III. THE SECOND CRUSADE
Winged is each heart, and winged every heel; They fly, yet notice not how fast they fly; But by the time the dewless meads reveal The fervent sun’s ascension in the sky, Lo, towered Jerusalem salutes the eye! A thousand pointing fingers tell the tale; “Jerusalem!” a thousand voices cry, “All hail, Jerusalem!” hill, down, and dale Catch the glad sounds, and shout, “Jerusalem, all hail!”
--TASSO (Jerusalem, Canto iii).
[Sidenote: [1147-1189 A.D.]]
The enthusiasm of the First Crusade is a natural and simple event, while hope was fresh, danger untried, and enterprise congenial to the spirit of the times. But the obstinate perseverance of Europe may indeed excite our pity and admiration: that no instruction should have been drawn from constant and adverse experience; that the same confidence should have repeatedly grown from the same failures; that six succeeding generations should have rushed headlong down the precipice that was open before them; and that men of every condition should have staked their public and private fortunes on the desperate adventure of possessing or recovering a tombstone two thousand miles from their country. In a period of two centuries after the Council of Clermont, each spring and summer produced a new emigration of pilgrim warriors for the defence of the Holy Land; but the seven great armaments or crusades were excited by some impending or recent calamity; the nations were moved by the authority of their pontiffs and the example of their kings; their zeal was kindled, and their reason was silenced, by the voice of their holy orators; and among these, Bernard, the monk or the saint, may claim the most honourable place.
ST. BERNARD
[Sidenote: [1115-1147 A.D.]]
About eight years before the first conquest of Jerusalem he was born of a noble family in Burgundy; at the age of twenty-three he buried himself in the monastery of Citeaux, then in the primitive fervour of the institution; at the end of two years he led forth her third colony, or daughter, to the valley of Clairvaux in Champagne; and was content till the hour of his death with the humble station of abbot of his own community. A philosophic age has abolished, with too liberal and indiscriminate disdain, the honours of these spiritual heroes. The meanest among them are distinguished by some energies of the mind; they were at least superior to their votaries and disciples; and in the race of superstition, they attained the prize for which such numbers contended. In speech, in writing, in action, Bernard stood high above his rivals and contemporaries; his compositions are not devoid of wit and eloquence; and he seems to have preserved as much reason and humanity as may be reconciled with the character of a saint. In a secular life he would have shared the seventh part of a private inheritance; by a vow of poverty and penance, by closing his eyes against the visible world, by the refusal of all ecclesiastical dignities, the abbot of Clairvaux became the oracle of Europe, and the founder of 160 convents. Princes and pontiffs trembled at the freedom of his apostolical censures; France, England, and Milan consulted and obeyed his judgment in a schism of the church; the debt was repaid by the gratitude of Innocent II; and his successor, Eugenius III, was the friend and disciple of the holy Bernard.
It was in the proclamation of the Second Crusade that he shone as the missionary and prophet of God, who called the nations to the defence of the Holy Sepulchre. At the parliament of Vézelay he spoke before the king; and Louis VII, with his nobles, received their crosses from his hand. The abbot of Clairvaux then marched to the less easy conquest of the emperor Conrad; a phlegmatic people, ignorant of his language, was transported by the pathetic vehemence of his tone and gestures; and his progress from Constance to Cologne was the triumph of eloquence and zeal. Bernard applauds his own success in the depopulation of Europe; affirms that cities and castles were emptied of their inhabitants; and computes that only one man was left behind for the consolation of seven widows. The blind fanatics were desirous of electing him for their general; but the example of the hermit Peter was before his eyes; and while he assured the crusaders of the divine favour, he prudently declined a military command in which failure and victory would have been almost equally disgraceful to his character.[b]
In the consternation throughout Palestine which the fall of Edessa occasioned, all classes of people beckoned their compatriots in the West. The news of the loss of the eastern frontier of the Latin kingdom reached France at a time peculiarly favourable for foreign war. After having reduced his vassal the count of Champagne to obedience, Louis VII the French king exceeded the usual cruelty of conquerors, and instead of sheathing his sword, when the inhabitants of Vetri submitted, he set fire to a church, to which more than thirteen hundred of them had fled for refuge. His sacrilegious barbarity excited the indignation of the clergy and laity. A fit of sickness calmed his passions; his conscience accused and condemned him, and he resolved to expiate his sins by a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Louis VII was the first sovereign prince who engaged himself to fight under the banner of the cross. The news of the calamities in Palestine quickened his holy resolution, and like other men he was impetuously moved by the eloquence of St. Bernard, the great oracle of the age.
The wish of Louis for a crusade was applauded by Pope Eugenius III. His intention was pronounced to be holy; and Bernard was ordered to travel through France and Germany, and preach a plenary indulgence to those who followed the royal example. Eugenius wrote to the faithful sons of the church, urging them to cross the seas to Palestine. The first crusaders had provoked the wrath of heaven by their dissoluteness and folly; but the new soldiers of Christ ought to travel simple in dress, and disdaining the luxury of falcons and dogs of the chase. As Peter had represented the scandal of suffering the sacred places to remain in the hands of the infidels, the eloquent Bernard thundered from the pulpit the disgrace of allowing a land which had been recovered from pollution again to sink into it. He was admitted to the thrones of princes, as well as to the pulpits of their churches; to public assemblies and to private meetings. In a parliament held at Vézelay, in the season of Easter, 1146, Louis was confirmed in his pious resolve; and having on his knees received the holy symbol, he joined with Bernard in moving the barons and knights to save the sanctuary of David from the hands of the Philistines. No house could contain the multitude; they assembled in the fields and Bernard addressed them from a lofty pulpit. As at the Council of Clermont, so on this occasion shouts of “Deus id vult” rent the skies; the crosses which the man of God had brought with him to the meeting fell far short of the number of enthusiasts; and he therefore tore his simple monkish garment into small pieces, and affixed them to the shoulders of his kneeling converts. The successful incendiary then crossed the Rhine; and every city and village from Constance to Carinthia echoed the call to war.
[Sidenote: [1147-1148 A.D.]]
But the emperor Conrad III made a long and firm denial. As politics prevented the exercise of religious fervour, the preacher endeavoured to impress him with the belief that were he in arms for the kingdom of God, heaven would protect his kingdom in Europe. Still the emperor wanted faith; but when the holy orator, in a moment of peculiar energy, drew an animated picture of the proceedings of the day of judgment, of the punishments which would be inflicted on the idle, and the rewards which would be showered upon the Christians militant, then it was that conviction flashed across the mind of the royal auditor; and the profession was made that the lord of the Germans knew and would perform his duty to the church. Encouraged by this example, the barons and people flew to arms.[50]
Mainz was the rendezvous of the French crusaders, and Ratisbon of those from Germany. The French levies were of priests, of people, and of soldiers; and of the last class the number of men armed with the helmet and coat of mail was seventy thousand. The civil wars of England had been closed by the weakness of all parties; but some of the nobility, restless when not engaged in deeds of blood, joined themselves to the force of Louis. Conrad had an army quite as large and formidable, with a due proportion of light-armed men, and simple pilgrims. The enthusiasm of the crusade realised the dreams of romancers, and heroines as well as heroes had prepared themselves to make war upon the paynim brethren. A considerable troop of women rode among the Germans; they were arrayed with the spear and shield, but (like Virgil’s Camilla) some love of usual delights had mingled itself with the desire of great exploits, for they were remarkable by the splendour of their dress, and the bold leader was called “the golden-footed dame.”[51] The emperor marched through Hungary and solicited the friendship of the Grecian court.
Manuel, the grandson of Alexius, was on the throne, and although like his ancestor he beheld with secret dread the armaments of Europe, yet for the protection of his subjects he entered into a treaty with Conrad for the regular purchase and sale of provisions. There was frequent matter of charge and recrimination between the Greeks and the Germans in the march of the latter to Constantinople; and circumstances occasioned many negotiations between the two emperors. But Conrad apprehended the duplicity of Manuel, and in indignation at the Grecian’s infraction of the treaty relating to intercourse, he crossed the Bosporus without meeting or conferring with the emperor.
Manuel received the king of France as an equal. He met him in the court of his palace, and after mutual embraces conducted him into an apartment, where they sat with equal dignity. In the midst of feasts and public rejoicings the French monarch learned that the emperor and the sultan of Iconium were in correspondence. The impatience of the barons and knights to visit Jerusalem overcame every suggestion to revenge, and made them think that the defence of the Holy Land, and not the destruction of the Greek Empire, was the object for which they had taken up arms. But there were not wanting men who urged that the time was arrived for removing the barrier between Europe and Asia.
DISASTERS OF THE GERMANS
The passage through Bithynia completed, Conrad entered Lycaonia, the heart of the dominions of the Seljuk Turks. The sultan had assembled from every quarter of his states all the troops that could possibly be brought into the field, and the number was so great that the rivers could not satisfy their thirst or the country furnish provisions. The imperial guides conducted the objects of their care either through deserts where the soldiers perished from hunger, or led them into the jaws of the Moslems. In their occasional transactions, the bread which the crusaders purchased was mixed with chalk, and various other cruel frauds were practised by the Greeks. The assaults of the Turks were incessant. The staff of the pilgrim was a poor defence from a scimitar, and the heavily armed Germans could not retreat from the activity of the Tatars. Only a tenth part of the soldiers and palmers that had left the banks of the Danube and the Rhine escaped the arrows of the Moslems, and with their commander secured their retreat to the French army. Louis had been lulled into security by the flattering assurances of Manuel that Conrad, so far from standing in need of succour, had even defeated the Turks and taken Iconium. The French king was lying in camp on the borders of the lake near Nicæa, when some wretched German fugitives arrived with news of the perfidy of the Greeks, and the triumph of the Moslems. The allied monarchs soon met and consulted on the road which the champions of the cross should take. They united their crusaders, turned aside from the path which had been trodden by the feudal princes of Europe, and marched in concert as far as Philadelphia in Lydia; but the Germans had lost their baggage, and on a prospect of new calamities, many returned to Constantinople, and near Ephesus (to which place the army directed its course) the emperor himself embarked, and went to Jerusalem by ship.
THE FRENCH FAILURE
The French recruited themselves on the shores of the Ægean Sea, and pursued their march in an easterly direction. They rejected with disdain an offer of Manuel of a protection from Moslem fury, and they gallantly kept up their course with the usual portion of suffering, till they arrived at the banks of the Mæander. They found there the Turks, who having safely deposited their spoils came to dispute with the Latins the passage of the river. The battle was not of long duration; the French made so great a slaughter of their foe, that the bones of the Moslems were conspicuous for years. The crusaders proceeded in good order and discipline through the town of Laodicea, into the barrier mountains between Phrygia and Pisidia. The vanguard of the army advanced beyond the appointed rendezvous. The rearguard, in which was the king, moved forwards with perfect confidence that the heights before them were in possession of their friends. Their ravenous enemy, who always hovered round them, seized the moment when the ranks of the Christians were divided, and casting aside their bows and arrows, fell upon them with tumultuous rapidity, sword in hand. It was in a defile of the mountains that the Turkish tempest burst on the Latin troops. Rocks ascending to the clouds were above the crusaders, and fathomless precipices beneath them. The French could not recover from the shock and horror of the surprise. Men, horses, and baggage were cast into the abyss. The Turks were innumerable and irresistible. The life of the king was saved more by fortune than by skill. He escaped to an eminence with a few soldiers, and in the deep obscurity of the night made his way to the advanced guard. The snows of winter, deficiency of stores, and the refusal of the Greeks to trade with them, were the evils with which the French had to contend. They marched, or rather wandered, for they knew not the roads, and the discipline of the army was broken. They arrived at Attalia (Adalia), the metropolis of Pamphylia, seated on the sea shore near the mouth of the Cestrus. But the unchristian Greeks refused hospitality to the enemies of the infidel name.
[Sidenote: [1148-1149 A.D.]]
Famine had so dreadfully thinned the ranks of the army, and so many horses and other beasts of burden had perished, that the most sage and prudent among the crusaders advised their companions to turn aside from scenes of desolation, and proceed by sea to Antioch. The king and his soldiers embarked for Antioch. The way-worn pilgrims and the sick were committed to the charge of Thierry, count of Flanders, who was to march with them to Cilicia. But when Louis quitted the harbour, the Turks fell upon the Christians who were left behind, and the escort was found to be feeble and ineffective. The people of Attalia not only declined to open their gates, but even murdered the sick. Every day the Turks killed hundreds of the pilgrims, and as it was evident that flight alone could save the remainder, Thierry escaped by sea. Seven thousand wretched votaries of the cross attempted to surmount the higher difficulties of the land journey to Jerusalem; but the Holy City never opened to their view, and in perishing under Moslem vengeance they thought that the loss of the completion of the pilgrimage was compensated by the glories of martyrdom.
The nobility, the clergy, and people of Antioch received the French king with every demonstration of respect; but no blandishments of persuasion or petulant threats of divorce from his wife Eleanora, could move Louis from his purpose of marching into Palestine. He repaired to the Holy City; entered it in religious procession, while crowds of ecclesiastics and laymen were singing the psalm, “Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord.” His arrival had been preceded by that of the emperor of Germany, the dukes of Saxony and Bavaria, and the ruined German band.
A council was held at Ptolemais, composed of the princes, barons, and prelates of Syria and Palestine, and the new commanders from Europe. The misfortunes of the Edessenes were forgotten, or yielded to higher feelings, for though the recapture of the principality of the Courtenais was the great object of the crusade, yet there were Moslem cities in Syria far more dangerous to Jerusalem than the remote city of Edessa. The decree for a march to Damascus was passed, and the emperor of Germany and the kings of France and Jerusalem brought their troops into the field; but the best disciplined parts of the army were the knights of the Temple and St. John. Eager to relieve Damascus from the yoke under which she had groaned for nearly five centuries, the champions of Christianity soon arrived under her walls. Numerous and of long continuance were the engagements between the Latins and the Syrians. The city was apparently in the power of the crusaders, and the people abandoned themselves to despair. But instead of taking possession of Damascus the Latins anticipated the event and thought only to whom the prize should be given. Much time was wasted in intrigues, and after sustaining for a short time the sallies of reinforcements, and rejecting in a council of war the advice of some unsubdued spirits for an attack on Askalon, the Christian army raised the siege of Damascus, and retrograded to Jerusalem in sorrow and in shame. Conrad soon returned to Europe with the shattered relics of the German host, and his steps were a year afterwards traced by the French king, the queen, and most of the French lords.
Among the few men whose virtues and abilities spread some rays of moral and intellectual light over the twelfth century was Suger, the abbot of the celebrated religious fraternity of St. Denis, in France. Strongly imbued with the superstition of his time, his fondest wish was for the overthrow of the Moslems. As minister of Louis VII, however, he had exposed to his royal master the embarrassment of the state finances, the fierce and menacing aspect of the crown vassals, and other circumstances of a political nature, to deter him from quitting his dominions. But the spirit of romantic devotion in the heir of Charlemagne could not be quenched, and Louis well consulted the interests of his kingdom in delivering the sceptre to the charge of the abbot of St. Denis. After his return from Palestine, the king ardently wished to recross the seas, and by martial achievements to obliterate the memory of former disasters. When all thoughts of a crusade had apparently died away, France was astonished at the appearance of a martial missionary in the person of him who had opposed the second holy war. The clergy of the East implored Suger to restore the fortunes of the Holy Land, knowing that he possessed more credit in France than all the other princes and prelates, and that his piety equalled his authority. Papal benediction was bestowed upon him, though the pope was at first amazed at the enthusiasm of a man nearly seventy years of age; but his influence was exerted in vain. Angry at the timidity of his countrymen, his own courage rose; he resolved to conduct a small army to Palestine himself, and his reliance on the favour of heaven made him hope that the vassals of St. Denis alone would be more powerful than the congregated myriads of Europe. All aspirations for glory were humbled by a fever; he died at St. Denis, and his successor in the abbacy pursued the usual duties of his station, without superadding those of a martial description.[c]
THE FALL OF THE KINGDOM OF JERUSALEM
[Sidenote: [1149-1154 A.D.]]
The very question that had proved a stumbling-block to the Germano-Roman world, namely, the right of women to succeed to the throne, also kept the knightly ecclesiastical colony of the kingdom of Jerusalem in perpetual unrest. War broke out between Melusina--who, assuming the management of public affairs at the death of her husband Fulk, gave great power into the hands of her cousin, the constable of Manassa--and her son, King Baldwin III, around whom rallied a number of barons, all ill-disposed to acknowledge the new rule. The feud was fought out by the mother and son near the Holy Sepulchre in 1152, with the result that Melusina was obliged to relinquish all her pretensions.
