THE CRUSADES.

‘It is natural to the human mind,’ says Dr. Robertson, ‘to view those

places which have been distinguished by being the residence of any

celebrated personage, or the scene of any great transaction, with some

degree of delight and veneration. To this principle must be ascribed

the superstitious devotion with which Christians, from the earliest

ages of the church, were accustomed to visit that country which the

Almighty had selected as the inheritance of his favorite people, and

in which the Son of God had accomplished the redemption of mankind. As

this distant pilgrimage could not be performed without considerable

expense, fatigue, and danger, it appeared the more meritorious, and

came to be considered as an expiation for almost every crime. An

opinion which spread with rapidity over Europe about the close of the

tenth and beginning of the eleventh century, and which gained

universal credit, wonderfully augmented the number of credulous

pilgrims, and increased the ardor with which they undertook this

useless voyage. The thousand years mentioned by St. John [Rev. xx. 2,

3, 4] were supposed to be accomplished, and the end of the world to be

at hand. A general consternation seized mankind; many relinquished

their possessions, and, abandoning their friends and families, hurried

with precipitation to the Holy Land, where they imagined that Christ

would quickly appear to judge the world.

While Palestine continued subject to the caliphs, they had encouraged

the resort of pilgrims to Jerusalem, and considered this as a

beneficial species of commerce, which brought into their dominions

gold and silver, and carried nothing out of them but relics and

consecrated trinkets. But the Turks having conquered Syria about the

middle of the eleventh century, pilgrims were exposed to outrages of

every kind from these fierce barbarians. This change happening

precisely at the juncture when the panic terror which I have mentioned

rendered pilgrimages most frequent, filled Europe with alarm and

indignation. Every person who returned from Palestine related the

dangers he had encountered in visiting the holy city, and described

with exaggeration the cruelty and vexations of the infidel Turks.

Among the most notorious of those who had returned with these

accounts, was a monk known by the name of Peter the Hermit. By all

accounts this individual seems to have been a weak-minded and

contemptible being. He is represented as running from city to city,

and from kingdom to kingdom, bareheaded, with naked arms and legs, and

bearing aloft a ponderous crucifix in his hand, imploring and

preaching with an enthusiastic madness on the necessity of wresting

the Holy Land from the hands of the infidels. In a more enlightened

age, Peter the Hermit would probably have been confined as a

troublesome lunatic; in this, however, he was not only allowed to go

on, but was encouraged and abetted in his career. The ambitious

Hildebrande had expressed a strong desire to send armed forces from

Europe to exterminate the Mohammedans from Palestine, in order that

another country might be brought under his spiritual subjection; and

Urban II, who at this time occupied the chair of St. Peter, warmly

seconded the efforts of the enthusiastic monk. Nor was Peter’s success

small. Vast multitudes proclaimed themselves ready to engage in the

undertaking. Two great councils of the church, one of them held at

Placentia, and the other at Clermont, in Auvergne, attended by

prelates, princes, and immense multitudes of the common people,

declared enthusiastically for the war (1095). The pope himself

attended at the last, and Peter and he having both addressed the

multitude, they all exclaimed, as if impelled by an immediate

inspiration, ‘It is the will of God! it is the will of God!’ These

words were thought so remarkable, that they were afterwards employed

as the motto on the sacred standard, and came to be looked upon as the

signal of battle and rendezvous in all the future exploits of the

champions of the cross. Persons of all ranks now flew to arms with the

utmost ardor. The remission of penance, the dispensation of those

practices which superstition imposed or suspended at pleasure, the

absolution of all sins, and the assurance, of eternal felicity, were

the rewards held out by the church to all who joined the enterprise;

and ‘to the more vulgar class,’ says Mr. Hallam, ‘were held out

inducements which, though absorbed in the overruling fanaticism of the

first Crusade, might be exceedingly efficacious when it began to flag.

During the time that a Crusader bore the cross, he was free from suits

for his debts, and the interest of them was entirely abolished; he was

exempted, in some instances at least, from taxes, and placed under the

protection of the church, so that he could not be impleaded in any

civil court, except in criminal charges or questions relating to

land.’

It was in the spring of the year 1096, that Peter set out for Judea,

at the head of a promiscuous assemblage of 80,000 men, with sandals on

his feet, a rope about his waist, and every other mark of monkish

austerity. Soon after, a more numerous and better disciplined force of

200,000 followed, including some able and experienced leaders. Godfrey

of Bouillon, Robert, Duke of Normandy (son of William the Conqueror of

England), the Counts of Vermendois, Toulouse, and Blois, are a few of

the more illustrious. The progress of this immense mass of human

beings on their journey was marked by misery and famine. They had

vainly trusted to Heaven for a supernatural supply of their wants, and

in their disappointment they had plundered all that came in their way.

