they clambered over the defiles of Mount Taurus; nor could Raymond,
recovering from a terrible illness, or Godfrey, suffering from wounds
inflicted by a bear, have done much to help them. But for the present
their enemies were dismayed; and Baldwin, brother of Godfrey, hastened
with eagerness to obey a summons which besought him to aid the Greek or
Armenian tyrant of Edessa. As Alexius had done to his brother, so this
chief welcomed Baldwin as his son; but Baldwin, having once entered into
the city, cared nothing for the means which had brought him thither, and
the death of his adoptive father was followed by the establishment at
Edessa of a Latin principality which lasted for fifty-four, or, as some
have thought, forty-seven years. Baldwin had anticipated the
unconditional surrender of Samosata; but the Turkish governor had some
of the Edessenes in his power, and he refused to give up the city except
on the payment of ten thousand gold pieces. The Turk shortly afterward
fell into Baldwin's hands, and was put to death.
Meanwhile the main army of the crusaders was advancing toward the Syrian
capital (Antioch), that ancient and luxurious city whose fame had gone
over the whole Roman world for its magnificence, its unbounded wealth,
its soft delights, and its unholy pleasures. The days of its greatest
splendor had passed away. Its walls were partially in ruins; its
buildings were in some parts crumbling away or had already fallen; but
against assailants utterly ignorant and awkward in all that relates to
the blockade of cities it was still a formidable position. Nor could
they invest it until they had passed the iron bridge--so called from its
iron-plated gates--of nine stone arches, which spanned the stream of the
Ifrin at a distance of nine miles from the city. This bridge was carried
by the impetuous charge of Robert of Normandy, aided by the more steady
efforts of Godfrey; and in the language of an age which delighted in
round numbers, a hundred thousand warriors hurried across to seize the
splendid prize which now seemed almost within their grasp.
But the city was in the hands of men who had been long accustomed to
despise the Greeks, and who had not yet learned to respect the valor of
the Latins. Preparing himself for a resolute defence, the Seljukian
governor Baghasian had sent away as useless, if not mischievous, most of
the Christians within the town; and the crusading chiefs had begun to
discuss the prudence of postponing all operations till the spring, when
Raymond of Toulouse with some other chiefs insisted that delay would
imply fear, and that the imputation of cowardice would insure the
paralysis of their enterprise. The city was therefore at once invested,
so far as the forces of the crusaders could suffice to encircle it; and
a siege began which in the eyes of the military historian must be
absolutely without interest, and of which the issue was decided by
paroxysms of fanatical vehemence on the one side, and by lack, not of
bravery, but of generalship on the other. Of the eastern and northern
walls the blockade was complete; of the west it was partial; and the
failure to invest a portion of the western wall, with two out of the
five gates of the city, left the movements of the Turks in this
direction free.
But the besiegers were in no hurry to begin the work of death. The
wealth of the harvest and the vintage spread before them its
irresistible temptations, and the herds feeding in the rich pastures
seemed to promise an endless feast. The cattle, the corn, and the wine
were alike wasted with besotted folly, while the Turks within the walls
received tidings, it is said, of all that passed in the crusading camp
from some Greek and Armenian Christians to whom they allowed free egress
and ingress. Of this knowledge they availed themselves in planning the
sallies by which they caused great distress to the besiegers, whose
clumsy engines and devices seemed to produce no result beyond the waste
of time, and who felt perhaps that they had done something when they
blocked up the gate of the bridge with huge stones dug from the
neighboring quarries.
Three months passed away, and the crusaders found themselves not
conquerors, but in desperate straits from famine. The winter rains had
turned the land round their camp into a swamp, and lack of food left
them more and more unable to resist the pestilential diseases which were
rapidly thinning their numbers. A foraging expedition under Bohemond and
Tancred filled the camp with food; it was again recklessly wasted. The
second famine scared away Tatikios, the lieutenant of the Greek emperor
Alexius; but the crusading chiefs were perhaps still more disgusted by
the desertion of William of Melun, called "the Carpenter," from the
sledgehammer blows which he dealt out in battle. Hunger obtained a
victory even over the hermit Peter, who was stealing away with William
of Melun, when he with his companion was caught by Tancred and brought
back to the tent of Bohemond.
