preaching, it will be advisable to cast a glance at the state of the mind
of Europe, that we may understand all the better the causes of his
success. First of all, there was the priesthood, which, exercising as it
did the most conspicuous influence upon the fortunes of society, claims
the largest share of attention. Religion was the ruling idea of that day,
and the only civiliser capable of taming such wolves as then constituted
the flock of the faithful. The clergy were all in all; and though they
kept the popular mind in the most slavish subjection with regard to
religious matters, they furnished it with the means of defence against all
other oppression except their own. In the ecclesiastical ranks were
concentrated all the true piety, all the learning, all the wisdom of the
time; and, as a natural consequence, a great portion of power, which their
very wisdom perpetually incited them to extend. The people knew nothing of
kings and nobles, except in the way of injuries inflicted. The first ruled
for, or more properly speaking against, the barons, and the barons only
existed to brave the power of the kings, or to trample with their iron
heels upon the neck of prostrate democracy. The latter had no friend but
the clergy, and these, though they necessarily instilled the superstition
from which they themselves were not exempt, yet taught the cheering
doctrine that all men were equal in the sight of heaven. Thus, while
Feudalism told them they had no rights in this world, Religion told them
they had every right in the next. With this consolation they were for the
time content, for political ideas had as yet taken no root. When the
clergy, for other reasons, recommended the Crusade, the people joined in
it with enthusiasm. The subject of Palestine filled all minds; the
pilgrims' tales of two centuries warmed every imagination; and when their
friends, their guides, and their instructors preached a war so much in
accordance with their own prejudices and modes of thinking, the enthusiasm
rose into a frenzy.
But while religion inspired the masses, another agent was at work upon the
nobility. These were fierce and lawless; tainted with every vice, endowed
with no virtue, and redeemed by one good quality alone, that of courage.
The only religion they felt was the religion of fear. That and their
overboiling turbulence alike combined to guide them to the Holy Land. Most
of them had sins enough to answer for. They lived with their hand against
every man, and with no law but their own passions. They set at defiance
the secular power of the clergy; but their hearts quailed at the awful
denunciations of the pulpit with regard to the life to come. War was the
business and the delight of their existence; and when they were promised
remission of all their sins upon the easy condition of following their
favourite bent, it is not to be wondered at that they rushed with
enthusiasm to the onslaught, and became as zealous in the service of the
cross as the great majority of the people, who were swayed by more purely
religious motives. Fanaticism and the love of battle alike impelled them
to the war, while the kings and princes of Europe had still another motive
for encouraging their zeal. Policy opened their eyes to the great
advantages which would accrue to themselves by the absence of so many
restless, intriguing, and bloodthirsty men, whose insolence it required
more than the small power of royalty to restrain within due bounds. Thus
every motive was favourable to the Crusades. Every class of society was
alike incited to join or encourage the war: kings and the clergy by
policy, the nobles by turbulence and the love of dominion, and the people
by religious zeal and the concentrated enthusiasm of two centuries,
skilfully directed by their only instructors.
It was in Palestine itself that Peter the Hermit first conceived the grand
idea of rousing the powers of Christendom to rescue the Christians of the
East from the thraldom of the Mussulmans, and the sepulchre of Jesus from
the rude hands of the infidel. The subject engrossed his whole mind. Even
in the visions of the night he was full of it. One dream made such an
impression upon him, that he devoutly believed the Saviour of the world
himself appeared before him, and promised him aid and protection in his
holy undertaking. If his zeal had ever wavered before, this was sufficient
to fix it for ever.
