The Deeds of God Through the Franks
by Abbot of Nogent-sous-Coucy Guibert · English · Gutenberg #4370 · 526,983 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: The Deeds of God Through the Franks
Author: Abbot of Nogent-sous-Coucy Guibert
Translator: Robert Levine
Release date: August 1, 2003 [eBook #4370]
Most recently updated: August 21, 2012
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/4370
Credits: Produced by Michael Pullen
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DEEDS OF GOD THROUGH THE FRANKS ***
Produced by Michael Pullen
The Deeds of God through the Franks
by Guibert of Nogent
Copyright (C)1997 by Robert Levine
The Deeds of God through the Franks
by Guibert of Nogent
translated by Robert Levine
(notes are at the end of chapter 7)
The four-year period (1095-1099) between the call for crusade by Pope
Urban II at the Council of Claremont and the capture of Jerusalem
produced a remarkable amount of historiography, both in Western
Europe and in Asia Minor. Three accounts by western European
eye-witnesses--an anonymous soldier or priest in Bohemund's army,
Fulker of Chartres, and Raymond of Aguilers--provoked later
twelfth-century Latin writers from various parts of what are now
France, Germany, England, Italy, and the Near East, to take up the
task of providing more accurate, more thorough, more interpretive,
and better written versions of the events.
Very little is known about most of the earliest rewriters; Albert of
Aix, Robert the Monk, and Raoul of Caen are little more than names,
while Baldric of Dole is known to have occupied a significant
ecclesiastical position, and to have composed other literary works.
Guibert of Nogent, on the other hand, is better known than any other
historian of the First Crusade, in spite of the fact that The Deeds
of God Through the Franks, composed in the first decade of the
twelfth century (1106-1109), did not circulate widely in the middle
ages, and no writer of his own time mentions him. Guibert himself,
in the course of the autobiographical work he composed in the second
decade of the twelfth century (1114-1117), never mentions the Deeds,
and it has never been translated into English.[1] What measure of
fame he currently has is based mostly on his autobiography, the
Monodiae, or Memoirs, an apparently more personal document, which has
been translated into both French and English.[2]
Although the Memoirs contain a strong historical component--the third
book, in particular, if used with discretion, offers rich material
for a study of the civil disorder that took place in Laon 1112-111--
the first book has attracted the attention of most recent scholars
and critics because it offers more autobiographical elements.
However, Guibert did not include among those elements the exact date
and place of his birth.[3] Scholarly discussion has narrowed the
possible dates to 1053-1065, although the latest editor of the
Memoirs, Edmonde Labande, categorically chooses 1055. Among the
candidates for his birthplace are Clermont-en-Beauvaisis, Agnetz,
Catenoy, Bourgin, and Autreville, all within a short distance of
Beauvais. No record of his death, generally assumed to have occurred
by 1125, has survived.
In spite of the lack of exactitude about places and dates, the
Memoirs provide an extensive account of some of the ways religious,
psychological, and spiritual problems combined in the mind of an
aristocratic oblate, who became an aggressive Benedictine monk,
fervently attached to his pious mother, fascinated and horrified by
sexuality, enraged at the extent of contemporary ecclesiastical
corruption, intensely alert to possible heresies, and generally
impatient with all opinions not his own.[4] The personality that
dominates the Monodiae had already permeated the earlier, historical
text. As cantankerous as Carlyle, Guibert reveals in the Deeds the
same qualities that Jonathan Kantor detected in the Memoirs:
The tone of the memoirs is consistently condemning and not confiding;
they were written not by one searching for the true faith but by one
determined to condemn the faithless.[5]
Such a tone is clearly reflected in the Deeds, whose very title is
designed to correct the title of the anonymous Gesta Francorum,
generally considered to be the earliest chronicle, and possibly
eye-witness account (in spite of the evidence that a "monkish scribe"
had a hand in producing the text), of the First Crusade.[6]
Throughout his rewriting (for the most part, amplifying) of the Gesta
Francorum, Guibert insists upon the providential nature of the
accomplishment; by replacing the genitive plural of Franks with the
genitive singular of God, Guibert lays the credit and responsibility
for the deeds done--though, not by the French--where they properly
belong.[7]
Guibert also sees to it that his characters explicitly articulate
their awareness of providential responsibility; in Book IV, one of
the major leaders of the Crusade, Bohemund, addresses his men:
Bohemund said: "O finest knights, your frequent victories provide an
explanation for your great boldness. Thus far you have fought for
the faith against the infidel, and have emerged triumphant from every
danger. Having already felt the abundant evidence of Christ's
strength should give you pleasure, and should convince you beyond all
doubt that in the most severe battles it is not you, but Christ, who
has fought.
The Gesta Francorum, however, the text that Guibert sets out to
correct, did not neglect the providential aspect of the First Crusade,
although the surviving text contains no prologue making such an
agenda blatantly explicit. Nevertheless, the anonymous author
provides more than enough characters, direct discourse, and action to
assure every reader that God looked favorably upon the Crusade. The
warning given to Kherboga by his mother, for example,[8] indicates
that even pagans were aware that God was on the side of the
Christians; the appearance of the divine army,--led by three
long-dead saints,[9] is another example of divine support. Perhaps
the most vivid example is the series of visits Saint Andrew pays to
Peter Bartholomew,[10] urging him to dig up the Lance that pierced
Christ's side.
Redirecting, or redistributing the credit for victory, then, was not
a radical contribution by Guibert. A far more noticeable correction,
however, was the result of Guibert's determination to correct the
style of his source:
A version of this same history, but woven out of excessively simple
words, often violating grammatical rules, exists, and it may often
bore the reader with the stale, flat quality of its language.
The result of his attempt to improve the quality of the Gesta's
language, however, is what has distressed some of the modern readers
who have tried to deal with Guibert's strenuously elaborate diction,
[11] itself a part of his general delight, perhaps obsession, with
difficulty. The utter lack of references to Guibert by his
contemporaries may indicate that earlier readers shared R.B.C.
Huygens' recent judgement that it is marred by an "affected style and
pretentious vocabulary."[12]
Guibert seems to have anticipated such a response; at the beginning
of Book Five of the Gesta he claims to be utterly unconcerned with
his audiences' interests and abilities:
In addition to the spiritual reward this little work of mine may
bring, my purpose in writing is to speak as I would wish someone else,
writing the same story, would speak to me. For my mind loves what
is somewhat obscure, and detests a raw, unpolished style. I savor
those things which are able to exercise my mind more than those
things which, too easily understood, are incapable of inscribing
themselves upon a mind always avid for novelty. In everything that I
have written and am writing, I have driven everyone from my mind,
instead thinking only of what is good for myself, with no concern for
pleasing anyone else. Beyond worrying about the opinions of others,
calm or unconcerned about my own, I await the blows of whatever words
may fall upon me.[13]
However, anyone who reads the conventionally obsequious opening of
the dedicatory epistle to Bishop Lysiard would have difficulty
accepting the claim that Guibert has no concern for pleasing anyone
else:
Some of my friends have often asked me why I do not sign this little
work with my own name; until now I have refused, out of fear of
sullying pious history with the name of a hateful person. However,
thinking that the story, splendid in itself, might become even more
splendid if attached to the name of a famous man, I have decided to
attach it to you. Thus I have placed most pleasing lamp in front of
the work of an obscure author. For, since your ancient lineage is
accompanied by a knowledge of literature, an unusual serenity and
moral probity, one may justly believe that God in his foresight
wanted the dignity of the bishop's office to honor the gift of such
reverence. By embracing your name, the little work that follows may
flourish: crude in itself, it may be made agreeable by the love of
the one to whom it is written, and made stronger by the authority of
the office by which you stand above others.
We do not know whether Lysiard shared Guibert's fascination with what
is difficult, but the failure of any other medieval writer to mention
Guibert implies a negative reception in general for the Gesta Dei.
Not every modern reader, however, has been alienated by Guibert's
posture. Labande expresses some enthusiasm for "la virtuosité du
styliste,"[14] and declares that Guibert's various uses of literary
devices "mériteraient une étude attentive." Acknowledging the fact
that Guibert's language is somewhat "alambique" and "tarbiscoté,"
Labande had argued in an earlier article, although only on the basis
of the historical material in the Monodiae, that Guibert deserved to
be appreciated as an historian, with some "modern" qualities.[15]
Going even further than Labande, Eitan Burstein admires "la richesse
et l complexité" of Guibert's diction.[16] One might also point out
that Guibert was not the first to compose a text of an historical
nature in a self-consciously elaborate, difficult style. A century
earlier Dudo of Saint Quentin had used such a style for his history
of the Normans;[17] Saxo Grammaticus' History of the Danes indicates
that the acrobatic style did not die out with Guibert.[18]
Translating into English the work of a deliberately difficult writer,
whose declared aspiration is to be as hermetic as possible, might
become a quixotic task, if Guibert's passion and energy had been
focused only on providing a performance worthy of Martianus Capella.
[19] The abbot of Nogent, however, also provides additional material,
excises or corrects stories that he considers inaccurate, or worse,
and, as his corrective title indicates, alters the focus of the
material. The results of Guibert's efforts certainly provide
unusually rich material for those interested in medieval mentalité.
In addition, since history was a branch of rhetoric during the
middle-ages (i.e., it was a part of literature),[20] those interested
in intertextual aspects of medieval literature will find a treasure
trove, particularly since Guibert eventually sets about correcting
and improving two earlier texts.[21]
A clear example of what Guibert means by improvement occurs in his
amplification of the Crusaders' arrival at Jerusalem. Where the
Gesta Francorum had provided:
We, however, joyful and exultant, came to the city of Jerusalem...
Guibert composes a veritable cadenza on the arrival:
Finally they reached the place which had provoked so many hardships
for them, which had brought upon them so much thirst and hunger for
such a long time, which had stripped them, kept them sleepless, cold,
and ceaselessly frightened, the most intensely pleasurable place,
which had been the goal of the wretchedness they had undergone, and
which had lured them to seek death and wounds. To this place, I say,
desired by so many thousands of thousands, which they had greeted
with such sadness and in jubilation, they finally came, to Jerusalem.
Amplifications like this, magnifying the internal, psychological
significance of the events, while simultaneously insisting upon the
religious nature of the expedition, characterize Guibert's response
to the Gest Francorum. His desire to correct is complicated by the
competitive urges that emerge when he faces the other apparently
eye-witness account of the First Crusade that became available to him,
Fulcher of Chartres' Histori Hierosolymitana.[22] Where he had
offered gently corrective remarks about the crudeness of the Gest
Francorum, Guibert mounts a vitriolic attack on Fulker's
pretentiousness:
Since this same man produces swollen, foot-and-a-half words, pours
forth the blaring colors of vapid rhetorical schemes,[23] I prefer to
snatch the bare limbs of the deeds themselves, with whatever
sack-cloth of eloquence I have, rather than cover them with learned
weavings.[24]
However, to convince readers of his superiority Guibert knew that
stylistic competence was necessary but not sufficient, particularly
because both Fulker and the author of the Gesta Francorum had
convinced most readers, including Guibert himself, that they were
eye-witnesses of most of the events in their texts.[25] Guibert then
had to deal with the commonplace assumption passed on by Isidore of
Seville:
Apud veteres enim nemo conscribebat historiam, nisi is qui
interfuisset, et ea quae conscribend essent vidisset.[26]
Among the ancients no one wrote history unless he had been present
and had seen the things he was writing about.
To overcome his apparent disadvantage, Guibert offers defense of his
second-hand perspective several times in the course of his
performance.
In the fifth book, immediately after acknowledging the fascination of
what is difficult, Guibert provides two paragraphs on the
difficulties of determining exactly what happened at Antioch. These
paragraphs offer another opportunity to watch Guibert rework material
from an earlier text. The author of the Gesta Francorum had invoked
variation of the topos of humility,[27] just before giving his
account of how Antioch was betrayed by someone inside the city:
I am unable to narrate everything that we did before the city was
captured, because no one who was in these parts, neither cleric nor
laity, could write or narrate entirely what happened. But I shall
tell a little.[28]
When Guibert takes his turn at the topos, he is clearly determined to
outdo the author of the Gesta Francorum, both stylistically and in
terms of the theory of historiography:
We judge that what happened at the siege of Antioch cannot possibly
be told by anyone, because, among those who were there, no one can be
found who could have observed everything that took place throughout
the city, or who could understand the entire event in a way that
would enable him to represent the sequence of actions as they took
place.
At the beginning of the fourth book of the Gest Dei, Guibert's
defense of his absence is again intertextual, but openly polemic as
well, as he declares the battle between modern Christian writing
(saints lives and John III.32) and ancient pagan authority (Horace,
Ars Poetica 180-181) no contest:
If anyone objects that I did not see, he cannot object on the grounds
that I did not hear, because I believe that, in a way, hearing is
almost as good as seeing. For although:
Less vividly is the mind stirred by what finds entrance through the
ears than by what is brought before the trusty eyes.[29]
Yet who is unaware that historians and those who wrote the lives of
the saints wrote down not only what they had seen, but also those
things they had drawn from what others had told them? If the
truthful man, as it is written, reports "what he has seen and heard,"
then his tale may be accepted as true when he describes what he has
not seen, but has been told by reliable speakers.
Guibert then goes on to challenge those who object to do the job
better.
Correcting the Gesta Francorum, castigating Fulker, and challenging
his other contemporaries, however, do not absorb all of Guibert's
competitive urges. He also attacks both the Graeco-Roman and Jewish
texts upon which he also heavily depends.[30] His use of moderns to
castigate the ancients begins in Book One:
We wonder at Chaldean pride, Greek bitterness, the sordidness of the
Egyptians, the instability of the Asiatics, as described by Trogus
Pompeius and other fine writers. We judge that the early Roman
institutions usefully served the common good and the spread of their
power. And yet, if the essence of these things were laid bare, not
only would the relentless madness of fighting without good reason,
only for the sake of ruling, would obviously deserve reproach. Let
us look carefully, indeed let us come to our senses about the remains,
I might have said dregs, of this time which we disdain, and we may
find, as that foolish king said,[31] that our little finger is
greater than the backs of our fathers, whom we praise excessively.
If we look carefully at the wars of the pagans and the kingdoms they
traveled through by great military effort, we shall conclude that
none of their strength, their armies, by the grace of God, is
comparable to ours.
Throughout the text Guibert relentlessly insists that the Crusaders
outdo the ancient Jews; in the last book he attempts to strip them of
every accomplishment:
The Lord saves the tents of Judah in the beginning, since He, after
having accomplished miracles for our fathers, also granted glory to
our own times, so that modern men seem to have undergone pain and
suffering greater than that of the Jews of old, who, in the company
of their wives and sons, and with full bellies, were led by angels
who made themselves visible to them.[32]
Partisan outbreaks like this fill the Gesta Dei per Francos, perhaps
more clearly distinguishing it from the earlier accounts of the First
Crusade than Guibert's more elaborate syntax, and self-conscious
diction.
His hatred of poor people also penetrates the text, often to bring
into higher relief the behavior of aristocrats. In Book Two, for
example, he offers a comic portrayal of poor, ignorant pilgrims:
There you would have seen remarkable, even comical things: poor men,
their cattle pulling two-wheeled carts, armed as though they were
horses, carrying their few possessions together with their small
children in the wagon. The small childrne, whenever they came upon a
castle or town on the way, asked whether this was the Jerusalem they
were seeking.
In the seventh and last book, Guibert tells the story of the woman
and the goose, again to ridicule the foolishness of the poor:
A poor woman set out on the journey, when a goose, filled with I do
not know what instructions, clearly exceeding the laws of her own
dull nature, followed her. Lo, rumor, flying on Pegasean wings,
filled the castles and cities with the news that even geese had been
sent by God to liberate Jerusalem. Not only did they deny that this
wretched woman was leading the goose, but they said that the goose
led her. At Cambrai they assert that, with people standing on all
sides, the woman walked through the middle of the church to the altar,
and the goose followed behind, in her footsteps, with no one urging
it on. Soon after, we have learned, the goose died in Lorraine; she
certainly would have gone more directly to Jerusalem if, the day
before she set out, she had made of herself a holiday meal for her
mistress.
Poor people, however, are not merely comic, but dangerous, to
themselves, as Guibert's version of the story of Peter the Hermit
indicates, and to others, as Guibert's version of the death of Peter
Bartholomew emphasizes.[33]
The story of the goose, however, is a comic reflection of a
persistently urgent problem on the First Crusade; Guibert addresses
the problem of famine often, and expresses particularly warm sympathy
towards aristocratic hunger:
How many jaws and throats of noble men were eaten away by the
roughness of this bread. How terribly were their fine stomachs
revolted by the bitterness of the putrid liquid. Good God, we think
that they must have suffered so, these men who remembered their high
social position in their native land, where they had been accustomed
to great ease and pleasure, and now could find no hope or solace in
any external comfort, as they burned in the terrible heat. Here is
what I and I alone think: never had so many noble men exposed their
own bodies to so much suffering for a purely spiritual benefit.
Furthermore, he bends over backwards to defend aristocrats towards
whom other historians of the First Crusade were far less sympathetic.
Guibert's description of the count of Normandy, for example, shows
remarkable moral flexibility:
It would hardly be right to remain silent about Robert, Count of
Normandy, whose bodily indulgences, weakness of will, prodigality
with money, gourmandising, indolence, and lechery were expiated by
the perseverance and heroism that he vigorously displayed in the army
of the Lord. His inborn compassion was naturally so great that he
did not permit vengeance to be taken against those who had plotted to
betray him and had been sentenced to death, and if something did
happen to them, he wept for their misfortune. He was bold in battle,
although adeptness at foul trickery, with which we know many men
befouled themselves, should not be praised, unless provoked by
unspeakable acts. For these and for similar things he should now be
forgiven, since God has punished him in this world, where he now
languishes in jail, deprived of all his honors.
His defense of Stephen of Blois also shows a remarkably complex
tolerance and sensitivity towards aristocratic failure:
At that time, Count Stephen of Blois, formerly man of great
discretion and wisdom, who had been chosen as leader by the entire
army, said that he was suffering from a painful illness, and, before
the army had broken into Antioch, Stephen made his way to a certain
small town, which was called Alexandriola. When the city had been
captured and was again under siege, and he learned that the Christian
leaders were in dire straits, Stephen, either unable or unwilling,
delayed sending them aid, although they were awaiting his help. When
he heard that an army of Turks had set up camp before the city walls,
he rode shrewdly to the mountains and observed the amount the enemy
had brought. When he saw the fields covered with innumerable tents,
in understandably human fashion he retreated, judging that no mortal
power could help those shut up in the city. A man of the utmost
probity, energetic, pre-eminent in his love of truth, thinking
himself unable to bring help to them, certain that they would die, as
all the evidence indicated, he decided to protect himself, thinking
that he would incur no shame by saving himself for a opportune moment.
Guibert concludes his defense of Stephen's questionable behavior with
a skillful use of counter-attack:
And I certainly think that his flight (if, however, it should be
called a flight, since the count was certainly ill), after which the
dishonorable act was rectified by martyrdom, was superior to the
return of those who, persevering in their pursuit of foul pleasure,
descended into the depths of criminal behavior. Who could claim that
count Stephen and Hugh the Great, who had always been honorable,
because they had seemed to retreat for this reason, were comparable
to those who had steadfastly behaved badly?
