The first sittings of this council, about to proclaim war against the enemies of the cross, were employed in decreeing the truce of God between all Christians. Then came the question of the hour. The apostle of the Crusade, Peter the Hermit, spoke first; with that tearful voice, with that burning emotion which had won him so many adherents, he depicted the miseries of the Eastern Church. After him the Pope addressed the assembly, and with such a distinguished and aristocratic audience, it may easily be understood that his skilful and learned eloquence had at least as much influence as the simple and rough speech of the poor hermit who had such sway over the minds of the masses.
The council rose as one man, and one cry burst simultaneously from every breast—“Dieu le veut! Dieu le veut! (Diex li volt).”[7] The pontiff repeated in a stentorian voice these words, Diex li volt, words which for two centuries were destined to be the war-cry of the Crusaders, and showed to the excited crowd the emblem of the Redemption. “Let the cross,” he said, “glitter on your arms and on your standards! Bear it on your shoulders and on your breasts, it will become for you the emblem of victory or the palm of martyrdom; it will ever remind you that Jesus Christ died for you, and that it is your part to die for Him.” At these words, all the princes, barons, knights, prelates and clergy, artisans and labourers, swore to dedicate their lives to avenge the outrages inflicted on Christ and on His followers. The oath was cemented by a declaration of oblivion of all private animosities and quarrels, and every one of the immense audience fastened a red cross to his dress. From this the appellation of Crusaders was derived, a title which was bestowed on the faithful who then enrolled themselves under Christ’s banner, and also that of Crusade, the name given to the holy war. The council, before separating, confirmed and allotted the temporal and spiritual privileges which were to be bestowed upon the Crusaders.
It is impossible to paint in sufficiently vivid colours the universal and spontaneous movement which took place in Western Christendom, when the faithful who had taken part in the council of Clermont went forth everywhere, as formerly did Christ’s apostles, repeating what had taken place, and proclaiming the decrees which had been promulgated there. Thenceforward all, in spite of age, sex, or social position, were carried away by the same enthusiasm. Family ties were broken, riches were no longer held of any account. The question was not who had taken up the cross, but who had hesitated to do so. A poet of the time says, “I hold no man a true knight who refuses to go willingly, with his whole heart and with all the means in his power, to the assistance of God, who so greatly needs it.” Women of every rank sewed the cross to their clothing, children of every age marked it on their innocent bodies. Monks left the retreat where they had hoped to peacefully end their existence, hermits came out of their caves and forests, and even the very robbers of the highway came forward, confessed their crimes, and swore to expiate them in the ranks of the holy army. The train was laid, the match was lighted, and for two centuries the Crusades were waged continually, with a few intervals of rest, caused by the enormous sacrifice of men and money entailed by this gigantic undertaking, which, inspired and controlled by an ardent faith, was persisted in, in spite of every reverse and every disaster.
Fig. 101.—Reception of Gautier-sans-Avoir by the King of Hungary, who permits him to pass through his territory with the Crusaders.—From a Miniature in the “Histoire des Empereurs,” a Manuscript of the Fifteenth Century (Library of the Arsenal, Paris).
The spring of the year 1096 witnessed the first departure of the Crusaders, in two numerous bodies, under the orders of Peter the Hermit himself, and of a poor but valiant warrior, Gautier-sans-Avoir (Fig. 101). But these undisciplined masses, forced to support themselves on their road by pillage, were dispersed and nearly destroyed by the nations through whose countries they had to pass, and who were ruined by their advent as they might have been by an army of locusts. Only a few thousand ever reached Constantinople, when the Emperor Alexis I., who had summoned the Western Christians to his aid against the Turks, succoured them, and enabled them to await the arrival of the more regular expeditions, which had started three months later under Godefroy de Bouillon.
Fig. 102.—Taking of Nicæa by the Crusaders, in 1097; from a Window ordered by the Abbé Suger for the Church of the Abbey of St. Denis, and now destroyed.—From the “Monuments de la Monarchic Française,” by Montfaucon (Twelfth Century).
It was then only that the real Crusade, that is to say, the actual war against the unbelievers, commenced. In March, 1097, the Christian army crossed the Bosphorus from Thrace, seized Nicæa (Fig. 102), penetrated into Syria, and laid siege to the important town of Antioch, which by an act of treachery was forced to surrender in June, 1098. In the spring of the following year the soldiers of Christ entered Palestine, but it was not till the 15th of July, 1099, that the holy city fell into their hands, and that Godefroy de Bouillon (Figs. 103 and 104), elected king by the principal leaders of the victorious army, under the modest title of Baron of the Holy Sepulchre, founded the Christian kingdom of Jerusalem.