‘So many crimes and so much misery,’ says Mr. Hallam, ‘have seldom

been accumulated in so short a space, as in the three years of the

first expedition;’ and another historian says that a ‘fresh supply of

German and Italian vagabonds,’ received on the way, were even guilty

of pillaging the churches. It is certain that before the hermit

reached Constantinople, the number of his forces had dwindled down to

20,000. Alexis Comnenus, then emperor of Constantinople, who had

applied to the states of Europe for assistance, without much hope of

obtaining it, in order that he might be enabled to resist a threatened

attack by the Turks upon himself, was surprised and terrified at the

motley group of adventurers who had now reached the shore of his

dominions. He readily afforded them the means for transporting

themselves across the Bosphorus, and performed the same friendly

office to the larger force which followed under Godfrey and others;

glad, apparently, to have the barbarians of the north, as his subjects

called them, out of his dominions. The Sultan Solyman met the army of

the hermit, if army it could be called, and cut the greater part of it

to pieces on the plains of Nicea. The second host proved more

successful. In spite of their want of discipline, their ignorance of

the country, the scarcity of provisions, and the excess of fatigue,

their zeal, their bravery, and their irresistible force, enabled them

twice to overthrow old Solyman, to take his capital Nice, and after an

obstinate resistance, the city of Antioch also (1098). At length

(1099) they reached Jerusalem, much diminished in numbers, and broken

in spirit; but with persevering assiduity they proceeded to lay siege

to the city, and in six weeks they became its masters. Their cruel

conduct to the inhabitants attests the barbarous feelings of their

hearts. ‘Neither arms defended the valiant, nor submission the

timorous; no age nor sex was spared; infants on the breast were

pierced by the same blow with their mothers, who implored for mercy;

even a multitude of ten thousand persons who surrendered themselves

prisoners and who were promised quarters, were butchered in cold blood

by these ferocious conquerers. The streets of Jerusalem were covered

with dead bodies. The triumphant warriors, after every enemy was

subdued and slaughtered, turned themselves, with sentiments of

humiliation and contrition, towards the holy sepulchre. They threw

aside their arms, still streaming with blood; they advanced with

reclined bodies and naked feet and heads to that sacred monument; they

sung anthems to Him who had purchased their salvation by His death and

agony; and their devotion, enlivened by the presence of the place

where He had suffered, so overcame their fury, that they dissolved in

tears, and bore the appearance of every soft and tender sentiment. So

inconsistent is human nature with itself, and so easily does the most

effeminate superstition ally both with the most heroic courage and

with the fiercest barbarity!’

With a becoming foresight, the Crusaders established a Christian

kingdom in the heart of Palestine; and at the head of it, by universal

consent was placed Godfrey, whose goodness and justice had signalized

him, and gained him respect in the midst of the general wickedness.

The pope, however, was too eager to enjoy the triumph to which he had

looked forward, and sending an ignorant and obtruding ecclesiastic to

assume this command, Godfrey retired; and thus was lost undoubtedly

the best chance that Europeans ever had of really posessing the Holy

Land. The Turks had now time to recover their strength and renew their

attacks: they did so: many of the Crusaders had in the meantime

returned home, and those of them who remained, surrounded and menaced

by such foes, at last implored aid from Christendom. There the spirit

which had been raised by Peter the Hermit was far from being

extinguished; and another, more eloquent and more learned than

Peter――namely, St. Bernard――had arisen to keep alive the flame of

devotion. Roused by his preachings, Europe sent forth a second Crusade

(1147). It consisted of 200,000 French, Germans, and English, in two

divisions, the first led on by Conrad III of Germany, and the second

by Louis VII of France. Strangely enough, both these leaders permitted

themselves to be drawn into a snare by false guides, furnished by the

Greek emperor; and both armies, one after another, were withdrawn

amidst the rocks of Laodicea, and after being nearly starved by

famine, they were cut to pieces by the Sultan of Iconium. This Crusade

proved the most disastrous of them all. ‘Thousands of ruined

families,’ says Russell, ‘exclaimed against St. Bernard for his

deluding prophecies: he excused himself by the example of Moses, who,

like him, he said, had promised to conduct the Israelites into a happy

country, and yet saw the first generation perish in the desert.’

It was shortly after this period that the illustrious Saladin appeared

(1180). Born among an obscure Turkish tribe, this individual fixed

himself by his bravery and conduct on the throne of Egypt and began to

extend his conquest in the East. The still existing, though

wretchedly-supported kingdom of the Christians in Palestine, proving

an obstacle to the progress of his arms, Saladin directed his power

against it, and assisted by the treachery of the Count of Tripoli, he

completely overcame the Christians in battle (1187). The holy city

itself fell into his hands after a feeble resistance; and except some

cities on the coast, nothing remained to the Christians of all that a

century before, it cost Europe so much to acquire. The followers of

the cross, however, were not yet wholly disheartened; and a third

great Crusade was entered into before the end of the twelfth century.

