In a council, the barons of Syria proposed to the leaders to change the mode of attack; the closeness of the gardens and the river, said they, prevented the placing of the machines of war in an advantageous manner; and the Christian army, in the position it occupied, might be surprised, and ran the risk of being surrounded by the enemy without the power of defending itself. It appeared to them, therefore, much more certain and safe to assault the city on the south and east sides.
Most of the chiefs possessed more valour than prudence, and the confidence which victory inspired made them think everything possible; besides, how could they mistrust the Christians of the East, for whom they had taken up arms, and who were their brothers? In addition to this, the fear of dragging out the siege to a great length made them adopt the advice of the barons of Syria. After having changed their points of attack, the Christian army, instead of finding easy access to the place, saw nothing before them but towers and impregnable ramparts. Scarcely had the Christians seated themselves in their new camp when the city of Damascus received within its walls a troop of twenty thousand Curds and Turcomans, determined to defend it. The besieged, whose courage was raised by the arrival of these auxiliaries, put on, says an Arabian historian, the buckler of victory, and made several sorties, in which they gained the advantage over the Christians. The Crusaders, on their part, made several assaults upon the city, and were always repulsed. Encamped upon an arid plain, they were destitute of water; all the adjacent country had been devastated by the infidels, and the corn that had escaped the ravages of war was concealed in caves and subterranean hiding-places, which they could not discover. The Christian army wanted provisions; then discord revived among them; nothing was spoken of in the camp but perfidy and treason; the Christians of Syria no longer united with the Christians of Europe in their attacks upon the city; they were soon informed that the sultans of Aleppo and Mossoul were coming with a numerous army; then they despaired of taking the city, and raised the siege. Thus the Christians, without having exercised their constancy, or tested their courage, abandoned, at the end of a few days, an enterprise, the preparations for which had cost so much to Europe, and raised such expectations in Asia. One of the circumstances of this siege the most worthy of remark is, that Ayoub, chief of the dynasty of the Ayoubites, commanded the troops of Damascus, and that he had with him his son, the young Saladin, who was destined one day to be so formidable to the Christians, and render himself master of Jerusalem. The eldest son of Ayoub having been killed in a sortie, the inhabitants of Damascus raised a tomb of marble to his memory, which was to be seen under the ramparts of the city many centuries after. An old Mussulman priest, who had passed more than forty years in a neighbouring cavern, was obliged to quit his retreat, and came into the city which the Christians were besieging. He regretted his solitude troubled by the din of war, and became ambitious of gathering the palm of martyrdom. In spite of the representations of his disciples, he advanced, unarmed, in the front of the Crusaders, found on the field of battle the death he desired, and was honoured as a saint by the people of Damascus.
If we may believe the Arabian historians, the Christian ecclesiastics who followed the army neglected no means of rekindling the enthusiasm of the soldiers of the cross. During a conflict under the walls of the city, a grey-headed Christian priest, mounted on a mule, and carrying a cross in his hands, advanced between the two armies, exhorting the Crusaders to redouble their bravery and ardour, and promising them, in the name of Jesus Christ, the conquest of Damascus. The Mussulmans directed all their arrows at him; the Christians pressed around to defend him; the combat became fierce and bloody; the priest fell at length pierced with many wounds, upon a heap of slain, and the Crusaders abandoned the field of battle.
The greater part of both Arabian and Latin authors[286] describe the siege of Damascus in a contradictory manner, but all agree in attributing the retreat of the Christians to treachery. A Mussulman historian asserts that the king of Jerusalem received considerable sums from the inhabitants of Damascus, and that he was deceived by the besieged, who gave him pieces of lead covered with a thin coating of gold.[287] Some Latin authors attribute the shameful raising of the siege to the covetousness of the Templars; others to Raymond of Antioch, who burned to revenge himself on the king of France. William of Tyre, whose opinion ought to have great weight, accuses the barons of Syria;[288] but surely all must blame the ignorance and incapacity of the other chiefs of the crusade, who followed advice without examining it, and proved themselves incapable of remedying an evil they had not foreseen.
After so unfortunate an attempt, it was natural to despair of the success of this war. In the council of leaders the siege of Ascalon was proposed, but men’s minds were soured, and their courage was depressed. The king of France and the emperor of Germany thought of returning into Europe, bearing back no other glory than that of having, the one defended his own life against some soldiers on a rock in Pamphylia, and the other of having cleft a giant in two under the walls of Damascus. “From that day,” says William of Tyre, “the condition and state of the Oriental Latins began continually to proceed from bad to worse.” The Mussulmans learnt no longer to dread the warriors and princes of the West. Full of confidence in their arms, they who had only thought of defending themselves, formed the project of attacking the Franks, and were excited to their enterprise by the hopes of sharing the spoils of an enemy who had invaded several of their provinces. Whilst the infidels thus regained their daring and their pride, and united against their enemies, discouragement took possession of the Christians, and the division which prevailed so fatally among them weakened every day their spirit and their power. “The Franks who returned into Europe” ’we leave William of Tyre to speak) “could not forget the perfidies of the Oriental princes, and not only showed themselves more careless and tardy concerning the affairs of the kingdom of Jerusalem, but discouraged all those equally who had not been the voyage with them, so that they who heard speak of this crusade never after undertook the road of this peregrination with so much good-will or so much fervour.”