Hodierna, Melusina’s sister, on the other hand, was given guardianship over her youngest son, after the murder of her husband, Raymond I of Tripolis. The remainder of the countship of Edessa passed to Greece, by reason of a pact which assured to the widowed countess and her children a considerable income; Jocelyn II was taken prisoner by the Turkomans and died in captivity. Raymond of Antioch had also been killed while bravely fighting in 1149, and his widow Constantia now became the object of the liveliest contention. It was at first feared that she would listen to the many proposals made to her by Greeks; but when she finally accepted the French knight, Rainald de Chatillon, a struggle broke out between him and the patriarchs, who had hitherto held the preponderance of power, laming the forces of both sides. Under such circumstances there could be as little thought of establishing one solid supremacy and power in the Orient as of accomplishing a like result in France at the same period.
[Sidenote: [1154-1163 A.D.]]
The wonder was that there had actually risen to prominence on the side of the Abbasids and Seljuks, during the late struggles for the possession of Aleppo, Edessa, and Damascus, a well-consolidated might--that of the atabegs of Mosul, who disposed of a particularly warlike element in the Kurds, with whom their borders were overrun from the north. Nur ad-Din vigorously pursued the policy laid down by his father, Zenki. He was by far the more capable and enlightened of the two; since the days of the Omayyads, so historians tell us, there had been no prince so liberal and law-abiding, and there never reigned one more just. Four times each week he sat in judgment. He made no personal use of the state revenues, looking upon them as a sacred trust placed in his hands to be expended for the public good. He was equally zealous in the conduct of the holy war. All the dust that settled on his shoes and garments during his various battles against unbelievers, he caused to be collected in a sack which was to be placed under his head when he was dead. As already related, he conquered Damascus (1154), which was under the rule of a weak prince who had in vain sought safety on the side of the Christians, and took up his residence in the immediate neighbourhood of that kingdom. He was a brave and worthy representative of the Abbasid caliphate, which he had formerly served in the capacity of Emir al-Omara. At times the Christians rallied for a successful feat of arms, and under the sacred symbol of the cross, which after preliminary worship in the king’s tent they gave into the keeping of the archbishop of Tyre, they even inflicted defeat on Nur ad-Din (1158). Also Baldwin III, who died in 1162 at the age of thirty-three, achieved some fame and several victories. He was brave and circumspect--in every way a fit man for the particular kind of warfare he was obliged to carry on. Still it was not in these battles alone that the real issue lay; the result was determined as much by the weakness of the Fatimites in Egypt as by the strength of the atabegs in Syria.
Neither had the power of the Ismailite doctrines, founded on those in circulation before the beginning of the Fatimite caliphate, suffered any diminution; rather it had recently taken on a new form in the most singular and hideous of all religious sects. Who has not heard of the Assassins and of their leader, the Old Man of the Mountain? Unlike the Sunnite caliphate which had been restored to power by the victories of the great Seljuk sultans, the sect founded by the Persian, Hassan, towards the end of the eleventh century, rose to prominence by reason of teachings based on the extremest Ismailite beliefs, and compounded of fanaticism, sensuality, and blind obedience, which raised up men to be assassins and general instruments of terror. Mainly by the agency of that Ridwan of Aleppo who fought with the crusaders before Antioch, and wavered in allegiance between the Abbasids and the Fatimites, there was planted in northwestern Syria a colony of Assassins which, under the rule of a certain sheikh, Al-Jebel, grew to occupy an important place in history--if such can be said of a purely destructive principle. It was by the Assassins that Raymond of Tripolis was slain. But their dagger struck Moslem as well as Christian, Shiite as well as Sunnite, since a foe of their nature lies outside all partisanship--is in fact beyond the pale of any human ordinance.
That the Fatimite caliphate profited nothing by this latest religious movement is apparent from the symptoms of decay that shortly afterward began to be manifest. The caliphs themselves were given over to a life of luxury and disorder, and vizirs, who bore the title of sultan, were constantly engaged in quarrels with each other, in which right was decided by might alone. The conditions were similar to those which preceded the fall of the Abbasid caliphate in the tenth century. In the year 1163 the sultan and vizir Shawer was deposed and supplanted by his rival Dargham, who enjoyed for some time the fruits of his usurpation. But Shawer eventually returned, and with him the emir and Kurd chieftain, Shirkuh, whom Nur ad-Din, regardless of religious differences, had sent to his assistance. Dargham was murdered and Shawer again assumed the sultanate, but he could not reconcile himself to fulfilling the promise he had made the Kurds, that he would pay over to them one third of the revenues of Egypt. To protect himself more fully against his extortionate allies, he besought assistance of Almeric, king of Jerusalem, brother and successor of Baldwin III.
[Sidenote: [1163-1168 A.D.]]
Inheriting the desire of Baldwin I for ascendency in Egypt, Baldwin III had besieged and taken Askalon in 1153. The garrison had defended itself ably, even to the point of driving back a body of Templars that had penetrated within the walls, and the king had reason to believe that all was lost. But the support of the Jerusalem patriarchs enabled him to press the siege, and a successful sally on the part of the knights of St. John, who with their grand master had been particularly active, finally placed Askalon at his mercy. At this the inhabitants, in despair, having received no reinforcements from either Damascus or Egypt, called upon their military commander to surrender. Without doubt Almeric (1162-1173) was the most important of the later kings of Jerusalem. Like Louis VII he was tireless, despite his corpulence, in the hunt and in war, and took no pleasure in any kind of diversion. In theological questions he often revealed an acuteness that brought his prelates to confusion; with a firm hand he held the troublesome barons in subjection, even giving precedence over them to certain newly arrived Franks--Milo de Plancy, for example.
It could escape no one that there was danger to the kingdom in allowing the Kurds of Nur ad-Din to become firmly established in Egypt. Losing no time in reflection, Almeric took decisive steps at once, and fortune so far favoured him that he succeeded in confining the Kurds within Pelusium (1164); he was obliged to grant them a free withdrawal, however, in consequence of domestic troubles that had befallen Nur ad-Din. A Christian knight addressed Shirkuh, who was striding with uplifted axe behind his followers: “Think you we do not mean to keep our pact with you?” “You dare not break it!” was the reply.
No sooner had they returned home than the Kurds began preparations for a second and greater expedition; Shirkuh incited the Sunnites to wrath against the perfidious caliph in Cairo, and in 1167 he set out for Egypt. Almeric also assembled his forces at the same time, and in Egypt the native populations consolidated with the Pullanes in a formal alliance. That the caliph might be encouraged by the support of their presence, the Christian delegates were conducted into the palace. Scarcely could they repress their admiration and astonishment at the wonders that everywhere met their gaze. When they arrived in a splendid hall that was divided in the middle by a curtain embroidered in gold and pearls, the vizir prostrated himself and went through the form of taking a solemn oath; at the conclusion of this ceremony the curtain was drawn aside and the figure of the caliph was revealed. From his golden chair he extended his right hand to the Christian knights, but the hand was enveloped in a veil. Hugo of Cæsarea objected that in entering upon a pact both sides must act with perfect fairness and good faith; whereupon the caliph uncovered his hand, but with exceeding ill grace, as though his royal dignity had been affronted. To the Christian knights was entrusted the defence of the walls and towers of Cairo.
[Sidenote: [1168 A.D.]]
Compelled to abandon his position opposite Cairo on the left bank of the Nile, Shirkuh withdrew his forces in the direction of Upper Egypt. Almeric pursued him hotly at the head of a mixed band of Frankish and oriental troops, such as were never again brought together in that land until the time of Napoleon. The two armies met in the pass of Babein. Shirkuh was about to cross over to the other side of the river with the intention of fleeing into the regions beyond, when a mameluke of Nur ad-Din overtook him and exclaimed: “What, you who rejoice in all the blessings of Islam are about to fly from the enemy? Do you not know that the atabegs will take from the Kurds all the lands they may find on the other side?” Thus it came about that Shirkuh remained where he was, and taking up his position with a picked band of men on the right flank of the main body of his troops, he overcame the king while the latter was making an attack on the enfeebled centre. So hard was Almeric beset that he could scarcely cut his way back to his own forces. He retained sufficient power, however, to surround and harass Alexandria, which Shirkuh had left in the charge of his nephew, Saladin, the son of Eyyub. Shirkuh was induced to conclude a peace, according to the terms of which both sides, Christians as well as Kurds, were obliged to evacuate Egypt. As the price of this concession Shirkuh received from Shawer fifty thousand pieces of gold, while to the Christians, so Abulfeda tells us, were promised a special magistracy in Cairo and an important yearly revenue.
It is well to contemplate closely these events, as they offer not only the final standpoint from which to judge the kingdom of Jerusalem, but the highest and best from which to take cognisance of the entire Christian world of that time in its relation to Islam. The main fact derived by history is that the establishment of the Franks in the Orient was made possible only by the antagonism that subsisted between the Abbasid and Fatimite dynasties; so long as this antagonism continued the colonial kingdom could be upheld, but let it once subside and the whole structure would fall to the ground. At the period of which we write the Cairo caliphate had sunk into a state of impotency and demoralisation; in order to prevent its falling into the hands of the Mohammedans of Syria the kings of Jerusalem must either take forceful possession of Egypt themselves, or must sustain it in its present show of independence by the most rigid political conjunction. For the first course they were far too weak, as the sequel showed, and as might have been expected from a study of the circumstances by which they were surrounded; but for the second they possessed quite sufficient strength, as was evidenced by the successes of Almeric. Indeed in all respects this was the better course to pursue, since by the exercise of a moderate degree of wisdom affairs would doubtless, even in the natural course of events, so have shaped themselves that to the Christian element would gradually fall a peaceful sovereignty over the whole realm of Egypt. What a position in the world would have been gained to the Latin races by such a solution! Entrance into all the Indian waters would have been open to the Italian sea powers, and it was furthermore to be expected that northern Africa, cut off entirely from the powers of the East, would eventually fall into the hands of the Spaniards or of the Sicilian Normans.
It is not to be denied, however, that mankind at that period was not yet ripe to exercise complete ascendency either over the Orient or over any other considerable portion of the world. The religions of both divisions of humanity permitted not the slightest compromise with unbelievers, and the very factors that had brought about the first amazing successes later acted as a check on the progress of their cause towards complete fulfilment. It seemed to be self-evident that no kind of serious alliance could ever permanently subsist between the crusaders and the caliphs; nay, there was something almost against nature in the thought of Christians defending the towers of Cairo on behalf of infidels in a struggle of Moslem against Moslem. Religious antagonism was stronger in the guardians of the Holy Sepulchre than loyalty and good faith.
Almeric united with Manuel of Byzantium,[52] who had already formed a league with the Lombards and the pope, and allowed himself to be drawn into a joint scheme of conquest in Egypt. This union between Greeks and Latins was the more easily effected inasmuch as the king had married a Greek and the emperor a Syrian princess. The idea of the expedition seems to have emanated from Manuel who, in his all-embracing policy, kept a constant watch on both East and West, in search of undertakings that might promise him success. Influence was brought to bear on Almeric to gain his consent by the grand-master of the knights of St. John; but the Templars were strongly opposed to the project, seeing in it a shameful violation of the peace.
Without waiting for the arrival of the Greek forces, the Christians of Jerusalem opened the war in November, 1168. They took Pelusium, and advanced on Cairo--at a very slow rate of progress, to be sure, as they were awaiting ransom for a son of Shawer, whom they had taken prisoner. The ransom was brought them, but at the same time they learned that the invincible Shirkuh had set out from his desert in their direction. Both Shawer and the caliph had overcome their former repugnance and had addressed an appeal for aid to Nur ad-Din. Thus the supporters of the two caliphs came together in a coalition similar to that formed by the Greeks and Latins. The bravest and hardiest Turkomans composed the troops led by Shirkuh and Saladin. Almeric had courageously advanced into the desert to meet them, but Shirkuh passed him by; it was destined that the Franks should depart from Egypt in dishonour. And now fate hurried events on to the climax. Arrived in Jerusalem Shirkuh and Saladin opened hostilities with the sultan, Shawer, who was accused of having plotted to murder the Turkoman emirs. An opportunity was given Saladin to become possessed of the sultan’s person on the occasion of a visit the latter made to the grave of a Moslem saint. The caliph gave his consent to the captive’s execution, and was further persuaded to appoint Shirkuh his vizir.
[Sidenote: [1169-1174 A.D.]]
On the death of Shirkuh, shortly after, Saladin acceded to the vacant post (1169). He looked upon himself as in truth the chief power under Nur ad-Din, who persistently urged him to overthrow the Fatimite caliphate. But Saladin shrewdly withheld compliance[53] until he had obtained complete possession of the capital and had rid himself of all his enemies, even delaying until the Fatimite Aladid, who was still young, fell sick unto death. He died in 1171 and Saladin, who had meanwhile repulsed an attack by Almeric and a Byzantine fleet from Damietta, and torn from the Franks the harbour of Ailah, on the Red Sea, took possession of the entire treasure of the Fatimites and became master over all Egypt.
[Sidenote: [1174-1181 A.D.]]
A momentary advantage accrued to the Christians from this usurpation, inasmuch as a continuance of friendly relations between the new master of the Nile and his supreme chief, the atabeg in Damascus, was not to be thought of. Saladin immediately sought to cut himself loose from all allegiance to Nur ad-Din. That no hostages might be left in the hands of the atabeg ruler, he caused his entire family to come to him in Egypt, giving to his aged father, Eyyub, the post of guardian of his treasure. Nur ad-Din first conceived suspicions as to his subordinate’s fealty when the latter refused to assist him in conquering certain Frankish settlements that guarded the route from Damascus to Egypt. He was stricken by death, however (1174), in the midst of preparations for an expedition that was to punish the faithless emir. Now Saladin’s plans took on wider expansion, and his aspirations soared to greater heights. Nur ad-Din had left behind him but one minor son, Malik as-Salih, and it was his name that appeared on the coins Saladin at first caused to be struck off. But the Syrians were highly dissatisfied with the rule that had succeeded that of Nur ad-Din, and were inclined to welcome Saladin whenever he should present himself among them. Without drawing sword he entered Damascus in 1174, and Emesa, Hama, and Baalbek also fell into his power. Malik as-Salih was allowed to retain Aleppo on condition that he should withdraw from Damascus. At his death (1181) Saladin gained possession of Aleppo and little by little extended his territory as far as Mesopotamia; eventually the entire heritage of Nur ad-Din fell into his hands.
In this manner there arose in the course of a few years a might that, springing as it did from a union of Egypt and Syria, threatened great danger to the Christians, and even placed in question the further existence of the many Frankish colonies that were scattered about the Orient. The forces at the command of the consolidated power were trained to obey the slightest gesture of a single chief, and were saturated with the doctrines of a single religion. Of lateral religious branches there was no longer any question, save as they still survived in the sect of the Assassins of Lebanon, whose leader, the Old Man of the Mountain, occasionally instigated some fresh disturbance. Saladin himself was one day set upon by three assailants, but his strong arm successfully defended his life. He immediately thereafter started out to exterminate the Assassins, and devastated their entire domains, making his name a terror wherever he went. All Saladin’s prowess and success was the outgrowth of a remarkable personality. Like Zenki and Nur ad-Din, he was a devout Mohammedan; it was even his custom to read the Koran to armies about to rush upon each other in battle. He scrupulously made up for all fasts that he missed, and never failed to say the five prayers through to the end. He drank nothing but water, wore garments of harsh wool, and allowed himself to be summoned before the bar of judgment. He personally instructed his children in the tenets of Islam; but his own close observance of religion did not prevent him from unlawfully usurping power. When fortune favoured him, as on the achievement of some brilliant victory, he delighted in exhibiting a certain careless magnanimity that greatly enhanced the majesty of his bearing. In misfortune he was steadfast and patient, never once turning aside from the aim he had in view. He was brave and crafty, contriving to win for himself supporters even among the ranks of his enemies, and he governed his subjects with justice and moderation. As a ruler he possessed all the qualities necessary to accomplish the building up of a state and its conservation in prosperity and power; and to a far greater degree than had the atabegs he became the hero of reconstructed Islam, the man of fate in the destinies of the kingdom of Jerusalem.