One of the functions of the panegyric he composes for martyred
Crusader is to make Guibert's own rank clear, present, and
significant:
We have heard of many who, captured by the pagans and ordered to deny
the sacraments of faith, preferred to expose their heads to the sword
than to betray the Christian faith in which they had been instructed.
Among them I shall select one, knight and an aristocrat, but more
illustrious for his character than all others of his family or social
class I have ever known. From the time he was a child I knew him,
and I watched his fine disposition develop. Moreover, he and I came
from the same region, and his parents held benefices from my parents,
and owed them homage, and we grew up together, and his whole life and
development were an open book to me.
He is a spokesman not only for aristocrats, but for the French, in
spite of his emphasis on per Deum in his title, regularly emphasizing,
throughout his text, the significance and superiority of the French
contribution. At the end of Book One, Guibert insists that Bohemund,
the major military figure in his history, was really French:
Since his family was from Normandy, a part of France, and since he
had obtained the hand of the daughter of the king of the French, he
might be very well be considered a Frank.
In Book Three, when the Franks win a significant victory, Guibert
insists that the defeated Turks and the victorious Franks have not
merely common but noble ancestors, thereby melding his two political
commitments:
But perhaps someone may object, arguing that the enemy forces were
merely peasants, scum herded together from everywhere. Certainly the
Franks themselves, who had undergone such great danger, testified
that they could have known of no race comparable to the Turks, either
in liveliness of spirit, or energy in battle. When the Turks
initiated a battle, our men were almost reduced to despair by the
novelty of their tactics in battle; they were not accustomed to their
speed on horseback, not to their ability to avoid our frontal
assaults. We had particular difficulty with the fact that they fired
their arrows only when fleeing from the battle. It was the Turk's
opinion, however, that they shared an ancestry with the Franks, and
that the highest military prowess belonged particularly to the Turks
and Franks, above all other people.
Having praised the West at the expense of the East in the first book,
in the second he praises the French at the expense of the Teutons,
recounting a conversation he recently held with a German ecclesiastic,
to show himself an ardent defender of ethnicity:
Last year while I was speaking with a certain archdeacon of Mainz
about a rebellion of his people, I heard him vilify our king and our
people, merely because the king had given gracious welcome everywhere
in his kingdom to his Highness Pope Paschalis and his princes; he
called them not merely Franks, but, derisively, "Francones." I said
to him, "If you think them so weak and languid that you can denigrate
a name known and admired as far away as the Indian Ocean, then tell
me upon whom did Pope Urban call for aid against the Turks? Wasn't
it the French? Had they not been present, attacking the barbarians
everywhere, pouring their sturdy energy and fearless strength into
the battle, there would have been no help for your Germans, whose
reputation there amounted to nothing." That is what I said to him.
Guibert then turns to his reader, and provides a more extensive
panegyric for his people, recalling pre-Merovingian accomplishments:
I say truly, and everyone should believe it, that God reserved this
nation for such a task. For we know certainly that, from the time
that they received the sign of faith that blessed Remigius brought to
them, they succumbed to none of the diseases of false faith from
which other nations have remained uncontaminated either with great
difficulty or not at all. They are the ones who, while still
laboring under the pagan error, when they triumphed on the
battlefield over the Gauls, who were Christians, did not punish or
kill any of them, because they believed in Christ. Instead, those
whom Roman severity had punished with sword and fire, French native
generosity covered with gems and amber. They strove to welcome with
honor not only those who lived within their own borders, but they
also affectionately cared for people who came from Spain, Italy, or
anywhere else, so that love for the martyrs and confessors, whom they
constantly served and honored, made them famous, finally driving them
to the glorious victory at Jerusalem. Because it has carried the
yoke since the days of its youth, it will sit in isolation,[34] a
nation noble, wise, war-like, generous, brilliant above all kinds of
nations. Every nation borrows the name as an honorific title; do we
not see the Bretons, the English, the Ligurians call men "Frank" if
they behave well? But now let us return to the subject.
"Let us return to the subject," like the earlier injunction, "let us
continue in the direction in which we set out," indicates Guibert's
awareness of his tendency to perform "sorties."[35] At times he
turns from the narrative to deliver a sermon, or to offer a biography
of Mahomet, and, more than once, to lecture on ecclesiastical history.
The apparent looseness of structure which results, a quality Misch
attributed to the Memoirs as well, may be symptom of Guibert's
Shandy-like temperament, or may be evidence that the remarks he made
about his style in an early aside to the reader apply equally well to
his structure:
Please, my reader, knowing without a doubt that I certainly had no
more time for writing than those moments during which I dictated the
words themselves, forgive the stylistic infelicities; I did first
write on writing-tablets to be corrected diligently later, but I
wrote them directly on the parchment, exactly as it is, harshly
barked out.
Such a cavalier attitude towards the finished product was not
characteristic of Guibert,[36] and seems to be in keeping neither
with his declared penchant for difficulty, nor with his declared
intention to raise the level of his style to match the significance
of his subject:
No one should be surprised that I make use of style very much
different from that of the Commentaries on Genesis, or the other
little treatises; for it is proper and permissible to ornament a
history with the crafted elegance of words; however, the mysteries of
sacred eloquence should be treated not with poetic loquacity, but
with ecclesiastical plainness. Therefore I ask you to accept this
graciously, and to keep it as perpetual monument to your name.
The seriousness of purpose and the apparent looseness of structure
may perhaps be reconciled by considering that the literal level of
events was a less urgent concern for Guibert than the significance of
those events. In addition, he imagined himself not so much as a
recorder of events, but as a competitor in a rhetorical agon, as the
implied metaphor that he uses in describing his activity as writer,
in hujus stadio operis excurrisse debueram, "racing in a stadium,"
implies.
In fact, in the course of composing his explicitly corrective version
of the First Crusade, Guibert participates in several contests
simultaneously; he "mollifies" the style and corrects the substance
of previous writers on the Crusades; he argues for some miracles and
against others; he utilizes and attempts to transcend both the
Graeco-Roman and the Judaeo part of the Judaeo-Christian past. As a
rhetorical performance, in both prose and verse, the results are
impressive, since the Gesta Dei per Francos simultaneously reflects
historical reality, and provides some insight into the workings of
the mind of gifted, early twelfth-century French cleric and
aristocrat.
Summary of the Gesta Dei per Francos
Characteristically, Guibert opens the Gesta defensively, justifying
his choice of a modern topic by insisting upon the exceptional nature
of the Crusade, as well as the exceptional nature of the French. The
entire first book is devoted to a selective history of the Eastern
Church and a denunciation of heresies, concluding with an extensive
invective against Mahomet, compounding sex, excrement, and disease.
[37] Guibert then moves forward in time, to the generation before
the First Crusade, to describe a complaint about Muslim lust made by
the Greek Emperor to the elder Count Robert of Flanders. Guibert
also complains about the Greek Emperor's own excessive interest in
erotic motivation for warriors.
Book Two begins with an account that amounts to little more than a
panegyric of Pope Urban II, admired by Guibert at least partially
because he is French. Guibert then compliments the French for their
long-standing loyalty to the Popes, and for their generally Christian
behavior.[38] Guibert then proceeds to describe the rise of Peter
the Hermit as leader of the poor people who misguidedly set out on
the Crusade, a group whose lack of control outrages Guibert
throughout the Gesta.[39] However, he quickly returns to giving an
account of the aristocrats who took the cross, composing panegyrics
for Godfrey, Baldwin, and Eustace of Bouillon, complimenting Godfrey
in particular for his military victories in skirmishes with the Greek
emperor. The second book ends with a description of some of the
other leaders and their qualities.
In Book Three Guibert introduces Bohemund, describes the siege of
Nicea, the battle of Dorylea, and adds the story about Baldwin's
adoption by the ruler of Edessa (not to be found in the Gesta
Francorum).
In Book Four the Crusaders arrive at Antioch and take up the lengthy
siege. Guibert again adds material not to be found in the Gesta
Francorum: one story involves the false stigmata of an abbot, another
the martyrdom of a man know personally by Guibert.
In Book Five Guibert describes the taking of Antioch, the capture of
Cassian and his decapitation by Armenians and Syrians, the prediction
of eventual Christian victory by Kherboga's mother, the Crusaders'
themselves besieged in Antioch, the initial resistance to Peter's
vision about the location of the Lance,[40] and the desertion of the
Crusade by Stephen of Blois, whom Guibert defends with his
characteristic loyalty to aristocrats.
Book Six offers the discovery of the Lance, a futile meeting between
Peter the Hermit and Kherboga, the reported appearance of a celestial
army, the Crusaders' defeat of Kherboga, and the lifting of the siege
of Antioch. In addition, Ademar of Puy dies, the Crusaders attack
Marrah, and Bohemund and Raymond of St. Gilles disagree about to whom
Antioch belongs. The trial by fire of Peter Bartholomew (not to be
found in the Gesta Francorum) differs significantly and with clear
polemical intentions from the scene in Fulcher; Guibert attributes
the skepticism about the authenticity of the Lance to the death of
Ademar. The book ends with the martyrdom of Anselm of Ribemont, and
mention of his letters, which Guibert will use later.
Book Seven is more than twice the length of any of the earlier books;
in it the Crusaders reach Tripoli, negotiate successfully with its
king, continue on through Palestine, reach Jerusalem, and begin the
siege. As part of his extended panegyric of both brothers, Guibert
now inserts the story of Godfrey cutting a man in half and wrestling
with bear (not in the Gesta Francorum), which permits him, by
association, to modulate to the story of Baldwin refusing to be saved
by having a soldier killed and examined for similar wound, instead
agreeing to substitute a bear. As he approaches the end of his task,
Guibert loosens the structure of his narrative even more, providing a
discussion of Near Eastern ecclesiastical politics, a description of
some of the battles in which the Crusaders consolidated their control
over Palestine, and a cadenza, dense with Biblical quotations and
some allegorical exegesis, on the significance of the Crusade itself.
After providing an anecdote about the way in which children's combat
inspired the soldiers, Guibert provides a brief discussion of the
Tafurs, and describes the betrayal by the emperor that led to the
death of Hugh Magnus. Next Guibert describes Stephen's disastrous
expedition to Paphligonia, offers conflicting versions of Godfrey's
death, mentions his replacement by Baldwin, and provides a flashback
to Robert of Flanders' visit to Jerusalem twelve years before the
Crusade (at which time, according to Guibert, an astrological
prediction of a later Christian victory had been made). Guibert now
tells a story about a man who defeated the Devil, then attacks Fulker
of Chartres for his style, for his story about Pirrus betraying
Antioch, and for his rejection of the authenticity of the Lance.
Guibert's Other Works
None of the salacious verse Guibert confesses to have written in his
youth has survived.[41] Instead, in addition to the Gesta Dei and
the Monodiae, the following writings, entirely on religious topics,
have survived, and have been published in vol 156 of Migne's
Patrologia Latina:
Quo ordine sermo fieri debeat (Migne 21-32 and Huygens 1993 47-63).
Moralium Geneseos libri decem (Migne 32-338).
Tropologiae in prophetas Osee, Amos ac Lamentationes Jeremiae (Migne
337-488).
Tractatus de Incarnatione contra Judaeos (Migne 489-528).
Epistola de buccella Judae data et de veritate dominici Corporis
(Migne 527-538 and Huygens 1993 65-77).
De laude sanctae Mariae liber (Migne 537-578).
De virginitate opusculum (Migne 579-608).
De pignoribus sanctorum libri quatuor (Migne 607-680 and Huygens 1993
79-175).
The Translation
In diction, syntax, word order, and complexity of expression,
Guibert's Latin is more difficult than that of any other Latin
historian of the First Crusade. I have tried to preserve as much of
the complexity of the syntax as is tolerable in comprehensible
English sentences. Guibert's penchant for alliteration, rhyming
clausulae, and pithiness must usually be sacrificed. A
characteristic example of the sonic loss occurs in my attempt to
translate the sardonic description of Arnulf's elevation to patriarch:
...dum vox magis quam vita curatur, ad hoc ut Iherosolimitanus fieret
patriarcha vocatur. (RHC 4.233)
and since a man's voice is of more concern than the life he has led,
he was called to the patriarchy of Jerusalem.
I have followed the paragraphs of the latest edition, often longer
than those to which twentieth-century readers are accustomed, to
allow readers to check the original more easily. Passages which
Guibert composed in verse are translated into prose and indented.
Guizot's early nineteenth-century French translation, although at
times erroneous or misleading, was very helpful.
Notes
Annotating Guibert's text in a truly satisfying manner would have
produced a prologomenon to a synoptic history of the First Crusade.
[42] Instead, I have tried to limit myself to providing: (1)
information necessary to understand and to clarify the translation;
(2) sources for Guibert's Biblical and classical references; (3)
modern names of cities and towns mentioned in the text;[43] (4) the
names of the meters in which Guibert composes the portions of his
text in verse; (5) representative illustrations of the intertextual
nature of the Gesta Dei per Francos.
Acknowledgements
I am grateful to Jessica Weiss for reading through the entire
translation and making useful corrections and suggestions, to Mark
Stansbury for reading through parts of the translation and making
useful corrections and suggestions, and to the staff of The Boston
University Office of Information Technology for help in solving
problems involving word-processing.
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__, "Le Scriptorium de Guibert de Nogent," Scriptorium XXXI (1977),
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__, (ed.) Epistulae et chartae ad historiam primi belli sacri
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__, La tradition manuscrite de Guibert de Nogent, The Hague, 1991.
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The letter of Guibert to Lysiard
Some of my friends have often asked me why I do not sign this little
work with my own name; until now I have refused, out of fear of
sullying a pious history with the name of hateful person. However,
thinking that the story, splendid in itself, might become even more
splendid if attached to the name of a famous man, I have finally
decided to attach it to you. Thus I have placed a most pleasing lamp
in front of the work of an obscure author. For, since your ancient
lineage is accompanied by a knowledge of literature, as well an
unusual serenity and moral probity, one may justly believe that God
in his foresight wanted the dignity of the bishop's office to honor
the gift of such reverence. By embracing your name, the little work
that follows may flourish: crude in itself, it may be made agreeable
by the love of the one to whom it is written, and made stronger by
the authority of the office by which you stand above others.
Certainly there were bishops, and others, who have heard something
about this book and about some of my other writings; leaving them
aside, my greatest wish was to reach you. In reading this you should
consider that, if I occasionally have deviated from common
grammatical practice, I have done it to correct the vices, the style
that slithers along the ground, of the earlier history. I see
villages, cities, towns, fervently studying grammar, for which reason
I tried, to the best of my abilities, not to deviate from the ancient
historians. Finally, consider that while taking care of my household
duties, listening to the many cases brought to my attention, I burned
with the desire to write, and, even more, to pass the story along;
and while I was compelled outwardly to listen to various problems,
presented with biting urgency, inwardly I was steadily compelled to
persist in what I had begun. No one should be surprised that I make
use of a style very much different from that of the Commentaries on
Genesis or the other little treatises; for it is proper and
permissible to ornament history with the crafted elegance of words;
however, the mysteries of sacred eloquence should be treated not with
poetic loquacity, but with ecclesiastical plainess. Therefore I ask
you to accept this graciously, and to keep it as a perpetual monument
to your name.
Preface to the book of the deeds of God by means of the Franks
In trying to compose the present small work, I have placed my faith
not in my literary knowledge, of which I have very little, but rather
in the spiritual authority of the history events themselves, for I
have always been certain that it was brought to completion only by
the power of God alone, and through those men whom he willed.
Likewise, the story undoubtedly was written down by whatever men,
even if uneducated, God willed. I am unable to doubt that He who
guided their steps through so many difficulties, who removed the many
military obstacles that lay before them, will implant within me, in
whatever manner he pleases, the truth about what happened, nor will
he deny to me the ability to choose the correct and fitting words. A
version of this same history, but woven out of excessively simple
words, often violating grammatical rules, exists, and it may often
bore the reader with the stale, flat quality of its language. It
works well enough for the less learned, who are not interested in the
quality of the diction, but only in the novelty of the story, nor is
it the case that the author should have spoken in a way that they do
not understand. Those, moreover, who think that honesty nourishes
eloquence, when they see that the words have been chosen less
carefully than the narrative demands, and that the story is told
briefly where the elaborate variety of mollifying[44] eloquence was
appropriate, when they see the narration proceed bare-footed, then,
as the poet says, they will either sleep or laugh.[45] They hate a
badly performed speech, which they judge should have been recited in
a much different way. The style of writers should fit the status of
the events: martial deeds should be told with harsh words; what
pertains to divine matters must be brought along at more controlled
pace. In the course of this work, if my ability is equal to the task,
I should perform in both modes, so that haughty Gradivus[46] may
find that his lofty crimes have been represented in matching words,
and, when piety is the subject, gravity is never violated by
excessive cleverness.[47] Even if I have been unable to follow these
standards, nevertheless I have learned to admire or praise for the
most part what is done well by someone else. Therefore I confess
that I, with shameless temerity, but out of love of faith, have run
the risk of being criticized by judges whom I do not know because,
when they find that I have taken up this project with a vow to
correct a previous work, they may value the second less than the
first. Since we see a passion for grammar everywhere, and we know
that the discipline, because of the number of scholars that now exist,
is now open to the worst students, it would be horrid thing not to
write, even if we write only as we are able, and not as we should,
about this glory of our time, or even to leave the story hidden in
the scabbiness of artless speech. I have seen what God has done in
these times--miracles greater than any he has ever performed--and now
I see a gem of this kind lying in the lowest dust. Impatient with
such contemptuous treatment, I have taken care, with whatever
eloquence I have, to clean what was given over to neglect more
preciously than any gold. I have not boldly done this entirely on my
own initiative, but I have faithfully promised others, who were eager
for this to be done. Some asked that I write in prose; but most
asked that it be done in meter, since they knew that I had, in my
youth, performed more elementary exercises in verse than I should
have. Older and more responsible, however, I thought that it should
not be done with words designed to be applauded, or with the clatter
of verse; but I thought, if I may dare to say this, that it deserved
being told with greater dignity than all the histories of Jewish
warfare, if God would grant someone the ability to do this. I do not
deny that I set my mind to writing after the capture of Jerusalem,
when those who had taken part in the expedition began to return; but
because I did not want to be importunate, I put the task off.
However, because, with the permission (I do not know if it is in
accordance with the will) of God, the chance to carry out my wishes
came about, I have gone forward with what I had desired piously,
perhaps only to be laughed at by everyone, yet I shall transcend the
laughter of some, as long as I may occupy myself with the daily
growth of my creation, no matter what objections others may bark. If
anyone does laugh, let him not blame man who has done what he was
able to do, whose intentions were sound; may he not instantly
cauterize the fault in my writings, but if he utterly despises them,
let him lay aside the war of words, rewrite what was badly done, and
offer his own examples of correct writing. Furthermore, if anyone
accuses me of writing obscurely, let him fear inflicting on himself
the stigma of weak intellect, since I know for certain that no one
trained in letters can raise a question about whatever I may have
said in the following book.
