BOOK V.

Previous

——

A.D. 1099-1148.

I have related the disasters, the labours, and the conquests of the first Crusaders; I now direct my attention to the kingdom which was founded by their victories, the perils of which several times summoned the nations of the West to arms. If the recital of a war filled with adventures and prodigies has excited the curiosity and surprise of my readers, I trust they will not refuse to follow with me the progress of that distant kingdom, which was the fruit of so many exploits and so much glory, which cost so much blood and so many tears. After having beheld the countless crowds of pilgrims setting out for the deliverance of the Holy Land, who will not be astonished to see two or three hundred brave knights, the glorious remains of the Christian armies, suffice for the defence of the provinces and cities conquered by the united powers of the West? What spectacle can create more profound reflection in the minds of thinking and enlightened men, than that of a new people, cast, as it were by a tempest, on a foreign shore, in the midst of a country from which the arms, religion, and customs of numerous nations are unceasingly employed to expel them?

The country in which the Crusaders had just established themselves, and which the monuments of religion and history rendered so dear to the nations of the West, constituted the kingdoms of Judah and Israel of antiquity. When the Romans carried their arms into this country, its new masters added to the name which the Jews had given it that of Palestine, or the country of the Palestinians. It was bounded on the south and east by the deserts of Arabia and Idumea, on the west by the Mediterranean, and on the north by the mountains Libanus.

At the period of the crusades, as at the present time, a great part of the soil of Palestine, upon which rise the barren mountains of Sion, Hebron, Hebal, and GelboËi, presented the aspect of a land upon which the curses of Heaven had fallen. This land, formerly promised to the elect people of God, had several times changed inhabitants. All the sects, all the dynasties of the Mussulmans, had disputed the possession of it sword in hand, and revolutions and wars had left numerous memorable ruins in its capital, and in the greater part of its provinces. The religious ideas of the Mussulmans and the Christians seemed alone to give importance to the conquest of Judea; history must, however, guard against the exaggeration with which certain travellers have spoken of the sterility of this unfortunate country.[224] Amidst the calamities which, during many ages, desolated the provinces of Palestine, some traces of its ancient splendour may still be perceived. The shores of the Lake of Galilee and of the Jordan, some valleys watered by the Besor, the Arnou, and the Jaboc, and the plains contiguous to the sea which war had not ravaged, still recalled by their fertility the promises of Scripture. Palestine yet boasted some nourishing cities, and several of its ports offered a commodious asylum to the vessels of Asia and Europe.

In the condition of Palestine at that time, if the territory had been entirely subject to Godfrey, the new king might have equalled in power the greater part of the Mussulman princes of Asia; but the young kingdom of Jerusalem consisted but of the capital and about twenty cities or towns in its neighbourhood. Several of these cities were separated by places still occupied by the infidels. A fortress in the hands of the Christians was near to a fortress over which floated the standard of Mahomet. In the surrounding country dwelt Turks, Arabs, and Egyptians, who all united to make war upon the subjects of Godfrey. The latter were not free from alarm even in their cities, which were almost all badly garrisoned, and found themselves constantly exposed to the terrors and evils of war. The lands remained uncultivated, and all communications were interrupted. Amidst so many perils, several of the Latins abandoned the possessions which victory had bestowed upon them; and that the conquered country might not be left without inhabitants, the interest of property, or proprietorship, was called in to strengthen the wavering love for the new abode. Every man who had remained a year and a day in a house, or upon cultivated land, was recognised as the legitimate proprietor of it. All rights of possession were annulled by an absence of the same duration.

The first care of Godfrey was to repel the hostilities of the Saracens, and to extend the frontiers of the kingdom intrusted to his defence. By his orders Tancred entered into Galilee, took possession of Tiberias, and several other cities situated in the neighbourhood of the Lake of Genesareth. As the reward of his labours, he obtained possession of the country he conquered, which in the end became a principality.

Tancred, master of a rich province, advanced into the territories of Damascus, whilst Godfrey, in a fortunate excursion, imposed tributes upon the emirs of CÆsarea, Ptolemais, and Ascalon, and brought to submission the Arabs dwelling on the left shores of the Jordan. He was returning victorious to Jerusalem, when the city of Asur, which had surrendered after the battle of Ascalon, refused to pay tribute, and shook off the yoke of the Christians. Godfrey resolved to lay siege to this rebel city;[225] he collected his troops, marched them towards Asur, and proceeded to attack the town. Already had the rolling towers approached the ramparts, the rams had shaken the walls to their foundations, and the city was about to be carried, when the besieged employed a mode of defence worthy only of barbarians. Gerard of Avesnes, who had been left with them as an hostage by Godfrey, was fastened to the top of a very high mast which was attached to the very wall against which the efforts of the besiegers were principally directed. At the prospect of an inevitable and inglorious death, the unfortunate Christian knight uttered loud and painful cries, and conjured his friend Godfrey to save his life by a voluntary retreat. This cruel spectacle pierced the heart of Godfrey, but did not shake either his firmness or his courage. As he was sufficiently near to Gerard of Avesnes to make himself heard by him, he exhorted him to merit the crown of martyrdom by his resignation. “It is not in my power to save you,” said he; “if my brother Eustace were in your place, I could not deliver him from death. Die, then, illustrious and brave knight, with the courage of a Christian hero; die for the safety of your brethren, and for the glory of Jesus Christ.” These words of Godfrey gave Gerard of Avesnes the courage to die. He begged his old companions to offer at the holy sepulchre his horse and his arms, that prayers might be put up for the health of his soul.[226] A short time after he died under a shower of darts and arrows launched by the hands of the Christians.

The soldiers of Godfrey, on witnessing the death of Gerard, burned with rage to revenge him, and redoubled their efforts to render themselves masters of the city. On their side, the besieged reproached the Christians with their barbarity, and defended themselves with vigour. The Greek fire consumed the towers and the machines of the besiegers; Godfrey had lost a great number of his soldiers, and despaired of reducing the city, which received succours by sea. As winter was approaching, he resolved at last to raise the siege and return to Jerusalem, deeply affected at having caused the death of Gerard of Avesnes without any advantage to the cause of the Christians.

During the siege of Asur several emirs from the mountains of Samaria came to visit Godfrey. They were struck with the greatest surprise when they found the king of the Christians without a guard, without splendour, sleeping on a straw pallet like the meanest of his soldiers. They were not less astonished when, at their request, he exhibited before them his extraordinary strength by cutting off the head of a camel at a single blow with his sword. The emirs, after having offered presents to Godfrey, returned to their own country, and related the wonders they had seen. Their recitals, which history has not disdained, contributed greatly to increase the fame of the king of Jerusalem.

When Godfrey reached his capital, he learnt the approach of a great number of pilgrims, the greater part of whom were Pisans and Genoese, led by the bishop of Ariana, and Daimbert, archbishop of Pisa. To the Christians arrived from the West were added Bohemond, prince of Antioch, Baldwin, count of Edessa, and Raymond, count of Thoulouse. These latter had come to visit the holy places, and to celebrate the epoch of the birth of Christ at Jerusalem.

Godfrey went out to meet the pilgrims as far as Bethlehem, with his knights and the clergy. “After they were come into the holy city,” says an old chronicle, “the king received them and feasted them magnificently; and detained them in Judea during the winter, being much gratified with the presence of his brother Baldwin.” Daimbert, archbishop of Pisa, had come into Palestine as legate from the Holy See. By means of presents and promises he got himself to be named patriarch of Jerusalem, in the place of Arnoul de Rohes. This prelate, brought up in the school of Gregory VII., maintained with warmth the pretensions of the Holy See, and it was not long before his ambition introduced trouble among the Christians. In the places even where Christ had said that his kingdom was not of this world, he who called himself his vicar desired to reign with Godfrey, and demanded the sovereignty of a part of Jaffa, and of a quarter of Jerusalem in which the church of the Resurrection was built. After some debates, the pious Godfrey yielded to the imperious demands of Daimbert; and such was then the ascendancy of the Church and the clergy, that the new king was obliged to consent to a treaty by which the kingdom should belong to the patriarch, if Godfrey should die without children. Godfrey thus acknowledged himself the vassal of the sovereign pontiff, and received from the pope and his legate permission to reign over a country conquered by his arms. Bohemond and Baldwin consented at the same time to receive from the pope the investiture of their principalities. The prince of Antioch had refused to render homage to the king of Jerusalem, but he did not hesitate to acknowledge himself the vassal of a power which bestowed empires, and was able to send fresh armies into the East.

In the mean time the wise Godfrey, after having freed his territory from the incursions of the Mussulmans, and carried the terror of his arms beyond the Jordan, reflected that victory was not all that was required to found a state. His capital had been depopulated by the sword of the Crusaders; several other cities, like Jaffa, had lost the greater part of their inhabitants; and this new king reckoned among his subjects Armenians, Greeks, Jews, Arabs, renegades from all religions, and adventurers from all countries. The state confided to his care was like a place of passage, and had no other supporters or defenders but travellers and strangers. It was the rendezvous and the asylum of notorious sinners, who came thither to mitigate the anger of God, and of criminals, who thus eluded the justice of men. Both of these were equally dangerous when circumstances awakened their passions, or when fear and repentance gave way before new temptations. Godfrey, according to the spirit of feudal customs and the laws of war, had divided the conquered lands among the companions of his victories. The new lords of Jaffa, Tiberias, Ramla, and Naplouse, scarcely acknowledged the authority of a king. The clergy, encouraged by the patriarch, assumed the tone of masters, and the bishops exercised a temporal power equal to that of the barons. Some attributed the conquest of the kingdom to their valour, others to their prayers; every one claimed the reward of either his piety or his labours; and whilst the greater part aimed at domination, all insisted upon independence.

Godfrey undertook to rule so many conflicting pretensions, and to bring a tumultuous government into some regular form. In order that the execution of his project might have the greater solemnity, he chose the circumstance which had conducted the Latin princes to Jerusalem. After having accompanied them as far as Jericho, to celebrate with them the festival of the Epiphany, he returned to his capital, where he assembled the enlightened and pious men of the city, of whom he formed the states, or the assizes, of his kingdom. In this solemn assembly the first care was to regulate and determine the duties of the barons, the lords, and the common subjects, towards the king, and the duties of the king towards the lords and subjects. The king was to undertake to maintain the laws, to defend the Church, to protect widows and orphans, to watch over the safety of both people and lords, and to lead in war. The lord, who was the lieutenant of the prince, as regarded his vassals, was to guarantee them from insult, and to protect their property, their honour, and their rights. The first duty of the counts and barons towards the king was to serve him in council and fight. The first obligation of a subject or a vassal towards his prince or his lord, was to defend him or avenge him in every case of outrage, and to protect the honour of his wife, his daughter, or his sister; to follow him in all perils, and to surrender himself as hostage for him, if he fell into the hands of his enemies.[227]

The king and his subjects, the great and the small vassals, mutually engaged their faith to each other. In the feudal hierarchy, every class had its privileges maintained by honour. Honour, that grand principle among knights, commanded all to repulse an injury inflicted upon a single one, and thus became, restrained within just limits, the security of public liberty.

War was the great affair in a kingdom founded by knights and barons; every one capable of bearing arms was reckoned as something in the state, and protected by the new legislation; all the rest, with the exception of the clergy, whose existence and privileges were held by divine right, were reckoned as nothing, and scarcely merited any attention from the legislators. The Assizes of Jerusalem did, indeed, deign to take notice of villains, slaves, peasants or cultivators, or captives taken in war; but they were only considered in the light of property, of which they wished to assure the enjoyment to its legitimate possessors. Those who had lost them could reclaim them as they could a falcon or a hound; the value of a falcon and a slave was the same; a war-horse was estimated at more than double the value of a peasant or a captive. The laws did not condescend to notice these unhappy classes, and left it to religion alone to protect them.

To watch over the execution of the constitutional laws of the state, and to decide in all disputes, two courts were instituted; the one presided over by the king, and composed of the nobles, was to pronounce judgment upon differences among the great vassals; the other, presided over by the viscount of Jerusalem, and formed of the principal inhabitants of each city, was to regulate the interests and the rights of the citizens and the common people. A third court was instituted, which was reserved for Oriental Christians; the judges of it were born in Syria, spoke its language, and decided according to the laws and usages of the country. Thus all the citizens of the kingdom were judged by their peers, and enjoyed the benefits of an institution which has not been despised in ages much more enlightened.

The Franks, with their warlike character, were certain to evince disdain for the slow, and often uncertain, forms of justice; they adopted, in their legislation made for the East, the ordeal by iron or fire, which had taken its birth among the nations of the North. Judicial combat was also admitted in criminal causes, and sometimes even in civil ones. Among a warlike people everything must present the image of war; every action commenced against a baron or a knight was, in his eyes, an injury—an affront—that he ought to repulse sword in hand; Christian knights were likewise persuaded that God would not allow innocence to succumb in an unequal combat, and victory appeared to them at once the triumph of human laws and divine justice.

Such dispositions still bespeak the barbarity of the most remote ages; but a great number of other laws attest the wisdom of the legislators of the Holy Land: their code contained every institution that was reasonable in the feudal system. Palestine was then blessed by the revival of wise laws created for Europe, but which Europe had forgotten amidst the anarchy of civil wars; many ameliorations made in feudal legislation in some of the states of the West, particularly in the cities of Italy, were consecrated in the new laws of Jerusalem.