Had the Christians then but known how to make the most of the little time that was left them, all might yet have been well; but it is not to be denied that simultaneously with the rise of the new oriental might occurred the rapid and shameful decay of the Christian administration in the East. The western laws of succession which had been transplanted in full force, and which secured the throne to the direct line of descent whether male or female, dealt the finishing blow to the tottering kingdom. In a community of which the head should be above all a military commander, where the commonweal could be secured only by holding the whole state in constant readiness for war, the rule frequently fell into the hands of feeble, incompetent youths, the whole question of succession was repeatedly and violently reopened by the marriages of female heirs to the throne; and regencies were successively established, disputed, and destroyed. There was no permanent, inflexible power to hold in check the inordinate ambition of the knights, and a general lawlessness prevailed that penetrated to every rank of political and religious life.
[Sidenote: [1173-1185 A.D.]]
Almeric died before Nur ad-Din in 1173. He was succeeded by his thirteen-year-old son, Baldwin IV, who was a victim to the terrible disease of leprosy, and up to the time of his early death in 1185 never really came into possession of the rule. During the first part of his reign Raymond II of Tripolis, son of Hodierna, acted as vicegerent, and in 1175 he concluded a truce with Saladin by which he bound himself not to oppose the latter in any of his struggles for the succession of Nur ad-Din. It was this act that lost for Raymond all his authority in the realm. The knights now looked towards the West for a ruler more to their liking, and Longaspada, marquis of Montferrat, arrived among them in answer to their summons in October, 1176, shortly afterward marrying Sybilla, the eldest sister of the minor king. He had firmly established himself in the respect and confidence of all when his untimely death occurred (1177). His successor was Philip of Flanders and Vermandois, a former adversary of Henry II of England and an adherent of Becket, who was obliged to make this pilgrimage to Jerusalem in expiation of certain violent acts he had committed. There was some reluctance felt at placing the government in the hands of this prince, the general opinion being that only one who was bound by self-interest to the kingdom could effectually serve it. Philip was willing either to assume the authority himself or to relinquish it into the hands of the count of Bethune, provided the latter would cede to him certain possessions in the vicinity. The project had been formed of organising, in alliance with the Greeks, an expedition against Saladin; but Philip proved to be totally inadequate to the command of such an enterprise, and returned home without having performed a single act of moment.
A prince who fulfilled in all respects the requirements of the knights next assumed the vicegerency, Rainald of Chatillon, who had taken part in the siege of Askalon, and was afterwards chosen as husband and the guardian of her son by Constantia, widow of Raymond of Antioch. In this noble were represented all the warlike tendencies of the times. He defeated Saladin in November, 1178, near Askalon, as he had only a short time previously defeated Saladin’s brother, Turan Shah, near Damascus. A breathing space fell to the kingdom after these victories that was utilised to construct near Paneas, on the Jordan, a citadel which was entrusted to the Templars to defend. Near this very place, however, Saladin achieved a victory over the Christians in a battle wherein fell the grand master of the Templars, Odo de St. Amand. On his death Saladin laid siege to the stronghold and carried it by storm. The defeated Templars sought death by remaining behind in the burning citadel, plunging into the waters of the Jordan, or precipitating themselves from the top of a steep cliff.
About this time the bishops of the oriental Latin church began to assume prominence in the Council of Lateran; among them being Archbishop William of Tyre, historian of the kingdom, who in chronicling the defeat of the Templars employed the language of the Bible: “The Lord, their God, departed from them.” The eyes of all were now turned towards the West. Nothing would have so fully met the aspirations of Alexander III as another crusade, entered upon in the spirit that had marked that of Urban II; shortly before his death he even caused a petition to be drawn up urging the advisability of such an undertaking. It was then generally assumed that in case the two great western monarchs, the kings of England and France, should again decide to invade the Orient, they could count on the support and assistance of the emperor Manuel, who had maintained friendly relations with the Christians of Syria while engaging in fresh wars with the Seljuks of Asia Minor. Most reluctantly had he given up the expedition against Egypt, even after Saladin had made himself master of the land; he could not have been induced to do so at all, in fact, had not the knights of Jerusalem been so tardy in rendering aid. Unfortunately for the Christian cause he died in the year 1180; conditions in the West at that time were also unfavourable to the undertaking of any important enterprise, Frederick I being deeply engaged in war with Henry the Lion and in negotiations for a treaty with the Lombards while the sons of Henry II kept France and England in a state of constant turmoil. Thus the kingdom of Jerusalem, being deprived of all hope of outside aid, was thrown completely on its own resources.
Life was not utterly intolerable there, nor was hope definitively abandoned so long as Saladin was kept from entering into possession of the entire inheritance of Nur ad-Din. The knights still gained an occasional victory over him, as in the plain of Belveir and Ferbelet in 1182; and he was compelled to raise the siege of Berytus at the approach of the Christian troops. The daring Rainald de Chatillon even succeeded in his bold attempt to reconquer the harbour of Ailah, on the Mediterranean sea. The Latin fleet proceeded thence to the coast of Arabia, where it threatened Mecca and Medina, but was finally overcome near Haura, and the knights were slain in a battle with the Arab prophet. By this defeat Ailah was again lost to Jerusalem. Brave to the point of foolhardiness as was Rainald de Chatillon in his undertakings against Saladin, and knightly as was the spirit by which he was moved, he failed to achieve any serious result for the cause to which he was devoted.
The affairs of the opposite side now took a decisive turn. In 1181 Malik as-Salih, prince of Aleppo and Nur ad-Din’s son, had died, leaving no kinsman worthy to succeed him. Imad ad-Din had essayed to fill the difficult post of ruler, but was totally incompetent, and when Saladin marched against him in 1183 he surrendered Aleppo without a struggle, and made no attempt to regain any of the fortresses that had already been taken from him. Saladin made his formal entry into Aleppo in June, 1183. He was universally accepted as the bravest and mightiest warrior that had ever fought on the side of Islam, and religious fervour, once more risen to great height among the Mohammedans, further aided to smooth all difficulties from his path.
[Sidenote: [1185-1187 A.D.]]
In contrast to this success disaster followed disaster in the Frankish camp. In 1185 Baldwin IV succumbed to his fatal malady, and was succeeded by his nephew, Baldwin V, the son of Sybilla and of William Longaspada, who was but five years old. As if this misfortune were not enough, Sybilla espoused in second marriage, contrary to the wishes of all her advisers, a certain knight, Guy de Lusignan, of an ancient and noble family of Poitou, whom no one believed capable of successfully defending the kingdom in case of need.[54]
At this juncture Raymond of Tripolis again assumed the vicegerency, and as before held a compact with Saladin to be the only means by which he could preserve authority over the realm. A truce was concluded on the only terms possible--the payment by Raymond of a certain tribute. A fresh disturbance arose when Sybilla gave the crown, which she had claimed for herself on the death of Baldwin V in 1186, over to her husband, Guy de Lusignan. This was done in direct opposition to Raymond, who had planned to usurp the crown himself, and endangered his newly concluded pact with Saladin. While Guy de Lusignan, at the head of the whole body of knighthood which had gone unhesitatingly over to the side of the rightful heiress, was preparing to attack Raymond at Tiberias, the latter appealed for aid to Saladin, who sent him a band of Turkish horsemen. It had come, then, to this, that a master Templar was obliged to fly to Saladin in his distress, and march out, at the head of an army of infidels, to do battle against his fellow Templars of Jerusalem! All bonds of honour and tradition were severed at a single blow. The clergy made itself particularly obnoxious at this crisis, being incited thereto by the patriarch Heraclius of Jerusalem. Thus, eaten up by corruption from within and left by its natural supporters in the West to face alone an enemy that was practically all-powerful, the kingdom that had once given such rich promise for the future was now tottering helplessly to its fall.
Saladin, standing ready to seize the first favourable opportunity, had some show of justice on his side in choosing the present crisis as the most suitable for attack, since Rainald de Chatillon, now in command of certain citadels on the other side of the Jordan, had recently, in flagrant breach of the truce, fallen upon and plundered a passing caravan in which was the mother of the sultan. After in vain demanding indemnity of Rainald, Saladin rallied all his forces for another great sacred war, and at head of countless warriors made forcible irruption into Galilee.
As on many previous occasions the Christian army again assembled near the spring of Saffuria. The grand master of the Templars had contributed an important sum, sent him by Henry II of England, toward the preparations for war, and Count Raymond of Tripolis was present in person. Once more the holy cross of Jerusalem was worshipped by the Christian army on the eve of battle. The very first day’s operations were disastrous, however, as the army, impelled by the knights, hurried to the relief of beleaguered Tiberias. On the evening of July 4th, 1187, after a battle that brought victory to neither side, Saladin’s light horse drove the Christians back to a parched and arid eminence in the neighbourhood of Hittin, named by tradition as the scene of Christ’s sermon on the mount. Here, at the close of a torrid summer day, they were obliged to pass the night in the tortures of thirst. On July 5th Saladin resumed his attack on the enfeebled, exhausted Christians, of whom very few survived the battle that ensued. Count Raymond escaped, thanks to the clemency of the Saracens, who opened their ranks before him and his body of knights, as before one who had once been their friend. King Guy and as many of his followers as had not been slain, together with the holy cross, fell into the hands of Saladin, who this time knew no mercy. All the captured Templars and knights of St. John were put to death, while with his own hand the angry monarch struck down Rainald de Chatillon, the perjured violator of the truce.[d]
MOSLEM ACCOUNTS OF THE BATTLE OF TIBERIAS
[Sidenote: [1187 A.D.]]
Imad ad-Din, the Moslem historian, who took part in the battle, remarks with astonishment that as long as the Christians kept in the saddle they were unharmed, for they were covered from head to foot with a protecting mail woven of iron rings; but when the horse fell, the rider was lost. “That battle,” adds the writer, “took place on a Saturday. The Christians, like lions at the beginning of the fray, were as scattered lambs at the end. Of many thousands, but a small number survived. The battle-field was covered with the dead and dying. I myself walked over Mount Hittin; it was a horrible spectacle. I saw all that a happy nation had done to a miserable people. I saw the condition of their leader--who could describe it? I saw severed heads; dull, dead eyes; dust-covered bodies, twisted limbs; severed arms; crushed bones; gashed and bloody necks; broken thighs; feet no longer joined to the leg; bodies in two pieces; torn lips and split foreheads. On seeing their faces strewn over the ground and covered with blood and wounds, I recalled these words of the Koran: “The infidel shall say ‘What am I but dust!’ What sweet odour is exhaled from this victory!”
After these reflections, which show well the Arab taste, the writer presents another picture: “The tent ropes,” he says, “did not suffice to bind the prisoners. I saw thirty or forty men bound by the same rope; I saw one or two hundred of them placed together and guarded by a single man. These warriors, who formerly exhibited extraordinary prowess and enjoyed might and power, now with lowered brows and naked bodies were indeed a miserable sight. Counts and Christian lords had become the prey of the hunter, the knights that of the lion. Those who had humiliated others were humbled in their turn; the free man was in irons. Those who accused the truth of falsehood and treated the Koran as imposture had fallen into the hands of the true believers.”
After the battle Saladin retired to his tent and caused King Guy and the principal prisoners to be brought before him. It was his will that the king be seated at his side; and as the prince was suffering from thirst he had melted snow brought to him. The king, after drinking, offered the cup to Rainald, but Saladin cried: “It is not I who have asked that wretched man to drink; I am in no way bound to him.” In fact, according to Imad ad-Din’s statement, it was the custom with the Arabs never to kill a prisoner to whom drink or food had been offered. Now Saladin had on two occasions vowed to kill Rainald did the lord of Karak ever fall into his hands--the first, when the knight planned to attack Mecca and Medina; the second, when he captured a caravan in times of peace. The sultan turned to Rainald and in terrible tones reproached him with these two deeds; then rushed upon him with uplifted sword. Following his example the emirs threw themselves upon Rainald and severed head from body. The trunk rolled to the feet of the king, who at the sight trembled in great fear; but Saladin hastened to reassure him and promised to respect his life.
Imad ad-Din relates later that what had most angered Saladin against Rainald was that on the occasion of the above-mentioned seizure of the Moslem caravan he called in jest to his captives to invoke Mohammed to see whether the prophet would come to their assistance, and that before killing him the sultan said to him: “Well, how does it seem to thee? Have I not sufficiently avenged Mohammed for thy outrages?” Finally, adds Imad ad-Din, he proposed to Rainald to become a Mohammedan; the latter refused, saying that he preferred to die. Imad ad-Din relates on his own side that when Saladin reproached Rainald with his perfidies and bad faith, the lord replied by interpreter that such was the custom of princes and that he in this respect had but followed the beaten path.
Finally the sultan had the king brought to Damascus, the captive lords with him. With regard to the Templars and Hospitallers, Ibn al-Atir relates that the sultan collected all he had in one place and cut off their heads. He ordered also all those in his army who had any belonging to these religious orders in their hands to put them to death; then judging that the soldiers would not be sufficiently generous to make this sacrifice, he offered fifty pieces of gold for each Templar or Hospitaller surrendered to him. Two hundred of these warriors who were brought to him were at once decapitated. What led the sultan to these extreme measures was that the Templars and Hospitallers made war by profession upon Islam and were its most cruel enemies. Thus Abul-Faraj in his Syrian Chronicle puts on this occasion these words into Saladin’s mouth: “Since killing when it can be turned to the good of their religion seems to them so sweet a thing, let us kill them in their turn.” Saladin sent also to his lieutenant in Damascus ordering to be put to death all the knights held in that city, whether they were his own property or that of others; and this was done.
We read in Imad ad-Din, an eye-witness, that during the massacre of the knights Saladin looked on with smiling countenance and that the victims were sunk in hopeless despair. The Moslem army was drawn up in battle array, the emirs in two rows. Some of the executioners performed their duty, adds the author, with a degree of skill that brought deserved praises; some, however, refused to act and left it to their companions. Before beheading, a proposition was made to the prisoners to embrace Islamism but the opportunity was taken by a very small number.
Such is the manner in which the Arabian chroniclers describe the battle of Tiberias. The compiler of The Two Gardens gives several letters written on that occasion. We read in one of them, sent to Baghdad, that of the forty-five thousand men composing the Christian army scarcely one thousand survived, and since one poor Mohammedan soldier, having taken a prisoner, exchanged him for a pair of sandals, posterity may know that the number of prisoners was so great that they were sold for footgear. Imad ad-Din says in another place that all Islam rejoiced in this victory which was but the prelude to the conquest of Jerusalem and the source of greater triumphs.[e]
THE FALL OF JERUSALEM
A panic terror now overspread the land, and under its resistless impulse all hastened to place themselves in subjection to the conqueror. Even the most strongly fortified coast towns fell one after the other; Tyre, Tripolis, and Antioch alone upheld their independence. Askalon demanded as the price of its surrender the release of the captive king. Jerusalem held out in its own defence a few days longer; but what could the few knights that remained avail against an enemy so mighty? On the 2nd of October, 1187, Saladin took formal possession of the Christian capital, to shouts of “Allah akbar!” instead of the “Christ victorious!” that had been heard in former times.[d]
Jerusalem became the refuge for such of the Christians as had escaped the swords or the chains of the Turks. One hundred thousand people are said to have been in the place; but so few were the soldiers, and so feeble was the government of the queen, that the Holy City was no object of terror. Saladin declared his unwillingness to stain with human blood a spot which even the Turks held in reverence, as having been sanctified by the presence of many of God’s messengers. He offered the people, on condition of the surrender of the city, money and settlements in Syria. Prudence suggested the acceptance of this offer, but, clinging to that feeling of superstition which had given birth to the holy wars, the Christians declared that they would not resign to the infidels the place where the Saviour had died. Saladin was indignant at this rejection of his kindness, and swore to enter the place sword in hand, and retaliate the dreadful carnage which the Franks had made in the days of Godfrey de Bouillon. The people cast their eyes on Balean of Ibelin as their commander. The veteran organised the forces, and put arms into the hands of the citizens.
During fourteen days there were various engagements; but the Christians, though brave to desperation, could never destroy the military engines of the Moslems. At the end of fourteen days the Latins discovered that the walls near the gate of St. Stephen’s were undermined. From that moment the defence of the city was abandoned; the clergy prayed for the miraculous protection of heaven, the soldiers threw down their arms and crowded into the churches. The consternation was augmented by the discovery of a correspondence between some Greeks that were in the place and the Moslems. The Latins then recollected the proffered clemency of Saladin, and a deputation of them implored a renewal of it. But he urged the force of the oath which he had taken, and that it was ridiculous to capitulate for a fallen town. “But,” said he, “if you will surrender the city to me, I will behave to you with mercy, and allow you to redeem the inhabitants.”