Peter, after he had performed all the penances and duties of his
pilgrimage, demanded an interview with Simeon, the Patriarch of the Greek
Church at Jerusalem. Though the latter was a heretic in Peter's eyes, yet
he was still a Christian, and felt as acutely as himself for the
persecutions heaped by the Turks upon the followers of Jesus. The good
prelate entered fully into his views, and, at his suggestion, wrote
letters to the Pope, and to the most influential monarchs of Christendom,
detailing the sorrows of the faithful, and urging them to take up arms in
their defence. Peter was not a laggard in the work. Taking an affectionate
farewell of the Patriarch, he returned in all haste to Italy. Pope Urban
II. occupied the apostolic chair. It was at that time far from being an
easy seat. His predecessor Gregory had bequeathed him a host of disputes
with the Emperor Henry IV. of Germany, and he had converted Philip I. of
France into an enemy by his strenuous opposition to an adulterous
connexion formed by that monarch. So many dangers encompassed him, that
the Vatican was no secure abode, and he had taken refuge in Apulia, under
the protection of the renowned Robert Guiscard. Thither Peter appears to
have followed him, though in what spot their meeting took place is not
stated with any precision by ancient chroniclers or modern historians.
Urban received him most kindly; read, with tears in his eyes, the epistle
from the Patriarch Simeon, and listened to the eloquent story of the
Hermit with an attention which shewed how deeply he sympathised with the
woes of the Christian Church. Enthusiasm is contagious; and the Pope
appears to have caught it instantly from one whose zeal was so unbounded.
Giving the Hermit full powers, he sent him abroad to preach the holy war
to all the nations and potentates of Christendom. The Hermit preached, and
countless thousands answered to his call. France, Germany, and Italy
started at his voice, and prepared for the deliverance of Zion. One of the
early historians of the Crusade, who was himself an eye-witness of the
rapture of Europe,[1] describes the personal appearance of the Hermit at
this time. He says, that there appeared to be something of divine in every
thing which he said or did. The people so highly reverenced him, that they
plucked hairs from the mane of his mule that they might keep them as
relics. While preaching, he wore in general a woollen tunic, with a
dark-coloured mantle, which fell down to his heels. His arms and feet were
bare; and he ate neither flesh nor bread, supporting himself chiefly upon
fish and wine. "He set out," says the chronicler, "from whence I know not;
but we saw him passing through the towns and villages, preaching every
where, and the people surrounding him in crowds, loading him with
offerings, and celebrating his sanctity with such great praises, that I
never remember to have seen such honours bestowed upon any one." Thus he
went on, untired, inflexible, and full of devotion, communicating his own
madness to his hearers, until Europe was stirred from its very depths.
[1] Guibert de Nogent.
While the Hermit was appealing with such signal success to the people, the
Pope appealed with as much success to those who were to become the chiefs
and leaders of the expedition. His first step was to call a council at
Placentia, in the autumn of the year 1095. Here, in the assembly of the
clergy, the Pope debated the grand scheme, and gave audience to emissaries
who had been sent from Constantinople by the Emperor of the East, to
detail the progress made by the Turks in their design of establishing
themselves in Europe. The clergy were of course unanimous in support of
the Crusade; and the council separated, each individual member of it being
empowered to preach it to his people.
But Italy could not be expected to furnish all the aid required; and the
Pope crossed the Alps to inspire the fierce and powerful nobility and
chivalrous population of Gaul. His boldness in entering the territory, and
placing himself in the power of his foe, King Philip of France, is not the
least surprising feature of his mission. Some have imagined that cool
policy alone actuated him; while others assert that it was mere zeal, as
warm and as blind as that of Peter the Hermit. The latter opinion seems to
be the true one. Society did not calculate the consequences of what it was
doing. Every man seemed to act from impulse only; and the Pope, in
throwing himself into the heart of France, acted as much from impulse as
the thousands who responded to his call. A council was eventually summoned
to meet him at Clermont, in Auvergne, to consider the state of the Church,
reform abuses, and, above all, make preparations for the war. It was in
the midst of an extremely cold winter, and the ground was covered with
snow. During seven days the council sat with closed doors, while immense
crowds from all parts of France flocked into the town, in expectation that
the Pope himself would address the people. All the towns and villages for
miles around were filled with the multitude; even the fields were
encumbered with people, who, unable to procure lodging, pitched their
tents under the trees and by the way-side. All the neighbourhood presented
the appearance of a vast camp.