In proceeding to offer a model to correct (or perhaps to corrupt) the
history, I have first attempted to consider the motives and needs
that brought about this expedition, as I have heard them, and then,
having shown how it came about, to relate the events themselves. I
learned the story, related with great veracity, from the previous
author whom I follow, and from those who were present on the
expedition. I have often compared the book's version of events with
what was said by those who saw what happened with their own eyes, and
beyond a doubt I have seen that neither testimony was discordant with
the other. Whatever I have added, I have learned from eye-witnesses,
or have found out for myself. If anything described is false, no
clever critic may rightly accuse me of lying, I say, since he cannot
argue, as God is my witness, that I have spoken out of a desire to
deceive. How can it be surprising if we make errors, when we are
describing things done in a foreign land, when we are clearly unable
not only to express in words our own thoughts and actions, but even
to collect them in the silence of our own minds? What can I say then
about intentions, which are so hidden most of the time that they can
scarcely be discerned by the acuity of the inner man? Therefore we
should not be severely attacked if we stumble unknowingly in our
words; but relentless blame should be brought to bear when falsity is
willfully woven into the text, in an attempt to deceive, or out of a
desire to disguise something. Furthermore, the names of men,
provinces, and cities presented me with considerable difficulties; I
knew some of the familiar ones were written down incorrectly by this
author, and I do not doubt that in recording foreign, and therefore
less known, names, errors were also made. For example, we inveigh
every day against the Turks, and we call Khorasan[48] by its new name;
when the old word has been forgotten and has almost disappeared, no
use of ancient sources, even if they were available, has been made: I
have chosen to use no word unless it were in common use. Had I used
Parthians instead of Turks, as some have suggested, Caucasus and not
Khorasan, in the pursuit of authenticity, I might have been
misunderstood and laid myself open to the attacks of those who argue
about the proper names of provinces. In particular, since I have
observed that in our lands provinces have been given new names, we
should assume that the same changes take place in foreign lands. For
if what was once called Neustria is now called Normandy, and what was
once called Austrasia is now, because of a turn of events, called
Lotharingia, why should one not believe that the same thing happened
in the East? As some say, Egyptian Memphis is now called Babylon.
Instead of using different names, thereby becoming obscure or
participating in polemics, I have preferred to make use of the common
word. I was in doubt for a long time about the name of the bishop of
Puy, and learned it just before finishing this work, for it was not
in the text from which I was working. Please, my reader, knowing
without a doubt that I certainly had no more time for writing than
those moments during which I dictated the words themselves, forgive
the stylistic infelicities; I did not first write on wax tablets to
be corrected diligently later, by I wrote them directly on the
parchment, exactly as it is, harshly barked out. I inscribed a name
that lacks arrogance, and brings honor to our people: The Deeds of
God through the Franks. Here ends the preface to the history which
is called the Deeds of God through the Franks, written by the
reverend Dom Guibert, abbot of the monastery of Saint Mary at Nogent,
which is located near Coucy, in the district of Laon.--
BOOK ONE
Sometimes but not always incorrectly, certain mortals have developed
the foul habit of praising previous times and attacking what modern
men do. Indeed the ancients should be praised for the way in which
they balanced good fortune with restraint, as well as for the way in
which thoughtfulness controlled their use of energy. However, no
discerning individual could prefer in any way the temporal prosperity
of the ancients to any of the strengths of our own day. Although
pure strength was pre-eminent among the ancients, yet among us,
though the end of time has come upon us, the gifts of nature have not
entirely rotted away. Things done in early times may rightly be
praised because done for the first time, but far more justly are
those things worth celebrating which are usefully done by
uncultivated men in world slipping into old age. We admire foreign
nations famous for military strength; we admire Philip for his
merciless slaughter and victories everywhere, never without
relentless shedding of blood. We commend with resounding rhetoric
the fury of Alexander, who emerged from the Macedonian forge to
destroy the entire East. We measure the magnitude of the troops of
Xerxes at Thermopylae, and of Darius against Alexander, with the
terrible killing of infinite numbers of nations. We wonder at
Chaldean pride, Greek bitterness, the sordidness of the Egyptians,
the instability of the Asiatics, as described by Trogus-Pompeius[49]
and other fine writers. We judge that the early Roman institutions
usefully served the common good and the spread of their power.
And yet, if the essence of these things were laid bare, not only
would their bravery be considered praiseworthy by wise men, but
the relentless madness of fighting without good reason, only for the
sake of ruling, would obviously deserve reproach. Let us look
carefully, indeed let us come to our senses about the remains, I
might have said dregs, of this time which we disdain, and we may find,
as that foolish king said,[50] that our little finger is greater
than the backs of our fathers, whom we praise excessively. If we
look carefully at the wars of the pagans and the kingdoms they
traveled through by great military effort, we shall conclude that
none of their strength, none of their armies, by the grace of God, is
comparable in any way to ours. Although we have heard that God was
worshipped among the Jews, we know that Jesus Christ, as he once was
among the ancients, today exists and prevails by clear proofs among
the moderns. Kings, leaders, rulers and consuls, have collected vast
armies from everywhere, and from among the so-called powerful of
nations everywhere, have amassed hordes of people to fight. They,
however, come together here out of fear of men. What shall I say of
those who, without master, without a leader, compelled only by God,
have traveled not only beyond the borders of their native province,
beyond even their own kingdom, but through the vast number of
intervening nations and languages, from the distant borders of the
Britannic Ocean, to set up their tents in the center of the earth?
We are speaking about the recent and incomparable victory of the
expedition to Jerusalem, whose glory for those who are not totally
foolish is such that our times may rejoice in a fame that no previous
times have ever merited. Our men were not driven to this
accomplishment by desire for empty fame, or for money, or to widen
our borders--motives which drove almost all others who take up or
have taken up arms. About these the poet correctly says:
Quis furor, o cives, quae tanta licentia ferri,
Gentibus invisis proprium praebere cruorem? (Lucan 1.8,9)
What madness was this, my countrymen, what fierce orgy of slaughter...
to give to hated nations the spectacle of Roman bloodshed?[51]
and:
Bella geri placuit, nullos habitura triumphos.
It was decided to wage wars that could win no triumphs.[52]
If they were taking up the cause of protecting liberty or defending
the republic, they would be able to offer morally acceptable excuse
for fighting. Indeed, in the case of an invasion of barbarians or
pagans, no knight could rightly be prevented from taking up arms.
And if these conditions were not the case, then simply to protect
Holy Church they waged the most legitimate war. But since this pious
purpose is not in the minds of everyone, and instead the desire for
material acquisitions pervades everyone's hearts, God ordained holy
wars in our time, so that the knightly order and the erring mob, who,
like their ancient pagan models, were engaged in mutual slaughter,
might find new way of earning salvation. Thus, without having chosen
(as is customary) a monastic life, without any religious committment,
they were compelled to give up this world; free to continue their
customary pursuits, nevertheless they earned some measure of God's
grace by their own efforts. Therefore, we have seen nations,
inspired by God, shut the doors of their hearts towards all kinds of
needs and feelings, taking up exile beyond the Latin world, beyond
the known limits of the entire world, in order to destroy the enemies
of the name of Christ, with an eagerness greater than we have seen
anyone show in hurrying to the the banquet table, or in celebrating a
holiday.[53] The most splendid honors, the castles and towns over
which they held power, meant nothing to them; the most beautiful
women were treated as though they were worthless dirt; pledges of
domestic love,[54] once more precious than any gem, were scorned.
What no mortal could have compelled them to do by force, or persuade
them to do by rhetoric, they were carried forward to do by the sudden
insistence of their transformed minds. No priest in church had to
urge people to this task, but one man urged another, both by speech
and by example, proclaiming his determination, both at home and in
the streets, to go on the expedition. Every man showed the same
fervor; the chance to go on the trip appealed both to those who had
little property, and to those whose vast possessions or stored-up
treasures permitted them to take the richest provisions for the
journey. You would have seen Solomon's words clearly put into action,
"the locusts have no king, yet they march together in bands."[55]
This locust made no leap of good works, as long as he lay in the
frozen torpor of deep sin, but when the heat of the sun of justice
shone, he leaped forward in the flight of a double (or natural)[56]
movement, abandoning his paternal home and family, changing his
behaviour to take on a sacred purpose. The locust had no king,
because each faithful soul had no leader but God alone; certain that
He is his companion in arms, he has no doubt that God goes before him.
He rejoices to have undertaken the journey by the promptings of
God's will, who will be his solace in tribulation. But what is it
that drives a whole community unless it is that simplicity and unity
which compels the hearts of so many people to desire one and the same
thing? Although the call from the apostolic see was directed only to
the French nation, as though it were special, what nation under
Christian law did not send forth throngs to that place? In the
belief that they owed the same allegiance to God as did the French,
they strove strenuously, to the full extent of their powers, to share
the danger with the Franks. There you would have seen the military
formations of Scots, savage in their own country, but elsewhere
unwarlike, their knees bare, with their shaggy cloaks, provisions
hanging from their shoulders, having slipped out of their boggy
borders, offering as aid and testimony to their faith and loyalty,
their arms, numerically ridiculous in comparison with ours. As God
is my witness I swear that I heard that some barbarian people from I
don't know what land were driven to our harbor, and their language
was so incomprehensible that, when it failed them, they made the sign
of the cross with their fingers; by these gestures they showed what
they could not indicate with words, that because of their faith they
set out on the journey. But perhaps I shall treat these matters at
greater length when I have more room. Now we are concerned with the
state of the church of Jerusalem, or the Eastern church, as it was
then.
In the time of the faithful Helen, the mother of the ruler
Constantine, throughout the regions known for the traces of the
Lord's sufferings, churches and priests worthy of these churches were
established by this same Augusta.[57] From church history we learn
that, for a long time after the death of those just mentioned, these
institutions endured while the Roman Empire continued. However, the
faith of Easterners, which has never been stable, but has always been
variable and unsteady, searching for novelty, always exceeding the
bounds of true belief, finally deserted the authority of the early
fathers. Apparently, these men, because of the purity of the air and
the sky in which they are born, as a result of which their bodies are
lighter and their intellect consequently more agile, customarily
abuse the brilliance of their intelligence with many useless
commentaries. Refusing to submit to the authority of their elders or
peers, "they searched out evil, and searching they succumbed."[58]
Out of this came heresies and ominous kinds of different plagues.
Such a baneful and inextricable labyrinth of these illnesses existed
that the most desolate land anywhere could not offer worse vipers and
nettles. Read through the catalogues of all heresies; consider the
books of the ancients against heretics; I would be surprised if, with
the exception of the East and Africa, any books about heretics could
be found in the Roman world. I read somewhere that Pelagius, unless
I am mistaken, was a British heretic; but I believe that no one has
ever been able to compose an account of the mistaken people, or their
errors. The Eastern regions were lands cursed on earth in the work
of its teachers,[59] bringing forth thorns and prickly weeds for
those working it. Out of Alexandria came Arius,[60] out of Persia
Manes.[61] The madness of one of them tore and bloodied the mantle
of holy Church, which had until then no spot or wrinkle,[62] with
such persistence that the persecution of Datian[63] seemed shorter in
time, and more narrowly confined in space. Not only Greece, but,
afterwards, Spain, Illyria, and Africa succumbed to it. The fictions
of the other, although ridiculous, nevertheless deceived the sharpest
minds far and wide with its trickery. What should I say about the
Eunomians, the Eutychians, the Nestorians, how can I represent the
thousands of hideous groups whose frenzy against us was so relentless,
and against whom victory was so difficult, that the heresies seemed
to be beheaded not with swords but with sticks? If we examine the
early histories of the beginnings of their kingdoms, and if we
chatter about the ridiculous nature of their kings, we must wonder at
the sudden overthrowing and replacing of rulers brought about by
Asiatic instability. Anyone who wants to learn about their
inconstancy may look at the Antiochi and Demetrii, whirling and
alternating in and out of power; the man flourishing in power today
may be driven tomorrow not merely from power, but from his native
land, exiled by the fickleness of the peoples whom he had ruled.
Their foolishness, both in secular behavior and in religious belief,
has thrived until this day, so that neither in the preparation of the
Eucharist, nor in the location of the Apostolic see do they have
anything in common with us. But if making the sacrament out of
leavened bread is defended with the apparently reasonable argument
that using yeast is not harmful when it is done in good faith, and
that the Lord had put an end to the old ways by eating lamb with
unleavened bread, and celebrating the sacrament of his own body with
the same bread, because there was no other bread, and he could not
fulfill the law at that time in any other way, to them the use of
unleavened bread, necessary at the time, did not seem a central part
of the mystery, just as the dipping of the mouthful[64] was an
indication not of the carrying out of the sacrament but of Judas'
betrayal. If, I say, these things and others also can be proposed as
either true or false, then what will they say about the Holy Spirit,
those who impiously argue, in accordance with the vestiges of the
Arian heresy, that He is less than the Father and the Son, and who
disagree, both in thought and in many of their actions, with the
ancient laws of the fathers, and with the holy ritual of the Western
Church, they have added this increment to their damnation: they claim
that God limps, having inflicted upon him an inequality of his own
nature. For if one is baptized according to the teaching of the Son
of God, "in the name of the Son and the Holy Spirit," it is for this
reason, that the three are one God; arguing that any of the three is
less than the other is to argue that he is not God. Therefore the
herd of such bulls among the cows of the people now shuts out those
who have proved themselves worth their weight in silver, since some
of our countrymen, stirred by the debate with the Greeks, have
published splendid books on the office of the Holy Spirit. However,
since God places stumbling-block before those who sin voluntarily,
their land has spewed forth its own inhabitants, since they were
first deprived of the awareness of true belief, and rightly and
justly they have been dispossessed of all earthly possessions. For
since they fell away from faith in the Trinity, like those who fall
in the mud and get muddier, little by little they have come to the
final degradation of having taken paganism upon themselves; as the
punishment for their sin proceeded, foreigners attacked them, and
they lost the soil of their native land. Even those who managed to
remain in their native land must pay tribute to foreigners. The most
splendidly noble cities, Antioch, Jerusalem, and Nicea,[65] and the
provinces, Syria, Palestine, and Greece, the seed-beds of the new
grace, have lost their internal strength at the roots, while the
aborted[66] Italians, French, and English, have flourished. I am
silent about the fact that so many abuses have become customary in
those worthless churches, that in many of these regions no one is
made a priest unless he has chosen a wife, so that the apostle's
statement that a man who is to be chosen should have only one wife be
observed. That this statement does not concern a man who has and
uses a wife, but does concern man who had a wife and sent her away,
is confirmed by the authority of the Western church. I am also
silent about the fact that, against Latin custom, people of the
Christian faith, regardless of whether they are men or women, are
bought and sold like brute animals. To add to the cruelty, they are
sent far from their native country to be sold as slaves to pagans.
Finally, worse than all these, it appears that imperial law among
them generally sanctions young girls (a freedom permitted everywhere
as though to be just) being taken to become prostitutes. An example:
if a man has three or four daughters, one of them is put in a house
of prostitution; some part of the smelly lucre derived from the
suffering of these unhappy women goes to the wretched emperor's
treasury, while part goes to support the woman who earned it in such
a base way. Hear how the clamor ascends mightily to the ears of the
Lord of Hosts.[67] Moreover, the priests who are in charge of
celebrating the divine sacraments prepare the Lord's body after they
have eaten, as I have heard, and offer it to be eaten by anyone who
is fasting. While they wander in these and similar paths of evil,
and while they "follow their own devices,"[68] God has set up over
them a new law-giver, "so that the people may know that they are
mortal."[69] And since they, more wanton than the beasts of the
field, have knowingly transgressed the limits set by their fathers,
they have become objects of opprobrium. But just let me tell
something about the authority upon which the nations of the East rely
when they decide to abandon the Christian religion to return to
paganism.
According to popular opinion, there was a man, whose name, if I have
it right, was Mathomus, who led them away from belief in the Son and
in the Holy Spirit. He taught them to acknowledge only the person of
the Father as the single, creating God, and he said that Jesus was
entirely human. To sum up his teachings, having decreed circumcision,
he gave them free rein for every kind of shameful behavior. I do
not think that this profane man lived a very long time ago, since I
find that none of the church doctors has written against his
licentiousness. Since I have learned nothing about his behavior and
life from writings, no one should be surprised if I am willing to
tell what I have heard told in public by some skillful speakers. To
discuss whether these things are true or false is useless, since we
are considering here only the nature of this new teacher, whose
reputation for great crimes continues to spread. One may safely
speak ill of a man whose malignity transcends and surpasses whatever
evil can be said of him.
An Alexandrian patriarch died, I'm not sure when, and the leaderless
church was divided, as usual, into various factions; the more eagerly
each argued for the person whom he favored, the more strongly he
argued against the person whom he opposed. The choice of the
majority was a hermit who lived nearby. Some of the more discerning
men often visited him, to find out what he was really like, and from
these conversations they discovered that he disagreed with them about
the Catholic faith. When they found this out, they immediately
abandoned the choice they had made, and, with the greatest regret,
set about condemning it. Scorned, torn apart by bitter grief, since
he had been unable to reach what he had striven for, like Arius, he
began to think carefully how to take vengeance by spreading the
poison of false belief, to undermine Catholic teaching everywhere.
Such men, whose whole aim in life is to be praised, are mortally
wounded, and bellow unbearably, whenever they feel that their
standing in the community is diminished in any way. Seeing his
opportunity with the hermit, the Ancient Enemy approached the wretch
with these words, "If," he said, "you want certain solace for having
been rejected, and you want power far greater than that of a
patriarch, look very carefully at that young man who was with those
who came to you lately--I shall recollect for you his clothing, his
face, his physical appearance, his name--fill his vigorous, receptive
mind with the teaching that lies near to your heart. Pursue this man,
who will listen faithfully to your teachings and propagate them far
and wide." Encouraged by the utterance, the hermit searched among
the groups that visited him for the identifying signs of the young
man. Recognizing him, he greeted him affectionately, then imbued him
with the poison with which he himself was rotting. And because he
was a poor man, and a poor man has less authority than a rich one, he
proceeded to procure wealth for himself by this method: a certain
very rich woman had recently become a widow; the filthy hermit sent a
messenger to bring her to him, and he advised her to marry again.
When she told him that there was no one appropriate for her to marry,
he said that he had found for her a prophet who was appropriate, and
that, if she consented to marry him, she would live in perfect
happiness. He persisted steadily in his blandishments, promising
that the prophet would provide for her both in this life and in the
next, and he kindled her feminine emotions to love a man she did not
know. Seduced, then, by the hope of knowing everything that was and
everything that might be, she was married to her seer, and the
formerly wretched Mahomet, surrounded by brilliant riches, was lifted,
perhaps to his own great stupefaction, to unhoped-for power. And
since the vessel of a single bed frequently received their sexual
exchanges, the famous prophet contracted the disease of epilepsy,
which we call, in ordinary language, falling sickness; he often
suffered terribly while the terrified prophetess watched his eyes
turning upward, his face twisting, his lips foaming, his teeth
grinding. Frightened by this unexpected turn of events, she hurried
to the hermit, accusing him of the misfortune which was happening to
her. Disturbed and bitter in her heart, she said that she would
prefer to die rather than to endure an execrable marriage to a madman.
