Chapter XXIII: Book V: A.d. 1099-1148 (2)

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 Cœlesyria, 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 Phœnicia, 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 Phœnicia 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.