After some deliberation, the Christians resolved to trust the generosity of the conqueror. Saladin stipulated that the military and nobles should be escorted to Tyre, and that the Latin population should become slaves, if they were not ransomed at the rate of ten crowns of gold for a man, five for a woman, and one for a child. After four days had been consumed by the miserable inhabitants in weeping over and embracing the Holy Sepulchre and other sacred places, the Latins left the city and passed through the enemy’s camp. Children of all ages clung round their mothers, and the strength of the fathers was used in bearing away some little portion of their household furniture. In solemn procession the clergy, the queen, and her retinue of ladies followed. Saladin advanced to meet them, and his heart melted with compassion, when they approached him in the attitude and with the air of suppliants. The softened warrior uttered some words of pity, and the women, encouraged by his sympathising tenderness, declared that one word of his would remove their distress.
It is the generous remark of an enemy that Saladin was in nothing a barbarian but in name. With courteous clemency he released all the prisoners whom the women requested, and loaded them with presents. This action, worthy of a gentle and Christian knight, was not the consequence of a transient feeling of humanity; for when he entered the city of Jerusalem, and heard of the tender care with which the military friars of St. John treated the sick, he allowed ten of the order to remain in their hospital till they could complete their work of humanity.
[Sidenote: [1188-1189 A.D.]]
The infidels were once more established in Jerusalem. The great cross was taken down from the church of the sepulchre, and for two days dragged through the mire of the streets. The bells of the churches were melted, and the floors and walls of the mosque of Omar were purified with Damascene rose-water. Prayers and thanksgivings were offered to heaven for the victory; all individual merit was forgotten, and the conquest of Jerusalem was attributed to the bounty of God, and his desire for the universal influence of Islamism. Askalon, Laodicea, Gabala, Sidon, Nazareth, Bethlehem--all those places and their territories fell when their great support was gone, and Tyre was almost the only town of consequence which remained to the Christians.
Saladin attacked it with all his efforts, but the spirit of freedom triumphed over the thirst of conquest, and the Moslems were necessitated to raise the siege. Some time after the capitulation of Askalon, Guy de Lusignan, the grand master of the Templars, and others obtained their liberty; and the husband of Sybilla solemnly renounced to Saladin his title to the kingdom of Jerusalem. The unprincipled Guy took the road for Tyre, and announced his resolve to enter the city as sovereign lord.
After the fall of Jerusalem, Saladin carried his conquering army into the principality of Antioch. Five and twenty towns submitted, and Antioch itself became tributary to the Moslems. The victories of Saladin and the loss of Jerusalem were melancholy contrasts to those hopes of the triumphs of Christianity over Islamism which the Council of Clermont had held out to Europe. In the eighty-eight years that the crusaders possessed the Holy City, peace seldom dwelt about her walls; surrounded by numerous hostile nations, she was in a continual siege, and as great a number of her wars were undertaken for the maintenance of her existence as for the purposes of conquest. In the time of Godfrey de Bouillon, Asia was in a state of more than usual imbecility. The Arabian and Tatarian storms were spent, the caliphs were pontiffs rather than sovereign princes, and the great empire of their predecessors was dismembered and scattered.
But states which are formed by arms, not by policy, are as quick in their rise as rapid in their decay, and ruin and disorder are the scenes of ambition. The passions and abilities of the enterprising lords of Syria raised several powerful governments; the hostile aspect of the Moslems increased in terror when the imperial and royal crowns of Germany and France were broken; and the crescent triumphed over the cross when Saladin united and led the Moslem nations to the conquest of Jerusalem. In the strength of body, and personal and military prowess, the Turks and the Franks were equal; but the Turks were in multitudes, the Franks were few; and as the twelfth century was an age of war rather than of policy, the Latins did not by intellectual superiority raise themselves above their enemies. The Christians scrupled not to break treaties[55] with the Moslems; they never attempted to conciliate the foe, or to live in terms of large and liberal intercourse. Except in the case of Egypt, they allowed the Saracenian nations to unite, without making any endeavour to break their force; and they were too proud and too ignorant to win any members to their cause from the great confederacy of atabegs. Conciliation could only be the result of weakness; a tender pitying forbearance of error was held a criminal indifference by armed saints. The Moslem contempt of infidels was not more sincere than was the hatred which the Christians felt for the supposed enemies of God.[c]
FOOTNOTES
[50] Germany was not affected by the First Crusade in an equal degree with Lorraine, Flanders, France, and Italy. Saxo Grammaticus says that when the Germans saw the troops of men, women, and children, on horseback and on foot, passing through their country on their way to Greece, they laughed at them as mad for quitting their homes to run after imaginary good in the midst of certain dangers, renouncing their own property in search of that of other people. Ekkehard mentions the same circumstance, and adds that the cause of the want of enthusiasm in Germany was that the divisions between the emperor and the pope prevented the preaching of the Crusade in that country. Signs, however, in the heavens, and other wonderful things, made many Germans take the cross and join the armies in the course of their march.
[51] The ladies of the twelfth century did not merely thread pearls, and amuse themselves with other employments equally delicate and elegant. The sword, and not merely the tongue, decided their disputes. Of this practice Ordericus Vitalis, p. 687, has given a remarkable instance. The love of “brave gestes” was the passion of the ladies as well as of the knights of chivalry.
[52] [Gibbon says “The emperor of Constantinople either gave or promised a fleet to act with the armies of Syria, and the perfidious Christian [Almeric] unsatisfied with spoil and subsidy aspired to the conquest of Egypt.”]
[53] After the death of Shirkuh, several emirs of the Syrian army came forward to fill his place: but the caliph chose Saladin and conferred on him the dignity of vizir, with the title of malik nassir or general protector. According to the atabeg historian, “what induced the caliph to choose Saladin in preference to the others, was both his youth and his weakness. He imagined that by choosing Saladin, a man without an army and without strength, he could keep him dependent on him and could do with him whatever he wished. He also hoped to win over one part of the Syrian army and to drive away the other, which would restore his power to him and at the same time put him in a position to resist Nur ad-Din and the Franks.”
Ibn al-Atir makes the caliph’s advisers speak in the following manner on this occasion: “Among all the emirs of the Syrian army, there is not one weaker or younger than Joseph. He is the one to choose. As for him, he will do what we please; we will place in the army men devoted to our cause; we will put ourselves in a state of defence, and then we will decide whether to seize Joseph or to banish him to Egypt.”
But according to the remark of the atabeg historian, “God had decided differently,” and the caliph was to meet his ruin where he had founded his hopes. Besides, continues the same author, Saladin at first resisted. Frightened at the high rank to which they wished to raise him, it was necessary to persuade him by all possible means, like those beings of whom it is said that “they must be dragged with chains to be made to enter paradise.” At last he decided to go to the palace, and the caliph clothed him in the dress, cap, and other signs of the dignity of vizir.[e]
[54] [“Such,” says Gibbon, “were the guardians of the Holy City; a leper, a child, a woman, a coward, and a traitor; yet its fate was delayed twelve years by some supplies from Europe, by the valour of the military orders, and by the distant or domestic avocations of their great enemy.”]
[55] It was impossible that any respect could be entertained for people like the Latins, who were not only cruel invaders and sanguinary persecutors, but common robbers. At one time Baldwin III gave the Moslems liberty of pasturage round Paneas. As soon as the ground was covered with flocks of sheep, the Christian soldiers broke into the country, carried away the animals, and murdered their keepers. The principle of not keeping faith with infidels seems consequent on a dogma in the Decretals: “Juramentum contra utilitatem ecclesiasticam præstitum non tenet.” Tancred and St. Louis were almost the only two eminent crusaders who distinguished themselves for preferring honesty and truth to utility and convenience.
IV. THE THIRD CRUSADE
King Richard shall warrant, There is no flesh so nourissant Unto an Englishman, Partridge, plover, haron, ne swan, Cow ne ox, sheep ne swine, As the head of a Sarezyn. There he is fat and thereto tender; And my men be lean and slender. While any Saracen quick be, Livand now in this Syrie; For meat will we nothing care, Abouten fast we shall fare, And every day we shall eat All so many as we may get. To England will we nought gon, Till they be eaten every one.
--Old Romance of Richard Cœur de Lion.
[Sidenote: [1189-1193 A.D.]]
Europe rang with invectives against the holy Bernard, when the thousands of men whom his eloquence and miracles had roused to arms perished in the rocks of Cilicia. A general or a statesman would have pointed out errors in the policy or conduct of the crusaders; but the preacher sheltered himself under the usual defence of impostors, and declared that the sins of the people had merited divine punishment, and that the men of his day resembled in morals the Hebrews of old, who perished in the journey from Egypt to the Promised Land. This language was justly felt to be cruel and insulting; it did not exculpate the saint in the opinion of the world, and the nations of the West were not again disposed to make religious wars the common concern of Christendom. In the third council of the Lateran, which met twenty years after the return to Europe of Louis and Conrad, the policy of King Almeric had been applauded; Egypt was more dreaded than Syria, and the possession of Damietta was held out as the object to which all the efforts of the Christians should tend.[56] The clergy called on the world to arm, but the recollection of misery was too fresh, and the decrees of the council were heard of with sullenness and discontent. Louis, however, always cherished the hope of returning to the Holy Land, and of reviving his faded glory; and at length he found his wishes met by a brother sovereign. Since virtue was his policy as well as his duty, Henry II in the height of his disputes with Thomas à Becket had professed great sanctity; and following the example of the French king, he and his barons commanded that for one year a tax of two-pence, and for four subsequent years a tax of a penny in the pound should be levied on the movables of the people of England. Among the deeds of virtue which washed from Henry the guilt of Becket’s murder was the supporting of two hundred knights Templar in Palestine for a year, and an agreement with the pope to go and fight the infidels in Asia, or in Spain, for thrice that time if his holiness should require it. In the year 1177, Henry and Louis agreed to travel together to the Holy Land. But the English monarch was prudent and fond of peace, and the illness and subsequent death of the French king terminated the project.
[Sidenote: [1177-1188 A.D.]]
The count of Tripolis, while regent of Jerusalem, endeavoured to strengthen his kingdom by new draughts of men from Europe. The importance of the embassy which he sent to the West was apparent from the dignity of the legates, for they were the patriarch of Jerusalem and the grand masters of the Templars and Hospitallers.
While fanaticism was rekindling the torch of religious war, news arrived in the West of the fall of Jerusalem into the hands of the infidels. The event was felt as a calamity from one end of Europe to the other. Nothing could exceed the terror which seized the court of Rome. In the moment of weakness and humiliation, the cardinals acknowledged the dignity and the force of virtue. They resolved to take no bribes in the administration of justice, to abstain from all luxury of living and splendour of dress, to go to Jerusalem with the scrip and staff of simple pilgrims, and never to ride on horseback while the ground of their Saviour was trodden under the feet of the pagans. Pope Urban III died about this period; and his death, like every direful event of the time, was attributed to grief at the intelligence of the Saracenian victories. William, archbishop of Tyre, our great guide in history, was one of the messengers of the news; and his friend, Gregory VIII, successor of Urban, not only endeavoured to deprecate the wrath of heaven by ordaining fasting and prayer throughout Christendom, but issued a bull for a new crusade, with the usual privileges to the crusaders.
The emperor, Frederick Barbarossa, summoned a council at Mainz for the purpose of considering the general propriety of a new crusade. Prelates and barons were unanimous in the wish for it, and William of Tyre, and Henry, bishop of Albano, legates of the papacy, arrived at the assembly in time to confirm and approve its holy resolve. The emperor, and his son the duke of Swabia, the dukes of Austria and Moravia, and sixty-eight temporal and spiritual lords, were fired with the same enthusiasm.
At the solicitation of the archbishop of Tyre, Philip Augustus, king of France, and Henry II, king of England, met at a place between Trie and Gisors, in Normandy, February, 1188, in order to deliberate on the political state of the times. The prelate of the eastern Latin church appeared, and pleaded the cause of religion before the two monarchs. So pathetic was his description of the miseries of the Latins in Syria, so touching were his reflections on those who engaged in petty national wars, when even the stones of the temple called on all people to avenge the cause of God, that Philip and Henry wept, embraced, and vowed to go together to the Holy Land. They received the cross from the hands of the archbishop. The count of Flanders entered into their intentions. They agreed that the French crusaders should wear red crosses, the English should be indicated by white ones, and the Flemish by green.
THE SALADIN TITHE
[Sidenote: [1188-1190 A.D.]]
One opinion and one feeling influenced every breast; and, by universal consent, a tax similar everywhere in name and in nature was imposed on those who would not be crossed. This imposition was called the Saladin tithe; it was to last for one year; and it extended both to movable and unmovable property. Persons who actually assumed the cross were not only exempted, but were even allowed to take the fiscal part of their tenants’ property. If the collectors of the tithe were dissatisfied with what a man offered to pay, they were authorised to appoint four or six men of his parish to make an assessment. The crusaders, too, might mortgage their land for three years, and the mortgagee should receive the rents even to the prejudice of former creditors. The English council forbade the pilgrims from sensual pleasures,[57] from all manner of gaming, and from the luxury of dressing in ermine and sables. Henry wrote to the king of Hungary and the emperor of Constantinople requesting a safe passage for his troops. The request was granted.
Though ships continually sailed from England and France, bearing martial pilgrims to the Holy Land, the ambition and restlessness of Philip Augustus, and of Prince Richard, diverted the government and the great body of the people from the salvation of Palestine. The ignominious peace which England was compelled to make with France, and his mental agony at the rebellion and ingratitude of his sons, brought on the death of the English monarch (July, 1189). The love of military honour inflamed the French king, and the bold, ardent, and valiant Richard Cœur de Lion had more of the warlike spirit than of the religious feelings of the age. None of the principles which originally caused the Crusades influenced the actions of either.
So eager was Richard to equip a large military force, that he sold the crown lands, and offices of trust and dignity were no longer to be acquired by desert or favour. The king of Scotland obtained for ten thousand marks Richard’s renunciation of the fortresses of Roxburgh and Berwick, and of the claims of England on the allegiance of Scotland. Richard crossed the channel in December, and soon after Christmas met his brother sovereign. The monarchs renewed their protestations of perpetual friendship, and swore that in case of necessity they would defend each others’ territories with all the warmth of self-interest. If either of the princes should die during the Crusade, the survivor was to use his men and money for the accomplishment of the great design. The period of departure was deferred from Easter to the ensuing midsummer. During his stay in Normandy, Richard made some singular laws for regulating the conduct of the pilgrims in their passage by sea. Murder was to be punished by casting into the water the deceased person, with the murderer tied to him. He that drew his sword in anger should lose his hand. If a man gave another a blow, he was to be thrice immersed; an ounce of silver was the penalty for using opprobrious language. A thief was to have boiling pitch and feathers put upon his head, and was to be set on shore at the first opportunity.
Philip Augustus received the staff and scrip at St. Denis, and Richard at Tours (June, 1190). They joined their forces at Vézelay; the number was computed at one hundred thousand soldiers, and the march to Lyons was conducted in union and with harmony. At that city the monarchs parted; the lord of France pursued the Genoese road; his noble compeer that of Marseilles, and Sicily was named as the rendezvous.
BARBAROSSA’S CRUSADE AND DEATH
The heroic Frederick Barbarossa was among the first of those whose grief rose into indignation after the fall of Jerusalem. In his letters to the sacrilegious Saladin, he demanded restitution of the city, and threatened him in the event of non-compliance to pour into Asia all the military force of the German states. But the triumphant infidel replied that he would oppose his Turkomans, his Bedouins, and Syrians to the German hordes. Tyre, Tripolis, and Antioch, he continued, were the only places which at that time belonged to the Christians, and if those cities were resigned to him, he would restore the true cross, and permit the people of the West to visit Jerusalem as pilgrims. Germany was indignant at this haughty reply; all the powers took up arms against the man who had defied them; but in prudent remembrance of the disorders and calamities which popular impatience had occasioned in the First and Second Crusades, an imperial edict was issued, that no one should go who could not furnish his own viaticum for a twelvemonth. The consecrated standards of the German princes were surrounded by innumerable hosts of crusaders, drawn out of every class of life, from honourable knighthood down to the meanest vassalage. Their emperor conducted them from Ratisbon, their rendezvous, through the friendly Hungarian states; but when he reached the territories of the great lord of the East, he had to encounter the hostility of a violent yet timid foe.