This crusade was much more unfortunate than the first; no kind of glory mitigated or set off the reverses of the Christians. The leaders committed the same faults that Godfrey and his companions had committed; they neglected, as they had done, to found a colony in Asia Minor, and to possess themselves of cities which might protect the march of pilgrims into Syria. We admire the patience with which they endured the outrages and the perfidies of the Greeks; but this moderation, more religious than politic, only led them to their ruin. We must add that they entertained too low an opinion of the Turks, and did not take sufficient heed of the means necessary to contend with them. The Germans, in particular, were so full of confidence, that, according to the report of Nicetas, they would rather have thought of taking shovels and pickaxes with them than swords or lances, believing that they had nothing to do but to cut themselves a road across Asia Minor. By another singularity, the Crusaders, in this war, did not employ the cross-bow, which a council of the Lateran had condemned as too murderous, and the use of which was interdicted to the warriors of the West. The infantry was left almost without arms, and when the Crusaders had lost their cavalry, they had no defence against an enemy.
The Christian armies, as in the first crusade, dragged in their train a great number of children, women, and old men, who could do nothing towards victory, and yet always greatly augmented the disorder and despair consequent upon a defeat. With this multitude no discipline could be established; nor is it apparent that the leaders made any attempt to prevent the effects of license. Geoffrey de Rançon, whose imprudence caused the destruction of half the French army, and placed the king of France in the greatest peril, had no other punishment but his repentance, and thought he expiated his neglect of duty by prostrating himself at the tomb of Christ. That which was still more injurious to discipline was the depravity of manners in the Christian army, which must be principally attributed to the great number of women that had taken arms, and mixed in the ranks of the soldiery. In this crusade there was a troop of Amazons, commanded by a general whose dress was much more admired than her courage, and whose gilded boots procured her the name of “the lady with the legs of gold.”
Another cause of the dissoluteness of manners was the extreme facility with which the most vicious men, even convicted malefactors, were admitted among the Crusaders. St. Bernard, who considered the crusade as a road to heaven, summoned the greatest sinners to take part in it, and rejoiced at seeing them thus enter into the way of eternal life. In a council of Rheims, of which the abbot of Clairvaux was the oracle, it was decreed that incendiaries should be punished by serving God one year either in Jerusalem or Spain. The ardent preacher of the holy war did not reflect that great sinners, enrolled under the banners of the cross, would be exposed to new temptations, and that during a long voyage it would be much more easy for them to corrupt their companions than to amend their own conduct. Disorders were unhappily tolerated by the leaders, who believed that Heaven was ever indulgent towards Crusaders, and did not wish to be more severe than it.
And yet the Christian army, amidst a most frightful state of morals, presented examples of an austere piety. Surrounded by the dangers of war, and harassed by the fatigues of a long pilgrimage, the king of France never neglected the most minute practices of religion. The greater part of the leaders took him for their model, and when in camp, paid more attention to religious processions than to military exercises; so that many warriors actually placed more confidence in their prayers than in their arms. In general, through the whole of this crusade, sufficient dependence was not placed on human means and human prudence,—everything was left to Providence, which seldom protects those who stray from the ways of reason and wisdom.
The first crusade had two distinctive characters,—piety and heroism; the second had scarcely any other principle but a piety which partook more of the devotion of the cloister than of a generous enthusiasm. The influence of the monks who had preached it, and who then meddled very much in temporal affairs, was but too evident through the whole of this crusade. The king of France in his misfortunes displayed nothing but the resignation of a martyr, and in the field of battle was only distinguished by the ardour and courage of a soldier. The emperor of Germany did not evince greater ability; he lost all by his mad presumption, and from having thought himself able to conquer the Turks without the assistance of the French. Both were limited in their views, and were greatly wanting in that energy which produces great actions. In the expedition which they directed, there was nothing elevated, everything seemed to keep down to the level of their character. In a word, this war developed neither heroic passions nor chivalric qualities. Camps had no great captains to admire or imitate; and the period we have described can boast of only two men of marked genius,—he who had roused the Western world by his eloquence, and the wise minister of Louis, who had to repair in France all the misfortunes of the crusade.