries, beaten with rods, and condemned to an
ignominious death. Whilst describing the misfortunes and degradation of
the Christians, the countenance of Peter was cast down, and exhibited
feelings of consternation and horror; his voice was choked with sobs;
his lively emotion penetrated every heart.

Urban, who spoke after Peter, represented, as he had done, the holy
places as profaned by the domination of the infidels. That land,
consecrated by the presence of the Saviour, that mountain whereon he
expiated our sins by his sufferings,—that tomb in which he deigned
to be enclosed as a victim to death, had all become the heritage of
the impious. The altars of false prophets were raised within those
walls which had contained the august assembly of the apostles. God
had no longer a sanctuary in his own city; the East, the cradle of
the Christian religion, now witnessed nothing but sacrilegious pomps;
impiety had spread its darkness over all the richest countries of Asia.
Antioch, Ephesus, Nicea, had become Mussulman cities; the Turks had
carried their ravages and their odious dominion even to the Straits of
the Hellespont, to the very gates of Constantinople, and from thence
they threatened the West.

The sovereign pontiff[41] addressed himself to all the nations that
were represented at the council, and particularly to the French, who
formed the majority: “Nation beloved by God,” said he, “it is in your
courage that the Christian church has placed its hope; it is because
I am well acquainted with your piety and your bravery, that I have
crossed the Alps, and am come to preach the word of God in these
countries. You have not forgotten that the land you inhabit has been
invaded by the Saracens, and that but for the exploits of Charles
Martel and Charlemagne, France would have received the laws of Mahomet.
Recall, without ceasing, to your minds the danger and the glory of your
fathers; led by heroes whose names should never die, they delivered
your country, they saved the West from shameful slavery. More noble
triumphs await you, under the guidance of the God of armies; you will
deliver Europe and Asia; you will save the city of Jesus Christ,—that
Jerusalem which was chosen by the Lord, and from whence the law is come
to us.”

As Urban proceeded, the sentiments by which he was animated penetrated
to the very souls of his auditors. When he spoke of the captivity
and the misfortunes of Jerusalem, the whole assembly was dissolved
in tears; when he described the tyranny and the perfidy of the
infidels, the warriors who listened to him clutched their swords, and
swore in their hearts to avenge the cause of the Christians. Urban
redoubled their enthusiasm by announcing that God had chosen them to
accomplish his designs, and exhorted them to turn those arms against
the Mussulmans which they now bore in conflict against their brothers.
They were not now called upon to revenge the injuries of men, but
injuries offered to divinity; it was now not the conquest of a town or
a castle that was offered to them as the reward of their valour, but
the riches of Asia, the possession of a land in which, according to the
promises of the Scriptures, flowed streams of milk and honey.

The pontiff sought to awaken in their minds, by turns, ambition, the
love of glory, religious enthusiasm, and pity for their Christian
brethren. “There scarcely exists,” said he, “a Christian family into
which the Mussulmans have not brought mourning and despair. How many
Christians every year leave the West, to find in Asia nothing but
slavery or death! Bishops have been delivered over to the executioner;
the virgins of the Lord have been outraged; holy places have been
despoiled of their ornaments; the offerings of piety have become
the booty of the enemies of God; the children of the faithful have
forgotten in bondage the faith of their fathers, and bear upon their
bodies the impression of their opprobrium. Witnesses of so many
calamities, the Christians of Jerusalem would long since have left
the holy city, if they had not imposed upon themselves the obligation
of succouring and consoling pilgrims, if they had not feared to leave
without priests, without altars, without worshippers, a land where
still smokes the blood of Jesus Christ.

“I will not seek to dry the tears which images so painful for a
Christian, for a minister of religion, for the common father of the
faithful, must draw from you. Let us weep, my brethren, let us weep
over the errors which have armed the anger of God against us; let us
weep over the captivity of the holy city! But evil be to us, if, in our
sterile pity, we longer leave the heritage of the Lord in the hands
of the impious! Why should we taste here a moment’s repose whilst the
children of Jesus Christ live in the midst of torments, and the queen
of cities groans in chains?

“Christian warriors, who seek without end for vain pretexts for war,
rejoice, for you have to-day found true ones. You, who have been so
often the terror of your fellow-citizens, go and fight against the
barbarians, go and fight for the deliverance of the holy places; you
who sell for vile pay the strength of your arms to the fury of others,
armed with the sword of the Machabees, go and merit an eternal reward.
If you triumph over your enemies, the kingdoms of the East will be your
heritage; if you are conquered, you will have the glory of dying in the
very same place as Jesus Christ, and God will not forget that he shall
have found you in his holy ranks. This is the moment to prove that you
are animated by a true courage; this is the moment in which you may
expiate so many violences committed in the bosom of peace, so many
victories purchased at the expense of justice and humanity. If you must
have blood, bathe your hands in the blood of the infidels. I speak to
you with harshness, because my ministry obliges me to do so: SOLDIERS
OF HELL, BECOME SOLDIERS OF THE LIVING GOD! When Jesus Christ summons
you to his defence, let no base affections detain you in your homes;
see nothing but the shame and the evils of the Christians; listen to
nothing but the groans of Jerusalem, and remember well what the Lord
has said to you: ‘_He who loves his father and his mother more than me,
is not worthy of me; whoever will abandon his house, or his father, or
his mother, or his wife, or his children, or his inheritance, for the
sake of my name, shall be recompensed a hundredfold, and possess life
eternal._’”

At these words the auditors of Urban displayed an enthusiasm that
human eloquence had never before inspired. The assembly arose in one
mass as one man, and answered him with a unanimous cry, “_It is the
will of God! It is the will of God!_”[42] “Yes, without doubt, it is
the will of God,” continued the eloquent Urban; “you to-day see the
accomplishment of the word of our Saviour, who promised to be in the
midst of the faithful, when assembled in his name; it is He who has
dictated to you the words that I have heard. Let them be your war-cry,
and let them announce everywhere the presence of the God of armies.”
On finishing these words, the pontiff exhibited to the assembled
Christians, the sign of their redemption. “It is Christ himself,”
said he to them, “who issues from his tomb, and presents to you his
cross: it will be the sign raised among the nations, which is to gather
together again the dispersed children of Israel. Wear it upon your
shoulders and upon your breasts; let it shine upon your arms and upon
your standards; it will be to you the surety of victory or the palm of
martyrdom; it will unceasingly remind you that Christ died for you, and
that it is your duty to die for him.”

When Urban had ceased to speak, loud acclamations burst from the
multitude. Pity, indignation, despair, at the same time agitated the
tumultuous assembly of the faithful: some shed tears over Jerusalem and
the fate of the Christians; others swore to exterminate the race of the
Mussulmans; but, all at once, at a signal from the sovereign pontiff,
the most profound silence prevailed. Cardinal Gregory, who afterwards
occupied the chair of St. Peter under the name of Innocent II.,
pronounced, in a loud voice, a form of general confession, the assembly
all fell upon their knees, beat their breasts, and received absolution
for their sins.

Adhémar de Monteil, bishop of Puy, demanded to be first allowed to
enter into the _way of God_, and took the cross from the hands of the
pope; several other bishops following his example. Raymond, count
of Thoulouse, excused himself by his ambassadors for not being able
to be present at the council of Clermont; he had already, he said,
fought against the Saracens in Spain, and he promised to go and fight
against them in Asia, followed by the bravest and most faithful of his
warriors. The barons and knights who had heard the exhortations of
Urban, all took a solemn oath to revenge the cause of Jesus Christ;
they forgot their private quarrels, and even they who were at actual
war had no longer any enemies than the Mussulmans. All the faithful
promised to respect the decrees of the council, and decorated their
garments with a red cross. From that time, all who engaged to combat
the infidels were termed “_Bearers of the Cross_,”[43] and the holy
war took the name of _Crusade_. The faithful solicited Urban to place
himself at their head; but the pontiff, who had not yet triumphed
over the anti-pope Guibert, who was dealing out at the same time his
anathemas against the king of France and the emperor of Germany, could
not quit Europe without compromising the power and the policy of the
Holy See. He refused to be chief of the crusade, and named the bishop
of Puy apostolic legate with the army of the Christians.

He promised to all who assumed the cross, the entire remission of their
sins. Their persons, their families, their property, were all placed
under the protection of the Church, and of the apostles St. Peter and
St. Paul. The council declared that every violence exercised upon the
soldiers of Christ should be punished by anathema, and recommended its
decrees in favour of the bearers of the cross to the watchful care of
all bishops and priests. It regulated the discipline and the departure
of those who had enrolled themselves in the holy ranks, and for fear
reflection might deter any from leaving their homes, it threatened with
excommunication all those who did not fulfil their vows.

Fame soon spread everywhere the war that had just been declared against
the infidels. When the bishops returned to their dioceses, they still
continued to bestow their blessings upon the crosses of the crowds of
Christians that required to be led to the conquest of the Holy Land.
Urban went through several provinces of France, to finish the work he
had so happily begun. In the cities of Rouen, Tours, and Nîmes he held
councils, in which he deplored the fate of the Christians of the East:
everywhere the people and the great, the nobles and the clergy, obeyed
the pressing exhortations of the pontiff, and promised to take arms
against the Mussulmans.

It might be said that the French had no longer any other country than
the Holy Land, and that to it they were bound to sacrifice their ease,
their property, and their lives. This enthusiasm, which had no bounds,
was not long in extending itself to the other Christian nations;
the flame which consumed France was communicated to England, still
disturbed by the recent conquest of the Normans; to Germany, troubled
by the anathemas of Gregory and Urban; to Italy, agitated by its
factions; to Spain even, although it had to combat the Saracens on its
own territory. Such was the ascendancy of the religion outraged by the
infidels, such was the influence of the example given by the French,
that all Christian nations seemed to forget, at once, the objects of
their ambition or their fears, and furnished, for the crusade, soldiers
that they absolutely required to defend themselves. The entire West
resounded with these words: “_He who will not take up his cross and
come with me, is not worthy of me._”

The devotion for pilgrimages, which had been increasing during several
centuries, became a passion and an imperative want for most Christians;
every one was eager to march to Jerusalem, and to take part in the
crusade, which was, in all respects, an armed pilgrimage. The situation
in which Europe was then placed, no doubt contributed to increase the
number of pilgrims: “all things were in such disorder,” says William
of Tyre, “that the world appeared to be approaching to its end, and
was ready to fall again into the confusion of chaos.” Everywhere the
people, as I have already said, groaned under a horrible servitude;
a frightful scarcity of provisions, which had, during several years,
desolated France and the greater part of the kingdoms of the West,
had given birth to all sorts of brigandage and violence; and these
proving the destruction of agriculture and commerce, increased still
further the horrors of the famine. Villages, towns even, became void of
inhabitants, and sank into ruins. The people abandoned a land which no
longer nourished them, or could offer them either repose or security:
the standard of the cross appeared to them a certain asylum against
misery and oppression. According to the decrees of the council of
Clermont, the Crusaders were freed from all imposts, and could not be
pursued for debts during their voyage. At the name of the cross, the
very laws suspended their menaces, tyranny could not seek its victims,
nor justice even the guilty, amidst those whom the Church adopted for
its defenders. The assurance of impunity, the hope of a better fate,
the love of license, and a desire to shake off the most sacred ties,
actuated a vast proportion of the multitude which flocked to the
banners of the crusade.

Many nobles who had not at first taken the cross, and who saw their
vassals set out, without having the power to prevent them, determined
to follow them as military chiefs, in order to preserve some portion
of their authority. The greater part of the counts and barons had no
hesitation in quitting Europe, which the council had declared to be
in a state of peace, as it no longer afforded them an opportunity of
distinguishing themselves by their valour; they had all many crimes
to expiate; “they were promised,” says Montesquieu, “expiation in the
indulgence of their dominant passion,—they took up, therefore, the
cross and arms.”

The clergy themselves set the example. Many of the bishops, who bore
the titles of counts and barons, and who were accustomed to make war
in defence of the rights of their bishoprics, thought it their duty
to arm for the cause of Jesus Christ. The priests, to give greater
weight to their exhortations, themselves assumed the cross; a great
number of pastors resolved to follow their flocks to Jerusalem; not a
few of them, as we shall see hereafter, having in their minds the rich
bishoprics of Asia, and allowing themselves to be led by the hope of
some day occupying the most celebrated sees of the Eastern church.

In the midst of the anarchy and troubles which had desolated Europe
since the reign of Charlemagne, there had arisen an association of
noble knights, who wandered over the world in search of adventures;
they had taken an oath to protect innocence, to fight against infidels,
and, by a singular contrast, called themselves _the Champions of God
and of Beauty_. The religion which had consecrated their institution
and blessed their sword, called them to its defence, and the order of
chivalry, which owes a great part of its splendour and progress to
the holy wars, saw its warriors hasten to range themselves under the
banners of the cross.

Ambition was, perhaps, not foreign to the devotion for the cause of
Christ. If religion promised its rewards to those who were going to
fight for it, fortune promised them, likewise, riches and the thrones
of the earth. All who returned from the East, spoke with enthusiasm
of the wonders they had seen, and of the rich provinces they had
traversed. It was known that two or three hundred Norman pilgrims had
conquered Apulia and Sicily from the Saracens. The lands occupied by
the infidels appeared to be heritages promised to knights whose whole
wealth consisted in their birth, their valour, and their sword.[44]

We should nevertheless deceive ourselves if we did not believe that
religion was the principle which acted most powerfully upon the greater
number of the Crusaders. In ordinary times men follow their natural
inclinations, and only obey the voice of their own interest; but in
the times of the Crusades, religious fever was a blind passion, which
spoke louder than all others. Religion permitted not any other glory,
any other felicity to be seen by its ardent defenders, but those which
she presented to their heated imagination. Love of country, family
ties, the most tender affections of the heart, were all sacrificed
to the ideas and the opinions which then possessed the whole of
Europe. Moderation was cowardice, indifference treason, opposition
a sacrilegious interference. The power of the laws was reckoned as
nothing amongst men who believed they were fighting in the cause of
God. Subjects scarcely acknowledged the authority of princes or lords
in anything which concerned the holy war; the master and the slave had
no other title than that of Christian, no other duty to perform than
that of defending his religion, sword in hand.

They whom age or condition appeared to detain in Europe, and whom the
council had exempted from the labours and perils of the crusade, caused
the heaven which called them to the holy war to speak aloud.[45] Women
and children imprinted crosses upon their delicate and weak limbs, to
show the will of God.[46] Monks deserted the cloisters in which they
had sworn to die, believing themselves led by a divine inspiration;
hermits and anchorites issued from forests and deserts, and mingled
with the crowd of Crusaders. What is still more difficult to believe,
thieves and robbers, quitting their secret retreats, came to confess
their crimes, and promised, whilst receiving the cross, to go and
expiate them in Palestine.

Europe appeared to be a land of exile, which every one was eager to
quit. Artisans, traders, labourers, abandoned the occupations by which
they subsisted; barons and lords even renounced the domains of their
fathers. The lands, the cities, the castles for which they had but of
late been at war, all at once lost their value in the eyes of their
possessors, and were given up, for small sums, to those whom the grace
of God had not touched, and who were not called to the happiness of
visiting the holy places and conquering the East.

Contemporary authors relate several miracles which assisted in heating
the minds of the multitude. Stars fell from the firmament; traces of
blood were seen in the heavens; cities, armies, and knights decorated
with the cross, were pictured in the clouds. The monk Robert asserts
that on the very day on which the council of Clermont determined on
the holy war, that decision was proclaimed beyond the seas. “This
news,” adds he, “raised the courage of the Christians in the East, and
caused despair among the nations of Arabia.” As the most effective of
prodigies, saints and kings of preceding ages were said to have issued
from their tombs, and many Frenchmen declared they had seen the shade
of Charlemagne exhorting the Christians to fight against the Mussulmans.

We will not relate all the other miracles reported by historians,
which were believed in an age in which nothing was more common than
prodigies, in which, according to the remark of Fleury, the taste
for the wonderful prevailed greatly over that for the true. The
readers of this history will find quite enough of extraordinary
things in the description of so many great events, for which the
moral world, and even nature herself seemed to have interrupted their
laws. What prodigy, in fact, can more astonish the philosopher, than
to see Europe, which may be said to have been agitated to its very
foundations, move all at once, and like a single man, march in arms
towards the East?

The council of Clermont, which was held in the month of November,
1095, had fixed the departure of the Crusaders for the festival of the
Assumption of the following year. During the winter nothing was thought
of but preparations for the voyage to the Holy Land; every other
care, every other labour was suspended in the cities and the plains.
In the midst of the general excitement, the religion, which animated
all hearts, watched over public order. All at once there was no more
robbery or brigandage heard of.[47] The West was silent, to employ an
expression from the Scripture, and Europe enjoyed during several months
a peace that it had never before known.

They who had taken the cross encouraged each other, and addressed
letters and sent ambassadors to hasten their departure. The
benedictions of the heavens appeared to be promised to those who should
be first ready to march to Jerusalem. Men even, who at the first had
found fault with the delirium of the crusade, accused themselves of
indifference for the cause of religion, and showed no less fervour
than those who had given the example. All were eager to sell their
possessions, but could find no purchasers. The Crusaders despised
everything they could not carry with them; the productions of the earth
were sold at a low price, which all at once brought back abundance even
in the midst of scarcity.

As soon as the spring appeared, nothing could restrain the impatience
of the Crusaders, and they set forward on their march to the places
at which they were to assemble. The greater number went on foot; some
horsemen appeared amongst the multitude; a great many travelled in
cars; they were clothed in a variety of manners, and armed, in the
same way, with lances, swords, javelins, iron clubs, &c. &c. The crowd
of Crusaders presented a whimsical and confused mixture of all ranks
and all conditions; women appeared in arms in the midst of warriors,
prostitution not being forgotten among the austerities of penitence.
Old age was to be seen with infancy, opulence next to misery; the
helmet was confounded with the frock, the mitre with the sword. Around
cities, around fortresses, in the plains, upon the mountains, were
raised tents and pavilions; everywhere was displayed a preparation for
war and festivity. Here was heard the sound of arms or the braying of
trumpets; whilst at a short distance the air was filled with psalms and
spiritual songs. From the Tiber to the ocean, and from the Rhine to the
other side of the Pyrenees, nothing was to be seen but troops of men
marked with the cross, who swore to exterminate the Saracens, and were
chanting their songs of conquest beforehand. On all parts resounded the
war-cry of the Crusaders “_It is the will of God! It is the will of
God!_”

Fathers themselves conducted their children, and made them swear to
conquer or die for Jesus Christ. Warriors tore themselves from the arms
of their wives and from their families, promising to return victorious.
Women or old men, whose weakness was left without support, accompanied
their sons or their husbands to the nearest city, and there, not being
able to separate themselves from the objects of their affections,
determined to follow them to Jerusalem. They who remained in Europe
envied the fate of the Crusaders, and could not restrain their tears;
they who went to seek death in Asia where full of hope and joy.[48]
Families, whole villages set out for Palestine, and drew into their
ranks all they met with on their passage. They marched on without
forethought, and would not believe that he who nourishes the sparrow
would leave pilgrims clothed with the holy cross to perish with want.
Their ignorance added to their illusion, and lent an air of enchantment
to everything they saw; they believed at every moment they were
approaching the end of their pilgrimage. The children of the villagers,
when they saw a city or a castle, asked _if that was Jerusalem_?[49]
Many of the great lords, who had passed their lives in their rustic
donjons, knew very little more on this head than their vassals; they
took with them their hunting and fishing appointments, and marched with
their falcons on their wrists, preceded by their hounds. They expected
to reach Jerusalem, enjoying themselves on the road, and to exhibit to
Asia the rude luxury of their castles.

In the midst of the general delirium, no sage caused the voice of
reason to be heard; nobody was then astonished at that which now
creates so much surprise. These scenes so strange, in which every one
was an actor, could only be a spectacle for posterity.




BOOK II.

A.D. 1096-1097.


THE number of Christians who had taken the cross in the greater part
of the countries of Europe were quite sufficient to form many large
armies. As these armies might exhaust the countries through which they
had to pass, the princes and captains who were to conduct them agreed
among themselves that they should not all set out at one time, but
should pursue different routes, and meet again at Constantinople.

Whilst they were engaged in preparations for departure, the multitude
who followed Peter the Hermit in his preachings, became impatient
to advance before the other Crusaders; and being without a chief,
they cast their eyes upon him whom they considered as an envoy from
heaven. They chose Peter for their general; the cenobite, deceived by
the excess of his zeal, believed that enthusiasm could alone answer
for all the successes of war, and that it would be easy to conduct an
undisciplined troop which had taken up arms at the sound of his voice.
He yielded to the prayers of the multitude, and, clothed in his woollen
mantle, a hood over his head, sandals on his feet, and only mounted
on the mule upon which he had traversed Europe, he took upon himself
the command. His troop, which set out from the banks of the Meuse and
Moselle, proceeded towards Germany, and was increased upon the road
by a vast number of pilgrims hastening from Champagne, Burgundy, and
other parts of France. Peter soon saw from eighty to a hundred thousand
men under his standard. These first Crusaders, dragging in their train
women, children, old men, and numerous sick, began their march upon
the faith of the miraculous promises made them by their general; in
the persuasion they were filled with, that God himself called upon
them to defend his cause, they hoped that rivers would open before
their battalions, and that manna would fall from heaven to feed them.
The army of Peter the Hermit was divided into two bodies; the vanguard
marched under the orders of Walter the Penniless,[50] whose surname,
preserved by history, proves that the chiefs were as miserable as the
soldiers. This vanguard only reckoned eight horsemen; all the rest went
to the conquest of the East asking charity by the way. As long as the
Crusaders were upon the French territory, the charity of the faithful
who were on their route provided for their wants. They warmed the
zeal of the Germans, amongst whom the crusade had not been preached.
Their troop, which was considered everywhere as the people of God, met
with no enemies on the banks of the Rhine; but new Amalekites, the
Hungarians and the Bulgarians, awaited them on the shores of the Morava
and the Danube.

The Hungarians, who had issued from Tartary, had a common origin with
the Turks, and, like them, had rendered themselves formidable to the
Christians. In the tenth century they had invaded Pannonia, and carried
the ravages of war into the richest countries of Europe. Nations
terrified at the progress of their arms, considered them as a scourge
which was sent as a forerunner of the end of the world. Towards the
middle of the eleventh century they embraced the Christianity they had
persecuted. Once obedient to the faith of the Gospel, they began to
build cities and cultivate their land; they felt what it was to have
a country, and ceased to be the terror of their neighbours. At the
period of the first crusade, the Hungarians boasted of having a saint
among their kings,[51] but, still separated from the Christian republic
by their position, they did not at all partake of the fervour of the
Crusaders, and looked on with indifference at the preparations of
Europe for the conquest of Asia.

The Bulgarians, who were descended from the ancient people of
the Sclaves, had by turns protected and ravaged the empire of
Constantinople. Their warriors had killed Nicephorus in battle, and
the skull of an emperor, enchased in gold, served for a long time as
a cup for their chiefs in the orgies of victory. They were afterwards
conquered by Basil, who put out the eyes of fifteen thousand of his
prisoners, and by this act of barbarity roused the whole nation against
Greece. At the time of the crusade, Bulgaria was under the power of the
Greek empire, but it despised the laws and the power of its masters.
The Bulgarian people spread along the southern banks of the Danube, in
the midst of inaccessible forests, preserved their savage independence,
and only recognized the emperors of the East when they saw their
armies. Although they had embraced Christianity, the Bulgarians did not
consider the Christians as their brothers; they neither respected the
laws of nations nor the rights of hospitality, and during the eleventh
century they were the terror of the pilgrims of the West who journeyed
to Jerusalem.

Such were the people whose territories the Crusaders were about to
cross, and among whom want of discipline must necessarily expose them
to the most direful reverses. When the vanguard entered Hungary, they
were only disturbed in their march but by a few insults, which Walter
had the prudence not to avenge; but the resignation of the pilgrims
could not hold out long against the misery which every day increased.
Want and its attendant evils soon dispersed all the sentiments of
moderation to which religion had for a moment given birth in the hearts
of its defenders. The governor of Bulgaria not having been able to
furnish provisions, they spread themselves about over the country,
carried off the flocks, burnt the houses, and massacred several of
the inhabitants who opposed their violences. The irritated Bulgarians
ran to arms, and fell upon the soldiers of Walter loaded with their
booty. A hundred and forty Crusaders perished in the midst of flames,
in a church in which they had taken refuge; the rest sought safety
in flight. After this defeat, which he did not endeavour to repair,
Walter continued his march through the forests of Bulgaria, pursued by
famine, and dragging along the wreck of his army. He presented himself
as a supplicant before the governor of Nissa, who was touched with the
misery of the Crusaders, and gave them provisions, arms, and clothing.

The soldiers of Walter, tried by merited reverses, conducted by a chief
who was wanting in neither skill nor courage, became again attentive to
the voice of religion, and passed through Thrace without committing any
disorders. After two months of fatigue and misery, they arrived under
the walls of Constantinople, where the emperor Alexis permitted them to
wait for the army of Peter the Hermit.

This army, which was then passing through Germany, was about to be
treated worse than its vanguard had been. The cenobite Peter, more
enthusiastic than his soldiers, was more skilful in exciting their zeal
than in directing it. He showed neither the moderation nor the prudence
of his lieutenant, and had no idea how to avoid the dangers which
awaited him on his route. On arriving on the frontiers of Hungary, he
learnt the ill-fortune that his companions had met with,[52] and the
projects of hostilities formed, as he was told, against the army of
the pilgrims. The bodies of several of the Crusaders hung at the gates
of Semlin, which the historians of the crusades call _Malleville_,[53]
attracted his regard and drew forth his indignation. At this sight,
he gave the signal for vengeance and war. The trumpets sounded, the
soldiers seized their arms, and hastened to the carnage. Terror
preceded them into the city. On their first attack the people took to
flight, and sought refuge upon a hill, one side of which was defended
by woods and rocks, and the other by the Danube. They were pursued and
forced into this last asylum by the furious multitude of the Crusaders.
More than four thousand of the inhabitants of Semlin fell under the
swords of the conquerors. The bodies carried down by the river bore
the tidings of this horrible victory as far as Belgrade.

At this intelligence the Bulgarians and Hungarians were seized with
grief and indignation, and in all parts flew to arms. The Crusaders
still remained in Semlin, and were glorifying themselves upon their
triumph, when all at once an army, assembled in haste by Coloman,
king of Hungary, presented itself to their view. Peter had nothing
to oppose to his enemies but the soldiers whose blind fury he had
himself excited, and with whom it was impossible to make any military
disposition. He did not dare to wait for the army of Coloman, and
hastened to cross the Morava.

On gaining the territories of the Bulgarians, the Crusaders found the
villages and cities abandoned; even Belgrade, the capital, was without
inhabitants; they had fled into the forests and mountains. Peter’s
soldiers, after a painful march, in want of provisions, and with
difficulty finding guides to conduct them, arrived at last at the gates
of Nissa, a place sufficiently well fortified to be secure from a first
attack. The Bulgarians showing themselves upon their ramparts, and the
Crusaders leaning on their arms, inspired each other with a mutual
fear. This fear at first prevented hostilities; but harmony could not
last long between an army without discipline and a people that had been
irritated by violence.

The pilgrims, after having obtained provisions, had just set forward
on their march, when a quarrel between the inhabitants and some of
the soldiers caused war to break forth with inveteracy.[54] A hundred
German Crusaders, whom William of Tyre styles _children of Belial_, and
who fancied they had cause of complaint against some merchants, wishing
to avenge themselves, set fire to seven mills placed upon the Nissava.
At the sight of this fire, the inhabitants of Nissa rushed from their
ramparts, and falling upon Peter’s rear-guard, massacred all who
fell in their way, bore off two thousand carriages, and made a great
number of prisoners. Peter, who had already quitted the territory of
Nissa, warned of the disaster of his companions, returned immediately
with the bulk of his army. The eyes of the Crusaders on approaching
the city, were shocked everywhere by beholding the most sorrowful
spectacle. They recognized among the dead friends and brothers, and
burned to revenge them.

The cenobite, however, who feared fresh reverses, had recourse to
negotiations and prayers. Deputies were sent into Nissa, to demand the
prisoners and the baggage of his army, which had been taken by the
Bulgarians. These deputies reminded the governor that they had taken up
the cross, and that they were going to fight in the East for the cause
of Jesus Christ. They appealed to the religion and humanity of the
inhabitants of Nissa, whom they called their brethren.

The governor, who saw nothing in these peaceful words but the language
of fear, showed himself inflexible to their prayers. He sternly sent
them back to their general, telling them that the Crusaders had
themselves given the signal for the war, and that he could see in them
nothing but enemies. When this answer was reported to the army of
Peter, every soldier was fired with indignation. In vain the cenobite
endeavoured to calm their spirits and attempt fresh negotiations; they
accused his fidelity, they suspected his courage. The most ardent flew
to arms; nothing was heard but complaints and menaces; and no Crusader
would submit to any directions but those of his own angry will. Whilst
Peter was conferring with the governor of Nissa, two thousand soldiers
approached the ramparts, and endeavoured to scale them. They were
repulsed by the Bulgarians, and supported by a great number of their
companions. The fight became general, and the fire of carnage blazed on
all parts around the chiefs, who were still speaking of conditions of
peace. In vain the hermit had recourse to supplications, to stop the
mad progress of his soldiers, in vain he placed himself between the
combatants; his voice, so well known to the Crusaders, was lost in the
din of arms. They braved his authority; they despised his prayers. His
army, which fought without order and without leaders, was routed and
cut to pieces. The women, the children, who followed the Crusaders,
their horses, their camp equipages, the chest of the army, which
contained the numerous offerings of the faithful, all became the prey
of an enemy whose fury and vengeance nothing could stop.

The hermit Peter, with the wreck of his troop, took refuge on a hill
in the neighbourhood of the city. He passed the night in alarms,
deploring his defeat, and the sad effects of the violences of which
he had himself given the signal and the example among the Hungarians.
He had around him no more than five hundred men. The trumpets and the
clarions were sounded without ceasing, to recall those who had escaped
the carnage, and had lost themselves in their flight.

Whether it was that the Crusaders could find no safety but under their
own standards, or whether they were still mindful of their oath, none
turned back from the crusade. On the day following their defeat, seven
thousand fugitives came to rejoin their general. A few days after,
Peter mustered beneath his command thirty thousand combatants. All the
rest had perished in the battle fought under the walls of Nissa. The
army of the Crusaders, reduced to a deplorable condition, sought no
opportunity of avenging their defeat, but marched with melancholy steps
towards the frontiers of Thrace. They were without the means either
of subsisting or fighting. They had to fear a fresh defeat if they
encountered the Bulgarians, and all the horrors of famine if they came
to a desert country. Misfortune rendered them more docile, and inspired
them with sentiments of moderation. The pity which their misery excited
was more serviceable to them than the terror which they had wished
to create. When they ceased to be an object of dread, assistance was
afforded them. When they entered the territories of Thrace, the Greek
emperor sent deputies to complain of their disorders, but at the same
time to announce his clemency. Peter, who dreaded new disasters, wept
with joy when he learnt that he had found favour with Alexis. Full of
confidence and hope, he pursued his march, and the Crusaders, carrying
palms in their hands, arrived without further obstacles under the walls
of Constantinople.

The Greeks, who entertained no love for the Latins, were more prodigal
and kind in the assistance they afforded them from finding them less
formidable. They secretly applauded the courage of the Bulgarians,
and contemplated with complacency the warriors of the West covered
with the rags of indigence. The emperor was desirous of seeing the
extraordinary man who had roused the western world by his eloquence,
and Peter was admitted to an audience of Alexis. In the presence of
all his court, the emperor extolled the zeal of the preacher of the
crusade; and as he had nothing to fear from the ambition of a hermit,
he loaded him with presents, caused arms, money, and provisions to be
distributed among his army, and advised him to defer the commencement
of the war to the arrival of the princes and illustrious captains who
had assumed the cross.

This advice was salutary, but the most renowned heroes of the crusade
were not yet ready to leave Europe; they were to be preceded by fresh
troops of Crusaders, who, marching without forethought and without
discipline in the steps of the army of Peter, should commit the
same excesses, and be exposed to the same reverses. A priest of the
Palatinate had preached the crusade in several provinces of Germany. At
his voice fifteen or twenty thousand men had taken the oath to fight
the infidels, and had assembled in an armed body. As the preachers
of the holy war passed for men inspired by God, the people believed
they were obeying the will of heaven in taking them for chiefs of the
crusade. Gotschalk obtained the same honour that had been conferred on
Peter the Hermit, and was elected general by the men he had prevailed
upon to take arms. This army arrived in Hungary towards the end
of summer. The harvest, which was abundant, furnished the Germans
with a ready opportunity of giving themselves up to intemperance.
In the enjoyment of tumultuous scenes of debauchery, they forgot
Constantinople, Jerusalem, and Christ himself, whose worship and laws
they were marching to defend. Pillage, violation, and murder were
everywhere left as the traces of their passage. Coloman assembled
troops to chastise their license, and to recall them to a sense of
the maxims of justice and the laws of hospitality. The soldiers of
Gotschalk were full of courage, and, at first, defended themselves
with advantage. Their resistance even inspired serious alarm among
the Hungarians, who resolved to employ stratagem to reduce them. The
general of Coloman feigned to be desirous of peace. The chiefs of
the Hungarians presented themselves in the camp of the Crusaders,
no longer as enemies, but as brothers. By dint of protestations and
caresses, they persuaded them to allow themselves to be disarmed. The
Germans, slaves of the most brutal passions, but simple and credulous,
yielded to the promises of a Christian people, and abandoned themselves
to a blind confidence, of which they very shortly became the victims.
Scarcely had they laid down their arms when the chief of the Hungarians
gave the signal for the carnage. The prayers, the tears of the
Crusaders, the sacred sign which they bore upon their breasts, could
not divert the blows of a perfidious and barbarous enemy. Their fate
was worthy of pity, and history might have shed tears over it if they
had themselves respected the laws of humanity.

We are doubtless the less astonished at the excesses of the first
Crusaders, when we reflect that they belonged to the lowest class of
the people, always blind, and always ready to abuse names and things
the most holy, when not restrained by laws or leaders. The civil wars,
which had so long disturbed Europe, had greatly increased the number
of vagabonds and adventurers. Germany, more troubled than the other
countries of the West, was filled with men trained in brigandage, and
became the scourge of society. They almost all enrolled themselves
under the banners of the cross, and carried with them into a new
expedition the spirit of license and revolt with which they were
animated.

There assembled on the banks of the Rhine and the Moselle a new troop
of Crusaders, more seditious, more undisciplined, even, than those of
Peter and Gotschalk. They had been told that the crusade procured the
forgiveness of all sins; and in this persuasion they committed the
greatest crimes with security. Animated by a fanatical pride, they
believed themselves entitled to despise and ill-treat all who did not
join in the holy expedition. The war they were about to wage appeared
to them so agreeable to God, and they thought by it to render such a
signal service to the Church, that all the wealth of the earth would be
scarcely sufficient to pay them for their devotion. Everything which
fell into their hands appeared a conquest over the infidels, and became
the just reward of their labours.

No captain durst place himself at the head of this ferocious
troop;[55] they wandered on in disorder, and obeyed none but those
who partook their wild delirium. A priest named Volkmar, and a Count
Emicio, who thought to expiate the wildness of his youth by the excess
of his fanaticism, attracted, by their declamations, the attention
and confidence of the new Crusaders. These two chiefs were astonished
that people should go so far to make war upon the Mussulmans, who kept
up under their own law the tomb of Jesus Christ, whilst they left in
peace a nation which had crucified its God. To inflame men’s passions
still more, they took care to make heaven speak, and to support their
opinions by miraculous visions. The people, for whom the Jews were
everywhere an object of hatred and horror, had already shown themselves
but too ready to persecute them. Commerce, which they almost alone
carried on, had placed in their hands a great part of the gold then
circulating in Europe. The sight of their wealth necessarily irritated
the Crusaders, who were, for the most part, reduced to implore charity
of the faithful to procure the means for undertaking their voyage. It
is probable, likewise, that the Jews, by their railleries, insulted the
enthusiasm of the Christians for the crusade.

All these motives, joined to the thirst for pillage, lit up the fires
of persecution. Emicio and Volkmar gave both the signal and the
example. At their voice a furious multitude spread themselves through
the cities of the Rhine and the Moselle, massacring pitilessly all
the Jews that they met with in their passage. In their despair, a
great number of these victims preferred being their own destroyers,
to awaiting certain death at the hands of their enemies. Several shut
themselves up in their houses, and perished amidst flames which they
themselves had kindled; some fastened large stones to their garments,
and precipitated themselves and their treasures into the Rhine or the
Moselle. Mothers stifled their children at the breast, saying that they
preferred sending them thus to the bosom of Abraham, to seeing them
given up to the fury of the Christians. Women and old men implored pity
to assist them to die; all these wretched creatures calling upon death
as earnestly as other men ask for life. In the midst of these scenes of
desolation, history takes pleasure in doing justice to the enlightened
zeal of the bishops of Worms, Trèves, Mayence, and Spiers, who raised
the voice of religion and humanity, and opened their palaces as so many
asylums for the Jews against the pursuit of murderers and villains.

The soldiers of Emicio prided themselves upon their exploits, and
scenes of carnage filled them with exultation. As proud as if they had
conquered the Saracens, they set out on their march, loaded with booty,
invoking the heaven they had so cruelly outraged. They were slaves to
the most brutal superstition, and caused themselves to be preceded by
a goat and a goose, to which they attributed something divine.[56]
These mean animals at the head of the battalions were as their chiefs,
and shared the respect and confidence of the multitude, with all those
who furnished examples of the most horrible excesses. All people fled
at the approach of these dreaded champions of the cross. Christians
who met them on their route were forced to applaud their zeal, whilst
trembling for fear of becoming victims to it. This unrestrained
multitude, without being acquainted with the people or the countries
through which they had to pass, ignorant even of the disasters of
those who had preceded them in this perilous career, advanced like
a hurricane towards the plains of Hungary. Mersbourg shut its gates
upon them, and refused them provisions. They were indignant that so
little respect should be shown to the soldiers of Christ, and deemed
it their duty to treat the Hungarians as they had treated the Jews.
Mersbourg,[57] situated on the Leytha, a river which flows into the
Danube, was defended by marshes. The Crusaders crossed the river, cut
down a forest, and formed a causeway, which conducted them close under
the walls of the place. After some preparation the signal was given,
the ladders were raised against the ramparts, and the general assault
was begun. The besieged opposed a spirited resistance, and showered
upon their enemies a tempest of darts and arrows, with torrents of
boiling oil. The besiegers, encouraging each other, redoubled their
efforts. Victory appeared to be about to declare for them, when
suddenly several ladders yielded to the weight of the assailants, and
dragged down with them in their fall the parapets and the fragments
of the towers that the rams had shaken. The cries of the wounded, and
the rattling of the falling ruins, spread a panic among the Crusaders.
They abandoned the half-destroyed ramparts, behind which their enemies
trembled, and retired in the greatest disorder.

“God himself,” says William of Tyre, “spread terror through their
ranks, to punish their crimes, and to accomplish that word of the wise
man: ‘The impious man flies without being pursued.’” The inhabitants of
Mersbourg, astonished at their victory, at length quitted the shelter
of their ramparts, and found the plain covered with the fliers, who
had cast away their arms. A vast number of these furious beings, whom,
recently, nothing could resist, allowed themselves to be slaughtered
without resistance. Many perished, swallowed up in the marshes. The
waters of the Danube and the Leytha were reddened with their blood, and
covered with their bodies.

The vanguard of this army met with the same fate among the Bulgarians,
whose territories they had gained. In the cities and the plains, those
unworthy Crusaders found everywhere men as ferocious and implacable
as themselves, who appeared—to employ the words of the historians of
the times—to have been placed upon the passage of the pilgrims as
instruments of divine wrath. A very small number escaped the carnage.
Among the few who found safety in flight, some returned into their
own country, where they were welcomed by the scorn and jeers of their
compatriots; the rest arrived at Constantinople, where the Greeks
learnt the new disasters of the Latins, with so much the more joy, from
having suffered greatly from the excesses committed by the army of
Peter the Hermit.

This army, united to that of Walter, had received under its standard an
accession of Pisans, Venetians, and Genoese, and might amount to about
a hundred thousand combatants. The remembrance of their misery caused
them for a time to respect the commands of the emperor and the laws of
hospitality; but abundance, idleness, and the sight of the riches of
Constantinople, brought back to their camp, license, insubordination,
and a thirst for plunder. Impatient to receive the signal for war, they
pillaged the houses, the palaces, and even the churches, of the suburbs
of Byzantium. To deliver his capital from these destructive guests,
Alexis furnished them with vessels, and transported them to the other
side of the Bosphorus.

Nothing could be expected from a band composed of a confused mixture of
all nations, and the wrecks of several undisciplined armies. A great
number of the Crusaders, on quitting their country, had thought of
nothing but accomplishing their vow, and only sighed for the happiness
of beholding Jerusalem; but these pious dispositions had all vanished
on their route. Whatever may be the motive that brings them together,
when men are not confined by any restraint, the most corrupted gain
the ascendancy, and bad examples constitute the law. As soon as the
soldiers of Peter had passed the straits, they considered all they met
their enemies, and the subjects of the Greek emperor suffered much more
than the Turks from their first exploits. In their blindness, they
allied superstition with license, and under the banners of the cross,
committed crimes which make nature shudder.[58] But discord soon broke
out amongst them, and retaliated upon them all the evils they had
inflicted upon Christians.

They had established their camp in the fertile plains which border the
Gulf of Nicomedia. Every day parties strayed into the neighbourhood,
and returned loaded with booty. The partition of the spoil excited
frequent quarrels among them. The French, of an assuming and
bantering character, attributed to themselves all the success of this
commencement of the war, and treated the Italians and Germans with
contempt. The latter separated themselves from the army, and under the
conduct of a chief named Rinaldo,[59] advanced towards the mountains
which border upon Nicea. There they rendered themselves masters of a
fort, whose garrison they massacred, and although their troop was not
numerous, and stood in great want of provisions, they were bold enough
to await the army which was approaching to besiege them. They were not
able to resist even the first attacks of the Turks, and were almost all
put to the sword; their general, and some few of his soldiers, only
saved their lives by embracing the faith of Mahomet, and by taking a
disgraceful oath to fight against the Christians.

When the news of this disaster reached the camp of the Crusaders, it
brought with it agitation and trouble. The French, who, a few days
before, could not endure the Germans and the Italians, wept over their
tragical fate, and were eager to march to avenge them. In vain Walter,
who commanded them, represented to them that the Crusaders whose
loss they deplored had fallen victims to their own imprudence, and
that their principal duty was to avoid their example; nothing could
restrain the impatience and the blind ardour of his soldiers. The
latter believed that they already saw the Turks flying before them, and
feared they should not be able to overtake them. Murmurs arose in the
Christian army against a general whom they accused of want of courage,
because he foresaw reverses. From murmurs they passed to revolt, and
the order for departure and attack was forced from him by violence.
Walter, groaning, followed a headstrong multitude, who marched in
disorder towards Nicea, and whom the Turks would soon punish for the
contempt with which they had treated the advice of their leaders.

The sultan of Nicea, foreseeing their imprudence, had concealed a part
of his army in a forest, and waited for them with the rest of his
troops in a plain at the foot of the mountain. After a march of some
hours, in a country which was unknown to them, the Christians were
unexpectedly attacked by the Turks, whom they believed to be in flight.
They formed in haste, and at first defended themselves valiantly. But
the enemy had the advantages of position and numbers, and they were
soon surrounded on all sides, and completely routed. The carnage was
horrible: Walter, who was worthy of commanding better soldiers, fell
pierced by seven arrows. With the exception of three thousand men, who
took refuge in a castle close to the sea, the whole army perished in a
single battle, and there soon remained no more of them than a confused
heap of bones, piled up in the plains of Nicea, as a deplorable
monument to point out to other Crusaders the road to the Holy Land.

Such was the fate of that multitude of pilgrims who threatened Asia,
and yet never beheld the places they went to conquer. By their excesses
they had prejudiced the whole of Greece against the enterprize of the
crusades, and by their manner of fighting had taught the Turks to
despise the arms of the Christians of the West.

Peter, who had returned to Constantinople before the battle, and who
had long lost all authority among the Crusaders, declaimed against
their indocility and their pride, and beheld in them nothing but
brigands,[60] whom God had deemed unworthy to contemplate or adore the
tomb of his Son. From that time it was quite evident that the apostle
of the holy war possessed no quality to enable him to act as its
chief. Coolness, prudence, inflexible firmness, alone could conduct a
multitude whom so many passions impelled, and who listened to nothing
but enthusiasm. The cenobite Peter, after having prepared the great
events of the crusade by his eloquence, lost in the crowd of pilgrims,
played nothing but an ordinary part, and was in the end scarcely to be
perceived in a war that was his work.

Europe, without doubt, learnt with terror and astonishment the unhappy
end of three hundred thousand Crusaders, whom she had seen depart; but
they who were to follow were not at all discouraged, and resolved to
profit by the lessons which the disasters of their companions had given
them. The West soon saw on foot armies more regular and more formidable
than those which had been destroyed on the banks of the Danube, and in
the plains of Bithynia.

When describing their march and their exploits, we are about to trace
much nobler pictures. Here the heroic spirit of chivalry will display
itself in all its splendour, and the brilliant period of the holy war
will commence.

The leaders of the Christian armies which now quitted the West were
already celebrated by their valour and their deeds. At the head of
the great captains who commanded in this crusade, history, as well
as poetry, must place Godfrey de Bouillon,[61] duke of the Lower
Lorraine. He was of the illustrious race of the counts of Boulogne,
and descended on the female side from Charlemagne. From his earliest
youth he had distinguished himself in the open war carried on between
the Holy See and the emperor of Germany. On the field of battle he
had killed Rodolphe de Rhenfield, duke of Suabia, to whom Gregory
had sent the imperial crown. When the war broke out in Italy for the
cause of the anti-pope Anaclet, Godfrey was the first to enter the
city of Rome, besieged and taken by the troops of Henry. He afterwards
repented of having embraced a party which victory itself could not
make triumphant, and which the greater part of Christendom considered
sacrilegious. To expiate exploits condemned as useless by the spirit of
his age, he made a vow to go to Jerusalem, not as a simple pilgrim, but
as a liberator.

Contemporary history, which has transmitted his portrait to us, informs
us that he joined the bravery and virtues of a hero to the simplicity
of a cenobite.[62] His prowess in fight and his extraordinary strength
of body made him the pride of camps. Prudence and moderation tempered
his valour; his devotion was sincere and disinterested; and in no
instance during the holy war did he employ his courage or inflict
his vengeance but upon the enemies of Christ. Faithful to his word,
liberal, affable, full of humanity, the princes and knights looked
upon him as their model, the soldiers as their father—all were eager
to fight under his standard. If he was not the leader of the crusade,
as some writers pretend, he at least obtained that empire which virtue
bestows. Amidst their quarrels and divisions, the princes and barons
constantly appealed to the wisdom of Godfrey, and in the dangers of
war, his counsels became absolute orders.

At the signal of the duke of Lorraine, the nobility of France and the
borders of the Rhine were prodigal of their treasures in preparing for
the crusades. All things serviceable in war mounted to so exorbitant a
price, that the produce of an estate was scarcely sufficient to defray
the equipment of a single knight. The women despoiled themselves of
their most precious ornaments to furnish forth their sons and their
husbands for the expedition. Men even, say the historians, who in other
times would have suffered a thousand deaths rather than give up their
hereditary domains, either sold them for a low price or exchanged them
for arms. Gold and steel appeared to be the only desirable objects in
existence.

Now appeared the stores of riches which had been concealed by fear or
avarice. Ingots of gold, coined pieces, says the Abbé Guibert, were to
be seen in heaps in the tents of the principal Crusaders, like the most
common fruits in the cottages of villagers.

Many barons, having neither lands nor castles to sell, implored the
charity of the faithful who did not take up the cross, and might
hope to participate in the merits of the holy war by assisting in
the equipment of the Crusaders. Some ruined their vassals; others,
like William, viscount de Melun,[63] pillaged the burghs and villages
to place themselves in a condition to combat the infidels. Godfrey
de Bouillon, guided by a more enlightened piety, was content with
alienating his domains. We read in Robert Gaguin that he permitted the
inhabitants of Metz to redeem their city, of which he was suzerain.
He sold the principality of Stenai to the bishop of Verdun, and ceded
his rights over the duchy of Bouillon to the bishop of Liège for the
small sum of four thousand silver marks and a pound of gold, which
makes an historian of the Crusaders say[64] that the secular princes
ruined themselves for the cause of Jesus Christ, whilst the princes of
the Church took advantage of the fervour of the Christians to enrich
themselves.

The duke de Bouillon had gathered under his standard eighty thousand
foot-soldiers and ten thousand horsemen. He began his march eight
months after the council of Clermont, accompanied by a great number
of German and French nobles. He took with him his brother Eustace de
Boulogne, his other brother Baldwin, and his cousin Baldwin de Bourg.
These two last, who were destined one day, like Godfrey de Bouillon,
to become kings of Jerusalem, held then the rank of simple knights in
the Christian army. They were all less animated by sincere piety than
by the hope of achieving a great fortune in Asia, and quitted without
regret the mean possessions that they held in Europe. Still further
were to be remarked in the train of the duke de Lorraine, Baldwin,
count de Hamaut; Garnier, count de Grai; Conon de Montaigu, Dudon de
Contz, so celebrated in the “Jerusalem Delivered;” the two brothers
Henri and Godfrey de Hache, Gérard de Cherisi, Rinaldo and Peter de
Toul, Hugh de St. Paul, and his son Engelran. These chiefs brought with
them a crowd of other knights, less known, but not less formidable by
their valour.

The army commanded by the duke of Lorraine, composed of soldiers
formed by discipline and tried in battle, offered to the Germans a
very different spectacle from the troop of Peter the Hermit, and
re-established the honour of the Crusaders in all the countries they
passed through. They met with assistance and allies where the first
champions of the cross had found nothing but obstacles and enemies.
Godfrey deplored the fate of those who had preceded him, without
seeking to avenge their cause. The Hungarians and the Bulgarians, on
their part, forgot the violences committed by the soldiers of Peter,
Gotschalk, and Emicio; they admired the moderation of Godfrey, and
offered up vows for the success of his arms.

Whilst the duke de Lorraine was advancing towards Constantinople,
France was raising other armies for the holy war. A few months after
the council of Clermont, the nobles of the kingdom assembled to
deliberate upon the affairs of the crusade. In this assembly, held in
the presence of Philip I., who had just been excommunicated, no one
was opposed to the war preached under the auspices of the Holy See;
no one even thought of invoking policy either to moderate or direct
the passions which agitated Europe. The cabinets of princes were as
much infatuated as the multitude, and it may be said that the fortune
of France took charge alone of these great events, which, though
unfortunate at first, afterwards concurred to raise the monarchy which
had fallen into ruins under the feeble successors of Charlemagne.

Towards the middle of the tenth century, the chief of the third dynasty
had consecrated the usurpation of the nobles, and to obtain the title
of king, had almost abandoned the little that remained of the rights of
the crown. Philip I., grandson of Hugh Capet, found that his dominions
extended but little beyond Paris and Orleans; the rest of France was
governed by the great vassals, of whom several surpassed monarch in
power. Royalty, the only hope of the people against the oppressions of
the nobles and the clergy, was so feeble, that we are at the present
time astonished that it did not fall, so numerous were the difficulties
and the enemies that surrounded it on all sides. As the monarch was
exposed to the censures of the Church, it was an easy matter to lead
his subjects to disobedience, and to legitimatize any sort of revolt,
by giving it the colour of a sacred pretext.

The crusade removed far from Europe all who could have taken advantage
of the unhappy situation in which the kingdom was placed; it saved the
country from a civil war, and prevented such sanguinary discords as had
broken out in Germany under the reign of Henry and the pontificate of
Gregory.

Such were the considerations which might present themselves to the most
enlightened men, and which must strike us more strongly than they would
the contemporaries of Philip.[65] It would be difficult to believe
that any one of the counsellors of the king of France perceived, in
all their extent, these salutary results of the crusade, which were
recognized long after, and which have only been properly appreciated
in the age in which we live. On the other hand, they had no conception
that a war in which all the most dangerous passions should be brought
into action would be accompanied by great misfortunes and calamitous
disorders. Ambition, license, the spirit of enthusiasm, all so much to
be dreaded by the country, might also bring about the ruin of armies.
Not one of the enemies of Philip, not one of those who remained at
home, made this reflection. Everybody, as we have already said, they
who were of the party of the Holy See and they who adhered to royalty,
allowed themselves to be carried along by the current of events,
without either perceiving the causes of them or foreseeing their
consequences. The most wise blindly followed that invisible destiny
which orders the world as it pleases, and makes use of the passions of
men as of an instrument to accomplish its designs.

In a superstitious age the sight of a prodigy or of an extraordinary
phenomenon had more influence over the minds of men than the oracles
of wisdom or reason.[66] Historians inform us, that whilst the barons
were assembled, the moon, which was in eclipse, appeared of the colour
of blood. When the eclipse was over, its disc was surrounded by an
unprecedented splendour. Some weeks after, says the Abbé Guibert,
the northern horizon was seen to be all on fire, and the terrified
people rushed from the houses and cities, believing that the enemy
was advancing, fire and sword in hand. These phenomena, with several
others, were regarded as signs of the will of God, and presages
of the terrible war about to be made in his name. They everywhere
redoubled the enthusiasm for the crusade. Men who had hitherto remained
indifferent now partook of the general delirium. All Frenchmen called
to the profession of arms, and who had not yet taken the oath to fight
against the infidels, hastened now to take the cross.

The men of the Vermandois marched with the subjects of Philip under the
colours of their count Hugh, a young prince whose brilliant qualities
had been much admired by the court. Proud of being a brother of the
king of France and the first of the French knights, he distinguished
himself by his bravery and the ostentation of his manners. He displayed
invincible courage in the field of battle, but allowed himself to be
too easily overcome by flattery, and was wanting in perseverance in
reverses. Although fortune was not too kind to him, not one of the
heroes of the crusade exhibited more honourable and disinterested
intentions. If he had not merited by his exploits the surname of
_Great_ which history has given him, he would have obtained it for
having only listened to his zeal, and for having sought nothing but
glory in a war which offered kingdoms to the ambition of princes and
simple knights.

Robert, surnamed _Courte-heuse_, duke of Normandy, who led his vassals
to the holy war, was the eldest son of William the Conqueror. He
joined to noble qualities some of the faults the most reprehensible
in a prince. He could not, even in his early youth, endure paternal
authority; but, drawn away more by a desire for independence than by a
real ambition, after having made war against his father for the sake
of reigning in Normandy, he neglected the opportunity of ascending the
throne of England on the death of William. His levity, his inconstancy,
and his weakness, caused him to be despised both by his subjects and
his enemies. His profusion ruined his people, and reduced him, if
we may credit the monk Oderic Vital, to a condition bordering upon
absolute poverty. The historian I have just quoted relates a trait,
which, although difficult to be believed, at the same time describes
both Robert and the age he lived in. “He was often compelled to remain
in bed for want of clothes, and frequently was absent from mass
because his nudity prevented him from assisting at it.” It was not an
ambition for conquering kingdoms in Asia, but his inconstant, chivalric
disposition, that made him assume the cross, and take up arms. The
Normans, a wandering and warlike people, who had made themselves
remarkable among all the nations of Europe for their devotion to
pilgrimages, hastened in crowds to his banner. As Duke Robert had
not the means of providing for the expenses of an army, he pledged
Normandy with his brother William Rufus. William, whom his age accused
of impiety, and who laughed at the knight errantry of the Crusaders,
seized with joy the opportunity of governing a province which he hoped
one day to unite to his kingdom. He levied taxes upon the clergy,
whom he did not like, and caused the silver plate of the churches to
be melted to pay the sum of ten thousand silver marks to Robert, who
set out for the Holy Land, followed by almost all the nobility of his
duchy.

Another Robert, count of Flanders, placed himself at the head of the
Frisons and the Flemings. He was son of Robert, surnamed _the Frison_,
who had usurped the principality of Flanders from his own nephews, and
who, to expiate his victories, had performed, some time before the
crusade, the pilgrimage to Jerusalem. The young Robert easily found
soldiers for his enterprize in a country where everybody had borne arms
during the civil wars, and where the people were animated by the tales
of a great number of pilgrims returned from the Holy Land. He exhausted
the treasures of his father, to embark in an expedition which procured
him the reputation of a bold knight, together with the surname of “_The
Lance and Sword_” _of the Christians_. Five hundred horsemen sent by
Robert the Frison to the emperor Alexis had already preceded him to
Constantinople.

Stephen, count of Blois and Chartres, had also taken up the cross. He
passed for the richest noble of his times. The number of his castles
was said to be equal to that of the days of the year. What might be
really considered a phenomenon in the eleventh century, this prince
loved and cultivated letters. He proved to be the soul of the councils
by his eloquence and his intelligence; but he could not long together
support the fatigues of war, and he sometimes was but timid in the
field of battle.

These four chiefs were accompanied by a crowd of knights and nobles,
among whom history names Robert of Paris, Evrard of Prusaiè, Achard de
Montmerle, Isouard de Muson, Stephen, count d’Albermarle, Walter de
St. Valery, Roger de Barneville, Fergant and Conan, two illustrious
Bretons, Guis de Trusselle, Miles de Braiës, Raoul de Baugency, Rotrou,
son of the count de Perche; Odo, bishop of Bayeux, uncle of the duke of
Normandy; Raoul de Gader, Yve and Albéric, sons of Hugh de Grandménil.
The greater part of the counts and barons took with them their wives
and children, and all their war equipages. They crossed the Alps, and
directed their march towards the cities of Italy, with the intention
of embarking for Greece. They found in the neighbourhood of Lucca
Pope Urban, who gave them his benediction, praised their zeal, and
offered up prayers for the success of their enterprize. The count de
Vermandois, after having received the standard of the Church from
the hands of the sovereign pontiff, repaired to Rome, with the other
princes, to visit the tombs of St. Peter and St. Paul. The capital of
the Christian world was then the theatre of a civil war. The soldiers
of Urban, and those of the anti-pope Guibert, disputed, arms in hand,
for the church of St. Peter, and by turns carried off the offerings of
the faithful. Whatever some modern historians may say, the Crusaders
took no part in the troubles which divided the city of Rome; and what
is still more astonishing, Urban did not call to the defence of his
own cause one of the warriors whom his appeal had induced to take up
arms. For the rest, the spectacle which presented itself in the city
of St. Peter must have been a subject of scandal to the greater part
of the French knights. Some, satisfied with having saluted the tomb of
the apostles, and perhaps cured of their holy enthusiasm by the sight
of the violences which profaned the sanctuary, abandoned the standard
of the cross, and returned into their own country. Others pursued
their march towards Apulia; but when they arrived at Bari, the winter
beginning to render the navigation dangerous, they were forced to wait
during several months for a favourable moment to embark.

The passage of the French Crusaders, however, had awakened the zeal of
the Italians. Bohémond, prince of Tarentum, was the first who resolved
to associate himself with their fortunes, and to partake of the glory
of the holy expedition. He was of the family of those knights who
had founded the kingdom of Naples and Sicily. Fifty years before the
crusade, his father, Robert Guiscard ’the subtle) had quitted the
castle of Hauteville, in Normandy, with thirty foot-soldiers and five
horsemen. Seconded by some of his relations and compatriots, who had
preceded him into Italy, he fought with advantage against the Greeks,
the Lombards, and the Saracens, who disputed Apulia and Calabria with
him. He soon became sufficiently powerful to be by turns the enemy and
the protector of the popes. He beat the armies of the emperors of the
East and the West, and when he died he was engaged in the conquest of
Greece.

Bohémond had neither less cunning nor less talents than his father,
Robert Guiscard. Contemporary authors, who never fail to describe the
physical qualities of their heroes, inform us that his height was so
great that it exceeded by a cubit that of the tallest man in his army;
his eyes were blue, and appeared full of passion and haughty pride.
His presence, says Anna Comnena, was as astonishing to the eyes as
his reputation was to the mind. When he spoke, his hearers believed
that eloquence had been his only study; when he appeared under arms,
he might be supposed to have done nothing but wield the lance and the
sword. Brought up in the school of the Norman heroes, he concealed the
combinations of policy beneath an exterior of violence; and although
of a proud and haughty character, he could put up with an injury when
vengeance would not have been profitable to him. Everything that could
contribute to the success of his designs appeared to him to be just.
He had learnt from his father to consider every man whose wealth or
states he coveted as his enemy; he was neither restrained by the fear
of God, the opinion of men, nor his own oaths. He had followed Robert
in the war against the emperor Alexis, and had distinguished himself
in the battles of Durazzo and Larissa; but, disinherited by a will,
he had nothing at his father’s death but the memory of his exploits,
and the example of his family. He had declared war against his brother
Roger, and had recently compelled him to cede to him the principality
of Tarentum, when the expedition to the East began to be talked of in
Europe. The deliverance of the tomb of Christ was not the object that
kindled his zeal, or induced him to assume the cross. As he had sworn
an eternal hatred to the Greek emperors, he smiled at the idea of
traversing their empire at the head of an army; and, full of confidence
in his own fortunes, he hoped to win a kingdom before he should arrive
at Jerusalem.

The little principality of Tarentum could not supply him with an army;
but in the name of religion, a leader had then the power of raising
troops in all the states. Enthusiasm for the crusade soon seconded his
projects, and brought a great number of warriors to his standard.

He had accompanied his brother and his uncle Roger to the siege of
Amalfi, a flourishing city which refused with contempt the protection
of the new masters of Apulia and Sicily. Bohémond, who knew well how to
speak in proper season the language of enthusiasm, and to conceal his
ambition beneath the colours of religious fanaticism, preached himself
the crusade in the army of the besiegers. He went among the soldiers,
talking of the princes and the great captains who had taken the cross.
He spoke to the most pious warriors of the religion which was to be
defended, and exalted before others the glory and fortunes which would
crown their exploits. The army was won over by his discourses, and the
camp soon resounded with the cry of “_It is the will of God! It is the
will of God!_” Bohémond congratulated himself in secret on the success
of his eloquence, and tore his coat of arms into strips, of which he
made crosses, and ordered his officers to distribute them among the
soldiers. There now only wanted a chief to command the holy expedition,
and the new Crusaders came to solicit the prince of Tarentum to place
himself at their head. Bohémond appeared at first to hesitate; he
refused that which he ardently desired; and the soldiers assembled
around him redoubled their solicitations. At length he seemed to yield
to their importunities, and obey their will. Instantly the eagerness
and enthusiasm became more animated and more general. In an incredibly
short space of time the whole army swore to follow him into Palestine.
Roger was obliged to raise the siege of Amalfi, and the happy Bohémond
gave himself up entirely to the preparations for his voyage.

A short time after he embarked for the coasts of Greece with ten
thousand horsemen and twenty thousand foot. Every illustrious knight
of Apulia and Sicily followed the prince of Tarentum. With him marched
Richard, prince of Salerno, and Randulf, his brother; Herman de Cani,
Robert de Hanse, Robert de Sourdeval, Robert the son of Tristan,
Boile de Chartres, and Humphrey de Montaigu. All these warriors were
celebrated for their exploits, but no one amongst them was more worthy
to attract the attention of posterity than the brave Tancred.[67]
Although he belonged to a family in which ambition was hereditary,
he was fired by no other passion than a desire to fight against the
infidels. Piety, glory, and perhaps his friendship for Bohémond alone,
led him into Asia. His contemporaries admired his romantic pride and
his haughty austerity. He yielded to no superiority but that of virtue,
with the exception of occasional submission to the power of beauty. A
stranger to all the motives and interests of policy, he acknowledged
no other law but religion and honour, and was always ready to die in
their cause. The annals of chivalry present no model more accomplished;
poetry and history have united to celebrate him, and both have heaped
upon him the same praises.

The Crusaders from the southern provinces of France had marched under
the command of Adhémar de Monteil and Raymond, count de St. Gilles and
Thoulouse. Bishop Adhémar acted as the spiritual chief of the crusade;
his title of apostolic legate, and his personal qualities, earned for
him in the holy war the confidence and respect of the pilgrims. His
exhortations and his counsels contributed greatly to the maintaining
of order and discipline. He consoled the Crusaders in their reverses,
he animated them amidst dangers; clothed at the same time with the
insignia of a pontiff and the armour of a knight, he exhibited in the
tent a model of the Christian virtues, and in the field often gave
proofs of undaunted valour.

Raymond, who marched with Adhémar, had had the glory of fighting in
Spain by the side of the Cid; and of conquering several times the Moors
under Alphonso the Great, who had bestowed his daughter Elvira upon him
in marriage. His vast possessions on the banks of the Rhone and the
Dordogne, and still more his exploits against the Saracens, rendered
him one of the most remarkable among the great leaders of the crusade.
Age had not extinguished in the count of Thoulouse either the ardour or
the passions of youth. Hasty and impetuous, of a character haughty and
inflexible, he had less ambition to conquer kingdoms than to make every
will bend beneath his own. Both Greeks and Saracens have acknowledged
his bravery. His subjects and his companions in arms hated him for his
obstinacy and violence. Unhappy prince, he bade eternal farewell to
his country, which was one day to be the theatre of a terrible crusade
preached against his own family!

All the nobility of Gascony, Languedoc, Provence, the Limousin, and
Auvergne, accompanied Raymond and Adhémar. Contemporary historians name
among the knights and lords who had taken the cross, Héracle, count
de Polignac, Pons de Balazan, Guillaume de Sabran, Eléazar de Castrie,
Eléazar de Montrédon, Pierre Bernard de Montagnac, Raymond de Lille,
Pierre Raymond de Hautpool, Gouffier de Lastours, Guillaume V., lord
of Montpellier, Roger, count de Foix, Raymond Pelet, Seigneur d’Alais,
Isard, count de Diè, Raimbaud, count d’Orange, Guillaume, count de
Ferez, Guillaume, count de Clermont, Gerard, son of Guillabert, count
de Roussillon, Gaston, viscount de Béarn, Guillaume Amanjeu d’Albret,
Raymond, viscount de Turenne, Raymond, viscount de Castillon, Guillaume
d’Urgal, and the count de Fortcalquier. After the example of Adhémar,
the bishops of Apt, Lodève, and Orange, and the archbishop of Toledo,
had taken up the cross, and led a part of their vassals to the holy war.

Raymond, count of Thoulouse, followed by his wife Elvira and his sons,
placed himself at the head of a hundred thousand Crusaders, advanced
to Lyons, where he crossed the Rhone, traversed the Alps, Lombardy,
and Frioul, and directed his march towards the territory of the Greek
empire, over the savage mountains and through the equally savage
nations of Dalmatia.[68]

Alexis, who had implored the assistance of the Latins, was terrified
when he learnt the numbers of his liberators. The leaders of the
crusade were only princes of the second order, but they drew with
them all the forces of the West. Anna Comnena compares the multitude
of the Crusaders to the sands of the sea or the stars of the heavens,
and their innumerable bands to torrents which unite to form a great
river.[69] Alexis had learnt to dread Bohémond on the plains of Durazzo
and Larissa. Although he was less acquainted with the courage and
ability of the other Latin princes, he repented of having imparted to
them the secret of his weakness by asking their aid. His alarms, which
were increased by the predictions of astrologers and the opinions
spread among his people, became more serious as the Crusaders advanced
towards his capital.[70]

Seated on a throne from which he had hurled his master and benefactor,
he could have no faith in virtue, and was better aware than another
what ambition might dictate. He had displayed some courage in gaining
the purple, but only governed by dissimulation,—the ordinary policy
of the Greeks and all weak states. If Anna Comnena has made an
accomplished prince of him, the Latins have represented him as a
perfidious and cruel monarch. Impartial history, which alike rejects
the exaggerations of eulogy or satire, can see nothing in Alexis but
a weak ruler, of a superstitious character, led away much more by a
love of vain splendour and display than by any passion for glory. He
had it in his power to put himself at the head of the Crusaders, and
reconquer Asia Minor, by marching with the Latins to Jerusalem. This
great enterprize alarmed his weakness. His timid prudence made him
believe that it would be sufficient to deceive the Crusaders to have
nothing to fear from them, and to receive a vain homage from them
in order to profit by their victories. Everything appeared good and
just to him which would assist in extricating him from a position of
which his policy increased the dangers, and which the unsteadiness of
his projects made every day more embarrassing. The more earnestly he
endeavoured to inspire confidence, the more suspicious he rendered his
good faith. By seeking to inspire fear, he discovered all the alarms
which he himself experienced. As soon as he had notice of the march
of the princes of the crusade, he sent them ambassadors to compliment
them, and to penetrate their intentions. In the meanwhile, he placed
troops everywhere to harass them on their passage.

The count de Vermandois, cast by a tempest on the shores of Epirus,
received the greatest honours from the governor of Durazzo, and was
led a prisoner to Constantinople by the orders of Alexis. The Greek
emperor hoped that the brother of the king of France would become,
in his hands, a hostage that might protect him from the enterprizes
of the Latins; but he only awakened suspicion, and provoked the
hatred of the leaders of the crusade. Godfrey de Bouillon had arrived
at Philippopoli, when he heard of the captivity of the count de
Vermandois. He sent to the emperor to demand instant reparation for
this outrage; and as the deputies reported but an unfavourable answer,
he restrained neither his own indignation nor the fury of his army. The
lands through which they passed were treated as an enemy’s country,
and during eight days the fertile plains of Thrace became the theatre
of war. The crowd of Greeks who fled towards the capital soon informed
the emperor of the terrible vengeance of the Latins. Alexis, terrified
at the fruits of his own policy, implored the pardon of his prisoner,
and promised to restore him his liberty when the French should have
arrived at the gates of Constantinople. This promise appeased Godfrey,
who caused the war to cease, and resumed his march, treating the Greeks
everywhere as friends and allies.

In the meanwhile, Alexis employed every effort to obtain from the
count de Vermandois the oath of obedience and fidelity, hoping that
his submission would lead to that of the other princes of the crusade,
and that he should have less to fear from their ambition if he could
reckon them in the number of his vassals. The brother of the king
of France, who, on arriving in the territories of the empire, had
written letters filled with pride and ostentation, could not resist
the caresses and presents of the emperor, and took all the oaths that
were required of him. On the arrival of Godfrey, he appeared in the
camp of the Crusaders, who rejoiced at his deliverance, but could not
pardon him for having yielded submission to a foreign monarch. Cries of
indignation arose around him when he endeavoured to persuade Godfrey to
follow his example. The more gentle and submissive he had shown himself
in his captivity, the more strong became the opposition and resistance
to the will of the emperor of his companions, who had drawn their
swords to avenge the insult offered to him.

Alexis refused them provisions, and thought to reduce them by famine;
but the Latins were accustomed to obtain all they wanted by violence
and victory. At the signal of their leader, they dispersed themselves
over the surrounding country, pillaged the villages and the palaces
near the capital, and, by force, brought abundance to their camp.
This disorder lasted several days; but the festival of Christmas was
approaching, and the epoch of the birth of Christ revived generous
sentiments in the breasts of the Christian soldiers and the pious
Godfrey. Advantage was taken of these feelings to bring about peace.
The emperor granted provisions, and the Crusaders sheathed their swords.

But it was impossible for harmony to subsist long between the Greeks
and the Latins. The Latins haughtily boasted of having come to the
rescue of the empire. On all occasions they spoke and acted as masters.
The Greeks despised the barbarous courage of the Latins, and placing
all their glory in the refinement of their manners, believed that
they disgraced the language of Greece when pronouncing the names
of the warriors of the West. The rupture which had for a long time
subsisted between the churches of Rome and Constantinople, increased
the antipathy which the difference of manners and customs had given
birth to. On both sides anathemas were launched, and the theologians
of Greece and Italy detested each other more than they detested the
Saracens. The Greeks, who employed themselves in nothing but vain
subtleties, had never been willing to place in the list of martyrs
those who had died fighting against the infidels. They abhorred the
martial character of the Latin clergy, boasted that they possessed in
their capital all the relics of the East, and could not understand
what they could be going to seek at Jerusalem. On their side, the
Franks could not pardon the subjects of Alexis for not partaking in
their enthusiasm for the crusade, and reproached them with a culpable
indifference for the cause of God. All these motives of discord and
hatred provoked frequent scenes of violence, in which the Greeks
displayed more perfidy than courage, and the Latins more valour than
moderation.

Throughout all these divisions Alexis constantly sought to obtain from
Godfrey the oath of obedience and fidelity; sometimes he employed
protestations of friendship, sometimes he threatened to exercise powers
that he did not possess. Godfrey braved his menaces, and placed no
faith in his promises. The imperial and the Latin troops were twice
called to arms, and Constantinople, badly defended by its soldiers, had
cause to fear beholding the standard of the Crusaders floating over its
walls.

The report of these serious quarrels conveyed joy to the heart of
Bohémond, who had just landed at Durazzo. He believed the time was
come to attack the Greek empire, and to divide the spoils. He sent
envoys to Godfrey, to invite him to take possession of Byzantium,
promising to join him with all his forces, for the prosecution of this
great enterprize. But Godfrey did not forget that he had taken up arms
for the defence of the holy sepulchre, and rejected the proposal of
Bohémond, reminding him of the oath he had taken to fight against the
infidels.

This embassy to Bohémond, the object of which could not be concealed,
redoubled the alarm of Alexis, and made him employ every means to
subdue the firmness of Godfrey de Bouillon. He sent his own son as
a hostage to the army of the Crusaders. From that time all mistrust
was dissipated. The princes of the West swore to respect the laws
of hospitality, and repaired to the palace of Alexis. They found
the emperor surrounded by a splendid court, and entirely occupied
in endeavouring to conceal his weakness under an exterior of vain
magnificence. The chief of the Crusaders, and the princes and knights
who accompanied him, in an apparel on which shone the martial luxury
of the West, bowed before the throne of the emperor, and bent the knee
to a mute and motionless majesty. After this ceremony, during which
the Greeks and the Latins must have afforded each other a strange
spectacle, Alexis adopted Godfrey for his son, and placed the empire
under the protection of his arms. The Crusaders engaged to replace
the cities they had taken belonging to the empire in the hands of the
emperor, and to pay him homage for the other conquests they might
make. Alexis, on his part, promised to aid them by land and by sea, to
furnish them with provisions, and to share the perils and the glory of
their expedition.

Alexis considered this homage of the Latin princes as a victory. The
leaders of the Crusaders returned beneath their tents, where his
gratitude loaded them with presents. Whilst Godfrey caused it to be
proclaimed in his army by sound of trumpet, that the most profound
respect for the emperor and the laws of Constantinople should be
preserved, Alexis ordered all his subjects to carry provisions to the
Franks, and to observe the laws of hospitality. The alliance they had
just made appeared to have been sworn to in good faith on both sides;
but Alexis could not destroy the prejudices the Greeks entertained
against the Latins, nor could Godfrey restrain the turbulent multitude
of his soldiers. Besides, the emperor of Byzantium, although he might
feel reassured as to the intentions of the duke of Lorraine, still
dreaded the arrival of Bohémond, and the union of several large armies
in the neighbourhood of his capital. He engaged Godfrey to pass with
his troops over to the Asiatic shore of the Bosphorus, and turned his
attention to whatever means his policy could suggest to abate the
pride, and even to diminish the powers of the other Latin princes who
were marching towards Constantinople.

The prince of Tarentum was advancing through Macedonia, now listening
to the harangues of the deputies from Alexis, and now contending with
the troops which opposed his passage. Several provinces and several
cities had been ravaged by the Italian and Norman Crusaders, when
their chief received an invitation from the emperor to precede his
army, and come to Constantinople. Alexis made Bohémond protestations
of friendship, in which the latter placed no faith, but from which
he hoped to reap some advantage. He, on his part, declared his good
feeling, and went to meet Alexis. The emperor received him with a
magnificence proportionate to the fear he entertained of his arrival.
These two princes were equally skilled in the arts of seducing and
deceiving. The greater cause they had to complain of each other, the
warmer were their protestations of friendship. They complimented each
other publicly on their victories, and concealed their suspicions, and
perhaps their contempt, under an exterior of reciprocal admiration.
Both unscrupulous on the subject of oaths, Alexis promised vast domains
to Bohémond, and the Norman hero swore without hesitation to be the
most faithful of the vassals of the emperor.

Robert, count of Flanders, the duke of Normandy, and Stephen, count of
Chartres and Blois, as they arrived at Constantinople, rendered their
homage, in their turn, to the Greek emperor, and received, as others
had done, the reward of their submission. The count of Thoulouse, who
arrived the last, at first answered the messengers of Alexis, that he
was not come into the East to seek a master. The emperor, to bend the
pride of Raymond and his Provençals, was obliged to stoop to them.[71]
He flattered by turns their avarice and their vanity, and took more
pains to show them his treasures than his armies. In states in their
decay it is not uncommon for wealth to be mistaken for power, and the
prince believes he reigns over all hearts as long as he possesses the
means of corrupting them. Ceremonial was, besides, at the court of
Constantinople, the most serious and the most important of all things;
but whatever value may be attached to vain formulæ, we cannot but be
astonished to see warriors so haughty, who went to conquer empires,
on their knees before a prince who trembled with the fear of losing
his own. They made him pay dearly for an uncertain and transient
submission, and not unfrequently contempt was apparent through their
outward marks of respect.

During a ceremony in which Alexis received the homage of several French
princes, Count Robert of Paris advanced to seat himself by the side
of the emperor. Baldwin of Hainaut pulled him by the arm, and said,
“You should remember, when you are in a foreign country, you ought to
respect its customs.” “Truly!” replied Robert, “this is a pleasant
clown who is seated, whilst so many illustrious captains are standing!”
Alexis was desirous of having his words explained to him, and when
the counts were gone, he retained Robert, and asked him what were his
birth and country. “I am a Frenchman,” replied Robert, “and of the most
illustrious rank of nobles. I only know one thing, and that is, that
in my country there is a place near a church to which all repair who
burn with a desire to signalize their valour. I have often been there
without anybody yet having dared to present himself before me.” The
emperor took care not to accept this kind of challenge, and endeavoured
to conceal his surprise and vexation by giving some useful advice to
the daring warrior. “If you waited then,” said he, “without meeting
enemies, you are now going where you will find enough to satisfy you.
But do not put yourself either at the head or the tail of the army;
remain in the centre. I have learnt how to fight with the Turks; and
that is the best place you can choose.”

The policy of the emperor, however, was not without effect. The pride
of a great number of the counts and barons was not proof against his
caresses and his presents. There still exists a letter which Stephen
of Blois addressed to Adela his wife, in which he felicitates himself
on the welcome he had received at the court of Byzantium. After having
described all the honours with which he had been received, he exclaims,
whilst speaking of Alexis, “Truly, there is not at this time such a man
beneath the heavens!” Bohémond could not have been less struck with
the liberality of the emperor. At the sight of an apartment filled
with riches, “There is here,” said he, “enough to conquer kingdoms
with.” Alexis immediately ordered these treasures to be conveyed to the
tent of the ambitious Bohémond, who at first refused them with a kind
of modesty, and finished by accepting them with joy. He went so far
as to demand the title of grand domestic or of general of the empire
of the East. Alexis, who had himself held that dignity, and who knew
that it was the road to the throne, had the courage to refuse him, and
contented himself with promising the office to the future services of
the prince of Tarentum.

Thus the promises of the emperor retained for a short period the Latin
princes under his laws. By his skilfully-distributed favours and
flatteries he created a spirit of jealousy among the leaders of the
crusade. Raymond de St. Gilles declared himself against Bohémond, whose
projects he revealed to Alexis; and whilst this prince debased himself
thus before a foreign monarch, the courtiers of Byzantium repeated with
warmth, that he excelled all the other chiefs of the crusade, as the
sun excels the stars.

The Franks, so dreaded in the field of battle, were powerless against
the skill and address of Alexis, and could not sustain their advantage
amidst the intrigues of a dissolute court. An abode at Byzantium
might become otherwise dangerous for the Crusaders; the spectacle of
the luxury of the East, which they beheld for the first time, was
calculated to corrupt them. The Christian knights, according to the
report of the historians of the times, were never weary of admiring the
palaces, the splendid edifices, the riches, and perhaps the beautiful
Greek women, of whom Alexis had spoken in his letters addressed to the
princes of the West. Tancred alone, inflexible to all solicitations,
would not expose his virtue to the seductions of Byzantium. He deplored
the weakness of his companions, and, followed by a small number of
knights, hastened to quit Constantinople, without having taken the oath
of fidelity to the emperor.

The departure and resistance of Tancred disturbed the joy which the
success of his policy had given Alexis. He applauded himself for having
softened, by his presents, the principal leaders of the crusade; but
he did not so entirely depend upon his means of corruption as to be
perfectly free from apprehension. Every day brought new Crusaders, whom
he must seduce and load with presents; the very riches he displayed
to them might, in the end, awaken their ambition, and inspire them
with most fatal designs. He felt by no means secure against their
enterprizes until all the armies of the West were on the other side of
the Bosphorus. There, without the power of insulting the capital of the
empire, they turned all their attention to their preparations for the
war against the Saracens.

As the Crusaders advanced across the plains of Bithynia, they saw,
seeking refuge in their tents, several soldiers of Peter’s army, who
having escaped from the sword of the Saracens, had lived concealed in
the mountains and forests. They were clothed in the rags of misery, and
with lamentations and tears related the disasters of the first army of
the Christians. On the east they pointed to the fortress in which the
companions of Rinaldo, pressed by hunger and thirst, had surrendered
to the Turks, who had massacred them all. Near to that they showed
them the mountains, at the foot of which had perished Walter and his
whole army. Everywhere the Crusaders encountered the remains of their
brethren; everywhere they found reason to deplore the imprudence and
disasters of the first soldiers of the cross; but nothing affected
them so deeply as the sight of the camp in which Walter had left the
women and the sick, when he was forced by his soldiers to advance
to the city of Nicea. There the Christians had been surprised by the
Mussulmans, at the moment their priests were celebrating the sacrifice
of the mass. Women, children, old men, all whom weakness or sickness
detained in the camp, pursued to the foot of their altars, had been
either borne away into slavery, or slaughtered by a pitiless enemy. The
remembrance of so great a calamity stifled discord, silenced ambition,
and rekindled zeal for the deliverance of the holy places. The leaders
profited by this terrible lesson, and laid down useful regulations for
the maintenance of discipline. The formidable army of the Crusaders
advanced in the best order through the country of the infidels, and
commenced the war with the first days of the spring.

Although the empire of the Seljoucide Turks, at the period of the
arrival of the Crusaders in Asia, already inclined towards its fall,
it nevertheless presented a formidable barrier to the warriors of the
West. The kingdom of Ezeroum, or Roum, extended from the Orontes and
the Euphrates to the neighbourhood of the Bosphorus, and comprised the
richest provinces of Asia Minor. The Turks were animated by the double
enthusiasm of religion and victory. Abandoning the cares of agriculture
and commerce to the Greeks, their slaves, they knew no profession but
that of arms, or desired other wealth but the booty obtained from their
enemies. Their present chief was the son of Soliman, whose victories
over the Christians had procured him the name of _the Sacred Champion_.
David, surnamed Kilidge-Arslan, or _the Sword of the Lion_, brought
up amidst the troubles of civil war, and for a long time detained a
prisoner in the fortress of Koraçan by the orders of Malek-Scha, had
ascended the throne of his father, and maintained his position by his
valour. He possessed a genius rich in resources, and a character not to
be subdued by reverses. On the approach of the Crusaders, he summoned
his subjects and his allies to his defence. From all the provinces of
Asia Minor, and even from Persia, the bravest defenders of Islamism
hastened to range themselves beneath his banner.

Not content with assembling an army, he at first gave all his attention
to the fortifying of the city of Nice, to which the earliest
attempts of the Christians would be directed. This city, the capital
of Bithynia, and celebrated by the holding of two councils, was the
seat of the empire of Roum; and it was there that the Turks, as in
an advanced post, awaited an opportunity to attack Constantinople,
and precipitate themselves upon Europe. High mountains defended
the approach to it. Towards the west and the south the Lake of
Ascanius bathed its ramparts, and preserved to the inhabitants an
easy communication with the sea. Large ditches, filled with water,
surrounded the place. Three hundred and seventy towers of brick or
stone protected the double enclosure of its walls, which were wide
enough for the passage of a chariot. The chosen of the Turkish warriors
composed its garrison, and the sultan of Roum, ready to defend it, was
encamped upon the neighbouring mountains, at the head of an army of a
hundred thousand men.

Full of just confidence in their own strength, and ignorant of that
which could be opposed to them, the Crusaders advanced towards Nice.
Never had the plains of Bithynia presented a more magnificent or a
more terrible spectacle. The numbers of the Crusaders exceeded the
population of many great cities of the West, and were sufficient to
cover the largest plains. The Turks, from their encampments on the
summits of the mountains, must have beheld, with terror, an army
composed of more than a hundred thousand horse and five hundred
thousand foot,[72] the picked men of the warlike nations of Europe, who
were come to dispute with them the possession of Asia.[73]

When it had been determined to besiege Nice, the posts were distributed
to the various bodies of the Christian army. The camp of the Crusaders
extended over a vast plain, intersected by rivulets which fell from
the mountains. Fleets from Greece and Italy transported provisions,
and kept the besiegers in a state of abundance. Foulcher de Chartres
reckons in the camp of the Christians nineteen nations, differing
in manners and language. Each nation had its quarters, which they
surrounded with walls and palisades, and as they were without wood or
stone for the divisions, they employed the bones of the Crusaders lying
unburied in the country round Nice; “by which,” Anna Comnena says,
“they at once constructed a tomb for the dead and an abode for the
living.” In each quarter they quickly raised magnificent tents, which
served as churches, in which the chiefs and the soldiers assembled to
perform the ceremonies of religion. Different war-cries, drums, the use
of which had been introduced into Europe by the Saracens, and sonorous
horns, pierced with several holes, summoned the Crusaders to their
military exercises.

The barons and knights wore a hauberk, or coat of mail, a sort of
tunic, composed of small rings of iron or steel. Over the coat of
arms of every squire floated a blue, red, green, or white scarf.
Every warrior wore a casque, covered with silver for the princes, of
steel for the knights and nobles, and of iron for the common men. The
knights bore round or square bucklers, and long shields covered the
foot-soldiers. The arms employed in fight by the Crusaders were the
lance, the sword, a species of knife, a poniard, called _miséricorde_,
the club, the _masse d’armes_, with which a warrior could, at a single
blow, strike an enemy to the earth; the sling, from which were thrown
stones and balls of lead; the bow, and the cross-bow, a murderous
weapon, till that time unknown to the Orientals. The warriors of
the West did not then cover themselves with that heavy iron armour
described by the historians of the middle ages, which they afterwards
borrowed from the Saracens.

The princes and knights bore upon their shields figures or signs of
different colours, which served as rallying-points for their soldiers.
Here might be seen, painted on the bucklers and standards, leopards
and lions; there, stars, towers, crosses, Asiatic trees, and European
trees. Several caused to be represented on their shields the birds
of passage which they had met with on their route, which birds, by
changing their climate annually, presented to the Crusaders a symbol
of their own pilgrimage. These distinctive marks at the time served to
animate their valour in the field of battle, and were destined, at a
future day, to be one of the attributes of rank among the nations of
the West.

In the immense crowd of Crusaders, no count, no prince, deigned to
receive orders from any one.[74] The Christians presented the image
of a republic under arms. This republic, in which everything appeared
to be in common, recognised no other law but that of honour, no
other tie but that of religion. So great was their zeal, that chiefs
performed the duties of common men, and the latter required no signal
to rush to victory or encounter death. The priests passed continually
amongst the ranks, to recall to the Crusaders the maxims of scriptural
morality. Their discourses were not thrown away; for, if we may credit
contemporary authors, who seldom spare the champions of the cross, the
conduct of the Christians during the siege of Nice offered nothing but
examples of warlike virtue and subjects of edification.

In the first days of the siege the Christians made several assaults,
in which they uselessly displayed prodigies of valour. Kilidge-Arslan,
who had placed both his family and his treasures in Nice, animated
the garrison by his letters, and resolved to spare no efforts to
succour the besieged. He called together the chiefs of his army; he
reminded them of the advantages they had gained over the Christians,
and predicted still more brilliant trophies to their valour. “The
greatest disorder,” he told them, “reigned in the Christian army, and
the numbers of their enemies assured them the victory. They were going
to fight for their wives, their children, and the country which they
owed to the conquests of their fathers; the religion of the prophet
implored their help, and the richest booty would be the reward of their
exploits.” The Mussulmans, animated by the speeches and the example
of their chief, prepared for battle, and descended the mountains.
Their army, divided into two bodies, attacked with impetuosity the
quarter of Godfrey de Bouillon and that of Raymond de Thoulouse, who
had just arrived before Nice. The Provençals were not able to resist
the first shock, but they rallied soon at the voices of Raymond and
Adhémar. “Then the two armies,” says Matthew of Edessa,[75] who speaks
of this battle, “joined, mingled, and attacked each other, with equal
fury. Everywhere glittered casques and shields; lances rung against
cuirasses; the air resounded with piercing cries; the terrified
horses recoiled at the din of arms and the hissing of arrows; the
earth trembled beneath the tread of the combatants, and the plain was
for a vast space bristling with javelins.” Godfrey, Tancred, and the
two Roberts, appeared to be everywhere at once, and carried death
and terror into the ranks of the infidels. The Turks could not long
withstand the impetuous valour of the Crusaders; they were put to the
rout, and pursued by the conquerors even to the mountains which served
them as a place of refuge.

The sultan, instead of deploring his defeat, only thought of avenging
the disgrace of his arms, and on the very morrow, at break of day,
led back his troops to the combat. The Turks attacked the Christians,
uttering loud cries. Sometimes they rushed with fury into the ranks of
the Crusaders, sometimes they fought at a distance, pouring in showers
of arrows. Then they feigned to fly, only to return to the charge with
greater fury. This second battle, in which the Turks showed the courage
of despair seconded by all the stratagems of war, lasted from morning
till night. The victory, which was for a long time doubtful, cost
the Christians two thousand lives. The Crusaders made a great many
prisoners; four thousand Mussulmans fell on the field of battle; the
heads of a thousand were sent to Alexius; and the rest, by the aid of
machines, were cast into the city, to inform the garrison of this fresh
defeat of the Turks.

Kilidge-Arslan, despairing to save Nice, retired with the wreck of his
army, and hastened to gather together in the provinces new forces, with
which to oppose the Christians. The Crusaders, having no longer to
dread the neighbourhood of an enemy’s army, pushed on the siege with
vigour. Sometimes they made approaches by galleries covered by a double
roof of boards and hurdles; sometimes they dragged towards the walls
towers mounted on a number of wheels, constructed with several stages,
and loaded with arms and soldiers. Here the rams beat against the walls
with redoubled shocks; at a short distance balistas vomited, without
ceasing, beams of wood and showers of arrows; and catapultas cast into
the air combustible matters and enormous stones, which fell with a
crash into the city.

The Christians employed in this siege all the machines[76] known to the
Romans. The Greeks were better acquainted with the construction of them
than the Latins, and directed their operations. It is likewise probable
that the Greeks who were in Nice, and subject to the power of the
Mussulmans, instructed the latter in the means of defending the place.

The Christians allowed the besieged no respite, and they defended
themselves with obstinate fury. All the inhabitants of Nice had taken
arms. Their ramparts were covered with formidable machines, which
hurled destruction among the assailants. Fiery darts, beams, enormous
pieces of stone, launched from the height of the walls, destroyed, day
after day, the labours of the Crusaders. When the Christians had made a
breach in the ramparts, another wall arose from the bosom of the ruins,
and presented a new barrier to the besiegers.

As the Crusaders attacked without order or precaution, their imprudence
and their rashness were often very fatal to them. Some were crushed
beneath the fragments of their own machines; others fell pierced with
poisoned darts; sometimes, even, says an historian, the besiegers
sported with their efforts, catching them with _iron hands_,[77] or
hooks, which, falling upon them, seized them, and lifted them alive
into the city. After having stripped them, the Turks hung them upon
their ramparts, and then launched them, by means of their machines,
stark naked into the camp of the Christians.

A Saracen,[78] whom history describes to us as a giant, performed
during this siege exploits which surpass those related of fabulous
antiquity. He was not less remarkable for his skill than for the
strength of his arm; he never cast a javelin in vain, and all whom
he hit were sure to sink beneath the blow. When he had exhausted his
arrows, and could make no more use of his bow, he seized masses of
rock, and rolled them down upon the assailants. One day, when he was
standing on the platform of a tower attacked by Raymond, he alone
defied the efforts of the enemies. At one time he hurled a shower of
stones upon the besiegers; then, raising his voice, he defied the
bravest of the Christians to the combat, loading them with the most
violent abuse. All eyes were turned towards him, and a thousand arrows
flew at once from the Christian army to punish his audacity. For a
moment all the efforts of the besiegers were directed against a single
man. His body was covered with wounds and bristling with arrows; but
he defended himself skilfully, and was still braving the crowd of his
enemies, when Godfrey, attracted by the noise of this general attack,
seized a cross-bow, and taking aim at the redoubtable Saracen, shot him
through the heart, and his immense body rolled from the platform into
the ditch.

This victory, which appears rather to belong to the heroes of the
epopea than to those of history, was celebrated by the acclamations of
the Christian army. The Crusaders, who gained several other advantages,
redoubled their zeal and their valorous efforts, and the besieged
began to offer a less animated resistance. As the Saracens received
provisions and reinforcements by the Lake Ascanius, it was resolved to
cut off this last resource. A large number of boats, furnished by the
Greeks, were transported by land, and launched into the water in the
night-time. When day appeared, the lake was covered with barks, each
bearing fifty combatants; the flags were displayed, and floated over
the waters, and the lake and its shores resounded with the various
war-cries and the noise of the trumpets and drums. At this sight the
besieged were struck with surprise and terror; and the Christians
renewed their attacks with greater success. The soldiers of Raymond
had undermined the foundations of one of the principal towers of
Nice. This tower sank down in the middle of the night, and its fall
was accompanied by so frightful a noise, that both the Christians
and the Mussulmans were aroused from their sleep, and believed that
an earthquake had taken place. On the following day the wife of the
sultan, with two infant children, endeavoured to escape by the lake,
and fell into the hands of the Christians. When the news of this
reached the city, it greatly increased the general consternation. After
a siege of seven weeks, the Mussulmans had lost all hopes of defending
Nice, and the Christians were expecting every day to be able to take it
by assault, when the policy of Alexius intervened to deprive their arms
of the honour of a complete conquest.

This prince, who has been compared to the bird who seeks his food in
the tracks of the lion, had advanced as far as Pelecania. He had sent
to the army of the Crusaders a weak detachment of Greek troops, and
two generals intrusted with his confidence, less for the purpose of
fighting than to negotiate, and seize an opportunity to get possession
of Nice by stratagem. One of these officers, named Butumitus, having
got into the city, created in the inhabitants a dread of the inexorable
vengeance of the Latins, and advised them to surrender to the emperor
of Constantinople. His propositions were listened to, and when the
Crusaders were preparing to begin a last assault, the standards of
Alexius all at once appeared upon the ramparts and towers of Nice.

This sight created the most lively surprise in the Christian army. The
greater part of the leaders could not restrain their indignation, and
the soldiers who were preparing for the assault returned to their tents
trembling with rage. Their fury was increased when they found they were
prohibited from entering more than ten at a time into a city which
they had conquered at the price of their blood, and which contained
riches which had been promised to them. In vain the Greeks alleged the
treaties made with Alexius, and the services they had rendered the
Latins during the siege; the murmurs were never silenced for a moment,
except by the largesses of the emperor.

This prince received the greater part of the chiefs at Pelecania, where
he duly praised their bravery and loaded them with presents. After
having taken possession of Nice, he gained a new victory, perhaps
not less flattering to his vanity; he at length triumphed over the
pride of Tancred, who took the oath of fidelity and obedience to him.
Nevertheless, he did not stifle the suspicions they had conceived of
his perfidy. The liberty to which he restored the wife and children
of the sultan, and the kind manner in which he treated the Turkish
prisoners, gave the Latins good reason to believe that he sought to
conciliate the enemies of the Christians. Nothing more was necessary
to renew former hatreds, and from this period war was almost declared
between the Greeks and the Crusaders.

A year had passed away since the Crusaders had quitted the West. After
having reposed some time in the neighbourhood of Nice, they prepared to
set forward on their march towards Syria and Palestine. The provinces
of Asia Minor which they were about to cross were still occupied by
the Turks, who were animated by fanaticism and despair, and who formed
less a nation than an army, always ready to fight and to pass from one
place to another. In a country so long ravaged by war, the roads were
scarcely to be seen, and all communication between cities was stopped.
In the mountains, defiles, torrents, precipices, must constantly
create impediments to the march of a numerous army; in the plains,
mostly uncultivated and barren, famine, the want of water, the burning
heat of the climate, were inevitable evils. The Crusaders fancied
they had conquered all their enemies at Nice, and without taking any
precaution, without any other guides than the Greeks, of whom they had
so much reason to complain, they advanced into a country with which
they were totally unacquainted. They had no idea of the obstacles they
should encounter in their march, and their ignorance created their
security.

They had divided their army into two bodies, which marched at some
distance the one from the other, across the mountains of Lesser
Phrygia. By marching thus separately they could more easily procure
provisions; but they ran the risk of being surprised by an active and
vigilant enemy. Kilidge-Arslan, twice conquered by the Christians, had
gathered together new forces. At the head of an army, which the Latin
historians say amounted to two hundred thousand men, he followed the
Crusaders, watching for an opportunity to surprise them, and to make
them pay dearly for the conquest of Nice.

Whilst the main army, commanded by Godfrey, Raymond, Adhémar, Hugh the
Great, and the count of Flanders, was crossing the plain of Dorylæum,
the other body, which was commanded by Bohemond, Tancred, and the duke
of Normandy, directed its march to the left. It was following the
banks of a little river, and was advancing into a valley to which the
Latin historians have given the name of Gorgoni or Ozellis.[79] Some
intimations had been given by the Greeks that the enemy was nigh, but
the Crusaders believed they had nothing to fear. After a day’s march,
on the evening of the 30th of June, they arrived at a place which
offered them abundant pasturage, and they resolved to encamp. The
Christian army passed the night in the most profound security; but on
the morrow, at daybreak, the scouts and clouds of dust on the heights
announced to them the presence of the enemy. Immediately the camp was
roused, and all flew to arms. Bohemond, thus become the leader of the
army in the midst of peril, hastened to make the necessary dispositions
for receiving the Turks. The camp of the Christians was defended on one
side by the river, and on the other by a marsh covered with reeds. The
prince of Tarentum caused it to be surrounded with chariots, and with
palisades made of the stakes employed in erecting the tents. He next
assigned the posts to the infantry, and placed the women, the children,
and the sick in the centre of them. The cavalry, divided into three
bodies, advanced to the head of the camp, and prepared to dispute the
passage of the river. One of these bodies was commanded by Tancred, and
William his brother, and another by the duke of Normandy and the count
de Chartres. Bohemond, who commanded the centre, placed himself with
his horsemen upon a height, whence he might observe everything, and
follow the order of the battle.

Scarcely had the prince of Tarentum finished his preparations, when the
Saracens, uttering loud cries, descended from the mountains, and, when
within bow-shot, discharged a shower of arrows upon the Christians.
This did very little harm to the horsemen, who were defended by their
shields and their armour, but it wounded a great many of the horses,
which threw the ranks into disorder. The archers, the slingers, the
crossbow-men, scattered here and there upon the flanks of the Christian
army, were not able to return to the Turks all the arrows that were
launched at them. The horsemen becoming impatient to make use of the
lance and the sword, the most eager of them imprudently crossed the
river and fell upon the Saracens. But the latter avoided the _mêlée_;
as fast as the Crusaders presented themselves before them, they opened
their ranks, dispersed, rallied at some distance, and darkened the
air with a fresh cloud of arrows. The speed of their horses seconded
them in these evolutions, and secured them from the pursuit of the
Crusaders, whom they fought whilst appearing to fly.

This manner of fighting was quite in favour of the Turks, and rendered
the disposition the Christian army made before the battle, entirely
useless. Every leader, every horseman, took counsel only of his own
courage, and abandoned himself to its dictates. The Christians fought
in disorder upon ground with which they were quite unacquainted, and
the bravest ran the greatest risks. Robert of Paris, the same who
had seated himself on the imperial throne by the side of Alexius,
was mortally wounded, after having seen forty of his companions fall
around him. William, the brother of Tancred, fell pierced with arrows.
Tancred himself, whose lance was broken, and who had no weapon left but
his sword, only owed his safety to Bohemond, who came to his succour,
and extricated him from the hands of the infidels. Whilst the victory
between strength and agility remained uncertain, new troops of Saracens
descended from the mountains and joined the fight. The sultan of Nice
took advantage of the moment at which the cavalry of the Crusaders
could scarcely resist the shock of the Turkish army, to attack their
camp. He ordered a body of his choicest soldiers to draw their swords
and follow him. He crossed the river, and overcame every obstacle that
was placed in his way. In an instant the camp of the Christians was
invaded and filled by the Turks. The Saracens massacred all who came
within reach of their swords; sparing none but young and beautiful
women, whom they destined for their seraglios. If we are to believe
Albert of Aix, the daughters and the wives of the barons and knights
preferred on this occasion slavery to death; for they were seen, in
the midst of the tumult, decking themselves in their most beautiful
vestments, and presenting themselves thus before the Saracens, seeking
by the display of their charms to soften the hearts of a pitiless
enemy.[80] In the meanwhile Bohemond, rendered aware of the attack
upon the camp, came promptly to its succour, and forced the sultan
to rejoin the body of his army. Then the conflict recommenced on the
banks of the river with increased fury. The duke of Normandy, who
had remained alone with some of his knights on the field of battle,
snatched his white pennon embroidered with gold from the hand of him
who bore it, and rushed into the thickest of the fight, crying aloud,
“_It is the will of God! It is the will of God!_” He cut down with his
sword all who were in his path; among the victims to his valour being
one of the principal Turkish emirs. Tancred, Richard prince of Salerno,
Stephen count of Blois, and other chiefs, followed Robert’s example and
seconded his valour. Bohemond, who was pursuing the sultan of Nice, met
a troop of soldiers who were flying, and stopped them, saying, “Whither
are you flying, Christian soldiers? Do you not see that their horses
have more speed than ours? Follow me, I will show you a safer road than
flight!” Scarcely had he spoken these words, than he rushed with them
into the midst of the Saracens, and renewed the fight. In the disorder
of the _mêlée_, the women, who had been liberated from the hands of the
Saracens, and who were eager to revenge their outraged modesty, went
through the ranks bearing refreshment to the soldiers, and exhorting
them to redouble their courage to save them from slavery.

But so many generous efforts were nearly proving useless. The Crusaders
were exhausted with fatigue, and could not long resist an enemy whose
force was being constantly renewed, and who overwhelmed them with
numbers. The Christian army, surrounded on all sides, was compelled
to retreat fighting and to retire to the camp, into which the Turks
were upon the point of entering with them. It is impossible to paint
the confusion and the despair which reigned at that moment among the
Crusaders. Priests were seen imploring, by their groans and their
prayers, the assistance of the God of armies; women filled the air
with lamentations for the dead and the wounded; whilst soldiers fell
on their knees to the priests to obtain absolution for their sins.
Amid this frightful tumult the voices of the leaders were but little
attended to; the most intrepid were covered with wounds, burning with
thirst and heat, and could fight no longer. They despaired of seeing
Jerusalem, and were in momentary expectation of death, when all at once
a thousand voices proclaimed the approach of Raymond and Godfrey, who
were advancing with the other division of the Christian army.

Before the commencement of the battle, Bohemond had sent messengers to
inform them of the attack of the Turks. On learning this, the duke of
Lorraine, the count de Vermandois, and the count of Flanders, at the
head of the main body of their army, had directed their march towards
the valley of Gorgoni, followed by Raymond and Adhémar, who brought up
the baggage, at the head of the rear-guard. When they appeared upon the
ridge of the mountains on the eastern side, the sun was in the midst of
his course, and his light shone full upon their shields, their helmets,
and their naked swords; the ensigns were displayed; the noise of their
drums and clarions resounded afar; and fifty thousand horsemen, fully
armed and eager for the fight, advanced in good order. This splendid
sight revived the hopes of the Crusaders, and cast fear and dread among
the infidel ranks.

Scarcely had Godfrey, who, followed by fifty knights, had preceded his
army, mixed with the combatants, when the sultan sounded a retreat and
retired to the heights, where he hoped the Crusaders would not dare
to follow him. The second body of the Christian army soon arrived on
the plain smoking with the blood of the Christians. The Crusaders,
recognising their brothers and companions stretched in the dust, became
impatient to revenge their death, and with loud cries demanded to
be led to the fight. Even the combatants who had been fighting from
morning, now would not hear of repose. The Christian army immediately
formed in order of battle. Bohemond, Tancred, and Robert of Normandy,
placed themselves on the left; Godfrey, the count of Flanders, and the
count of Blois led on the right wing. Raymond commanded the centre,
and the rear-guard, or body of reserve, was placed under the orders of
Adhémar. Before the leaders gave the word, the priests passed among the
ranks, exhorting the Crusaders to fight manfully, and giving them their
benedictions. The soldiers and the leaders, drawing their swords, and
threatening the enemy, cried with one voice, “_It is the will of God!
It is the will of God!_” and this animating war-cry was repeated by the
echoes of the mountains and the valleys. At length the Christian army
advanced, marching full of confidence against the Turks, for whom the
rocks and the hills appeared to be a sure place of refuge.

The Saracens remained motionless on the mountains, and had apparently
exhausted their arrows. The nature of the ground did not allow them to
perform their rapid evolutions or pursue their usual tactics. Neither
were they animated by the hopes of victory; but, in an attitude which
expressed fear, they awaited their enemies in silence. The count of
Thoulouse, who attacked them in front, broke through their ranks at the
first charge. Tancred, Godfrey, Hugh, and the two Roberts, attacked
them on their flanks with the same advantage. Adhémar, who had gone
round the mountains, directed his attack upon the rear of the enemies,
and completed the disorder. The Saracens found themselves surrounded
by a forest of lances, and became only solicitous to secure safety by
escaping over the rocks and through the woods. A great number of emirs,
three thousand officers, and more than twenty thousand soldiers, lost
their lives in the battle and the flight.

The camp of the enemy, which was at two leagues’ distance, fell into
the hands of the Crusaders. The conquerors there found abundance of
provisions, magnificently ornamented tents, immense treasures, all
sorts of beasts of burthen, and above all, a great number of camels.
The sight of these animals, which were then unknown in the West, caused
them as much surprise as joy. They mounted the horses of the Saracens,
to pursue the remains of the conquered army. Towards nightfall they
returned to their camp loaded with booty, preceded by their priests,
singing hymns and canticles of thanksgiving. Both leaders and soldiers
had covered themselves with glory in this great conflict. We have named
the principal leaders of the army; historians point out many more, such
as Baldwin of Beauvais, Galon de Calmon, Gaston de Béarn, Gerard de
Chérisi, all of whom signalized themselves by exploits, says William of
Tyre, the remembrance of which will never perish.

The day after the victory the Crusaders repaired to the field of battle
for the purpose of burying the dead. They had lost four thousand
of their companions, and they paid them the last duties in tears;
the clergy offered up their prayers for them, and the army honoured
them as martyrs. They soon, however, passed from funeral ceremonies
to transports of the wildest joy. On stripping the Saracens, they
quarrelled for their blood-stained habits. In the excess of their
delight, some of the soldiers would put on the armour of their enemies,
and clothing themselves in the flowing robes of the Mussulmans, would
seat themselves in the tents of the conquered, and, with imitative
gestures, ridicule the luxury and customs of Asia. Such as were without
arms took possession of the swords and crooked sabres of the Saracens,
and the archers filled their quivers with the arrows which had been
shot at them during the fight.

The intoxication of victory, however, did not prevent their doing
justice to the bravery of the Turks, who, from that time, boasted
of having a common origin with the Franks. Contemporary historians,
who praise the valour of the Turks, add, that they only wanted to be
Christians to make them quite comparable to the Crusaders. That which,
otherwise, proves the high idea the Crusaders entertained of their
enemies, is, that they attributed their victory to a miracle. Two days
after the battle, says Albert of Aix, although no one was pursuing
them, the infidels continued flying, exclaiming as they went, “_It
is the will of God! It is the will of God!_” After the victory, the
Christian army invoked the names of St. George and St. Demetrius, who
had been seen, as they said, fighting in the ranks of the Christians.
This pious fable was accredited among both the Latins and Greeks. A
long time subsequent to the victory, the Armenians erected a church
in the neighbourhood of Dorylæum, where the people were accustomed to
assemble on the first Friday of March, and believed that they saw St.
George appear on horseback, lance in hand.

Whilst the Crusaders were felicitating themselves on their victory,
the sultan of Nice, who did not dare again to encounter the Christians
in the field, undertook to desolate the country which he could not
defend. At the head of the wreck of his army, and ten thousand Arabs
who had joined him, he preceded the march of the Christians, and laid
waste his own provinces. The Turks burnt the harvests, pillaged the
cities, the bourgs, and the houses of the Christians, and carried away
in their train the wives and children of the Greeks, whom they detained
as hostages. The banks of the Meander and the Caïster, Cappadocia,
Pisidia, Isauria, and all the country as far as Mount Taurus, were
given up to pillage, and entirely laid waste.

When the Crusaders resumed their march, they determined not to separate
again, as they had done on entering Phrygia. This resolution certainly
rendered them safe from surprise or hostile attack, but it exposed
so numerous an army to the risk of perishing by famine and misery in
a country devastated by the Turks.[81] The Christians, who marched
without forethought, and were never provisioned for more than a few
days, were not long before they felt the want of food. They found
nothing on their route but deserted fields, and soon had no other
subsistence but the roots of wild plants and the ears of corn which had
escaped the ravages of the Saracens. By far the greater number of the
horses of the army perished for want of water and forage.

Most of the knights, who were accustomed to look with contempt on
foot-soldiers, were obliged, like them, to march on foot, and carry
their arms, the weight of which was enough to exhaust them. The
Christian army presented a strange spectacle—knights were seen mounted
on asses and oxen, advancing at the head of their companies; rams,
goats, pigs, dogs, every animal they could meet with, was loaded with
baggage, which, for the most part, was left abandoned on the roads.[82]

The Crusaders then traversed that part of Phrygia which the ancients
called “burning Phrygia.” When their army arrived in the country of
Sauria,[83] they endured all the horrors of thirst, of which the most
robust soldiers could not resist the terrible power. We read in William
of Tyre, that five hundred perished in one day. Historians say that
women were seen giving premature birth to their offspring in the midst
of burning and open fields; whilst others, in despair, with children
they could no longer nourish, implored death with loud cries, and, in
the excess of their agony, rolled naked on the earth in the sight of
the whole army.[84] The authors of the time do not forget to mention
the falcons and birds of prey which the knights had brought with them
into Asia, and which almost all perished under the burning sun. In
vain the Crusaders called for a repetition of the miracles which God
had formerly wrought for his chosen people in the desert. The sterile
valleys of Pisidia resounded during several days with their prayers,
with their complaints, and perhaps, likewise, with their blasphemies.

In the midst of these burning countries they at length made a discovery
which saved the army, but which was very near becoming as fatal to them
as the horrors of thirst.

The dogs which had followed the Crusaders had abandoned their masters,
and wandered over the plains and into the mountains in search of a
spring.[85] One day several of them were seen returning to the camp
with their paws and their hides covered with moist sand, and it was
judged that they had found water. Several soldiers observed their
track, and discovered a river. The whole army rushed towards it in a
mass. The Crusaders, famishing with heat and thirst, cast themselves
headlong into the water, and quenched the inward heat without
moderation or precaution. More than three hundred of them died almost
immediately, and many fell seriously ill, and could not continue their
march.

At length the Christian army arrived before Antiochetta, which opened
its gates to them. This city, the capital of Pisidia, was situated in
the midst of a territory interspersed with fields, rivers, and forests.
The sight of a smiling and fertile country invited the Christians to
repose for a few days, and made them soon forget all the evils they had
undergone.