The emperor Isaac Angelus displayed both enmity and cowardice. He did not deny the Germans the liberty to purchase provisions, but in his communications with Frederick he carefully avoided giving him imperial titles; and the Greek governors were perplexed by one day receiving orders to preserve the fortifications of their towns, and at another time by commands for their destruction, lest they should become stations of the Germans. Barbarossa marched with prudence and humanity. In his indignation at the haughtiness and duplicity of Isaac, he generally spared the people, and passed the Hellespont without having deigned to enter the imperial city. He entered the territories of the Mussulmans in triumph, and not only defeated the Turks in a general engagement, but took Iconium. The sultan then repented of his perfidy, and with the independent emirs of Asia Minor, deprecated the further vengeance of the Germans. They continued their march with more honour and dignity than had ever accompanied the early crusaders, but they were deprived by death of their venerable hero. It was in the spring of the year that they passed the Isaurian mountains, from which issues the small river of the Calycadnus. In this stream Frederick bathed, but his aged frame could not sustain the shock.[58] His son, the duke of Swabia, was a brave and experienced general, yet the death of the emperor so much revived the courage of the Saracens, that the course of the Christians was continually harassed. Saladin had been compelled to withdraw most of his soldiers from Antioch, and the Germans had little difficulty in renewing a Christian government in that city.
In the autumn of 1190, the duke of Swabia arrived at Acre, and importance was given to the German force by the formation of a Teutonic order of knighthood. The Vatican confirmed the establishment; Pope Celestine III gave it the rule of St. Augustine for its general law, and accorded to it the privileges which distinguished the other military fraternities. The service of the poor and sick, and the defence of the holy places, were the great objects which the pope commanded them to regard; and their domestic economy was to be preserved by chastity and equal participation of property. They were divided into three classes, knights, priests, and serving brothers. All the members were to be Germans, and those of the first class could only be men of noble birth and extraction. The order of the Teutonic knights of the house of St. Mary in Jerusalem was their title, and their dress was a white mantle with a black cross, embroidered with gold.
THE SIEGE OF ACRE OR PTOLEMAIS (1189-1191 A.D.)
[Sidenote: [1189-1191 A.D.]]
While the kings of England and France were marshalling their hosts for a foreign war, the Christians in the Holy Land slowly recovered from their panic, and joined Lusignan. Greeks, Latins, Syrians, Templars, and Hospitallers, emerged from their places of secrecy, burning for revenge on the infidel spoliators. Acre had opened its gates to the conqueror a few days after the battle of Tiberias, and that city, by reason of its situation and magnitude, was worthy the bravest efforts of its former lords. The sea washed its fortifications on the north and west; a noble pier defended the port from the storms and the enemy; and the city on the land side was fortified by double walls, ditches, and towers.[b]
GEOFFREY DE VINSAUF’S ACCOUNT OF ACRE
If a ten-years’ war made Troy celebrated; if the triumph of the Christians made Antioch more illustrious, Acre will certainly obtain eternal fame, as a city for which the whole world contended. In the form of a triangle, it is narrow on the western side, while it extends in a wider range towards the east, and full a third part of it is washed by the ocean on the south and west. The port, which is not so convenient as it should be, often deceives and proves fatal to the vessels which winter there; for the rock which lies over against the shore, to which it runs parallel, is too short to protect them from the fury of the storm. And because this rock appeared a suitable place for washing away the entrails, the ancients used it as a place for offering up sacrifices, and on account of the flies which followed the sacrificial flesh, the tower which stands above it was called the Tower of Flies.
There is also a tower called the Cursed, situated on the wall which surrounds the city; and if we are to credit common report, it received its name because it is said that the pieces of silver for which Judas betrayed his Lord, were made there. The city, then named Ptolemais, was formerly situate upon Mount Turon, which is close to the city, whence, by an error of antiquity, some call Acre Ptolemais. There is a hill called the Mosque, near Mount Turon, where the ancients say is the sepulchre of Memnon; but by whose kind offices he was brought thither, we have learned neither by writing nor by hearsay. The river which flows by the city is named Belus, and although its bed is narrow, and not deep, Solinus has rendered it celebrated by numbering it amongst the wonders of the world as being enriched with glassy sand. For there was a certain sandy foss, the sand of which supplied materials for making glass; these, if taken out, were altogether useless; but, if let in, from the secret virtue of the place assumed a glassy nature.
Not far from the river is pointed out a low rock near the city, at which it is said that the three divisions of the world, Asia, Europe, and Africa meet; and though it contains separately the other parts of the world, the place itself, dependent on none, is distinct from and independent of all three. Mount Carmel rises aloft on the southern side of the city, where Elijah the Tishbite is known to have had a habitation of modest cost, as his cave still testifies; but although we are often wont in a description to wander away to the pleasant parts of the circuit, we must at present overlook the attractions of the surrounding places, while we turn our attention to the course of the war.[g]
When Richard and Philip Augustus reached the Holy Land, the siege of Acre had lasted twenty-two months. The most patient attention would be exhausted by a minute detail of the operations of that period, and a liberal curiosity will be satisfied by a notice of the chief and characteristic circumstances.
So perfect was the self-security of Saladin, that he did not attempt to overwhelm the foe; and when he at length found the necessity of personally attempting the relief of his city, the force of the king of Jerusalem was appallingly numerous. The people of France and England could not wait the tardy march of their organised armies; they answered with impatience the signals of distress which Palestine hung out; indeed every country of Europe poured forth its population with disorderly rapidity, and Lusignan was at one time the commander of one hundred thousand soldiers. The Christians were encamped on the plain to the south of Acre, and the general station of Saladin was near the town and mountain of Kharuba, still further to the south. Among the bravest of the Christian lords were the count of Champagne, the duke of Gelderland, the landgraf of Thuringia, and James d’Avesnes. Many of the clergy wore the casque and the cuirass; the archbishops of Pisa and Ravenna, the bishops of Salisbury, Beauvais, Cambray, Acre, and Bethlehem, deserved the honour of ecclesiastical knighthood; and on one occasion the valour of Baldwin, archbishop of Canterbury, saved the camp. The Christians plied the battering-rams and mangonels against the walls, and they only ceased from their labour when Saladin called them to battle on the plain.
The engagements were as sanguinary and obstinate as any which had marked the holy wars. If the Latins at any time prevailed, they speedily lost their advantages, by abandoning themselves to plunder, and allowing the vigilant enemy to collect his broken battalions. When the Saracens conquered, the Christians kept within the shelter of their fortified camp,[59] and did not again take the field till pressed to action by some new bands of crusaders. The conflicts between the Moslems and Christians were by sea as well as by land; but the naval forces were so equally balanced, that the Latins could not finally prevent the Egyptians from succouring Acre, and Europe kept up its communications with the camp. In the last year of the siege the deaths by famine and pestilence exceeded the destruction which former battles had occasioned. Both armies were wasted by a swift decay, for the presence of such numbers had exhausted the Mussulman as well as the Christian neighbourhood. At the siege of Acre, as well as at the old siege of Antioch, the morals of the holy warriors were as depraved as their condition was miserable. Yet an appearance of holiness pervaded the camp. Religious exercises were performed, and vice was reprehended. The crusaders were seemingly devout, but in reality were dissolute,[60] and compromised for personal excesses by pharisaical scrupulosity and uncharitableness.
Conrad, marquis of Tyre, had joined, and afterwards left his friends, and to his departure all the miseries of the Christians from famine were attributed. But his own principality was his most important charge, and he could not furnish provisions for his people and for the whole of the army at the same time. Disease reached and destroyed princes as well as plebeians; and when Queen Sybilla and her two young children died, Guy de Lusignan lost his principal political support. New competitors appeared for the visionary kingdom. Isabel, the sister of Sybilla, had been married at the early age of eight years to Humphry lord of Thoron; but when the warm passions of youth succeeded the indifference of infancy, the gallantry and knightly accomplishments of Conrad, marquis of Tyre, gained her affections. In the Middle Ages consanguinity or some canonical impediment was always discovered, when disgust or ambition urged the dissolution of the marriage contract; and when the will is resolved the mind is not scrupulous in its choice of arguments of justification. The church terminated the union of Humphry and Isabel, and the day after the proclamation of the divorce the bishop of Beauvais married the amorous fair one to the marquis of Tyre. As husband of the princess, Conrad claimed the honours of respect which were due to the king of Jerusalem; Humphry was too prudent to contend for an empty distinction, but Lusignan, who had once enjoyed the crown would not forego the hope of recovering it. The Christian cause was scandalised and injured by these divisions among the chiefs, but the candidates for the pageant sceptre were obliged to submit to the general opinion of the army, and reserve the decision of their claims for the judgment of the French and English monarchs.
RICHARD’S VOYAGE
[Sidenote: [1190-1191 A.D.]]
Richard’s fleet had not arrived at Marseilles at the appointed time; and so great was his impatience that after waiting for it only eight days he hired some galleys and put to sea. He went to Genoa, and conferred with the French king, whose illness had kept him in that city. He then made a brief stay at Pisa, and shortly afterwards an accident which happened to his vessel compelled him to enter the Tiber.
He made some stay in Naples, and then travelled on horseback to Salerno, where he resolved to wait till he should hear of the arrival of his navy in the Mediterranean. The English fleet had been dispersed off Portugal by a violent storm, but the ships finally reached Lisbon, and circumstances enabled them to pay their obligation of gratitude. The Moors of Spain and Africa were menacing Portugal, five hundred English soldiers joined the king and marched to Santarem. Their warlike aspect awed the Saracens, and the fortunate death at this juncture of the Moorish commander broke the union of the enemy, and the country was saved. The English fleet coasted Portugal, and the southern part of Spain, and arrived at Marseilles. It then set sail for Messina, and reached that place a few days before the arrival of Philip and the French.
Richard left Salerno on the 13th of September, and on the 21st reached Mileto. He then pursued his journey, accompanied only by one knight. He assembled all the English ships, and entered the harbour of Messina with so much splendour and such clangour of horns and trumpets that the Sicilians and French were astonished and alarmed. Tancred, the illegitimate son of Roger, duke of Apulia, was at that period the king of the island.
Among the precautions which Tancred took for the establishing of his authority was the imprisonment of the widow of William the Good, his immediate predecessor. She was the sister of Richard, king of England, but on the arrival of that monarch in Sicily, the usurper restored her to freedom. But her dowry was still withheld, and her brother was resolved to avenge her wrongs. In all his measures he was violent and unjust. He placed her in a fortress which he seized from the Sicilians, and drove out the religious inhabitants of a monastery in order that it might contain his stores. Those circumstances and the dissoluteness of his people were the occasion of much altercation between the natives and the strangers. Philip Augustus had favoured the Sicilians’ cause, and the English monarch, therefore, regarded him as an enemy, and planted his standard on the quarters of the French. The mediation of the barons prevented a war between Philip and Richard, and the latter showed his goodwill to his royal companion by delivering Messina to the soldiers of the military orders till Tancred should equitably settle the claims of his sister. Peace was then concluded. Richard renounced all claims on Sicily. Messina was given to the French king, and Richard encamped without the walls. Various regulations were made for intercourse between the different nations during the winter months. Merchants were not to purchase bread or corn in the army for the purpose of re-sale, and the profits on their general transactions were restricted to one denarius in ten. Gaming was permitted to the knights and clergy, to the exclusion of the rest of the army. No individual, however, was to lose more than twenty shillings in one day or night. For some time there was a frequent interchange of good offices between the French and English. Richard gave Philip several ships, and was so prodigal of his money among the soldiers that it was commonly said he was more bountiful in a month than his father had been in a year. But the disputes at Messina had rankled in the mind of Philip, and contemporary English historians have charged him with offering his assistance to Tancred for the expulsion of Richard.
THE FRENCH SAIL TO ACRE
In the month of March, 1191, Philip left Sicily and sailed to Acre. His appearance was regarded as a divine blessing; in the moment of elation the attacks were renewed; but orders were soon given for suspending them till the arrival of Richard, and it is more rational to think that the improbability of success without him was Philip’s motive, and not the specious reason that as the cause was common, the victory should be common also. Before his departure from Sicily, Richard avowed that he would lead a life of virtue, and with all humility submitted his back to the scourges of his clergy. He was detained for a short time on account of the expected arrival of his mother Eleanor with the princess Berengaria of Navarre, to whom he had been affianced, long before his treaty with Philip gave him liberty of marriage.
About a fortnight after the departure of his rival, the English monarch set sail. In the absence of numerical statements concerning the strength of his army, we can conjecture that it was formidable from the fact that his soldiers, horses, and stores filled two hundred ships of various sizes. A storm dispersed his fleet, and he heard at Rhodes that two of his vessels had been stranded on the shores of Cyprus, and that the people of the island had plundered and imprisoned such of the crews as had survived shipwreck. The vessel which carried the dowager queen of Sicily had been refused entrance into port. The English therefore landed on the shores of Cyprus; the archers as usual preceded to clear the way; their barbed arrows fell like showers of rain on the meadows, and supported by the heavily armed soldiers they drove the emperor and his Greeks into the interior of the island. The ruler of Cyprus was of the race of Comnenus, but he had changed his government into a kingdom. Isaac was taken; the king of England became lord of Cyprus; he taxed the people to the dreadful amount of the half of their movables, and then accorded to them the rights they had enjoyed under the dominion of the Byzantine emperors.
Richard reposed himself from the toil of conquest by celebrating his marriage with Berengaria. But in a few weeks he roused himself to arms. His fleet left Cyprus; a large troop ship[61] of Saladin crossed his way; the light galleys surrounded and attacked her, but the lofty sides of the Turk could not be mounted. “I will crucify all my soldiers if she should escape,” exclaimed Richard. His men, more in dread of their sovereign’s wrath than the swords of the foe, impelled the sharp beaks of their vessels against the enemy; some of the soldiers dived into the sea, and seized the rudder; and others came to close combat with the Saracens. In order to make the capture an unprofitable one, the emir commanded his troops to cut through the sides of their ship till the waters should rush in. They then leaped on the decks of the English galleys. But the sanguinary and ungenerous Richard killed or cast overboard his defenceless enemies, or, with an avarice equally detestable, saved the commanders for the sake of their ransom.
Shouts of warm and gratulatory acclamations saluted the English on their arrival at Acre. The brilliant scene before them was calculated to excite all the animating feelings of warriors. The martial youth of Europe were assembled on the plain in all the pride and pomp of chivalry. The splendid tents, the gorgeous ensigns, the glittering weapons, the armorial cognisances, displayed the varieties of individual fancy and national peculiarities. On the eminences in the distance the thick embattled squadrons of the sultan were encamped. The mameluke Tatar was armed with his bow; the people of the higher Egypt with their flails and scourges; and the Bedouins with their spears and small round shields. The brazen drum sounded the note of war; and the black banner of Saladin was raised in proud defiance of the crimson standard of the cross.
DISSENSION BETWEEN THE FRENCH AND ENGLISH KINGS
The joy with which the French regarded the English was soon changed for the bitter feelings of military envy and national hatred. The religious objects of the war appeared to be forgotten. The Genoese and Templars sided with Philip; and the Pisans and Hospitallers with Richard. The king of France prepared his soldiers and their battering engines for a vigorous and general assault on the walls of Acre; and murmured revenge when his martial competitor declined co-operation on the ground of illness. The choicest part of the French troops marched to the walls, eager to shame the English.
But high as was the valour of the assailants, their numbers were not adequate; and they were repulsed in every point. When Saladin, however, attempted to carry destruction into the army and camp of his baffled foes, he was driven back with loss. The French reappeared as assailants; but once again displayed their imprudent spirit. In sickness and in convalescence Richard was carried to his military engines on a mattress, and was so active in making and using his petrariæ, that he soon destroyed half of one of the Turkish towers. He preserved his machines from the Greek fire of the city; and he rewarded his balistarii for every stone which they removed from the walls. The ditch was filled up; the tower was completely levelled; and the English heroes, particularly the earl of Leicester and the bishop of Salisbury, prepared to enter the breach. The conflict was close and sanguinary. The Pisans came to the assistance of the English, but the fury of the Turks was irresistible and the walls were cleared of the enemy.
The failure of the ambitious attempts of each of the monarchs at the capture of Acre without the aid of his rival, evinced the necessity of their co-operation.[62] A reconciliation in consequence was effected between Richard and Philip: and they determined that one should attack the walls, while the other guarded the camp from the approaches of Saladin. But Acre had suffered so dreadfully from a two years’ siege, that the inhabitants were reduced to the melancholy necessity of resolving to desist from defence. Saladin endeavoured to infuse his own invincible spirit into the minds of his people, and revived for a moment their languid courage, by directing their hopes to succour from Egypt. The expected aid from Cairo did not arrive; and the citizens wrung from Saladin his permission for them to capitulate. Their safety was accordingly purchased by their agreeing to deliver unto the two kings the city itself, and five hundred Christian prisoners who were in it. The true cross was to be resigned, and one thousand other captives, and two hundred knights selected by the allies from those who were in the hands of Saladin; and unless the Mussulmans paid to Richard and Philip the sum of two hundred thousand pieces of gold within forty days, the inhabitants of Acre should be at the mercy of the conquerors.
