Powered by RedCircle
In the late summer of 1095, a spark ignited in the heart of Christendom that would blaze into a conflagration of faith, fervor, and bloodshed. At the Council of Clermont in November 1095, Pope Urban II stood before a gathering of bishops, knights, and laypeople in the fields of southern France and delivered a sermon that would reshape the world. His words, recorded in various forms by chroniclers like Fulcher of Chartres and Robert the Monk, called for a holy war—a crusade—to reclaim Jerusalem from the Muslim rulers of the Holy Land. Urban promised spiritual rewards: absolution of sins for those who took up the cross. His message resonated deeply in a Europe steeped in religious devotion, where the promise of salvation was a currency more potent than gold. Yet, the immediate crusade that followed first was not the disciplined army of knights Urban envisioned but a chaotic and extreme movement led by a charismatic preacher called Peter the Hermit. This episode will take a look at the People’s Crusade, a prelude to the First Crusade, full of zealots, dreams, delusions, and tragedy.The Spark: Urban’s Call and Peter’s Vision
Pope Urban II’s call at Clermont was a response to a plea from the Byzantine Emperor Alexios I Komnenos, who sought aid against the Seljuk Turks encroaching on his empire, the last remnant of old roman empire whose capital was Constantinople, moden day Istanbul. The Seljuks had captured much of Anatolia or modern Turkey, and middle east, including the holy city of Jerusalem, and their advance threatened the mighty walls Constantinople itself. Urban framed the crusade as both a spiritual and geopolitical necessity: to liberate Christian holy sites and support a beleaguered Christian empire. His sermon, delivered on November 27, 1095, stirred the crowd, and “Deus vult!”—“God wills it!”—became the rallying call of the crusades.
While Urban intended to muster a professional army of knights and nobles, his message spread far beyond the elite, reaching the ears of the poor, the devout, and the desperate. Among those who heard the call was a man called Peter the Hermit, a figure shrouded in both legend and history. Peter, often described as a small, wiry man with a long beard and fiery eyes, was a preacher from Amiens in northern France. Chroniclers like Albert of Aachen and Guibert of Nogent portray him as a charismatic figure, clad in simple robes, riding a donkey, and preaching with a charismatic fervor that captivated crowds. Whether he was present at Clermont is debated, but by early 1096, Peter had taken up the cause with unmatched zeal, claiming divine inspiration and preaching that the poor could lead the way to Jerusalem.
Peter’s message resonated with the masses. Unlike the later First Crusade, led by nobles like Bohemond of Taranto and Raymond IV of Toulouse, Peter’s crusade attracted those with little to lose: peasants, laborers, minor clergy, and even some lesser knights. His sermons, delivered in villages and towns across France and the Rhineland, painted a vivid picture of a holy journey where the meek would inherit the Kingdom of God. He spoke of miracles—bread multiplying, the sick healed—and urged the faithful to take up this sacred cause. While some chroniclers, like William of Tyre, later dismissed Peter as a fanatic, his ability to mobilize thousands suggests a rare gift for inspiration. By spring 1096, Peter had gathered a following of tens of thousands, a ragtag army driven by faith and desperation but ill-prepared for war.
The Makeup of the People’s Crusade
The People’s Crusade, was an army unlike any army Europe had seen. Estimates of its size vary, with chroniclers like Albert of Aachen suggesting numbers as high as 40,000, though modern historians, propose a more conservative estimate of 20,000–30,000. This was no disciplined force but a chaotic assembly of men, women, and even children. The majority were peasants, armed with little more than farm tools—scythes, pitchforks, and knives. A small number of minor knights and soldiers, such as Walter Sans-Avoir (Walter the Penniless), provided some martial experience, but they were vastly outnumbered by untrained civilians.
The crusaders came from diverse regions: northern France, the Rhineland, Lorraine, and parts of Italy. Some were devout pilgrims, inspired by the promise of salvation; others were driven by desperation, fleeing poverty, famine, or debt. Women played a significant role, not only as camp followers but as participants, some even taking up arms, according to accounts like the Gesta Francorum. Families marched together, carrying their possessions in carts, with children trailing behind. The crusade also attracted the opportunistic —vagabonds, thieves, and adventurers—who saw a chance for plunder or escape.