[Illustration: THE CATHEDRAL OF CLERMONT.]
During the seven days' deliberation, a sentence of excommunication was
passed upon King Philip for adultery with Bertrade de Montfort, Countess
of Anjou, and for disobedience to the supreme authority of the apostolic
see. This bold step impressed the people with reverence for so stern a
Church, which in the discharge of its duty shewed itself no respecter of
persons. Their love and their fear were alike increased, and they were
prepared to listen with more intense devotion to the preaching of so
righteous and inflexible a pastor. The great square before the cathedral
church of Clermont became every instant more densely crowded as the hour
drew nigh when the Pope was to address the populace. Issuing from the
church in his full canonicals, surrounded by his cardinals and bishops in
all the splendour of Romish ecclesiastical costume, the Pope stood before
the populace on a high scaffolding erected for the occasion, and covered
with scarlet cloth. A brilliant array of bishops and cardinals surrounded
him; and among them, humbler in rank, but more important in the world's
eye, the Hermit Peter, dressed in his simple and austere habiliments.
Historians differ as to whether or not Peter addressed the crowd, but as
all agree that he was present, it seems reasonable to suppose that he
spoke. But it was the oration of the Pope that was most important. As he
lifted up his hands to ensure attention, every voice immediately became
still. He began by detailing the miseries endured by their brethren in the
Holy Land; how the plains of Palestine were desolated by the outrageous
heathen, who with the sword and the firebrand carried wailing into the
dwellings and flames into the possessions of the faithful; how Christian
wives and daughters were defiled by pagan lust; how the altars of the true
God were desecrated, and the relics of the saints trodden under foot.
"You," continued the eloquent pontiff (and Urban II. was one of the most
eloquent men of the day), "you, who hear me, and who have received the
true faith, and been endowed by God with power, and strength, and
greatness of soul,--whose ancestors have been the prop of Christendom, and
whose kings have put a barrier against the progress of the infidel,--I
call upon you to wipe off these impurities from the face of the earth, and
lift your oppressed fellow-Christians from the depths into which they have
been trampled. The sepulchre of Christ is possessed by the heathen, the
sacred places dishonoured by their vileness. Oh, brave knights and
faithful people! offspring of invincible fathers! ye will not degenerate
from your ancient renown. Ye will not be restrained from embarking in this
great cause by the tender ties of wife or little ones, but will remember
the words of the Saviour of the world himself, 'Whosoever loves father and
mother more than me is not worthy of me. Whosoever shall abandon for my
name's sake his house, or his brethren, or his sisters, or his father, or
his mother, or his wife, or his children, or his lands, shall receive a
hundredfold, and shall inherit eternal life.'"
The warmth of the Pontiff communicated itself to the crowd, and the
enthusiasm of the people broke out several times ere he concluded his
address. He went on to portray, not only the spiritual but the temporal
advantages that would accrue to those who took up arms in the service of
the cross. Palestine was, he said, a land flowing with milk and honey, and
precious in the sight of God, as the scene of the grand events which had
saved mankind. That land, he promised, should be divided among them.
Moreover, they should have full pardon for all their offences, either
against God or man. "Go, then," he added, "in expiation of your sins; and
go assured, that after this world shall have passed away, imperishable
glory shall be yours in the world which is to come." The enthusiasm was no
longer to be restrained, and loud shouts interrupted the speaker; the
people exclaiming as if with one voice, "_Dieu le veult! Dieu le veult!_"
With great presence of mind Urban took advantage of the outburst, and as
soon as silence was obtained, continued: "Dear brethren, to-day is shewn
forth in you that which the Lord has said by his Evangelist, 'When two or
three are gathered together in my name, there will I be in the midst of
them to bless them.' If the Lord God had not been in your souls, you would
not all have pronounced the same words; or rather God himself pronounced
them by your lips, for it was he that put them in your hearts. Be they,
then, your war-cry in the combat, for those words came forth from God. Let
the army of the Lord, when it rushes upon his enemies, shout but that one
cry, '_Dieu le veult! Dieu le veult!_' Let whoever is inclined to devote
himself to this holy cause make it a solemn engagement, and bear the cross
of the Lord either on his breast or his brow till he set out; and let him
who is ready to begin his march place the holy emblem on his shoulders, in
memory of that precept of our Saviour, 'He who does not take up his cross
and follow me is not worthy of me.'"