She attacked the hermit with countless kinds of complaints about
the bad advice he had given her. But he, who was supplied with
incomparable cleverness, said, "you are foolish for ascribing harm to
what is a source of light and glory. Don't you know, blind woman,
that whenever God glides into the minds of the prophets, the whole
bodily frame is shaken, because the weakness of the flesh can
scarcely bear the visitation of divine majesty? Pull yourself
together, now, and do not be afraid of these unusual visions; look
upon the blessed convulsions of the holy man with gratitude,
especially since spiritual power teaches him at those moments about
the things it will help you to know and to do in the future." Her
womanly flightiness was taken in by these words, and what she had
formerly thought foul and despicable now seemed to her not only
tolerable, but sacred and remrkable. Meanwhile the man was being
filled with profane teaching drawn by the devil's piping through the
heretical hermit. When the hermit, like a herald, went everywhere
before him, Mahomet was believed by everyone to be a prophet. When
far and wide, in the opinion of everyone, his growing reputation
shone, and he saw that people in the surrounding as well as in
distant lands were inclining towards his teachings, after consulting
with his teacher, he wrote a law, in which he loosened the reins of
every vice for his followers, in order to attract more of them. By
doing this he gathered a huge mob of people, and the better to
deceive their uncertain minds with the pretext of religion, he
ordered them to fast for three days, and to offer earnest prayers for
God to grant a law. He also gives them a sign, because, should it
please God to give them law, he will grant it in an unusual manner,
from an unexpected hand. Meanwhile, he had a cow, whom he himself
had trained to follow him, so that whenever she heard his voice or
saw him, almost no force could prevent her from rushing to him with
unbearable eagerness. He tied the book he had written to the horns
of the animal, and hid her in the tent in which he himself lived. On
the third day he climbed a high platform above all the people he had
called together, and began to declaim to the people in a booming
voice. When, as I just said, the sound of his words reached the
cow's ears, she immediately ran from the tent, which was nearby, and,
with the book fastened on her horns, made her way eagerly through the
middle of the assembled people to the feet of the speaker, as though
to congratulate him. Everyone was amazed, and the book was quickly
removed and read to the breathless people, who happily accepted the
licence permitted by its foul law. What more? The miracle of the
offered book was greeted with applause over and over again. As
though sent from the sky, the new license for random copulation was
propagated everywhere, and the more the supply of permitted filth
increased, the more the grace of a God who permitted more lenient
times, without any mention of turpitude, was preached. All of
Christian morality was condemned by a thousand reproofs, and whatever
examples of goodness and strength the Gospel offered were called
cruel and harsh. But what the cow had delivered was considered
universal liberty, the only one recommended by God. Neither the
antiquity of Moses nor the more recent Catholic teachings had any
authority. Everything which had existed before the law, under the
law, under grace, was marked as implacably wrong. If I may make
inappropriate use of what the Psalmist sings, "God did not treat
other nations in this fashion, and he never showed his judgements to
any other people."[70] The greater opportunity to fulfil lust, and,
going beyond the appetites of beasts, by resorting to multiple whores,
was cloaked by the excuse of procreating children. However, while
the flow of nature was unrestrained in these normal acts, at the same
time they engaged in abnormal acts, which we should not even name,
and which were unknown even to the animals. At the time, the
obscurity of this nefarious sect first covered the name of Christ,
but now it has wiped out his name from the furthest corners of the
entire East, from Africa, Egypt, Ethiopia, Libya, and even the more
remote coasts of Spain--a country near us. But now to describe how
this marvelous law-giver made his exit from our midst. Since he
often fell into sudden epileptic fit, with which we have already said
he struggled, it happened once, while he was walking alone, that a
fit came upon him and he fell down on the spot; while he was writhing
in this agony, he was found by some pigs, who proceeded to devour him,
so that nothing could be found of him except his heels. While the
true Stoics, that is, the worshipers of Christ, killed Epicurus, lo,
the greatest law-giver tried to revive the pig, in fact he did revive
it, and, himself a pig, lay exposed to be eaten by pigs, so that the
master of filth appropriately died a filthy death. He left his heels
fittingly, since he had wretchedly fixed the traces of false belief
and foulness in wretchedly deceived souls. We shall make an epitaph
for his heels in four lines of the poet:
Aere perennius,
Regalique situ pyramidum altius:
(I have built a monument) more lasting than brass, taller that the
royal site of the Pyramids...
So that the fine man, happier than any pig, might say with the poet:
Non omnis moriar, multaque pars mei
Vitabit Libitiam.
I shall not die entirely, a great part of me shall avoid Hell.
That is:
Manditur ore suum, qui porcum vixerat, hujus
Membra beata cluunt, podice fusa suum.
Quum talos ori, tum quod sus fudit odori,
Digno qui celebrat cultor honore ferat.
He who has lived by the pig is chewed to death by the pig and the
limbs which were called blessed have become pigs' excrement. May
those who wish to honor him carry to their mouths his heels, which
the pig has poured forth in stench.
What if there is some truth in what the Manicheans say about
purification, that in every food something of God is present and that
part of God is purified by chewing and digesting, and the purified
part is turned into angels, who are said to depart from us in
belching and flatulence: how many angels may be believe were produced
by the flesh eaten by these pigs and by the great farts they let go?
But, laying aside the comic remarks intended to mock his followers,
my point is that they did not think that he was God, but a just man
and leader, through whom divine laws might be transmitted. They
imagined that he had been taken up into heaven, with only his heels
left as a monument for his faithful adherents, who visit them with
great veneration, and condemn eating pork, because pigs consumed
their lord with their bites.
After the pagan heresy had grown strong over a long time, and for
many generations, the people whom we have mentioned above invaded
Palestine, Jerusalem, and the Holy Sepulchre, and captured Armenia,
Syria, and the part of Greece that extends almost to the sea which is
called the Arm of Saint George. Among all the Eastern kingdoms, the
Babylonian empire was from ancient times the most powerful, and ruled
over many kingdoms. However, the kingdom of the Parthians, whom we,
because of changes in the language, call the Turks, is pre-eminent in
military matters, in horsemanship, and in courage, although it is a
very small country. And so the Babylonian emperor occupied the areas
we just mentioned with a large army, but in the course of time he
lost them, as the Turks grew in number, and the Assyrians were
defeated. More energetic, and in command of an astute boldness, they
were attacking the empire of Constantinople and seemed about to
besiege the city, when the emperor of the Greeks, frightened by their
frequent and relentless incursions, sent a letter to France, written
to the elder Robert, count of Flanders,[71] offering him reasons that
might urge him to defend endangered Greece. He did not approach him
because he thought that Robert, although extremely wealthy, and
capable of raising a large force, could alone supply enough troops
for the task, but because he realized that if a man of such power
went on such a journey, he would attract many of our people, if only
for the sake of a new experience, to support him. This count was
truly as wise in military matters as he was perspicacious and
discriminating in literary matters. He had once before gone to
Jerusalem, for the sake of prayer, and, happening to pass through
Constantinople on the way, had spoken with the emperor; as result, on
the basis of the great feeling of trust he had developed for him, the
emperor was impelled to call upon him for aid. Since inserting the
letter itself in this little work would produce a tedious effect, I
have preferred to offer some of what was said, but clothed in my own
words.
He complained that, "after Christianity was driven out, the churches
which the pagans held had been turned into stables for horses, mules,
and other animals. It was also true that they had set up in them
temples, which they called Mahomeries, and they carried out all kinds
of filthy activity in them, so that they had become not cathedrals,
but brothels and theaters. Moreover, there would be no purpose to my
mentioning the slaughter of Catholics, since the faithful who died
received in exchange eternal life, while those who survived led lives
wretchedly bound by the yoke of slavery, harsher, I believe, than
what those who died endured. They took virgins and made them public
prostitutes, since they were never deterred by shame or feeling for
marital fidelity. Mothers were violated in the presence of their
daughters, raped over and over again by different men, while their
daughters were compelled, not only to watch, but to sing obscene
songs and to dance. Then they changed places, and the suffering,
which is painful and shameful to speak of, was inflicted upon the
daughters, while the filthy activity was adorned by the obscene songs
of the unfortunate mothers. Finally reverence for all that was
called Christian was handed over to the brothel. When the female sex
was not spared (an action which might be excused since it is at least
in accord with nature), they became worse than animals, breaking all
human laws by turning on men. Their lust overflowed to the point
that the execrable and profoundly intolerable crime of sodomy, which
they committed against men of middle or low station, they also
committed against a certain bishop, killing him. How can this urgent
lust, worse than any insanity anywhere, which perpetually flees
wisdom and modesty, and is enkindled more powerfully the more it is
quenched, control itself among human beings, whom it befouls with
couplings unheard of among beasts, actions to which Christians may
not give name. And although, according to their own judgment, these
wretches may have many women, that is not enough, but they must stain
their dignity at the hog-trough of such filth by using men also. It
is not surprising that God could not tolerate their ripe wantoness,
and turned it into grief, and the earth, in its ancient way, cast out
the excrement of such destructive inhabitants." Therefore, after he
had expressed his great fears about the siege of Constantinople,
which would follow the crossing of the Arm of Saint George by his
enemies, he added, among other remarks, the following: "This great
city is most deserving of every kind of help if for no other reason
than to prevent the six apostles whose bodies are buried here from
being burned by unbelievers, or buried in the swirling sea." And
certainly nothing is more true. For that city, not only superior for
its monuments of the saints, but also famed for the merit and renown
of its founder, and particularly for the divine revelation which
transformed it from a very old little town into a miraculous city and
a second Rome, is worth of having the whole world come together to
help it, if that were possible. Then, after speaking of the apostles,
the emperor said that they had the head of John the Baptist, which
(although it was not true) seemed to be covered with hair and skin,
as though alive today. Now if this were true, one would have to
investigate the head of John the Baptist that is glorified by the
monks at Angers. Now we are certain that two John the Baptists did
not exist, nor did the one man have two heads, which would be impious
to say. In this matter, one should consider the frequent but not
deadly error, which particularly assails the churches of France,
regarding the bodies of saints: two different places claim to have
the same martyr or confessor, but a single entity cannot occupy two
spaces simultaneously. This mistaken contention arises from the fact
that saints are not permitted to enjoy the peace of the permanent
burial they deserve. And I do not doubt that their bodies are
covered with silver and gold out of motives lower than piety; open
and extremely foul avarice drives them to collect money by displaying
bones and dragging around wagons. These things would stop if, as in
the case of the Lord Jesus, their limbs were shut up in locked tombs.
However, setting these things aside, let us go on. The emperor added
that if neither the prevention of such evil, nor the love of the
aforementioned saints inspired them to perform this task, then at
least greed for gold and silver, of which there was a plentiful
supply in his region, might entice them. Finally he offered an
argument that has no power over men with self-control, saying that
they would be drawn by the pleasure of seeing the most beautiful
women, as though the beauty of Greek women were so great that they
would be preferred to the women of Gaul, and for this reason alone,
the Frankish army would march to Thrace. While this foul tyrant was
offering this argument, he should have kept in mind that for this
very reason the most powerful adversity had descended upon him and
his people; in well-known proclamation, he had issued an order
throughout the land that families with several daughters give one of
them up to prostitution, and place in his own treasury money gained
from the disgusting experience. In addition, he had issued another
edict, ordering families with several sons to have one castrated,
thus rendering their bodies, deprived of virility, weak and
effeminate, no longer fit for military service. Even worse, they
were cut off from producing progeny for the future, who might have
been looked for as aid against their enemies. Therefore he who had
brought destruction upon himself was now compelled to seek help from
foreigners. In addition, one should note that this emperor had
received the purple not by legitimate succession, but because he had
been one of the officers of the palace, under the ruler whose name,
unless I am mistaken, was Michael, who had put him in charge of the
larger group of Western soldiers, whose natural probity made them the
best of the emperor's men, and the emperor's bodyguard. Gathering
boldness from the men he commanded, he undertook a coup against his
own prince. Invading the city of Constantinople, he captured his
ruler, cruelly deprived him of his eyes, and placed him under close
guard in a certain town. Then he usurped imperial power entirely
without legal right. Compelled by necessity, as we said above, he
sought the Franks. But after he saw such remarkable leaders
assembled, distinguished both for their impeccable conduct and
military ability, he envied the size of the forces, but envied their
wisdom even more. When they successfully completed what they had set
out to do, his envy of the ability of our men grew even greater;
after the victory at Jerusalem, the emperor feared that they might
turn their victorious arms against him, especially since they had
learned that, among the nations in that area, he was their most
powerful rival. We also heard, however, before the beginning of the
journey had been announced, that the emperor's mother, a sorceress,
had predicted that a man of Frankish origin would take his empire and
his life from him. Judging by events, Bohemund tried to fulfill this
oracle, attacking the emperor with such force, and compelling him so
often to flee from battle, that a large part of the provinces fell
into his hands. Since his family was from Normandy, a part of France,
and since he had obtained the hand of the daughter of the king of
the Franks, he might be very well be considered a Frank.
HERE ENDS THE FIRST BOOK OF THE DEEDS OF GOD AS PERFORMED BY THE
FRENCH.
BOOK TWO
Pope Urban, whose name was Odo before becoming Pope, was descended
from a noble French family[73] from the area and parish of Rheims,
and they say, unless the report is in error, that he was the first
French Pope. A cleric, he was made a monk of Cluny, after the abbot
of glorious memory who aided Hugo;[74] not long afterwards he was
made prior, and then, because of his abilities, he was appointed
bishop of the city of Ostia, by order of Pope Gregory VII; finally,
he was elected supreme pontiff of the Apostolic See. His greatness
of spirit was made manifest when he urged that the journey be
undertaken, because when he first showed how it was to be done the
whole world was astonished. His death, resplendent in miracles,
attests to the state of his mind. According to what the bishop who
succeeded him at Osti wrote,[75] many signs were seen after he was
dead and buried; a certain young man stood at his tomb, and swore by
his own limbs that no sign had ever been given or might be given by
the merit of Urban, who was called Odo. Before he could move a step,
he was struck dumb, and paralyzed on one side; he died the next day,
offering testimony to the power of Urban. This great man, although
honored with great gifts, and even with prayers, by Alexius, prince
of the Greeks, was driven much more by the danger to all of
Christendom, which was diminished daily by pagan incursions (for he
heard that Spain was steadily being torn apart by Saracen invasions),
decided to make a journey to France, to recruit the people of his
country. It was, to be sure, the ancient custom for pontiffs of the
apostolic see, if they had been harmed by neighboring people, always
to seek help from the French: the Pontiffs Stephen and Zacharias, in
the time of Pepin and Charles,[76] took refuge with them; Pepin made
an expedition to Ticinum to restore to the church its patrimony, and
to place Stephen back on his throne.[77] Charles compelled king
Desiderius,[78] by the mere threat of combat, to return what he had
seized by force. More respectful and humble than other nations
toward blessed Peter and pontifical decrees, the French, unlike other
peoples, have been unwilling to behave insolently against God. For
many years we have seen the Germans, particularly the entire kingdom
of Lotharingia, struggling with barbaric obstinacy against the
commands of Saint Peter and of his pontiffs.[79] In their striving,
they prefer to remain under a daily, or even eternal excommunication
rather than submit. Last year while I was arguing with a certain
archdeacon of Mainz about a rebellion of his people, I heard him
vilify our king and our people, merely because the king had given a
gracious welcome everywhere in his kingdom to his Highness Pope
Paschal and his princes; he called them not merely Franks, but,
derisively, "Francones."[80] I said to him, "If you think them so
weak and languid that you can denigrate a name known and admired as
far away as the Indian Ocean, then tell me upon whom did Pope Urban
call for aid against the Turks? Wasn't it the French? Had they not
been present, attacking the barbarians everywhere, pouring their
sturdy energy and fearless strength into the battle, there would have
been no help for your Germans, whose reputation there amounted to
nothing." That is what I said to him. I say truly, and everyone
should believe it, that God reserved this nation for such a great
task. For we know certainly that, from the time that they received
the sign of faith that blessed Remigius brought to them until the
present time, they succumbed to none of the diseases of false faith
from which other nations have remained uncontaminated either with
great difficulty or not at all. They are the ones who, while still
laboring under the pagan error, when they triumphed on the
battlefield over the Gauls, who were Christians, did not punish or
kill any of them, because they believed in Christ. Instead, those
whom Roman severity had punished with sword and fire, native French
generosity encased in gold and silver, covered with gems and amber.
They strove to welcome with honor not only those who lived within
their own borders, but they also affectionately cared for people who
came from Spain, Italy, or anywhere else, so that love for the
martyrs and confessors, whom they constantly served and honored, made
them famous, finally driving them to the glorious victory at
Jerusalem. Because it has carried the yoke since the days of its
youth, it will sit in isolation,[81] a nation noble, wise, war-like,
generous, brilliant above all kinds of nations. Every nation borrows
the name as an honorific title; do we not see the Bretons, the
English, the Ligurians call men "Frank" if they behave well? But now
let us return to the subject.
When the Pope crossed our borders, he was greeted with such great joy
by crowds in the cities, towns, and villages, because no one alive
could remember when the bishop of the apostolic see had come to these
lands. The year of the incarnate Word 1097 was hastening to its end,
[82] when the bishop hastily convoked a council, choosing a city in
Auvergne, famous for the most learned of all bishops, Sidonius,
although its name has now been changed to Clermont. The council was
even more crowded because of the great desire to see the face and to
hear the words of such an excellent, rarely seen person. In addition
to the multitudes of bishops and abbots, whom some, by counting their
staves, estimated at approximately 400, learned men from all of
France and the dependent territories flowed to that place. One could
see there how he presided over them with serene gravity, with a
dignified presence, and, if I may use the words of Sidonius, with
what peppery eloquence[83] the most learned Pope answered whatever
objections were raised. It was noted with what gentleness the most
brilliant man listened gently to the most vehemently argued speeches,
and how little he valued the social position of people, judging them
only by God's laws.
Then Philip, king of the French, who was in the thirty-seventh year
of his reign, having put aside his own wife, whose name was Berta,
and having carried off Bertrada, the wife of the count of Anjou, was
excommunicated by the Pope, who spurned both the attempts by
important people to intercede for the king, and the offers of
innumerable gifts. Nor was he afraid that he was now within the
borders of the kingdom of France. In this council, just as he had
planned before leaving Rome and seeking out the French for this
reason, he gave a fine speech to those who were in attendance. Among
other things, which were said to exceed the memories of the listeners,
he spoke about this project. His eloquence was reinforced by his
literary knowledge; the richness of his speech in Latin seemed no
less than that of any lawyer nimble in his native language. Nor did
the crowd of disputants blunt the skill of the speaker. Surrounded
by praiseworthy teachers, apparently buried by clouds of cases being
pressed upon him, he was judged to have overcome, by his own literary
brilliance, the flood of oratory and to have overwhelmed the
cleverness of every speech. Therefore his meaning, and not his exact
words, follow: "If, among the churches scattered through the whole
world, some deserve more reverence than others because they are
associated with certain people and places, then, because of certain
persons, I say, greater privileges are granted to apostolic sees; in
the case of places, some privilege is granted to royal cities, as is
the case with the city of Constantinople. We are grateful for having
received from this most powerful church the grace of redemption and
the origin of all Christianity. If what was said by the Lord remains
true, namely that "salvation is from the Jews," and it remains true
that the Lord of the Sabbath has left his seed for us, lest we become
like those of Sodom and Gomorrha, and that Christ is our seed, in
whom lies salvation and blessing for all people, then the earth and
the city in which he lived and suffered is called holy by the
testimony of Scripture. If this land is the inheritance of God, and
his holy temple, even before the Lord walked and suffered there, as
the sacred and prophetic pages tell us, then what additional sanctity
and reverence did it gain then, when the God of majesty took flesh
upon Himself there, was fed, grew up, and moving in his bodily
strength walked here and there in the land? To abbreviate a matter
that could be spun out at much greater length, this is the place
where the blood of the Son of God, holier than heaven and earth, was
spilled, where the body, at whose death the elements trembled, rested
in its tomb. What sort of veneration might we think it deserves? If,
soon after our Lord's death, while the city was still in the
possession of the Jews, the Evangelist called it sacred, when he said,
"Many bodies of the saints that have been asleep here have awoken,
and come to the holy city, and they been seen by many."[84], and it
was said by the prophet Isaiah, "His tomb will be glorious,"[85],
since this very sanctity, once granted by God the sanctifier himself,
cannot be overcome by any evil whatsoever, and the glory of his tomb
in the same way remains undiminished, then, O my dearly beloved
brothers, you must exert yourselves, with all your strength, and with
God leading you and fighting for you, to cleanse the holiness of the
city and the glory of the tomb, which has been polluted by the thick
crowd of pagans, if you truly aspire to the author of that holiness
and glory, and if you love the traces that he has left on earth. If
the Maccabees once deserved the highest praise for piety because they
fought for their rituals and their temple, then you too, O soldiers
of Christ, deserve such praise, for taking up arms to defend the
freedom of your country. If you think you must seek with such effort
the thresholds of the apostles and of others, then why do you
hesitate to go see and to snatch up the cross, the blood, and to
devote your precious souls to rescuing them? Until now you have
waged wrongful wars, often hurling insane spears at each other,
driven only by greed and pride, for which you have deserved only
eternal death and damnation. Now we propose for you battles which
offer the gift of glorious martyrdom, for which you will earn present
and future praise. If Christ had not died and been buried in
Jerusalem, had not lived there at all, if all these things had not
taken place, surely this fact alone should be enough to drive you to
come to the aid of the land and the city: that the law came from Zion
and the word of God from Jerusalem. If all Christian preaching flows
from the fountain of Jerusalem, then let the rivulets, wherever they
flow over the face of the earth, flow into the hearts of the Catholic
multitude, so that they may heed of what they owe to this overflowing
fountain. If "rivers return to the place whence they flow, so that
they may continue to flow,"[86] according to the saying of Solomon,
it should seem glorious to you if you are able to purify the place
whence you received the cleansing of baptism and the proof of faith.