These conditions were assented to, and, before the city changed its lords, a proclamation was made in the French and English camps that no one should injure or insult such of the Turks as quitted the place. The Christians entered Acre; the banners of the two kings floated on the ramparts; but precedence seems to have been given to Richard, for he and his wife and sister inhabited the royal palace, while Philip occupied the house of the Templars. They could not refuse the justice of their soldiers’ claim, founded on the principle that those who had shared the labours should divide the reward; but payment was so long deferred, that many persons were forced by poverty to sell their military equipments, and return to Europe. The kings were divided in opinion respecting the title to the sovereignty over Palestine. The English monarch was persuaded to espouse the cause of the weak and miserable Lusignan. The disputes were sometimes heard of during the siege; but after the capture they raged with violence. Negotiations however were entered into, and the agreement reached that Lusignan should be styled king of Jerusalem, and lord of Joppa and Askalon; yet that if Conrad should be the survivor, he and his heirs were to have perpetual sovereignty. The English monarch afterwards generously surrendered the isle of Cyprus to Lusignan.
A few weeks after the capitulation of Acre, and before the time had elapsed for the performance of all the conditions of the treaty, Philip Augustus expressed his wish of returning to Europe. The duke of Burgundy, and the largest portion of the French army, it was stipulated, were to remain in Syria under the command of Richard. Philip Augustus went to Tyre, gave to the marquis of that city his moiety, both of Acre and of the Turkish prisoners, and then set sail for Europe.[b]
REVIEW OF THE SIEGE
[Sidenote: [1189-1191 A.D.]]
Such was the confusion of this famous siege, which lasted nearly three years, and in which the crusaders shed more blood and exhibited more bravery than ought to have sufficed for the subjugation of the whole of Asia. More than a hundred skirmishes and nine great battles were fought before the walls of the city; several flourishing armies came to recruit armies nearly annihilated, and were in their turn replaced by fresh armies. The bravest nobility of Europe perished in this siege, swept away by the sword or disease. Among the illustrious victims of this war, history points out Philip, count of Flanders, Guy de Chatillon, Bernard de St. Vallery, Vautrier de Mory, Raoul de Fougères, Eudes de Gonesse, Renaud de Maguy, Geoffroi d’Aumale, viscount de Châtellerault, Josselin de Montmorency, and Raoul de Marle; the archbishops of Besançon and Canterbury; with many other ecclesiastics and knights whose piety and exploits were the admiration of Europe.
In this war both parties were animated by religion; each side boasted of its miracles, its saints, and its prophets. Bishops and imams equally promised the soldiers remission of their sins and the crown of martyrdom. Whilst the king of Jerusalem caused the Book of the Evangelists to be borne before him, Saladin would often pause on the field of battle to offer up a prayer or read a chapter from the Koran. The Franks and the Saracens mutually accused each other of ignorance of the true God and of outraging him by their ceremonies. The Christians rushed upon their enemies crying, “It is the will of God! It is the will of God!” and the Saracens answered by their war-cry, “Islam! Islam!”
Fanaticism frequently augmented the fury of slaughter. The Mussulmans from the heights of their towers insulted the religious ceremonies of the Christians. They raised crosses on their ramparts, beat them with rods, covered them with dust, mud, and filth, and broke them into a thousand pieces before the eyes of the besiegers. At this spectacle the Christians swore to avenge their outraged worship, and menaced the Saracens with the destruction of every Mohammedan pulpit. In the heat of this religious animosity, the Mussulmans often massacred disarmed captives; and in more than one battle they burned their Christian prisoners in the very field of conflict. The crusaders but too closely imitated the barbarity of their enemies; funeral piles lighted up by fanatical rage were often extinguished in rivers of blood.
The Mussulman and Christian warriors provoked each other during single combats, and were as lavish of abuse as the heroes of Homer. Heroines often appeared in the mêlée, and disputed the prize of strength and courage with the bravest of the Saracens. Children came from the city to fight with the children of the Christians in the presence of the two armies. But sometimes the furies of war gave place to the amenities of peace, and Franks and Saracens would for a moment forget the hatred that had led them to take up arms. During the course of the siege several tournaments were held in the plain of Acre, to which the Mussulmans were invited. The champions of the two parties harangued each other before entering the lists; the conqueror was borne in triumph, and the conquered ransomed like a prisoner of war. In these warlike festivities, which brought the two nations together, the Franks often danced to the sound of Arabian instruments, and their minstrels afterwards played or sang to the dancing of the Saracens.
Most of the Mussulman emirs, after the example of Saladin, affected an austere simplicity in their vestments and manners. An Arabian author compares the sultan, in his court, surrounded by his sons and brothers, to the star of night which sheds a sombre light amidst the other stars. The principal leaders of the crusade did not entertain the same love of simplicity, but endeavoured to excel each other in splendour and magnificence. As in the First Crusade, the princes and barons were followed into Asia by their hunting and fishing appointments, and the luxuries of their palaces and castles. When Philip Augustus arrived before Acre, all eyes were for a moment turned upon the falcons he had brought with him. One of these having escaped from the hands of his keeper, perched upon the ramparts of the city, and the whole Christian army was excited by endeavours to recapture the fugitive bird. As it was caught by the Mussulmans, and carried to Saladin, Philip sent an ambassador to the sultan to recover it, offering a sum of gold that would have been quite sufficient for the ransom of many Christian warriors.
The misery which so often visited the crusaders, did not at all prevent a great number of them from indulging in excesses of license and debauchery. All the vices of Europe and Asia were met together on one spot. If an Arabian author may be believed, at the very moment in which the Franks were a prey to famine and contagious diseases, a troop of three hundred women from Cyprus and the neighbouring islands arrived in the camp. These three hundred women, whose presence in the Christian army was a scandal in the eyes of the Saracens, prostituted themselves among the soldiers of the cross, and stood in no need of employing the enchantments of the Armida of Tasso to corrupt them.
Nevertheless, the clergy were unremitting in their exhortations to the pilgrims to lead them back to the morals of the Gospel. Churches, surmounted by wooden steeples, were erected in the camp, in which the faithful were every day called together. Not unfrequently the Saracens took advantage of the moment at which the soldiers left their entrenchments unguarded to attend mass, and made flying but annoying incursions. Amidst general corruption, the siege of Acre presented many subjects of edification. In the camp, or in the field of battle, charity hovered constantly around the Christian soldier, to soothe his misery, to watch his sick pallet, or dress his wounds. During the siege the warriors from the north were in the greatest distress, and could gain little assistance from other nations. Some pilgrims from Lübeck and Bremen came to their aid, formed tents of the sails of their vessels to shelter their poor countrymen, and ministered to their wants and tended their diseases. Forty German nobles took part in this generous enterprise, and their association was the origin of the hospitable and military order of the Teutonic knights.
When the crusaders entered Acre, they shared the sovereignty of it amongst them, each nation taking possession of one of the quarters of the city, which had soon as many masters as it had had enemies. The king of Jerusalem was the only leader that obtained nothing in the division of the first reconquered place of his kingdom.
The capitulation remained unexecuted; Saladin, under various pretexts, deferring the completion of the conditions. Richard, irritated by a delay which appeared to him a breach of faith, revenged himself upon the prisoners that were in his hands. Without pity for disarmed enemies, or for the Christians he exposed to sanguinary reprisals, he massacred five thousand Mussulmans before the city they had so valiantly defended, and within sight of Saladin, who shared the disgrace of this barbarity by thus abandoning his bravest and most faithful warriors.[63]
This action, which excited the regret of the whole Christian army, sufficiently exposed the character of Richard, and showed what was to be dreaded from his violence; a barbarous and implacable enemy could not become a generous rival. On the day of the surrender of Acre, he committed a gross outrage upon Leopold, duke of Austria, by ordering the standard of that prince, which had been planted on one of the towers, to be cast into the ditch. Leopold dissembled his resentment, but swore to avenge this insult whenever he should find an opportunity.[c]
THE CRUSADERS MOVE ON JERUSALEM
[Sidenote: [1191-1192 A.D.]]
It was with difficulty that the soldiers would leave the pleasures of Acre. A historian tells us that the wine in the city had already changed the complexion of the gravest Christian knights, and, for the preservation of discipline, women were prohibited from marching with the army. The largesses of Richard to the duke of Austria, the count of Champagne, and others, kept them from following Philip to Europe, and Plantagenet was at the head of nearly thirty thousand French, German, and English soldiers. These holy warriors left Acre and marched in a southerly direction, generally within sight of their ships, which coasted along the shores, bearing forage and provisions, and military necessaries. Clouds of Turks overhung and burst on the advancing army; the Red Cross knights in the van, and the military friars in the rear, frequently broke the violence of the storm; but the safety of the crusaders was principally owing to the indissoluble firmness of their columns, and their resolute forbearance.[64]
Near Azotus a general engagement could no longer be avoided by Richard. The right of his line was commanded by that heroic and hardy champion of the cross, James d’Avesnes. The duke of Burgundy, a man of doubtful virtue, headed the left; and Plantagenet himself was the stay and bulwark of the centre. The hosts of Syria and Egypt, led by Saladin, made a general and impetuous charge on their foe. The right wing of the Christians was repulsed; the left drove back the Saracens, but it was drawn by the enemy far from the other divisions of the army. Richard hastened with a select band to the aid of the duke of Burgundy, and Saladin, in his endeavour to strengthen his right wing, removed the weight of hostility from James d’Avesnes. No deep impression had been made on the English lines. The personal bravery of Richard achieved wonders; his countenance, his gestures, his invocations to St. George, seconded the ardour of his troops, and the Turks were driven back with great slaughter to Azotus. The loss of the Christians, though not numerous, was severe, for James d’Avesnes perished, and his death was justly regretted by the king as the loss of a great pillar of the Christian cause.
The progress of Cœur de Lion was no longer molested, and he quickly arrived at Joppa. That city was now without fortifications, for when the tide of victory turned from the Mussulmans at Azotus, Saladin commanded the dismantling of all his fortresses in Palestine. It was policy to keep his enemies perpetually in the field, and to exhaust them by ceaseless skirmishes and engagements. As the road to Askalon was open, Richard wished to press his advantages; but the spirit of faction renewed its baneful influence, and the French barons insisted on the necessity of restoring the works of Joppa. Their opinion was in unfortunate accordance with the inclinations of an army already attenuated by incessant marching, and who thought with regret on the pleasures which had been for a while familiarised and endeared to them at Acre. It was resolved, therefore, that Joppa should be re-fortified. Plantagenet, alive to every duty of a general, urged the completion of the works. The soldiers, however, gradually sunk into that state of luxury and idleness, from which they had been with such difficulty recovered by Richard. The Mussulmans roused themselves from the distress and panic of their late defeat at Azotus; they began to collect in the vicinity of Joppa, and their military appearance awoke the English and French from their disgraceful sleep of licentiousness.
Vinsauf[g] tells how Richard, as ardent in pleasure as in war, enjoyed the amusement of falconry, heedless of the enemy. On one occasion the royal party would have paid dearly for their temerity, if a Provençal gentleman, named William de Pratelles, had not cried aloud, “I am the king”; and by this noble lie the attention of the Saracens was drawn upon himself, while the real sovereign escaped. Shortly afterwards a body of Templars fell into an ambuscade of the Turks. Richard sent the earl of Leicester to the aid of the brave but exhausted knights, and promised to follow straight. Before he could buckle on his coat of steel, he heard that the enemy had triumphed. Despising all personal solicitude, and generously declaring he should not deserve the name of king if he abandoned those whom he had vowed to succour, he flew to the place of combat, plunged into the thickest of the fight, and his impetuosity received its usual reward of success.
The fortifications of Joppa were at length restored, a vigorous renewal of the war was determined on, and Plantagenet declared to the Saracens that the only way of averting his wrath would be to surrender to him the kingdom of Jerusalem, as it existed in the reign of Baldwin the leper. Saladin did not reject this proposal with disdain, but made a modification of the terms, in offering to yield Palestine from the Jordan to the sea. The negotiation lasted for some time. Richard was deceived and cajoled by the presents and blandishments of Saphedin [Saif ad-Din], who was the brother of Saladin, and the Christians were ashamed that their leader should be so friendly with an infidel. The barons soon saw, and compelled their royal lord to see, the artifice of the Turks, who resumed their attacks, and the negotiation was broken off. But the Templars, Hospitallers, and Pisans, dissuaded the king from attacking Jerusalem, on the argument that even if it should be taken they would immediately have to fight with the Turks in the neighbourhood. Richard commanded a retreat, and the army fell back upon Ramula, and then continued its retrogression to Askalon, a city of high consequence in the judgment of the Latins, because it was the link between the Turks in Jerusalem and the Turks in Egypt.
Until the return of the spring, all commerce between Askalon and other countries was cut off, and the army endured therefore the hardships of famine in addition to the usual severities of the climate. The impatient duke of Burgundy deserted the standard of Richard; some of the French soldiers went to Acre and Joppa; and others found a welcome reception at the court of the marquis of Tyre. But discontent gave place for a while to better feelings; and, at the solicitation of Plantagenet, most of the deserters returned to their duty. But Conrad disdained an answer to the royal summons. The walls of Askalon were soon repaired, for the proudest nobles and the most dignified clergy worked like the meanest of the people. The duke of Austria was the only distinguished man who was wrapped in haughty selfishness, and who could say that he was neither a carpenter nor a mason. Before indeed the works were completed, Richard lost the aid of his French allies, who, more mercenary than chivalric, retired to Acre, because the royal coffers were exhausted, and the king could not give them their stipulated pay. Commercial jealousy, as well as military envy, obstructed the Crusades. The Genoese and Pisans made Acre the theatre of their animosities; and an appearance of dignity and disinterestedness was given to their feuds, when they fought in the name and for the interests of their respective friends, Conrad and Guy. The marquis of Tyre joined his troops to the Genoese, and the civil war would have spread through all the Christian powers, if Plantagenet had not marched from Askalon to Acre. Conrad prudently retraced his steps, and by the address of the English king the breach between the republicans was closed. Richard endeavoured to conciliate the marquis; but the young nobleman aspired to independence and sovereign power, drew seven hundred French soldiers from Askalon to Tyre, and allied himself with Saladin. When Richard had retired from Jerusalem, and his army became broken, Saladin had dismissed many of his troops to their families and homes; but when he heard of the defection of Conrad, he thought that the moment of active hostility was arrived, and he accordingly spread his standard, and summoned his hosts.
Richard was cool and undismayed at the military port of his enemy, but political disturbances in England demanded the presence of the monarch, and he was compelled to yield to his necessities, and solicit his generous foe to terminate the war. He declared that he required only the possession of the sacred city, and of the true cross. But the Mussulman replied that Jerusalem was as dear to the Moslem as to the Christian world, and that he would never be guilty of conniving at idolatry by permitting the worship of a piece of wood. Thwarted by the religious principles of his enemies, Richard endeavoured to win upon their softer affections. He proposed a consolidation of the Christian and Mohammedan interests, the establishment of a government at Jerusalem, partly European and partly Asiatic; and these schemes of policy were to be carried into effect by the marriage of Saphedin with the widow of William king of Sicily. The Mussulman princes would have acceded to these terms; but the marriage was thought to be so scandalous to religion, that the imams and the priests raised a storm of clamour, and Richard and Saladin, powerful as they were, submitted to popular opinion.[65]
The necessity of Richard’s return to England grew stronger, and the only cause of his delay was the choice of a military commander of the Christians. The imbecile Guy had but few partisans, and the public voice was in favour of the valiant Conrad; Richard generously overlooked the circumstance, that the prince of Tyre was his enemy, and the friend of Saladin, and consented to the public wish. But while preparations were making for the coronation, Conrad was slain by two of the Assassins. In the first moments of indignation, the French declared that Richard had instigated the murderers. They demanded from the widow of Conrad the resignation of Tyre, but she was too politic to encounter the anger of the king. Count Henry of Champagne appeared in the midst of the tumult; he took the throne upon the invitation of the people, and following the approved precedent, he secured himself from opposition by marrying the widow of Conrad. Richard confirmed the election of the people, and the civil war was closed. The duke of Burgundy and the count of Champagne joined Richard.
