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

by Augustus Warner Williams; M. Smbat Gabrielean

While the Crusaders were preparing for what was intended to be their final assault, the standard of Alexius suddenly appeared on the ramparts. The wily Emperor had secured without the loss of a man the fruits of a victory won at terrible cost of life to the Crusaders. He succeeded in quieting the wrath of the soldiers by distributing among them largesses equal in extent to the booty they expected from the looting of the captured city. He also restored to the Sultan his wife and children, and thereby won his friendship. He also by this crafty stroke of policy secured the lives of the Greek Christians scattered throughout the cities of Asia Minor; but won the lasting hatred of the Crusaders.

The siege of one city is like the siege of all, and we must hasten to Jerusalem, in the spring of 1097. Passing by the battlefield of Dorylaeum, where the newly gathered army of David, the Sultan, numbering two hundred thousand men, met with an awful defeat and the loss of nearly twenty-five thousand men; all the treasures of his camp, provisions, tents, horses and camels, and riches of gold and silver, falling as spoil into the hands of the Crusaders:—passing by the terrible march through “Burning Phrygia,” desolated by order of the Sultan, we descend through the mountain passes of the Taurus range into the fair and fertile and wealthy plains of the province of Antioch. The armies were soon gathered for the siege of this historic city, which lasted seven months and was finally captured through the assistance of an Armenian within the walls.

Six months after the sack of the city of Antioch, the word was given, “On to Jerusalem.”

It was now about the first of June. The harvests of Phœnicia were ripe, plenty of provisions were in sight, and the country was beautiful as they marched down the seacoast from Antioch. To their left rose the mountains of Lebanon. On their right the blue waters of the Mediterranean flashed in the sunlight of an eastern sky. Between mountain and sea the valleys and plains were filled with orchards of olive, orange and pomegranate. Among the plants which were new to the Crusaders was the sugar cane of the Syrian lowlands. Returning pilgrims carried this plant to Italy; the Saracens introduced it into Grenada, whence it spread throughout all the Spanish colonial possessions; and to-day is the basis of the wealth of Cuba, and one of the chief productions of our own Southern States.

The Crusaders marched amid plenty and under balmy skies, with time enough to contemplate the fearful sacrifice of human life which their expedition had already cost. Battle and famine, disease and despair had cut off more than two hundred thousand of their number. Tens of thousands had deserted and returned to Europe; other thousands remained in the cities and villages of Palestine and were lost in the mixed crowds of the native races. While yet a vast host, the fighting force was about fifty thousand, but it was a compact and vigorous body of warriors. It marched better and lighter. Its victories gave it courage; its defeats had taught it the value of discipline. The names of Crusader and Christian carried terror wherever spoken in the Infidel camps or cities. Their zeal increased as they drew near the end of their long and wasting marches. Often the weary columns refused to halt for the night, but tramped on until forced to rest by sheer fatigue. To their disordered vision luminous angels appeared to guide them on the way.

Bending away from the sea and passing Lydda, they soon gained the Heights of Ephraim, only sixteen miles from Jerusalem. Here their ranks were broken up as they entered these jagged ravines and narrow, lonesome valleys scorched by the rays of a summer sun, riddled by gullies and choked by great fragments of rock fallen from the precipitous sides of the mountains. Had they been attacked from the heights above by even a few resolute Mussulmen while in such disorder, fearful loss might have been inflicted; but no enemy appeared as the more ardent and faithful souls advanced barefooted, carrying with them the banner of the Prince of Peace to plant on the recaptured walls of the Holy City of God.

On June 10th, 1099, the Crusaders marched up the gloomy steeps to Emmaus, and looking over its barren edges caught their first sight of Zion. The cry of “Jerusalem, Jerusalem,” rang out and down the slopes, and as the rear columns came up the war cry “It is the will of God,” resounded throughout the whole army until reëchoed by the slopes of the Mount of Olives and heard in the City of David. Horsemen dismounted and walked barefoot, thousands bent their knees and kissed the earth. Hallelujahs arose, petitions went up for the remission of their sins, tears were shed over the death of Christ, and the profanation of His tomb. Pious fervor soon changed into fierceness and wrath as oaths were resworn to rescue the Holy City from the sacrilegious hands of the followers of Mohammed.

They found a fierce and valiant memory awaiting them. The surrounding villages had been destroyed, cisterns and wells filled up or poisoned, the land made a desert.

The siege began at once; but their situation grew desperate. They were suffering under a scorching heat and the sand storms out of the southern deserts. Plants and animals perished. Kedron ran dry. The army became a prey to raging thirst. Water brought in skin bottles a distance of nine miles was worth its weight in silver. The old historians paint in most frightful colors the misery of the Crusaders at this juncture; and had the Mussulmen made a determined sortie upon the staggering hosts, the army must have perished. Their strength and courage revived by the arrival of a Genoese fleet at Jaffa laden with provisions. A Syrian pointed out a mountain thirty miles away that was forest-clad. Every body wrought with unceasing energy. Water was brought long distances by the women and children; machines of war towers, catapults and battering rams were erected and pushed up close under the walls of Jerusalem.

The priests exhorted to peace and harmony. The hermit of the Mount of Olives led a penitential march around the city. On their return to camp as the Christian army marched by the tomb of David, and Mt. Zion they chanted “The nations of the West shall fear the Lord; and the nations of the East shall see His glory.”