As the fame of their victories and their march had spread throughout
the neighbouring countries, the greater part of the cities of Asia
Minor, some from fear, and others from affection to the Christians,
sent deputies to offer them supplies and to swear obedience to them.
Thus they found themselves masters of several countries of whose names
or geographical position they were perfectly ignorant. Most of the
Crusaders were far from being aware that the provinces they had just
subdued had seen the phalanx of Alexander and the armies of Rome, or
that the Greeks, the inhabitants of these countries, were descended
from the Gauls, who, in the time of the second Brennus, had left
Illyria and the shores of the Danube, had crossed the Bosphorus,[86]
pillaged the city of Heraclea, and founded a colony on the banks of the
Halys. Without troubling themselves with traces of antiquity, the new
conquerors ordered the Christian churches to be rebuilt, and scoured
the country to collect provisions.

During their abode at Antiochetta, the joy of their conquests was, for
a moment, disturbed by the fear of losing two of their most renowned
chiefs. Raymond, count of Thoulouse, fell dangerously ill. As his life
was despaired of, they had already laid him upon ashes, and the bishop
of Orange was repeating the litanies of the dead, when a Saxon count
came to announce that Raymond would not die of this disease, and that
the prayers of St. Gilles had obtained for him _a truce with death_.
These words, says William of Tyre, restored hope to all the bystanders,
and soon Raymond showed himself to the whole army, which celebrated his
cure as a miracle.

About the same time, Godfrey, who had one day wandered into a forest,
was in great danger from defending a soldier who was attacked by a
bear. He conquered the bear, but being wounded in the thigh, and the
blood flowing copiously, he was carried in an apparently dying state
into the camp of the Crusaders. The loss of a battle would have spread
less consternation than the sad spectacle which now presented itself
to the eyes of the Christians. All the Crusaders shed tears, and put
up prayers for the life of Godfrey. The wound did not prove dangerous,
but weakened by the loss of blood, the duke de Bouillon was a length
of time before he regained his strength. The count de Thoulouse had
likewise a long convalescence, and both were obliged during several
weeks to be borne in a litter in the rear of the army.

Greater evils threatened the Crusaders. Hitherto peace had reigned
amongst them, and their union constituted their strength. All at once,
discord broke out amongst some of the leaders, and was on the point
of extending to the whole army. Tancred and Baldwin, the brother of
Godfrey, were sent out on a scouring party, either to disperse the
scattered bands of Turks, or to protect the Christians, and obtain
from them assistance and provisions. They advanced at first into
Lycaonia as far as the city of Iconium;[87] but having met with no
enemy, and finding the country abandoned, they directed their march
towards the sea-coast, through the mountains of Cilicia. Tancred, who
marched first, arrived without obstacle under the walls of Tarsus,
a celebrated city of antiquity, which takes great pride from having
been the birthplace of St. Paul. The Turks who defended the place
consented to display the flag of the Christians on their walls, and
promised to surrender if they were not speedily relieved. Tancred,
whom the inhabitants, for the most part Christians, already considered
as their deliverer, was encamping without the walls, when he saw the
detachment commanded by Baldwin approach. The leaders and the soldiers
congratulated each other on their reunion, and expressed the greater
joy from having, reciprocally, taken each other for enemies.

But this harmony was soon troubled by the pretensions of Baldwin. The
brother of Godfrey was indignant at seeing the colours of Tancred and
Bohemond flying on the walls of Tarsus. He declared that as his troop
was the more numerous, the city ought to belong to him. He demanded,
at least, that the two parties should enter together into the place,
and should share the spoils of the garrison and the inhabitants.
Tancred rejected this proposition with scorn, and said that he had not
taken arms for the purpose of pillaging Christian cities. At these
words Baldwin broke into a rage, and bestowed the grossest abuse upon
Tancred, Bohemond, and the whole race of Norman adventurers. After
long debates, it was agreed on both sides, that the affair should
be decided by the inhabitants, and that the city should belong to
whichever they should choose for master. The assembled people at first
appeared inclined towards Tancred, to whom they thought they owed their
deliverance; but Baldwin made the Turks and the inhabitants sensible of
the superiority of his numbers, and threatened them with his anger and
his vengeance. The fear which he inspired decided the suffrages in his
favour; and the flag of Tancred was cast into the ditches of the town,
and replaced by that of Baldwin.[88]

Blood was about to flow to avenge this outrage, but the Italians and
Normans, appeased by their chief, listened to the voice of moderation,
and quitted the disputed city to seek other conquests elsewhere.
Baldwin entered in triumph into the place, of which the fortress and
several towers were still in possession of the Turks. He so much
feared that his new conquest would be disputed, that he refused to
open the gates to three hundred Crusaders whom Bohemond had sent to
the assistance of Tancred, and who demanded an asylum for the night.
These latter, being obliged to pass the night in the open field, were
surprised and massacred by the Turks. The following morning, at the
sight of their brethren stretched lifeless, and stripped of their arms
and vestments, the Christians could not restrain their indignation.
The city of Tarsus resounded with their groans and complaints. The
soldiers of Baldwin flew to arms, they threatened the Turks who still
remained in the place, and vowed vengeance upon their own leader, whom
they accused of the death of their companions. At the first outbreak of
this danger Baldwin was obliged to fly, and take refuge in one of the
towers. A short time after he appeared surrounded by his own people,
mourning with them the death of the Crusaders, and excused himself
by saying, that he had bound himself by an oath that none but his own
soldiers should enter the town. Thus speaking, he pointed to several
towers which were still occupied by the Turks. In the midst of the
tumult, some Christian women, whose noses and ears the Turks had cut
off, by their presence added to the fury of the soldiers of Baldwin,
and they immediately fell upon the Turks who remained in the city, and
massacred them all without pity.

In the midst of these scenes of violence, Baldwin received an
unexpected reinforcement. A fleet was seen approaching the coast full
sail. The soldiers of Baldwin, who expected to have to deal with more
infidels, hastened fully armed to the shore. As the fleet drew near,
they interrogated the crew of the first ship. The crew replied in the
Frank language. Soon they learnt that these, whom they had taken to be
Mussulmans, were pirates from the ports of Flanders and Holland. These
corsairs had for ten years cruised in the Mediterranean, where they had
made themselves remarkable by their exploits, and still more frequently
by their piracies. Upon hearing of the expedition of the Christians of
the West, they had made sail for Syria and Palestine. On the invitation
of the Crusaders, they joyfully entered the port of Tarsus. Their
chief, Guymer, who was a Boulonnais, recognised Baldwin, the son of his
ancient master, and promised with his companions to serve under him.
They all took the cross, and with it the oath to share the glory and
the labours of the holy war.

Aided by this new reinforcement, and leaving a strong garrison in
the city of Tarsus, Baldwin resumed his march, following the route
of Tancred, and soon came in sight of Malmistra,[89] of which the
Italians had just taken possession. The latter, on seeing Baldwin,
were persuaded that he was come to dispute their new conquest, and
prepared to repulse force by force. When Tancred endeavoured to appease
his irritated soldiers, murmurs arose against him. They accused him
of having forgotten the honour of chivalry, his moderation being in
their eyes nothing but a shameful weakness. The effect that such
reproaches must have had upon a spirit like that of Tancred, may be
easily imagined. The moment they suspected his courage, he no longer
made an effort to restrain his anger, and swore to avenge his wrongs in
the blood of his rival. He himself led the soldiers, and rushed out of
the town at their head to encounter the troops of Baldwin. They at once
came to blows. On both sides courage was equal; but the fury of revenge
doubled the efforts of the Italians. The soldiers of Baldwin had the
advantage in numbers. They fought with the animosity peculiar to civil
wars; but at length the troops of Tancred were forced to give way;
they left many of their companions in the hands of their adversaries
and upon the field of battle, and re-entered the town deploring their
defeat in silence.

Night restored calm to their excited spirits. The soldiers of Tancred
had acknowledged the superiority of the Flemings, and believed, as
blood had flowed, they had no longer any outrage to avenge, whilst the
followers of Baldwin remembered that the men whom they had conquered
were Christians. On the morrow nothing was heard on either side but the
voice of humanity and religion. The two chiefs at the same time sent
deputies, and in order to avoid an appearance of asking for peace, both
attributed their overtures to the inspiration of Heaven. They swore
to forget their quarrels, and embraced in sight of the soldiers, who
reproached themselves with the sad effects of their animosity, and
longed to expiate the blood of their brothers by new exploits against
the Turks.

Tancred with his troop departing from Malmistra, passed in triumph
along the coasts of Cilicia, and penetrated as far as Alexandretta,
of which he easily took possession. In proportion as he made himself
dreaded by his enemies, he made himself the more beloved by his
companions. When he rejoined the Christian army covered with glory and
loaded with booty, he heard all around him nothing but praises of his
moderation and valour. The presence of Baldwin, who had preceded him,
on the contrary, only excited murmurs, as they attributed to him the
death of so many Christian soldiers. Godfrey loudly blamed the ambition
and avarice of his brother. But caring little for these reproaches,
Baldwin yielded to his rival, without pain, the suffrages of the army,
and preferred a principality to the love and esteem of the Crusaders;
and fortune soon offered him an opportunity of realizing his ambitious
projects.

During the siege of Nice, an Armenian prince named Pancratius had
come to join the Christian army. In his youth he had been king of
northern Iberia. Driven from his kingdom by his own subjects, and for
a length of time a prisoner at Constantinople, he had followed the
Crusaders in the hope of re-conquering his states. He had particularly
attached himself to the fortunes of Baldwin, whose aspiring character
he understood, and whom he hoped to associate in his designs. He spoke
to him continually of the rich provinces which extended along the two
shores of the Euphrates. These provinces, he said, were inhabited by
a great number of Christians, and the Crusaders had but to present
themselves there to make themselves masters of them. These discourses
inflamed the ambition of Baldwin, who resolved a second time to
quit the main army of the Christians, and to go to the banks of the
Euphrates, to conquer a country of such boasted wealth.

He had just lost his wife, Gundechilde, who had accompanied him to the
crusade, and who was buried with great pomp by the Christians. This
loss did not stop him in the execution of his projects. As he was not
beloved in the Christian army, when he was ready to set out no leader
was willing to join him, and several even of his own soldiers refused
to accompany him. He could only take with him from a thousand to
fifteen hundred foot-soldiers, a troop despised in the army, and two
hundred horsemen, seduced by the hopes of pillage. But nothing could
abate his ardour, and as the chiefs of the crusade had decided in a
council that nobody should be allowed to withdraw from the standard of
the army, he set out the day before this decision was published in the
camp of the Christians.[90] At the head of his little army he advanced
into Armenia, finding no enemy able to impede his march. Consternation
reigned among the Turks, and the Christians, everywhere eager to throw
off the yoke of the Mussulmans, became powerful auxiliaries to the
Crusaders.

Turbessel and Ravendel were the first cities that opened their gates
to the fortunate conqueror. This conquest soon produced a separation
between Baldwin and Pancratius, who both entertained the same projects
of ambition; but this difference did not at all delay the march of the
brother of Godfrey. The Crusader prince opposed violence to cunning;
he threatened to treat his rival as an enemy, and thus drove him away
from the theatre of his victories, Baldwin wanted neither guide nor
assistance in a country of which the inhabitants all flocked out to
meet him. As he pursued his march, fame carried his exploits into the
most distant places; the intelligence of his conquests preceded him
beyond the Euphrates, and reached even the city of Edessa.

This city, so celebrated in the times of the primitive church, was the
metropolis of Mesopotamia. As it had escaped the invasion of the Turks,
all the Christians of that neighbourhood had, with their riches, taken
refuge within its walls. A Greek prince, named Theodore,[91] deputed by
the emperor of Constantinople, was the governor of it, and maintained
his power by paying tribute to the Saracens. The approach and the
victories of the Crusaders produced the most lively sensations in the
city of Edessa. The people and the governor joined in soliciting the
aid of Baldwin. The bishop and twelve of the principal inhabitants were
deputed to meet the Crusader prince. They described to him the wealth
of Mesopotamia, the devotion of their fellow-citizens to the cause of
Jesus Christ, and conjured him to rescue a Christian city from the
domination of the infidels. Baldwin readily yielded to their prayers,
and immediately prepared to cross the Euphrates.

He had the good fortune to escape the Turks, who were waiting for
him on his passage, and without drawing a sword he arrived in the
territories of Edessa. As he had placed garrisons in the cities which
had fallen into his power, he had no greater force with him than one
hundred horsemen. As soon as he drew near to the city, the whole
population came out to meet him, bearing branches of olive and singing
hymns. It must have been a curious spectacle to behold so small a
number of warriors, surrounded by an immense multitude, who implored
their support and proclaimed them their liberators. They were welcomed
with so much enthusiasm, that the prince or governor of Edessa, who
was not beloved by the people, took umbrage, and began to see in them
enemies more to be dreaded by him than the Saracens. In order to attach
their chief to himself, and engage him to support his authority, he
offered him great riches. But the ambitious Baldwin, whether because
he expected to obtain more from the affections of the people and
the fortune of his arms, or that he considered it disgraceful to
place himself in the pay of a foreign prince, refused with contempt
the offers of the governor of Edessa, and even threatened to retire
and abandon the city. The inhabitants, who dreaded his departure,
assembled in a tumultuous manner, and implored him with loud cries to
remain among them; the governor himself made new efforts to detain
the Crusaders, and to interest them in his cause. As Baldwin had made
it pretty clearly understood that he would never defend states that
were not his own, the prince of Edessa, who was old and childless,
determined to adopt him for his son and nominate him his successor. The
ceremony of the adoption was performed in the presence of the Crusaders
and the inhabitants. According to the custom of the Orientals,[92] the
Greek prince made Baldwin pass between his shirt and his naked skin,
and kissed him as a sign of alliance and paternity. The aged wife of
the governor repeated the same ceremony, and from that time Baldwin,
considered as their son and heir, neglected nothing for the defence of
a city which was to belong to him.

An Armenian prince, named Constantine, who governed a province in the
neighbourhood of Mount Taurus, had also come to the assistance of
Edessa. Baldwin, seconded by this useful auxiliary, and followed by his
own horsemen and the troops of Theodore, took the field, in order to
attack the nearest Turkish cities. He defeated the troops of the emir
Baldoukh in several encounters, and forced them to retire into the city
of Samosata. The Christians approached the place, pillaged the suburbs,
and the houses of the neighbourhood, without meeting with the least
resistance; but as they were engaged in dividing their booty, they were
attacked unexpectedly by the infidels and routed. After having lost two
thousand lighting men, they returned to Edessa, where the news of their
defeat spread the greatest consternation.

Misunderstandings soon broke out between Theodore and Baldwin, who
mutually reproached each other with their reverses. The Edessenians,
who had declared for the Crusader prince, would not hear of any other
master, and were not long in satisfying his impatience to reign. They
forgot that Theodore, by his courage and skill, had maintained their
independence in the centre of a country constantly exposed to the
invasions of the Mussulmans. They accused him of having burdened his
subjects with imposts, to satisfy the avidity of the Turks, and with
having employed the power of infidels to oppress a Christian people.
They formed, says Matthew of Edessa, a plot against his life, of
which Baldwin was not ignorant. Warned of the danger which threatened
him, Theodore retired into the citadel, which commanded the city, and
placed no reliance on anything but force to defend himself against the
seditious.

Upon this a most furious tumult was created among the people. The
enraged multitude flew to arms, and pillaged the houses of the
inhabitants who were suspected of being the partisans of Theodore. They
swore to treat him as a declared enemy. They attacked the citadel, some
beating in the gates, and others scaling the walls. Theodore seeing
that his enemies were masters of one part of the ramparts, no longer
endeavoured to defend himself, but proposed to capitulate. He agreed to
abandon the place, and to renounce the government of Edessa, requesting
permission to retire, with his family, to the city of Melitene. This
proposition was accepted with joy; the peace was signed, and the
inhabitants of Edessa swore upon the cross and the Evangelists to
respect the conditions of it.

On the following day, whilst the governor was preparing for his
departure, a fresh sedition broke out in the city. The factious
repented of having allowed a prince whom they had so cruelly outraged,
to live. New accusations were brought against him. It was said that he
had only signed the peace with perfidious intentions. The fury of the
people soon rose above all bounds, and a thousand voices demanded the
death of Theodore. They penetrated, tumultuously, into the citadel,
seized the aged governor in the midst of his family, and precipitated
him from the heights of the ramparts. His bleeding body was dragged
through the streets by the multitude, who prided themselves upon having
murdered an old man as much as if they had gained a victory over the
infidels.

Baldwin, who may, at least, be accused of not having defended his
adoptive father, was soon surrounded by all the people of Edessa, who
offered him the government of the city. He refused it at first, “but
in the end,” says an old historian, “they combated his objections with
so many reasons, that they forced him to consent, and established him
instead of the other.” Baldwin was proclaimed liberator and master of
Edessa. Seated on a blood-stained throne, and in constant dread of the
fickle nature of the people, he soon inspired his subjects with as
much fear as his enemies. Whilst the seditious trembled before him,
he extended the limits of his territories. He purchased the city of
Samosata with the treasures of his predecessor, and obtained possession
of several other cities by force of arms. As fortune favoured him
in everything, the loss even, which he had lately experienced, of
his wife, Gundechilde, promoted his projects of aggrandizement. He
espoused the niece of an Armenian prince, and by that new alliance he
extended his possessions as far as Mount Taurus. All Mesopotamia, with
both shores of the Euphrates, acknowledged his authority, and Asia
then beheld a French knight reigning without dispute over the richest
provinces of the ancient kingdom of Assyria.

Baldwin thought no more of the deliverance of Jerusalem, but gave all
his attention to the defence and aggrandizement of his states.[93]
Many knights, dazzled by such a rapid fortune, hastened to Edessa,
to increase the army and the court of the new monarch. The advantages
which resulted to the Crusaders from the foundation of this new state,
have made their historians forget that they were the fruit of injustice
and violence. The principality of Edessa served as a check upon the
Turks and the Saracens, and was, to the period of the second crusade,
the principal bulwark of the power of the Christians in the East.




BOOK III.

A.D. 1097-1099.


THE great army of the Crusaders had traversed the states of the sultan
of Nice and Iconium; throughout its passage the mosques were given
up to the flames or converted into churches; but the Christians had
neglected to fortify the cities of which they had rendered themselves
masters, or to found a military colony in a country wherein the Turks
were always able to rally and re-establish their formidable power. This
fault, which must be attributed to a too great confidence in victory,
became fatal to the Crusaders, who, in the midst of their triumphs,
lost the means of communication with Europe, and thus deprived
themselves of the assistance they might have received from Greece and
the West.

Terror opened to the pilgrims all the passages of Mount Taurus.
Throughout their triumphant march the Christians had nothing to dread
but famine, the heat of the climate, and the badness of the roads.
They had, particularly, much to suffer in crossing a mountain situated
between Coxon and Marash, which their historians denominate “_The
Mountain of the Devil_.” This mountain was very steep, and offered only
one narrow path, in which the foot-soldiers marched with difficulty;
the horses, which could not keep their footing, dragged each other
down the abysses; and the army lost a great part of its baggage. In
the course of this disastrous march, says an historian who was an
eye-witness, the soldiers gave themselves up to despair, and refused
to proceed. Being encumbered with their arms, they either sold them at
a low price or cast them down the precipices. On all sides were to be
seen warriors wounded by their frequent falls, and pilgrims exhausted
with fatigue, who could not continue their route, and filled the air
and mountains with their cries and groans. The passage of the Christian
army across this mountain occupied several days; but when they had at
length passed the chains of Mount Taurus and Mount Amanus, the sight of
Syria revived their courage, and made them quickly forget all their
fatigues. That country into which they were about to enter embraced
within its territories PALESTINE, the object of all their wishes,
prayers, and labours. In all ages Syria has attracted conquerors, by
the fertility of its soil and its wealth. In the time of David and
Solomon, it already boasted several flourishing cities. At the period
of the Crusades it had undergone a great many revolutions, but its
fields, though covered with celebrated ruins, still preserved some
portion of their fecundity.

The first of the Syrian provinces that presented itself to the eyes
of the Christians was the territory of Antioch. Towards the east
extended the states of the sultans of Aleppo and Mousoul. Further, at
the foot of Mount Libanus, was seen the principality of Damascus; on
the coast stood Laodicea, Tripoli, and the cities of Sidon and Tyre,
so celebrated in both sacred and profane antiquity. All these cities,
which scarcely maintained a shadow of their former splendour, were
governed by emirs who had shaken off the yoke of the sultans of Persia,
and reigned as sovereign princes over the ruins of the empire of
Malek-Scha.

The Crusaders advanced as far as the ancient Chalcis, then called
Artesia, of which they made themselves masters. To arrive before
Antioch they had to pass over a bridge built over the Orontes, and
defended by two towers masked with iron. Nothing could resist the van,
commanded by the duke of Normandy. The Normans soon got possession of
the bridge, and passed the river. Terror seized upon the Mussulman
ranks, and they sought shelter, with the greatest haste, within the
walls of the city. The whole Christian army, drawn up in battle array,
with trumpets sounding and flags flying, marched towards Antioch and
encamped within a mile of its walls.

The sight of this city, so celebrated in the annals of Christianity,
revived the enthusiasm of the Crusaders. It was within the walls of
Antioch that the disciples of Jesus Christ first assumed the title of
Christians, and the apostle Peter was named the first pastor of the
young church. No city had contained within its bosom a greater number
of martyrs, saints, and doctors; no city had beheld more miracles
worked for the faith. During many centuries, the faithful had been
accustomed to come into one of its suburbs to pray at the tomb of St.
Babylas, who, during the reign of Julian, had silenced the oracles of
Apollo. For a long time Antioch was considered in Christendom as the
eldest daughter of Sion; it bore the name of Theopolis ’the city of
God), and pilgrims visited it with no less respect than Jerusalem.

Antioch was as much celebrated in the annals of Rome as in those of
the Church. The magnificence of its edifices and the residence of
several emperors had obtained it the name of the Queen of the East. Its
situation, amidst a smiling and fertile country, attracted strangers
to it at all times. At two leagues eastward was a lake abounding in
fish, which communicated with the Orontes; whilst on the south, were
the suburbs and the fountain of Daphne, so renowned in paganism. Not
far from this arose the mountain of Orontes, covered with gardens and
country houses; on the north was another mountain, sometimes called
the Black Mountain, on account of its forests, and sometimes the Water
Mountain, on account of its numerous springs. The river Orontes[94]
flowed at the foot of the ramparts of Antioch towards the west, and
fell into the sea at a distance of three or four leagues from the city.

Within the walls were four hills separated by a torrent, which cast
itself into the river. Upon the western hill was built a very strong
citadel, which dominated over the city. The ramparts of Antioch, whose
solidity equalled that of a rock, were three leagues in extent. “This
place,” says an old author, “was an object of terror to those who
looked upon it, for the number of its strong and vast towers, which
amounted to three hundred and sixty.” Wide ditches, the river Orontes
and marshes, still further protected the inhabitants of Antioch, and
cut off an approach to the city.

In spite of all these fortifications of nature and art,[95] Antioch
had been several times taken. It fell at once into the power of the
Saracens, in the first age of the Hegira; it was afterwards retaken by
the Greeks, under Nicephorus Phocas; and, fourteen years before, the
Turks had rendered themselves masters of it. At the approach of the
Christians, the greater part of the Saracens of the neighbouring cities
and provinces had sought security in Antioch for themselves, their
wives, and treasures. Baghisian,[96] or Accien, grandson of Malek-Scha,
who had obtained the sovereignty of the city, had shut himself up in
it, with seven thousand horse and twenty thousand foot-soldiers.

The siege of Antioch presented many difficulties and dangers. The
chiefs of the Crusaders deliberated upon the propriety of undertaking
it; and the first who spoke in the council thought that it would be
imprudent to commence a siege at the beginning of winter. They did not
dread the arms of the Saracens, but the rains, the tempests, and the
horrors of famine. They advised the Crusaders to await in the provinces
and neighbouring cities the arrival of the aid promised by Alexius,
and the return of spring, by which time the army would have repaired
its losses, and received beneath its standards fresh reinforcements
from the West. This counsel was listened to with much impatience by the
greater part of the leaders, among whom were conspicuous the legate
Adhemar and the duke of Lorraine. “Ought we not, at once,” said they,
“to take advantage of the terror spread among the enemy? Is it right
to leave them time to rally and recover from their alarm? Is it not
well known that they have implored the succour of the caliph of Bagdad
and the sultan of Persia? Every moment of delay may strengthen the
armies of the Mussulmans, and rob the Christians of the fruits of their
victories. You talk of the arrival of the Greeks; but do we stand in
need of the Greeks to attack enemies already many times conquered? Was
it necessary to await for new Crusaders from the West, who would come
to share the glories and the conquests of the Christian army, without
having shared its dangers and its labours? As to the rigours of winter,
which they appeared so much to dread, it was an insult to the soldiers
of Jesus Christ to think them incapable of enduring cold and rain. It
was, in some sort, to compare them to those birds of passage which fly
away and hide themselves in secret places, when they see the bad season
approach.[97] It was, besides, impossible to think that a siege could
be protracted to any length with an army full of ardour and courage.
The Crusaders had only to remember the siege of Nice, the battle of
Dorylæum, and a thousand other exploits. Why should they be restrained
by the fear of want and famine? Had they not hitherto found in war all
the resources of war? They must know that victory had always supplied
the wants of the Crusaders, and that abundance awaited them in that
city of Antioch, which would not be long in opening its gates to them.”

This discourse won over the most ardent and the most brave. Such as
entertained a contrary opinion dreaded to be accused of timidity, and
remained silent. The council decided that the siege of Antioch should
at once be commenced; and on that very day the whole Christian army
advanced under the walls of the city. Bohemond and Tancred took their
posts on the east, opposite the gate of St. Paul; to the right of the
Italians were the Normans, the Bretons, the Flemings, and the French,
commanded by the two Roberts; the count de Vermandois and the count de
Chartres encamped towards the north, opposite the gate of the Dog; the
count of Thoulouse, the bishop of Puy, and the duke of Lorraine, with
the troops they commanded, occupied the space which extended from the
gate of the Dog to the spot where the Orontes turning towards the west
approaches the walls of Antioch. The Crusaders left open the southern
part, defended by the mountain of Orontes, and likewise neglected to
invest the western side of the city, which the river protected, and
thus gave the besieged liberty to make sorties or receive succours.

The Turks had shut themselves up within their walls; not a soul
appeared upon the ramparts, and not the least noise was heard in
the city. The Crusaders fancied that they saw in this appearance of
inaction and this profound silence the discouragement and terror which
had taken possession of their enemies. Blinded by the hope of an easy
conquest, they took no precautions, and spread themselves about over
the neighbouring country. The abundance of provisions, the beautiful
sky of Syria, the fountain and the shades of Daphne, and the banks of
the Orontes, famous in Pagan antiquity for the worship of Venus and
Adonis, made them lose sight of the holy war, and spread license and
corruption among the soldiers of Christ.

Whilst they thus neglected, amongst scenes of intemperance and
debauchery, the laws of discipline and the precepts of the Scriptures,
they were attacked by the garrison of Antioch, which surprised them,
some scarcely guarding the camp, and the rest scattered about in the
neighbouring country. All whom the hopes of pillage or the attractions
of pleasure had drawn into the villages and orchards bordering upon the
Orontes, met with either slavery or death. Young Albéron, archdeacon
of Metz, and son of Conrad, count of Lunebourg, paid with his life for
the enjoyment of amusements which accorded but very little with the
austerity of his profession. He was surprised by the Turks[98] at the
moment when, stretched upon the grass, he was playing at dice with a
Syrian courtezan. His head was struck off with one blow of a sabre.
The courtezan was not killed till she had satisfied the brutal passion
of their conqueror. Their heads, with those of a great number of
Christians, were cast into the camp of the Crusaders, who now deplored
their disorders, and swore to take revenge for their defeat.

The desire to repair one fault made them commit another. They resolved
upon scaling the walls of Antioch, without having either ladders or
machines of war. The signal was given for a general assault. Vengeance
and fanaticism animated both soldiers and leaders; but their efforts
could neither shake the walls of the city, nor disturb the security
of the besieged. Their attacks, though renewed several times and at
several points, were always unsuccessful. Experience, for whose lessons
they always paid so dearly, at length taught them, that if they wished
to make themselves masters of the place, no other means was left them
but to invest it completely, and prevent the arrival of any succour
from without.

They established a bridge of boats upon the Orontes, and passed some
troops over towards the western side of the city. All the means in
their power were employed to stop the sorties of the enemy—sometimes
they erected wooden fortresses near the ramparts, whilst at others they
prepared balistas, which launched large stones upon the besieged. The
Crusaders, in order to close the gate of the Dog upon the Turks, were
obliged to heap up against it enormous beams and fragments of rock. At
the same time they intrenched their camp, and redoubled their efforts
to secure themselves against surprise on the part of the Saracens.

The Christian army was now solely occupied with the blockade of the
city. Although this determination was dictated by imperious necessity,
the slowness of a siege did not at all agree with the impatience of the
warriors of the West. On their arrival before Antioch, the Christian
soldiers had dissipated in a few days the provisions of several months;
they had only thought of fighting the enemy in the field of battle,
and, ever full of confidence in victory, they had neither sought to
protect themselves against the rigours of winter, nor to prevent the
approaches of the famine with which they were threatened.

The want of provisions was not long before it was felt. As soon as
winter had set in, they found themselves a prey to every species of
calamity. Torrents of rain fell daily, and the plains, an abode upon
which had rendered the soldiers of Christ effeminate, were almost all
buried beneath the waters. The Christian camp, particularly in the
valley, was submerged several times; tempests and inundations carried
away the pavilions and tents; moisture relaxed the bows, and rust
gnawed into both lances and swords. The greater part of the soldiers
were without clothes; and contagious diseases carried off both men and
animals. Rains, cold, famine, epidemic diseases, made such ravages,
that, according to the report of William of Tyre, the Crusaders had not
either time or space to bury their dead.[99]

In the midst of the general distress, Bohemond and the duke of Normandy
were commissioned to go and scour the country in search of provisions.
In the course of their incursion they defeated several detachments of
Saracens, and returned to the camp with a considerable booty. But the
provisions they brought could not be sufficient to support a large
army for any length of time; every day they made fresh incursions, and
every day were less successful. All the country of Upper Syria had been
ravaged by the Turks and Christians. The Crusaders who were sent on
these foraging parties often put the infidels to flight; but victory,
which was almost always their only resource in moments of want, could
not bring back abundance to their camp.

To fill up the measure of their miseries, all communication was
stopped with Constantinople; the fleets of the Pisans and Genoese no
longer coasted the countries occupied by the Crusaders. The port of
St. Simeon, situated at three leagues from Antioch, saw no vessel now
arrive from either Greece or the West. The Flemish pirates, who had
taken up the cross at Tarsus, after possessing themselves of Laodicea,
had been surprised by the Greeks, and were detained prisoners during
several weeks. The darkest future lay before the Christians; they no
longer talked of anything but of the losses they had sustained, and of
the evils with which they were threatened; each day the most afflicting
intelligence was spread through the army.

It was said that the son of Sweno, king of Denmark, who had assumed
the cross, and was leading fifteen hundred horsemen to the holy war,
had been surprised by the Turks whilst advancing rapidly across the
defiles of Cappadocia. Attacked by an enemy superior in numbers, he
had defended himself during a whole day, without being able to repulse
the infidels, with all the efforts of his courage or the battle-axes
of his warriors. Florine, daughter of Eudes I., duke of Burgundy, who
accompanied the Danish hero, and to whom he was to be married after the
taking of Jerusalem, had valiantly fought by his side. Pierced by seven
arrows, but still fighting, she sought with Sweno to open a passage
towards the mountains, when they were overwhelmed by their enemies.
They fell together on the field of battle, after having seen all their
knights and their most faithful servants perish around them. “Such were
the news that came to the camp of the Christians,” says William of
Tyre, “and so full were they of sadness and grief, that more than ever
were their hearts depressed with the increase of their calamities.”[100]

Each succeeding day famine and disease made greater ravages. The
provisions[101] brought to the camp by a few Syrians were at so high
a price that the soldiers could not obtain any; the multitude filled
the camp with lamentations, and there was not a Crusader who had not
to weep for the death of several of his companions. Desertion was soon
added to the other scourges. The greater part of the Crusaders had lost
all hope of taking Antioch, or of ever reaching the Holy Land. Some
sought refuge from misery in Mesopotamia, now governed by Baldwin;
whilst others repaired to the cities of Cilicia which had fallen into
the hands of the Christians.

The duke of Normandy withdrew to Laodicea, and did not return until he
had received three summonses from the army in the name of religion and
of Jesus Christ. Tatius, the general of Alexius, quitted the camp of
the Crusaders with the troops he commanded, promising to return with
reinforcements and provisions. His departure caused little regret, and
his promises, in which they had no confidence, did not at all alleviate
the despair of the sufferers. This despair was carried to its height
among the defenders of the cross when they saw those who ought to have
set them an example of patience and courage desert them. William,
viscount de Melun, whose extraordinary exploits with the battle-axe
had procured him the name of _the Carpenter_, could not support the
miseries of the siege, and deserted the standard of Christ.[102]
The preacher of the crusade, Peter the Hermit, whom the Christians,
doubtless, blamed for all the miseries of the siege, was unable to
bear their complaints or share their misfortunes; and despairing of
the success of the expedition, he fled secretly from the camp.[103]
His desertion caused a great scandal among the pilgrims, “and did not
astonish them less,” says Abbot Guibert, “than if the stars had fallen
from the heavens.” Pursued and overtaken by Tancred, he and William the
Carpenter were brought back disgraced to the camp. The army reproached
Peter with his base desertion, and made him swear upon the Scriptures
that he would never again abandon a cause which he had preached. They
threatened with the punishment usually inflicted upon homicides all who
should follow the example he had given to his companions and brothers.

But in the midst of the corruption which reigned in the Christian
army, virtue itself might have thought of flight, and have excused
desertion. If contemporary accounts are to be credited, all the vices
of the infamous Babylon prevailed among the liberators of Sion. Strange
and unheard-of spectacle! Beneath the tents of the Crusaders famine
and voluptuousness formed a hideous union; impure love, an unbounded
passion for play, with all the excesses of debauch, were mingled
with images of death.[104] In their misfortunes, the greater part of
the pilgrims seemed to disdain the consolations that might have been
derived from piety and virtue.

And yet the bishop of Puy, and the more virtuous portion of the clergy
used every effort to reform the manners of the Crusaders. They caused
the voice of religion to hurl its thunders against the excesses of
libertinism and licentiousness. They recalled to their minds all
the evils that the Christian army had suffered, and attributed them
entirely to the vices and debaucheries of the defenders of the cross.
An earthquake which was felt at this time, an aurora borealis, which
was a new phenomenon to great part of the pilgrims, were pointed out
to them as an announcement of the anger of Heaven. Fasts and prayers
were ordered, to avert the celestial indignation. The Crusaders made
processions round the camp, and hymns of penitence resounded from
all parts. The priests invoked the wrath of the Church against all
who should betray the cause of Christ by their sins. To add to the
terrors which the threats of religion inspired, a tribunal, composed
of the principal leaders of the army and the clergy, was charged with
the pursuit and punishment of the guilty. Men surprised in a state of
intoxication had their hair cut off; whilst blasphemers, or such as
gave themselves up to a passion for play, were branded with a hot iron.
A monk accused of adultery, and convicted by the ordeal of fire, was
beaten with rods, and led naked through the camp. As the judges became
aware of the guilty, they must have been terrified at their numbers.
The severest punishments could not entirely stop the prostitution
which had become almost general. They determined upon shutting up all
the women in a separate camp—an extreme and imprudent measure, which
confounded vice and virtue, and produced crimes more disgraceful than
those they desired to prevent.

Among all these calamities, the camp of the Crusaders was filled with
Syrian spies, who daily bore into the city accounts of the plans,
the distress, and the despair of the besiegers. Bohemond, in order
to deliver the army, employed a means of a nature to disgust even
barbarians. My pen refuses to trace such pictures, and I leave William
of Tyre, or rather his old translator, to speak. “Bohemond,” says he,
“commanded that several Turks, whom he held in close confinement,
should be brought before him. These he caused instantly to be executed
by the hands of the officers of justice, and then ordering a great fire
to be lighted, he had them spitted and roasted, as flesh prepared for
the supper of himself and his troops; at the same time commanding, that
if any one made inquiries about what was going on, that they should
be answered in this fashion: ‘_The princes and rulers of the camp
have this day decreed in council, that all Turks or spies that shall
henceforward be found in their camp, shall be, in this manner, forced
to make meat with their own bodies, as well for the princes as the
whole army_.’”

The servants of Bohemond executed exactly the orders and instructions
which he had given them. The strangers who were in the camp soon
flocked to the quarters of the prince of Tarentum, and when they
saw what was going on, adds our ancient author, _were marvellously
terrified_, fearing to share the fate of the victims. They made haste
to quit the camp of the Christians, and everywhere on their road spread
an account of that which they had seen. Their story flew from mouth to
mouth, even to the most distant countries: the inhabitants of Antioch,
and all the Mussulmans of the Syrian cities, were seized with terror,
and no more ventured to approach the camp of the Crusaders. “By these
means,” says the historian we have above quoted, “it ensued from the
cunning and conduct of the seigneur Bohemond, that the pest of spies
was banished from the camp, and the enterprises of the Christians were
not divulged to the enemy.”

The bishop of Puy, at the same time, employed a stratagem much more
innocent and conformable with the spirit of his ministry and his
profession. He caused the lands in the neighbourhood of Antioch to
be ploughed and sowed, in order to protect the Christian army from
the attacks of famine, and, at the same time to lead the Saracens to
believe that nothing could exhaust the perseverance of the besiegers.

In the meanwhile the winter was stealing away; the contagious diseases
committed fewer ravages; and the princes and the monasteries of Armenia
sent provisions to the Christians.[105] The famine began to be less
felt. The amelioration in the condition of the pilgrims was attributed
to their penitence and their conversion; and they returned thanks to
Heaven for having made them better and more worthy of its protection
and mercy.

It was at this period that ambassadors from the caliph of Egypt arrived
in the camp of the Crusaders. In the presence of the infidels the
Christian soldiers endeavoured to conceal the traces and remembrances
of the lengthened miseries they had undergone. They clothed themselves
in their most precious vestments, and displayed their most brilliant
arms. Knights and barons contended for the glory of strength and skill
in tournaments. Nothing was seen but dancing and festivity, amidst
which abundance and joy appeared to reign. The Egyptian ambassadors
were received in a magnificent tent, in which were assembled all the
principal leaders of the army. They did not disguise, in their address,
the extreme aversion that their master had always entertained for an
alliance with the Christians; but the victories which the Crusaders
had gained over the Turks, those eternal enemies of the race of Ali,
had led him to believe that God himself had sent them into Asia, as
the instruments of his vengeance and justice. The Egyptian caliph
was disposed to ally himself with the victorious Christians, and was
preparing to enter Palestine and Syria. As he had learnt that the
wishes of the Crusaders were confined to an ardent desire to behold
Jerusalem, he promised to restore the Christian churches, to protect
their worship, and open the gates of the Holy City to all the
pilgrims, upon condition that they would repair thither without arms,
and would remain there no longer than one month. If the Crusaders
submitted to these conditions, the caliph promised to become their most
generous supporter; if they declined the blessing of his friendship,
the nations of Egypt and Ethiopia, with all those that inhabit Asia and
Africa, from the Straits of Gades to the gates of Bagdad, would arise
at the voice of the legitimate vicar of the prophet, and would show the
warriors of the West the power of their arms.

This discourse excited violent murmurs in the assembly of the
Christians; one of the chiefs arose to answer it, and addressing
himself to the deputies of the caliph: “The religion that we follow,”
said he to them, “has inspired us with the design of re-establishing
its empire in the places in which it was born; and we stand in no need
of the concurrence of the powers of the earth to accomplish our vows.
We do not come into Asia to receive laws or benefits from Mussulmans,
nor have we forgotten, besides, the outrages committed by Egyptians
upon the pilgrims of the West; we still remember that Christians, under
the reign of the caliph Hakem, were delivered over to executioners,
and that their churches, particularly that of the Holy Sepulchre, were
razed to the ground. Yes, without doubt, we have the intention of
visiting Jerusalem, but we have also taken an oath to deliver it from
the yoke of the infidels. God, who has honoured it by his sufferings,
wills that he shall be there served by his people. The Christians
resolve to be both its guardians and its masters. Go and tell him who
sent you to make choice of peace or war; tell him that the Christians
encamped before Antioch fear neither the nations of Egypt, nor those
of Asia, nor those of Bagdad, and that they only ally themselves with
powers which respect the laws of justice and the standards of Jesus
Christ.”

The orator who spoke thus expressed the opinion and sentiments of the
assembly; nevertheless, they did not entirely reject the alliance
with the Egyptians. Deputies were chosen from the Christian army to
accompany the ambassadors of Cairo on their return, and to bear to the
caliph the definitive propositions of peace of the Crusaders.

Scarcely had the deputies left the camp of the Christians, when the
latter obtained a fresh victory over the Turks. The sultans of Aleppo
and Damascus, with the emirs of Cæesarea, Emessa, and Hieropolis, had
raised an army of twenty thousand horse to succour Antioch; and this
army was already on its march towards the city, when it was surprised
and cut to pieces by the prince of Tarentum and the count de St.
Gilles, who had gone out to meet it. The Turks lost in this battle
two thousand men and one thousand horses; and the city of Harem, in
which they in vain sought an asylum after their defeat, fell into the
hands of the Christians. At the moment the ambassadors from Egypt
were about to embark at the port of St. Simeon, the heads and spoils
of two hundred Mussulmans were brought to them upon four camels. The
conquerors cast two hundred other heads into the city of Antioch, whose
garrison was still in expectation of succour; and they stuck a great
number upon pikes round the walls. They exhibited thus these horrible
trophies, to avenge themselves of the insults the Saracens had, on
their ramparts, heaped upon an image of the Virgin which had fallen
into their hands.

But the Crusaders were soon to signalize themselves in a much more
perilous and murderous battle. A fleet of Genoese and Pisans had
entered the port of St. Simeon, and the news of their arrival causing
the greatest joy in the army, a great number of soldiers left the camp
and hastened towards the port, some to learn news from Europe, and
others to buy the provisions of which they stood so much in need. As
they were returning loaded with provisions, and for the greater part
unarmed, they were unexpectedly attacked and dispersed by a body of
four thousand Turks, who laid wait for them on their passage. In vain
the prince of Tarentum, the count de St. Gilles, and Bishop Adhemar,
flew to their aid with their troops; the Christians could not resist
the shock of the infidels, and retreated in disorder.

The account of this defeat soon spread alarm among the Crusaders who
had remained before the city. Immediately Godfrey, to whom danger
gave supreme authority, ordered the leaders and soldiers to fly to
arms.[106] Accompanied by his brother Eustace, the two Roberts, and
the count de Vermandois, he crossed the Orontes, and hastened to seek
the enemy, still engaged in following up their first advantage. As
soon as he came in presence of the Saracens, he commanded the other
chiefs to follow his example, and rushed, sword in hand, into the
thickest of the enemy’s ranks. The latter, accustomed to fight at
a distance, and principally to employ the bow and arrow, could not
resist the sword and lance of the Crusaders. They took to flight, some
towards the mountains, and others towards the city. Accien, who, from
the towers of his palace, had witnessed the victorious attack of the
Crusaders, immediately sent a numerous detachment to renew the fight.
He accompanied his soldiers as far as the gate of the Bridge, which he
caused to be shut after them, telling them it should only be opened to
them when they returned victorious.

This new body of Saracens were soon beaten and dispersed; and there
remained no hope to them but to endeavour to regain the city. But
Godfrey, who had foreseen everything, had posted himself upon an
eminence between the fugitives and the gates of Antioch. It was there
that the carnage was renewed; the Christians were animated by their
victory, and the Saracens by their despair and the cries of the
inhabitants of the city, who were assembled on the ramparts. Nothing
can paint the frightful tumult of this fresh conflict. The clashing of
arms and the cries of the combatants would not permit the soldiers to
hear the orders of their leaders. They fought man to man, and without
order, whilst clouds of dust covered the field of battle. Chance
directed the blows of both the conquerors and the conquered, and the
Saracens, heaped as it were together by their terror, impeded their
own flight. The confusion was so great that several of the Crusaders
were killed by their companions and brothers in arms. A great number
of Saracens fell almost without resistance under the swords of the
Christians, and more than two thousand, who sought safety in flight,
were drowned in the Orontes. “The old men of Antioch,” says William of
Tyre, “whilst contemplating this bloody catastrophe from the height of
their walls, grieved that they had lived so long, whilst the women who
witnessed the death of their children, lamented their own fecundity.”
The carnage continued during the whole day; and it was not till
nightfall that Accien allowed the gates to be opened for the reception
of the miserable remains of his troops, still hotly pursued by the
Crusaders.

The leaders and soldiers of the army had performed prodigies of valour.
Bohemond, Tancred, Adhemar, Baldwin du Bourg, and Eustace had appeared
everywhere, leading their warriors in the paths of danger. The whole
army spoke of the lance-thrusts and marvellous feats of arms of the
count de Vermandois and the two Roberts. The duke of Normandy sustained
a single combat with a leader of the infidels, who advanced towards
him surrounded by his troop. With one blow of his sword he split his
head to the shoulder, and, as the Saracen fell dead at his feet,
exclaimed, “_I devote thy impure soul to the powers of hell_.” Tancred,
says Raoul de Caen, distinguished himself amongst the most intrepid
of the knights. In the heat of the _mêlée_, the Christian hero, as
modest as he was brave, made his squire swear to preserve silence upon
the exploits of which he was a witness.[107] “Godfrey, who, in this
memorable day, had displayed the skill of a great captain, signalized
his bravery and vast strength by actions which both history and poetry
have celebrated. No armour seemed proof against his trenchant blade;
lances, helmets, and cuirasses flew in shivers beneath its strokes. A
Saracen of surpassing strength and stature offered him single combat
in the midst of the _mêlée_, and with his first blow dashed the shield
of Godfrey in pieces. Indignant at such audacity, the Christian hero
raised himself in his stirrups, and rushing on his antagonist, dealt
him so terrible a blow on the shoulder, that he divided his body into
two parts.[108] The one, say the historians, fell to the ground, whilst
the other remained on the horse, which returned to the city, where
this spectacle redoubled the consternation of the besieged. In spite
of these astonishing exploits, the Christians sustained a considerable
loss. Whilst celebrating the heroic valour of the Crusaders,
contemporary history is astonished at the multitude of martyrs which
the Saracens sent to heaven, and who, on arriving in the abodes of the
elect, with crowns upon their heads, and palm branches in their hands,
addressed God in these words: ‘Why have you not spared our blood which
has flowed for you this day?’”[109]

The infidels passed the night in burying such as had been killed
under the walls of the city. They interred them near a mosque built
on the outer side of the bridge of the Orontes. After the funeral
ceremonies, they returned into Antioch. As, according to the custom of
the Mussulmans, these bodies had been buried with their arms, their
ornaments, and their vestments, this plunder held out too strong a
temptation for the gross multitude that followed the army of the
Crusaders. They crossed the Orontes, precipitated themselves in a
crowd upon the graves of the Saracens, exhumed the dead bodies, and
tore off the arms and habiliments with which they were covered. They
quickly returned to exhibit in the camp the silk stuffs, bucklers,
lances, javelins, and rich swords found in the coffins; nor did this
spectacle at all disgust the knights and barons. On the day following
the battle, among the spoils of the vanquished, they contemplated
with joy fifteen hundred heads separated from their trunks, which
were paraded in triumph through the army, recalling to them their own
victory, and the loss they had inflicted on the infidels. All these
heads were cast into the Orontes, and, together with the bodies of the
Mussulmans drowned in the conflict of the preceding day, carried the
news of the victory to the Genoese and Pisans disembarked at the port
of St. Simeon. The Crusaders, who, at the commencement of the battle,
had fled towards the sea or the mountains, and who had been lamented
as dead, returned to the camp, and joined their brethren in the thanks
offered to heaven for the triumphs of the Christian army. From this
time the chiefs thought of nothing but taking advantage of the terror
with which they had inspired the Saracens. Masters of the cemetery of
the Mussulmans, the Crusaders destroyed the mosque which had been built
outside the walls of the city, and employed the stones of the tombs
even in erecting a fortress before the gate of the bridge, by which the
besieged made their sorties. Raymond, who had been accused of want of
zeal for the holy war, caused the fort to be constructed, and charged
himself with the defence of this dangerous post. It was proposed to
raise another fortress near the first, and as no other of the leaders
presented himself to forward the construction of it, Tancred offered
his services to the Crusaders. But, generous and loyal knight as he
was, he possessed nothing but his sword and his renown. He asked the
necessary money of his companions, and himself undertook the dangers of
the enterprise. All were eager to second his courageous devotedness;
the labours which he directed were soon finished, and from that period
the besieged found themselves completely enclosed within the circle of
their walls.

The Crusaders, after having thus finished the blockade of the place,
surprised the Syrians who had been accustomed to bring provisions into
Antioch, and only gave them liberty and life upon their swearing to
supply the Christian army. Having learnt that Accien had sent a great
part of the horses of his garrison into a valley at a few leagues
from the city, they repaired thither by circuitous routes, and got
possession of this rich booty. Two thousand horses, and as many mules,
were led in triumph into the camp of the Christians.

As the fleet of the Pisans and Genoese had brought with them a great
number of labourers and engineers, they were employed in directing and
carrying on the works of the siege. Machines of war were constructed,
and the city of Antioch was pressed more vigorously, and threatened
on all sides. Whilst despair supplied the place of courage among the
Saracens, the zeal and emulation of the Crusaders were redoubled. Many
whom misery or fear had driven from the Christian army rejoined their
standards, and sought by their exertions to obliterate the remembrance
of their desertion. The besiegers allowed themselves no repose, and
only seemed to live to fight. The women seconded the valour of the
warriors. Some mingled with them in the ranks, whilst others bore
them food and ammunition to the battle-field. Children even formed
themselves into troops, exercised themselves in military evolutions,
and took up arms against the Saracens. The inhabitants of Antioch
opposed their children to those of the Christians, and several times
these young combatants came to blows in the presence of the besiegers
and the besieged, who animated them with voice and gesture, and joined
the combat even to support such of their party as seemed to yield.

There was formed at the same time another military force still more
formidable to the Saracens.[110] The mendicants and vagabonds who
followed the Christian army were employed in the labours of the siege,
and worked under the orders of a captain, who took the title of “_Roi
truant_,” or king of the beggars. They received pay from the general
treasury of the Crusaders, and as soon as they were in a condition to
purchase arms and clothes, the king renounced them as his subjects,
and forced them to enter into one of the troops of the army. This
measure, whilst forcing the vagabonds to abandon a life of dangerous
idleness, changed them into useful auxiliaries. As they were accused
of violating tombs and feeding on human flesh,[111] they inspired great
terror among the infidels, and the sight of them alone put to flight
the defenders of Antioch, who trembled at the thoughts of falling into
their hands.

Antioch was so closely pressed, and the garrison had so little means of
defence left, that the Crusaders expected every day to become masters
of it. Accien demanded a truce of them, and promised to surrender if he
were not soon relieved. The Crusaders, ever full of blind confidence,
had the imprudence to accept the proposals of the governor. As soon as
they had concluded a truce with the Saracens, the leaders of the army,
who scarcely ever agreed, except upon the field of battle, and whom
the presence of danger did not always unite, were upon the point of
declaring war against one another.

Baldwin, prince of Edessa, had sent magnificent presents to Godfrey,
the two Roberts, the count de Vermandois, and the counts of Blois and
of Chartres, but in the distribution of his favours had, designedly,
omitted Bohemond and his soldiers. Nothing more was necessary to create
division. Whilst the rest of the army were celebrating the liberality
of Baldwin, the prince of Tarentum and his warriors breathed nothing
but complaints and murmurs.

At this time a richly-ornamented tent, which an Armenian prince
destined for Godfrey, and which, falling into the hands of Pancracius,
was sent to Bohemond, became a fresh subject of trouble and discord.
Godfrey haughtily claimed the present which had been intended for him,
and Bohemond refused to give it up. On each side they proceeded to
injurious terms and threats; they were even ready to have recourse to
arms, and the blood of the Christians was about to flow for a miserable
quarrel; but at length the prince of Tarentum, abandoned by the greater
part of the army, and overcome by the prayers of his friends, gave up
the tent to his rival, consoling himself in his vexation, with the hope
that war would soon put him in possession of a richer booty.

William of Tyre, who has transmitted to us this account, is astonished
to see the wise Godfrey claim such a frivolous object with so much
heat, and in his surprise he compares the weakness of the hero to the
slumbers of the good Homer. His thought would have been more just if he
had compared the discords and quarrels of the leaders of the crusade
to those which troubled the camp of the Greeks, and so long retarded
the taking of Troy. Whilst these quarrels engaged the attention of
the whole Christian army, the inhabitants of Antioch were introducing
reinforcements into the city, and preparing for a fresh resistance.
When they had received the succours and provisions necessary to defend
themselves and prolong the siege, they broke the truce, and again began
the war, with all the advantages that a peace too easily granted them
had procured.

Antioch, after a siege of seven months, would have escaped from the
hands of the Christians, if stratagem, policy, and ambition had not
effected for them that which patience and bravery had been unable to
achieve. Bohemond, whose sole motive for undertaking the crusade had
been a desire to improve his fortunes, was constantly on the watch for
an opportunity of realizing his projects. Baldwin’s great success had
awakened his jealousy, and haunted him even in his sleep. He dared
to direct his views to the possession of Antioch, and was so far
favoured by circumstances, as to meet with a man who might be able to
place this city in his power. This man, whose name was Phirous, was,
whatever some historians who give him a noble origin may say, the
son of an Armenian, who was by trade a maker of cuirasses.[112] Of a
restless and busy character, he was constantly anxious to change and
improve his condition. He had abjured the Christian religion from a
spirit of inconstancy, and in the hope of advancing his fortune; he
was endowed with admirable self-possession, and with audacity proof
against any accident; and was at all times ready to perform that
for money which could only have been expected from the most ardent
fanaticism. Nothing appeared unjust or impossible to him that promised
to gratify his ambition or his avarice. Being active, adroit, and
insinuating, he had wormed himself into the confidence of Accien, and
was admitted into his council. The prince of Antioch had intrusted
him with the command of three of the principal towers of the place.
He defended them at first with zeal, but without any advantage to his
fortune, and he grew weary of a barren fidelity the moment his busy
brain suggested that treason might be more profitable. In the intervals
of the various conflicts he had had many opportunities of seeing the
prince of Tarentum. These two men divined each other’s character at
the first glance, and it was not long before this sympathy produced
mutual confidence. In their first meetings Phirous complained of the
outrages he had experienced from the Mussulmans; he deeply regretted
having abandoned the religion of Christ, and wept over the persecutions
the Christians had suffered in Antioch. No more than this was required
to place the prince of Tarentum in possession of the secret thoughts
of Phirous. He commended both his remorse and his good feeling, and
made him the most magnificent promises. Then the renegado opened his
heart to him. They swore an inviolable friendship to each other, and
planned an active correspondence. They met several times afterwards,
but always with the greatest secrecy. At every interview Bohemond told
Phirous that the fate of the Christians was in his hands, and that it
only rested with himself to merit their gratitude, and receive from
them vast recompenses. On his side, Phirous protested that he was
anxious to serve the Christians, whom he considered as his brothers,
and, in order to assure the prince of Tarentum of his fidelity, or else
to excuse his treason, he said that Jesus Christ had appeared to him,
and had advised him to give up Antioch to the Christians.[113] Bohemond
required no such protestation. He had no difficulty in believing what
he so ardently desired, and as soon as he had agreed with Phirous upon
the means of executing the projects they had so long meditated, he
called an assembly of the principal leaders of the Christian army. He
began by laying before them with much earnestness both the evils with
which the Crusaders had hitherto been afflicted, and the still greater
evils with which they were threatened. He added, that a powerful army
was advancing to the assistance of Antioch; that a retreat could not be
effected without disgrace and danger; and that there remained no safety
for the Christians but in the capture of the city. It was true, the
place was defended by impregnable ramparts; but they should recollect
that all victories were not obtained by force of arms or in the field
of battle; and that such as were won by address were neither the
least important nor the least glorious. They, then, who could not be
conquered must be deceived, and the enemy must be overcome by a great
but skilful enterprise. Among the inhabitants of Antioch, so diverse
in their manners and religions, so opposed in their interests, there
must be some to be found who would be accessible to the bait of gold,
or the allurements of brilliant promises. The question of a service
so important to the Christian army, was of such magnitude that it was
right to promote every kind of undertaking. The possession of Antioch
itself did not appear to him to be too high a reward for the zeal of
him who should be sufficiently adroit, or sufficiently fortunate, as to
throw open the gates of the city to the Crusaders.

Bohemond was careful not to explain himself more clearly, but his
purpose was easily divined by the jealous ambition of some of the
leaders, who perhaps entertained the same views as himself. Raymond,
particularly, warmly refuted the artful insinuations of the prince of
Tarentum. “We are all,” said he, “brothers and companions, and it would
be unjust, after all have run the same risks, that one alone should
gather the fruits of our joint labours. For myself,” added he, casting
a look of anger and contempt upon Bohemond, “I have not traversed so
many countries, braved so many perils, lavished so much blood and
treasure, or sacrificed so many of my soldiers, to repay with the price
of our conquests some gross artifice or shameful stratagem worthy only
of women.” These vehement words had all the success to be expected
among warriors accustomed to prevail by force of arms, and who esteemed
no conquest that was not the reward of valour. The greater number of
the leaders rejected the proposition of the prince of Tarentum, and
added their railleries to those of Raymond. Bohemond, whom history has
surnamed the Ulysses of the Latins, did all in his power to restrain
himself and conceal his vexation. He went out from the council smiling,
persuaded that necessity would soon bring the Crusaders to his opinion.

As soon as he had regained his tent, he sent emissaries through all the
quarters of the camp to spread secretly the most alarming intelligence.
As he foresaw, consternation seized the Christians. Some of the leaders
were sent to ascertain the truth of the reports prevalent in the camp;
and soon returned with an account that Kerboghâ, sultan of Mossoul, was
advancing towards Antioch with an army of two hundred thousand men,
collected on the banks of the Euphrates and the Tigris. This army,
which had threatened the city of Edessa and ravaged Mesopotamia, was
at a distance of only seven days’ march. At this recital the fears
of the Crusaders were redoubled. Bohemond passed through the ranks,
exaggerating the danger, and affecting to show more depression and
terror than all the rest; but in his heart he was delighted, and smiled
at the idea of soon seeing all his hopes accomplished. The leaders
again assembled to deliberate upon the means necessary to be taken in
such perilous circumstances. Two opinions divided the council. Some
wished that the siege should be raised, and that they should march
to meet the Saracens; whilst others were of opinion that the army
should be formed into two bodies, one of which should act against
Kerboghâ, whilst the other should remain to guard the camp. This last
opinion appeared likely to prevail, when Bohemond demanded permission
to speak. He had not much difficulty in making them sensible of the
impracticability of both the plans proposed. If they raised the siege,
they would be placed between the garrison of Antioch and a formidable
army. If they continued the blockade of the city, and half of the army
only went to meet Kerboghâ, they were almost certain of a defeat. “The
greatest perils,” added the prince of Tarentum, “surround us. Time
presses; to-morrow, perhaps, it will be too late to act; by to-morrow
we may have lost the fruits of all our labours and all our victories;
but no, I cannot think so; God, who has led us hitherto by the hand,
will not allow that we shall have fought for his cause in vain. He
_will_ save the Christian army, he _will_ conduct us to the tomb of his
Son. If you will accept the proposal I have made to you, to-morrow the
standard of the cross shall float over the walls of Antioch, and we
will march in triumph to Jerusalem.”

When he had finished these words, Bohemond showed the letters of
Phirous, who promised to give up the three towers which he commanded.
Phirous said that he was ready to perform this promise, but he declared
he would have nothing to do with any one but the prince of Tarentum.
He required, as the price of his services, that Bohemond should remain
master of Antioch. The Italian prince added that he had already
given considerable sums to Phirous; that he alone had obtained his
confidence, and that a reciprocal confidence was the surest guarantee
of the success of so difficult an enterprise. “As for the rest,”
continued he, “if a better means of saving the army can be found, I am
ready to approve of it, and willingly renounce my share in a conquest
upon which the safety of all the Crusaders depends.”

The danger became every day more pressing; it was shameful to fly,
imprudent to fight, and dangerous to temporize. Fear silenced all
interests and all rivalry. The more opposition the leaders had shown
at first to the project of Bohemond, the more eagerly did they now
produce cogent reasons for adopting it. A divided conquest became no
longer a conquest. To divide or share Antioch might give birth to a
crowd of divisions in the army, and lead to its ruin. They only gave
that which was really not yet their own; and they gave it to secure
the lives of the Christians. It were better that one man should profit
by the labours of all, than that all should perish for opposing the
good fortunes of that one. Moreover, the taking of Antioch was not the
object of the crusade—they had taken up arms to deliver Jerusalem.
Every delay was opposed to that which religion looked for from its
soldiers, to that which the West expected from its bravest knights.
All the leaders, with the exception of the inflexible Raymond, united
in according the principality of Antioch to Bohemond, and conjured him
to hasten the execution of his project.

Upon leaving the council, the prince of Tarentum sent information of
the resolution of the leaders to Phirous, who placed his own son in
the prince’s hands as a hostage. The execution of the plan was fixed
for the next day. To lull the garrison of Antioch in the greatest
security, it was agreed that the Christian army should quit the camp,
and direct its march at first towards the route by which the prince of
Mossoul was expected to arrive, and that at nightfall it should meet
under the walls of Ascalon. On the following day, early in the morning,
the troops received orders to prepare for their departure. At some
hours before night the Crusaders issued from their camp, and marched
away, trumpets sounding and standards flying. After a march of a short
distance, they retraced their steps, and returned in silence under the
walls of Antioch. At a signal given by the prince of Tarentum, they
halted in a valley on the west, and near to the tower of the Three
Sisters, in which Phirous commanded. It was there that the leaders
revealed to the army the secret of the great expedition which was to
open to them the gates of the city.

The projects of Phirous and Bohemond, however, were very near failing.
At the moment that the Christian army quitted their camp, and all was
prepared for carrying out the plot, a report of treason all at once
was spread throughout Antioch. The Christians and newly-converted
Mussulmans were suspected; the name of Phirous even was whispered, and
he was accused of keeping up an intelligence with the Crusaders. He
was obliged to appear before Accien, who interrogated him closely, and
fixed his eyes intently upon him in order to penetrate his thoughts;
but Phirous dispersed all his suspicions by his firm countenance. He
himself proposed the proper measures to be taken against the traitors,
and advised his master to change the commanders of the principal
towers. This advice was approved of, and Accien determined to follow it
on the morrow. In the mean time orders were given to load with chains
and put to death, during the darkness of the night, all the Christians
that should be found in the city. The renegade was then sent back to
his post, loaded with praises for his carefulness and fidelity. At the
approach of night everything appeared tranquil in Antioch, and Phirous,
escaped from such threatening danger, awaited the Crusaders in the
tower which he had agreed to surrender to them.

As his brother commanded a tower near his own, Phirous went to find
him, and sought to engage him in the plot. “Brother,” said he to him,
“you know that the Crusaders have quitted their camp, and that they
are gone to meet the army of Kerboghâ. When I think of the miseries
they have endured, and on the death which threatens them, I cannot
help feeling a sort of pity for them. You are not ignorant, likewise,
that this night all the Christian inhabitants of Antioch, after having
undergone so many outrages, are going to be massacred by the orders of
Accien. I cannot help pitying them; I cannot forget that we were born
in the same religion, and that we were formerly brothers.” These words
did not produce the effect he expected. “I am surprised,” replied his
brother, “that you should pity men who ought to be objects of horror to
us. Before the Christians appeared under the walls of Antioch, we were
loaded with benefits. Since they have besieged the city, we have passed
our lives in dangers and alarms. May all the evils they have brought
upon us recoil upon them! As to the Christians who live amongst us, do
you not know that the greater part of them are traitors, and that they
think of nothing but delivering us up to the sword of our enemies?” On
finishing these words, he cast a threatening look upon Phirous. The
renegade saw that he was suspected. He could not acknowledge a brother
in the man who refused to be his accomplice, and as his only answer,
plunged his dagger into his heart.

At length the decisive moment arrived. The night was dark, and a rising
storm increased the depth of the obscurity. The wind, which rattled
among the roofs of the buildings, and the peals of thunder, prevented
the sentinels from hearing any noise around the ramparts. The heavens
seemed inflamed towards the west, and the sight of a comet which then
appeared in the horizon, seemed to announce to the superstitious minds
of the Crusaders the destined moment for the ruin and destruction of
the infidels.[114]

They awaited the signal with impatience. The garrison of Antioch was
plunged in sleep; Phirous alone watched, and meditated his conspiracy.
A Lombard named _Payen_, sent by Bohemond, mounted the tower by a
ladder of leather. Phirous received him, telling him all was ready;
and as an evidence of his fidelity, pointed to the dead body of his
brother, whom he had just slain. Whilst they were conversing, an
officer of the garrison came to visit the posts. He presented himself,
with a lantern in his hand, before the tower Phirous commanded. The
latter, without appearing the least disturbed, made the emissary of
Bohemond conceal himself, and went forward to meet the officer. After
receiving praise for his vigilance, he hastened to send Payen back with
instructions for the prince of Tarentum. The Lombard, on his return
to the army, related what he had seen, and, on the part of Phirous,
conjured Bohemond not to lose another moment.

But all at once fear took possession of the soldiers; at the moment
of execution all saw the whole extent of the danger, and not one of
them put himself forward to mount the rampart. In vain Godfrey and the
prince of Tarentum employed by turns promises and threats; both leaders
and soldiers remained motionless.[115] Bohemond himself ascended by a
ladder of ropes, in the hope that he should be seconded by the most
brave; but nobody felt it his duty to follow in his footsteps. He
reached the tower alone, where Phirous reproached him warmly for his
delay. Bohemond hastily descended to his soldiers, and repeated to
them that all was ready to receive them. His discourse, and still more,
his example, at length reanimated their courage, and sixty of them
commenced the escalade. They ascended by the ladder of leather, led on
by one Foulcher de Chartres, whom the historian of Tancred compares
to an eagle conducting her young ones, and flying at their head.[116]
Among these sixty brave men was the count of Flanders, together with
several of the principal chiefs. Very soon sixty more Crusaders quickly
pressed upon the heels of the first,[117] and these again were followed
by such numbers and with such precipitation, that the parapet to
which the ladder was fixed tottered, and at length fell with a loud
crash into the ditch. Such as were nearly attaining the summit of the
tower fell upon the lances and swords of their companions who were
following them. Disorder and confusion prevailed among the assailants,
nevertheless the leaders of the plot viewed everything with a tranquil
eye. Phirous embraced his new companions over the bloody corpse of his
brother; he even yielded to their swords another brother who happened
to be with him, and then surrendered to the Crusaders the three towers
intrusted to his command. Seven other towers soon fell into their
hands, and Phirous loudly summoned the whole Christian army to his
aid. He fixed a new ladder to the rampart, by which the most impatient
ascended, and he pointed out to others a gate which they might easily
burst open, and by it crowds rushed into the city.

Godfrey, Raymond, and the duke of Normandy were soon in the streets
of Antioch at the head of their battalions. All the trumpets were
sounded, and from the four hills the city resounded with the terrible
cry of “_It is the will of God! It is the will of God!_” At the first
report of the tumult, the Christians dwelling in Antioch all believed
that their last hour was come, and that the Mussulmans were about to
sacrifice them. The latter, half asleep, poured out of their houses to
ascertain the cause of the noise they heard, and died without knowing
who were the traitors, or by whose hands they were slain. Some, when
aware of the danger, fled towards the mountain upon which the citadel
was built, whilst others rushed out at the gates of the city. All who
could not fly fell beneath the swords of the conquerors.

In the midst of this bloody victory, Bohemond did not neglect taking
formal possession of Antioch, and at dawn his red standard was seen
floating over one of the highest towers of the city. At the sight of
this the Crusaders who were left in charge of the camp broke into loud
acclamations of joy, and hastened to take a part in this fresh conquest
of the Christians. The slaughter of the Mussulmans was continued with
unabated fury. The greater part of the Christians of Antioch, who,
during the siege, had suffered much from the tyranny of the infidels,
joined their liberators, several exhibiting the fetters by which they
had been loaded by the Turks, and thus further provoking the vindictive
spirit of the victorious army. The public places were covered with
dead bodies, and blood flowed in torrents in the streets. The soldiers
penetrated into the houses; religious emblems pointed out such as were
Christians, sacred hymns indicated their brethren; but everything that
was not marked with a cross became the object of vengeance, and all who
pronounced not the name of Christ were massacred without mercy.

In a single night more than six thousand of the inhabitants of Antioch
perished. Many of those who had fled into the neighbouring fields
were pursued and brought back into the city, where they found either
slavery or death. In the first moments of the confusion, Accien,
seeing that he was betrayed, and no longer daring to trust any of his
officers, resolved to fly towards Mesopotamia, and go to meet the army
of Kerboghâ. Escaping through one of the gates, he proceeded without
an escort over mountains and through forests, till he fell in with
some Armenian woodcutters. These men at once recognised the prince of
Antioch, and as he bore upon his countenance marks of depression and
grief, they judged that the city must be taken. One of them, drawing
near to him, snatched his sword from him, and plunged it into his body.
His head was carried to the new masters of Antioch, and Phirous had an
opportunity of contemplating without fear the features of him who, the
day before, might have sentenced him to death. After having received
great riches as the reward of his treachery, this renegade embraced the
Christianity he had abandoned, and followed the Crusaders to Jerusalem.
Two years afterwards, his ambition not being satisfied, he returned
to the religion of Mahomet, and died abhorred by both Mussulmans and
Christians, whose cause he had by turns embraced and betrayed.

When the Christians were tired of slaughter, they prepared to attack
the citadel; but as it was built upon a mountain, inaccessible on most
sides, all their efforts were useless. They contented themselves with
surrounding it with soldiers and machines of war, in order to confine
the garrison, and then spread themselves throughout the city, giving
way to all the intoxication which their victory inspired. The pillage
of Antioch had yielded them immense riches; and although they had found
but a small stock of provisions, they abandoned themselves to the most
extravagant excesses of intemperance and debauchery.

These events passed in the early days of June, 1098; the siege of
Antioch had been begun in the month of October of the preceding year.
After this victory, three days passed quickly away in the midst of
rejoicings, but the fourth was a day of fear and mourning.

A formidable army of Saracens was drawing near to Antioch. From the
earliest period of the siege, Accien, and the sultan of Nice, whom
the Christians had despoiled of his dominions, had applied to all the
Mussulman powers to procure assistance against the warriors of the
West. The supreme head of the Seljoucides, the sultan of Persia, had
promised to aid them; and at his voice all Corassan, says Matthew
of Edessa, Media, Babylon, a part of Asia Minor, and all the East,
from Damascus and the sea-coast to Jerusalem and Arabia, had arisen
at once to attack the Christians.[118] Kerboghâ, sultan of Mossoul,
commanded this army of the Mussulmans. This warrior had fought for a
length of time, at one period for the sultan of Persia ’Barkiarok),
at others for the various princes of the family of Malek-Scha, who
contended for the empire. Often defeated, and twice a prisoner, he had
grown old amidst the tumults of civil war. As full of contempt for the
Christians as of confidence in himself, a true model of the fierce
Circassian celebrated by Tasso, he considered himself the liberator of
Asia, and traversed Mesopotamia with all the pomp and splendour of a
conqueror. The sultans of Nice, Aleppo, and Damascus, with the governor
of Jerusalem and twenty-eight emirs from Persia, Palestine, and Syria,
marched under his command. The Mussulman soldiers were animated by a
thirst for vengeance, and swore by their prophet to exterminate all the
Christians. On the third day after the taking of Antioch, the army of
Kerboghâ pitched its tents on the banks of the Orontes.

The Christians were made aware of its arrival by a detachment of three
hundred horsemen, who came to reconnoitre the place, and advanced
even under the walls. Inquietude and alarm succeeded immediately to
festivity and rejoicing. They found that they had not stores to sustain
a siege; and several of their leaders were sent with their troops
towards the port of St. Simeon, and into the neighbouring country,
to collect all the provisions they could find; but the territory
of Antioch had been so completely ravaged during many months, that
they could not procure anything like enough for the maintenance of
a numerous army. The return of all who had been sent in quest of
provisions completed the terror of the Christians. At the very moment
of their arrival the infidels attacked the advanced posts of the
Crusaders; and, even in these early contests, the Christian army had
to lament the loss of several of its bravest warriors. Bohemond was
wounded in a sortie; in vain Tancred and Godfrey performed prodigies
of valour; the Mussulmans forced the Christians to shut themselves up
in a place of which the latter had but just made themselves masters,
and in which they were soon closely besieged in their turn.

Placed between the garrison of the citadel and a besieging army, the
Crusaders found themselves in a most critical position. To prevent
their being relieved by any supplies by sea, two thousand Mussulmans
were sent by Kerboghâ to take possession of the port of St. Simeon, and
of all vessels which brought provisions to the Christian army. Famine
was not long in making its appearance, and soon exercised cruel ravages
among the besieged.

From the earliest period of the siege the Crusaders could scarcely
procure the common necessaries of life at their weight in gold.
A loaf of moderate size sold at a bezant, an egg was worth six
Lucquese deniers, whilst a pound of silver was given for the head
of an ox, a horse, or an ass. Godfrey bought for fifteen silver
marks a half-starved camel, and gave three marks for a goat, which
at other times would have been rejected by the poorest soldiers of
his army. Surrounded by the vast riches conquered from the Saracens,
the Crusaders were thus condemned to all the horrors and miseries of
famine. After having killed most of their horses, they were compelled
to make war upon unclean animals. The soldiers and the poor who
followed the army supported themselves on roots and leaves; some went
so far as to devour the leather of their bucklers and shoes, whilst
the most wretched exhumed the bodies of the Saracens, and, to support
their miserable existence, disputed with death for his prey. In this
frightful distress, disconsolate mothers could no longer nourish their
babes, and died with famine and despair. Princes and knights, whose
pride and haughtiness had been the most conspicuous, were brought to
the necessity of asking alms. The count of Flanders went begging to the
houses and in the streets of Antioch for the commonest and coarsest
orts, and often obtained none. More than one leader sold his arms and
all his appointments for food to support him a single day. As long
as the duke of Lorraine had any provisions he shared them with his
companions; but at length he made the sacrifice of his last war-horse,
and found himself, as were all the other Crusaders, reduced to the most
cruel necessities.

Many of the Crusaders endeavoured to fly from a city which presented
to them nothing but the image and the prospect of death; some fled by
sea, through a thousand dangers, whilst others cast themselves amongst
the Mussulmans, where they purchased a little bread by the abandonment
of Christ and his religion. The soldiers necessarily lost courage when
they saw that count de Melun, who so often defied death in the field,
a second time fly from famine and misery. His desertion was preceded
by that of the count de Blois, who bore the standard of the Crusaders,
and presided at their councils. He had quitted the army two days before
the taking of Antioch, and when he learned the arrival of Kerboghâ, he,
with his troops, immediately marched towards Constantinople.

Deserters made their escape during the darkness of night. Sometimes
they precipitated themselves into the ditches of the city, at the
risk of their lives; sometimes they descended from the ramparts by
means of a cord. Every day the Christians found themselves abandoned
by an increasing number of their companions; and these desertions
added to their despair. Heaven was invoked against the dastards; God
was implored that they might, in another life, share the fate of the
traitor Judas. The ignominious epithet of _rope-dancers_ ’sauteurs de
corde) was attached to their names, and devoted them to the contempt of
their companions. William of Tyre refuses to name the crowd of knights
who then deserted the cause of Jesus Christ, because he considers
them as blotted out from the book of life for ever.[119] The wishes
of the Christians against those who fled were but too completely
fulfilled; the greater part perished from want, and others were killed
by the Saracens. Stephen, count of Chartres, more fortunate than
his companions, succeeded in reaching the camp of Alexius, who was
advancing with an army towards Antioch. To excuse his desertion, he
did not fail to paint, in the darkest colours, all the misfortunes and
dangers of the Christians, and to make it appear by his accounts that
God had abandoned the cause of the Crusaders. The despair of several
Latin pilgrims who followed the army of the Greeks was so violent,
that it urged them to horrible blasphemies.[120] They, groaning, asked
why the true God had permitted the destruction of his people? why he
had allowed them, who were going to deliver the tomb of his Son, to
fall into the hands of his enemies? Nothing was heard among the Latin
Crusaders but such strange speeches, and Guy, the brother of Bohemond,
exceeded all the rest in his despair. In the excess of his grief, he
blasphemed more than any, and could not understand the mysteries of
Providence, which betrayed the cause of the Christians. “O God,” cried
he, “what is become of thy power? If thou art still an all-powerful
God, what is become of thy justice? Are we not thy children, are we not
thy soldiers? Who is the father of a family, who is the king who thus
suffers his own to perish when he has the power to save them? If you
abandon those who fight for you, who will dare, henceforward, to range
themselves under your sacred banner?” In their blind grief, all the
Crusaders repeated these impious words. Such was the frenzy of despair
in which sorrow had plunged them, that, according to the report of
contemporary historians, all ceremonies of religion were suspended,
and no priest or layman during many days pronounced the name of Jesus
Christ.

The emperor Alexius, who had advanced as far as Philomelium, was so
terrified by all he heard, that he did not dare to continue his march
towards Antioch. He thought, says Anna Comnena, it was rash to attempt
to succour a city whose fortifications had been ruined by a long siege,
and whose only defenders were soldiers reduced to the lowest state of
misery. Alexius further reflected, says the same historian, upon the
indiscretion and the inconstancy of the Franks, upon their manner of
making war without art or rules, and upon the imprudence with which,
after having conquered their enemies, they allowed themselves to be
surprised by the very same people whom they had conquered. He likewise
thought of the difficulty he should have in making his arrival known
to the Crusaders, and of the still greater difficulty of making their
leaders agree with him upon the best means to save them. All these
motives appeared reasonable; but it is easy to believe that Alexius
was not sorry to see a war going on which destroyed at the same time
both Turks and Latins. However it may be, the resolution which he took
of returning to Constantinople threw all the Christians of Phrygia and
Bithynia into the greatest alarm. The report then current was ’and if
we may believe Anna Comnena, it was from the insinuations of Alexius)
that the Mussulmans were approaching with numerous armies. They were
constantly believed to be coming, and the soldiers of the emperor
themselves laid waste all the country round Philomelium, which, they
said, the Saracens were about to invade. Women, children, all the
Christian families followed the army of Alexius, as it returned to
Constantinople. They bade an eternal adieu to their native country, and
deplored the loss of their property of all kinds. Nothing was heard in
the army but lamentations and groans; but they who evinced the greatest
grief were the Latins, whose wishes were all centred in Syria, and
who lost all hope of assisting their brethren besieged in the city of
Antioch.

When the news of this retreat reached Antioch, it greatly augmented
the depression of the Crusaders. Not a hope remained to them; famine
carried off every day a great number of soldiers; their weakened arms
could scarcely lift the lance or the sword; they had neither strength
to defend their own lives nor to bury their dead. In the midst of such
frightful misery, not a tear was seen, not a sob was heard; the silence
was as complete in Antioch as if the city had been buried in the
most profound night, as if not one living person was left in it. The
Crusaders had not even the courage of despair left. The last feeling of
nature, the love of life, was becoming daily extinct in their hearts;
they feared to meet each other in the public places, and concealed
themselves in the interior of the houses, which they looked upon as
their tombs.

The towers and the ramparts remained almost without defence. Bohemond,
who had taken the command of the place, sought in vain by his speeches
to raise the courage of the Crusaders; in vain the trumpets and the
serjeants-at-arms called them to the combat. Whilst the Mussulmans shut
up in the citadel, and those who besieged the city, every day renewed
their attacks, the Christian warriors remained immovable in their
dwellings. In order to drive them from their retreats, Bohemond was
obliged to give several quarters of the city up to the flames. Raoul
de Caen deplores, in pompous verses, the conflagration and the ruin of
churches and palaces, _built with the cedars of Mount Lebanon_, and in
which shone _the marble of Mount Atlas, the crystal of Tyre, the brass
of Cyprus, the lead of Amathontis, and the iron of England_. The barons
who could no longer enforce the obedience of their soldiers, had not
strength to offer them an example. Then they bitterly remembered their
families, their castles, their wealth, all which they had quitted for
this unfortunate war; they could not comprehend the reverses of the
Christian army, and little was wanting, says William of Tyre, to make
them accuse God of ingratitude, for having refused so many sacrifices
made to the glory of his name.

Matthew of Edessa relates that the Christian leaders offered to give
up the city to Kerboghâ, upon the single condition that he would allow
them and their soldiers to return to their own countries, taking with
them their baggage. As the Saracen general rejected their proposal,
several of them, actuated by despair, formed the project of abandoning
the army, and flying by night towards the coast, but were prevented by
the exhortations of Godfrey and Bishop Adhemar, who pointed out to them
the disgrace which such a step would bring upon them in the eyes of
both Europe and Asia.

The famine had continued its ravages for more than two weeks, and the
Mussulmans pressed on the siege with the greater ardour, from the
conviction that they should soon be masters of the city. Fanaticism
and superstition, which had precipitated the Crusaders into the abyss
in which they were now plunged, alone had the power to reanimate their
courage, and extricate them from such fearful perils. Prophecies,
revelations, and miracles became every day the more frequent
subjects of report in the Christian army. St. Ambrose had appeared
to a venerable priest, and had told him that the Christians, after
overcoming all their enemies, would enter Jerusalem as conquerors, and
that God would there reward their exploits and their labours.[121] A
Lombard ecclesiastic had passed the night in one of the churches of
Antioch, and had there seen Jesus Christ, accompanied by the Virgin and
the prince of the apostles. The Son of God, irritated by the conduct
of the Crusaders, rejected their prayers, and abandoned them to the
fate they had too richly merited; but the Virgin fell at the knees
of her son, and by her tears and lamentations appeased the anger of
the Saviour. “Arise,” then said the Son of God to the priest, “go and
inform my people of the return of my commiseration; hasten and announce
to the Christians, that if they come back to me, the hour of their
deliverance is at hand.”

They whom God had thus made the depositaries of his secrets and his
will, offered, in attestation of the truth of their visions, to
precipitate themselves from a lofty tower, to pass through flames,
or to submit their heads to the executioner; but these proofs were
not necessary to persuade the Crusaders, always ready to believe in
prodigies, and who had become more credulous than ever in the moment
of danger and in the excess of their misfortunes. The imagination of
both leaders and soldiers was easily led away by the promises which
were made to them in the name of Heaven. The hopes of a more prosperous
future began to re-animate their courage. Tancred, as a good and loyal
knight, swore, that as long as he had sixty companions left, he would
never abandon the project of delivering Jerusalem. Godfrey, Hugh,
Raymond, and the two Roberts took the same oath. The whole army, after
the example of their leaders, promised to fight and to suffer until the
day appointed for the deliverance of the holy places.

In the midst of this reviving enthusiasm, two deserters came before
the Christian army, and related that, when endeavouring to escape from
Antioch, they had been stopped, the one by his brother, who had been
killed in fight, the other by Jesus Christ himself. The Saviour of
mankind had promised to deliver Antioch. The warrior who had fallen
under the sword of the Saracens had sworn to issue from the grave
with all his companions, equally dead as himself, to fight with the
Christians. In order to crown all these heavenly promises, a priest
of the diocese of Marseilles, named Peter Barthélemi, came before the
council of the leaders, to reveal an apparition of St. Andrew, which
had been repeated three times during his sleep. The holy apostle had
said to him: “Go to the church of my brother Peter at Antioch. Near
the principal altar you will find, by digging up the earth, the iron
head of the lance which pierced the side of our Redeemer. Within
three days this instrument of eternal salvation shall be manifested
to his disciples. This mystical iron, borne at the head of the army,
shall effect the deliverance of the Christians, and shall pierce the
hearts of the infidels.”[122] Adhemar, Raymond, and the other leaders
believed, or feigned to believe in this apparition, an account of which
soon spread throughout the army. The soldiers said among themselves
that nothing was impossible to the God of the Christians; they further
believed that Jesus Christ was interested in their welfare, and that
God ought to perform miracles to save his disciples and defenders.
During three days the Christian army prepared itself by fasting and
prayer for the discovery of the holy lance.

On the morning of the third day, twelve Crusaders chosen from amongst
the most respected of the clergy and the knights, repaired to the
church of Antioch with a great number of workmen provided with the
necessary instruments. They began by digging up the earth under the
principal altar. The greatest silence prevailed in the church; the
spectators expecting every instant to see the glitter of the miraculous
lance. The whole army, assembled round the doors, which they had had
the precaution to shut, awaited with impatience the results of the
search. The diggers worked during several hours, and had gone to
the depth of twelve feet without any appearance of the lance. They
continued their operations till evening without discovering anything.
The impatience of the Christians still increased. In the middle of the
night another attempt was made. Whilst the twelve witnesses were at
prayers round the sides of the hole, Barthélemi precipitated himself
into it, and in a short time re-appeared, holding the sacred iron in
his hands. A cry of joy arose among the spectators, which was repeated
by the soldiers who waited at the doors, and which soon resounded
through all quarters of the city. The iron on which all the hopes of
the Christians were centred, was exhibited in triumph to the Crusaders,
to whom it appeared a celestial weapon with which God himself would
disperse his enemies. Every mind became excited, and doubts were no
longer entertained of the protection of Heaven. Enthusiasm gave new
life to the army, and restored strength and vigour to the Crusaders.
All the horrors of famine, and even the numbers of their enemies
were forgotten. The most pusillanimous thirsted for the blood of the
Saracens, and all demanded with loud cries to be led forth to battle.

The leaders of the Christian army who had prepared the enthusiasm of
the soldiers, now employed themselves in taking advantage of it. They
sent deputies to the general of the Saracens, to offer him either a
single combat or a general battle. Peter the Hermit, who had evinced
more exaltation than any other person, was chosen for this embassy.
Although received with contempt in the camp of the infidels, he
delivered himself no less haughtily or boldly. “The princes assembled
in Antioch,” said Peter, addressing the Saracen leaders, “have sent
me to demand justice of you. These provinces, stained with the blood
of martyrs, have belonged to Christian nations, and as all Christian
people are brothers, we are come into Asia to avenge the injuries of
those who have been persecuted, and to defend the heritage of Christ
and his disciples. Heaven has allowed the cities of Syria to fall for a
time into the power of infidels, in order to chastise the offences of
his people; but learn that the vengeance of the Most High is appeased;
learn that the tears and penitence of the Christians have turned aside
the sword of divine justice, and that the God of armies has arisen to
fight on our side. Nevertheless we still consent to speak of peace.
I conjure you, in the name of the all-powerful God, to abandon the
territory of Antioch and return to your own country. The Christians
promise you, by my voice, not to molest you in your retreat. We will
even put up prayers for you that the true God may touch your hearts,
and permit you to see the truth of our faith. If Heaven deigns to
listen to us, how delightful it will be to us to give you the name of
brethren, and to conclude with you a lasting peace! But if you are not
willing to accept either the blessings of peace or the benefits of the
Christian religion, let the fate of battle at length decide the justice
of our cause. As the Christians will not be taken by surprise, and as
they are not accustomed to steal victories, they offer you the choice
of combat.”[123] When finishing his discourse, Peter fixed his eyes
upon the leader of the Saracens, and said, “Choose from amongst the
bravest of thy army, and let them do battle with an equal number of the
Crusaders; fight thyself with one of our Christian princes; or give
the signal for a general battle.[124] Whatever may be thy choice, thou
shalt soon learn what thy enemies are, and thou shalt know what the
great God is whom we serve!”

Kerboghâ, who knew the situation of the Christians, and who was not
aware of the kind of succour they had received in their distress,
was much surprised at such language. He remained for some time mute
with astonishment and rage, but at length said, “Return to them who
sent you, and tell them it is the part of the conquered to receive
conditions, and not to dictate them. Miserable vagabonds, extenuated
men, phantoms may terrify women; but the warriors of Asia are not
intimidated by vain words. The Christians shall soon learn that
the land we tread upon belongs to us. Nevertheless I am willing to
entertain some pity for them, and if they will acknowledge Mahomet, I
may forget that this city, a prey to famine, is already in my power; I
may leave it in their hands, and give them arms, clothes, bread, women,
in short, all that they have not; for the Koran bids us pardon all who
submit to its laws. Bid thy companions hasten, and on this very day
take advantage of my clemency; to-morrow they shall only leave Antioch
by the sword. They will then see if their crucified God, who could
not save himself from the cross, can save them from the fate which is
prepared for them.”

This speech was loudly applauded by the Saracens, whose fanaticism it
rekindled. Peter wished to reply, but the sultan of Mossoul, placing
his hand upon his sword, commanded that these miserable mendicants, who
united blindness with insolence, should be driven away. The Christian
deputies retired in haste, and were in danger of losing their lives
several times whilst passing through the army of the infidels. Peter
rendered an account of his mission to the assembled princes and barons;
and all immediately prepared for battle. The heralds-at-arms proceeded
through the different quarters of the city, and battle was promised for
the next day to the impatient valour of the Crusaders.

The priests and bishops exhorted the Christians to render themselves
worthy of fighting for the cause of Jesus Christ; and the whole
army passed the night in prayer and acts of devotion. Injuries were
forgiven, alms were bestowed, and all the churches were filled with
warriors, who humbled themselves before God, and implored a remission
of their sins. The preceding evening some provisions had been found,
and this unexpected abundance was considered as a species of miracle.
The Crusaders repaired their strength by a frugal meal; and towards
the end of the night, that which remained of bread and meal in Antioch
served for the sacrifice of the mass. A hundred thousand warriors
approached the tribunal of penitence, and received, with all the
evidences of piety, the God for whom they had taken up arms.[125]

At length day appeared; it was the festival of St. Peter and St. Paul.
The gates of Antioch were thrown open, and the whole Christian army
marched out in twelve divisions, symbolical of the twelve apostles.
Hugh the Great, though weakened by a long illness, appeared in the
foremost ranks, and bore the standard of the Church. All the princes,
knights, and barons were at the head of their men-at-arms. The only one
of all the leaders that did not appear in the ranks was the count de
Thoulouse; detained in Antioch by the consequences of a wound, he was
charged with the duty of watching the garrison of the citadel, whilst
his companions went to give battle to the army of the Saracens.

Raymond d’Agiles,[126] one of the historians of the crusade, bore the
holy lance, and directed the attention of the soldiers to it. Adhemar
marched by the side of Raymond, announcing to the Crusaders the help of
the celestial legions which God had promised them. A part of the clergy
advanced in procession at the head of the army, singing the martial
psalm, “_Let the Lord arise, and let his enemies be dispersed_.” The
bishops and priests who had remained in Antioch, surrounded by the
women and children, from the top of the ramparts blessed the arms of
the Crusaders, praying the Lord to preserve his people and confound the
pride of his enemies. The banks of the Orontes and the neighbouring
mountains appeared to answer to these invocations, and resounded with
the war-cry of the Crusaders, “_It is the will of God! It is the will
of God!_”

Amidst this concert of acclamations and prayers, the Christian army
advanced into the plain. To judge only by the state of misery to which
they had been reduced, they had rather the appearance of a conquered
army than of an army of men marching to victory. A great number of
the Crusaders were without clothes. The greater part of the knights
and barons marched on foot. Some were mounted on asses and camels,
and, what is not an indifferent circumstance on this day, Godfrey de
Bouillon had been obliged to borrow a horse of the count de Thoulouse.
In the ranks were sick and attenuated soldiers, weakened by famine,
and marching with difficulty, who were only supported by the hope of
conquering or of dying for the cause of Jesus Christ.

The whole country round Antioch was covered with the Mussulman
battalions. The Saracens had divided their army into fifteen bodies
arranged in _échelons_. In the midst of all these, the division of
Kerboghâ, says the Armenian historian, appeared like _an inaccessible
mountain_. The Saracen general, who had no expectation of a battle, at
first believed that the Christians were come to implore his clemency.
A black flag flying over the citadel of Antioch, which was the signal
agreed upon to announce the resolution of the Crusaders, soon informed
him that he had not to deal with supplicants. Two thousand men of his
army, who guarded the passage of the bridge of Antioch, were cut in
pieces by the count de Vermandois. The fugitives carried terror to the
tent of their general, who was playing at chess. Aroused from his
false security, the sultan of Mossoui ordered the head of a deserter
to be cut off who had announced to him the speedy surrender of the
Christians, and then set himself seriously to the task of fighting an
enemy whose auxiliaries were fanaticism and despair.

On marching out of Antioch[127] the Christians advanced westwards
towards the spot where the mountains draw near to the Orontes. Ranged
in order of battle, in a vast space where the mountains formed a
semicircle around them and secured them from surprise, they extended
across the plain a league from the city. Hugh, the two Roberts, the
count de Belesme, and the count of Hainaut placed themselves at the
head of the left wing; Godfrey was on the right, supported by Eustace,
Baldwin du Bourg, Tancred, Rinaldo de Toul, and Erard de Puyset.
Adhemar was in the centre, with Gaston de Béarn, the count de Die,
Raimbaut of Orange, William of Montpellier, and Amanjeu d’Albret.
Bohemond commanded a body of reserve, ready to act upon all points
where the Christians might require assistance. Kerboghâ, who saw the
disposition of the Crusaders, ordered the sultans of Nice, Damascus,
and Aleppo, to make the tour of the mountain and then reascend the
Orontes, so as to place themselves between the Christian army and the
city. He at the same time drew his army up in line of battle to receive
the Christians and repulse their attack. He placed his troops partly on
the heights and partly on the plain. His right wing was commanded by
the emir of Jerusalem, and his left wing by one of the sons of Accien.
For himself he remained upon a high hill, to give his orders and watch
the movements of the two armies.

At the moment of the commencement of the battle, Kerboghâ was seized
with fear, and sent to propose to the Christian princes, that in
order to spare the effusion of blood, they should select some of
their knights to fight against an equal number of Saracens. This
proposal, which had been rejected the day before, could not be adopted
by the leaders of an army full of ardour and confident of victory.
The Christians entertained no doubt that Heaven had declared itself
in their favour, and this persuasion must render them invincible. In
their enthusiasm, they looked upon the most natural events as prodigies
announcing to them the triumph of their arms. A globe of fire, which
on the preceding evening had passed across the horizon and burst over
the camp of the Saracens, appeared to them a sign foretelling their
victory. As they left Antioch a light rain refreshed the burning air
of the climate and the season, and was in their eyes a fresh proof of
the favour of Heaven. A strong wind, which assisted the flight of their
javelins and impeded that of the arrows of the Turks, was for them as
the wind of heavenly anger raised to disperse the infidels. Animated
by this persuasion, the Christian army showed the greatest impatience
to begin the fight. They marched towards the enemy in perfect order. A
profound silence reigned over the plain, on all parts of which shone
the arms of the Christians. No sound was heard in their ranks but the
voices of the leaders, the hymns of the priests, and the exhortations
of Adhemar.

All at once the Saracens commenced the attack by discharging a cloud
of arrows and then rushing on the Crusaders, uttering barbarous
cries. In spite of their impetuous shock, their right wing was soon
repulsed and penetrated by the Christians. Godfrey met with greater
resistance in their left wing; he succeeded, however, in breaking
it and carrying disorder among their ranks. At the moment that the
troops of Kerboghâ began to give way, the sultan of Nice, who had
made the tour of the mountain and returned along the banks of the
Orontes, fell with impetuosity upon the rear of the Christian army, and
threatened destruction to the body of reserve commanded by Bohemond.
The Crusaders, who fought on foot, could not resist the first charge of
the Saracen cavalry. Hugh the Great, warned of the danger of Bohemond,
abandoned the pursuit of the fugitives, and hastened to the succour
of the body of reserve. Then the battle was renewed with redoubled
fury. Kilidj Arslan, who had to avenge the shame of several defeats
as well as the loss of his states, fought like a lion at the head of
his troops. A squadron of three thousand Saracen horse, clothed in
steel and armed with clubs, carried disorder and terror through the
ranks of the Christians. The standard of the count de Vermandois was
carried away, and retaken, covered with the blood of Crusaders and
infidels. Godfrey and Tancred, who flew to the assistance of Hugh and
Bohemond, signalized their strength and valour by the death of a great
many Mussulmans. The sultan of Nice, whom no reverse could overcome,
firmly withstood the shock of the Christians. In the heat of the
combat, he ordered lighted flax to be thrown amongst the low bushes
and dried grass which covered the plain. Immediately a blaze arose
which enveloped the Christians in masses of flame and smoke. Their
ranks were for a moment broken; they could no longer either see or hear
their leaders. The sultan of Nice was about to gather the fruits of his
stratagem, and victory was on the point of escaping from the hands of
the Crusaders.

At this moment, say the historians, a squadron was seen to descend
from the summit of the mountains, preceded by three horsemen clothed
in white and covered with shining armour. “Behold!” cried Bishop
Adhemar,[128] “the heavenly succour which was promised to you. Heaven
declares for the Christians; the holy martyrs George, Demetrius, and
Theodore come to fight for you.” Immediately all eyes were turned
towards the celestial legion. A new ardour inspired the Christians,
who were persuaded that God himself was coming to their aid, and the
war-cry “_It is the will of God!_” was heard as at the beginning of the
battle. The women and children who had remained in Antioch, and were
collected on the walls, animated the courage of the Crusaders by their
cries and acclamations, whilst the priests continued to raise their
hands towards heaven, and returned thanks to God by songs of praise
and thanksgiving for the succour he had sent to the Christians. Of the
Crusaders themselves each man became a hero, and nothing could stand
before their impetuous charge. In a moment the ranks of the Saracens
were everywhere broken, and they only fought in confusion and disorder.
They endeavoured to rally on the other side of a torrent and upon an
elevated point whence their trumpets and clarions resounded; but the
count de Vermandois attacked them in this last post and completely
routed them. They had now no safety but in flight, and the banks of the
Orontes, the woods, the plains, the mountains were covered with the
fugitives, who abandoned both their arms and their baggage.

Kerboghâ, who had been so certain of victory as to have announced the
defeat of the Christians to the caliph of Bagdad and the sultan of
Persia, fled towards the Euphrates, escorted by a small body of his
most faithful soldiers. Several of the emirs had taken to flight before
the end of the battle. Tancred and some others, mounted on the horses
of the conquered enemy, pursued till nightfall the sultans of Aleppo
and Damascus, the emir of Jerusalem, and the scattered wreck of the
Saracen army. The conquerors set fire to the intrenchments behind which
the enemy’s infantry had sought refuge, and a vast number of Mussulmans
perished in the flames.

According to the account of several contemporary historians, the
infidels left a hundred thousand dead on the field of battle. Four
thousand Crusaders lost their lives on this glorious day, and were
placed among the ranks of the martyrs.

The Christians found abundances beneath the tents of their enemies;
fifteen thousand camels and a great number of horses fell into their
hands. As they passed the night in the camp of the Saracens, they had
leisure to admire the luxury of the Orientals, and they examined with
the greatest surprise the tent of the king of Mossoul,[129] resplendent
with gold and precious stones, which, divided into long streets flanked
by high towers, resembled a fortified city. They employed several days
in carrying the spoils into Antioch. The booty was immense, and every
Crusader, according to the remark of Albert d’Aix, found himself much
richer than he was when he quitted Europe.

The sight of the Saracen camp after the battle proved plainly that
they had displayed much more splendour and magnificence than true
courage. The veteran warriors, the companions of Malek-Scha, had almost
all perished in the civil wars which had for so many years desolated
the empire of the Seljoucides. The army that came to the succour of
Antioch was composed of raw troops, levied in haste, and reckoned
under its standards several rival nations, always ready to take up
arms against each other.[130] It is the duty of the historian to admit
that the twenty-eight emirs who accompanied Kerboghâ were almost all
at variance with one another, and scarcely acknowledged the authority
of a chief. On the contrary, the greatest union prevailed on this day
among the Christians. The different bodies of their army fought upon
one single point, and afforded each other mutual support, whereas
Kerboghâ had divided his forces. In this battle, but more particularly
in the circumstances which preceded it, the sultan of Mossoul showed
more presumption than skill; by the slowness of his march he lost
the opportunity of assisting Accien or of surprising the Crusaders.
Afterwards, too certain of victory, he never dreamt of what despair and
fanaticism are able to effect. These two powerful principles greatly
increased the natural bravery of the Franks. The horrible distress to
which they had been reduced only tended to make them invincible, and in
that we shall find the miracle of the day.

When the danger was past, the holy lance which had given so much
confidence to the Crusaders during the battle, no longer excited their
veneration, and lost all its marvellous influence. As it remained in
the hands of the count of Thoulouse and his Provençals, to whom it
brought a great number of offerings, the other nations were not willing
to leave them the sole advantage of a miracle which augmented their
consideration and their wealth; and, as we shall soon see, it was not
long before doubts were raised upon the authenticity of the lance which
had effected such wonders, and the spirit of rivalry did that which
reason might have done in a more enlightened age.

The victory of Antioch appeared to the Saracens to be so extraordinary
an event that many of them abandoned the religion of their prophet.
Those who defended the citadel were so struck with terror and surprise,
that they surrendered to Raymond the very day of the battle. Three
hundred of them embraced the faith of the holy Gospel, and many went
among the cities of Syria declaring that the God of the Christians must
be the true God.

After this memorable day the Turks made scarcely any effort to impede
the march of the Christians. This last triumph of the Franks appeared
to them like a decision of heaven that men ought not to contend
against. Most of the emirs of Syria who had shared the spoils of the
sultan of Persia, considered the invasion of the Christians as a
passing calamity, without thinking of the consequences it might leave
behind, and only sought to take advantage of it to assure their own
domination and independence. The dynasty of the Seljoucides was every
day losing its strength and its splendour. The vast empire of Togrul,
Alp-Arslan, and Malek-Scha was crumbling away on all sides amidst
civil and foreign wars. This empire, created towards the middle of the
eleventh century, whose sudden increase had alarmed Constantinople and
carried terror even among the nations of the West, was soon doomed to
see other states elevate themselves upon its ruins; for, according to
the remark of an historian, it might be said that God was pleased to
show how insignificant the earth is in his eyes, by thus causing to
pass from hand to hand, like a child’s toy, a power so monstrous as to
threaten the universe.

The first care of the Crusaders after their victory was to put, if
we may say so, Jesus Christ in possession of the countries they had
just conquered, by re-establishing his worship in Antioch. The capital
of Syria had all at once a new religion, and was inhabited by a new
people. A considerable part of the spoils of the Saracens was employed
in repairing and ornamenting the churches which had been converted into
mosques. The Greeks and the Latins mingled their vows and their hymns,
and prayed together to the God of the Christians to conduct them to
Jerusalem. The leaders of the army then joined in addressing a letter
to the princes and nations of the West, in which they made a relation
of their labours and their exploits. That they might not trouble the
joy that the news of their victories must create, they took care to
conceal the losses they had sustained;[131] but they must have made
them apparent by calling new warriors to their aid. They solicited by
prayers, and even by threats, the immediate departure of all who had
assumed the cross, and yet still remained in the West.

The Crusaders sent at the same time an embassy to Constantinople,
composed of Hugh, count of Vermandois, and Baldwin, count of Hainault.
The object of this embassy was to remind the emperor Alexius of the
promise he had made to accompany the Christians with an army to
Jerusalem. The count of Hainault perished, with all his train, in Asia
Minor. The count of Vermandois, who took a different route, arrived
safely at Constantinople; but could obtain nothing from Alexius.
Hereupon, whether he was ashamed of having failed in his mission, or
whether he feared to rejoin an army in which he could not maintain the
splendour of his rank, he determined to return to Europe, where his
desertion caused him to be compared to the raven of the ark.[132]

Some days after the battle of Antioch, the greater part of the pilgrims
entreated the leaders to conduct them towards the Holy City, the
principal object of their expedition. The council of the princes and
barons being assembled, the opinions were at first divided. Some of
the leaders thought that they ought to take advantage of the terror
which the victory of Antioch had created in the Saracens. “Both the
East and the West,” said they, “have their eyes upon us; Christ calls
us to the deliverance of his tomb; the Christians who still groan in
the chains of the infidels implore the assistance of our arms; we
have seen the emir of Jerusalem, and the soldiers who ought to defend
the approach to the Holy Sepulchre, fly before us; all the routes are
open to us; let us hasten then to comply with the impatience of the
Crusaders, an impatience which was always so fatal to our enemies; let
us depart from an abode whose pleasures have several times corrupted
the soldiers of Christ; let us not wait till discord shall disturb our
peace and rob us of the fruits of our labours.”

This advice seemed to be dictated by wisdom and prudence, but the
majority of the leaders were full of blind security; they could not
resolve still to dread enemies they had so often conquered, and the
hopes of extending their conquests in Syria made them forget Jerusalem.
Specious reasons were not wanting wherewith to combat the opinions
they had heard. The Christian army was deficient in horses; it was
exhausted by fatigue, by long miseries, and even by its own victories.
As it was now the height of summer, though the Crusaders might have no
enemies, they had to dread during a long march the want of water, and
the heat of both the season and the climate. It was well known that new
warriors from the West were expected in Asia, and prudence commanded
them to wait for them. By the beginning of winter everything would be
prepared for the conquest of Jerusalem, and the united Crusaders would
then march without obstacles or dangers towards Palestine. This opinion
obtained a majority of the suffrages.

The Crusaders had soon cause to repent of their determination. An
epidemic disease made fearful ravages in their army. Nothing was to be
seen in Antioch, says an ancient chronicle, but buryings and funerals,
and death there reigned, neither more nor less, than in some great
battle or defeat. Most of the women and the poor who followed the army
were the first victims to this calamity. A great number of Crusaders
who came from Germany and other parts of Europe met with death
immediately on their arrival at Antioch. Within one month, more than
fifty thousand pilgrims perished by this epidemic.[133] The Christians
had to regret among their leaders Henry d’Asques, Renaud d’Amerbach,
and several other knights renowned for their exploits. In the midst of
the general mourning, the bishop of Puy, who comforted the Crusaders in
their misery, himself gave way under his fatigue and died,[134] like
the leader of the Hebrews, without having seen the promised land. His
remains were buried in the church of St. Peter of Antioch, in the very
spot where the miraculous lance had been discovered. All the pilgrims,
whose spiritual father he had been, honoured his funeral with their
presence and their tears. The leaders, who sincerely regretted him,
wrote to the pope to inform him of the death of his apostolic legate.
They at the same time solicited Urban to come and place himself at
their head, to sanctify the standards of the crusade, and to promote
union and peace in the army of Jesus Christ.

But neither the respect they entertained for the memory of Adhemar,
nor the spectacle of the scourge which was devouring the Christian
army, could close their hearts against ambition and discord. The count
of Thoulouse, who still maintained his claims to the possession of
Antioch, refused to deliver up to Bohemond the citadel of which he
had become master on the day the Christians had defeated the army of
Kerboghâ. These two haughty rivals were several times on the point
of coming to blows, Raymond accusing the new prince of Antioch of
having usurped that which belonged to his companions, whilst Bohemond
threatened to bathe his sword, red with the blood of infidels, in
blood which he said he had too long spared. One day that the princes
and leaders were assembled in the basilica of the church of St. Peter,
engaged in regulating the affairs of the crusade, their deliberations
were disturbed by the most violent quarrels. Notwithstanding the
sanctity of the place, Raymond, in the midst of the council, gave way
to his passion and resentment. Even at the foot of the altar of Christ,
Bohemond hesitated not to make false promises in order to draw the
other chiefs to his party, and repeated several times an oath which he
never meant to keep, that of following them to Jerusalem.

Every day trouble and disorder increased in the Christian army, some
only thinking of aggrandising the states which victory had given them,
whilst others wandered about Syria in search of cities over which they
might unfurl their standards. Bands were seen dispersed in all parts
where there was a chance of a rich booty, fighting among themselves
for their conquests when they were victorious, and a prey to all sorts
of horrors and miseries when they met with unforeseen resistance. The
jealousy which prevailed among the chiefs extended to the soldiers; the
latter quarrelling for the booty gained from the enemy, in the same
manner that the princes and barons contended for the possession of
cities and provinces. Those whom fortune had not favoured complained
of their companions, until some lucky chance allowed them in their
turn to take advantage of all the rights of victory. On all sides the
Crusaders accused each other reciprocally of having enriched themselves
by injustice and violence, although everybody envied the most guilty.

And yet, amidst their conflicts or their misfortunes, the Christians
continued to show the most heroic bravery and resignation; they endured
hunger, thirst, and fatigue without a complaint, and neither deserts,
rivers, precipices, the heat of the climate, nor any other obstacle,
could stop them in their incursions. In every kind of peril they
sought all opportunities of proving their strength and skill, or of
signalizing their valour. Sometimes in the forests or mountains they
encountered savage animals. A French knight, named Guicher, rendered
himself celebrated in the army by overcoming a lion. Another knight,
Geoffrey de la Tour, gained great renown by an action which doubtless
will appear incredible. He one day saw in a forest a lion which a
serpent held within its monstrous folds, and which made the air resound
with his roaring. Geoffrey flew to the assistance of the animal, which
appeared to implore his pity, and with one blow of his sword killed
the serpent, which was intent upon its prey. If we may believe an old
chronicle, the lion thus delivered attached himself to his liberator
as to a master; he accompanied him during the war, and when, after the
taking of Jerusalem, the Crusaders embarked to return into Europe, he
was drowned in the sea whilst following the vessel in which Geoffrey
was.[135]

Several Crusaders, whilst waiting for the signal of departure for
Jerusalem, went to visit their brethren who had established themselves
in the conquered cities. Many of them repaired to Baldwin, and joined
with him in contending against the Saracens of Mesopotamia. A knight,
named Foulque, who went with several of his companions to seek
adventures on the banks of the Euphrates, was surprised and massacred
by the Turks. His wife, whom he had taken with him, was brought before
the emir of Hazart or Hezas. Being of rare beauty, one of the principal
officers of the emir fell in love with her,[136] and asked her of
his master in marriage, who yielded her to him, and permitted him to
espouse her. This officer, deeply in love with a Christian woman,
avoided all occasions of fighting against the Crusaders, and yet,
zealous in the service of his master the emir, made incursions into
the territories of the sultan of Aleppo. Redowan, wishing to avenge
himself, marched with an army of forty thousand men to attack the city
of Hezas. Then the officer who had married the widow of Foulque advised
the emir to implore the assistance of the Christians.

The emir proposed an alliance to Godfrey de Bouillon. Godfrey at
first hesitated, but the Mussulman returned to the charge, and to
disperse all the suspicions of the Christian princes, sent them his son
Mahomet as an hostage. The treaty was then signed, and two pigeons,
says a Latin historian, charged with a letter, brought the news to
the emir, at the same time announcing to him the early arrival of
the Christians.[137] The army of the sultan of Aleppo was beaten in
several encounters by Godfrey, and forced to abandon the territory
of Hezas, that it had begun to pillage. A short time after this
expedition the son of the emir died at Antioch of the epidemic so
fatal to the pilgrims of the West. Godfrey, according to the custom
of the Mussulmans, had the body of the young prince enveloped in rich
purple stuff, and sent it to his father. The deputies who accompanied
this funeral convoy were ordered to express to the emir the regrets of
Godfrey, and to tell him that their leader had been as much afflicted
by the death of the young prince Mahomet, as he could have been by that
of his brother Baldwin. The emir of Hezas wept for the death of his
son, and never ceased to be the faithful ally of the Christians.