Disregarding the calls from England, the king led his English and Normans to the fortress of Darum, reduced it, and gave it to the French, whose preparations for the attack had been rendered needless by the superior activity of their allies. Some new messengers from England brought fresh accounts of the increasing power of Prince John, and the treachery of Philip Augustus. The army continued its march towards Jerusalem, and encamped in the valley of Hebron. The generals and soldiers vowed that they would not quit Palestine without having redeemed the sepulchre. Everything wore the face of joy when this resolution was adopted; Richard participated in the feeling, and although he thought that his presence in England would be the only means of restoring affairs there, yet he professed to the duke of Burgundy, and the count of Champagne, that no solicitation from Europe should prevail with him to leave the allies until after the following Easter. Hymns and thanksgivings testified the popular joy at this resolution.
The nearer the approach of the Christians the greater was the terror of the Mussulmans in Jerusalem; many of them prepared to leave the city, and even Saladin was alarmed for its safety. The crusaders were at Bethlehem; the French nobility in the council were as clamorous as the people without to press forward; but the mind of Richard vacillated, and he avowed his doubts of the policy of the measure, as his force was not adequate to a siege, and to the keeping up of communications with its stores on the coast. He proposed that they should march to Berytus, to Cairo, or Damascus; but as the barons of Syria, the Templars, and Hospitallers, had a perfect knowledge of Palestine, he thought that their decision should regulate the proceedings of the army.
THE ENTERPRISE ABANDONED
A council of twenty was accordingly appointed from the military orders, the lords of the Holy Land, and also the French knights. They learned that the Turks had destroyed all the cisterns, which were within two miles of the city; they felt that the heats of summer had begun; and for these reasons it was decided that the siege of Jerusalem should be deferred, and that the army should march to some other conquest. As a general, Richard was fully aware of the impolicy of advancing against the sacred city, yet he was unable to suppress his bitter feelings of mortification at a decision which would probably blast the proud hopes that he had indulged of redeeming the sepulchre. A friend led him to a hill which commanded a view of Jerusalem; but, covering his face with a shield, he declared that he was not worthy to behold a city which he could not conquer. The French soldiers uttered invectives and complaints against the decision of the council; Cœur de Lion offered them provisions, ships, and money, if they would obey its decree, and march to Cairo; and although they acquiesced, yet as they were not zealous, Richard remained in inactivity and indecision.
Active hostility against the Saracens was abandoned by the Christians for the fiercer employment of civil rancour and dissensions; and if a retreat had not been commanded, the army would have been totally destroyed by Saladin. Richard could preserve but little order and discipline among the soldiers. Some retired to Joppa, but Acre was the rendezvous of most of the army.
By the quickest marches Saladin reached Joppa, and so vigorous was his siege of it that in a few days one of the gates was broken down, and such of the people as could not defend themselves in the great tower, or escape by sea, were destroyed. Before the morning, however, the brave Plantagenet reached Joppa. Abandoning the hope of rescuing the Holy Land from infidel subjection, he was on the point of quitting Acre and of returning to Europe, when the precipitancy of his Moslem rival opened again all his visions of glory and conquest. The French refused to march; but the Templars and Hospitallers, the Pisans and Genoese, the earl of Leicester and the other English nobles, vowed to save their friends. Richard and some of his troops went by sea to Joppa; other soldiers took the land course, but were badly distressed by those impediments which Saladin, in anticipation of their approach, cast in their way. Plantagenet was the first who leaped on shore, and the most active with his deadly sword.[b]
There have been few feats of arms more renowned than this all-day fight of Richard, and the old chronicler, Geoffrey de Vinsauf, has written of it in such strain of enthusiasm that we cannot forbear quoting the splendid pictures, whose hyperbole is its own explanation and excuse.[a]
VINSAUF’S ACCOUNT OF RICHARD AT JOPPA
The king hearing of the danger to which the besieged were exposed and pitying their condition interrupted the messengers.
“As God lives,” said he, “I will be with them, and give them all the assistance in my power!” The words were hardly out of his mouth, before a proclamation was made that the army should be got ready. But the French would not vouchsafe even to honour the king with an answer, exclaiming proudly that they should never again march under his command; and in this they were not disappointed, for they never again marched under anybody’s command, for in a short time they all miserably perished. Meanwhile, however, the soldiers of all nations, whose hearts God had touched, and the sufferings of their fellow-creatures excited to compassion, hastened to set out with the king; namely, the Templars, the Hospitallers, and several other valiant knights, all of whom marched by land to Cæsarea; but the noble king trusting for his safety to his own valour, embarked on board his fleet of galleys, which were equipped with everything that could be necessary. A contrary wind arose, which detained the king’s ships three days at Caiphas, where they had put in.
The king, vexed at this delay, exclaimed aloud, “O Lord God, why dost thou detain us here? consider, I pray thee, the urgency of the case, and the devoutness of our wishes.” No sooner had he prayed thus than God caused a favourable wind to spring up, which wafted his fleet before it into the harbour of Joppa, in the midst of the night of Friday immediately preceding the Saturday on which they had agreed to surrender, and all of them would have been given over to destruction. They fled up the fortress as far as they were able, and there awaited the stroke of martyrdom, shedding tears, and supplicating the mercy of the Almighty who at length was appeased, and deigned to listen to their petition; their deliverer was already come, his fleet was riding in the harbour, and his soldiers were eager to land for their rescue!
The Turks, discovering the arrival of the king’s fleet, sallied down to the seaside with sword and shield, and sent forth showers of arrows: the shore was so thronged with their multitude that there was hardly a foot of ground to spare. Neither did they confine themselves to acting on the defensive, for they shot their arrows at the crews of the ships, and the cavalry spurred their horses into the sea to prevent the king’s men from landing. The king, gathering his ships together, consulted with his officers what was the best step to take.
“Shall we,” said he, “push on against this rabble multitude who occupy the shore, or shall we value our lives more than the lives of those poor fellows who are exposed to destruction for want of our assistance?” Some of them replied that further attempts were useless, for it was by no means certain that anyone remained alive to be saved, and how could they land in the face of so large a multitude?
The king looked around thoughtfully, and at that moment saw a priest plunge into the water and swim toward the royal galley. When he was received on board, he addressed the king with palpitating heart and spirits almost failing him. “Most noble king, the remnant of our people, waiting for your arrival, are exposed like sheep to be slain, unless the divine grace shall bring you to their rescue.” “Are any of them still alive, then?” asked the king, “and if so, where are they?” “There are still some of them alive,” said the priest, “and hemmed in and at the last extremity in front of yonder tower.” “Please God, then,” replied the king, “by whose guidance we have come, we will die with our brave brothers in arms, and a curse light on him who hesitates.”
The word was forthwith given, the galleys were pushed to land; the king dashed forward into the waves with his thighs unprotected by armour, and up to his middle in the water; he soon gained firm footing on the dry strand; behind him followed Geoffrey du Bois and Peter de Pratelles, and in the rear came all the others rushing through the waves. The Turks stood to defend the shore, which was covered with their numerous troops. The king, with an arbalest which he held in his hand, drove them back right and left; his companions pressed upon the recoiling enemy, whose courage quailed when they saw it was the king, and they no longer dared to meet him. The king brandished his fierce sword, which allowed them no time to resist, but they yielded before his fiery blows and were driven in confusion with blood and havoc by the king’s men until the shore was entirely cleared of them.
The king then, by a winding stair, which he had remarked in the house of the Templars, was the first to enter the town, where he found more than three thousand of the Turks turning over everything in the houses, and carrying away the spoil. The brave king had no sooner entered the town than he caused his banners to be hoisted on an eminence, that they might be seen by the Christians in the tower, who, taking courage at the sight, rushed forth in arms from the tower to meet the king, and at the report thereof the Turks were thrown into confusion. The king, meanwhile, with brandished sword, still pursued and slaughtered the enemy, who were thus enclosed between the two bodies of the Christians, and filled the streets with their slain. All were slain, except such as took to flight in time; and thus those who had before been victorious were now defeated and received condign punishment, whilst the king still continued the pursuit, showing no mercy to the enemies of Christ’s cross, whom God had given into his hands; for there never was a man on earth who so abominated cowardice as he.
But the king had only three horses with him, and what were three among so many? If we examine the deeds of the ancients, and all the records left us by former historians, we shall find that there never was a man who so distinguished himself in battle as King Richard did this day. When the Turks leaving the town saw his banners floating in the air, a cry was raised on right and left as he sallied forth upon them, and no hail-storm or tempest ever so densely concealed the sky, as it was then darkened by the flying arrows of the Turks. Saladin, hearing of the king’s arrival, and of his brilliant contest with the Turks, of whom he had slain all who opposed him, was seized with sudden fear, and like that timid animal, the hare, put spurs to his horse and fled from before his face. The king, with his men, still continued the pursuit, slaying and destroying, whilst his arbalesters made such havoc of the horses that for two miles the traces of their flight were visible. He now therefore pitched his tent in the same place where those of Saladin had been, and thus by the divine grace so small a body of men had defeated this large army of the Turks. It was then given out among the Turks what a reproach it was to them, and lasting scandal, that so large an army and so many thousands of the Turks had been defeated by so small an army, and that Joppa had been recovered from them by force of arms. In this manner they murmured to one another at what had taken place, and trembled with confusion.
Meanwhile a certain depraved set of men among the Saracens, called Menelones of Aleppo and Cordivi, an active race, met together to consult what should be done in the existing state of things. They spoke of the scandal which lay against them, that so small an army, without horses, had driven them out of Joppa, and they reproached themselves with cowardice and shameful laziness, and arrogantly made a compact among themselves that they would seize King Richard in his tent, and bring him before Saladin, from whom they would receive a most munificent reward. But now, by the providence of God, who had decreed that his holy champion should not be seized whilst asleep by the infidels, a certain Genoese was led by the divine impulse to go out early in the morning into the fields, where he was alarmed at the noise of men and horses advancing, and returned speedily, but just had time to see helmets reflecting back the light which now fell upon them. He immediately rushed with speed into the camp, calling out “To arms! to arms!” The king was awakened by the noise, and leaping startled from his bed, put on his impenetrable coat of mail, and summoned his men to the rescue.
God of all virtues! lives there a man who would not be shaken by such a sudden alarm? The enemy rushed unawares, armed against unarmed, many against few, for our men had no time to arm, or even to dress themselves. The king himself therefore, and many others with him, on the urgency of the moment, proceeded without their cuishes to the fight, some even without their breeches, and they armed themselves in the best manner they could, though they were going to fight the whole day. Whilst our men were thus arming in haste, the Turks drew near, and the king mounted his horse with only ten other knights. These alone had horses, and some even of those they had were base and impotent horses unused to arms; the common men were skilfully drawn out in ranks and troops, with each a captain to command them. Oh, who could fully relate the terrible attacks of the infidels? The Turks at first rushed on with horrid yells, hurling their javelins and shooting their arrows. The king ran along the ranks and exhorted every man to be firm and not to flinch. The Turks came on like a whirlwind, again and again, making the appearance of an attack, that our men might be induced to give way, and when they were close up, they turned their horses off in another direction. The king and his knights, who were on horseback, perceiving this, put spurs to their horses and charged into the middle of the enemy, upsetting them right and left, and piercing a large number through the body with their lances; at last they pulled up their horses, because they found that they had penetrated entirely through the Turkish lines.
The king now looking about him, saw the noble earl of Leicester fallen from his horse, and fighting bravely on foot. No sooner did he see this than he rushed to his rescue, snatched him out of the hands of the enemy, and replaced him on his horse. What a terrible combat was then waged! A multitude of Turks advanced, and used every exertion to destroy our small army; vexed at our success, they rushed towards the royal standard of a lion, for they would rather have slain the king than a thousand others. In the midst of the mêlée the king saw Ralph de Mauleon dragged off prisoner by the Turks, and spurring his horse to speed, in a moment released him from their hands, and restored him to the army; for the king was a very giant in the battle, and was everywhere in the field--now here, now there, wherever the attacks of the Turks raged the hottest. So bravely did he fight, that there was no one, however gallant, that would not readily and deservedly yield to him the pre-eminence.
On that day he performed the most gallant deeds on the furious army of the Turks, and slew numbers with his sword, which shone like lightning; some of them were cloven in two from their helmet to their teeth, whilst others lost their heads, arms, and other members, which were lopped off at a single blow. While the king was thus labouring with incredible exertions in the fight, a Turk advanced towards him, mounted on a foaming steed. He had been sent by Saphedin of Archadia, brother to Saladin, a liberal and munificent man, if he had not rejected the Christian faith. This man now sent to the king, as a token of his well-known honourable character, two noble horses, requesting him earnestly to accept them, and make use of them, and if he returned safe and sound out of that battle, to remember the gift and recompense it in any manner he pleased. The king readily received the present, and afterwards nobly recompensed the giver. Such is bravery, cognisable even in an enemy; since a Turk, who was our bitter foe, thus honoured the king for his distinguished valour.
The king, especially at such a moment of need, protested that he would have taken any number of horses equally good from anyone, even more a foe than Saphedin, so necessary were they to him at that moment. Fierce now raged the fight, when such numbers attacked so few; the whole earth was covered with the javelins and arrows of the unbelievers; they threw them several at a time against our men, of whom many were wounded. Thus the weight of the battle fell heavier upon us than before, and the galley-men withdrew in the galleys which brought them, and so, in their anxiety to be safe, they sacrificed their character for bravery. Meanwhile a shout was raised by the Turks, as they strove who should first occupy the town, hoping to slay those of our men whom they should find within.
The king, hearing the clamour, taking with him only two knights and two cross-bow men, met three Turks, nobly caparisoned, in one of the principal streets. Rushing bravely upon them, he slew the riders in his own royal fashion, and made booty of two horses. The rest of the Turks who were found in the town were put to the rout in spite of their resistance, and dispersing in different directions, sought to make their escape even where there was no regular road. The king also commanded the parts of the walls which were broken down to be made good, and placed sentinels to keep watch lest the town should be again attacked. These matters settled, the king went down to the shore, where many of our men had taken refuge on board the galleys. These the king exhorted by the most cogent arguments to return to the battle and share with the rest whatever might befall them. Leaving five men as guards on board each galley, the king led back the rest to assist his hard-pressed army; and he no sooner arrived, than with all his fury he fell upon the thickest ranks of the enemy, driving them back and routing them, so that even those who were at a distance and untouched by him, were overwhelmed by the throng of the troops as they retreated.
Never was there such an attack made by an individual. He pierced into the middle of the hostile army, and performed the deeds of a brave and distinguished warrior. The Turks at once closed upon him and tried to overwhelm him. In the meantime our men, losing sight of the king, were fearful lest he should have been slain, and when one of them proposed that they should advance to find him, our lines could hardly contain themselves. But if by any chance the disposition of our troops had been broken, without doubt they would all have been destroyed. What however was to be thought of the king who was hemmed in by the enemy, a single man opposed to so many thousands?
The hand of the writer faints to tell it, and the mind of the reader to hear it. Who ever heard of such a man? His bravery was ever of the highest order, no adverse storm could sink it; his valour was ever blooming. Why then do we speak of the valour of Antæus, who regained his strength every time he touched his mother earth, for Antæus perished when he was lifted up from earth in the long wrestling match. The body of Achilles also, who slew Hector, was invulnerable, because he was dipped in the Stygian waves; yet Achilles was mortally wounded in the very part by which he was held when they dipped him. Likewise Alexander, the Macedonian, who was stimulated by ambition to subjugate the whole world, undertook a most difficult enterprise, and with a handful of choice soldiers fought many celebrated battles, but the chief part of his valour consisted in the excellence of his soldiers. In the same manner, the brave Judas Maccabæus, of whose wars all the world discoursed, performed many wonderful deeds worthy forever to be remembered, but when he was abandoned by his soldiers in the midst of a battle, with thousands of enemies to oppose him, he was slain, together with his brothers.
But King Richard, inured to battle from his tenderest years, and to whom even famous Roland could not be considered equal, remained invincible even in the midst of the enemy, and his body, as if it were made of brass, was impenetrable to any kind of weapon. In his right hand he brandished his sword, which in its rapid descent broke the ranks on either side of him. Such was his energy amid that host of Turks that, fearing nothing, he destroyed all around him, mowing men down with his sword as reapers mow down the corn with their sickles. Who could describe his deeds? Whoever felt one of his blows, had no need of a second. Such was the energy of his courage, that it seemed to rejoice at having found an occasion to display itself. The sword wielded by his powerful hand, cut down men and horses alike, cleaving them to the middle.