For a moment the look of things was changed by the arrival of
ambassadors from Egypt. To the Fatimite caliph of that country the
progress of the crusading arms had thus far brought with it but little
dissatisfaction. The humiliation of the Seljukian Turks could not fail
to bring gain to himself, if the flood of Latin conquests could be
checked and turned back in time. His generals besieged Jerusalem and
Tyre; and when the Fatimite once more ruled in Palestine, his envoys
hastened to the crusaders' camp to announce the deliverance of the Holy
Land from its oppressors, to assure to all unarmed and peaceable
pilgrims a month's unmolested sojourn in Jerusalem, and to promise them
his aid during their march, on condition that they should acknowledge
his supremacy within the limits of his Syrian empire.
The arguments and threats of the Caliph were alike thrown away. The
Latin chiefs disclaimed all interest in the feuds and quarrels of rival
sultans and in the fortunes of Mahometan sects. God himself had destined
Jerusalem for the Christians, and if any held it who were not
Christians, these were usurpers whose resistance must be punished by
their expulsion or their death. The envoys departed not encouraged by
this answer, and still more perplexed by the appearance of plenty and by
the magnificence of a camp in which they had expected to see a terrible
spectacle of disorder and misery.
The resolute persistence of the besiegers convinced Baghasian of the
need of reinforcements. These were hastening to him from Caesarea,
Aleppo, and other places, when they were cut off by Bohemond and
Raymond, who sent a multitude of heads to the envoys of the Fatimite
Caliph, and discharged many hundreds from their engines into the city of
Antioch. The Turks had their opportunity for reprisals when the arrival
of some Pisan and Genoese ships at the mouth of the Orontes drew off the
greater part of the besieging army. The crusaders were returning with
provisions and arms, when their enemies started upon them from an
ambuscade. The battle was fierce; but the defeat of Raymond, which
threatened dire disaster, was changed into victory on the arrival of
Godfrey and the Norman Robert, whose exploits equalled or surpassed, if
we are to believe the story, even those of Arthur, Lancelot, or
Tristram. Hundreds, if not thousands, of Turks fell. Their bodies were
buried by their comrades in the cemetery without the walls: the
Christians dug them up, severed the heads from the trunks, and paraded
the ghastly trophies on their pikes, not forgetting to send a goodly
number to the Egyptian Caliph, by way of showing how his Seljukian
friends or enemies had fared. The picture is disgusting; but if we shut
our eyes to these loathsome details, the truth of the history is gone.
We are dealing with the wars of savages, and it is right that we should
know this.
The next scene exhibits Godfrey and Bohemond in fierce quarrel about a
splendid tent, which, being intended as a gift for the former, had been
seized by an Armenian chief and sent to the latter. But there was now
more serious business on hand. Rumor spoke of the near approach of a
Persian army, and the besieged, under the plea of wishing to arrange
terms of capitulation, obtained a truce which they sought probably only
for the sake of gaining time. The days passed by, but no offers were
made; and their disposition was shown by seizing a crusading knight in
the groves near the city and tearing his body in pieces. The Latins
returned with increased fury to the siege: but the defence, although
more feeble, was still protracted, and Bohemond began to feel not only
that fraud might succeed where force had failed, but that from fraud he
might reap, not safety merely, but wealth and greatness. His plans were
laid with a renegade Christian named Phirouz, high in the favor of the
governor, with whom he had come into contact either during the truce or
in some other way. By splendid promises he insured the zealous aid of
his new ally, and then came forward in the council with the assurance
that he could place the city in their hands, but that he could do this
only on condition that he should rule in Antioch as Baldwin ruled in
Edessa. His claim was angrily opposed by the Provençal Raymond; but this
opposition was overruled, and it was resolved that the plan should be
carried out at once.
