Among Urban's predecessors, Gregory VII (1073–85) stands out, for not only had he been the most uncompromising of the moral reformers in Rome, but he had imagined that the papacy could place itself at the head of a community of devoted seculars, who would become ‘soldiers of Christ’, fighting the very visible forces of evil in the material world around them.30 In 1074, he planned to make this a reality by leading an expedition to the aid of the eastern Christians. In a letter to his ally Matilda, countess of Tuscany, he wrote: ‘How serious my intention and how great my desire to go overseas and with Christ's help to carry succour to the Christians being slaughtered like sheep by pagans, I hesitate to say to some persons lest I seem to be moved by too great a fickleness of purpose. But to you, my most dearly beloved daughter, I have no hesitation in declaring any of these matters; for I have more confidence in your good judgement than you yourself could possibly express.’31 At the same time such initiatives were underpinned by a powerful intellectual structure which, despite some dissenting voices, maintained that force could be used in certain circumstances, the centrepiece of which was a threat to the faith. Drawing on biblical and patristic texts, it was possible to compare the situation with the slaughter of the Israelites found worshipping a golden calf by Moses (Exodus 32: 26–8), while St Augustine's formulation of precise conditions of legitimate authority, just cause and right intention fitted comfortably with the self-image of the contemporary papacy.32
However, Gregory, heavily embroiled in an all-consuming struggle for supremacy with the German emperor, Henry IV, never did lead an expedition to the East and, indeed, such an operation would probably not have been practical even in more favourable circumstances. Urban II, more realistic, appointed Adhémar of Le Puy as his legate, not only to maintain his influence over the crusade, but also to take steps to heal the division between the two Churches.33 Whether or not he played a part in stimulating the crusade in the first place, the patriarch, Symeon, certainly worked to support the expedition once it was in being. In 1097 and 1098, he sent supplies to the crusaders at Antioch from his place of exile in Cyprus and again to the siege of Jerusalem in 1099, while in the winter of 1097–8 he associated himself with two letters urging potential crusaders in the West to join their brethren as soon as possible.34
At the same time Urban set about exploiting the conditions in the West that would turn rhetoric into actual armies. The most important of these was the long pilgrimage tradition of the Christian faith, evident since the fourth century. In Urban's time this had been strongly promoted by the Cluniac Order, from which the pope himself came. The mother house of Cluny was situated in the Mâconnais in southern Burgundy, a region that can be seen as the epicentre of monasticism in the eleventh and twelfth centuries. Local Cluniac abbots urged laymen associated with their house to undertake penitential journeys to expiate their sins, an approach that had the effect of increasing secular awareness of the need for individual moral reform which was integral to the wider papal programme. Such monastic houses probably held sway in an area extending to a radius of about 20 to 25 miles; within this territory local lords, themselves usually related through extensive marriage links, naturally supported the house with gifts and even armed protection if the monastery was under threat. In return it took their children as oblates and their elderly relatives as pensioners, as well as offering a place within the cloister for those who wished to leave secular life. In the longer term it provided an appropriate place of burial and intercession for the souls of the dead in its prayers.35 Aristocratic and monastic society in the West was founded upon these ties, a fact that Urban II, a former Cluniac prior, comprehended perfectly.