It must be believed that in this circumstance religion sometimes mingled her useful inspirations with those of human sagacity; justice and humanity assumed a more sacred character in the presence of the holy tomb. As all the subjects of Godfrey were called upon to defend the cause of God, the quality of a soldier of Jesus Christ might make the dignity of man respected. If it be true that the establishment of the commons, or a second court, was the work of the Crusaders, we cannot, with truth, assert that these wars contributed nothing towards the progress of civilization. The laws which they made, and in which may be plainly seen the first glimpses of regulated liberty, were a new spectacle for Asia; they must likewise have been a subject of surprise and a means of instruction for Europe itself, where pilgrims related, on their return, the usages and customs established by the Franks in the Holy Land. This code of legislation, the best, or rather the least imperfect that had existed previous to that time, and which increased or was modified under other reigns, was deposited with great pomp in the church of the Resurrection, and took the name of the Assizes of Jerusalem, or Letters of the Holy Sepulchre.

After this ceremony, which was performed in the presence of all the pilgrims, the Latin princes then at Jerusalem returned to their own states; Baldwin to Edessa, Bohemond to his principality of Antioch, and Raymond to Laodicea, of which he had rendered himself master, and which he governed in the name of the emperor of Constantinople. Scarcely had Tancred returned to his principality when he was attacked by all the forces of the sultan of Damascus. Godfrey, accompanied by his faithful knights and a great number of pilgrims eager to fight under his command, repaired immediately into Galilee, defeated the Saracens, and pursued them to the mountains of Libanus.

As he was returning from this expedition, the emir of CÆsarea came out to meet him, and presented to him an offering of some of the fruits of Palestine. Godfrey only accepted a single cedar-apple, and almost directly fell ill. This malady, which they did not hesitate to attribute to poison, created the most serious alarm among his followers. Godfrey with great difficulty reached Jaffa, whence he was conveyed to his capital, where he died, committing to the companions of his victories the charge of the glory of religion and of the kingdom of Jerusalem. His mortal remains were deposited within the enclosure of Calvary, near to the tomb of Christ, which he had delivered by his valour. His death was mourned by the Christians, of whom he was the father and the support, and by the Mussulmans, who had often experienced his justice and his clemency. History may say of him what the holy Scripture says of Judas Maccabeus: “It was he who increased the glory of his people, when, like a giant, he put on his arms in the fight, and his sword was the protection of the whole camp.” Godfrey of Bouillon surpassed all the captains of his age in his skill in war; and if he had lived some time longer, would have merited a name among great kings. In the kingdom he founded he was constantly held up as a model for princes as well as warriors. His name still recalls the virtues of heroic times, and will live honoured amongst men as long as the remembrance of the crusades.

After the death of Godfrey great disputes arose upon the choice of his successor. The patriarch Daimbert endeavoured to avail himself of the rights conveyed by the promises of Godfrey, and claimed the throne of Jerusalem; but the barons would submit to no chief but one of their companions in arms. Garnier, count de Gray, took possession of the Tower of David, and of the other fortresses of Jerusalem, in the name of Baldwin, count of Edessa. The patriarch invoked the authority of the Church to the assistance of his cause; and as Count Garnier died suddenly, the clergy of Jerusalem attributed his death to divine justice, which the impious projects of the barons and knights had offended. Daimbert wrote to Bohemond, prince of Antioch, and conjured him to come and defend what he called the rights of the Church and the cause of God. Jerusalem was filled with agitation and trouble; but whilst they were tumultuously deliberating, deputies from Antioch came to announce that their prince had been surprised in an expedition against the Turks, and was held prisoner by the infidels. This news spread consternation and grief among the Christians, and made them more sensible of the necessity for calling Baldwin to the throne, with whose valour they were so well acquainted.

Baldwin,[228] to whom deputies had been sent, shed tears on learning the death of Godfrey, but soon consoled himself with the hope of obtaining a crown. The county of Edessa had become richer and more extensive than the mean kingdom of Jerusalem, several cities of which still belonged to the Saracens; but such was the active and enterprising spirit of Baldwin, that the prospect of a kingdom to be conquered appeared to him preferable to a country of which he was in peaceful possession. After having given up the county of Edessa to his cousin Baldwin du Bourg, he began his march with four hundred horsemen and a thousand foot. The emirs of Emessa and Damascus, informed of his intended march, laid wait for him in the narrow and difficult roads near the coast of the Sea of Phoenicia. Baldwin feigned to fly before the army of the infidels, and having drawn them into an open country, routed them, making a great many prisoners, whom he carried to Jerusalem.[229] The knights, the barons, and a portion of the clergy came out to meet the conqueror. Baldwin made his triumphant entrance into the city in the midst of the acclamations of the whole Christian population, who flocked eagerly to see the brother of Godfrey. But whilst the inhabitants thus manifested their joy, the patriarch, with some of his partisans, protested against the election of the new king, and, feigning to believe that he was in safety nowhere but close to the tomb of Christ, retired in silence to Mount Sion, as if to seek an asylum there. Baldwin did not think it worth while to disturb the retreat of the patriarch, and, satisfied with having obtained the suffrages of the barons and knights, wished to assure to himself new titles to the crown, by gaining more victories over the Saracens. He marched from Jerusalem, followed by his bravest knights, and presented himself before Ascalon.

The season being too far advanced to lay regular siege to the city, he ravaged the enemy’s country, penetrated into the mountains of Engaddi, surprised Segor, and seized a troop of brigands in a cavern which they had chosen as a place of retreat. In this campaign, which was little more than a pilgrimage, the soldiers of Baldwin passed along the shores of the Dead Sea, the sight of which recalled the memory of the punishment of Sodom; they visited the valley famous as the burial-place of the ancestors of Israel, and that in which it is believed Moses caused a stream of living water to spring from the side of a barren rock. The Christian soldiers were never weary of admiring these places, rendered sacred by scriptural remembrances. The historian Foulcher de Chartres, who accompanied Baldwin, displays in his recital the greatest enthusiasm, and tells us with lively joy, that he watered his horses at the miraculous fountain of the legislator of the Hebrews.[230]

The little army of the Christians came back to Jerusalem loaded with booty. After Baldwin’s return, the patriarch did not venture to say anything more about his pretensions, and consented to crown the successor of Godfrey with his own hands. The ceremony was performed with great solemnity at Bethlehem, in the presence of the barons, the bishops, and the principal people of the kingdom.

Tancred was not present at the coronation of the new king, for the two companions of Godfrey had not forgotten their ancient quarrel. Tancred had protested against the election of Baldwin, and refused to pay him homage. Baldwin, on his part, disputed Tancred’s right to the principality of Galilee, and summoned him to appear before him as a contumacious vassal. The reply of Tancred was laconic, and full of proud contempt for his rival. “I do not know,” said he, addressing the messengers of Baldwin, “that your master is king of Jerusalem.” He did not deign to make any reply to a second summons. At length their mutual friends employed prayers and entreaties, to which Tancred reluctantly gave way. The two princes agreed to have an interview between Jerusalem and Jaffa, in which interview Tancred consented to forget past injuries, but would not renounce a principality which he held from Godfrey. The debates between the prince of Galilee and the king of Jerusalem were not terminated when messengers arrived from Antioch, conjuring Tancred to repair immediately to their city, to govern a state which had been without a head since the captivity of Bohemond. Tancred yielded to their entreaties, and immediately set out for Antioch, abandoning to Hugh de Saint Omer the city of Tiberias and the principality of Galilee.

These differences with Tancred did not impede Baldwin’s wars against the infidels, or his endeavours to extend his young kingdom. Whilst Persia, Egypt, Syria, and Mesopotamia could bring numberless armies against the Christians, Baldwin could only muster under his standard a small body of warriors, to whom were added a few pilgrims from the West, the greater part without horses and very badly armed. His bravery and activity surmounted all obstacles, and carried him through all dangers. From the beginning of his reign, we see with surprise the kingdom of Jerusalem, disturbed in its infancy by discord, and only defended by a few knights, rise in the midst of formidable enemies, and carry terror amongst neighbours much more powerful than itself.

The king of Jerusalem took advantage of the arrival of a Genoese fleet, to punish the rebellion of the inhabitants of Arsur, and to lay siege to their city both by sea and land. On the third day the city fell into the hands of the Christians. A short time after, Baldwin besieged CÆsarea, a city built by Herod in honour of CÆsar. The siege was carried on with vigour; on the fifteenth day everything was ready for a general assault, and as soon as the trumpet had given the first signal, all the soldiers confessed and received absolution for their sins. The patriarch, clothed in white vestments, with a crucifix in his hand, led them to the foot of the ramparts;—the city was soon taken, and the inhabitants put to the sword. The Christians, particularly the Genoese, carried away by a thirst for pillage, and still more by vengeance and the fury of battle, stained their victory by horrible cruelties.[231] The Mussulmans who escaped from the massacre of CÆsarea, carried terror into the cities of PtolemaÏs and Ascalon, and all the countries still under the domination of the Egyptians.

The caliph of Egypt, to revenge the death of his warriors, assembled an army, which advanced as far as the country round Ramla. Baldwin got together, in haste, a troop of three hundred knights and a thousand foot-soldiers, and marched to meet him. When he perceived the standards of the Egyptian army, ten times more numerous than that of the Christians, he represented to his soldiers that they were going to fight for the glory of Christianity; “if they fell, heaven would be open to them; if they triumphed, the fame of their victory would be spread throughout the Christian world. There could be no safety in flight; their home was beyond the seas; in the East there was no asylum for the conquered.” After having thus animated his soldiers, Baldwin divided his troops into six battalions. The two first, on charging the enemy, were overwhelmed by numbers; two others, which followed, shared the same fate. Two bishops, who were with Baldwin, then advised him to implore the mercy of Heaven; and, at their desire, the king of Jerusalem alighted from his horse, fell on his knees, confessed, and received absolution. Springing to his feet, he resumed his arms, and rushed upon the enemy at the head of his two remaining battalions. The Christian warriors fought like lions, animated by their war-cry “Victory or Death!” Baldwin had attached a white kerchief to the point of his lance, and thus pointed out the road to carnage. The victory was for a length of time uncertain; but at last, says an historian, the will of God was declared in favour of the soldiers of Christ. The Egyptian army had lost its leader, and was entirely routed; five thousand infidels remaining on the field of battle.

The enemy fled in such complete disorder that they abandoned their tents and their baggage. As Baldwin was pursuing them, his ear was struck by the plaintive cry of a woman. He checked his war-horse, and perceived a female Mussulman in the pains of childbirth. He threw his mantle to her to cover her, and ordered her to be placed on carpets laid upon the ground. By his commands, fruits and a skin of water were brought to this bed of pain, and a female camel furnished milk for the nourishment of the newly-born child. The mother was confided to the care of a slave, with orders to conduct her to her husband. The latter, who held a distinguished rank among the Mussulmans, shed tears of joy on beholding a wife whose death he was lamenting, and vowed never to forget the generous action of Baldwin.

Conqueror of the Saracens, the king of Jerusalem had sent back his troops, and was reposing at Jaffa, after the fatigues of the war, when he learnt that the Mussulman army had rallied, and was in full march to attack the Christians. Baldwin, whom victory had rendered rash, without assembling all his troops, went immediately to meet the enemy, at the head of two hundred knights, and a few pilgrims lately arrived from the West. Not at all dismayed by the number of the Saracens, he gave battle; but, at the first charge, the Christians were surrounded, and only sought a glorious death, fighting by the side of their leader. The king of Jerusalem, obliged to fly, concealed himself among the long dried grass and bushes which covered the plain. As the Saracens set fire to these, Baldwin with difficulty escaped being burnt alive; and, after many perils, was glad to take refuge in Ramla.

Night checked the pursuit of his enemies, but on the following day, the place which served him as an asylum was threatened with an immediate siege, and had no means of defence. Baldwin was a prey to the most distressing anxiety, when a stranger, who had by some means got into the city, demanded to speak instantly with the king of Jerusalem “It is gratitude,” said he to him, “which brings me here. Thou hast been generous towards a wife who is most dear to me—thou hast restored her to me and her family, after having saved her life. I brave a thousand dangers to acquit myself of so sacred a debt. The Saracens surround the city of thy retreat on all sides; to-morrow it will be taken, and not one of its inhabitants will escape death. I come to offer thee means of safety. I am acquainted with a path which is not guarded;[232] hasten then, for time presses. Thou hast but to follow me; before the dawn of day thou wilt be among thy people.”

Baldwin hesitated—he shed tears at the idea of what must be the fate of his companions in misfortune; but, at length, he yielded to the generosity of the Mussulman emir, and, accompanied by a weak escort, they both departed from the city, in the middle of a stormy night. On gaining the distance of a few leagues from Ramla, they separated with tears in their eyes; the emir rejoined the Mussulman army and Baldwin succeeded in getting to the city of Arsur.

At break of day the Saracens advanced towards the ramparts of Ramla. They quickly gained possession of the city, and all they met with in the place were massacred. Some soldiers who escaped the Saracens’ swords, carried the sad news to the neighbouring cities. It was the first defeat the Christians had experienced since their arrival in Palestine. As it was confidently said that Baldwin had been slain at the taking of Ramla, this loss added greatly to the general consternation. The great bell of Jerusalem announced the approach and invasion of the Saracens. The priests, the monks, the pilgrims, clothed in sackcloth and barefooted, went in procession through the streets of the holy city; women and children filled the churches, and with tears in their eyes and uplifted hands implored the mercy of Heaven. The bravest were beginning to despair of the safety of the kingdom, when Baldwin suddenly appeared among his people, says William of Tyre, like the morning star, and revived their hopes by his presence.

