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-coloured 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 retard
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.