The need for expiation of sin heavily reinforced this structure. Even the well-intentioned could hardly avoid violence if they were to protect their lands, while the pursuit of chastity was not an option for those with dynastic responsibilities.36 Yet the prospect of permanent residence in Hell, tormented by the Devil and his demons, was terrifying. Strikingly illustrated by the vivid imagery on the tympana of local abbeys and churches, it was a powerful reason for taking the papal call seriously. Again, Urban was attuned to contemporary lay sensibilities, since the offer of full remission of sin for taking part in this most daunting of tasks undoubtedly proved a major attraction. Even Tancred of Hauteville, whose actions during and after the crusade show him to be one of the most materially minded of the participants, was apparently anxious because, in the words of Ralph of Caen, who wrote an account of his deeds, ‘his military life contradicted the Lord's command’. Urban's appeal energised him, ‘as if the vitality of the previously sleeping man was revived’.37 It is probable that the pope's offer was meant to apply to penances imposed by the Church in this life, but it was sufficiently ambiguous to encourage lay participants in the crusade to believe that death in Christ's service would make them instant martyrs, opening up a direct route to Heaven.38 When Adhémar of Le Puy and Symeon of Jerusalem wrote their joint letter to the pope in mid-October 1097, they recounted the story of the patriarch's vision in which the Lord appeared ‘and promised that all who strove in this expedition would stand crowned before Him on the fearful day of the Last Judgement’.39
This interrelationship between monastic houses and the local aristocracy can be seen most strikingly in Burgundy (see plate 1). Thus, in 1090, a knight, Peter Charbonnel, expressing ‘the desire to go to Jerusalem’, assigned to the abbey of Saint-Marcel (near Châlon-sur-Sâone) his possessions at Servigny in such a way that ‘if he came to die or to remain in these countries’ the property would be retained by the priory. This grant was extended to include other property that he had left in the hands of Boniface, his brother, so that if he died during the journey the monks would celebrate services for the dead for his sake and for that of his brother. In fact, Boniface was unco-operative and it took three years for the matter to be fully resolved, but it nevertheless shows the mindset of those upon whom Urban II needed to rely to fulfil his plans. Six years later, in April 1096, as preparations were being made for the crusade, Achard, lord of Montmerle, pledged his estate to the abbey of Cluny in a transaction that is recognisably of the same genre as that of Peter Charbonnel, but which had been adapted to the needs of an armed expedition. In return for his pledge, Cluny provided Achard with 2,000 sous lyonnais and four mules to enable him to leave ‘well-armed’ with ‘all that immense mass levée and expedition of the Christian people desiring to go to Jerusalem to combat against the pagans and Saracens for God’. Achard was well aware of both the hazards and the possibilities: ‘in case I die during this pilgrimage to Jerusalem, or if I should decide to remain in this land in some way, the abbey of Cluny will no longer hold the title to the mortgage which it holds at the moment, but will be in legitimate possession and for always.’40
The ‘expedition of the Christian people desiring to go to Jerusalem’ was fundamentally a religious movement; an appeal for colonists could not have produced such an amazing response within such a narrow timescale.41 Few of the aristocratic participants could have seen it as a source of potential profit: it cost four to five times the annual income of a knight to equip one.42 Achard certainly needed the funds and mules provided by Cluny: in contemporary Burgundy horses cost between 20 and 50 sous, while a hauberk cost 100 sous.43 Achard's experience was repeated many times over, which is why there are so many extant charters detailing the arrangements made to finance the expedition.44 Moreover, when they had fulfilled their vows, many returned home, an action entirely consistent with their image of themselves as pilgrims. Among these were three of the most important leaders, Robert, count of Flanders, Eustace, count of Boulogne, and Robert, duke of Normandy, who, together with many of their followers, departed soon after the defeat of an Egyptian army on 12 August 1099, their status as pilgrims emphasised by a visit to bathe in the Jordan and the collection of palms in the Garden of Abraham near Jericho.45 Both Albert of Aachen, who derived much of his information from returnees, and Fulcher of Chartres, who stayed in the Ea
st, described the exodus; indeed, Fulcher claimed that, as a result, the land of Jerusalem remained ‘empty of people’.46