The leaders of the crusades still thought no more about setting forward
on their march to Jerusalem, and the autumn advanced without their
being engaged in any expedition of importance. In the midst of the
idleness of the camps, a celestial phenomenon offered itself to the
eyes of the Crusaders, and made a lively impression upon the minds of
the multitude. The soldiers who guarded the ramparts of Antioch saw
during the night a luminous mass, which appeared to be fixed in an
elevated point of the heavens. It seemed as if all the stars, according
to the expression o£ Albert d’Aix, were united in a space scarcely
more extensive than a garden of three acres. “These stars,” says the
same historian, “shed the most brilliant light,[138] and _shone like
coals in a furnace_.” They appeared for a long time as if suspended
over the city of Antioch; but the circle which seemed to contain them
being broken, they dispersed in the air. At the sight of this prodigy,
the guards and sentinels uttered loud cries, and ran to awaken the
citizens of Antioch. All the pilgrims issued from their houses, and
found in this phenomenon a manifest sign of the will of Heaven. Some
believed they saw in the united stars an image of the Saracens, who
were assembled at Jerusalem, and who would be dispersed at the approach
of the Christians; others, equally full of hope, saw in them the
Christian warriors uniting their victorious forces, and then spreading
themselves over the earth to conquer the cities ravished from the
empire of Christ; but many of the pilgrims did not abandon themselves
to these consolatory illusions. In a city where the people had much to
suffer, and had dwelt during many months amidst death and its funeral
rites, the future naturally presented itself under the most sad and
disheartening colours. All who suffered, and had lost the hope of ever
seeing Jerusalem, saw nothing in the phenomenon presented to their eyes
but an alarming symbol of the multitude of pilgrims, which was every
day diminishing, and which promised soon to be entirely dispersed,
like the luminous clouds which they had seen in the heavens. “Things,
however,” says Albert d’Aix, “turned out much better than was expected;
for, a short time afterwards, the princes, on their return to Antioch,
took the field, and brought under their dominion several cities of
Upper Syria.”

The most important of their expeditions was the siege and capture of
Maarah, situated between Hamath and Aleppo. Raymond was the first
to sit himself down before this city, where he was soon joined by
the duke of Normandy and the count of Flanders and their troops. The
Christians met with the most obstinate resistance from the besieged
during several days. The infidels poured arrows and stones upon them in
clouds, together with floods of an inflammable matter, which several
historians pretend to have been the Greek fire. William of Tyre says
that they hurled from the summits of the towers upon the assailants
quick lime and hives filled with bees.[139] Want of provisions soon
began to be felt, and the Crusaders at length experienced such
distress, that many among them subsisted upon the dead bodies of their
enemies.[140] History ought, however, to relate with hesitation the
extremes to which famine is said to have carried them, and to throw
great doubt upon the account of the public sale of human flesh in the
camp of the Christians.[141]

The Crusaders endured all their misfortunes with patience, but they
could not support the outrages committed by the inhabitants of Maarah
upon the religion of Jesus Christ. The infidels raised crosses upon
the ramparts, covered them with ordure, and heaped all sorts of
insults upon them. This sight so irritated the Christians, that they
resolved to redouble their efforts to get possession of the city. They
constructed machines which shook the walls, whilst the soldiers mounted
to the assault; and they succeeded, after a lengthened resistance, in
making themselves masters of the towers and the ramparts. As they
were overtaken by night in the midst of their victory, they did not
venture to penetrate into the place; and when, with the break of day,
they spread themselves through the streets, not a sound was to be
heard,—every part of the city was deserted. The army pillaged the
uninhabited houses, but soon discovered, to their great surprise, that
the whole population of Maarah had taken refuge in subterranean places.
A large quantity of straw, set on fire at the mouths of the caverns
in which the infidels were concealed, soon forced them to issue from
their retreats, and such was the animosity of the conquerors, that the
bewildered and trembling multitude implored their pity in vain. All the
inhabitants of Maarah were either put to the sword or led into slavery;
the city was completely razed to the ground, “which so terrified the
neighbouring cities,” says an historian, “that of their own free will,
and without force, they surrendered to the Crusaders.”

This conquest became the subject of fresh discord. Bohemond, who had
come to the siege, was desirous of keeping a portion of the city,
whilst Raymond pretended to reign over Maarah as its sovereign. The
debate grew warm; the camp of the Christians was filled with confusion
and factions, and the Crusaders were very near shedding their own
blood to ascertain who should be master of a city which they had just
entirely deprived of inhabitants, and given up to pillage. “But God,
who was the leader of this great enterprise,” says le Père Maimbourg,
“repaired by the zeal of the weak and the lowly that which the passions
of the great and the wise of this world had destroyed.” The soldiers
at length became indignant at the thoughts of shedding, for miserable
quarrels, the blood which they had sworn to dedicate to a sacred cause.
Whilst they were most loud in their complaints and murmurs, the report
reached them that Jerusalem had fallen into the hands of the Egyptians:
they had taken advantage of the defeat of the Turks, and of the
unfortunate delay of the Christian army in their invasion of Palestine.
This news redoubled the discontent of the Crusaders, and they loudly
accused Raymond and their other leaders of having betrayed the cause
of God. They announced their intention of choosing fresh leaders, who
should have no other ambition but that of accomplishing their vows,
and would conduct the Christian army to the Holy Land.

The count of St. Gilles and the prince of Antioch, the latter of
whom was, perhaps, no stranger to the general movement, went through
the ranks, and addressed the soldiers, the one upon the necessity of
obedience, the other upon the glory which awaited them at Jerusalem.
The tumult soon became more violent. The clergy menaced Raymond with
the anger of Heaven, whilst his soldiers threatened to abandon his
standard. The Provençals themselves at length refused to obey the
inflexible count of Thoulouse, and the army set seriously to work to
demolish the ramparts of Maarah, the possession of which was the object
of contention.

Whilst this was going on, Tancred had, by either force or address,
got possession of the citadel of Antioch, and planted the standard of
Bohemond in place of that of the count of St. Gilles. Raymond, thus
left alone, and without any hopes of realizing his pretensions, was
obliged to yield to the wishes of the army, and appeared to listen
to the voice of God. After having set fire to the city of Maarah, he
marched out of it by the light of the flames, barefooted, and shedding
tears of repentance. Followed by the clergy, who sang the psalms of
penitence, he abjured his ambition, and renewed the oath he had so
often made, and so often forgotten, of delivering the tomb of Jesus
Christ.




BOOK IV.

A.D. 1099-1103.


MORE than six months had passed away since the taking of Antioch,
and several of the leaders of the crusade still thought nothing of
commencing their march to Jerusalem. As soon as Raymond gave the signal
for departure, his soldiers, and the knights who accompanied him, broke
into loud demonstrations of joy and a revived enthusiasm. The count of
Thoulouse was followed by Tancred and the duke of Normandy, who were
both impatient to accomplish their vow and conquer Palestine. Conducted
by these three leaders, a great part of the Christian army traversed
the territories of Cæsarea in Syria, Hamath, and Edessa. From all parts
both Christians and Mussulmans came eagerly to meet them, the former
to beg their assistance, the latter to implore their clemency. Many
emirs came to conjure Raymond to plant his standard on their cities’
walls, to protect them from pillage, and render them safe from the
enterprises of the other Crusaders. The pilgrims everywhere on their
passage received provisions and rich tributes without the trouble and
risk of fighting for them. In the course of their triumphant march, the
sweetest fruit of their labours and the terror that their arms inspired
was the return of a vast number of Christian prisoners, whose death
they had mourned, who were sent to them from the neighbouring cities by
the Mussulman chiefs.

They drew near to the sea-coast, and advanced, almost without obstacle,
as far as the vicinity of Archas. This city was situated at the foot
of Libanus, two leagues from the sea, in a territory covered with
olive-trees, and rich with corn. The count of Thoulouse, either from
a desire to conquer so rich a country, or from being provoked by the
insults and threats of the infidels, resolved to besiege Archas.[142]
In order to inflame the courage of his soldiers and associate them with
him in his project, he promised them as a reward for their labours,
the pillage of the city and the deliverance of two hundred Christian
prisoners confined in the citadel.

In the mean time Godfrey, Eustace, and Robert, count of Flanders,
had not yet set out from Antioch. They did not begin their march
before the early days of spring. Bohemond accompanied them as far
as Laodicea,[143] and then returned to his capital, after having
promised his companions to rejoin them before Jerusalem. At Laodicea
the Crusaders liberated the Flemish pirates who had taken the cross at
Tarsus, and who, for more than a year, had been detained prisoners by
the Greeks, the masters of that city. At the same place the Christian
army received a reinforcement of new Crusaders from the ports of
Holland and Flanders, and the British isles. Among these new defenders
of the cross was Edgar Atheling, who, after the death of Harold, had
disputed the crown of England with William the Conqueror. He came to
endeavour to forget the misfortunes of his country under the banners of
the holy war, and at the same time to seek a refuge from the tyranny of
the conqueror. The English and the new Crusaders from other countries
were received with great joy into the ranks of the Christian army,
which, however, pursued its march towards Palestine very slowly.

It grieved the greater part of the leaders to be obliged to traverse
such rich provinces without establishing their domination in them.
There was not a city in their route upon the walls of which one of
them had not a strong secret inclination to plant his standard. These
pretensions gave birth to rivalries which weakened the army, and
prevented it from making useful conquests. Raymond still obstinately
prosecuted the siege of Archas, which opposed to him the firmest
resistance. Godfrey went to lay siege to Gibel or Gibelet,[144] a
maritime city, situated some leagues from Laodicea. The leaders of the
army never consented to unite their efforts against the Saracens, but
sold to the emirs, by turns, their inaction and their neutrality.

The only expedition in which success crowned their bravery was the
attack of Tortosa.[145] Raymond, viscount de Turenne, the viscount de
Castellane, the seigneur d’Albret, and some others of the principal
leaders of the Gascons and Provençals, with a hundred horse and two
hundred foot, presented themselves before this city. The inhabitants
closed their gates, manned their ramparts, and forced the Christians
to retreat. The leader of this expedition, Raymond de Turenne, who had
not a sufficient number of troops to undertake a siege or force a city
to surrender, had recourse to a stratagem, which succeeded. At night
he caused to be lighted in a neighbouring wood such a number of fires,
that the inhabitants of Tortosa were persuaded that the whole Christian
army was come to attack them, and before the break of day they all fled
to the mountains, taking with them their most valuable effects. On
the morrow the Christians approached the city, the ramparts of which
they found deserted, and entered it without resistance. After having
pillaged the houses, and given up to the flames a city they could not
keep, they returned to the camp loaded with booty.

The Mussulmans shut up in Archas still held out against the Christians.
Although the army was encamped in a fertile country, they soon began
to experience the want of provisions. The poorest of the pilgrims were
reduced, as at Antioch, to feed upon roots, and dispute with animals
the leaves of the trees and the grass of the fields. The numerous
clergy which followed the army sunk into the deepest distress. Such
as could fight went to ravage the surrounding country, and lived on
pillage; but those whom age, sex, or infirmities would not permit to
carry arms, had no hope but in the charity of the Christian soldiers.
The army freely assisted them, and gave up to them the tenth part of
the booty obtained from the infidels.

A great number of the Crusaders yielded to the fatigues of the siege,
and perished with misery and disease, whilst many fell by the hands of
the enemy, who defended themselves with obstinate valour. Among those
whose loss was most regretted, history has preserved the name of Pons
de Balasu; he was highly esteemed in the army for his intelligence, and
up to his death had written the history of the crusade, in conjunction
with Raymond d’Agiles. The Crusaders also gave their tears to the
memory of Anselm de Ribemont, count de Bouchain, whose piety and
courage are much praised in the chronicles of the times. Contemporary
authors relate his death as attended with such wonderful circumstances
as deserve to be preserved, because they afford a strong idea of the
spirit which animated the Crusaders.

One day ’we follow the relation of Raymond d’Agiles) Anselm saw enter
into his tent young Angelram, son of the count de St. Paul, who had
been killed at the siege of Maarah.[146] “How is it,” said he, “that
I see you still living whom I saw dead on the field of battle?”
“Know,” replied Angelram, “that they who fight for Jesus Christ do
not die.” “But whence comes that strange splendour with which I see
you surrounded?” Then Angelram pointed out to him in the heavens a
palace of crystal and diamonds. “It is thence,” he added, “that I
derive the beauty which surprises you; that is my abode, and there is
a much more beautiful one being prepared for you, which you will soon
inhabit. Farewell; we shall meet again to-morrow.” At these words,
adds the historian, Angelram returned to heaven. Anselm, struck with
this apparition, the next morning sent for several ecclesiastics, and
received the sacraments; and, although in full health, took leave of
his friends, telling them he was about to quit the world in which
they had known him. A few hours afterwards, the enemy having made a
sortie, Anselm flew, sword in hand, to meet them, and was struck on
the forehead by a stone, which, say the historians, sent him to the
beautiful palace in heaven that was prepared for him. This marvellous
recital, which was credited by the Crusaders, is not the only one
of the kind that history has collected. It is useless to remind
our readers that extreme misery always rendered the Crusaders more
superstitious and credulous. Although the siege of Archas had no
religious aim, and even turned the pilgrims aside from the principal
object of the holy war, it was not thence less abundant, according to
Raymond d’Agiles, in miracles and prodigies of all sorts. The belief
of the people was frequently supported by the most enlightened of
the leaders, who found it necessary to warm the imaginations of the
soldiers to preserve their authority. Every day fresh parties were
formed in the Christian army, and the most powerful were always those
who circulated a belief in the greatest number of miracles. It was
during the siege of Archas that doubts arose among the pilgrims about
the discovery of the lance which had had such an effect upon the
courage of the Crusaders at the battle of Antioch, and the camp of the
besiegers became all at once divided into two great factions, strongly
opposed to each other. Arnold de Rohés, according to William of Tyre,
a man of dissolute manners, but well versed in history and letters,
was the first who dared openly to deny the truth of the prodigy. This
ecclesiastic, who was chaplain to the duke of Normandy, drew into his
party all the Normans and the Crusaders from the north of France;
whilst those of the south ranged themselves on the side of Barthélemi,
who was attached to the count de St. Gilles. The priest of Marseilles,
a simple man, who himself believed that which he wished others to
believe, had a new revelation, and related in the camp that he had
seen Jesus Christ attached to the cross, cursing the incredulous, and
devoting to the death and punishment of Judas the impious sceptics
who dared to search into the mysterious ways of God. This apparition,
and the menaces of Christ, highly excited the imaginations of the
Provençals, who had no less faith, according to Raymond d’Agiles,
in the tales of Barthélemi, than in the evidence of the saints and
apostles. But Arnold was astonished that God should only reveal himself
to a simple priest, whilst so many virtuous prelates were in the army;
and, without denying the intervention of the divine power, he was not
willing to admit any other prodigies than those performed by the valour
and heroism of the Christian soldiers.

As the produce of the offerings made to the depositaries of the holy
lance were distributed to the poor, the latter, who were in vast
numbers in the army, were not sparing in murmurs against the chaplain
of the duke of Normandy, and they attributed to his incredulity, and
that of his partisans, all the evils that the Crusaders had suffered
during the siege of Archas. Arnold and his party, which increased every
day, on the contrary attributed the misfortunes of the Christians to
their divisions, and to the turbulent spirit of a set of visionaries.
Amongst these debates the Crusaders of the northern provinces
reproached those of the south with want of bravery in fight, with being
less anxious for glory than pillage, _and with passing their time in
ornamenting their horses and mules_.[147] The latter, on their side,
did not cease to reproach the partisans of Arnold with their want of
faith, and their sacrilegious railleries, and, without ceasing, opposed
new visions to the reasonings of the incredulous. One had seen St. Mark
the evangelist, another the holy Virgin, and both had attested the
veracity of the priest of Marseilles. Bishop Adhemar had appeared to
a third, informing him that he had been kept several days in hell for
having entertained some doubts of the truth of the holy lance.

These recitals only served still more to inflame the minds of the army,
and violence often came to the support of trickery and credulity. At
length Barthélemi, seduced by the importance of the part he was made
to play, and perhaps, also, by the miraculous tales of his partisans,
which might strengthen his own illusions, resolved to terminate all
debates by submitting to the ordeal by fire. This resolution restored
calm to the Christian army, and all the pilgrims were convoked to
be witnesses of the judgment of God. On the day fixed ’it was Good
Friday), a funeral pile, made of branches of olive, was erected in
the middle of a vast plain. Most of the Crusaders were assembled,
and everything was prepared for the terrible ordeal. The flames had
already mounted to a height of twenty cubits, when Barthélemi was
seen advancing, accompanied by the priests, who walked in silence,
barefooted, and clothed in their sacerdotal habits. Covered by a simple
tunic, the priest of Marseilles bore the holy lance, surrounded with
floating streamers. When he arrived within a few paces of the pile, one
of the principal of the clergy pronounced in a loud voice the following
words: “If this man has seen Jesus Christ face to face, and if the
apostle Andrew did reveal the divine lance to him, may he pass safe
and sound through the flames; but if, on the contrary, he is guilty of
falsehood, may he be burnt, together with the lance which he bears in
his hands.” At these words all the spectators bowed, and answered as
with one voice, “Be the will of God accomplished.” Barthélemi threw
himself on his knees, took Heaven to witness the truth of all that he
had said, and, after recommending himself to the prayers of the bishops
and priests, rushed through the funeral pile at a part where an opening
of two feet wide had been made for his passage.

The numerous spectators lost sight of him for a moment, and many
pilgrims, says Raymond d’Agiles, were beginning to lament him,
when they saw him appear on the side opposite to that by which he
had entered. He was immediately surrounded and pressed upon by an
innumerable crowd, who cried out “miracle,” and were eager to touch
his vestments. But Barthélemi was covered with mortal wounds. He
was carried in a dying state to the tent of the count of Thoulouse,
where he expired a few days after, still protesting his innocence and
veracity. He was buried beneath the spot where the funeral pile had
been erected. Raymond of St. Gilles and the Provençals persisted in
regarding him as an apostle and a martyr. The greater number of the
pilgrims allowed themselves to be satisfied with the _judgment of
God_,[148] and the miraculous lance from that time ceased to work
miracles.[149] In vain the Crusaders from the southern provinces
endeavoured to substitute for it the ring and cross of of Adhemar; they
attracted neither the devotion nor the offerings of the pilgrims.

Whilst the Crusaders were detained before the fortress of Archas, they
received an embassy from Alexius. The Greek emperor wished to impose
upon the Latins, by promising to follow them into Palestine with an
army, if they would allow him time to make the necessary preparations.
Alexius in his letters complained of the non-performance of the
treaties by which he was to be made master of the cities of Syria and
Asia Minor that had fallen into the hands of the Christians; but he
complained without bitterness, and showed so much circumspection in his
reproaches as proved that he likewise had some wrongs to repair. This
embassy was but ill received in the Christian army. The leaders accused
the Greeks of the death of the count of Hainault, and reproached the
emperor with his shameful flight during the siege of Antioch. They
despised his complaints, and gave no faith to his so often broken
promises.

The Latins hated Alexius ever since the siege of Nice. Hatred guided
them on this occasion better than the most clear-sighted policy could
have done; for in the end, if we are to believe their historians,
they learned that the emperor of Constantinople maintained a secret
understanding with the caliph of Egypt, and that his design was to
<DW44> the march and the progress of the Christian army.

The caliph of Cairo, who was governed by the same policy as Alexius,
kept up relations with the Crusaders which circumstances rendered
more or less sincere, and which were subordinate to the fear which
their arms inspired. Although he negotiated at the same time with the
Christians and the Turks, he hated the former because they were the
enemies of the prophet, and the latter because they had deprived him
of Syria. His object was but to profit by the war, so as to regain his
possessions and extend the limits of his empire. For several months he
had been master of Jerusalem, and as he trembled for his new conquest,
he sent ambassadors to the Christian army. This embassy arrived in the
camp a short time after the departure of the deputies of Alexius.

It was accompanied by the deputies whom the Christians had sent into
Egypt during the siege of Antioch. On their arrival at Cairo they had
at first been well received by the caliph; but as soon as he learned
that the Christian army was in a desperate situation, they were thrown
into dungeons, and only owed their liberation to the triumphant march
of the Christian army, which filled the East with the fame of its
victories. Their unexpected return gave the greatest delight to their
brothers and companions. They listened with emotion to the account of
their captivity, and loud cries of indignation arose throughout the
army against the caliph of Cairo.

The Egyptian ambassadors did all in their power to justify their master
and appease the anger of the Christians. They had brought with them
magnificent presents, destined by the caliph for the principal leaders
of the army. They were to present to Godfrey of Bouillon forty thousand
pieces of gold, thirty mantles, and several vases of gold and silver;
to Bohemond they were to offer sixty thousand pieces of gold, fifty
purple mantles, several precious vases, rich carpets, and an Arabian
horse whose harness was covered with plates of gold. Each leader was
to receive a present proportioned to his military reputation, and
to the idea that was entertained of his importance in the Christian
army. When the ambassadors had distributed the presents of the caliph
according to his instructions, they demanded permission to speak in the
council of the leaders. They announced that their master had delivered
Jerusalem from the domination of the Turks, and that he anxiously
desired to maintain peace with the Christians. After having declared
the benevolent and friendly dispositions of the caliph, and after
having repeated that it was his intention to protect pilgrimages and
the exercise of the Christian religion, they finished by declaring that
the gates of Jerusalem should only be opened to _unarmed Christians_.
Upon hearing this proposition, which they had already rejected amidst
the miseries of the siege of Antioch, the leaders of the Christian army
could not restrain their indignation. As their only answer, they came
to the resolution to hasten their march towards the Holy Land, and
threatened the ambassadors of Egypt to carry their arms even to the
banks of the Nile.

The Crusaders were drawing together their troops, which had so long
been dispersed, to march together towards Jerusalem, when they were
attacked by the emir of Tripoli. A prompt and bloody defeat was the
reward of the temerity of the Mussulman prince. After having lost a
great number of his soldiers, he was obliged to purchase peace and the
safety of his capital by the payment of a considerable tribute to the
Crusaders. He furnished them with provisions in abundance, sent back
three hundred Christian prisoners to the camp, and, to leave no pretext
for future hostilities, he engaged to surrender the places he possessed
when their standards should float over the walls of Jerusalem.

The Crusaders, satisfied with this promise extracted from fear, had no
more enemies to combat, and now only thought of that one conquest which
was to assure them all others. Raymond alone did not partake of the
new ardour of the Christian army; he was fixed in his determination to
remain before Archas, and only gave up the siege when his soldiers had
a second time threatened to abandon his colours.

The Crusaders commenced their march towards Palestine at the end of
the month of May.[150] The inhabitants of Phœnicia had finished their
harvest. The Christians found provisions everywhere, and admired
on their passage the rich productions of Asia, which they already
looked upon as the reward of their labours. On their left rose the
mountains of Libanus, so often celebrated by the prophets; between
the mountains and the sea, the fields they traversed were covered
with olive-trees, which grew to the height of elms and oaks; in the
plains and on the hills were oranges, pomegranates, and many other
sorts of trees unknown in the West. Among these new productions one
plant, the juice of which was sweeter than honey, above all attracted
the attention of the pilgrims: this plant was the sugar-cane. It was
cultivated in several of the provinces of Syria, and particularly in
the territory of Tripoli, where they had found means of extracting from
it the substance which the inhabitants called _zucra_[151] According
to Albert d’Aix, this plant had afforded great assistance to the
Christians when assailed by famine at the sieges of Maarah and Archas.
This plant, now become of such importance in commerce, had been till
this time unknown in the West. The pilgrims made it known in Europe,
and towards the end of the crusades it was transported into Italy and
Sicily, whilst the Saracens introduced it into the kingdom of Grenada,
whence the Spaniards afterwards conveyed it to Madeira and the American
colonies.[152]

When the pilgrims were all united to continue their march to Palestine,
they must doubtless have been struck with terror as they contemplated
the losses they had experienced. More than two hundred thousand
Crusaders had been cut off by battles, famine, misery, and disease.
A great number of them, unable to support the fatigues of the holy
pilgrimage, and losing all hope of seeing Palestine, had returned to
the West. Many had taken up their abode in Antioch, Edessa, and other
cities from which they had driven the inhabitants, and which they were
obliged to defend against the infidels. With all these deductions,
the army which was to achieve the conquest of the Holy Land scarcely
numbered fifty thousand fighting men under the banners.

The leaders, however, did not hesitate to pursue their enterprise. They
who did remain in the ranks had borne every trial; they did not drag
in their train a useless, embarrassing multitude; and it was much more
easy to supply them with provisions and establish order and discipline
amongst them. Strengthened in some sort by their losses, they were
perhaps more formidable than they were at the siege of Nice. The
remembrance of their exploits increased their confidence and courage,
and the terror which their arms inspired might well make the Saracens
believe that their army was still innumerable.

Most of the princes whom the war had ruined were in the pay of the
count of Thoulouse. This species of degradation was doubtless painful
to their pride; but as they approached the holy city it might be
said that they lost some of their indomitable arrogance, and that
they forgot both their pretensions and their quarrels. The most
perfect union now prevailed among the Crusaders. In their impatience
to see Jerusalem, neither mountains, defiles, rivers, nor any other
impediments at all damped their ardour; the soldiers would not even
consent to take repose, and often, contrary to the wishes of their
leaders, marched during the night.

The Christian army followed the coasts of the sea, where they might
be provisioned by the Pisan, Genoese, and Flemish fleets. A crowd
of Christians and pious solitaries who inhabited the neighbouring
mountains, hastened to meet their brethren of the West, brought them
fresh provisions, and guided them on their way. After a painful march
over rocks and along the declivities of precipices, they descended into
the plain of Berytus, and traversed the territory of Sidon and Tyre.

Whilst they remained three days on the banks of the river Eleuctera,
they were assailed by serpents called _tarenta_, whose bite produced
death, attended by violent pain and unquenchable thirst. The sight
of these reptiles, which they attempted to frighten away by striking
stones one against another, or by the clashing of their bucklers,
filled the pilgrims with fear and surprise; but that which must have
much more astonished them was the strange remedy for their bite which
the inhabitants pointed out to them, and which without doubt must have
seemed to them far more a subject of scandal than a means of cure.[153]

The Christians, having still continued to march along the coast,
arrived before the walls of Accon, the ancient Ptolemaïs, at the
present day St. Jean d’Acre. The emir who commanded in this city for
the caliph of Egypt sent them provisions, and promised to surrender as
soon as they should become masters of Jerusalem. The Crusaders, who had
no idea of attacking Ptolemaïs, received with joy the submission and
promises of the Egyptian emir; but chance soon made them aware that he
had no other intention but that of getting them out of his territories,
and raising up enemies against them in the countries they were about
to pass through. The Christian army, after having quitted the country
of Ptolemaïs, had advanced between the sea and Mount Carmel, and were
encamped near the port of Cæsarea, when a dove, which had escaped from
the talons of a bird of prey, fell lifeless among the soldiers. The
bishop of Apt, who chanced to pick up this bird, found under its wing
a letter written by the emir of Ptolemaïs to the emir of Cæsarea.
“The cursed race of the Christians,” wrote the emir, “have just passed
through my territories, and will soon cross yours; let the chiefs of
all the Mussulman cities be warned of their march, and let them take
measures to crush our enemies.” This letter was read in the council
of the princes, and before all the army. The Crusaders, according to
the account of Raymond d’Agiles, an eye-witness, broke out into loud
expressions of surprise and joy, no longer doubting that God protected
their enterprise, since he sent the birds of heaven to reveal to them
the secrets of the infidels. Filled with new enthusiasm, they continued
their route, drawing away from the sea, and leaving Antipatride and
Jaffa on their right. They saluted in the east the heights of Ephraim,
and took possession of Lydda ’the ancient Diospolis), celebrated by the
martyrdom of St. George, and of Ramla, famous for the birth and tomb of
Samuel.

When arrived at this last-named city, the Christians had only a march
of sixteen miles to be before Jerusalem. The leaders held a council,
in which some of them proposed to go and attack the infidels in Egypt,
instead of undertaking the siege of the holy city.[154] “When,” said
they, “we shall have conquered the sultan of Egypt, the cities of
Alexandria and Cairo, with Palestine and most of the kingdoms of the
East, will fall under our power. If we go straight to Jerusalem, we
shall want both water and provisions, and we shall be obliged to raise
the siege, without having the power to undertake anything else.” Such
of the leaders as did not agree with this opinion, answered, “That the
Christian army amounted to no more than fifty thousand combatants, and
that it would be madness to begin a march to distant, and, to them,
unknown regions, and where they could look for no assistance. On all
sides they must expect dangers and obstacles; nowhere should they be
free from the dread of want of provisions; but the route to Jerusalem
was much more easy than that to Alexandria or Cairo. The Crusaders
could pursue no wiser plan than to continue their march, and prosecute
the enterprise they had begun, leaving it to Providence to provide for
their wants, and protect them from thirst and famine.”

This latter opinion was adopted, and the army received the signal for
departure. The cities which lay in the route of the Crusaders were all
abandoned by the infidels. The greater part of the pilgrims endeavoured
to get in advance of each other, that they might be the first to obtain
possession of the places and castles that were thus left without
inhabitants. The Crusaders, says Raymond d’Agiles, had agreed among
themselves, that when one of the leaders had planted his standard upon
a city, or had placed any mark whatever on the door of a house, he
should become the legitimate possessor of it. This imprudent agreement
had given birth to ambition and covetousness in the soldiers as well as
the barons. Many, in the hope of obtaining rich possessions, abandoned
their colours, wandered about the country, and spread themselves even
as far as the banks of the Jordan. In the mean time, those to whom,
according to the expression of the historians, _nothing was more
dear than the commandments of God_, advanced, barefooted, under the
standard of the cross, lamenting the error of their brethren. When they
arrived at Emmaus, a considerable city in the times of the Maccabees,
and which was then no more than a large village, known under the name
of Nicopolis, some Christians of Bethlehem came to implore their
assistance. Touched with their prayers, Tancred set out in the middle
of the night with a detachment of three hundred men, and planted the
flag of the Crusaders upon the walls of the city, at the same hour in
which Christ was born and was announced to the shepherds of Judea.

During this same night a phenomenon appeared in the heaven, which
powerfully affected the imagination of the pilgrims. An eclipse of
the moon produced all at once the most profound darkness, and when
she at length re-appeared she was covered with a blood-red veil. Many
of the Crusaders were seized with terror at this spectacle; but those
who were acquainted with the march and movements of the stars, says
Albert d’Aix, reassured their companions by telling them that the sight
of such a phenomenon announced the triumph of the Christians and the
destruction of the infidels.

By the break of day, on the 10th of June, 1099, the Crusaders ascended
the heights of Emmaus. All at once the holy city presented itself
to their eyes.[155] The first who perceived it exclaimed together,
“_Jerusalem! Jerusalem!_” The rear ranks rushed forward to behold the
city that was the object of all their wishes, and the words, “_It is
the will of God! It is the will of God!_” were shouted by the whole
army, and resounded over Mount Sion and the Mount of Olives, which
offered themselves to the eager gaze of the Crusaders. The horsemen
dismounted from their horses, and marched barefooted. Some cast
themselves upon their knees at beholding the holy places, whilst others
kissed with respect the earth honoured by the presence of the Saviour.
In their transports they passed by turns from joy to sadness, and from
sadness to joy. At one moment they felicitated themselves with touching
the last term of their labours; and then wept over their sins, over the
death of Christ, and over his profaned tomb; but all renewed the oath
they had so often made to deliver the holy city from the sacrilegious
yoke of the Mussulmans.

History furnishes very few positive notions of the foundation and
origin of Jerusalem. The common opinion is, that Melchisedec, who is
called king of Salem in Scripture, made his residence there. It was
afterwards the capital of the Jebusees, which procured it the name of
the city of Jebus. It is probable that from the name of Jebus and that
of Salem, which signifies _vision_, or _abode of peace_, was formed the
name of Jerusalem,[156] which it bore under the kings of Judah.

From the highest antiquity Jerusalem yielded in magnificence to none of
the cities of Asia. Jeremiah names it _admirable city_, on account of
its beauty; and David calls it _the most glorious and most illustrious
city of the East_. From the nature of its entirely religious
legislation, it always showed an invincible attachment for its laws;
but it was often a prey to the fanaticism of its enemies as well as
that of its own citizens. Its founders, says Tacitus, having foreseen
that the opposition of their manners to those of other nations would
be a source of war, had given their attention to its fortifications,
and in the early times of the Roman empire it was one of the strongest
places in Asia. After having undergone a great many revolutions, it
was at length completely destroyed by Titus, and in accordance with
the denunciations of the prophets, presented no more than a horrible
confusion of stones. The emperor Adrian afterwards destroyed even its
ruins, and caused another city to be built, giving it the name of
Aëlia, so that there should remain nothing of the ancient Jerusalem.
The Christians, but more particularly the Jews, were banished from it.
Paganism there exalted its idols, and Jupiter and Venus had altars upon
the tomb of Jesus Christ. In the midst of so many profanations and
vicissitudes, the people of the East and the West scarcely preserved
the memory of the city of David, when Constantine restored it its
name, recalled the faithful, and made it a Christian city. Conquered
afterwards by the Persians, and retaken by the Greeks, it had fallen
a bloody prey into the hands of the Mussulmans, who disputed the
possession of it, and subjected it by turns to the double scourge of
persecution and war.[157]

At the time of the crusades, Jerusalem formed, as it does at present,
a square, rather longer than wide, of about a league in circumference.
It extends over four hills; on the east the _Moriah_, upon which the
mosque of Omar was built in the place of the temple of Solomon; on the
south and west the _Acra_, which occupied the whole width of the city;
on the north the _Bezetha_, or the new city; and on the north-west the
_Golgotha_, or _Calvary_, which the Greeks considered to be the centre
of the world, and upon which was built the church of the Resurrection.
In the state in which Jerusalem then was it had lost much of its
strength and extent. Mount Sion no longer arose within its enclosure
and dominated over its walls between the south and west. The three
valleys which surrounded the ramparts had been in many places filled
up by Adrian, and the access to the place was much less difficult,
particularly on the northern side. Nevertheless, as Jerusalem under the
Saracens had had to sustain several sieges, and as it was at all times
exposed to fresh attacks, its fortifications had not been neglected.
The Egyptians, who had had possession of it for several months, took
advantage of the tardiness of the Christian army to put it in a state
of defence.

Whilst the Crusaders were advancing slowly towards the city, the
lieutenant of the caliph, Iftikhar-Eddaulah, ravaged the neighbouring
plains, burnt the villages, filled up or poisoned the cisterns, and
surrounded himself with a desert in which the Christians must find
themselves a prey to all kinds of misery. He caused provisions for
a long siege to be transported into the place; he called upon all
Mussulmans to come to the defence of Jerusalem, and employed a great
number of workmen, day and night, to construct machines of war, to
raise the walls, and repair the towers. The garrison of the city
amounted to forty thousand men, and twenty thousand of the inhabitants
took up arms.

At the approach of the Christians, some detachments of infidels had
come out from Jerusalem to observe the march and proceedings of the
enemy, but were repulsed by Baldwin du Bourg and Tancred. The latter
had hastened from Bethlehem, of which he had taken possession. After
having pursued the fugitives up to the gates of the holy city, he left
his companions and repaired alone to the Mount of Olives, from whence
he contemplated at leisure the city promised to the arms and devotion
of the pilgrims.[158] He was disturbed in his pious contemplations by
five Mussulmans who came from the city, and finding him alone attacked
him.[159] Tancred made no effort to avoid the combat; three of the
Saracens fell beneath his arm, whilst the other two took to flight.
Without either hastening or retarding his speed, Tancred rejoined
the army, which, in its enthusiasm, was advancing without order, and
descended the heights of Emmaus,[160] singing these words from Isaiah,
“_Jerusalem, lift up thine eyes, and behold the liberator who comes to
break thy chains_.”

On the day after their arrival the Crusaders employed themselves in
regularly laying siege to the place. The duke of Normandy, the count
of Flanders, and Tancred encamped towards the north, from the gate of
Herod to the gate of Cedar or of St. Stephen. Near to the Flemings, the
Normans, and the Italians, were placed the English, commanded by Edgar
Atheling, and the Bretons, conducted by their duke, Alain Fergent, the
sire de Chateau-Giron, and the viscount de Dinan. Godfrey, Eustace, and
Baldwin du Bourg established their quarters between the west and the
north, around the enclosure of Calvary, from the gate of Damascus to
the gate of Jaffa. The count of Thoulouse placed his camp to the right
of Godfrey between the south and the west; he had near to him Raimbaud
of Orange, William of Montpellier, and Gaston of Béarn. His troops at
first extended to the declivity of Sion, and a few days afterwards he
pitched his tents upon the very summit of the mountain, at the place
where Christ celebrated Easter. By these dispositions the Crusaders
left free the sides of the city which were defended on the south by
the valley of Gihon or Siloë, and towards the east by the valley of
Jehoshaphat.[161]

Every step that the pilgrims took around Jerusalem brought to their
minds some remembrance dear to their religion. In this territory, so
revered by the Christians, there was not a valley, not a rock which
had not a name in sacred history. All that they saw awakened or warmed
their enthusiasm. They could not withdraw their eyes from the holy
city, or cease to lament over the state of debasement into which it
had fallen. This city, once so superb, looked as if buried in its own
ruins, and they then might, to employ the expression of Josephus,
have asked in Jerusalem itself where was Jerusalem? With its square
houses without windows, surmounted by flat terraces, it appeared to
the Crusaders like an enormous mass of stones heaped up between rocks.
They could only perceive here and there in its bosom a few cypresses
and some clumps of aloes and terebinthi, among which arose steeples in
the quarter of the Christians, and mosques in that of the infidels.
In the valleys and the fields adjacent to the city, which ancient
traditions describe as covered with gardens and groves, there struggled
into growth a few scattered olives and thorny shrubs. The sight of
these sterile plains, and of the mountains burnt up by an ardent sun,
offered to the pilgrims nothing but images of mourning, and mingled a
melancholy sadness with their religious sentiments. They seemed to hear
the voices of the prophets which had announced the servitude and the
misfortunes of the city of God, and, in the excess of their devotion,
they thought themselves called upon to restore it to its ancient
greatness and splendour.

That which still further inflamed the zeal of the Crusaders for the
deliverance of the holy city, was the arrival amongst them of a great
number of Christians who had come out of Jerusalem, and being deprived
of their property and driven from their homes, had sought assistance
and an asylum among their brethren from the West. These Christians
described the miseries which the Mussulmans had inflicted upon all the
worshippers of Christ. The women, children, and old men were detained
as hostages, whilst such as were of an age to bear arms were condemned
to labours which surpassed their strength. The head of the principal
hospital for pilgrims had, with a great many other Christians, been
cast into prison, and the churches had been pillaged to furnish support
for the Mussulman soldiers. The patriarch Simeon was gone to the isle
of Cyprus to implore the charity of the faithful, and save his flock,
which was menaced with destruction if he did not pay the enormous
tribute imposed by the oppressors of the holy city. Every day new
outrages were heaped upon the Christians of Jerusalem, and several
times the infidels had formed the project of giving up to the flames
and utterly destroying both the Holy Sepulchre and the church of the
Resurrection.

The Christian fugitives, whilst making these melancholy recitals to
the pilgrims, exhorted them to hasten their attack upon Jerusalem.
In the very first days of the siege, a solitary, who had fixed his
retreat on the Mount of Olives, came to join his prayers with those of
the Christians driven from Jerusalem, and conjured the Crusaders, in
the name of Christ, whose interpreter he declared himself, at once to
proceed to a general assault. Although destitute of either ladders or
machines of war, the Crusaders yielded to the counsels of the pious
hermit, believing that their courage and their swords were sufficient
to destroy the ramparts of the Saracens. The leaders, who had seen so
many prodigies performed by the valour and enthusiasm of the Christian
soldiers, and who had not forgotten the lengthened miseries of the
siege of Antioch, yielded without difficulty to the impatience of the
army; besides, the sight of Jerusalem had exalted the minds of the
Crusaders, and disposed even the least credulous to hope that God
himself would second their bravery by miracles.

At the first signal, the Christian army advanced in good order towards
the ramparts. Never, say the historians, did the soldiers of the cross
evince so much ardour; some, joined in close battalions, covered
themselves with their bucklers, which formed an impenetrable vault over
their heads, and endeavoured with pikes and hammers to destroy the
wall; whilst others, ranged in long files, remained at some distance,
and plied their slings and cross-bows in driving the enemy from the
ramparts. Oil, boiling pitch, large stones, and enormous beams were
cast upon the front ranks of the Christians without putting the least
stop to their labours. The outer wall began to fall beneath their
strokes, but the inner wall presented an insuperable obstacle, and
nothing was left to them but escalade. This bold method was attempted,
although only one ladder long enough to reach the top of the walls
could be found. The bravest mounted, and fought hand to hand with the
Saracens, who were confounded with such rash courage. It is probable
that the Crusaders would have entered Jerusalem that very day if they
had had the necessary instruments and machines; but so small a number
of them could gain the top of the walls, that they could not maintain
themselves there. Bravery was useless; Heaven did not perform the
miracles which the solitary had promised, and the Saracens at length
forced the assailants to retreat.

The Christians returned to their camp deploring their imprudence and
credulity. This first reverse taught them that they must not always
expect prodigies, and that before they proceeded further they must
construct machines of war. But it was very difficult to procure the
necessary wood in a country of barren sands and arid rocks. Several
detachments were sent to search for materials; and chance discovered to
one of them some large beams, which Tancred caused to be transported
to the camp. They demolished the houses, and even the churches in
the vicinity of the city which had not been given up to the flames,
and every available bit of wood that had escaped the ravages of the
Saracens was employed in the construction of machines.

In spite of their discoveries and exertions, the progress of the siege
did not answer to the impatience of the Crusaders, nor did they appear
likely to be able to avert the evils that threatened them. The most
intense heats of the summer set in at the very time the pilgrims
arrived before Jerusalem. A scorching sun and southern winds, loaded
with the sands of the desert, inflamed the horizon. Plants and animals
perished; the torrent of Kedron was dry, and all the cisterns had been
filled up or poisoned.[162] Under a sun of fire, and amidst burning and
arid plains, the Christian army soon became a prey to all the horrors
of thirst.

The fountain of Siloë, which only flowed at intervals, could not
suffice for such a multitude. A skinful of fetid water, brought from
a distance of three leagues, cost as much as three silver deniers.
Overcome by thirst and heat, the soldiers turned up the soil with their
swords, and burying themselves in the freshly-moved earth, eagerly
carried to their lips every moist clod that presented itself. During
the day they looked anxiously for the night, and at night longed for
the break of day, in the constantly disappointed hope that the return
of either the one or the other would bring some little freshness, or a
few drops of rain. Every morning they were seen to glue their parched
lips to the marbles covered with dew. During the heat of the day the
most robust languished beneath their tents, seeming not to have even
strength left to implore the assistance of Heaven.

The knights and barons were not at all exempt from the scourge which
devoured the army, and many of them exchanged for the water of which
they stood in daily need, the treasures they had won from the infidels.
“Pity, on account of this extreme thirst,” says the old translator
of William of Tyre, “was not so much due to the foot-soldiers as the
horsemen; the foot-soldiers could be contented with a little, but the
horsemen could only supply their horses with drink at great expense. As
to the beasts of burthen,” adds the same historian, “there was no more
account taken of them than of things already dead; they were allowed to
stray away in the fields, where they died for want of water.”

In this general misery the women and children dragged their exhausted
bodies across fields and plains, seeking sometimes a spring and
sometimes shade, neither of which existed. Many who strayed from the
army fell into the ambushes of the Saracens, and lost either their
lives or their liberty. When some fortunate pilgrims discovered a
spring or a cistern in a remote or obscure place, they concealed it
from their companions, and prevented their approach to it. Quarrels of
a violent nature broke out on this account daily; and not unfrequently
the Crusaders drew their swords for the sake of a little muddy water;
in short, the want of water was so insupportable an evil, that they
hardly noticed the scarcity of food. The intensity of thirst and the
heat of the climate made them forget the horrors of the famine which
seemed to pursue the Christians everywhere.

If the besieged had at this period made a _sortie_, they would have
easily triumphed over the Crusaders, but the latter were defended by
the remembrance of their exploits; and in the distress to which they
were now reduced, their name alone still inspired the Saracens with
dread. The Mussulmans likewise might entertain the belief that their
enemies could not long resist the joint calamities of famine and
thirst. The old historians here employ the most pathetic expressions to
paint the frightful misery of the pilgrims. Abbot Guibert even goes so
far as to say that men never suffered so many evils to obtain benefits
which were not of this earth. Amidst such calamities, says Raymond
d’Agiles, who was himself at the siege of Jerusalem, many forgot their
God, and thought no longer of either gaining the city, or obtaining
the divine mercy. The remembrance of their own country increased their
sufferings; and so great was their discouragement, that some deserted
the standards of the crusade entirely, and fled to the ports of
Palestine and Syria to wait for an opportunity of returning to Europe.

The leaders clearly saw there was no other remedy for the evils the
army endured but the taking of Jerusalem; and yet the labours of the
siege went on very slowly, for they had neither wood enough for the
construction of machines, nor workmen with necessary implements. In
addition, a report was current that a formidable army had left Egypt
for the purpose of relieving the city. The wisest and the bravest were
beginning, in such a critical situation, to despair of the success of
the enterprise, when assistance was afforded them of an unexpected
kind.

They learned that a Genoese fleet had entered the port of Jaffa,
laden with provisions and ammunition of all sorts. This news spread
the greatest joy through the Christian army, and a body of three
hundred men, commanded by Raymond Pelet, set out from the camp to
meet the convoy, which Heaven appeared to have sent the Crusaders in
their misery. This detachment, after having beaten and dispersed the
Saracens they met on their passage, entered the city of Jaffa, which,
being abandoned by its inhabitants, was occupied by the Genoese. On
their arrival, the Crusaders learnt that the Christian fleet had been
surprised and burnt by that of the infidels, but they had had time to
get out the provisions and a great quantity of instruments for the
construction of machines of war. All they had been able to save was
transported to the camp of the Christians. This convoy arrived under
the walls of Jerusalem, followed by a great number of Genoese engineers
and carpenters, whose presence greatly revived the emulation and
courage of the army.

As they still had not sufficient wood for the construction of the
machines, a Syrian conducted the duke of Normandy and the count of
Flanders to a mountain situated at a distance of thirty miles from
Jerusalem, between the Valley of Samaria and the Valley of Sechem.
There the Christians found the forest of which Tasso speaks in the
“Jerusalem Delivered.”[163] The trees of this forest were neither
protected from the axe of the Crusaders by the enchantments of Ismen
nor the arms of the Saracens. Oxen shod with iron transported them in
triumph before Jerusalem.

None of the leaders, except Raymond of Thoulouse, had sufficient money
to pay for the labours they had commanded, but the zeal and charity of
the pilgrims came to their assistance. Many offered the remains of the
spoil taken from the enemy; the knights and barons themselves became
laborious workmen; and every arm was employed, and everything in motion
throughout the army. The women, the children, even the sick, shared
the toils of the soldiers. Whilst the more robust were engaged in the
construction of rams, catapultas, and covered galleries, others fetched
water in skins from the fountain of Elpira, on the road to Damascus,
or from a rivulet which flowed beyond Bethlehem, towards the desert
of St. John. Some prepared the skins that were to be stretched over
the machines to render them fire-proof, whilst others traversed the
plains and neighbouring mountains to collect branches of the olive,
the fig,[164] and some other trees of the country, to make hurdles and
<DW19>s.

Although the Christians had still much to suffer from thirst and the
heat of the climate, the hope of soon seeing the end of their troubles
gave them strength to support them. The preparations for the attack
were pressed on with incredible activity; every day formidable machines
appeared, threatening the ramparts of the Saracens. The construction
of them was directed by Gaston of Béarn, of whose skill and bravery
historians make great boast.[165] Among these machines were three
enormous towers of a new structure, each of which had three stages,
the first for the workmen who directed the movements of it, and the
second and third for the warriors who were to make the assault. These
three rolling fortresses were higher than the walls of the besieged
city.[166] At the top was fixed a kind of drawbridge, which could be
let down on the ramparts, and present a road by which to penetrate into
the place.

But these powerful means of attack were not the only ones which were to
second the efforts of the Crusaders. The religious enthusiasm which had
already performed so many prodigies was again to augment their ardour
and confidence in victory. The clergy spread themselves through all the
quarters of the army, exhorting the pilgrims to penitence and concord.
Misery, which almost always engenders complaints and murmurs, had
soured their hearts, and produced division among the leaders and the
soldiers, who at other times had disputed for cities and treasures, but
for whom then the most common things had become objects of jealousy and
quarrels. The solitary from the Mount of Olives added his exhortations
to those of the clergy, and addressing himself to the princes and
people: “You who are come,” said he, “from the regions of the West to
worship the God of armies, love one another as brothers, and sanctify
yourselves by repentance and good works. If you obey the laws of God,
he will render you masters of the holy city; if you resist him, all his
anger will fall upon you.” The solitary advised the Crusaders to march
round Jerusalem, invoking the mercy and protection of Heaven.

The pilgrims, persuaded that the gates of the city were not less likely
to be opened by devotion than bravery, listened with docility to the
exhortations of the solitary, and were all eager to follow his counsel,
which they regarded as the language of God himself. After a rigorous
fast of three days, they issued from their quarters armed, and marched
barefooted and bareheaded around the walls of the holy city. They were
preceded by their priests clothed in white, carrying images of the
saints, and singing psalms and holy songs. The ensigns were displayed,
and the cymbals and trumpets sounded afar. It was thus that the Hebrews
had formerly marched round Jericho, whose walls had crumbled away at
the sound of their instruments.

The Crusaders set out from the Valley of Rephraim, which faces
Calvary; they advanced towards the north, and saluted, on entering into
the Valley of Jehoshaphat, the tombs of Mary, St. Stephen, _and the
first elect of God_. On continuing their march towards the Mount of
Olives, they contemplated with much respect the grotto in which Christ
sweated blood, and the spot where the Saviour wept over Jerusalem. When
they arrived at the summit of the mountain, the most imposing spectacle
presented itself to their eyes. Towards the east were the plains of
Jericho, the shores of the Dead Sea and the Jordan; and to the west
they saw at their feet the holy city and its territory, covered with
sacred ruins. Assembled on the very spot whence Christ ascended into
heaven, and where they still sought for the vestiges of his steps, they
listened to the exhortations of the priests and bishops.

Arnold de Rohés, chaplain to the duke of Normandy, addressed them
in a pathetic discourse, conjuring them to redouble their zeal and
perseverance. When terminating his discourse, he turned towards
Jerusalem: “You see,” said he to them, “the heritage of Christ trampled
underfoot by the impious; here is, at last, the worthy reward of all
your labours; here are the places in which God will pardon all your
sins, and will bless all your victories.” At the voice of the orator,
who pointed out to them the church of the Resurrection and the rocks
of Calvary, ready to receive them, the defenders of the cross humbled
themselves before God, and kept their eyes fixed upon Jerusalem.

As Arnold exhorted them, in the name of Christ, to forget all injuries,
and to love one another, Tancred and Raymond, who had had long and
serious disputes, embraced each other in the presence of the whole
Christian army. The soldiers and leaders followed their example. The
most rich promised to comfort the poor by their alms, and to support
the orphans of the bearers of the cross. All forgot their fatal
discords, and swore to remain faithful to the precepts of evangelical
charity.

Whilst the Crusaders were thus giving themselves up to transports
of devotion and piety, the Saracens assembled on the ramparts of
Jerusalem, raised crosses high in the air, and treated them with all
kinds of outrages, at the same time insulting the ceremonies of the
Christians by their gestures and their clamours.[167] “You hear them,”
said Peter the Hermit; “you hear the menaces and the blasphemies
against the true God; swear to defend Jesus Christ, a prisoner, and
crucified a second time by the infidels. You see him who expires afresh
upon Calvary for the redemption of your sins.”[168] At these words the
cenobite was interrupted by the groans and cries of indignation which
arose on all parts against the infidels. “Yes, I swear by your piety,”
continued the orator, “I swear by your arms, that the reign of the
impious is near its end. The army of the Lord has only to appear, and
all that vain mass of Mussulmans will disperse like a shadow. To-day
they are full of pride and insolence, to-morrow they shall be frozen
with fear, and shall fall motionless before you, like the guardians of
the sepulchre, who felt their arms escape from their hands, and fell
dead with fright, when an earthquake announced the presence of a God on
that Calvary on which you are going to mount the breach. Still a few
moments, and these towers, the last bulwark of the infidels, shall be
the asylum of the Christians; these mosques, which stand upon Christian
ruins, shall serve as temples for the true God, and Jerusalem shall
only henceforward hear the praises of the Lord.”

At these last words of Peter the most lively transports broke forth
among the Christians; they embraced, shedding tears, and exhorting each
other to support the evils and the fatigues of which they should so
soon receive the glorious reward. The Christians at length descended
the Mount of Olives to return to their camp, and, taking their route
southward, they saluted on their right the tomb of David, and passed
close to the pool of Siloë, where Christ restored sight to the man born
blind. They perceived, further on, the ruins of the palaces of Judah,
and marched along the declivity of Mount Sion, where other remembrances
arose before them to add to their enthusiasm. Towards evening, the
Christian army returned to their quarters, repeating these words of
the prophet: _The nations of the West shall fear the Lord; and the
nations of the East shall see his glory._ When they had regained their
camp, the greater part of the pilgrims passed the night in prayer; the
leaders and the soldiers confessed their sins at the feet of their
priests, and received their God, whose promises filled them with
confidence and hope.

Whilst these things were passing in the Christian camp, the most
profound silence reigned over the walls of Jerusalem; nothing was heard
but the voices of the men who, from hour to hour, from the tops of the
mosques of the city, called the Mussulmans to prayer. The infidels
came in crowds to their temples to implore the protection of their
prophet, and swore by the mysterious stone of Jacob to defend a city
which they called the _House of God_. The besieged and the besiegers
were stimulated by an equal ardour to fight and to shed their blood,
the former to preserve, and the latter to conquer a city which both
held sacred. The hatred which animated them was so violent, that during
the whole siege no Mussulman deputy came into the Christian camp, nor
did the Christians deign to summon the garrison to surrender. Between
such enemies the shock must necessarily be terrible, and the victory
implacable.

The leaders of the Christian army being assembled to decide upon the
day for attacking the city, it was resolved to take advantage of the
enthusiasm of the pilgrims, which was at its height, and to press
forward the assault, the preparations for which were rapidly going on.
As the Saracens had raised a great number of machines on the sides of
the city most threatened by the Christians, it was agreed that they
should change the dispositions of the siege, and that the principal
attack should be directed towards the points where the enemy had made
the least preparations for defence.

During the night Godfrey removed his quarters eastward, near to
the gate of Cedar, and not far from the valley in which Titus was
encamped when his soldiers penetrated into the galleries of the temple.
The rolling tower, and the other machines of war which the duke of
Lorraine had caused to be constructed, were transported with incredible
difficulty in face of the walls he intended to attack. Tancred and the
two Roberts got ready their machines, between the gate of Damascus
and the angular tower, which was afterwards called _the tower of
Tancred_.[169]

When the Saracens, at daybreak, saw these new dispositions, they were
seized with astonishment and affright. The Crusaders might have taken
profitable advantage of the alarm which this change created in the
enemy, but upon steep ground it was difficult to bring the towers
up close to the walls. Raymond in particular, who was charged with
the attack on the south, found himself separated from the rampart by
a ravine, which it was necessary to have filled up. He immediately
made it known, by a herald-at-arms, that he would pay a denier to
every person who should cast three stones into it. A crowd of people
instantly flew to second the efforts of his soldiers; nor could the
darts and arrows, which were hurled like hail from the ramparts, at all
relax the ardour and zeal of the assailants. At length, at the end of
the third day, all was finished, and the leaders gave the signal for a
general attack.

On Thursday, the 14th of July, 1099, as soon as day appeared, the
clarions sounded in the camp of the Christians; all the Crusaders flew
to arms; all the machines were in motion at once; the stone-machines
and mangonels vomited showers of flints, whilst under the cover of
tortoises and galleries, the rams were brought close to the walls. The
archers and cross-bowmen kept up a continual discharge against the
rampart; whilst the most brave planted their ladders in places where
the wall seemed to offer least resistance. On the north, east, and
south of the city, the three towers advanced towards the ramparts,
amidst the tumult and shouts of the soldiers and the workmen. Godfrey
appeared on the highest platform of his wooden fortress, accompanied
by his brother Eustace and Baldwin du Bourg. He animated his people by
his example; and every javelin that he cast, say the historians of the
times, carried death among the Saracen host. Raymond, Tancred, the duke
of Normandy, and the count of Flanders fought amidst their soldiers;
whilst the knights and men-at-arms, animated by the same zeal as their
principal chiefs, flew from place to place where danger called them.

Nothing could equal the impetuosity of the first shock of the
Christians; but they were everywhere met by an obstinate resistance.
Arrows, javelins, boiling oil, Greek fire, fourteen machines which the
besieged had now time to oppose to those of their enemies, repulsed on
all sides the attacks and the efforts of the assailants. The infidels
issuing through a breach made in their rampart, attempted to burn the
machines of the besiegers, and carried disorder among the Christian
ranks. Towards the end of the day, the towers of Godfrey and Tancred
could no longer be moved, whilst that of Raymond fell to pieces. The
combat had lasted twelve hours, without victory having inclined to
the side of the Crusaders, when night came to put a temporary end to
the efforts of both parties. The Christians returned to their camp
trembling with rage and grief; the leaders, but particularly the
two Roberts, lamenting _that God had not yet thought them worthy of
entering into his holy city, and adoring the tomb of his Son_.[170]

The night was spent anxiously on both sides, each deploring their
losses, and trembling at the idea of others they were likely to
sustain. The Saracens dreaded a surprise; the Christians were afraid
that the Saracens would burn the machines they had left under the
walls. The besieged were employed without intermission in repairing
the breaches made in the walls; whilst the besiegers were equally
active in putting their machines in a state of service against a fresh
attack. The following day brought a renewal of the same dangers and
the same combats that the preceding one had witnessed. The chiefs
endeavoured by their speeches to raise the courage of the Crusaders;
whilst the priests and bishops indefatigably visited the tents of the
soldiers, promising them the assistance of Heaven. The Christian army,
filled with renewed confidence in victory, appeared under arms, and
marched in profound silence towards the points of attack, whilst the
clergy walked in procession round the city.

The first shock was impetuous and terrible. The Christians were
indignant at the resistance they had met with the day before, and
fought with fury. The besieged, who had learnt the approach of an
Egyptian army, were animated by the hope of victory, and their ramparts
were protected by machines of a formidable description. The mutually
discharged javelins hissed on all sides; whilst stones and beams
launched by both Christians and infidels were dashed against each
other in the air with a frightful noise, and fell upon the assailants.
From the height of the towers, the Mussulmans unceasingly hurled
lighted torches and fire-pots. The wooden fortresses of the Christians
approached the walls amidst a conflagration which was increasing on all
parts around them. The infidels directed their attacks particularly
against the tower of Godfrey, upon the summit of which shone a cross
of gold, the sight of which provoked their utmost fury. The duke of
Lorraine saw one of his esquires and many of his soldiers fall by his
side; but although himself a mark for all the arrows of the enemy,
he fought on amidst the dead and the wounded, and never ceased to
exhort his companions to redouble their courage and ardour. The count
of Thoulouse, who attacked the city on the south side, brought up
all his machines to bear against those of the Mussulmans: he had to
contend against the emir of Jerusalem, who animated his people by his
words, and appeared upon the walls surrounded by the _élite_ of the
Egyptian soldiery. Towards the north, Tancred and the two Roberts stood
motionless at the head of their battalions, on their rolling fortress,
impatient to employ the lance and sword. Already their rams had, upon
several points, shaken the walls, behind which the Saracens in close
ranks presented themselves as a last rampart against the attacks of the
Christians.

In the midst of the conflict two female magicians appeared upon
the ramparts of the city, calling, as the historians say, upon the
elements and the infernal powers. They could not, however, themselves
avoid the death which they invoked upon the Christians, and fell dead
beneath a shower of arrows and stones.[171] Two Egyptian emissaries,
sent from Ascalon to exhort the besieged to persist in their defence,
were surprised by the Crusaders as they were endeavouring to enter
the city. One of them fell covered with wounds, and the other, having
revealed the secret of his mission, was, by means of a machine, hurled
upon the ramparts where the Saracens were fighting. But the combat had
now lasted half the day, without affording the Crusaders any hope of
carrying the place. All their machines were on fire, and they wanted
water, but more particularly vinegar,[172] which alone will extinguish
the species of fire employed by the besieged. In vain the bravest
exposed themselves to the greatest dangers to prevent the destruction
of the wooden towers and the rams; they fell, buried under the ruins,
and the flames consumed even their bucklers and vestments. Many of the
most intrepid warriors had met with death at the foot of the ramparts;
a great number of those who were upon the towers had been disabled;
whilst the rest, covered with sweat and dust, fatigued by the weight
of their arms and the heat, began to lose courage. The Saracens, who
perceived this, uttered loud cries of joy. Among their blasphemies
they reproached the Christians with worshipping a God who was not able
to defend them. The assailants deplored their fate, and, believing
themselves abandoned by Jesus Christ, remained motionless on the field
of battle.

But the combat was destined soon to change its appearance. All at once
the Crusaders saw a knight appear upon the Mount of Olives, waving his
buckler, and giving the Christian army the signal for entering the
city.[173] Godfrey and Raymond, who perceived him first and at the
same time, cried out aloud that St. George was come to the help of the
Christians! The tumult of the fight allowed neither reflection nor
examination, the sight of the celestial horseman fired the besiegers
with new ardour; and they returned to the charge. Women, even children
and the sick, mingled in the m_êlée_, bringing water, food, and arms,
and joined their efforts to those of the soldiers to move the rolling
towers, the terror of the enemy, nearer the ramparts.[174] That of
Godfrey, in spite of a terrible discharge of stones, arrows, and Greek
fire, advanced near enough to have its drawbridge lowered upon the
walls. Flaming darts flew, at the same time, in showers against the
machines of the besieged, and against the sacks of straw and hay,
and bags of wool which protected the last walls of the city. The
wind assisted the fire, and drove the flames upon the Saracens, who,
enveloped in masses of flame and smoke, retreated before the lances
and swords of the Crusaders. Godfrey, preceded by the two brothers
Lethalde and Engelbert of Tournai, and followed by Baldwin du Bourg,
Eustace, Reimbault Creton,[175] Gunher, Bernard de St. Vallier, and
Amenjou d’Albret, rushes upon the enemy, pursues them, and upon the
track of their footsteps enters Jerusalem. All the brave men who fought
with him on the platform of the tower, followed their intrepid chief,
penetrated with him into the streets, and massacred all they met in
their passage. At the same time a report was spread in the Christian
army that the holy pontiff Adhemar, and several Crusaders who had
fallen during the siege, had appeared at the head of the assailants,
and had unfurled the standard of the Cross upon the towers of
Jerusalem. Tancred and the two Roberts, animated by this account, made
fresh efforts, and at last threw themselves into the place, accompanied
by Hugh de St. Paul, Gerard de Roussillon, Louis de Mouson, Conon and
Lambert de Montaigu, and Graston de Béarn. A crowd of heroes followed
them closely; some entering by a half-opened breach; others scaling
the walls with ladders; and many leaping from the tops of the wooden
towers. The Mussulmans fled on all sides, and Jerusalem resounded with
the cry of victory of the Crusaders, “_It is the will of God! It is the
will of God!_”[176]

The companions of Godfrey and Tancred beat the gate of St. Stephen to
pieces with axes, and the city was at once thrown open to the crowd of
Crusaders, who pressed forward and contended for the honour of dealing
the last blow to the conquered infidels.

Raymond alone still experienced some resistance. Warned of the success
of the Christians, by the clashing of arms, and the tumult he heard in
the city, he endeavoured still further to animate his soldiers. The
latter, impatient to join their companions, abandoned their tower and
machines, which they could no longer move. They planted ladders and
swords, by the means of which they mounted the rampart, whither they
were preceded by the count of Thoulouse, Raymond Pelet, the bishop of
Bira, the count de Die, and William de Sabran. Nothing now could stop
their progress; they dispersed the Saracens, who with their emir had
taken refuge in the fortress of David,[177] and soon all the Crusaders
united in Jerusalem embraced, wept for joy, and gave all their
attention to the completion of their victory.

Despair, however, for a moment forced the bravest of the Saracens to
rally, and they charged with impetuosity the Christians, who, in
the security of victory, were proceeding to the pillage.[178] The
latter were even beginning to give way before the enemy they had so
recently conquered, when Everard de Puysaie, of whom Raoul de Caen has
celebrated the bravery, revived the courage of his companions, placed
himself at their head, and once more spread terror among the infidels.
From that moment the Crusaders had no more enemies to contend with.
History has remarked that the Christians entered Jerusalem on a Friday,
at the hour of three in the afternoon; exactly the same day and hour at
which Christ expired for the salvation of the human race. It might have
been expected that this memorable epoch would have awakened sentiments
of mercy in their hearts; but, irritated by the threats and protracted
insults of the Saracens, incensed by the sufferings they had undergone
during the siege, and by the resistance they had met with even in the
city, they filled with blood and mourning that Jerusalem which they
came to deliver, and which they considered as their own future country.
The carnage soon became general, for all who escaped from the swords
of Godfrey and Tancred, fell into the hands of the Provençals, equally
thirsting for blood. The Saracens were massacred in the streets and in
the houses; Jerusalem contained no place of refuge for the vanquished.
Some sought to escape death by throwing themselves from the ramparts;
others flocked in crowds to the palaces, the towers, but particularly
to the mosques,—but nowhere could they escape the pursuit of the
Christians.

When the Crusaders made themselves masters of the mosque of Omar, in
which the Saracens defended themselves for some time, a frightful
repetition ensued of the scenes of carnage which attended the conquest
of Titus. Horse and foot entered the mosque _pêle-mêle_ with the
vanquished. In the midst of the most horrible tumult nothing was heard
but groans, screams, and cries of death; the conquerors trampling over
heaps of bodies in pursuit of all who endeavoured to escape. Raymond
d’Agiles, an ocular witness, says that under the portico, and in the
porch of the mosque, the blood rose up to the knees and the bridles of
the horses.[179] To paint the terrible spectacle which was presented at
two periods in the same place, it will suffice to say, borrowing the
words of the historian Josephus, that the number of the slain by far
surpassed that of the soldiers who immolated them to their vengeance,
and that the mountains near the Jordan in moans reëchoed the frightful
sounds that issued from the temple.

The imagination turns with disgust from these horrible pictures, and
can scarcely, amidst the carnage, contemplate the touching image of the
Christians of Jerusalem, whose chains the Crusaders had broken. They
flocked from all parts to meet the conquerors; they shared with them
all the provisions they had been able to steal from the Saracens; and
with them offered up thanks to God for having granted such a triumph to
the arms of the Christians. Peter the Hermit, who, five years before,
had promised to arm the West for the deliverance of the Christians
of Jerusalem, must have profoundly enjoyed the spectacle of their
gratitude and exultation. Amidst all the Crusaders, they appeared only
to see him; they recalled his words and his promises; it was to him
they addressed their songs of praise; it was him they proclaimed their
liberator. They related to him the evils they had suffered during his
absence; they could scarcely believe what was passing before them;
and, in their enthusiasm, they expressed astonishment that God should
thus have employed only a single man to stir up so many nations, and to
effect such prodigies.

The sight of the brethren they had delivered, no doubt recalled to the
minds of the pilgrims that they were come for the purpose of adoring
the tomb of Christ; and the pious Godfrey, who had abstained from
carnage after the victory, quitted his companions, and, followed by
three attendants, repaired without arms and barefooted to the church
of the Holy Sepulchre.[180] The news of this act of devotion was soon
spread through the Christian army, and immediately all vengeance and
all fury were at an end; the Crusaders, casting away their bloody
vestments, made the city resound with their groans and their sobs, and,
conducted by the clergy, marched together, with their feet bare and
their heads uncovered, towards the church of the Resurrection.

When the Christian army was thus assembled on Calvary, night began
to fall; silence reigned over the public places and around the
ramparts;[181] nothing was heard in the holy city but hymns of
penitence and these words of Isaiah, “_You who love Jerusalem, rejoice
with her_.” The Crusaders exhibited a devotion so animated and so
tender, that it might have been said, according to the remark of a
modern historian,[182] that these men who had just taken a city by
assault, and had committed a horrible carnage, had come forth from a
long retirement and a profound meditation upon our mysteries. These
inexplicable contrasts are often to be observed in the history of the
crusades. Some writers have believed that they found in them a pretext
to accuse the Christian religion itself, whilst others, not less blind
or passionate, have endeavoured to palliate the deplorable excesses
of fanaticism; the impartial historian contents himself with relating
them, and mourns in silence over the weaknesses of human nature.

The pious fervour of the Christians only suspended the scenes of
carnage. The policy of some of the leaders might make them believe
that it was necessary to inspire the Saracens with as much dread as
possible; they thought, perhaps also, that if they released the men who
had defended Jerusalem, they should have to fight them over again, and
that it was not prudent for them, in a distant country and surrounded
by enemies, to undertake the charge of prisoners whose number by far
surpassed that of their own soldiers. The approach of the Egyptian army
likewise was announced, and the dread of a new danger closed their
hearts against pity. In their council, a sentence of death was decreed
against all the Mussulmans that remained in the city.[183]

Fanaticism but too well seconded this barbarous policy. All the enemies
whom humanity or the fatigue of carnage had at first spared, and even
such as had been saved in hopes of a rich ransom, were slaughtered.
They compelled the Saracens to cast themselves from the tops of the
towers and the houses; they made them perish in the midst of flames;
they dragged them from their subterranean concealments to the public
places, and there immolated them upon heaps of dead. Neither the tears
of women nor the cries of infants, not even the sight of the very place
where Christ had pardoned his executioners, could soften the hearts
of the angry conquerors. The carnage was so great that, according
to the report of Albert d’Aix, bodies were seen heaped up, not only
in the palaces, the temples, and the streets, but even in the most
retired and solitary places. Such was the delirium of vengeance and
fanaticism, that these scenes appear not to have been revolting to the
eyes of those who beheld them. The contemporary historians describe
them without thinking of excusing them, and amidst recitals of the most
disgusting details, never allow a single expression of horror or pity
to escape them.[184]

The few Crusaders who had preserved any feelings of humanity had not
the power to check the fury of an army who thought they were avenging
outraged religion. Three hundred Saracens, who had taken refuge on
the platform of the mosque of Omar, were immolated on the day after
the conquest, in spite of the prayers of Tancred, who had sent them
his standard as a safeguard, and was indignant to find that so little
respect was paid to the laws of honour and chivalry.[185] The Saracens
who had retreated to the fortress of David were almost the only persons
that escaped death. Raymond accepted their capitulation, and had
the good fortune and the glory to have it executed; but this act of
humanity appeared so strange to the greater part of the Crusaders, that
they expressed less admiration for the generosity of the count de St.
Gilles than contempt for his avarice.[186]

The carnage did not cease until the end of a week. Such of the Saracens
as had been able to elude pursuit during this period were reserved for
the service of the army. The Oriental and Latin historians agree in
stating the number of the Mussulmans slain in Jerusalem to have been
more than seventy thousand. The Jews met with no more mercy than the
Saracens. The soldiers set fire to the synagogue in which they had
taken refuge, and all perished in the flames.

But it began to be feared that the bodies heaped up in the public
places, and the blood which had flooded the mosques and the streets
might give rise to pestilential diseases, and the leaders gave orders
that the streets should be cleansed, and that a spectacle which, now
fury and fanaticism were satisfied, must have been odious to them,
should be removed from before their eyes. Some Mussulman prisoners, who
had only escaped the sword of the conquerors to fall into a horrible
state of slavery, were ordered to bury the disfigured bodies of their
friends and brothers. “They wept,” says Robert the Monk,[187] “and
transported the carcases out of Jerusalem.” They were assisted in this
melancholy duty by the soldiers of Raymond, who, having entered last
into the city, had not had a large share of the plunder, and sought to
increase it by a close search of the bodies of the Saracens.

The city of Jerusalem soon presented a new spectacle. In the course of
a few days only it had changed its inhabitants, laws, and religion.
Before the last assault it had been agreed, according to the custom
of the Crusaders in their conquests, that every warrior should remain
master and possessor of the house or edifice in which he should present
himself first. A cross, a buckler, or any other mark placed upon a
door, was, for every one of the conquerors, a good title of possession.
This right of property was respected by every soldier, however greedy
of plunder, and the greatest order soon reigned in a city but recently
given up to all the horrors of war. The victory enriched the greater
part of the Crusaders. The conquerors shared the provisions and the
riches they had found, and such as had not been fortunate in the
pillage had no cause to complain of their companions. A part of the
treasures was employed in assisting the poor, in supporting orphans,
and in decorating the altars they had freed from the Mussulmans.

Tancred had as his share all the wealth found in the mosque of Omar.
Among these riches were twenty candelabra of gold, a hundred and twenty
of silver, a large lamp,[188] and many other ornaments of the same
metals. This booty was so considerable, that it would have been enough,
say the historians, to load six chariots, and employed Tancred two days
in removing it from the mosque. The Italian hero gave up a portion of
this to his soldiers and another to Godfrey, to whose service he had
attached himself. He distributed abundance of alms, and placed fifty
gold marks in the hands of the Latin clergy for the reëstablishment
and the decoration of the churches.

But the Crusaders soon turned their eyes from the treasures which
victory had bestowed upon them to admire a conquest much more precious
in their estimation; this was the true cross, which had been borne
away from Jerusalem by Cosroës and brought back again by Heraclius.
The Christians shut up in the city had concealed it from the Saracens
during the siege. The sight of it excited the most lively emotions
in the pilgrims. “_Of this thing_,” says an old chronicle, “_the
Christians were as much delighted as if they had seen the body of
Christ hung thereupon_.” It was borne in triumph through the streets of
Jerusalem, and then replaced in the church of the Resurrection.

Ten days after their victory the Crusaders employed themselves in
restoring the throne of David and Solomon, and in placing upon it a
leader who might preserve and maintain a conquest that the Christians
had made at the expense of so much blood. The council of the princes
being assembled, one of the leaders ’history names the count of
Flanders) arose in the midst of them, and spoke in these terms:[189]
“Brothers and companions; we are met to treat of an affair of the
greatest importance; never did we stand in greater need of the counsels
of wisdom and the inspirations of heaven. In ordinary times it is
desirable that authority should be in the hands of the most able;
with how much greater reason then ought we to seek for the man most
worthy to govern this kingdom, still in a great measure in the power
of the barbarians. Already we are told that the Egyptians threaten
this city, for which we are about to choose a master. The greater part
of the Christian warriors are impatient to return to their country,
and to abandon to others the care of defending their conquests. The
new people then who are going to inhabit this land will have in their
neighbourhood no other Christian nations to assist them in their need
or console them in their disgraces. Their enemies are near them, their
allies are beyond the seas. The king we shall give them will be their
only support amidst the perils which will surround them. He then who
is called upon to govern this country must have all the qualities
necessary to maintain his position with glory; he must unite with the
bravery natural to the Franks, temperance, good faith, and humanity;
for you know by such virtues great principalities are acquired and
kept as well as by arms. Let us not forget, brothers and companions,
that our object to-day is not so much to elect a king for Jerusalem,
as to bestow upon it a faithful guardian. He whom we shall choose as
leader must be as a father to all those who have quitted their country
and their families for the service of Jesus Christ and the defence of
the holy places. He must make virtue flourish in this land where God
himself has given the model of it; he must win the infidels to the
Christian religion, accustom them to our manners, and teach them to
bless our laws. If you elect one who is not worthy, you will destroy
your own work, and will bring ruin on the Christian name in this
country. I have no need to recall to your minds the exploits or the
labours which have placed us in possession of this territory; I will
not remind you of the dearest wishes of our brothers who have remained
in the West. What would be their sorrow, what would be ours, if, on
our return to Europe, we should hear that the public good had been
neglected and betrayed, or religion abolished in these places where
we have restored its altars? Many would then not fail to attribute to
fortune, and not to virtue, the great things we have done, whilst the
evils which this kingdom would undergo would pass in the eyes of men as
the fruit of our imprudence.

“Do not believe, however, brothers and companions, that I speak thus
because I am ambitious of royalty, and that I am seeking your favour or
suffrages. No; I have not sufficient presumption to aspire to such an
honour; I take Heaven and men to witness, that even if you should offer
me the crown, I would not accept it, being resolved to return to my own
country. That which I have said to you is but for the good and glory of
all. For the rest, I supplicate you to receive this advice as I give it
to you, with affection, frankness, and loyalty, and to elect for king
him who by his virtue shall be most capable of preserving and extending
this kingdom, to which are attached both the honour of your arms and
the cause of Jesus Christ.”

Scarcely had the count of Flanders ceased speaking, than all the other
leaders gave him the warmest praise for his prudence and good feelings.
Most of them even thought of offering him the honour he had declined,
for he who in such circumstances refuses a crown, always appears to be
the most worthy of it; but Robert had expressed himself with frankness
and good faith; he longed to return to Europe, and was satisfied with
the honour of bearing the title of “the Son of St. George,” which his
exploits in the holy war had obtained for him.

Among the leaders who could be called upon to reign over Jerusalem,
we must place in the first rank Godfrey, Raymond, the duke of
Normandy, and Tancred. The only object of Tancred was glory in
arms, and he placed the title of knight far above that of king. The
duke of Normandy, likewise, had evinced more bravery than ambition;
after having disdained the kingdom of England, he was not likely
to be anxious to gain that of Jerusalem. If we may believe an
English historian,[190] he might have obtained the suffrages of his
companions; but he refused the throne of David from indolence, which
so irritated God against him, says the same author, that nothing
afterwards prospered with him during the remainder of his life. The
count of Thoulouse had taken an oath never to return to Europe, but
his companions dreaded his obstinate and ambitious character; and
although several authors have said that he refused to ascend the throne
on account of his great age, everything leads us to believe that the
Christians feared to have him for king.

The opinions of the leaders and the army were various and uncertain.
The clergy insisted that a patriarch should be named before they
elected a king; the princes were not at all agreed among themselves,
and of the body of the Crusaders, some would have wished to choose him
whom they had followed through the holy war, whilst others, like the
Provençals, who had no attachment for the count of St. Gilles, and were
not desirous of remaining in Asia, gave all their efforts to keep the
crown of Jerusalem from the prince under whose colours they served.

To terminate the debate, it was decided that the choice should be
made by a special council of ten of the most highly respected men
of the army. Prayers, fasts, and alms were commanded, in order to
propitiate Heaven to guide them in the nomination they were about
to make. They who were called upon to choose the king swore, in the
presence of the whole Christian army, not to listen to any interest or
any private affection, but to decree the crown to wisdom and virtue.
These electors, whose names history has not preserved, gave the utmost
attention to ascertain the opinion of the army upon the merits of
each of the leaders. William of Tyre relates that they went so far
as even to interrogate the familiar associates and servants of all
who had any pretensions to the crown, and that they made them take an
oath to reveal all they knew of the manners, characters, and secret
propensities of their masters. The servants of Godfrey of Bouillon gave
the most striking evidence of his mildness and humanity, but above all
of his exemplary devotion.

To add to this honourable testimony, the exploits of the duke of
Lorraine during the holy war were dwelt upon. They remembered that at
the siege of Nice he had killed the most redoubtable of the Saracens;
that he had split from shoulder to haunch a giant on the bridge of
Antioch, and that in Asia Minor he had exposed his life to save that of
a soldier who was overpowered by a bear. Many other feats of bravery
were related of him, which in the minds of the Crusaders placed him
above all the other competitors.[191]

Godfrey was the leader decidedly in possession of the suffrages of
the majority of the army and the people; and that he might not want
anything in the expression of their wishes for his success, revelations
were announced that God himself declared in his favour. “Many years
before the crusade,” says Albert d’Aix, “a soldier named Hezelon de
Kintzveiler, had fallen asleep in a forest, and, being conveyed in
a dream to the summit of Sinai, he had seen Godfrey, covered with
glory, and accompanied by two celestial messengers, who announced to
him that God had chosen him, as he had done Moses, to be the conductor
and chief of his people.” A clerk, Giselbert ’a canon of St. Mary, of
Aix la Chapelle), related a vision not less miraculous. The duke of
Lorraine had appeared to him seated upon the throne even of the sun.
The birds of heaven from all climates and all points of the horizon,
flew around him in numberless troops. The recital of this apparition
was accompanied by many other circumstances which we have not space to
repeat; but the Crusaders, who were much struck with them, did not fail
to see in the throne of the sun a faithful image of that of Jerusalem,
and in the birds of heaven the multitude of pilgrims who would come
from all countries to do honour to the glorious reign of Godfrey.[192]

These visions, which are despised in an enlightened age, had great
power over the Christian army, and did not contribute less than the
personal merit of the prince of Bouillon to draw upon him the attention
of all. In this disposition of the general mind, the Crusaders looked
with impatience for the decision of the council which was to give a
king to Jerusalem.

At length the electors, after mature deliberations, and an anxious
inquiry for all necessary information, proclaimed the name of Grodfrey.
This nomination caused the most lively joy throughout the Christian
army, and was considered as an inspiration of heaven. By the authority
given to him, Godfrey became the depositary of the dearest interests
of the Crusaders. Every one among them had in some sort confided
his own glory to him, by leaving him the care of watching over and
guiding their conquests. They conducted him in triumph to the church
of the Holy Sepulchre, where he took the oath to respect the laws
of honour and justice. He refused the diadem and the insignia of
royalty, saying that he would never accept a crown of gold in a city
in which the Saviour of the world had been crowned with thorns. He
contented himself with the modest title of defender and baron of the
Holy Sepulchre. It has been pretended that in this he only acted in
obedience to the insinuations of the clergy, who were afraid of seeing
pride seated upon a throne over which the spirit of Christ ought to
reign. However this may be, Godfrey richly merited by his virtues the
title of king which history has given him, and which was far more due
to him than the name of kingdom was to the feeble states he had to
govern.

As the war had the triumph of religion for its object, the clergy
employed themselves in naming bishops, consecrating churches, and
sending pastors to all the cities that had submitted to the power of
the Christians. Piety and disinterestedness ought to have presided
in the choice of the ministers of Christ; but since the death of
the virtuous Adhemar, the greater part of the Latin ecclesiastics,
no longer restrained by his example, had forgotten the humility and
simplicity of their profession. If William of Tyre may be believed,
address and intrigue openly obtained the suffrages, and the spirit of
the religion which had just given Jerusalem a good king, could not
succeed in bestowing upon it prelates respectable either for their
wisdom or their virtues. The clergy, who had ventured to disturb the
election of the king by their intrigues, carried their pretensions as
high as the sovereignty of the city, and claimed with arrogance the
greatest part in the division of the booty won from the infidels.[193]
The Greek priests, in spite of their rights, were sacrificed to the
ambition of the Roman clergy, as they had been in the city of Antioch.
The chaplain of the duke of Normandy caused himself to be proposed as
patriarch of Jerusalem, in the place of Simeon, who had summoned the
warriors from the West. Simeon was still in the isle of Cyprus, from
whence he had continually sent provisions to the Crusaders during the
siege. He died at the moment in which the Latin ecclesiastics were
quarrelling for his spoils, and his death came very opportunely to
excuse their injustice and ingratitude. Arnold, whose morals were more
than suspected, and whose conduct has merited the censure of the
gravest historians, was nominated pastor of the church of Jerusalem.

In the meanwhile fame had proclaimed the conquest of the holy city
throughout all the neighbouring countries. In all the churches founded
by the Crusaders in their passage, thanks were offered up to God for
a victory which must necessarily cause the triumph of the worship and
the laws of Christ in the East. The Christians of Antioch, Edessa,
and Tarsus, with those who inhabited Cilicia, Cappadocia, Syria, and
Mesopotamia, came in crowds to Jerusalem, some for the purpose of
fixing their abode there, others to visit the holy places.

Whilst the faithful were rejoicing over their conquest, the Mussulmans
gave themselves up to despair. The few who had escaped from the
swords of the Crusaders spread consternation wherever they went. The
historians Abul-Mahacam, Elmacin, and Aboul-Feda have described the
desolation which reigned at Bagdad. Zeimeddin, cadhi of Damascus, tore
out his own beard in the presence of the Caliph. The whole divan shed
tears whilst listening to the recital of the misfortunes of Jerusalem.
Fasts and prayers were ordered to mitigate the anger of heaven. The
Imans and poets deplored in pathetic verses and discourses the fate of
the Mussulmans who had become slaves of the Christians. “What blood,”
said they, “has not flowed? What disasters[194] have not befallen the
true believers? Women have been obliged to fly, concealing their
faces; children have fallen under the swords of the conquerors; and
there remains no other asylum for our brothers, so lately masters of
Syria, but the backs of their camels, or the entrails of the vultures.”

The caliph of Bagdad, deprived of his authority, had nothing to
offer but his prayers and tears for the cause of the Mussulmans.
The victories of the Christians had inflicted a mortal blow upon
the dynasty of the Seldjoucides. The sultan of Persia, retired to
the extremity of Coraçan, was occupied in appeasing civil wars, and
scarcely gave a thought to the emirs of Syria, who had shaken off his
authority, and shared his spoils amongst them. The greater part of the
emirs were quarrelling among themselves for the cities and provinces
threatened by the warriors of the West. The discords which accompany
the fall of empires had everywhere sown trouble and division among
the infidels; but such was their grief when they learnt the conquest
of Jerusalem by the Christians, that they united in weeping together
over the outrages committed upon the religion of Mahomet. The Turks of
Syria, and the inhabitants of Damascus and Bagdad placed their last
hope in the caliph of Cairo, whom they had so long considered an enemy
to the prophet, and came in crowds to join the Egyptian army which was
advancing towards Ascalon.

At Jerusalem they soon learnt that this army had reached Gaza, in
the ancient country of the Philistines. Godfrey immediately caused
his brother Eustace and Tancred, who had quitted the city to go and
take possession of Naplouse, to be informed of this. He pressed the
other leaders of the crusade to unite with him and march to meet the
Saracens. The duke of Normandy at first refused to follow him, alleging
that his vow was accomplished; and the count of Thoulouse, who had been
forced to give up to the king the fortress of David, which he pretended
belonged to him by right of conquest, rejected with haughtiness the
prayers of Godfrey, and treated the news of the approach of the
Saracens as a fable.

The refusal of the duke of Normandy and Raymond did not prevent Godfrey
from commencing his march, followed by Tancred, the count of Flanders,
and several other leaders. They learnt on their route that the emir
Afdhal, the same that had taken Jerusalem from the Turks, commanded the
army of the infidels. This general had under his standard an almost
countless multitude of Mussulmans, from the banks of the Tigris and the
Nile, the shores of the Red Sea, and the extremities of Ethiopia. A
fleet had sailed from the ports of Alexandria and Damietta, laden with
all sorts of provisions, and the machines necessary for the siege of
Jerusalem.

Afdhal had taken a solemn oath before the caliph to annihilate for ever
the power of the Crusaders in Asia, and to entirely destroy Calvary,
the tomb of Christ, and all the monuments revered by the Christians.

The march and the intentions of Afdhal soon conveyed terror to
Jerusalem. Raymond and the duke of Normandy were again pressed to join
the Christian army. Women, old men, and priests with tears conjured
the two princes to have pity on the holy city they had delivered. They
represented to them the fatal consequences of their inaction, which
rendered all the labours of the Crusaders useless, and closed for ever
the doors of the East against pilgrims. The voices of all the nations
of the West, they told them, would be raised against them, and the
blood of the Christians would be on their heads. At last Robert and
Raymond allowed themselves to be prevailed upon, and marched with their
troops to join Godfrey. The new patriarch desired to follow them,
bearing with him the wood of the true cross, the sight of which, like
that of the holy lance, would redouble the enthusiasm and the bravery
of the Crusaders.

All the Christians in a condition to bear arms quitted Jerusalem to
go and fight the Mussulmans. There only remained in the holy city the
women, the sick, and a part of the clergy, who, having Peter the Hermit
at their head, addressed night and day prayers to Heaven to obtain the
triumph of the defenders of the holy places, and the last defeat of the
enemies of Christ.

The Christian army, which had at first assembled at Ramla, advanced
across a sandy country, and encamped on the banks of the torrent of
Sorex, in the plain of Saphœa, or Serfend, situated between Jaffa
and Ascalon. The day after the Christians arrived on this plain, they
perceived at a distance, towards seven o’clock in the evening, a vast
multitude, which they took for the army of the enemy. Two hundred
horsemen, who were sent out to reconnoitre, soon returned, however,
with the agreeable intelligence that the multitude they had taken for
the Egyptian army was nothing but a drove of oxen and camels. So rich
a booty at first awakened the avidity of the soldiers, but the prudent
Godfrey, who saw nothing in this circumstance but a stratagem of the
enemy to throw the Christian army in disorder, forbade his soldiers to
leave their ranks. The other leaders, after his example, endeavoured
to restrain the men under their command, and all remained firm beneath
their standards.

The Crusaders learned from some prisoners they had made, that the enemy
were encamped at three leagues from them, and that they were preparing
to come and attack the Christian army. Upon receiving this advice, the
leaders made their dispositions to receive the infidels. The army was
drawn up in nine divisions, and formed a sort of square battalion, so
as to be able at need, to face the enemy at all points. The Crusaders
passed the night under arms. On the following morning ’it was the eve
of the Assumption) the heralds announced by sound of trumpet that
they were about to give battle to the infidels. At break of day the
Crusaders received the benediction of the patriarch of Jerusalem. The
wood of the true cross was carried through the ranks, and shown to the
soldiers as a certain pledge of victory. The leaders then gave the
signal, all the ensigns were unfurled, and the army marched to meet the
Saracens.

The nearer the Christians approached the army of Egypt, the more were
they filled with confidence and hope. Their drums, cymbals, hymns, and
war-songs animated them to the fight. They marched towards the enemy,
says Albert d’Aix, as to a joyous feast. An emir of Palestine, who
followed the army as an auxiliary, could not sufficiently admire, if
we may believe historians, this joy of the soldiers of the cross at
the approach of danger. He came to express his surprise to the king of
Jerusalem, and swore before him to embrace a religion which could give
so much strength and bravery to its defenders.

The Christians soon arrived in the plain of Ascalon. This immense plain
is bounded on the east and south by mountains, and extends on the west
to the sea. On the coast was situated the city of Ascalon, over which
the Mussulman standards floated. At the extremity of the plain the
army of Egypt was drawn up, with the sea and the mountains behind it.
The Crusaders advanced in two lines; the count of Thoulouse commanded
the right wing, the two Roberts and Tancred were placed at the left.
Godfrey commanded a body of reserve, which was at the same time to keep
the garrison of Ascalon in check and fight with the army of Egypt.

Whilst the Christian army was thus marching in battle array, the drove
of oxen and camels that they had met on their route came to their
rear, and followed all their movements. The confused noise of these
animals, mingled with the sound of the drums and trumpets, and the
clouds of dust which arose under their steps, caused them to be taken
for squadrons of horse, and the Mussulmans were persuaded that the
Christian army was more numerous than their own. They were drawn up
in two lines, as the Crusaders were. The Turks from Syria and Bagdad
were on the right; the Moors and Egyptians on the left; the emir Afdhal
occupied the centre with the main body of the Egyptian forces. This
army covered an immense space, and, says Foulcher de Chartres, like a
stag who projects his branching horns, it extended its wings to envelop
the Christians; but a sudden terror rendered it motionless.

In vain the emir endeavoured to rouse the courage of his soldiers. They
fancied that millions of Crusaders had arrived from the West; they
forgot both their oaths and their threats, and only remembered the fate
of the Mussulmans immolated after the conquest of Jerusalem.

Before engaging, all the Crusaders, fully armed, fell on their knees
to implore the protection of Heaven; and rising full of ardour and
hope, marched against the Saracens. If the most truthful historians
are to be believed, they had not more than fifteen thousand foot
and five thousand horse. When they had arrived within bow-shot, the
foot-soldiers made several discharges of javelins, at the same time
the cavalry, increasing their speed, precipitated themselves upon the
enemy’s ranks. At this first charge the duke of Normandy, the count
of Flanders, and Tancred broke through the centre of the Egyptians.
Duke Robert, followed by his bravest knights, penetrated to the place
where Afdhal fought, and got possession of the great standard of the
infidels. The foot-soldiers followed the horse into the _mêlée_, and
cast away their bows and javelins to make use of sword and lance, arms
much more terrible to the Mussulmans.

On all sides the Saracens were thrown into disorder. Towards the end
of the battle Godfrey had had to contend with a troop of Ethiopians,
who bent one knee to the ground to launch their javelins, and then,
springing up, rushed upon the Crusaders with long flails armed with
balls of iron. This redoubtable battalion could not alone resist the
lances of the Christians, and were soon dispersed. An invincible
terror seemed to paralyze the arms of the Mussulmans. Whilst the king
of Jerusalem was pursuing the Ethiopians and Moors who fled towards
the mountains in the vicinity of the field of battle, the Syrians and
the Arabs, who fought in the left wing, were broken by the count of
Thoulouse. Hotly pressed by the conquerors, a great number of them
precipitated themselves into the sea, and perished in the waves;
others sought an asylum in the city of Ascalon, and such was their
eagerness, and so numerous were they, that two thousand were crushed
to death upon the drawbridge. Amidst the general rout, Afdhal was on
the point of falling into the hands of the conquerors; and, leaving
his sword upon the field of battle, had great difficulty in gaining
Ascalon. Historians add, that when, from the walls of that city, he
contemplated the destruction of his army, he shed a torrent of tears.
In his despair, he cursed Jerusalem, the cause of all his evils, and
blasphemed Mahomet, whom he accused of having abandoned his servants
and disciples.

This was a day of terror and death for the Mussulmans. From the
beginning of the battle, the infidels, who had previously burned with
a thirst of vengeance, appeared to have no purpose but to escape by
flight from an enemy who granted no mercy to the conquered. In their
mortal fear, they let fall their arms, and suffered themselves to be
slaughtered without offering the least resistance. Their terrified
crowd stood motionless on the field of battle, and the sword, to
employ the expression of a contemporary,[195] mowed them down like the
grass of the field. Some cast themselves on the ground, and concealed
themselves among heaps of slain; whilst others plunged into caverns,
or scrambled up rocks or trees, where they were shot down with arrows,
like birds.[196] Afdhal, who did not believe himself to be in safety
in Ascalon, embarked on board a fleet which had arrived from Egypt.
Towards the middle of the contest, all the Egyptian vessels which were
near the shore spread their sails, and gained the open sea. From that
moment no hope of safety remained for the scattered army of these
infidels, who were, as they had said, to deliver the East, and whose
multitude was so great, that, according to the expression of old
historians, God alone knew the number of them.[197]

Such was this battle, whose prodigies poetry has taken delight in
celebrating, but which was, in reality, nothing but an easy victory
for the Christians, in which fanaticism even had not the least share.
On this day the presence of celestial legions did not animate the
battalions of the Crusaders, and the martyrs St. George and St.
Demetrius, whom they always believed they saw in great perils, had no
occasion to be present in this fight. The Christians must have learnt
from this _rencontre_ that their new adversaries were much less to
be dreaded than the Turks. The Egyptian army was composed of many
different nations, which were divided among themselves; the greater
part of the Mussulman troops had been levied in haste, and fought for
the first time. The army of the Crusaders, on the contrary, had been
proved by many victories, and their leaders were as skilful as they
were brave. The bold resolution that Godfrey had taken of going to
meet the enemy, raised the confidence of the soldiers, and assisted in
creating fear and disorder among the Egyptians.[198]

If William of Tyre and Robert the Monk may be believed, the Christians
did not lose a single horseman. They might have made themselves masters
of Ascalon, but want of union among the leaders prevented their taking
due advantage of their victory.[199]

After the defeat of the enemy, Raymond had sent a messenger into the
place to summon the garrison to surrender.[200] He wished to plant
his standard on the walls of the city, and retain the conquest for
himself. On the other hand, Godfrey claimed the possession of it and
maintained that Ascalon ought to form part of the kingdom of Jerusalem.
The debates became very warm. The count of Thoulouse, who found all
the leaders of the Christian army against him, listened to nothing but
the dictates of his blind anger; he recommended the garrison to defend
themselves, and set forward with his troops to return to Jerusalem.
Godfrey, after the desertion of Raymond, in vain attempted to besiege
the city. The greater part of the Crusaders, impatient to return
to their own country, abandoned his colours; and, after making the
inhabitants and garrison of Antioch pay him a considerable sum, he was
obliged to follow them to Jerusalem.

The quarrel which was begun between Raymond and Godfrey before Ascalon
was renewed a few days after before the city of Arsouf, situated near
the sea, twelve miles to the north of Ramla. The count of St. Gilles,
who marched first with his troops, undertook to besiege this place, but
as he met with an obstinate resistance, he abandoned the siege, and
continued his march, after having warned the garrison that they had
nothing to fear from the king of Jerusalem. A short time after, Godfrey
having besieged the city, found the Saracens determined to defend
themselves, and as he learnt that their resistance was the fruit of
the counsels of Raymond, he could not restrain his anger, but resolved
to avenge this affront in the blood of his rival. He marched with his
ensigns displayed, against the count de St. Gilles, who, on his part,
was willing to meet him, and prepared for the conflict. The Christians
were on the point of proceeding to extremities, when the two Roberts
and Tancred threw themselves between Raymond and Godfrey, and used
their utmost exertions to appease them. After a long altercation, the
two rivals, overcome by the prayers of the other chiefs, embraced in
the presence of their soldiers, who had taken part in their animosity.

The reconciliation was sincere on both sides. The pious Godfrey, says
Albert d’Aix, conjured his companions to forget the dissension that had
broken out among the Christian warriors, and implored them, with tears
in his eyes, to remember that they had together delivered the holy
tomb, that they were all brothers in Christ, and that concord was still
necessary to defend Jerusalem. When the inhabitants of Arsouf learnt
that the leaders of the Christian army were reconciled, they repented
of their resistance, and engaged to pay a tribute to Godfrey.[201]

After having received and given hostages as a guarantee of the treaty,
Godfrey, followed by all the other chiefs, quitted the territory of
Arsouf, to return to Jerusalem. The Christian army was loaded with an
immense booty. It marched, followed by the droves of cattle it had met
on the banks of the Sorec, and brought back all the riches found in the
camp of the infidels. As they approached Jerusalem, all the trumpets
were sounded, and their victorious flags were unfurled. A crowd of
pilgrims, who came out to meet them, filled the air with their songs
of gladness; these lively expressions of joy mingled with the hymns
of the priests; the echoes, says Robert the Monk, repeated the sounds
of the warlike instruments and the acclamations of the Christians,
and appeared to offer an application of these words of Isaiah: “_The
mountains and the hills shall sing before you the praises of the
Lord_.” The Crusaders entered the holy city in triumph. The great
standard and the sword of the sultan were suspended on the columns
of the church of the Holy Sepulchre. All the pilgrims, assembled in
the very places which the emir Afdhal had sworn utterly to destroy,
returned thanks to Heaven for a victory which crowned all their labours.

The victory of Ascalon was the last of this crusade. At length,
liberated from their vows, after four years of toils and dangers, the
princes of the crusade quitted Jerusalem, whose sole means of defence
now were three hundred knights, the wisdom of Godfrey, and the sword
of Tancred, who had resolved to end his days in Asia. Some embarked on
the Mediterranean, whilst others marched across Syria and Asia Minor.
They arrived in the West bearing palm branches in their hands, and
singing hymns of triumph on their way. Their return was considered as
a miracle, a sort of resurrection, and their presence was everywhere
looked upon as a subject of edification and enthusiasm. Most of them
had been ruined by the holy war; but they brought back from the East
precious relics, which were in the eyes of the faithful a veritable
treasure.[202] Their hearers were never tired of listening to the
recital of their labours and exploits. Tears, doubtless, mingled with
the transports of admiration and joy when they spoke of their numerous
companions whom death had swept away in Asia. There was not a family
that had not to weep a defender of the cross, or did not glorify itself
with having a martyr in heaven. Ancient chronicles have celebrated the
heroic devotion of Ida, countess of Hainault, who made the voyage to
the East, and braved all dangers in search of her husband. Sent by the
Crusaders to Alexius, the count of Hainault, with all the persons of
his suite, had disappeared, without any one being able to say what had
been their fate. Some said they were still prisoners among the Turks,
others that they were killed. Ida sought through many countries of
Asia, but returned to France without having obtained any tidings of her
husband.[203]

The count of Thoulouse, who had sworn never to return to the West, went
to Constantinople, where the emperor received him with distinction, and
gave him the city of Laodicea. Raymond of Orange determined to share
the destiny of the count of Thoulouse, and finish his days in the East.
Among the knights, companions of Raymond de St. Gilles, who returned
to their own country, we must not forget Stephen and Peter de Salviac
de Viel Castel, whom their age holds up as models of brotherly love.
Stephen and Peter de Salviac were twins, and the tenderest affection
united them from their infancy. Peter assumed the cross at the council
of Clermont, and Stephen, although married, and the father of several
children, determined to follow his brother into Asia, and share with
him the perils of so long a voyage. In all battles they were seen
fighting side by side, and they together were present at the sieges of
Nice, Antioch, and Jerusalem. A short time after their return to Le
Quercy, they both died in the same week, and were buried in the same
tomb. On their tomb may still be read an epitaph which has transmitted
to us the remembrance of their exploits and of their touching
affection. Gaston de Béarn returned with them into Europe; but some
years after, having re-entered upon his estates, he again took up arms
against the infidels, and died in Spain, fighting against the Moors.

Peter the Hermit, on his return to his country, concealed himself
from the eager curiosity of the faithful, and shut himself up in a
monastery he had founded at Huy.[204] He lived there in humility and
penitence, and was buried among the cenobites he had edified by his
virtues. Eustace, the brother of Godfrey and Baldwin, returned to
take possession of the moderate inheritance of the family, and gave
no further trouble to fame by his exploits. Alain Fergent, duke of
Brittany, and Robert, count of Flanders, returned to their states,
repaired the evils caused by their absence, and died regretted by their
subjects.[205]

The duke of Normandy was less fortunate than his companions. The sight
of the holy places, or the long series of labours and evils he had
endured in the cause of religion, had had no effect upon his indolent,
undecided character. On his return from the Holy Land, he passed
through Italy, where he fell in love with Sibylla, the daughter of
the count of Conversana, and allowed his passion to detain him from
his duchy more than a year. By this delay he lost the opportunity of
ascending the throne of England, to which, after the death of his
brother William Rufus, his birth, and the great renown he had acquired
in the crusade, gave him undoubted right. When at length he returned to
Normandy, he was received with transports of admiration and joy; but
upon resuming the reins of government, he showed nothing but weakness;
he gave himself up entirely to debauchery, and surrounded himself by
none but dissipated, greedy courtiers, who drew upon him the hatred of
his subjects. His brother, Henry I., who had succeeded William Rufus,
took advantage of the degraded condition of Robert, and the contempt
into which he was fallen, to take possession of Normandy. At the end
of a battle this unfortunate prince was made prisoner by his brother,
who led him in triumph to England, and caused him to be confined in the
castle of Cardiff, in the province of Glamorgan. The remembrance of his
exploits in the Holy Land had no effect in mitigating his misfortunes.
After twenty-eight years of captivity, he died forgotten by his
subjects, his allies, and the ancient companions of his glory.

The return of the Crusaders, and the account of their conquests,
excited great enthusiasm, and renewed the eagerness for crusades and
pilgrimages among the nations of the West. They were not now affected
by the passion for delivering the holy places, but by that of visiting
and defending them. Europe exhibited a second time the scenes which
had followed the council of Clermont; new discourses were heard, and
fresh miracles related. Cities, lands, and castles were again offered
for sale. He who preferred repose and his country to the glory of the
holy pilgrimage passed for a very lukewarm Christian; whilst all who
had quitted the standard of the crusade were objects of contempt in
the eyes of the faithful, and were threatened with the thunders of the
Church.

A general cry was raised against the brother of the king of France,
who could not be pardoned for having abandoned the Christian army in
a cowardly manner, and returned to Europe without seeing Jerusalem.
Stephen, count of Chartres and Blois, was not allowed to remain in
peace in his states and family; his people were astonished at his
shameful desertion, and his wife Adela reproached him with having
shrunk from the duties of religion and chivalry. These unfortunate
princes, and all who had deserted the standards of the holy war, were
obliged to quit France, and again take the route for Asia.

Many of the princes and barons who had not partaken of the enthusiasm
of the first Crusaders, accused themselves of culpable indifference,
and were drawn into the general movement. Among these latter was
William IX., count of Poictiers, a relation of the emperor of Germany,
and the most powerful vassal of the king of France. An amiable and
intelligent prince, of not at all a warlike character, he left, to take
up the pilgrim’s staff, a voluptuous and gallant court, which he had
often delighted with his songs. He took upon him the cross at Limoges,
and set out for the East, accompanied by a great number of his vassals,
among whom were a vast many women and young girls.[206] His example
was followed by William, count of Nevers, Orpin, count of Bourges, and
Eude, duke of Burgundy. This last prince, perhaps, was influenced less
by a desire of visiting Jerusalem than by his anxiety to recover the
remains of his daughter Florine, who had been killed with Sweno in Asia
Minor.

In Italy, Albert, count of Blandras, and Anselm, archbishop of Milan,
placed themselves at the head of a countless multitude of pilgrims.
Germany witnessed the departure of Conrad, marshal of the emperor
Henry, Wolf IX., duke of Bavaria, the princess Ida, margravine of
Austria; and a great number of lords and knights.

In this new expedition, as in the first, many of the Crusaders were
led away by a desire for seeking adventures and visiting foreign
countries. The brilliant success of Baldwin, Bohemond, and Godfrey
aroused the ambition of the barons who had remained in Europe. Humbert
II., count of Savoy, who set out for the Holy Land with Hugh the
Great, made a donation to the monks of the Bourget, in order to obtain
by their prayers, a fortunate establishment ’_consulat_) in his
foreign voyage.[207] Many lords and knights made similar donations,
whilst others founded monasteries and churches, setting out with the
hope that God would bless their arms, and enable them to acquire rich
principalities in the East.

The Crusaders assembled in several troops, and crossing the
territories of the Hungarians and Bulgarians, united under the walls
of Constantinople to the amount of two hundred thousand. These new
pilgrims repeated the scenes of violence which had so seriously
alarmed Alexius in the first expedition. The Greek emperor, faithful
to his policy, opposed force by cunning; he flattered the vanity or
the avarice of men he could not subdue, and paid very dearly for the
insincere homage of the leaders of the crusade. He called Raymond
to his assistance, who was then in his government of Laodicea. The
presence and the persuasive discourses of the count of Thoulouse
calmed the perturbed spirits of the Crusaders for a few days; and when
they set forward on their march to Palestine, he was charged with
conducting them across Asia Minor.

Among this confused mass of pilgrims[208] was a crowd of monks,
old men, women, and young girls. They were without discipline, and
marched without either precaution or order; but they had such perfect
confidence in their arms, that they boasted, on leaving Constantinople,
that they would go to Bagdad, and wrest Asia from the hands of the
infidels. Their troop was divided into three bodies. At the head of the
first were the duke of Burgundy, the count of Chartres, the archbishop
of Milan, the count de Blandras, and Raymond de St. Gilles. “The
archbishop of Milan,” says Albert d’Aix, “had brought into Asia an arm
of St. Ambrose, with which he gave his benediction to the Crusaders.
Raymond carried with him the lance that had been found at Antioch, to
which he looked for new miracles.”

This first body, advancing towards Paphlagonia, took the city of
Ancyra by assault, and laid siege to the fortress of Gangras. The
garrison made a strong resistance, and forced the Christians to
retire. They were in want of provisions, and entertained but little
hopes of obtaining any in an enemy’s country; and whilst sinking into
despondency they quite unexpectedly found themselves confronted by a
Turkish army.

Kilidge Arslan, who had retired to Iconium, which became the capital of
his states, after the taking of Nice, had got together the remains of
his army, and recruited his strength. The sultan of Mossoul, that same
Kerboghâ who, three years before, had lost the battle of Antioch, had
joined the son of Soliman, and burned to meet the Christians again.

Although they both had a considerable number of troops, they contented
themselves, at first, with harassing the Crusaders in their march.
Sometimes the infidels got before the Christians, and ravaged the
country and filled up the wells and the cisterns; whilst at others,
they laid ambushes for them, and massacred all who strayed away from
the main body. The Christian army had suffered much in crossing the
defiles of Paphlagonia; and fatigue, hunger, and thirst had greatly
weakened the strength of the pilgrims, when the sultans of Mossoul and
Iconium determined upon giving them battle on the banks of the Halys.

Raymond, before the engagement, caused the miraculous lance to be
carried through the Christian ranks; whilst the archbishop of Milan,
followed by his clergy, exhibited the arm of St. Ambrose, and offered
up prayers for victory; but neither the prayers of the clergy, nor the
sight of the holy lance, nor even the prodigies of valour displayed
by the Crusaders, could secure them a triumph. After a sanguinary
conflict, they retired to their camp in great disorder. The Turks,
who had met with a determined resistance, did not at first dare to
follow up their victory, and satisfied themselves with remaining
masters of the field of battle, and plundering the dead. During the
night the Crusaders became aware of the extent of their loss. Raymond
and the other terrified leaders sought safety in flight. As soon as
their absence was discovered, terror and despair pervaded the camp of
the Christians; every one attempted to fly, abandoning the baggage,
the sick and the wounded. The roads were soon covered with soldiers,
women, and children, who embarrassed each other in their confusion,
and were ignorant where they might meet with the enemy, or where they
should look for the Christian army. The Turks, rendered aware of their
victory by the cries and groans which resounded from the neighbouring
mountains, hastened to the camp of the Crusaders, massacring or
making prisoners all they met. They then hotly pursued the fugitives,
slaughtering them without mercy. The darkness of the night added to the
horrors of this scene of carnage. The pilgrims lost themselves in their
confusion, and seemed to seek the swords they wished to avoid; others
stopped exhausted by fatigue, and awaited death as an end of their
calamities.

When day appeared, the country was covered with the bloody, plundered
bodies of the Christians. Raymond de St. Gilles, the duke of Burgundy,
the count of Chartres, the count of Blandras, and some other leaders
who had fled by different routes, met at Sinope, where they could
scarcely gather around them a few thousand men, the remains of an army
which had counted under its standards more than a hundred thousand
pilgrims.

A second army of Crusaders, led by the count de Nevers and the count
de Bourges, advanced as far as Ancyra, and directed its course towards
Heraclea.[209] This army looked for traces of that which had preceded
it; but instead of finding the Christians, they soon met with the
victorious army of the Turks, which came to meet them, attacked them,
and routed them. The count de Nevers with great difficulty found
refuge in Germanicopolis. Taking for guides some Greek soldiers, he
was pillaged and abandoned by them in a desert. He went through the
greatest dangers for several days; and, exhausted with fatigue and
covered with rags, he at length arrived at Antioch, whither the news of
his defeat had preceded him.

A third troop, composed, according to the authors of the time, of more
than a hundred and fifty thousand pilgrims, set out from Constantinople
under the orders of the count of Poictiers, the duke of Bavaria, and
Hugh de Vermandois. They took possession of Philomelium and Samalia,
and marched across devastated provinces towards the city of Stankon,
where they expected to unite themselves with the army of the count
de Nevers. It was before this city that the pilgrims heard of the
disasters and defeat of the Christian armies that had preceded them.
They advanced towards Heraclea, and were not long in meeting with the
army of Kilidge Arslan, which was waiting for them in an advantageous
position. As they had no longer anything to hope for except from
their courage, they did not seek to avoid the enemy. A rivulet which
separated the Christians from the infidels, was the signal and the
theatre of battle. The Crusaders, pressed by thirst, rushed towards
it in crowds. The Turks immediately discharged upon them a shower of
javelins and arrows. The two armies were soon completely engaged;
but the Christians fighting in a confined and marshy place, could
neither draw up their forces nor make use of the lance or the sword.
Their bravery and their efforts were of no avail against the skilful
manœuvres of Kerboghâ and Kilidge Arslan. The Turks penetrated the
Christian army everywhere; the carnage was horrible; scarcely a
thousand of the Crusaders escaped from either death or slavery. The
margravine of Austria disappeared amidst the tumult of the battle. Some
say that she was crushed under the feet of the horses; whilst others
assert that she fell into the hands of the enemy, and went to live and
die in the harem of the sultan of Mossoul. The greater part of the
women and young girls that followed the Christian army met with the
same fate. The count of Vermandois, pierced by two arrows, fled across
Lycaonia, and arrived with a feeble escort at the city of Tarsus, where
he died of his wounds.