There was need for so doing. Rumors spread within the city that some
attempt was to be made to betray the place to the besiegers, and hints
or open accusations pointed out Phirouz as the traitor. Like other
traitors, the renegade thought it best to anticipate the charge by
urging that the guards of the towers should on the very next day be
changed. His proposal was received as indubitable proof of his innocence
and his faithfulness; but he had made up his mind that Antioch should
fall that night, and that night by means of a rope ladder Bohemond with
about sixty followers (the ropes broke before more could ascend) climbed
up the wall. Seizing ten towers, of which all the guards were killed,
they opened a gate, and the Christian host rushed in. The banner of
Bohemond rose on one of the towers; the trumpets sounded for the onset,
and a carnage began in which at first the assailants took no heed to
distinguish between the Christian and the Turk. In the awful confusion
of the moment some of the besieged made their way to the citadel, and
there shut themselves in, ready to resist to the death. Of the rest few
escaped; ten thousand, it is said, were massacred. Baghasian with some
friends passed out beyond the besiegers' lines, but, fainting from loss
of blood, he fell from his horse, and his companions hurried on. A
Syrian Christian heard his groans, and striking off his head carried the
prize to the camp of the conquerors. Phirouz lived to be a second time a
renegade, and to close his career as a thief.
The victory was for the crusaders a change from famine to abundance; and
their feasting was accompanied by the wildest riot and the most filthy
debauchery. But if heedless waste may have been one of the most venial
of their sins, it was the greatest of their blunders. The reports which
spoke of the approach of the Persians were not false. The Turks within
the citadel suddenly found that they were rather besiegers than
besieged, and that the Christians' were hemmed in by the myriads of
Kerboga, Prince of Mosul, and the warriors of Kilidje Arslan. The old
horrors of famine were now repeated, but in greater intensity; and the
doom of the Latin host seemed now to be sealed.
Stephen, Count of Chartres, had deserted his companions before the fall
of the city; others now followed his example, and with him set out on
their return to Europe. In Phrygia, Stephen encountered the emperor
Alexius, who was marching to the aid of the crusaders, not only with a
Greek army, but with a force of well-appointed pilgrims who had reached
Constantinople after the departure of Godfrey and his fellows. The story
told by Stephen drove out of his head every thought except that of his
own safety. The order for retreat was given; and the pilgrim warriors,
not less than the Greeks, were compelled to turn their faces westward.
In Antioch the crusading soldiers were fast sinking into utter despair.
Discipline had well-nigh come to an end, and so obstinate was their
refusal to bear arms any longer that Bohemond resolved to burn them out
of their quarters. These were consumed by the flames, which spread so
rapidly as to fill him with fear that he had destroyed, not only their
dwellings, but his whole principality. His experiment brought the men
back to their duty; but so despondingly was their work done that but for
some signal succor the end, it was manifest, must soon come. In a
credulous age such succor at the darkest hour, if obtained at all, will
generally be obtained through miracle. A Lombard priest came forward, to
whom St. Ambrose of Milan had declared in a vision that the third year
of the crusade should see the conquest of Jerusalem; another had seen
the Saviour himself, attended by his Virgin Mother and the Prince of the
Apostles, had heard from his lips a stern rebuke of the crusaders for
yielding to the seductions of pagan women--as if the profession of
Christianity altered the color and the guilt of a vice--and lastly had
received the distinct assurance that in five days they should have the
help which they needed.
The hopes of the crusaders were roused; with hope came a return of
vigorous energy; and Peter Barthelemy, chaplain to Raymond of Toulouse,
seized the opportunity for recounting a vision which was to be something
more than a dream. To him St. Andrew had revealed the fact that in the
Church of St. Peter lay hidden the steel head of the spear which had
pierced the side of the Redeemer as he hung upon the cross; and that
Holy Lance should win them victory over all their enemies as surely as
the spear which imparted irresistible power to the Knight of the
Sangreal. After two days of special devotion they were to search for the
long-lost weapon; on the third day the workmen began to dig, but until
the sun had set they toiled in vain. The darkness of night made it
easier for the chaplain to play the part which Sir Walter Scott, in the
_Antiquary_, assigns to Herman Dousterswivel in the ruins of St. Ruth.