Peter’s army was not a monolithic force but a collection of bands, each led by charismatic figures or minor nobles. Walter the Penniless group marched ahead, while others, like the German preacher Gottschalk and the noble Emicho of Leiningen, led separate contingents in the Rhineland. Provisions were scarce, and the crusaders relied on charity, foraging, or plunder to survive, which strained relations with the communities they passed through.
The Shadow of Violence: Attacks on Jewish Communities
As Peter’s crusade gathered momentum, it unleashed a wave of violence that stained its holy mission. In the Rhineland, particularly in cities like Cologne, Mainz, Worms, and Speyer, the crusaders turned their zeal against Jewish communities. This was not part of Urban’s call—his sermon focused on Muslims in the Holy Land—but the fervor of the crusade, combined with existing anti-Jewish sentiment, created a deadly spark. Chroniclers like Solomon bar Simson and the Mainz Anonymous record the horrors that followed.
In Spring 1096, bands of crusaders, particularly those led by Emicho of Leiningen, attacked Jewish settlements with brutal ferocity. The crusaders, inflamed by preachers who labeled Jews as “enemies of Christ,” justified their actions as a prelude to the holy war. In Worms, on May 18, 1096, crusaders massacred hundreds of Jews, ignoring the protection offered by local bishops. In Mainz, one of the worst atrocities occurred: Emicho’s forces stormed the bishop’s palace, where Jews had sought refuge, killing over 1,000 men, women, and children. Some Jews chose martyrdom, performing kiddush Hashem (sanctification of God’s name) by taking their own lives rather than converting or facing slaughter. The violence spread to Cologne, Trier, and other cities, with estimates of 5,000–10,000 Jewish deaths across the Rhineland.
Peter the Hermit’s role in these pogroms is debated. Some sources, like Albert of Aachen, suggest he was present in the Rhineland but did not directly incite the violence. Others, like the Jewish chronicler Eliezer bar Nathan, imply that Peter’s preaching, with its apocalyptic rhetoric, contributed to the anti-Jewish fervor. The crusaders’ logic was twisted: they saw the jews, who rejected christ, as local “infidels” who must be punished before the journey to Jerusalem. Economic motives also played a role—many Jews were comparativley well off, or even moneylenders, and crusaders sought to erase debts or seize wealth. These attacks marked a dark turning point in medieval Jewish-Christian relations, foreshadowing centuries of persecution.
The Church and secular authorities were horrified. Bishops like Ruthard of Mainz and secular lords attempted to protect Jewish communities, but their efforts were often overwhelmed by the crusaders’ numbers and fanaticism. Pope Urban II himself did not condone the violence, but his failure to anticipate the consequences of his call revealed the volatile power of religious zeal.
The Road to Byzantium
By April 1096, the People’s Crusade began its long march toward Constantinople, the gateway to the Holy Land. Peter’s main force, departing from Cologne, followed the Rhine and Danube rivers, a route used by pilgrims and merchants. Other groups, like Walter Sans-Avoir’s, the aforementioned Walter the Penniless, took similar paths through Hungary and the Balkans. The journey was arduous, covering over 1,500 miles, and the crusaders faced constant challenges: hunger, disease, and hostility from local populations. In an era before mechanized industrial farming and refrigeration, you can image a hoards of 10-20 not to menton 30,000 people and their associated horses and donkeys would be like a plague of locusts to any unsuspecting town or village
In Hungary, the crusaders’ behavior soured relations. They plundered villages for food, leading to skirmishes with Hungarian forces. King Coloman, wary of the disorderly horde, granted passage but escorted them out of the country. In Belgrade, part of the Byzantine Empire, Walter’s group clashed with local garrisons over supplies, resulting in deaths and the burning of Belgrade’s outskirts. These incidents foreshadowed the crusaders’ inability to maintain discipline and diplomacy.
