Bleeding Armenia: Its history and horrors under the curse of Islam

by Augustus Warner Williams; M. Smbat Gabrielean

In 1076—fateful day—Jerusalem was captured by the Seljukian Turks who had come down from the inner provinces of Asia in resistless numbers—embraced Islamism, and under the banners of the Caliph of Bagdad, had conquered Syria and Palestine. Their entry into Jerusalem was signalized by a terrible massacre of all opponents. The fanatical fury of these barbarians was untempered by any spirit of toleration that had sometimes marked Saracenic civilization,—and soon their wild hordes waved their banners of blood and fire before the very gates of Constantinople. The Emperor Alexius purchased peace by ceding Asia Minor to the victorious Solyman, who at once established his power at Nice and began building a fleet for the capture of the Byzantine capital.

All Europe was roused and smitten with alarm. The hour had come for the Greek and the Latin churches to unite all their power for the defence of their common faith and preserve their empires from being devastated by the barbarian Turks.

Pope Gregory began to exhort the sovereigns of Europe to arm against the infidel: when suddenly from an anchorite’s cell appeared a monk who fired with enthusiasm the heart of all Europe and blew into fiercest blaze all the fanatical elements of a religious war. It was reserved for a poor pilgrim who had found refuge in a cloister from the ridicule and follies of a wicked world to become the instrument of converting the zeal of pilgrimage into the fury of an armed crusade. This man was Peter the Hermit.

In his cell, amid silence, fasting and prayer he grew to believe himself the agent of heaven for the accomplishment of some great purpose, and he left his retreat to go on a pilgrimage. What he witnessed and suffered on the way and at Jerusalem gave to his zeal fresh determination and to his devotion the fervor of righteous indignation. His spirit was fired by the insults to Christians, his piety shocked by the profanations of the Holy Sepulchre by the barbarians and infidels. To his fevered imagination as to that of Joan of Arc there was a vision and a voice. While prostrate before the Holy Sepulchre the voice of Christ was heard, saying: “Peter, arise, hasten to proclaim the tribulation of my people; it is time my servants should receive help, and that the holy places should be delivered.” He hastened to Italy and threw himself at the feet of the Pope, Urban II.

With the blessing of the Pope he went forth, the preacher of an armed crusade. In imitation of Christ, when he entered Jerusalem in that last week of his life, he traveled on a mule. With crucifix in hand, feet bare, his head uncovered, his body covered with a long frock and girded with a thick cord, his appearance was an awesome spectacle. He went from city to city, from province to province, working on the piety, the superstitions and the courage of his hearers; now in churches, then in village marts and again on the public highways. He was animated and eloquent, his speech filled with vehement apostrophes and appalling descriptions. His exhortations threw the people into sobs and groans, fury and frenzy. Sympathy with the afflicted Christians took the form of furious fervor, natural bravery went out in oaths to redeem or die; religious emotions ran wild in excesses and swung like a pendulum from the lowest follies of superstition to the fiercest outbursts of fanaticism.

It was during this excitement that the Emperor Alexius sent a message to Pope Urban II., appealing for aid. A council was called at Clermont in France where Peter’s preaching had caused the greatest awakening. The Pope attended in person, about him gathered an immense throng of clergy, princes and laity, from France, Italy and Germany. At the tenth session of this council the Pope ascended a pulpit in the open air and preached the sacred duty of redeeming the Sepulchre of Christ from the infidels, proclaiming the certain propitiation for sin by devotion to this meritorious service.

This historic council was most ingeniously called and managed. The Germanic peoples were new and eager converts to Christianity. They were fierce and warlike in disposition. Feudalism still was in its fullest power. The hundreds of castles which add such picturesqueness to the valley of the Rhine were then the centers of feudal pride, and every petty Prince made war as he was able against his neighbor, or joined with others in wars of larger proportions. There was no national spirit as yet. These feuds which had been handed down for generations, had greatly impoverished and destroyed the people. The Church had sought to alleviate the distress and check these petty wars, by issuing decrees prohibiting private wars for four days in each week. This council renewed “The Truce of God,” and threatened all who would not comply, with its Anathemas. It placed all widows, orphans, merchants, artisans and non-combatants generally under the panoply of the Church—made all sanctuaries so many cities of refuge, and declared that even the crosses by the roadside should be reverenced as guardians from violence. These and other salutary decrees struck into the midst of an assembly filled with enthusiasm and energy, and prepared the way for them to unite in any cause that would add to the strength and glory of Christendom. On this day of the tenth session the great square was filled with an immense crowd. The Pope ascended the throne followed by his Cardinals. By his side was Peter the Hermit, who was to speak first, clad in his pilgrim garb. He gave an impassioned and masterly sketch of what he had witnessed in Palestine and Jerusalem—the outrages against the religion of Christ, and the profanation of the most holy places, the persecutions of pilgrim visitors whom he had seen loaded with chains, dragged into slavery; harnessed to the yoke like cattle. And as he spoke he also acted, until the people shuddered in consternation and horror, vented their hate in vehement cries or wept in dismay—no heart remaining unmoved by the very agony of his appeal.

Then Urban rose and so enlarged upon the theme as to arouse and inflame their passions to the highest pitch; then addressing particularly the French he said: “Nation beloved by God, it is in your courage that the Christian Church has placed her hope. It is because I am well acquainted with your piety and your bravery that I have crossed the Alps, and have come to preach the word of God in these countries. You have not forgotten that the land you inhabit has been invaded by the Saracen, and that but for the exploits of Charles Martel and Charlemagne, France would have received the laws of Mohammed. Recall, without ceasing, to your minds the danger and the glory of your fathers, led by heroes whose names shall never die. They delivered your country. They saved the West from shameful slavery. More noble triumphs await you under the guidance of the God of Armies. You will deliver Europe and Asia. You will save the city of Jesus Christ, that Jerusalem which was chosen by the Lord, and from whence the Gospel has come down to us.”

Urban swayed his audience as a wind does the leaves of the forest. It wept as he pictured the misfortunes and sorrows of Jerusalem. Warriors clutched their swords and swore vengeance against the Infidel when he described the tyranny and perfidy of the Mussulman conquerors. The enthusiasm of his auditors rose to the highest pitch, when he declared that God had chosen them to extirpate the Mohammedan. He appealed also to their cupidity by the promise of worldly gain, by possession of the riches of Asia and the lands which according to Scripture flowed with milk and honey. He played on every passion and emotion—ambition, patriotism, love of glory and wealth, piety, power and religion:—until at the close of his grandest outbursts the audience rose as one man and broke into the unanimous cry—a cry that became the war cry of the crusader—“It is the will of God! It is the will of God!”

Taking up this wild refrain Pope Urban repeated dramatically: “Yes, without doubt it is the will of God” * * * It is He who has dictated to you the words that I have heard. Let them be your war cry and let them announce everywhere the presence of the “Armies of God.” He then held up to the gaze of the assemblage the sign of their redemption, saying: “It is Christ himself who issues from the tomb and presents to you his cross; it will be the sign raised among the nations which is to gather together again the dispersed of Israel. Wear it on your shoulders and on your breasts; let it shine on your arms and on your standards; it will be the surety of victory or the palm of martyrdom; it will unceasingly remind you that Christ died for you, and that it is your duty to die for Him.” Again the multitude rose to weep and cheer and vow vengeance against the Mussulman.