Barefooted and with a single garment the priest went down into the pit.
For a time the strokes of his spade were heard, and then the sacred
relic was found, carefully wrapped in a veil of silk and gold. The
priest proclaimed his discovery; the people rushed into the church; and
from the church throughout the city spread the flame of a fierce
enthusiasm.
Nine or ten months later Peter Barthelemy paid the penalty of his life
for his fraud or his superstition. A bribe taken by his master Raymond
brought that chief into ill odor with his comrades, and let loose
against his chaplain the tongue of Arnold, the chaplain of Bohemond.
Raymond had traded on fresh visions of his clerk; and Arnold boldly
attacked him in his citadel by denying the genuineness of the Holy
Lance. Peter appealed to the ordeal of fire. He passed through the
flames, as it seemed, unhurt. The bystanders pressed to feel his flesh,
and were vehement in their rejoicings at the result which vindicated his
integrity. He had really received fatal injuries. Twelve days afterward
he died, and Raymond suffered greatly in his dignity and his influence.
The infidel was doomed; but the crusaders resolved to give him one
chance of escape. Peter the Hermit was sent as their envoy to Kerboga to
offer the alternative of departure from a land which St. Peter had
bestowed on the faithful, or of baptism which should leave him master of
the city and territory of Antioch. The reply was short and decisive. The
Turk would not embrace an idolatry which he hated and despised, nor
would he give up soil which belonged to him by right of conquest. The
report of the hermit raised the spirit of the crusaders to fever heat;
and on the feast of St. Peter and St. Paul they marched out in twelve
divisions, in remembrance of the mission of the Twelve Apostles, while
Raymond of Toulouse remained to prevent the escape of the Turks shut up
in the citadel. The Holy Lance was borne by the papal legate, Adhemar,
Bishop of Puy; and the morning air laden with the perfume of roses was
now regarded as a sign assuring them of the divine favor. They were
prepared to see good omens in everything; and they went in full
confidence that departed saints would, as they had been told, take part
in the battle and smite down the infidel. The fight--one of brute force
on the Christian side, of some little skill as well as strength on the
other--had gone on for some time when such help seemed to become
needful. Tancred had hurried to the aid of Bohemond, who was grievously
pressed by Kilidje Arslan; and Kerboga was bearing heavily on Godfrey
and Hugh of Vermandois, when, clothed in white armor and riding on white
horses, some human forms were seen on the neighboring heights. "The
saints are coming to your aid," shouted the Bishop of Puy, and the
people saw in these radiant strangers the martyrs St. George, St.
Maurice, and St. Theodore.
Without awaiting their nearer approach the crusaders turned on the enemy
with a force and fury which were now irresistible. Their cavalry could
do little. Two hundred horses only remained of the sixty thousand which
had filled the plain a few months before. But the hedge of spears
advanced like a wall of iron, and the Turks gave way, broke, and fled.
It was rout, not retreat; and with the crusaders victory was followed by
the massacre of men, women, and children. The garrison in the citadel at
once surrendered. Some declared themselves Christians and were baptized;
those who refused to abandon Islam were taken to the nearest Mohametan
territory. The city was the prize of Bohemond; and in his keeping it
remained, although Raymond of Toulouse had made an effort to seize it by
hoisting his banner on the walls. The work of pillage being ended, the
churches were cleansed and repaired, and their altars blazed with golden
spoils taken from the infidel. The Greek Patriarch was again seated on
his throne; but he held his office at the good pleasure of the Latins,
and two years later he was made to give place to Bernard, a chaplain of
the Bishop of Puy.