The king of Jerusalem assembled at Jaffa the wreck of his army; and the Christian cities sent him all their inhabitants capable of bearing arms. Several princes and knights, arrived from the West, likewise joined him. The Christians marched boldly forth to meet the Mussulmans, the patriarch of Jerusalem carrying through the ranks the wood of the holy cross. The war-cry of the Christian soldiers was: “Christ lives, Christ reigns, Christ commands.”[233] The two armies were soon in sight of each other on the plains of Jaffa, and instantly the trumpets sounded, and gave the signal of battle. Both sides fought with fury; the infidels surrounded the Christians, and pressed them so closely that they had scarcely room to wield their arms, and victory was on the point of being determined in favour of the Mussulmans, when Baldwin snatching the white flag from the hands of his squire, and followed by a hundred and sixty knights, rushed into the very thickest ranks of the enemy. This act of bravery decided the fate of the battle, and the Christians regained their courage. The fight lasted during the whole day, but towards the approach of night, the Mussulmans fled in disorder, leaving dead upon the field the emir of Ascalon and four thousand of their bravest soldiers.

Baldwin, who, some few days before, had been believed to be dead, reËntered Jerusalem in triumph. He gave a great part of the booty to the hospitallers of St. John, whose office it was to entertain the poor and all pilgrims; and, to employ the expression of an old chronicle, he thus shared with God the spoils of the Saracens.

The Christians assembled in the churches rendered thanks to God for the deliverance of the kingdom; but this last victory could not dry all the tears which a first reverse had caused to flow, and funereal hymns were mingled with the songs of joy. In this campaign perished many of the princes and knights who had left Europe after the first crusade. Stephen, count of Chartres and Blois, and Stephen, duke of Burgundy, who had arrived in Palestine with the remains of an army dispersed by the Turks in Asia Minor, were killed under the walls of Ramla. As the Greeks were accused of having prepared the ruin of the armies sent to the assistance of the Latins, murmurs arose in all the Christian colonies against the emperor Alexius. This prince, constantly in dread of the powers of the West, sent to congratulate the king of Jerusalem on his victories, and exerted himself to procure the liberty of the Christians who had fallen into the hands of the Egyptians and Turks. After having delivered or ransomed some Christian knights, he received them at Constantinople, loaded them with presents, and sent them back to their own country.

But whilst thus breaking the chains of a few captives, he was equipping fleets and raising armies to attack Antioch, and obtain possession of the cities on the coast of Syria which belonged to the Latins. He offered to pay the ransom of Bohemond, still a prisoner among the Turks, not for the purpose of setting him at liberty, but to have him brought to Constantinople, where he hoped to obtain from him the renunciation of his principality. Bohemond, who saw through the projects of Alexius, gained the good-will of the emir who detained him prisoner, promised him his alliance and support, and persuaded him to accept for his ransom, half the sum offered by the emperor of the Greeks. After a captivity of four years, he returned to Antioch, where he employed himself in repulsing the aggressions of Alexius. The fleets of the Pisans and the Genoese came to his relief, and several battles, both by sea and land, were fought with various success; the Latins and the Greeks, by turns, obtaining the advantage.

Whilst this war was being carried on between Alexius and Bohemond, the Franks neglected no opportunity of coming into collision with the infidels. Bohemond, Baldwin du Bourg, count of Edessa, and his cousin Josselin de Courtenay,[234] master of several cities on the banks of the Euphrates, united their forces to attack Charan, a flourishing city of Mesopotamia. The Christians, after a siege of several days, were on the point of entering the place, when the count of Edessa and the prince of Antioch disputed the possession of it. Whilst the debates kept the best leaders in the Christian tents, the Saracens of Mossoul and Aleppo came to the assistance of the city, and gave battle to the besiegers. A great number of Christians were slain in this conflict; and many fell into the hands of the infidels, who, in the intoxication of victory, insulted both the vanquished and the religion of Christ. History relates that the railleries of the Mussulmans inspired rage and despair among the army of the Christians, and that towards the end of the fight, one knight braved alone the victorious infidels, and rushed among the enemy’s ranks, crying, “Let all who are willing to sup with me in Paradise, follow me.” This brave knight at first astonished the Saracens by his daring, but he soon fell, pierced with many wounds. The archbishop of Edessa, Josselin de Courtenay, and Baldwin du Bourg were loaded with irons, and taken to the prisons of Mossoul. The prince of Antioch and Tancred were alone able to escape the pursuit of the Mussulmans, with a small number of their soldiers. This defeat spread terror among all the Christians of the East. Bohemond, on his return to his capital, was menaced at the same time by the Greeks and the Saracens; and, as he had now neither allies nor auxiliaries, and was destitute of both men and money, he determined to go back into Europe, and to call upon the nations of the West to assist him.

After having spread abroad a report of his death, he embarked at Antioch, and, concealed in a coffin,[235] passed through the fleet of the Greeks, who rejoiced at his death, and heaped curses on his memory. On arriving in Italy, Bohemond went to throw himself at the feet of the sovereign pontiff; describing the misfortunes he had endured in defence of the holy religion, and invoking the vengeance of Heaven upon Alexius, whom he represented as the greatest scourge of the Christians. The pope welcomed him as a hero and a martyr; he praised his exploits, listened to his complaints, intrusted to him the standard of St. Peter, and permitted him, in the name of the Church, to raise in Europe an army to repair his misfortunes and avenge the cause of God.

Bohemond next went to France, where his adventures and exploits had made his name familiar to all classes. He presented himself at the court of Philip I., who received him with the greatest honours, and gave him his daughter Constance in marriage. Amidst the festivities of the court, he was by turns the most brilliant of knights and the most ardent of missionaries; he attracted general admiration by his skill in the tournaments, and preached war against the enemies of the Christians. He easily fired hearts already glowing with a love of military glory; and a great number of knights contended for the honour of accompanying him into the East. He crossed the Pyrenees and raised soldiers in Spain; he returned into Italy and met everywhere with the same eagerness to follow him. All preparations being completed, he embarked at Bari, and sailed towards the territories of the Greek emperor, where his threats and the fame of his expedition had already spread terror.

The prince of Antioch never ceased to animate by his speeches the ardour of his numerous companions: to some he represented the Greeks as the allies of the Mussulmans and the enemies of Christ; to others he spoke of the riches of Alexius, and promised then the spoils of the empire. He was on the point of realizing his brilliant hopes, when he was, all at once, abandoned by that fortune which had hitherto performed such prodigies in his favour.

The city of Durazzo, of which he had undertaken the siege, for a long time resisted all his efforts; disease, in the meanwhile, ravaging his army. The warriors who had followed him in the hopes of pillage, or from a desire to visit the Holy Land, deserted his standard; he was forced to make a disgraceful peace with the emperor he had endeavoured to dethrone, and came back to die in despair in the little principality of Tarentum, which he had abandoned for the conquest of the East.

The unfortunate issue of this crusade, which was directed entirely against the Greeks, became fatal to the Christians established in Syria, and deprived them of the succours they had reason to expect from the West. Tancred, who still governed Antioch, in the absence and after the death of Bohemond, was attacked several times by the Saracens of Aleppo, and only resisted them by displaying prodigies of valour. Josselin and Baldwin du Bourg did not return to their states till after five years of captivity. When Baldwin came back to Edessa, he was so poor that he could not pay his common domestics; and an Armenian prince, whose daughter he had married, was obliged to redeem the beard[236] of his son-in-law, which he had pledged for the means of paying his soldiers. The resources of the government of Antioch were not less exhausted than those of the county of Edessa. In the extremes of their misery, Tancred and Baldwin du Bourg had several disputes; each, by turns, called in the Saracens to defend his cause, and everything was in confusion on the banks of the Euphrates and the Orontes.

Neither was Jerusalem free from discord. Baldwin could not pay his soldiers, and demanded money of the patriarch, who was the depositary of the alms of the faithful. Daimbert at first refused to assist the king, who resolved to employ force to compel him: “Yes,” said he to the patriarch, in a transport of anger, “I will bear away the treasures of the church and the holy sepulchre; I wish to save Jerusalem and the Christian people; when I have accomplished that noble project, I will restore the riches of the all-powerful God.” Daimbert, intimidated by the menaces of Baldwin, consented to give up a part of his treasures; but as fast as the king of Jerusalem experienced new wants, he made fresh demands, to which the pontiff responded by an insulting refusal. He accused the king of profaning and plundering the sanctuary; whilst the king, on his part, accused Daimbert of betraying the cause of the Christians, and of dissipating in pleasures and festivities the treasures of Jesus Christ. The quarrels of Baldwin and the patriarch were renewed every year; both, in the end, often conveyed their complaints to the Holy See, which pronounced no decision likely to conciliate the angry parties. The death of Daimbert could alone put an end to these discussions, which spread scandal through the church of Christ, and by weakening the authority of the king, were likely to lead to the ruin of the kingdom.

Whilst the patriarch was unceasingly making complaints against Baldwin, the king seldom made any other reply than gaining new victories over the infidels; nothing being able to divert him from his purpose of every day aggrandizing his dominions. The prosperity and the safety of Jerusalem appeared closely connected with the conquest of the maritime cities of Syria and Palestine; it being by them alone that it could receive succour, or establish prompt and easy communications with the West. The maritime nations of Europe were interested in seconding, in this instance, the enterprises of the king of Jerusalem. The navigation of the Mediterranean, and the transporting of pilgrims to the Holy Land, were to them an inexhaustible source of riches; the ports of Syria would offer to them a commodious asylum for their vessels, and a safe entrepÔt for their commerce.

From the period of the first crusades the Pisans and the Genoese had constantly sent vessels to the seas of the East; and their fleets had aided the Christians in several expeditions against the Mussulmans. A Genoese fleet had just arrived in the seas of Syria when Baldwin undertook the siege of PtolemaÏs. The Genoese were invited to assist in this conquest; but as religion was not the principle to bring them into action, they required, in return for their assistance and their labour, that they should have a third of the booty; they likewise stipulated to have a separate church for themselves, and a national factory and tribunal in the conquered city. PtolemaÏs was besieged by land and sea, and after a bloody resistance of twenty days, the inhabitants and the garrison proposed to surrender, and implored the clemency of the conquerors. The city opened its gates to the Christians, and the inhabitants prepared to depart, taking with them whatever they deemed most valuable; but the Genoese, at the sight of such a rich booty, paid no respect to the capitulation, and massacred without pity a disarmed and defenceless people. This barbarous conduct, which Baldwin could neither repress nor punish, excited the Mussulmans more than ever against the Christians.

At each fresh conquest of Baldwin’s, a new army came from the banks of the Nile to impede the course of his victories; but the Egyptians had for a long time been accustomed to fly before the Franks, and they were never seconded in their expeditions by the Mussulmans of Syria, who were jealous of their appearance in their territories. A small number of Christian warriors, who could never have been taken for an army if they had not performed prodigies, were sufficient to put to the rout a multitude of soldiers who made a sortie from the walls of Ascalon. In consequence of this victory, several places which the Egyptians still held on the coasts of Syria, fell into the hands of the Christians.

Bertrand, son of Raymond de St. Gilles, arrived from Europe with the purpose of attacking the city of Tripoli. This city, taken at first by the Egyptians before the first crusade, and fallen again under the power of a Turkish commander, had, in order to defend itself against the Christians, once more recognised the authority of the caliph of Egypt. But this caliph thought more about punishing the rebellion of Tripoli than of providing for its defence. He had put the principal inhabitants in irons, had levied heavy tributes, and when the people implored his assistance against the enemies of Islamism, the caliph sent a vessel to demand a beautiful slave who was in the city, and whom he destined for his seraglio. The irritated people, instead of giving up the slave he demanded, sent him a piece of wood, saying, “That he might make something out of that to amuse himself with.”[237] The inhabitants of Tripoli, then being without hope, surrendered to the Christians.

Raymond, count de St. Gilles and of Thoulouse, one of the companions of Godfrey, after having wandered for a long time about Asia, had died before this place, of which he had commenced the siege. In memory of his exploits in the first crusade, the rich territory of Tripoli was created a county, and became the inheritance of his family.

This territory was celebrated for its productions. Limpid streams, rushing with impetuosity between the rocks of Libanus, flowed in many channels to water the numerous gardens of Tripoli. In the plains, and on the hills adjacent to the sea, grew in abundance wheat, the vine, the olive, and the white mulberry, whose leaves nourish the silkworm, which had been introduced by Justinian into the richest provinces of his empire. The city of Tripoli contained more than four thousand workmen, skilful in the manufactures of woollen stuffs, of silk, and of linen. A great part of these advantages was, no doubt, lost for the conquerors, who, during the siege ravaged the country round, and on taking the city, carried fire and sword throughout the whole of it.

Tripoli contained other riches for which the Franks showed no less disdain than they had evinced for the productions of industry. A library established in this city, and celebrated through all the East, contained the monuments[238] of the ancient literature of the Persians, the Arabians, the Egyptians, and the Greeks. A hundred copyists were there constantly employed in transcribing manuscripts. The cadi sent into all countries men authorized to purchase rare and precious books. After the taking of the city, a priest, attached to Count Bernard de St. Gilles,[239] entered the room in which were collected a vast number of copies of the Koran, and as he declared the library of Tripoli contained only the impious books of Mahomet, it was given up to the flames. Some eastern authors have bitterly deplored this irreparable loss; but not one of our contemporary chronicles has spoken of it, and their silence plainly shows the profound indifference with which the Frank soldiers were witnesses of a fire which consumed a hundred thousand volumes.