The news of this council spread to the remotest parts of Europe in an
incredibly short space of time. Long before the fleetest horseman could
have brought the intelligence, it was known by the people in distant
provinces; a fact which was considered as nothing less than supernatural.
But the subject was in every body's mouth, and the minds of men were
prepared for the result. The enthusiastic merely asserted what they
wished, and the event tallied with their prediction. This was, however,
quite enough in those days for a miracle, and as a miracle every one
regarded it.
For several months after the Council of Clermont, France and Germany
presented a singular spectacle. The pious, the fanatic, the needy, the
dissolute, the young and the old, even women and children, and the halt
and lame, enrolled themselves by hundreds. In every village the clergy
were busied in keeping up the excitement, promising eternal rewards to
those who assumed the red cross, and fulminating the most awful
denunciations against all the worldly-minded who refused or even
hesitated. Every debtor who joined the Crusade was freed by the papal
edict from the claims of his creditors; outlaws of every grade were made
equal with the honest upon the same conditions. The property of those who
went was placed under the protection of the Church, and St. Paul and St.
Peter themselves were believed to descend from their high abode, to watch
over the chattels of the absent pilgrims. Signs and portents were seen in
the air, to increase the fervour of the multitude. An aurora-borealis of
unusual brilliancy appeared, and thousands of the Crusaders came out to
gaze upon it, prostrating themselves upon the earth in adoration. It was
thought to be a sure prognostic of the interposition of the Most High; and
a representation of his armies fighting with and overthrowing the
infidels. Reports of wonders were every where rife. A monk had seen two
gigantic warriors on horseback, the one representing a Christian and the
other a Turk, fighting in the sky with flaming swords, the Christian of
course overcoming the Paynim. Myriads of stars were said to have fallen
from heaven, each representing the fall of a Pagan foe. It was believed at
the same time that the Emperor Charlemagne would rise from the grave, and
lead on to victory the embattled armies of the Lord. A singular feature of
the popular madness was the enthusiasm of the women. Every where they
encouraged their lovers and husbands to forsake all things for the holy
war. Many of them burned the sign of the cross upon their breasts and
arms, and coloured the wound with a red dye, as a lasting memorial of
their zeal. Others, still more zealous, impressed the mark by the same
means upon the tender limbs of young children and infants at the breast.
Guibert de Nogent tells of a monk who made a large incision upon his
forehead in the form of a cross, which he coloured with some powerful
ingredient, telling the people that an angel had done it when he was
asleep. This monk appears to have been more of a rogue than a fool, for he
contrived to fare more sumptuously than any of his brother pilgrims, upon
the strength of his sanctity. The Crusaders every where gave him presents
of food and money, and he became quite fat ere he arrived at Jerusalem,
notwithstanding the fatigues of the way. If he had acknowledged in the
first place that he had made the wound himself, he would not have been
thought more holy than his fellows; but the story of the angel was a
clincher.
All those who had property of any description rushed to the mart to change
it into hard cash. Lands and houses could be had for a quarter of their
value, while arms and accoutrements of war rose in the same proportion.