And you should also consider with the utmost care whether God is
working through your efforts to restore the church that is the mother
of churches; he might wish to restore the faith in some of the
eastern lands, in spite of the nearness of the time of the Antichrist.
For it is clear that the Antichrist makes war neither against Jews,
nor against pagans, but, according to the etymology of his name, he
will move against Christians. And if the Antichrist comes upon no
Christian there, as today there is scarcely any, there will be no one
to resist him, or any whom he might justly move among. According to
Daniel and Jerome his interpreter, his tent will be fixed on the
Mount of Olives, and he will certainly take his seat, as the Apostle
teaches, in Jerusalem, "in the temple of God, as though he were God,
"[87] and, according to the prophet, he will undoubtedly kill three
kings pre-eminent for their faith in Christ, that is, the kings of
Egypt, of Africa, and of Ethiopia. This cannot happen at all, unless
Christianity is established where paganism now rules. Therefore if
you are eager to carry out pious battles, and since you have accepted
the seedbed of the knowledge of God from Jerusalem, then you may
restore the grace that was borrowed there. Thus through you the name
of Catholicism will be propagated, and it will defeat the perfidy of
the Antichrist and of the Antichristians. Who can doubt that God,
who surpasses every hope by means of his overflowing strength, may so
destroy the reeds of paganism with your spark that he may gather
Egypt, Africa and Ethiopia, which no longer share our belief, into
the rules of his law, and "sinful man, the son of perdition,"[88]
will find others resisting him? See how the Gospel cries out that
"Jerusalem will be trodden down by the Gentiles, until the time of
the nations will be fulfilled."[89]"The time of nations" may be
understood in two ways: either that they ruled at will over the
Christians, and for their own pleasures have wallowed in the troughs
of every kind of filth, and in all of these things have found no
obstruction (for "to have one's time" means that everything goes
according to one's wishes, as in "My time has not yet come, but your
time is always ready,"[90] and one customarily says to voluptuaries,
"You have your time;") or else the "time of nations" means the
multitudes of nations who, before Israel is saved, will join the
faith. These times, dearest brothers, perhaps will now be fulfilled,
when, with the aid of God, the power of the pagans will be pushed
back by you, and, with the end of the world already near, even if the
nations do not turn to the Lord, because, as the Apostle says, "there
must be a falling away from faith."[91] Nevertheless, first,
according to the prophecies, it is necessary, before the coming of
the Antichrist in those parts, either through you or through whomever
God wills, that the empire of Christianity be renewed, so that the
leader of all evil, who will have his throne there, may find some
nourishment of faith against which he may fight. Consider, then,
that Almighty providence may have destined you for the task of
rescuing Jerusalem from such abasement. I ask you to think how your
hearts can conceive of the joy of seeing the holy city revived by
your efforts, and the oracles, the divine prophecies fulfilled in our
own times. Remember that the voice of the Lord himself said to the
church, "I shall lead your seed from the East, and I shall gather you
from the West."[92] The Lord has led our seed from the East, in that
he brought forth for us in double manner[93] out of the Eastern land
the early progeny of the Church. But out of the West he assembled us,
for through those who last began the proof of faith, that is the
Westerners, (we think that, God willing, this will come about through
your deeds), Jerusalem's losses will be restored. If the words of
Scripture and our own admonitions do not move your souls, then at
least let the great suffering of those who wish to visit the holy
places touch you. Think of the pilgrims who travel the Mediterranean;
if they are wealthy, to what tributes, to what violence are they
subjected; at almost every mile they are compelled to pay taxes and
tributes; at the gates of the city, at the entrances of churches and
temples, they must pay ransoms. Each time they move from one place
to another they are faced with another charge, compelled to pay
ransom, and the governors of the Gentiles commonly coerce with blows
those who are slow to give gifts. What shall we say about those who
have taken up the journey, trusting in their naked poverty, who seem
to have nothing more than their bodies to lose? The money that they
did not have was forced from them by intolerable tortures; the skin
of their bones was probed, cut, and stripped, in search of anything
that they might have sewed within. The brutality of these evil-doers
was so great that, suspecting that the wretches had swallowed gold
and silver, they gave them purgatives to drink, so that they would
either vomit or burst their insides. Even more unspeakable, they cut
their bellies open with swords, opening their inner organs, revealing
with a hideous slashing whatever nature holds secret. Remember, I
beg you, the thousands who died deplorably, and, for the sake of the
holy places, whence the beginnings of piety came to you, take action.
Have unshakable faith that Christ will be the standard-bearer and
inseparable advance guard before you who are sent to His wars."
The superb man delivered this speech, and by the power of the blessed
Peter absolved everyone who vowed to go, confirming this with an
apostolic benediction, and establishing a sign of this honorable
promise. He ordered that something like a soldier's belt, or rather
that for those about to fight for the Lord, something bearing the
sign of the Lord's passion, the figure of a Cross, be sewn onto the
tunics and cloaks of those who were going. If anyone, after
accepting this symbol, and after having made the public promise, then
went back on his good intentions, either out of weak regretfulness,
or out of domestic affection, such a person, according to the Pope's
decree, would be considered everywhere an outlaw, unless he came to
his senses and fulfilled the obligation which he had foully laid
aside. He also cursed with a horrible anathema all those who might
dare to harm the wives, sons, and possessions of those who took up
God's journey for all of the next three years.
Finally, he entrusted the leadership of the expedition to the most
praiseworthy of men, the bishop of the city of Puy (whose name, I
regret, I have never discovered or heard). He granted him the power
to teach the Christian people as his representative, wherever they
went, and therefore, in the manner of the apostles, he laid hands
upon him and gave him his blessing as well. How wisely he carried
out his commission the results of this wonderful effort demonstrate.
And so, when the council held at Clermont at the octave of blessed
Martin in the month of November was over, the great news spread
through all parts of France, and whoever heard the news of the
Pontiff's decree urged his neighbors and family to undertake the
proposed "path of God" (for this was it epithet). The courtly
nobility were already burning with desire, and the middle-level
knights were bursting to set out, when lo the poor also were aflame
with desire, without any consideration for the scarcity of their
resources, and without worrying about suitably disposing of their
homes, vineyards, and fields. Instead, each sold his assets at a
price much lower than he would have received if he had been shut up
in a painful prison and needed to pay an immediate ransom. At this
time there was a general famine, with great poverty even among the
very wealthy, since when even though there were enough things, here
and there, for sale for some people, they had nothing or scarcely
anything with which those things could be bought. Masses of poor
people learned to feed often on the roots of wild plants, since they
were compelled by the scarcity of bread to search everywhere for some
possible substitute. The misery that everyone was crying out about
was clearly threatening to the powerful people as they watched, and,
while each man, considering the anguish of the starving mob to be of
little importance, became fastidiously parsimonious, fearing that he
might squander the wealth for which he had worked hard by spending
money too easily. The thirsty hearts of the avaricious, who rejoiced
that the times smiled upon their brutal rates of interest, thought of
the bushels of grain they had stored through the fertile years, and
calculated how much their sale would add to their accumulating
mountains of money. Thus, while some suffer terribly, and others
swiftly go about their business, Christ, "breaking the ships of
Tarshish with a powerful wind,"[94] resounded in everyone's ears, and
he "who freed those who were in adamantine chains" broke[95] the
shackles of those desperate men whose hearts were ensnared by greed.
Although, as I just said, hard times reduced everyone's wealth,
nevertheless, when the hard times provoked everyone to spontaneous
exile, the wealth of many men came out into the open, and what had
seemed expensive when no one was moved, was sold at a cheap price,
now that everyone one was eager for the journey. As many men were
rushing to depart (I shall illustrate the sudden and unexpected drop
in prices with one example of those things that were sold), seven
sheep brought an unheard-of price of five cents. The lack of grain
became surfeit, and each tried to get whatever money he could scrape
together by any means; each seemed to be offering whatever he had,
not at the seller's, but at the buyer's price, lest he be late in
setting out on the path of God. It was a miraculous sight: everyone
bought high and sold low; whatever could be used on the journey was
expensive, since they were in a hurry; they sold cheaply whatever
items of value they had piled up; what neither prison nor torture
could have wrung from them just a short time before they now sold for
a few paltry coins. Nor is it less absurd that many of those who had
no desire to go, who laughed one day at the frantic selling done by
the others, declaring that they were going on a miserable journey,
and would return even more miserable, were suddenly caught up the
next day, and abandoned all their good for a few small coins, and set
out with those at whom they had laughed.
Who can tell of the boys, the old men, who were stirred to go to war?
Who can count the virgins and the weak, trembling old men? Everyone
sang of battle, but did not say that they would fight. Offering
their necks to the sword, they promised martyrdom. "You young men,"
they said, "will draw swords with your hands, but may we be permitted
to earn this by supporting Christ."[96]
Indeed they seemed to have a desire to emulate God, "but not
according to knowledge,"[97] but God, who customarily turns many vain
undertakings to a pious end, prepared salvation for their simple
souls, because of their good intentions. There you would have seen
remarkable, even comical things; poor people, for example, tied their
cattle to two-wheel carts, armed as though they were horses, carrying
their few possessions, together with their small children, in the
wagon. The little children, whenever they came upon a castle or a
city, asked whether this was the Jerusalem to which they were going.
At that time, before people set out on the journey, there was a great
disturbance, with fierce fighting, throughout the entire kingdom of
the Franks. Everywhere people spoke of rampant thievery, highway
robbery; endless fires burned everywhere. Battles broke out for no
discernible reason, except uncontrollable greed. To sum up briefly,
whatever met the eye of greedy men, no matter to whom it belonged,
instantly became their prey. Therefore the change of heart they soon
underwent was remarkable and scarcely believable because of the
heedless state of their souls, as they all begged the bishops and
priests to give the sign prescribed by the above-mentioned Pope, that
is, the crosses. As the force of powerful winds can be restrained by
the gentle rain, so all of the feuds of each against the other were
put to rest by the aspiration imbedded undoubtedly by Christ Himself.
While the leaders, who needed to spend large sums of money for their
great retinues, were preparing like careful administrators, the
common people, poor in resources but copious in number, attached
themselves to a certain Peter the Hermit, and they obeyed him as
though he were the leader, as long as the matter remained within our
own borders. If I am not mistaken, he was born in Amiens, and, it is
said, led a solitary life in the habit of a monk in I do not know
what part of upper Gaul, then moved on, I don't know why, and we saw
him wander through cities and towns, spreading his teaching,
surrounded by so many people, given so many gifts, and acclaimed for
such great piety, that I don't ever remember anyone equally honored.
He was very generous to the poor with the gifts he was given, making
prostitutes morally acceptable for husbands, together with generous
gifts, and, with remarkable authority, restoring peace and treaties
where there had been discord before. Whatever he did or said seemed
like something almost divine. Even the hairs of his mule were torn
out as though they were relics, which we report not as truth, but as
a novelty loved by the common people. Outdoors he wore a woolen
tunic, which reached to his ankles, and above it a hood; he wore a
cloak to cover his upper body, and a bit of his arms, but his feet
were bare. He drank wine and ate fish, but scarcely ever ate bread.
This man, partly because of his reputation, partly because of his
preaching, had assembled a very large army, and decided to set out
through the land of the Hungarians. The restless common people
discovered that this area produced unusually abundant food, and they
went wild with excess in response to the gentleness of the
inhabitants. When they saw the grain that had been piled up for
several years, as is the custom in that land, like towers in the
fields, which we are accustomed to call "metas"[98] in every-day
language, and although supplies of various meats and other foods were
abundant in this land, not content with the natives' decency, in a
kind of remarkable madness, these intruders began to crush them.
While the Hungarians, as Christians to Christians, had generously
offered everything for sale, our men willfully and wantonly ignored
their hospitality and generosity, arbitrarily waging war against them,
assuming that they would not resist, but would remain entirely
peaceful. In an accursed rage they burned the public granaries we
spoke of, raped virgins, dishonored many marriage beds by carrying
off many women, and tore out or burned the beards of their hosts.
None of them now thought of buying what he needed, but instead each
man strove for what he could get by theft and murder, boasting with
amazing impudence that he would easily do the same against the Turks.
On their way they came to a castle that they could not avoid passing
through. It was sited so that the path allowed no divergence to the
right or left. With their usual insolence they moved to besiege it,
but when they had almost captured it, suddenly, for a reason that is
no concern of mine, they were overwhelmed; some died by sword, others
were drowned in the river, others, without any money, in
abject poverty, deeply ashamed, returned to France. And because this
place was called Moisson, and when they returned they said that they
had been as far as Moisson, they were greeted with great laughter
everywhere.[99]
When he was unable to restrain this undisciplined crowd of common
people, who were like prisoners and slaves, Peter, together with a
group of Germans and the dregs of our own people, whose foresight had
enable them to escape, reached the city of Constantinople on the
calends of August (July 30). But a large army of Italians, Ligurians,
Langobards, together with men from parts of countries beyond the
Alps, had preceded him, and had decided to wait for his army and the
armies of the other Frankish leaders, because they did not think that
they had a large enough army to go beyond the province of the Greeks
and attack the Turks. By order of the emperor they had been granted
permission to buy everything they wanted, and to conduct business in
the city, but, on the advice of this prince, they were forbidden to
cross the Arm of Saint George, which was the sea that provided border
with the Turks, because he said that it was sure destruction for so
few men to go up against so many. But they were not held back by the
decency of the people of the province, nor were they mollified by the
emperor's affability, but they behaved very insolently, wrecking
palaces, burning public buildings, tearing the roofs of churches that
were covered with lead, and then offering to sell the lead back to
the Greeks. Disturbed by such foul arrogance, the emperor instructed
them to delay their crossing of the waters of the Arm no longer.
Once they had made the crossing, they continued to behave as they had
on the other side; those who had taken a vow to fight against the
pagans fought against men of our own faith, destroying churches
everywhere, and stealing the possessions of Christians. Since they
were not subject to the severity of a king, who might correct their
errors with judicial strength, nor did they reflect soberly upon
divine law, which might have restrained the instability of their
minds, they fell to sudden death, because death comes to meet the
undisciplined, and the man who cannot control himself does not last
long.
When they finally reached Nicomedia,[100] the Italians, Lombards, and
Germans, unable to bear the pride of the Franks, separated from them.
For the Franks, as their name indicates,[101] were famous for their
great energy, but, in large groups, unless they are restrained by a
firm hand, they are fiercer than they should be. And so the people
from beyond the Alps, having separated, as we just said, from the
Franks, chose as their leader a certain Rainald, and entered the
province which is called Romania.[102] Four days march from
Nicomedia, they came upon a castle which its builder had been pleased
to call Exorogorgum,[103] and which, since it had been abandoned by
its inhabitants, lay open to the troops, who immediately rushed in.
The inhabitants had fled out of fear of the invaders; desperate to
save themselves, they gave no thought to carrying with them their
goods, of which they had a considerable amount. Thus the troops
found an abundance of food there, and they ate their full. When the
Turks discovered that the Christians had occupied the castle, they
laid siege to it with great force. In front of the entrance to the
city was a well, and below it, not far from the city walls, another
well, where their leader Rainald cleverly set an ambush, to keep an
eye on the Turks. Soon the Turks who were being watched advanced
towards the city, and on the day on which the memory of the blessed
Michael was celebrated,[104] the duke and his retainers were attacked,
and many of those who lay in ambush were killed, while others were
forced to return in disgrace within the battlements. The surrounding
Turks attacked so relentlessly that the Crusaders were prevented from
drawing water. They became so thirsty that they drew blood from
their horses and asses, and were compelled to drink the blood. Some,
by dipping their belts and rags into a cistern, and squeezing the
liquid into their mouths, seemed to find some relief. Others,
horrible though it is to say, drank their own urine,[105] while
others dug a hole and placed themselves in the hole they had dug,
covering their parched breasts with the recently dug up earth, in the
belief that they might relieve their burning insides with a bit of
moisture. The bishops and priests who were present, and were
themselves suffering in the same way, seeing that the dangers were
hideous and human help unavailable, offered consolation, continuing
to promise heavenly rewards. For eight days their suffering
continued. While they all seemed to be subject to the same misery,
they did not all hope for God's mercy in the same way; those who had
been the leaders plotted treacherously to save themselves. Rainald,
who lead them in prosperity, secretly and foully concluded a pact
with the Turks, promising to betray to them all the soldiers he
commanded. And so he marched out as though about to battle them, but
while pretending to lead them in this way, he and many of his own men
fled to the Turks, and he remained with them from then on; the others
were captured. Some of the prisoners were challenged about their
faith, and ordered to renounce Christ, but they proclaimed Christ
with steady heart and voice, and were decapitated.
And now Christ will have new honors, like those he had long ago,
ornamenting our age with new martyrs. How fragrant are the laurels
on the brows of those who prepare to offer their throats to the swift
blade! I shall call them happy who endure those few moments: their
firm faith has brought them eternal life. Now the least of us need
despair no longer, having dared what can scarcely be imitated.[106]
The Turks divided up among themselves some of the captives, whose
lives they had spared, or rather reserved for a more painful death,
and submitted them to dismal servitude at the hands of cruel masters.
Some were exposed in public, like targets, and were pierced by
arrows; others were given away as gifts, while others were sold
outright. Those to whom they were given took them back to their own
homes, bringing some of them to the region called Khorasan, and
others to the city of Antioch, where they would endure wretched
slavery under the worst masters imaginable.
