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.