Biblies, situated on the smiling and fertile shores of Phoenicia; Sarepta, where St. Jerome saw still in his day the tower of Isaiah; and Berytus, famous in the early ages of the Church for its school of eloquence, shared the fate of Tripoli, and became baronies bestowed upon Christian knights. After these conquests the Pisans, the Genoese, and several warriors who had followed Baldwin in his expeditions, returned into Europe; and the king of Jerusalem, abandoned by these useful allies, was obliged to employ the forces which remained in repulsing the invasions of the Saracens, who penetrated into Palestine, and even displayed their standards on Mount Sion. He had given up the idea of subduing the maritime cities which still belonged to the Egyptians, when Sigur, son of Magnus, king of Norway, arrived in the port of Jaffa. Sigur was accompanied by ten thousand Norwegians, who, three years before, had quitted the north of Europe for the purpose of visiting the Holy Land. Baldwin went to meet the prince of Norway, and conjured him to join with him in fighting for the safety and aggrandizement of the kingdom of Jesus Christ. Sigur acceded with joy to the prayer of the king, and required nothing as a recompense for his labour but a piece of wood from the true cross.

The patriarch of Jerusalem, in order to give additional value to that which the prince required, hesitated at first to grant it, and made with him a treaty at least as solemn as if it had concerned the possession of a kingdom. When they had both taken an oath to fulfil the conditions of the treaty, Sigur, accompanied by his warriors, entered Jerusalem in triumph. The inhabitants of Jerusalem beheld with surprise, mingled with their joy, the enormous battle-axes, the light hair, and lofty stature of the pilgrims from Norway; the presence of these redoubtable warriors was the sure presage of victory. It was resolved in a council to besiege the city of Sidon; Baldwin and Bertrand, count of Tripoli, attacked the ramparts of the place, whilst the fleet of Sigur blockaded the port, and directed its operations against the side next the sea. After a siege of six weeks the city surrendered to the Christians; the knights of Baldwin and the soldiers of Sigur performed during the siege prodigies of valour, and showed, after their victory, the humanity which always accompanies true bravery. After this conquest Sigur quitted Palestine, accompanied by the blessings of the Christian people. He embarked to return to Norway, carrying with him a piece of the true cross, a precious memorial of his pilgrimage, which he caused to be placed in a church of Drontheim, where it was for a long time the object of the veneration of the faithful.

Baldwin, on his return to his capital, learnt with grief that Gervais, count of Tiberias, had been surprised by the Turks, and led prisoner, together with his most faithful knights, to the city of Damascus. Mussulman deputies came to offer the king of Jerusalem the liberty of Gervais in exchange for PtolemaÏs, Jaffa, and some other cities taken by the Christians; a refusal, they added, would be followed by the death of Count Gervais. Baldwin offered to pay a considerable sum for the liberty of Gervais, whom he loved tenderly: “As for the cities you demand,” said he to them, “I would not give them up to you for the sake of my own brother, nor for that of all the Christian princes together.” On the return of the ambassadors Gervais and his knights were dragged to an open place in Damascus, and shot to death by the Saracens with arrows.

The Christians shed tears at the death of Count Gervais, but they soon had to weep for a much more painful loss. Tancred, who governed the principality of Antioch, died in an expedition against the infidels. He had raised high in the East the opinion of the heroic virtues of a French knight; never had weakness or misfortune implored his aid in vain. He gained a great many victories over the Saracens, but never fought for the ends of ambition. Nothing could shake his fidelity, nothing appeared impossible to his valour. He answered the ambassadors of Alexius, who required him to restore Antioch: “I would not give up the city which is confided to me even if the warriors who presented themselves to conquer it had bodies and bore arms of fire.” Whilst he lived, Antioch had nothing to fear from the invasion of the infidels or the discord of the inhabitants. His death consigned the colony to disorder and confusion, it spread mourning through all the Christian states of the East, and was for them the signal of the greatest reverses.

The kingdom of Jerusalem had hitherto only had to contend against armies drawn from Egypt; the Turks of Syria, much more terrible in war than the Egyptians, had never united their forces to attack the Christians of Jerusalem.[240]

The sultans of Damascus and Mossoul, with several emirs of Mesopotamia, assembled an army of thirty thousand fighting men, and penetrated through the mountains of Libanus into Galilee. During more than three months the banks of the Jordan and of the Lake of Genesareth were devastated by the horrors of war. The king of Jerusalem placed himself at the head of his knights to encounter this redoubtable enemy, and was defeated by the Saracens on the plains near Mount Tabor. Roger of Sicily, who had been governor of Antioch since the death of Tancred, and the counts of Tripoli and Edessa, came with their troops to the assistance of Baldwin. The Christian army, although it then mustered under its banners eleven thousand combatants, took up its encampment on the mountains, and did not dare to risk a battle. The Christians, intrenched upon the heights, beheld their fields ravaged and their cities burnt. All the banks of the Jordan seemed to be in flames; for a vast number of Saracens from Ascalon, Tyre, and other Mussulman cities, had taken advantage of the reverses of the Christians to lay waste many of the provinces of Palestine. The country of Sechem was invaded, and the city of Naplouse delivered up to pillage. Jerusalem, which was without defenders, shut its gates, and was in momentary fear of falling again into the power of the infidels.

The Turks, however, dreading the arrival of fresh pilgrims from the West, abandoned Galilee, and returned to Damascus and Mossoul. But other calamities soon followed those of war. Clouds of locusts from Arabia finished the devastation of the fields of Palestine. A horrible famine prevailed in the county of Edessa, the principality of Antioch, and all the Christian states. An earthquake was felt from Mount Taurus to the deserts of Idumea, by which several cities of Cilicia were reduced to heaps of ruins. At Samosata, an Armenian prince was swallowed up in his own palace; thirteen towers of the walls of Edessa, and the citadel of Aleppo, fell down with a fearful crash; the towers of the highest fortresses covered the earth with their remains, and the commanders, whether Mussulmans or Christians, fled with their soldiers to seek safety in deserts and forests. Antioch suffered more from the earthquake than any other city. The tower of the northern gate, many public edifices, and several churches were completely destroyed.

Great troubles always inspired the Christians with feelings of penitence. A crowd of men and women rushed to the church of St. Peter of Antioch, confessed their sins to the patriarch, and conjured him to appease the anger of Heaven. The shocks, nevertheless, were renewed during five months; the Christians abandoned the cities, and, a prey to terror, wandered among the mountains, which now were more thickly inhabited than the greatest cities. The few who remained in cities constantly formed religious processions, put on habits of mourning, and totally renounced pleasures of every kind. In the streets and the churches nothing was heard but lamentations and prayers; men swore to forgive all injuries, and were profuse in their charities. At length Heaven appeared to be appeased; the earthquake ceased its ravages, and the assembled Christians celebrated the mercy of God by a solemn festival.

Scarcely were the Christians delivered from these alarms than a new tempest threatened Syria and Palestine.[241] Maudoud, prince or governor of Mossoul, had been killed by two IsmaËlians, as he was coming out of a mosque. As the prince of Mossoul was considered the most firm support of Islamism and the most redoubtable enemy of the Christians, the caliph and the sultan of Bagdad placed him in the rank of the martyrs, and resolved to revenge his death. They accused the Franks and the sultan of Damascus of the murder of a Mussulman prince. A numerous army set out from the banks of the Tigris, and advanced towards Syria, to punish at the same time both the Christian and Mussulman infidels. The warriors of Bagdad, united with those of Mossoul, penetrated as far as the lands of Aleppo, and carried destruction and death wherever they went. In this pressing danger the Saracens of Damascus and Mesopotamia did not hesitate to form an alliance with the Christian princes. The king of Jerusalem, the prince of Antioch, and the count of Tripoli united their troops with those of the Mussulmans. The Christians were full of zeal and ardour, and were eager for battle, but their new allies were not willing to give them the advantage of a victory, as they mistrusted the soldiers of Christ, and used every effort to avoid a decisive engagement, in which they dreaded the triumph of their auxiliaries as much as that of their foes. After having ravaged the territory of Aleppo, and the banks of the Euphrates and the Orontes, the warriors of Bagdad returned to their own country without trying their strength with their formidable adversaries. The Christians in this campaign did not illustrate their arms by any very brilliant exploits, but they kept up the division among the Saracens, and the discord of their enemies was more serviceable to them than a great victory.

The king of Jerusalem, no longer having the Turks of Bagdad or the Turks established in Syria to contend with, turned his attention towards Egypt, whose armies he had so frequently dispersed.[242] He collected his chosen warriors, traversed the desert, carried the terror of his arms to the banks of the Nile, and surprised and pillaged the city of Pharamia, situated three days’ journey from Cairo. The success of this expedition gave him room to hope that he should one day render himself master of a great kingdom, and he was returning triumphant, and loaded with booty, to Jerusalem, when he fell sick at El-Arrich, on the confines of the desert which separates Egypt from Palestine. His life was soon despaired of, and the companions of his victories, assembled around him, could not conceal their deep sorrow. Baldwin endeavoured to console them by his discourses: “My dear companions,” said he to them, “you who have suffered so many evils and braved so many perils, why do you allow yourselves to be overcome by grief? Remember that you are still in the territories of the Saracens, and that you stand in need of all your customary courage. Consider that you only lose in me a single man, and that you have among you several warriors who surpass me in skill. Think of nothing but of returning victorious to Jerusalem, and of defending the heritage of Christ. If I have fought a long time with you, and my many labours give me the right of addressing a prayer to you, I conjure you not to leave my bones in a foreign land, but to bury them near to the tomb of my brother Godfrey.”

The king of Jerusalem then caused his servants to be assembled and gave them orders for his sepulture. After having nominated Baldwin du Bourg as his successor, he expired, surrounded by his companions, who, though deeply grieved, endeavoured to conceal their tears, that the Saracens might not learn the great loss the Christians had experienced.

Baldwin lived and died in the midst of camps. During his reign, which lasted eighteen years, the inhabitants of Jerusalem were annually warned of the approach of the Saracens by the sound of the great bell; and they scarcely ever saw the wood of the true cross in the sanctuary, for this sacred relic always accompanied the armies to battle, and its presence not unfrequently was sufficient to give victory to the Christians.

During the time he occupied the throne of Jerusalem, the only means Baldwin had of keeping up his necessary army arose from the tenths of the produce of the cultivated lands, some taxes upon commerce, the booty obtained from enemies, and the ransom of prisoners. When peace lasted some months, or war was unsuccessful, the revenues of the state were diminished to half their usual amount, and could not meet the most necessary expenses. The forces of the kingdom were scarcely sufficient to defend it in the hour of danger. Baldwin could never undertake any great enterprise except when reinforcements arrived from the West; and when pilgrims who bore arms returned to their own country, he was often obliged to abandon an expedition which he had begun, and sometimes found himself without means of resistance, when exposed to the attacks of an enemy always eager to avenge his defeats.

The brother and successor of Godfrey was often on the point of losing his kingdom, and only preserved it by prodigies of valour. He lost several battles by his rashness and imprudence; but his wonderful activity always extricated him from whatever perils he chanced to fall into.

The historians of the times bestow warm eulogies upon the brilliant qualities of Baldwin. In the first crusade he made himself greatly hated for his ambitious and haughty character; but as soon as he had obtained what he desired and ascended a throne, he was at least equally admired for his generosity and clemency. When he became king of Jerusalem, he followed the example of Godfrey, and deserved in his turn to be held up as a model to his successors.

His extreme love for women sometimes drew upon him the severe censures of the clergy. To expiate his offences, in accordance with the opinions of the times, he richly endowed churches, particularly that of Bethlehem; and many other religious establishments owe their foundation to him. Amidst the tumult of camps, he added several articles to the code of his predecessor; but that which did most honour to his reign, was his constant anxiety to repeople Jerusalem. He offered an honourable asylum to all the Christians scattered over Arabia, Syria, and Egypt. Christians persecuted by Mussulmans came to him in crowds, with their wives, their children, and their wealth. Baldwin distributed amongst them lands and uninhabited houses, and Jerusalem began to be flourishing.

The last wishes of Baldwin were accomplished. The Christian army, preceded by the mortal remains of its chief, returned to Jerusalem. Baldwin du Bourg, who came to the holy city to celebrate the festival of Easter and to visit the brother of Godfrey, arrived on Palm-Sunday at the hour in which the clergy and the people, according to ancient custom, go in procession to the Valley of Jehoshaphat. As he entered by the gate of Ephraim, the funeral train of Baldwin, accompanied by his warriors in mourning, entered by the gate of Damascus. At this sight melancholy cries were mingled with the hymns of the Christians. The Latins were deeply afflicted, the Syrians wept, and the Saracens, says Foulcher de Chartres, who were witnesses of this mournful spectacle, could not restrain their tears. In the midst of the sorrowing people, the count of Edessa accompanied the funereal convoy to the foot of Calvary, where Baldwin was buried close to Godfrey.

Although the late king had pointed out Baldwin du Bourg as his successor, the barons and the prelates met to elect a new prince. Several proposed to offer the crown to Eustace de Boulogne, the brother of Godfrey. Josselin de Courtenay, one of the first counts of the kingdom, declared himself in favour of Baldwin du Bourg. Josselin, on arriving in Asia, had been welcomed and loaded with favours by the count of Edessa, who gave him several cities on the Euphrates. Expelled afterwards ignominiously by his benefactor, who accused him of ingratitude, he had taken refuge in the kingdom of Jerusalem, in which he had obtained the principality of Tiberias. Whether he wished to make amends for old offences, or whether he hoped to obtain fresh benefits, he represented to the assembled barons, “that Baldwin du Bourg belonged to the family of the last king; that his piety, his wisdom, and courage were known to the entire East; and that no country on that side or beyond the sea could offer a prince more worthy of the confidence and love of the Christians. The benedictions of the inhabitants of Edessa pointed him out to the choice of the barons and knights, and Providence had opportunely sent him to Jerusalem to console the Christian people for the loss of Godfrey and Baldwin.” This discourse united all the suffrages in favour of Baldwin du Bourg, who was crowned a few days after, and made over the county of Edessa to Josselin de Courtenay.