Ten months had passed away after the conquest of Antioch when the main
body of the crusading army set out on its march to Jerusalem. They had
wished to depart at once, but their chiefs dreaded to encounter
waterless wastes at the end of a Syrian summer, and for the present they
were content to send Hugh of Vermandois and Baldwin of Hainault as
envoys to the Greek Emperor, to reproach him with his remissness or his
want of faith. But the miseries endured by Christians and Turks were the
pleasantest tidings in the ears of Alexius, for in the weakening of both
lay his own strength; and he saw with satisfaction the departure of
Hugh, not for Antioch, but for Europe, whither Stephen of Chartres had
preceded him.
Winter came, but the chiefs still lingered at Antioch. Some were
occupied in expeditions against neighboring cities; but a more pressing
care was the plague which punished the foulness and disorder of the
pilgrims. A band of fifteen hundred Germans, recently landed in strong
health and full equipments, were all, it is said, cut off; and among the
victims the most lamented perhaps was the papal legate Adhemar. A
feeling of discouragement was again spreading through the army
generally. The chiefs vainly entreated the Pope to visit the city where
the disciples of St. Peter first received the Christian name; the people
were disheartened by the animosities and the selfish or crooked policy
of their chiefs. Raymond still hankered after the principality of
Antioch, and insisted that Bohemond and his people should share in the
last great enterprise of the crusade. More disgraceful than these feuds
were the scenes witnessed during the siege and after the conquest of
Marra. Heedlessness and waste soon brought the assailants to devour the
flesh of dogs and of human beings. The bodies of Turks were torn from
their sepulchres, ripped up for the gold which they were supposed to
have swallowed, and the fragments cooked and eaten. Of the besieged many
slew themselves to avoid falling into the hands of the Christians; to
some Bohemond, tempted by a large bribe, gave an assurance of safety.
When the massacre had begun he ordered these to be brought forward. The
weak and old he slaughtered; the rest he sent to the slave markets of
Antioch.
A weak attempt made by Alexius to detain the crusaders only spurred them
to more vigorous efforts. They had already left Antioch, and Laodicea
was in their hands, when he desired them to await his coming in June.
The chiefs, remembering the departure of Tatikios with his Byzantine
troops for Cyprus, retorted that he had broken his compact, and had
therefore no further claims on their obedience. Hastening on their way,
they crossed the plain of Berytos (Beyrout), overlooked by the eternal
snows of Lebanon, along the narrow strip of land whence the great
Phoenician cities had sent their seamen and their colonists, with all
the wealth of the East, to the shores of the Adriatic and the gates of
the Mediterranean. Having reached Jaffa, they turned inland to Ramlah, a
town sixteen miles only from Jerusalem.
Two days later the crusaders came in sight of the Holy City, the object
of their long pilgrimage, the cause of wretchedness and death to
millions. As their eyes rested on the scene hallowed to them through all
the associations of their faith, the crusaders passed in an instant from
fierce enthusiasm to a humiliation which showed itself in sighs and
tears. All fell on their knees, to kiss the sacred earth and to pour
forth thanksgivings that they had been suffered to look upon the desire
of their eyes. Putting aside their armor and their weapons, they
advanced in pilgrim's garb and with bare feet toward the spot which the
Saviour had trodden in the hours of his agony and his passion.
But before their feelings of devotion could be indulged, there was other
work to be done. The chiefs took up their posts on those sides from
which the nature of the ground gave most hope of a successful assault.
On the northern side were Godfrey and Tancred, Robert of Flanders, and
Robert of Normandy; on the west Raymond with his Provençals. On the
fifth day, without siege instruments, with only one ladder, and trusting
to mere weight, the crusaders made a desperate assault upon the walls.
Some succeeded in reaching the summit, and the very rashness of their
attack struck terror for a moment into their enemies. But the garrison
soon rallied, and the invaders were all driven back or hurled from the
ramparts. The task, it was manifest, must be undertaken in a more formal
manner. Siege engines must be made, and the palm and olive of the
immediate neighborhood would not supply fit materials for their
construction.