The three greatest sovereigns of Europe――Fredrick Barbarossa of

Germany, Philip Augustus of France, and Richard Cœur de Lion of

England――all took part in the scheme. The forces of Fredrick were

earliest in the field. He had passed through the unfriendly

territories of the Greek empire, crossed the Hellespont, and defeated

the infidels in several battles, before Richard or Philip had stirred

from home. The Christians of the East were beginning to look with hope

and pride on so great assistance; but they seemed fated to be

unfortunate. Fredrick died (1190) from having thrown his body, heated

by exertion, into the cold river of Cydnus; and his army, like the

others that had gone before it, dwindled into nothing. The united

armies of Richard and Philip followed. In their progress, the feelings

of envy and national hatred rose above the object which had brought

them together. Philip returned, disgusted or dismayed, shortly after

they reached their destination; and Richard was thus left alone to

uphold the glory of European arms. He did it nobly. With a mixed army

of French, German, and English soldiers, amounting in all to 30,000,

Richard performed feats of valor which have not been surpassed in the

history of any time or nation. On the plains of Ascalon, a tremendous

battle was fought with Saladin, and that brave and great man was

defeated, and 40,000 of his soldiers are said to have been left dead

upon the field of battle. But this conquest was unavailing, and the

followers of Richard began to fear that there would be no end to their

struggles. The zeal which had brought so many of them from their

homes, and sustained them so long in absence, at last abated. Saladin

readily concluded a treaty by which Christians might still be

permitted to visit the tomb of Christ unmolested, and Richard left the

Holy Land for ever. It is due to the memory of Saladin (who did not

long survive this period) to state that, after he made himself master

of Jerusalem, he never molested the Christians in their devotions――a

circumstance which, by contrast, reflects infinite disgrace on the

cruel barbarities of the first Crusaders. In his last will he ordered

alms to be distributed among the poor, without distinction of Jew,

Christian, or Mohammedan; intending by this bequest to intimate that

all men are brethren, and that when we would assist them, we ought not

to inquire what they believe, but what they feel――an admirable lesson

to Christians, though from a Mohammedan. But the advantages in

science, in moderation, and humanity, seem at this period to have been

all on the side of the Saracens.

There were no more great Crusades. Considerable bands of private

adventurers still continued to move eastward; but disaster and

disgrace attended every effort, and Europe at last became disheartened

when the bones of two millions of her sons lay whitened on the plains

of Asia, and so little had been accomplished. Nevertheless, in the

year 1202, Baldwin, Count of Flanders, was able to raise another

considerable army for the rescue of the Holy Sepulchre; but having

reached Constantinople at a time when there was a dispute in the

succession to the throne, he readily laid aside the project of the

Crusade, took part in the quarrel, and in the course of five months he

was himself the emperor. The citizens of Venice in Italy, who had lent

their vessels for this enterprise, shared in the triumphs of the

piratical Crusaders: they obtained the Isle of Candia, or Crete.

Baldwin, however, was soon driven from the throne, and murdered;

though the Latins, as his successors from the West were called, kept

possession of Constantinople for fifty-seven years.

At this period (1227) a great revolution took place in Asia. Ghenghis

Khan, at the head of a body of Tartars, broke down from the north upon

Persia and Syria, and massacred indiscriminately Turks, Jews, and

Christians, who opposed them. The European settlements in Palestine

must soon have yielded to these invaders, had not their fate been for

a while retarded by the last attempt at a Crusade under Louis IX of

France. This prince, summoned, as he believed, by Heaven, after four

years’ preparation set out for the Holy Land with his queen, his three

brothers, and all the knights of France (1248). His army began their

enterprise, and we may say ended it also, by an unsuccessful attack on

Egypt. The king went home, and reigned prosperously and wisely for

thirteen years; but the same frenzy again taking possession of him, he

embarked on a Crusade against the Moors in Africa, where his army was

destroyed by a pestilence, and he himself became its victim (1270).

Before the end of the thirteenth century (1291) the Christians were

driven out of all their Asiatic possessions. ‘The only common

enterprise,’ says Robertson, ‘in which the European nations were

engaged, and which they all undertook with equal ardor, remains a

singular monument of human folly.’

The American Encyclopedia of History, Biography and Travel Comprising Ancient and Modern History: the Biography of Eminent Men of Europe and America, and the Lives of Distinguished Travelers. · 第 63 / 251 题