Scarcely was Baldwin du Bourg seated on the throne of Jerusalem than he was obliged to fly to the succour of Antioch, attacked by the Saracens of Damascus and the Turcomans from the banks of the Euphrates. Roger of Sicily, son of Richard, who since the death of Tancred governed Antioch during the minority of the son of Bohemond, had been killed in a bloody battle. Baldwin, accompanied by the count of Tripoli, hastened to the banks of the Orontes, attacked the victorious Mussulmans, and dispersed their army.[243]

After this victory he returned to Jerusalem, when he learnt that Josselin de Courtenay had been made prisoner by the Turks. Baldwin flew to the defence of the county of Edessa, which was threatened with an invasion, and himself fell into the hands of the Mussulmans.

Old chronicles have celebrated the intrepid zeal of fifty Armenians, who swore to deliver two princes so much beloved by their subjects, and whose captivity spread desolation among the Christians of the East. Their efforts broke the chains of Josselin, but after having braved a thousand dangers without being able to release Baldwin du Bourg, they were themselves taken by the infidels. They all died amidst tortures, and received from Heaven alone, add the same chronicles, the reward of their generous devotion.

Josselin, escaped from his prison, repaired to Jerusalem, where he deposited in the church of the Holy Sepulchre the chains which he had borne among the Turks, and entreated prompt assistance for the deliverance of Baldwin. The mourning kingdom was menaced by the Saracens of Egypt, who, seeking to take advantage of the captivity of Baldwin, had assembled in the plains of Ascalon for the purpose of driving the Franks from Palestine. In this pressing danger the Christians of Jerusalem could pay attention to nothing but the defence of the kingdom. After the example of the inhabitants of Nineveh, they first sought to mitigate the anger of Heaven by penitence and prayer. A rigorous fast was commanded, during which women withheld the milk of their breasts from their children in the cradle, and the flocks even were driven to a distance from their pastures and deprived of their ordinary nourishment. War was proclaimed by the sound of the great bell of Jerusalem. The Christian army, which consisted of little more than three thousand combatants, was commanded by Eustache Grenier, count of Sidon, named regent of the kingdom in the absence of Baldwin. The patriarch of the holy city bore the true cross at the head of the army; he was followed, says Robert of the Mount, by Pontius, abbot of Cluni, carrying the lance with which the side of the Saviour was pierced, and by the bishop of Bethlehem, who held in his hands a vase, in which the Christian priests boasted of having preserved the milk of the Virgin mother of God![244]

The Christians met the army of the Saracens on the plains of Ascalon. The battle immediately began, and the Franks were at once surrounded by the Mussulmans, who reckoned forty thousand men beneath their standards. The defeat of the Christians appeared certain, when all at once, says the historian we have just now quoted, a light like to that of a thunderbolt darted through the air, and fell upon the army of the Mussulmans. This light, which the Christians considered as a miracle from Heaven, became the signal for the rout of the Saracens. The Mussulman warriors, still more superstitious than the Christians, were fascinated by a sudden terror, and no longer had either courage or strength to defend themselves. Seven thousand of them fell on the field of battle, and five thousand perished, swallowed up by the waves of the sea. The victorious Christians returned to Jerusalem, singing the praises of the God of armies.

The Christian knights thenceforth wept with less bitterness over the captivity of a king without whom they had been able to conquer the army of the Saracens; but the army of the Franks, employed in the defence of cities and frontiers constantly threatened by the enemy, could not leave the kingdom to make new conquests; and the warriors, who were detained in the Christian cities, after so great a victory, were deeply afflicted at their inaction, and appeared to place all their hopes in succours from the West. It was just at this time that a Venetian fleet arrived off the coast of Syria.

The Venetians, who for several centuries enjoyed the commerce of the East, and feared to break their profitable relations with the Mussulmans of Asia, had taken but very little interest in the first crusade, or in the events that had followed it. They waited the issue of this great enterprise, to take a part and associate themselves without peril with the victories of the Christians; but at length, jealous of the advantages that the Genoese and the Pisans had obtained in Syria, they wished likewise to have a share in the spoils of the Mussulmans, and prepared a formidable expedition against the infidels. Their fleet, whilst crossing the Mediterranean, fell in with that of the Genoese, which was returning from the East; they attacked it with fury, and forced it to fly in great disorder. After having stained the sea with the blood of Christians, the Venetians pursued their course towards the coasts of Palestine, where they met the fleet of the Saracens, just issuing from the ports of Egypt. A violent conflict ensued, in which all the Egyptian vessels were dispersed or destroyed, and covered the waves with their wrecks.

Whilst the Venetians were thus destroying the fleet of the Mussulmans, an army sent by the caliph of Cairo was beaten by the Christians under the walls of Jaffa. The doge of Venice, who commanded the Venetian fleet, entered the port of PtolemaÏs, and was conducted in triumph to Jerusalem. When celebrating the double victory, they resolved to profit by it, by following it up by an important expedition. In a council, held in presence of the regent of the kingdom and the doge of Venice, it was proposed to besiege either the city of Tyre or the city of Ascalon. As the opinions were divided, it was resolved to interrogate God, and to follow his will. Two strips of parchment, upon which had been written the names of Ascalon and Tyre, were deposited upon the altar of the Holy Sepulchre. In the sight of a numerous crowd of spectators, a young orphan advanced towards the altar, took one of the strips, and the chance fell upon the city of Tyre.

The Venetians, more devoted to the interests of their commerce and of their nation than to those of a Christian kingdom, demanded, before beginning the siege of Tyre, that they should enjoy a church, a street, a common oven, and a national tribunal in every city in Palestine. They further demanded other privileges and the possession of a third of the conquered city. The conquest of Tyre appeared to be so important, that the regent, the chancellor of the kingdom, and the great vassals of the crown accepted the conditions of the Venetians without hesitation: in a deed which history has preserved,[245] they engaged not to acknowledge Baldwin du Bourg or any other prince who would refuse to subscribe to it.

When they had thus, by a treaty, shared the city they were about to conquer, they began their preparations for the siege. Towards the commencement of the spring, the Christian army set out from Jerusalem, and the Venetian fleet sailed from the port of PtolemaÏs. The historian of the kingdom of Jerusalem, who was for a long time archbishop of Tyre, stops here to describe the antique wonders of his metropolis. In his recital, at once religious and profane, he invokes by turns the testimony of Isaiah and of Virgil; after having spoken of the king, Hyram, and the tomb of Origen, he does not disdain to celebrate the memory of Cadmus, and the country of Dido. The good archbishop boasts above all of the industry and the commerce of Tyre; of the fertility of its territory, its dyes so celebrated in all antiquity, that sand which is changed into transparent vases, and those sugar-canes which, from that time, were sought for by every region of the universe. Tyre, in the time of Baldwin, was no longer that sumptuous city, whose rich merchants, according to Isaiah, were princes; but it was yet considered as the most populous and the most commercial of all the cities of Syria. It was built upon a delightful beach, which mountains sheltered from the blasts of the north; it had two large moles, which, like two arms, stretched out into the waves, to form a port to which no tempest could find access. Tyre, which had kept the victorious Alexander seven months and a half before its walls, was defended on one side by a stormy sea and steep rocks, and on the other by a triple wall surmounted by high towers.

The doge of Venice, with his fleet, entered the port and closed up all issue on the side of the sea. The patriarch of Jerusalem, the regent of the kingdom, and Pontius, count of Tripoli, commanded the army by land. In the early days of the siege, the Christians and the Mussulmans fought with obstinate ardour, and with equal success; but the divisions among the infidels soon came in to second the efforts of the Franks. The caliph of Egypt had yielded half of the place to the sultan of Damascus, to induce him to defend it against the Christians. The Turks and the Egyptians were divided among themselves, and would not fight together. The Franks profited by these divisions, and every day gained great advantages. After a siege of some months, the walls crumbled away before the machines of the Christians; provisions began to be short in the city, and the infidels were ready to capitulate, when discord arose to disunite the Christians in their turn, and was on the point of rendering useless the prodigies of valour, and the labours of the long siege.

The land army complained aloud of being obliged to support alone, both fighting and fatigue; the knights and their soldiers threatened to remain as motionless under their tents, as the Venetians did in their ships. To prevent the effect of their complaints, the doge of Venice came into the camp of the Christians, with his sailors armed with their oars, and declared that he was ready to mount the breach. From that time a generous emulation animated equally the zeal and courage of the land and sea forces. The Mussulmans, being without hope of succour, after a siege of five months and a half, were obliged to surrender. The standards of the king of Jerusalem and the doge of Venice waved over the walls of Tyre; the Christians made their triumphal entry into the city, whilst the inhabitants, according to the terms of the capitulation, went out with their wives and children.[246]

The day on which they received at Jerusalem the news of the conquest of Tyre, was a festival for the population of the holy city. To the sound of the bells the Te Deum was sung on bended knees; flags were hoisted on the towers and the ramparts of the city; branches of olive, and garlands of flowers were suspended in the streets and public places, and rich stuffs were hung upon the outsides of the houses, and upon the doors of the churches. Old men reminded their neighbours of the splendour of the kingdom of Judah, and young virgins repeated in chorus the psalms in which the prophets had celebrated the city of Tyre.

The doge of Venice, on his return to the holy city, was saluted by the acclamations of the people and the clergy. The barons and the principal inhabitants did all in their power to detain him in Palestine; they even went so far as to offer him the crown of Baldwin; some believing that that prince had died among the infidels, others only recognising a king when at the head of an army, or on the field of battle. The doge refused the crown they offered him; and, satisfied with the title of prince of Jerusalem, sailed with his victorious fleet back to Italy.

Whilst they were offering the throne of Jerusalem to a foreign prince, the captivity of Baldwin du Bourg was drawing to an end. The emir Balac,[247] who held him prisoner, after having conquered in a battle ten thousand Christians commanded by Josselin, besieged the citadel of a Mussulman city of Syria, and was preparing to succour the city of Tyre, when he was wounded by a javelin, and died regretted by the most ardent disciples of Mahomet. Baldwin was then enabled to purchase his liberty, and, after a captivity of eighteen months, appeared once again among the Christians. The king of Jerusalem had promised the Saracens a considerable sum as his ransom; but it was much more easy for him to fight and conquer his enemies than to fulfil such a promise. The Mussulmans, besides, by ill-treating the hostages he had left with them,[248] furnished him with a pretext to attack them. When the infidels demanded of him the stipulated price of his liberty, he only replied by gaining victories over them. The Christian knights, who seemed to have forgotten him, now that they saw him once again in arms, returned thanks to Heaven for his deliverance, and came in troops to range themselves under his banners, and recognised with joy the authority of a prince who appeared only to have issued from his prison to lead them to new combats.

The Christian states at that period numbered as enemies the caliphs of Bagdad and Damascus, the emirs of Mossoul and Aleppo, and the descendants of Ortoc, who were masters of several places on the Euphrates.[249] The Egyptians were weakened by their numerous defeats, and of all their ancient conquests on the coasts of Syria, only retained the city of Ascalon. But the garrison of this place, formed of the wrecks of several conquered armies, still threatened the territories of the Christians. Although the Egyptians had lost the cities of Tyre, Tripoli, and PtolemaÏs, they still continued masters at sea, and their fleets cruised without obstacle along the coasts of Syria, when the maritime nations of Europe did not happen to send succour to the Franks established in Palestine.

The Turks, accustomed to the military and pastoral life, did not aspire to the empire of the seas, but they never left the Christians at rest. They made themselves dreaded, not so much by their great armies, which were frequently nothing but confused and undisciplined multitudes, but by their continual, harassing incursions. Docile and patient, they endured hunger, thirst, and fatigue, better than they would face an enemy. Their knowledge of the country, their being accustomed to the climate, and the intelligence they kept up with the inhabitants, gave them, in all their warlike expeditions, a decided advantage over the Christians. Their soldiers surpassed the Franks in the arts of shooting with the bow, or hurling a javelin, as well as in horsemanship; and their leaders were practised, and excelled in all the stratagems of war. Their tactics consisted in wearing out their enemies, in preparing ambushes for them, or in drawing them into difficult positions, where they might triumph without fighting. The endless discord which prevailed among the Mussulman princes of Syria, and the revolutions which daily threatened their power, prevented them from following up, for any length of time, the same plan of defence or attack; but when in the enjoyment of a transient tranquillity, sometimes excited by a thirst for plunder, or sometimes animated by the prayers and the counsels of the caliph of Bagdad, they would burst like a sudden and unexpected storm over the territories of Antioch, Edessa, Tripoli, or the kingdom of Jerusalem. If the Mussulmans experienced a defeat, they retired with the hope of finding a more favourable opportunity; if they were conquerors, they ravaged the cities and the plains, and returned to their country, loaded with booty, singing these words: “The Koran rejoices, and the Gospel is in tears.”