They underwent a torture much longer than that endured by those whose
heads were severed swiftly by the sword. A cruel master drives them,
subjecting them to painful labor; everywhere the pious man serves the
ungrateful man. The conscientious worker is flogged; the faithful
man, who performs eagerly and competently, is punished. What he sees,
what he hears, what he does during the day, because he resists doing
evil, becomes foul torture. I have no doubt that their suffering was
more excruciating than three days of torture on the rack.[107]
These were the first martyrs God made in the nearly desperate state
of our modern times.
Meanwhile Peter, about whom we spoke earlier, often troubled by the
folly of his retinue, disturbed by frequent losses, finally gave the
reins of leadership over to well-born man, a powerful warrior from
beyond the Seine, whose name was Walter,[108] in the hope that those
whom he had been unable to control by warnings might at least be
restrained by military authority. Walter hurried, together with his
insane army, to reach Civitot,[109] a city that is said to be located
above Nicaea.[110] When the Turks, who were keeping track of our
movements, found out, they hurried to Civitot, eager to act out their
great ill will. Half-way there, they met up with the above-mentioned
Walter and his group, and they killed him and a great many of his men.
Peter, called the Hermit, unable to restrain the insanity of the
men he had gathered together, was afraid of being caught up in their
undisciplined, improvident folly, and wisely retreated to
Constantinople. The Turks attacked them without warning, and,
finding some of them asleep, and others not only without weapons, but
unclothed as well, immediately killed them all. Among them they
found a certain priest performing mass, and they killed him in the
very act of completing the sacrament; while he was sacrificing to God,
they sacrificed him at the same altar.
What better host can be offered to God than the flesh of him who
becomes a victim for his God. What prayer did he utter from the
depths of his heart when the trumpets of battle sounded? The victors
tore them to pieces, the clangor of arms resounded, and the wretched
band of fugitives howled. The fine priest embraced the altar,
holding the sacred host closely, "Good Jesus," he said,"you are here
as my protection. Since I am holding you, let the hope of flight
disappear. I shall enter into an eternal pact with you. I am killed,
and you, God, shall carry out the sacred things we have begun."[111]
Those who were able to escape fled to the city of Civetot. The
depths of the sea received some, who, unable to escape, preferred to
choose their death rather than have it thrust upon them. Others
sought out the mountains and hid among the rocks, while others hid in
the woods. After they had captured or taken vengeance on those they
found outside, the Turks quickly attacked those who were hiding
inside the castle and they set up a siege, bringing wood to start
fire. They lit fires for those who were being besieged, thinking
that the fire would burn those inside the castle. However, in
accordance with God's judgment, the whole force of the fire fell upon
the Turks, and burned some of them, while none of it reached our men.
They continued to attack, however, and the town was captured. Those
whom they found alive they tied up and then, as had been done to the
others before them, they were sent to the various provinces from
which the enemy had come, to endure perpetual exile. These things
happened in the month of October. When the treacherous Emperor was
informed of the disaster that had befallen the faithful, the wretch
was elated with joy, and ordered that the remaining troops be given
permission to cross the Arm of Saint George, and to retreat to the
nearer parts of Greece. When he saw them return to the territory
over which he had power, he forced them to sell their arms to him.
Such was the end of the group under the command of Peter the Hermit.
We have followed this story without interrupting it so that we might
show that Peter's group in no way helped the others, but in fact
added to the audacity of the Turks. And now we shall return to the
men we have passed over, who followed the same path that Peter did,
but in a far more restrained and fortunate way.
Duke Godfrey, the son of count Eustace of Boulogne, had two brothers:
Baldwin, who ruled Edessa, and succeeded his brother as king of
Jerusalem, and who still rules there; and Eustace, who rules in the
county he inherited from his father. They had a powerful father, who
was competent in worldly affairs, and their mother was, if I am not
mistaken, a learned Lotharingian aristocrat, but most remarkable for
her innate serenity and great devotion to God. The joys she received
from such exemplary sons were due, we believe, to her profound
religious belief. Godfrey, about whom we are now speaking, had
received a duchy in Lotharingia as his maternal heritage. All three,
in no way inferior to their mother in honesty, flourished in great
military deeds, as well as in the restraint of their behavior. The
glorious woman used to say, when she marveled at the result of the
journey and the success of her sons, that she had heard from the
mouth of her son the duke a prediction of the outcome long before the
beginning of the expedition. For he said that he wanted to go to
Jerusalem not as a simple pilgrim, as others had done, but forcefully,
with a large army, if he could raise one. In accordance with this
divinely inspired intuition, fortune later smiled on his project.
The three brothers, heedless of the great honors they already had,
set out on the journey. But even as Godfrey was wiser than his other
brothers, so he was equipped with a larger army. He was joined by
Baldwin, Count of Mons, son of Robert, the paternal uncle of the
young count of Flanders. With the splendid knightly ceremony and
spectacle, the band of powerful young men entered the land of the
Hungarians, in possession of what Peter was unable to obtain: control
over his army. Two days before Christmas, the first of the French
leaders to arrive, they reached the city of Constantinople, but their
lodgings were outside the city. The treacherous emperor, frightened
when he heard that the brilliant duke had arrived, offered formal,
but grudging signs of respect, and offered him permission to dwell in
front of the walls, in a suburb of the city. And so, after accepting
the emperor's offer, the duke and each of his men sent their own
squires to get straw and whatever was necessary for their horses from
wherever they could. While they were thinking that they could go
safely and securely wherever they wished, the foul prince secretly
ordered the men around him to kill, without making any distinctions,
all of the men who were carrying out the duke's instructions,
wherever they found them. When Baldwin, the duke's brother, found
out about this, he set an ambush; when he discovered the
Turcopolitans violently attacking his own men, he forcefully attacked
them, as was right. And with God's favor he won such a victory that
he captured sixty of them; he killed some of them and handed others
over to his brother the duke. When news of this event reached the
impious emperor, he was filled with self-reproach. Made more
cautious by this event, the duke left the suburb of the city where he
had been staying, and set up camp outside of its borders. However,
as evening approached, the emperor, unable to put aside his anger,
hastily collected an army and began hostilities against the duke and
his men. Forcefully accepting the challenge, the duke defeated them
and drove them in flight back into the city, killing seven men.
After this fortunate turn of events, the duke returned to his
encampment, and remained there for five days, while he and the
emperor negotiated a treaty. The frightened emperor asked that the
duke cross the Arm of Saint George, promising in return that he would
order to be brought to them supplies of whatever kinds of food were
to be found in Constantinople and that he would give alms to their
poor. And this was done.
Since we have spoken about the duke and his journey up to this point,
I must return to the leaders of central France; I shall give a brief
sketch of who they were, by what roads they traveled, and what the
outcome of their efforts was. The Bishop of Puy, a man to be admired
for his life, knowledge, teaching, and wisdom in military affairs,
together with a large group of his countrymen, chose to set out
through the land of the Slavs. Earlier I expressed my regret at not
knowing his name, and for being unable to learn it from the history
of which I seem to be the interpreter; finally, however, through
those who knew him on that expedition, and who were familiar with him,
I learned that this precious man's name was Aimarus.
Among the rest of the leaders, it seems to me that Hugh the Great,
the brother of Philip the king of the Franks, must be dealt with
first. Although others were wealthier or more powerful, he was
second to none in birth or in the probity of his behavior. He was
most justly celebrated for being forceful in arms, serenely secure in
his noble birth, and, even more important, humble towards every
sacred order, forthright and restrained. Certain leaders attached
themselves to him, thinking that they would make him king if it
happened that, after the Gentiles were driven out, the occupation of
the land came about as a result of battle.
After him came Count Stephen, a man endowed with such power that,
according to report, he controlled as many castles as the year has
days. His generosity was unexcelled, his presence very pleasing, his
performance in council sober, steady, and thoughtfully mature; he so
excelled in his activities as a knight, that the entire holy army
chose him as their chief magistrate and general for the duration of
the battle against the Turks. His wife was the wisest of women, the
daughter of King William the elder, who had conquered the kingdoms of
the English and the Scots. If we wish to praise her wisdom,
generosity, bountifulness, and opulence, I fear lest, by praising his
wife, we cast shadow on the magnificent man, which he has earned now
that he has been deprived of her. Robert the younger, son of Robert
the elder, to whom the emperor had sent a letter, with great
eagerness took charge of building up their forces; he gave up the
county of Flanders, which he had ruled with great military skill, to
become a fellow soldier on the journey with those who had chosen to
become exiles for Christ. The rest of the present history will
indicate how steadily he carried out what he had begun. Leaving
behind their superb wives and their fine sons, they put aside
whatever they felt great affection for, choosing instead exile. I
say nothing about their honors and possessions, which are outside our
concerns. But what surprises us most is the way in which loving
husbands and wives, attached even more closely to each other by the
bond of children, could be separated, when there was no present
danger to either.
It would hardly be right to remain silent about Robert, Count of
Normandy, whose bodily indulgences, weakness of will, prodigality
with money, gourmandising, indolence, and lechery were expiated by
the perseverance and heroism that he vigorously displayed in the army
of the Lord. His inborn compassion was naturally so great that he
did not permit vengeance to be taken against those who had plotted to
betray him and had been sentenced to death, and if something did
happen to them, he wept for their misfortune. He was bold in battle,
although adeptness at foul trickery, with which we know many men
befouled themselves, should not be praised, unless provoked by
unspeakable acts. For these and for similar things he should now be
forgiven, since God has punished him in this world, where he now
languishes in jail, deprived of all his honors.
Each of the illustrious leaders was followed on the journey by many
lesser princes, whom we shall not list at this point, because it
might seem to be distracting, and we shall perhaps have better reason
for naming them in the course of the narration. Who can
count the masters of one, two, three, or four castles? There were so
many that the siege of Troy could scarcely have brought so many
together. At the time that this expedition was being undertaken by
the magnates of the kingdom, and a meeting was being held by them
with Hugh the Great, with Philip the king present, at Paris, in the
month of February, on the eleventh day of the month, a lunar eclipse
took place just before midnight. Little by little the moon turned to
the color of blood, until it had turned completely and hideously
blood red, but at dawn an unusually bright splendor shone around the
circle of the moon. Soon afterward stars seemed to fall from the
skies, like a heavy rain. This was so like a portent that many
churches considered it to be one, and they instituted public prayers
to avert the punishment that it might signify, and they wrote down
the time of the event.
Soon after, in the month of August, on the eighth day, just before
sunset, the part around the center of the moon turned black, and many
people saw this happen. It should be said that, although the moon
normally undergoes eclipses when full, nevertheless some of these
changes of colors are manifestations of portents, and are customarily
recorded in the pontifical books and in the deeds of kings. Other
things were also seen, most of which we shall pass over.
Raymond, Count of Saint Gilles is placed last, not because he is of
no worth, but to complete the list. Because he lived at the furthest
edge of France, he has offered us less information about his
activities; but he ennobles the telling of this history, from the
beginning to the end, with the model of his great virtue and
constancy. Having left behind his own son to rule his land, he
brought with him his present wife and the only son he had had with
her. Raymond was older than the other leaders, but his army was in
no way inferior, except perhapsfor the Provencal habit of talking too
much. When this large force of powerful knights, having traveled
over the road which we customarily take to Rome, arrived in Apulia,
they had contracted a great many illnesses, and many died, because of
the great heat of the summer, the foul air, and the strange food. To
cross the sea they gathered at different ports:
many went to Brundisi, pathless Hydrus (Otrante) received others,
while the fishy waters of Bari welcomed others.[112]
Hugh the Great did not wait for his men and the knights of the
princes who were his allies, but hastily and unwisely went to the
port of Bari, and after a fortunate sea-journey, arrived at
Dyrrachium.[113] He should have considered that at the prospect of
so many men, such great numbers of knights and foot soldiers, all of
Greece, as one might say, trembled to its very foundations. And
although other leaders had greater repute among us than he,
nevertheless, among foreigners, and particularly among the Greeks,
who are the laziest of men, his unbounded fame as the brother of the
king of France preceded him. Therefore, when the leader appointed by
the emperor to govern that place saw such well-known man without a
large retinue about him, he seized the opportunity to make something
out of his isolation. He took the man and ordered him to be
conducted carefully and respectfully to Constantinople, with one
purpose in mind: that he might promise the frightened prince that he
would not harm his life or honor. Thus what happened to this famous
man weakened the courage of the great leaders who came after him, for
the cleverness of the treacherous prince compelled the others, either
by force, or in secret, or by imprecations, to do what he had done.
But now the end of this book has come.
Book Three
When the vast army drawn from nearly all the Western lands approached
Apulia, word of the arrival of that multitude reached Bohemund, son
of Robert who was called Guiscard, a man of remarkable greatness. At
that time he was engaged in besieging Amalfi. After the messenger
had made his way through the crowd of people, he told Bohemund the
reasons for the journey: they were hastening to free Jerusalem, the
Lord's tomb, and the sacred places which were being abused there,
from the power of the Gentiles. He also told him of the kind of
people, of how many fine men, as I might say, left their honorable
positions and were striving with unheard-of eagerness to join this
expedition. He asked if they were carrying arms, packs, what
insignia of this new pilgrimage they were wearing, and finally, what
war-cries they called out in battle. He replied that the Franks were
carrying their usual arms, and that they had sewn the sign of the
cross on their shoulders or elsewhere, out of any material or rag
they had at hand; they had renounced individual battle-cries as
arrogant, and instead they all humbly and faithfully shouted in
battle, "God wishes it." His heart was deeply stirred by these words,
and, inspired by God, he was stung by conscience; he ordered that
his most precious mantle be brought to him, and he had it cut up into
little crosses; he put one on himself, and gave out the other crosses
to be worn by those of his men who subscribed to the cause to which
he had dedicated himself. The knights who had followed him to this
siege also experienced a sudden change of heart, and set out on the
same journey that their leader had chosen. Such a crowd of knights
made this choice at that moment that Bohemund's brother, count Roger
of Sicily, grieved deeply that he was robbed of nearly all of his
retainers at this siege.
But I should say a few words about Bohemund's parentage, and about
the steps by which he proceeded to this position of honor. Robert,
whose surname we have given as Guiscard, was from Normandy, and was
born to a family of no great distinction. He went from there to
Apulia, but whether he left his native land voluntarily or was driven
from it I don't know. There, by some means or other, he earned
horses and arms to become a knight. He assembled, from various
places, a group of thieves to help him in his endeavours, took over
certain castles, with the aid of disgraceful treachery, occupied some
other castles after wearing them down with frequent attacks, laid
sieges to wealthy cities, and compelled them to surrender. To finish
in a few words, this "new man" extended his power, conquering at will
to such an extent that the verses on his epitaph read, "he drove him
out whom the Ligurians, Rome, and Lake Leman recognized as king,
"[114]that is, Henry Augustus, a man favored by fortune with
innumerable, almost continual victories.
Parthia, Arabia, the phalanx of Macedonians did not protect Alexis,
[115]
the prince of the Greeks, who has often been our concern. Having
defeated him often, Robert, they say, would have worn the crown in
the city of Constantinople in a few days, had draught of poison not
suddenly snatched his life from him. Anyone who wishes today may see
the power of his son Bohemund who, obliterating the low origin of his
family, married the daughter of Philip, king of France, and tried to
take by violence the empire of the above mentioned king Alexis.
While his brother Roger returned to Sicily, unhappy that he had lost
so many men of all ranks, that it seemed that the whole people was
about to go off to Jerusalem, Bohemund collected the troops and
supplies that were necessary for such an expedition, embarked with
his army, and with a favoring wind easily reached the Bulgarian shore.
His retinue was filled with many wise knights and great princes,
among whom was Tancred, who was, if I am not mistaken, the son of a
certain marquis and Bohemund's sister. Tancred's brother, whose name
was William, had set out before him with Hugh the Great. In addition
there was Richard of the First City,[116] a remarkably good-looking
man, whom we saw perform the office of delegate to the king of the
Franks, to ask for the hand of Constantia as wife for Bohemund. Then,
when he and his men entered the land of Bulgaria, they found a great
supply of every kind of food. When they arrived in the valley of
Andropolitanus,[117] they remained there waiting for the rest of the
fleet to finish the journey. When everyone had arrived, the leaders
met, and Bohemund told his plan to his men, ordering everyone alike
who was about to pass through territory inhabited by Christians to
behave peacefully, to do no harm, and not to depopulate the land of
those whose rights they had come to protect; they should take, as
peacefully as possible, and after having paid for it, only the food
that they needed. They went forward, and as they passed from city to
city, from field to field, from camp to camp, they found abundant
trade everywhere, until they arrived in the province called Castoria,
and there they solemnly celebrated Christmas, remaining for several
days. They asked the people of the province for permission to trade,
but they refused to grant permission, fearing that our men, whom they
considered warriors, not pilgims, wanted to destroy their land and
crush them. Angered, their restraint now turned to fury, and they
seized horses, cows, asses, and whatever else was useful. Then they
left Castoria and entered Pelagonia, where they came upon a fortified
town of heretics, which they attacked on every side, compelling them
to surrender. They then burned it to the ground, together with its
inhabitants. From there they went to the river called the Baudarus.
[118] Bohemund moved forward with part of his knights and left the
rest in the hands of a certain one of his counts. When the emperor's
army, which was not far off, learned of this, it attacked the count,
who was now without the aid of Bohemund, who had gone on ahead of him,
and the count's men were thrown into confusion by the attack of the
enemy. When brave Tancred heard of this, he swiftly turned back,
leaped into the river mentioned above, and swam back to those who
were being attacked. He then assembled the nearly two thousand men
who swam behind him, found the enemy, who were fighting fiercely
against his own men, and attacked them with equal fierceness, quickly
overcoming them. Many of them were captured and brought before
Bohemund in chains. To them the prince said, "Why do you pursue my
people, the people of Christ? I am not trying to overthrow your
emperor." They replied, "We do nothing by our own deliberation. We
are soldiers who earn money by carrying out the orders of the emperor;
whatever he tells us to do we do." When the splendid man heard this,
he let them go, without punishment and without ransom. This battle
took place on the fourth day of the week, which among Christians is
called the beginning of the fast[119]
The emperor Alexis, when he heard of Bohemund's exemplary action,
then sent for the councilor upon whom he most relied, and told him to
lead the magnanimous duke, together with his army, through his own
land, and into his own presence at Constantinople. While the army
was passing through all the towns and cities of the empire, an
imperial edict commanded all the inhabitants of these regions to see
to it that Bohemund and his men had a supply of everything that could
be bought. However, although the army was allowed to proceed through
the provinces, none of Bohemund's men were permitted to enter the
walls of any city. The knights were about to invade a certain fort
that seemed abundant with supplies, but the illustrious man forbade
it, partly out of respect for the laws of the land, partly to avoid
offending the emperor, or rather, he did not want to break the pact
he had just made with him through intermediaries. Angry at their
foolish attempt, and particularly at Tancred, he forbade them to go
on. This happened in the evening. The next morning the inhabitants
of the fort came out, bearing the banners of the Cross before them,
demonstrating their humility and religious belief to Bohemund. He
greeted them affably and courteously, thanked them, and sent the
contented people back to the town. Then they reached a city called
Serra, where they pitched their tents, and successfully traded in the
marketplace. Here Bohemund was reconciled with his two courtly
prefects. In keeping with the recent treaty and with the law of the
land, he ordered that everything which had been taken from the
inhabitants be restored to them. Then they proceeded to the
outskirts of city called Rusa,[120] where a crowd of Greeks, both
aristocrats and commoners, rushed to greet the noble man, offering
all kinds of merchandise. They made camp there three days before the
feast of the Lord. Bohemund then left his retinue behind and set out
for Constantinople, together with a few of his knights, to confer
with the emperor. In the meanwhile Tancred was in charge of the army,
and when he saw that food was difficult to purchase with empty
purses, he decided to leave the major routes and move along the less
frequented ones, where a greater supply of necessary items for
everyone might be found. Therefore he lead them from the public way,
out of consideration for the poor, and entered a valley abundantly
supplied with different kinds of food. There the people piously
celebrated Easter (April 5, 1097). When Alexis heard that Bohemund
was coming to meet with him, he ordered that he be given the most
respectful welcome, and that he be given quarters just outside the
city wall.[121] When he arrived, he was invited to speak with the
emperor; he went and was received in secret.