Corn, which had been excessively dear in anticipation of a year of
scarcity, suddenly became plentiful; and such was the diminution in the
value of provisions, that seven sheep were sold for five _deniers_.[2] The
nobles mortgaged their estates for mere trifles to Jews and unbelievers,
or conferred charters of immunity upon the towns and communes within their
fiefs, for sums which, a few years previously, they would have rejected
with disdain. The farmer endeavoured to sell his plough, and the artisan
his tools, to purchase a sword for the deliverance of Jerusalem. Women
disposed of their trinkets for the same purpose. During the spring and
summer of this year (1096) the roads teemed with crusaders, all hastening
to the towns and villages appointed as the rendezvous of the district.
Some were on horseback, some in carts, and some came down the rivers in
boats and rafts, bringing their wives and children, all eager to go to
Jerusalem. Very few knew where Jerusalem was. Some thought it fifty
thousand miles away, and others imagined that it was but a month's
journey; while at sight of every town or castle the children exclaimed,
"Is that Jerusalem? Is that the city?"[3] Parties of knights and nobles
might be seen travelling eastward, and amusing themselves as they went
with the knightly diversion of hawking, to lighten the fatigues of the
way.
[2] Guibert de Nogent.
[3] Guibert de Nogent.
Guibert de Nogent, who did not write from hearsay, but from actual
observation, says the enthusiasm was so contagious, that when any one
heard the orders of the Pontiff, he went instantly to solicit his
neighbours and friends to join with him in "the way of God," for so they
called the proposed expedition. The Counts Palatine were full of the
desire to undertake the journey, and all the inferior knights were
animated with the same zeal. Even the poor caught the flame so ardently,
that no one paused to think of the inadequacy of his means, or to consider
whether he ought to yield up his farm, his vineyard, or his fields. Each
one set about selling his property at as low a price as if he had been
held in some horrible captivity, and sought to pay his ransom without loss
of time. Those who had not determined upon the journey joked and laughed
at those who were thus disposing of their goods at such ruinous prices,
prophesying that the expedition would be miserable and their return worse.
But they held this language only for a day; the next they were suddenly
seized with the same frenzy as the rest. Those who had been loudest in
their jeers gave up all their property for a few crowns, and set out with
those they had so laughed at a few hours before. In most cases the laugh
was turned against them; for when it became known that a man was
hesitating, his more zealous neighbours sent him a present of a
knitting-needle or a distaff, to shew their contempt of him. There was no
resisting this; so that the fear of ridicule contributed its fair
contingent to the armies of the Lord.
Another effect of the Crusade was, the religious obedience with which it
inspired the people and the nobility for that singular institution "The
Truce of God." At the commencement of the eleventh century, the clergy of
France, sympathising for the woes of the people, but unable to diminish
them, by repressing the rapacity and insolence of the feudal chiefs,
endeavoured to promote universal good-will by the promulgation of the
famous "Peace of God." All who conformed to it bound themselves by oath
not to take revenge for any injury, not to enjoy the fruits of property
usurped from others, nor to use deadly weapons; in reward of which they
would receive remission of all their sins. However benevolent the
intention of this "Peace," it led to nothing but perjury, and violence
reigned as uncontrolled as before. In the year 1041, another attempt was
made to soften the angry passions of the semi-barbarous chiefs, and the
"Truce of God" was solemnly proclaimed. The _truce_ lasted from the
Wednesday evening to the Monday morning of every week, in which interval
it was strictly forbidden to recur to violence on any pretext, or to seek
revenge for any injury. It was impossible to civilise men by these means.
Few even promised to become peaceable for so unconscionable a period as
five days a-week; or if they did, they made ample amends on the two days
left open to them. The truce was afterwards shortened from the Saturday
evening to the Monday morning; but little or no diminution of violence and
bloodshed was the consequence. At the Council of Clermont, Urban II. again
solemnly proclaimed the truce. So strong was the religious feeling, that
every one hastened to obey. All minor passions disappeared before the
grand passion of crusading. The feudal chief ceased to oppress, the robber
to plunder, the people to complain; but one idea was in all hearts, and
there seemed to be no room for any other.