The duke of Bavaria and the count of Poictiers, after having wandered
a long time in deserts and forests, arrived almost naked at Antioch,
in which city were assembled all the Crusaders that had escaped after
their defeat. The leaders, by gathering together the wrecks of their
troops, were able to form an army of ten thousand men, with which they
marched to Jerusalem. Whilst coasting the Sea of Syria, they took
the city of Tortosa, which they gave up to Raymond, although they
had accused him, only a few days before, of having been the cause
of all their disasters. Upon their arrival in Palestine, they found
new enemies to contend with. The duke of Burgundy[210] and the count
of Blois were killed in a battle fought near Ramla. Arpin, count de
Berri,[211] fell alive into the hands of the Saracens, and died in
slavery. The count de Blandras, the count of Savoy, William, count of
Poictiers, the count de Nevers, and the duke of Bavaria only led a
small number of their soldiers back to Europe.[212]

Such are the principal events of the first crusade, the commencement
and the end of which were marked by the greatest disasters, and which
deprived Europe of more than a million of men. When we reflect on the
energies displayed and the forces employed in this expedition by the
West, we are at first astonished that it did not succeed.

It has often been repeated, when speaking of this holy war, in which
the East beheld an army of six hundred thousand men brought against
it, “that Alexander conquered Asia with thirty thousand men.” It is
more than probable that the Greeks who wrote the life of Alexander have
diminished the number of his forces in order to heighten the splendour
of his victories;[213] but, be that as it may, it must be admitted that
the expedition of the Macedonian conqueror did not present the same
dangers, or the same obstacles that the Crusaders had to encounter.
The armies which left Greece for Asia had less to suffer from change
of climate, or the length and difficulties of the voyage than those
who came from the extremities of the West. The Macedonians, in their
invasion of the East, had scarcely any nation to contend with but the
Persians, an effeminate people, previously several times vanquished
by the Greeks; whilst the Crusaders had to pass through a crowd of
unknown, barbarous hordes, and when arrived in Asia, found, as enemies,
several nations of conquerors.

The Greeks of Alexander’s expedition did not go into Asia to introduce
new laws, or change the manners and religion of the people; they even
adopted something of the costumes and usages of the Persians, which
very much facilitated their conquests.[214] In the crusades, on the
contrary, we behold two religions armed one against the other, which
redoubled the hatred of the combatants, and forbade all approximation.
As soon as the standard of Mahomet floated over a city, the Christians
fled from it; whilst the cross of the Christians had the same effect
upon the Mussulmans. As the greater part of the Mussulman cities which
fell into the hands of the Christians were deserted, the latter were
obliged to people the provinces they conquered, and exhaust their
armies, to found, in some sort, colonies wherever their arms triumphed.
If it be allowed that no wars are more sanguinary than religious
wars, there are certainly none in which it is more difficult for a
conqueror to extend or preserve his conquests. This is a very important
observation, if we would appreciate the results of this crusade.

On all occasions where bravery alone was required, nothing can be
comparable to the exploits of the Crusaders. When reduced to a small
number of combatants, they triumphed no less over their enemies than
when they consisted of vast armies. Forty thousand Christians obtained
possession of Jerusalem, defended by a garrison of sixty thousand
Saracens. There remained scarcely twenty thousand men under their
standards, when they had to contend with all the forces of the East
in the plains of Ascalon. If Alexander performed greater things, and
particularly if he conquered a greater number of nations, it was
because he commanded a disciplined army, of which he was the absolute
leader. All his military and political operations were directed by
one same mind and one same will. It was not thus in the army of the
Crusaders, which was composed of many nations, and held within itself
the fatal germs of license and disorder. The feudal anarchy with which
Europe was then distracted followed the defenders of the cross into
Asia, and that turbulent spirit of the knights, which constantly led
them to have recourse to arms, was precisely that which checked and
bounded their conquests.

When we think of their ever reviving discords, of the calamities which
were the consequences of them, of that excess of bravery that made them
commit so many faults, of that want of foresight which they almost
always evinced on the eve of great dangers, one thing alone surprises
us, and that is, that they did not entirely fail in their enterprise.

Philosophy may, with some justice, oppose its reasonings to the marvels
of this war; but she will find in it an abundant source of profound
and new observations. In it she will see man with his inexplicable
contrasts; in it she will meet with the passions, with all that
characterizes them, with all they possess that most plainly exhibits
the human heart and mind. Reason, without doubt, must deplore the
disorders, the excesses, and the delirium of the Crusaders; but such
is human weakness, that we always interest ourselves in great events
wherein man is fully developed.

The imagination of the most indifferent must be struck with the
instances of heroism which the history of the crusades abounds in. If
many of the scenes of this great epoch excite our indignation or our
pity, how many of the events fill us with admiration and surprise!
How many names, rendered illustrious by this war, are still the pride
of families and nations! That which is perhaps most positive in the
results of the first crusade, is the glory of our fathers,—that glory
which is also a real good for a country; for great remembrances found
the existence of nations as well as families, and are the most noble
sources of patriotism.

In remotest antiquity, one of those passions which sometimes act upon
a whole people, precipitated Greece upon Asia. This war, famous and
rich in exploits, inflamed the imagination of the Greeks, and was for a
great length of time celebrated in their temples and upon their stage.
If great national remembrances inspire us with the same enthusiasm, if
we entertain as strong a respect as the ancients for the memory of our
ancestors, the conquest of the Holy Land must be for us as glorious and
memorable an epoch as the war of Troy was for the people of Greece.
These two wars, however different in their motives, present almost the
same results to the enlightened observer; both offer grand lessons to
policy and illustrious models to valour; both founded new states, new
colonies, and established relations between distant nations. Both had a
marked influence upon the civilization of the ages that followed them:
both, in short, developed great passions and fine characters, and thus
furnished the happiest subjects for the epic muse, who delights only in
celebrating prodigies and wonders.

When comparing these two memorable wars, and the poetical masterpieces
that have celebrated them, we cannot but think that the subject of the
“Jerusalem Delivered” is more wonderful than that of the “Iliad.” We
may still further say, that the heroes of Tasso are more interesting
than those of Homer, and their exploits less fabulous. The cause which
armed the Greeks was much less important than that which actuated the
Christians. The latter, in some sort, took up arms for the assistance
of misfortune and oppressed weakness. They went to defend a religion
able to make them sensible of ills that were endured far from them, and
to make them find brothers in regions unknown to them. This character
of sociability is not to be found in any belief of the ancients.

The Crusaders exhibited another spectacle with which antiquity was
unacquainted—the union of religious humility with the love of glory.
History shows us constantly these haughty heroes, the terror of Asia
and the Mussulmans, bending their victorious brows to the dust, and
marching from conquest to conquest, covered with the sack of penitence.
The priests, who exhorted them in battle, only raised their courage
by reproaching them with their sins. When they met with reverses, a
thousand voices were raised among them to accuse their own misconduct;
and when they were victorious, it was God alone that gave them the
victory, and religion forbade their claiming glory from it.[215]

The historian may be permitted to think that this difference
between the heroes of the “Iliad” and those of the holy war is not
sufficiently marked in the poem of “Jerusalem Delivered.”[216] Another
reproach may likewise be addressed to the bard of Rinaldo and Godfrey;
the ideas of magic and gallantry which he has too freely lavished upon
his poem are not in accordance with the truth of history. Magic, which
is nothing but a sort of degenerated superstition, and which only
deals with small things, was but little known to the Crusaders. Their
superstition, however gross, had something noble and grand in it, which
associated them sufficiently with the spirit of the epopée, without the
poet having anything to alter; their character and manners were grave
and austere, and exceedingly well suited to the dignity of a religious
epic. It was not till long after the first crusade that magic formed
any part of the superstition of the Franks, or that their warlike
manners abandoned the prominently epic character which distinguished
them, to adopt the romantic character which they have preserved in all
books of chivalry. It appears to us that we discover in Tasso much more
of the manners of the times in which he lived than of those of the
end of the eleventh century, the period of the events which form the
subject of his poem.

But it does not enter into the plan or the object of this work to carry
such observations further.[217] After having spoken of the heroic deeds
and of all that was wonderful in the first crusade, I will turn my
attention to the immediate effects it produced upon Europe and Asia.
We are sufficiently well acquainted with the evils by which it was
followed; great disasters are the familiar subjects of history, but the
slow and almost insensible progress of the good that may result from a
great revolution, is much less easily perceived.

The first result of this crusade was to carry terror among the
Mussulman nations, and to place it out of their power to undertake for
a length of time any warlike enterprises against the West. Thanks to
the victories of the Crusaders, the Greek empire extended its limits,
and Constantinople, which was the road to the West for the Saracens,
was rendered safe from their attacks. In this distant expedition Europe
lost the flower of its population, but it was not, as Asia was, the
theatre of a bloody and disastrous war; of a war in which nothing was
respected, in which provinces and cities were, by turns, ravaged by
the conquerors and the conquered. Whilst the warriors of Europe were
shedding their blood on the plains of the East, the West remained in
profound peace. Among Christian nations it was then considered a crime
to take up arms for any other cause than that of Jesus Christ. This
opinion contributed greatly to check the frightful brigandage that had
prevailed, and to increase respect for _the truce of God_, which was,
in the middle ages, the germ or the signal of the best institutions.
Whatever were the reverses of the crusades, they were less deplorable
than the civil wars and the scourges of feudal anarchy that had so long
ravaged all the countries of the West.

This first crusade produced other advantages to Europe.[218] The
East, by the holy war, was in some sort laid open to the West, which,
before, was but little acquainted with it; the Mediterranean became
more frequented by European vessels, navigation made some progress,
and commerce, particularly that of the Pisans and Genoese, must have
been increased and enriched by the foundation of the kingdom of
Jerusalem. A great part, it is true, of the gold and silver of Europe
was carried into Asia by the Crusaders; but these treasures, heaped
up and concealed by avarice and fear, had been long abstracted from
circulation; the gold which was not carried away by the Crusaders
circulated more freely, and Europe, with a less quantity of money,
appeared all at once more rich than it had ever been.

We cannot perceive, whatever may have been asserted, that in the
first crusade Europe received any great quantity of knowledge from
the East. During the eleventh century, Asia had been the theatre of
the most sanguinary revolutions. At this period the Saracens, but
more particularly the Turks, cultivated neither the arts nor the
sciences. The Crusaders had no other relation with them but a war of
extermination. On another side, the Franks held the Greek among whom,
besides, the arts and sciences were declining, in too much contempt to
borrow any kind of instruction from them; nevertheless, as the events
of the crusade had strongly affected the imagination of nations, this
great and imposing spectacle was sufficient to give an impetus to the
human mind in the West. Several writers undertook to trace the history
of this memorable period. Raymond d’Agiles, Robert the monk of St.
Remy, Tudebode, Foulcher de Chartres, Abbot Guibert, Baudry, the bishop
of Dol, and Albert d’Aix were contemporary historians, and most of them
ocular witnesses of the conquests and exploits they have described.
The histories they have left us are not destitute of merit, and some
of them are even better than that which was written of the same kind
among either the Greeks or the Arabs. These writers were animated in
their labours by the same spirit of piety which governed the heroes of
the cross. This spirit of piety caused them to take up the pen, and
persuaded them that they wrote for the cause of God. They would have
thought themselves wanting in their duty as Christians, if they had
not employed their abilities in transmitting the events of the holy
war to posterity. In whatever manner we judge of their motives, we
cannot avoid being convinced that they have rendered great services to
history, and that without them the heroic times of our annals would
have remained without monuments.

The wonderful portion of the character of this first crusade likewise
awakened the epic muse. Raoul de Caen,[219] who, in his history,
sometimes sounds the epic trumpet in order worthily to celebrate the
“gestes” of Tancred, is not deficient in either warmth or fancy. The
conquest of Jerusalem was during the twelfth century the subject of
several works in verse. A Limousin knight, Geoffrey de la Tour, called
the prior or abbot of the Vigeois, described very tolerably the events
of these wars in a large volume all written in his maternal tongue,
and in vulgar rhyme, in order that the people might understand it the
better. This poem, written in verse, which was the fruit of the labour
of twelve years, is lost. Many other similar works have doubtless
shared the same fate; but that which remains suffices to prove that
human intelligence began to expand at the commencement of the twelfth
century.

Before this period, the science of legislation, which is the first and
most important of all, had made but very little progress. Some cities
of Italy and the provinces near the Pyrenees, where the Goths had
encouraged the Roman laws, alone exhibited glimmerings of civilization.
Among the rules and ordinances that Gaston de Béarn laid down before
his departure for the Holy Land, are to be found many points and
particulars which deserve to be preserved by history, because they
exhibit the feeble beginnings of a legislation which time and fortunate
circumstances would perfect. _Peace_, says this legislator of the
eleventh century, _shall be observed at all times towards clerks,
monks, travellers, and ladies and their suite.—If any one takes refuge
in the abode of a lady, he shall enjoy security of person, on paying
all loss or consequent injury. Let the peasant live in peace; let his
cattle and agricultural instruments be exempt from seizure._[220] These
benevolent dispositions were inspired by the spirit of chivalry, which
had made some progress in the wars against the Saracens of Spain; they
were particularly the works of the councils[221] which undertook to put
a stop to private wars and the excess of feudal anarchy. The holy wars
beyond the seas finished that which chivalry had begun, they perfected
chivalry itself. The council of Clermont and the crusade that followed
it only developed and consolidated all which preceding councils, all
that the wisest lords and princes, had done for the cause of humanity.

Many of the princes of the crusades, such as the duke of Brittany and
Robert count of Flanders, signalized their return by establishing
wise regulations. A few salutary institutions began to displace the
violent abuses of feudalism, and there might be seen, at least in
some provinces, what a regime founded by the sword could exhibit of a
moderate kind in its legislation.

It was in France that these changes were most obvious, because France
had taken the greatest part in the crusade. Many nobles emancipated
their serfs upon their following them in this expedition. Giraud and
Giraudet Adhemar de Monthiel, who followed their brother, the bishop of
Puy, to the holy war, to encourage and reward some of their vassals,
by whom they were accompanied, granted them several fiefs by an act
drawn up in the same year as the taking of Jerusalem. We might quote
many similar acts made during the crusade and in the first year that
followed it. Liberty awaited in the West the small number that returned
from the holy war, who seemed to acknowledge no other master but Jesus
Christ.

In this crusade the nobility lost some portion of a power which they
had abused, but they had more splendour and were held in greater
honour. The king of France, although for a long time obnoxious to the
censures of the Church, and although he did not distinguish himself
by any great personal qualities, had a more tranquil and prosperous
reign than his predecessors; he began to shake off the yoke of the
great vassals of the crown, of whom several were ruined or perished
in the holy war. We have often repeated that the crusade placed great
wealth in the hands of the clergy; but we must likewise add, that the
clergy composed the most enlightened part of the nation, and that
this increase of prosperity was in the nature of things. After the
first crusade, was seen that which is always to be observed in all
nations that are progressing in civilization. Power had a tendency to
centralize itself in the hands of him who protected liberty. Glory
became the reward of all who were called upon to defend their country;
consideration and riches took a direction towards that class from which
intelligence was to be expected.

It is certain that knowledge arose in Europe among the clergy, and that
they alone were able to consecrate in some way many of the salutary
results of the crusades. As long as the clergy powerfully assisted
the progress of civilization, they preserved their wealth; as soon as
they went beyond civilization, they lost it. This is the course of
things on earth. As long as institutions are favourable to society,
society reveres them;[222] when under some relations they are esteemed
less useful, they lose their importance. Without any necessity for
declamation, we must leave the ingratitude natural to nations to take
its course, as we must their inconstancy, and to time; which are but
too powerful in destroying instruments which society has employed with
some advantage.

Many cities of Italy had arrived at a certain degree of civilization
before the first crusade; but this civilization, born in the midst
of a barbarous age, and spread amongst some isolated nations divided
among themselves, had no power to attain maturity. For civilization to
produce the salutary effects it is capable of, everything must at the
same time, have a tendency to the same perfection. Knowledge, laws,
morals, power, all must proceed together. This is what has happened in
France;[223] therefore must France one day become the model and centre
of civilization in Europe. The holy wars contributed much to this happy
revolution, which may be seen even in the first crusade.




BOOK V.

A.D. 1099-1148.


I HAVE related the disasters, the labours, and the conquests of the
first Crusaders; I now direct my attention to the kingdom which was
founded by their victories, the perils of which several times summoned
the nations of the West to arms. If the recital of a war filled with
adventures and prodigies has excited the curiosity and surprise of my
readers, I trust they will not refuse to follow with me the progress of
that distant kingdom, which was the fruit of so many exploits and so
much glory, which cost so much blood and so many tears. After having
beheld the countless crowds of pilgrims setting out for the deliverance
of the Holy Land, who will not be astonished to see two or three
hundred brave knights, the glorious remains of the Christian armies,
suffice for the defence of the provinces and cities conquered by the
united powers of the West? What spectacle can create more profound
reflection in the minds of thinking and enlightened men, than that of
a new people, cast, as it were by a tempest, on a foreign shore, in
the midst of a country from which the arms, religion, and customs of
numerous nations are unceasingly employed to expel them?

The country in which the Crusaders had just established themselves,
and which the monuments of religion and history rendered so dear to
the nations of the West, constituted the kingdoms of Judah and Israel
of antiquity. When the Romans carried their arms into this country,
its new masters added to the name which the Jews had given it that of
Palestine, or the country of the Palestinians. It was bounded on the
south and east by the deserts of Arabia and Idumea, on the west by the
Mediterranean, and on the north by the mountains Libanus.

At the period of the crusades, as at the present time, a great part
of the soil of Palestine, upon which rise the barren mountains of
Sion, Hebron, Hebal, and Gelboëi, presented the aspect of a land upon
which the curses of Heaven had fallen. This land, formerly promised
to the elect people of God, had several times changed inhabitants.
All the sects, all the dynasties of the Mussulmans, had disputed the
possession of it sword in hand, and revolutions and wars had left
numerous memorable ruins in its capital, and in the greater part of its
provinces. The religious ideas of the Mussulmans and the Christians
seemed alone to give importance to the conquest of Judea; history must,
however, guard against the exaggeration with which certain travellers
have spoken of the sterility of this unfortunate country.[224] Amidst
the calamities which, during many ages, desolated the provinces
of Palestine, some traces of its ancient splendour may still be
perceived. The shores of the Lake of Galilee and of the Jordan, some
valleys watered by the Besor, the Arnou, and the Jaboc, and the plains
contiguous to the sea which war had not ravaged, still recalled by
their fertility the promises of Scripture. Palestine yet boasted some
nourishing cities, and several of its ports offered a commodious asylum
to the vessels of Asia and Europe.

In the condition of Palestine at that time, if the territory had been
entirely subject to Godfrey, the new king might have equalled in power
the greater part of the Mussulman princes of Asia; but the young
kingdom of Jerusalem consisted but of the capital and about twenty
cities or towns in its neighbourhood. Several of these cities were
separated by places still occupied by the infidels. A fortress in the
hands of the Christians was near to a fortress over which floated the
standard of Mahomet. In the surrounding country dwelt Turks, Arabs, and
Egyptians, who all united to make war upon the subjects of Godfrey.
The latter were not free from alarm even in their cities, which were
almost all badly garrisoned, and found themselves constantly exposed
to the terrors and evils of war. The lands remained uncultivated, and
all communications were interrupted. Amidst so many perils, several
of the Latins abandoned the possessions which victory had bestowed
upon them; and that the conquered country might not be left without
inhabitants, the interest of property, or proprietorship, was called
in to strengthen the wavering love for the new abode. Every man who
had remained a year and a day in a house, or upon cultivated land, was
recognised as the legitimate proprietor of it. All rights of possession
were annulled by an absence of the same duration.

The first care of Godfrey was to repel the hostilities of the Saracens,
and to extend the frontiers of the kingdom intrusted to his defence. By
his orders Tancred entered into Galilee, took possession of Tiberias,
and several other cities situated in the neighbourhood of the Lake of
Genesareth. As the reward of his labours, he obtained possession of the
country he conquered, which in the end became a principality.

Tancred, master of a rich province, advanced into the territories of
Damascus, whilst Godfrey, in a fortunate excursion, imposed tributes
upon the emirs of Cæsarea, Ptolemais, and Ascalon, and brought to
submission the Arabs dwelling on the left shores of the Jordan. He
was returning victorious to Jerusalem, when the city of Asur, which
had surrendered after the battle of Ascalon, refused to pay tribute,
and shook off the yoke of the Christians. Godfrey resolved to lay
siege to this rebel city;[225] he collected his troops, marched them
towards Asur, and proceeded to attack the town. Already had the
rolling towers approached the ramparts, the rams had shaken the walls
to their foundations, and the city was about to be carried, when the
besieged employed a mode of defence worthy only of barbarians. Gerard
of Avesnes, who had been left with them as an hostage by Godfrey, was
fastened to the top of a very high mast which was attached to the
very wall against which the efforts of the besiegers were principally
directed. At the prospect of an inevitable and inglorious death, the
unfortunate Christian knight uttered loud and painful cries, and
conjured his friend Godfrey to save his life by a voluntary retreat.
This cruel spectacle pierced the heart of Godfrey, but did not shake
either his firmness or his courage. As he was sufficiently near to
Gerard of Avesnes to make himself heard by him, he exhorted him to
merit the crown of martyrdom by his resignation. “It is not in my power
to save you,” said he; “if my brother Eustace were in your place, I
could not deliver him from death. Die, then, illustrious and brave
knight, with the courage of a Christian hero; die for the safety of
your brethren, and for the glory of Jesus Christ.” These words of
Godfrey gave Gerard of Avesnes the courage to die. He begged his old
companions to offer at the holy sepulchre his horse and his arms, that
prayers might be put up for the health of his soul.[226] A short time
after he died under a shower of darts and arrows launched by the hands
of the Christians.

The soldiers of Godfrey, on witnessing the death of Gerard, burned with
rage to revenge him, and redoubled their efforts to render themselves
masters of the city. On their side, the besieged reproached the
Christians with their barbarity, and defended themselves with vigour.
The Greek fire consumed the towers and the machines of the besiegers;
Godfrey had lost a great number of his soldiers, and despaired of
reducing the city, which received succours by sea. As winter was
approaching, he resolved at last to raise the siege and return to
Jerusalem, deeply affected at having caused the death of Gerard of
Avesnes without any advantage to the cause of the Christians.

During the siege of Asur several emirs from the mountains of Samaria
came to visit Godfrey. They were struck with the greatest surprise
when they found the king of the Christians without a guard, without
splendour, sleeping on a straw pallet like the meanest of his soldiers.
They were not less astonished when, at their request, he exhibited
before them his extraordinary strength by cutting off the head of a
camel at a single blow with his sword. The emirs, after having offered
presents to Godfrey, returned to their own country, and related the
wonders they had seen. Their recitals, which history has not disdained,
contributed greatly to increase the fame of the king of Jerusalem.

When Godfrey reached his capital, he learnt the approach of a great
number of pilgrims, the greater part of whom were Pisans and Genoese,
led by the bishop of Ariana, and Daimbert, archbishop of Pisa. To
the Christians arrived from the West were added Bohemond, prince of
Antioch, Baldwin, count of Edessa, and Raymond, count of Thoulouse.
These latter had come to visit the holy places, and to celebrate the
epoch of the birth of Christ at Jerusalem.

Godfrey went out to meet the pilgrims as far as Bethlehem, with his
knights and the clergy. “After they were come into the holy city,”
says an old chronicle, “the king received them and feasted them
magnificently; and detained them in Judea during the winter, being
much gratified with the presence of his brother Baldwin.” Daimbert,
archbishop of Pisa, had come into Palestine as legate from the Holy
See. By means of presents and promises he got himself to be named
patriarch of Jerusalem, in the place of Arnoul de Rohes. This prelate,
brought up in the school of Gregory VII., maintained with warmth the
pretensions of the Holy See, and it was not long before his ambition
introduced trouble among the Christians. In the places even where
Christ had said that his kingdom was not of this world, he who called
himself his vicar desired to reign with Godfrey, and demanded the
sovereignty of a part of Jaffa, and of a quarter of Jerusalem in which
the church of the Resurrection was built. After some debates, the pious
Godfrey yielded to the imperious demands of Daimbert; and such was then
the ascendancy of the Church and the clergy, that the new king was
obliged to consent to a treaty by which the kingdom should belong to
the patriarch, if Godfrey should die without children. Godfrey thus
acknowledged himself the vassal of the sovereign pontiff, and received
from the pope and his legate permission to reign over a country
conquered by his arms. Bohemond and Baldwin consented at the same time
to receive from the pope the investiture of their principalities.
The prince of Antioch had refused to render homage to the king of
Jerusalem, but he did not hesitate to acknowledge himself the vassal of
a power which bestowed empires, and was able to send fresh armies into
the East.

In the mean time the wise Godfrey, after having freed his territory
from the incursions of the Mussulmans, and carried the terror of his
arms beyond the Jordan, reflected that victory was not all that was
required to found a state. His capital had been depopulated by the
sword of the Crusaders; several other cities, like Jaffa, had lost the
greater part of their inhabitants; and this new king reckoned among his
subjects Armenians, Greeks, Jews, Arabs, renegades from all religions,
and adventurers from all countries. The state confided to his care
was like a place of passage, and had no other supporters or defenders
but travellers and strangers. It was the rendezvous and the asylum of
notorious sinners, who came thither to mitigate the anger of God, and
of criminals, who thus eluded the justice of men. Both of these were
equally dangerous when circumstances awakened their passions, or when
fear and repentance gave way before new temptations. Godfrey, according
to the spirit of feudal customs and the laws of war, had divided the
conquered lands among the companions of his victories. The new lords
of Jaffa, Tiberias, Ramla, and Naplouse, scarcely acknowledged the
authority of a king. The clergy, encouraged by the patriarch, assumed
the tone of masters, and the bishops exercised a temporal power equal
to that of the barons. Some attributed the conquest of the kingdom to
their valour, others to their prayers; every one claimed the reward of
either his piety or his labours; and whilst the greater part aimed at
domination, all insisted upon independence.

Godfrey undertook to rule so many conflicting pretensions, and to bring
a tumultuous government into some regular form. In order that the
execution of his project might have the greater solemnity, he chose
the circumstance which had conducted the Latin princes to Jerusalem.
After having accompanied them as far as Jericho, to celebrate with them
the festival of the Epiphany, he returned to his capital, where he
assembled the enlightened and pious men of the city, of whom he formed
the states, or the assizes, of his kingdom. In this solemn assembly
the first care was to regulate and determine the duties of the barons,
the lords, and the common subjects, towards the king, and the duties
of the king towards the lords and subjects. The king was to undertake
to maintain the laws, to defend the Church, to protect widows and
orphans, to watch over the safety of both people and lords, and to lead
in war. The lord, who was the lieutenant of the prince, as regarded
his vassals, was to guarantee them from insult, and to protect their
property, their honour, and their rights. The first duty of the counts
and barons towards the king was to serve him in council and fight. The
first obligation of a subject or a vassal towards his prince or his
lord, was to defend him or avenge him in every case of outrage, and to
protect the honour of his wife, his daughter, or his sister; to follow
him in all perils, and to surrender himself as hostage for him, if he
fell into the hands of his enemies.[227]

The king and his subjects, the great and the small vassals, mutually
engaged their faith to each other. In the feudal hierarchy, every
class had its privileges maintained by honour. Honour, that grand
principle among knights, commanded all to repulse an injury inflicted
upon a single one, and thus became, restrained within just limits, the
security of public liberty.

War was the great affair in a kingdom founded by knights and barons;
every one capable of bearing arms was reckoned as something in the
state, and protected by the new legislation; all the rest, with the
exception of the clergy, whose existence and privileges were held by
divine right, were reckoned as nothing, and scarcely merited any
attention from the legislators. The Assizes of Jerusalem did, indeed,
deign to take notice of villains, slaves, peasants or cultivators,
or captives taken in war; but they were only considered in the light
of property, of which they wished to assure the enjoyment to its
legitimate possessors. Those who had lost them could reclaim them as
they could a falcon or a hound; the value of a falcon and a slave was
the same; a war-horse was estimated at more than double the value of
a peasant or a captive. The laws did not condescend to notice these
unhappy classes, and left it to religion alone to protect them.

To watch over the execution of the constitutional laws of the state,
and to decide in all disputes, two courts were instituted; the one
presided over by the king, and composed of the nobles, was to pronounce
judgment upon differences among the great vassals; the other, presided
over by the viscount of Jerusalem, and formed of the principal
inhabitants of each city, was to regulate the interests and the rights
of the citizens and the common people. A third court was instituted,
which was reserved for Oriental Christians; the judges of it were born
in Syria, spoke its language, and decided according to the laws and
usages of the country. Thus all the citizens of the kingdom were judged
by their peers, and enjoyed the benefits of an institution which has
not been despised in ages much more enlightened.

The Franks, with their warlike character, were certain to evince
disdain for the slow, and often uncertain, forms of justice; they
adopted, in their legislation made for the East, the ordeal by iron
or fire, which had taken its birth among the nations of the North.
Judicial combat was also admitted in criminal causes, and sometimes
even in civil ones. Among a warlike people everything must present the
image of war; every action commenced against a baron or a knight was,
in his eyes, an injury—an affront—that he ought to repulse sword in
hand; Christian knights were likewise persuaded that God would not
allow innocence to succumb in an unequal combat, and victory appeared
to them at once the triumph of human laws and divine justice.

Such dispositions still bespeak the barbarity of the most remote ages;
but a great number of other laws attest the wisdom of the legislators
of the Holy Land: their code contained every institution that was
reasonable in the feudal system. Palestine was then blessed by the
revival of wise laws created for Europe, but which Europe had forgotten
amidst the anarchy of civil wars; many ameliorations made in feudal
legislation in some of the states of the West, particularly in the
cities of Italy, were consecrated in the new laws of Jerusalem.

It must be believed that in this circumstance religion sometimes
mingled her useful inspirations with those of human sagacity; justice
and humanity assumed a more sacred character in the presence of the
holy tomb. As all the subjects of Godfrey were called upon to defend
the cause of God, the quality of a soldier of Jesus Christ might make
the dignity of man respected. If it be true that the establishment
of the commons, or a second court, was the work of the Crusaders, we
cannot, with truth, assert that these wars contributed nothing towards
the progress of civilization. The laws which they made, and in which
may be plainly seen the first glimpses of regulated liberty, were a new
spectacle for Asia; they must likewise have been a subject of surprise
and a means of instruction for Europe itself, where pilgrims related,
on their return, the usages and customs established by the Franks in
the Holy Land. This code of legislation, the best, or rather the least
imperfect that had existed previous to that time, and which increased
or was modified under other reigns, was deposited with great pomp in
the church of the Resurrection, and took the name of the Assizes of
Jerusalem, or Letters of the Holy Sepulchre.

After this ceremony, which was performed in the presence of all the
pilgrims, the Latin princes then at Jerusalem returned to their own
states; Baldwin to Edessa, Bohemond to his principality of Antioch, and
Raymond to Laodicea, of which he had rendered himself master, and which
he governed in the name of the emperor of Constantinople. Scarcely had
Tancred returned to his principality when he was attacked by all the
forces of the sultan of Damascus. Godfrey, accompanied by his faithful
knights and a great number of pilgrims eager to fight under his
command, repaired immediately into Galilee, defeated the Saracens, and
pursued them to the mountains of Libanus.

As he was returning from this expedition, the emir of Cæsarea came
out to meet him, and presented to him an offering of some of the
fruits of Palestine. Godfrey only accepted a single cedar-apple, and
almost directly fell ill. This malady, which they did not hesitate
to attribute to poison, created the most serious alarm among his
followers. Godfrey with great difficulty reached Jaffa, whence he was
conveyed to his capital, where he died, committing to the companions of
his victories the charge of the glory of religion and of the kingdom
of Jerusalem. His mortal remains were deposited within the enclosure
of Calvary, near to the tomb of Christ, which he had delivered by
his valour. His death was mourned by the Christians, of whom he was
the father and the support, and by the Mussulmans, who had often
experienced his justice and his clemency. History may say of him what
the holy Scripture says of Judas Maccabeus: “It was he who increased
the glory of his people, when, like a giant, he put on his arms in the
fight, and his sword was the protection of the whole camp.” Godfrey of
Bouillon surpassed all the captains of his age in his skill in war; and
if he had lived some time longer, would have merited a name among great
kings. In the kingdom he founded he was constantly held up as a model
for princes as well as warriors. His name still recalls the virtues
of heroic times, and will live honoured amongst men as long as the
remembrance of the crusades.

After the death of Godfrey great disputes arose upon the choice of
his successor. The patriarch Daimbert endeavoured to avail himself
of the rights conveyed by the promises of Godfrey, and claimed the
throne of Jerusalem; but the barons would submit to no chief but one of
their companions in arms. Garnier, count de Gray, took possession of
the Tower of David, and of the other fortresses of Jerusalem, in the
name of Baldwin, count of Edessa. The patriarch invoked the authority
of the Church to the assistance of his cause; and as Count Garnier
died suddenly, the clergy of Jerusalem attributed his death to divine
justice, which the impious projects of the barons and knights had
offended. Daimbert wrote to Bohemond, prince of Antioch, and conjured
him to come and defend what he called the rights of the Church and the
cause of God. Jerusalem was filled with agitation and trouble; but
whilst they were tumultuously deliberating, deputies from Antioch
came to announce that their prince had been surprised in an expedition
against the Turks, and was held prisoner by the infidels. This news
spread consternation and grief among the Christians, and made them more
sensible of the necessity for calling Baldwin to the throne, with whose
valour they were so well acquainted.

Baldwin,[228] to whom deputies had been sent, shed tears on learning
the death of Godfrey, but soon consoled himself with the hope of
obtaining a crown. The county of Edessa had become richer and more
extensive than the mean kingdom of Jerusalem, several cities of
which still belonged to the Saracens; but such was the active and
enterprising spirit of Baldwin, that the prospect of a kingdom to be
conquered appeared to him preferable to a country of which he was in
peaceful possession. After having given up the county of Edessa to his
cousin Baldwin du Bourg, he began his march with four hundred horsemen
and a thousand foot. The emirs of Emessa and Damascus, informed of
his intended march, laid wait for him in the narrow and difficult
roads near the coast of the Sea of Phœnicia. Baldwin feigned to fly
before the army of the infidels, and having drawn them into an open
country, routed them, making a great many prisoners, whom he carried to
Jerusalem.[229] The knights, the barons, and a portion of the clergy
came out to meet the conqueror. Baldwin made his triumphant entrance
into the city in the midst of the acclamations of the whole Christian
population, who flocked eagerly to see the brother of Godfrey. But
whilst the inhabitants thus manifested their joy, the patriarch, with
some of his partisans, protested against the election of the new king,
and, feigning to believe that he was in safety nowhere but close to
the tomb of Christ, retired in silence to Mount Sion, as if to seek
an asylum there. Baldwin did not think it worth while to disturb the
retreat of the patriarch, and, satisfied with having obtained the
suffrages of the barons and knights, wished to assure to himself new
titles to the crown, by gaining more victories over the Saracens. He
marched from Jerusalem, followed by his bravest knights, and presented
himself before Ascalon.

The season being too far advanced to lay regular siege to the city, he
ravaged the enemy’s country, penetrated into the mountains of Engaddi,
surprised Segor, and seized a troop of brigands in a cavern which they
had chosen as a place of retreat. In this campaign, which was little
more than a pilgrimage, the soldiers of Baldwin passed along the
shores of the Dead Sea, the sight of which recalled the memory of the
punishment of Sodom; they visited the valley famous as the burial-place
of the ancestors of Israel, and that in which it is believed Moses
caused a stream of living water to spring from the side of a barren
rock. The Christian soldiers were never weary of admiring these places,
rendered sacred by scriptural remembrances. The historian Foulcher de
Chartres, who accompanied Baldwin, displays in his recital the greatest
enthusiasm, and tells us with lively joy, that he watered his horses at
the miraculous fountain of the legislator of the Hebrews.[230]

The little army of the Christians came back to Jerusalem loaded with
booty. After Baldwin’s return, the patriarch did not venture to say
anything more about his pretensions, and consented to crown the
successor of Godfrey with his own hands. The ceremony was performed
with great solemnity at Bethlehem, in the presence of the barons, the
bishops, and the principal people of the kingdom.

Tancred was not present at the coronation of the new king, for the
two companions of Godfrey had not forgotten their ancient quarrel.
Tancred had protested against the election of Baldwin, and refused to
pay him homage. Baldwin, on his part, disputed Tancred’s right to the
principality of Galilee, and summoned him to appear before him as a
contumacious vassal. The reply of Tancred was laconic, and full of
proud contempt for his rival. “I do not know,” said he, addressing
the messengers of Baldwin, “that your master is king of Jerusalem.”
He did not deign to make any reply to a second summons. At length
their mutual friends employed prayers and entreaties, to which Tancred
reluctantly gave way. The two princes agreed to have an interview
between Jerusalem and Jaffa, in which interview Tancred consented to
forget past injuries, but would not renounce a principality which he
held from Godfrey. The debates between the prince of Galilee and the
king of Jerusalem were not terminated when messengers arrived from
Antioch, conjuring Tancred to repair immediately to their city, to
govern a state which had been without a head since the captivity of
Bohemond. Tancred yielded to their entreaties, and immediately set out
for Antioch, abandoning to Hugh de Saint Omer the city of Tiberias and
the principality of Galilee.

These differences with Tancred did not impede Baldwin’s wars against
the infidels, or his endeavours to extend his young kingdom. Whilst
Persia, Egypt, Syria, and Mesopotamia could bring numberless armies
against the Christians, Baldwin could only muster under his standard
a small body of warriors, to whom were added a few pilgrims from the
West, the greater part without horses and very badly armed. His bravery
and activity surmounted all obstacles, and carried him through all
dangers. From the beginning of his reign, we see with surprise the
kingdom of Jerusalem, disturbed in its infancy by discord, and only
defended by a few knights, rise in the midst of formidable enemies, and
carry terror amongst neighbours much more powerful than itself.

The king of Jerusalem took advantage of the arrival of a Genoese
fleet, to punish the rebellion of the inhabitants of Arsur, and to lay
siege to their city both by sea and land. On the third day the city
fell into the hands of the Christians. A short time after, Baldwin
besieged Cæsarea, a city built by Herod in honour of Cæsar. The siege
was carried on with vigour; on the fifteenth day everything was ready
for a general assault, and as soon as the trumpet had given the first
signal, all the soldiers confessed and received absolution for their
sins. The patriarch, clothed in white vestments, with a crucifix in his
hand, led them to the foot of the ramparts;—the city was soon taken,
and the inhabitants put to the sword. The Christians, particularly
the Genoese, carried away by a thirst for pillage, and still more by
vengeance and the fury of battle, stained their victory by horrible
cruelties.[231] The Mussulmans who escaped from the massacre of
Cæsarea, carried terror into the cities of Ptolemaïs and Ascalon, and
all the countries still under the domination of the Egyptians.

The caliph of Egypt, to revenge the death of his warriors, assembled
an army, which advanced as far as the country round Ramla. Baldwin
got together, in haste, a troop of three hundred knights and a
thousand foot-soldiers, and marched to meet him. When he perceived the
standards of the Egyptian army, ten times more numerous than that of
the Christians, he represented to his soldiers that they were going
to fight for the glory of Christianity; “if they fell, heaven would
be open to them; if they triumphed, the fame of their victory would
be spread throughout the Christian world. There could be no safety
in flight; their home was beyond the seas; in the East there was no
asylum for the conquered.” After having thus animated his soldiers,
Baldwin divided his troops into six battalions. The two first, on
charging the enemy, were overwhelmed by numbers; two others, which
followed, shared the same fate. Two bishops, who were with Baldwin,
then advised him to implore the mercy of Heaven; and, at their desire,
the king of Jerusalem alighted from his horse, fell on his knees,
confessed, and received absolution. Springing to his feet, he resumed
his arms, and rushed upon the enemy at the head of his two remaining
battalions. The Christian warriors fought like lions, animated by their
war-cry “_Victory or Death!_” Baldwin had attached a white kerchief
to the point of his lance, and thus pointed out the road to carnage.
The victory was for a length of time uncertain; but at last, says an
historian, the will of God was declared in favour of the soldiers of
Christ. The Egyptian army had lost its leader, and was entirely routed;
five thousand infidels remaining on the field of battle.

The enemy fled in such complete disorder that they abandoned their
tents and their baggage. As Baldwin was pursuing them, his ear was
struck by the plaintive cry of a woman. He checked his war-horse, and
perceived a female Mussulman in the pains of childbirth. He threw his
mantle to her to cover her, and ordered her to be placed on carpets
laid upon the ground. By his commands, fruits and a skin of water were
brought to this bed of pain, and a female camel furnished milk for the
nourishment of the newly-born child. The mother was confided to the
care of a slave, with orders to conduct her to her husband. The latter,
who held a distinguished rank among the Mussulmans, shed tears of joy
on beholding a wife whose death he was lamenting, and vowed never to
forget the generous action of Baldwin.

Conqueror of the Saracens, the king of Jerusalem had sent back his
troops, and was reposing at Jaffa, after the fatigues of the war, when
he learnt that the Mussulman army had rallied, and was in full march to
attack the Christians. Baldwin, whom victory had rendered rash, without
assembling all his troops, went immediately to meet the enemy, at the
head of two hundred knights, and a few pilgrims lately arrived from
the West. Not at all dismayed by the number of the Saracens, he gave
battle; but, at the first charge, the Christians were surrounded, and
only sought a glorious death, fighting by the side of their leader. The
king of Jerusalem, obliged to fly, concealed himself among the long
dried grass and bushes which covered the plain. As the Saracens set
fire to these, Baldwin with difficulty escaped being burnt alive; and,
after many perils, was glad to take refuge in Ramla.

Night checked the pursuit of his enemies, but on the following day, the
place which served him as an asylum was threatened with an immediate
siege, and had no means of defence. Baldwin was a prey to the most
distressing anxiety, when a stranger, who had by some means got into
the city, demanded to speak instantly with the king of Jerusalem “It
is gratitude,” said he to him, “which brings me here. Thou hast been
generous towards a wife who is most dear to me—thou hast restored her
to me and her family, after having saved her life. I brave a thousand
dangers to acquit myself of so sacred a debt. The Saracens surround the
city of thy retreat on all sides; to-morrow it will be taken, and not
one of its inhabitants will escape death. I come to offer thee means of
safety. I am acquainted with a path which is not guarded;[232] hasten
then, for time presses. Thou hast but to follow me; before the dawn of
day thou wilt be among thy people.”

Baldwin hesitated—he shed tears at the idea of what must be the fate
of his companions in misfortune; but, at length, he yielded to the
generosity of the Mussulman emir, and, accompanied by a weak escort,
they both departed from the city, in the middle of a stormy night. On
gaining the distance of a few leagues from Ramla, they separated with
tears in their eyes; the emir rejoined the Mussulman army and Baldwin
succeeded in getting to the city of Arsur.

At break of day the Saracens advanced towards the ramparts of Ramla.
They quickly gained possession of the city, and all they met with in
the place were massacred. Some soldiers who escaped the Saracens’
swords, carried the sad news to the neighbouring cities. It was the
first defeat the Christians had experienced since their arrival in
Palestine. As it was confidently said that Baldwin had been slain
at the taking of Ramla, this loss added greatly to the general
consternation. The great bell of Jerusalem announced the approach and
invasion of the Saracens. The priests, the monks, the pilgrims, clothed
in sackcloth and barefooted, went in procession through the streets of
the holy city; women and children filled the churches, and with tears
in their eyes and uplifted hands implored the mercy of Heaven. The
bravest were beginning to despair of the safety of the kingdom, when
Baldwin suddenly appeared among his people, says William of Tyre, like
the morning star, and revived their hopes by his presence.

The king of Jerusalem assembled at Jaffa the wreck of his army; and the
Christian cities sent him all their inhabitants capable of bearing
arms. Several princes and knights, arrived from the West, likewise
joined him. The Christians marched boldly forth to meet the Mussulmans,
the patriarch of Jerusalem carrying through the ranks the wood of the
holy cross. The war-cry of the Christian soldiers was: “_Christ lives,
Christ reigns, Christ commands_.”[233] The two armies were soon in
sight of each other on the plains of Jaffa, and instantly the trumpets
sounded, and gave the signal of battle. Both sides fought with fury;
the infidels surrounded the Christians, and pressed them so closely
that they had scarcely room to wield their arms, and victory was on the
point of being determined in favour of the Mussulmans, when Baldwin
snatching the white flag from the hands of his squire, and followed
by a hundred and sixty knights, rushed into the very thickest ranks
of the enemy. This act of bravery decided the fate of the battle, and
the Christians regained their courage. The fight lasted during the
whole day, but towards the approach of night, the Mussulmans fled in
disorder, leaving dead upon the field the emir of Ascalon and four
thousand of their bravest soldiers.

Baldwin, who, some few days before, had been believed to be dead,
reëntered Jerusalem in triumph. He gave a great part of the booty to
the hospitallers of St. John, whose office it was to entertain the poor
and all pilgrims; and, to employ the expression of an old chronicle, he
thus shared with God the spoils of the Saracens.

The Christians assembled in the churches rendered thanks to God for the
deliverance of the kingdom; but this last victory could not dry all
the tears which a first reverse had caused to flow, and funereal hymns
were mingled with the songs of joy. In this campaign perished many of
the princes and knights who had left Europe after the first crusade.
Stephen, count of Chartres and Blois, and Stephen, duke of Burgundy,
who had arrived in Palestine with the remains of an army dispersed by
the Turks in Asia Minor, were killed under the walls of Ramla. As the
Greeks were accused of having prepared the ruin of the armies sent
to the assistance of the Latins, murmurs arose in all the Christian
colonies against the emperor Alexius. This prince, constantly in dread
of the powers of the West, sent to congratulate the king of Jerusalem
on his victories, and exerted himself to procure the liberty of the
Christians who had fallen into the hands of the Egyptians and Turks.
After having delivered or ransomed some Christian knights, he received
them at Constantinople, loaded them with presents, and sent them back
to their own country.

But whilst thus breaking the chains of a few captives, he was equipping
fleets and raising armies to attack Antioch, and obtain possession
of the cities on the coast of Syria which belonged to the Latins. He
offered to pay the ransom of Bohemond, still a prisoner among the
Turks, not for the purpose of setting him at liberty, but to have
him brought to Constantinople, where he hoped to obtain from him
the renunciation of his principality. Bohemond, who saw through the
projects of Alexius, gained the good-will of the emir who detained him
prisoner, promised him his alliance and support, and persuaded him
to accept for his ransom, half the sum offered by the emperor of the
Greeks. After a captivity of four years, he returned to Antioch, where
he employed himself in repulsing the aggressions of Alexius. The fleets
of the Pisans and the Genoese came to his relief, and several battles,
both by sea and land, were fought with various success; the Latins and
the Greeks, by turns, obtaining the advantage.

Whilst this war was being carried on between Alexius and Bohemond,
the Franks neglected no opportunity of coming into collision with the
infidels. Bohemond, Baldwin du Bourg, count of Edessa, and his cousin
Josselin de Courtenay,[234] master of several cities on the banks of
the Euphrates, united their forces to attack Charan, a flourishing city
of Mesopotamia. The Christians, after a siege of several days, were
on the point of entering the place, when the count of Edessa and the
prince of Antioch disputed the possession of it. Whilst the debates
kept the best leaders in the Christian tents, the Saracens of Mossoul
and Aleppo came to the assistance of the city, and gave battle to the
besiegers. A great number of Christians were slain in this conflict;
and many fell into the hands of the infidels, who, in the intoxication
of victory, insulted both the vanquished and the religion of Christ.
History relates that the railleries of the Mussulmans inspired rage and
despair among the army of the Christians, and that towards the end of
the fight, one knight braved alone the victorious infidels, and rushed
among the enemy’s ranks, crying, “_Let all who are willing to sup with
me in Paradise, follow me._” This brave knight at first astonished the
Saracens by his daring, but he soon fell, pierced with many wounds.
The archbishop of Edessa, Josselin de Courtenay, and Baldwin du Bourg
were loaded with irons, and taken to the prisons of Mossoul. The prince
of Antioch and Tancred were alone able to escape the pursuit of the
Mussulmans, with a small number of their soldiers. This defeat spread
terror among all the Christians of the East. Bohemond, on his return
to his capital, was menaced at the same time by the Greeks and the
Saracens; and, as he had now neither allies nor auxiliaries, and was
destitute of both men and money, he determined to go back into Europe,
and to call upon the nations of the West to assist him.

After having spread abroad a report of his death, he embarked at
Antioch, and, concealed in a coffin,[235] passed through the fleet of
the Greeks, who rejoiced at his death, and heaped curses on his memory.
On arriving in Italy, Bohemond went to throw himself at the feet of
the sovereign pontiff; describing the misfortunes he had endured in
defence of the holy religion, and invoking the vengeance of Heaven upon
Alexius, whom he represented as the greatest scourge of the Christians.
The pope welcomed him as a hero and a martyr; he praised his exploits,
listened to his complaints, intrusted to him the standard of St. Peter,
and permitted him, in the name of the Church, to raise in Europe an
army to repair his misfortunes and avenge the cause of God.

Bohemond next went to France, where his adventures and exploits had
made his name familiar to all classes. He presented himself at the
court of Philip I., who received him with the greatest honours, and
gave him his daughter Constance in marriage. Amidst the festivities
of the court, he was by turns the most brilliant of knights and the
most ardent of missionaries; he attracted general admiration by his
skill in the tournaments, and preached war against the enemies of the
Christians. He easily fired hearts already glowing with a love of
military glory; and a great number of knights contended for the honour
of accompanying him into the East. He crossed the Pyrenees and raised
soldiers in Spain; he returned into Italy and met everywhere with
the same eagerness to follow him. All preparations being completed,
he embarked at Bari, and sailed towards the territories of the Greek
emperor, where his threats and the fame of his expedition had already
spread terror.

The prince of Antioch never ceased to animate by his speeches the
ardour of his numerous companions: to some he represented the Greeks
as the allies of the Mussulmans and the enemies of Christ; to others
he spoke of the riches of Alexius, and promised then the spoils of the
empire. He was on the point of realizing his brilliant hopes, when
he was, all at once, abandoned by that fortune which had hitherto
performed such prodigies in his favour.

The city of Durazzo, of which he had undertaken the siege, for a long
time resisted all his efforts; disease, in the meanwhile, ravaging his
army. The warriors who had followed him in the hopes of pillage, or
from a desire to visit the Holy Land, deserted his standard; he was
forced to make a disgraceful peace with the emperor he had endeavoured
to dethrone, and came back to die in despair in the little principality
of Tarentum, which he had abandoned for the conquest of the East.

The unfortunate issue of this crusade, which was directed entirely
against the Greeks, became fatal to the Christians established in
Syria, and deprived them of the succours they had reason to expect
from the West. Tancred, who still governed Antioch, in the absence
and after the death of Bohemond, was attacked several times by the
Saracens of Aleppo, and only resisted them by displaying prodigies of
valour. Josselin and Baldwin du Bourg did not return to their states
till after five years of captivity. When Baldwin came back to Edessa,
he was so poor that he could not pay his common domestics; and an
Armenian prince, whose daughter he had married, was obliged to redeem
the beard[236] of his son-in-law, which he had pledged for the means
of paying his soldiers. The resources of the government of Antioch
were not less exhausted than those of the county of Edessa. In the
extremes of their misery, Tancred and Baldwin du Bourg had several
disputes; each, by turns, called in the Saracens to defend his cause,
and everything was in confusion on the banks of the Euphrates and the
Orontes.

Neither was Jerusalem free from discord. Baldwin could not pay his
soldiers, and demanded money of the patriarch, who was the depositary
of the alms of the faithful. Daimbert at first refused to assist the
king, who resolved to employ force to compel him: “Yes,” said he to the
patriarch, in a transport of anger, “I will bear away the treasures of
the church and the holy sepulchre; I wish to save Jerusalem and the
Christian people; when I have accomplished that noble project, I will
restore the riches of the all-powerful God.” Daimbert, intimidated by
the menaces of Baldwin, consented to give up a part of his treasures;
but as fast as the king of Jerusalem experienced new wants, he made
fresh demands, to which the pontiff responded by an insulting refusal.
He accused the king of profaning and plundering the sanctuary; whilst
the king, on his part, accused Daimbert of betraying the cause of
the Christians, and of dissipating in pleasures and festivities the
treasures of Jesus Christ. The quarrels of Baldwin and the patriarch
were renewed every year; both, in the end, often conveyed their
complaints to the Holy See, which pronounced no decision likely to
conciliate the angry parties. The death of Daimbert could alone put an
end to these discussions, which spread scandal through the church of
Christ, and by weakening the authority of the king, were likely to
lead to the ruin of the kingdom.

Whilst the patriarch was unceasingly making complaints against Baldwin,
the king seldom made any other reply than gaining new victories over
the infidels; nothing being able to divert him from his purpose of
every day aggrandizing his dominions. The prosperity and the safety of
Jerusalem appeared closely connected with the conquest of the maritime
cities of Syria and Palestine; it being by them alone that it could
receive succour, or establish prompt and easy communications with the
West. The maritime nations of Europe were interested in seconding, in
this instance, the enterprises of the king of Jerusalem. The navigation
of the Mediterranean, and the transporting of pilgrims to the Holy
Land, were to them an inexhaustible source of riches; the ports of
Syria would offer to them a commodious asylum for their vessels, and a
safe entrepôt for their commerce.

From the period of the first crusades the Pisans and the Genoese had
constantly sent vessels to the seas of the East; and their fleets had
aided the Christians in several expeditions against the Mussulmans.
A Genoese fleet had just arrived in the seas of Syria when Baldwin
undertook the siege of Ptolemaïs. The Genoese were invited to assist in
this conquest; but as religion was not the principle to bring them into
action, they required, in return for their assistance and their labour,
that they should have a third of the booty; they likewise stipulated
to have a separate church for themselves, and a national factory and
tribunal in the conquered city. Ptolemaïs was besieged by land and
sea, and after a bloody resistance of twenty days, the inhabitants
and the garrison proposed to surrender, and implored the clemency of
the conquerors. The city opened its gates to the Christians, and the
inhabitants prepared to depart, taking with them whatever they deemed
most valuable; but the Genoese, at the sight of such a rich booty, paid
no respect to the capitulation, and massacred without pity a disarmed
and defenceless people. This barbarous conduct, which Baldwin could
neither repress nor punish, excited the Mussulmans more than ever
against the Christians.

At each fresh conquest of Baldwin’s, a new army came from the banks of
the Nile to impede the course of his victories; but the Egyptians had
for a long time been accustomed to fly before the Franks, and they
were never seconded in their expeditions by the Mussulmans of Syria,
who were jealous of their appearance in their territories. A small
number of Christian warriors, who could never have been taken for an
army if they had not performed prodigies, were sufficient to put to
the rout a multitude of soldiers who made a sortie from the walls of
Ascalon. In consequence of this victory, several places which the
Egyptians still held on the coasts of Syria, fell into the hands of the
Christians.

Bertrand, son of Raymond de St. Gilles, arrived from Europe with the
purpose of attacking the city of Tripoli. This city, taken at first
by the Egyptians before the first crusade, and fallen again under the
power of a Turkish commander, had, in order to defend itself against
the Christians, once more recognised the authority of the caliph of
Egypt. But this caliph thought more about punishing the rebellion of
Tripoli than of providing for its defence. He had put the principal
inhabitants in irons, had levied heavy tributes, and when the people
implored his assistance against the enemies of Islamism, the caliph
sent a vessel to demand a beautiful slave who was in the city, and whom
he destined for his seraglio. The irritated people, instead of giving
up the slave he demanded, sent him a piece of wood, saying, “_That he
might make something out of that to amuse himself with_.”[237] The
inhabitants of Tripoli, then being without hope, surrendered to the
Christians.

Raymond, count de St. Gilles and of Thoulouse, one of the companions
of Godfrey, after having wandered for a long time about Asia, had died
before this place, of which he had commenced the siege. In memory of
his exploits in the first crusade, the rich territory of Tripoli was
created a county, and became the inheritance of his family.

This territory was celebrated for its productions. Limpid streams,
rushing with impetuosity between the rocks of Libanus, flowed in many
channels to water the numerous gardens of Tripoli. In the plains, and
on the hills adjacent to the sea, grew in abundance wheat, the vine,
the olive, and the white mulberry, whose leaves nourish the silkworm,
which had been introduced by Justinian into the richest provinces of
his empire. The city of Tripoli contained more than four thousand
workmen, skilful in the manufactures of woollen stuffs, of silk, and
of linen. A great part of these advantages was, no doubt, lost for the
conquerors, who, during the siege ravaged the country round, and on
taking the city, carried fire and sword throughout the whole of it.

Tripoli contained other riches for which the Franks showed no less
disdain than they had evinced for the productions of industry. A
library established in this city, and celebrated through all the East,
contained the monuments[238] of the ancient literature of the Persians,
the Arabians, the Egyptians, and the Greeks. A hundred copyists were
there constantly employed in transcribing manuscripts. The cadi sent
into all countries men authorized to purchase rare and precious books.
After the taking of the city, a priest, attached to Count Bernard de
St. Gilles,[239] entered the room in which were collected a vast number
of copies of the Koran, and as he declared the library of Tripoli
contained only the impious books of Mahomet, it was given up to the
flames. Some eastern authors have bitterly deplored this irreparable
loss; but not one of our contemporary chronicles has spoken of it,
and their silence plainly shows the profound indifference with which
the Frank soldiers were witnesses of a fire which consumed a hundred
thousand volumes.

Biblies, situated on the smiling and fertile shores of Phœnicia;
Sarepta, where St. Jerome saw still in his day the tower of Isaiah;
and Berytus, famous in the early ages of the Church for its school of
eloquence, shared the fate of Tripoli, and became baronies bestowed
upon Christian knights. After these conquests the Pisans, the Genoese,
and several warriors who had followed Baldwin in his expeditions,
returned into Europe; and the king of Jerusalem, abandoned by these
useful allies, was obliged to employ the forces which remained in
repulsing the invasions of the Saracens, who penetrated into Palestine,
and even displayed their standards on Mount Sion. He had given up
the idea of subduing the maritime cities which still belonged to the
Egyptians, when Sigur, son of Magnus, king of Norway, arrived in the
port of Jaffa. Sigur was accompanied by ten thousand Norwegians, who,
three years before, had quitted the north of Europe for the purpose
of visiting the Holy Land. Baldwin went to meet the prince of Norway,
and conjured him to join with him in fighting for the safety and
aggrandizement of the kingdom of Jesus Christ. Sigur acceded with joy
to the prayer of the king, and required nothing as a recompense for his
labour but a piece of wood from the true cross.

The patriarch of Jerusalem, in order to give additional value to
that which the prince required, hesitated at first to grant it, and
made with him a treaty at least as solemn as if it had concerned the
possession of a kingdom. When they had both taken an oath to fulfil
the conditions of the treaty, Sigur, accompanied by his warriors,
entered Jerusalem in triumph. The inhabitants of Jerusalem beheld with
surprise, mingled with their joy, the enormous battle-axes, the light
hair, and lofty stature of the pilgrims from Norway; the presence
of these redoubtable warriors was the sure presage of victory. It
was resolved in a council to besiege the city of Sidon; Baldwin and
Bertrand, count of Tripoli, attacked the ramparts of the place, whilst
the fleet of Sigur blockaded the port, and directed its operations
against the side next the sea. After a siege of six weeks the city
surrendered to the Christians; the knights of Baldwin and the soldiers
of Sigur performed during the siege prodigies of valour, and showed,
after their victory, the humanity which always accompanies true
bravery. After this conquest Sigur quitted Palestine, accompanied by
the blessings of the Christian people. He embarked to return to Norway,
carrying with him a piece of the true cross, a precious memorial of
his pilgrimage, which he caused to be placed in a church of Drontheim,
where it was for a long time the object of the veneration of the
faithful.

Baldwin, on his return to his capital, learnt with grief that Gervais,
count of Tiberias, had been surprised by the Turks, and led prisoner,
together with his most faithful knights, to the city of Damascus.
Mussulman deputies came to offer the king of Jerusalem the liberty of
Gervais in exchange for Ptolemaïs, Jaffa, and some other cities taken
by the Christians; a refusal, they added, would be followed by the
death of Count Gervais. Baldwin offered to pay a considerable sum for
the liberty of Gervais, whom he loved tenderly: “As for the cities you
demand,” said he to them, “I would not give them up to you for the sake
of my own brother, nor for that of all the Christian princes together.”
On the return of the ambassadors Gervais and his knights were dragged
to an open place in Damascus, and shot to death by the Saracens with
arrows.

The Christians shed tears at the death of Count Gervais, but they soon
had to weep for a much more painful loss. Tancred, who governed the
principality of Antioch, died in an expedition against the infidels.
He had raised high in the East the opinion of the heroic virtues of a
French knight; never had weakness or misfortune implored his aid in
vain. He gained a great many victories over the Saracens, but never
fought for the ends of ambition. Nothing could shake his fidelity,
nothing appeared impossible to his valour. He answered the ambassadors
of Alexius, who required him to restore Antioch: “I would not give up
the city which is confided to me even if the warriors who presented
themselves to conquer it had bodies and bore arms of fire.” Whilst he
lived, Antioch had nothing to fear from the invasion of the infidels
or the discord of the inhabitants. His death consigned the colony to
disorder and confusion, it spread mourning through all the Christian
states of the East, and was for them the signal of the greatest
reverses.

The kingdom of Jerusalem had hitherto only had to contend against
armies drawn from Egypt; the Turks of Syria, much more terrible in
war than the Egyptians, had never united their forces to attack the
Christians of Jerusalem.[240]

The sultans of Damascus and Mossoul, with several emirs of Mesopotamia,
assembled an army of thirty thousand fighting men, and penetrated
through the mountains of Libanus into Galilee. During more than three
months the banks of the Jordan and of the Lake of Genesareth were
devastated by the horrors of war. The king of Jerusalem placed himself
at the head of his knights to encounter this redoubtable enemy, and
was defeated by the Saracens on the plains near Mount Tabor. Roger of
Sicily, who had been governor of Antioch since the death of Tancred,
and the counts of Tripoli and Edessa, came with their troops to the
assistance of Baldwin. The Christian army, although it then mustered
under its banners eleven thousand combatants, took up its encampment
on the mountains, and did not dare to risk a battle. The Christians,
intrenched upon the heights, beheld their fields ravaged and their
cities burnt. All the banks of the Jordan seemed to be in flames; for a
vast number of Saracens from Ascalon, Tyre, and other Mussulman cities,
had taken advantage of the reverses of the Christians to lay waste
many of the provinces of Palestine. The country of Sechem was invaded,
and the city of Naplouse delivered up to pillage. Jerusalem, which was
without defenders, shut its gates, and was in momentary fear of falling
again into the power of the infidels.

The Turks, however, dreading the arrival of fresh pilgrims from the
West, abandoned Galilee, and returned to Damascus and Mossoul. But
other calamities soon followed those of war. Clouds of locusts from
Arabia finished the devastation of the fields of Palestine. A horrible
famine prevailed in the county of Edessa, the principality of Antioch,
and all the Christian states. An earthquake was felt from Mount
Taurus to the deserts of Idumea, by which several cities of Cilicia
were reduced to heaps of ruins. At Samosata, an Armenian prince was
swallowed up in his own palace; thirteen towers of the walls of Edessa,
and the citadel of Aleppo, fell down with a fearful crash; the towers
of the highest fortresses covered the earth with their remains, and the
commanders, whether Mussulmans or Christians, fled with their soldiers
to seek safety in deserts and forests. Antioch suffered more from the
earthquake than any other city. The tower of the northern gate, many
public edifices, and several churches were completely destroyed.

Great troubles always inspired the Christians with feelings of
penitence. A crowd of men and women rushed to the church of St. Peter
of Antioch, confessed their sins to the patriarch, and conjured him to
appease the anger of Heaven. The shocks, nevertheless, were renewed
during five months; the Christians abandoned the cities, and, a prey
to terror, wandered among the mountains, which now were more thickly
inhabited than the greatest cities. The few who remained in cities
constantly formed religious processions, put on habits of mourning,
and totally renounced pleasures of every kind. In the streets and the
churches nothing was heard but lamentations and prayers; men swore to
forgive all injuries, and were profuse in their charities. At length
Heaven appeared to be appeased; the earthquake ceased its ravages,
and the assembled Christians celebrated the mercy of God by a solemn
festival.

Scarcely were the Christians delivered from these alarms than a new
tempest threatened Syria and Palestine.[241] Maudoud, prince or
governor of Mossoul, had been killed by two Ismaëlians, as he was
coming out of a mosque. As the prince of Mossoul was considered the
most firm support of Islamism and the most redoubtable enemy of the
Christians, the caliph and the sultan of Bagdad placed him in the
rank of the martyrs, and resolved to revenge his death. They accused
the Franks and the sultan of Damascus of the murder of a Mussulman
prince. A numerous army set out from the banks of the Tigris, and
advanced towards Syria, to punish at the same time both the Christian
and Mussulman infidels. The warriors of Bagdad, united with those
of Mossoul, penetrated as far as the lands of Aleppo, and carried
destruction and death wherever they went. In this pressing danger
the Saracens of Damascus and Mesopotamia did not hesitate to form an
alliance with the Christian princes. The king of Jerusalem, the prince
of Antioch, and the count of Tripoli united their troops with those
of the Mussulmans. The Christians were full of zeal and ardour, and
were eager for battle, but their new allies were not willing to give
them the advantage of a victory, as they mistrusted the soldiers of
Christ, and used every effort to avoid a decisive engagement, in which
they dreaded the triumph of their auxiliaries as much as that of their
foes. After having ravaged the territory of Aleppo, and the banks of
the Euphrates and the Orontes, the warriors of Bagdad returned to
their own country without trying their strength with their formidable
adversaries. The Christians in this campaign did not illustrate their
arms by any very brilliant exploits, but they kept up the division
among the Saracens, and the discord of their enemies was more
serviceable to them than a great victory.

The king of Jerusalem, no longer having the Turks of Bagdad or the
Turks established in Syria to contend with, turned his attention
towards Egypt, whose armies he had so frequently dispersed.[242] He
collected his chosen warriors, traversed the desert, carried the terror
of his arms to the banks of the Nile, and surprised and pillaged the
city of Pharamia, situated three days’ journey from Cairo. The success
of this expedition gave him room to hope that he should one day render
himself master of a great kingdom, and he was returning triumphant, and
loaded with booty, to Jerusalem, when he fell sick at El-Arrich, on the
confines of the desert which separates Egypt from Palestine. His life
was soon despaired of, and the companions of his victories, assembled
around him, could not conceal their deep sorrow. Baldwin endeavoured to
console them by his discourses: “My dear companions,” said he to them,
“you who have suffered so many evils and braved so many perils, why do
you allow yourselves to be overcome by grief? Remember that you are
still in the territories of the Saracens, and that you stand in need of
all your customary courage. Consider that you only lose in me a single
man, and that you have among you several warriors who surpass me in
skill. Think of nothing but of returning victorious to Jerusalem, and
of defending the heritage of Christ. If I have fought a long time with
you, and my many labours give me the right of addressing a prayer to
you, I conjure you not to leave my bones in a foreign land, but to bury
them near to the tomb of my brother Godfrey.”

The king of Jerusalem then caused his servants to be assembled and
gave them orders for his sepulture. After having nominated Baldwin du
Bourg as his successor, he expired, surrounded by his companions, who,
though deeply grieved, endeavoured to conceal their tears, that the
Saracens might not learn the great loss the Christians had experienced.

Baldwin lived and died in the midst of camps. During his reign, which
lasted eighteen years, the inhabitants of Jerusalem were annually
warned of the approach of the Saracens by the sound of the great bell;
and they scarcely ever saw the wood of the true cross in the sanctuary,
for this sacred relic always accompanied the armies to battle, and
its presence not unfrequently was sufficient to give victory to the
Christians.

During the time he occupied the throne of Jerusalem, the only means
Baldwin had of keeping up his necessary army arose from the tenths of
the produce of the cultivated lands, some taxes upon commerce, the
booty obtained from enemies, and the ransom of prisoners. When peace
lasted some months, or war was unsuccessful, the revenues of the state
were diminished to half their usual amount, and could not meet the most
necessary expenses. The forces of the kingdom were scarcely sufficient
to defend it in the hour of danger. Baldwin could never undertake any
great enterprise except when reinforcements arrived from the West; and
when pilgrims who bore arms returned to their own country, he was often
obliged to abandon an expedition which he had begun, and sometimes
found himself without means of resistance, when exposed to the attacks
of an enemy always eager to avenge his defeats.

The brother and successor of Godfrey was often on the point of losing
his kingdom, and only preserved it by prodigies of valour. He lost
several battles by his rashness and imprudence; but his wonderful
activity always extricated him from whatever perils he chanced to fall
into.

The historians of the times bestow warm eulogies upon the brilliant
qualities of Baldwin. In the first crusade he made himself greatly
hated for his ambitious and haughty character; but as soon as he had
obtained what he desired and ascended a throne, he was at least equally
admired for his generosity and clemency. When he became king of
Jerusalem, he followed the example of Godfrey, and deserved in his turn
to be held up as a model to his successors.

His extreme love for women sometimes drew upon him the severe censures
of the clergy. To expiate his offences, in accordance with the opinions
of the times, he richly endowed churches, particularly that of
Bethlehem; and many other religious establishments owe their foundation
to him. Amidst the tumult of camps, he added several articles to
the code of his predecessor; but that which did most honour to his
reign, was his constant anxiety to repeople Jerusalem. He offered an
honourable asylum to all the Christians scattered over Arabia, Syria,
and Egypt. Christians persecuted by Mussulmans came to him in crowds,
with their wives, their children, and their wealth. Baldwin distributed
amongst them lands and uninhabited houses, and Jerusalem began to be
flourishing.

The last wishes of Baldwin were accomplished. The Christian army,
preceded by the mortal remains of its chief, returned to Jerusalem.
Baldwin du Bourg, who came to the holy city to celebrate the festival
of Easter and to visit the brother of Godfrey, arrived on Palm-Sunday
at the hour in which the clergy and the people, according to ancient
custom, go in procession to the Valley of Jehoshaphat. As he entered by
the gate of Ephraim, the funeral train of Baldwin, accompanied by his
warriors in mourning, entered by the gate of Damascus. At this sight
melancholy cries were mingled with the hymns of the Christians. The
Latins were deeply afflicted, the Syrians wept, and the Saracens, says
Foulcher de Chartres, who were witnesses of this mournful spectacle,
could not restrain their tears. In the midst of the sorrowing people,
the count of Edessa accompanied the funereal convoy to the foot of
Calvary, where Baldwin was buried close to Godfrey.

Although the late king had pointed out Baldwin du Bourg as his
successor, the barons and the prelates met to elect a new prince.
Several proposed to offer the crown to Eustace de Boulogne, the brother
of Godfrey. Josselin de Courtenay, one of the first counts of the
kingdom, declared himself in favour of Baldwin du Bourg. Josselin,
on arriving in Asia, had been welcomed and loaded with favours by
the count of Edessa, who gave him several cities on the Euphrates.
Expelled afterwards ignominiously by his benefactor, who accused him of
ingratitude, he had taken refuge in the kingdom of Jerusalem, in which
he had obtained the principality of Tiberias. Whether he wished to make
amends for old offences, or whether he hoped to obtain fresh benefits,
he represented to the assembled barons, “that Baldwin du Bourg belonged
to the family of the last king; that his piety, his wisdom, and courage
were known to the entire East; and that no country on that side or
beyond the sea could offer a prince more worthy of the confidence and
love of the Christians. The benedictions of the inhabitants of Edessa
pointed him out to the choice of the barons and knights, and Providence
had opportunely sent him to Jerusalem to console the Christian people
for the loss of Godfrey and Baldwin.” This discourse united all the
suffrages in favour of Baldwin du Bourg, who was crowned a few days
after, and made over the county of Edessa to Josselin de Courtenay.

Scarcely was Baldwin du Bourg seated on the throne of Jerusalem than he
was obliged to fly to the succour of Antioch, attacked by the Saracens
of Damascus and the Turcomans from the banks of the Euphrates. Roger of
Sicily, son of Richard, who since the death of Tancred governed Antioch
during the minority of the son of Bohemond, had been killed in a bloody
battle. Baldwin, accompanied by the count of Tripoli, hastened to the
banks of the Orontes, attacked the victorious Mussulmans, and dispersed
their army.[243]

After this victory he returned to Jerusalem, when he learnt that
Josselin de Courtenay had been made prisoner by the Turks. Baldwin flew
to the defence of the county of Edessa, which was threatened with an
invasion, and himself fell into the hands of the Mussulmans.

Old chronicles have celebrated the intrepid zeal of fifty Armenians,
who swore to deliver two princes so much beloved by their subjects, and
whose captivity spread desolation among the Christians of the East.
Their efforts broke the chains of Josselin, but after having braved a
thousand dangers without being able to release Baldwin du Bourg, they
were themselves taken by the infidels. They all died amidst tortures,
and received from Heaven alone, add the same chronicles, the reward of
their generous devotion.

Josselin, escaped from his prison, repaired to Jerusalem, where he
deposited in the church of the Holy Sepulchre the chains which he
had borne among the Turks, and entreated prompt assistance for the
deliverance of Baldwin. The mourning kingdom was menaced by the
Saracens of Egypt, who, seeking to take advantage of the captivity
of Baldwin, had assembled in the plains of Ascalon for the purpose
of driving the Franks from Palestine. In this pressing danger the
Christians of Jerusalem could pay attention to nothing but the defence
of the kingdom. After the example of the inhabitants of Nineveh, they
first sought to mitigate the anger of Heaven by penitence and prayer.
A rigorous fast was commanded, during which women withheld the milk of
their breasts from their children in the cradle, and the flocks even
were driven to a distance from their pastures and deprived of their
ordinary nourishment. War was proclaimed by the sound of the great bell
of Jerusalem. The Christian army, which consisted of little more than
three thousand combatants, was commanded by Eustache Grenier, count
of Sidon, named regent of the kingdom in the absence of Baldwin. The
patriarch of the holy city bore the true cross at the head of the army;
he was followed, says Robert of the Mount, by Pontius, abbot of Cluni,
carrying the lance with which the side of the Saviour was pierced, and
by the bishop of Bethlehem, who held in his hands a vase, in which the
Christian priests boasted of having preserved the milk of the Virgin
mother of God![244]

The Christians met the army of the Saracens on the plains of Ascalon.
The battle immediately began, and the Franks were at once surrounded
by the Mussulmans, who reckoned forty thousand men beneath their
standards. The defeat of the Christians appeared certain, when all at
once, says the historian we have just now quoted, a light like to
that of a thunderbolt darted through the air, and fell upon the army
of the Mussulmans. This light, which the Christians considered as a
miracle from Heaven, became the signal for the rout of the Saracens.
The Mussulman warriors, still more superstitious than the Christians,
were fascinated by a sudden terror, and no longer had either courage or
strength to defend themselves. Seven thousand of them fell on the field
of battle, and five thousand perished, swallowed up by the waves of
the sea. The victorious Christians returned to Jerusalem, singing the
praises of the God of armies.

The Christian knights thenceforth wept with less bitterness over the
captivity of a king without whom they had been able to conquer the army
of the Saracens; but the army of the Franks, employed in the defence
of cities and frontiers constantly threatened by the enemy, could not
leave the kingdom to make new conquests; and the warriors, who were
detained in the Christian cities, after so great a victory, were deeply
afflicted at their inaction, and appeared to place all their hopes in
succours from the West. It was just at this time that a Venetian fleet
arrived off the coast of Syria.

The Venetians, who for several centuries enjoyed the commerce of
the East, and feared to break their profitable relations with the
Mussulmans of Asia, had taken but very little interest in the first
crusade, or in the events that had followed it. They waited the issue
of this great enterprise, to take a part and associate themselves
without peril with the victories of the Christians; but at length,
jealous of the advantages that the Genoese and the Pisans had obtained
in Syria, they wished likewise to have a share in the spoils of the
Mussulmans, and prepared a formidable expedition against the infidels.
Their fleet, whilst crossing the Mediterranean, fell in with that of
the Genoese, which was returning from the East; they attacked it with
fury, and forced it to fly in great disorder. After having stained
the sea with the blood of Christians, the Venetians pursued their
course towards the coasts of Palestine, where they met the fleet of
the Saracens, just issuing from the ports of Egypt. A violent conflict
ensued, in which all the Egyptian vessels were dispersed or destroyed,
and covered the waves with their wrecks.

Whilst the Venetians were thus destroying the fleet of the Mussulmans,
an army sent by the caliph of Cairo was beaten by the Christians under
the walls of Jaffa. The doge of Venice, who commanded the Venetian
fleet, entered the port of Ptolemaïs, and was conducted in triumph to
Jerusalem. When celebrating the double victory, they resolved to profit
by it, by following it up by an important expedition. In a council,
held in presence of the regent of the kingdom and the doge of Venice,
it was proposed to besiege either the city of Tyre or the city of
Ascalon. As the opinions were divided, it was resolved to interrogate
God, and to follow his will. Two strips of parchment, upon which had
been written the names of Ascalon and Tyre, were deposited upon the
altar of the Holy Sepulchre. In the sight of a numerous crowd of
spectators, a young orphan advanced towards the altar, took one of the
strips, and the chance fell upon the city of Tyre.

The Venetians, more devoted to the interests of their commerce and of
their nation than to those of a Christian kingdom, demanded, before
beginning the siege of Tyre, that they should enjoy a church, a street,
a common oven, and a national tribunal in every city in Palestine. They
further demanded other privileges and the possession of a third of the
conquered city. The conquest of Tyre appeared to be so important, that
the regent, the chancellor of the kingdom, and the great vassals of the
crown accepted the conditions of the Venetians without hesitation: in a
deed which history has preserved,[245] they engaged not to acknowledge
Baldwin du Bourg or any other prince who would refuse to subscribe to
it.

When they had thus, by a treaty, shared the city they were about to
conquer, they began their preparations for the siege. Towards the
commencement of the spring, the Christian army set out from Jerusalem,
and the Venetian fleet sailed from the port of Ptolemaïs. The historian
of the kingdom of Jerusalem, who was for a long time archbishop of
Tyre, stops here to describe the antique wonders of his metropolis. In
his recital, at once religious and profane, he invokes by turns the
testimony of Isaiah and of Virgil; after having spoken of the king,
Hyram, and the tomb of Origen, he does not disdain to celebrate the
memory of Cadmus, and the country of Dido. The good archbishop boasts
above all of the industry and the commerce of Tyre; of the fertility
of its territory, its dyes so celebrated in all antiquity, that sand
which is changed into transparent vases, and those sugar-canes which,
from that time, were sought for by every region of the universe. Tyre,
in the time of Baldwin, was no longer that sumptuous city, whose rich
merchants, according to Isaiah, were princes; but it was yet considered
as the most populous and the most commercial of all the cities of
Syria. It was built upon a delightful beach, which mountains sheltered
from the blasts of the north; it had two large moles, which, like two
arms, stretched out into the waves, to form a port to which no tempest
could find access. Tyre, which had kept the victorious Alexander
seven months and a half before its walls, was defended on one side
by a stormy sea and steep rocks, and on the other by a triple wall
surmounted by high towers.

The doge of Venice, with his fleet, entered the port and closed up all
issue on the side of the sea. The patriarch of Jerusalem, the regent
of the kingdom, and Pontius, count of Tripoli, commanded the army by
land. In the early days of the siege, the Christians and the Mussulmans
fought with obstinate ardour, and with equal success; but the divisions
among the infidels soon came in to second the efforts of the Franks.
The caliph of Egypt had yielded half of the place to the sultan of
Damascus, to induce him to defend it against the Christians. The Turks
and the Egyptians were divided among themselves, and would not fight
together. The Franks profited by these divisions, and every day gained
great advantages. After a siege of some months, the walls crumbled away
before the machines of the Christians; provisions began to be short
in the city, and the infidels were ready to capitulate, when discord
arose to disunite the Christians in their turn, and was on the point of
rendering useless the prodigies of valour, and the labours of the long
siege.

The land army complained aloud of being obliged to support alone, both
fighting and fatigue; the knights and their soldiers threatened to
remain as motionless under their tents, as the Venetians did in their
ships. To prevent the effect of their complaints, the doge of Venice
came into the camp of the Christians, with his sailors armed with their
oars, and declared that he was ready to mount the breach. From that
time a generous emulation animated equally the zeal and courage of the
land and sea forces. The Mussulmans, being without hope of succour,
after a siege of five months and a half, were obliged to surrender.
The standards of the king of Jerusalem and the doge of Venice waved
over the walls of Tyre; the Christians made their triumphal entry
into the city, whilst the inhabitants, according to the terms of the
capitulation, went out with their wives and children.[246]

The day on which they received at Jerusalem the news of the conquest of
Tyre, was a festival for the population of the holy city. To the sound
of the bells the _Te Deum_ was sung on bended knees; flags were hoisted
on the towers and the ramparts of the city; branches of olive, and
garlands of flowers were suspended in the streets and public places,
and rich stuffs were hung upon the outsides of the houses, and upon
the doors of the churches. Old men reminded their neighbours of the
splendour of the kingdom of Judah, and young virgins repeated in chorus
the psalms in which the prophets had celebrated the city of Tyre.

The doge of Venice, on his return to the holy city, was saluted by the
acclamations of the people and the clergy. The barons and the principal
inhabitants did all in their power to detain him in Palestine; they
even went so far as to offer him the crown of Baldwin; some believing
that that prince had died among the infidels, others only recognising
a king when at the head of an army, or on the field of battle. The doge
refused the crown they offered him; and, satisfied with the title of
prince of Jerusalem, sailed with his victorious fleet back to Italy.

Whilst they were offering the throne of Jerusalem to a foreign prince,
the captivity of Baldwin du Bourg was drawing to an end. The emir
Balac,[247] who held him prisoner, after having conquered in a battle
ten thousand Christians commanded by Josselin, besieged the citadel
of a Mussulman city of Syria, and was preparing to succour the city
of Tyre, when he was wounded by a javelin, and died regretted by the
most ardent disciples of Mahomet. Baldwin was then enabled to purchase
his liberty, and, after a captivity of eighteen months, appeared
once again among the Christians. The king of Jerusalem had promised
the Saracens a considerable sum as his ransom; but it was much more
easy for him to fight and conquer his enemies than to fulfil such a
promise. The Mussulmans, besides, by ill-treating the hostages he had
left with them,[248] furnished him with a pretext to attack them. When
the infidels demanded of him the stipulated price of his liberty, he
only replied by gaining victories over them. The Christian knights,
who seemed to have forgotten him, now that they saw him once again in
arms, returned thanks to Heaven for his deliverance, and came in troops
to range themselves under his banners, and recognised with joy the
authority of a prince who appeared only to have issued from his prison
to lead them to new combats.

The Christian states at that period numbered as enemies the caliphs
of Bagdad and Damascus, the emirs of Mossoul and Aleppo, and the
descendants of Ortoc, who were masters of several places on the
Euphrates.[249] The Egyptians were weakened by their numerous defeats,
and of all their ancient conquests on the coasts of Syria, only
retained the city of Ascalon. But the garrison of this place, formed
of the wrecks of several conquered armies, still threatened the
territories of the Christians. Although the Egyptians had lost the
cities of Tyre, Tripoli, and Ptolemaïs, they still continued masters
at sea, and their fleets cruised without obstacle along the coasts
of Syria, when the maritime nations of Europe did not happen to send
succour to the Franks established in Palestine.

The Turks, accustomed to the military and pastoral life, did not aspire
to the empire of the seas, but they never left the Christians at rest.
They made themselves dreaded, not so much by their great armies, which
were frequently nothing but confused and undisciplined multitudes, but
by their continual, harassing incursions. Docile and patient, they
endured hunger, thirst, and fatigue, better than they would face an
enemy. Their knowledge of the country, their being accustomed to the
climate, and the intelligence they kept up with the inhabitants, gave
them, in all their warlike expeditions, a decided advantage over the
Christians. Their soldiers surpassed the Franks in the arts of shooting
with the bow, or hurling a javelin, as well as in horsemanship; and
their leaders were practised, and excelled in all the stratagems of
war. Their tactics consisted in wearing out their enemies, in preparing
ambushes for them, or in drawing them into difficult positions,
where they might triumph without fighting. The endless discord which
prevailed among the Mussulman princes of Syria, and the revolutions
which daily threatened their power, prevented them from following up,
for any length of time, the same plan of defence or attack; but when
in the enjoyment of a transient tranquillity, sometimes excited by
a thirst for plunder, or sometimes animated by the prayers and the
counsels of the caliph of Bagdad, they would burst like a sudden and
unexpected storm over the territories of Antioch, Edessa, Tripoli, or
the kingdom of Jerusalem. If the Mussulmans experienced a defeat, they
retired with the hope of finding a more favourable opportunity; if they
were conquerors, they ravaged the cities and the plains, and returned
to their country, loaded with booty, singing these words: “_The Koran
rejoices, and the Gospel is in tears_.”

The hopes of booty every year attracted new hordes and tribes, which
poured down from Mount Caucasus, Mount Taurus, from Koraçan and
the banks of the Tigris. These tribes, for the most part wild and
barbarous, mingled among the Mussulmans of Syria and Mesopotamia, and
replaced in armies and cities the hosts which war had swept away. Among
the tribes which had thus established themselves in Syria, history must
not forget that of the _assassins_ or Ismaëlians, whose sect had sprung
up, towards the commencement of the eleventh century, in the mountains
of Persia. A short time before the first crusade, they took possession
of a part of Libanus, and founded a colony between Tripoli and Tortosa,
which colony was governed by a chief whom the Franks called—_the
Old Man, or the Lord of the Mountain_. The chief of the Ismaëlians
only reigned over about twenty castles or towns, and scarcely more
than sixty thousand subjects; but he had converted despotism into a
species of worship, and his authority was without bounds. His subjects
considered that he alone was the depositary of the laws of Mahomet,
and that all who opposed his will merited death. The Old Man of the
Mountains, according to the belief of the Ismaëlians, could distribute,
at his pleasure, the delights of Paradise to his servants; that he who
died in an act of obedience to his chief, ascended to heaven, whither
the prophet of Mecca welcomed him, whilst he who died in his bed went
through long probationary pains in the next world.

The Ismaëlians were divided into three classes: the people, the
soldiers, and the _guards_. The people lived by the cultivation of the
lands and by commerce; they were docile, laborious, sober, and patient:
nothing could exceed the skill, strength, and courage of the soldiers,
whose qualities were particularly valued in the defence or sieges of
cities. The greater part of the Mussulman princes were very desirous of
having them in their pay.

The most distinguished class was that of the _guards or fédaïs_.
Nothing was neglected in their education. From their infancy their
bodies were strengthened by constant and violent exercises, and their
minds were cultivated by the study of the arts. They were taught the
languages of Asia and Europe, in order that they might be sent into
those countries to execute the orders of their master. All sorts of
means were employed to inflame their imaginations and heighten their
courage; during their sleep, which was provoked by intoxicating drinks,
they were transported into delicious gardens, and awoke surrounded by
the seductions of voluptuousness. It was there that the Old Man of the
Mountains, by showing them the image of the joys of Paradise, inspired
them with a blind obedience. In the midst of illusions which fascinated
them, their master could order them to cast themselves from the height
of a tower, to precipitate themselves into flames, or to pierce
themselves with mortal wounds. When the Old Man of the Mountains had
pointed out to them any one he wished to punish, they went, armed with
a poniard, indifferently, to seek him in palaces or camps, and were
impeded by neither obstacles nor dangers.

Princes often intrusted the charge of their revenge to the chief of
the Ismaëlians, and looked to him for the death of their rivals or
enemies. Powerful monarchs were his tributaries. The fears which he
inspired, and the murders committed by his orders, heaped up his
treasures. Surrounded by his intrepid soldiery, he sent death into
distant regions; the terror of his name was spread everywhere, whilst
he himself had nothing to fear from his enemies.

The Ismaëlians, as implacable sectarians, entertained a profound
aversion for the Turks of Syria. Many of them were in the pay of the
emirs and the sultans of that nation; but they sold their services
at a very high price, and often took an active part in the bloody
revolutions which precipitated from thrones the Mussulman dynasties of
the East. They had less hatred for the Christians, because the latter
fought against the Turks; nay, sometimes they became useful auxiliaries
to the Franks. When Baldwin du Bourg was liberated, they proposed to
deliver up Damascus to him, a great number of their warriors being in
that city; but the plot being discovered, they miscarried in their
enterprise, and six thousand Ismaëlians were slaughtered by the
Mussulmans.[250]

The Old Man of the Mountains commanded the death of the emir of
Mossoul, who had defended the city of Damascus against the Christians.
The murder of the Mussulman emir threw Syria into a state of excitement
and trouble; but from the bosom of this disorder arose a new and
formidable power. Zengui, son of Aksancar, one of the most skilful
captains of his age, obtained the principality of Mossoul, got
possession of Emessa and Aleppo, with several other cities of Syria,
and founded the dynasty of the Atabecks, or governors of the prince,
which was destined to dominate over the East, and render itself
formidable to the Christians.[251]

Whilst this new power was rising in Syria, the Christian states of the
East were at their highest point of prosperity. The county of Edessa,
which contained a great portion of the rich provinces of Mesopotamia,
had all the Armenian princes as its allies and auxiliaries. Several
cities of Cœlesyria, Cilicia, and Lower Armenia constituted the
principality of Antioch, the most extensive and the most flourishing of
the Christian provinces.

The county of Tripoli comprised several places situated on the Sea of
Phœnicia, from Margath to the river Adonis. This river, celebrated in
both sacred and profane history, bounded on the north the kingdom of
Jerusalem, which, towards the south, extended on the sea-coast as far
as the gates of Ascalon, and towards the east, to the deserts of Arabia.

These four states formed a redoubtable confederacy. Europe beheld with
pride these Christian colonies, which had cost her so much blood; she
was afflicted at their reverses, and rejoiced at their progress. The
safety of Christianity appeared identified with their preservation. The
bravest of the Christians were always ready to devote themselves for
the heritage of Christ; religion offered no recompense equal to that
promised to their valour, and charity itself became warlike.

From the bosom of an hospital consecrated to the service of pilgrims
and the poor, issued heroes armed against the infidels,—the
humanity and the bravery of the knights of St. John[252] were equally
conspicuous. Whilst some grew old in the offices of hospitality, others
went forth to combat with the enemies of their faith. After the example
of these pious knights, several men of gentle birth met near the place
where the temple of Solomon had stood, and took an oath to protect and
defend the pilgrims who repaired to Jerusalem. Their union gave birth
to the order of the Templars, which, from its origin, was approved of
by a council, and owed its statutes to St. Bernard.

These two orders were governed by the same principle that had given
birth to the crusade, the union of the military spirit with the
religious spirit. Retired from the world, they had no other country but
Jerusalem, no other family but that of Jesus Christ. Wealth, evils,
and dangers were all in common amongst them; one will, one spirit,
directed all their actions and all their thoughts; all were united in
one house, which appeared to be inhabited but by one man. They lived
in great austerity, and the severer their discipline became, the
stronger appeared the bonds by which it enchained their hearts and
their wills. Arms formed their only decoration; precious ornaments were
never seen in their houses or churches; but lances, bucklers, swords,
and standards taken from the infidels abounded. At the cry of battle,
says St. Bernard,[253] they armed themselves with faith within and
with steel without; they feared neither the number nor the fury of the
barbarians, they were proud to conquer, happy to die for Jesus Christ,
and believed that every victory came from God.

Religion had sanctified the perils and the violences of war. Every
monastery of Palestine was a fortress, in which the din of arms was
mingled with the voice of prayer. Humble cenobites sought glory in
fight; the canons, instituted by Godfrey to pray near the holy tomb,
after the example of the Hospitallers and the Templars, had clothed
themselves with the casque and the cuirass, and, under the name of the
Knights of the Holy Sepulchre, distinguished themselves amongst the
soldiers of Christ.

The glory of these military orders was soon spread throughout the
Christian world. Their renown penetrated even to the isles and the most
remote nations of the West. All who had sins to expiate hastened to the
holy city to share the labours of the Christian warriors. Crowds of
men, who had devastated their own country, came to defend the kingdom
of Jerusalem, and take part in the perils of the most firm defenders of
the faith.

There was not an illustrious family in Europe which did not send at
least one knight to the military orders of Palestine. Princes even
enrolled themselves in this holy militia, and laid aside the insignia
of their dignity to assume the red coat of arms of the Hospitallers, or
the white mantle of the knights of the Temple. In all the nations of
the West castles and cities were bestowed upon them, which offered an
asylum and succour to pilgrims, and became auxiliaries to the kingdom
of Jerusalem. As monks, as soldiers of Christ, they were remembered
in every will, and not unfrequently became the heirs of monarchs and
princes.

The knights of St. John and of the Temple for a length of time were
deserving of the greatest praises; more happy and more worthy of the
benedictions of posterity would they have been, if, in the end, they
had not allowed themselves to be corrupted by their success and their
wealth; and if they had not frequently disturbed the welfare of the
state of which their bravery was the support! These two orders were
like a crusade that was unceasingly renewed, and preserved emulation in
the Christian armies.

The military customs and manners of the Franks who were then engaged
in Palestine, present an object worthy of fixing the attention of the
historian and the philosopher, and may serve to explain the rapid rise
and the following decline of the kingdom of Jerusalem. The spirit of
honour which animated the warriors, and permitted them not to fly, even
in an unequal fight, was the most active principle of their bravery,
and with them took the place of discipline. To abandon a companion in
danger, or to retire before an enemy, was an action infamous in the
sight of God or man. In battle, their close ranks, their lofty stature,
their war-horses, like themselves covered with steel, overturned,
dispersed, or bore down the numerous battalions of the Saracens. In
spite of the weight of their armour, nothing could exceed the rapidity
with which they passed to places the most distant. They were to be seen
fighting almost at the same time in Egypt, on the Euphrates, and on
the Orontes; and only left these their customary theatres of victory
to threaten the principality of Damascus, or some city of Arabia. In
the midst of their exploits they recognised no other law but victory,
abandoned and rejoined at pleasure the standards which led them to the
enemy, and required nothing of their chief but the example of bravery.

As their militia had under its colours warriors of divers nations,
the opposition of characters, the difference of manners and language
kept alive amongst them a generous emulation; but sometimes, likewise,
gave birth to discord. Very frequently chance, or some unexpected
circumstance, decided an enterprise or the fate of a campaign. When the
Christian knights believed themselves in a condition to fight an enemy,
they went to seek him, without taking the least pains to conceal their
march; confidence in their strength, in their arms, and, above all,
in the protection of Heaven, made them neglect the stratagems and the
artifices of war, and even the precautions most necessary to the safety
of an army. Prudence in their chiefs frequently appeared to them an
evidence of timidity or weakness, and many of their princes paid with
their lives or their liberty for the vain glory of encountering useless
perils in the Christian cause.

The Franks of Palestine saw scarcely any dangers or enemies except such
as met them in the field of battle. Several important enterprises,
which fortune alone seemed to direct, were necessary to assure the
safety and the prosperity of the Christian states in Asia. The first of
these enterprises was to lower the power of the caliphs of Egypt; the
second, to conquer and preserve the maritime cities of Syria, in order
to receive fleets and succour from the West; the third was to defend
the frontiers, and oppose on all sides a barrier against the Turks
and Saracens. Each of those great interests, or rather all of these
interests united, constantly occupied the Franks established in Asia,
without their having any other policy but that of circumstances, and
without their employing, in order to succeed, any other means but their
swords. It is in this view we must admire their efforts, and find the
bravery, which supplied the place of everything, wonderful.

Among the illustrious pilgrims who at this time repaired to Palestine,
and took part in the labours of the Christian knights, history ought
not to forget Foulque, count of Anjou. He was the son of Foulque le
Rechin and Bertrade de Montfort, who became the wife of Philip I.,
and for whose sake the king of France had braved all the thunders
of the Church. Foulque of Anjou could not be consoled for the death
of his wife Eremberge, daughter of Elie, count of Maine. His grief
led him into Palestine, where he maintained during a year a hundred
men-at-arms, whom he led to battle. He united piety with valour, and
attracted admiration by displaying all the qualities of a good prince.
Baldwin, who had no male offspring, offered him his daughter Melisende
in marriage, and promised to have him nominated his successor. Foulque
accepted the proposition with joy, and became son-in-law to the king of
Jerusalem.

From that time the two princes gave all their attention to promote the
prosperity of the kingdom and to defend it against the Saracens. Their
union served as a model to Christian princes, and lasted till the death
of Baldwin, who, seeing his last hour approach, ordered himself to be
carried to the spot where Christ had risen again, and died in the arms
of his daughter and his son-in-law, to whom, with his latest breath, he
recommended the glory of the Christians of the East.

Baldwin had a right mind, a lofty spirit, and unalterable mildness.
Religion presided over his least actions and inspired all his thoughts;
but he perhaps had more devotion than was suited to a prince or a
warrior. He was constantly seen prostrated on the earth, and, if we may
believe William of Tyre, his hands and knees were hardened by practices
of piety. He passed eighteen years on the throne of Edessa, and twelve
on that of Jerusalem; he was made prisoner twice, and remained seven
years in the chains of the infidels. He had neither the faults nor the
high qualities of his predecessor. His reign was rendered illustrious
by conquests and victories in which he bore no part; but he was not the
less regretted by the Christians, who loved to contemplate in him the
last of the companions of Godfrey.

Under his reign the public manners began to decline: by his directions
a council was assembled at Naplouse to check licentiousness, and
punish offenders against order and morality. But the decrees of this
council,[254] deposited in the churches, only served to prove the
existence of disorders among the Christians, and did not, in any
way, stop the progress of corruption, which rapidly increased under
the following reigns. Baldwin was more happy in the measures which
he undertook to increase the number of his subjects and enrich his
capital. An edict suppressed all duties upon grain and vegetables
brought into the holy city by the Syrians. Baldwin, by this means,
improved the trade and population of Jerusalem, and revived agriculture
in the neighbouring provinces.

Foulque, count of Anjou, was crowned king of Jerusalem after the death
of Baldwin. At his accession to the throne, discord disturbed the
Christian states, and even threatened with speedy ruin the principality
of Antioch. The son of Bohemond, who had recently assumed the reins
of government, had been killed in a battle against the Turks of Asia
Minor, and a daughter, whom he had had by Alise, sister of Melisende,
was called to the inheritance of her father’s throne; but the weakness
of her sex and age did not permit her to make good her claim. Alise,
her mother, wished to get possession of the royal seat, and in the
prosecution of her projects did not scruple to avail herself of the
aid of the Saracens. Another candidate appeared in Roger, king of
Sicily, who, as a member of the family of Bohemond and Tancred, had
pretensions to the principality of Antioch. The people, the clergy, and
the nobility were divided into several factions.

The king of Jerusalem, as protector of the confederation of the Franks
in Asia, determined to re-establish order, and took the road to Antioch
with his barons and the knights of the Temple and St. John. The count
of Tripoli, who had embraced the party of Alise, undertook to stop the
king of Jerusalem on his passage. The powers of these two princes met;
a battle ensued, and the plains of Phœnicia were stained with the blood
of Christians shed in unnatural strife. Foulque of Anjou, after having
routed the troops of the count of Tripoli, gained the banks of the
Orontes, silenced the contending factions, and re-established peace.
To perfect his work, he resolved to bestow the daughter of Bohemond on
a husband able to defend her rights, who would merit the confidence of
the Christian warriors. Syria presenting to him no prince or knight
worthy of his choice, he turned his eyes towards the princes of Europe,
and nominated Raymond of Poictiers governor of Antioch, as Baldwin II.
had chosen him himself governor of Jerusalem. Thus Europe, which had
found defenders for the Christian states of Asia, supplied them also
with princes and kings. Raymond of Poictiers, brother of William, duke
of Aquitaine, left France with the scrip and staff of a pilgrim, and
came into Syria to espouse the daughter of Baldwin, and reign with her
on the banks of the Orontes.

The troubles of Antioch had revived the pretensions of the emperors
of Constantinople. John Comnenus, son and successor of Alexius, put
himself at the head of an army, took possession of some places in
Cilicia, and encamped before the walls of Antioch. After several
conflicts, in which victory remained uncertain, negotiations were
opened, which ended in the oath of obedience to the emperor being taken
by Raymond of Poictiers. The two princes, united by a treaty, resolved
to turn their arms against the Saracens. Their troops, which they
commanded in person, attacked without success Aleppo and several other
cities of Syria; the want of a good understanding, which accompanied
the Greeks and Latins at all times, was sure to defeat their
enterprises. The emperor returned with vexation to Antioch, of which
he endeavoured to make himself master, but was compelled by a sedition
to leave the city hastily. He then formed the project of visiting
Jerusalem at the head of his army, with the intention, if the Latins
are to be believed, of obtaining possession of Palestine. Foulque
sent ambassadors to inform him that he could only be received in the
holy city in the character of a simple pilgrim; whereupon John, who
did not dare to complain, sent presents to Foulque of Anjou, and gave
up, without much pain, his idea of a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. After a
campaign, for which he had drawn out all the strength of the empire, he
returned to his capital, having obtained nothing by his enterprise but
the vain and hollow homage of the prince of Antioch.

Foulque of Anjou, after having re-established peace among his
neighbours, found, on his return, that discord not only prevailed in
his states, but had even made its way into his own house. Walter, count
of Cæsarea, accused Hugh, count of Jaffa, of the crime of treason
towards his king. This latter noble had drawn upon himself the hatred
of the king and the principal people of the kingdom, some say by his
pride and disobedience, and others by his guilty connection with the
queen Melisende. When the barons had heard Walter of Cæsarea, they
decided that a battle, _en champ clos_, should take place between the
accused and the accuser; and as the count of Jaffa did not appear in
the lists on the day nominated, he was declared guilty.

Hugh was descended from the famous lord of Puyset, who raised the
standard of revolt against the king of France, and who, conquered
in the end by Louis le Gros,[255] despoiled of his possessions and
banished his country, had taken refuge in Palestine, where his exploits
had secured him the county of Jaffa, which he had transmitted to his
son. Hugh possessed the turbulent and impetuous character of his
father, and, like him, could neither pardon an injury nor submit to
an act of authority. On learning that he was condemned without being
heard, he set no bounds to his anger, but hastened immediately to
Ascalon, to implore the aid of the infidels against the Christians. The
Mussulmans, highly pleased with the division which had sprung up among
their enemies, at once took the field, and ravaged the country as far
as the city of Asur. Hugh, after having contracted a criminal alliance
with the Saracens, shut himself up in Jaffa, where he was soon besieged
by the king of Jerusalem.

The thirst of vengeance animated both parties; Foulque of Anjou had
sworn to punish the treason of his vassal; and Hugh was equally
determined to succeed, or bury himself under the ruins of Jaffa. Before
the king’s forces commenced the attack, the patriarch of Jerusalem
interposed his mediation, and recalled to the minds of the Christian
warriors the precepts of Gospel charity. Hugh at first rejected all
mention of peace with indignation; but having been abandoned by his
followers, he at last lent an unwilling ear to the pacific appeals
of the patriarch, and consented to lay down his arms. The king of
Jerusalem sent home his army, and the count of Jaffa agreed to quit
the kingdom, into which he was not to return till after three years
of exile. He was awaiting at Jerusalem the favourable moment for his
departure, when an unexpected circumstance was on the point of renewing
stifled quarrels. “It happened,” says William of Tyre,[256] “as the
count was playing at dice in the street of the Furriers, before the
shop of a merchant named Alpham, that a soldier, a Breton by nation,
having drawn his sword, fell suddenly upon the said count, who, being
attentive to his game, expected nothing less than such an attack, and
with the first cut, without the least warning, dealt him such a blow
with the said sword on the face as stretched him upon the ground.”
At the sight of such a tragical scene the people gathered round in
crowds, anxiously inquiring the cause of it. The whole city was filled
with rumours of various kinds; all mourned the fate of the count of
Jaffa, and thought no more of his rebellion. They did not even hesitate
to whisper complaints against the king, whom they accused of having
himself directed the poniard of the assassin. The king, however, caused
the murderer to be immediately arrested, and he was tried with the
utmost rigour of the laws. He was ordered to have his limbs broken; and
the king, whilst confirming the sentence, only added that the assassin
of the count of Jaffa should not, as was usual, have his tongue cut
out, in order that he might name his accomplices. The unhappy wretch
expired, declaring that no one had induced him to commit the deed, but
that he thought he should serve religion and his king by it. Every
one was thus left free to form conjectures according to the feeling
that animated him, or the party he had adopted. The count of Jaffa was
not long in recovering from his wound; at the end of a few months he
quitted Palestine, and went to Sicily, where he died before the time
fixed for the end of his exile.

Queen Melisende entertained a deep resentment at all which had taken
place; by which she proved that she was not a stranger to the origin
of these fatal discords. “From the day on which the count left the
kingdom,” says William of Tyre, “all who had against him been informers
to the king, and brought him into his ill graces, so incurred the
indignation of the queen that they were not in too great safety of
their persons, and even the king did not seem to be quite at his
ease among the relations and favourites of the queen.” The anger of
the queen, however, yielded to time, and did not outlive the count
of Jaffa. Foulque himself, whether it was that age had blunted his
feelings, or that it appeared more prudent to him to efface the last
traces of an unfortunate affair, repented of having compromised the
honour of the queen, and neglected nothing that could make her forget
the excess of his jealousy and the rigours he had employed.

Amidst these disagreeable events the king of Jerusalem had reason to
congratulate himself at having no invasion of the Mussulmans to repel.
The prince of Mossoul, Zengui, attacked some Christian fortresses, but
he was soon diverted from his enterprises against the Franks by the
project of uniting the principality of Damascus to his states. The
Mussulman prince who reigned at Damascus could find no other means of
resisting Zengui than by calling in the Christians to his help. The
king of Jerusalem, after having received hostages and considerable sums
of money, took the field at the head of his army, for the purpose of
defending a Mussulman city; but Zengui, who feared to try his strength
with the Franks, did not venture to attack Damascus. According to the
conditions of the alliance with the Christians, the city of Paneas,
or Cæsarea of Philippi, which had recently fallen into the hands of
the Saracens, was to be given up to them. The warriors of Damascus and
Jerusalem marched together to lay siege to that city, situated at the
foot of Libanus, and near the sources of the Jordan. For the second
time the standards of Christ and Mahomet were seen floating over one
army and one camp. Cæsarea of Philippi capitulated after a siege of a
few days, and was given up to the king of Jerusalem.

This conquest was the most important event that signalized the latter
years of the reign of Foulque of Anjou. The king of Jerusalem, whilst
hunting in the plain of Ptolemaïs, fell from his horse, and died of
the fall, leaving no one to succeed him but two children of tender
age. He was less regretted on account of his personal qualities than
for the sad condition in which his death left the kingdom. William of
Tyre, who praises the virtues of Foulque of Anjou, remarks, with a
_naïveté_ worthy of these remote times, that this prince had red hair,
and yet he could not be reproached with any of the faults usually
attributed to men of that colour. He was more than sixty years of age
when he ascended the throne of Jerusalem; in the last years of his
life his memory was so weakened that he did not know his own servants,
and had not sufficient strength and activity to be the head of a
kingdom surrounded by enemies. He employed himself more in building
fortresses than in collecting armies, and in defending his frontiers
than in making new conquests. Under his reign the military ardour of
the Christians seemed to grow weaker, and was displaced by a spirit
of discord, which brought about calamities much greater than those of
war. At the period of the coronation of Foulque of Anjou, the Christian
states were at the highest degree of their prosperity; towards the end
of his reign they showed a tendency to decline.

Baldwin III., thirteen years of age, succeeded his father, and Queen
Melisende became regent of the kingdom. Thus the reins of government
fell from the weak and powerless hands of an old man into those of
a woman and a child. Parties soon sprung up around the throne; the
clergy, the knights, the barons, even the people took a dangerous part
in affairs of state, and the authority of the prince, which hitherto
had been but that of the general of an army, lost under the regency of
Queen Melisende the consideration and splendour it had derived from
victory. The government insensibly assumed the turbulent form of a
republic, and in the political relations which the Christians held at
this period with the Saracens,[257] the latter believed that several
chiefs were at the head of the kingdom of Jerusalem.

Baldwin did not wait for the period of his majority to be crowned king,
being scarcely fourteen years old, when, in the presence of the barons
and the clergy, he received the sword[258] with which he was to defend
religion and justice; the ring, the symbol of faith; the sceptre and
the crown, marks of dignity and power; and the apple or globe, as an
image of the earth and the kingdom he was called upon to govern. Young
Baldwin already displayed courage above his age; in the very first
days of his reign he achieved a glorious expedition beyond the Jordan,
in which he gained possession of the Valley of Moses; but he had not
experience enough to know what enemies he ought to attack or what
allies he ought to defend. On his return from the expedition of the
Jordan he undertook an unjust and unfortunate war, the presage of a sad
future for the kingdom of Jerusalem.

An Armenian, who governed the city of Bosra in the name of the sultan
of Damascus, came to Jerusalem to offer to deliver up to the Christians
the place which he commanded, and the barons and principal people were
convoked to hear his proposals. The wiser part of the assembly referred
to the alliance made with the Saracens of Damascus; the promises of an
unknown soldier appeared to them to have no security, and to inspire no
confidence; they said the kingdom of Jerusalem did not want for enemies
to combat, or conquests to attempt; it was their duty to attack the
most formidable, and protect the others as useful auxiliaries. This
advice, which was the most reasonable, was that which obtained the
smallest number of suffrages. Wonders were related of the country they
were about to conquer; Bosra was the capital of Upper Arabia, all the
riches of that country appeared already to belong to the Christians,
and all who opposed a conquest so brilliant and so easy were accused of
treason. They deliberated in the midst of tumult,[259] and the cries
of a misled multitude smothered the voice of reason and prudence.
The council of the barons and the principal people decided that an
expedition, upon which so many hopes were built, should be undertaken.

The Christian army was soon on its march, and across the mountains
of Libanus. When it arrived in the territory of Damascus, its first
conflict was with the Saracens gathered together to oppose its passage.
After sustaining several severe encounters, the Christians succeeded
in gaining the country called Traconite, where they found nothing
but plains burnt up by the ardent rays of the sun. The roads were
difficult, and the locusts having fallen into the wells and cisterns,
had poisoned all the waters. The inhabitants, concealed in subterranean
caverns, laid ambushes in all directions for the Christian army; whilst
the Mussulman archers, planted upon all the hills and acclivities, left
the warriors of Jerusalem not a moment’s repose. The misfortunes of
the army ’it is William of Tyre who speaks) increased every day, _and
there was poured upon the Christians such a quantity, and as it were
continually, of all sorts of arrows, that they appeared to descend
upon them like hail or heavy rain upon houses covered with slates and
tiles, men and beasts being stuck all over with them_. Nevertheless,
the hope of winning a rich city sustained the courage of the Christian
soldiers, and enabled them to brave all these perils. But when they
arrived within sight of Bosra, it was announced to them that the wife
of the Armenian commandant had called the garrison to arms, and that
she was prepared to defend the city which her husband had promised to
give up to the king of Jerusalem. This unexpected news at once spread
consternation and discouragement through the Christian army. The
knights and barons, struck with the misfortunes that threatened the
Christian soldiers, pressed the king to abandon his army, and save his
person and the cross of Christ. Young Baldwin rejected the advice of
his faithful barons, and insisted upon sharing all their perils.

As soon as the order for retreat was given, the Mussulmans, with loud
cries, set out in pursuit of the Christians. The soldiers of Jerusalem
closed their ranks, and marched in silence, sword in hand, bearing
away their wounded and dead. The Saracens, who could not shake or
break through their enemy, and who, in their pursuit, found no trace
of carnage, believed they were actually fighting against men of iron.
The region which the Christians were traversing was covered with
heath, thistles, and other plants dried by the heat of the summer. The
Saracens set fire to these; the wind bore the flames and smoke towards
the Christian army, and the Franks marched over a burning plain, with
clouds of smoke, ashes, and dust floating over and around them. William
of Tyre, in his history, compares them to smiths, to such a degree were
their clothes and their faces blackened by the fire which devoured the
plain. The knights, the soldiers, and the people who followed the army,
gathered in a crowd around the bishop of Nazareth, who bore the wood
of the true cross, and conjured him with tears to put an end by his
prayers to calamities they were no longer able to bear.