Meanwhile Duke Godfrey, together with his brother Baldwin and the
count of Saint-Gilles, each leading a strong group of men, reached
the outskirts of Constantinople. The perfidious Alexis, who once was
thought to be eager for support against the Turks, gnashed his teeth
in the bitterness of his anger, and pondered on a means to bring
about the total destruction of the large army that was, as he thought,
about to attack him. But God, whose force drove this pious army,
watched over them so well that no occasion presented itself for the
scoundrel to harm them; furthermore, cut off from all possibility of
doing harm, the wretch was stricken with great fear. The people of
Constantinople were disturbed at the sight of so many battalions
assembling, and they held a meeting to determine what to do. Fearful
that the city would be crushed by the great number of men who were
arriving, and that the provinces would be taken over and devastated,
they decided, after considering several alternatives, that their
tyrant should demand an oath from the Franks that they would never
harm him or his people. When our leaders learned of this, they
showed great contempt and scorn. They understood clearly that if the
initial army happened to deviate from this pact, it would be
necessary for such a large army, stripped of all resources by poverty,
to wage war against the perfidious prince, contrary to the oaths
they had taken. "And certainly," they said, "Even if no fear of what
might happen in the future weighed upon us, the fact that we had been
compelled by the puny Greeks, laziest of all people, to swear an oath
would be to our eternal shame. We cannot doubt that they would say
that we, willy-nilly, had submitted to their rule." The emperor came
to mighty Bohemund about this matter, and was ready to entice him
whom he greatly feared with gifts, for Bohemund had often defeated
him in battle; Alexis concentrated particularly on Bohemund, because
he regarded him as his greatest rival. Therefore he offered him land
the other side of Antioch, whose length would take fifteen days to
cross, and whose width would take no less than eight days to cross.
The great man's firmness was broken by this offer, and what Hugh the
Great had promised, compelled by necessity and the enticement of
money, Bohemund agreed to swear to on condition that if Alexis
reneged on what he had agreed to, he himself would not have to carry
out what he had sworn to. If anyone asks why he and the others
relaxed their firmness by swearing oaths to the tyrant, he should
understand that the leaders were helping their fellow soldiers in God
out of necessity, for they would have been in dire poverty if they
had been denied their pay. Alexis swore oaths also, stating, "that
he would come with them, at the head of his own army, aid them on
land and on the sea, and he would order that food be brought from
everywhere for them to purchase; if they suffered any losses, he
would indemnify them fully; finally, he would not wish or allow
anyone on this expedition, to the extent that he had the ability, to
be harassed, harmed, or killed."
The Count of Saint-Gilles had established camp in the outskirts of
Byzantium before the entire army had arrived, and the tyrant sent a
messenger to ask the count to do what the others had done, that is,
offer him homage. The cleverness of the insolent tyrant demanded
this, but the wisdom of the glorious count set about devising a way
to take vengeance against the envy of the scoundrel. But the leaders,
that is, Godfrey, Hugh the Great, and Robert of Flanders, and the
others, said that they would never take up arms against someone who
was considered to be a Christian. Bohemund added that if Raymond
waged war against the Emperor, and thereby broke the oath he had
given the Emperor, he himself would take the emperor's part. And so
the count, after consulting with his closest advisors, swore to
protect the life and honor of the impious Alexis, and that he would
not for his own sake or to aid others work to destroy him. When they
considered the clause about hommage, he said that he would rather
undergo mortal danger than submit to such a proposition. Meanwhile
Bohemund's army drew near to the towers of Constantinople. Having
learned what oaths the emperor had exacted, Tancred, together with
the men he was leading (almost the entire forces of Bohemund),
quickly crossed the Arm of Saint George. The army of the Count of
Saint-Gilles had scattered, setting up its tents at the edge of the
city. Bohemund remained with the Emperor, so that he might more
easily supervise the carrying out of the imperial edict which ordered
the people beyond Nicaea to bring food from everywhere to his army.
Duke Godfrey had gone ahead, together with Tancred, to Nicomedia, a
city founded by Nicomedes, who, according to a poem, won a battle
against Caesar, but did not triumph.[122] Each of them remained
there with his troops for three days. The duke, considering that the
roads were filled with obstacles, and that an army as large as theirs
could not make its way along them, since the road that Peter the
Hermit's men had used could not accommodate so many men, sent three
thousand men ahead of him, with axes and hoes to widen the roads and
make them passable as far as Nicea. The road was incredibly
difficult, filled with sharp stones, and moving over steep mountains.
Those who were in the lead widened the road by cutting up the rocks,
and they placed crosses of iron and wood on tall stakes, so that our
men, when they saw these signs aloft, would not wander from the road.
Finally they came to Nicea, the central city of Armenia, and the
chief city of Bythinia, famous for the synod of 318 fathers, but even
more famous for the declaration of Omousion, and the condemnation of
Arius. The next day was the sixth of May, and they pitched their
camps in the area around the city, on the third day after they had
left Nicomedia. Before the army of Bohemund arrived, they say that
there was such shortage of bread that one loaf of bread cost twenty
or thirty pennies. But when Bohemund appeared, he brought great
quantity of food by land and by sea, and suddenly plentiful supply of
everything necessary flowed.
On the day of the Ascension of Our Lord, they began to attack the
city from all sides, to draw up machines, to erect ladders, prepare
fire-bombs, and to fire at the ramparts of the walls and towers with
their crossbows.[123] The siege of the city was undertaken with such
sharp fervor that within two days they had undermined the walls. The
Turks, who held the city, sent messengers to other cities, asking for
them to bring help, and to enter without fear by the southern gate,
since that part was not under siege, and presented no obstacle to
those wishing to bring help. On that very day, however, the sabbath
after the Ascension of Our Lord, the entrance of that gate was being
guarded by the Count of Saint-Gilles and the Bishop of Puy. An event
occurred there that was truly noteworthy. This same noble count,
faithful to God, strong and competent in arms, surrounded by a no
less competent army, found in front of him enemy reinforcements
hurrying towards the town. Relying in his spirit upon divine
assistance, he attacked and conquered the Turks, compelling them to
flee, and slicing most of them to pieces. Hideously defeated, the
Turks went about finding new forces with which they enthusiastically
decided to go to battle again, carrying ropes with which they
proposed to tie up our men and bring them back to Khorasan.
Encouraged by this empty hope, they began, in single file and step by
step, to descend from the top of the mountain that towered over the
city. They were welcomed with pleasure by our men, as was fitting,
and they left their severed heads as proof of our victory. After the
Turks fled, our catapults and slings fired the severed heads into the
city to terrify the Gentiles. However, the bishop of Puy of blessed
memory and Count Raymond of Saint-Gilles, pressing forward to weaken
the city, attacked a tower near their own camp by digging tunnels to
undermine its foundations. After the miners were in place to carry
this out, they were given protection by men with bows and crossbows,
by men swinging balearic ropes, and by others defending the sappers.
Thus the tower was undermined to the depths of its foundation, while
the collapsing wall was held only with beams and poles; when the base
of the foundation had been entirely demolished, they set fire to the
beams:
When cloudy night brought quiet to both sides, the weakened tower
fell in ruins, but because night is less appropriate for fighting,
the Franks stopped, refusing to harm the Turks at night.[124]
The Turks, however, worried about their safety, very wisely got up,
and, in the same place, rebuilt the wall so quickly and of such
strength that the next day our men could find no way of doing them
any harm. Meanwhile, two men arrived, the most celebrated for deeds
of arms and the wealthiest counts, whom we have already mentioned,
accompanied by many knights, whose arrival filled the whole army of
the Lord with joy: Robert, Count of Normandy, and Count Stephen of
Chartres.
Thus Bohemund besieged the city from the front, Tancred from the side,
Duke Godfrey from a third position, the count of Flanders from a
fourth, the count of Normandy from fifth, and the count of
Saint-Gilles and the bishop of Puy from a sixth. They set about
besieging it, so that none of the besieged could get in or out.
There one could see gathered the flower of the armed force, or the
wisdom, the nobility, of the fame of all of France, dressed in the
breastplates and helmets of knights; those who were skilled at
counting the number of people in an army thought that there were
about 100,000 men. I do not think that anyone could count the whole
crowd of foot-soldiers, or of those who attended knights. The latter
group not only performed the tasks that servants and slaves normally
perform for soldiers, but they took part in the siege, and in the
battles themselves, like lions, with bravery like that of their
betters, as though they were accustomed to wielding now arms, now
tools of any sort, whether for war, or for any other task necessary.
No speech will be able to tell how much the integrity of those
powerful warriors shone forth at that time. No land on earth will
ever see soldiers of such nobility fighting together. If you wish, I
shall relate the story of every kingdom, speak of battles done
everywhere; none of these will be able to equal either the nobility
or the force of these men. They left their paternal lands, abandoned
conjugal bonds, their children were unattractive to them, remaining
at home was punishment for them; in every knight the desire for
martyrdom burns. When the mob is carried away by the promise of
bloodshed, who can find anyone who is unmoved? Everyone is
lion-hearted, pleased to see the walls of Nicea surrounded. The
field shone with the reins of horses, and the shape and sound of
their trappings gives pleasure to everyone. Their armor burns more
brightly once it has drunk the sun's rays. Their helmets, shields
with yellow bronze, and belts blaze. You would have seen them, like
a storm, beating the walls down with their battering rams. The
Frankish spears penetrated their hard limbs, and their sharp swords
broke many of their bones. The wooden tower strove to drive the
Turks from the lofty walls. The battle rages hand-to-hand, and
spears were hurled on both sides; hardly any of them missed.
Unexpected death laid some men low. Heavenly glory then made our men
strong; they exposed their bodies to what was fated. They rejoiced
in seeking rewards through death. Every weary man became bold and
aggressive, driven by hope for a better life. The crimes of souls
greedy of praise are far distant. Every man believed that, if war
granted him a breath of fame, Christ was the one who gave it. No one
who performed noble act took credit for it. We will not be able to
compare the Scythian triumphs over Darius with these, nor could the
great, manly efforts of Cyrus be known, which Tomyris had finished
off with a bag of gore.[125] You would have mourned the outcome,
good Pyrrus, looking upon Tarentum; you babble uselessly of taking on
new wars with elephants. Once, twice, three times Hanibal's men cut
down the Quirites like wheat, but they were at last defeated and left
the city. Although under Caesar there was ten-year fight without
loss, let it be clear that the sojourn in the fields of Gaul was
harmful. The task took very little time, and was entirely successful.
Since God was involved, everything turned out well in the end.
Those who died as martyrs had a glorious fate, and those who did not
judged that the suffering mitigated their sins.[126]
Part of the city was bordered by a long, broad, stagnant lake, upon
which the enemy was seen launching boats, freely going in and out,
carrying wood and fodder and other necessary items. Our leaders held
a meeting about this activity, and they agreed to send a delegation
to the prince of Constantinople, to urge him to send as many ships as
possible to the city of Civitot, where there was a port, and to
collect a great number of bulls to carry the ships over the
mountains and through the forests until they reached the
above-mentioned lake. The plan was discussed and carried out quickly,
urged on by the prince; those who are called the Turkopoles, that is,
the knights of his court, were sent on the expedition. When the
boats were brought, in accordance with the emperor's orders, they
remained still on the day that they were brought. That night,
however, they put the boats on the lake, and the Turkopoles, very
well equipped with weapons, got into them. In the morning the fleet
assembled, and proceeded slowly towards the city, as though they were
bringing tribute. The Turks, who were amazed at the sight of the
ships, could not decide whether they were their own, or the emperor's.
After they understood that what they were seeing was an enemy force,
they grew weak with a fear of death, but the more they groaned and
wept the more our own men were pleased and gave thanks to the Lord.
This misfortune severely enfeebled the enemy, who now lost faith in
themselves and their allies, and sent legation to the emperor,
offering to surrender the city, if he could get permission from the
Franks for them to leave with their wives, sons, and adequate
provisions. The tyrant graciously favored their request, and not
only granted it without punishing them, but, to bind them even closer
to himself, brought them to Constantinople. He had one principal
object in doing this: in case of a disagreement with the Franks, he
would advantageously have men with whom to oppose them. The siege
had lasted seven weeks and three days, and many of our men received
the gift of martyrdom in that place. It is undoubtedly true that
those who went to their death in defense of the true faith certainly
may be numbered among those who are with God; having paid with their
blood, they have earned celestial rewards. Those who died of
starvation are certainly their equals, and a great number died there
in that way. For if, according to the Prophet, speaking historically,
"it was better for those killed by the sword than for those killed
by hunger,"[127] since the latter undoubtedly were tortured to death
by daily pain, they will not, it is right to believe, be deprived of
the more noble crown of martyrdom.
After the city had surrendered, and the Turks had been brought to
Constantinople, the tyrannical prince was extremely pleased to have
regained the city, and he gave our leaders countless gifts; he also
made substantial charitable contributions to all the poorest people.
As a result, those who were neither powerful nor poor, whom his
generosity had overlooked, grew envious and hostile towards the
leaders. And, in a way, it was not unjust. They had fought the
battles; they were the ones who had carried out the entire siege,
hauled the engines of war, fired the catapults; to conclude briefly,
I say that they carried, "the burden and heat of the day."[128] On
the day that they left the captured city they reached a bridge in
whose vicinity they remained for two days. On the third day, at the
first feeble glimmerings of dawn, they arose, moved about blindly in
what little light there was, and went down two separate roads,
forming two groups. For two days they marched in two separate
divisions. One contained Bohemund, Robert of Normandy, and Tancred,
together with a large contingent of knights; the Count of
Saint-Gilles, Duke Godfrey, the bishop of Puy, Hugh the Great, and
the count of Flanders were leading the other group through pathless
territory. On the third day, an innumerable, terrible, and nearly
overwhelming mass of Turks suddenly rushed upon Bohemund and his men.
You would have seen them speaking melodramatically about the fear
that they expected our men, frightened at their unexpected attack, to
feel as they shouted their war-like battle-cry in the horrible tones
of their language. Under attack by an immense force, the
extraordinary man was not frightened into acting unwisely, but
immediately ordered everyone to halt, unroll the tents, and establish
camp quickly. Before his orders had been carried out, he addressed
his own knights: "If you keep in mind the expedition that you joined,
having considered why it was necessary, then go forward; attack them
like men, defend your honor and your life, and you, foot soldiers,
pitch the tents carefully." When he had finished, the Turks attacked
suddenly and swiftly, hurling javelins, and fighting in their usual
fashion by fleeing as they fired arrows into the breasts of their
pursuers. Aware of what they had promised, mindful of their vaunted
strength, the Franks clearly understood that they were numerically
overmatched, but they fought with energetic bravery against their
furious enemies. The count of Normandy, properly mindful of his
father's military valor and noble ancestry, performed mighty deeds of
arms, fighting off the enemy, and offering a fine example of
resistance to our momentarily frightened army. God was also present,
so that the women who had accompanied them stood by their men,
constantly bringing water to refresh the knights. Indeed, their
encouragement and advice did more to make the men more tireless and
inventive than the water did to refresh them. But when Bohemund
became troubled by the extreme inequality of the contest, he sent a
messenger to those who had gone off separately, Raymond the Count of
Saint-Gilles, Duke Godfrey, Hugh the Great, the bishop of Puy, and
others of their retinues, telling them to come very quickly, because
battle was imminent. Thus they say:
If they would like to see the beginnings of battle with the Turks,
what they want is now here: come quickly.[129]
And so Godfrey, worthy of the title of duke, a model warrior,
accompanied by Hugh the Great, who took after his father in military
ardor, courageous as befitted one descended from kings, like a
leopard, I might say, together with his retinue, raced to the battle
as eagerly as to feast. Then the Bishop of Puy,
strengthened the army not only with his shining arms, but with his
counsel and sacred prayers; if they had been hesitant, he ignited the
army.[130]
Then the Count of Saint-Gilles, older and wiser with experience and
very reliable in council, surrounded by his Provencal soldiers, burst
forth. When our men saw the enemy army face-to-face, they wondered
where in the world such an infinite number of people had come from.
Turks, Arabs, and Saracens stood out among the others, both in number
and in nobility; there was a smaller number of auxiliaries and people
from less illustrious nations. There you would have seen the heights
of the mountains and the slopes of the hills grow dense with this
profane mass, and all the plains were covered with countless throngs.
And so our leaders exhorted their men, "If you have devoted to God
the army in which you now serve, if you have given up your countries,
homes, wives, children, and your bodies, and if these bodies have
only survived to be offered for the glories of martyrdom, how, I ask,
can you be terrified at this sight? The wisdom of one of you,
derived from faith in God, is more powerful than the superstitions of
this entire heap of rabble. If death is to be your lot, the heavenly
kingdom and a joyful death await you; if you remain alive, and
persevere in your faith, certain victory awaits you, and after
victory, glory, and after glory, greater courage, and then great
opulence from the enemy's treasures. Whatever happens, you will be
secure, you have nothing to fear; no delay or doubt should stand in
your way. Therefore surrender your minds and bodies to the faith of
the Lord of the Cross, and take up arms against this pile of husks,
these little creatures who are hardly men at all." Then they drew up
their battle lines in an orderly fashion, with great-hearted Bohemund
on the left flank, together with the count of Normandy, valiant
knight, Tancred, and Richard who was called "of the first city." The
Bishop of Puy, however, moving through the mountains from enemy
territory, was surrounding the Turks; count Raymond rode on the left
flank. On the right flank, Duke Godfrey, Robert of Flanders, Hugh
the Great, and the other warriors, powerful because they took up
their positions on behalf of Christ. Oh good God, who knows men's
thoughts, how many tears were shed for you during these preparations!
How much pious remorse and how many pious confessions rose up out of
the minds of all of these men! Who could judge adequately how much
sensitivity was in the hearts of all these men whose hopes were
placed only in You? O Christ, with what grief did holiness and
sinfulness cry out to you. They wept, and called upon pious Christ
with their pious sighs, when, lo, all the soldiers crossed themselves;
I do not say that they were as brave as lions, but, what is more
fitting, brave as martyrs, bearing the banners against the enemy
throng.
The Arabs, Persians, and ferocious Turks soon fled; the savage people
showed their backs to the Christians. It was a rout, and the
wretched army ran in all directions; the Arabs ran like rabbits.
