The Second Crusade
It would have been better had it never happened.
The First Crusade had been miraculously successful. But military blunders made the Second Crusade a disaster, and it restored Muslim confidence.
The doctrine of jihad (holy war) meant peace with Islam was impossible except by surrender: on Christmas Eve 1144, Imad al-Din Zengi attacked the city of Edessa, killing or enslaving all its citizens. In response, Pope Eugene III called for a new Crusade on 1st December 1195, recruiting Bernard of Clairvaux to preach in its cause.
So successful was the great preacher that he ran out of crosses. But he tore his cloak to make more. Even King Louis VII of France volunteered. So did King Conrad III of Germany. And the majority of those who went had family ties to the First Crusaders. The Germans left in May 1147; the French, in June 1148.
When the Germans arrived in Constantinople, they found the Byzantine emperor Manuel Comnenus hostile to them. He had not asked for a Second Crusade. He was more interested in peace treaties with the Muslims. This made the Crusaders suspicious. And he was so distrustful of the large force in his city that he asked the Germans to cross the Bosporus. This made the Crusaders trust him even less.
Rather than waiting for the French, the Germans moved on Edessa. Conrad had a large army (perhaps 30,000) and hoped to plunder the countryside to feed them. Emperor Manuel hadn’t delivered the supplies he’d promised. After leaving his noncombatants behind at Nicaea, Conrad marched to Dorylaeum, led by Byzantine guides sent by the Emperor.
During the night, the guides disappeared. And then came the Muslim ambush. It was at a small river. The troops, knights and horses were drinking. Nearly all of them died, although the cavalry, who’d left to search for more water, returned towards the ended and routed the Muslim force.
Conrad himself was wounded. As Steve Weidenkopf notes, ‘veterans, years after the battle, were said to weep at the memory of that day.’1 Only 2,000 men retreated to Nicaea, where they merged with the newly arrived French force, whose reception from the Byzantines had made them contemplate an attack on Constantinople.
Avoiding the German route, the French went west to the port of Ephesus. Their hopes of gaining support from friendly locals and getting supplies from Emperor Manuel by sea were disappointed. The army became so unruly that Louis put each unit of fifty under a Knight Templar. Only this allowed the French to overcome an attack from the Seljuk Turks, who were supposed to be allied to the Emperor.
A Byzantine fleet had been promised at the port of Adalia in the East to ferry them to Antioch. So Louis marched. But the fleet was tiny. Most of the army had to be sent overland, the horses already dying as they set off. Muslims dogged them all the way. Hardly any survived.
Louis himself, however, reached Antioch and then went to Jerusalem. Conrad, recovered from his wounds, was already there - along with other leaders who’d arrived from the West. At Acre, a council of war then agreed to attack Damascus. Nur al-Din, the ruler of Aleppo, had married the daughter of the ruler of Damascus. Previously, Damascus had been Jerusalem’s ally, so Nur al-Din might now threaten it.
Damascus was surrounded by orchards with dry mud walls - natural defensive barriers. The Crusaders knew that whoever controlled the orchards controlled the city. By the end of the first day, they were in a strong position, controlling most of the orchards. Conrad himself had fought bravely, decapitating a Muslim defender.
The second day saw further gains. But on the third day they shifted to attack the eastern side of the city. The local Christian nobility believed it was poorly defended. They were wrong. With the Crusaders gone, the Damascene troops took back the orchards, cutting the Crusaders off from their supply of food and water. This tactical mistake meant the siege was aborted, and the Christian forces retreated.
The Normans came from Sicily to get the Crusaders, only just evading an attack from the Byzantine fleet on the return journey. Some historians believe the Emperor, hostile to the Crusaders since their arrival, had conspired with the Muslims throughout.
Bernard reflected on the failure:
‘How can human beings be so rash as to dare to pass judgment on something that they are not in the least able to understand? It might perhaps be a comfort for us to bear in mind the heavenly judgments that were made of old . . . For . . . it is true that the hearts of mortal men are made in this way: we forget when we need it what we know when we do not need it . . . The promises of God never prejudice the justice of God.’2
Weidenkopf, The Glory of the Crusades (Catholic Answers, 2014), p.95
Bernard, De Consideratione, in Riley-Smith, The Crusades (Yale University Press, 2005), p.131.