The bishop of Nazareth, touched by their despair, raised the cross,
imploring the mercy of Heaven,—and, at the moment the direction of
the wind was changed. The flames and the smoke which desolated the
Christians were immediately wafted against the Mussulmans. The Franks
pursued their march, persuaded that God had wrought a miracle to save
them. A knight, whom they had never before seen, mounted on a white
horse, and bearing a red standard, preceded the Christian army, and
conducted it out of danger. The people and the soldiers took him for
an angel from heaven, and his miraculous presence reanimated their
strength and their courage. At length the army of Baldwin, after
having undergone all sorts of misery, returned to Jerusalem, where
the inhabitants rejoiced at its arrival, singing these words from the
Scriptures, “_Let us give ourselves up to joy, for that people that was
dead is resuscitated; it was lost, and behold here it is found again._”

But whilst the inhabitants of Jerusalem were rejoicing at the return of
their warriors, the Christian states lost one of their most important
places, and experienced an irreparable misfortune. Zengui, whom the
caliph of Bagdad and all true Mussulmans considered as the buckler
and the support of Islamism, extended his empire from Mossoul to the
frontiers of Damascus, and was continuing without intermission the
course of his victories and conquests. The Christians made no effort to
stop the progress of so redoubtable a power. Zengui, who united with
bravery all the resources of a skilful policy, left them in a deceitful
security, and determined only to awaken them from their long sleep when
he had it in his power to give a mortal blow to their empire. He knew,
by experience, that nothing was more fatal to the Christians than too
long a repose; the Franks, who owed everything to their arms, were
almost always weakened by peace, and when not fighting against the
Saracens, generally fell out among themselves.

The kingdom of Jerusalem had two formidable barriers, the principality
of Antioch and the county of Edessa. Raymond of Poictiers defended
the Orontes from the invasion of the Saracens, and old Josselin de
Courtenay had been for a long time the terror of the infidels on the
banks of the Euphrates; but he was recently dead. He had fought to his
last breath, and even on his bed of death made his arms and his bravery
respected.

Josselin was besieging a castle near Aleppo, when a tower fell down
near him and covered him with its ruins. He was transported in a dying
state to Edessa, and as he lay languishing on his bed, expecting
nothing but death, it was announced to him that the sultan of Iconium
had laid siege to one of his strong places; upon which he sent for
his son and commanded him to go instantly and attack the enemy. Young
Josselin hesitated, and represented to his father that he had not a
sufficient number of troops to meet the Turks. The old warrior, who had
never acknowledged the existence of obstacles, was determined before he
died to leave an example to his son, and caused himself to be borne in
a litter at the head of his soldiers. As they approached the besieged
city, he was informed that the Turks had retired, whereupon he ordered
his litter to stop, raised his eyes towards heaven as if to return
thanks for the flight of the Saracens, and expired surrounded by his
faithful warriors.

His mortal remains were transported to Edessa, the inhabitants of which
city came out to meet and join the funeral procession, which presented
a most affecting spectacle. Here were to be seen the mourning soldiers
bearing the coffin of their chief; and there a whole people lamenting
the loss of their support and defender, and celebrating the last
victory of a Christian hero.

Old Josselin died deploring the fate of Edessa, about to be governed
by a weak and pusillanimous prince; for from his childhood the son
of Courtenay had been addicted to drunkenness and debauchery. In an
age and a country in which these vices were sufficiently common, the
excesses of young Josselin had frequently scandalized the Christian
warriors. As soon as he was master, he quitted the city of Edessa, to
take up his abode at Turbessel, a delicious retreat on the banks of the
Euphrates. There, entirely abandoned to his vicious inclinations, he
neglected the pay of his troops and the fortifications of his forts,
equally heedless of the cares of government and the menaces of the
Saracens.

Zengui had been for a length of time watching for a favourable
opportunity of surprising the city of Edessa; as this conquest would
not only flatter his pride and ambition, but would render him dearer
to all the disciples of Mahomet. In order to retain Josselin in his
fancied security, the prince of Mossoul feigned to make war against
the Saracens; but at the moment he was supposed to be most busily
engaged in an attack upon several Mussulman castles in the east of
Mesopotamia, he appeared at the head of a formidable army before the
walls of Edessa.[260] A great number of Curds and Turcomans, wandering
and barbarous tribes, had joined his standard, attracted by the hopes
of a rich booty. At the first signal given by Zengui, the city was
surrounded on all sides; seven enormous wooden towers were raised
higher than the ramparts; numbers of formidable machines unceasingly
battered the walls, or hurled into the city stones, javelins, and
inflammable matters; whilst the foundations of the towers of the
fortifications were being undermined by the infidels. The walls, which
were only supported by slight, ill-fixed posts, were falling to pieces,
and, covering the earth with their ruins, seemed ready to offer an easy
passage to the Mussulman soldiers.

When on the point to give the signal for destruction, the fierce
Mussulmans stopped, and summoned the city to surrender. The sight of
the death which threatened them did not at all weaken the courage of
the inhabitants, and they answered that they would all perish sooner
than give up a Christian city to the infidels. They exhorted each
other to merit the crown of martyrdom: “Let us not fear,” said they,
“these stones launched against our towers and our houses; he who made
the firmament, and created legions of angels, defends us against
his enemies, or prepares us an abode in heaven.” Animated by such
discourses, the inhabitants of Edessa exerted themselves to destroy the
towers and the works of the besiegers, the hopes of being succoured
redoubling their zeal and courage. They expected, says an Armenian
author, _assistance from a nation which they called the valiant_, and
every day looked to see, from the height of their walls, the standards
of the victorious Franks.

The hoped-for succours were vainly expected. When Josselin learnt the
danger of his capital, he aroused himself from his sloth, and sent
information of it to Raymond of Poictiers, and the queen regent of
Jerusalem. But the prince of Antioch, who disliked Josselin, refused
to assist Edessa, and the troops of Jerusalem, although set forward on
their march, could not arrive in time. Josselin ought to have devoted
himself to repair the consequences of his faults, but he had not the
courage to seek death under the walls of a city he could not save, and
whose defence he had neglected.

On the twenty-eighth day of the siege, several towers fell down with
a horrible crash; and Zengui at once ordered his army to enter the
place. To paint the frightful scenes of this last attack, I must borrow
the words of a contemporary author: “The moment at which the sun began
to shine above the horizon, appeared like a night illumined by the
fires of the storm. As soon as the ramparts and towers fell, all the
city was filled with terror. Nevertheless the defenders of Edessa
thought not, for a moment, of flight, but all joined in the cry of the
brave, _conquer or die_. Some employed themselves in propping up the
walls, whilst others boldly flew to meet the enemy; the clergy, clothed
in helmet and cuirass, marching at their head. The bishops, bearing
each a cross in his hands, bestowed their benedictions on the people
and animated them to the fight.”

The enemy advanced uttering frightful cries; even amidst the din of a
general assault, the voices of the Saracen heralds-at-arms were heard
encouraging the soldiers, and promising the pillage of the city to the
conquerors. Then, to employ the expression of an Armenian poet, the
pusillanimous were seen shedding torrents of tears, whilst the brave,
heedless of the stroke of the sabre, rushed amidst the ranks of the
Mussulmans.

Neither prodigies of valour, nor the last efforts of despair could save
the city or its inhabitants. A great part of the Mussulman army was
already in the place; and all who crossed the steps of the conquerors
fell beneath the sword. Most of those who sought safety in the citadel,
found death under its ramparts, and were trampled upon and stifled
by the crowd. The city of Edessa presented, everywhere, the most
lamentable scenes; some fell whilst flying, and died, crushed to death
by the feet of the horses; whilst others, hastening to the succour
of their friends and neighbours, were themselves slaughtered by the
barbarians. Neither the weakness of a timid sex, nor age on the brink
of the tomb; neither the cries of infants, nor the screams of young
girls who sought safety in the arms, or beneath the garments of their
parents, could abate the rage of the Saracens. They whom the sword
had not yet reached, looked for nothing but death; some crept to the
churches to await it, and died embracing the altars of Christ; whilst
others, yielding to their despair, remained motionless in their houses,
where they were massacred with their families.

The citadel soon surrendered; the soldiers who defended it only asking
their lives; but, notwithstanding the capitulation, many were put to
the sword. A great part of the priests who had survived the carnage
were condemned to slavery; an Armenian patriarch was stripped of his
vestments, dragged through the streets, and beaten with rods. Matthew
of Edessa, one of the most celebrated historians of Armenia, fell
under the sword of the Mussulmans. Hugh, a Latin archbishop, having
endeavoured to escape, was, with all his clergy, slaughtered by the
infidels. His treasures, which he carried with him, and which might
have been usefully employed for the defence of the city, became the
prey of the enemy. Pious historians impute the fall of Edessa to the
avarice of this prelate, and appear to believe that he was punished
in another world for having preferred his gold to the safety of his
fellow-citizens.[261]

When the Mussulmans had become masters of the citadel, their priests
ascended the steeples of the churches to proclaim these words: “Oh
Mahomet! prophet of heaven, we have gained a great victory in thy name;
we have destroyed the people that worshipped _stone_, and torrents of
blood have been shed to make thy law triumph.” After this proclamation,
the Saracens redoubled their excesses. The Gazis or conquerors satiated
themselves with blood; the dead bodies were mutilated, and their
heads sent to Bagdad; and even to Khorasan. All who remained alive in
the city of Edessa were treated as a flock of animals, and sold in
the public places. The Christians, loaded with chains, after having
lost their property, their country, and their liberty, had the still
further grief of seeing their religion, which was all they had left
to console them in their misfortunes, made a subject of ridicule by
the infidels. The churches were plundered of their ornaments, and the
sanctuary became the scene of the most shocking debaucheries. Many of
the faithful whom the horrors of war had spared, could not support the
sight of such profanations, and died with despair.[262]

Thus a city, whose citadel, ramparts, and position on two mountains,
rendered one of the strongest places in Asia, fell into the power of
the Mussulmans. The traditions of religion and history carry back its
origin to the highest antiquity. Narses, in a pathetic elegy, deplores
the fall of this celebrated city, and makes itself speak of its ancient
splendour.[263] “I was,” says she, “as a queen in the midst of her
court; sixty towns standing around me formed my train; my numerous
children passed their days in pleasures; the fertility of my fields,
the freshness of my limpid waters, and the beauty of my palaces were
admired; my altars, loaded with treasures, shed their splendour afar,
and appeared to be the abode of angels. I surpassed in magnificence the
proudest cities of Asia, and I was as a celestial edifice built upon
the bosom of the earth.”

The conquest of Edessa exalted the pride of the Saracens. The caliph of
Bagdad ordered that the barbarous destroyer of the Christians should
be named in the public prayers of the Fridays, and that the whole
Mussulman people should offer up thanks to Heaven for his victories.
Zengui left some troops in the conquered city, and pursued the course
of his triumphs; but fortune did not permit him to finish that which he
had begun. He was besieging the castle of Schabar, in Mesopotamia, when
he was assassinated by some slaves whom ill-treatment had irritated.
The news of his death consoled the Christians for their defeats, and
they expressed a joy as immoderate as if they had beheld the whole
power of the Mussulmans fall at once. But this joy was of very short
duration, for abundance of new enemies and new misfortunes soon
followed to overwhelm them.

Josselin, who had taken advantage of the troubles which ensued upon
the death of the prince of Mossoul to retake the city of Edessa,
ill-guarded by the Mussulmans, found himself unexpectedly besieged
by Noureddin, the second son of Zengui. Noureddin had received, as
his share of the heritage of his father, the principality of Aleppo,
and was eager to signalize his zeal against the Christians. Josselin
and his companions, who had surprised the city of Edessa amidst the
darkness of night, were wanting in machines of war to besiege and get
possession of the citadel. When the city was invested by the prince of
Aleppo, the Christian warriors who were placed between the garrison of
the fortress and the Mussulman army, saw at once the danger of their
position. As in desperate circumstances, a thousand resolutions are,
by turns, formed and rejected; whilst they deliberated, the enemy
pressed and threatened them. There soon remained no safety for them in
a city which they had entered as conquerors; and, after having braved
death to get possession of it, they decided upon facing equal perils
to get out of it. The soldiers of Josselin, consisting of Christians
who had gathered to the city, and of the small number of inhabitants
who had survived the massacre of their brethren, had now nothing left
but their endeavours to escape the barbarity of the Mussulmans. They
made their preparations for flight in silence; the gates were opened
in the middle of the night, and every one bearing away that which he
esteemed most valuable, a weeping crowd pressed along the streets.
Already a great number of these unhappy fugitives had passed the gates
of the city, headed by the warriors commanded by Josselin, and had
advanced into the plain where the Saracens were encamped, when the
garrison of the citadel, warned by the tumult, made a _sortie_, and
uniting themselves with the soldiers of Noureddin, who hastened towards
the city, gained possession of the gates by which the Christians were
issuing. Many severe conflicts were here maintained, of which darkness
increased the horrors. The Christians succeeded in opening themselves a
passage, and spread themselves about in the neighbouring fields. They
who carried arms united in battalions, and endeavoured to pass through
the camp of the enemy; whilst others, separated from the troop of
warriors, went on at hazard, wandered about the plains, and everywhere
found death following their footsteps. Whilst relating the events of
this horrible night, William of Tyre cannot restrain his tears. “Oh
disastrous night!” cries the historian Aboulfarage, “dawn of hell,
day without pity, day of misfortune which arose upon the children of
a city formerly worthy of envy!” In Edessa, out of Edessa, nothing
was heard but cries of death. The warriors who had formed battalions,
after having pierced through the army of the infidels, were pursued
as far as the banks of the Euphrates, and the roads were strewed with
their remains, their arms, and their baggage. Only a thousand of them
succeeded in gaining the city of Samosata, which received them within
its walls, and deplored their misfortunes, without being able to avenge
them.

History relates that more than thirty thousand Christians were
slaughtered by the soldiers of Zengui and Noureddin. Sixteen thousand
were made prisoners, and dragged out their lives in misery and slavery.
Noureddin in his vengeance did not spare either the ramparts or
buildings of a rebel city; he razed the towers, the citadel, and the
churches of Edessa to the ground. He banished all the Christians from
it, and left nothing but a few mendicants to dwell amidst the ruins of
their country.

Zengui had been considered as a saint, as a warrior beloved by Mahomet,
for having conquered the city of Edessa; the blood-stained expedition
of Noureddin rendered him dear to the Mussulmans, contributed much
to the extension of his renown and his power, and already the Imans
and the poets promised to his arms the much more glorious conquest of
Jerusalem.

The inhabitants of Jerusalem and other Christian cities shed tears
of despair on learning the fall and destruction of Edessa, sinister
presages adding much to the terror which the news from the banks of
the Euphrates inspired them with. Thunder fell upon the churches of
the Holy Sepulchre and Mount Sion; a comet with shining hair was seen
in the heavens, and spread general consternation; several other signs
appeared, says William of Tyre, _contrary to custom, and out of time,
indicative of future things_. As a crowning misfortune, Rodolphe,
chancellor of Jerusalem, was taken by force to the siege of Tyre,
and scandal prevailed in the sanctuary. All the faithful of the East
were persuaded that Heaven had declared itself against them, and that
horrible calamities were about to fall upon the Christian people.




BOOK VI.

SECOND CRUSADE.

A.D. 1142-1148.


THE Christian colonies, threatened by the Mussulmans, called upon the
princes of Europe to assist them. The bishop of Gaballa in Syria,
accompanied by a great number of priests and knights, repaired to
Viterbo, where the sovereign pontiff then resided. The recitals of
the Christian embassy not only caused tears to flow from the eyes
of the chief of the faithful; the misfortunes of Edessa, and the
impending dangers of Jerusalem excited universal commiseration and
dread. Cries of alarm were raised throughout Europe. Forty-five years
had passed away since the deliverance of the Holy Sepulchre, yet the
minds of men were not at all changed, and eagerly, as at the first
crusade, they flew to arms. In this instance it was principally the
voice of St. Bernard that excited the nations and kings of Christendom
to range themselves under the banners of the cross. Born of a noble
family of Burgundy, St. Bernard, whilst yet in the dawn of manhood,
had, with thirty relations and companions whom his discourses and his
example[264] influenced, secluded himself in the monastery of Citteaux.
He was sent two years after to Clairvaux, a then unknown retreat, which
he vivified with his presence, and rendered one of the most celebrated
monasteries of Christendom. Many of the most learned doctors consulted
the wisdom of the abbot of Clairvaux, and several councils bowed to
his decisions. By the power of his eloquence alone he humbled the
anti-pope Leo, and placed Innocent II. in the chair of St. Peter. Pope
Innocent III. and Abbot Suger were his disciples. Prelates, princes,
and monarchs glorified themselves in following his counsels, believing
that God spoke by his mouth.

When the ambassadors from the East arrived in Europe, Louis VII. had
just ascended the throne of France. The reign of this young monarch
began under the most happy auspices. Most of the great vassals who
had revolted against the royal authority had laid down their arms and
renounced their pretensions. By a marriage with the daughter of William
IX., Louis had added the duchy of Aquitaine to his kingdom. France, in
her enlarged condition, had nothing to fear from neighbouring states,
and whilst civil wars were desolating both England and Germany, she
nourished in peace under the administration of Suger.

Peace was not for a moment disturbed but by the unjust pretensions
of the pope and by the intrigues of Thibaut, count of Champagne, who
took advantage of the ascendancy he had over the clergy to direct
the thunders of the Church against his sovereign. Louis resisted the
attempts of the Holy See with firmness, and was determined to punish a
rebellious and dangerous vassal. Urged on by a spirit of blind revenge,
he carried fire and sword through the states of Thibaut; he besieged
Vitri; was himself first in the assault, and put to the sword every
inhabitant to be met with in the city. A great number of persons of all
ages had taken refuge in a church, hoping to find the altar a secure
asylum against the anger of a Christian prince; but Louis set fire
to the church, and thirteen hundred people perished in the flames.
An action so barbarous spread terror among the nation whom Louis was
appointed to render happy; when he returned from this expedition
to his capital, the people received him in melancholy silence; his
ministers allowed him to read their regret in the dejection of their
countenances; and St. Bernard, like another Ambrosius, boldly compelled
him to hear the complaints of religion and outraged humanity.

In an eloquent letter, he represented to the monarch the country
desolated, and pointed to the Church despised and trampled under
foot. “I will fight for her,” he said, “to the death; but instead of
bucklers and swords, I will employ the arms which become me—_my tears
and my prayers to God_.” At the voice of the holy abbot, Louis became
sensible of his error; and the dread of the anger of Heaven made such a
lively impression upon his mind, that he sank into a deep and alarming
depression. He believed he saw the hand of God ready to strike him; he
renounced all pleasures, and abandoned even the care of his authority,
in order to devote himself to grief and tears. The abbot of Clairvaux,
who had awakened his remorse, was obliged to calm his spirits and
reanimate his courage, by representing to him the great mercy of God.
The king of France recovered from his remorseless dejection; but as in
the opinion of his age great crimes could only be absolved by a voyage
to the Holy Land, his earnest desire to expiate the tragical death
of the inhabitants of Vitri made him form the resolution of going to
combat against the infidels.

Louis VII. convoked an assembly at Bourges, at which he made his
project known to the principal nobility and the clergy. Godfrey, bishop
of Langres, applauded his zeal, and in a pathetic discourse deplored
the captivity of Edessa, and the dangers and disasters of the Eastern
Christians. His eloquence moved his auditors; but the oracle of the
assembly, he who held all hearts in his hand, had not yet spoken.
Whether that he was yet not convinced of the utility of the crusade,
or that he was desirous of giving it more solemnity, St. Bernard
advised the king of France to consult the Holy See before he undertook
anything. This advice was generally approved of. Louis sent ambassadors
to Rome, and resolved to convoke a new assembly as soon as he should
have received the answer of the sovereign pontiff.

Eugenius III., who then filled the chair of St. Peter, had already in
several of his letters solicited the assistance of the faithful against
the Saracens. The Holy See had never had stronger motives for the
preaching of a crusade. A spirit of sedition and heresy was beginning
to insinuate itself among the people, and even among the clergy of the
West, threatening at the same time the power of the popes and the
doctrines of the Church. Eugenius had to contend against the troubles
excited by Arnold of Bressia; and nothing was talked of in the capital
of the Christian world but rebuilding the Capitol, and substituting for
the pontifical authority that of the consuls and tribunes of ancient
Rome. In such a state of things, a great event like that of a crusade
was likely to turn men’s minds from dangerous novelties, and make them
rally round the sanctuary. The sovereign pontiff could not avoid seeing
in a holy war the double advantage of defending Jerusalem against the
enterprises of the Saracens, and the Church and himself against the
attacks of heretics and innovators. Eugenius congratulated the king of
France on his pious determination, and by his letters again exhorted
all Christians to assume the cross and take up arms, promising them
the same privileges and the same rewards that Urban II. had granted
to the warriors of the first crusade. Detained in Italy, where he was
engaged in appeasing the troubles of Rome, he regretted not being able,
as Urban had done, to cross the Alps, and reanimate the zeal of the
faithful by his presence and his discourses; but he confided to St.
Bernard the honourable mission of preaching the crusade in France and
Germany.

After having received the approbation of the Holy See, Louis convoked
a new assembly at Vèzelai, a little city of Burgundy; and the
reputation of St. Bernard and the letters addressed by the pope to all
Christendom, drew to this assembly a great number of nobles, knights,
prelates, and men of all conditions. On the Palm-Sunday, after having
invoked the Holy Ghost, all who had come to hear the abbot of Clairvaux
repaired to the side of a hill just without the gates of the city.
A large tribune was erected, in which the king in his royal robes,
and St. Bernard in the humble costume of a cenobite, were saluted by
the acclamations of an immense multitude. The orator of the crusade
first read the letters of the sovereign pontiff, and then spoke to
his auditors of the taking of Edessa by the Saracens, and of the
desolation of the holy places. He showed them the universe plunged in
terror on learning that God had begun to desert his beloved land;[265]
he represented to them the city of Sion as imploring their succour,
Christ as ready to immolate himself a second time for them, and the
heavenly Jerusalem opening all its gates to receive the glorious
martyrs of the faith. “You cannot but know,” said he to them, “we live
in a period of chastisement and ruin; the enemy of mankind has caused
the breath of corruption to fly over all regions; we behold nothing but
unpunished wickedness. The laws of men or the laws of religion have no
longer sufficient power to check depravity of manners and the triumph
of the wicked. The demon of heresy has taken possession of the chair of
truth, and God has sent forth his malediction upon his sanctuary. Oh,
ye who listen to me! hasten then to appease the anger of Heaven, but no
longer implore his goodness by vain complaints; clothe not yourselves
in sackcloth, but cover yourselves with your impenetrable bucklers;
the din of arms, the dangers, the labours, the fatigues of war are the
penances that God now imposes on you. Hasten then to expiate your sins
by victories over the infidels, and let the deliverance of the holy
places be the reward of your repentance.”

These words of the orator excited the greatest enthusiasm in the
assembly of the faithful, and, like Urban at the council of Clermont,
St. Bernard was interrupted by the repeated cries of “_It is the will
of God! It is the will of God!_” Then raising his voice, as if he had
been the interpreter of the will of Heaven, he promised them, in the
name of God, success to their holy expedition, and thus continued his
discourse:—

“If it were announced to you that the enemy had invaded your cities,
your castles, and your lands, had ravished your wives and your
daughters, and profaned your temples, which among you would not fly to
arms? Well, then, all these calamities, and calamities still greater,
have fallen upon your brethren, upon the family of Jesus Christ, which
is yours. Why do you hesitate to repair so many evils—to revenge so
many outrages? Will you allow the infidels to contemplate in peace
the ravages they have committed on Christian people? Remember that
their triumph will be a subject for grief to all ages, and an eternal
opprobrium upon the generation that has endured it. Yes, the living
God has charged me to announce to you that he will punish them who
shall not have defended him against his enemies. Fly then to arms;
let a holy rage animate you in the fight; and let the Christian world
resound with these words of the prophet, ‘_Cursed be he who does not
stain his sword with blood!_’ If the Lord calls you to the defence of
his heritage, think not that his hand has lost its power.[266] Could
he not send twelve legions of angels, or breathe one word, and all his
enemies would crumble away into dust? But God has considered the sons
of men, to open for them the road to his mercy. His goodness has caused
to dawn for you a day of safety, by calling on you to avenge his glory
and his name. Christian warriors, he who gave his life for you, to-day
demands yours in return. These are combats worthy of you, combats in
which it is glorious to conquer, and advantageous to die. Illustrious
knights, generous defenders of the cross, remember the example of your
fathers who conquered Jerusalem, and whose names are inscribed in
heaven; abandon then the things that perish to gather eternal palms,
and conquer a kingdom which has no end.”

All the barons and knights applauded the eloquence of St. Bernard, and
were persuaded that he had but uttered the will of God. Louis VII.,
deeply moved by the words he had heard, cast himself, in the presence
of all the people, at the feet of St. Bernard and demanded the Cross.
Clothed with this revered sign, he himself addressed the assembly of
the faithful, to exhort them to follow his example. In his discourse he
showed them the impious Philistine casting opprobrium upon the house of
David, and reminded them of the holy determination which God himself
had inspired in him. He invoked, in the name of the Christians of the
East, the aid of that generous nation of which he was the chief; of
that nation which would not endure shame when directed at itself or
its allies, and which always carried terror amidst the enemies of its
worship or its glory. At this discourse the whole auditory was melted
in tears. The touching piety of the monarch persuaded all who had not
been convinced by the eloquence of St. Bernard. The hill upon which
this vast multitude was assembled, resounded for a length of time with
the cries of “_It is the will of God! It is the will of God!_” and
“_the Cross! the Cross!_” Eleanor of Guienne, who accompanied Louis,
received, as his wife, the sign of the cross from the hands of the
abbot of Clairvaux. Alphonso, count of St. Gilles de Thoulouse, Henry,
son of Thibaut, count of Champagne, Thieri, count of Flanders, William
of Nevers, Renaud, count de Tenniere, Yves, count de Soissons, William,
count de Panthien, William, count de Varennes, Archanbaud de Bourbon,
Enguerard de Coucy, Hugh de Lusignan, the count de Dreux, brother of
the king, his uncle the count de Maurinne, and a crowd of barons and
knights followed the example of Louis and Eleanor. Several bishops,
among whom history remarks Simon, bishop of Noyon, Godfrey, bishop of
Langres, Alain, bishop of Arras, and Arnold, bishop of Lisieux, threw
themselves at the feet of St. Bernard, taking the oath to fight against
the infidels. The crosses which the abbot of Clairvaux had brought
were not sufficient for the great number who claimed them. He tore his
vestments to make more, and several of those who surrounded him, in
their turns, tore their clothes into strips in order to satisfy the
impatience of all the faithful whom he had inflamed with a desire for
the holy war.

To preserve the memory of this day, Pons, abbot of Vèzelai, founded
upon the hill where the knights and barons had assembled, a church,
which he dedicated to the holy cross.[267] The tribune, from the top of
which St. Bernard had preached the crusade, remained there a long time
the object of the veneration of the faithful.

After the assembly of Vèzelai, the abbot of Clairvaux continued to
preach the crusade in the cities and neighbouring countries. France
soon resounded with the fame of the miracles by which God seemed to
authorize and consecrate, in some sort, his mission. He was everywhere
considered as the messenger of Heaven, as another Moses, who was to
conduct the people of God. All the Christians were persuaded that the
success of the enterprise depended upon St. Bernard, and in an assembly
held at Chartres, in which were met several barons and princes,
illustrious by their exploits, it was resolved by unanimous consent,
to give him the command of the holy war. The Crusaders, they said,
could never fail to be victorious under the laws of a leader to whom
God appeared to have confided his omnipotence. The abbot of Clairvaux,
who remembered the example of Peter the hermit, refused the perilous
employment with which they desired to honour him; he was even so much
terrified by the pressing entreaties of the barons and knights, that he
addressed himself to the pope, and conjured the sovereign pontiff not
to abandon him to the fantasies of men.

The pope answered St. Bernard that he only need arm himself with
the sword of the word of God, and content himself with sounding the
evangelical trumpet to announce the war. The abbot of Clairvaux
employed himself in nothing thereafter, but his mission; and he
acquitted himself with so much zeal, and his preachings produced such
an extraordinary, and I will venture to add, so unfortunate an effect,
that they depopulated cities and countries. He wrote to Pope Eugenius:
“_The villages and the castles are deserted; and there are none left
but widows and orphans, whose husbands and parents are still living_.”

While St. Bernard was thus preaching the crusade in the provinces of
France, a German monk, named Rodolphe, exhorted the people of the Rhine
to massacre the Jews, whom he represented in his vehement discourses
as the allies of the Saracens, and the most dangerous enemies of the
Christian religion. The abbot of Clairvaux fearing the effect of these
preachings, hastened into Germany to impose silence on this seditious
apostle of the holy war. As the German monk had flattered the passions
of the multitude, St. Bernard required all the ascendancy of his virtue
and his fame to combat his doctrines. He ventured to raise his voice in
the midst of an irritated people, and to make them feel that Christians
ought not to persecute Jews, but pray to Heaven for their conversion;
that it belonged to Christian piety to pardon the weak, and make war
against the exalted and proud. The preacher of the crusade at length
silenced the turbulent orator, and sent him back to his monastery,
reminding him that the duty of monks was not to preach, but to weep;
that they ought to consider _cities as prisons, and solitude as their
paradise_.

This action of St. Bernard,[268] which was scarcely observed in his
own barbarous age, and which has been turned into ridicule in ours,
does honour to his character, and may excuse the extravagant zeal
he displayed for a disastrous war. When he arrived in Germany, the
Germanic empire was beginning to breathe after the long troubles that
had followed the election of Lothaire. Conrad III., clothed with
the purple, had just convoked a general diet at Spires. The abbot
of Clairvaux repaired thither with the intention of preaching war
against the Mussulmans, and peace among Christian princes. St. Bernard
pressed the emperor, Conrad, several times to take up the cross; he
at first exhorted him in private conferences, and afterwards renewed
his exhortations in sermons preached in public. Conrad could not make
up his mind to take the oath to go and fight against the infidels in
Asia, alleging the recent troubles of the German empires. St. Bernard
replied that the Holy See had placed him upon the imperial throne, and
that the pope and the Church would support their work. “Whilst you
shall defend his heritage, God himself will take care to defend yours;
he will govern your people, and your reign will be the object of his
love.” The more hesitation the emperor felt, the warmer became the zeal
and eloquence of St. Bernard to persuade him. One day as the orator
of the crusade was saying mass before the princes and lords convoked
at Spires, all at once he interrupted the service to preach the war
against the infidels. Towards the end of his discourse, he transported
the imagination of his auditors to the day of judgment, and made them
hear the trumpets which were to call all the nations of the earth
before the tribunal of God. Jesus Christ, armed with his cross and
surrounded by his angels, addressing himself to the emperor of Germany,
recalled to him all the benefits with which he had loaded him, and
reproached him with ingratitude. Conrad was so much affected by this
vehement apostrophe, that he interrupted the speaker, and, with tears
in his eyes, cried out: “_I know what I owe to Jesus Christ, and I
swear to go wherever he shall call me._” Then the nobles and the people
who believed they had been witnesses of a miracle, threw themselves
on their knees and returned thanks to God for his blessings. Conrad
received from the hands of the abbot of Clairvaux the emblem of the
Crusaders, together with a flag which was placed upon the altar, and
which Heaven itself had blessed. A great number of barons and knights
assumed the cross in imitation of Conrad, and the diet which had been
assembled to deliberate upon the interests of the empire, was occupied
entirely with the safety of the Christian colonies in Asia.

A new diet was convoked in Bavaria, where the letters of St. Bernard
determined a great number of bishops and German nobles to take the
cross. Ladislas, duke of Bohemia, Odoacer, marquis of Syria, Bernard,
count of Carinthia, Amadeus, duke of Turin, and the marquis de
Montferrat took the oath to go into the East to fight the Saracens.
Among the prelates who enrolled themselves under the banners of the
Cross, history names the bishop of Passau, the bishop of Ratisbon, and
the wise Otho of Frisingen, brother of the emperor, to whom posterity
owes a relation of the principal events of this war.

The most dear interests, the most tender affections had no power to
detain the knights and princes in their countries and homes. Frederick,
nephew of the emperor, who had taken the cross, allowed himself not
to be moved by the tears of his aged father, the duke of Suabia, who
died with grief, in spite of the consolations of St. Bernard. A war-cry
was heard from the Rhine to the Danube; Germany, although so long
agitated by its own troubles, found in all parts warriors for the holy
expedition. Men of all conditions obeyed the voice of the preacher of
the holy war, and followed the example of kings and princes: a thing to
be wondered at, says Otho of Frisingen, thieves and robbers were seen
performing penance, and swearing to shed their blood for Jesus Christ.
“Every reasonable man,” adds the same historian, “a witness of the
changes that were operated in them, plainly perceived the work of God,
and was not the less astonished at it.”

The Germans were so easily persuaded, that they came and listened to
the abbot of Clairvaux, who preached to them in a language they did
not understand, and returned convinced of the truth and holiness of
the discourse. The sight of a preacher so much reverenced, appeared to
bestow a marvellous sense upon every one of his words. The miracles
which were attributed to him, and which were performed sometimes in
private, sometimes in public, as Otho of Frisingen says, were like
a divine language which warmed the most indifferent, and persuaded
the most incredulous. Shepherds and labourers abandoned the fields
to follow him into towns and cities; when he arrived in a city, all
labours were suspended. The war against the infidels, and the prodigies
by which God promised his protection to the soldiers of the cross,
became the only business of men of all classes. Sometimes the abbot of
Clairvaux assembled the clergy, and preached reform in their manners;
sometimes he addressed the people and animated them against the
Saracens.

St. Bernard visited all the cities of the Rhine, from Constance to
Maestricht; in each city, say the ancient chronicles, he restored
sight to the blind, hearing to the deaf, and cured the lame and the
sick; they report thirty-six miracles performed in one day, at each
prodigy the multitude crying out,[269] “Jesus Christ, have mercy upon
us! all the saints, succour us!” The disciples who followed the abbot
of Clairvaux could not help regretting that the tumult which was
constantly raised upon his passage, prevented their seeing several of
his miracles.[270] Every day an increasing crowd pressed around him.
History relates that he was once on the point of being stifled by
the multitude which followed his steps, and only owed his safety to
the emperor of Germany, who took him in his arms, and drove back the
people, who were impatient to see and touch him whom they regarded as
the interpreter and messenger of God.

After having set Germany in a blaze with his preaching, and revived the
zeal of the countries of Italy by his pathetic letters, St. Bernard
returned to France, to announce the success of his mission. His absence
had suspended everything, and that multitude of Crusaders, upon whom
his eloquence had acted so powerfully, appeared to have neither chief,
direction, nor rallying-point whilst he was not in the midst of them.
The king of France and the nobles of the kingdom, assembled at Etampes,
had formed no resolution; but the return of St. Bernard restored life
to the councils of the princes and the barons, and made them resume
with new ardour the enterprise of the holy war.

When he made, before the lords and prelates, the recital of his
journey, and of the prodigies God had effected by his hand; when he
spoke of the determination he had induced the emperor of Germany to
form, a determination which he called the miracle of miracles, all
hearts expanded with enthusiasm, and were filled with hope and joy.

At the same time several ambassadors appeared in the assembly of
Etampes, to announce that their princes had determined to enrol
themselves under the banners of the cross; and letters were read from
distant countries, by which a great number of foreign lords and barons
promised to join the French in their projected expedition against
the Saracens. From that period no doubt was entertained of the happy
results of the crusade; and the zeal which was displayed by all the
nations of Europe was considered as a manifest expression of the will
of Heaven.

Among the ambassadors who were present at the assembly of Etampes
were some from Roger, king of Apulia and Sicily, who offered the
Crusaders vessels and provisions, and promised to send his son with
them to the Holy Land, if they determined to go by sea. The Sicilian
deputies reminded the king of France and his barons of the perfidy of
the Greeks towards the Franks in the first crusade. “You may,” said
they, “brave the forces of the most powerful nations, but nothing can
secure you against the artifices and machinations of a deceitful and
perfidious people.” The assembly deliberated upon the offers of the
king of Sicily, and upon the route it would be most advisable to take;
the greater part of the barons, full of confidence in their arms and
the protection of God, could not be brought to doubt the faith of
the Greeks. The route by sea seemed to offer fewer wonders to their
curiosity, and fewer perils for the exercise of their bravery; besides,
the vessels which Roger could furnish would not nearly suffice to
transport all whom religious zeal would lead to join the holy bands.
It was therefore resolved that preference should be given to the
route by land. The historian Odo de Deuil speaks with deep regret of
this resolution, which proved so fatal to the Crusaders, and about
which they had neglected to consult the Holy Ghost. The Sicilian
deputies could not conceal their sorrow, and returned to their country
predicting all the misfortunes that would ensue.

The assembly of Etampes appeared to act under a much better influence
when it became necessary to choose the persons who should be intrusted
with the government of the kingdom during the pilgrimage of Louis VII.
When the barons and the prelates had deliberated upon this important
choice, St. Bernard, who was their interpreter, addressed the king,
and, pointing to Abbot Suger and the count de Nevers, said, “_Sire,
there are two weapons, and they are enough._” It was necessary that
this choice of the assembly should obtain the approbation of the king
and the suffrages of the people. The abbot of St. Denis had blessed
France with a long peace, and had been the author of the glory of two
reigns. He was opposed to the crusade; and what perfects his eulogy,
he had preserved his popularity without sharing in the prevailing
opinions. Suger advised the king not to abandon his subjects, and
represented to him that his errors would be much better repaired by a
wise administration of the kingdom God had placed him over, than by
conquests in the East. He who could dare to give such advice as this,
was more worthy than any other to represent his sovereign; but Suger
at first refused an employment of which he plainly saw the burthen and
the danger. The assembly would not make another choice; and the king
himself had recourse to prayers and tears to induce his minister to
take his place in the government of the kingdom. The pope, who arrived
a short time after in France, ordered Suger to yield to the wishes of
the monarch, the nobles, and the nation. The sovereign pontiff, in
order to facilitate the honourable task which he imposed upon the abbot
of St. Denis, launched, beforehand, the thunders of the Church against
all who should make any attempts against the regal authority during the
absence of the king.

The count de Nevers, who had likewise been pointed out by the assembly
of the barons and bishops, declined, as the abbot of St. Denis had
done, the dangerous charge which they offered him. When he was warmly
pressed to accept the government of the kingdom, he declared that he
had made a vow to enter into the order of St. Bruno. Such was the
spirit of the age, that this intention was respected as the will of
God; and whilst the assembly congratulated themselves upon inducing
a monk to leave his cloister to govern a kingdom, they saw without
astonishment a prince take an eternal farewell of the world, and bury
himself in a monastery.

From this time preparations for departure were actively commenced,
and all the provinces of France and Germany were in motion. The
same motives which had armed the companions of Godfrey in the first
expedition, inflamed the courage of the new Crusaders. The eastern war
held out to their ambition the same hopes and the same advantages.
The greater part of the people were animated by the never-forgotten
remembrance of the conquest of Jerusalem. The relations that this
conquest had established between Syria and Europe added still to the
zeal and ardour of the soldiers of the cross; there was scarcely a
family in the West that did not furnish a defender to the holy places,
an inhabitant to the cities of Palestine. The Christian colonies in
the East were to the Franks as a new country; warriors who assumed the
cross appeared to be only arming themselves to defend another France,
which was dear to all Christians, and which might be called the France
of the East.

The example of two monarchs also necessarily influenced many warriors
when ranging themselves under the banners of the crusade. Many of those
turbulent nobles, who were then called _prædones_, must have had, as
well as Louis VII., numerous guilty violences to expiate. The spirit
of chivalry, which was every day making fresh progress, was not a less
powerful principle with a nobility purely and entirely warlike. A great
number of women, attracted by the example of Eleanor of Guienne, took
up the cross, and armed themselves with sword and lance. A crowd of
knights eagerly followed them; and indeed a species of shame seemed
attached to all who did not go to fight the infidels. History relates
that distaffs and spindles were sent to those who would not take arms,
as an appropriate reproach for their cowardice. The troubadours and
trouveres, whose songs were so much liked, and who employed themselves
in singing the victories of knights over the Saracens, determined to
follow into Asia the heroes and the dames they had celebrated in their
verses. Queen Eleanor and Louis the Young took several troubadours and
minstrels with them into the East, to alleviate the tediousness of a
long journey.

And yet the enthusiasm of the Crusaders did not bear quite the same
character as that of the first crusade. The world was not, in their
eyes, filled with those prodigies which proclaim the especial will of
Heaven; great phenomena of nature did not work upon the imagination of
the pilgrims so vividly. God seemed to have delegated all his power to
a single man, who led the people at his will by his eloquence and his
miracles. Nobody was seen, nobody was heard, but St. Bernard; whereas
in the time of Peter the Hermit orators everywhere abounded, and nature
seemed charged by God himself to promote the crusade.

The only extraordinary occurrence of the time was the peace which
prevailed throughout Europe.[271] As at the approach of the first
crusade, wars between individuals, civil troubles, and public outrage
ceased all at once. The departure of the Crusaders was accompanied by
less disorder than at the setting out of the first expedition; they
neither showed the same imprudence in the choice of their leaders, nor
the same impatience to march. France and Germany had not to suffer the
depredations of an undisciplined multitude. The first crusade, some of
the armies of which were commanded by princes and knights, and others
by adventurers and monks, exhibited all the license and the tumultuous
passions that are met with in unsettled republics. In the second holy
war, which was led by two powerful princes, the more regular forms of
a monarchy were preserved. The smaller vassals gathered around their
lords, and the latter were obedient to the orders of the king of France
or the emperor of Germany. Such good order in the outset of the holy
enterprise appeared to promise certain victory, and could create no
forethought of the disasters which awaited the Christian armies.

The city of Metz was the rendezvous of the French Crusaders, and
Ratisbon that of the Germans. The roads which led to these cities were
covered with pilgrims, marching under the banners of their lords.
A great number of warriors also repaired to the ports of Flanders,
England, and Italy, where fleets were prepared for the transport of
provisions and arms, with Crusaders who were impatient to arrive in
Asia.

As the routes to the East were now known, the pilgrims deceived
themselves less with regard to the countries they had to pass through.
The sovereign pontiff had advised the barons and knights not to take
with them either dogs or birds for sport; they renounced the luxury of
their castles, and contented themselves with their arms.[272] They even
had the precaution to take with them things that might be required in a
distant journey; the Crusaders, but particularly the Germans, carried
all sorts of instruments for throwing bridges, cutting down forests,
and clearing roads.

The greatest difficulty was to find money to defray the expenses of the
holy war. All whom infirmities or particular circumstances detained
in Europe were anxious to assist, by their offerings, the enterprise
of the crusade. According to the devotion of the times, the greater
part of the rich who died without having seen Jerusalem, left by their
will a sum for the promotion of pilgrimages to the East. All these
pious gifts were, no doubt, considerable, but they could not suffice
for the support of a large army. To procure the necessary money Louis
VII. had recourse to loans, and levied imposts, which were regulated
and approved of by the sovereign pontiff. St. Bernard and Peter
the Venerable had exerted themselves with much courage against the
persecution of the Jews; but the abbot of Cluny thought they ought to
be punished in that which they held dearest, _their wealth, amassed by
usury, and even by sacrilege_. He advised the king of France to take
from the Jews the money necessary for the war against the Saracens. It
is probable that the advice of Peter the Venerable was not disdained,
and that the Jews furnished a considerable part of the expenses of
the crusade. The clergy also, who had so much enriched themselves by
the first crusade, were obliged to advance considerable sums for this
expedition. The monastery of Fleury alone paid three hundred silver
marks and a large sum in gold. In many other abbeys the vases and
church ornaments were sold to purchase arms, and to pay the expenses of
a war undertaken for the glory of Christ.

The lords and barons followed the example of the king of France. Some
pledged or sold their lands, but the greater part made their vassals
furnish means for their pilgrimage. The heavy taxes laid upon the
people, and particularly the spoliation of the churches, excited many
complaints, and began to cool the ardour for the crusade. “There
was,”[273] says an ancient historian, “neither state, condition, age,
nor sex, which was not forced to contribute to the equipment of the
king and the princes going with him; whence followed the discontent of
every one, and innumerable maledictions, as well directed against the
king as the troops.”

Nevertheless Louis VII. prepared for his undertaking by acts of
devotion; he visited the hospitals, and caused prayers to be put up in
all the churches for the success of the crusade. When his departure
drew near, he went to St. Denis, to take the famous Oriflamme, which
was borne before the kings of France in battle. The church of St.
Denis was at that time decorated with great magnificence; among the
historical monuments which were there collected, the portraits of
Godfrey de Bouillon, Tancred, Raymond de St. Gilles, and the battles
of Dorylæum, Antioch, and Ascalon,[274] traced upon the windows of
the choir, must have attracted the eyes and fixed the attention of
Louis and his companions in arms. The king, prostrated on the tomb
of the holy apostle of France, implored his protection and that of
his pious ancestors, whose ashes reposed in the same place. The pope,
who had come to St. Denis, placed anew the kingdom of France under
the safeguard of religion, and presented to Louis VII. his scrip and
staff, as the emblems of his pilgrimage. After this ceremony Louis
set out, accompanied by Queen Eleanor and a great part of his court.
He wept while he embraced Abbot Suger, who could not himself restrain
his tears. The people, says a modern historian, who crowded his
passage, after having followed him for a long distance with the most
vociferous applauses, returned in melancholy silence to their homes
as soon as he was out of sight. He left Metz at the head of a hundred
thousand Crusaders, traversed Germany, and directed his march towards
Constantinople, where he had appointed to meet the emperor of the West.

The emperor Conrad, after having caused his son Henry to be crowned,
left Ratisbon in the beginning of spring. He was followed by an army
so numerous, that, according to the report of Otho, of Frisingen, the
waves were not sufficient to transport it, nor the fields spacious
enough to contain all its battalions. He had sent ambassadors to
announce his coming to Constantinople, and to demand permission to
cross the territories of the Greek empire. Manuel Comnenus returned him
a most friendly and flattering answer; but when the Germans arrived in
Bulgaria and Thrace, they were not long in perceiving that they must
not reckon upon the promises that had been made them.

At the time of the first crusade, Constantinople was in great dread of
the Turks, which was of service to the Franks; but from that period
the capital of the Greeks had experienced no alarms, and no longer
feared the attacks of the Mussulmans. An opinion likewise had spread
through all the provinces of the empire, that the warriors of the West
entertained the project of taking possession of Constantinople. This
report, probable in itself, and strengthened by the threats of the
Crusaders, was very little calculated to reëstablish peace and harmony
between people who despised each other reciprocally, and, perhaps with
equal reason, exchanged accusations of violations of the faith of
treaties.

Manuel Comnenus, whom Odo de Deuil will not even name, because, he
says, his name is not written in the book of life, was the grandson
of Alexius I., who reigned at the time of the first crusade. Faithful
to the policy of his ancestor, more able, and above all more artful
and hypocritical than he, he neglected no means to annoy and ruin
the army of the Germans. In his councils the warriors of the West
were considered as men of iron, whose eyes darted flames, and who
shed torrents of blood with the same indifference as they would pour
out the same quantity of water. At the same time that he sent them
ambassadors, and furnished them with provisions, Manuel formed an
alliance with the Turks, and fortified his capital. The Germans, in the
course of their march, had often to repulse the perfidious attacks of
the Greeks, and the latter had, more than once, cause to complain of
the violence of the Crusaders. A relation of Conrad, who had remained
sick in a monastery at Adrianople, was slain by the soldiers of Manuel;
Frederick, duke of Suabia, gave the monastery in which this crime had
been committed, up to the flames; and torrents of blood flowed to
avenge an assassination.

Upon approaching Constantinople, the Germans had set up their tents in
a rich valley watered by the river Melas. All at once a violent storm
burst over the neighbouring mountains; the river, increased by the
torrents, inundated the plain where the Christian army was celebrating
the feast of the Assumption,[275] and as if it had conspired with the
Greeks, says a French historian, and as if it imitated their perfidy
and treason, it carried away the horses and baggage, and brought
desolation into the camp of the Crusaders. The Greeks afforded some
succour to the German soldiers, but they saw with joy, in an event they
affected to deplore, a presage of the defeats which threatened the
armies of the Latins.

Constantinople, on the arrival of Conrad, presented the novel spectacle
of two emperors who had inherited the wrecks of the empire of Augustus,
and each of whom called himself the successor of Cæsar and Constantine.
Their pretensions created some divisions; the emperor of the West had
a valiant army to support his rights; he of the East did not dare
to insist too openly upon his. He called in perfidy to his aid, and
wounded vanity avenged itself in a manner as cowardly as it was cruel.

As soon as the Germans had passed the Bosphorus, they found themselves
exposed to all sorts of treachery. All who straggled from the army
were slain by the soldiers of Comnenus; the gates of all the cities
on their route were closed; when they asked for provisions, they were
obliged to put the money into the baskets which were lowered down from
the walls, and after all, they frequently obtained nothing but insult
and ridicule. The Greeks mixed lime with the flour they sold them; and
when the Crusaders had anything for sale, they where paid in a false
coin, which was refused when they became purchasers. Ambuscades awaited
them throughout their route; the enemy was aware of their line of
march, and as the height of perfidy, furnished them at Constantinople
with faithless guides, who misled the army in the defiles of Mount
Taurus, and delivered them up, worn out with fatigue, to famine and
despair, or to the swords of the Mussulmans. The Germans, ill-treated
by the Greeks, did not seek to revenge themselves, although it would
have been easy to have done so, and, according to the ideas of the
age, might have appeared glorious. This is the reason why Montesquieu
says, _that the Germans were the best sort of people in the world_. The
French, who came after them, showed themselves less patient, and were
more respected. The emperor sent the principal lords of his court to
the king of France, before whom they prostrated themselves, and only
spoke to him on their knees. French haughtiness was more surprised than
pleased at such homage, and only answered the flattery of the East
by a disdainful silence. The two monarchs had an interview, in which
they reciprocated the most tender caresses, and sought to surpass each
other in magnificence. If Manuel on this occasion excelled his rival
in the display of his riches, he showed less sincerity than Louis in
the demonstrations of his friendship, for in the midst of the banquets
which he gave to the Crusaders, the latter learnt that he preserved
a close alliance with the sultan of Iconium, and that the Turks were
fully informed of the plans of the French king.

This treachery irritated the French lords, and when the emperor
required them to render him homage, as the leaders of the first crusade
had done, it was proposed in the council that the only reply should
be to take possession of Constantinople. “You have heard,” said the
bishop of Langres, “that the Greeks propose to you to recognise their
empire, and submit to their laws: thus then weakness is to command
strength, and cowardice bravery! What has this nation done? What have
their ancestors done, that they should show so much pride? I will not
speak to you of the snares and the ambushes that they have everywhere
planted in your way; we have seen the priests of Byzantium mingling
ridicule with outrage, purify with fire the altars at which our priests
had sacrificed. They ask of us new oaths, which honour repudiates.
Is it not time to revenge treasons, and repulse insults? Hitherto
the Crusaders have suffered more from their perfidious friends than
from their open enemies. Constantinople has long been a troublesome
barrier between us and our brothers of the East. It is our duty at
last to open a free road to Asia. The Greeks, you know, have allowed
the sepulchre of Christ, and all the Christian cities of the East,
to fall into the hands of the infidels. Constantinople, there is no
doubt, will soon become a prey to Turks and barbarians, and by her
cowardly weakness, she will one day open the barriers of the West. The
emperors of Byzantium neither know how to defend their own provinces
nor will they suffer others to do it for them. They have always impeded
the generous efforts of the soldiers of the cross; even lately, this
emperor, who declares himself your support, has endeavoured to dispute
their conquests with the Latins, and ravish from them the principality
of Antioch. His aim now is to deliver up the Christian armies to the
Saracens. Let us hasten then to prevent our own ruin by effecting that
of these traitors; let us not leave behind us a jealous and insolent
city, which only seeks the means of destroying us; let us cast upon
her the evils she prepares for us. If the Greeks accomplish their
perfidious designs, it is of you the West will one day ask back its
armies. Since the war we undertake is holy, is it not just that we
should employ every means to succeed? Necessity, country, religion,
all order you to do that which I propose to you. The aqueducts which
supply the city with water are in our power, and offer an easy means
of reducing the inhabitants. The soldiers of Manuel cannot stand
against our battalions; a part of the walls and towers of Byzantium
has crumbled away before our eyes, as by a species of miracle. It
appears that God himself calls us into the city of Constantine, and he
opens its gates to you as he opened the gates of Edessa, Antioch, and
Jerusalem to your fathers.”[276]

When the bishop of Langres had ceased to speak, several knights and
barons raised their voices in reply. The Christians, they said, were
come into Asia to expiate their own sins, and not to punish the
crimes of the Greeks. They had taken up arms to defend Jerusalem, and
not to destroy Constantinople. It was true they must consider the
Greeks as heretics, but it was not more just for them to massacre
them than to massacre the Jews; when the Christian warriors assumed
the cross, God did not put into their hands the sword of justice.
In a word, the barons found much more policy than religion in that
which they had heard, and could not conceive that it was right to
undertake an enterprise was not in accordance with the principles
of honour. Neither had they faith in the misfortunes with which they
were threatened, and relied upon Providence and their own valour
to enable them to surmount all obstacles. The most fervent of the
pilgrims dreaded any delay in the march of the Crusaders, and this fear
increased their scruples; at length the loyalty of the knights, the
general pious impatience to behold the sacred places, and perhaps also
the presents and the seductions of Manuel, procured a triumph for the
party advocating moderation.

The emperor was nevertheless alarmed at seeing a body of warriors,
full of confidence and courage, thus deliberate so near to him on the
conquest of his capital. The homage that the barons and knights paid
him did not at all reassure him as to their intentions. To hasten their
departure, he caused a report to be spread that the Germans had gained
great victories over the Turks, and that they had made themselves
masters of Iconium. This succeeded even beyond Manuel’s hopes.

When the Crusaders, impatient to pursue the Turks, were leaving
Constantinople, they were surprised by an eclipse of the sun. A
superstitious multitude saw in this phenomenon nothing but a fatal
presage, and believed it to be either the warning of some great
calamity, or of some new treachery on the part of Manuel; and the
fears of the pilgrims were not long in being realized. Scarcely had
they entered Bithynia when they were taught how to appreciate the
false reports and perfidy of the Greeks. Louis, when encamped upon the
shores of the Lake Ascanius, in the neighbourhood of Nice, received
information of the complete defeat of the Germans. The sultan of
Iconium, on the approach of the Christians of the West, had assembled
all his forces, and at the same time solicited the aid of the other
Mussulman powers to defend the passages of Asia Minor. Conrad, whom
William of Tyre styles _vir simplex_, whom le Père Maimbourg compares
to a victim crowned with flowers that is being led to slaughter, had
advanced, on the faith of some unknown guides, into the mountains of
Cappadocia. Impatient to be before the French, for whom he was to have
waited, he marched on in perfect ignorance of the roads, and without
provisions to feed the multitude which followed him. At a time that
he entertained no suspicion of their vicinity, he was surprised by the
Turks, who covered the summits of the mountains, and rushed down upon
the exhausted and famished Christians.[277] The Mussulmans were lightly
armed, and performed their evolutions with the greatest rapidity.
The Germans could scarcely move under the weight of their bucklers,
corselets, and steel brassets; every day skirmishes were fought, in
which the Christians had the disadvantage. Such as were more lightly
armed, and bore sheep-skin bucklers, sometimes would rush among the
enemy and put them to flight; but the Turks soon rallied upon the
heights, and darted down again, like birds of prey, upon the terrified
Christians. A crowd of pilgrims, whose arms only consisted of their
scrip and staff, created the greatest trouble and confusion in the
Christian army. The Mussulmans took advantage of their disorder, and
never allowed their enemies a moment’s repose. Despair and terror put
an end to all discipline among the Crusaders; they no longer obeyed the
orders of their leaders, but every one sought to insure his own safety
by flight. At length the rout became general; the country was covered
with fugitives, who wandered about at hazard, and found no asylum
against the conquerors. Some perished with want, others fell beneath
the swords of the Mussulmans; the women and children were carried off
with the baggage, and formed a part of the enemy’s booty. Conrad, who
had scarcely saved the tenth part of his army, was himself wounded by
two arrows, and only escaped the pursuit of the Saracens by a kind of
miracle.

The news of this disaster threw the French into the greatest
consternation. Louis, accompanied by his bravest warriors, flew to
the assistance of Conrad. The two monarchs embraced in tears. Conrad
related the particulars of his defeat, and complained the more bitterly
of the perfidy of Manuel, from feeling the necessity of excusing his
own imprudence. The two princes renewed their oath to repair together
to Palestine, but the emperor of Germany did not keep his word. Whether
he was ashamed of being without an army, whether he could not endure
the haughtiness of the French, or that he dreaded their too just
reproaches, he sent back the few troops he had left, and returned to
Constantinople, where he was very well received, because he was no
longer to be feared.

The French army, in the mean time, pursued its march, and, leaving
Mount Olympus on its left, and Mount Ida on its right, passed through
ancient Phrygia. The French, on their passage, passed Pergamus,
Ephesus, and several other celebrated cities, which the Greeks had
allowed to go to ruin. Winter was coming on, and the abundant rains and
melted snows had swollen the rivers till they overflowed the country,
and made the roads impracticable. The inhabitants of the mountains,
a savage, wild people, fled away at the approach of the Christians,
taking with them their flocks, and all that they possessed. The
inhabitants of the cities shut their gates against the Crusaders, and
refused provisions to all who had not full value to give in return.
Whilst the French army was crossing Phrygia, Manuel sent ambassadors to
the king of France, to inform him that the Turks were assembling in all
parts for the purpose of impeding his march. He offered the Crusaders
an asylum in the cities of the empire; but this offer, accompanied by
menaces, appeared to be only a snare, and Louis preferred braving the
enmity of the Turks to trusting to the promises of the Greeks. The
Christian army pursuing its march towards the frontiers of Phrygia,
arrived at last at the banks of the Meander, towards the embouchure
of the Lycus. The Turks, who had destroyed the army of the Germans,
prepared to dispute the passage of the river with the French. Some were
encamped on the mountains, others on the banks; the rains had swollen
the Meander, and the passage was difficult and dangerous.

Animated by the speeches and the example of their king, no obstacle
could stop the French. In vain the Turks showered their arrows
upon them, or formed their battle-array on the banks; the French
army crossed the river, broke through the ranks of the barbarians,
slaughtered vast numbers of them, and pursued them to the foot of the
mountains. The two shores of the Meander were covered with the bodies
of the Turks: the historian Nicetas,[278] who some years after saw
their heaped-up bones, could not help saying, whilst praising the
courage of the Franks, “that if such men did not take Constantinople,
their moderation and patience were much to be admired.”

After the battle they had fought with the Saracens, some pilgrims
asserted that they had seen a knight, clothed in white, march at the
head of the army, and give the signal for victory. Odo of Deuil, an
ocular witness, speaks of this apparition, without giving faith to it,
and satisfies himself with saying that the Christians would not have
triumphed over the Turks without the protection and the will of God.

This victory gave great confidence to the Crusaders, and rendered
their enemies more cautions. The Turks, whom it was impossible to
pursue far in an unknown country, rallied again after the battle of
the Meander. Less confident in their strength, and not daring to
attack an army that had conquered them, they watched for a moment in
which they might safely surprise them. The imprudence of a leader who
commanded the French vanguard soon presented to them this opportunity.
On quitting Laodicea, a city situated on the Lycus, the Crusaders had
directed their course towards the mountains which separate Phrygia from
Pisidia. These mountains offered nothing but narrow passages, in which
they constantly marched between rocks and precipices. The French army
was divided into two bodies, commanded every day by new leaders, who
received their orders from the king.

Every evening they laid down in council the route they were to follow
the next day, and appointed the place where the army was to encamp. One
day when they had to cross one of the highest mountains, the order had
been given to the vanguard to encamp on the heights, and to wait for
the rest of the army, so that they might descend into the plain the
next day in order of battle. Geoffrey de Rançon, lord of Taillebourg,
this day commanded the first body of the French army, and bore the
Oriflamme, or royal standard. He arrived early at the spot where he
was to pass the night, which offered no retreat for his soldiers but
woods, ravines, and barren rocks. At the foot of the mountain they
beheld an extensive and commodious valley; the day was fine, and the
troops were in a condition to march without fatigue several hours
longer. The count de Maurienne, brother of the king, Queen Eleanor, and
all the ladies of her suite, who had accompanied the vanguard, pressed
Geoffrey de Rançon to descend into the plain. He had the weakness to
comply with their wishes; but scarcely had he gained the valley, when
the Turks took possession of the heights he had passed, and ranged
themselves in order of battle.

During this time the rear-guard of the army, in which was the king,
advanced full of confidence and security; on seeing troops in the woods
and on the rocks, they supposed them to be the French, and saluted them
with cries of joy. They marched without order, the beasts of burden
and the chariots were mingled with the battalions, and the greater
part of the soldiers had left their arms with the baggage. The Turks,
perfectly motionless, waited in silence till the Christian army should
be enclosed in the defiles, and when they thought themselves sure of
victory, they moved forward, uttering frightful cries, and, sword in
hand, fell upon the unarmed Christians, who had no time to rally. The
disorder and confusion of the French army cannot be described. “Above
us,” says an ocular witness, “steep rocks rose up to the clouds;
beneath us precipices, dug by the torrent, descended to the infernal
regions.” The Crusaders were upon a narrow path, upon which men and
horses could neither advance nor retreat; they dragged each other
down into the abysses; whilst rocks, detached from the tops of the
mountains, rolling down with horrible noise, crushed everything in
their passage.

The cries of the wounded and the dying mingled with the confused roar
of the torrents, the hissing of the arrows, and the neighing of the
terrified horses. In this frightful tumult the leaders gave no orders,
and the soldiers could neither fight nor fly. The bravest rallied
around the king, and advanced towards the top of the mountain. Thirty
of the principal nobles that accompanied Louis perished by his side,
selling their lives dearly. The king remained almost alone on the
field of battle, and took refuge upon a rock, whence he braved the
attack of the infidels who pursued him. With his back against a tree,
he singly resisted the efforts of several Saracens, who, taking him
for a simple soldier, at length left him, to secure their share of the
pillage. Although the night began to fall, the king expected to be
attacked again, when the voices of some Frenchmen who had escaped the
carnage, gave him the agreeable information that the Turks had retired.
He mounted a stray horse, and, after a thousand perils, rejoined his
vanguard, where all were lamenting his death.

After this defeat, in which the king had been exposed to such dangers,
the report of his death was not only spread throughout the East, but
reached Europe, where it filled the Christians, particularly the
French, with grief and terror. William of Tyre, whilst relating the
disastrous defeat of the Crusaders, expresses astonishment that God,
always full of mercy, should have allowed so many illustrious warriors
armed in his cause, to perish so miserably. The Crusaders who formed
the vanguard of the army, whilst deploring the death of their brethren,
raised their voices against Geoffrey de Rançon, and demanded that the
loss of so much blood should be visited upon him. The king, however,
had not sufficient firmness to punish an irreparable fault, and only
so far yielded to the wishes of the barons and the soldiers as to give
them as a leader an old warrior named Gilbert, whose skill and bravery
were the boast of the whole army. Gilbert shared the command with
Evrard des Barres, grand master of the Templars, who had come, with a
great number of his knights, to meet the Christian army. Under these
two leaders, whom the king himself obeyed, the Crusaders continued
their march, and avenged their defeat several times upon the Mussulmans.

On their arrival in Pisidia the French had almost everywhere to defend
themselves against the perfidy of the Greeks and the attacks of the
Turks; but winter was even a more dangerous enemy than these to the
Christian army. Torrents of rain fell every day; cold and humidity
enervated the powers of the soldiers; and the greater part of the
horses, being destitute of forage, perished, and only served to feed
the army, which was without provisions. The clothes of the soldiers
hung about them in rags; the Crusaders sold or abandoned their arms;
the tents and baggage lay scattered on the roads, and the army dragged
in its train a crowd of sick, and numbers of poor pilgrims, who made
the air resound with their cries and lamentations. The king of France
consoled them by his discourses, and relieved them by his charitable
gifts; for in the midst of so many reverses God alone seemed to sustain
his courage. “Never,” says Odo of Deuil, “did he pass a single day
without hearing mass, and without invoking the God of the Christians.”

At last the Christians arrived before the walls of Attalia, situated
on the coast of Pamphylia, at the mouth of the river Cestius. This
city, inhabited by Greeks, was governed in the name of the emperor of
Constantinople. As the inhabitants were mistrustful of the intentions
of the Christian army, they refused to open their gates to them, and
the Crusaders were obliged to encamp on the neighbouring plains,
exposed to all the rigours of the season.

They could neither find provisions for themselves nor forage for their
horses in a barren uncultivated country, constantly ravaged by the
Turks. The Greeks refused to assist them in their distress, and sold
them everything at its weight in gold. Famine, and the evils which
the Christians had hitherto suffered, became still more insupportable
to them when they lost all hope. Louis VII. having called a council,
the chief men of the army represented to him that the Crusaders were
without horses and without arms, they were not in a condition to give
an enemy battle, nor could they support the fatigues of a long march.
There remained, they added, no other resource for the Christians but
to abandon themselves to the perils of the sea.[279] The king did not
agree with their opinion, and wished that they should only embark the
multitude of pilgrims that embarrassed the march of the army. “As for
us,” said he, “we will redouble our courage, and we will follow the
route which our fathers, who conquered Antioch and Jerusalem, followed.
Whilst anything remains to me, I will share it with my companions; and
when I shall have nothing left, which of you will not undergo with me
poverty and misery?” The barons, touched with this speech, swore to die
with their king, but were not willing to die without glory. Animated
by the example of Louis, they might triumph over the Turks, over their
misfortunes, and the rigours of winter; but they were without defence
against famine and the perfidy of the Greeks. They reproached Louis
VII. with not having followed the counsels of the bishop of Langres,
and with having pardoned enemies more cruel than the Mussulmans, more
dangerous than the tempests or rocks of the ocean.

As at the end of this council, strong murmurs against the Greeks arose
in the Christian army, the governor of Attalia became fearful of the
effects of despair, and came to offer Louis vessels, in which to
embark all the Crusaders. This proposition was accepted; but they had
to wait for the promised vessels more than five weeks. In so long a
delay the Crusaders consumed all the resources they had left, and many
died of hunger and misery; the vessels which at length arrived in the
ports of Attalia, were neither large enough nor sufficient in number
to embark the whole Christian army. The Crusaders then perceived the
abyss of evils into which they were about to fall; but such was their
resignation, or rather the deplorable state of the army, that they
committed no violence towards the Greeks, and did not even threaten a
single city which refused to help them.

A crowd of poor pilgrims, among whom were barons and knights, appeared
before the king, and spoke to him in these terms: “We have not means
wherewith to pay for our passage, and we cannot follow you into Syria;
we remain here victims to misery and disease; when you shall have left
us, we shall be exposed to greater perils; and being attacked by the
Turks is the least of the misfortunes we have to dread. Remember that
we are Franks, that we are Christians; give us leaders who may console
us for your absence, and assist us to endure the fatigue, the hunger,
and the death which await us.” Louis, in order to reassure them, spoke
to them in the most feeling terms, and distributed considerable sums
amongst them. He was as liberal in his assistance, says Odo de Deuil,
as if he had lost nothing, or wanted nothing for himself. He sent for
the governor of Attalia, and gave him fifty silver marks to provide
for the sick who remained in the city, and to conduct the land army as
far as the coasts of Cilicia.

Louis VII. gave as leaders for all who could not embark, Thierri count
of Flanders and Archambaud de Bourbon; he then went on board the fleet
that had been prepared for him, accompanied by the queen Eleanor, the
principal lords of his court, and all that remained of his cavalry.
Whilst looking at the Crusaders whom he left at Attalia, the king of
France could not refrain from tears; a multitude of pilgrims assembled
upon the shore, followed with their eyes the vessel in which he had
embarked, putting up vows for his voyage; and when they had lost sight
of him, they thought of nothing but their own dangers, and sank into
the deepest despondency.

On the day following the departure of Louis VII., the pilgrims, who
were expecting the escort and the guides that had been promised them,
saw the Turks come upon them, eager for murder and pillage. Archambaud
and Thierri for a moment reanimated the courage of the Crusaders,
and several times repulsed the infidels. But the Turks returned to
the charge without ceasing; every day the Christians sustained fresh
encounters without being able to compel their enemy to retreat. The
Greeks would not consent to receive them into the city, and there
remained to the Crusaders no means of safety. Despair stifled in their
breasts even the sentiments of humanity; every one of these unfortunate
wretches became insensible to the fate of his companions, and felt
nothing but his own ills, saw nothing but his own dangers. The soldiers
did not endeavour to rally or to succour each other; they no longer
recognised or followed leaders; the leaders themselves were no longer
guided by the spirit of religion, or governed by the love of glory.
In the midst of the general desolation, Archambaud and Thierri, only
anxious to avoid death, threw themselves on board a vessel which was
going to join the fleet of Louis VII. The horrible disorder that then
reigned among the miserable remains of the Christian army and the sick
in the city of Attalia, is perfectly beyond description.

Two troops of pilgrims, one of three thousand and the other of four
thousand, resolved to brave all dangers and march towards Cilicia.
They had no boats to cross overflowing rivers; they had no arms with
which to resist the Turks, and they almost all perished. Others who
followed them shared the same fate, whilst the sick in the city of
Attalia were ruthlessly massacred. It has been a painful task for the
historian to record even a few details of these frightful disasters;
and it is in this place we find the words of the old chronicles so
applicable “God alone knows the number of the martyrs whose blood
flowed beneath the blade of the Turks, and even under the sword of the
Greeks.”

Many Christians, bewildered by despair, believed that the God who
thus left them a prey to so many ills could not be the true God;[280]
three thousand of them embraced the faith of Mahomet and joined the
Mussulmans, who took pity on their wretchedness. The Greeks were soon
punished for their perfidious cruelty; pestilence uniting its ravages
with those of war, left the city of Attalia almost without inhabitants,
a very few weeks after the departure of Louis VII.

When Louis arrived in the principality of Antioch,[281] he had lost
three-fourths of his army; but he was not the less warmly welcomed
by Raymond of Poictiers. The French who accompanied him soon forgot,
in the midst of pleasures, both the dangers of their voyage and the
deplorable death of their companions.

Antioch could then boast of having within its walls the countess
of Thoulouse, the countess of Blois, Sibylla of Flanders, Maurille
countess de Roussy, Talquery duchess de Bouillon, and several other
ladies celebrated for their birth or their beauty. The fêtes which
Raymond gave them received additional splendour from the presence
of Eleanor of Guienne. This young princess, daughter of William IX.
and niece of the prince of Antioch, united the most seducing gifts
of mind to the graces of her person. She had been much admired at
Constantinople, and had found no rival in the court of Manuel. She was
accused, and with some reason, of being more desirous of admiration
than became a Christian queen. It was neither sincere piety nor an
inclination to perform penance, that had led her to make a pilgrimage
to Constantinople. The fatigues and dangers of the journey, the
misfortunes of the Crusaders, the remembrance of the holy places,
always present to the minds of true pilgrims, had not in the least
abated her too lively taste for pleasures, or her strong inclination
for gallantry.

Raymond of Poictiers, amidst the fêtes given to Queen Eleanor, did not
forget the interests of his principality; he was anxious to weaken
the power of Noureddin, the most formidable enemy of the Christian
colonies, and ardently desired that the Crusaders would assist him
in this enterprise. Caresses, prayers, presents, nothing was spared
to engage them to prolong their sojourn in his states. The prince of
Antioch addressed himself at first to the king of France, and proposed
to him, in a council of the barons, to besiege the cities of Aleppo
and Cæsarea, in Syria. This enterprise, which favoured his ambition,
offered real advantages to all the Christian states of the East, which
were threatened by the constantly increasing power of Noureddin; but
Louis VII, who had been only brought into Asia by a spirit of devotion,
answered Raymond that he could engage himself in no war before he had
visited the holy places.

The prince of Antioch did not allow himself to be discouraged by this
refusal; he employed every means to touch the heart of the queen, and
resolved to make love subservient to his designs. William of Tyre, who
has left us the portrait of Raymond, informs us that he was “_mild
and affable of speech,[282] exhibiting in his countenance and manner,
I do not know what singular grace and behaviour of an excellent and
magnanimous prince_.” He undertook to persuade Queen Eleanor to prolong
her stay in the principality of Antioch. It was then the beginning
of spring; the smiling banks of the Orontes, the groves of Daphne,
and the beautiful skies of Syria, doubtless added their charms to the
insinuating speeches of Raymond. The queen, seduced by the prayers of
this prince, infatuated with the homage of a voluptuous and brilliant
court, and, if historians may be believed, too much disposed to
pleasures and indulgences unworthy of her, warmly solicited the king
to delay his departure for the holy city. The king, in addition to an
austere devotion, possessed a jealous and suspicious disposition; the
motives therefore that made the queen desirous of remaining at Antioch
strengthened his determination to go to Jerusalem. The instances of
Eleanor filled his mind with suspicions, and rendered him still more
inexorable; upon which Raymond, disappointed in his hopes, was loud
in his complaints, and determined to be revenged. This prince, says
William of Tyre, “_was impetuous in his will, and of so choleric a
disposition, that when he was excited he listened to neither rhyme
nor reason_.” He easily communicated his indignation to the mind
of Eleanor, and this princess at once boldly formed the project of
separating herself from Louis VII., and of dissolving their marriage,
under the plea of relationship. Raymond, on his part, swore to employ
force and violence to detain his niece in his dominions. At length the
king of France, outraged both as a husband and a sovereign, resolved to
precipitate his departure, and was obliged to carry off his own wife,
and bear her into his camp by night.

The conduct of the queen must have scandalized both the infidels and
the Christians of the East; and her example was likely to produce fatal
effects in an army in which there were a great number of women. Among
the crowd of knights, and even of Mussulmans, who during her abode at
Antioch by turns were favoured by her partiality,[283] a young Turk
is particularly mentioned, who received costly presents from her, and
for whom she desired to abandon the king of France. In such affairs,
ingeniously remarks Mézerai, “_more is frequently said than there is;
but sometimes also there is more than is said_.” However that may be,
Louis VII. could not forget his dishonour, and felt obliged some years
after to repudiate Eleanor, who married Henry II., and bestowed the
duchy of Guienne upon England, which was for France one of the most
deplorable consequences of this second crusade.

The king and the barons of Jerusalem, who dreaded the stay of Louis
VII. at Antioch, sent deputies to conjure him, in the name of Jesus
Christ, to hasten his march towards the holy city. The king of France
yielded to their wishes, and crossed Syria and Phœnicia without
stopping at the court of the count of Tripoli, who entertained the same
projects as Raymond of Poitiers. His arrival in the Holy Land created
the greatest enthusiasm, and reanimated the hopes of the Christians.
The people, the princes, and the prelates of Jerusalem came out to meet
him, bearing in their hands branches of olive, and singing the same
words as the Saviour of the world was saluted with “_Blessed be he who
comes in the name of the Lord_.” The emperor of Germany, who had left
Europe at the head of a powerful army, had just reached Jerusalem in
the character of a simple pilgrim. The two monarchs embraced, wept
over their misfortunes, and repairing together to the church of the
Resurrection, adored the inscrutable decrees of Providence.

Baldwin III., who then reigned at Jerusalem, was a young prince of
great hope; and being as impatient to extend his own renown as to
enlarge his kingdom, he neglected no means to obtain the confidence of
the Crusaders, and urge on the war against the Saracens. An assembly
was convoked at Ptolemaïs, to deliberate upon the operations of this
crusade. The emperor Conrad, the king of France, and the young king
of Jerusalem repaired thither, accompanied by their barons and their
knights. The leaders of the Christian armies, and the heads of the
Church deliberated together upon the subject of the holy war in the
presence of Queen Melisinde, the marchioness of Austria, and several
other German and French ladies, who had followed the Crusaders into
Asia. In this brilliant assembly the Christians were astonished at
not seeing the queen, Eleanor of Guienne, and were thus reminded with
regret of the sojourn at Antioch. The absence of Raymond of Antioch,
and the counts of Edessa and Tripoli, who had not been invited to the
meeting, must necessarily have created sad reflections, and given birth
to presages upon the effects of discord among the Christians of the
East.

The name of the unfortunate Josselin was scarcely mentioned in the
council of the princes and barons; nothing was said of Edessa,
the loss of which had raised the entire “West to arms, nor of the
conquest of Aleppo, which had been proposed by Raymond of Antioch.
From the beginning of the reign of Baldwin, the princes and lords of
Palestine had cherished a project for extending their conquests beyond
Libanus, and gaining possession of Damascus. As the Christians, when
they entered into a Mussulman province or city, divided amongst them
the lands and the houses of the conquered, the people who dwelt on
the barren mountains of Judea, the greater part of the warriors of
Jerusalem, and even the clergy, all appeared to direct their wishes
towards the territory of Damascus, which offered the rich booty to
its captors of pleasant habitations, and fields covered with golden
harvests. The hope of driving the Mussulmans from a fertile province,
and enriching themselves with their spoils, made them even forgetful of
the redoubtable power of Noureddin and the Attabecks. In the assembly
at Ptolemaïs, it was resolved to commence the war by the siege of
Damascus.

All the troops assembled in Galilee in the beginning of the spring, and
advanced towards the source of the Jordan, commanded by the king of
France, the emperor of Germany, and the king of Jerusalem, preceded by
the patriarch of the holy city, bearing the true cross. The Christian
army, to which were attached the knights of the Temple, and of St.
John, in the early days of June set out from Melchisapar, a little
city, memorable for the miraculous conversion of St. Paul, and crossing
the chains of Libanus, encamped near the town of Dary, from whence they
could see the city of Damascus.

Damascus is situated at the foot of the Anti-Libanus, forty-five
leagues from Jerusalem; hills covered with trees and verdure arise
in the neighbourhood of the city, and in its territory were several
towns which have maintained a name in history. A river which falls
impetuously from the mountains, rolls over a golden- sand,
and separating into several branches, waters the city, and bears
freshness and fertility to the _valley of Abennefsage, or the valley of
violets_, planted with all sorts of fruit-trees. The city of Damascus
was celebrated in the remotest antiquity, having seen both the rise
and fall of the city of Palmyra, whose ruins are still objects of
curiosity and wonder in its neighbourhood. Ezekiel boasts of its
delicious wines, its numerous workshops, and its wools of admirable
tints; and several passages of Scripture represent Damascus as the
abode of voluptuousness and delight. The beauty of its gardens, and the
magnificence of its public edifices, many of which were built of marble
of different colours, were much admired.

Damascus, after being conquered in turn by the Hebrews, the kings of
Assyria, and the successors of Alexander, fell into the hands of the
Romans. From the age of Augustus the preaching of St. Paul had filled
it with Christians; but at the beginning of the Hegira it was attacked
and taken by the lieutenants of Mahomet, and a great part of the
inhabitants, who, after capitulation, endeavoured to seek an asylum in
Constantinople, were pursued and massacred by the fierce conquerors, in
the territories of Tripoli.

From this time, Damascus, which formed a government or a principality,
had remained in the power of the Mussulmans. At the period of the
second crusade, this principality, attacked by turns by the Franks, the
Ortokides, and the Attabecks, and almost reduced to nothing but its
capital, belonged to a Mussulman prince, who had no less occasion to
defend himself against the ambition of the emirs than the invasion of
foreign enemies. Noureddin, master of Aleppo and several other cities
of Syria, had already made several attempts to gain possession of
Damascus, and had by no means abandoned the hopes of uniting it to his
other conquests, when the Christians formed the resolution of besieging
it.

The city was defended by high walls on the east and the south; whilst
on the west and the north it had no other defence but its numerous
gardens, planted with trees, in all parts of which were raised
palisades, walls of earth, and little towers, in which they could
place archers. The Crusaders, when ready to begin the siege, resolved
in a council to take possession of the gardens first, hoping to find
therein water and abundance of fruits. But the enterprise was not
without great difficulties; for the orchards, which extended to the
foot of the Anti-Libanus, were like a vast forest, crossed by narrow
paths, in which two men could scarcely walk abreast. The infidels had
everywhere thrown up intrenchments, where they could, without danger
to themselves, resist the attacks of the Crusaders. Nothing could,
however, damp the bravery and ardour of the Christian army, which
penetrated on several sides into the gardens. From the heights of the
little towers, from the interior of the wall enclosures, and from the
bosoms of the bushy trees, clouds of arrows and javelins were showered
upon them. Every step taken by the Christians in these covered places
was marked by a combat in which they could scarcely see their enemy.
The infidels, however, attacked without intermission, were, in the end,
obliged to abandon the positions they had occupied and fortified. The
king of Jerusalem marched first at the head of his army and the knights
of St. John and of the Temple; after the Christians of the East,
advanced the French Crusaders, commanded by Louis VII.; whilst the
emperor of Germany, who had got together the poor remains of his army,
formed the body of reserve, to protect the besiegers from the surprises
of the enemy.

The king of Jerusalem pursued the Mussulmans with ardour; his soldiers
rushing with him into the midst of the enemy’s ranks, comparing their
leader to David, who, according to Josephus, had conquered a king of
Damascus. The Saracens, after an obstinate resistance, united on the
banks of the river which flows under its walls, to drive away with
arrows and stones the crowd of Christians brought thither by fatigue
and heat. The warriors commanded by Baldwin endeavoured several
times to break through the army of the Mussulmans, but always met
with an invincible resistance. It was then the emperor of Germany
signalized his bravery by a deed of arms worthy of the heroes of the
first crusade. Followed by a small number of his people, he passed
through the French army, whom the difficulties of the situation almost
prevented from fighting, and took his place in the vanguard of the
Crusaders. Nothing could resist the impetuosity of his attack, all
who opposed him falling beneath his arm; when a Saracen of gigantic
stature, and completely clothed in armour, advanced to meet him, and
defy him to the combat. The emperor at once accepted the challenge,
and flew to meet the Mussulman warrior. At the sight of this singular
combat, the two armies remained motionless, waiting in fear, till one
of the champions had defeated the other, to re-commence the battle. The
Saracen warrior was soon hurled from his horse, and Conrad with one
blow of his sword, dealt upon the shoulder of the Mussulman, divided
his body into two parts.[284] This prodigy of valour and strength
redoubled the ardour of the Christians, and spread terror among the
infidels. From this moment the Mussulmans began to seek safety within
the walls of the city, and left the Crusaders masters of the banks of
the river.

Eastern authors speak of the fright of the inhabitants of Damascus
after the victory of the Christians. The Mussulmans prostrated
themselves[285] upon ashes during several days; they exposed in the
middle of the great mosque, the Koran compiled by Omar; and women and
children gathered around the sacred book to invoke the aid of Mahomet
against their enemies. The besieged already contemplated abandoning
the city; they placed in the streets, towards the entrance into the
gardens, large posts, chains, and heaps of stones, in order to <DW44>
the march of the besiegers, and thus to afford them time to fly with
their riches and their families by the north and south gates.

The Christians were so thoroughly persuaded they should shortly be
masters of Damascus, that it became a question among the leaders, to
whom the sovereignty of the city should be given. The greater part
of the barons and lords who were in the Christian army, courted the
favour of the king of France and the emperor of Germany, and all at
once forgot the siege of the city in their earnest endeavours to obtain
the government of it. Thierri of Alsace, count of Flanders, who had
been twice in Palestine before the crusade, and who had given up to his
family all his possessions in Europe, solicited the principality more
warmly than the others, and prevailed over his opponents and rivals.
This preference gave birth to jealousy, and infused discouragement in
the army; as long as the city they were about to conquer remained a
bait for their ambition, the leaders showed themselves full of ardour
and courage, but when they were without hope, some remained inactive,
whilst others, no longer regarding the Christian glory as their own
cause, sought every means to insure the failure of an enterprise from
which they should reap no personal advantage.

The leaders of the besieged took advantage of these feelings to
open negotiations with the Crusaders. Their threats, their promises
and presents, succeeded in destroying what remained of the zeal and
enthusiasm of the Christians. They addressed themselves particularly
to the barons of Syria, and exhorted them to be on their guard against
warriors come, as they said, from the West, to take possession of the
Christian cities of Asia. They threatened to deliver up Damascus to the
new master of the East, Noureddin, whom nothing could resist, and who
would soon take possession of the kingdom of Jerusalem. The barons of
Syria, whether deceived by these speeches, or that, in their hearts,
they dreaded the successes of the Franks who had come to succour them,
employed themselves only in retarding the operations of a siege they
had themselves prosecuted with ardour; and, abusing the confidence of
the Crusaders, they proposed a plan, which, being adopted too lightly,
completed the ruin of all the hopes that had been built on this crusade.

In a council, the barons of Syria proposed to the leaders to change
the mode of attack; the closeness of the gardens and the river, said
they, prevented the placing of the machines of war in an advantageous
manner; and the Christian army, in the position it occupied, might be
surprised, and ran the risk of being surrounded by the enemy without
the power of defending itself. It appeared to them, therefore, much
more certain and safe to assault the city on the south and east sides.

Most of the chiefs possessed more valour than prudence, and the
confidence which victory inspired made them think everything possible;
besides, how could they mistrust the Christians of the East, for whom
they had taken up arms, and who were their brothers? In addition
to this, the fear of dragging out the siege to a great length made
them adopt the advice of the barons of Syria. After having changed
their points of attack, the Christian army, instead of finding
easy access to the place, saw nothing before them but towers and
impregnable ramparts. Scarcely had the Christians seated themselves
in their new camp when the city of Damascus received within its walls
a troop of twenty thousand Curds and Turcomans, determined to defend
it. The besieged, whose courage was raised by the arrival of these
auxiliaries, put on, says an Arabian historian, the buckler of victory,
and made several sorties, in which they gained the advantage over the
Christians. The Crusaders, on their part, made several assaults upon
the city, and were always repulsed. Encamped upon an arid plain, they
were destitute of water; all the adjacent country had been devastated
by the infidels, and the corn that had escaped the ravages of war was
concealed in caves and subterranean hiding-places, which they could
not discover. The Christian army wanted provisions; then discord
revived among them; nothing was spoken of in the camp but perfidy and
treason; the Christians of Syria no longer united with the Christians
of Europe in their attacks upon the city; they were soon informed that
the sultans of Aleppo and Mossoul were coming with a numerous army;
then they despaired of taking the city, and raised the siege. Thus
the Christians, without having exercised their constancy, or tested
their courage, abandoned, at the end of a few days, an enterprise, the
preparations for which had cost so much to Europe, and raised such
expectations in Asia. One of the circumstances of this siege the most
worthy of remark is, that Ayoub, chief of the dynasty of the Ayoubites,
commanded the troops of Damascus, and that he had with him his son,
the young Saladin, who was destined one day to be so formidable to the
Christians, and render himself master of Jerusalem. The eldest son
of Ayoub having been killed in a sortie, the inhabitants of Damascus
raised a tomb of marble to his memory, which was to be seen under the
ramparts of the city many centuries after. An old Mussulman priest, who
had passed more than forty years in a neighbouring cavern, was obliged
to quit his retreat, and came into the city which the Christians were
besieging. He regretted his solitude troubled by the din of war, and
became ambitious of gathering the palm of martyrdom. In spite of the
representations of his disciples, he advanced, unarmed, in the front of
the Crusaders, found on the field of battle the death he desired, and
was honoured as a saint by the people of Damascus.

If we may believe the Arabian historians, the Christian ecclesiastics
who followed the army neglected no means of rekindling the enthusiasm
of the soldiers of the cross. During a conflict under the walls of the
city, a grey-headed Christian priest, mounted on a mule, and carrying
a cross in his hands, advanced between the two armies, exhorting the
Crusaders to redouble their bravery and ardour, and promising them,
in the name of Jesus Christ, the conquest of Damascus. The Mussulmans
directed all their arrows at him; the Christians pressed around to
defend him; the combat became fierce and bloody; the priest fell
at length pierced with many wounds, upon a heap of slain, and the
Crusaders abandoned the field of battle.

The greater part of both Arabian and Latin authors[286] describe
the siege of Damascus in a contradictory manner, but all agree in
attributing the retreat of the Christians to treachery. A Mussulman
historian asserts that the king of Jerusalem received considerable
sums from the inhabitants of Damascus, and that he was deceived by
the besieged, who gave him pieces of lead covered with a thin coating
of gold.[287] Some Latin authors attribute the shameful raising of
the siege to the covetousness of the Templars; others to Raymond of
Antioch, who burned to revenge himself on the king of France. William
of Tyre, whose opinion ought to have great weight, accuses the barons
of Syria;[288] but surely all must blame the ignorance and incapacity
of the other chiefs of the crusade, who followed advice without
examining it, and proved themselves incapable of remedying an evil they
had not foreseen.

After so unfortunate an attempt, it was natural to despair of the
success of this war. In the council of leaders the siege of Ascalon was
proposed, but men’s minds were soured, and their courage was depressed.
The king of France and the emperor of Germany thought of returning
into Europe, bearing back no other glory than that of having, the one
defended his own life against some soldiers on a rock in Pamphylia, and
the other of having cleft a giant in two under the walls of Damascus.
“From that day,” says William of Tyre, “the condition and state of the
Oriental Latins began continually to proceed from bad to worse.” The
Mussulmans learnt no longer to dread the warriors and princes of the
West. Full of confidence in their arms, they who had only thought of
defending themselves, formed the project of attacking the Franks, and
were excited to their enterprise by the hopes of sharing the spoils
of an enemy who had invaded several of their provinces. Whilst the
infidels thus regained their daring and their pride, and united against
their enemies, discouragement took possession of the Christians, and
the division which prevailed so fatally among them weakened every day
their spirit and their power. “The Franks who returned into Europe”
’we leave William of Tyre to speak) “could not forget the perfidies
of the Oriental princes, and not only showed themselves more careless
and tardy concerning the affairs of the kingdom of Jerusalem, but
discouraged all those equally who had not been the voyage with them,
so that they who heard speak of this crusade never after undertook the
road of this peregrination with so much good-will or so much fervour.”

This crusade was much more unfortunate than the first; no kind of
glory mitigated or set off the reverses of the Christians. The
leaders committed the same faults that Godfrey and his companions had
committed; they neglected, as they had done, to found a colony in
Asia Minor, and to possess themselves of cities which might protect
the march of pilgrims into Syria. We admire the patience with which
they endured the outrages and the perfidies of the Greeks; but this
moderation, more religious than politic, only led them to their ruin.
We must add that they entertained too low an opinion of the Turks, and
did not take sufficient heed of the means necessary to contend with
them. The Germans, in particular, were so full of confidence, that,
according to the report of Nicetas, they would rather have thought of
taking shovels and pickaxes with them than swords or lances, believing
that they had nothing to do but to cut themselves a road across Asia
Minor. By another singularity, the Crusaders, in this war, did not
employ the cross-bow, which a council of the Lateran had condemned as
too murderous, and the use of which was interdicted to the warriors
of the West. The infantry was left almost without arms, and when the
Crusaders had lost their cavalry, they had no defence against an enemy.

The Christian armies, as in the first crusade, dragged in their train
a great number of children, women, and old men, who could do nothing
towards victory, and yet always greatly augmented the disorder and
despair consequent upon a defeat. With this multitude no discipline
could be established; nor is it apparent that the leaders made any
attempt to prevent the effects of license. Geoffrey de Rançon, whose
imprudence caused the destruction of half the French army, and placed
the king of France in the greatest peril, had no other punishment
but his repentance, and thought he expiated his neglect of duty by
prostrating himself at the tomb of Christ. That which was still more
injurious to discipline was the depravity of manners in the Christian
army, which must be principally attributed to the great number of women
that had taken arms, and mixed in the ranks of the soldiery. In this
crusade there was a troop of Amazons, commanded by a general whose
dress was much more admired than her courage, and whose gilded boots
procured her the name of “_the lady with the legs of gold_.”

Another cause of the dissoluteness of manners was the extreme facility
with which the most vicious men, even convicted malefactors, were
admitted among the Crusaders. St. Bernard, who considered the crusade
as a road to heaven, summoned the greatest sinners to take part in it,
and rejoiced at seeing them thus enter into the way of eternal life. In
a council of Rheims, of which the abbot of Clairvaux was the oracle,
it was decreed that incendiaries should be punished by serving God one
year either in Jerusalem or Spain. The ardent preacher of the holy war
did not reflect that great sinners, enrolled under the banners of the
cross, would be exposed to new temptations, and that during a long
voyage it would be much more easy for them to corrupt their companions
than to amend their own conduct. Disorders were unhappily tolerated
by the leaders, who believed that Heaven was ever indulgent towards
Crusaders, and did not wish to be more severe than it.

And yet the Christian army, amidst a most frightful state of morals,
presented examples of an austere piety. Surrounded by the dangers of
war, and harassed by the fatigues of a long pilgrimage, the king of
France never neglected the most minute practices of religion. The
greater part of the leaders took him for their model, and when in
camp, paid more attention to religious processions than to military
exercises; so that many warriors actually placed more confidence in
their prayers than in their arms. In general, through the whole of this
crusade, sufficient dependence was not placed on human means and human
prudence,—everything was left to Providence, which seldom protects
those who stray from the ways of reason and wisdom.

The first crusade had two distinctive characters,—piety and heroism;
the second had scarcely any other principle but a piety which partook
more of the devotion of the cloister than of a generous enthusiasm.
The influence of the monks who had preached it, and who then meddled
very much in temporal affairs, was but too evident through the whole
of this crusade. The king of France in his misfortunes displayed
nothing but the resignation of a martyr, and in the field of battle
was only distinguished by the ardour and courage of a soldier. The
emperor of Germany did not evince greater ability; he lost all by
his mad presumption, and from having thought himself able to conquer
the Turks without the assistance of the French. Both were limited in
their views, and were greatly wanting in that energy which produces
great actions. In the expedition which they directed, there was
nothing elevated, everything seemed to keep down to the level of their
character. In a word, this war developed neither heroic passions nor
chivalric qualities. Camps had no great captains to admire or imitate;
and the period we have described can boast of only two men of marked
genius,—he who had roused the Western world by his eloquence, and the
wise minister of Louis, who had to repair in France all the misfortunes
of the crusade.

All the energies of this crusade were not directed against Asia.
Several preachers, authorized by the Holy See, had exhorted the
inhabitants of Saxony and Denmark to take up arms against some nations
of the Baltic, still plunged in the darkness of paganism. This crusade
was led by Henry of Saxony, several other princes, and a great number
of bishops and archbishops. An army, composed of a hundred and fifty
thousand Crusaders, attacked the barbarous and savage nation of the
Sclaves, who unceasingly ravaged the sea-coasts, and made war upon
the Christians. The Christian warriors wore upon their breasts a red
cross, under which was a round figure, representing and symbolizing
the earth, which ought to be obedient to the laws of Christ. Preachers
of the gospel accompanied their march, and exhorted them to extend the
limits of Christian Europe by their exploits. The Crusaders consigned
to the flames several idolatrous temples, and destroyed the city of
Malehon, in which the pagan priests were accustomed to assemble. In
this holy war the Saxons treated a pagan people exactly as Charlemagne
had treated their own ancestors; but they were not able to subdue the
Sclaves. After a war of three years, the Saxon and Danish Crusaders
grew weary of pursuing an enemy defended by the sea, and still further
by their despair. They made proposals of peace; the Sclaves, on their
part, promised to become converts to Christianity, and to respect
Christian people.[289] They only made these promises to pacify their
enemies; and when the latter laid down their arms, they returned to
their idols and resumed their piracies.

Other Crusaders, to whom Christendom paid very little attention,
prosecuted a more successful war on the banks of the Tagus. It was
several centuries since Spain had been invaded by the Moors, and still
two rival nations disputed empire and fought for territory in the names
of Mahomet and Jesus Christ.[290] The Moors, often conquered by the Cid
and his companions, had been driven from several provinces, and when
the second crusade set out for the East, the Spaniards were besieging
the city of Lisbon. The Christian army, small in numbers, was in daily
expectation of reinforcements, when a fleet which was transporting to
the East a great number of French Crusaders, entered the mouth of the
Tagus. Alphonso, a prince of the house of Burgundy and grandson of
King Robert, commanded the besieging army. He visited the Christian
warriors, whom Heaven appeared to have sent to his assistance, and
promised, as the reward of their co-operation, the conquest of a
flourishing kingdom. He exhorted them to join him in combating those
same Saracens whom they were going to seek in Asia through all the
perils of the sea. “The God who had sent them would bless their army;
noble pay and rich possessions would be the meed of their valour.”
Nothing more was necessary to persuade warriors who had made a vow
to fight with the infidels and who were eager for adventures. They
abandoned their vessels and joined the besiegers. The Moors opposed
them with determined pertinacity, but at the end of four months Lisbon
was taken, and the garrison put to the sword. They afterwards besieged
several other cities, which were wrested from the Saracens; Portugal
submitted to the power of Alphonso, and he assumed the title of king.
Amidst these conquests the Crusaders forgot the East, and, without
incurring much danger, they founded a prosperous and splendid kingdom,
which lasted much longer than that of Jerusalem.

We may judge by these crusades, undertaken at the same time, against
nations of the north and others of the south, that the principle of
holy wars began to assume a new character; Crusaders did not fight only
for the possession of a sepulchre, but they took up arms to defend
their religion wherever it might be attacked, and to make it triumphant
among all nations that rejected its laws and refused its benefits. The
diversity of interests which set the Crusaders in action, necessarily
divided their forces, weakened their enthusiasm, and was sure to be
injurious to the success of a holy war.

France, which then turned anxious looks towards Palestine, no longer
demanded of God the deliverance of the holy places, but the return of
a king over whose misfortunes they had wept. For a length of time,
Suger, who was unable to sustain the royal authority, had endeavoured
to recall his master by letters full of tenderness and devotion.
Their interview, which proved an affecting spectacle for the French,
alarmed the courtiers, who were desirous of awakening suspicions of
the fidelity of the minister. A kingdom at peace and a flourishing
people were the reply of Suger. The king praised his zeal, and bestowed
upon him the title of _Father of his Country_. Suger enjoyed a great
advantage, as he had been the only man of any consequence in Europe who
had opposed the crusade. His wise foresight was everywhere the subject
of praise, whilst all complaints were directed against St. Bernard.
There was not a family in the kingdom that was not in mourning; and the
same desolation reigned throughout Germany. So many widows and orphans
had never been seen, and the glory of martyrdom, promised to all whose
loss was regretted, had no power to dry their tears. The abbot of
Clairvaux was accused of having sent Christians to die in the East,
as if Europe had been without sepulchres; and the partisans of St.
Bernard, who had seen his mission attested by his miracles, not knowing
what to reply, were struck with stupor and astonishment. “God, in these
latter days,” said they among themselves, “has neither spared his
people nor his name; the children of the Church have been given over to
death in the desert, or massacred by the sword, or devoured by hunger;
the contempt of the Lord has fallen even upon princes; God has left
them to wander in unknown ways, and all sorts of pains and afflictions
have been strewed upon their paths.” So many evils resulting from a
holy war, from a war undertaken in the name of God, confounded the
Christians who had most applauded the crusade, and St. Bernard himself
was astonished that God had been willing to judge the universe before
the time, and without remembrance of his mercy. “What a disgrace is
it for us,” said he in an apology addressed to the pope, “for us who
went everywhere announcing peace and happiness! Have we conducted
ourselves rashly? Have our courses been adopted from fantasy? Have we
not followed the orders of the head of the Church and those of the
Lord? Why has not God regarded our fasts? Why has he appeared to know
nothing of our humiliations? With what patience is he now listening to
the sacrilegious and blasphemous voices of the nations of Arabia, who
accuse him of having led his people into the desert that they might
perish! All the world knows,” added he, “that the judgments of the Lord
are just; but this is so profound an abyss, that he may be called happy
who is not disgraced by it.” St. Bernard was so thoroughly persuaded
that the unfortunate issue of the crusade would furnish the wicked
with an excuse for insulting the Deity, that he congratulated himself
that so many of the maledictions of men fell upon him, making him as a
buckler to the living God. In his apology, he attributes the want of
success in the holy war to the disorders and crimes of the Christians;
he compares the Crusaders to the Hebrews, to whom Moses had promised,
in the name of Heaven, a land of blessedness, and who all perished on
their journey, because they had done a thousand things against God.

St. Bernard might have been answered that he ought to have foreseen
the excesses and disorders of an undisciplined multitude, and that the
brigands called upon to take up the cross were not the people of God.
It appears to us, at the present time, that the partisans of the abbot
of Clairvaux might have found better reasons for the justification
of the holy war. The second crusade, although unfortunate, procured
several advantages for Europe. The peace which reigned in the West,
caused states to flourish, and repaired, in some sort, the disasters of
a distant war. It was held shameful to carry arms in Europe, whilst
the Crusaders were contending with the Saracens in the East. Religion
itself watched over Germany, which had been so long troubled by civil
wars. Conrad, a weak monarch without character, who had lost his army
in Asia, was more powerful on his return from Palestine than he had
been before he quitted his dominions. The king of France also found
his authority increased, from having been defended during his absence
by the thunders of the Church and the eloquence of St. Bernard.[291]
The crusade gave him a pretext for imposing taxes upon his people, and
placed him at the head of a numerous army, where he accustomed the
great vassals to consider him as their supreme head.

Still, if it is true that the divorce of Eleanor of Guienne was one
of the consequences of the crusade, it must be admitted that the
evils which resulted from this war were much greater for the French
monarchy than any good it derived from it. The kingdom which then lost
the province of Aquitaine, which fell into the hands of the English,
was doomed to become the prey of the children that Eleanor had by her
second marriage. A following age saw the descendants of these children
crowned kings of France and England in the church of Notre Dame, at
Paris, and the successors of Louis VII. found themselves almost reduced
to seek an asylum in foreign lands.

Flattery undertook to console Louis the young, for the reverses he had
experienced in Asia, and represented him, upon several medals,[292]
as the conqueror of the East. He left Palestine with the project of
returning thither; and in his journey to Rome, he promised the pope to
place himself at the head of a new crusade.

And never did the Christian colonies stand in greater need of
assistance. From the time the French quitted Palestine not a day passed
without some new misfortune befalling the Christians established in
Syria. A very short time after the siege of Damascus, Raymond of
Poictiers lost his life in a battle against the Saracens, and his
head was sent to the caliph of Bagdad. Josselin, after having lost
the city of Edessa, himself fell into the hands of the infidels, and
died in misery and despair in the prisons of Aleppo. Two emissaries
of the Old Man of the Mountain assassinated Raymond II., count of
Tripoli, under the walls of his capital, which was plunged into trouble
and desolation. Two young Mussulman princes, of the family of Ortok,
excited by their mother, believed that the moment was come to reconquer
Jerusalem from the Christians. An army which they had assembled, came
and pitched its camp on the Mount of Olives, and the holy city only
owed its safety to the courage of some knights who induced the people
to take arms. Noureddin had got possession of all the Christian cities
of Mesopotamia, and several places in the principality of Antioch had
opened their gates to him. Arrived on the shores of the sea, which he
had never before seen, he bathed in its waves, as if to take possession
of it; and, still accompanied by victory, he established the seat of
his empire at Damascus, whence he menaced the city of Jerusalem.

The afflicting news of these occurrences created great sorrow among the
Christians of the West, and the sovereign pontiff exhorted the faithful
once again to take up the cross and arms; but neither the danger of
the Christians beyond the sea, nor the exhortations of the pope, could
change the opinion which the French had formed against distant wars.
Louis VII. was obliged to renounce his intention of returning to the
Holy Land. At this period a circumstance occurred which it is very
difficult to give credit to. The abbot Suger, who had so strongly
opposed the first expedition, formed the resolution of succouring
Jerusalem; and in an assembly held at Chartres, exhorted the princes,
barons, and bishops to enrol themselves under the banners of the holy
war. As he was only answered by the silence of grief and astonishment,
he formed the project of attempting an enterprise alone in which two
monarchs had failed. Suger, at the age of seventy, resolved to raise
an army, to maintain it at his own expense, and to lead it himself
into Palestine. In accordance with the devotion of the time, he went
to Tours, to visit the tomb of St. Martin, in order to obtain the
protection of Heaven, and already ten thousand pilgrims had taken up
arms, and were preparing to follow him into Asia, when death came to
prevent the execution of his designs.

In his last moments Suger invoked the assistance and the prayers of St.
Bernard, who sustained his courage, and exhorted him not to turn his
thoughts from the heavenly Jerusalem, in which both of them hoped soon
to meet; but in spite of the exhortations of his friend, the abbot of
St. Denis regretted, when dying, not having been able to succour the
holy city. St. Bernard was not long before he followed Suger to the
tomb, bearing with him a deep regret at having preached an unfortunate
war.

France lost in the same year two men who had greatly illustrated her,
the one by talents and qualities useful to his country, the other
by his eloquence and virtues dear to all Christians. At a time when
general attention was given to the defence of the privileges of the
Church, Suger defended the interests of royalty and the people; whilst
eloquent preachers were animating the public zeal for holy wars which
were always accompanied by disasters, the skilful minister of Louis
VII. was preparing France, at a future day, to gather the salutary
fruits of these great events. He was accused of having gone too deeply
into the mundane affairs of his age; but politics never banished from
his mind the precepts of the gospel. According to the judgment of
his contemporaries, he lived at the court like a wise courtier, and
in his cloister like a pious monk.[293] If there is in the church of
France, wrote St. Bernard to Pope Eugenius, any vase of price which
would embellish the palace of the King of kings, it is doubtless the
venerable abbot Suger. As abbot of St. Denis, he, perhaps, enjoyed
more wealth than any monk ought to possess, since we see he proposed
to maintain an army, but he always employed his treasures in the
service of his country and the Church, and never had the state been
so rich as under his administration. His whole life was a long series
of prosperity, and of actions worthy of being remembered. He reformed
the monks of his order without incurring their hatred; he created the
happiness of the people without proving their ingratitude; and served
kings, and yet obtained their friendship. Fortune favoured all his
undertakings, and that there should be nothing unprosperous in his
life, and that he might be reproached with no fault, he died when he
was about to conduct an army to the East.

Suger and St. Bernard, united by religion and friendship, had a very
different destiny; the first, born in a low condition, gave himself to
the disposal of fortune, who carried him up to the highest dignities;
the second, born in a more elevated rank, hastened to descend from it,
and was nothing but by his genius. St. Bernard rendered few services
to the state, but he defended religion with indefatigable zeal; and as
_church_ then took precedence of _country_, he was greater than the
abbot Suger in the eyes of his contemporaries. Whilst he lived, the
eyes of all Europe were fixed upon the abbot of Clairvaux; he was as a
light placed in the midst of Christendom, every word he preached had
the holy authority of the religion he taught. He stifled all schisms,
silenced all impostors, and by his labours, merited in his age the
title of _the last father of the Church_, as richly as the great
Bossuet merited it in his.

St. Bernard may be reproached with having too frequently issued from
his retreat, and with not having always been, as he himself expresses
it, the disciple of oaks and beeches. He had a hand in most of the
political events of his time, and interfered in all the affairs of the
Holy See. Christians often asked who was the head of the Church; popes
and princes sometimes murmured against his authority; but it must never
be forgotten that he unceasingly preached moderation to kings, humanity
to the people, and poverty to the clergy.




BOOK VII.

THIRD CRUSADE.

A.D. 1148-1188.


WE cannot help being convinced, whilst reading this history, that the
religion of Mahomet, thoroughly warlike as it is in principle, does
not endue its disciples with that obstinate bravery, that boundless
devotedness, of which the Crusaders presented so many examples. The
fanaticism of the Mussulmans required victory to keep up its power
or its violence. Bred in a conviction of blind fatalism, they were
accustomed to consider successes or reverses as simple decrees of
Heaven; victorious, they were full of ardour and confidence; conquered,
they were depressed, and without shame succumbed to an enemy, whom
they believed to be the instrument of destiny. An ambition for renown
seldom excited their courage, and even in the excesses of their warlike
fervour, the fear of chastisements and punishments kept their faces
towards the enemy more frequently than any generous love of glory. A
chief, whom they themselves dreaded, was the only captain that could
lead them to victory; and thus despotism became necessary to their
valour.

After the conquest of the Christians, the dynasties of the Saracens
and the Turks were dispersed and almost annihilated; the Seljoucides
themselves had fallen back to the very extremities of Persia, and
the people of Syria scarcely knew the names of those princes whose
ancestors had reigned over Asia. Everything, even despotism, was
destroyed in the East. The ambition of the emirs took advantage of the
general disorder: slaves shared the spoils of their masters; provinces
and cities became so many principalities, the uncertain and transient
possession of which was a constant subject of dispute. The necessity
for defending the Mussulman religion, whilst threatened by the
Christians, had alone preserved the credit of the caliphs of Bagdad.
They were still the chiefs of Islamism; their approbation seemed
necessary for the preservation of the power of usurpers or conquerors;
but their authority, which was nothing but a sacred phantom, commanded
nothing but prayers and vain ceremonies, and inspired not the least
fear. In this state of degradation their only employment seemed to
be to consecrate the fruit of treachery and violence. It was not
sufficient to bestow cities and employments which they had no power to
refuse; all whom victory and license had favoured came to prostrate
themselves before the vicars of the prophet; and crowds of emirs,
viziers, and sultans, to borrow an Eastern expression, appeared to rise
from the dust of their feet.

The Christians were not sufficiently aware of the state of Asia, which
they might have conquered; and agreed so ill among themselves that they
could never take advantage of the divisions which prevailed among their
enemies. They seldom had, either in attack or defence, a well-sustained
plan, and their impetuous bravery, directed generally by chance or
passion, could only be compared to the tempest, whose fury rages or
abates at the pleasure of the winds which reign over the horizon.
Fortune, which had offered them such a brilliant opportunity for
extending their empire, became, at last, adverse to them, and from the
bosom of the chaos in which the East was plunged, arose a formidable
power, which was destined to conquer and destroy them.

Noureddin, son of Zengui, who had obtained possession of Edessa before
the second crusade, had inherited the conquests of his father, and
added to them by his valour. He was bred among warriors who had sworn
to shed their blood in the cause of the Prophet, and when he mounted
the throne he revived the austere simplicity of the early caliphs.
Noureddin, says an Arabian poet, united the most noble heroism with
the profoundest humility. When he prayed in the temple, his subjects
believed they saw a sanctuary in another sanctuary. He encouraged the
sciences, cultivated letters, and, above all, applied himself to the
maintenance of justice throughout his states. His people admired his
clemency and moderation; and the Christians even were forced to praise
his courage and his profane heroism. After the example of his father
Zengui, he made himself the idol of his soldiers by his liberality; by
taking charge of their families, he prevented their desire for the
possession of lands, and thus accustomed them to consider the camp
as their home and their country. In the midst of armies which he had
himself formed, and which respected in him the avenger of the Prophet,
he restrained the ambition of the emirs, and directed their efforts
and their zeal towards one sole object, the triumph of Islamism. His
victories, his fortune, his religious and political virtues drew upon
him the attention of the entire East, and made the Mussulmans believe
that the period of their deliverance had arrived.

Baldwin III., who undertook to stop the career of Noureddin, displayed
great valour in several battles. The most important and the most
fortunate of his expeditions was the taking of Ascalon, in which the
Mussulmans always kept up a formidable garrison. This city, which is
situated in a fertile plain, and which the Mussulmans call _the Spouse
of Syria_, was succoured by an Egyptian fleet, and for a long time
resisted all the efforts of the Christians. Rivers of blood flowed
before its walls during several months; both Mussulmans and Christians
fighting with fury, and neither giving nor receiving quarter. During
the siege the knights of the Temple particularly distinguished
themselves by their valour; the thirst for booty, far more than the
love of glory, making them brave the greatest perils. The garrison and
the inhabitants, exhausted by fatigue and pinched by famine, at length
opened the gates of the city. Baldwin granted them a capitulation,
permitted them to retire into Egypt with their families, and caused a
_Te Deum_ to be sung in the great mosque, which he consecrated to St.
Paul.