By August 1096, Peter’s army finally reached Constantinople, where Emperor Alexios I Komnenos faced a dilemma. He had requested military aid from the West, expecting seasoned knights, not the disorganized and ill equipped mass of zealots at his gate, the very likely included women and children. The Alexiad, written by Alexios’s daughter Anna Komnena, describes the crusaders as a “countless multitude” of “barbarians,” undisciplined and dangerous. Alexios, fearing they would in turn plunder his own lands, provided food and shelter but urged them to wait for the main crusader army. Peter, however, insisted on pressing forward, driven by his followers’ impatience and his own belief in divine providence.
The Catastrophe in Anatolia
In late August 1096, Alexios agreed to ferry this first wave of crusaders across the Bosphorus to Asia Minor, hoping to contain their chaos. They encamped at Civetot, near the fortified city of Nicaea, then under Seljuk control. The crusaders, now numbering perhaps 20,000 after losses on the journey, were eager to fight but woefully unprepared. They lacked siege equipment, cavalry, or a coherent strategy, and their numbers included many non-combatants.
The Seljuk Turks, led by Kilij Arslan, sultan of the Rum Seljuks, observed the crusaders with growing interest. To the Muslims, this large force appeared formidable, possibly the main Christian army Alexios had promised. Islamic chroniclers, like Ibn al-Athir, later described the crusaders as a vast but disorganized horde, suggesting the Seljuks initially overestimated their threat. Kilij Arslan, preoccupied with conflicts against rival Muslim rulers, had not anticipated such an early incursion.
The crusaders’ lack of discipline proved their undoing. In September 1096, a contingent of German and French crusaders, ignoring Peter’s pleas for caution, raided villages near Nicaea, provoking Seljuk retaliation. On October 21, 1096, at the Battle of Civetot (also called the Battle of Dracon), Kilij Arslan’s forces ambushed the crusaders. The Seljuks, skilled in mobile cavalry tactics, lured the crusaders into a trap. Archers rained arrows on the disorganized ranks, and Turkish horsemen cut down the fleeing survivors. Thousands were slaughtered, including women and children, and many others were enslaved. Peter, who had returned to Constantinople to negotiate supplies, escaped the massacre but was devastated by the loss.
The defeat was near-total. Of the 20,000–30,000 who crossed into Asia Minor, only a few thousand survived, many fleeing back to Constantinople. The Seljuks, triumphant, likely believed they had crushed the Christian invasion, unaware that the main First Crusade, led by seasoned warriors, was still to come. This miscalculation would end up costing them dearly when the real army of the First Crusade captured Nicaea and ultimaltey Jerusalem in 1099.
Muslim Perceptions and the Aftermath
To the Seljuks, the People’s Crusade may have seemed like the primary Christian assault. Its size, though exaggerated in some accounts, was significant, and its arrival so soon after Urban’s call suggested a coordinated effort. Ibn al-Athir notes that the Muslims were initially alarmed by the “Franks” but quickly recognized their lack of military prowess. The victory at Civetot bolstered Seljuk confidence, leading Kilij Arslan to underestimate the next wave of crusaders, a fatal error.
For Peter the Hermit, the defeat was a personal and spiritual blow. He ultimately joined the main contingent of the First Crusade, and played a minor role in its success, including negotiations during the legendarily brutal siege of Antioch. Chroniclers like Raymond of Aguilers mention Peter’s continued presence, though his reputation was tarnished by the disaster of the Peoples Crusade. After the First Crusade, Peter the Hermit returned to Europe about the year 1100 and founded the Augustinian monastery of Neufmoustier in Flanders, where he served as prior. He lived a quieter life, focusing on religious duties, prayer, and penance, and died there on July 8, 1115.
The People’s Crusade left a complex legacy. It exposed the dangers of unchecked zeal and the fragility of untrained armies. The pogroms in the Rhineland scarred Jewish communities, deepening mistrust. Yet, the crusade also demonstrated the mobilizing power of religious ideology, setting the stage for the First Crusade’s eventual success. In the Muslim world, the brief triumph at Civetot gave way to shock when the true crusader armies arrived, revealing the People’s Crusade as a harbinger to a series of conquests over the next two centuries.
Thats all for this episode, Cya!
Good Sources
Jonathan Riley-Smith "The First Crusade and the Idea of Crusading"
Thomas Asbridge "The First Crusade: A New History"
Comments
Post a Comment