Whilst this new power was rising in Syria, the Christian states of the East were at their highest point of prosperity. The county of Edessa, which contained a great portion of the rich provinces of Mesopotamia, had all the Armenian princes as its allies and auxiliaries. Several cities of Cœlesyria, Cilicia, and Lower Armenia constituted the principality of Antioch, the most extensive and the most flourishing of the Christian provinces.
The county of Tripoli comprised several places situated on the Sea of Phœnicia, from Margath to the river Adonis. This river, celebrated in both sacred and profane history, bounded on the north the kingdom of Jerusalem, which, towards the south, extended on the sea-coast as far as the gates of Ascalon, and towards the east, to the deserts of Arabia.
These four states formed a redoubtable confederacy. Europe beheld with pride these Christian colonies, which had cost her so much blood; she was afflicted at their reverses, and rejoiced at their progress. The safety of Christianity appeared identified with their preservation. The bravest of the Christians were always ready to devote themselves for the heritage of Christ; religion offered no recompense equal to that promised to their valour, and charity itself became warlike.
From the bosom of an hospital consecrated to the service of pilgrims and the poor, issued heroes armed against the infidels,—the humanity and the bravery of the knights of St. John[252] were equally conspicuous. Whilst some grew old in the offices of hospitality, others went forth to combat with the enemies of their faith. After the example of these pious knights, several men of gentle birth met near the place where the temple of Solomon had stood, and took an oath to protect and defend the pilgrims who repaired to Jerusalem. Their union gave birth to the order of the Templars, which, from its origin, was approved of by a council, and owed its statutes to St. Bernard.
These two orders were governed by the same principle that had given birth to the crusade, the union of the military spirit with the religious spirit. Retired from the world, they had no other country but Jerusalem, no other family but that of Jesus Christ. Wealth, evils, and dangers were all in common amongst them; one will, one spirit, directed all their actions and all their thoughts; all were united in one house, which appeared to be inhabited but by one man. They lived in great austerity, and the severer their discipline became, the stronger appeared the bonds by which it enchained their hearts and their wills. Arms formed their only decoration; precious ornaments were never seen in their houses or churches; but lances, bucklers, swords, and standards taken from the infidels abounded. At the cry of battle, says St. Bernard,[253] they armed themselves with faith within and with steel without; they feared neither the number nor the fury of the barbarians, they were proud to conquer, happy to die for Jesus Christ, and believed that every victory came from God.
Religion had sanctified the perils and the violences of war. Every monastery of Palestine was a fortress, in which the din of arms was mingled with the voice of prayer. Humble cenobites sought glory in fight; the canons, instituted by Godfrey to pray near the holy tomb, after the example of the Hospitallers and the Templars, had clothed themselves with the casque and the cuirass, and, under the name of the Knights of the Holy Sepulchre, distinguished themselves amongst the soldiers of Christ.
The glory of these military orders was soon spread throughout the Christian world. Their renown penetrated even to the isles and the most remote nations of the West. All who had sins to expiate hastened to the holy city to share the labours of the Christian warriors. Crowds of men, who had devastated their own country, came to defend the kingdom of Jerusalem, and take part in the perils of the most firm defenders of the faith.
There was not an illustrious family in Europe which did not send at least one knight to the military orders of Palestine. Princes even enrolled themselves in this holy militia, and laid aside the insignia of their dignity to assume the red coat of arms of the Hospitallers, or the white mantle of the knights of the Temple. In all the nations of the West castles and cities were bestowed upon them, which offered an asylum and succour to pilgrims, and became auxiliaries to the kingdom of Jerusalem. As monks, as soldiers of Christ, they were remembered in every will, and not unfrequently became the heirs of monarchs and princes.
The knights of St. John and of the Temple for a length of time were deserving of the greatest praises; more happy and more worthy of the benedictions of posterity would they have been, if, in the end, they had not allowed themselves to be corrupted by their success and their wealth; and if they had not frequently disturbed the welfare of the state of which their bravery was the support! These two orders were like a crusade that was unceasingly renewed, and preserved emulation in the Christian armies.
The military customs and manners of the Franks who were then engaged in Palestine, present an object worthy of fixing the attention of the historian and the philosopher, and may serve to explain the rapid rise and the following decline of the kingdom of Jerusalem. The spirit of honour which animated the warriors, and permitted them not to fly, even in an unequal fight, was the most active principle of their bravery, and with them took the place of discipline. To abandon a companion in danger, or to retire before an enemy, was an action infamous in the sight of God or man. In battle, their close ranks, their lofty stature, their war-horses, like themselves covered with steel, overturned, dispersed, or bore down the numerous battalions of the Saracens. In spite of the weight of their armour, nothing could exceed the rapidity with which they passed to places the most distant. They were to be seen fighting almost at the same time in Egypt, on the Euphrates, and on the Orontes; and only left these their customary theatres of victory to threaten the principality of Damascus, or some city of Arabia. In the midst of their exploits they recognised no other law but victory, abandoned and rejoined at pleasure the standards which led them to the enemy, and required nothing of their chief but the example of bravery.