After this victory the king of Jerusalem marched to encounter
Noureddin, and compelled him to raise the sieges of both Paneas and
Sidon. Baldwin was engaged in assisting the principality of Antioch,
always disturbed by factions, always threatened by the Mussulmans, when
he was poisoned by a Syrian physician. As soon as he became sensible of
his danger, he set out for Jerusalem, and died in the city of Berouth.
His remains were transported to the holy city, the clergy coming out
to meet the funeral train. The people descended from the mountains to
join the procession, and through the country and in the cities nothing
was heard but lamentations. Noureddin himself, if we are to believe
a Christian historian,[294] was affected by the sorrow of the Franks.
Some of his emirs advising him to take advantage of this melancholy
occasion to enter Palestine, “God forbid,” replied he, “that I should
disturb the proper grief of a people who are weeping for the loss of so
good a king, or fix upon such an opportunity to attack a kingdom which
I have no reason to fear.” Remarkable words, which at once denote two
great men, and which further show what a serious loss the Christians
had sustained.

As soon as the funeral ceremonies of Baldwin III. were over, warm
debates arose upon the choice of a successor. The greater part of
the barons and knights attached to the memory of Baldwin proposed to
call to the throne his brother Amaury, count of Jaffa and Ascalon.
This party was the most reasonable and the most conformable to the
laws and interests of the kingdom; but the brother of Baldwin, by
the haughtiness of his deportment, had made himself many enemies
among the people, the clergy, and the army. He was reproached with an
ambition and an avarice fatal to the interests of the Christians; and
he was accused of not being restrained by honour, justice, or even
the precepts of religion,[295] in the execution of his projects. His
partisans extolled his active and enterprising character, his bravery
so often proved, and his great skill in war. Among the nobles of the
kingdom who opposed his succession, and attributed to him ambitious
views much to be dreaded, were several who themselves nourished
aspiring projects, and allowed themselves to be seduced by the hope
of ascending the throne. The conflicting parties were on the point
of taking up arms to sustain their pretensions or their hopes, when
the grand master of the Hospitallers exhorted the barons and knights
to preserve the peace and the laws of the kingdom by crowning young
Amaury. “The crown,” said he to them, “which you refuse to place upon
the head of a Christian prince will soon be upon that of Noureddin or
of the caliph of Egypt. If this misfortune should happen, you will
become the slaves of the infidels, and the world will accuse you
of having opened the gates of the holy city to the Saracens, as the
traitor Judas gave up the Saviour of the world into the hands of his
enemies.” This speech, and the sight of the troops which Amaury had
already collected to defend his rights, disarmed the factions which
disturbed the kingdom. The brother of Baldwin was crowned in the Holy
Sepulchre, and received the oaths of allegiance of those even who had
openly declared themselves opposed to his claims.

As soon as Amaury had ascended the throne, he directed all his energies
towards Egypt, now weakened by the victories of the Christians. The
caliph of Cairo having refused to pay the tribute due to the conquerors
of Ascalon, the new king of Jerusalem placed himself at the head of his
army, traversed the desert, carried the terror of his arms to the banks
of the Nile, and only returned to his kingdom when he had forced the
Egyptians to purchase peace. The state in which Egypt was then placed
was likely soon to recall the Christians thither; and happy would it
have been for them if they had known how to profit by their advantages;
and if their fruitless attempts had not served to favour the progress
of a rival power.

Egypt was at that time the theatre of a civil war, occasioned by the
ambition of two leaders who disputed the empire of it. For a length
of time the caliphs of Cairo, like those of Bagdad, shut up in their
seraglio, had borne no resemblance to the warrior from whom they
derived their origin, who had said, whilst pointing to his soldiers and
his sword, “_These are my family and my race_.” Enervated by effeminacy
and pleasures, they had abandoned the government to their slaves, who
adored them on their knees, and imposed laws upon them. They no longer
exercised any real authority but in the mosques, and only preserved the
disgraceful privilege of confirming the usurped power of the viziers,
who corrupted the armies, disturbed the provinces, and in the field of
battle quarrelled with each other for the right of reigning over both
people and prince.

Each of the viziers, to secure the triumph of his cause, called in by
turns the arms of the neighbouring powers. On the arrival of these
dangerous auxiliaries, all was in confusion on the banks of the Nile.
Blood flowed in all the provinces, sometimes shed by the executioners,
sometimes by the soldiers; Egypt was at once desolated by its enemies,
its allies, and its inhabitants.

Chaver, who, amidst these revolutions, had raised himself from the
humble condition of a slave to the post of vizier, had been conquered
and displaced by Dargan, one of the principal officers of the Egyptian
militia. Obliged to fly and abandon Egypt, where his rival reigned,
he went to seek an asylum at Damascus, imploring the assistance of
Noureddin, and promising a considerable tribute if that prince would
furnish him with troops to protect his return into Egypt. The sultan of
Damascus yielded to the prayers of Chaver. To command the army which
he resolved to send into Egypt, he selected Chirkou, the most skilful
of his emirs, who having always shown himself cruel and implacable
in his military expeditions, was likely to be without pity for the
vanquished, and to take all advantage of the miseries of a civil war,
for the benefit of his master. The vizier Dargan was not long in being
warned of the projects of Chaver and the preparations of Noureddin. To
resist the storm about to burst upon him, he implored the aid of the
Christians of Palestine, and promised to give up his treasures to them
if they succeeded in preserving his power.

Whilst the king of Jerusalem, seduced by this promise, was collecting
an army, Chaver, accompanied by the troops of Noureddin, crossed the
desert, and approached the banks of the Nile. Dargan, who came out to
meet him with the Egyptian army, was conquered by the Syrians, and lost
his life in the battle. The city of Cairo soon opened its gates to the
conqueror. Chaver,[296] whom the victory had delivered from his enemy,
shed torrents of blood in the capital to insure his triumph, received
amid the general consternation the congratulations of the caliph, and
resumed the reins of government.

It was not long, however, before divisions arose between the general
of Noureddin, who daily placed a more excessive price on his services,
and the vizier, whom Chirkou accused of perfidy and ingratitude. Chaver
desired in vain to send the Mussulmans back into Syria; they replied to
him only by threats, and he was on the point of being besieged in Cairo
by his own deliverers. All the Egyptians, particularly the people of
the capital, were seized with trouble and consternation.

In the midst of so pressing a danger, the vizier Chaver placed his
only hope in the Christian warriors, whose approach he had not long
since so much dreaded. He made the king of Jerusalem the same promises
that he had offered to Noureddin; and Amaury, who only wanted to enter
Egypt, whatever might be the party that prevailed there, set out upon
his march to defend Chaver with the very same army he had collected to
fight against him. When arrived on the banks of the Nile, he united his
troops with those of the vizier, and they sat down before the city of
Bilbeis, into which Chirkou had retired. Noureddin’s general resisted
during three months all the attacks of the Christians and Egyptians;
and when the king of Jerusalem proposed peace to him, he demanded
payment of the expenses of the war. After some negotiations, in which
he displayed great haughtiness, he marched out of Bilbeis still
threatening the Christians, and led back his army to Damascus, loaded
with the spoils of his enemies.

Chirkou had beheld the riches of Egypt, and become acquainted with the
weakness of its government; the first advice he offered to Noureddin,
after his arrival, therefore, was to endeavour to unite this rich
country to his own empire. The sultan of Syria sent ambassadors to
the caliph of Bagdad, not to ask aid of him, but to give a religious
colour to his enterprise. During several centuries, the caliphs of
Bagdad and Cairo had been divided by an implacable hatred; each of them
boasting of being the vicar of the Prophet, and considering his rival
as the enemy of God. In the mosques of Bagdad, they cursed the caliphs
of Egypt and their sectarians; in those of Cairo, they devoted to the
infernal powers, the Abassides and their partisans.

The caliph of Bagdad did not hesitate to comply with the wishes of
Noureddin. Whilst the sultan of Syria was solely occupied by his
endeavours to extend his empire, the vicar of the Prophet was only
ambitious to preside alone over the Mussulman religion. He commanded
the Imans to preach a war against the Fatimites, and promised the
delights of Paradise to all who should take up arms in the holy
expedition. At the call of the caliph, a great number of faithful
Mussulmans flocked to the standard of Noureddin, and Chirkou, by the
order of the sultan, prepared to return into Egypt, at the head of a
powerful army.

The fame of these preparations spread throughout the East, particularly
in Egypt, where it created the most serious alarms. Amaury, who
had returned to his own states, received ambassadors from Chaver,
soliciting his help and alliance against the enterprise of Noureddin.
The states of the kingdom of Jerusalem were assembled at Naplouse, and
the king there exposed to them the advantages of another expedition
into Egypt. An impost was levied to carry on a war from which the
greatest hopes were entertained, and the Christian army soon set out
from Gaza to fight with the troops of Noureddin on the banks of the
Nile.

In the mean time Chirkou was crossing the desert, where he encountered
the greatest dangers. A violent tempest surprised him on his march; all
at once the heavens were darkened, and the earth, which was strewed
with the prostrate Syrians, became like a stormy sea. Immense waves of
sand were lifted by the winds, and rising into whirlwinds or forming
moving mountains, scattered, bore away, or swallowed up men and horses.
In this tempest the Syrian army abandoned its baggage and lost its
provisions and arms, and when Chirkou arrived on the banks of the Nile,
he had no means of defence left except the remembrance of his former
victories. He took great care to conceal the losses he had experienced,
and the wreck of an army dispersed by a fearful tempest proved
sufficient to throw all the cities of Egypt into consternation.

The vizier Chaver, frightened at the approach of the Syrians, sent
ambassadors to the Christians, to promise them immense riches, and
press them to hasten their march. On his side, the king of Jerusalem
deputed to the caliph of Egypt, Hugh of Cæsarea, and Foulcher, a knight
of the Temple, to obtain the ratification of the treaty of alliance
with the Egyptians. Amaury’s deputies were introduced into a palace
in which no Christian had ever before been admitted. After having
traversed several corridors filled with Moorish guards, and a vast
number of apartments and courts in which glittered all the splendour
of the East, they arrived in a hall, or rather a sanctuary, where the
caliph awaited them, seated on a throne shining with gold and precious
stones. Chaver, who conducted them, prostrated himself at the feet
of his master, and supplicated him to accept the treaty of alliance
with the king of Jerusalem. The prayer of the vizier was an imperious
order, and the commander of the faithful, always docile to the will of
the lowest of his slaves, made a sign of approbation, and stretched
his uncovered hand out to the Christian deputies in presence of the
officers of his court, whom so strange a spectacle filled with grief
and surprise.

The army of the Franks was close to Cairo; but as the policy of Amaury
was to lengthen the war, in order to prolong his stay in Egypt, he
neglected opportunities of attacking the Syrians with advantage, and
gave them time to recruit their strength. After having left them a long
time in repose, he gave them battle in the isle of Maalle, and forced
their intrenchments, but did not follow up his victory. Chirkou, in
his retreat, endeavoured to reanimate the depressed courage of the
soldiers of Noureddin, the latter not having yet forgotten the evils
they had encountered in the passage over the desert. This calamity,
still recent, together with the first victory of the Christians,
destroyed the confidence they had in their arms and the protection of
the Prophet. One of the lieutenants of Chirkou, upon witnessing their
gloomy rage, cried out in the midst of the Mussulman army: “You who
fear death or slavery, return into Syria; go and tell Noureddin that to
repay him for the benefits with which he has loaded you, you abandon
Egypt to the infidels, in order to shut yourselves up in your seraglios
with women and children.”

These words reanimated the zeal and fanaticism of the Syrian warriors.
The Franks and the Egyptians who pursued the army of Chirkou, were
conquered in a battle, and forced to abandon in disorder the hills
of Baben,[297] where they had pitched their tents. The general of
Noureddin took all possible advantage of his victory; he passed as a
conqueror along the fertile banks of the Nile; penetrated, without
encountering an obstacle, into lower Egypt; placed a garrison in
Alexandria; and returned to lay siege to the city of Koutz, the capital
of the Thebais. The ability with which Chirkou had disciplined his
army, and planned the last battle he had fought with his enemies; his
marches and his counter-marches in the plains and valleys of Egypt,
from the tropic to the sea, announced the progress of the Mussulmans
in military tactics, and warned the Christians beforehand of the enemy
that was destined to put an end to their victories and conquests.

The Turks defended themselves during several months in Alexandria,
against the seditions of the inhabitants and the numerous assaults of
the Christians. They at length obtained an honourable capitulation, and
as their army was becoming weaker every day by famine and fatigue, they
retired a second time to Damascus, after exacting very dear payment for
the transient tranquillity in which they left the people of Egypt.

After the retreat of the Syrians, the vizier Chaver hastened to send
back the Christians, whose presence made him very uneasy. He engaged
to pay the king of Jerusalem an annual tribute of a hundred thousand
crowns in gold, and consented to receive a garrison in Cairo. He loaded
the barons and knights with rich presents, and the soldiers even had
a share in his bounties, proportionate to the fear the Franks inspired
him with. The Christian warriors returned to Jerusalem, bearing with
them riches which dazzled both people and nobles, and inspired them
with other thoughts than that of defending the heritage of Christ.

As Amaury returned to his capital, the sight of his mountainous and
sterile provinces, the poverty of his subjects, and the narrow limits
of his kingdom, made him deeply regret having missed the opportunity of
conquering a great empire. Soon after his return he married a niece of
the emperor Manuel; but whilst the people and his court gave themselves
up to joy, and put up vows for the prosperity of his family and his
kingdom, one single thought occupied him night and day, and haunted
him even amongst the most sumptuous and brilliant festivities. The
riches of the caliph of Cairo, the populousness and fertility of Egypt,
its numerous fleets, and the commodiousness of its ports, presented
themselves constantly to the mind of Amaury. His first endeavour was to
make the marriage he had just contracted subservient to his projects,
and he sent ambassadors to Constantinople, with instructions to induce
Manuel to assist him in the conquest of Egypt. Manuel approved of
the plans of the king of Jerusalem, and promised to send him fleets
and share with him the glory and perils of a conquest which must so
deeply interest the Christian world. Then Amaury hesitated no longer
to declare his designs, and called together the barons and principal
people of his kingdom. In this assembly, in which it was proposed
to invade Egypt, the wisest among whom was the grand master of the
Templars, declared loudly and decidedly that the undertaking was
unjust. “The Christians,” said they, “ought not to set the Mussulmans
the example of violating treaties. It perhaps would not be a difficult
matter to obtain possession of Egypt, but it would not be so easy to
keep it as to conquer it. Noureddin was the most formidable enemy
of the Christians; it was against him they should bring all the
united forces of the kingdom to bear. Egypt must belong to the power
that should remain ruler of Syria, and it was not prudent or wise
to endeavour to anticipate the favours of fortune, and send armies
into a country of which they should only open the gates to the son
of Zengui, as they had done in the instance of Damascus. They would
sacrifice Christian cities, Jerusalem itself, to the hope of conquering
a kingdom. Noureddin had already taken advantage of the king of
Jerusalem’s being engaged on the banks of the Nile, to get possession
of several places which belonged to the Christians. Bohemond prince of
Antioch, and Raymond count of Tripoli, had been made prisoners of war,
and groaned in the chains of the Mussulmans, as victims of an ambition
which had seduced the king of Jerusalem far from his kingdom and the
Christian colonies of which he ought to be the support and defender.”

The knights and barons who expressed themselves thus, added that the
sight alone of Egypt would not fail to corrupt the Christian warriors,
and enervate the courage and subdue the patriotism of the inhabitants
and defenders of Palestine. These opinions, however prudent and just,
had no effect upon the king of Jerusalem and the partisans of the war,
among whom was conspicuous the grand master of the Hospitallers, who
had exhausted the riches of his order by extravagant expenses, and had
raised troops for whose pay he had assigned the treasures of Egypt.
The greater part of the lords and knights, to whom fortune seemed to
be waiting on the banks of the Nile in order to bestow upon them her
favours, suffered themselves to be easily persuaded to the war, and
found it very convenient to consider as an enemy the sovereign of a
country which held out so rich a booty to them.

Whilst these preparations for the conquest of Egypt were in agitation
in Jerusalem, the same projects occupied the emirs and the council
of Noureddin. On his return from the banks of the Nile, Chirkou had
announced to the sultan of Damascus, “that the government of Cairo
wanted both officers and soldiers; and that revolutions, the cupidity
of the Franks, and the presence of the Syrians, had weakened and
ruined the empire of the Fatimites. The Egyptian people,” added he,
“accustomed to change masters, were neither attached to the caliph,
whom they did not know, nor to the vizier, who brought upon them all
sorts of calamities. They were ready to submit to the domination of a
prince who should be powerful enough to protect them against both their
enemies and the scourge of civil wars. The Christians were likewise
aware how feeble this empire was, and it was to be dreaded that
they would be the first. Such a favourable opportunity should not be
neglected, or a conquest despised which fortune appeared to offer to
the first power that should make its appearance in Egypt.”

Thus the king of Jerusalem and the sultan of Damascus entertained
the same views, and both made preparations for the same conquest. In
the churches of the Christians, as in the mosques of the Mussulmans,
prayers were put up for the success of a war about to be carried on
on the banks of the Nile. As each of the two parties sought to give
the best colour to their projects and proceedings, at Damascus it
was asserted that the caliph of Egypt had made an impious alliance
with the disciples of Christ, whilst at Jerusalem it was asserted
that the vizier Chaver, in defiance of treaties, kept up a perfidious
correspondence with Noureddin.

The Christians were the first to violate their treaties. Amaury set
out at the head of a numerous army, and appeared in the character of
an enemy before Belbeis, which place he had promised to the knights
of St. John, as a reward for the ardour and zeal they had shown for
his expedition. This city, situated on the right bank of the Nile, was
besieged, taken by assault, and after being pillaged, consigned to the
flames.

The misfortunes of Belbeis spread consternation throughout Egypt, and
the people, irritated at the account of the cruelties practised by the
Franks, took up arms and drove the Christian garrison out of Cairo.
Chaver assembled troops in the provinces, fortified the capital, and
set fire to the ancient city of Fostat, which burnt for more than six
weeks. The caliph of Cairo again implored the assistance of Noureddin,
and to excite his pity and prove his distress, he sent him in a letter
the hair of the women of his seraglio. The sultan of Damascus attended
with joy to the prayers of the caliph of Egypt, and as an army was
ready to march, he gave orders to Chirkou to cross the desert and
hasten to the banks of the Nile.

Whilst the Syrians were coming to the aid of Egypt, threatened by
the Christians, Chaver employed every means in his power to stop
the king of Jerusalem in his march, and suspend in his hands the
thunderbolt ready to fall upon Egypt. Ambassadors were sent to
implore the pity of Amaury, and to give some weight to their prayers,
offered him two millions of crowns of gold. The offer of so enormous
a sum, which Egypt, for so long a time devastated, could not possibly
have furnished, seduced the king of the Christians, who was as much
influenced by a love of gold as an ambition for conquests. He allowed
himself to be thus deceived by the Mussulmans, to whom he himself had
been wanting in faith; and whilst he was waiting for the treasures they
had promised him, the Egyptians restored the fortifications of their
cities, and assembled everywhere in arms. The Christians looked in
vain for the fleets promised by Manuel, and soon, instead of welcoming
auxiliaries, they learnt that Chirkou had arrived for the third time in
Egypt at the head of a formidable army. Then Amaury opened his eyes,
and set about repairing his error. He flew to meet the Syrians, and
offer them battle; but their general avoided the encounter, and united
his forces with those of the Egyptians. The evil was irreparable; the
king of Jerusalem could not resist the two united armies, and ashamed
of being deceived by those whom he had himself sought to deceive, he
returned to his kingdom, and was pursued to the verge of the desert by
the troops of Noureddin.

Before the enterprise, hopes of success had dazzled the minds of all;
but when it had failed, they, as generally, perceived the injustice of
it. The Christians all became aware of the evils with which Jerusalem
was menaced, and reproached Amaury with not being able to preserve
peace, or knowing how to make war. In the mean time Noureddin’s general
entered the capital of Egypt in triumph.

Chirkou hoisted his standard on the towers of Cairo, and Egypt, which
thought it had received a liberator into its bosom, soon found that he
was a master. Chaver paid with his life the evils he had inflicted upon
his country; he was killed in the camp of Chirkou, and his authority
became the reward of the conqueror. The caliph, who, in order to save
himself, had demanded the head of his first minister appointed the
general of Noureddin as his successor, styling him in his letters, _the
victorious prince_. It was thus that the degraded monarch of Egypt
jested with his own favours by flattering a man he did not know,
and for whose death he was, most likely, desirous; an image of blind
fortune, who scatters at hazard good and evil, and views her favourites
and her victims with equal indifference.

Some time after, the caliph of Cairo, always invisible in his palace,
was deposed by the orders of Noureddin, and died peaceably without
knowing that he had lost his empire. His treasures served to appease
the murmurs of the people and the soldiery; the black flag of the
Abassides displaced the green standard of the children of Ali, and the
name of the caliph of Bagdad was heard of only in the mosques. The
dynasty of the Fatimites, which reigned more than two centuries, and
for which so much blood had been shed, was extinguished in a single
day, and found not even one defender. From that time the Mussulmans had
only one religion and one cause to defend; Egypt and Syria obeyed the
same chief, and the richest provinces of the East were united under the
powerful hand of Noureddin.

The sultan of Aleppo and Damascus had spread the terror of his arms
from the banks of the Euphrates and the Tigris to the sources of the
Nile; he had everywhere governors and armies; and posts of pigeons,
which he had established, carried at the same time his orders into
the principal cities of Egypt, Syria, and Mesopotamia. The justice of
his laws and his victories over the Christians had created for him
such a reputation for sanctity among the Mussulmans, that a shower of
rain which fell in the midst of a drought, was considered by them as a
miracle granted to his prayers. During the war of Egypt he had taken
several fortresses belonging to the Franks; and the destruction of the
Christian colonies was still the aim of all his labours and all his
exploits. Full of confidence in the protection of Mahomet, the devout
Noureddin employed his leisure in constructing, with his own hands,
a pulpit, which he meant himself to place in the principal mosque of
Jerusalem.

The sultan of Damascus was preparing to commence what the Mussulmans
called a sacred war, and for the success of which public prayers had
been offered up, but this glory was reserved for a young warrior
brought up in armies, whose name was yet unknown in the East.

Saladin,[298] this young warrior, was sprung from the people who
inhabit the mountains situated beyond the Tigris. His father Ayoub, and
his uncle Chirkou, after the example of the warriors of their nation,
who fight for pay under Mussulman powers, had left Curdistan to serve
in the troops of the sultan of Bagdad. They had both attained high
military employments; but Chirkou, a violent and brutal man, having run
through the body with his sword an officer of justice, the two brothers
were obliged to take to flight, and came to offer their services to
the Attabeks of Syria, whom they assisted in their wars against the
Christians. The young Saladin, although he was brought up at the court
of Damascus, under the eye of an ambitious father, did not at first
appear to be eager for either fortune or glory. In his youth he was
fond of dissipation and pleasures, and remained a long time a stranger
to the cares of politics or the dangers and labours of war. Having
followed his uncle Chirkou in his first expeditions to Egypt, he had
distinguished himself by the defence of Alexandria; but he suffered so
much, that when Noureddin commanded him to return to the banks of the
Nile, he sought pretexts to avoid obedience. When the sultan repeated
his orders, Saladin set out, as he himself said afterwards, with the
despair of a man who is led to death. “Thus it is,” says the historian
Hamad Eddin, who was for a long time his secretary, “that men know not
what they refuse or what they desire; but God, who knows all things,
sports with their designs, which always terminate according to the
views of Providence.”

At the death of Chirkou, the caliph of Egypt, who trembled for his
power, named Saladin to the post of vizier, because he thought him the
least capable, by his talents or reputation, of usurping the supreme
authority. The son of Ayoub deceived both the king and the army, who
saw in him nothing but a young dissipated soldier, without ambition.
But he changed his conduct and reformed his manners; hitherto he had
appeared fit only for the idleness and the obscurity of a seraglio;
but, all at once, he came forth a new man, like one born for empire.
His gravity inspired the respect of the emirs; his liberality secured
him the suffrages of the army; and the austerity of his devotion
rendered him dear to all true believers. A religious revolution which
he brought about without trouble or the effusion of blood, made known
his prudence and humanity, and showed that fortune destined him for
extraordinary things. The caliph of Bagdad felicitated him publicly
with having annihilated the sect of the Fatimites, and made him a
present of a vest of honour. His name was celebrated by the poets, and
mixed with those of Mahomet and Noureddin in the public prayers.

Saladin, master of Egypt, sent for his father Ayoub, and wished to
associate him with himself in the government. When Ayoub arrived at
Cairo with all his family, he was compared to Jacob, and Saladin to
the patriarch Joseph, whose name he bore. Aided by the counsels of his
father, Saladin stifled all plots devised against him, and restrained
the ambition and jealousy of the emirs.

In a council in which his son had spoken too openly of his projects,
Ayoub, brought up among the intrigues of the courts of Asia, exclaimed
with vehemence against all traitors, and swore he would cut off the
head of even Saladin himself, if he received orders from the sultan of
Damascus to do so. When left alone with his son, he reproached him with
his indiscretion and imprudence. “I have spoken against you,” added he,
“before your rivals and enemies; but know that if Noureddin should come
to attack you, I would be the first to take arms; if he required only
the tribute of a sugar-cane from us, he should not obtain it of me.”
According to the advice of Ayoub, Saladin spoke only of his perfect
submission to the commands of his master, and took honour to himself as
being the lowest of the slaves of Noureddin, to whom he sent deputies
and presents; but he could not destroy all his suspicions. Noureddin
had determined upon going into Egypt himself, when death surprised
him, and delivered Saladin from the uneasiness which a jealous and
vindictive master naturally inspired.

At the death of Noureddin, the empire founded by the Attabeks declined
towards its ruin. The sultan of the Attabeks only left a child to
succeed him, the emirs already began to quarrel for the divisions
of his power, and Syria was about to return to the chaos into which
the fall of the Seljoucides had plunged it. The Mussulman nations,
terrified at the evils before them, eagerly sought the yoke of Saladin,
and recognised with joy for their master a warrior who was the only
person capable of defending their religion or their dominions. Saladin
inherited not only the power of Noureddin, but was anxious to follow up
the projects of his predecessor, and nothing pleased his ambition more
than the idea of pursuing the war against the Christians.

Amaury, instead of taking advantage of the troubles of Syria, was
desirous of resuming his projects against Egypt; and requesting the
aid of the emperor of Constantinople, the latter sent him a fleet and
some troops. The Christians laid siege to Damietta; but the eternal
divisions between the Greeks and Latins prevented the success of the
enterprise. Amaury, entertaining still the hope of succeeding in his
designs, sent ambassadors into Europe, thinking that the prospect
of the conquest of Egypt would arm the knights of the West. As the
deputies of Amaury returned without obtaining aid, he himself repaired
to Constantinople to solicit fresh succours. He was received with
magnificence; and great promises were made him; but he died without
seeing them realized. Thus King Amaury, during the whole of his reign,
had but one single thought, for which he exhausted all the resources
of his kingdom. The obstinacy which he evinced for the execution of
an unfortunate project, advanced the progress of the Mussulmans, and
must have recalled to the Christians of the West the words which the
prophets repeated to the Hebrews, “_Children of Israel, direct neither
your looks nor your steps towards Egypt_.”

Amaury, at his death, left a distressed kingdom, and as the governor of
its states a son, thirteen years of age, sick and covered with leprosy.
Raymond, count of Tripoli, and Milo de Plansy, lord of Carac and
Montroyal, disputed the regency during the minority of young Baldwin.
Milo, by his intrigues, obtained the suffrages of the barons, but was
found, a short time after, pierced with several wounds inflicted by a
sword, in one of the streets of Ptolemaïs: Raymond succeeded his rival,
with whose death all Palestine accused him.

The father of the count of Tripoli had been killed by the Ismaëlians,
and he himself had remained eight years in the chains of the infidels.
The fourth in descent from the famous count de St. Gilles, he possessed
the bravery, the activity, and the ambition of the hero from whom he
drew his origin; but with them, that obstinacy of character, which,
in difficult times, irritates the passions and provokes implacable
hatreds. More impatient to reign over the Christians than to conquer
the infidels, Raymond considered the right of commanding men as the
only reward of the evils he had suffered; he demanded with haughtiness
the recompense of his services and his long toils, and conceived that
justice would triumph, and the safety of the kingdom be preserved,
solely by his elevation.

If, amidst the disorders which continually agitated the Christian
states, the new regent had had sufficient authority to direct the
policy of the Franks, and make peace or war at his will, history might
justly accuse him of having favoured the power of Saladin, and of
having prepared the downfall of the kingdom of Jerusalem. After the
death of Noureddin, the son of Ayoub had had to contend with the family
of his old master, the emirs faithful to the dynasty of the Attabeks,
and all who wished to profit by the troubles of Syria, and erect
independent states for themselves. Prudence commanded the Christians
to foment the discord which prevailed among the Saracens, and to ally
themselves with every party which was opposed to Saladin. Instead of
following this wholesome policy, and stirring up war in Syria, they
determined upon renewing Amaury’s unfortunate attempts upon Egypt. A
Sicilian fleet having arrived in Palestine, aided by the Sicilians,
the Christians laid siege to Alexandria, where all sorts of miseries
combined to destroy their army. Frequently-repeated reverses conveyed
no instruction to the Franks of the proper manner to make war with
Saladin. As they were returning from their imprudent and unfortunate
expedition, the Mussulman governor of the city of Emessa, then besieged
by the new sultan of Damascus, solicited their alliance and support.
The Christian warriors, after having placed a price upon their services
which it was impossible the governor could pay, entered upon a campaign
without an object, threatening those they pretended to defend, and
ravaging at the same time the territories of their allies and their
enemies. Nevertheless, their presence in Syria, and their transient
alliance with the Mussulman princes, alarmed Saladin, who was making
war against the son of Noureddin, shut up in the city of Aleppo. The
sultan, resolving to keep them at a distance from the theatre of his
conquests, made their leaders brilliant promises and rich presents,
and soon succeeded in obtaining a truce, of which he took advantage to
strengthen his power and extend the limits of his empire.

The Franks returned to Jerusalem, satisfied with having compelled
Saladin to ask for peace. After having imprudently consented to
a truce, they committed a second fault, which was to violate the
treaty they had just signed, and that not to undertake an important
enterprise, but to make an incursion into the territories of Damascus.
They ravaged the country, and pillaged the towns and villages that they
found without defence, whilst Saladin continued making useful conquests
in Syria, and rendering himself sufficiently powerful to punish them
for the infraction of their engagements.

The sultan of Cairo and Damascus soon assembled a formidable army and
advanced towards Palestine. The whole country was in flames through
which the Saracens passed; at their approach the Christians abandoned
the cities and towns to take refuge in mountains and caverns. Baldwin
IV., who had recently assumed the reins of government, placed himself
at the head of the Franks; but fearing to measure himself with
Saladin, he shut himself up in Ascalon, whence he contemplated with
consternation his desolated provinces.

Everything appeared to presage the approaching fall of the kingdom,
and Saladin was already distributing its cities among his emirs,
when Providence, which at length took pity on the situation of
the Christians, offered them an opportunity of repairing their
misfortunes. The menaces of Saladin and the sight of the ravages he was
committing exasperated the Christian soldiers. Baldwin led forth his
army from Ascalon, and surprised the Mussulmans in the very same plains
whereon Godfrey and the leaders of the first crusade gained their
celebrated victory over the Egyptians. Saladin could not resist the
impetuosity of their attack, and lost the battle after having defended
himself valiantly in the midst of his Mamelukes, a new military force,
which he had himself formed, and by which he was always surrounded in
time of danger. Saladin saw all his army perish in this disastrous
battle, which was never effaced from his memory, and which, as he said
in a letter, “made the star of the family of Ayoub to pale.” Mounted
on a camel, and followed by a few officers, Saladin experienced the
greatest dangers in his flight across the desert, and returned almost
alone to Egypt, whence he had so recently set out at the head of a
formidable army.

And yet the Christians did not reap much advantage from their victory;
they laid siege in vain to the cities of Hemessa and Harem, whilst
Saladin soon got together fresh troops in Egypt, and returned to
threaten the kingdom of Jerusalem. The victory of Ascalon elated the
Christians, and made them rash; Saladin, on the contrary, rendered
more cautious by defeat, took advantage of every false step of his
enemies, planned ambuscades, employed all the stratagems of war, and
several times surprised and beat them on the banks of the Jordan, and
in the vicinity of Paneas. Baldwin, who was very near falling into
the hands of the Saracens, collected all the forces that were left in
his dominions; but he could obtain no advantage over Saladin, and was
obliged to sue for peace, which the state of his kingdom and his own
infirmities rendered every day more necessary.

The leprosy by which he was attacked made alarming progress; he lost
his sight, and was no longer able to undertake the cares of government.
As he mistrusted most of the barons and leading men of his kingdom, he
offered the government to Philip, count of Flanders, who was come into
Asia to combat the infidels; but Philip preferred making war upon the
Mussulmans to governing the Christians of Palestine.

The count of Tripoli was pointed out by the opinion of both the people
and the nobles, as the only person capable of governing; but the
suffrages of the people only augmented the suspicions of Baldwin, who
had long dreaded the ambition of Raymond. Obliged to abandon a throne,
the weak monarch trembled at the idea of placing on it a man who might
soon make him forgotten; and he chose in preference a knight without
name or glory, whose only title arose from his having espoused Sibylla,
daughter of King Amaury, and widow of the marquis of Montferrat,
surnamed Long Sword. Guy of Lusignan did not justify the choice of
Baldwin by his conduct, and disgusted every one by the excess of his
pride. In this state of things, the interests of the Christian colonies
required that the truce made with the Mussulmans should be strictly
observed; but such was then the destiny of the kingdom of Jerusalem,
that nobody had sufficient power or ascendancy to maintain peace,
whilst the meanest of the barons or knights could, at his will, provoke
war. The rashness and imprudence of one man again brought down upon
Palestine the whole force of Saladin.

Old chronicles have related the romantic adventures and extraordinary
fortune of Renaud de Chatillon. Born at Chatillon-sur-Indre, of
obscure parents, he followed the army of Louis the Young into Asia,
and enrolled himself in the troops of Raymond of Poictiers, prince of
Antioch. Raymond having lost his life in battle, his widow Constance
was solicited to select a new husband, who might be associated with her
in the government. This princess passed by the most illustrious nobles
and knights, for she had remarked the personal beauty and chivalric
bravery of Renaud de Chatillon, and would accept of no other husband.
By this marriage, which, according to William of Tyre, filled the
Christian barons with surprise, she all at once raised a young obscure
man to the throne of Antioch.

Although Renaud de Chatillon had obtained the love of Constance, he
could not conciliate the confidence and esteem of his new subjects. A
formidable party was formed against him, at the head of which was the
patriarch Amaury. Renaud, full of vexation and anger, cast into prison
all who were opposed to him. By his orders the patriarch was led to
the top of one of the towers of the citadel, and, with his bare head
rubbed with honey, left, in the heat of summer, during a whole day
exposed to flies and insects.[299] Renaud de Chatillon, after having
filled the city of Ascalon with terror and mourning, was desirous of
signalizing his reign by some warlike enterprise. Become the leader of
an army in which he had been a soldier, he began by making war against
the emperor of Constantinople, and armed several vessels, with which he
ravaged the isle of Cyprus. The Greek emperor hastened to avenge the
insult, and was soon with an army encamped within sight of Ascalon.
Renaud not being master of a sufficient force with which to defend
himself, had recourse to baseness to disarm the anger of his enemy, and
came, with a cord round his neck, and torn vestments, to lay his sword
at the feet of the emperor, who granted him peace. When the Greeks had
resumed their way to Constantinople, Renaud turned his arms against
the Saracens. He at once put to flight the army of Noureddin, who had
advanced towards the territory of Antioch; but, led away by thirst for
booty, he fell into an ambuscade, was made prisoner and conducted to
Aleppo, where the Mussulmans detained him many years. At last some of
his ancient companions succeeded in breaking his chains, and what is
not unworthy of remark, the produce of the booty made in an incursion
on the territories of Damascus was the price of his liberty.

When Renaud de Chatillon issued from his captivity, his wife Constance
was no longer living, and the son of Raymond, arrived at the age of
maturity, governed the principality of Antioch. Renaud repaired to
Jerusalem, where the remembrance of his exploits and misfortunes,
suffered in the cause of the Christians, secured him a welcome from
the king and the barons. Having, in a second marriage, espoused the
widow of Homfrey de Thourou, he became lord of Carac, and some castles
situated on the confines of Arabia and Palestine. Renaud led into these
cities and fortresses a great number of Templars, whom he associated
with his fortunes. He had just established himself there, and had
already begun to ravage the frontiers of Arabia, when the truce was
concluded with Saladin. Nothing could induce Renaud de Chatillon to
lay down his arms; every day he made fresh forays in the neighbourhood
of Carac, and plundered the caravans of the Mussulman pilgrims on
their way to Mecca. Heedless of the rights of nations or humanity, he
imprisoned women and children, and massacred unarmed men.

Saladin complained to Baldwin of these infractions of treaties; but
it was not in the power of the king of Jerusalem to give him the
satisfaction he demanded. The sultan, irritated by the conduct of
the Franks, seized fifteen hundred pilgrims, who were cast upon the
shores of Egypt by a tempest, and threatened to detain them unless the
Mussulman prisoners were promptly set at liberty. Neither the demands
of Saladin, nor the prayers of Baldwin, nor even the fate of the
Christian captives, had the least effect upon Renaud de Chatillon and
the Templars, so long accustomed to sport with all treaties made with
the Mussulmans.

Thereupon Saladin again determined upon war, and set out a third time
from the banks of the Nile, to enter Palestine at the head of an army.
At the approach of danger, the Christians united their efforts to stop
the progress of the Saracens. An assembly, formed of all classes of
citizens, ordered a general contribution to be levied, the produce
of which was employed in repairing the fortifications of the castles
and cities, whilst all the barons and knights flew to arms. But the
time was not yet come in which Saladin should invade the kingdom of
Jerusalem. In each of his expeditions he appeared to try the strength
of the Christians, and when he met with strong resistance, waited
patiently for a more favourable moment. After having ravaged Galilee by
his lieutenants, and commenced the siege of Berouth, he suddenly drew
off his forces to go and make war upon the Attabeks, who were masters
of Mossoul and several cities of Mesopotamia.

The Christians took no other advantage of his absence but to renew
their incursions upon the territory of Damascus. Renaud de Chatillon
made several expeditions to the shores of the Red Sea, and even
conceived the daring project of going to the cities of Mecca and
Medina, and plundering the Kaaba and the tomb of the Prophet. A troop
of intrepid warriors set forward on their march under his orders;
they surprised the Egyptian merchants who were bearing back the
treasures of India, by way of the Red Sea; and, preceded by terror,
advanced in triumph, into a country which had never before seen the
Christians. Renaud and his companions had already reached the valley
of Rabid, situated ten leagues from Medina, when they were surprised
and attacked by a Mussulman army, which had been hastily despatched
from Syria. After an obstinate and sanguinary combat, victory favoured
the Saracens. Renaud escaped the pursuit of the conquerors as if by a
miracle, and returned with a small number of his troops to the castle
of Carac. Some of the prisoners were led into Egypt, where the sentence
of the cadis condemned them to the death of the lowest criminals.
Others were conveyed to Mecca, where their blood was shed with that of
the victims immolated at the ceremony of the great Bayram.[300]

These horrible executions did not satisfy the vengeance of Saladin.
When he heard of the expedition of the Christians, which he considered
a frightful sacrilege, his anger knew no bounds, and he swore upon
the Koran to revenge the insult offered to the Mussulman religion.
The sultan, whom the Christians already styled the _scourge of God_,
re-entered Galilee with sword and flame, and advanced towards the
castle of Carac, constantly repeating the oath he had taken of slaying
Renaud with his own hand. The Mussulmans would have rendered themselves
masters of the castle, but for the bravery of one knight, who alone
maintained the drawbridge, and by a glorious death deprived Saladin
of this conquest. A Christian army was soon upon the march to repel
this attack of the Saracens. Saladin, despairing for the present of
wreaking his revenge upon Renaud, laid waste the lands on the banks of
the Jordan, in the very face of the Christian army, which did not dare
to attack him. After having several times renewed his attempts upon the
fortress of Carac, and given up to the flames Naplouse, Sebosto, and
several other cities, he at length consented to a truce, and led back
his army into Mesopotamia.

Saladin availed himself of the peace made with the Christians, to
dissipate the troubles which had arisen in his states, and to pursue
his conquests in Syria. At each truce he got possession of a city or a
province; he extended his dominions, and thus placed under his control
countries which became so many the more enemies for the Christians.
The Franks, on the contrary, when war was suspended, gave themselves
madly up to their internal divisions; peace with them gave birth to
a thousand new factions, and the kingdom then found in its own bosom
enemies much more dangerous than those against whom they had been at
war.

The knights and barons, on their return to Jerusalem, accused Guy de
Lusignan of having neglected the opportunity for conquering Saladin,
and reproached him with having permitted the ravages exercised by the
Mussulmans in the richest provinces of Palestine. Baldwin, who had
yielded up the royal authority with great regret, listened to the
complaints of the barons, and hastened to reascend a tottering throne.
He undertook to dissolve the marriage with Sibylla, and cited Guy
de Lusignan before the patriarch of Jerusalem and the nobles of the
kingdom, in order to deprive him of the counties of Ascalon and Jaffa.
As Guy did not appear on the day named, Baldwin, although infirm and
blind, repaired to Antioch, and finding the gates shut, struck them
several times with his hand without causing them to be opened.[301]
This unfortunate prince called upon Heaven to witness this insult,
and returned to Jerusalem, swearing to revenge himself upon Guy de
Lusignan. On his side, Guy no longer observed any measures, but took
up arms to sustain his revolt. In this emergency, Baldwin could find
no better means of punishing Guy than to oppose to him a regent and a
new king. By his orders, Baldwin V., who was five years of age, and
born of the first marriage of Sibylla with the son of the marquis de
Montferrat, was crowned in the church of the Holy Sepulchre, in the
presence of the nobles and the clergy. Raymond, count of Tripoli, less
odious to Baldwin than Guy, obtained the regency and assumed the reins
of government.

The kingdom of Jerusalem, which had proceeded rapidly to decay since
the reign of Baldwin III., became now an object worthy of pity. The
stormy passions, almost always inseparable from a feudal government,
had long since weakened all the springs of authority. The royalty,
for whose remains they were quarrelling, was nothing but a vain name;
in the midst of the factions by which he was surrounded, a king of
Jerusalem could neither revenge his own injuries, nor those of the
Church or of Christ. Want of courage was the only crime he could punish
without exciting the murmurs of the barons, because with them cowards
found no defenders. Amaury had ignominiously hung twelve Templars,
accused of having neglected the defence of a fortress; but he had
not the power to receive an ambassador sent by the _Old Man of the
Mountain_, in whom the hope of freeing himself from a tribute paid
to the grand master of the Templars, had awakened a desire to become
a Christian. When the ambassador was assassinated in Jerusalem by a
Templar, Amaury had no authority to bring the murderer to judgment;
deplorable weakness of a king who possesses not the first prerogative
of royalty, that of maintaining justice and causing the rights of
nations to be respected!

The kingdom was covered with strong castles, the commanders of which
barely recognised the authority of the king. On the summit of every
mountain upon which appeared threatening towers, in caverns even, which
had been transformed into fortresses, barons commanded as masters, and
made peace or war at their pleasure. The military orders, the only
support of the state, were divided among themselves, and sometimes shed
their blood in quarrels fatal to the cause of the Christians.

Discord reigned between the clergy and the knights of the Temple and
St. John; the military orders were not subject to the jurisdiction of
ecclesiastics, and the clergy, accustomed to dictate laws to princes,
could not endure the haughty independence of a few warriors. Led away
by the spirit of discord, the Hospitallers raised edifices in front of
the church of the Resurrection, and often drowned the voices of the
priests who celebrated the praises of God at the foot of his altars.
Some of them even went so far as to pursue priests with arrow-shots
into the very church of the Holy Sepulchre. As the only vengeance, the
priests gathered together in bundles the arrows that had been shot at
them, and placed them on an elevated spot on the Mount of Olives, that
every one might be acquainted with the sacrilege.

These quarrels, which were every day renewed, were carried before the
tribunal of the Holy See, whose decisions frequently only inflamed the
minds of the disputants the more. The Church of Rome, very far from
restoring peace to the Christians of the East, often cast amongst them
fresh coals of discord. The schisms which troubled the West, more than
once kindled war in the holy places, even upon the tomb of Christ.

Concord seldom prevailed long between the inhabitants of Palestine
and the European warriors who came into Asia to combat the infidels.
The Syrian barons employed the forces of their auxiliaries to carry
out their own ambitious views; and the latter, by their pride and
disdain, laid a high price upon their services. Almost always on the
arrival of fresh pilgrims, a treaty was violated or a truce broken, in
order to make incursions upon the territories of the Saracens; and not
unfrequently, the Crusaders, without even seeing the enemy, abandoned
Palestine to the perils of a war they had themselves provoked.

In the cities, particularly the maritime cities, several nations dwelt
together, and disputed precedence and sovereignty, sword in hand. All
who came to establish themselves in the Holy Land, brought with them
and preserved the remembrances and prejudices of their native country.
In the cities of Ascalon, Tyre, or Ptolemaïs, the inhabitants were much
more interested in the glory and prosperity of Pisa, Genoa, and Venice,
than in the safety of the kingdom of Jerusalem.

The greater part of the barons and knights displayed none of the
heroic resignation of the early soldiers of the cross, in supporting
fatigues or braving difficulties. Since the conquest of Egypt had been
contemplated, war was only considered as a means of acquiring wealth;
and the thirst for booty destroyed the principle of honour, the love of
glory, and even all anxiety for the cause of Christ. The question was
no longer what enemy was to be attacked, what ally was to be defended,
but what city or province was to be delivered up to pillage. Discipline
degenerated in the camp; the Christian warriors still displayed their
natural bravery, but they neither knew how to obey nor to command, and
anarchy reigned as completely in the army as throughout the kingdom.
Many of the leaders abandoned their colours under the most perilous
circumstances, and sold their inaction or their neutrality. Some,
like the Templar Meslier and his companions, forgetful of their vows,
ravaged the Christian provinces; whilst others, urged on by ambition
or vengeance, allied themselves with the Saracens, and received in the
service of the infidels the reward of their disgraceful apostasy.

Religion, which ought to have been the connecting tie between the
Christians established in the Holy Land, and which alone could preserve
among them sentiments of patriotism,—religion had lost all empire
over their minds. War was still made in its name, but its laws were
unpractised and unacknowledged. The conversion of the Maronites of
Libanus, who rejoined the Church of Rome in the reign of Baldwin IV.,
was celebrated at Jerusalem as a victory gained over heresy, but it had
not the effect of bringing back the Christians to the spirit of the
Scriptures. Pious men who lived in a corrupted age, groaned under the
depravity of manners which every day made such frightful progress.[302]
The respectable archbishop of Tyre trembles as he traces the history of
this unhappy period, and fears lest truth should give to his recitals
the colour of satire. “There is,” says he, “scarcely one chaste woman
to be found in the city of Jerusalem.” The leaders of the Christian
colonies, equally with the heads of the Church, themselves set the
example of licentiousness. The Christians beheld a queen of Jerusalem,
the widow of Baldwin III., keep up a criminal intercourse with
Andronicus, and seek an abode among the Saracens with the companion of
her debaucheries.[303] Bohemond, prince of Antioch, repudiated his wife
Erina, to espouse a courtesan. The patriarch, disgusted with such a
scandal, excommunicated young Bohemond, and placed an interdict upon
his states; and thus the guilty amours of a Christian prince produced
trouble and desolation throughout a whole nation. The sight even of
the tomb of Christ was unable to inspire more holy thoughts. The
patriarch Heraclius, who only owed his elevation to mundane and profane
qualities, lavished the treasures due to pilgrims and the poor, upon
infamous prostitutes, and the Christian people were often astonished
to see the notorious Pâque de Rivery display, even in the sanctuary,
ornaments purchased with the alms of the faithful.

A people thus degenerated could not possibly preserve the kingdom of
Christ. The eyes of all were turned towards the West, and Heraclius,
attended by the two grand masters of the Temple and St. John, was
sent into Europe to solicit the prompt assistance of kings and their
warriors. The king of France, Philip Augustus, received the Christian
deputies with great honours; but as he had but recently ascended
the throne, the interests of his kingdom would not permit him to go
in person to the defence of Jerusalem. Henry II., king of England,
appeared to be the last hope of the Christians; he had promised the
pope to make the pilgrimage to the Holy Land, as an expiation of the
murder of the archbishop of Canterbury, and Heraclius repaired to his
court, presenting him with the keys and standard of the Holy Sepulchre,
and pressing him to perform his promise. The bad reputation of the
patriarch had preceded him into Europe, and very much weakened the
effect of his words; he displayed, likewise, neither the meekness nor
the charity of the Scriptures, and only irritated those whom he sought
to persuade or convince. As the English monarch hesitated to fulfil his
promises, alleging his advanced age and the welfare of his dominions,
Heraclius loaded him with the most outrageous reproaches, threatening
him with the anger of Heaven. The aged Henry appearing irritated by
this language, the patriarch redoubled his insolence and pride. “You
may,” said he, on terminating his discourse, “treat me as you treated
my brother Thomas, for it is quite indifferent to me whether I die in
Syria by the hands of infidels, or perish here by the orders of you
who are more wicked than a Saracen.” Henry endeavoured to conceal his
anger, and did not dare to punish the envoy of the Christians; he even
treated him with great magnificence, but yet did not leave England. He
contented himself with sending the Christians of Jerusalem a large sum
of money, and exhorting his subjects to arm themselves for the defence
of the Holy Land.

The zeal for crusades began at this time to abate, and several
ambassadors returned to Jerusalem without having been able to arouse
the enthusiasm of the western Christians. Nations, to be excited to
active ardour for holy wars, required the example of princes or kings.
The warriors of Europe paid little attention to the exhortations of the
pope and Heraclius. The deputies returned into Palestine without having
obtained the assistance they demanded; and their appearance produced
discouragement and despair among all the Christians of the East.

The unfortunate king, Baldwin, had entirely lost the faculties of
both mind and body; and, tormented by his sufferings, he every day
drew nearer to the tomb, presenting but too faithful an image of the
weakness and decline of his kingdom. Whilst the approach of death
filled his palace with mourning, parties contended for a throne which
tottered to its fall, and for a crown which the most wise compared
to the crown of thorns of Christ. When he closed his eyes, the evils
increased, and discord submitted to no restraint. The count of Tripoli
wished to retain the reins of government as regent; whilst Sibylla was
desirous of bestowing the sceptre upon her husband. In the midst of
these dissensions Baldwin V., the weak and fragile hope of the kingdom,
died suddenly. All who had aspired to his authority were accused of his
death: unhappy period, in which such accusations could possibly be well
founded, and in which a whole people could think of reproaching a queen
with the murder of her own son!

Scarcely was Baldwin dead than his mother desired to reign in his
place; and in order to satisfy the ambition of herself and Guy de
Lusignan, she disdained no artifice and spared no perfidious promises.
Whilst the count of Tripoli was gathering together at Naplouse the
barons and principal men of the kingdom, the daughter of Amaury, by the
advice of the patriarch and the grand master of the Templars, announced
her intention of separating herself from her husband, and choosing a
warrior able to defend the kingdom. When this report had circulated
through Jerusalem, Sibylla ordered the gates of the city to be shut,
and repaired to the church of the Holy Sepulchre. In the presence of
the tomb of Christ, Heraclius took the oath of allegiance to her in the
name of the clergy and the people, pronounced her divorce with a loud
voice, and commanded her in the name of Heaven to bestow her hand and
sceptre upon him she deemed most worthy of them. At these words Sibylla
placed the crown upon the head of her husband, who was on his knees
before her, saying it was not in the power of man to separate those
whom God had united.

Whilst a part of the people and some of the barons, seduced by vain
promises, applauded the choice of Sibylla, the partisans of Raymond
were highly indignant at having been deceived by a woman. The
coronation of Guy de Lusignan naturally alarmed all who thought that
Jerusalem stood in less need of a king than of a defender. Baldwin of
Ramla, one of the most skilful captains of his times, despaired of the
safety of the kingdom, and retired into the principality of Antioch,
repeating the threats of the prophets against Jerusalem. Geoffrey de
Lusignan, when he heard of the elevation of his brother, could not
forbear exclaiming: “_Well, if they have made a king of him, they would
have made a god of me if they had known me_.”

When that which had taken place at Jerusalem was announced to the
barons assembled at Naplouse, most of them resolved to abandon
Palestine; but the count of Tripoli detained them, advising them
to name a new king, and bestow the crown upon Homfrey de Thorou,
who had recently married Isabella, the second daughter of Amaury.
He even promised to gain the support of Saladin for this election,
and succeeded in persuading the assembly. Whilst they were yet
deliberating, young Homfrey, terrified at the burden they wished to
impose upon him, fled away secretly by night, and hastened to the
capital to ask pardon of Queen Sibylla, protesting that he preferred
ease and life to the throne of Jerusalem. This flight disconcerted all
measures and changed all projects. Several barons, not knowing to what
party it would be best to ally themselves, went and took the oath to
Guy de Lusignan; whilst others, returning to their castles, awaited
coming events. Raymond retired to his county of Tiberias, of which he
had obtained the sovereignty.

The retreat and the murmurs of the enemies of Guy only increased his
pride. The more he stood in need of mildness and moderation, the more
haughtiness and severity he displayed. His disdainful manners drove
from him the barons who had remained faithful to him. Stimulated by
the grand master of the Templars, who was the declared enemy of the
count of Tripoli, he made preparations to besiege the city of Tiberias;
whilst Raymond, who was determined to defend himself, carried away by
the excess of his anger, implored the aid of Saladin against the king
of Jerusalem.

At the approach of the evils about to fall upon the kingdom, nothing
was heard but complaints and seditious clamours; but neither the
dangers of the Christian colonies, nor the aspect of the threatened
holy places, could silence ambition or check revolt. The historian of
the kingdom of Jerusalem here feels the pen fall from his hand, and
stops, terrified at the events which are left for him to describe.

Amidst the general disorder and agitation, the superstitious minds
of the Christians beheld nothing in the future but great calamities,
and everything seemed to present sinister presages to their eyes.
“The signs which were displayed in the heavens,” says a contemporary
chronicle, “allowed it to be plainly perceived that God held in
abomination that which was going on. Impetuous winds, tempests, and
storms arose on all sides; the light of the sun was obscured during
several days, and hailstones as large as the eggs of a goose fell
from heaven. The earth, equally agitated by frequent and horrible
earthquakes, gave notice of coming ruin and destruction, with disasters
and defeats in war which were soon to visit the kingdom. Neither could
the sea confine itself within its bounds and limits, but announced
to us, by its horrible floods or its unusually impetuous waves, the
anger of God ready to fall upon us. Fire was seen blazing in the air
like a house in flames; you would have sworn that all the elements
and architecture of God were angry, and abhorred the excesses,
wickednesses, dissoluteness, and offences of the human race.”

Such were the presages that struck the greater number of the
Christians; but thinking men could perceive much more certain signs of
the approaching fall of the kingdom of Jerusalem. Mossoul, Aleppo, and
all the Mussulman cities of Syria and Mesopotamia, had submitted to the
power of Saladin. The son of Ayoub had triumphed over the emirs and
the scattered family of Noureddin. All the treasures of Egypt, all the
forces of Asia, were in his hands; there remained only one conquest for
him to make, and fortune, which had levelled all obstacles before him,
soon furnished him with a pretext and an opportunity of giving the last
blow to the power of the Christians.

The truce made with the king of Jerusalem was broken at the same time
by both Christians and Mussulmans. Renaud de Chatillon continued his
incursions upon the territories of the infidels, and only replied to
the complaints of Saladin by new violations of treaties. A Mussulman
army, which the sultan of Damascus had sent to the assistance of
the count of Tripoli, advanced into the country of Galilee, whither
five hundred knights of the Temple and St. John hastened to defend
the Christian territory, and give battle to the Saracens. They were
speedily overwhelmed by numbers, and almost all perished on the field
of battle. Old chronicles, whilst celebrating the bravery of the
Christian knights, relate prodigies which we have now great difficulty
in believing. These indomitable heroes, after having exhausted their
arrows, plucked from their own bodies such as had pierced them, and
launched them back upon the enemy; pressed by fatigue and heat, they
drank their own blood, and revived their strength by the very means
which must weaken it; at length, after having broken their lances
and swords, they rushed upon their enemies, fought body to body,
rolling in the dust with the Mussulman warriors, and died threatening
their conquerors. Above all the rest, nothing could equal the heroic
valour of Jacques de Maillé, a knight of the Temple. Mounted on a
white horse, he remained alone in the field of battle, and fought on,
surrounded by heaps of slain. Although hemmed in on all sides, he
refused to surrender. The horse which he rode, worn out with fatigue
and exhausted by wounds, sunk under him, and dragged him with him;
but the intrepid knight arose, lance in hand, covered with blood and
dust, and bristling with arrows, and rushed upon the ranks of the
Mussulmans, astonished at his audacity; at length he fell, covered
with wounds, but fighting to the last. The Saracens took him for St.
George, whom the Christians believed they saw descend from heaven to
join their battalions. After his death the Turkish soldiers, whom an
historian calls _the children of Babylon and Sodom_, drew near with
signs of respect to his body, slain by a thousand wounds; they wiped
off the blood, they shared the rags of his clothes and the fragments of
his arms, and, in their brutal excitement, evinced their admiration by
actions that make modesty blush when speaking of them.[304]

The grand master of the Templars, with two of his knights, were all
that escaped from the carnage. This battle was fought on the 1st of
May, 1187. In the season, says an ancient chronicle, in which flowers
and roses are gathered in the fields, the Christians of Nazareth
found nothing but the traces of slaughter and the mangled bodies of
their brethren. They buried them in the church of St. Mary, repeating
these prophetic words: “_Daughters of Galilee, put on your garments
of mourning; and you, daughters of Sion, weep over the ills that
threaten the kings of Judah_.” The terror which this sanguinary defeat
created for a moment appeased the discords of the Christians. The king
consented to be reconciled to the count of Tripoli, whilst on his part
Raymond resolved to forget his private injuries, and to use every
effort to repair the misfortunes he had brought upon the kingdom. He
repaired to Jerusalem, where Guy de Lusignan, coming forth to meet him,
received him with marks of sincere affection. The two princes embraced
before the people, and swore to fight in unison for the heritage of
Christ.

After the rupture of the truce, Saladin employed himself in getting
together a formidable army. Turks, Arabs, Curds, and Egyptians flocked
to his standard; he promised the spoils of the Christians to the
Mussulman families that had been driven from Palestine; he distributed
cities and provinces beforehand to his faithful emirs, and held out to
all his soldiers the certainty of pillage or a glorious martyrdom. The
caliph of Bagdad and all the imauns of Egypt, Syria, and Mesopotamia
put up prayers for the triumph of his arms and the deliverance of
Jerusalem. He crossed the Jordan, and advanced into Galilee at the head
of eighty thousand horse.

In a council held at Jerusalem, Guy de Lusignan, the count of Tripoli,
and the barons deliberated upon the measures most proper to be adopted
to save the kingdom. The knights of the three military orders, the
troops of the king and the nobles, the garrisons of cities, with all
Christians able to bear arms, received orders to assemble on the plain
of Sephouri. It was determined to employ in the prosecution of the
war the treasures sent by Henry II., which were kept in the house of
the Temple; and to associate the English monarch in the glory of this
holy expedition, the arms of England were represented on the standards
of the Christian army. The wood of the true cross, which had so often
animated the Crusaders in fight, was exhibited to the people as a
last means of safety, and carried in triumph to the place where the
defenders of Jerusalem were assembled.

An army of fifty thousand fighting men had been collected on the plain
of Sephouri, when the leaders learned that Saladin had carried the
city of Tiberias by assault, and threatened the citadel, in which were
shut up the women and children of the count of Tripoli. The Christians
who had escaped from the sword of the Saracens, in the utmost terror,
took refuge in the camp of Sephouri, conjuring the king and the chiefs
to put an end to the ravages of the infidels. The barons assembled in
the tent of Guy, and all at once exclaimed that it was necessary to
march immediately against the enemy. Raymond then arose and demanded
permission to speak. “I am about,” said he, “to lay before you advice
which will surprise you; but I offer it with the greater confidence
from its being opposed to my personal interests. My desolated country,
my cities in ashes, my subjects ready to submit to death or slavery,
my wife exposed to the insults of the Mussulmans all implore instant
succour from me and you; but it is my duty to think of the safety of
the Christian cities now left without garrisons. In this army assembled
on the plain of Sephouri exists the only hope which the Christians of
the East have left. You behold here all the soldiers of Christ, all the
defenders of Jerusalem; if they perish, the infidels have no other foes
to dread. Beware, then, of leading this multitude of men and horses
into a dry and arid country, where the season, with thirst and hunger,
must soon deliver them up without defence to the enemy. The number even
of the Christian soldiers inspires me with more alarm than confidence.
They present nothing but a confused troop of men got together in haste,
and totally unable to support fatigue. The Mussulman archers are more
skilful than our soldiers in casting javelins, and may harass us on
our march, without our being able to defend ourselves; the cavalry of
Saladin is more numerous and better trained than ours, and may attack
us with advantage on the plains, across which we must pass. Abandon,
then, I entreat you, Tiberias to the Mussulmans, and let us save an
army which may yet repair our losses.

“I swear before God and before man, that I would willingly abandon
the county of Tripoli, with all the lands I possess, to procure the
safety of the city of Christ. Our only aim must be to destroy the
power of Saladin, and at the same time to preserve some defenders for
the kingdom of Jerusalem. If we go to meet the enemy and should be
conquered, God himself will not be able to save the Christians, but
will allow us to be delivered up to the infidels. If, on the contrary,
the enemy come to offer themselves to our arms, all our losses will be
repaired, and the evils that will fall upon me, will become for me a
source of gratification, since I shall have suffered for the cause of
Christ and the safety of his people.”

The more generosity there was in this advice, the less sincere it was
esteemed. The grand master of the Templars, blinded by his hatred for
Raymond, interrupted him several times; he reminded the assembly of
the alliance of the count of Tripoli with Saladin, and exclaimed aloud
that he could plainly perceive _the wolf’s skin under the fleece of
the sheep_. When Raymond invoked the name of Christ, the grand master
repeated with bitterness, that the name of _Mahomet_ was better fitted
to the mouth of a traitor. The count of Tripoli made not the least
reply to the insulting words of the grand master, but finished his
speech by these words, uttered with an accent of perfect conviction:
“_I will submit to the punishment of death if these things do not fall
out as I have said_.”

The council of the knights and barons adopted the opinion of Raymond;
but when Guy was left alone in his tent, the grand master came to
him, and infused into his mind the blackest suspicions of the conduct
and secret designs of the count of Tripoli. The feeble Lusignan, who
had already issued several contradictory orders, gave the command for
marching to meet the enemy. For the first time, the king of Jerusalem
was obeyed, and that was for the ruin of the Christians.

The undetermined conduct that Lusignan had exhibited, communicated
itself to the other chiefs, and this want of a fixed purpose spread
trouble and confusion throughout the army. The disheartened soldiers
quitted the camp of Sephouri with reluctance, and saw nothing around
them but presages of an approaching defeat. The Christian army advanced
towards Tiberias, and were marching in silence across a plain, which
modern travellers call the plain of Batouf, when they perceived the
standards of Saladin.

The Mussulman army was encamped on the heights of Loubi, with the
Lake of Tiberias in its rear; it covered the tops of the hills, and
commanded all the defiles through which the Christians had to pass.
The barons and knights then remembered the advice of Raymond, but
they had lost the opportunity of following it, and the courage of the
Christian soldiers alone could repair the errors of their leaders.
The bold and desperate resolution was formed of cutting themselves
a passage through the army of the enemy, so as to gain the banks
of the Jordan. On the 4th of July, at break of day, the Christians
began their march. From the moment they were in motion, the Mussulman
archers unceasingly poured upon them showers of arrows. The army of
the Franks was bravely enduring, on its march, the attacks of the
Saracen archers, when Saladin descended into the plain at the head of
his cavalry. Then the Christians were compelled to stop, and fight
with the enemy that disputed their passage.[305] The first shock was
impetuous and terrible; but as the Franks had for many days been short
of both provisions and water, and were oppressed by heat and thirst,
they had less strength than courage, and fell more from lassitude than
in consequence of their wounds. The bishops passed through the ranks,
and endeavoured to revive the ardour of the soldiers by the images of
religion.

The true cross, placed upon an elevated spot, for a moment reanimated
them, and drew around it the most fervent and the most intrepid.
Saladin himself said, in a letter, that the Christian soldiers fought
around the cross with the greatest bravery, and that they seemed to
consider it the strongest tie that bound them together, and as their
impenetrable buckler.[306] But the sight of a revered sign, and the
passing ardour which it created, only served to increase the disorder
of the fight. All the Mussulman forces united in one body to attack the
Christians. The cavalry of Saladin poured down upon them several times
with irresistible impetuosity, and penetrated through their ranks;
victory was evidently about to incline to the side of the Saracens,
when night put an end to the conflict. The Franks and the Saracens both
remained on the plain where they had fought all day, and prepared to
renew the battle on the morrow.

The Saracens were confident of victory. Saladin went through the ranks
of his army, inflaming the courage of the Mussulman soldiers by his
presence and his speeches. “To-morrow,” said he, “is a festival for
the true believers, for it is on Friday that Mussulmans offer up their
prayers, and that Mahomet listens to the vows that are made to him.”
The Mussulmans replied to their leader by the loudest acclamations.
Saladin then placed archers on the heights, ordered four hundred
charges of arrows to be distributed, and disposed his troops in such
a manner, that the Christian army should be surrounded from the very
commencement of the contest. The Christian soldiers took advantage of
the darkness to rally and close in their ranks; but their powers were
exhausted. Sometimes they exhorted each other to brave death; and at
others, raising their hands towards heaven, implored the All-Powerful
to save them. They then uttered threats against the Saracens, who were
near enough to hear them; but sad and sinister presentiments appeared
to deprive them of all hopes of victory. In order to conceal their
alarms, they made their camp resound during the whole night with the
noise of drums and trumpets.

At last daylight appeared, and was the signal for the entire ruin of
the Christian army. As soon as the Franks beheld the whole of the
forces of Saladin, and found themselves surrounded on all sides, they
were seized with surprise and terror. The two armies remained for a
considerable time drawn up in sight of each other, Saladin waiting
until the sun had completely illumined the horizon, to give the signal
for attack. From dawn a strong wind had prevailed, which blew full in
the faces of the Christians, and covered them with clouds of dust.
When Saladin gave the fatal word, the Saracens rushed upon their
enemies from all sides, uttering the most terrifying cries. To employ
the expressions of Oriental writers, “_It was then that the sons of
Paradise and the children of fire fought out their terrible quarrel;
the arrows sounded in the air like the noisy flight of birds; the water
of swords_ ’sic), _the blood of arrows spouted out from the bosom
of the mêlée, and covered the earth like the waters of rain_.”[307]
The Christians at first defended themselves valiantly, but Saladin
having set fire to the dry grass that covered the plain, the flames
surrounded their army, and scorched the feet of both men and horses.

Disorder began to prevail in their ranks, but they fought bravely
still. Swords gleamed through the flames, and the Christian knights,
rushing from masses of smoke and fire, precipitated themselves, lance
in hand, upon their enemies. In their despair, they endeavoured to
pierce through the battalions of the Saracens, but everywhere met with
an invincible resistance. Again and again they returned to the charge,
and as often were they repulsed. A prey to hunger and a consuming
thirst, they saw nothing around them but burning rocks and the
sparkling swords of their enemies. The mountain of Ettin arose on their
left, and in it they endeavoured to find an asylum; but, hotly pursued
by the Saracens, they were cast, some down precipices, and others into
narrow ravines, where their bravery was of no avail.

The knights of the Temple and St. John performed prodigies of valour,
and fought until the close of day, rallying round the wood of the true
cross. This sacred standard was borne by the bishop of Ptolemaïs,
who was killed in the heat of the battle. The bishop of Lidda, who
took it up and endeavoured to fly, was stopped, and taken prisoner.
A cry of despair arose from among the Franks when they saw the sign
of their safety in the hands of the conqueror; even the most brave
cast away their arms, and without attempting to fly, rushed upon the
swords of the infidels. The field of battle became nothing but a scene
of desolation; and the Christian warriors who had not been able to
save the cross of Christ, no longer feared either death or slavery.
The king of Jerusalem was made prisoner with his brother Geoffrey,
the grand master of the Templars, Renaud de Chatillon, and all the
most illustrious knights of Palestine. Raymond, who commanded the
vanguard of the Christian army, after having fought valiantly, opened
for himself a passage through the Saracens, and fled to Tripoli,[308]
where, a short time afterwards, he died of despair, accused by the
Mussulmans of having violated treaties, and by the Christians of
having betrayed both his religion and his country. Bohemond, prince
of Antioch, Renaud of Sidon, the young count of Tiberias, and a small
number of soldiers accompanied Raymond in his flight, and were the
only persons that escaped after this day, so fatal to the kingdom of
Jerusalem.

The Oriental historians whilst describing the victory of the Saracens,
have celebrated the bravery and firmness of the Frank knights, covered
with their cuirasses, made with rings of steel. These brave warriors at
first presented an impenetrable wall to the strokes of the Saracens;
but when their horses sunk, exhausted by fatigue, or wounded by lances
or javelins, Saladin met with very little more resistance, and the
battle became a horrible carnage. An Arabian author, a secretary and
companion of Saladin, who was present at this terrible conflict, has
not been able to refrain from pitying the disasters of the vanquished.
“I saw,” says he, “the hills, the plains, the valleys covered with
their dead bodies; I saw their colours abandoned and soiled with
blood and dust; I saw their heads struck off, their members dispersed
and their carcasses piled up like stones.” After the battle, the
cords of the tents were not sufficient to bind the prisoners; the
Saracen soldiers drove them in crowds, like vile herds of cattle. The
conquerors divided the captives amongst them, and the number was so
great, that, according to an historian, a pair of shoes was exchanged
for a Christian knight.

Saladin caused a tent to be erected in his camp, in which he received
Guy de Lusignan, and the principal leaders of the Christian army, whom
victory had placed in his hands. He treated the king of the Franks with
kindness, and ordered him to be served with a drink cooled in snow. As
the king, after having drunk, presented the cup to Renaud de Chatillon,
who was next to him, the sultan stopped him, and said, “That traitor
shall not drink in my presence, for I will show him no favour.” Then
addressing himself to Renaud, he made him the most severe reproaches
for his violation of treaties, and threatened him with death if he
did not embrace the religion of the prophet he had insulted. Renaud
de Chatillon replied with noble firmness, and braved the menaces of
Saladin, who struck him with his sabre. Some Mussulman soldiers, at the
signal of their master, threw themselves upon the disarmed prisoner,
and the head of a martyr of the cross fell at the feet of the king of
Jerusalem.

On the following day the sultan ordered the knights of the Temple and
St. John, who were among the prisoners, to be brought before him; and,
as they were led past his throne, said, “I will deliver the earth of
these two unclean races.” The grand master of the Templars found favour
before him, doubtless because his imprudent counsels had given up the
Christian army to the swords of the Saracens. A great number of emirs
and doctors of the law surrounded the throne of Saladin, and the sultan
permitted each of them to slay a Christian knight. Some of them refused
to shed blood, and turned their eyes away from so odious a spectacle;
but others, arming themselves with swords, massacred knights bound with
fetters, without pity, whilst Saladin sat on his throne, applauding the
horrible execution. The knights received the palm of martyrdom with
joy; most of the prisoners were anxious for death; and many among them,
although not belonging to the military orders, cried aloud that they
were Hospitallers or Templars, and, as if they feared they should want
executioners, pressed before each other, in order to secure the fatal
stroke from the hands of the infidels.

Saladin disgraced his victory by this barbarity; the fear with which
the Christians inspired him, even after defeat, made him cruel. He
became more humane and generous when he felt more assured of his
victory and confident of his power. Two days were devoted by the
Mussulmans to returning thanks to Heaven for the victory with which it
had blessed their arms; and then Saladin gave his attention to all the
advantages that might be obtained from it. As soon as he became master
of the citadel of Tiberias, he sent the wife of Raymond to Tripoli; and
was, with his army, very shortly under the ramparts of Ptolemaïs. This
city, full of merchants, and which, at a later period, sustained the
attacks of the most powerful armies of the West, during three years,
did not stand out two days against Saladin. The inhabitants had liberty
to retire with their most valuable property; and the churches were
converted into mosques, in which thanks were offered up to Mahomet for
the triumphs obtained over the Christian soldiers.

The terror which preceded his army opened to Saladin the gates of
Naplouse, Jericho, Ramla, and a great number of other cities which were
left almost without inhabitants. The cities of Cæsarea, Arsuf, Jaffa,
and Berouth shared the fate of Ptolemaïs; the yellow standards of
Saladin floated over their walls. On the sea-coast, the cities of Tyre,
Tripoli, and Ascalon still remained in the hands of the Christians.
Saladin attacked Tyre without success, and determined to wait for a
more favourable opportunity to renew the siege. Ascalon presented
itself to him as a conquest of much greater importance, as it would
assure his communication with Egypt. This city was besieged by the
Mussulmans, but it resisted, at first, with more firmness than Saladin
had expected. When a breach was effected, the sultan proposed peace;
but the inhabitants, with whom despair supplied the place of courage,
sent back his messengers without granting them a hearing. The king of
Jerusalem, whom Saladin led with him in triumph, then entreated the
defenders of Ascalon not to compromise the safety of their families and
the Christians of the city by a useless defence. After this appeal,
the principal among them came to the tent of the sultan: “It is not
for ourselves,” said they, “that we are come to implore mercy, but for
our wives and children. Of what importance is a perishable life to us?
We look for a more solid blessing, and that death alone can procure
us. God alone, the master of all events, has allowed you to obtain
victories over the unhappy Christians; but you shall not enter into
Ascalon unless you take pity on our families, and promise to restore
the king of Jerusalem to liberty.”

Saladin, touched by the heroism of the inhabitants of Ascalon, accepted
the conditions proposed. Such devotedness merited the redemption of a
prince of nobler character and more worthy of the love of his subjects
than Guy de Lusignan. Saladin consented to liberate the captive monarch
at the expiration of a year.

The moment was now come in which Jerusalem was again fated to fall
into the power of the infidels; and all Mussulmans earnestly implored
Mahomet for this crowning triumph for the arms of Saladin. After
having taken Gaza, and several fortresses in the neighbourhood, the
sultan drew his army together and marched towards the holy city. A
queen in tears, the children of the warriors slain at the battle of
Tiberias, a few fugitive soldiers, and some pilgrims recently arrived
from the West were the only guardians of the Holy Sepulchre. A great
number of Christian families which had left the devastated provinces
of Palestine, filled the capital, and, very far from bringing it
any assistance, only served to increase the general trouble and
consternation.

When Saladin drew near to the holy city, he caused the principal
inhabitants to be sent for, and said to them: “I acknowledge, as well
as you, that Jerusalem is the house of God; I do not wish to profane
its sanctity by the effusion of blood: abandon its walls and I will
bestow upon you a part of my treasures; I will give you as much land
as you will be able to cultivate.” “We cannot,” they replied, “yield
the city in which our God died; still less can we give it up to
you.” Saladin, enraged by their refusal, swore upon the Koran to lay
prostrate the towers and ramparts of Jerusalem, and to avenge the death
of the Mussulmans slaughtered by the companions and soldiers of Godfrey
of Bouillon.

At the moment in which Saladin was speaking to the deputies, an
eclipse of the sun all at once left the heavens in utter darkness, and
appeared to be a presage fatal for the Christians. Nevertheless, the
inhabitants, encouraged by the clergy, prepared to defend the city,
and chose as their commander Baleau d’Ibelin, who had been present at
the battle of Tiberias. This old warrior, whose experience and virtues
inspired confidence and respect, immediately set about repairing the
fortifications, and training the new defenders of Jerusalem. As he
was deficient in officers, he created fifty knights from amongst the
citizens; and all the Christians able to bear arms, placed themselves
under his command, and swore to shed their blood in the cause of
Christ. They had no money to meet the expenses of the war, but all
means of obtaining it seemed legitimate in a danger that threatened the
city of God. They despoiled the churches, and the people, terrified at
the approach of Saladin, beheld, without scandal, the precious metal
which covered the chapel of the Holy Sepulchre converted into coin.[309]

The standards of Saladin were soon seen floating over the heights of
Emaüs, and the Mussulman army encamped on the same places on which
Godfrey, Tancred, and the two Roberts had pitched their tents when they
besieged the holy city. The besieged at first resisted boldly, and made
frequent sorties, in which they bore in one hand a lance or a sword,
and in the other a shovel filled with dust, which they cast upon the
Saracens. A great number of Christians received the palm of martyrdom,
and ascended, say the historians, to the heavenly Jerusalem—many
Mussulmans fell beneath the swords of their enemies, and _went to dwell
on the banks of the river which waters Paradise_.

Saladin, after being encamped for several days on the western side of
the city, directed his operations towards the north, and caused the
ramparts which extended from the gate of Jehoshaphat to that of St.
Stephen to be undermined. The bravest of the citizens made a sortie,
and endeavoured to destroy the machines and works of the besiegers,
encouraging each other by repeating these words of Scripture: “_A
single one of us shall make ten infidels fly, and ten of us shall
put to flight ten thousand._” They performed prodigies of valour,
but they could not interrupt the progress of the siege. Repulsed by
the Saracens, they were forced to return to the city, whither their
appearance brought terror and discouragement. The towers and ramparts
appeared ready to fall at the first signal for a general assault.
Despair then took entire possession of the inhabitants, who saw
no means of defence within their power but tears and prayers. The
soldiers crowded to the churches instead of flying to arms; and not
even the promise of a hundred pieces of gold could keep them on the
tottering ramparts for one night. The clergy made processions through
the streets, to invoke the protection of Heaven. Some struck their
breasts with stones, whilst others tore their bodies with hair-cloth,
crying aloud for _mercy_! Nothing was heard in Jerusalem but sobs and
groans; “_but our Jesus Christ_,” says an old chronicle, “_would not
hear them, for the luxury and impurity that were in the city would not
allow either orisons or prayers to ascend before him_.” The despair of
the inhabitants inspired them with the most contradictory projects at
the same time; at one moment they formed the resolution of issuing in
a body from the city, and seeking a glorious death in the ranks of the
infidels; whilst, the next, they placed their last hope in the clemency
of Saladin.

Amid the general trouble and agitation, the Greek and Syrian
Christians, with the Melachite Christians, endured very unwillingly the
authority of the Latins, and accused them of all the misfortunes of the
war. A plot for giving up the city to the Mussulmans was discovered,
which redoubled the general alarm, and made the principal inhabitants
determine upon demanding a capitulation of Saladin. Accompanied by
Baleau d’Ibelin, they went and proposed to the sultan to give up the
place to him upon the conditions he had himself proposed before the
siege. But Saladin remembered that he had sworn to take the city by
assault, and put the inhabitants to the sword; and he sent back the
deputies without giving them the least hope. Baleau d’Ibelin returned
several times, renewing his supplications and his prayers, but always
found Saladin inexorable. One day, whilst the Christian deputies were
earnestly imploring him to accept their capitulation, turning towards
the place, and pointing to his standards which floated over the walls,
“How can you ask me,” said he, “to grant conditions to a city which is
already taken?”

Nevertheless, the Saracens were repulsed; and Baleau, reanimated by
the success the Christians had obtained, replied to the sultan: “You
see that Jerusalem is not without defenders; if we can obtain no mercy
from you, we will form a terrible resolution, and the fruits of our
despair shall fill you with terror. These temples and palaces that you
are so anxious to conquer, shall be totally destroyed; all the riches
which excite the ambition and cupidity of the Saracens, shall become
the prey of the flames. We will destroy the mosque of Omar; and the
mysterious stone of Jacob, which is the object of your worship, shall
be broken and pounded into dust. Jerusalem contains five thousand
Mussulman prisoners; they shall all perish by the sword. We will,
with our own hands, slay our wives and children, and thus spare them
the shame of becoming your slaves. When the holy city shall be but a
heap of ruins—one vast tomb—we will march out of it, followed by the
angry manes of our friends and kindred; we will march out armed with
sword and fire; and no one of us will ascend to Paradise without having
consigned ten Mussulmans to hell. We shall thus obtain a glorious
death, and shall die calling down upon your head the maledictions of
the God of Jerusalem.”

This spirited speech alarmed Saladin, and he invited the deputies to
come again on the following day. He consulted with the doctors of the
law, who decided that he might accept the capitulation proposed by the
besieged, without violating his oath. The conditions were signed on
the following day in the tent of the sultan, and thus Jerusalem again
fell into the power of the infidels, after having been eighty-eight
years under the domination of the Christians. The Latin historians
had remarked that the Crusaders entered the city on a Friday, and
at the same hour that Christ had submitted to death to expiate the
crimes of the human race. The Saracens retook the city on a Friday,
the anniversary of the day on which, according to their creed, Mahomet
set out from Jerusalem to ascend into heaven. This circumstance, which
might influence Saladin in his agreement to sign the capitulation, did
not fail to add a new splendour to his triumph with the Mussulmans, and
caused him to be regarded as the favourite of the Prophet.

All the warriors who were in Jerusalem when the capitulation was
signed, obtained permission to retire to Tyre or Tripoli. The conqueror
granted life to the inhabitants, and allowed them to purchase their
liberty. All Christians, with the exception of the Greeks and Syrians,
received orders to quit Jerusalem at the expiration of four days. The
rate of ransom was fixed at ten pieces of gold for the men, five for
the women, and two for the children. Such as could not purchase their
liberty, remained in slavery.

These conditions had at first been received with joy by the Christians;
but when they saw the day approach on which they were to leave
Jerusalem, they experienced nothing but the most bitter grief at
quitting the holy places. They watered the tomb of Christ with their
tears, and regretted that they had not died to defend it; they visited
Calvary and the churches they were never to see again, amidst groans
and sighs; they embraced each other in the streets, weeping and
lamenting over their fatal dissensions. Such as were unable to pay
their ransom, and would only quit Jerusalem to become slaves to the
Saracens, gave themselves up to all the excesses of despair. But such,
in these deplorable moments, was their attachment to the religion whose
precepts they had not always followed, that the insults offered to the
sacred objects of their worship, afflicted them more than their own
misfortunes.

At length the fatal day[310] arrived on which the Christians were to
quit Jerusalem. All the gates were shut except that of David, by which
the people were to go out. Saladin, seated on an elevated throne, saw
all the Christians pass before him. The patriarch, followed by the
clergy, appeared the first, carrying the sacred vases, the ornaments
of the church of the Holy Sepulchre, and treasures, of which God
alone, says an Arabian author, knew the value. The queen of Jerusalem,
accompanied[311] by the barons and knights, came next. Saladin
respected her grief, and addressed some words of kindness to her. The
queen was followed by a great number of women, bearing their children
in their arms, and uttering the most piercing cries. Many of them
drew near to the throne of Saladin, and said to him: “You see at your
feet the wives, the mothers, the daughters of the warriors you detain
prisoners; we leave for ever our country which they have defended with
glory; they helped to support our lives; in losing them, we have lost
our last hope; if you deign to restore them to us, they will lessen
the miseries of our exile, and we shall be no longer without help upon
earth.” Saladin was touched with their prayers, and promised to soften
the misfortunes of so many bereaved families. He restored the children
to their mothers, and the husbands to their wives, who were amongst
the unredeemed captives. Several Christians had abandoned their most
valuable goods, and bore upon their shoulders, some their parents
weakened by age, and others their infirm or sick friends. Saladin was
affected by this spectacle, and rewarded with gifts the virtue and
piety of his enemies; he took pity upon all distresses, and allowed the
Hospitallers to remain in the city to tend pilgrims, and assist such as
were prevented from leaving Jerusalem by serious illness.

When the Saracens began the siege, the holy city contained more than
a hundred thousand Christians. The greater part of them were able to
purchase their own liberty; and Baleau d’Ibelin, who was the depositary
of the treasures destined for the defence of the city, employed them in
procuring the freedom of part of the inhabitants. Malec Adel, brother
of the sultan, paid the ransom of two thousand captives. Saladin
followed his example, by breaking the chains of a great number of poor
and orphans. There only remained in bondage about fourteen thousand
Christians, amongst whom there were four or five thousand children
of tender age, who were insensible of their misfortunes, but whose
fate the Christians the more deplored, from the certainty that these
innocent victims of war would be brought up in the idolatry of Mahomet.

Many modern writers have compared the generous conduct of Saladin
with the revolting scenes which accompanied the entrance of the first
Crusaders into Jerusalem; but we must not forget that the Christians
offered to capitulate, whilst the Mussulmans sustained a long siege
with fanatical obstinacy; and that the companions of Godfrey, who were
in an unknown land, in the midst of hostile nations, carried the city
by assault, after braving numberless perils, and suffering all kinds of
miseries. But we beg to observe that we do not make this observation
to justify the Christians, or to weaken the praises history owes to
Saladin, and which he even obtained from the people he had conquered.

After having done honour to misfortune and consoled humanity, Saladin
gave his attention to his triumph. He entered Jerusalem preceded by his
victorious standards. A great number of imauns, doctors of the law,
and the ambassadors of many Mussulman princes, formed his train. By
his orders all the churches, except that of the Holy Sepulchre, were
converted into mosques. The sultan caused the walls and the vestibule
of the mosque of Omar to be washed with rose-water, brought from
Damascus, and with his own hands placed in it the pulpit constructed
by Noureddin. On the first Friday which followed his entrance into
Jerusalem, the people and the army assembled in the principal mosque,
and the chief of the imauns, ascending the pulpit of the Prophet,
returned thanks to God for the victories of Saladin. “Glory to God,”
said he, “who has caused Islamism to triumph, and who has broken the
power of the infidels. Praise with me the Lord, who has restored to us
Jerusalem, the dwelling of God, the abode of saints and prophets; it
was from the bosom of this sacred dwelling that God caused his servant
to travel during the darkness of night; it was to facilitate the
conquest of Jerusalem by Joshua that God formerly arrested the course
of the sun; and it is in this city, at the end of time, will assemble
all the prophets of the earth.” After having recapitulated the wonders
and miracles of Jerusalem, the preacher of Islamism addressed himself
to the soldiers of Saladin, and congratulated them with having braved
so many perils, and having shed their blood to accomplish the will of
Mahomet. “The soldiers of the prophet,” added he, “the companions of
Omar and Aboubeker, have appointed you places in their holy bands,
and expect you amongst the elect of Islamism. Witnesses of your last
triumph, the angels on the right hand of the Eternal have rejoiced; the
hearts of the messengers of God have leaped with joy. Praise, then,
with me the Lord; but yield not to the weaknesses of pride, and do not,
above everything, believe that it was your swords of steel, with your
horses, rapid as the wind, that have triumphed over the infidels. God
is God; God alone is powerful; God alone has given you the victory; he
orders you not to stop in a glorious career in which he himself leads
you by the hand. _The holy war! the holy war!_ that is the most pure
of your adorations, the most noble of your duties. Cut down all the
branches of impiety; cause Islamism to triumph everywhere; deliver the
earth of the nations against which God is angry.”

The chief of the imauns then prayed for the caliph of Bagdad, and
terminated his prayer by naming Saladin. “O God!” cried he, “watch
over the days of thy faithful servant, who is thy sharp sword, thy
resplendent star, the defender of thy worship, the liberator of thy
sacred dwelling. O God! let thy angels surround his empire, and prolong
his days for the glory of thy name!”

Thus Jerusalem had changed its worship on changing its masters. Whilst
the holy places resounded with the sacrilegious praises of the prophet,
the Christians departed sadly, plunged in profound grief, and detesting
the life which the Saracens had spared. Repulsed by their brethren of
the East, who accused them of having given up the tomb of their God
to the infidels, they wandered about Syria, without assistance and
without asylum; many died of grief and hunger; the city of Tripoli shut
its gates against them. Among this distracted multitude, one woman,
urged by despair, cast her infant into the sea, cursing the Christians
who refused them succour. They who directed their course to Egypt
were less unfortunate, and touched the hearts of the Mussulmans; many
embarked for Europe, whither they came to announce, with lamentations,
that Jerusalem was in the hands of Saladin.

The loss of the holy city was generally attributed to the crimes of
its inhabitants. Such was the policy of those times, that it explained
everything by the corruption or the sanctity of the Christians; as
if crime had not its moments of good fortune, and virtue its days of
calamity. There is no doubt that the corruption of manners had weakened
the springs of government, and enervated the courage of the people; but
the never-ending discords of the Christians did not contribute less
than their licentiousness and forgetfulness of scriptural morality, in
producing the disasters of Jerusalem. When we reflect, likewise, that
this weak kingdom, surrounded by enemies, was able to support itself,
and defer its ruin for eighty-eight years, we are much less astonished
at its fall than at the length of its duration. The kingdom of
Jerusalem owed its preservation and splendour to the divisions of the
Turks and Saracens, and the numerous supplies it received from Europe;
it fell as soon as it was left to itself, and its enemies united to
attack it.

As it was at that time, however, believed that the welfare of
Christianity and the glory even of God were attached to the
preservation of Jerusalem, the loss of the holy city created throughout
Europe as much surprise as consternation. The news of this disaster was
first brought into Italy; and Pope Urban III., who was then at Ferrara,
died of grief. Christians forgot all the ills of their own country
to weep over Jerusalem; it even superseded all other afflictions in
private families. Priests carried from city to city images,[312]
representing the holy sepulchre trampled under the feet of horses,
and Christ cast to the earth by Mahomet. Melancholy songs deplored
the captivity of the king of Jerusalem and his knights, the fate of
the virgins of the Lord abandoned to the insults of infidels, and the
misfortunes of Christian children brought up in slavery and in the
worship of false prophets.

Superstition, joined with despair, created a belief in the most
sinister prodigies. On the day Saladin entered into the holy city, says
Rigord, the monks of Argenteuil saw the moon descend from heaven upon
the earth, and then reascend to heaven. In many churches the crucifixes
and images of the saints shed tears of blood in the presence of the
faithful. A Christian knight had a dream, in which he saw an eagle
flying over an army, holding in his claws seven javelins, and uttering
in an intelligible voice, _Evil be to Jerusalem_.[313]

Every one accused himself of having brought down the vengeance of
Heaven by his own offences; and all the faithful sought to appease
by penitence a God whom they believed to be irritated. “The Lord,”
said they among themselves, “has poured out the floods of his wrath,
and the arrows of his anger are bathed in the blood of his servants.
Let our whole life pass away in mourning, since we have heard a voice
complaining on the mountain of Sion, and the children of the Lord are
scattered.” The sacred orators addressed God himself, and made the
churches resound with their invocations and prayers. “O powerful God!”
cried they, “thy hand has armed itself for the triumph of thy justice.
Filled with tears, we come to implore thy goodness, in order that
thou mayest remember thy people, and that thy mercies may exceed our
miseries; deliver not over thy heritage to shame; and let the angels of
peace obtain the fruits of penitence for Jerusalem.”

The Christian world was for a moment changed. Whilst weeping for the
loss of the tomb of Christ, people recalled the precepts of the holy
Scriptures, and became all at once better. Luxury was banished from
cities; injuries were forgotten, and alms were given abundantly.
Christians slept upon ashes, clothed themselves in hair-cloth, and
expiated their disorderly lives by fasting and mortification. The
clergy set the example; the morals of the cloisters were reformed, and
cardinals, condemning themselves to poverty, promised to repair to the
Holy Land, supported on charity by the way.

These pious reformations did not last long; but men’s minds were not
the less prepared for a new crusade by them, and all Europe was soon
roused by the voice of Gregory VIII., who exhorted the faithful to
assume the cross and take up arms. The first care of the sovereign
pontiff was to re-establish peace among Christian nations; and with
that view he repaired to Pisa, to endeavour to terminate the angry
disputes that had arisen between the Pisans and the Genoese. Gregory
died without finishing the work he had begun, and left the direction of
the crusade to his successor, Clement III., who, immediately after his
accession to the pontifical throne, ordered prayers for the peace of
the West and the deliverance of the land of the pilgrims.

William,[314] archbishop of Tyre, had quitted the East to come into
Europe to solicit the assistance of the Christian princes, and was
charged by the pope to preach the holy war. William was more able and
more eloquent than Heraclius, who had preceded him in this mission,
and, further, more worthy by his virtues of being the interpreter
of the Christians, and to speak in the name of Christ. After having
awakened the zeal of the nations of Italy, he repaired to France,
and was present at an assembly convoked near Gisors, by Henry II. of
England, and Philip Augustus of France. On the arrival of William,
these two kings, who were at war for the country of Vexin, laid down
their arms. The bravest warriors of France and England, united by the
dangers of their brothers of the East, came to the assembly whose
object was the deliverance of the holy places. William was received
with enthusiasm, and read with a loud voice, to the princes and
knights, an account of the taking of Jerusalem by Saladin. After this
reading, which drew tears from all the assembly, William exhorted the
faithful to take the cross. “The mountain of Sion,” said he, “still
resounds with the words of Ezekiel: _O children of men, remember that
day in which the king of Babylon triumphed over Jerusalem_! In one
single day all the evils that the prophets announced fell upon the
city of David and Solomon. That city, filled by all Christian nations,
remains now alone, or rather is only inhabited by a sacrilegious
people. The queen of nations, the capital of so many provinces, has
paid the tribute imposed upon slaves. All her gates have been broken,
and her guardians exposed with cattle in the markets of infidel
cities. The Christian states of the East, which caused the religion
of the cross to flourish in Asia, and formed the bulwark of the West
against the invasions of the Saracens, are reduced to the cities of
Tyre, Antioch, and Tripoli. We have seen, according to the expression
of Isaiah, the Lord extending his hand and its inflictions from the
Euphrates to the torrent of Egypt. The inhabitants of forty cities
have been driven from their homes, despoiled of their wealth, and are
now wandering with their weeping families among the nations of Asia,
_without finding a stone whereon to lay their heads_.”

After having thus described the misfortunes of the Christians of the
East, William reproached the warriors who listened to him, with not
having come to the aid of their brethren, and with having allowed the
heritage of Christ to be taken from them. He was astonished that they
could entertain another thought, that they could seek any other glory
than that of delivering the holy places; and addressing himself to the
princes and knights: “To meet you here,” said he, “I have traversed
fields of carnage; nay, within sight even of this assembly I have seen
preparations for war: what blood is it you have shed, what blood is
it you are about to shed again? Why are you armed with these swords?
You are fighting here for the banks of a river, for the limits of a
province, or for a transient renown, whilst infidels trample the banks
of Siloë, whilst they invade the kingdom of God, and whilst the cross
of Christ is dragged ignominiously through the streets of Bagdad. You
shed torrents of blood for vain treaties, whilst the very Gospel,
that solemn treaty between God and men, is being outraged. Have you
forgotten the deeds of your fathers? A Christian kingdom was founded
by them in the midst of Mussulman nations. A crowd of heroes, a crowd
of princes born in your country, went to defend and govern it. If you
have permitted their work to perish, come at least and deliver their
tombs, which are in the power of the Saracens. Does your Europe no
longer produce such warriors as Godfrey, Tancred, and their companions?
The prophets and saints buried at Jerusalem, the churches transformed
into mosques, the very stones of the sepulchres, all cry to you to
avenge the glory of God and the death of your brethren. What! why, the
blood of Naboth, the blood of Abel which arose towards heaven, found
avengers, and shall the blood of Christ arise in vain against his
enemies and his executioners?

“The East has beheld base Christians, whom avarice and fear have
rendered the allies of Saladin; I do not suspect they will find
imitators among you; but remember what Christ has said: ‘_He who is not
for me is against me._’ If you do not defend the cause of God, what
cause will you dare defend? If the king of heaven and earth find you
not beneath his colours, where are the powers whose standards you will
follow? Why then are the enemies of God no longer the enemies of all
Christians? What will be the joy of the Saracens amidst their impious
triumphs, when they shall be told that the West has no more warriors
faithful to Christ, and that the princes and kings of Europe have
learnt with indifference the disasters and captivity of Jerusalem?”

These reproaches made in the name of religion affected the hearts
of the princes and knights deeply. Henry II. and Philip Augustus,
to that time implacable enemies, embraced each other in tears, and
put themselves forward the first to receive the cross. Richard, duke
of Guienne, son of Henry, Philip, count of Flanders, Hugh, duke of
Burgundy, Henry, count of Champagne, Thibaut, count of Blois, Retrou,
count of Perche, the counts of Nevers, de Bar, Vendôme, Soissons,
the two brothers Josselin and Matthew de Montmorency, with a crowd
of barons and knights, together with several bishops of France and
England, all took the oath to deliver the Holy Land. The whole
assembly shouted the words “_the Cross! the Cross!_” and this war-cry
soon resounded through all the provinces. The spot on which the
faithful met was afterwards called the _sacred field_, and a church
was built upon it to preserve the remembrance of the pious devotion
of the Christian knights. As money was wanting to carry out the holy
enterprise, it was resolved in the council of the princes and bishops
that all who did not take the cross should pay a tenth part of their
revenues and of the value of their property of all kinds. The terror
which the arms of Saladin had inspired, caused the name of the _Saladin
tithe_ to be given to this tax. Excommunications were published against
all such as refused to pay a debt so sacred. In vain the clergy, of
whom Peter of Blois undertook the defence, alleged the liberty and
independence of the Church, and pretended they could not be called
on to assist the Crusaders otherwise than by their prayers; the
ecclesiastics were told that they ought to set the example, that the
clergy was not the Church, and that the wealth of the Church belonged
to Christ. The orders of the Chartreux, of Citeaux and Fontevrault,
with the hospital for lepers, were all that were exempt from a tribute
raised for a cause which was believed to be that of all Christians.[315]

In the two first crusades, the greater part of the villagers who had
taken the cross, had done so to emancipate themselves from slavery.
Some disorders naturally resulted from this; the country was deserted,
the lands were uncultivated; in this crusade means were taken to set
bounds to the too forward zeal of the labourers: all serfs who enrolled
themselves for the holy war, without the permission of their lords,
were condemned to pay the Saladin tithe, as if they had not taken the
cross.[316]

Notwithstanding all this excitement, the peace which had been sworn
to by the kings of France and England was not long held sacred.
Richard, who was duke of Guienne, having had a quarrel with the count
of Thoulouse, Henry took up arms to assist his son. Philip flew to the
defence of his vassal; and Normandy, Berry, and Auvergne were soon in a
blaze. The two monarchs, urged by the solicitations of the nobles and
bishops, met for a moment in the sacred field in which they had laid
down their arms, but they could not agree upon the conditions of the
peace; and the elm-tree under which they held their conference, was
cut down by the orders of Philip. Negotiations were renewed several
times without putting a stop to the war. The king of France required
that Richard should be crowned king of England, in the lifetime of his
father, and that he should espouse Alice, a French princess, whom Henry
detained in prison. The king of England, jealous of his authority,
could not consent to accept these conditions; and would neither yield
up his crown nor the sister of Philip, of whom he was enamoured.
Richard, irritated by his father’s refusal, threw himself into the
party of Philip Augustus, and declared openly against Henry; on all
sides they flew to arms, and the produce of the Saladin tithe was
employed to carry on a sacrilegious war, which outraged both morality
and nature.

This war was not a good augury for that which was about to be
undertaken in Asia: the pope’s legate excommunicated Richard, and
threatened Philip with placing his kingdom under an interdict. Philip
despised the menaces of the legate, and told him that the Holy See
had no right to meddle with the quarrels of princes; Richard, still
more violent, drew his sword, and was on the point of cutting down the
legate. Peace seemed every day to be at a greater distance; in vain
cries of indignation arose from the people; in vain the great vassals
refused to take part in a quarrel which interested neither religion
nor country. Henry, who consented to an interview, still haughtily
rejected the conditions that were proposed to him. He resisted for a
long time both the prayers of his subjects and the counsels of the
bishops; and the terror only with which the thunder of Heaven, which
fell by his side during the conference, inspired him, could overcome
his obstinacy. He at length accepted Philip’s conditions, but soon
repented of his acquiescence; and shortly after died of grief, leaving
his maledictions to Richard, who had made open war against him, and to
his youngest son, who had engaged in a conspiracy against him.

Richard accused himself of the death of his father, and, pressed by
repentance, he remembered the vow he had made in the sacred field.
Now become king of England, he began seriously his preparations for
the holy expedition. He repaired to his kingdom, and convoked, near
Northampton, an assembly of the barons and prelates, in which Baldwin,
archbishop of Canterbury, preached the crusade. The preacher of the
holy war then went through the provinces of England to raise the zeal
and emulation of the faithful.[317] Miraculous adventures attested the
sanctity of his mission, and brought under the banners of the cross the
wild and credulous inhabitants of Wales, and several other countries
where the misfortunes of Jerusalem had never been heard of.

The enthusiasm of the English for this crusade, manifested itself at
first by a violent persecution of the Jews, great numbers of whom
were massacred in the cities of London and York. A vast many of these
unfortunate people found no means of escape from their persecutors
but in a self-inflicted death. These horrible scenes were renewed
every crusade. When money was required for the holy expedition, it was
perceived that the Jews were the depositaries of the general wealth;
and the knowledge of the treasures accumulated in their hands, seemed
to lead the people to remember that it was they who had crucified their
God.

Richard did not take much pains to repress the misguided multitude,
but availed himself of the persecution of the Jews to increase his own
treasures. But neither the spoils of the Jews, nor the produce of the
Saladin tithe, for the non-payment of which the English were threatened
with imprisonment, at all satisfied the king of England. Richard
alienated the domains of the crown, and put to sale all the great
dignities of the kingdom; he would sell, he said, the city of London,
if he could find a purchaser. He went afterwards into Normandy, where
the “Estates” permitted him to exhaust that rich province, and gave him
full means to support a war in which the whole people took so great an
interest.

A great number of warriors assumed the cross in France and England,
and the preparations for the crusade were finished amidst general
fermentation. Many barons and lords, however, did not announce the
period of their departure, and delayed, under various pretexts, the
pilgrimage to which they had engaged themselves by oath. The celebrated
Peter of Blois, addressed a pathetic exhortation to them, in which he
compared them to reapers who put off beginning their work until the
harvest was finished. The orator of the holy war represented to them
that strong and courageous men found a country everywhere, and that
true pilgrims ought to resemble the birds of heaven.[318] He recalled
to their ambition the example of Abraham, who abandoned his home to
elevate himself among the nations, who crossed the Jordan with a staff
only, and returned followed by two troops of warriors. This exhortation
revived the ardour for the crusade, which had evidently begun to cool.
The monarchs of France and England had an interview at Nonancourt,
where they agreed to proceed to Palestine by sea. They made, at the
same time, several regulations to secure order and discipline in the
armies they were about to lead into Asia. The laws of religion, and the
penalties that they inflict, did not appear to them sufficient in this
case. The justice of these barbarous ages was charged with the onerous
task of suppressing the passions and vices of the Crusaders: whoever
gave a blow, was to be plunged three times into the sea; he who struck
with the sword, had his hand cut off; he who abused another, gave to
the person he had offended as many ounces of silver as he had uttered
invectives; when a man was convicted of theft, boiling pitch was poured
upon his shaven head, it was then covered with feathers, and he was
abandoned on the nearest shore; a murderer, bound to the corpse of his
victim, was to be cast into the sea, or buried alive.

As the presence of women had occasioned many disorders in the first
crusade, they were forbidden to go to the Holy Land. Gambling with
dice, or other games of chance, together with profane swearing or
blasphemy, were strictly forbidden among the Crusaders; and luxury
of the table or in clothes was repressed by a law. The assembly of
Nonancourt made many other regulations, and neglected nothing likely to
bring back the soldiers of Christ to the simplicity and virtues of the
Gospel.

Whenever princes, nobles, or knights set out for the holy war, they
made their wills, as if they were certain never to return to Europe.
When Philip came back to his capital, he declared his last will, and
regulated, for the period of his absence, the administration of his
kingdom, which he confided to Queen Adela, his mother, and his uncle,
the Cardinal de Champagne. After having fulfilled the duties of a king,
he laid down the sceptre, to take, at St. Denis, the staff and scrip of
a pilgrim, and went to Vézelay, where he was to have another interview
with Richard. The two kings again swore an eternal friendship, and both
called down the thunders of the Church upon the head of him who should
break his oaths. They separated full of friendship for each other;
Richard hastened to embark at Marseilles, and Philip at Genoa. An
English historian remarks that they were the only kings of France and
England that ever fought together for the same cause; but this harmony,
the work of extraordinary circumstances, was not likely to exist long
between two princes acted upon by so many motives of rivalry. Both
young, ardent, brave, and magnificent; Philip the greater king, Richard
the greater captain; both animated by the same ambition and the same
passion for glory. Desire for renown, much more than piety, drew them
to the Holy Land: both haughty and prompt to revenge an injury, they
acknowledged, in their various differences, no other arbitrator or
judge but the sword: religion had not sufficient empire over their
minds to humble their pride, and each would have thought himself
degraded, if he had either demanded or accepted peace. To ascertain, at
a glance, how little hope could be founded on the union of these two
princes, it is only necessary to observe, that Philip, on ascending his
throne, had shown himself to be the most inveterate enemy of England,
and that Richard was the son of that Eleanor of Guienne, the first wife
of Louis VII., who, after the second crusade, had quitted her husband,
threatening France with her revenge.

After the conference of Gisors, the archbishop of Tyre repaired to
Germany, to solicit Frederick Barbarossa to take the cross. This prince
had signalized his valour in forty battles; a long and fortunate reign
had rendered his name illustrious; but his age recognised no glory as
true but that which was won in Asia. He wished to deserve the praises
of his pious contemporaries, and took up arms for the deliverance of
the Holy Land; he was, likewise, doubtless influenced by the scruples
which his quarrels with the pope had left upon his conscience, and by
his desire to perfect his reconciliation with the Holy See.

A general diet was assembled at Mayence. The nobles and prelates would
not allow Germany to remain indifferent to a cause which had inflamed
the zeal of the other nations of Europe. Frederick, whose devotion they
encouraged, descended from his throne, amidst general acclamations, and
received the sign of the Crusaders from the hands of the archbishop of
Tyre. His example was followed by his son, Frederick duke of Swabia;
Leopold duke of Austria, and Berthold duke of Moravia; Herman, marquis
of Baden, the count of Nassau, the bishops of Besançon, Munster,
Osnaburg, and Passau, with a crowd of barons and knights, likewise
swore to deliver the tomb of Christ.

The war against the infidels was preached in all the churches. Happy,
said the sacred orators, are they who undertake this holy voyage; more
happy are they who never return from it. Among the prodigies that
appeared to announce the will of Heaven, the miraculous vision of a
virgin of Lewenstein, is particularly mentioned. She had learnt the
conquest of Jerusalem on the very day that the Saracens had entered the
holy city, and rejoiced at the lamentable event, saying that it would
furnish a means of salvation for the warriors of the West.[319]

The multitude of those who presented themselves to receive the cross
was so great, that means were obliged to be taken to repress their
ardour. Frederick, who had followed his uncle Conrad in the second
crusade, was aware of the disorders and misfortunes that might result
from too great a number of followers. He refused to receive under
his banners any who could not take with them three marks of silver;
and rejected all such vagabonds and adventurers as had, in the other
expeditions, committed so many excesses, and dishonoured the cause of
the Christians by their brigandage.

Frederick, before his departure, sent ambassadors to the emperor
of Constantinople, and the sultan of Iconium, to demand freedom of
passage through their states; and wrote to Saladin, to declare war,
if he did not restore to the Franks Jerusalem and the other Christian
cities that had surrendered to his arms.[320] The embassy addressed
to Saladin, shows the spirit of chivalry in which Frederick entered
upon this crusade. That which, without doubt, induced him to address
the sultan of Iconium, was an opinion then spread through Europe, that
the Mussulman prince had evinced a desire of embracing the Christian
religion.[321] Frederick left Ratisbon at the head of an army of a
hundred thousand combatants, and crossed Hungary and Bulgaria, as the
first Crusaders had done. He arrived in the provinces of the Greek
empire before Richard and Philip had embarked for Palestine.

Isaac Angelus was then seated on the throne of Constantinople; this
prince had only been brave on one single day, and his courage procured
him an empire. Andronicus, the Nero of the Greeks, having been warned
by soothsayers that he would be dethroned by one of his subjects,
who bore the name of Isaac, desired to get rid of Isaac Angelus, and
sent one of his officers to conduct him to prison. Isaac, animated
by despair, instead of obeying, threw himself upon the minister of
Andronicus, struck him to the earth, and running into the public
streets, cried out: “_I have killed the devil! I have killed the
devil!_” Upon the report of this event spreading through the city,
the people assembled in crowds and proclaimed Isaac emperor. In vain
Andronicus endeavoured to quiet the storm; he was seized by his own
soldiers, and loaded with chains. Dragged through the streets by an
infuriated multitude, he underwent in one day more torments than he had
inflicted upon his enemies during all his reign, and Constantinople
beheld a populace a hundred times more barbarous than all her tyrants.

It was amidst these bloody and disgusting scenes that Isaac was clothed
with the imperial purple. He did not possess the savage character of
Andronicus, but he was entirely incapable of defending the empire
against its enemies. Instead of raising armies, he gathered together
in his palace a troop of monks, who kept up his sense of security by
their prayers, and turned his attention from the cares and duties of
state by their visions and prophecies. The mutual hatred of the Greeks
and Latins had increased under his reign and that of Andronicus. The
Latins who inhabited Constantinople were driven from the city, their
houses were given up to the flames, and a great number of them were put
to death. They who escaped the carnage took refuge in the vessels and
galleys, and made sanguinary reprisals on the islands and shores of the
Hellespont. The monks who surrounded Isaac partook of the blind hatred
entertained by the people for the Christians of the West, and dreaded
their vengeance. They advised the successor of Andronicus to mistrust
the emperor of Germany, and to betray him if he could not conquer him.

Faithful to their counsels, Isaac promised to entertain the Germans
in his states, and at the same time formed an alliance with Saladin.
He sent orders to his governors to harass the Crusaders, and even
to attack them by open force. These imprudent hostilities exposed
the weakness of the Greeks, and were of service to the Germans; for
Frederick, after having put the troops of Isaac to flight, took every
advantage of his victory. Isaac, constantly intoxicated by the incense
of his courtiers, and seduced by the promises of the monks, only
replied to the victories of Frederick by letters full of haughtiness
and menaces; he refused to acknowledge him as emperor, and could see
nothing but a vassal in a prince who was marching in triumph towards
his capital. Whilst his subjects were from all parts flying before
the Germans, he gave himself in his letters the titles of _most
sublime, most powerful emperor, the angel of the whole earth_; and
caused the ambassadors of Frederick to be imprisoned. The patriarch of
Constantinople preached, by his orders, in the church of St. Sophia,
the murder of the Latins.

Nevertheless, terror at length took possession of the heart of Isaac,
and from that moment this prince altered the tone of his language,
and became the most humble of suppliants. Frederick was now for him,
_the most virtuous emperor of the Germans_, and he voluntarily granted
him much more than he had before refused him. After having required
hostages, he himself gave them, and fed during several months an army
he had sworn to destroy. He endured without a murmur the violences
which the Crusaders committed in their passage, and treated an army
that laid waste his provinces as if they had saved his empire. The
emperor of Germany received magnificent presents, and all the vessels
of the Greek navy were employed in transporting the Crusaders into Asia.

The Germans embarked at Gallipoli, and crossed the Hellespont. The
sight of the coasts of Asia, and the easy victories they had obtained
over the Greeks, made them forget the obstacles and dangers of a long
and painful march. They saw nothing in the regions they were about to
traverse but laurels to be gathered and kingdoms to be destroyed or
founded; but it was not long ere this brilliant prospect disappeared.
Whilst they remained in the territories of Isaac, they had to suffer
from the perfidy of the Greeks; and when they arrived among the Turks,
they had fresh enemies to contend with. The sultan of Iconium, who had
been as liberal of his promises as the emperor of Constantinople, did
not prove at all more faithful to his word. When the Germans arrived
on the banks of the Meander, near Laodicea, they found the Turks drawn
up in order of battle upon the heights, and ready to surprise them in
the defiles: the latter were, however, punished for the treachery of
their master, and cut to pieces; their bodies covered the passages they
had been charged to defend.