Prodigious was the slaughter of the fleeing army; we hardly had
enough swords to do all the killing. Swords became dull with cutting
so many limbs; they cut men down the way reapers cut wheat with
scythe. Here they cut a head, here a nose, here throat, here a pair
of ears; a belly is sliced open; everyone in their path dies. Hands
become stupefied, arms grow stiff with gore. No one resists them and
remains alive; lassitude overcomes the infidels. Their breasts
blindly receive the baneful assault.[131]
The number of enemy defeated is said to have been 460,000, not
counting the Arabs, whose number was too great to be counted.[132]
At first, indeed, crying out in despair of their lives,
they ran in fear to their tents,[133]
where they seized what they could with their hands and fled. For a
whole day our men pursued them very closely, piling up the spoils
they took from the fleeing enemy; and so, after drawing considerable
amounts of blood, they took comfort in the copious sums of money, in
the precious garments, and in the herds of cattle which they took
from the fleeing men. From the third until the ninth hour the
destruction, or rather Arabian slaughter, of this battle raged. Two
leaders of distinguished name, Geoffrey of Mont Scabieuse, and
William, brother of Tancred, and many others whose names are
entrusted to the notice of God alone, died there. Here we can
clearly see the signs of Christian power; and if we marvel at the
inequality of a battle between so few men and so many, we must
attribute the results entirely to the aid of Christ. For if in the
ancient text it is said of the Jews who had not yet separated from
God, "one will pursue thousand, and two will put to flight ten
thousand,"[134] then it seems to me no less true of this victory,
since human understanding cannot hope to fathom how so many men could
be defeated by so few. But perhaps someone may object, arguing that
the enemy forces were merely peasants, scum herded together from
everywhere. Certainly the Franks themselves, who had undergone such
great danger, testified that they could have known of no race
comparable to the Turks, either in the liveliness of spirit, or
energy in battle. When the Turks initiated a battle, our men were
almost reduced to despair by the novelty of their tactics in battle;
they were not accustomed to their speed on horseback, nor to their
ability to avoid our frontal assaults. We had particular difficulty
with the fact that they fired their arrows only when fleeing from the
battle. It was the Turk's opinion, however, that they shared an
ancestry with the Franks, and that the highest military prowess
belonged particularly to the Turks and Franks, above all other people.
While they were being defeated in this manner, and were fleeing day
and night from the face of the Franks, the prince who ruled Nicaea,
[135] frightened out of his mind, after the siege had ended, happened
to meet a group of ten thousand Arabs, who said to him, "O least of
men, why are you fleeing in miserable fright?" He replied, "I
thought that I had destroyed and killed every last Frank, and I
thought that I would deliver them to eternal captivity; I assumed
that I would conquer them as they moved forward in small groups, and
I would bind them and lead them away to distant lands. But a large
army appeared, and the fields and mountains were covered with great
numbers of them, and they seemed to occupy every inch of our entire
land." The capture which he mentioned referred to the army of Peter
the Hermit, and the multitude that followed to those who lately had
subjugated Nicaea. "There, when we had seen an army of so many
people, with divisions growing like wheat, against whom we judged
correctly that we stood no chance of defending ourselves (for there
was no safe place), we thought it best to escape imminent death by
fleeing swiftly. Although we are now at some distance, nevertheless
we are shaken by the terrible memory of those men whom we saw, and
the momentary encounter has left us frightened of their ferocity. If
you have any faith in my report of what happened, you will retreat
from this place because, if their forces find you here, you will
undoubtedly pay for your folly many times over." They decided that
what they heard was credible, quickly reversed direction,[136] and
scattered all over Romania.
Meanwhile our men were intent on pursuing the fleeing Turks, who,
when they passed through cities and forts, boastfully proclaimed that
they had conquered the Franks, thus deluding the inhabitants of the
lands through which they traveled with lying words. "We have
defeated the Christian armies," they said, "and deprived them of all
desire for combat. Therefore let us into your cities, and welcome
gratefully those who go to such lengths to protect you." Then they
entered the cities, stripped the churches of their ornaments, carried
off the wealth of public buildings, and set about carrying off gold
and silver, various kinds of animals, and whatever else might be of
use to them. For this purpose, they abducted the sons of Christians
as slaves, and consigned to the flames other things that were less
useful, constantly in fear of our coming up behind them. Afterward,
in searching for the infidels through pathless solitudes, our men
entered a deserted, pathless, waterless land, from which the pitiful
men emerged scarcely alive. They suffered from hunger and thirst;
nothing edible could be found, but the cruel deprivation seemed
sometimes to be relieved by rubbing their hands with the spikes.[137]
Certainly many noble knights died there, and the desert, to which
they were unaccustomed, took the lives of many horses. The feeble
succumbed to the relentless hardship. The great lack of horses and
carts compelled them to use cattle, goats, rams, and what is more
amazing, dogs, to carry whatever supplies were appropriate to their
size. From there they moved on to a province rich in what they
needed, and they reached the city of Iconia,[138]famous for its
tolerance of Paul and his writings. Meanwhile, the inhabitants of
this province urged our men to provide themselves with supplies, and
to bring water in bags with them, because they would not be able to
find any water on the entire next day's journey. They did so, and
moved on until they reached the bank of a river, where they rested
for two days. And so those who made up the vanguard reached Trachias,
[139] where a large Turkish phalanx had assembled for the sole
purpose of finding a way to trouble the army of Christ. When our men
came upon them, they attacked them with their usual boldness. The
enemy swiftly took flight, like an arrow launched from a cross-bow.
[140]
Thus our men, now that the gate was open, entered the city and they
remained there for four days. There Tancred, Bohemund's nephew, and
Baldwin, Duke Godfrey's brother, left the encampment of the army, not
out of a desire to avoid fighting, but because of the ardor of their
spirits, and they entered a certain valley, which they call in that
language Bothrentot. And so Tancred, uncomfortable with partner,
separated from the duke's brother, and, together with his men,
attacked Tarsus, renowned for the precious birth of the special
apostle[141]. Turks from the city rushed out to battle our men as
they approached, but, as they were about to join battle, they sought
refuge in the city from which they had come. Tancred gave rein to
his horse in pursuit of the enemy, and set up his camp in position
that blockaded the gate of the city. Baldwin soon arrived to besiege
the city, set up camp on the other side, and asked Tancred if he and
his army might share in the taking of the city. Tancred angrily
refused, since he wanted control of the city and the trophies of
victory for himself alone. And so night fell, and the crowd of Turks,
uncomfortable with the siege, and well aware of the strength and
persistent nature of the besieger, fled in haste. When they had been
forced out, those who remained in the city, the Gentiles of that land,
which is to say those who were Christians, came out to our men
during the night, and cried out, "Franks, hurry, enter the city,
since the alien race has fled, so great was their fear of your
strength." At dawn, the leaders surrendered the city, and when they
learned that there was a fight about who should control the city,
they said, "We choose to rule over us the man whom we saw yesterday
battling so fiercely with the Turks." Baldwin instantly urged
Tancred that they enter the city together, so that each might set
about taking the spoils with all his might. Tancred wisely replied,
"Our plan was to fight the Turks, not to rob Christians, particularly
since they have voluntarily chosen me, and do not want anyone else."
Although he had said this, Tancred took into account the fact that
Baldwin's army was larger and better supplied, and yielded to him,
willingly or unwillingly, for the moment. During his retreat two
very fine cities, Athena[142] and Manustra,[143] yielded themselves
to him, together with many castles.
Since no chance to talk about Baldwin may offer itself later on, I
wish to insert a few details about how well things turned out for him.
Near Edessa, a city in Mesopotamia, as we understand from reports
of people who have been there, a certain man became leader[144] and
ruled over the Christian province as a duke, protecting it from the
incursions of Gentiles not by arms, but by paying protection money.
Worn out with age and illness, with a wife as old as he, and without
children, when he heard that the Franks were at the borders of
Mesopotamia, he very much wanted to find someone from among the
Frankish nobility to adopt, who, in exchange, would defend with arms
and strength the land that he had defended only with money. One of
the knights of his household, aware of his desire, happened to be
speaking with Baldwin. When he aroused the hope of obtaining the
dukedom if he permitted himself to be adopted by the above mentioned
old man, the count believed him and, accompanied by the knight, he
went to Edessa. Welcomed even more warmly than he had hoped, he was
adopted as a son by both. The method of adoption, in accordance with
the customs of this nation, is said to have been like this: the old
man directs him to strip himself naked and put on linen inner garment,
which we call a chemise, and he embraces him, and confirms the
entire transaction with kiss; both the old man and the old woman do
this. When this was finished, the citizens perceived that the old
man had been stripped of the high honor, and they made a secret pact
immediately to besiege the court in which he and Baldwin were staying.
They remembered whatever harmful things the old man had done to
them. And so during the siege, when his newly adopted son wanted to
fight back with Frankish boldness, the old man, admirably faithful,
prevented him, saying that he knew for certain that he could by no
means be delivered from the hands of the mob, while Baldwin would be
in great danger if he took up his defense. Thus after many
imprecations he persuaded him not to fight back, and when tearful
Baldwin said that he would prefer to die with him, the old man pushed
him away, and pleaded with the besiegers to kill him if they wished,
but to spare the new prince. And they did in fact kill him, but in
the meantime Baldwin, with great effort, managed to hold on to the
power he had gained by adoption and, mindful of the recent treachery,
brought in Frankish knights and servants for his own protection,
little later, at Christmas, another conspiracy was formed, to kill
the new duke on that holy day. The attempt did not remain hidden
from Baldwin, who told the members of his retinue who were Franks to
appear in church wearing their cuirasses and helmets, as though
prepared for battle; foot-soldiers were to bring their lances, swords,
and battle-axes, and to move about everywhere in their gear. When
this had been done, the inhabitants of the city understood that the
ruler had been alerted, and he himself proceeded to the church with a
large contingent of armed men, participated in the divine service,
yet said nothing that day. But the next day he called the citizens
of Edessa together and charged them with treason, compelled them by
law to confess, and did not permit them to deny what they had
proposed to do. And so, after the leaders of the entire city had
been convicted, some had their feet cut off, some their hands, others
their ears and noses, others their tongues and lips, and all of them
were castrated and sent into exile in various distant places.
Finally, when no one remained who might incite the crowd against him,
Baldwin experienced the rewards and happiness of such a dukedom.
Thereafter he led a prosperous and rich life, ruled several cities,
among which Seleucia[145] stood out as the best known since antiquity.
After the death of his brother Godfrey, who had ruled at Jerusalem,
Baldwin moved from this dukedom to that of Jerusalem, but from this
he derived no increase in earthly felicity, but only more blessed
labor in the service of God--that is, continual battle against the
Gentiles.
The Third Book of the Deeds of God by the Franks Ends.
BOOK FOUR
I think that no one can justifiably ridicule me for undertaking this
task. For although I did not go to Jerusalem, and to this day am
unacquainted with many of the people and places, I think that these
conditions in no way hinder the general usefulness of what I do, if
the things which I have written or shall have written have been taken
from men whose testimony is endowed with truth. If anyone objects
that I did not see, he cannot object on the grounds that I did not
hear, because I believe that, in a way, hearing is almost as good as
seeing. For although, "What has been thrust into the ears stirs the
mind more slowly than those things which have appeared before
reliable eyes,"[146] nevertheless, who doubts those historians who
wrote the lives of the saints, who wrote down not only what they saw
with their own eyes, but what they drunk up from what others have
understood and told them? For if the narrator is reliable and, as
one reads, "testifies to what he saw and heard,"[147] then stories
told by those who speak the truth about events no one has seen are
clearly acceptable as true. If there is anyone who objects, and who
despises this undertaking, he has the option, if he wishes, of
offering corrections. Whoever is displeased with what we have done
may write his own version.
Thus the Lord's army, led by Raymond, Count of Saint-Gilles, Bohemund,
Godfrey, and many others, entered Armenia, rejoicing at the
possibility of Turkish attacks. On their way they took a fort which
was difficult to approach, so that any attempt to attack it seemed
futile. A pagan of that district, a certain Symeon, well known for
having Christian surname, asked our leaders for control of that area,
so that he could guard it against Turkish attacks. They did not
refuse the favor he requested, and he remained there, intending to
guard the land. Then our men moved on and reached Cappadocian
Caesarea.[148]After they left the province of Caesarea, they reached
a very lovely, wealthy city,[149] which the Turkish army had been
besieging for three weeks before the arrival of our army. But their
siege produced no results. When our men approached, the citizens
voluntarily surrendered the city. A certain knight called Peter of
the Alps asked that the leaders grant him the right to protect the
region in the name of the emperor of the Greeks and of our own
leaders. His request was willingly granted, since the meritorious
fidelity of the petitioner was well known. As the day then drew to a
close, Bohemund heard that a large but insignificant group of the
enemies who had earlier besieged this city was moving ahead of our
men. And so, taking with him only his immediate retinue, he set out
in pursuit, but did not find those whom he sought. Now the army
reached a town called Coxon,[150] where they found great abundance of
useful supplies. The inhabitants of this place happily opened their
gates to our men, and for three days fed them properly and well.
After the count of Saint-Gilles heard that the Turks, who usually
supplied the garrison for the city of Antioch, had left the
stronghold, he sent part of his army ahead to take possession of the
city and to maintain control of it. He chose four men from among the
leaders of his army, of whom three had the same name, that is, Peter,
and the fourth was called William of Montpellier, a man well know
among us for his feats of arms, and he gave them 500 knights to lead.
And so, not far from the above-mentioned city, they entered valley
and in that valley found a fort, and there they heard that the Turks,
with a large army, were in control of the city of Antioch, and in
addition they learned that the Turks were making great preparations
of men and arms, to defend themselves against the French, in case
they attacked. Therefore one of those Peters we named above, whose
surname had been derived from a place called Roaix, separating
himself from his companions, entered a valley of a town named Rugia,
[151] where he found Turks and Saracens, with whom he fought. After
killing many of them, he pursued the others. The Armenians took
notice of this and, pleased with the man's bravery, and impressed by
his unusual boldness against the Turks, surrendered voluntarily to
his command. Quickly thereafter he was given control of a city named
Rusa[152] when its inhabitants capitulated, and several other forts
surrendered to him. The rest of the army departed from Coxon, the
city we mentioned, and marched through high mountains along
incredibly rocky paths so narrow that no one could pass the man in
front of him, but each man had to proceed one step at a time,
stepping carefully, in single file. A deep gulley lay beneath the
narrow, rough path, so that if a horse happened to push up against
another horse, he would fall to instant death. There you would have
seen armed men, who, having just been converted by the hardship and
starvation of the journey from knights into foot-soldiers, were
suffering wretchedly, smashing their fists, tearing their hair,
begging for the relief of death, selling their shields, helmets, and
all of their arms, regardless of their true worth, for three or four,
perhaps five cents. When they could find no buyer, they threw their
shields and other fine equipment into the gulley, to disencumber
their weakened, endangered bodies. When they finally emerged from
these rocks and precipices, after unbearable suffering, they entered
a town called Marasim,[153] whose inhabitants came forth joyfully to
meet them, bring abundant supplies to sell to the soldiers. The rich
earth replenished the exhausted men, until the presence of their
leader Bohemund, who was following those who were waiting for him
there, was restored to them.
Finally they arrived in the plains where the renowned city of Antioch
was situated, whose particular glories, beyond those by means of
which she flourished in this world, are those which grew out of her
Christian fame. Pharphar was the name of the river on which she was
located. When our men had reached a place near the bridge over that
river, some of them, who had been assigned the task of forming the
vanguard of the army, met up with a large force of Turks, who were
well supplied with provisions, and were hurrying to bring aid to the
besieged. When our men saw them, they charged with Frankish ferocity,
and almost instantly defeated them and scattered them in all
directions. Like charging rams, they tore them to pieces, and the
Turks threw away the arms that only moments before had been able to
inspire terror. The mass of foot-soldiers fled through their own
lines, in their haste and confusion wounding and crushing their own
allies. The madness of pride now felt humiliation, and the man who
anticipated taking pleasure in heaping up destruction upon us was now
happy if he could get himself out alive, even though dishonored.
Those who had come to bring aid to the besieged were turned into
instant, filthy piles of cadavers. The Almighty mercifully converted
what they had brought to aid the besieged into gifts for the
besiegers. Thus after they had been destroyed, like grain crushed by
hail, great quantities of grain and wine fell into our hands, and the
foot-soldiers acquired the valuable horses, camels, mules, and asses
that remained. And so our men built camps on the shore of the
above-mentioned river. Bohemund, together with 4000 of his best men,
undertook blockade of the city's gate, and remained on guard all that
night to prevent anyone from getting in or out. The next day, the
twelfth calends of November,[154] the fourth day of the week, in the
middle of the day, the army arrived, set up camp, and began a
blockade of three of the city's gates; the fourth gate was left free,
since it was inaccessible to the besiegers because of the great
height of the surrounding mountains, and the narrowness of its paths.
However, not only the inhabitants, but the Turks themselves who were
inside the city were so frightened by us that none of them came out
to fight us. No one put up any resistance, but instead they behaved
as though we had come to the market, and this pretence of peace
continued, as though a truce had been declared, for fifteen days.
The city was surrounded by signs that augured well for beginning this
siege; fresh abundance of everything necessary to sustain life was
vividly present; I am surprised that at that time the crusaders found
abundant grapes hanging on the vines everywhere, wheat shut up not in
granaries, but in ditches and underground pits. The trees had plenty
of apples, and whatever made their lives more comfortable was
supplied by an extremely fertile soil. The Armenians and the Syrians,
who formed the entire population of the city (except for the Turks,
who, as I mentioned earlier, were not permanent residents), since
they inhabited the city itself, and were titular Christians, visited
us in great numbers, and told them whatever they had learned among us.
They enticed the Franks with their deceptive, repeated lies, and,
whispering in their ears, using the most flattering terms, they
claimed that they shunned the Turks, although they did not allow
their own wives to go beyond the city limits; when they left the
Franks, and were back in the city, they reported to the Turks
whatever news they had been able to gather about the weaknesses of
the Christian side. Thus, informed by the Syrians about our plans,
the Turks from time to time rushed out from the city to sneak up upon
our men and attack them as they were searching for food, and they
covered over the most used paths and made unexpected attacks upon
them as they sought the mountains and the sea, never permitting them
to rest from ambush or open attack. Not far off was a fort named
Harenc[155] in which they had placed a garrison of the fiercest
Turkish warriors, who made frequent raids upon the Franks when they
were unprepared. Our leaders, unwilling to suffer such affronts,
sent a large force of cavalry and infantry to find out where those
who were doing so much harm to their men were concealing themselves.
When they found their hiding place, they at first attacked them, but
then, cleverly simulating flight, they permitted themselves to be
brought to a position where they knew that Bohemund was waiting in
ambush. At that point, two of our men died in pursuit of the Turks.
Coming out of his hiding-place, Bohemund fell upon the enemy, leading
the group who appeared to have turned their backs, delivering the
punishment they deserved by attacking the Turks with all his forces.
He killed many of them, made others prisoners, and brought those he
had captured back to the gate of the city, where, to terrify the
citizens who were watching, he ordered that they be decapitated.
Some of the citizens, however, climbed to the top of this gate and
wore out our men by discharging so many arrows that a cloud of
missiles flowed in the midst of Bohemund's camp, and one woman died
when struck by one of the arrows. Finally the leaders consulted with
each other, and decided to set up a fort at the top of a mountain
which they called Malregard, and which, as a formidable stronghold,
might serve to drive away the Turks. Thus the fort was being
constructed, and there you would have seen the greatest princes
laboring at carrying rocks. There no poor man might complain that he
had to endure hardships inflicted upon him by the power of great men,
since those who were in charge would permit themselves no rest in
bringing the work to completion. For they knew by the instinct of
pious nature, even if they had not read it, what Marius, according to
Sallust, said, "If you behave gently, but rule the army firmly, you
will be a master, not an general."[1
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