The hopes of booty every year attracted new hordes and tribes, which poured down from Mount Caucasus, Mount Taurus, from KoraÇan and the banks of the Tigris. These tribes, for the most part wild and barbarous, mingled among the Mussulmans of Syria and Mesopotamia, and replaced in armies and cities the hosts which war had swept away. Among the tribes which had thus established themselves in Syria, history must not forget that of the assassins or IsmaËlians, whose sect had sprung up, towards the commencement of the eleventh century, in the mountains of Persia. A short time before the first crusade, they took possession of a part of Libanus, and founded a colony between Tripoli and Tortosa, which colony was governed by a chief whom the Franks called—the Old Man, or the Lord of the Mountain. The chief of the IsmaËlians only reigned over about twenty castles or towns, and scarcely more than sixty thousand subjects; but he had converted despotism into a species of worship, and his authority was without bounds. His subjects considered that he alone was the depositary of the laws of Mahomet, and that all who opposed his will merited death. The Old Man of the Mountains, according to the belief of the IsmaËlians, could distribute, at his pleasure, the delights of Paradise to his servants; that he who died in an act of obedience to his chief, ascended to heaven, whither the prophet of Mecca welcomed him, whilst he who died in his bed went through long probationary pains in the next world.

The IsmaËlians were divided into three classes: the people, the soldiers, and the guards. The people lived by the cultivation of the lands and by commerce; they were docile, laborious, sober, and patient: nothing could exceed the skill, strength, and courage of the soldiers, whose qualities were particularly valued in the defence or sieges of cities. The greater part of the Mussulman princes were very desirous of having them in their pay.

The most distinguished class was that of the guards or fÉdaÏs. Nothing was neglected in their education. From their infancy their bodies were strengthened by constant and violent exercises, and their minds were cultivated by the study of the arts. They were taught the languages of Asia and Europe, in order that they might be sent into those countries to execute the orders of their master. All sorts of means were employed to inflame their imaginations and heighten their courage; during their sleep, which was provoked by intoxicating drinks, they were transported into delicious gardens, and awoke surrounded by the seductions of voluptuousness. It was there that the Old Man of the Mountains, by showing them the image of the joys of Paradise, inspired them with a blind obedience. In the midst of illusions which fascinated them, their master could order them to cast themselves from the height of a tower, to precipitate themselves into flames, or to pierce themselves with mortal wounds. When the Old Man of the Mountains had pointed out to them any one he wished to punish, they went, armed with a poniard, indifferently, to seek him in palaces or camps, and were impeded by neither obstacles nor dangers.

Princes often intrusted the charge of their revenge to the chief of the IsmaËlians, and looked to him for the death of their rivals or enemies. Powerful monarchs were his tributaries. The fears which he inspired, and the murders committed by his orders, heaped up his treasures. Surrounded by his intrepid soldiery, he sent death into distant regions; the terror of his name was spread everywhere, whilst he himself had nothing to fear from his enemies.

The IsmaËlians, as implacable sectarians, entertained a profound aversion for the Turks of Syria. Many of them were in the pay of the emirs and the sultans of that nation; but they sold their services at a very high price, and often took an active part in the bloody revolutions which precipitated from thrones the Mussulman dynasties of the East. They had less hatred for the Christians, because the latter fought against the Turks; nay, sometimes they became useful auxiliaries to the Franks. When Baldwin du Bourg was liberated, they proposed to deliver up Damascus to him, a great number of their warriors being in that city; but the plot being discovered, they miscarried in their enterprise, and six thousand IsmaËlians were slaughtered by the Mussulmans.[250]

The Old Man of the Mountains commanded the death of the emir of Mossoul, who had defended the city of Damascus against the Christians. The murder of the Mussulman emir threw Syria into a state of excitement and trouble; but from the bosom of this disorder arose a new and formidable power. Zengui, son of Aksancar, one of the most skilful captains of his age, obtained the principality of Mossoul, got possession of Emessa and Aleppo, with several other cities of Syria, and founded the dynasty of the Atabecks, or governors of the prince, which was destined to dominate over the East, and render itself formidable to the Christians.[251]

Whilst this new power was rising in Syria, the Christian states of the East were at their highest point of prosperity. The county of Edessa, which contained a great portion of the rich provinces of Mesopotamia, had all the Armenian princes as its allies and auxiliaries. Several cities of Coelesyria, Cilicia, and Lower Armenia constituted the principality of Antioch, the most extensive and the most flourishing of the Christian provinces.

The county of Tripoli comprised several places situated on the Sea of Phoenicia, from Margath to the river Adonis. This river, celebrated in both sacred and profane history, bounded on the north the kingdom of Jerusalem, which, towards the south, extended on the sea-coast as far as the gates of Ascalon, and towards the east, to the deserts of Arabia.

These four states formed a redoubtable confederacy. Europe beheld with pride these Christian colonies, which had cost her so much blood; she was afflicted at their reverses, and rejoiced at their progress. The safety of Christianity appeared identified with their preservation. The bravest of the Christians were always ready to devote themselves for the heritage of Christ; religion offered no recompense equal to that promised to their valour, and charity itself became warlike.

From the bosom of an hospital consecrated to the service of pilgrims and the poor, issued heroes armed against the infidels,—the humanity and the bravery of the knights of St. John[252] were equally conspicuous. Whilst some grew old in the offices of hospitality, others went forth to combat with the enemies of their faith. After the example of these pious knights, several men of gentle birth met near the place where the temple of Solomon had stood, and took an oath to protect and defend the pilgrims who repaired to Jerusalem. Their union gave birth to the order of the Templars, which, from its origin, was approved of by a council, and owed its statutes to St. Bernard.

These two orders were governed by the same principle that had given birth to the crusade, the union of the military spirit with the religious spirit. Retired from the world, they had no other country but Jerusalem, no other family but that of Jesus Christ. Wealth, evils, and dangers were all in common amongst them; one will, one spirit, directed all their actions and all their thoughts; all were united in one house, which appeared to be inhabited but by one man. They lived in great austerity, and the severer their discipline became, the stronger appeared the bonds by which it enchained their hearts and their wills. Arms formed their only decoration; precious ornaments were never seen in their houses or churches; but lances, bucklers, swords, and standards taken from the infidels abounded. At the cry of battle, says St. Bernard,[253] they armed themselves with faith within and with steel without; they feared neither the number nor the fury of the barbarians, they were proud to conquer, happy to die for Jesus Christ, and believed that every victory came from God.

Religion had sanctified the perils and the violences of war. Every monastery of Palestine was a fortress, in which the din of arms was mingled with the voice of prayer. Humble cenobites sought glory in fight; the canons, instituted by Godfrey to pray near the holy tomb, after the example of the Hospitallers and the Templars, had clothed themselves with the casque and the cuirass, and, under the name of the Knights of the Holy Sepulchre, distinguished themselves amongst the soldiers of Christ.

The glory of these military orders was soon spread throughout the Christian world. Their renown penetrated even to the isles and the most remote nations of the West. All who had sins to expiate hastened to the holy city to share the labours of the Christian warriors. Crowds of men, who had devastated their own country, came to defend the kingdom of Jerusalem, and take part in the perils of the most firm defenders of the faith.

There was not an illustrious family in Europe which did not send at least one knight to the military orders of Palestine. Princes even enrolled themselves in this holy militia, and laid aside the insignia of their dignity to assume the red coat of arms of the Hospitallers, or the white mantle of the knights of the Temple. In all the nations of the West castles and cities were bestowed upon them, which offered an asylum and succour to pilgrims, and became auxiliaries to the kingdom of Jerusalem. As monks, as soldiers of Christ, they were remembered in every will, and not unfrequently became the heirs of monarchs and princes.

The knights of St. John and of the Temple for a length of time were deserving of the greatest praises; more happy and more worthy of the benedictions of posterity would they have been, if, in the end, they had not allowed themselves to be corrupted by their success and their wealth; and if they had not frequently disturbed the welfare of the state of which their bravery was the support! These two orders were like a crusade that was unceasingly renewed, and preserved emulation in the Christian armies.

The military customs and manners of the Franks who were then engaged in Palestine, present an object worthy of fixing the attention of the historian and the philosopher, and may serve to explain the rapid rise and the following decline of the kingdom of Jerusalem. The spirit of honour which animated the warriors, and permitted them not to fly, even in an unequal fight, was the most active principle of their bravery, and with them took the place of discipline. To abandon a companion in danger, or to retire before an enemy, was an action infamous in the sight of God or man. In battle, their close ranks, their lofty stature, their war-horses, like themselves covered with steel, overturned, dispersed, or bore down the numerous battalions of the Saracens. In spite of the weight of their armour, nothing could exceed the rapidity with which they passed to places the most distant. They were to be seen fighting almost at the same time in Egypt, on the Euphrates, and on the Orontes; and only left these their customary theatres of victory to threaten the principality of Damascus, or some city of Arabia. In the midst of their exploits they recognised no other law but victory, abandoned and rejoined at pleasure the standards which led them to the enemy, and required nothing of their chief but the example of bravery.

As their militia had under its colours warriors of divers nations, the opposition of characters, the difference of manners and language kept alive amongst them a generous emulation; but sometimes, likewise, gave birth to discord. Very frequently chance, or some unexpected circumstance, decided an enterprise or the fate of a campaign. When the Christian knights believed themselves in a condition to fight an enemy, they went to seek him, without taking the least pains to conceal their march; confidence in their strength, in their arms, and, above all, in the protection of Heaven, made them neglect the stratagems and the artifices of war, and even the precautions most necessary to the safety of an army. Prudence in their chiefs frequently appeared to them an evidence of timidity or weakness, and many of their princes paid with their lives or their liberty for the vain glory of encountering useless perils in the Christian cause.

The Franks of Palestine saw scarcely any dangers or enemies except such as met them in the field of battle. Several important enterprises, which fortune alone seemed to direct, were necessary to assure the safety and the prosperity of the Christian states in Asia. The first of these enterprises was to lower the power of the caliphs of Egypt; the second, to conquer and preserve the maritime cities of Syria, in order to receive fleets and succour from the West; the third was to defend the frontiers, and oppose on all sides a barrier against the Turks and Saracens. Each of those great interests, or rather all of these interests united, constantly occupied the Franks established in Asia, without their having any other policy but that of circumstances, and without their employing, in order to succeed, any other means but their swords. It is in this view we must admire their efforts, and find the bravery, which supplied the place of everything, wonderful.

Among the illustrious pilgrims who at this time repaired to Palestine, and took part in the labours of the Christian knights, history ought not to forget Foulque, count of Anjou. He was the son of Foulque le Rechin and Bertrade de Montfort, who became the wife of Philip I., and for whose sake the king of France had braved all the thunders of the Church. Foulque of Anjou could not be consoled for the death of his wife Eremberge, daughter of Elie, count of Maine. His grief led him into Palestine, where he maintained during a year a hundred men-at-arms, whom he led to battle. He united piety with valour, and attracted admiration by displaying all the qualities of a good prince. Baldwin, who had no male offspring, offered him his daughter Melisende in marriage, and promised to have him nominated his successor. Foulque accepted the proposition with joy, and became son-in-law to the king of Jerusalem.

From that time the two princes gave all their attention to promote the prosperity of the kingdom and to defend it against the Saracens. Their union served as a model to Christian princes, and lasted till the death of Baldwin, who, seeing his last hour approach, ordered himself to be carried to the spot where Christ had risen again, and died in the arms of his daughter and his son-in-law, to whom, with his latest breath, he recommended the glory of the Christians of the East.

Baldwin had a right mind, a lofty spirit, and unalterable mildness. Religion presided over his least actions and inspired all his thoughts; but he perhaps had more devotion than was suited to a prince or a warrior. He was constantly seen prostrated on the earth, and, if we may believe William of Tyre, his hands and knees were hardened by practices of piety. He passed eighteen years on the throne of Edessa, and twelve on that of Jerusalem; he was made prisoner twice, and remained seven years in the chains of the infidels. He had neither the faults nor the high qualities of his predecessor. His reign was rendered illustrious by conquests and victories in which he bore no part; but he was not the less regretted by the Christians, who loved to contemplate in him the last of the companions of Godfrey.

Under his reign the public manners began to decline: by his directions a council was assembled at Naplouse to check licentiousness, and punish offenders against order and morality. But the decrees of this council,[254] deposited in the churches, only served to prove the existence of disorders among the Christians, and did not, in any way, stop the progress of corruption, which rapidly increased under the following reigns. Baldwin was more happy in the measures which he undertook to increase the number of his subjects and enrich his capital. An edict suppressed all duties upon grain and vegetables brought into the holy city by the Syrians. Baldwin, by this means, improved the trade and population of Jerusalem, and revived agriculture in the neighbouring provinces.

Foulque, count of Anjou, was crowned king of Jerusalem after the death of Baldwin. At his accession to the throne, discord disturbed the Christian states, and even threatened with speedy ruin the principality of Antioch. The son of Bohemond, who had recently assumed the reins of government, had been killed in a battle against the Turks of Asia Minor, and a daughter, whom he had had by Alise, sister of Melisende, was called to the inheritance of her father’s throne; but the weakness of her sex and age did not permit her to make good her claim. Alise, her mother, wished to get possession of the royal seat, and in the prosecution of her projects did not scruple to avail herself of the aid of the Saracens. Another candidate appeared in Roger, king of Sicily, who, as a member of the family of Bohemond and Tancred, had pretensions to the principality of Antioch. The people, the clergy, and the nobility were divided into several factions.

The king of Jerusalem, as protector of the confederation of the Franks in Asia, determined to re-establish order, and took the road to Antioch with his barons and the knights of the Temple and St. John. The count of Tripoli, who had embraced the party of Alise, undertook to stop the king of Jerusalem on his passage. The powers of these two princes met; a battle ensued, and the plains of Phoenicia were stained with the blood of Christians shed in unnatural strife. Foulque of Anjou, after having routed the troops of the count of Tripoli, gained the banks of the Orontes, silenced the contending factions, and re-established peace. To perfect his work, he resolved to bestow the daughter of Bohemond on a husband able to defend her rights, who would merit the confidence of the Christian warriors. Syria presenting to him no prince or knight worthy of his choice, he turned his eyes towards the princes of Europe, and nominated Raymond of Poictiers governor of Antioch, as Baldwin II. had chosen him himself governor of Jerusalem. Thus Europe, which had found defenders for the Christian states of Asia, supplied them also with princes and kings. Raymond of Poictiers, brother of William, duke of Aquitaine, left France with the scrip and staff of a pilgrim, and came into Syria to espouse the daughter of Baldwin, and reign with her on the banks of the Orontes.