The Crusaders, ever persuaded that Heaven protected their arms,
attributed this victory to miracles. Several knights declared, upon
oath, that they had seen St. George and St. Victor,[322] clothed in
white, and armed with lances, fighting at the head of the Christians;
but the celestial powers that had thus enabled the Germans to triumph
over the arms of their enemies, did not destroy the obstacles which
impeded the march of their victorious army. The Crusaders soon felt
the want of provisions in a country ravaged at the same time by the
conquerors and the conquered. Snow, rain, and the rigours of winter
rendered their march exceedingly painful through a mountainous region,
intersected by torrents that had overflowed their banks. Hunger and
disease destroyed a great number of the soldiers. To remedy the evils
which threatened his army with entire ruin, Frederick was obliged to
attack Iconium, the very capital in which he had expected to find peace
and all the provisions he stood in need of.

At the first signal the ramparts were scaled; Iconium was taken by
assault, and given up to pillage. The beaten sultan then fulfilled his
promises, and this last victory restored abundance in the Christian
army.

From this time the Germans spread terror in every country around them.
The Armenians solicited their alliance, and the independent tribes of
the Turcomans, on several occasions, felt the effects of their courage.
During their triumphal march they attracted the admiration of the
natives by their discipline; and the emirs, charged with announcing
their arrival to Saladin, praised their indomitable valour in fight,
and their heroic patience in the labours and fatigues of war.

The leader of this formidable army had conquered several nations, and
dictated laws to two empires, without having yet done anything towards
the aim of his enterprise. After having crossed Mount Taurus, near
Laurenda, he had resumed his march towards Syria at the beginning of
spring, and was proceeding along the banks of the river Selef.[323]
Attracted by the freshness and limpidity of the waters, he wished to
bathe; but, seized all at once by a mortal coldness, he was dragged
out insensible, and soon after died, humbly bowing to the will of God,
who would not allow him to behold the land he was going to defend. His
death was more fatal to his army than the loss of a great battle; all
the Germans wept for a chief who had so often led them to victory, and
whose name alone was the terror of the Saracens. The bones of this
unfortunate monarch were preserved for the purpose of being buried in
that Jerusalem he had sworn to deliver, but in which he could not even
obtain a tomb. William, who had been to preach the crusade in Europe,
buried the remains of Frederick in the city of Tyre, and pronounced the
funeral oration of the most powerful monarch of the Christians.

After the death of Frederick, grief weakened the courage of his
soldiers; some deserted the banners of the crusade, whilst the
others listlessly and sadly continued their march under the orders
of Frederick, duke of Swabia, who reminded them of the virtues of
his father, but was unable to lead them to victory. The contests they
still had to maintain against the Saracens, together with hunger,
fatigue, and disease, reduced the army of the Germans to six or seven
hundred horse, and about five thousand foot. This miserable wreck of
a formidable army crossed Syria; and the report of their disasters
having preceded them, their arrival must have created more terror than
confidence among the Christians, who were then carrying on the siege of
Ptolemaïs.




BOOK VIII.

A.D. 1188-1192.


WHILST the crusade was being preached in Europe, Saladin was following
up the course of his victories. The battle of Tiberias and the taking
of Jerusalem had created so general a terror, that the inhabitants of
the Holy Land were persuaded it was useless to endeavour to resist the
army of the Saracens. Amid this consternation, one city alone defied
and checked all the united forces of the new conqueror of the East.
Saladin was exceedingly anxious for the conquest of Tyre, and had
twice collected both his fleets and his armies to attack it. But the
inhabitants had sworn to die rather than surrender to the Mussulmans;
which noble determination was the work of Conrad, who had recently
arrived in the city, and appeared to have been sent by Heaven to save
it.

Conrad, son of the marquis of Montferrat, bore a name renowned
throughout the West, and the fame of his exploits had preceded him into
Asia. In his earliest youth he had distinguished himself in the war of
the Holy See against the emperor of Germany. A passion for glory and a
love of adventure then led him to Constantinople, where he suppressed
a sedition which threatened the imperial throne, and killed the leader
of the rebels on the field of battle. The sister of Isaac Angelus and
the title of Cæsar were the reward of his courage and his services; but
his restless character would not allow him to enjoy his good fortune
long. Whilst surrounded by peaceful grandeur, he was roused by the
fame of the holy war, and, heedless of the tenderness of a bride,
or the gratitude of an emperor, he hastened into Palestine. Conrad
reached the coast of Phœnicia a few days after the battle of Tiberias.
At the moment of his arrival, the city of Tyre had named deputies
to demand a capitulation of Saladin; but his presence revived the
courage of the besieged, and changed the face of everything. He caused
himself to be made commander, he widened the ditches, and repaired the
fortifications; and the inhabitants of Tyre, attacked by sea and land,
becoming all at once invincible warriors under his orders, were able to
contend with the fleets and armies of the Saracens.

The old marquis of Montferrat, the father of Conrad, who had left his
peaceful states to visit the Holy Land, was present at the battle
of Tiberias. Made prisoner by the Mussulmans, he languished in the
prisons of Damascus, until his children might be able to deliver him or
purchase his liberty.

Saladin sent for him to his army, and promised the brave Conrad to
restore his father, and grant him rich possessions in Syria, if he
would open the gates of Tyre to him. He threatened at the same time
to place the old marquis before the front rank of the Saracens, and
expose him to all the arrows of the besieged. Conrad haughtily replied
that he despised the gifts of infidels, and that the life of his father
was less dear to him than the cause of the Christians. He added that
nothing should stop his exertions, and that if the Saracens were so
barbarous as to sacrifice an old man who had surrendered himself upon
the word of Saladin, he should take glory from being descended from a
martyr. After this reply the Saracens renewed their attacks, and the
Tyrians continued to defend themselves bravely. The Hospitallers, the
Templars, and the bravest of the warriors that were still in Palestine,
repaired to Tyre to take part in this glorious defence. Among the
Franks who distinguished themselves by their valour, no one was more
remarkable than a Spanish gentleman, known in history by the name of
_The Green Knight_. Alone, say the old chronicles, he repulsed and
dispersed whole battalions of the enemy; he fought several times in
single combat, always overcoming the most intrepid of the Mussulmans,
and creating in Saladin the strongest admiration for his courage and
his feats of arms.

The city did not contain a single citizen that was not an active
combatant; the children even were so many soldiers, and the women
animated the warriors by their presence and their applause. On board
the ships, under the walls, battles were continually fought; and the
Saracens, on all occasions, again met with the Christian heroes that
had so often inspired them with fear.

Saladin, despairing of taking Tyre, resolved to raise the siege, and
attack Tripoli; but was not more successful in this new enterprise.
William, king of Sicily, upon being informed of the disasters in
Palestine, sent assistance to the Christians. Admiral Margarit, whose
talents and victories had procured for him the surname of _King of the
Sea_ and the _New Neptune_, arrived on the coast of Syria with fifty
galleys, three hundred knights, and five hundred foot-soldiers. The
Sicilian warriors hastened to the defence of Tripoli, and, commanded by
the _Green Knight_, who had so eminently distinguished himself at the
siege of Tyre, forced Saladin to abandon his undertaking.

The city and country of Tripoli, since the death of Raymond, had
belonged to Bohemond, prince of Antioch. Saladin, exasperated by his
double disappointment, laid waste the banks of the Orontes, and forced
Bohemond to purchase a truce of eight months. The Mussulmans then took
possession of Tortosa and some castles built on the heights of Libanus.
The fortress of Carac, from which had issued the war so fatal to the
Christians, defended itself during a whole year against a Mussulman
army. The besieged, destitute of all succour, and a prey to every kind
of evil and privation, carried resignation and bravery to perfect
heroism. “Before they would surrender,” says the continuator of William
of Tyre, “they sold their wives and children to the Saracens, and there
remained not an animal in the castle of which they could make food.”
They were at length, however, forced to yield to Saladin; the sultan
granting them their lives and their liberty, and restoring to them
their wives and children, whom a barbarous heroism had condemned to
slavery.

Throughout his conquests, Saladin still kept Guy de Lusignan in chains;
but when he became master of Carac and the greater part of Palestine,
he at length set the unfortunate king of Jerusalem free, after having
made him swear upon the Gospel to renounce his kingdom for ever, and
to return to Europe. This promise, extorted by force, could not be
regarded as binding in a war in which fanaticism set at nought the
power of an oath, on the one side or the other. Saladin himself never
entertained an idea that Guy would keep his word; and if he consented
to liberate him, it was doubtless from the fear that a more able prince
would be chosen in his place, and from the hope that his presence would
bring discord among the Christians.

Guy was scarcely released from captivity, when he made his bishops
annul the oath he had taken, and sought earnestly for an opportunity
of reconstructing a throne upon which fortune had for a moment placed
him. He presented himself in vain before Tyre; that city had given
itself up to Conrad, and would not acknowledge as king a prince who had
not been able to defend his own states. The king of Jerusalem wandered
for a long time about his own kingdom, accompanied by a few faithful
attendants, and at length resolved to undertake some enterprise that
should draw attention, and unite under his banners the warriors who
flocked from all parts of Europe to the assistance of the Holy Land.

Guy laid siege to Ptolemaïs, which had surrendered to Saladin a few
days after the battle of Tiberias. This city, which historians call by
turns _Acca_, _Accon_, and Acre, was built at the western extremity
of a vast plain. The Mediterranean bathed its walls; it attracted, by
the commodiousness of its port, the navigators of Europe and Asia,
and deserved to reign over the seas with the city of Tyre, which was
situated not far from it. Deep ditches surrounded the walls on the land
side; and, at equal distances, formidable towers had been built, among
which was conspicuous _The Cursed Tower_, which dominated over the city
and the plain. A <DW18>, built of stone, closed the part towards the
south, terminated by a fortress, erected upon an isolated rock in the
midst of the waves.

The plain of Ptolemaïs is bounded on the north by Mount Saron, which
the Latins called _Scala Tyrorum_,—the ladders of the Tyrians; on the
east by the mountains of Galilee; and on the south by Mount Carmel,
which stretches into the sea. The plain is intersected towards the city
by two hills,—the _Turon_, or the Mountain of the Worshipper, and
the Mahameria, or the Hill of the Prophet. Several rivers or torrents
descend from Mount Saron or from the mountains of Galilee, and flow
impetuously into the sea at a short distance from Ptolemaïs. The most
considerable of these torrents is the Belus, which discharges itself
to the south of the city. In the rainy season it overflows its banks,
and forms around it marshes covered with rushes and reeds. The other
torrents, whose beds in summer present nothing but an arid sand,
overflow in winter like the Belus. During several months of the year a
great part of the plain of Ptolemaïs is under water; and when summer
comes to dry the long-flooded fields, the exhalations corrupt the air
and spread around the germs of epidemic diseases.

Nevertheless, the plains of Ptolemaïs were fertile and smiling: groves
and gardens covered the country near the city; some villages arose on
the declivities of the mountains, and houses of pleasure dotted the
hills. Religious and profane traditions had bestowed names upon several
spots in the neighbourhood. A little hill reminded travellers of the
tomb of Memnon; and upon Mount Carmel was pointed out the retreat of
Eli and Pythagoras. Such were the places that were soon to become the
theatre of a sanguinary war, and see assembled and fighting the armies
of Europe and Asia.

Guy de Lusignan had but nine thousand men when he laid siege to
Ptolemaïs; but the whole West was preparing to fly to the defence of
the Holy Land. The army of the Christians soon became of sufficient
magnitude to excite serious alarm among the Saracens. French, English,
and Flemish warriors preceded Philip and Richard, under the command of
Jacques d’Avesnes, one of the greatest captains of his time, and the
bishop of Beauvais, brother to the count of Dreux. The Genoese, the
Venetians, and the Pisans, with the greater part of the Crusaders from
the provinces of Italy, arrived in Palestine under the orders of the
archbishops of Pisa and Ravenna. The cries of alarm of the Christians
of the East had resounded even to the north of Europe, where young
warriors had taken up arms to combat the infidels. All the nations
of the West furnished Jerusalem with defenders, and eighty thousand
Crusaders attacked the ramparts of Ptolemaïs, whilst the powerful
monarchs who had placed themselves at the head of the crusade, were
still engaged in preparations for their departure.

Saladin, who had at first despised the Christians, now thought it
prudent to gather his powers together to oppose them. After assembling
his army at Damascus, he crossed Anti-Libanus, and the mountains of
Galilee, and encamped at a short distance from Ptolemaïs. He pitched
his tents and pavilions at the extremity of the plain, on the mountains
of Casan, from whence he could overlook all the sea-coast. On one side
his army extended from the river Belus, and on the other as far as
_Mahumeria_, or the _Hill of the Mosque_. The sultan occupied all the
elevated posts, and all the passages by which the Christians could pass
out from the spot upon which they were encamped. Thus the besiegers
were besieged, and the army before the walls of the city saw the
banners of the Mussulmans floating around it.

The Christians made their intrenchments, dug wide ditches,[324] and
raised towers at proper distances around their camp, in order to
repulse the attacks of Saladin or the garrison of Ptolemaïs. The
Mussulman army had scarcely pitched its tents when it presented itself
in battle array before the trenches of the Crusaders, and fought
with them several combats, in which victory was doubtful. In one of
these conflicts the sultan penetrated to the city, and after having
ascertained from the top of the towers the position of the Crusaders,
he joined the garrison in a sortie, and surprised, and drove them into
their camp. By entering into Ptolemaïs, Saladin revived the courage
of the inhabitants and troops; he arranged measures necessary for the
providing of supplies, he left them some of his chosen warriors, and
gave them for leaders the most intrepid of his emirs, Melchou, the
faithful companion of his victories, and Karacoush,[325] whose capacity
and bravery had been often tried during the conquest of Egypt. The
sultan then returned to his camp, prepared to combat afresh the army of
the Crusaders.

The roads of Galilee were covered with Mussulman soldiers coming from
Damascus; and as Saladin looked daily for the arrival of a fleet from
Egypt, which would make him master of the sea, he hoped soon to be
able to triumph over the Christians, and deliver Ptolemaïs. A few days
after the victory he had gained, a great number of vessels appeared
upon the sea, directing their course towards the land. Both armies
were filled with hope and joy, the Mussulmans believing them to be a
fleet from the ports of Damietta and Alexandria, whilst the Crusaders
confidently hoped them to be a Christian armament coming to their aid.
The standard of the cross was soon seen floating from the masts of the
vessels, which, whilst it excited the liveliest joy in the Christians,
equally depressed the Mussulmans. Two fleets from western ports entered
the Road of Ptolemaïs. The first bore the German Crusaders, commanded
by the duke of Gueldres and the landgrave of Thuringia, and the other
the warriors of Friesland and Denmark, who, after having fought the
Saracens in Spain, came to defend the kingdom of Jerusalem. Conrad,
marquis of Tyre, could not remain idle while this war was going on; he
armed vessels, raised troops, and united his forces with those of the
Christian army.

The arrival of the new reinforcements restored the ardour of
the Crusaders. The Christian knights, according to an Arabian
historian,[326] covered with their long cuirasses of steel, looked,
from a distance, like serpents spread over the plain; when they flew to
arms, they resembled birds of prey, and in the _mêlée_, they were as
indomitable lions. In a council, several emirs proposed to Saladin to
retire before an enemy as numerous, they said, as the sands of the sea,
more violent than tempests, and more impetuous than torrents.

The Christians, encouraged by the reinforcements that continued to
arrive daily, resolved to attack Saladin, and drive him beyond the
mountains. They marched out from their intrenchments, and drew up in
order of battle. Their army extended from the mouth of the Belus to the
hill of Turon. The Crusaders, full of zeal and ardour, were commanded
by many illustrious captains, among whom the grand master of the
Templars, the marquis of Tyre, the counts of Blois, Bar, and Clermont,
with de Brioude, and Guy and Gauche de Chatillon, were conspicuous.
The clergy even appeared in arms; the archbishops of Ravenna, Pisa,
Canterbury, Besançon, Nazareth, and Montréal; the bishops of Beauvais,
Salisbury, Cambrai, Ptolemaïs, and Bethlehem, assumed the helmet and
cuirass, and led warriors on to battle. The Christian army presented
so redoubtable an aspect, and appeared so full of confidence, that a
Christian knight cried out, in the height of his enthusiasm: “_Let God
remain neuter, and the victory is ours!_”

The king of Jerusalem, who caused the book of the Evangelists to be
borne before him, wrapped in a covering of silk, and supported by four
knights, commanded the right wing; he had under his orders the French
and the Hospitallers; his lines extended to the Belus. The Venetians,
the Lombards, and the Syrians formed the left wing, which was flanked
by the sea, and marched under the banners of Conrad. The centre of the
army was occupied by the Germans, the Pisans, and the English, headed
by the landgrave of Thuringia. The grand master of the Templars, with
his knights, and the duke of Gueldres, with his soldiers, formed the
body of reserve ready to hasten wherever danger or the chances of the
day might call them. The guardianship of the camp was intrusted to
Gerard d’Avesnes and Geoffrey de Lusignan.

When the Christian army was drawn up on the plain, the Saracens issued
from their intrenchments, and prepared to sustain the shock of the
Crusaders. Saladin placed himself with his Mamelukes in the centre; his
nephew Teki-eddin Omar, one of his most skilful lieutenants, commanded
the right wing, which extended to the sea at the north-east of
Ptolemaïs; the princes of Mossoul and Sandjar commanded the left wing,
bearing upon the river Belus. By this disposition, Saladin inclosed the
Christians between the river Belus and the sea, and left them no means
of retreat if fortune should favour his arms.

The archers and cavalry of the Christians commenced the conflict. At
the first charge they broke the right wing of the Mussulmans, commanded
by the nephew of Saladin. The cavalry and infantry of the marquis of
Tyre advanced upon the field of battle, the Saracens giving way before
them as they proceeded. Pursuing the enemy, who fled in disorder,
the Christians ascended the hill of the Mosque, and planted their
standards in the camp of the infidels. The count of Bar even penetrated
to the tent of the sultan, which was given up to pillage. An Arabian
historian,[327] who followed the army, says of himself, that upon
beholding the rout of the Mussulmans, he took to flight, and did not
stop till he came to Tiberias. The terror was so great, that several
Saracens fled as far as Damascus. Saladin remained almost alone upon
the field of battle, and was several times in great danger.[328]

Followed by a few of his faithful Mamelukes, he endeavoured to rally
his scattered forces, and at length succeeded in reviving their
courage. No sooner had he the means of support, than he returned to the
fight with characteristic energy, rushing down upon the Christians,
whom he surprised in all the disorder of victory. The Mussulman cavalry
now charged in their turn, and dispersed the cavalry of the Franks. The
different bodies of the Christian army became soon separated from one
another, and in vain endeavoured to rally in their flight. The grand
master of the Templars then advanced with the reserve, to support the
troops that fled, but he met the Mussulman cavalry in full career, that
crushed everything in their passage. The reserve was broken at the
first shock; they returned several times to the charge, but without
being able to stand against the impetuosity of the Saracen horsemen. On
all sides, victory was escaping from the hands of the Crusaders, terror
pervaded the whole Christian army, and disorder and confusion reigned
everywhere. Whilst the left wing was put to flight, and the body of
reserve was making vain efforts to check the Mussulmans, the right
wing and the centre were attacked not only by the princes of Aleppo,
Mossoul, and Sandjar, with Teki-eddin Omar, but by the garrison of
Ptolemaïs, which issued from the city in order of battle.

The Saracens made a most horrible slaughter; every part of the
Christian army was broken and put to flight, and utter destruction
threatened them if their camp should fall into the hands of the enemy.
The conquerors proceeded at once to the attack of the intrenchments,
but the height of the walls, the depth of the ditches, and the bravery
of Geoffrey de Lusignan and Jacques d’Avesnes,[329] stopped the
Mussulman cavalry, and preserved the last asylum of the Christian army.

During the contest, Saladin appears to have been everywhere at once:
after having re-established the battle in his right wing, he returned
to the centre, and thence passed to the left. Ten times he crossed
the lines of the Christians, and himself directed every charge of
his cavalry. The battle lasted during the whole day; in the evening,
still many combats were kept up around the camp of the Christians, and
night alone brought repose to the two armies. As the Mussulmans and
Christians had by turns been victors, the loss was equal on both sides.
The Crusaders had to deplore the death of several of their leaders; the
grand master of the Templars, covered with wounds, was made prisoner
on the field of battle, and led to the camp of the infidels. The emirs
reproached him with having taken up arms against Saladin, who had
generously broken his chains after the battle of Tiberias. He replied
with haughty firmness, and received the palm of martyrdom. André de
Brienne was cast from his horse whilst endeavouring to rally the
Crusaders. He in vain implored assistance of his companions, whom fear
rendered deaf to pity, and Erard de Brienne, whilst precipitating his
flight, trampled under his horse’s feet his brother, expiring on the
field of battle.

The Latin historians attribute the defeat of the Crusaders to
an unexpected accident,[330] which threw the combatants into
disorder.[331] An Arabian horse, which had been taken from the enemy,
escaping in the heat of the battle, was pursued by some soldiers, and
it was believed they were flying before the Saracens. All at once a
rumour prevailed that the Christian army was conquered and dispersed,
and the news redoubled the tumult, and gave birth to general terror.
Whole battalions, seized with a panic, abandoned their triumphant
banners, and sought safety in a precipitate flight.

We only report this singular circumstance to show the spirit of the
contemporary chronicles. The fate of the battle might be much better
explained by saying that the Christian soldiers abandoned the fight for
the sake of plunder; and that the greater part of the leaders, less
skilful than brave, neither knew how to prevent or repair the reverses
to which an undisciplined army must be exposed.

In the plain of Ptolemaïs, trod by two hundred thousand warriors, on
the morrow was only to be seen, to employ an Oriental image, birds
of prey and wolves attracted by the scent of carnage and death. The
Christians did not dare to leave their intrenchments, and victory
itself could not reassure Saladin, who had seen his whole army put
to flight. The most frightful disorder prevailed in the camp of the
Saracens; the slaves had pillaged it at the commencement of the battle,
and had fled, carrying away the booty that escaped the hands of the
Crusaders. Both the emirs and soldiers had lost their baggage; some
pursued the fugitive slaves, whilst others addressed their complaints
to Saladin. Amidst such confusion and tumult, it was impossible for
the sultan to follow up the advantage he had gained, and as winter was
approaching, and the Mussulmans were short of provisions, he abandoned
the plain, and retired to the mountain Karouba.

The Christians, who now remained masters of the plain, extended their
lines over the whole chain of hills that surrounded the city of
Ptolemaïs; the marquis of Montferrat, with his troops, the Venetians,
the Pisans, and the Crusaders commanded by the archbishop of Ravenna
and the bishop of Pisa, encamped towards the north, and occupied
ground from the sea to the road to Damascus. Near the camp of Conrad,
the Hospitallers pitched their tents, in a valley which had belonged
to them before the taking of Ptolemaïs by the Saracens. The Genoese
occupied the hill which contemporary historians call Mount Musard. The
French and English, who were in front of the Cursed Tower, were placed
in the centre, under the orders of the counts of Dreux, Blois, and
Clermont, and the archbishops of Besançon and Canterbury. Close to the
camp of the French floated the banners of the Flemings, commanded by
the bishop of Cambrai, and Raymond II., viscount de Turenne.

Guy de Lusignan encamped with his soldiers and knights upon the hill of
Turon, which part of the camp served as citadel and head-quarters to
the whole army. The king of Jerusalem had with him the queen Sibylla,
his two brothers Geoffrey and Aimar, Humphrey de Theron, the husband
of the second daughter of Amaury, the patriarch Heraclius, and the
clergy of the holy city. The viscount de Chatellerault, who was of the
same country as Guy de Lusignan, ranged himself under the standard of
the king of Jerusalem. The knights of the Temple, and the troop of
Jacques d’Avesnes, fixed their quarters between the hill of Turon and
the Belus, and guarded the road that led from Ptolemaïs to Jerusalem.
On the south of the Belus stood the tents of the Germans, the Danes,
and the Frisons: these northern warriors, commanded by the landgrave of
Thuringia and the duke of Gueldres, were placed along the shore of the
Road of Ptolemaïs, and protected the disembarkation of the Christians
who arrived from Europe by sea.

Such was the disposition of the Christian army before Ptolemaïs, and
this order was preserved during the whole siege. The Christians dug
ditches on the declivities of the hills whose heights they occupied;
they raised high walls round their quarters, and their camps were so
inclosed, says an Arabian historian, that the birds could scarcely find
entrance. All the torrents which fell from the neighbouring mountains
overflowed their banks, and covered the plain with their waters; and
the Crusaders, having nothing to fear from surprise by the army of
Saladin, prosecuted the siege without intermission. Their machines
battered the walls night and day, and with each morning their assaults
were renewed. The garrison, which opposed them with obstinate bravery,
could not much longer defend itself without the aid of the Mussulman
army. Every day pigeons bearing letters under their wings, and divers,
who threw themselves into the sea, were sent to warn Saladin of the
imminent dangers of Ptolemaïs.

At the approach of spring, several Mussulman princes of Mesopotamia and
Syria came to range themselves and their troops under the standards
of the sultan. Then Saladin quitted the mountain of Karouba, and his
army descending towards the plain of Ptolemaïs, defiled in sight of
the Christians, with colours spread and drums and trumpets sounding.
The Crusaders had soon fresh contests to maintain. The ditches they
had dug, to employ the expression of a Mussulman historian, became
their own sepulchres, and were often filled with their dead bodies. The
hopes they had fondly entertained of getting possession of the city,
vanished at the sight of such formidable enemies. They had constructed
during the winter three rolling towers, similar to those which Godfrey
of Bouillon had erected at the taking of Jerusalem. These three towers
arose above the walls of Ptolemaïs, and threatened the city with
destruction. Whilst the Crusaders were engaged in repelling the attacks
of Saladin, inflamed arrows and pots filled with burning naphtha were
hurled on their machines, that were left unprotected at the foot of the
ramparts. All at once the Christians saw flames arise in the air, and
their wooden towers, seized upon by an unextinguishable fire, were
consumed and reduced to ashes before their eyes, as if they had been
struck by the lightning of heaven. So great was the terror spread among
the Crusaders by this conflagration, that the landgrave of Thuringia
quitted the siege and returned to Europe, believing that God no longer
protected the cause of the Christians.

Saladin followed up his attacks so incessantly, that he left his enemy
no repose. Every time that an assault was attempted on the city, the
noise of drums and trumpets resounded from the ramparts to warn the
Mussulman troops, who then flew to arms and attacked the camp of the
Christians.

The Road of Ptolemaïs was often covered with vessels from Europe,
and Mussulman vessels from the ports of Egypt and Syria. The latter
brought supplies to the city, and the former to the Christian army.
At a distance might be seen masts surmounted with the standards of
the cross, and others bearing the banners of Mahomet, which seemed to
mingle and float together. Several times the Franks and Saracens were
spectators of the conflicts between their fleets laden with arms and
provisions, that took place near the shore. At the sight of a naval
combat the warriors of the cross and of Mahomet struck upon their
shields, and announced by their cries their hopes and their fears.
Sometimes even the two armies were so excited as to attack each other
on the plain to assure the victory, or avenge the defeat of those who
had fought upon the waves.

In the battles that took place sometimes on the banks of the Belus, and
sometimes under the walls or at the foot of the hills, the Saracens
often prepared ambushes, and did not disdain to have recourse to all
the stratagems of war. The Christians, on the contrary, placed no
confidence in anything but their valour and their own good swords. A
car, upon which was raised a tower, surmounted by a cross and a white
flag, served them as a rallying-point, and was their guiding star in
battle. When the enemy gave way, the thirst for booty soon made every
man quit the ranks; their chiefs, almost always without authority
in the tumult of battle, became no more than simple soldiers in the
_mêlée_, and had nothing to oppose to the enemy but their sword and
lance. Saladin, more respected by his troops, commanded a disciplined
army, and often profited by the disorder and confusion of the
Christians to combat them with advantage and snatch a victory. Every
battle began at sunrise, and the Christians were generally conquerors
up to the middle of the day; but when even they had invaded and partly
plundered the camp of the Mussulmans, and at evening returned home
loaded with booty, they were almost sure to find their own camp had
been broken into by the troops of Saladin or the garrison.

After the sultan’s descent from the mountain of Karouba, an Egyptian
fleet entered the port of Ptolemaïs. At the same time Saladin welcomed
to his camp his brother Malec-Adel, who brought with him troops
raised in Egypt. This double reinforcement revived the courage of
the Mussulmans, but they did not long profit by these advantages,
and the hope of conquering the Christians began to give way to the
most serious alarms. A report was spread throughout the East that the
emperor of Germany had quitted Europe at the head of a numerous army,
and was advancing towards Syria. Saladin sent troops to meet such a
formidable enemy, and several Mussulman princes quitted the sultan’s
army to defend their own states, which were menaced by the Crusaders
coming from the West. Ambassadors were sent to the caliph of Bagdad,
the princes of Africa and Asia, and to the Mussulman powers of Spain,
to engage them to unite their efforts against the enemies of Islamism.
Whilst terror thus took possession of the Saracens, the Crusaders
conceived fresh hopes, and redoubled their efforts to gain possession
of Ptolemaïs before the arrival of the Germans. After several contests,
they resolved to make one last attempt to drive the Mussulman army
beyond the mountains. Marching from their camp, they presented
themselves in order of battle before the Saracens. The Mussulman
historians compare their multitude to that which will assemble at the
last day in the valley of Jehoshaphat.

At the first signal, the two armies approached, mingled, and soon
appeared nothing but one horrible, contending mass. Arrows hissed
through the air, lances crossed, and the rapid blows of sabres and
swords resounded from the bucklers and steel casques. The Christian
knights seemed animated with an invincible ardour. The Templars and
Hospitallers carried death wherever they directed their course; Syrians
and Franks, foot-soldiers and horsemen, contended for the prize of
valour, and rushed together to meet peril and find victory or death.
The Mussulman army could not resist their impetuosity, and at the first
charge retired in disorder. The plains and hills were covered with
Saracen warriors, who fled, throwing away their arms. Victory remained
with the Christians; but soon the thirst of booty led them to abandon
their ranks, and the face of the battle was changed. The Mussulmans
had time to rally, and returned to surprise the conquerors, who were
pillaging the tent and camp of the sultan. All at once the Christians
were surrounded on every side; and having laid down their arms in their
eagerness for booty, could not defend themselves, but were seized by
a terror like that with which they had inspired their enemies. The
Mussulmans, irritated by their defeat, immolated to their vengeance
every Christian that fell in their way. Such of the Crusaders as were
most greedy of plunder, lost their lives, together with the spoils with
which they were loaded, and were slaughtered without defence in the
very tents they had invaded. “The enemies of God,” says Bohaheddin,
“dared to enter into the camp of the lions of Islamism; but they
experienced the terrible effects of divine wrath. They fell beneath the
sword of the Mussulmans as leaves fall in autumn, under the gusts of
the tempest. The earth was covered with their bodies, heaped one upon
another, like lopped branches which fill the valleys and hills in a
forest that has been cut down.” Another Arabian historian speaks thus
of this bloody battle: “The Christians fell under the swords of the
conquerors, as the wicked will fall into the abode of fire at the last
day. Nine ranks of dead covered the ground between the hill and the
sea, and each rank was of a thousand warriors.”

Whilst the Christians were being conquered and dispersed, the garrison
of Ptolemaïs made a sortie; and, penetrating into their camp, carried
off a great number of women and children that were left without
defence. The Crusaders, whom night saved from destruction, returned to
their camp, deploring their double defeat. The sight of their plundered
tents and the losses they had experienced, quite depressed their
courage; and the death of Frederick Barbarossa, with the disasters of
the German army, of which they were soon informed, appeared to fill
up their cup of wretchedness. The despair of the leaders was so great
that they determined to return to Europe, and, in order to secure their
departure, were seeking to obtain a disgraceful peace of Saladin, when
a fleet arrived in the Road of Ptolemaïs, and landed a great number of
French, English, and Italians, commanded by Henry, count of Champagne.

Once more hope was restored to the Crusaders; the Christians were again
masters of the sea, and might, in their turn, make Saladin tremble,
who had believed he had nothing more to dread from them. They renewed
their attacks upon the city with spirit. The count of Champagne, who
had restored abundance to the camp, caused to be constructed, at
great expense, rams of a prodigious size, with two enormous towers
composed of wood, steel, iron, and brass. These machines are said to
have cost fifteen hundred pieces of gold. Whilst these formidable
auxiliaries menaced the ramparts, the Christians mounted several times
to the assault, and were, more than once, on the point of planting the
standard of the cross on the walls of the infidels.

But the besieged continued to repulse them, and the Mussulmans shut up
in the city supported the horrors of a long siege with heroic firmness.
The emirs Karacoush and Melchoub were unremitting in their endeavours
to keep up the courage of their soldiers. Vigilant, present everywhere,
sometimes employing force, and as often stratagem, they allowed no
opportunity of surprising the Christians to escape, or to render
their attacks abortive. The Mussulmans burnt all the machines of the
besiegers, and made several sorties, in which they drove the Christians
to the security of their camp.

The garrison received daily reinforcements and provisions by sea;
sometimes barks stole along the shore, and got into Ptolemaïs under
the favour of night; at others, vessels from Berytus, manned by
apostate Christians, hoisted the white flag with a red cross, and thus
deceived the vigilance of the besiegers. The Crusaders, to prevent all
communication by sea, resolved to get possession of the Tower of the
Spies, which overlooked and dominated the port of Ptolemaïs. A vessel,
upon which was placed a wooden tower, advanced towards the fort they
wished to attack, whilst a bark filled with combustible matters, to
which fire had been set, was launched into the port among the Mussulman
fleet. Everything seemed to promise success to this attempt, when,
all at once, the wind changed, and drove the blazing fire-ship full
upon the wooden tower, which was rapidly consumed by the flames. The
duke of Austria, who commanded this perilous expedition, followed by
several of the bravest of his warriors, had mounted the tower of the
infidels sword in hand; but at the sight of the conflagration which was
devouring the vessel he came on, he cast himself into the sea, covered
with his own blood and that of the Saracens, and gained the shore
almost alone.

Whilst the duke of Austria attacked the tower, the army left their camp
to make an assault upon the city. The besiegers performed prodigies of
valour without success, and were obliged to return in haste to defend
their own tents, undergoing fire and pillage by the army of Saladin.

It was amidst this double defeat that Frederick, duke of Swabia,
arrived under the walls of Ptolemaïs with five thousand men, the
deplorable remains of a numerous army. When the Christians in Syria
had heard of the preparations of the Germans, their invincible powers
were the theme of every tongue, and the Crusaders before Ptolemaïs were
animated by the most sanguine expectations; but when they arrived,
and related the disasters they had undergone, their presence spread
mourning and depression throughout the army.

Frederick wished to signalize his arrival by an attack upon the
Saracens. “The Christians,” say the Arabian writers, “issued from their
camp like ants swarming to their prey, and covered the valleys and
hills.” They attacked the advanced post of the Mussulman army, encamped
upon the heights of Aiadhiat, not far from the mountains of Galilee.
Saladin, whom a serious illness prevented from mounting on horseback,
caused himself to be carried to Mount Karouba, from whence he could
overlook all that went on, and issue his orders. The Christians renewed
their attacks several times without producing any effect upon their
enemies; and after having fought the whole day, they renounced the
hope of a triumph, and returned to their camp, where the famine, which
was beginning to be severely felt, allowed them nothing wherewith to
recruit their exhausted strength.

Every leader of this multitude of Crusaders was obliged to feed the
troops that he commanded, and they at no time were possessed of more
than provisions for one week. When a Christian fleet arrived, they
enjoyed abundance; but when no vessels appeared for a time, they were
destitute of the commonest necessaries of life. As winter approached,
and the sea became more stormy, want was necessarily proportionately
increased.

When the Crusaders made incursions upon neighbouring lands to procure
provisions, they fought amidst the ambuscades of the Saracens.
Animated by despair, they several times attacked the enemy in their
intrenchments, but were always repulsed. At length famine began to
make frightful ravages in the Christian army; a measure of flour,
that weighed two hundred and fifty pounds, was sold for ninety-six
crowns, a sum so exorbitant that not even princes could pay it. The
leaders insisted upon fixing the prices of all provisions brought to
the camp; the venders then hid them in the earth, and the scarcity was
increased by the very measures adopted to lessen it.[332] The Crusaders
were obliged to feed upon their horses; next they devoured leather,
harness, and old skins, which were sold for their weight in gold. Many
Christians, driven from their camp by famine, took refuge in that of
Saladin; some embraced Islamism to obtain relief in their misery;
whilst others, going on board Mussulman vessels, and braving the
perils of the sea, went to pillage the isle of Cyprus and the coasts of
Syria.

During the rainy season the waters covered the plains, and the
Crusaders remained crowded together on the hills. The carcasses left
on the banks of the rivers, or cast into the torrents, exhaled a
pestilential odour, and contagious diseases were very soon added to
the horrors of famine. The camp was filled with mourning and funeral
rites; from two to three hundred pilgrims were buried daily. Several of
the most illustrious leaders found in contagion the death they had so
often braved in the field of battle. Frederick, duke of Swabia, died
in his tent, after having escaped all the perils of war. His unhappy
companions in arms gave tears to his memory, and, despairing of the
cause of the Christians, for which they had suffered so much, returned
to the West.

To complete their misfortune, Sibylla, the wife of Guy de Lusignan,
died, with her two children, and her death gave rise to fresh discord.
Isabella, second daughter of Amaury, and sister to Queen Sibylla, was
heir to the throne of Jerusalem; consequently Humphrey de Thoron, the
husband of this princess, immediately asserted her rights. On the other
side, Guy de Lusignan could not consent to abandon his, and maintained
that the character of king was indelible; no one had the right to
deprive him of a crown he had once worn. Amidst these disputes, Conrad,
already master of Tyre, was all at once seized with the ambition of
reigning over Jerusalem and Palestine; he succeeded in gaining the love
of Isabella, induced the council of bishops to dissolve the marriage of
Humphrey, and, although himself married to the sister of the Emperor
Isaac, espoused the sister and heiress of Baldwin, determined to defend
with the sword the rights which this new union gave him.

The Christians, though plunged in such horrible misery, and at the
same time constantly menaced by Saladin, were entirely engaged by the
pretensions of the two rival princes. Humphrey, who defended his rights
very weakly, was in great dread of the threats of Conrad, and was wise
enough not to regret a sceptre which he must win, or a wife who had
abandoned him. He renounced all his claims, and would have been happy
if his docility had restored unanimity; but there remained still two
kings for an invaded, or rather a nominal kingdom, and the two factions
divided the army. Some were touched by the misfortunes of Guy, and
declared themselves his partisans; whilst others, admiring the bravery
of Conrad, thought the kingdom should fall to him who was most capable
of defending it. Guy was reproached with having fostered the power of
Saladin; the marquis of Tyre, on the contrary, was praised for having
preserved the only two cities that remained in the power of the Franks:
he alone, they added, could furnish the Christians with provisions, and
put an end to the famine which was consuming them.

Not one of the Crusaders was ignorant of this quarrel. Dissension
spread from the leaders to the soldiers; they heaped abuse upon each
other, and were even ready to cut the throats of their comrades to
determine who should possess a broken sceptre and the vain title of
king. The bishops at length calmed the fury of these differences, and
persuaded the rivals to refer the matter to the judgment of Richard and
Philip.

These two princes, who had embarked at Genoa and Marseilles, met at
Messina. Sicily was then at war with Germany for the succession of
William II. Constance, the heir of William, had married the Emperor
Henry VI., and had charged him with the duty of proclaiming her
rights, and defending her inheritance; but Tancred, natural brother of
Constance, who had obtained the love of the nobility of Sicily, had
usurped the throne of his sister, and maintained himself upon it, by
force of arms, against the efforts of the Germans.

This prince, not firmly settled on his throne, was much alarmed at the
approach of the Crusaders. He feared in Philip an ally of the emperor
of Germany, and in Richard, the brother of Queen Jane, the widow of
William, whom he had ill-treated, and still detained in prison. Being
totally unable to contend with them, he attempted to conciliate them by
his submission and attentions: he at first succeeded with Philip beyond
his expectations, but had much more trouble in appeasing Richard,
who, immediately after his arrival, haughtily demanded the liberty of
Jane, and took possession of the two forts which commanded Messina.
The English soon got embroiled with the subjects of Tancred, and the
banners of England were seen floating over the capital itself. By this
act of violence and authority Richard gave great umbrage to Philip,
whose vassal he was. The king gave orders that Richard’s standards
should be removed; and the impetuous Cœur de Lion was forced to
comply, though trembling with rage. This submission, although it was
accompanied with menaces, seemed to appease Philip, and put an end to
the quarrel; but from that time Richard became friendly with Tancred,
who endeavoured to create suspicions of the loyalty of the king of
France, and to secure peace to himself, sowed dissension among the
Crusaders.

The two kings by turns accused each other of breach of faith and
perfidy, and the French and English took part in the hatred of their
monarchs. Among these divisions, Philip pressed Richard to espouse the
princess Alice, who had been promised to him in marriage; but the face
of circumstances had changed, and the king of England refused with
contempt a sister of the king of France, whom he had himself earnestly
sought, and for whom he had made war against his own father.

Eleanor of Guienne, who had only ceased to be queen of the French to
become their implacable enemy, had for a long time endeavoured to
dissuade Richard from this marriage. In order to complete her work,
and create an eternal division between the two kings, she brought with
her into Sicily, Berengaria, the daughter of Don Sancho of Navarre,
with the view of marrying her to the king of England. The report of
her arrival augmented the suspicions of Philip, and was a fresh source
of complaints on his part. War was upon the point of breaking out, but
some wise and pious men succeeded in soothing these angry spirits; the
two kings formed a new alliance bound by new oaths, and discord was for
a moment quelled. But a friendship which required to be sworn to so
often, and a peace which every day demanded a fresh treaty, were very
little to be relied on.

Richard, who had just been making war upon Christians, all at once
became a prey to repentance and penitence; he assembled the bishops
that had accompanied him in a chapel, presented himself before them
in his shirt, confessed his sins, and listened to their reproofs
with the docility of the humblest of the faithful. Some time after
this whimsical ceremony, his mind[333] being naturally inclined to
superstition, he took a fancy to hear Abbot Joachim, who lived in
retirement in the mountains of Calabria, and passed for a prophet.

In a voyage to Jerusalem, this solitary had, it was said, received from
Jesus Christ the faculty of explaining the Apocalypse, and to read in
it, as in a faithful history, all that was to take place on earth. On
the invitation of the king of England, he quitted his retreat, and
repaired to Messina, preceded by the fame of his visions and miracles.
The austerity of his morals, the singularity of his behaviour, with
the mystical obscurity of his discourses, at once procured him the
confidence and veneration of the Crusaders. He was questioned upon the
issue of the war they were about to make in Palestine; and he predicted
that Jerusalem would be delivered seven years after its conquest by
Saladin. “Why, then,” said Richard, “are we come so soon?” “Your
arrival,” replied Joachim, “is very necessary; God will give you the
victory over his enemies, and will render your name celebrated above
all the princes of the earth.”

This speech, which did not at all flatter the passions or impatience
of the Crusaders, could only minister to the self-love of Richard.
Philip was very little affected by a prediction which was afterwards
also falsified by the event; and was only the more anxious to encounter
Saladin, the redoubtable conqueror, in whom Joachim saw one of the
seven heads of the Apocalypse. As soon as spring rendered the sea
navigable, Philip embarked for Palestine. He was received there as an
angel of the Lord, and his presence reanimated the valour and hopes
of the Christians, who had during two years unsuccessfully besieged
Ptolemaïs. The French fixed their quarters within bow-shot of the
enemy, and, as soon as they had pitched their tents, proceeded to the
assault. They might have rendered themselves masters of the city; but
Philip, inspired by a chivalric spirit, rather than by a wise policy,
was desirous that Richard should be present at this first conquest.
This generous consideration proved fatal to the enterprises of the
Christians, and gave time to the Saracens to receive reinforcements.

Saladin had passed the winter on the mountain of Karouba, and fatigue,
frequent combats, want, and disease had greatly reduced his army. He
himself likewise was weakened by a complaint which the physicians could
not cure, and which, on many occasions, prevented him from accompanying
his warriors to the field of battle. When he heard of the arrival of
the two powerful Christian monarchs, he once more, by his ambassadors,
called upon the Mussulman nations for assistance. In all the mosques
prayers were put up for the triumph of his arms and the deliverance
of Islamism; and in every Mussulman city the Imauns exhorted the true
believers to hasten to the war.

“Numberless legions of Christians,” said they, “are come from countries
situated beyond Constantinople, to bear away from us conquests that
gave such joy to the Koran, and to dispute with us a land upon which
the companions of Omar planted the standard of the Prophet. Spare
neither your lives nor your treasures to oppose them. Your marches
against the infidels, your perils, your wounds, all, even to the
passage of the torrent, is written in the book of God. Thirst, hunger,
fatigue, death itself will become for you treasures in heaven, and will
open to you the gardens and delicious bowers of Paradise. In whatever
place you may be, death must overtake you; neither your mansions nor
your lofty towers can defend you against his darts. Some among you have
said, Let us not go to seek for battles during the heats of summer, or
the rigours of winter; but hell will be more terrible than the rigours
of winter or the heats of summer. Go, then, and bravely fight your
enemies in a war undertaken for religion. Victory or Paradise awaits
you; fear God more than the infidels; it is Saladin who calls you to
his banners; and Saladin is the friend of the Prophet, as the Prophet
is the friend of God. If you do not obey, your families will be driven
from Syria, and God will plant in your places other nations better than
you. Jerusalem, the sister of Medina and Mecca, will fall again into
the power of idolaters, who give a son, a companion, an equal to the
Most High, and wish to extinguish the knowledge of God. Arm yourselves
then with the buckler of victory; disperse the children of fire, the
sons of hell, whom the sea has vomited upon your shores, and remember
these words of the Koran: ‘_He who shall abandon his dwelling to defend
the holy religion, shall meet with abundance and a great number of
companions._’”

Animated by such discourses, the Mussulmans flew to arms, and from all
parts flocked to the camp of Saladin, whom they looked upon as the arm
of victory, and the beloved son of the Prophet.

Whilst this was going on Richard was retarded in his march by interests
quite foreign to the crusade. At the moment that his rival was waiting
for him to take a city from the Saracens, and was willing to share even
glory with him, he made himself master of a kingdom, and kept it for
himself.

On leaving the port of Messina, the English fleet was dispersed by
a violent tempest; three vessels were wrecked upon the coast of
Cyprus, and the unfortunate crews, who escaped, were ill-treated by
the inhabitants and cast into prison. A ship, on board of which were
Berengaria of Navarre, and Jane, queen of Sicily, upon presenting
itself before Limisso, was forbidden to enter the port. A short time
after, Richard arrived with his fleet, which he had succeeded in
getting together again, and himself met with an insolent refusal.
Isaac, of the family of Comnenus, who, during the troubles of
Constantinople, had got possession of the isle of Cyprus, and governed
it with the ostentatious title of emperor, dared to threaten the king
of England.

His menaces became the signal for war; and both sides were eager for
the conflict. Isaac could not resist the first shock of the English;
his troops were beaten and dispersed; his cities opened their gates to
the conqueror, and the emperor of Cyprus himself fell into the hands of
Richard, who, to insult his vanity and avarice, caused him to be bound
with chains of silver. The king of England, after having delivered
the inhabitants of Cyprus from a master whom they called a tyrant,
made them repay this service with the half of their property, and
took possession of the island, which was erected into a kingdom, and
remained nearly three hundred years under the domination of the Latins.

It was on this island, in the bosom of victory, and in the vicinity
of the ancient Amathus, that Richard celebrated his marriage with
Berengaria of Navarre. He then set out for Palestine, dragging after
him Isaac, loaded with chains, and the daughter of that unfortunate
prince, in whom, it is said, the new queen found a dangerous rival.

The Franks celebrated the arrival of Richard with _feux de joie_,
lighted up throughout the camp. When the English had united their
forces with those of the Christian army, Ptolemaïs saw beneath its
walls all that Europe could boast of as illustrious captains and
valiant warriors. The tents of the Franks covered a vast plain, and
their army presented a most majestic and terrible aspect. A spectator,
on beholding on the coast of the sea the towers of Ptolemaïs, and the
camp of the Christians, in which they had built houses and traced
streets, traversed unceasingly by an immense crowd, might have supposed
he saw two rival cities which were at war with each other. Each
nation had its leader and its separate quarter, and so many languages
were spoken by the Crusaders, that the Mussulmans could not find
interpreters enough to enable them to understand all the prisoners.
In this confused multitude, each people had a different character,
different manners, and different arms; but, at the signal for battle,
all were animated by the same zeal and the same ardour; the presence of
the two monarchs had re-established discipline, and Ptolemaïs could not
have prolonged its resistance, if discord, that eternal enemy of the
Christians, had not entered their camp with Richard.

The debates relative to the succession to the throne of Jerusalem were
renewed on the arrival of the English. Philip declared for Conrad,
which was quite enough to determine Richard to give his voice for Guy
de Lusignan. The Christian army was filled with troubles, and again
divided into two factions: on one side were the French, the Germans,
the Templars, and the Genoese; on the other, the English, the Pisans,
and the knights of the Hospital. The two parties, ready to break into
open war, no longer united their efforts or their arms against the
Saracens; whenever the king of France, at the head of his warriors,
proceeded to the assault, the king of England remained in his tent in
a state of sullen repose.[334] The besieged had never more than one of
the monarchs to contend with at once, and the Christian army, after it
had received such powerful auxiliaries, became much less redoubtable to
the Saracens.

Amidst the disputes which divided the Crusaders, both kings fell
dangerously ill, and their hatred and suspicion were so great, that
each accused the other of having made an attempt upon his life. As
Saladin sent them refreshments and physicians, and as they addressed
frequent messages to him, each party reproached the monarch who was
opposed to him with keeping up an impious understanding with the
Saracens.

The perils of the army, however, with the glory of religion and the
interests of the crusade, for a moment stifled the voice of faction,
and induced the Crusaders to unite against the common enemy. After long
debates, it was decided that Guy de Lusignan should retain the title
of king during his life, and that Conrad and his descendants should
succeed to the kingdom of Jerusalem. It was at the same time agreed
that when one of the two monarchs should attack the city, the other
should watch over the safety of the camp, and keep the army of Saladin
in check. This agreement re-established harmony; and the Christian
warriors, who had been upon the point of taking arms against each
other, now only contended for the glory of conquering the infidels.

The siege was resumed with fresh ardour, but the Mussulmans had
employed the time wasted by the Christians in vain disputes, in
strengthening the city. When the besiegers appeared before the walls,
they met with a resistance entirely unexpected, whilst the army of
Saladin continued indefatigable and unceasing in its attacks. At the
earliest break of day, the drums and trumpets constantly sounded the
signal for battle, both from the walls of Ptolemaïs and the camp
of the sultan. Saladin animated his troops by his presence; whilst
his brother, Malec-Adel, offered an example of bravery to the emirs.
Many great battles were fought at the foot of the hills on which the
Christians were encamped, and twice the Crusaders gave a general
assault; but on both occasions were obliged to return hastily to their
tents, to defend them against Saladin.

In one of these attacks, a Christian knight singly defended one
of the gates of the camp against a host of Saracens. The Arabian
writers compare this knight to a demon animated by all the fires of
hell. An enormous cuirass[335] entirely covered him; arrows, stones,
lance-thrusts, made no impression on him; all who approached him were
slain, and he alone, though stuck all over with javelins and surrounded
by enemies, appeared to have nothing to fear. No weapons or force being
able to prevail, the Greek fire was at length employed, which being
poured upon his head, devoured by flames, he perished like one of the
enormous machines that the besieged had burnt under the walls of the
city.

Every day the Crusaders redoubled their efforts, and by turns repulsed
the army of Saladin, or made assaults upon Ptolemaïs. In one of these
assaults, they filled up a part of the ditches of the city with the
carcasses of their dead horses and the bodies of their companions who
had fallen beneath the swords of the enemy, or been swept away by
disease. The Saracens raised up these horrid masses heaped up under
their walls, and cast them back again in fragments upon the banks
of the ditches, where the sword and lance were for ever immolating
fresh victims. Neither the spectacle of death, nor obstacles, nor
fatigue affected the Christians. When their wooden towers and their
battering-rams were reduced to ashes, they dug into the earth, and
by subterranean ways advanced under the foundations of the ramparts.
Every day they employed some fresh means or some new machine to subdue
the place. An Arabian historian relates that they raised near their
camp a hill of earth of a prodigious height, and that by constantly
throwing the earth up before them, they brought this mountain close to
the city. It had advanced within half a bow-shot, when the Mussulmans
issued from their gates, and precipitated themselves in front of this
enormous mass, which grew nearer and nearer, and already threatened
their walls. Armed with swords, pickaxes, and shovels, they attacked
the troops employed in forwarding it, using every effort to remove it
back towards the plain; but were only able to arrest its progress by
digging vast and deep ditches in its passage.

Among all the Christian warriors, the French distinguished themselves
greatly, and directed their efforts principally against the Cursed
Tower, which was erected at the eastern side of the city. A great
part of the walls began to fall, and must soon offer a passage to the
besieging army. War, famine, and disease had weakened the garrison;
the city had not soldiers enough left to defend the ramparts and move
about the machines employed against those of the Christians. The place
not only stood in need of provisions, but of warlike munitions and
Greek fire. The warriors who had gone through so much, began to feel
discouragement, and the people loudly murmured against Saladin and
the emirs. In this extremity, the commander of the garrison came and
proposed a capitulation to Philip Augustus, who swore by the God of the
Christians that he would not spare a single inhabitant of Ptolemaïs,
if the Mussulmans did not restore all the cities that had fallen into
their power since the battle of Tiberias.

The chief of the emirs, irritated by the refusal of Philip, retired,
saying that he and his companions would rather bury themselves beneath
the ruins of the city, than listen to such terms, and that they would
defend Ptolemaïs _as a lion defends his blood-stained lair_. On his
return into the place, the commander of the Saracens communicated his
courage, or rather his despair, to every heart. When the Christians
resumed their assaults, they were repulsed with a vigour that
astonished them. “The tumultuous waves of the Franks,” says an Arabian
author, “rolled towards the place with the rapidity of a torrent; they
mounted the half-ruined walls as wild goats ascend the steepest rocks,
whilst the Saracens precipitated themselves upon the besiegers like
stones detached from the summits of mountains.”

In one general assault, a Florentine knight of the family of
Bonaguisi, followed by some of his men, fought his way into one of the
towers of the infidels, and got possession of the Mussulman banner
that floated from it. Overpowered by numbers, and forced to retreat,
he returned to the camp, bearing the flag he had carried off from the
Saracens. In the same assault, Alberic Clement, the first marshal of
France of whom history makes mention, scaled the ramparts, and, sword
in hand, penetrated into the city, where he found a glorious death.
Stephen, count of Blois, and several knights were burnt by the Greek
fire, the boiling oil, the melted lead, and heated sand which the
besieged poured down upon all who approached the walls.

The obstinate ardour of the Mussulmans was sustained during several
days; but as they received no succour, many emirs, at length despairing
of the safety of Ptolemaïs, threw themselves, by night, into a bark,
to seek an asylum in the camp of Saladin, preferring to encounter the
anger of the sultan, to perishing by the sword of the Christians. This
desertion, and the contemplation of their ruined towers, filled the
Mussulmans with terror. Whilst pigeons and divers constantly announced
to Saladin the horrible distresses of the besieged, the latter came
to the resolution of leaving the city by night, and braving every
peril to join the Saracen army. But their project being discovered by
the Christians, they blocked up and guarded every passage by which
the enemy could possibly escape. The emirs, the soldiers, and the
inhabitants then became convinced that they had no hope but in the
mercy of Philip Augustus, and promised, if he would grant them liberty
and life, to cause to be given up to the Christians sixteen hundred
prisoners, and the wood of the true cross. By the capitulation they
engaged to pay two hundred thousand pieces of gold to the leaders of
the Christian army, and the garrison, with the entire population of
Ptolemaïs, were to remain in the power of the conquerors till the
execution of the treaty.

A Mussulman soldier was sent from the city to announce to Saladin that
the garrison was forced to capitulate. The sultan, who was preparing to
make a last effort to save the place, learnt the news with deep regret.
He assembled his council, to know if they approved of the capitulation;
but scarcely were the principal emirs met in his tent, when they
beheld the standards of the crusaders floating over the walls and
towers of Ptolemaïs.

Such was the conclusion of this famous siege, which lasted nearly three
years, and in which the crusaders shed more blood and exhibited more
bravery than ought to have sufficed for the subjugation of the whole
of Asia. More than a hundred skirmishes and nine great battles were
fought before the walls of the city; several flourishing armies came to
recruit armies nearly annihilated, and were in their turn replaced by
fresh armies. The bravest nobility of Europe perished in this siege,
swept away by the sword or disease. Among the illustrious victims
of this war, history points out Philip, count of Flanders, Guy de
Chatillon, Bernard de St. Vallery, Vautrier de Mory, Raoul de Fougères,
Eudes de Gonesse, Renaud de Maguy, Geoffroi d’Aumale, viscount de
Châtellerault, Josselin de Montmorency, and Raoul de Marle; the
archbishops of Besançon and Canterbury; with many other ecclesiastics
and knights whose piety and exploits were the admiration of Europe.[336]

In this war both parties were animated by religion; each side boasted
of its miracles, its saints, and its prophets. Bishops and imauns
equally promised the soldiers remission of their sins and the crown
of martyrdom. Whilst the king of Jerusalem caused the book of the
Evangelists to be borne before him, Saladin would often pause on
the field of battle to offer up a prayer or read a chapter from the
Koran.[337] The Franks and the Saracens mutually accused each other of
ignorance of the true God and of outraging him by their ceremonies. The
Christians rushed upon their enemies crying, “_It is the will of God!
It is the will of God!_” and the Saracens answered by their war-cry,
“_Islam! Islam!_”

Fanaticism frequently augmented the fury of slaughter. The Mussulmans
from the height of their towers insulted the religious ceremonies of
the Christians.[338] They raised crosses on their ramparts, beat them
with rods, covered them with dust, mud, and filth, and broke them into
a thousand pieces before the eyes of the besiegers. At this spectacle
the Christians swore to avenge their outraged worship, and menaced the
Saracens with the destruction of every Mahomedan pulpit. In the heat
of this religious animosity, the Mussulmans often massacred disarmed
captives; and in more than one battle they burnt their[339] Christian
prisoners in the very field of conflict. The crusaders but too closely
imitated the barbarity of their enemies; funeral piles, lighted up by
fanatical rage, were often extinguished in rivers of blood.

The Mussulman and Christian warriors provoked each other during single
combats, and were as lavish of abuse as the heroes of Homer. Heroines
often appeared in the _mêlée_, and disputed the prize of strength and
courage with the bravest of the Saracens.[340] Children came from the
city to fight with the children of the Christians in the presence of
the two armies.

But sometimes the furies of war gave place to the amenities of
peace, and Franks and Saracens would for a moment forget the hatred
that had led them to take up arms. During the course of the siege
several tournaments were held in the plain of Ptolemaïs, to which the
Mussulmans were invited. The champions of the two parties harangued
each other before entering the lists; the conqueror was borne in
triumph, and the conquered ransomed like a prisoner of war. In these
warlike festivities, which brought the two nations together, the Franks
often danced to the sound of Arabian instruments, and their minstrels
afterwards played or sang to the dancing of the Saracens.

Most of the Mussulman emirs, after the example of Saladin, affected an
austere simplicity in their vestments and manners. An Arabian author
compares the sultan, in his court, surrounded by his sons and brothers,
to the star of night, which sheds a sombre light amidst the other
stars. The principal leaders of the crusade did not entertain the same
love of simplicity, but endeavoured to excel each other in splendour
and magnificence. As in the first crusade, the princes and barons were
followed into Asia by their hunting and fishing appointments, and the
luxuries of their palaces and castles. When Philip Augustus arrived
before Ptolemaïs, all eyes were for a moment turned upon the falcons he
had brought with him. One of these having escaped from the hands of his
keeper, perched upon the ramparts of the city, and the whole Christian
army was excited by endeavours to recapture the fugitive bird. As it
was caught by the Mussulmans, and carried to Saladin, Philip sent an
ambassador to the sultan to recover it, offering a sum of gold that
would have been quite sufficient for the ransom of many Christian
warriors.

The misery which so often visited the Crusaders, did not at all prevent
a great number of them from indulging in excesses of license and
debauchery. All the vices of Europe and Asia were met together on one
spot. If an Arabian author may be believed, at the very moment in which
the Franks were a prey to famine and contagious diseases, a troop of
three hundred women from Cyprus and the neighbouring islands arrived in
the camp. These three hundred women, whose presence in the Christian
army was a scandal in the eyes of the Saracens, prostituted themselves
among the soldiers of the cross, and stood in no need of employing the
enchantments of the Armida of Tasso to corrupt them.

Nevertheless, the clergy were unremitting in their exhortations to
the pilgrims to lead them back to the morals of the Gospel. Churches,
surmounted by wooden steeples, were erected in the camp, in which
the faithful were every day called together. Not unfrequently the
Saracens took advantage of the moment at which the soldiers left their
intrenchments unguarded to attend mass, and made flying but annoying
incursions. Amidst general corruption, the siege of Ptolemaïs presented
many subjects of edification. In the camp, or in the field of battle,
charity hovered constantly around the Christian soldier, to soothe
his misery, to watch his sick pallet, or dress his wounds. During
the siege the warriors from the North were in the greatest distress,
and could gain little assistance from other nations. Some pilgrims
from Lubeck and Bremen came to their aid, formed tents of the sails
of their vessels to shelter their poor countrymen, and ministered to
their wants and tended their diseases. Forty German nobles took part in
this generous enterprise, and their association was the origin of the
hospitable and military order of the Teutonic knights.

When the Crusaders entered Ptolemaïs, they shared the sovereignty of
it amongst them, each nation taking possession of one of the quarters
of the city, which had soon as many masters as it had had enemies. The
king of Jerusalem was the only leader that obtained nothing in the
division of the first reconquered place of his kingdom.

The capitulation remained unexecuted; Saladin, under various pretexts,
deferring the completion of the conditions. Richard, irritated by
a delay which appeared to him a breach of faith, revenged himself
upon the prisoners that were in his hands. Without pity for disarmed
enemies, or for the Christians he exposed to sanguinary reprisals,
he massacred five thousand Mussulmans before the city they had so
valiantly defended, and within sight of Saladin, who shared the
disgrace of this barbarity by thus abandoning his bravest and most
faithful warriors.

This action, which excited the regret of the whole Christian army,
sufficiently exposed the character of Richard, and showed what was to
be dreaded from his violence; a barbarous and implacable enemy could
not become a generous rival. On the day of the surrender of Ptolemaïs,
he committed a gross outrage upon Leopold, duke of Austria, by ordering
the standard of that prince, which had been planted on one of the
towers, to be cast into the ditch.

Leopold dissembled his resentment, but swore to avenge this insult
whenever he should find an opportunity. Richard, for ever carried
away by his violent and imperious character, desired to command as a
master, and alone dictate laws for the whole army of the Crusaders.
He endeavoured to corrupt the troops of Philip by largesses; he set a
price upon infidelity and treason; and Philip, fearing to compromise
the dignity of a king and the interests of the crusade by punishing the
outrages and perfidy of his rival, resolved to return to France, where
fortune offered him more than one opportunity of usefully revenging
himself upon the king of England.

Philip quitted Palestine, leaving in the army ten thousand foot
and five hundred horse, under the command of the duke of Burgundy.
On his arrival at Tyre, from which port he embarked, he received a
solemn embassy from Saladin, who sent him magnificent presents, and
complimented him as the most powerful monarch of the West. He soon
arrived in Italy, where the holy pontiff praised his devotion, and
bestowed upon him the palms of pilgrimage. Welcomed on his return to
his kingdom by the benedictions of his people, he carried back the
sacred oriflamme to the church of St. Denis, and returned thanks to the
apostles of France for having protected his life and the glory of his
arms amidst the greatest perils.

When Philip left Palestine, Richard remained at the head of an army
of a hundred thousand Crusaders. After having repaired the walls of
Ptolemaïs, and allowed his soldiers some little repose, he passed the
Belus, crossed Mount Carmel, and marched towards Cæsarea. A fleet from
Ptolemaïs kept close to the shore, and transported the provisions,
machines of war, and baggage of the Christian army. Saladin, whom
Arabian writers often compare to a lioness that has lost her young,
upon receiving intelligence of the march of the Crusaders, gathered
together his army, and set out in pursuit of them; sometimes getting
in advance and attacking their van, at others harassing their flanks,
and seizing every soldier that ventured to stray from the main body.
Although Cæsarea was only twelve leagues from Ptolemaïs, the Crusaders
could not accomplish the distance in less than six days. All the
Christians, who were unable to keep up with the army, and fell into the
power of Saladin, were put to death by his orders, and their bodies
left upon the shore, as an expiation of the massacre of the garrison
of Ptolemaïs.

Richard, who found that perils and obstacles multiplied in his route,
desired an interview with Malek-Adel, and proposed to make peace, if
the Mussulmans would restore the city of Jerusalem to the Christians.
Malek-Adel replied that the last of the soldiers of Saladin would
perish, rather than renounce conquests made in the name of Islamism.
Richard, irritated by this refusal, swore that he would obtain by
victory that which he could not obtain from Saladin, and gave orders
for the army to pursue their march.[341]

The Crusaders advanced towards the city of Arsur, marching over a long
but narrow plain, intersected by torrents, ravines, and marshes, and
covered in many places with fragments of rocks, marine plants, and
reeds. They had the sea on their right, and on the left rose the steep
mountains of Naplouse, defended by the inhabitants of the country and
the troops of Saladin. At every passage of a torrent, at every dune or
hillock of sand, at every village, a fresh contest had to be sustained,
whilst the Mussulman archers, placed upon the heights, annoyed them
unceasingly with their arrows. Richard’s army marched in order of
battle; the cavalry being placed in the centre; whilst the foot,
closing their ranks, presented an impenetrable wall to the enemy, and
braved their constantly renewed attacks.

The army of the sultan got in advance of the Crusaders, and laid waste
everything in their way; exhausting their efforts and ingenuity to
<DW44>, or entirely stop their march. Across the plain of Arsur flowed
a torrent which cast itself into the sea near the ramparts of the city;
and not far from this torrent, a wood of oaks, which historians call
the forest of Sarun, and which is believed to be the forest celebrated
by Tasso, extended along the declivities of the mountains of Naplouse:
it was upon this spot Saladin awaited the Crusaders to offer them a
decisive battle.

A part of his army covered the heights, whilst the remainder encamped
upon the banks of the torrent of Arsur. The Christians soon arrived
in face of their enemy, and drew up in order of battle. The Danes,
Flemings, and Tuscans, commanded by Jacques d’Avesnes, formed the van.
Richard marched in the centre, at the head of the English, Normans,
Gascons, the Syrian troops, and those of the count of Champagne: the
rear-guard was composed of French and Germans, under the orders of
the duke of Burgundy and Leopold of Austria. Whilst the archers were
showering their arrows from a distance, Saladin passed through the
ranks, and roused the courage of his soldiers, who replied to him
with cries of _Allah ac bar!_—God is powerful.[342] Profound silence
prevailed in the Christian army; the black cuirasses of the Crusaders
seeming to darken the horizon, whilst sixty thousand swords gleamed out
from amidst clouds of dust. All at once the Christian infantry opened
their ranks, and the cavalry rushed forward towards the enemy, drawn up
on the banks of the torrent of Arsur. Jacques d’Avesnes, who commanded
them, penetrated twice into the closely-pressed ranks of the Saracens,
and twice was compelled to retreat in disorder. At the third charge
his leg was severed by the stroke of a sabre, but he still pursued the
infidels, when the arm with which he fought was struck off at a blow.
The Christian hero fell amidst the enemy, calling aloud upon Richard,
and conjuring him to avenge his death.

The king of England advanced with the main body, sweeping away the
crowd of Saracens that opposed his passage, and pursuing them to the
other side of the torrent; but whilst he yielded to his ardour, and
advanced before the Christian army, the chosen troops of the Mussulmans
descended from the mountains of Naplouse, and poured down upon the rear
of the Christians. Richard was forced to retrace his steps to support
the French and Germans, who were beginning to give way. The plain in
which the battle was fought, could scarcely contain all the combatants.
The Christians and Mussulmans closed, and attacked each other man to
man; the foot fought pellmell with the horse, exhorting each other to
brave death. The cries of rage, despair, and agony were mingled with
the clashing of swords, lances, and shields. The two armies, confounded
and mixed together, became nothing but one horrible spectacle. If we
believe the somewhat improbable account of an English historian,[343]
Richard and Saladin met in the _mêlée_, and rushed upon each other
sword in hand, and the two armies instantly became motionless, leaving
to their great leaders the honour of deciding the fate of the battle.
This singular circumstance, which poetry might envy history, is not
mentioned by Arabian writers.[344] The battle lasted almost during the
whole day. Towards evening the Mussulmans were broken on all sides, and
retreated in disorder into the forest of Saron, whither the fear of an
ambuscade prevented the Christians from pursuing them, and destroying
the wreck of their army.

The battle of Arsur was one of the most celebrated of this war; in
it the Mussulmans lost a great number of their bravest emirs, and
particularly regretted a chief of Saladin’s Mamelukes, whose heroic
courage is highly celebrated by their historians. No Saracen warrior
was more prompt to meet danger, and he was always the first to fly to
the assistance of his companions, though he himself needed aid from no
man. His horse being slain, this brave emir was encumbered with the
weight of his iron armour, and received several mortal wounds. Many
Mussulman soldiers hastened to his relief; _but he was already amongst
the inhabitants of heaven_!

The Christians wept for the death of Jacques d’Avesnes, who had so
often shown them the path to victory. In this glorious day the loss
of the Crusaders was much less than that of the Mussulmans; their
leaders and soldiers displayed a degree of skill that they had never
evinced before. The Saracen cavalry, superior to that of the Crusaders,
had not room to perform their usual evolutions with advantage in so
confined a field. They attacked the Christians several times with great
impetuosity, but the Crusaders withstood them with immovable firmness,
and constantly rallied around their great standard, which floated
from the summit of a rolling tower. A remarkable circumstance of this
battle is, that it was principally gained by the infantry, a force
which, although held in contempt in the first crusade, had learnt to be
redoubtable under the walls of Ptolemaïs.

Richard, who had conquered the Saracens, was not wise enough to profit
by their defeat; instead of pursuing the enemy, or marching straight
to Jerusalem, he led his army to Jaffa, the ramparts of which Saladin
had demolished, and which the Mussulmans had abandoned. He occupied
himself with repairing the fortifications, and sent for the Queen
Berengaria, Jane, the widow of the king of Sicily, and the daughter of
Isaac. Surrounded by a brilliant court, he forgot, in the intoxication
of pleasure and festivities, the conquest of Jerusalem, for which he
had come into Asia. During this fatal repose, he was on the point of
losing with his life and liberty the fruit of all his victories. Being
one day hunting in the forest of Saron, overcome by heat or fatigue,
he alighted from his horse and fell asleep under a tree. All at once
he was aroused by the cries of those who accompanied him,—a troop of
Saracens was close upon them! He sprang upon his horse, and prepared to
defend himself; but was near sinking beneath the force of numbers, when
a knight of his suite, named _William Pourcelet_, cried out in the
Arabic tongue, “_I am the king; spare my life._”[345] At these words,
this generous warrior was surrounded by the Mussulmans, who made him
prisoner and conducted him to Saladin. The king of England, thus saved
by the heroism of a French knight, escaped the pursuit of the enemy,
and returned to Jaffa, where his army learnt with terror the danger
they had been in of losing their leader.

Richard formed the project of besieging Ascalon; and Saladin being
doubtful of his power to defend that city, resolved to destroy it. In
vain the inhabitants came to implore his pity; in the space of a few
days the strongest and most flourishing city of Syria was consumed by
fire, and remained nothing but a heap of ruins.

The demolition of Ascalon excited great sorrow among the Mussulmans;
and the king of England, who had entertained hopes of rendering himself
master of the place, was as much afflicted as if he had lost one of his
conquests. This city, which had cost the Christians and Mussulmans so
much blood, opened at once to the Crusaders the gates of Palestine and
Egypt. Richard undertook to rebuild the ramparts that the Mussulmans
had destroyed, and led his army into the plain, covered by the ruins of
Ascalon.

It was a curious spectacle to behold thirty thousand warriors from
the West employed in rebuilding the walls of a city of Syria. The
Crusaders, as the Hebrews have been described to us whilst erecting the
temple of Jerusalem, were obliged to work with the sword in one hand
and the tools of masonry in the other. Saladin might have disturbed
their labours; but he preferred giving his army a little repose, and
recruiting its numbers; persuaded that the divisions that existed among
his enemies would soon work to his advantage. The Christian army obeyed
Richard very unwillingly. Leopold of Austria, accused by the king of
England of remaining idle with his Germans, contented himself with
replying _that he was neither a carpenter nor a mason_. The greater
part of the knights who were thus employed in moving stones and digging
ditches, were exceedingly indignant, and said aloud that they did not
come into Asia to rebuild Ascalon, but to conquer Jerusalem.

Whilst the Christian army was in this dissatisfied state, the marquis
of Tyre, who had been ill-treated by Richard, courted the alliance
of the sultan, and promised to restore Ptolemaïs to him, if the
Mussulmans would agree to protect him against his enemies. The king of
England, warned of this perfidious negotiation, became only anxious
to defeat the projects of Conrad, and himself made propositions to
Saladin. He renewed the promise he had made to Malek-Adel to return
into Europe if Jerusalem and the wood of the true cross were restored
to the Christians. “Jerusalem,” replied Saladin, “never belonged to
you; we cannot without a crime abandon it to you, for in it were
accomplished the mysteries of our religion.” As to the wood of the true
cross, Saladin considered it as an object of scandal, as an insult to
divinity. He had refused to give it up to the king of Georgia or the
emperor of Constantinople, both of whom had offered him considerable
sums for it. “All the advantages to be procured by peace,” said he,
“cannot bring me to restore this disgraceful monument of their idolatry
to the Christians.”

Richard, who really considered the restitution of the true cross of
very little importance, did not reiterate his demand; but as he was
desirous of peace, he made other proposals, in which he adroitly
interested the ambition of Malek-Adel, the brother of the sultan. The
widow of William of Sicily, the sister of Richard, was offered in
marriage to the Mussulman prince; under the auspices of Saladin and
Richard, they might reign together over Mussulmans and Christians, and
govern the kingdom of Jerusalem. The historian Omad was charged by
Malek-Adel with the task of communicating this proposition to Saladin,
who appeared to adopt it without repugnance.[346] The project of this
singular union created great surprise among the imauns and doctors
of the law; and the Christian bishops, when they were informed of
it, expressed the strongest indignation, and threatened both Jane and
Richard with the thunders of the Church.

The execution of this plan appeared impossible in the midst of a
religious war: and everything leads us to believe that Saladin only
affected to give it attention that he might gain time to fortify
Jerusalem, which the Christians still demanded of him. Skilful workmen
from Aleppo were, by his orders, employed in widening the ditches and
repairing the walls. Among the Mussulman workmen were two thousand
Christian prisoners, condemned to rebuild the fortresses occupied by
the infidels. Saladin encouraged the labours by his presence and his
example, animating the zeal of the people and soldiers by frequently
reminding them of the victories of the Mussulmans, and of the massacre
of their brethren slaughtered before Ptolemaïs.

The conquest of the holy city was the object of the war,—the great
reward promised to the labours of the crusaders; and they at length
earnestly pressed Richard to march towards Jerusalem. He was obliged to
yield to their impatience, and led them as far as Bethonopolis,[347]
situated between Ascalon and the capital of Palestine. At the approach
of the Franks, Saladin ordered all the country through which their army
must pass to be laid waste. By the commands of the sultan the ramparts
of Ramla and Lidda, with the fortress of Nitro, were demolished. All
the routes which led to Jerusalem were guarded by Mussulman cavalry,
who unceasingly harassed the Christians, and prevented their receiving
provisions from Ptolemaïs or other maritime cities.

In proportion with their approximation to Jerusalem, the enthusiasm and
ardour of the Crusaders increased; but Richard and most of the leaders
did not at all partake of the impatience of the soldiers. The Christian
army was only one day’s march from the sea-coast, and yet want of
provisions began to be sensibly felt. If in the plains of Ptolemaïs,
where the Crusaders could look for provisions to the Mediterranean,
they had experienced all the horrors of famine, what miseries had
they not reason to expect under the walls of Jerusalem? Mussulman
troops were encamped in the plains of Jericho and Hebron, and in the
country of Naplouse, and had the power at all times to throw succour
into Jerusalem, if that city were besieged by the Christians. Winter,
besides, was beginning to create a dread of contagious diseases; the
leaders of the army were divided among themselves, and even the sight
of danger could scarcely bring them to act in concert. All these
circumstances produced doubt and irresolution in the minds of Richard
and the most prudent of the barons and knights.

Richard entertained hopes that Saladin would come and offer him battle,
and that a victory would at once throw open the gates of Jerusalem
to him; but the sultan, who had proved the strength and bravery of
the Christians at Arsur, was not willing to expose his conquests to
the hazard of a battle. Richard, on his part, dreaded the perils and
fatigues of a protracted siege, and suddenly led back his army to the
plains of Ascalon.

The multitude of the Crusaders, who were ignorant of or did not
appreciate the motives of the king of England, only obeyed him with
murmurs, and most of the leaders, declared enemies of Richard, mingled
their complaints with those of the soldiers. Several dissatisfied
Crusaders deserted the standards which no longer pointed out to them
the road to Jerusalem.

Whilst the army was marching despondingly back to the plains of
Ascalon, the Genoese and Pisans, continually at variance, broke into
open war within the walls of Ptolemaïs. Conrad took part with the
Genoese, whilst the king of England as eagerly defended the Pisans, and
terminated this civil war by forcing Conrad and the Genoese to retreat
to the city of Tyre.

Amidst these sanguinary disputes, Conrad, who had an ambassador at the
court of Saladin, unable longer to endure the authority of Richard,
entered into an alliance with the Mussulmans. Saladin, by treaty,
abandoned to the marquis of Tyre all the cities the latter might take
from the Christians, and promised to aid him in his conquests, only
reserving the booty for the Mussulman soldiers. This treaty, dictated
by hatred to Richard, was the signal for the death of Conrad; a very
short time afterwards the marquis of Tyre perished by an unknown hand.

English authors assert that Conrad had had quarrels with the chief of
the Ismaëlians, and that he was assassinated by the orders of this
redoubtable enemy. Two young slaves left the voluptuous gardens, in
which their master had brought them up, to execute his vengeance. They
arrived at Tyre, and, in order to conceal their purpose the better,
received baptism. They engaged themselves in the service of Conrad,
and remained six months about his person, apparently only occupied
in offering up prayers to the God of the Christians. One day, as the
marquis was coming from dining with the bishop of Beauvais, the two
Ismaëlians attacked him, and wounded him mortally. Whilst the people
congregated tumultuously, one of the assassins fled into a neighbouring
church, into which, likewise, the bleeding marquis was borne. The
Ismaëlian, who had concealed himself, suddenly rushed through the
crowd, and again falling upon Conrad, struck him repeatedly with his
dagger, till he was quite dead. The two assassins were seized, and both
died amidst tortures, without uttering a single groan, or naming the
person who had employed them to take away the life of the marquis of
Tyre.[348]

The continuator of Tabary says that Saladin had offered the Old Man of
the Mountains ten thousand pieces of gold if he would cause the marquis
of Tyre and the king of England to be assassinated; but the prince of
the mountain, adds the same historian, did not think proper to deliver
Saladin entirely from his war with the Franks, and only performed
half of that which had been required of him. The Christians did not
attribute the death of Conrad to Saladin, but many among them accused
Richard of it. A short time after the murder, a letter was published,
in which the lord of the mountain avowed himself to be the author of
the assassination; but this letter bore no character of authenticity
about it. The savage lord of the mountain could not write, and could
have no interest in making the apology of a Christian prince.[349] The
king of England himself strengthened the public suspicions by taking
possession of Tyre, and giving the widow of Conrad in marriage to his
nephew, the count of Champagne. However it may be, this accusation,
which was accredited among the Christians, announced plainly the idea
they entertained of the character of Richard. The account of the death
of Conrad soon reached Europe, and Philip Augustus, dreading the same
fate, no longer appeared in public without being surrounded by a guard.
The court of France accused Richard of the blackest attempts; but it is
probable that Philip, on this occasion, showed more fear than he really
felt, in order to render his rival the more odious, and to arm against
him the hatred of the pope, and the indignation of all the princes of
Christendom.

After the death of Conrad, Richard had no rivals to suspect, or
enemies to fight with among the Christians; the opinion even that was
entertained of his character, only served to augment his authority, by
creating a dread of his hatred or vengeance. He took advantage of a
moment, in which Saladin disbanded part of his army, to get possession
of the castle of Darcum, built upon the confines of Palestine, towards
Egypt. He undertook several other enterprises, which spread terror and
surprise among the Saracens; and, all at once, to satisfy the wishes
of the Crusaders, marched towards Jerusalem, in which city Saladin had
shut himself up with all the troops he could gather together. At the
approach of the Christians, the sultan convoked his emirs, and made
them swear, on the stone of Jacob, to be buried beneath the ruins of
the city rather than yield it up to the soldiers of Richard.

The Christian army encamped at the foot of the mountains of Judea,
all the passes of which were guarded by the troops of Saladin and
the Saracen peasants of Naplouse and Hebron. As Richard drew near
to Jerusalem, his aversion to the idea of allowing the duke of
Austria and the duke of Burgundy to share in such a glorious conquest
increased; whilst they were not at all willing to assist the king
of England in an enterprise that would so much augment his pride
and renown. Every time that he proposed to proceed against the holy
city, the zeal of the leaders of the army appeared to cool;[350] and
when Richard sought to defer the conquest, most of them endeavoured
to arouse the enthusiasm of the Crusaders, and repeated the oath
they had taken to deliver the tomb of Christ. Thus the proximity to
Jerusalem, which ought to have united the Christians more firmly, only
served to increase their divisions, and spread trouble, disorder, and
discouragement through the whole army.

The Christians were but a few leagues from Jerusalem, and the council
assembled to determine what steps must be taken. Many of the leaders
thought that they ought at once to besiege the city, and spoke of the
consternation of the Mussulmans. The soldiers of Saladin, said they,
had not forgotten the evils of Ptolemaïs, and trembled at the idea of
again shutting themselves within the ramparts of a city. Fugitives from
Jerusalem had informed them that the presence even of Saladin could
not keep up the spirits of the soldiers, and that all the inhabitants,
seized with terror, were upon the point of flying to Damascus.

They who maintained an opposite opinion, among whom was Richard,
thought that the reports spread regarding the disposition of the
Mussulmans were but a snare of Saladin’s, by which he hoped to lure
the Crusaders into places in which he could destroy them without
fighting. “At the moment in which we are speaking,” said they, “the
Mussulman cavalry surround the plain on which our army is encamped. It
is difficult and dangerous to advance across the mountains of Judea.
The roads, bordered by precipices, are, in many places, cut through the
solid rock, and are dominated by steep heights, from which ill-armed
peasants will be sufficient to crush, or at least to stop the columns
of the Christians. How are we to transport through such narrow passes
our baggage, our machines, or our munitions of war? If our bravery
should succeed in surmounting all these difficulties, will it be easy
to keep up our communications with the coast? If we are conquered, how
shall we make our retreat, pursued by the army of Saladin?”

Opinions continued to be divided: the king of England wished to retreat
to Ascalon; whilst the dukes of Austria and Burgundy warmly maintained
that they ought to march towards Jerusalem. Twenty-four knights were
selected to determine upon the course that was to be adopted, and the
Christian army awaited their decision with an impatience mingled with
fear. After having deliberated for some time, the twenty-four knights
concluded that the army could not pursue its march without danger, and
that the most prudent plan would be to retreat towards the sea-coast.
Richard, after having given the order for retreat, whether he was
sincerely afflicted, or whether he wished to regain the confidence and
esteem of the Crusaders, turned towards Jerusalem with his eyes filled
with tears, and covering his face with his buckler, declared himself
unworthy to behold a city that he could not conquer.

The Crusaders once more turned their backs upon Jerusalem, which they
had sworn so often and so solemnly to deliver, the soldiers totally
unable to comprehend the policy or intentions of their leaders.
Richard, who had led the Christian army towards the holy city, might
at least be accused of want of determination of purpose.[351] The
uncertainty of his plans completed the destruction of the confidence
which his skill and great military talents had created; and the despair
of the Crusaders put an end to the fear of a chief they no longer
loved. Discord broke out with fresh fury; such as remained partisans
of Richard, reproached his enemies with misleading the spirit of
the army; but all parties mutually accused each other of favouring
the cause of the infidels. As is generally the case in unsuccessful
wars, perfidy and treachery were the subjects most current among the
Crusaders.

The most violent complaints were uttered against Richard, who replied
to his enemies in a strain of high-minded bravery, worthy of an Amadis
or a Roland. At the head of a weak detachment, he took a convoy of
seven thousand camels on the way to Jerusalem; on another occasion,
going on board a vessel with a few knights, he landed at Jaffa, where
the banners of Saladin floated over the towers and ramparts; he
pursued the conquerors sword in hand, and forced them to abandon their
temporary conquest. A few days after, the king of England, with a troop
of his chosen knights, attacked a body of seven thousand Mussulman
horse; he rushed in amongst them, and with a stroke of his sabre struck
dead at his feet the leader of the Saracens, who all appeared stupified
and motionless with surprise and fear.

But all these perils and all this glory were lost for the cause of the
Christians. Richard became every day more odious to his associates; the
duke of Burgundy with the French retired discontented to Ptolemaïs;
the Germans, commanded by the duke of Austria, quitted Palestine,
and Richard remained alone with the English.[352] Hitherto the king
of England, as he himself told the ambassadors of Saladin, had taken
but little interest in the deliverance of the holy places, and had
only performed such prodigies of valour to increase his fame in the
Christian world. A desire to efface the glory of Philip, much more than
a zeal for religion, governed him in his contests with the Saracens;
he underwent the labours of the holy war in the hope that his exploits
in Palestine would assist him in triumphing over his rivals and
enemies beyond the seas; but as he began to fear being left without
an army, and dreaded the enterprises of Philip, and the plots of his
brother John, against his European states, he determined to resume his
negotiations with Saladin. The various thoughts that harassed his mind,
the shame of not having conquered Jerusalem, the fear of losing his own
kingdom, made him adopt and reject resolutions of the most opposite
nature. At one time he determined upon returning to Europe without
making peace at all—first he supplicated, then he menaced Saladin,
and endeavoured to frighten him, by spreading a report that the pope
was about to arrive in Palestine with an army of two hundred thousand
Crusaders.

Winter had not yet passed away, and the passage of the Mediterranean
was not without danger. “The sea is stormy,” wrote he one day to
Saladin, “but I will brave its tempests, and return to Europe if you
are disposed to make peace. But if you still desire war, I will brave
all its perils, and will lay siege to Jerusalem.” Saladin was encamped
in the vicinity of Ramla, and called his emirs together to deliberate
upon the proposals of Richard. “Up to this period,” said he, “we have
fought with glory, and the cause of Islamism has triumphed by our arms.
I fear that death may surprise me during a peace, and may prevent my
terminating the good work we have begun. Since God gives us victory,
he commands us to continue the war, and we ought to obey his will.”
Most of the emirs applauded the courage and firmness of Saladin, but
they represented to him, “that the cities were without defence, and
the provinces were devastated; the fatigues of war had weakened the
Mussulman army; the horses wanted forage, and provisions for the
soldiers were dearer than gold.” “If we reduce the Franks to despair,”
added they, “they may still overcome us, and wrest all our victories
from our hands. It is wise to observe the maxim of the Koran, which
orders us to grant peace to our enemies when they ask it. Peace will
give us time to fortify our cities, to recruit our forces, and resume
the war with advantage; when the Franks, always faithless in treaties,
will offer us fresh pretexts for attacking them.”

Saladin plainly perceived by this speech of his emirs, that the greater
part of the Saracen warriors were beginning to lose the ardour and
zeal they had evinced for the cause of Islamism. The sultan was
abandoned by several of his auxiliaries, and dreaded the appearance
of division in his own empire. The armies were close to each other,
and the dust which arose from the two camps, says an Arabian author,
mingled in the air and formed but one cloud. Neither the Christians nor
the Mussulmans showed the least impatience to go beyond the boundaries
of their ramparts and ditches, and both being equally tired of the
war, it became the interest of the two leaders to make peace. The
disposition of the minds of the combatants, with the impossibility of
pursuing any warlike enterprises, at length led to the adoption of a
truce for three years and eight months.[353]

It was determined that Jerusalem should be open to the devotion of
the Christians, and that they should hold all the sea-coast from
Jaffa to Tyre. The Saracens and the Christians had both claims upon
Ascalon, which was considered as the key to Egypt, and which the Arabs
called the _spouse of Syria_. To terminate these disputes, it was
agreed that this city should be again demolished. It is not unworthy
of remark, that not a word was said about the true cross, which had
been the subject of the first negotiations, and for which Richard had
sent several ambassadors to Saladin. The principal leaders of the two
armies swore, on the one side upon the Koran, and on the other upon the
Gospel, to observe the conditions of the treaty. Royal majesty assumed
something more imposing and august than even the sanctity of an oath,
for the sultan and the king of England contented themselves with giving
their word and touching the hands of the ambassadors.

All the Mussulman and Christian princes of Syria were invited to sign
the treaty concluded between Richard and Saladin. Among those who
were called upon to be guarantees of the peace, neither the prince
of Antioch, who had taken little share in the war, nor the chief of
the Ismaëlians, the enemy of both Christians and Mussulmans, was
forgotten. Guy de Lusignan alone was not named in the treaty. This
prince enjoyed a momentary importance from the dissensions he had given
birth to, and sunk into oblivion as soon as fresh subjects of discord
arose among the Crusaders. Despoiled of his kingdom, he obtained that
of Cyprus, a far more real possession, but for which he was obliged
to pay the Templars, to whom Richard had sold it. Palestine was
ceded to Henry, count of Champagne, the new husband of that Isabella
who appeared to be promised to all the pretenders to the crown of
Jerusalem, and who, by a singular destiny, had married three kings,
without being able to ascend a throne.[354]

The conclusion of the peace was celebrated by tournaments and
festivities, in which the Mussulmans and Christians laid aside the
fanaticism and hatred which had led them to shed so much blood. Most
of the warriors of the West, by the invitation of Saladin, visited
the holy places they had been unable to deliver, and then embarked
for Europe. At the moment of departure, the French lost the duke
of Burgundy, who fell sick and died in the city of Tyre, as he was
preparing to leave Palestine.

Thus finished this third crusade, in which all the western powers in
arms obtained no greater advantages than the taking of Ptolemaïs and
the demolition of Ascalon; in it Germany lost, without glory, one of
the greatest of its emperors and the finest of its armies. If we may
believe Arabian authors, six hundred thousand Crusaders appeared before
Ptolemaïs, and scarcely one hundred thousand of these warriors saw
their native country again. Europe had the greater reason to deplore
the losses of this war, from the fact of her armies having been so much
better composed than in preceding expeditions; criminals, adventurers,
and vagabonds, had been strictly excluded from the ranks. All that the
West could boast of the most noble and illustrious of its warriors had
taken up arms.

The Crusaders that contended with Saladin were better armed and better
disciplined than any that preceded them in Palestine; the foot-soldiers
employed the cross-bow, which had been neglected or prohibited in the
second crusade. Their cuirasses, and their bucklers covered with thick
leather, defied the arrows of the Saracens; and on the field of battle,
soldiers were often seen bristling with arrows and darts, whom the
Arabs compared to porcupines, still keeping their ranks and fighting
bravely. The Saracens had likewise made some progress in the art of
war, and began to resume the use of the lance, which they did not
employ when the first Crusaders arrived in Syria. The Mussulman armies
were not confused multitudes; they remained longer under their banners,
and fought with less disorder. The Curds and Turks surpassed the
Franks in the art of attacking and defending cities and castles. The
Mussulmans had, besides, more than one advantage over the Crusaders;
they made war upon their own territories and in their own climate; they
were under the command of one single leader, who communicated the same
spirit to all, and only presented to them one cause to defend.

In this crusade the Franks appeared to be more polished than they had
been till that time. Great monarchs making war against each other
without ceasing to give evidences of mutual esteem and generous
feeling, was a new spectacle for the world. Subjects followed the
example of their princes, and lost beneath the tent much of their
barbarism. The Crusaders were sometimes admitted to the table of
Saladin, and emirs received at that of Richard. By thus mingling
together, Saracens and Christians might make a happy exchange of
usages, manners, knowledge, and even virtues.

The Christians, rather more enlightened than during the first crusades,
stood in less need of excitement from the visions of fanaticism.
The passion for glory was for them almost as powerful a principle
as religious enthusiasm. Chivalry also made great progress in this
crusade; it was held in such honour, and the title of KNIGHT was so
glorious, even in the eyes of the infidels, that Saladin did not
disdain to be decorated with it.

The sentiment of honour, and the humanity which is inseparable from it,
often dried tears that the disasters of war had caused to flow; tender
and virtuous passions associated themselves in the minds of heroes with
the austere maxims of religion and the sanguinary images of battle.
Amidst the corruption of camps, love, by inspiring the knights and
troubadours who had taken the cross with noble and delicate sentiments,
preserved them from the seductions of gross debauchery. More than one
warrior, animated by the remembrance of beauty, caused his bravery to
be greatly admired, whilst fighting against the Saracens. It was in
this crusade that the Châtelain de Coucy fell, mortally wounded, by
the side of King Richard. In a song, which is still extant, he had bid
adieu to France, saying that he went to the Holy Land to obtain three
things of inestimable value to a knight,—_Paradise, glory, and the
love of his mistress_.[355] A chronicle of the middle ages relates,
that after he had received a mortal wound and was about to breathe his
last sigh, the faithful Châtelain first confessed himself to the legate
of the Pope, and then charged his squire to bear his heart to the lady
de Fayel. The last commands of Coucy, and the horrible banquet that a
cruel husband caused to be served up to the victim of his jealousy,
show at once what chivalry could inspire of the most touching kind, and
that which the manners of the twelfth century could exhibit of the most
barbarous.[356] The troubadours celebrated in their songs the chivalric
love of the noble Châtelain, and the despair of the beautiful De Vergy,
when she learnt she had eaten the heart of her faithful knight. If we
may believe old chronicles, the lord de Fayel, pursued by remorse and
the opinion of his contemporaries, was obliged to go to the Holy Land,
to expiate his crime and the death of his unfortunate wife.

In this crusade, in which so many knights rendered themselves
illustrious, two men acquired an immortal glory, one by a useless
bravery, and qualities more brilliant than solid, the other by real
successes and virtues that might have served as models to Christians.
The name of Richard remained during a century the terror of the East,
and the Saracens and Turks celebrated him in their proverbs a long time
after the crusades. He cultivated letters, and merited a place among
the troubadours; but the arts did not at all soften his character; it
was his ferocity as well as his courage that procured him the surname
of Cœur de Lion. Carried away by the inconstancy of his inclinations,
he often changed his projects, his affections, and his principles of
action; he sometimes braved religion, and very often devoted himself to
its service. Sometimes incredulous, as often superstitious; measureless
in his hatred as in his friendship, he was extravagant in everything,
and only showed himself constant in his love for war. The passions
which animated him scarcely ever permitted his ambition to have an
aim or a determinate object. His imprudence, his presumption, and the
unsteadiness of his plans, made him lose the fruits of his exploits. In
a word, the hero of this crusade is more calculated to excite surprise
than to create esteem, and appears to belong less to history than to
the romances of chivalry.

With less rashness and bravery than Richard, Saladin possessed a more
firm character, one far better calculated to carry on a religious
war. He paid more attention to the results of his enterprises; more
master of himself, he was more fit to command others. When mounting
the throne of the Atabeks, Saladin obeyed rather his destiny than his
inclinations; but when once firmly seated, he was governed by only two
passions,—that of reigning, and that of securing the triumph of the
Koran. On all other subjects he was moderate, and when a kingdom or the
glory of the prophet was not in question, the son of Ayoub was admired
as the most just and mild of Mussulmans. We may add that the stern
devotion[357] and ardent fanaticism that made him take up arms against
the Christians, only rendered him cruel and barbarous in one single
instance. He displayed the virtues of peace amidst the horrors of war.
“From the bosom of camps,” says an Oriental poet, “_he covered the
nations with the wings of his justice, and poured upon his cities the
plenteous showers of his liberality_.” The Mussulmans, always governed
by fear,[358] were astonished that a sovereign could inspire them with
so much love, and followed him with joy to battle. His generosity, his
clemency, and particularly his respect for an oath, were often the
subjects of admiration to the Christians, whom he rendered so miserable
by his victories, and of whose power in Asia he had completed the
overthrow.[359]

The third crusade, which was so glorious for Saladin, was not entirely
without advantages for Europe. Many Crusaders on the way to Palestine,
stopped in Spain, and by their victories over the Moors, prepared the
deliverance of the kingdoms situated beyond the Pyrenees. A great
number of Germans, as in the second crusade, prevailed upon by the
solicitations of the pope, made war upon the barbarous inhabitants
of the shores of the Baltic, and thus, by useful exploits, extended
the limits of the Christian republic in the West. As in this war
the greater part of the Crusaders went to Palestine by sea, the
art of navigation made a sensible advance; the maritime nations of
Europe acquired an accession of prosperity, their fleets became more
formidable, and they were able, with glory, to dispute the empire of
the sea with the Saracens.

In several states of Europe, commerce, and the spirit of the holy
wars contributed to the enfranchisement of the lower classes. Many
serfs, upon becoming free, took up arms. It was not one of the least
interesting spectacles of this crusade, to see the standards of several
cities of France and Germany floating in the Christian army amongst the
banners of lords and barons.

This crusade was particularly beneficial to France, from which it
banished both civil and foreign wars. By prolonging the absence of the
great vassals and the enemies of the kingdom, it weakened their power,
and gave Philip Augustus authority to levy imposts, even upon the
clergy. It afforded him an opportunity of surrounding his throne with
a faithful guard, to keep up regular armies, and prepare, though at a
distance,[360] that victory of Bovines which proved so fatal to the
enemies of France.

A long captivity awaited Richard on his return to Europe. The vessel in
which he embarked was shipwrecked on the coast of Italy, and fearing
to pass through France, he took the route of Germany, concealed under
the habit of a simple pilgrim. His liberality betrayed the monarch,
and as he had enemies everywhere, he was seized by the soldiers of the
duke of Austria. Leopold had not sufficient generosity to forget the
outrages received from Richard at the siege of Ptolemaïs, and detained
him prisoner. It was not known in Europe what had become of King
Richard, when a gentleman of Arras, named Blondel, set out in search
of his master, and traversed Germany in the dress and with the lyre
of a minstrel. On his arrival before a castle, in which, it was said,
languished an illustrious captive, Blondel began to sing the first
couplet of a song which he had composed in conjunction with Richard.
From the top of a high tower a voice answered him, and sang the second
couplet.[361] Then the faithful troubadour returned into England to
announce that he had discovered the prison of the king. The duke of
Austria, terrified at this discovery, did not dare to detain longer his
redoubtable captive in his own hands, and gave him up to the emperor of
Germany. Henry VI., who had likewise insults to revenge, was rejoiced
to get Richard in his power, and kept him in chains, as if he had made
him a prisoner in the field of battle. The hero of the crusade, who had
filled the world with his renown, was cast into a dark dungeon, and
remained a long time a victim to the vengeance of his enemies—and they
were Christian princes.

He was brought before the German diet, assembled at Worms, where he
was accused of all the crimes that hatred and envy could invent. But
the spectacle of a king in chains was so affecting, that no one durst
condemn Richard, and when he offered his justification, the bishops
and nobles melted into tears, and besought Henry to treat him with less
injustice and rigour.

Queen Eleanor implored all the powers of Europe for the release of
her son. The complaints and tears of a mother touched the heart of
Celestine, who had recently ascended the chair of St. Peter. The pope
several times demanded the liberty of the king of England, and even
excommunicated the duke of Austria and the emperor; but the thunders
of the Church had so often been launched against the thrones of
Germany, that they no longer inspired fear. Henry braved the anathemas
of the Holy See; the captivity of Richard lasted another year; and
he only obtained his liberty after engaging to pay a considerable
ransom. His kingdom, which he had ruined at his departure for the
Holy Land, exhausted itself to hasten his return; and England gave
up even her sacred vases to break the chains of her monarch. He was
received with enthusiasm by the English; his adventures, which drew
tears, obliterated the remembrance of his cruelties, and Europe only
recollected his exploits and his misfortunes.

After the truce made with Richard, Saladin retired to Damascus, where
he enjoyed his glory but one year. The Orientals celebrate the edifying
manner in which he died, distributing his alms or benevolences to
Mussulmans and Christians alike. Before he expired he ordered one of
his officers to carry his shroud through the streets of his capital,
and to cry with a loud voice: “_Behold all that Saladin, who overcame
the East, bears away of his conquests._”

Scarcely had he ceased to breathe, when nothing remained but a vain
remembrance of his laws and his victories; his death was attended by
that which so frequently happens in Oriental monarchies, where nothing
is regulated concerning the succession; where victory appears to be the
most legitimate title, and where a too numerous offspring await the
death of the prince in fear, servitude, and in ignorance of the affairs
of the state.

Saladin only left behind him slaves intimidated by his glory and his
boundless power, who divided his authority among them, but could not
support the weight of it. Twelve of his sons and relatives succeeded
him and disputed the sovereignty. Malek-Adel, the brother of the
sultan, and companion in his exploits, profited by the inexperience of
his nephews, and took possession of Egypt and Mesopotamia. The most
powerful of the emirs followed his example, and shared the cities and
provinces amongst them. Asia then beheld that empire fall to decay,
which, raised for the ruin of the Christians, had, in its growth and
progress, twice roused all the nations of the West to arms.


END OF VOL. 1.




FOOTNOTES:

[1] Le Corbeau et le Renard.

[2] Anna Comnena, _History of the Emperor Alexius_.

[3] _History of the Holy War_ made by the French and other Christians
for the deliverance of Judea and the Holy Sepulchre, composed in Greek
and French, by Yves Duchat, a Trojan. This history is translated almost
literally from the History of Accolti, entitled _De Bello Sacro_.

[4] See the letter of St. Gregory of Nyssen, translated into Latin and
commented on by Casaubon. St. Augustin, and St. Jerome himself, raised
their voices against the abuses of pilgrimages. ’See the first of the
Appendix, in which is an abridgment of the pilgrimage of St. Jerome and
St. Eusebius of Cremona.)

[5] See, in the Appendix at the end of the volume, a bibliographical,
historical, and geographical analysis of “The Itinerary from Bordeaux
to Jerusalem,” by M. Walcknaer: this piece throws great light upon
ancient geography, and that of the middle ages.

[6] This festival is known under the name of the Exaltation of the Holy
Cross, and is celebrated on the 14th of September.

[7] The voyage of St. Antony is found in three very ancient
manuscripts, which may be consulted in the Imperial Library. It has
been printed also in a small volume in 4to. ’See the Appendix.) The
relation of the pilgrimage of St. Arculphus, arranged by Adaman in 690,
was published by Gretzer of Ingoldstadt, 1619, in 4to., under this
title, “De Locis Terræ Sanctæ.” It has since been published by Mabillon.

[8] _Lucida plerumque recepit intervalla._—WILLIAM OF TYRE.

[9] A capitulary of Charlemagne, of the year 810, is conceived in
these terms: “De eleemosynâ mittendâ ad Hyerusalem propter ecclesias
Dei restaurandas.” _Ob hoc maximè_ ’says Eginard) _transmarinorum
regum amicitias expetens, ut Christianis sub eorum dominatu degentibus
refugerium aliquod ac relevatio proveniret_.—Vita Caroli Magni, cap.
27, p. 101, edit. of Bredow, 12mo. Helmstadt, 1806.

[10] _Claves sepulcri Domini, claves etiam civitatis et montis cum
vexillo detulerunt._—WILLIAM OF TYRE.

[11] A relation of this pretended voyage may be found in the old
chronicles. Sanuti and Robert Gaguin have mentioned it, without doubt
from traditions existing in their time.

[12] At the commencement of the ninth century, pilgrims flocked thither
quite from the extremities of Europe. Dicuil, who wrote in Ireland in
the year 825, gives several details:—_Fidelis frater ... narravit coram
me ... quòd adorationis causâ in urbe Jerlm_. ’_Hierusalem_) cle_rici
et laïci à Britanniâ usque ad Nilum velificaverunt_.—DICUIL, De Mensurâ
Orbis, edit. Walcknaer, p. 17.

[13] _Ibi habetur hospitale, in quo suscipiuntur omnes qui causâ
devotionis illum adeunt locum, linguâ loquentes Romanâ, cui adjacet
ecclesia in honore Sanctæ Maricæ; nobilissimam habent bibliothecam
studio prædicti imperatoris Caroli Magni._—This passage is taken
from the Voyage of the monk Bernard to the Holy Land. This monk was
a Frenchman by birth; he set out for Palestine in 870 with two other
monks, one of whom was of the monastery of St. Innocent, in the country
of Benevento, and the other a Spanish monk. ’See an account of this
pilgrimage in the Appendix.)

[14] _Alii causâ negotiationis acti, alii causâ devotionis et
peregrinationis._—J. DE VITRY. _Quod Latini devotionis gratiâ aut
negotiationis advenientes._—SANUTI. _Non defuerunt de occidentalibus
multi qui loca sancta, licet in hostium potestate redacta, aut
devotionis, aut commerciorum, aut utriusque gratiâ, visitarent
aliquoties._—WILLIAM OF TYRE. _Diversarum gentium undique prope
innumera multitudo, 15 die Septembris anniversario more, in
Hierosolymam convenire solet ad commercia mutuis conditionibus et
emptionibus peragenda._—Voyage of St. Arculphus.

[15] There is an excellent dissertation, by M. de Guegnes, upon the
commerce of the French in the Levant before the Crusades, in the 37th
vol. of the “Mémoires de l’Académie des Inscriptions.”

[16] Mohamed.

[17] Lebeau, in his “History of the Lower Empire,” relates, after
contemporary historians, an incident which plainly shows what was the
spirit of the Greeks at that time. “A small town of Silicia being
invaded by the Saracens, the curé of the place, named Themal, was
saying mass at the time. At the noise which he hears he descends
briskly from the altar, without taking off his pontificals, arms
himself with a hammer which served for a bell in many eastern churches,
goes straight to meet the enemy, wounds, knocks down, crushes all that
he meets, and puts the rest to flight. Although he had delivered his
town from an invasion of the Saracens, the curé Themal was censured and
suspended by his bishop. He was so ill treated that he sought refuge
with the Saracens, and embraced the religion of Mahomet.”

[18] We owe a great portion of these details to an ancient Armenian
manuscript, composed in the twelfth century by Matthew of Edessa,
several fragments of which have been translated into French by Messrs.
Martin and Chahan de Cirbier. These fragments were printed under the
title, “Historical Details of the First Expedition of the Christians
into Palestine, under the Emperor Zimisces.” In the Appendix of this
history is an interesting letter from Zimisces to the king of Armenia.

[19] The second memoir of the Abbé Guenée upon Palestine may be read
here. This estimable scholar speaks of the different dynasties which,
at this period, had by turns conquered Jerusalem. We have felt that
all these details, though quite in their place in a memoir, would only
interrupt the course of our narration, without furnishing the reader
with any useful information.

[20] Whilst reading the letter of Zimisces, which gives an account of
these events, we feel astonished that he does not show more eagerness
to see Jerusalem; but such was the character of the Greeks, that they
set more value on the acquisition of relics, which were borne in
triumph to Constantinople, than in delivering the holy city and the
tomb of Christ. It is thence apparent that this expedition was not at
all directed by the same spirit as the crusades.

[21] _Et ita pro fratribus animam ponens, cum pietate dormitionum
accepit optimam, habens positam gratiam._—WILLIAM OF TYRE. The
translator of the Latin historian Du Préau thus renders the thought of
the original: “Thus, giving up his life for his brothers, exchanged the
misery of this world for a happy eternal repose, and received the high
reward prepared for all lovers of perfect charity.”

[22] It was pretended that the thousand years of which the Scripture
speaks, were about to be accomplished, and that the end of the world
was approaching. In an act of donation made by St. Géraud, Baron
d’Aurillac, are these words, “_Appropinquante mundi termino_.”

[23] These and the following details have been drawn from the accounts
of several pilgrimages, in Mabillon, in the “Recueil des Bollandistes,”
and the chronicles of the times.

[24] These mountains, called Monts de Joux ’Montes Jovis), now bear the
names of the Great and Little St. Bernard. When St. Bernard founded
these two hospitals, the inhabitants of the Alps were still idolaters,
and the Saracens had penetrated into Le Valais, where they constantly
annoyed the march of the pilgrims.

[25] William, duke of Normandy ’917), Richard I. ’943), and Richard II.
sent considerable sums into Syria.—See GLABER, lib. i. cap. 4; DUCHENE,
vol. iv.

[26] _Non quærunt mala, sed legem eorum adimplere cupiunt._—GUILLEBARD.
The account of the pilgrimage of St. Guillebard ’Villibaldus), drawn up
by a nun of Heindenheim, at his relation, is to be found in the “Acta
Sanctorum Ord. Sanct. Ben.” sæculi 3, part. 2.

[27] The account of the pilgrimage of Frotmonde, drawn up by an
anonymous monk of Redon, is inserted in the “Acta Sanctorum Ordin.
Sanct. Ben.” sæculi 4, part. 2.

[28] The aggregated history of the annals and chronicles of Anjou,
which describes the pilgrimages of Foulque, relates an incident which
appears to deserve to be known, for the full relation of which we refer
to the Appendix.

A Latin chronicle, entitled “Gesta. Consulum Andegav. Spicilegium,”
tom. x. p. 465, relates the same fact, with more brevity and some
circumstantial differences:—

Dixerunt, nullo modo ad sepulcrum optatum pervenire posset nisi super
illud et crucem Dominicam mingeret; quod vir prudens licet invitus
annuit. Quæsitâ igitur arietis vesicâ, purgatâ atque mundatâ, et optimo
vino repletâ, quæ etiam aptè inter ejus femora posita est, et comes
discalciatus ad sepulcrum Domini accessit, vinumque super sepulcrum
fudit, et sic ad libitum cum sociis omnibus intravit, et fusis multis
lacrymis peroravit.

[29] The pilgrimage of Frederick is related by Dom Calmet, vol. i. p.
1072, of the “Civil History of Lorraine.” It is to be found also in the
“History of the Bishops of Lorraine,” vol. i. pp. 203—205.

[30] See the Life of St. Helena, in the seventh volume of the month of
July, pp. 332, 333, of the Bollandists.

[31] Raoul Glaber bestows great praise on this pilgrim, named Lethal,
“who,” says he, “was not one of these who go to Jerusalem to court
admiration,—ut _solummodo mirabiles habeantur_.”

[32] This pilgrimage of Litbert, or Liébert, is described in his life,
written by Raoul ’Radulfus), his contemporary. See vol. iv. month of
June, pp. 595—605, of the Bollandists.

[33] Ingulfus, a Norman monk, who had accompanied the pilgrims who
left Normandy, has made the relation of this pilgrimage. The account
of Ingulfus has been copied almost literally by Baronius. An account
of the same pilgrimage is likewise to be found in the chronicle of
Marianus Scotus pp. 429, 430.

[34] It would have been easy for me to have spoken of a great number of
other pilgrimages undertaken before the Crusades. An abridgment of the
most interesting accounts will be found in the Appendix at the end of
this volume.