Even so, the impact of the pilgrimage tradition was not entirely one-sided. Although crude material theories that the First Crusade was driven by overpopulation in the West, or by changing inheritance customs that excluded younger sons and co-lateral lines, have largely been discarded, Urban was not above suggesting that a good reason for going was that life would be better in the East. The chronicler known as Robert the Monk, from the Benedictine abbey of St Rémi at Reims, heard Urban's speech at Clermont, and presents him as telling potential participants not to hold back because of ties at home. ‘For this land you inhabit, hemmed in on all sides by the sea and surrounded by mountain peaks, cannot support your sheer numbers: it is not overflowing with abundant riches and indeed provides scarcely enough food even for those who grow it.’47 But even an entirely religious explanation of the crusade does not exclude the possibility that at least some participants would choose to stay in the East. For many, pilgrimage to the holy place was the culmination of their earthly existence and the desire to end their lives in this unique land was as powerful as the drive that had led them to join the expedition in the first place, especially after the suffering they had endured in order to reach their goal. Moreover, survivors must have realised that the remission of sins that they had been granted would be eroded by actions which they took once the crusade had ended and that therefore their continued service in the cause would be the best means of mitigating the new sins that they would inevitably commit.48
Indeed, for many the success of the crusade and the liberation of the holy places must have been crucial, since failure would have obliged all the survivors to return home, whatever their possible aspirations in the East. When Achard of Montmerle allowed for the possibility that he might ‘decide to remain in this land in some way’, he may simply have been making the arrangements of a prudent man, but it is equally likely that he had not, at that time, made up his mind. In his case, the opportunity never arose, for he was killed in fighting near Jaffa in June 1099, shortly before the fall of Jerusalem.49 Even Raymond of Toulouse, the only secular lord to have been informed in advance of the appeal at Clermont, does not seem to have made a definitive decision before he left home, or, if he did, he did not tell anybody, since, as late as April 1099, Raymond of Aguilers refers to the actions the count should undertake when he returned to Provence, including the founding of a church near Arles to house the Holy Lance, which a member of his army claimed to have found in the cathedral at Antioch, and the stabilisation of the coinage in his lands.50 Three months later, after the election of Godfrey of Bouillon as ruler, he was forced to give up the Tower of David in Jerusalem, a circumstance that made him so angry that, after gathering palms in Jericho and receiving baptism in the Jordan, ‘he made plans to return with a great part of the Provençals’. He was certainly under some pressure from his followers: according to Raymond of Aguliers, when the princes asked him to accept the rulership of Jerusalem, the Provençals spread ‘malicious lies to block his elevation as king’.51
In the event, Raymond did leave, but for Constantinople not Saint-Gilles, and in 1101 he returned to lay the foundations of what became the county of Tripoli. Despite the many frustrations he suffered during the course of the crusade, he may ultimately have been influenced by a near-death experience for, in early August 1097, during the journey across Asia Minor from Dorylaeum to Iconium, he had recovered from an illness so serious that the bishop of Orange had administered the last rites.52 Thus, in retrospect, Raymond became one of the heroes of the crusade, praised for his steadfastness by William, archbishop of Tyre, looking back from the perspective of the 1170s.53 He may eventually have come to see himself as among those who had intended to leave but changed their minds because they saw the capture of Jerusalem as ‘quasi-miraculous’, a situation that convinced them that they had been ‘called’.54
Godfrey of Bouillon seems to have seen himself in this way. As duke of Lower Lorraine, he had gained the maternal inheritance from his father Eustace II's marriage to Ida, daughter of Godfrey the Bearded, duke of Upper and Lower Lorraine. Although the duchy had been difficult to govern and Godfrey had not found it easy to raise the money needed for the expedition, his arrangements before departure show that he had made no final decision about whether to return. Nor was there anything irregular about his participation, despite the continuing quarrel between Henry IV and the pope, for the emperor had granted permission and did not reassign the duchy until 1101, after Godfrey's death.55 However, his election as ruler of Jerusalem in late July 1099 seems to have persuaded him that he was especially chosen, as well as convincing many of his household staff, together with a good proportion of his vassals, to remain with him. Albert of Aachen presents the situation in the form of a dream by a canon of St Mary's church in Aachen. In the dream the pilgrims, envisioned as birds of Heaven surrounding the duke, are given permission to fly away, and indeed many do, but by no means all. ‘But very many birds remained fixed and motionless, as many were attached to him by dutiful love, and having delighted in his intimate and comforting speech they vowed to stay longer with him.’56 As his election was not foreseeable, it is most likely that both Godfrey and his men decided at this time about their plans rather than when they had set out on the crusade. Indeed, for most vassals and members of his immediate circle, a final decision could not have been made until they knew their leaders’ minds.