The troubles of Antioch had revived the pretensions of the emperors of Constantinople. John Comnenus, son and successor of Alexius, put himself at the head of an army, took possession of some places in Cilicia, and encamped before the walls of Antioch. After several conflicts, in which victory remained uncertain, negotiations were opened, which ended in the oath of obedience to the emperor being taken by Raymond of Poictiers. The two princes, united by a treaty, resolved to turn their arms against the Saracens. Their troops, which they commanded in person, attacked without success Aleppo and several other cities of Syria; the want of a good understanding, which accompanied the Greeks and Latins at all times, was sure to defeat their enterprises. The emperor returned with vexation to Antioch, of which he endeavoured to make himself master, but was compelled by a sedition to leave the city hastily. He then formed the project of visiting Jerusalem at the head of his army, with the intention, if the Latins are to be believed, of obtaining possession of Palestine. Foulque sent ambassadors to inform him that he could only be received in the holy city in the character of a simple pilgrim; whereupon John, who did not dare to complain, sent presents to Foulque of Anjou, and gave up, without much pain, his idea of a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. After a campaign, for which he had drawn out all the strength of the empire, he returned to his capital, having obtained nothing by his enterprise but the vain and hollow homage of the prince of Antioch.

Foulque of Anjou, after having re-established peace among his neighbours, found, on his return, that discord not only prevailed in his states, but had even made its way into his own house. Walter, count of CÆsarea, accused Hugh, count of Jaffa, of the crime of treason towards his king. This latter noble had drawn upon himself the hatred of the king and the principal people of the kingdom, some say by his pride and disobedience, and others by his guilty connection with the queen Melisende. When the barons had heard Walter of CÆsarea, they decided that a battle, en champ clos, should take place between the accused and the accuser; and as the count of Jaffa did not appear in the lists on the day nominated, he was declared guilty.

Hugh was descended from the famous lord of Puyset, who raised the standard of revolt against the king of France, and who, conquered in the end by Louis le Gros,[255] despoiled of his possessions and banished his country, had taken refuge in Palestine, where his exploits had secured him the county of Jaffa, which he had transmitted to his son. Hugh possessed the turbulent and impetuous character of his father, and, like him, could neither pardon an injury nor submit to an act of authority. On learning that he was condemned without being heard, he set no bounds to his anger, but hastened immediately to Ascalon, to implore the aid of the infidels against the Christians. The Mussulmans, highly pleased with the division which had sprung up among their enemies, at once took the field, and ravaged the country as far as the city of Asur. Hugh, after having contracted a criminal alliance with the Saracens, shut himself up in Jaffa, where he was soon besieged by the king of Jerusalem.

The thirst of vengeance animated both parties; Foulque of Anjou had sworn to punish the treason of his vassal; and Hugh was equally determined to succeed, or bury himself under the ruins of Jaffa. Before the king’s forces commenced the attack, the patriarch of Jerusalem interposed his mediation, and recalled to the minds of the Christian warriors the precepts of Gospel charity. Hugh at first rejected all mention of peace with indignation; but having been abandoned by his followers, he at last lent an unwilling ear to the pacific appeals of the patriarch, and consented to lay down his arms. The king of Jerusalem sent home his army, and the count of Jaffa agreed to quit the kingdom, into which he was not to return till after three years of exile. He was awaiting at Jerusalem the favourable moment for his departure, when an unexpected circumstance was on the point of renewing stifled quarrels. “It happened,” says William of Tyre,[256] “as the count was playing at dice in the street of the Furriers, before the shop of a merchant named Alpham, that a soldier, a Breton by nation, having drawn his sword, fell suddenly upon the said count, who, being attentive to his game, expected nothing less than such an attack, and with the first cut, without the least warning, dealt him such a blow with the said sword on the face as stretched him upon the ground.” At the sight of such a tragical scene the people gathered round in crowds, anxiously inquiring the cause of it. The whole city was filled with rumours of various kinds; all mourned the fate of the count of Jaffa, and thought no more of his rebellion. They did not even hesitate to whisper complaints against the king, whom they accused of having himself directed the poniard of the assassin. The king, however, caused the murderer to be immediately arrested, and he was tried with the utmost rigour of the laws. He was ordered to have his limbs broken; and the king, whilst confirming the sentence, only added that the assassin of the count of Jaffa should not, as was usual, have his tongue cut out, in order that he might name his accomplices. The unhappy wretch expired, declaring that no one had induced him to commit the deed, but that he thought he should serve religion and his king by it. Every one was thus left free to form conjectures according to the feeling that animated him, or the party he had adopted. The count of Jaffa was not long in recovering from his wound; at the end of a few months he quitted Palestine, and went to Sicily, where he died before the time fixed for the end of his exile.

Queen Melisende entertained a deep resentment at all which had taken place; by which she proved that she was not a stranger to the origin of these fatal discords. “From the day on which the count left the kingdom,” says William of Tyre, “all who had against him been informers to the king, and brought him into his ill graces, so incurred the indignation of the queen that they were not in too great safety of their persons, and even the king did not seem to be quite at his ease among the relations and favourites of the queen.” The anger of the queen, however, yielded to time, and did not outlive the count of Jaffa. Foulque himself, whether it was that age had blunted his feelings, or that it appeared more prudent to him to efface the last traces of an unfortunate affair, repented of having compromised the honour of the queen, and neglected nothing that could make her forget the excess of his jealousy and the rigours he had employed.

Amidst these disagreeable events the king of Jerusalem had reason to congratulate himself at having no invasion of the Mussulmans to repel. The prince of Mossoul, Zengui, attacked some Christian fortresses, but he was soon diverted from his enterprises against the Franks by the project of uniting the principality of Damascus to his states. The Mussulman prince who reigned at Damascus could find no other means of resisting Zengui than by calling in the Christians to his help. The king of Jerusalem, after having received hostages and considerable sums of money, took the field at the head of his army, for the purpose of defending a Mussulman city; but Zengui, who feared to try his strength with the Franks, did not venture to attack Damascus. According to the conditions of the alliance with the Christians, the city of Paneas, or CÆsarea of Philippi, which had recently fallen into the hands of the Saracens, was to be given up to them. The warriors of Damascus and Jerusalem marched together to lay siege to that city, situated at the foot of Libanus, and near the sources of the Jordan. For the second time the standards of Christ and Mahomet were seen floating over one army and one camp. CÆsarea of Philippi capitulated after a siege of a few days, and was given up to the king of Jerusalem.

This conquest was the most important event that signalized the latter years of the reign of Foulque of Anjou. The king of Jerusalem, whilst hunting in the plain of PtolemaÏs, fell from his horse, and died of the fall, leaving no one to succeed him but two children of tender age. He was less regretted on account of his personal qualities than for the sad condition in which his death left the kingdom. William of Tyre, who praises the virtues of Foulque of Anjou, remarks, with a naÏvetÉ worthy of these remote times, that this prince had red hair, and yet he could not be reproached with any of the faults usually attributed to men of that colour. He was more than sixty years of age when he ascended the throne of Jerusalem; in the last years of his life his memory was so weakened that he did not know his own servants, and had not sufficient strength and activity to be the head of a kingdom surrounded by enemies. He employed himself more in building fortresses than in collecting armies, and in defending his frontiers than in making new conquests. Under his reign the military ardour of the Christians seemed to grow weaker, and was displaced by a spirit of discord, which brought about calamities much greater than those of war. At the period of the coronation of Foulque of Anjou, the Christian states were at the highest degree of their prosperity; towards the end of his reign they showed a tendency to decline.

Baldwin III., thirteen years of age, succeeded his father, and Queen Melisende became regent of the kingdom. Thus the reins of government fell from the weak and powerless hands of an old man into those of a woman and a child. Parties soon sprung up around the throne; the clergy, the knights, the barons, even the people took a dangerous part in affairs of state, and the authority of the prince, which hitherto had been but that of the general of an army, lost under the regency of Queen Melisende the consideration and splendour it had derived from victory. The government insensibly assumed the turbulent form of a republic, and in the political relations which the Christians held at this period with the Saracens,[257] the latter believed that several chiefs were at the head of the kingdom of Jerusalem.

Baldwin did not wait for the period of his majority to be crowned king, being scarcely fourteen years old, when, in the presence of the barons and the clergy, he received the sword[258] with which he was to defend religion and justice; the ring, the symbol of faith; the sceptre and the crown, marks of dignity and power; and the apple or globe, as an image of the earth and the kingdom he was called upon to govern. Young Baldwin already displayed courage above his age; in the very first days of his reign he achieved a glorious expedition beyond the Jordan, in which he gained possession of the Valley of Moses; but he had not experience enough to know what enemies he ought to attack or what allies he ought to defend. On his return from the expedition of the Jordan he undertook an unjust and unfortunate war, the presage of a sad future for the kingdom of Jerusalem.

An Armenian, who governed the city of Bosra in the name of the sultan of Damascus, came to Jerusalem to offer to deliver up to the Christians the place which he commanded, and the barons and principal people were convoked to hear his proposals. The wiser part of the assembly referred to the alliance made with the Saracens of Damascus; the promises of an unknown soldier appeared to them to have no security, and to inspire no confidence; they said the kingdom of Jerusalem did not want for enemies to combat, or conquests to attempt; it was their duty to attack the most formidable, and protect the others as useful auxiliaries. This advice, which was the most reasonable, was that which obtained the smallest number of suffrages. Wonders were related of the country they were about to conquer; Bosra was the capital of Upper Arabia, all the riches of that country appeared already to belong to the Christians, and all who opposed a conquest so brilliant and so easy were accused of treason. They deliberated in the midst of tumult,[259] and the cries of a misled multitude smothered the voice of reason and prudence. The council of the barons and the principal people decided that an expedition, upon which so many hopes were built, should be undertaken.

The Christian army was soon on its march, and across the mountains of Libanus. When it arrived in the territory of Damascus, its first conflict was with the Saracens gathered together to oppose its passage. After sustaining several severe encounters, the Christians succeeded in gaining the country called Traconite, where they found nothing but plains burnt up by the ardent rays of the sun. The roads were difficult, and the locusts having fallen into the wells and cisterns, had poisoned all the waters. The inhabitants, concealed in subterranean caverns, laid ambushes in all directions for the Christian army; whilst the Mussulman archers, planted upon all the hills and acclivities, left the warriors of Jerusalem not a moment’s repose. The misfortunes of the army ’it is William of Tyre who speaks) increased every day, and there was poured upon the Christians such a quantity, and as it were continually, of all sorts of arrows, that they appeared to descend upon them like hail or heavy rain upon houses covered with slates and tiles, men and beasts being stuck all over with them. Nevertheless, the hope of winning a rich city sustained the courage of the Christian soldiers, and enabled them to brave all these perils. But when they arrived within sight of Bosra, it was announced to them that the wife of the Armenian commandant had called the garrison to arms, and that she was prepared to defend the city which her husband had promised to give up to the king of Jerusalem. This unexpected news at once spread consternation and discouragement through the Christian army. The knights and barons, struck with the misfortunes that threatened the Christian soldiers, pressed the king to abandon his army, and save his person and the cross of Christ. Young Baldwin rejected the advice of his faithful barons, and insisted upon sharing all their perils.

As soon as the order for retreat was given, the Mussulmans, with loud cries, set out in pursuit of the Christians. The soldiers of Jerusalem closed their ranks, and marched in silence, sword in hand, bearing away their wounded and dead. The Saracens, who could not shake or break through their enemy, and who, in their pursuit, found no trace of carnage, believed they were actually fighting against men of iron. The region which the Christians were traversing was covered with heath, thistles, and other plants dried by the heat of the summer. The Saracens set fire to these; the wind bore the flames and smoke towards the Christian army, and the Franks marched over a burning plain, with clouds of smoke, ashes, and dust floating over and around them. William of Tyre, in his history, compares them to smiths, to such a degree were their clothes and their faces blackened by the fire which devoured the plain. The knights, the soldiers, and the people who followed the army, gathered in a crowd around the bishop of Nazareth, who bore the wood of the true cross, and conjured him with tears to put an end by his prayers to calamities they were no longer able to bear.

The bishop of Nazareth, touched by their despair, raised the cross, imploring the mercy of Heaven,—and, at the moment the direction of the wind was changed. The flames and the smoke which desolated the Christians were immediately wafted against the Mussulmans. The Franks pursued their march, persuaded that God had wrought a miracle to save them. A knight, whom they had never before seen, mounted on a white horse, and bearing a red standard, preceded the Christian army, and conducted it out of danger. The people and the soldiers took him for an angel from heaven, and his miraculous presence reanimated their strength and their courage. At length the army of Baldwin, after having undergone all sorts of misery, returned to Jerusalem, where the inhabitants rejoiced at its arrival, singing these words from the Scriptures, “Let us give ourselves up to joy, for that people that was dead is resuscitated; it was lost, and behold here it is found again.