[35] A picture of the excesses and shameless debaucheries committed
by the Turks after the conquest of Asia Minor, may be found in a
letter of Alexis, quoted by the Abbé Guibert, lib. i., cap. 4: “Dicit
eos quemdam abusione sodomiticâ intervenisse episcopum; matres
correptæ in conspectu filiarum multipliciter repetitis diversorum
coitibus vexabantur. Filiæ existentiæ terminum præcinere saltando
cogebantur,—mox eadem passio ad filias,” &c.

[36] This expedition, which was a true crusade, appears to have been
forgotten by all the historians of the crusades.

[37] Al-Mahadia, the chief of the cities conquered by the Christians,
according to Oriental geographers, was founded in the year 303 of the
Hegira, by Obeidallah, or Abdallah. It was still considerable in the
fifteenth century. Shaw, who saw it in 1730, calls it El-Medea. It is
situated thirty marine leagues south of Tunis. Sibila, which is the
other city conquered in this expedition, and which Shaw takes for the
ancient Turris Annibalis, is two leagues more to the south, on the same
coast of the Mediterranean.

[38] Anna Comnena calls Peter the Hermit _Cucupièttore_, which appears
to be taken from the Picard word _kiokio_, little, and from the word
Petrus, Peter, little Peter. If we are to believe Oderic-Vital, the
hermit had still another name, and was called Peter of Achiris. He
is styled in this manner in the chronicle of the counts of Anjou:
“Heremita quidam _Petrus Achiriensis_.” William of Tyre informs us that
he was a hermit in name and in fact: “_Heremita nomine et effectu_.”
Adrian Barland, in his book _De Gestis Ducum Brabantiæ_, expresses
himself thus: “Petrus Heremita, Ambianensis, vir nobilis, primâ ætete
rei militari deditus, tametsi litteris optimè imbutus, sed corpore
deformis ac brevis staturæ,” &c. The life of Peter the Hermit has been
written by André Thevet, in his “History of the most Illustrious and
Learned Men of their Ages,” and by Father Outtreman, a Jesuit. Several
families have pretended to be descended from Peter the Hermit. The most
rational and best supported claim is that of the family of Souliers,
which still exists in the Limousin.

[39] This letter of Alexius, quoted in extract by the Abbé Guibert,
and the whole of it by Robert the Monk. M. Heeren, in his learned
Latin commentary on the Greek historians, doubts its authenticity. The
principal reason he gives for his opinion is, that this letter differs
too strongly from the known character of the Greek emperors. This
reason does not appear to me sufficient; we know very well that the
Greek emperors affected great haughtiness in their correspondence, but
we know also that they spared no prayers when they were in any danger,
or wanted assistance: nothing suits better with vanity than servility.
Some critics cannot believe that Alexius should have spoken in his
letters of the beautiful women of Greece; the thing may, however, well
be believed when we recollect that the Turks, who were invading the
empire of Byzantium, sought with great eagerness to obtain Greek women.
Montesquieu remarks it, when speaking of the decline of the empire.
It seems then very natural that Alexius should speak of the beautiful
women of Byzantium, when addressing the Franks, whom the Greeks
considered barbarians, and governed by the same tastes as the Turks.

[40] See William Aubert’s “History of the Conquest of Jerusalem.”

[41] We have at command several historians who report the speech of
Urban; they are agreed as to the principal points, but differ in the
details. The monk Robert, who was present at the council, says: _Hæc et
id genus plurima ubi Papa Urbanus urbano sermone peroravit_. Baldric
or Boudri expresses himself thus: _His vel hujuscemodi aliis_, &c.
Everything leads us to believe that the pope pronounced his discourse
in the language of the country. That which renders this opinion more
probable, is that Urban was a Frenchman, and that otherwise it was
of consequence to make himself well understood by the barons and the
knights, who were not acquainted with Latin. If he had not pronounced
his discourse in the vulgar tongue, he would not have produced that
extraordinary enthusiasm which contemporary history says so much of.

[42] Dieu le veut was pronounced in the language of the times _Dieu li
volt_, or _Diex le volt_.

[43] The cross which the faithful wore in this crusade was of cloth,
and sometimes even of red- silk. Afterwards they wore crosses
of different colours. The cross, a little in relief, was sewed upon the
right shoulder of the coat or mantle, or else fastened on the front
of the helmet, after having been blessed by the pope or some bishop.
The prayers and ceremonies used on this occasion are still to be found
in the Romish ritual. On returning from the Holy Land, they removed
this mark from the shoulder and placed it on the back, or else wore
it at the neck. ’See LE PÈRE MONTFAUCON, DUCANGE, MAILLY, and LE PÈRE
D’OUTREMANT.)

[44] Robert le Frisin, second son of the count of Flanders, not being
allowed a share of the wealth of his house, said to his father, “Give
me men and vessels, and I will go and conquer a state among the
Saracens of Spain.”

[45] The archbishop of Dol could not refrain from showing his surprise
by words very remarkable for the time: _Excessit tamen medicina modum,
quia plus quàm debuit in quibusdàm eundi voluntas surrepsit_.—BALDRIC,
Archiep. lib. i.

[46] The Abbé Guibert quotes the example of a monk who made a large
incision on his forehead in the form of a cross, and preserved it with
prepared juices. He took care to report that an angel had made this
incision, which procured for him, during both the voyage and the war,
all the help he could desire. He became archbishop of Cæsarea. Foulque,
of Chartres, relates that a vessel with Crusaders having been wrecked
on the coast of Brundusium, all the shipwrecked bodies appeared with a
kind of cross imprinted on their flesh, and on the very part on which
it had been worn on their clothes when they were alive.

[47] _Erat eo tempore antequàm gentium fieret tanta profectio, maxima
ad invicem hostilitatibus totius Francorum regni facta turbatio;
crebra ubique latrocinia, viarum obsessio, passim audiebantur, immo
fiebant incendia infinita.—Mox ergo et mirâ et incredibili, ob
insperabilitatem, animorum immutatione commoti, signum pontificis
præceptione indictum, cruces videlicet, ab episcopis et presbyteris
sibi precantur imponi, et sicuti rapidissimi venti impetus solet non
magnâ pluviæ undâ restringi, ita illicò contigit ad invicem simultates
universarum et bella sopiri, per inditam sibi aspirationem, haud dubium
quin Christi._—GUIBERT, Abb. lib. i. ch. 7.

[48] _Tristitia remanentibus, gaudium autem euntibus erat._—FULC.
CARNOT.

[49] _Videres mirum quiddam, ipsos infantulos, dum obviam habent
quælibet castella vel urbes, si hæc esset Jerusalem, ad quam tenderent,
rogitare._—GUIBERT, Abb.

[50] William of Tyre tells us that Walter had exchanged his fortune
for the name by which he is known. Latin historians designate him
_sine habere, sine pecuniâ_; the old French chronicles call him, _senz
avehor, senz-aveir_; the English writers term him _the penniless_.
Walter was a Burgundian gentleman. Some historians say that an uncle of
Walter the Penniless was first named lieutenant to Peter, and that the
latter had not the command till after the death of his uncle, who died
just as the pilgrims entered the territories of the Bulgarians.

[51] St. Stephen had been king of Hungary before Coloman, who reigned
at the time of the first crusade.

[52] Among the small number of knights in the army of Peter, were
Renaud de Breïs, Gauthier de Breteuil, Fealcher d’Orléans, and Godfrey
Burel d’Etampes.

[53] William of Tyre and other Latin historians call this city _Malle
Villa_ in the first place because they were ignorant of its proper
name, and in the second because it was fatal to the Crusaders. All
the French historians who have spoken of the crusades have translated
_Malle Villa_ by _Malleville_.—See MARSIGLI, _Danubius Pannonico,
Mysicus_.

[54] Consult William of Tyre, or still better, Albert d’Aix, who, of
all the historians of the crusades, enlarges most upon these first
expeditions.

[55] Amongst this confused multitude were Thomas de Feü, Cleremhault de
Vaudeuil, Guillaume Charpentier, Count Herman, &c.

[56] _Fuit et aliud scelus detestabile in hâc congregatione pedestris
populi stulti, et vesanæ levitatis, anserem quemdam divino spiritu
asserebant afflatum, et capellam non minus eodem repletam, et has sibi
duces secundæ viæ fecerant in Jerusalem, quos et nimium venerebantur et
bestiali more his intendebant ex totâ animi intentione._—Alb. Aq. lib.
i. cap. 31.

[57] The Mersbourg of the Crusaders is now called _Ovar_; in German
_Ungarisch-Altenburgh_; in Sclavonic _Stare-Hrady_. It is situated in
the marshes that the Leytha forms on its embouchure into the Danube.
Its position is such that it is impossible to go from Austria into
Hungary on that side without passing by it. ’See Busching, Geog.) The
name of Mersbourg, which Albert d’Aix gives to this place, is no longer
in use: but that of Altenburgh, which has succeeded it, and which
signifies _old city_, indicates sufficiently clearly a more ancient
name; and the name of _Moisson_, which other historians of the crusades
give to the same place, is still found in the Latin and Hungarian name
of the county of Wieselbourg, upon which this city depends; _Mesony
wanmgye_, Mesoniensis Comitatus.

[58] There were in the army of Peter the Hermit, says Anna Comnena, ten
thousand Normans, who committed horrible excesses in the neighbourhood
of Nicea. They chopped children in pieces, stuck others upon spits,
and exercised all sorts of cruelties against aged persons. ’See the
Alexiad, book x.) We have no need to repeat our caution against the
exaggeration of Anna Comnena, who is always pleased with an opportunity
of accusing the Crusaders.

[59] This Rinaldo, of whom nothing else is known, except that he was
an Italian, is the only personage so called who has any event of
importance in the first crusade attached to his name. Tasso, who has
taken most of his characters from history, has borrowed the person and
character of Rinaldo, in the “Jerusalem Delivered,” entirely from his
imagination.

[60] Instead of acknowledging his fault, says Anna Comnena, he laid
it upon those who had disobeyed his orders and insisted upon doing as
they pleased, calling them robbers and brigands, whom God had deemed
unworthy of seeing and adoring the tomb of his Son.—Alexiad, lib. x.
ch. 8.

[61] Godfrey of Bouillon was born at Baysy, a village of Wallon
Brabant, now in the department of La Dyle, two leagues south-east of
Nevilles, and not far from Fleurus. Aubert le Mire, and the Baron
Leroy, in the geography of Brabant, report that in their time the
remains of the castle in which Godfrey was brought up were to be seen.

[62] An anonymous historian of the crusades, when speaking of Godfrey,
expresses himself thus: _Tantum lenis, ut magis in se monachum quàm
militem figuraret_. Guibert further says: _Cujus mira humilitas et
monachis jam imitanda modestia_.—See Bongars, p. 548.

[63] Abbot Guibert speaks thus of William, viscount de Melun: _Cum
Jerosolymitanum esset agressurus, iter direptis contiguorum sibi
peuperum substantiolis, profanum viaticum præparavit_.—Lib. iv. c. 7.

[64] Le Père Maimbourg.

[65] Nothing is more common than to attribute the combinations of a
profound policy to remote ages. If certain persons are to be believed,
the men of the eleventh century were sages, and we are barbarians. I
feel it just to report the opinion of Montesquieu on this subject:
“To transport all the ideas of the age in which we live into remote
periods is the most abundant source of error. To those people who wish
to render all ancient ages modern, I will repeat what the priests of
Egypt said to Solon, ‘_Oh Athenians, you are but children_.’”—Esprit
des Lois, liv. xxx. c. 18.

[66] _Eo tempore cum inter regni primates super hâc expeditione res
fieret, et colloquium ab eis cum Hugone Magno, sub Philippi regis
præsentiâ, Parisiis haberetur, mense Februario, tertio idus ejusdem,
luna, eclipsim patiens, ante noctis medium, sanguineo paulatim
cœpit colore velari, donec in cruentissimum tota horribiliter est
conversa ruborem; et ubi aurora crepusculo naturæ rediit, circa ipsum
lunarem circulum insolitus splendor emicuit. Quidam autem æstivi diei
vespertinâ irruente horâ, tanta aquilonis plagæ efflagratio apparuit,
ut plurimi è domibus suis sese proriperent, quærentes quinam hostes
provincias suas adeò grave ambustione vastarent._—Guibert, Abb. lib. i.
ch. 17.

[67] Raoul de Caen has written, half in prose and half in verse,
the “Gestes de Tancrède.” ’See “Thesaurus Novus Anecdotorum” of D.
Martenne, vol. i., or the “Recueil de Muratori,” tom. iii.)

[68] Consult the history of Raymond d’Agiles, chaplain of the count de
Thoulouse, for the description of this march of the Crusaders of the
south across a country till that time unknown.

[69] An Armenian historian says of the preparations for this crusade,
“The gates of the Latins were opened, and the inhabitants of the West
saw issuing from their countries armies and soldiers numerous as
locusts or the sands of the sea.”

[70] Nothing can be more diffuse than historians upon the march of the
different princes of the crusade; each body of the Christian army has
its particular historian, which is very injurious to perspicuity: it is
exceedingly difficult to follow so many different relations.

[71] The Crusaders who followed Raymond are designated by historians
_Provençalex_. This comes from the ancient denomination of _Provincia
Romana_, or _Provencia Narbonensis_, which comprised Languedoc,
Dauphiné, and Provence.

[72] The contemporary historians who have spoken of the crusades,
and who have made this enumeration, had doubtless in their minds
the numbering which is found in Scripture, which makes the number
of the soldiers of Israel amount to six hundred and thirty-three
thousand five hundred and fifty. I believe I ought to add some
passages from the historians: _Si omnes qui de domibus suis egressi
votum jam iter ceperant, simul illuc adessent, procul dubio sexagies
centum millia bellatorum adessent_.—Foulcher de Chartres. _Opinionem
hominum vincebat numerus, quamvis æstimarentur sexagies centum millia
itinerantium._—Malmesbury, book iv.

[73] Such might be the character of the hundred thousand horse;
but the five hundred thousand foot by no means merited such a
description.—TRANS.

[74] Quis tot principes, tot duces, tot equites, tot pedites, sine
rege, sine imperatore dimicante hactenùs audivit, neque siquidem in
isto exercitu alter alteri præfuit, alius aliis imperavit.—Baldric, ch.
13.

The reader may keep his attention fixed upon this, as the source of
most of their disasters; and in all the history of the Crusaders there
is no miracle greater than that an army so constituted could achieve
anything.

[75] The Armenian history of Matthew of Edessa is among the manuscripts
of the Imperial Library, “Ancien Fonds,” No. 99. We quote it from a
translation which M. de St. Martin has been so kind as to communicate
to us, and likewise the translation which M. Cerbeid, Armenian
professor at the Imperial Library, has made for the purpose of
elucidating some manuscripts.

[76] The Pisans, the Genoese, and the greater part of the nations
of Italy, after the Greeks, showed themselves most skilful in the
construction of machines for war.

[77] These _iron hands_ were nothing more than the machine called the
_raven_ by the Romans, which they employed in grappling vessels: they
likewise made use of it in sieges.

[78] See William of Tyre, lib. iii.

[79] This valley, formed on the north by the mountain _in-Eengni_, and
watered by a river which runs from west to east, and which is perhaps
the Bathis of the ancients, having the villages of Taochanlu and
Gourmen on the east, and that of Yen-Euglu on the west;(a) this last is
but three marine leagues, or nine miles, from Dorylæum. Albert d’Aix
calls this valley Dogorganhi, which appears to be the Oriental name,
from which the Latin historians have made that of Gorgoni, which paints
in some sort the horrors of this fatal day. Ozellis is apparently the
name which the Greeks gave it. We owe these particulars to the learned
inquiries of Walckenaer.

(a)See Arrowsmith’s Map of Constantinople and its environs.

[80] _Hâc crudelitate atrocissimæ mortis stupefactæ teneræ puellæ et
nobilissimæ, vestibus ornari festinabant, se offerentes Turcis, ut
saltem amore honestarum formarum accensi et placati, discant captivarum
misereri._—Alb. Aq. lib. iii. cap. 4.

[81] I have made earnest researches to discover by what means the
Christian army was provisioned, and I can learn nothing beyond the fact
that the Crusaders carried hand-mills with them.

[82] _Tunc autem vere vel rideretis, vel forsitan pietate
lachrymaremini, cum multis nostrum jumentis egentes, verveces, capras,
sues, canes, de rebus suis orerabant. Equites etiam supra boves cum
armis suis interdum scandebant._—Ful. Carn. apud Bougais, p. 589.

[83] The _Isauria trachea_ of the ancients.

[84] _Quamplurimæ namque fœtæ mulieres exsiccatis faucibus, arefactis
visceribus ... mediâ plateâ in omnium aspectu fœtus suos enixæ
relinquebant; aliæ miseræ juxta fœtus suos in vid communi volutabantur,
omnem pudorem et secreta sua oblitæ._—Alb. Aquem. lib. iii. cap. 2.

[85] This remarkable circumstance is taken from the Life of Godfrey, by
Jean de Launel, écuyer seigneur de Chantreau, and Du Chaubert.

[86] Consult, for this expedition, Pelloutier, _Histoire des Celtes_.

[87] Now Konieh, in Caramania.

[88] Ancient history presents us with something exceedingly like
that which is related here. During the civil wars that divided the
Roman empire under the triumvirate, Cassius and Dolabella disputed
the possession of the town of Tarsus. Some, says Appian, had crowned
Cassius, who had arrived first in the city; others had crowned
Dolabella, who came after him. Each of the two parties had given a
character of public authority to their proceedings; and in conferring
honours, first to one and then to the other, they each contributed to
the misfortunes of a city so versatile in its likings.—Appian, _Hist.
of the Civil Wars_, b. iv c. 8.

[89] This is the Messis of Aboulfeda. See an article upon this city in
Mannert, tom. vi. p. 2, p. 101, which is very learned and very well
done.

[90] When Baldwin quitted the Christian army, it had arrived at Marrash.

[91] None of the Latin historians have given us the name of the
governor of Edessa. The name of Theodore is found in the History
of Matthew of Edessa, from which we have taken, according to the
translation of M. Corbied, several curious details, which would be
sought for in vain elsewhere.

[92] _Intra lineam interulam, guam nos vocamus comisiam, nudum intrare
eum, faciens, sibi adstrinxit; et deinde omnia osculo libata firmavit,
idem et mulier post modum fecit._—Guib. Abb. lib. iii. ad finem.

[93] In the first book of the _Jerusalem Delivered_, when the Eternal
turns his eyes on the Crusaders, he sees in Edessa the ambitious
Baldwin, who only aspires to human grandeurs, with which he is solely
occupied.

[94] At the present day named _Aassy_ ’the Rebel), or _el Macloub_, the
Reversed, because it flows from south to north, an opposite direction
to that of the other rivers of the same country.

[95] Ancient Antioch is not to be recognised in the straggling village
that the Turks call _Antakié_; it is even sufficiently difficult to
ascertain its ancient extent. We may consult the description of it
given by Pococke and Drummond, and compare it with that which is said
by Raymond d’Agiles. Albert d’Aix, William of Tyre, and the ancient
historians.

[96] The name of this Seljoucide prince has been disfigured by the
greater part of the Latin historians. Tudebode and the monk Robert call
him _Cassianus_; Foucher de Chartres, _Gratianus_; William of Tyre,
_Acxianus_; Albert d’Aix, _Darsianus_; M. de Guignes, and the greater
part of the Orientalists, call him, after Abulfeda, _Bayhistan_; but
in other Oriental historians he is named _Akby Syran_ ’brother of the
black), which is more conformable to the corrupt name of Accien, which
he bears in our “History of the Crusades.”

[97] Plurimum quoque interest ad disciplinam militiæ, insuescere
milites nostros, non solum partâ victoriâ frui, sed si etiam res
sit lentior, pati tædium, et quamvis seræ spei exitum exspectare,
_nec sicut æstivas aves, instante hyeme, tecta ac recessum
circumspicere_.—Accolti, de Bello contra Turcas, lib. ii.

[98] Alearum ludo pariter recreari et occupari cum matronâ quâdam,
quæ magnæ erat ingenuitatis et formositatis. Matronam vero vivam,
et intactam armis, rapientes traxerunt in urbem, per totam noctem
immoderatæ libidinis suæ incesto concubitu eam vexantes, nihilque
humanitatis in eam exhibentes.—_Alb. Ag._ lib. iii. p. 46.

[99] We have taken the details of the siege of Antioch from the
following authors: William of Tyre, Albert d’Aix, Baudry, Robert,
Tudebode, Raymond d’Agiles, Guibert, Raoul de Caen, Foucher de
Chartres, Oderic-Vital, Paul Emile, Bernard Thesaurius, Accolti,
Duchat, Mailly, De Guignes, Albufaradge, &c. &c.

[100] The historian of Burgundy, Urbain Plancher, without alleging
any reason, and without quoting any authority, treats this event as a
fable, although it is attested by William of Tyre, Albert d’Aix, and
several other nearly contemporary historians. Mallet says nothing of it
in his “History of Denmark;” nevertheless Langbeck, in his collection
of the Danish historians, says he has seen a basso-relievo, in bronze,
in which the Sweno, of whom this history speaks, is represented with
the attributes of a Crusader. This basso-relievo was executed by the
order of Christian V.; at the bottom of the portrait of Sweno are
several Latin verses which describe his glorious and tragical death.
The “Scriptores Rerum Danicarum” may be consulted for the dissertation
in which Langbeck discusses the passages of the ancient historians, and
clearly demonstrates the truth of their accounts. This dissertation is
entitled, “Infelix Suenonis Danici adversus Turcas.”

[101] According to William of Tyre, the bread which sufficed for the
daily food of one man cost two sous instead of a denier; an ox two
marks of silver, instead of five sous; a kid or a lamb five or six
sous, instead of three or four deniers; the expense of a horse for a
single night arose as high as eight sous, whilst it had only been two
or three deniers at the commencement of the siege.

[102] Sed non hoc metu præliorum, ut speramus fecerat; sed tantum famie
injuriam pati nunquam didicerat.—_Rob. Mon._ lib. iv.

[103] This great faster, says Maimbourg, who by a voluntary austerity
which had acquired him such a great reputation of sanctity, made
profession to eat neither bread nor meat, could not endure a necessary
fast.

[104] Et quis esse poterat aditus voluptatis, ubi erat indesinens
suspicio mortis!—_Guib._ lib. vi. cap. 15.

[105] This circumstance is taken from an Armenian manuscript of
Matthew of Edessa. It is surprising that the Latin historians have
made no mention of it; but they never speak of any means of providing
provisions employed by the Crusaders.

[106] A chronicle printed at Paris in 1517, which bears for title,
“Grand Voyage d’Outre-Mer,” places the following speech in the mouth of
Godfrey: “Brave seigneurs, my brothers and companions in Jesus Christ;
if the news we hear be true, that for our sins these cruel dogs have
thus killed these valiant men, and of great consideration, I only
perceive two things, that we shall die with them as good and loyal
Christians, assured of receiving our guerdon from our Lord and Saviour
Jesus Christ, for whose service we came here and have quitted our
native lands and our kindred; or if it should please him, that he allow
us to take vengeance and obtain victory over these vile dogs who have
thus degraded and weakened Christianity in its valiant men.”

[107] Sed est quod stupeam, nec satis valeam stupere: cum <DW25> tam
pretiosus laudis emptor mox præsentis ora armigeri silentio concluserit
adjurato.—_Gest. Tanc._ cap. 52; _Muratori_, vol. iii. The historian
whom we have just quoted endeavours to explain the fact which he
relates. He asks himself whether it was from modesty or a religious
spirit, or whether Tancred might fear not to be believed, either upon
his own word or that of his squire, that the Christian hero desired
silence to be preserved. In all these cases the fact appears to him to
be a prodigy. He adds that the squire was faithful to his oath, and
that it was not till a long time afterwards that the feats of Tancred
on that day became known. We have but to compare this with what old
Horace says of his heroes.

[108] Sic lubricus ensis super crus dextrum integer exigit, sicque
caput integrum cum dextrâ parte corporis immersit gurgite, partemque
quæ equo præsidebat remisit civitati.—_Rob. Mon._ Cujus ense trajectus
Turcus duo factus est Turci; ut inferior alter in urbem equitaret,
alter arcitenens in flumine nataret.—_Rad. Cad._

[109] Feruntque in illâ die martyrisati ex nostris militibus seu
peditibus plusquam mille, qui in cœlum lætantes ascendebant, atque
candidati ferentes stolam recepti martyrii, glorificantes et
magnificantes Dominum Deum nostrum trinum et unum, in quo feliciter
triumphabant; et dicebant concordabili voce: _Quare non defendis
sanguinem nostrum, qui hodie pro tuo nomine effusus est?_—Gesta
Francorum, lib. xviii cap. 18, p. 13.

[110] These particulars are related by Abbot Guibert, lib. iv. In this
historian will be found most particulars regarding _morals_.

[111] Et si Sarracenum noviter interfectum invenerunt, illius carnes,
ac si essent pecudis, avidissimè devorabant.—_Gesta Francorum._

[112] Matthew of Edessa does not name the Mussulman who gave up Antioch
to the Christians. Abulfaradge calls him Ruzebach, and says that he was
a Persian by origin. Anna Comnena pretends that he was an Armenian.
Most historians call him Pyrrus, or Phirous. William of Tyre gives him
the name of _Emir Feir_, and Sanuti calls him Hermuferus. It may most
probably be said that he had abjured Christianity. If authors are not
agreed as to his name, it may be believed that some have called him by
his proper name, and that others have designated him by a name which
expressed his profession. William of Tyre says that he was born of a
family called in Armenian _Beni Zerra_, that is, _the family of the
makers of cuirasses_.

[113] Apparuit enim ei Dominus Jesus Christus per visum, et ait; Vade
et redde civitatem Christianis.—_Gesta Francorum_, lib. v. cap. 12.

[114] A comet appeared on the very night of the taking of Antioch,
June 3, 1098.—See _Robert. Monach._ lib. v. ad finem; _Chronicon Fossæ
Novæ_, in _Muratori_, tom. vii.; _Chronica Mailross._ ab anno 733 ad
1270, per diversos auctores in _Rerum Anglicarum Script._ tom. i.;
_Annales Waverlienses_, ibid. tom. ii.; _Pingie_, _Cométographie_, tom.
i. p. 382.

[115] The anonymous author of a chronicle entitled _Passages
d’Outre-Mer_, expresses himself thus, p. 46: “But there was not
one among them who did not refuse to mount except Bohemond, whom
_Æmiscrius_ received with great joy, and showed him his brother lying
in his bed, whom he had just killed because he would not join the
enterprise....cunctis vero, qui cum Bohemondo erant, diffidentibus
ad ascensum, solus Bohemondus fœderis fide fultus, per funem
ascendit.—_Bernardus Thesaurius_, cap. 36; _Muratori_, tom. iii.

[116] Sicut aquila provocans pullos suos ad volandum, et super eos
volitans.—_Rad. Cair._ tom. iii. p. 66.

[117] All these details of the siege and the taking of Antioch, which
appear to belong to the epopea, are taken literally from the ancient
historians of the crusades. See _Albert d’Aix_, lib. iii. and iv.;
_William of Tyre_, lib. v.; _Robert the Monk_, lib. v. and vi.; and
the authors of the _Collection of Bongars_. All these historians
agree in the principal circumstances. The monk Robert, in the recital
that he makes of it, expresses his surprise in these words: “Non est
lingua carnis quæ satis valeat enarrare, quid Francorum manus valuit
persundare.” Foulcher de Chartres, who, according to common opinion,
was the first to mount the ladder of ropes, never speaks of himself in
his narration, which fact is luite consistent with the spirit of the
Christian knights.

[118] Matthew of Edessa estimates this army at a hundred thousand horse
and three hundred thousand foot. Abulfaradge speaks of “_mille mille_”
horse. The Latin historians do not exaggerate so much, but do not at
all agree in their accounts.

[119] Alii multi, quorum nomina non tenemus, quia delecta de libro
vitæ, præsenti operi non sunt inserenda.—_Will. of Tyre_, lib. iv.

[120] These speeches and the complaints of the Crusaders are almost all
translated from contemporary historians. We feel it our duty to report
the text of them here.

O Deus verus, trinus et unus, quam ob rem hæc fieri permisisti? cur
populum sequentem te in manibus inimicorum incidere permisisti? et
viam tui itineris, tuique sancti sepulchri liberantem tarn citò mori
concessisti? Profectò, si hoc verum est, quod nos ab istis nequissimis
audivimus, nobis referentibus, nos et alii Christiani derelinquemus
te, nec te amplius remorabimur, et unus ex nobis non audebit ulteriùs
nomen tuum invocare. Et fuit is sermo mœstissimus valor in totâ
militiâ; ita quòd nullus nostrorum audebat, neque archiepiscopus, neque
episcopus, neque abbas, neque presbyter, neque clericus, neque quisque
laicus Christi invocare nomen per plures dies. Nemo poterat consolari
Guidonem.—_De Hierosolymitano itinere_, _Duchéne’s Collection_, tom.
iv. p. 799.

The following is the speech which Robert the Monk puts into the mouth
of Guy, the brother of Bohemond:—

O Deus omnipotens, ubi est virtus tua? Si omnipotens es, cur hæc fieri
consensisti? Nonne erant milites tui et peregrini? Quis unquam rex aut
imperator aut potens dominus familiam suam ita permisit occidi, si ullo
modo potuit adjuvare? Quis erit unquam miles tuus aut peregrinus? &c.
&c.—_Robert. Monach._ lib. v.

[121] We have thought it our duty to report all these miraculous
visions as they are found in contemporary historians, because they
produced a great effect upon the mind of the Christians, and that in
becoming the origin and the cause of the greatest events, they are in
themselves important events for history.

[122] The discovery of this lance and the prodigies that it operated
are related by all the historians of the Crusades. The Arabian
historian Aboul-Mabaçen agrees, in the principal circumstances, with
the Latin historians. The most credulous of the latter, and he who
gives the greatest number of details, is Raymond d’Agiles. Albert
d’Aix, William of Tyre, Guibert, and Robert, raise not the least
doubt about the authenticity of the lance. Foucher de Chartres, less
credulous, says, when relating the discovery, _Audi fraudem et non
fraudem_. He afterward adds, whilst speaking of the lance, that it
had been concealed in the place from which it was taken: _Invenit
lanceam, falliciter occultatam forsitan_. The historian Paulus Emilius,
who relates the same fact accompanies it with highly philosophical
reflections. Yves Duchat says, on commencing the relation “Then there
happened a marvellous affair, of which some have left a written
account, which I would not affirm to be entirely true, nor would I
oppugn it as false.” Anna Comnena says nothing about the lance, but
speaks of the _nails_ which had been used to nail Christ to the cross.
Albufaradge commits the same error. In general the accounts of both the
Greeks and the Arabians of this war must be read with much precaution;
they furnish us with very few positive ideas.

[123] This speech is reported by most of the Latin historians of the
crusades. We have preserved the spirit of it, with the most scrupulous
exactness.

[124] Anna Comnena speaks of a pretended single combat between the
count of Flanders and the general of the Saracens.

[125] Letanias supplices, ab ecclesiâ in ecclesiam, explicant;
confessione peceatorum sincerâ se mundant, et episcopali vel
sacerdotali consequenter absolutione promeritâ, corporis ac sanguinis
Domini sacramento, plenâ fide communicant, &c.—_Guibert_, lib. vi.

Missæ per ecclesias celebratæ sunt; omnesque sanctâ dominici corporis
communione communicati sunt.—_Robert. Mon._ lib. vii.

[126] Vidi ego hæc quæ loquor, et dominicam lanceam ibi ferebam.—_Raym.
d’Agiles_, p. 155, apud Beng.

[127] Pierre Angelli, author of a Latin poem on the first crusade,
which has for title, _Syriados Libri XII._, describes this battle at
great length, and reports one part of the miraculous circumstances by
which it was accompanied; but his recital is too diffuse to excite much
interest. The Syriade begins with the first voyage of Peter the Hermit
to Jerusalem, and is nothing but a copy in verse of the histories of
William of Tyre, Albert d’Aix, and others. After having described the
march and the early labours of the Crusaders, the Latin poet arrives,
towards the end of the last canto, at the siege of Jerusalem, to which
he only consecrates a hundred verses.

[128] It is surprising that Raoul de Caen, who describes this battle,
and in epic verse too, has related no marvellous circumstance.
Raymond d’Agiles makes no mention of the heavenly legion, but he
says: Multiplicavit insuper adeo Dominus exercitum nostrum, ut qui
ante pugnam pauciores eramus quàm hostes, in bello plures eis fuimus.
Oderic Vital speaks thus of the legion which appeared to descend from
heaven: Ecce, Deo gratias, ab ipsis montanis visus est exire exercitus
innumerabilis, albis equis insidentes, et in manibus Candida vexilla
præferentes. Hoc multi viderunt Christianorum, et sicut putant,
gentilium, et hæsitantes, mirabantur quidnam esset. Tandem utrique
cognoverunt signum de cœlo factum, et duces illius agminis, sanctos
martyres Georgium, Demetrium, et Theodorum sua signa ferentes præcedere
cognoverunt. Sarracenis multus timor inhæsit, et Christianis spes
melior crevit.—_Od. Vital._ lib. ix. Robert the Monk and Baldric relate
the same circumstance and the same details.

[129] This tent was able to contain more than two thousand persons.
Bohemond sent it into Italy, where it was preserved for a length of
time.

[130] Gemaleddin, who of all the Oriental historians gives the greatest
number of details upon the taking and the battle of Antioch, reports
that a violent quarrel had broken out between the Turks and the Arabs;
he even adds that the Arabs had retired before the battle, and that in
the courseof it the Turks turned their arms against their allies.

[131] The leaders of the Crusades declared that the siege and the
battle of Antioch had scarcely cost them ten thousand men.

[132] Corvini generis legatus, postea non rediit.—_Bald._ lib. iv.

[133] Albert d’Aix says a hundred thousand.

[134] Tasso makes Adhemar die at the siege of Jerusalem, and makes him
die by the hands of a woman. Some historians attribute the canticle
“Salve Regina” to Bishop Adhemar. The bishops of Puy, his successors,
bear in their coat of arms the sword on one side and the pastoral staff
on the other. It is added that the canons of the same city wore every
year, at Easter, a cloak in the form of a cuirass.

[135] This anecdote, which is here quoted without giving it any
more importance than it merits, is related in the _Magnum Chronicon
Belgicum_, which is found in the collection of the historians of
Germany of Pistorius. The author says the lion followed Geoffrey _like
a hare_:—Eum sequitur, sicut lepus; et quamdiù fuit in terrâ, nunquam
recedens, multa ei commoda contulit tam in venationibus quam in bello;
qui carnes venaticas abundanter dabat. Leo verò quæcunque domino suo
adversari videbat, prosternabat, quem, ut dicunt, in navi positum cùm
domum rediret, derelinquere noluit, sed nolentibus eum, ut crudele
animal, in navem recipere nautis, secutus est dominum suum, natando per
mare, usque quo labore deficit.

The same fact is related by le Père Maimbourg, who adds to his recital
this singular reflection. “Strange instruction of nature, which casts
shame upon men by giving them, as she has done more than once, lions
for masters.”

[136] Albert d’Aix is the only historian who relates this and the
following facts.

[137] Some learned writers cannot trace messages by pigeons further
back than the reign of Saladin. It is true that it was in the reigns
of Nouradin and Saladin that regular posts, served by pigeons, were
organized in Egypt; but this means of communication was very ancient in
the East. The recital of Albert d’Aix cannot be doubted. The historian
speaks of the surprise that this sort of messengers produced among
the Crusaders; and as the fact appeared remarkable to him, he has not
neglected the smallest details of it:—Legati sine morâ columbas duas,
aves gratas et domitas, secum allatas eduxerunt è sinu suo, ac chartâ,
ducis responsis promissisque fidelibus inscriptâ, caudis illarum filo
innodatâ, è manibus suis has ad ferenda læta nuncia emiserunt.... Jam
cum chartis sibi commissis aves advolaverunt, in solium et mensam
ducis Hasart fideliter reversæ.... Princeps autem ex more solito aves
domesticas piè suscipiens, chartas intitulatas à caudis earum solvit,
secreta ducis Godfredi perlegit. We shall see in the fourth book of
this history another example of this means of communication employed by
the Saracens.

[138] Globes of fire, or ignited globes, as naturalists call them,
might have produced this appearance.

[139] Lapides, ignem, et plena apibus alvearia, calcem quoque
vivam, quantâ poterant jaculabantur instantiâ, ut eos à muro
propellerent.—_Will. Tyr._ lib. vii. cap. 9.

[140] Audivi namque, qui dicerent cibi se coactos inopiâ ad humanæ
carnis edulium transiisse, adultos gentilium cacabo immersisse, pueros
infixisse verubus, et vorasse adustos; vorando æmulati sunt feras,
torrendo homines, sed caninos. Hunc ipsum finem membris propriis
minabantur, cùm aliena deficerent; nisi aut captæ urbis, aut cereris
advenæ intercessio esuriem lenisset.—_Rad. Cadom._ cap. 27. We cannot
forbear adding to this quotation the words of Albert d’Aix, who
is astonished to see Christians eat the bodies of Mussulmans, but
still more so at seeing them devour dogs. Mirabile dictu et auribus
horrendum, quod nefas est dicere, nefas facere. Nam Christiani non
solùm Turcos sed Sarracenos occisos, verum etiam canes arreptos et igni
coctos comedere non abhorruerunt præ inopiâ, quam audistis.—_Ab. Aq._
lib. v. cap. 29.

[141] This circumstance is related by Mailly, but he does not say upon
what authority.

[142] Archas is mentioned by Strabo, Ptolemy, Josephus, and the
Itinerary of Antonine, which latter places this city at sixteen miles
from Tripoli. Pococke ’tom. ii. p. 299) and Maundrell ’vol. i. p. 41)
speak of a river which still bears this name. Abulfeda speaks of it
under the name of Aarkat. The Itinerary from Bordeaux to Jerusalem also
mentions Archas.

[143] Laodicea still exists under the name of Lakikieh. It has been
long famous for its trade in tobacco.

[144] Gibel. This word signifies mountain, in Arabic. Gibel is the
Gabala of Strabo and Pliny; the Gavala of the table of Peutinger. It
still subsists under its ancient name of Djebil, and the remains of an
amphitheatre are still to be seen there. It is, I believe, the _Giblim_
of the Bible, whence was embarked the wood of Lebanon sent to Solomon.

[145] Tortosa is the Antaradus of Ptolemy and the Itinerary of Bordeaux.

[146] Raymond d’Agiles, before relating this and several other similar
facts, expresses himself thus:—Quod si quicquam ego præter credita et
visa studeo referre, vel odio alicujus apposui, apponat mihi Deus omnes
inferni plagas, et deleat me de libro vitæ. The same fact is reported
in Raoul de Caen.

[147] Raoul de Caen, who was not a partisan of the lance, and who cries
out, whilst speaking of this pretended discovery, “O fatuitas rustica!
O rusticitas credula!” does not at all spare the Provençals, and has
transmitted to us the reproaches made to them in the Christian army.

[148] Videns quid actum est, populus, calliditate verbosâ seductum se
fatetur, errasse pœnitet.—_Rad. Cad._ cap. 109.

[149] Accounts of this event may be read in William of Tyre, Robert
d’Aix, and above all in Raymond d’Agiles, who does not omit the least
circumstance.

[150] The picture of the march and the impatience of the Christians
is to be found in Tasso, in the same colours and almost the same
circumstances as in the historians.

[151] We think it right here to give the account of Albert
d’Aix:—Calamellos mellitas per camporum planiciem abundanter repertos,
quas vocant ZUCRA, suxit populus, illarum salubri succo lætatus et vix
ad saturitatem præ dulcedine expleri hoc gustato valebant. Hoc enim
genus herbæ summo labore agricolarum, per singulos excolitur annos.
Deinde, tempore messis maturum mortariolis indigenæ contundunt, succum
collatum in vasis suis reponentes quousquè coagulatum indurescat sub
specie nivis vel salis albi. Quem rasum cum pane miscentes aut cum aquâ
terentes, pro pulmento sumunt, et supra favum mellis gustantibus dulce
ac salubre videtur.... His ergo calamellis melliti saporis populus in
obsidione Albariæ, Marræ et Archas, multum horrendâ fame vexatus, est
refocillatus.—_Alb. Aq._ lib. v. cap. 3.

[152] Sanuti proposed to plant the sugar-cane in Sicily and Apulia.
This idea was not carried into execution before the end of the
fourteenth century. The sugar-cane did not pass, as has been said, from
Sicily to America; it was transported to Madeira from the coast of
Spain, whither it had been brought by the Saracens. The sugar-cane is
still found in some parts of the kingdom of Grenada.

[153] I at first thought that these serpents could be only the
_dipsada_, or fire-serpent. I communicated this opinion to M.
Walckenaer, who with reason had seen nothing in the reptiles of which
Albert d’Aix speaks, but the common _gecko_ of Egypt ’_Lacerta gecko_
of Linnæus), which Belon and Hasselquits have found in great numbers in
Syria, Judea, and Egypt. This species is very venomous; it resembles
other species of the same genus and of the genus _stellion_, which
appear to be harmless, and are found in France, Italy, Sardinia, and on
all the coasts of the Mediterranean Sea, where it is called _tarente_,
_tarenta_, _tarentola_, &c. The opinion of M. Walckenaer appears the
more reasonable, from the two species of serpents and vipers to which
naturalists have given the name _dipsada_, the one, the _Coluber
dipsas_ of Linnæus, which is the _dipsada_, properly speaking, being
only found in America; the other, the black viper, _Coluber præster_ of
Linnæus, appears peculiar to Europe, and is more common in the north
than in the south. We may venture to quote the passage of Albert d’Aix
in Latin, which speaks of the remedy advised by the inhabitants of the
country against the bite of the _tarenta_:—Similiter et aliam edocti
sunt medicinam, ut vir percussus sine morâ coiret cum muliere, cum viro
mulier, et sic ab omni tumore veneni liberaretur uterque.—_Alb. Aq._
lib. iv. cap. 40. The same historian speaks of another remedy, which
consisted in pressing strongly the place of the bite, to prevent the
communication of the venom with the other parts of the system.

[154] It is Raymond d’Agiles alone who speaks of this strange
deliberation of the leaders; if this historian had not been present, we
could give no credit to it.—See _Raym. d’Agiles_, in the _Collection of
Bongars_, p. 173. Albert d’Aix contents himself with saying that the
leaders, after having traversed the territory of Ptolemaïs, deliberated
whether they should not go to Damascus.

[155] Tasso has spoken of the enthusiasm of the Crusaders at the sight
of Jerusalem. The historians of the crusades, Albert d’Aix, the author
of the _Gesta Francorum_, Robert the Monk, Baldric or Baudry, and
William of Tyre, present us with the same picture that Tasso does. We
will content ourselves with quoting here a passage from the “History
of Jerusalem and Hebron,” which proves that the sight of that city
likewise awakens the enthusiasm of Mussulmans: “The _coup d’œil_ of
Jerusalem,” says this history, “is very fine, particularly when seen
from the Mount of Olives. When the pilgrim arrives there, and sees the
buildings nearer, his heart is filled with an inexpressible joy, and
he easily forgets all the fatigues of his voyage.” Hafiz, the son of
Hadjar, improvised on his arrival at Jerusalem four verses, of which
this is the translation: “When we approached the holy city, the Lord
showed us Jerusalem; we had suffered much during our voyage, but we
believed ourselves then entering into heaven.” We have heard several
modern travellers, of different manners, religions, and opinions, say
that they all felt a lively emotion at seeing Jerusalem for the first
time. See the beautiful description that M. de Chateaubriand has given
of it in his Itinerary.

[156] The name of Solyma was formed from that of Hierosolyma.

[157] The Mussulmans call Jerusalem _El Cods_ ’the holy),
_Beit-ul-Mocaddès_ ’the holy house), and sometimes _El Cherif_ ’the
noble). A description of Jerusalem may be seen in the extracts from the
Arabian history of Jerusalem and Hebron, translated into French and
inserted in the German Journal, entitled “The Mines of the East.”

[158] Tasso here makes Tancred contend with Clorinda. The personages of
Clorinda and Herminia are the invention of the poet.

[159] This fact, which Tasso has mixed with some fictions, is related
by Raoul de Caen, _Gesta Tancredi_, cap. 112. The same historian adds
that Tancred met upon the Mount of Olives a hermit who was born in
Normandy, and who had been the enemy of Robert Guiscard and his family.
This hermit welcomed the Italian hero with respect, and showed him the
places around Jerusalem the most venerated by pilgrims.

[160] See, for this arrival of the Christians, _William of Tyre_, lib.
vii. cap. 25.

[161] In comparing the description of the siege of Jerusalem by the
Crusaders with that of the siege which the Romans carried on under
Vespasian, we find that the quarters of Godfrey were in the same place
as those of Titus, when he directed his first attacks against the city.
See the _History_ of Josephus.

[162] An admirable picture is to be found in Tasso of this drought,
which is also described by Robert the Monk, Baldric, Raymond d’Agiles,
Albert d’Aix, William of Tyre, and by Gilles or Gilou, in his Latin
poem upon the first crusade.

[163] Maimbourg does not seem to credit the existence of this forest,
and says that it is an invention of Tasso’s. He might have read in
William of Tyre this sentence, which is not at all equivocal:—Casu
affuit quidam fidelis indigena natione Syrus, qui in valles quasdam
secretiores, sex aut septem ab urbe distantes milliaribus, quosdam de
principibus direxit, ubi arbores, etsi non ad conceptum opus aptas
penitus, tamen ad aliquem modum proceras invenerunt plures. Raoul de
Caen is much more positive and explicit than William of Tyre; this is
the way in which he expresses himself:—Lucus erat in montibus et montes
ad Hyerusalem remoti ei; quæ modo Neapolis, olim Sebasta, ante Sychar
dictus est, propriores, adhuc ignota nostratibus via, nunc celebris et
ferme peregrenantium unica.—_Rad. Cad._ cap. 121.

[164] A sufficiently remarkable circumstance is, that the shrub
which grows most freely in the territory of Jerusalem, and which the
Crusaders must have used, was the _rhamnus_, a thorny shrub, of which,
if we give faith to the opinion of Pierre Belon, was formed the crown
of thorns of Christ. Christopher Hasselquoit, it is true, is not of
this opinion, and pretends that the crown of thorns was of the shrub
_nakba_.

[165] Quemdam egregium et magnificum virum, dominum videlicet Gastonem
de Bearn, operi prefecerunt.—_Will. Tyren._ lib. viii. cap. 10. Raymond
d’Agiles and Abbot Guibert speak also of Gaston de Béarn.

[166] The chevalier le Felart, in his treaty on _The Attack of Places_,
at the end of his commentary upon Polybius, speaks of the tower of
Godfrey, which he improperly calls _the tower of Frederick the First
of Jerusalem_. He gives a detailed and very exact description of this
tower, which is likewise well described by contemporary historians.

[167] Cruces fixerunt, super quas aut spuebant, aut in oculis omnium
mingere non abhorrebant.—_Ab. Aq._ lib. vi.

[168] See, for this procession, _Baldric_, bishop of Dol. lib. iv.;
_Accolte_, lib. iv.; _Albert d’Aix_, lib. vi.; _William of Tyre_, lib.
vii. It cannot be doubted that the leaders caused this procession to be
made round Jerusalem, in order that the sight of so many places should
arouse the enthusiasm of the Crusaders. We must regret that Tasso, who
speaks of this procession, has scarcely said anything of the places
the Christians visited; these details would have furnished poetical
beauties, without in anything departing from the exactitude of history.

[169] Raymond d’Agiles says that Godfrey’s tower was transplanted by
night a mile from the spot where it had been constructed; which leads
us to believe that the principal attack was directed near the gate
of Cedar, towards the entrance of the Valley of Jehoshaphat. For the
rest, we must regret that M. de Chateaubriand, who has written a very
interesting dissertation upon the military positions of Tasso, has
not thrown light upon the obscurities of the historians which present
themselves in this portion of their accounts of the siege.

[170] This circumstance is thus related by Abbot Guibert:—Est etiam
mihi non inferiori relatione compertum, Robertum Normandiæ comitem
Robertumque alterum Flandriarum principem, junctis pariter convenisse
mœroribus, et se cum fletibus uberrimis conclamasse miserrimos,
quos suæ adoratione crucis, et visione, immo veneratione sepulchri,
tantoperè Jesus Dominus judicaret indignos.—Lib. vii. cap. 6.

[171] As Tasso often employs magic, we have sought with care for all
that relates to this species of the marvellous in the contemporary
historians. That which we have just quoted from William of Tyre, is
the only instance we have been able to find. Some historians likewise
have said that the mother of Kerboghâ was a sorceress, and that she had
foretold to her son the defeat of Antioch. It is in vain to seek for
similar incidents in the history of the first crusade. We ought to add
that magic was much less in vogue in the twelfth century than in that
in which Tasso lived. The Crusaders were no doubt very superstitious,
but their superstitions were not attached to little things; they were
struck by the phenomena they saw in the heavens; they believed in the
appearance of saints, and in revelations made by God himself, but not
in magicians. Ideas of magic came to us a long time afterwards, in the
fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. The chroniclers of that period,
who speak of anterior facts, fill their recitals with whimsical and
ridiculous fables, such as are not to be found in more ancient authors.
We must not judge of the middle ages by the chronicles of Robert
Gaguin, or by those of Archbishop Turpin, the work of a monk of the
twelfth century; still less by the romances of the same period.

[172] We report this circumstance here, in order to give an idea of the
fire which was launched against the Christians. Albert d’Aix expresses
himself thus:—Qualiter ignis, aquâ inextinguibilis solo aceti liquore
restingui valeat.—_Alb. Aq._ lib. vi. cap. 18.

[173] This is repeated by William of Tyre and some other writers.
Raymond d’Agiles very naively says: Quis autem miles ille fuerit
cognoscere non potuimus.—_Raym. d’Ag._ p. 171, Bongars.

[174] Matthew of Edessa says that Godfrey used in this assault the
sword of Vespasian, which thus assisted, for the third time, in the
destruction of Jerusalem. No Latin historian mentions it.

[175] Oderic Vital attributes to Reimbault Creton of Cambresis the
glory of having first entered Jerusalem. Other historians only name
him among those who followed most closely the steps of the brothers
Lethalde and Engelbert of Tournai. This is the text of Orderic
Vital:—Reimboldus Creton qui primus in expugnatione Jerusalem ingressus
est, &c. The descendants of Reimbolt Creton bore indifferently up to
the sixteenth century the names of Creton and Estourmel. This family
preserved as its device these words, “_Vaillant sur la crête_;” and La
Morliere, the historian of Picardy under Louis XIII., speaks of them
in these terms: “It adds not a little to the lustre of this family,
that it is acknowledged that they owe the origin of their arms to the
first crusade which the Christians made for the recovery of the Holy
Land, bestowed by the hand of Godfrey of Bouillon, king of Jerusalem,
who, to do honour to the valour of the sieur d’Estourmel, whom he
had seen bear himself so valiantly at the taking of that city, made
him a present of a crenated cross of silver, in which was enchased
a piece of the true cross.” This precious reliquary was passed down
from generation to generation to the eldest sons of this house. In
the reign of Louis XIII. the marquis d’Hautefort having espoused the
only daughter of Antoine d’Estourmel, cordon bleu, and first equerry
to madame la duchesse d’Orléans, pretended that this piece of the true
cross made a part of the inheritance. This discussion was submitted to
the arbitration of the president of Mesmes, who decided that the cross
was to revert to the branch of the house of Estourmel, which possesses
it to this day.

[176] The details of this assault are repeated by all contemporary
historians, several describe it at length. Foulcher de Chartres, who
without doubt distinguished himself there, is the one who says the
least. Anna Comnena says that the Christians took Jerusalem in fifteen
days, but gives no details.

[177] The Oriental authors give no details of the siege of Jerusalem.
The manuscript history of Jerusalem and Hebron, which is in the
Imperial Library, and of which M. Jourdain has been kind enough to
translate several fragments for me, contains nothing but vague notices.
The author contents himself with saying that the siege lasted more
than forty days, and that the Christians killed a great number of
Mussulmans. We may here make a general remark: when the Mussulmans
experience reverses, the Arabian authors are very sparing of details,
and satisfy themselves with telling things in a vague manner, adding,
“_So God has willed it, may God curse the Christians_.” Aboul-Feda
gives very few more details than the rest. He says that the massacre of
the Mussulmans lasted during seven consecutive days, and that seventy
thousand persons were killed in the mosque of Omar, which is evidently
an exaggeration.

[178] _Raoul de Caen_, cap. 132 et 133.

[179] We shall content ourselves with repeating here the words of
Raymond d’Agiles, Foulcher de Chartres, and Robert the Monk:—In
eodem templo decem millia decollati sunt; pedites nostri usque ad
bases cruore peremptorum tingebantur; nec fœminis nec parvulis
pepercerunt.—_Ful. Caen. ap. Bong._ p. 398. Tantum enim ibi humani
sanguinis effusum est, ut cæsorum corpora, undâ sanguinis impellente,
volverentur per pavimentum, et brachia sive truncatæ manus super
cruorem fluitabant.—_Rob. Mon._ lib. 9. In templo et porticu
Solomonis equitabatur in sanguine usque ad genua et usque ad frænos
equorum.—_Raym. d’Ag. Bong._ p. 179. These words of Raymond d’Agiles
are evidently an hyperbole, and prove that the Latin historians
exaggerated things they ought to have extenuated or concealed.... In a
letter written to the pope, the bishops, and the faithful, by Daimbert,
archbishop of Pisa, Godfrey of Bouillon, and Raymond de St. Gilles,
is this remarkable passage: “If you desire to know,” say they, “what
became of the enemies we found in Jerusalem, know that in the portico
of Solomon and in the temple, our soldiers had the vile blood of the
Saracens up to the knees of their horses.”—Si scire desideratis quid de
hostibus ibi repertis factum fuerit, scitote quia in porticu Salomonis,
et in templo nostri equitabant in sanguine fœdo Sarracenorum usque ad
genua equorum.—See _Novus Thesaurus Anecdotorum_, tom. i. p. 282.

[180] Albert d’Aix names these three attendants _Baldric_, _Adelborde_,
and _Stabulon_.

[181] Some historians say that the Christians did not go to the Holy
Sepulchre until the day after the conquest. We here adopt the opinion
of Albert d’Aix, which appears to us the most probable.

[182] Le P. Maimbourg, _Histoire des Croisades_.

[183] Albert d’Aix gives the sentence which emanated from the council
of the leaders. This sentence is supported by the motives we have
pointed out.

[184] We have already quoted some of these historians; others relate
nearly the same details, and with the same _sang froid_. We will
quote no other but Raymond d’Agiles, who expresses himself thus:—Alii
namque illorum, QUOD LEVIUS ERAT, obtruncabantur capitibus; alii autem
sagittati, de turribus SALTARE cogebantur; alii vero diutissimè torti
et ignious adusti flammeriebantur ’_sic_). Videbantur per vicos et
plateas civitatis AGGERES capitum et manuum atque pedum.—_Raym. de Ag._
p. 178.

[185] Tankredus miles gloriosus super hâc sibi illatâ injuriâ,
vehementi irâ succensus est.—_Alb. Aq._ lib. vi. cap. 29.

[186] Comes Raymundus, avaritiâ corruptus, Sarracenos milites quos in
turrim David elapsos obsederat, acceptâ ingenti pecuniâ, illæsos abire
permisit.—_Alb. Aq._ lib. vi. cap. 28

[187] Robert the Monk expresses himself thus: “Flebant et extrahebant.”

[188] Properly speaking, this was a kind of lustre which the Arabians
call _tradour_. The Mussulmans have them of so large a size that it is
necessary to enlarge the doors of the mosques by a breach, in order to
admit them.

[189] See, for this deliberation and this speech, the _History_ of
Accolti lib. iv., and that of Yves Duchat.

[190] The English historian Brompton expresses himself thus whilst
relating the misfortunes that Robert afterwards experienced:—Sic
reddidit Dominus vicem pro vice duci Roberto, quia cum gloriosum in
actibus Jerosolimitantis eum Dominus redderet, regnum Jerosolimitantum
sibi oblatum renuit, magis eligens quieti et desidiæ in Normania
deservire quam regi regum in sanctâ civitate militare. Damnavit igitur
eum Deus desidiâ perenni et carcere sempiterno.—See the _Historiæ
Anglicæ Scriptores_, tom. i. p. 1002.

[191] See _Abbot Guibert_, lib. vii. cap. 12.

[192] Albert d’Aix, who relates these two visions at length, terminates
thus:—Horum somniorum præsignatione ex Dei ordinatione, populi
Christiani benevolentiâ, Godefrido in solio regni Jerusalem exaltato.

[193] We may see in Raoul de Caen the debates which arose on this
subject, and particularly the accusation directed against Tancred by
Arnold de Rohés, in the name of the Latin clergy.

[194] We here give the translation of some passages of an elegy of the
poet Modhaffer Abyverdy upon the taking of Jerusalem by the Crusaders,
inserted by Aboul-Feda in his _Annales_, tom. iii. p. 319. This
translation is by M. Jourdain.

“Our blood is mingled with our tears, and no part of our being remains
to us that can be the object of the blows of our enemies.

“O misfortune! if tears take the place of true arms, when the fires of
war break forth!

“How can the eye close its lids, when catastrophes such as ours would
awaken even those who slept in the most profound repose!

“Your brethren have no other resting-places in Syria but the backs of
their camels and the entrails of vultures!

“The Franks treat them like vile slaves, whilst you allow yourselves to
be drawn carelessly along by the skirt of the robe of effeminacy, as
people would do in perfect security!

“What blood has not flowed! how many women have been forced by modesty
to conceal their beauty with their bracelets!

“Will the chiefs of the Arabs, the heroes of the Persians, submit to
such degradation?

“Ah! at least, if they do not defend themselves, from attachment to
their religion, let them be animated on account of their own honour,
and by the love of all that is dear to them!”

[195] Eos tanquam segetem in transverso gladii secabant.—_Bald._ lib.
iv.

[196] Subito sagittâ transfigebant, et quasi aves volatili telo
percussas, ab ipsis arborum ramis moribundos humi procumbere
cogebant.—_Alb. Aq._ lib. v. cap. 49.

[197] Anna Comnena, who speaks of the battle of Ascalon, says that
the Franks were at first conquerors, and that they were afterwards
attacked and beaten near Ramla. She mentions Baldwin, who was not then
in Palestine, and did not come thither till after the death of Godfrey.
It is easy to see that she confounds, as often happens with her, two
different periods, that of the battle of Ascalon and that of the battle
of Ramla, which was fought three years after, in the reign of Baldwin I.

[198] It is commonly believed that this battle of Ascalon served
Tasso as a model for the great battle which terminates the _Jerusalem
Delivered_. It is easy to see that the poet had also in view the battle
of Antioch, which was fought at the gates of the city, of which the
Christians were the masters. Raymond could not be present, because
he held the citadel of Antioch in check, still in the power of the
enemy. These circumstances, and several others, are found equally in
the battle of the _Jerusalem Delivered_ and in the historians who have
described the battle of Antioch.

[199] There is in the Arabian history of Jerusalem and Hebron, a
quatrain addressed to the count of St. Gilles, upon the defeat of
Afdhal-Ben-Bedr-al-Djémaly, general of the army of Egypt, before
Ascalon:—

Tu as fait triompher par ton épée la religion du Messie, Dieu nous
preserve d’un homme tel que Saint Gilles! Jamais les hommes n’avaient
entendu rien de pareil à ce qu’il a fait; Il a mis dans la plus
honteuse fuite Afdhul.

We quote this quatrain less for any idea that it contains, than to show
that Raymond enjoyed great fame among the Mussulmans.

[200] This emissary is called Bohemond by Raymond d’Agiles. It is
believed that it was Phirous who gave up Antioch to the Christians,
that had taken the name of Bohemond.

[201] For this quarrel between Godfrey and Raymond, see _Albert d’Aix_,
lib. vi. cap. 41, 42, and 43.

[202] In the genealogical history of several houses of Brittany, is
the following rather curious passage: “Rion de Loheac acquired in this
voyage beautiful and rich spoils from the enemies of Christianity, the
Saracens; and above all things he was curious to seek for and collect
heaps of the sacred and precious relics which were in those regions,
in the number of which was a part and portion of the true cross upon
which our Saviour Jesus Christ suffered death for the salvation of the
human race, and of the stone of the sepulchre in which the said Saviour
was buried. These relics he intended to bring into his own country; but
being prevented by a disease of which he died in the said country of
Syria, he sent them to his brother Gauthier de Loheac, by his squire
called Simon de Ludron, who had accompanied him in this voyage.” We
might quote many other similar facts which prove that the Christians of
the West set the greatest value upon relics brought from the East.

[203] This circumstance is related in the _Chronicle of Hainault_
’_Gisleberti Chronica Hannoniæ_:)—Tacendum non est, says this
chronicle, quod uxor ejus Yda comitissa domini sui occasum ut audivit,
sed incerta si occisus fuerit, vel captus teneretur, Deum et virum suum
diligens, partes illas eum labore magno et gravibus expensis adire non
dubitavit: unde ipsa priùs de viro suo incerta, incertior rediit.—P. 37.

[204] See the _Life of Peter the Hermit_, by le P. d’Oultremont. Peter
the Hermit was returning from the Holy Land in 1102, with a nobleman of
the country of Liége, named the count de Montaign, when he was assailed
by a violent tempest, during which he made a vow to build an abbey. It
was in performance of this vow that he founded the abbey of Neufmontier
at Huy, in Le Condrez, on the right bank of the Meuse, in honour of
the Holy Sepulchre of Jerusalem. Alexander, bishop of Liége, dedicated
it in 1130. Peter died there at an advanced age, and desired, from
humility, to be buried outside the church. It was not till a hundred
and thirty years after his death that the abbot and the chapter caused
his relics to be removed to a coffin covered with marble before the
altar of the twelve apostles, in the year 1242, with a sufficiently
long epitaph, which M. Morard, of the Academy of Sciences, read on
passing through Huy in 1761, which is reported in the 3rd vol. of the
MSS. of the Library of Lyon, by M. Delandine, p. 481.

[205] Robert, count of Flanders, was killed by a fall from his horse.

[206] William IX. is the first troubadour known. He was a valorous and
courteous knight, but _a great deceiver of ladies_. He bade adieu in
a song to the Limousin, to Poitou, to chivalry, which he had loved so
much, and to mundane vanities, which he describes as  habits
and beautiful hose. On his return he sang the fatigues, the dangers,
and the misfortunes of this expedition, in a poem which is lost. His
usual gaiety pervaded it, according to Oderic Vital, in spite of the
sadness of the subject.—See the _History of the Troubadours_, by
Millet, tom. i.

[207] Guichenon, in his _History of the House of Savoy_, expresses
himself thus: “William Paradin relates that this prince ’Humbert,
second count of Savoy) went to the Holy Land in the crusade which was
determined on at the council of Clermont, under Godfrey of Bouillon,”
which the greater part of the historians have confirmed after him ’such
as Pingon, Vanderb, Dogliani, Chiesa, Balderan, Buttel, and Henning).
Papyrus Masson has rejected this, because neither the manuscript
chronicle, nor the authors of the crusades, who name many lords of
less consequence, have mentioned him. Botero has said nothing of him.
“Nevertheless we cannot doubt this voyage; for about that time this
prince gave the monks of the Bourget in Savoy a property called Gutin,
for the health of his soul, of that of count Amé, his father, and of
his ancestors. This donation, dated at d’Yenne in Savoy ’and not Jena
in Thuringia, as is said in the _Art of Verifying Dates_), imports
that the count bestowed this liberality to obtain from God a fortunate
establishment ’_consulat_) in his voyage beyond sea. Now this word
_consulat_ then signified a principality, government, or sovereignty.
Oderic Vital gives to Roger, count of Sicily, the title of consul of
Sicily.” Guichenon adds here many other examples of the same kind. That
which created doubts of the voyage of Humbert is the silence of the
historians of the first crusade, as well as all the acts of this prince
that have been preserved, and which prove that he was in Europe in the
year 1100; but all these doubts vanish, when we know that he went in
the second expedition.

[208] The details of this last expedition are found scattered in the
works of several historians. They who afford the most information
are Albert d’Aix, Oderic Vital, Foulcher de Chartres, _Chronicon
Uspergensis_, _Alberici Chronicon_, &c. &c.

[209] For these various positions, see the Map and the explanatory
Memoir.

[210] The body of the duke of Burgundy was brought back to France,
and buried at Citeaux. Urban Planchier says in his history, that they
observed the anniversary of the death of this prince on the Friday
before Passion Sunday. After the death of her husband, Mahaul, the wife
of Eude, and mother of Florine, retired to the abbey of Fontevrault.

[211] It has been said that Arpin, on setting out for the crusade, sold
the county of Berri to Philip, king of France, for the sum of 60,000
crowns. This is the way in which the fact is related in the _History
of Berri_: “King Philip redeemed his city of Bourges, which Henry his
father had engaged for 60,000 crowns, from Arpin. Thus Bourges returned
to its natural prince.”—_History of Berri_, by Chaumeau, p. 97.

[212] Ancient historians contain many other details concerning this
expedition that we have not thought it necessary to notice. This
expedition presents nothing but scenes of carnage and reverses, without
glory or results. We shall be obliged to return to it hereafter.

[213] Alexander, say the Greek historians, had thirty thousand infantry
and five thousand horse. A single historian, Anaximenes, makes the
Macedonian army amount to forty-eight thousand men.

[214] The Turks, thirty years before the taking of Jerusalem by the
Christians, had scarcely met with any resistance to their invasions of
some of the richest provinces of Asia, because the Mussulman religion,
which they had recently embraced, was that of the countries against
which they directed their arms. If the Tartars at different epochs have
invaded several countries of the globe, and have maintained themselves
in them, it was because on issuing from their deserts they had almost
no religion, and were thus disposed to adopt any advantageous faith
they might meet with in their passage. It will be objected to me that
the Arabians, in the first ages of the Hegira, invaded a great part of
Asia and Africa, where they found other religions than their own long
established; but it may be answered that these religions were sinking
to decay. When the Mussulmans presented themselves in Europe, where
the Christian religion was better established than in the East, this
religion offered an insurmountable barrier to their progress.

[215] Daimbert, Godfrey of Bouillon, and Raymond de St. Gilles, when
writing to the pope and the faithful of the West, say that the victory
of Dorylæum had filled the pilgrims with pride, and that God, to punish
them, opposed Antioch to them, which delayed them nine months.

[216] Tasso himself was of this opinion, as may be seen in an
interesting letter addressed to us by M. Dureau Delamalle. The
admiration which I entertain for the Poet of the Crusades, makes me
exceedingly anxious that M. Baour Lormian should finish the undertaking
he has begun, so worthy of his rare talent, a translation in verse of
the _Jerusalem Delivered_.

[217] M. Guinguené, in his _Histoire Littéraire d’Italie_, has deigned
to adopt, with some modification, several of these observations, which
is the most worthy reward of my labours and researches.

[218] In our general conclusions, we shall often have to quote the
works of M. Heeren and M. Choiseuil d’Aillecourt upon the influence of
the crusades.

[219] The verse of this writer is much better than his prose, which is
very incorrect, and sometimes unintelligible.

[220] We have obtained these details from a manuscript history
of Béarn, which has been kindly communicated to us by one of our
most distinguished magistrates, who consecrates his leisure to the
cultivation of letters. This history, remarkable for a wise erudition
and sound criticism, is likely to throw a great light upon the remote
times of which we speak.

[221] All the ordinances of Gaston de Béarn are to be found in the
decrees of the synod or council held in the diocese of Elne, in
Roussillon, the 16th of May, 1027. These dispositions had for object
the Truce of God. The council decreed that no unarmed clerk or monk
should be attacked, nor any man who was going to church or coming from
it, or was walking with women. At the council of Bourges in 1031, and
in several others, these regulations were renewed; labourers, their
cattle and mills, were placed under the safeguard of religion.—See
the _Collection of the Councils_ by le P. Labbe. It is not useless to
remark that these regulations were at first received in Aquitaine. The
council of Clermont caused them to be adopted throughout the greater
part of Europe.

[222] I only here speak of the clergy with regard to its knowledge.
The opinion I express is not only applicable to France, but to all the
states of Europe.

[223] What a comment upon man’s assumption is the history of France
since this was written!—TRANS.

[224] An excellent dissertation on the Holy Land, by the Abbé Guénée,
in _Les Mémoires de l’Académie des Inscriptions_, may be consulted with
advantage.

[225] We have been guided principally in the history of Jerusalem,
by the chronicle of Foulcher de Chartres, that of Albert d’Aix, the
anonymous author of the _Gesta Francorum expugnantium Hierusalem_, and
the history of William of Tyre. There is nothing in French upon the
kingdom of Jerusalem. Being ignorant of the German language, we regret
our inability to avail ourselves of the second volume of the _History
of the Crusades_, by M. Walken, to the extent we could have wished. We
may say the same of the history by M. Hacken, and several other German
works upon the establishment of the Christians in the East.

Among the Arabian historians from whom the learned D. Bertheraud
has made extracts, we have consulted—1. _The Mussulman Annals of
Aboulfeda._ 2. _The History of Tabari_, or rather the continuation
of that historian, who is called the Livy of the Arabians. 3. _The
History of Jerusalem_, by Moudgireddin. 4. _The History of Aleppo_,
by Kemaleddin. 5. _The History of the Attabecs_, by Ben Latir. These
historians and some others have furnished us with some points of
comparison, and some document frequently incomplete, generally useless.
The Oriental historians only become an abundant source of information
at the epoch of the reigns of Noureddin and Saladin.

[226] This account is found entire in _Albert d’Aix_, book vii. chaps.
8, 9, &c.

[227] The Assizes of Jerusalem, transported into the kingdom of Cyprus,
were collected in the thirteenth century, by John d’Ibelin, count of
Jaffa and Ascalon. They were printed by Baumancir, and commented upon
by Thomas de la Thaumasière. It is to be lamented that the French
publicists, and Montesquieu himself, have studied so superficially this
monument of modern legislation, which is able to throw great light upon
the history, laws, and manners of the middle ages.

[228] Dolens aliquantulùm de fratris morte et plus gaudens de
hæreditate.—_Fulch. Carn._ lib. x. cap. 22.

[229] The Christians were in so much danger in this expedition, that
Foulcher de Chartres exclaims in his history, “I would rather have been
at Chartres or Orleans,” “Ego quidem vel Carnoti vel Aurelianis mallem
esse quam ibi.”—Lib. x. cap. 22.

[230] “Ubi ego ipse Fulcherius adaquavi meos.”—In _Bongars_, p. 405.
The same historian speaks in the same chapter of the Dead Sea, and of
the phenomena he had remarked. Foulcher de Chartres seldom neglects an
opportunity of speaking of himself; these words, “Ego Fulcherius,” very
frequently appear in his narration.

[231] William of Tyre, in his account of the taking of Cæsarea, speaks
of a precious vase which fell to the share of the Genoese. “At this
time,” says he, “was found a vase in the shape of a dish, of a bright
green colour, which the Genoese, believing it to be an emerald, were
desirous of having, at the valuation of a large sum of money, to make
an offering of to their church as an excellent ornament, and which they
are accustomed to exhibit to the great lords who pass through their
city.” This vase found at Cæsarea, and preserved at Genoa till the end
of the last century, is now in the Cabinet of Antiques in the Imperial
Library at Paris. [Qy. whether restored to the Genoese in 1815?—TRANS.]

[232] This singular fact is related by William of Tyre with all its
details.—Chap. x.

[233] We here follow the version of Foulcher de Chartres, who makes
use of the word _vivit_ instead of _vincit_, which appears to have
prevailed afterwards. The device _Christus regnat, vincit, imperat_,
forms the legend of the reverse of all the gold coins struck in France
from the time of John to that of Louis XVI., under the different
names of _Francs à pied et à cheval_, of _Agnelets_, or _Ecus d’or_,
or _Louis_. In the most ancient, the _Francs_, the verb _vincit_ is
the first: X. P. C. VINCIT; X. P. C. REGNAT; X. P. C. IMPERAT; Christ
conquers, Christ reigns, and Christ governs; which proves that this
device or war-cry may be traced back to the time of the crusades.

[234] See Gibbon for the interesting memoir of this noble family, whose
name so frequently occurs in our own history, and is, I believe, still
extant, in the Courtenays, earls of Devon.—TRANS.

[235] “Anna Comnena adds, that to complete the deceit, he was shut
up with a dead cock; and wonders how the barbarian could endure the
confinement and putrefaction.”—_Notes to Gibbon._—TRANS.

[236] This may at first appear a singular pledge; but when we remember
the great consideration in which beards were and are held in the
East, we are reconciled to the fact. Beckford makes Vathek inflict
loss of beard upon the sages who cannot decipher the magic characters
upon the sabres, as the greatest possible punishment; and few were
better acquainted with Eastern manners than the master of Font-hill
Abbey.—TRANS.

[237] These details are taken from the Arabian historian _Novaïry_.

[238] Sir William d’Avenant elegantly calls books “the monuments of
deceased minds.”—TRANS.

[239] Aboulfeda in his account justifies the Genoese for the massacre
of the Mussulmans; the city being taken by assault, they did not exceed
the usual rights of war. Another Arabian historian, Ebn-Abi-Tai,
says that the Christians exhibited at the taking of Tripoli the same
destructive fury as the Arabs had who burnt the library of Alexandria.
The same historian speaks of the incredible number of three millions
of volumes. We have preferred the version of Novaïry, who reduces the
number of volumes to a hundred thousand. This author states that the
library of Tripoli was founded by the cadi Aboutaleb Hasen, who had
himself composed several works.

[240] The governor of Mossoul is called by the Latins Maledoctus,
Mandult, and by the Arabians Mauduts. Togdequin was prince of Damascus.

[241] We have avoided mentioning too frequently the sultans and emirs
of Syria, whose names seem the more barbarous as they are correctly
written.

[242] Tabari and Aboul-Feda.

[243] See, for an account of this disaster, Kemaleddin and Tabari.

[244] The account of this battle, and the preparations for it, are
taken from Robert of the Mount ’_Robertus de Monte, Appendice ad
Sigebertum_). This author speaks of the fast the troops were ordered
to undergo, as had been done at Nineveh: “Universo pecori pabula
negabantur.” He also speaks of the milk of the holy Virgin, carried
in a vase: “Episcopus Bethleemides ferens in pyxide lac sanctæ Mariæ
virginis.”

[245] This act is reported in its entirety by William of Tyre.

[246] Albert d’Aix finishes his history in the first year of the reign
of Baldwin II., and Foulcher de Chartres terminates his after the siege
of Tyre. We may consult for this reign many passages of Baronius,
Robert of the Mount, Sanuti, and particularly William of Tyre and
Bernardus Thesaurius. We are in possession of the second part of a
_History of Jerusalem_, the anonymous author of which speaks of the
reigns of the two first Baldwins.

It will be said perhaps that I have borrowed from these different
historians too many details; but I could not resist the desire I had to
impart to my readers things that have never hitherto been related in
the French language. It is surprising that, notwithstanding Jerusalem
was almost always governed and defended by the Franks, no writer of our
nation has spoken of it.

[247] The emir Balac was a prince of the family of Ortoc, who possessed
many places on the Euphrates, reigned in Aleppo and Mesopotamia, and
could set on foot innumerable armies of Turcomans.

[248] Edma, the daughter of Baldwin, still a child, was violated by the
Mussulmans, to whom her father had given her as an hostage.

[249] See, as well for the incursion of the Turks as of those of the
Christians, Kemaleddin, Tabari, and Aboul-Feda.

[250] Our learned Orientalists have furnished us with some very useful
and profound works on the Ismaëlians; at their head is M. de Sacy, who
has made us acquainted with the doctrine and many of the usages of this
singular people. M. Jourdain has on this subject supplied us with a
very interesting memoir.

[251] See, for the origin and the reign of Zengui, the _History of the
Atabecks_, by Ben Latir.

[252] The history of the knights of St. John has been written in
Italian by Bosio, and translated into French by Boyssat. The history
since written by the Abbé de Vertot has caused all that preceded it to
be forgotten. The Templars, after their tragical end, had no historian
of their exploits in the Holy Land; but they have in our days found a
very eloquent one in M. Raynouard.

[253] See Saint Bernard, _Exhortatio ad Milites Templi_.

[254] We will relate in full the decrees of the council of Naplouse,
which form a precious monument of the history of these distant times;
but the greater part of the crimes and offences against which the
fathers of this council raised their voices, do not permit us to give
these statutes in French or English, or present the most curious
details of them.

[255] The castle of Puyset, near Orleans, was besieged three times by
all the forces of Louis le Gros; this castle was at length taken and
demolished. Veilly, and all the French historians, having neglected to
read William of Tyre, make the seigneur de Puyset die in the kingdom of
Naples.

[256] When quoting William of Tyre, I avail myself always of the old
translation, whose _naïf_ and simple style associates best with the
spirit and manners of the twelfth century.

[257] In William of Tyre may be seen the letter which the vizir of
Damascus addressed to the Christian princes of Jerusalem.

[258] The Assizes of Jerusalem speak thus of the coronation of the
king:—Ly met l’anneau au doigt, qui sinefie foi; et asprès ly ceint
l’espée, qui sinefie justice, à deffendre foi et sainte esglise; et
asprès la couronne, qui sinefie la dignité; et asprès le sceptre, qui
sinefie chastier et deffendre; et asprès la pomme, qui sinefie la terre
du royaume. [Although offering a translation, I cannot resist giving
this very curious piece of old French.—TRANS.]

They put the ring on his finger, as signifying faith; then they girded
on the sword, which means he must defend justice, faith, and the holy
church; next the crown, which denotes dignity; after that the sceptre,
with which he is both to punish and defend; and at last the apple or
globe, which signifies the kingdom of the earth.

[259] William of Tyre attributes the determination of the king and the
barons to the cries of the populace of Jerusalem; the same historian
relates this expedition with many details in his sixteenth book, ch.
vii.-xiii.

[260] Kemaleddin, an Arabian historian, and William of Tyre agree as to
the principal circumstances of this siege.

[261] We have before us in manuscript some historical and geographical
notes upon the city of Edessa, communicated to us by M. J. Chahan de
Cerbied, an Armenian professor. This work is rendered more valuable by
M. J. Chahan de Cerbied’s ’its author) being born at Edessa, where he
passed many years. These notes are to be published in a general picture
of Armenia, which will not fail to attract the attention of the learned.

[262] The greater part of the Arabian historians assert that Zengui
sought to repair the evils his army had caused to the inhabitants of
Edessa. Kemaleddin relates the following anecdote on this subject,
which makes us at the same time acquainted with the Mussulman spirit
of history and manners. We will transcribe the Latin extract from Dom.
Berthereau:—Norredinus ingressus est urbem, diripuit eam, incolas
jugo captivitatis submisit; illis evacuata fuit urbs, pauci tantùm
remanserunt. Ex captivis unam misit ancillam Norredinus ad Zeineddinum
Ali Koudgoucum, pro rege, patris sui in Mosulâ inter munera quæ ad
eum misit; quam cum vidisset ille, statim illâ usus est; lavit se
posteà, dixitque suis: Nostisne quid mihi hac die acciderit? Dixerunt,
non. Dixit: Cum Roham cepimus, regnante Zengui, inter res raptas in
manus meas incidit ancilla pulchra, ejusque pulchritudo mihi admodùm
placuit; ad eam declinavit cor meum, statimque jussu Zengui martyris
fuit inclamatum: Redde servos opesque raptas. Metuendus porrò erat
et reverendus; ancillam reddidi, ei vero semper adhæsit cor meum:
novè verò misit mihi dona Norredinus, quæ inter, ancillas misit
plures, quas inter eamdem ancillam. Coitu earn subegi, nè adhuc etiam
tolletur.—_Kemaleddin_, _Hist. de Halep._ p. 62, translation of Dom.
Berthereau.

[263] M. Cerbied has translated this piece into French, which for
several reasons deserves to be known. This poem, in seven cantos, was
composed by Narses-le-Beau, the Armenian patriarch of the city of
Edessa, to console his fellow-citizens in their misfortune, and arouse
the zeal of the defenders of the Christian religion against the Turks.

[264] Godfrey, who was abbot of Clairvaux after St. Bernard, has left
us a life of this saint, in which he does not speak of the crusade; the
reason of this is that St. Bernard was reproached with the crusade, and
that his panegyrist thence thought proper to pass over this remarkable
epoch. We have several other lives of St. Bernard; the best and most
complete is that which is printed in _La France Littéraire_.

[265] Commota est quidem et contremuit terra, quia cœpit Deus cœli
perdere terram suam.—_St. Bernard_, epist. cccxxii.

[266] Nunquid potest mittere angelorum plusquam duodecim legiones, aut
certè dicere verbo, et liberabitur terra sua?—_St. Bernard_, epist.
cccxxii.

[267] The pulpit from which St. Bernard preached the crusade remained
in the church of Vèzelai until the period of the revolution of 1789.

[268] The Abbé Velly thus relates the same fact: “Satisfied with the
character of preacher and thaumaturge ’performer of miracles), St.
Bernard set out for Germany, where he put to silence another monk, who,
without having the authority of the pope, dared to exhort the Christian
nations to take up arms for the assistance of their brethren in Asia.”

[269] These exclamations were pronounced in old German:—Christ uns
gende, die heiligen alle helffen uns.

[270] Philip, archdeacon of Liege, afterwards a monk of Clairvaux,
has made a detailed relation of the miracles of St. Bernard, from
the first Sunday in Advent, the first day of December, 1146, to
Thursday, the second day of the following January. In his relations
he produces ten ocular witnesses, whose names he gives. Le Père
Maimbourg, in his _History of the Crusades_, does not appear to believe
in the authenticity of the miracles of St. Bernard; the author of
the _Life of Suger_, 3 vols. in 12mo., sharply reproves Maimbourg
for his incredulity. We do not think it at all necessary to go into
this question; we believe it to be quite sufficient to know that the
contemporaries of St. Bernard had faith in his miracles, and that
this faith made them perform things which simple reason might call
miraculous.

[271] A German historian speaks thus of this crusade:—Si autem aliter
non, hâc tamen ratione, exitum habuit expeditio frequens, purgaretur
eo genere hominum qui rapinis consueverunt victitare; mœstum devotione
qualicunque, omnes id genus homines, pro remedio peccatorum sacram
amplexi militiam, in eam nomine dedêre volentes expeditionem.—_Krantz_,
vi. sax. c. 13; _De Regibus Hierosolymorum_, auctore Christophano
Besoldo, p. 214.

[272] The pope had forbidden luxury among the Crusaders; he expressed
himself thus in a circular:—Nec eant in vestibus pretiosis, et cum
canibus sive avibus, aut aliis quæ ostentationi potius et lasciviæ,
quam necessariis videantur usibus deservire, sed in modesto apparatu,
et habitu, in quo pœnitentiam potius agere quam inanem affectari
gloriam videantur.

[273] We quote here the words of Belle Forest, which we should not
use if they were not translations from contemporary chronicles. We
will only repeat a single passage, which is taken from the chronicle
of Raoul:—De dicette: Per totam Galliam fit descriptio generalis; non
sexus, non ordo, non dignitas quempiam excusavit, quin auxilium regi
conferret; cujus iter multis imprecationibus persequebatur.

[274] Montfaucon speaks of these pictures in _Les Monuments de la
Monarchie Française_, vol. i.

[275] Otto of Frisingen, an eye-witness, describes this misfortune at
great length.

[276] Odo de Deuil gives an account of this deliberation, and reports
the speech of the bishop of Langres, on whom he bestows the greatest
praise.

[277] Otto of Frisingen, an ocular witness, gives none of the details
of the rout of the Germans, saying as his excuse that he had nothing
agreeable to relate. The _Gesta Ludovici_ and William of Tyre supply
the silence of Otto of Frisingen.

[278] Nicetas, in his account, confounds the army of the French with
that of the Germans, who did not fight on the banks of the Meander;
all which Louis did he attributes to Conrad. The German historians
have followed him, and state the victory near the Meander to have been
gained by the sovereign of their own nation.

[279] The Crusaders had then a march of forty days before them to
arrive at Antioch by land. They might have reached it in three days by
sea.

[280] Odo de Deuil is the only writer who speaks of these events; but
his account appears to us full of obscurity in some parts.

[281] The 19th of March, 1148.

[282] See the translation of William of Tyre, book xiii. ch. 21.

[283] Some romancers, and even some historians, have advanced that
Eleanor of Guienne was in love with Saladin, who founded the dynasty
of the Ayoubites. Saladin, the son of Ayoub, was born the same year
that Eleanor married Louis VII., and was scarcely ten years old at the
time of the second crusade. Her _second_ son, by Henry II. of England,
became the great rival of Saladin in military glory.—TRANS.

[284] Percussit eum inter collum et sinistrum humerum ictu mirabili;
ita quòd ensis secuit totum pectus cum humeris et descendit obliquando
usque ad latus dextrum, taliter quòd pars dexterior abscissa penitùs
cum capite cecidit super terram, et tunc omnes Turci, qui ictum tam
formidabilem viderant stupefacti, statìm fugâ remedio nostrorum gladios
evaserunt.—_G. C._ chap. ii.

[285] All these details, and some others which were not known to the
authors of the West, are taken from the Arabian chronicle of _Ibuferat_.

[286] Abulfeda, Abulfarage, and some other Arabian historians speak of
the siege of Damascus; but it is difficult to reconcile their account
with that of the Latins. We have taken some few circumstances from them
that appeared the most probable. The Chronicle of Ibuferat is that
which gives the most circumstantial details.

[287] The Chronicle of Geuvais attributes the retreat of the Christians
to the perfidy of the Templars:—Cum civitas Christianis reddenda esset,
accesserunt Templarii, dicentes se primam habituros pugnam, ut omnes
deinde in communi victoriam obtinerent, statuerunt itaque tentoria
sua inter civitatem et exercitum Christianorum, et cum his qui erant
in civitate paganis proditionis pactum inierunt. Cives igitur eorum
agnoscentes cupiditatem, promiserunt eis tres cados plenos bisantis
aureis, si eos ab obsidione liberarent. Delusi itaque Christiani per
milites Templi, Damasco recesserunt. Post modicum verò cum Templarii
promissos à viribus recipissent cados, in eisdem non nummos aureos, sed
cupreos invenerunt, miraculoque quæ ascripserunt.

[288] _William of Tyre_, b. xvii. chap. 6.

[289] This crusade from the north is mentioned by Otto of Frisingen.
Saxo the grammarian gives the most ample details in his thirteenth
book. The reader may likewise consult the Latin _History of Germany_,
by Kruntz. The _History of Denmark_, by Mallet, does not say a word of
this war.

[290] Arnold, a Flemish preacher, on the publication of the second
crusade, exhorted the nations of France and Germany to enrol themselves
in this pious army; he followed the Crusaders who laid siege to Lisbon,
under the command of Arnold count d’Arschot. Arnold sent an account
of this siege to Milo, bishop of Terouane, in a letter published by
Dom Martène, in the first volume of his great collection, upon two
manuscripts. The relation of Arnold, an eye-witness, different from
that of Robert of the Mount, is adopted by Fleury. The historian of
Portugal, Manoel de Faria y Sousa, speaks also of this expedition of
the Crusaders.

[291] St. Bernard wrote to the Estates of the kingdom, assembled by
Suger, to repress the ambition of a brother of the king and some great
vassals. He also wrote to the abbot of St. Denis: “Whilst Louis,” said
he in his letter, “is fighting for a king whose reign is eternal;
whilst in the flower of his age he exiles himself from his kingdom to
serve Him who causes them to reign that serve him, is it possible there
can be men so rash as to create disorder and troubles in his states,
and to attack in his person the Lord and his Christ?”—_Ep._ 337.

[292] The legend of one of these medals is conceived in these terms:—

Regi invicto ab oriente reduci, Frementes lætitia cives.

In another medal the Meander is represented, and a trophy raised upon
its banks, with this inscription—

Turcis ad ripas Mæandri cæsis fugatis.


[293] We have a life of Suger, written by his secretary. We have in
French a Life of the abbot of St. Denis, in three volumes. L’Académie
Française in 1778 proposed the _Eulogy of Suger_ as a subject for a
prize; the discourse of M. Garrat, which was crowned, contains many
very eloquent passages. We have before us another discourse which was
published in 1779, which presents an exaggerated, but very ingenious
satire upon the life and administration of Suger.

[294] Robert of the Mount.

[295] William of Tyre says that he was once much scandalized by a
question Amaury put to him concerning the next world.

[296] Among the Arabian authors who give the greatest number of details
of the conquest of Egypt, the continuator of Tabari deserves remark;
Chehabeddin, son of Mohammed, the author of the _Roudatins_ ’the two
gardens or lives of Noureddin and Salabeddin), is also very explicit
upon this war between the Christians and the Mussulmans. Moudjireddin,
in his _History of Jerusalem_, says a few words of the conquest of
Egypt by Chirkou. Aboulmahason speaks also of the conquest of Egypt
by the Turks. When speaking of the influence the Franks exercised at
Cairo, he says they had a particular quarter of the city, and a market
which Chaver had had built for them. Kemaleddin, in his _History of
Aleppo_, relates these events with his usual clearness. This author
agrees with Tabari. Ibu-elatir, in his _History of the Attabeks_, says
but a very few words about the conquest of Egypt; he agrees with the
continuator of Tabari and Kemaleddin. Dzemaleddin, in his _History
of Egypt_, is also very brief on this important event. Macrizi, in
his _Kitab-alsolouek Timaresch Doual Almoulouek_ ’Institution on the
Knowledge of the Dynasties of Kings), only speaks with brevity of these
events. Amongst the Latin authors who have spoken of the conquest of
Egypt, we principally quote William of Tyre, and the Latin history of
the latter years of the kingdom of Jerusalem, which is met with in the
_Collection_ of Bongars.

[297] Near the castle of Toura, two leagues from Cairo, opposite
ancient Memphis.

[298] Saladin has had many historians. Among the Arabian authors the
most celebrated are Bohaddin, who has written his life; Omad-el-Cathed,
secretary of the sultan, and author of the _Phatah_; Schahab-Eddin,
author of the lives of Noureddin and Saladin, entitled _El Reudatains_
’or the two gardens). Several particulars relative to the Mussulman
hero are to be met with in Aboulfeda, who was of the family of Ayoub,
and in several other Arabian writers quoted by D. Berthereau. There
is a Life of Saladin in French, by Marin. In the Imperial Library [of
France—TRANS.] two manuscript Lives may likewise be consulted, one by
the Abbé Renaudot, and the other by Galland, the translator of the
_Thousand and One Nights_.

[299] This was a common punishment in the East. In the Persian
“_boat-death_,” as described by Plutarch, the criminal was nailed down
in a boat, leaving only his head bare;—thus smeared, exposed, and left
to die.—TRANS.

[300] Schahabbedin, Tabari, and Aboulfeda relate this fact at great
length.

[301] I am inclined to think this was a kind of ceremony—the liege lord
demanding entrance to the fortress of his vassal.—TRANS.

[302] Jacques de Vitri does not spare the Christians of the East in
his History, particularly in the chapters entitled “De corruptione
prælatorum; de regularibus irregulariter viventibus; de corruptione
Terræ Sanctæ.” The satires of Juvenal would appear moderate by the side
of the pages of this historian, who had been in the Holy Land in the
quality of a legate.

[303] This was the same Andronicus who afterwards ascended the throne
of Constantinople, and became notorious for his cruelties.

[304] The Latin history of the kingdom of Jerusalem contains this
curious passage: Quidam verò, ut fama ferebat, ardentiùs cæteris
movebatur, et abscissis viri genitalibus, ea tanquam in usum gignendi
reservare deposuit, ut vel mortua membra, si fieri posset, virtutis
tantæ suscitarent hæredem.—See the _Collection_ of Bongars, p. 1151.

[305] Among the Christian historians who have spoken of the battle of
Tiberias, the following may be consulted: _Chronica Terræ Sanctæ_; the
two continuations of William of Tyre, by Harold and Hugh de Plagon; and
the Latin history of Jerusalem. Jacques de Vitri, William de Newbridge,
the Chronicle of Gervais, Paule Emile Roger de Hoveden, and Matthew
Paris also give some details of this battle, and of the events by which
it was followed. None of these authors, however, have described it at
sufficient length to give a complete idea of it; they are not even
always agreed, and ought to be read with much precaution.

[306] Saladin adds in his letter that the Franks flew round the cross
like moths round light.

[307] The continuator of Tabary speaks with much detail of this battle;
the author of the _Roudatain_, in the description which he has given of
this day, shows all the enthusiasm of a Mussulman. We find in these two
histories, and even in Omad ’the secretary of Saladin), more words than
things, more Oriental figures than historical circumstances. They may,
however, be profitably consulted by comparing their accounts with those
of the Latins.

[308] Many Christian historians accuse Raymond of having assisted the
cause of Saladin. No Mussulman historian is of this opinion; indeed
several of them speak of him as the most cruel enemy of the Saracens.
The continuator of Tabary positively says that the count of Tripoli
was opposed to the marching of the Franks towards Tiberias. M. Marin,
in his History of Saladin, has discussed this point of history, and
the proofs that he gives leave no doubt respecting the sincerity of
the intentions of Raymond. Abulfeda, in the short description which
he gives of the day of Hetin, praises the valour of Raymond, and says
that he died of the grief created by the defeat of the Christians. In
a letter written in the name of Saladin by the Cadi Alfdel to the Iman
Nassir-Sedin-Illah-Aboul-Abbas-Ahmed, are these remarkable words: “Not
one of the Christians was able to escape except the count of Tripoli.
May God curse him; God caused him afterwards to die, and sent him from
the kingdom of death to hell.” This letter of Saladin’s, which speaks
also of the taking of Jerusalem, has been preserved by Ebu-Khilcan in
his Biography. M. Jourdain had the intention of giving a translation
of it; but the text presents so many difficulties, from the use of
Oriental figures and bad copying, that he was obliged to be satisfied
with making some extracts from it.

[309] For the siege of Jerusalem we may consult the continuator of
Tabary, the author of the _Roudatains_, and the letter from Saladin
before mentioned. All the Arabian historians are agreed as to the
principal circumstances. Moujireddin, in his _History of Jerusalem_, of
all the Arabian writers of this period, gives the fewest particulars
of the siege and capture of the holy city. We need not repeat that the
greater part of these historians are known to us by the Latin extracts
of Dom. Bertreau.

[310] Most historians say that Saladin granted a delay of forty days
to the inhabitants of Jerusalem. In the position that matters were
in, Saladin could not remain forty days before a captured city; and
what proves that historians are mistaken in this respect is, that they
themselves say that Saladin took Jerusalem in the beginning of October,
and that he set out on the day of All Saints, which is always the first
of November, from Ptolemaïs to go to the siege of the city of Tyre.

[311] Marin and most historians say that Sibylla was not at Jerusalem
during the siege: they are in error. The author of the _Roudatains_
says positively that that princess came out of Jerusalem with the other
captives, followed by her treasures and her attendants. She asked
permission of Saladin to rejoin her husband, who was then detained a
prisoner at Naplouse.

[312] This fact, which is not mentioned by our Western authors, is
related with many details by Bohaëddin and Abulfeda.

[313] These prodigies remind us of those related by the historian
Josephus, in his account of the conquest of Jerusalem.

[314] Marin, in his _History of Saladin_, and several others after
him, have pretended that the William who came into Europe to preach
the crusade, was not the author of the _History of Jerusalem_. This
assertion is founded on an obscure passage of Hugh de Plagon, and is
not at all confirmed by the testimony of contemporary historians.
Matthew Paris, and all the other authors of the time, give the name of
William to the archbishop of Tyre who came into Europe; if this William
had not been the same as the historian of this name, would it not have
been remarked by contemporary chronicles? All these chronicles give us
some details of the birth and life of William, author of the _History
of Jerusalem_; and if another William, archbishop of Tyre, came into
the West, why have not the historians of the time made him known, and
said something of him? His mission was sufficiently important, the see
in which he was placed attracted attention enough, for the second to be
mentioned as well as the first, if there was one.

[315] For the history of this period, the following authors may be
consulted with advantage:—The _Acts_ of Rymer, the historian Rigord,
Roger of Hoveden, Matthew Paris, William of Newbridge, the _Chronicle_
of Alberic of Trois Fontaines, Otho of St. Blaise, Brompton, the
_Chronicle_ of Gervais, &c.

[316] “The noblest monument of a conqueror’s fame and of the terror
which he inspired, is the Saladin tenth.”—_Gibbon._—TRANS.

[317] There is extant in Latin an account of the journey of Archbishop
Baldwin through the country of Wales, entitled _Itinerarium Cambriæ_,
drawn up by Barry, who accompanied the preacher of the crusade. This
journey is curious, from the singular prodigies and miracles which are
related in it. If this relation may be credited, Archbishop Baldwin
neglected no means to induce the people to take the cross; he enrolled
one day, says Barry, a great number of men who came to him in a state
of nudity, their clothes being secreted by their wives and friends, who
wished to prevent their going.

[318] The discourse of Peter of Blois, which is printed in his works,
has for title, _Tractatus de Jerosolymitanâ Peregrinatione_. After
having quoted several passages from the Bible and Testament to exhort
the Crusaders to set out, he cites two verses from the tenth chapter of
Juvenal, and two verses from the _Fasti_ of Ovid. He is not satisfied
with presenting to the pilgrims the example of Abraham, but points out
to them all the kings and captains of profane antiquity. Peter of Blois
does not spare, in his discourse, the princes and nobles who compelled
the clergy to pay tribute towards the expenses of the holy war.

[319] _Cantipratensis apud Surium_, die Junii, cap. 20. This is
likewise related by Besoldo, _De Regibus Hyerosolimitanorum_, p. 274.

[320] The letter written by Frederick to Saladin, and the answer of
Saladin to Frederick, have been preserved by Baronius and Matthew Paris.

[321] In the works of Peter of Blois is a letter which Alexander III.
wrote to the sultan of Iconium, giving him counsels to direct him in
his conversion. The same letter is in many other collections.

[322] The monk Pant, who was himself a Crusader, and Crusius, both
attest this miracle.

[323] Most historians make Frederick perish in the river Cydnus, in
which Alexander bathed; but they have confounded the Cydnus with the
Selef, according to historians of the time. The Cydnus, which is now
called Kara-sou, that is to say, _black water_, flows from Antitaurus
into Lower Armenia, near ancient Dianæa; it enters Cilicia, passes by
the city of Tarsus, and falls into the sea two leagues from that city.
Selef, a little river, has its source in the mountains of Isauria, and
bathes the walls of Seleucia; the inhabitants commonly call it “the
water of Selefké.” According to Armenian historians, it was in this
river Frederick Barbarossa met his death. S. Narses, of Lampron, sent
by the Armenians to compliment the emperor of Germany, says that that
prince, bathing in the river Selef, was carried away by the rapidity of
the stream, and that, being weakened by age, he was not able to contend
against it, and was drowned. ’This precious and authentic information
is given us by M. Cahan de Cerbied, Armenian professor.) The Arabian
historian Omad relates that Frederick Barbarossa was drowned in
endeavouring to cross the river on horseback; the force of the stream
carried him towards a tree, against which he struck his head. He was
dragged out of the water, adds Omad, and his soul being ready to quit
his body, the angel of death took possession of it, and carried it to
hell.

[324] The chronicle entitled _Historia Hierosolymitana_ relates all
that passed in the kingdom of Jerusalem from 1177 to the siege of
Ptolemaïs inclusively. The _Chronicle of the Holy Land_, the two
continuators of William of Tyre, Florent and the bishop of Ptolemaïs,
give some particulars of the siege, but much less than the Arabian
historians, to whom we shall often have recourse.

[325] Karacoush was the first minister of Saladin in Egypt. It was
he who caused the well of Joseph to be dug, built the citadel, and
began the inclosure of Cairo. Karacoush was short and hump-backed. His
name is employed now in Egypt for a sort of Punchinello, who amuses
the people in the streets, in whose mouth are placed abundance of
obscenities.

[326] The Arabian historians Chéhabeddin, the author of the
_Roudatins_, Omad of Ispahan, and Bohaddin, give many more particulars
of the siege of Ptolemaïs than the Latin historians. These three
Mussulman historians accompanied Saladin in all his expeditions.

[327] This day I was among the holy men, and I was upon the hill with
them, looking at the fight, and watching for what would happen to the
enemy. We had no idea that the battle would reach us; but when the
enemy became mingled with us, we mounted on our mules, without any
equipments, and seeing that all the army had turned their backs, fled
away. We reached Tiberias, with others who had taken the same road.
Every one of us had forgotten to either eat or drink. Other fugitives
went as far as Damascus without stopping on their way, constantly
pursued by fear.—_Chehabeddin._

[328] The author of the _Roudatains_ says that one thousand Mussulman
horsemen were all that maintained and recovered the battle. Saladin,
adds the same author, remained alone upon the field, and angels
defended him.

[329] Our author before mentions _Gerard_ d’Avesnes as left in charge
of the camp; but I am not sufficiently certain there were not two of
the name to alter the text.—TRANS.

[330] This accident of a loose horse is related by the anonymous author
of the _History of Jerusalem_ ’_Historia Hierosolymitana_).

[331] The Arabian historians say that a horse escaped from a
vessel, and was pursued; he threw himself among the Mussulmans, who
presented him to Saladin, which was considered an evil presage.—See
_Chéhabeddin_, the historian of Saladin.

[332] Florentinus, bishop of Ptolemaïs, relates, that when the famine
began to reign among the besiegers, to put a check upon the greediness
of those who sold provisions at too high a price—

Barones constituunt uno prorsùs ore Ut dentur cibaria precio minore.
Sed error novissimus pejor fit priore Dùm non audent vendere consueto
more. Non enim tùm cibaria inveniuntur Per forum venalia; sed
effodiuntur Pavimenta, domini recluduntur. Sic inops et locuples famem
patiuntur.


[333] Fleury relates this fact in his _Ecclesiastical History_, after
the English historian Roger Hoveden. The same Roger speaks of the
predictions and visions of Abbot Joachim, who finished by incurring the
censure of the Holy See.

[334] Could not the reader imagine these kings were _playing_ the siege
of Troy, and that Richard was the sulky Achilles? There is a strong
resemblance in the constitution of the forces before Troy and the
independent nations, baronies, and counties of the Crusaders—thence
the dissensions, delays, and disasters of both. History becomes the
test of poetry, and Homer shines forth not only the great poet, but the
veracious historian and clear-sighted philosopher.—TRANS.

[335] I would fain translate this word _shield_ or _buckler_; but as I
cannot find the word _cuirasse_ ever used for one of these, am obliged
to follow my original.—TRANS.

[336] Either the English took less part in the crusades than we
generally imagine, or a French historian does not mete them due honour;
the archbishop of Canterbury is the only name clearly English in this
list. I shall have occasion to recur to this subject.—TRANS.

[337] Saladin had a copy of the _Koran_, compiled by Omar, always
carried with his army.

[338] Florentinus, bishop of Ptolemaïs, describes with horror the
impiety of the Turks:—

Milites aspiceres super muros stantes Turcos, sanctam manibus crucem
elevantes Cum flagellis asperis eam verberantes, Et cum impropriis
nobis minitantes.


[339] “One of our people,” says Omad, “having been made prisoner, was
burnt, and the flames accompanied him to his place of everlasting
repose; we took a Christian, we burnt him, and the flames that devoured
him mingled with the fires of hell.”—See the MS. of Dom Berthereau.

[340] A combat of children is related by Omad of Ispahan; and the same
author speaks of the Christian heroines who mingled in the fight. He
adds, that the young women fought, and the old women animated them by
their cries.

[341] The march and the contests of the Christians and the Mussulmans
are described in fullest detail by Omad-al-Kabel, secretary to Saladin,
in his book entitled the _Pheta_; and by Schahabeddin, author of the
_Roudalain_. These two historians almost always make the Mussulmans
triumph. “We have,” say they, “animated the tongues of lances and
swords to speak to the Christians, and to hear their words. Then God
rendered sweet to us all that was bitter, and by his goodness drew
near to us all that was at a distance.” We shall not follow these two
historians, nor even Bohaddin, through the combats of the Mussulmans
and Christians, combats in which the latter are, by their account,
always conquered, and yet always continue to advance into their enemy’s
country.

[342] Omad says that the Mussulmans surrounded the army of their enemy
as the eyelashes surround the eye. The Mussulman authors speak highly
of Jacques d’Avesnes. All the historians of Saladin do not agree as
to his defeat, and say that Richard got possession of Jaffa after
being conquered. Aboulfeda is more honest; Tabary agrees also that the
Mussulmans were put to flight; the same historian adds to his faithful
account the following remarkable circumstance: “Near the Mussulman army
was a thick wood, into which they retreated. The Franks believed that
this retreat was a stratagem, and did not dare to pursue their enemies,
whom they might have destroyed if they had followed up their victory.”
For these authors, see the Latin extracts of Dom Berthereau.

[343] Arabian historians say nothing of the single combat between
Richard and Saladin. English historians alone mention it.

[344] I cannot attach much consequence to the silence of the Arabian
writers on this subject, neither can I think, with our author, such a
_rencontre_ so _improbable_ in such a _mêlée_. The principal argument
against it is, that Saladin survived the battle. Richard was at least
twelve years younger than Saladin, and in the full vigour of a large,
powerful frame, whilst Saladin was weakened by toil and disease.—TRANS.

[345] This gallant act of devotedness of William de Pourcelet, a
Provençal gentleman, is related by both the Latin and Oriental
historians.

[346] This negotiation is related by the principal Arabian historians.
Bohaëddin and the author of the _Phatah_. Although Christian writers
have not spoken of it, it would be difficult to cast doubt upon, or
weaken the evidence of Arabian authors, who were ocular witnesses,
and were themselves mixed up with the affair. It is this negotiation
that gave Madame Cottin the idea of her romance of _Mathilda, or the
Crusades_; a work full of eloquent pictures and heroic sentiments,
drawn from the history of chivalry.

[347] M. Paultre, in his manuscript history of the states of Syria,
believes that this city, so named by the historians of the crusade,
is the city of Eleutheropolis, situated nine or ten leagues east of
Ascalon, on the road to Jerusalem, in a valley crossed by the torrent
of Ascalon, seven leagues west of Jerusalem, and six of Ramla.

[348] The assassination of Conrad is thus related in the continuator of
Tabary.—See the MS. of D. Berthereau.

[349] Our author’s argument is very weak here. Gibbon says: “I cannot
believe that a soldier so free and fearless in the use of his lance
as Richard, would have descended to whet a dagger against his valiant
brother Conrad de Montferrat.”—_Decline and Fall_, vol. viii. p.
426.—TRANS.

[350] It is difficult to follow the accounts of several historians at
this period, who affirm that Richard was not willing to take Jerusalem.
M. Paultre, a distinguished officer who made the campaign of 1799, has
furnished us with all the means of understanding the old chronicles,
and to appreciate their testimony. Historians, from ignorance of the
country, are often deceived with respect to military events. The
situation of places and a knowledge of the country are often the best
commentaries we can have upon the old historians of the crusades. M.
Paultre has himself related part of the events which we repeat; and
his account, which he has kindly confided to us, has given us useful
information, which will throw light upon this part of our history.

[351] Gibbon’s conclusion is very different. He says, “The laurels of
Richard were blasted by the prudence or envy of his companions.”—TRANS.

[352] The historian Bohaëddin relates that Richard, in an interview
with Aboubeker, the ambassador of Saladin, said “That he only sought
for a pretext to return to Europe; that he took little interest in the
affairs of Palestine; that the Christians could not stand against the
Mussulman power when deprived of his support; that a very small force
would be sufficient to take the few places they still possessed; that
the sultan need not be difficult, as the peace would only be simulated,
and would serve to remove the only obstacle to the conquests of that
prince.”—See _Life of Saladin_, by Marin.

[353] The Latin historians say that the truce was for three years,
three months, three weeks, and three days. We prefer the version of the
Oriental writers, who say that the truce was for three years and eight
months. Omad, whose account we adopt, declares he wrote the treaty with
his own hand.

[354] Gibbon says, “A personal interview with Richard was declined
by Saladin, who alleged their mutual ignorance of each other’s
language.”—Vol. viii. p. 429.—TRANS.

[355] L’amour de sa mie.—TRANS.

[356] The adventures of the Châtelain de Coucy and the lady de Fayel
are related in an old chronicle quoted by the President Faucher. There
exists in the Imperial Library a manuscript copy of this chronicle,
which appears to have been written towards the beginning of the
thirteenth century, a short time after the third crusade. M. Roquefort,
whose authority is of great weight in all which concerns the middle
ages, does not appear to adopt the account of the chronicle quoted
in his article “Coucy” of _La Biographie Universelle_, and is of the
opinion of Father Papon, who attributes the adventure of the Châtelain
to the troubadour Cabestan. We may object to M. Roquefort, that the
adventure of Cabestan is not the same as that of Coucy, and that one
may be true without rendering the other doubtful. We find in the works
of Belloc a dissertation which has not been refuted, which proves the
truth, if not of some details, of the principal facts related in the
chronicle we have quoted.

[357] Saladin had but little indulgence in religious matters. The
Abbé Renaudot, in his manuscript history, relates that he caused a
philosopher to be strangled who ventured to preach new doctrines in the
city of Aleppo.

[358] To know the character and virtues of Saladin, it is sufficient
to quote the discourse he addressed to his son El-daher, to whom he
had confided the government of a province: “My son,” said he, “you
are about to reign over states that I have bestowed upon you. My
infirmities give me reason to fear that I may never see you again; I
recommend you, then, my son, as my last command, to love and honour
God, who is the source of all good, and to observe the precepts of his
law; for your welfare depends upon it. Spare human blood, for fear it
should fall again upon your own head; for blood once shed never sleeps.
Endeavour to gain the hearts of your subjects; administer justice,
and be as careful of their interests as of your own. You will have to
render an account to God of this trust which I confide to you in his
name. Show respect and condescension for the emirs, the imauns, the
caliphs, and all persons placed in authority. It is only by mildness
and clemency that I have attained the elevated position in which you
behold me. We are all mortal, O my son! entertain then no malice,
no hatred against any one. Be careful, above all things, to offend
nobody; men only forget injuries when they have revenged them, whilst
God grants us pardon for our errors for a simple repentance; for he is
beneficent and merciful.” This speech of Saladin to his son has been
transmitted to us by Bohaëddin, who heard it delivered.—See the _Life
of Saladin_, by Marin, book xiii.

[359] Although, happily, the time is gone by in which an English writer
would break a lance in defence of the entire character of Richard,
much as I admire the general reflections and spirit of my author, I
cannot but think he has scarcely done him justice. His faults are
always thrown into high relief, whilst his good qualities,—for he had
some,—are either shaded or entirely concealed. In the disputes which
his position naturally drew him into, his antagonists are always made
to be in the right, Richard in the wrong. Not a single act is recorded
before Ptolemaïs, and yet Richard had five thousand prisoners; most
authors say _three thousand_, but the larger number is assumed, for
the sake of the massacre. The more eminent the exploits of Richard, in
an army constituted like that of the Crusaders, the greater were sure
to be the envy and hatred of his fellow-leaders. Richard is no worse
than other heroes of the sword, from Achilles downward. I greatly fear
it is his successful rivalry with the more astute French monarch that
is the cause of this bias. Against the comparison with Saladin I say
nothing—Saladin was a greater man than Richard.—TRANS.

[360] This crusade terminated in 1192; the battle of Bovines was fought
in 1214.—TRANS.

[361] Our author has given an extract from the interesting manuscript
which has furnished him with this account; but it is so long, the
French is so old, and the story so well known, I have thought best
to omit it—a translation would spoil it. It is remarkable that the
manuscript chronicle makes Richard see Blondel, and sing _first_—our
author reverses this:—Ensi com il estoit en cette pensée, li rois
regarde et vie Blondel, et pensa comment li se feroit à lui connoistre,
et li souvint d’une canchon que ils avoient fait entre aus deux que
nus ne savoit fois que il roi. Si commencha haut et clerement à
canter le premier vier, car il cantoit très bien. There appear to me
discrepancies in the language of this manuscript chronicle, which make
the date of it, the thirteenth century, very apocryphal.—TRANS.




                          TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE:

—Obvious print and punctuation errors were corrected.





End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The History of the Crusades (vol. 1 of
3), by Joseph Francois Michaud

*** 