Nor was Godfrey alone. His younger brother, Baldwin, had struck out towards Edessa, and the two Normans, Bohemond of Taranto and Tancred, his nephew, showed a powerful determination to establish themselves in Antioch and Galilee respectively, while, in 1101, Raymond of Toulouse, Stephen of Blois and Hugh of Vermandois all returned to the fray as members of a second group of armies launched into Asia Minor in the spring of 1101. Here again there is no set pattern. As the third son of an important family, Baldwin had been steered into the Church, where he accumulated prebends at Reims, Cambrai and Liège.57 This practice, however, although common, was contrary to canon law, and it is likely that his clerical career was cut short as a consequence of pressure from church reformers, leaving him to find support by other means. Marriage to Godehilde, daughter of the wealthy Ralph II of Tosny, brought the prospect of a share in the lands of a leading Norman family. He had not at first intended to join the expedition, as in his own pre-crusade arrangements Godfrey had ensured that Baldwin would receive the county of Verdun, so that when he did decide to set out he had probably taken Godehilde as an insurance against losing the Norman inheritance. If this was so, then Godehilde's death in mid-October 1097 may have been the decisive event that persuaded him to seek out a lordship in the East.58
Tancred lacked a decent patrimony and could see that his prospects in the East were much more favourable than in Apulia, but Bohemond, although initially disinherited by his father, Robert Guiscard, had been successful in creating a lordship for himself in the territories between Melfi and the Gulf of Taranto at the expense of his half-brother, Roger Borsa.59 Bohemond had had a glimpse of greater possibilities, however, for, in the late 1070s, he and his father had attempted to carve out lands for themselves in those parts of the Byzantine empire across the southern Adriatic, and in 1081 they had taken Corfu and Durazzo. While the story of the chronicler Richard of Poitiers that Guiscard had intended that Bohemond should be made emperor and that he himself should become ‘king of Persia’ sounds far-fetched, it may reflect a caste of mind prevalent among the Normans of the Hauteville family; indeed, it was credible enough for a version of it to appear in Anna Comnena's Alexiad.60 Another member of the clan, Richard of the Principate, nephew of Robert Guiscard and cousin of Bohemond, was the third son of William of Hauteville and unlikely to gain any substantial lordship in the family lands in the principality of Salerno. He had apparently tried his hand in the campaigns led by his uncle, Roger, in Sicily in the 1080s and 1090s, during which his brother had a
cquired Syracuse in 1091, but was attracted by Bohemond's expedition to the East in 1096. His subsequent career shows that he too was interested in acquisitions in Syria.61
With little written evidence, it is difficult to identify the motivations of the non-noble crusaders. Ekkehard of Aura, a monk from Bamberg, and a participant in the expedition of 1101, describes how many of the Frankish peasantry had left because of wretched conditions at home, including local warfare, famine and the disease of ergotism, caused by eating bread made from grain that had been badly stored and had grown a poisonous fungus.62 Although many were inspired by religious enthusiasts such as Peter the Hermit, it is evident that, if they survived the crusade, they were the least able to return to the West at its conclusion and therefore the most likely to settle in the East, where they must have displaced at least some of the indigenous peasantry.63 Moreover, the guarantee of their freedom, which appears to have been given during the course of the expedition, would certainly have been a further incentive to stay.64 This was reinforced by the manner in which Jerusalem was taken, as those involved were rewarded with possession of whatever they were able to seize, a situation that, according to Fulcher of Chartres, led many of the destitute to become rich.65 Even though a disproportionate number of those who died would have been those who had the least means of defending and feeding themselves, nevertheless, the majority of the 14,000 or so who survived to besiege Jerusalem would still have been non-noble.66 There is no way of knowing how many of the earliest settlers had set out on the original expedition, but it must be significant that there were sufficient freemen of western origin to populate the twenty-one villages (casalia) granted by Godfrey of Bouillon to the canons of the Holy Sepulchre in the region of al-Bira, about 10 miles north of Jerusalem, during the year after his election in July 1099.67
The Crusader States Page 3