But whilst the inhabitants of Jerusalem were rejoicing at the return of their warriors, the Christian states lost one of their most important places, and experienced an irreparable misfortune. Zengui, whom the caliph of Bagdad and all true Mussulmans considered as the buckler and the support of Islamism, extended his empire from Mossoul to the frontiers of Damascus, and was continuing without intermission the course of his victories and conquests. The Christians made no effort to stop the progress of so redoubtable a power. Zengui, who united with bravery all the resources of a skilful policy, left them in a deceitful security, and determined only to awaken them from their long sleep when he had it in his power to give a mortal blow to their empire. He knew, by experience, that nothing was more fatal to the Christians than too long a repose; the Franks, who owed everything to their arms, were almost always weakened by peace, and when not fighting against the Saracens, generally fell out among themselves.

The kingdom of Jerusalem had two formidable barriers, the principality of Antioch and the county of Edessa. Raymond of Poictiers defended the Orontes from the invasion of the Saracens, and old Josselin de Courtenay had been for a long time the terror of the infidels on the banks of the Euphrates; but he was recently dead. He had fought to his last breath, and even on his bed of death made his arms and his bravery respected.

Josselin was besieging a castle near Aleppo, when a tower fell down near him and covered him with its ruins. He was transported in a dying state to Edessa, and as he lay languishing on his bed, expecting nothing but death, it was announced to him that the sultan of Iconium had laid siege to one of his strong places; upon which he sent for his son and commanded him to go instantly and attack the enemy. Young Josselin hesitated, and represented to his father that he had not a sufficient number of troops to meet the Turks. The old warrior, who had never acknowledged the existence of obstacles, was determined before he died to leave an example to his son, and caused himself to be borne in a litter at the head of his soldiers. As they approached the besieged city, he was informed that the Turks had retired, whereupon he ordered his litter to stop, raised his eyes towards heaven as if to return thanks for the flight of the Saracens, and expired surrounded by his faithful warriors.

His mortal remains were transported to Edessa, the inhabitants of which city came out to meet and join the funeral procession, which presented a most affecting spectacle. Here were to be seen the mourning soldiers bearing the coffin of their chief; and there a whole people lamenting the loss of their support and defender, and celebrating the last victory of a Christian hero.

Old Josselin died deploring the fate of Edessa, about to be governed by a weak and pusillanimous prince; for from his childhood the son of Courtenay had been addicted to drunkenness and debauchery. In an age and a country in which these vices were sufficiently common, the excesses of young Josselin had frequently scandalized the Christian warriors. As soon as he was master, he quitted the city of Edessa, to take up his abode at Turbessel, a delicious retreat on the banks of the Euphrates. There, entirely abandoned to his vicious inclinations, he neglected the pay of his troops and the fortifications of his forts, equally heedless of the cares of government and the menaces of the Saracens.

Zengui had been for a length of time watching for a favourable opportunity of surprising the city of Edessa; as this conquest would not only flatter his pride and ambition, but would render him dearer to all the disciples of Mahomet. In order to retain Josselin in his fancied security, the prince of Mossoul feigned to make war against the Saracens; but at the moment he was supposed to be most busily engaged in an attack upon several Mussulman castles in the east of Mesopotamia, he appeared at the head of a formidable army before the walls of Edessa.[260] A great number of Curds and Turcomans, wandering and barbarous tribes, had joined his standard, attracted by the hopes of a rich booty. At the first signal given by Zengui, the city was surrounded on all sides; seven enormous wooden towers were raised higher than the ramparts; numbers of formidable machines unceasingly battered the walls, or hurled into the city stones, javelins, and inflammable matters; whilst the foundations of the towers of the fortifications were being undermined by the infidels. The walls, which were only supported by slight, ill-fixed posts, were falling to pieces, and, covering the earth with their ruins, seemed ready to offer an easy passage to the Mussulman soldiers.

When on the point to give the signal for destruction, the fierce Mussulmans stopped, and summoned the city to surrender. The sight of the death which threatened them did not at all weaken the courage of the inhabitants, and they answered that they would all perish sooner than give up a Christian city to the infidels. They exhorted each other to merit the crown of martyrdom: “Let us not fear,” said they, “these stones launched against our towers and our houses; he who made the firmament, and created legions of angels, defends us against his enemies, or prepares us an abode in heaven.” Animated by such discourses, the inhabitants of Edessa exerted themselves to destroy the towers and the works of the besiegers, the hopes of being succoured redoubling their zeal and courage. They expected, says an Armenian author, assistance from a nation which they called the valiant, and every day looked to see, from the height of their walls, the standards of the victorious Franks.

The hoped-for succours were vainly expected. When Josselin learnt the danger of his capital, he aroused himself from his sloth, and sent information of it to Raymond of Poictiers, and the queen regent of Jerusalem. But the prince of Antioch, who disliked Josselin, refused to assist Edessa, and the troops of Jerusalem, although set forward on their march, could not arrive in time. Josselin ought to have devoted himself to repair the consequences of his faults, but he had not the courage to seek death under the walls of a city he could not save, and whose defence he had neglected.

On the twenty-eighth day of the siege, several towers fell down with a horrible crash; and Zengui at once ordered his army to enter the place. To paint the frightful scenes of this last attack, I must borrow the words of a contemporary author: “The moment at which the sun began to shine above the horizon, appeared like a night illumined by the fires of the storm. As soon as the ramparts and towers fell, all the city was filled with terror. Nevertheless the defenders of Edessa thought not, for a moment, of flight, but all joined in the cry of the brave, conquer or die. Some employed themselves in propping up the walls, whilst others boldly flew to meet the enemy; the clergy, clothed in helmet and cuirass, marching at their head. The bishops, bearing each a cross in his hands, bestowed their benedictions on the people and animated them to the fight.”

The enemy advanced uttering frightful cries; even amidst the din of a general assault, the voices of the Saracen heralds-at-arms were heard encouraging the soldiers, and promising the pillage of the city to the conquerors. Then, to employ the expression of an Armenian poet, the pusillanimous were seen shedding torrents of tears, whilst the brave, heedless of the stroke of the sabre, rushed amidst the ranks of the Mussulmans.

Neither prodigies of valour, nor the last efforts of despair could save the city or its inhabitants. A great part of the Mussulman army was already in the place; and all who crossed the steps of the conquerors fell beneath the sword. Most of those who sought safety in the citadel, found death under its ramparts, and were trampled upon and stifled by the crowd. The city of Edessa presented, everywhere, the most lamentable scenes; some fell whilst flying, and died, crushed to death by the feet of the horses; whilst others, hastening to the succour of their friends and neighbours, were themselves slaughtered by the barbarians. Neither the weakness of a timid sex, nor age on the brink of the tomb; neither the cries of infants, nor the screams of young girls who sought safety in the arms, or beneath the garments of their parents, could abate the rage of the Saracens. They whom the sword had not yet reached, looked for nothing but death; some crept to the churches to await it, and died embracing the altars of Christ; whilst others, yielding to their despair, remained motionless in their houses, where they were massacred with their families.

The citadel soon surrendered; the soldiers who defended it only asking their lives; but, notwithstanding the capitulation, many were put to the sword. A great part of the priests who had survived the carnage were condemned to slavery; an Armenian patriarch was stripped of his vestments, dragged through the streets, and beaten with rods. Matthew of Edessa, one of the most celebrated historians of Armenia, fell under the sword of the Mussulmans. Hugh, a Latin archbishop, having endeavoured to escape, was, with all his clergy, slaughtered by the infidels. His treasures, which he carried with him, and which might have been usefully employed for the defence of the city, became the prey of the enemy. Pious historians impute the fall of Edessa to the avarice of this prelate, and appear to believe that he was punished in another world for having preferred his gold to the safety of his fellow-citizens.[261]

When the Mussulmans had become masters of the citadel, their priests ascended the steeples of the churches to proclaim these words: “Oh Mahomet! prophet of heaven, we have gained a great victory in thy name; we have destroyed the people that worshipped stone, and torrents of blood have been shed to make thy law triumph.” After this proclamation, the Saracens redoubled their excesses. The Gazis or conquerors satiated themselves with blood; the dead bodies were mutilated, and their heads sent to Bagdad; and even to Khorasan. All who remained alive in the city of Edessa were treated as a flock of animals, and sold in the public places. The Christians, loaded with chains, after having lost their property, their country, and their liberty, had the still further grief of seeing their religion, which was all they had left to console them in their misfortunes, made a subject of ridicule by the infidels. The churches were plundered of their ornaments, and the sanctuary became the scene of the most shocking debaucheries. Many of the faithful whom the horrors of war had spared, could not support the sight of such profanations, and died with despair.[262]

Thus a city, whose citadel, ramparts, and position on two mountains, rendered one of the strongest places in Asia, fell into the power of the Mussulmans. The traditions of religion and history carry back its origin to the highest antiquity. Narses, in a pathetic elegy, deplores the fall of this celebrated city, and makes itself speak of its ancient splendour.[263] “I was,” says she, “as a queen in the midst of her court; sixty towns standing around me formed my train; my numerous children passed their days in pleasures; the fertility of my fields, the freshness of my limpid waters, and the beauty of my palaces were admired; my altars, loaded with treasures, shed their splendour afar, and appeared to be the abode of angels. I surpassed in magnificence the proudest cities of Asia, and I was as a celestial edifice built upon the bosom of the earth.”

The conquest of Edessa exalted the pride of the Saracens. The caliph of Bagdad ordered that the barbarous destroyer of the Christians should be named in the public prayers of the Fridays, and that the whole Mussulman people should offer up thanks to Heaven for his victories. Zengui left some troops in the conquered city, and pursued the course of his triumphs; but fortune did not permit him to finish that which he had begun. He was besieging the castle of Schabar, in Mesopotamia, when he was assassinated by some slaves whom ill-treatment had irritated. The news of his death consoled the Christians for their defeats, and they expressed a joy as immoderate as if they had beheld the whole power of the Mussulmans fall at once. But this joy was of very short duration, for abundance of new enemies and new misfortunes soon followed to overwhelm them.

Josselin, who had taken advantage of the troubles which ensued upon the death of the prince of Mossoul to retake the city of Edessa, ill-guarded by the Mussulmans, found himself unexpectedly besieged by Noureddin, the second son of Zengui. Noureddin had received, as his share of the heritage of his father, the principality of Aleppo, and was eager to signalize his zeal against the Christians. Josselin and his companions, who had surprised the city of Edessa amidst the darkness of night, were wanting in machines of war to besiege and get possession of the citadel. When the city was invested by the prince of Aleppo, the Christian warriors who were placed between the garrison of the fortress and the Mussulman army, saw at once the danger of their position. As in desperate circumstances, a thousand resolutions are, by turns, formed and rejected; whilst they deliberated, the enemy pressed and threatened them. There soon remained no safety for them in a city which they had entered as conquerors; and, after having braved death to get possession of it, they decided upon facing equal perils to get out of it. The soldiers of Josselin, consisting of Christians who had gathered to the city, and of the small number of inhabitants who had survived the massacre of their brethren, had now nothing left but their endeavours to escape the barbarity of the Mussulmans. They made their preparations for flight in silence; the gates were opened in the middle of the night, and every one bearing away that which he esteemed most valuable, a weeping crowd pressed along the streets. Already a great number of these unhappy fugitives had passed the gates of the city, headed by the warriors commanded by Josselin, and had advanced into the plain where the Saracens were encamped, when the garrison of the citadel, warned by the tumult, made a sortie, and uniting themselves with the soldiers of Noureddin, who hastened towards the city, gained possession of the gates by which the Christians were issuing. Many severe conflicts were here maintained, of which darkness increased the horrors. The Christians succeeded in opening themselves a passage, and spread themselves about in the neighbouring fields. They who carried arms united in battalions, and endeavoured to pass through the camp of the enemy; whilst others, separated from the troop of warriors, went on at hazard, wandered about the plains, and everywhere found death following their footsteps. Whilst relating the events of this horrible night, William of Tyre cannot restrain his tears. “Oh disastrous night!” cries the historian Aboulfarage, “dawn of hell, day without pity, day of misfortune which arose upon the children of a city formerly worthy of envy!” In Edessa, out of Edessa, nothing was heard but cries of death. The warriors who had formed battalions, after having pierced through the army of the infidels, were pursued as far as the banks of the Euphrates, and the roads were strewed with their remains, their arms, and their baggage. Only a thousand of them succeeded in gaining the city of Samosata, which received them within its walls, and deplored their misfortunes, without being able to avenge them.

History relates that more than thirty thousand Christians were slaughtered by the soldiers of Zengui and Noureddin. Sixteen thousand were made prisoners, and dragged out their lives in misery and slavery. Noureddin in his vengeance did not spare either the ramparts or buildings of a rebel city; he razed the towers, the citadel, and the churches of Edessa to the ground. He banished all the Christians from it, and left nothing but a few mendicants to dwell amidst the ruins of their country.

Zengui had been considered as a saint, as a warrior beloved by Mahomet, for having conquered the city of Edessa; the blood-stained expedition of Noureddin rendered him dear to the Mussulmans, contributed much to the extension of his renown and his power, and already the Imans and the poets promised to his arms the much more glorious conquest of Jerusalem.

The inhabitants of Jerusalem and other Christian cities shed tears of despair on learning the fall and destruction of Edessa, sinister presages adding much to the terror which the news from the banks of the Euphrates inspired them with. Thunder fell upon the churches of the Holy Sepulchre and Mount Sion; a comet with shining hair was seen in the heavens, and spread general consternation; several other signs appeared, says William of Tyre, contrary to custom, and out of time, indicative of future things. As a crowning misfortune, Rodolphe, chancellor of Jerusalem, was taken by force to the siege of Tyre, and scandal prevailed in the sanctuary. All the faithful of the East were persuaded that Heaven had declared itself against them, and that horrible calamities were about to fall upon the Christian people.


                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

Clyx.com


Top of Page
Top of Page