The Turks were terror-struck at the sight, and giving way on all sides, scarcely dared to shoot at him from a distance with their arrows. The king now returned safe and unhurt to his friends, and encouraged them more than ever with the hope of victory. How were their minds raised from despair when they saw him coming safe out of the enemy’s ranks! They knew not what had happened to him, but they knew that without him all the hopes of the Christian army would be in vain. The king’s person was stuck all over with javelins, like a deer pierced by the hunters, and the trappings of his horse were thickly covered with arrows. Thus, like a brave soldier, he returned from the contest, and a bitter contest it was, for it had lasted from the morning sun to the setting sun. It may seem indeed wonderful and even incredible that so small a body of men endured so long a conflict; but by God’s mercy we cannot doubt the truth of it, for in that battle only one or two of our men were slain. But the number of the Turkish horses which lay dead on the fields is said to have exceeded fifteen hundred; and of the Turks themselves more than seven hundred were killed, and yet they did not carry back King Richard, as they had boasted, as a present to Saladin; but, on the contrary, he and his brave followers performed so many deeds of valour in the sight of the Turks, that the enemy themselves shuddered to behold them. In the meantime, our men having by God’s grace escaped destruction, the Turkish army returned to Saladin, who is said to have ridiculed them by asking where Melek Richard was, for they had promised to bring him a prisoner? “Which of you,” continued he, “first seized him, and where is he? Why is he not produced?” To whom one of the Turks that came from the farthest countries of the earth replied; “In truth, my lord, Melek Richard, about whom you ask, is not here; we have never heard since the beginning of the world that there ever was such a knight so brave and so experienced in arms. In every deed at arms, he is ever the foremost; in deeds, he is without a rival, the first to advance and the last to retreat; we did our best to seize him, but in vain, for no one can escape from his sword; his attack is dreadful; to engage with him is fatal, and his deeds are beyond human nature.”
From the toil and exertion of the battle, King Richard and several others who had exerted themselves the most, fell ill, not only from the fatigue of the battle, but the smell of the corpses, which so corrupted the neighbourhood, that they all nearly died.[g]
PEACE BETWEEN THE KINGS
Richard now wished for peace, and Saladin, exhausted by wars, submitted to necessity. They exchanged expressions of esteem, and as the former avowed his contempt of the vulgar obligation of oaths, they only grasped each other’s hands in pledge of fidelity. A truce was agreed upon for three years and eight months; the fort of Askalon was to be destroyed; but Joppa and Tyre, with the country between them, were to be surrendered to the Christians. The people of the West were also at liberty to make their pilgrimages to Jerusalem, exempt from the taxes which the Saracenian princes had in former times imposed.
The French soldiers at Acre prepared to return to Europe; but wished first to behold the sepulchre which was so dear and sacred to the Christians. But Richard was indignant at the audacity of men who claimed the benefit of a treaty which no efforts of their own had procured. They had lost the laurel of holy warriors, and they deserved not to bear the pilgrim’s palm. The rest of the army visited the hallowed places, and Saladin, alive to every honourable obligation, prevented his subjects from injuring the persons and insulting the feelings of the devout palmers. In a familiar conversation with the bishop of Salisbury Saladin expressed his admiration of the bravery of Plantagenet, but thought that the skill of the general did not equal the valour of the knight. The courteous prelate complimented the Mussulman by replying that there were not two such warriors in the world as the English and the Syrian monarchs. Often have we had occasion to observe the generosity of Saladin in the moment of victory. At the solicitation of the bishop he allowed establishments of Latin priests in the Holy Sepulchre, and in the churches of Bethlehem and Nazareth. He had pity, too, on the different barons whom his conquests had dispossessed. He gave to the lord of Sajetta a handsome town near Tyre; to Belian of Ibelin a castle, four miles from Acre; and he restored Caiphas, Cæsarea, and Azotus to their respective lords. Count Henry of Champagne became master of Joppa.
The loss of many thousand soldiers on the plains of Acre, and the bravery and conduct of the English monarch, had prevented some of the anticipated issues of the battle of Tiberias; Palestine did not become a Mussulman colony; and so much of the sea coast was in the hands of the Christians, and so enfeebled were the enemy, that fresh hostilities could safely be commenced whenever Europe should again pour forth her religious fanatics, and military adventurers. Richard gained more honour in Palestine than any of the emperors of Germany and kings of France who had sought renown in foreign war; and although these distant ages may censure his conduct as unprofitable to his country, yet his actions were in unison with that spirit of the times which looked upon valour as more important than empire, and esteemed achievements in battle more highly than the consequences of victory. In the month of October, Richard, with his queen, the English soldiers, and pilgrims, set sail for England. But storms of violence, uncommon even for the boisterous season of autumn, soon scattered the fleet. Many of the vessels were wrecked on hostile shores, and the warriors of England, now penniless, naked, and famished, were led into Saracen prisons. Other ships fortunately reached friendly ports, and in time returned to Britain.[b]
END AND REVIEW OF THE THIRD CRUSADE
[Sidenote: [1189-1192 A.D.]]
Thus finished this Third Crusade, in which all the western powers in arms obtained no greater advantages than the taking of Ptolemais and the demolition of Askalon; in it Germany lost, without glory, one of the greatest of its emperors and the finest of its armies. If we may believe Arabian authors, six hundred thousand crusaders appeared before Ptolemais, and scarcely one hundred thousand of these warriors saw their native country again. Europe had the greater reason to deplore the losses of this war, from the fact of her armies having been so much better composed than in preceding expeditions; criminals, adventurers, and vagabonds had been strictly excluded from the ranks. All that the West could boast of the most noble and illustrious of its warriors had taken up arms.
The crusaders that contended with Saladin were better armed and better disciplined than any that preceded them in Palestine; the foot-soldiers employed the cross-bow, which had been neglected or prohibited in the Second Crusade. Their cuirasses, and their bucklers covered with thick leather, defied the arrows of the Saracens; and on the field of battle, soldiers were often seen bristling with arrows and darts, whom the Arabs compared to porcupines, still keeping their ranks and fighting bravely. The Saracens had likewise made some progress in the art of war, and began to resume the use of the lance, which they did not employ when the first crusaders arrived in Syria. The Mussulman armies were not confused multitudes; they remained longer under their banners, and fought with less disorder. The Kurds and Turks surpassed the Franks in the art of attacking and defending cities and castles. The Mussulmans had, besides, more than one advantage over the crusaders: they made war upon their own territories and in their own climate; they were under the command of one single leader, who communicated the same spirit to all, and only presented to them one cause to defend.
In this crusade the Franks appeared to be more polished than they had been till that time. Great monarchs making war against each other without ceasing to give evidences of mutual esteem and generous feeling, was a new spectacle for the world. Subjects followed the example of their princes, and lost beneath the tent much of their barbarism. The crusaders were sometimes admitted to the table of Saladin, and emirs received at that of Richard. By thus mingling together, Saracens and Christians might make a happy exchange of usages, manners, knowledge, and even virtues. The Christians, rather more enlightened than during the first Crusades, stood in less need of excitement from the visions of fanaticism. The passion for glory was for them almost as powerful a principle as religious enthusiasm. Chivalry also made great progress in this crusade; it was held in such honour, and the title of knight was so glorious, even in the eyes of the infidels, that Saladin did not disdain to be decorated with it.
In this crusade, in which so many knights rendered themselves illustrious, two men acquired an immortal glory, one by a useless bravery and qualities more brilliant than solid, the other by real successes and virtues that might have served as models to Christians. The name of Richard remained during a century the terror of the East, and the Saracens and Turks celebrated him in their proverbs a long time after the Crusades. He cultivated letters and merited a place among the troubadours; but the arts did not at all soften his character; it was his ferocity as well as his courage that procured him the surname of Cœur de Lion. Carried away by the inconstancy of his inclinations, he often changed his projects, his affections, and his principles of action; he sometimes braved religion, and very often devoted himself to its service. Sometimes incredulous, as often superstitious; measureless in his hatred as in his friendship, he was extravagant in everything, and only showed himself constant in his love for war. The passions which animated him scarcely ever permitted his ambition to have an aim or a determinate object. His imprudence, his presumption, and the unsteadiness of his plans, made him lose the fruits of his exploits. In a word, the hero of this crusade is more calculated to excite surprise than to create esteem, and appears to belong less to history than to the romances of chivalry.
With less rashness and bravery than Richard, Saladin possessed a more firm character, one far better calculated to carry on a religious war. He paid more attention to the results of his enterprises; more master of himself, he was more fit to command others. When mounting the throne of the atabegs, Saladin obeyed rather his destiny than his inclinations; but when once firmly seated, he was governed by only two passions--that of reigning, and that of securing the triumph of the Koran. On all other subjects he was moderate, and when a kingdom or the glory of the prophet was not in question, the son of Eyyub was admired as the most just and mild of Mussulmans. We may add that the stern devotion[66] and ardent fanaticism that made him take up arms against the Christians, only rendered him cruel and barbarous in one single instance. He displayed the virtues of peace amidst the horrors of war. “From the bosom of camps,” says an oriental poet, “he covered the nations with the wings of his justice, and poured upon his cities the plenteous showers of his liberality.” The Mussulmans, always governed by fear, were astonished that a sovereign could inspire them with so much love, and followed him with joy to battle. His generosity, his clemency, and particularly his respect for an oath, were often the subjects of admiration to the Christians, whom he rendered so miserable by his victories, and of whose power in Asia he had completed the overthrow.
The Third Crusade, which was so glorious for Saladin, was not entirely without advantages for Europe. Many crusaders, on the way to Palestine, stopped in Spain, and by their victories over the Moors, prepared the deliverance of the kingdoms situated beyond the Pyrenees. A great number of Germans, as in the Second Crusade, prevailed upon by the solicitations of the pope, made war upon the barbarous inhabitants of the shores of the Baltic, and thus, by useful exploits, extended the limits of the Christian republic in the West. As in this war the greater part of the crusaders went to Palestine by sea, the art of navigation made a sensible advance; the maritime nations of Europe acquired an accession of prosperity, their fleets became more formidable, and they were able, with glory, to dispute the empire of the sea with the Saracens.
In several states of Europe, commerce, and the spirit of the holy wars contributed to the enfranchisement of the lower classes. Many serfs, upon becoming free, took up arms. It was not one of the least interesting spectacles of this crusade, to see the standards of several cities of France and Germany floating in the Christian army amongst the banners of lords and barons. This crusade was particularly beneficial to France, from which it banished both civil and foreign wars. By prolonging the absence of the great vassals and the enemies of the kingdom, it weakened their power, and gave Philip Augustus authority to levy imposts, even upon the clergy. It afforded him an opportunity of surrounding his throne with a faithful guard, to keep up regular armies, and prepare, though at a distance, that victory of Bouvines which proved so fatal to the enemies of France.
[Sidenote: [1192-1194 A.D.]]
A long captivity awaited Richard on his return to Europe. The vessel in which he embarked was shipwrecked on the coast of Italy, and fearing to pass through France, he took the route of Germany, concealed under the habit of a simple pilgrim. His liberality betrayed the monarch, and as he had enemies everywhere, he was seized by the soldiers of the duke of Austria. Leopold had not sufficient generosity to forget the outrages received from Richard at the siege of Ptolemais, and detained him prisoner.[67] The duke of Austria did not dare to detain his redoubtable captive in his own hands, and gave him up to the emperor of Germany. Henry VI, who had likewise insults to revenge, was rejoiced to get Richard in his power, and kept him in chains, as if he had made him a prisoner in the field of battle. The hero of the crusade, who had filled the world with his renown, was cast into a dark dungeon, and remained a long time a victim to the vengeance of his enemies--and they were Christian princes. He was brought before the German diet, assembled at Worms, where he was accused of all the crimes that hatred and envy could invent. But the spectacle of a king in chains was so affecting, that no one durst condemn Richard, and when he offered his justification, the bishops and nobles melted into tears, and besought Henry to treat him with less injustice and rigour.
Queen Eleanor implored all the powers of Europe for the release of her son. The complaints and tears of a mother touched the heart of Celestine, who had recently ascended the chair of St. Peter. The pope several times demanded the liberty of the king of England, and even excommunicated the duke of Austria and the emperor; but the thunders of the church had so often been launched against the thrones of Germany, that they no longer inspired fear. Henry braved the anathemas of the holy see; the captivity of Richard lasted another year; and he only obtained his liberty after engaging to pay a considerable ransom. His kingdom, which he had ruined at his departure for the Holy Land, exhausted itself to hasten his return; and England gave up even her sacred vases to break the chains of her monarch. He was received with enthusiasm by the English; his adventures, which drew tears, obliterated the remembrance of his cruelties, and Europe only recollected his exploits and his misfortunes.[c]
DEATH OF SALADIN; ARAB EULOGIES
In the year 589 (1193 A.D.), after the departure of the king of England, Saladin having no longer anything to fear from the Christians, resolved to pass some time at Damascus. This was always a favourite place of sojourn, and he hoped there to recover his health, for he was feeling severely the strain of so arduous a war. His plan, after resting a while in Damascus, was to go to Egypt, which he had not visited for ten years. He left Jerusalem and paid visits en route to Nablus, Tiberias, and other scenes of his recent conquests. At Berytus, Bohemond, prince of Antioch, came to pay allegiance. What most touched the sultan was that Bohemond came of his own accord, without distrust, without escort, without even having requested a safe conduct. As evidence of his satisfaction the sultan gave him a splendid welcome, and granted him several fiefs contiguous to his own principality. The lords who came with him also received presents. Saladin finally arrived in Damascus amid the acclamations of the populace. Great was the rejoicing, and poets exercised their art for the occasion. The sultan immediately took in hand the welfare of the inhabitants and reformed several abuses. In the meanwhile he betook himself with his brother Malik Adil to the pleasures of the chase. He was away a fortnight; his health seemed restored, and already he began to believe himself beyond all danger, when suddenly he fell ill of a bilious fever of which he died on the thirteenth day, March 5, 1193. Boha ad-Din, who at the time of Saladin’s death was in the city, relates that grief was universal. “That day,” he says, “was the most terrible that had ever dawned on Islam. The castle of Damascus, the city, the whole universe was struck with a sorrow that God alone could measure.”
Saladin was born at Tekrit, on the Tigris, and died at the age of fifty-seven lunar years, after having reigned twenty-four years over Egypt and nineteen over Syria. Arabian historians represent him as a most generous prince, who would ever willingly deprive himself of the necessaries of life. Boha ad-Din avows that finally his steward felt obliged, unknown to him, to put aside money in order to meet future emergencies; at his death they found in his treasury forty-seven silver pieces and one of gold. “This,” adds Boha ad-Din, “was all that remained of the revenues of Egypt, Arabia, Syria, and a part of Mesopotamia.”
It always happened that when Saladin took possession of a new province he performed deeds of great generosity in order to win over the people. When he entered Damascus after the death of Nur ad-Din, he did not take for himself any of this prince’s treasures, but distributed everything among the emirs. “Saladin,” says Abulfeda, “had gentle manners, he bore contradiction easily, and showed great indulgence to those who served him. If anything wounded his feelings he did not exhibit it. He was reserved in speech; and his example inspired the same thing in others. No one dared attack his neighbour’s honour in the sultan’s presence.
“He never could see an orphan without being moved. If one of its parents were still alive he gave it into this parent’s keeping, but himself provided for the child’s maintenance and kept watch over its education. Whenever he met an aged person he wept tenderly and bestowed some token of generosity. Such was his manner of life until God called him to his merciful bosom.”
Saladin was not insensible to domestic affection. He loved to spend his time with his family, surrounded by his children, and taking part in their sports. He was sincerely devoted to his religion and brought up his children in the same way. Boha ad-Din has preserved for us the sultan’s speech, a short time before his death, on the occasion of the departure of his son Dhahir to the post of governor of Aleppo. “O my son,” the sultan said, “I recommend to thee the fear of God, source of all goodness. Do what God asks, and thou shalt find in that thy salvation. Hold always the sight of blood in horror. Take care not to shed or stain thyself with it, for the mark is never washed away. Look to the well-being of thy subjects and inform thyself as to their needs. Thou art for them God’s minister as well as mine. Take care to please the emirs, the great men of the land, and the people of high estate. It is by my righteous ways that I have reached this degree of power. Bear no malice towards anyone whoever he may be, for we are all mortal. Be attentive to thy duty to others, for in giving them satisfaction thou obtainest the forgiveness of God better than looking to thy own account with him, for repentance to cure all; for the Lord is good and merciful.”
He loved to read the Koran and he had the book read to his servitors and all those around him. Noticing one day a little child reading the Koran to his father, he was touched to tears by the sight and gave money and land to both father and son. He admitted unreservedly all that religion teaches, and hated philosophers and heretics. He once imprisoned and put to death at Aleppo a young man named Sahraverdi, who mocked at and insulted religion.
Boha ad-Din relates again: “Saladin was a great lover of justice; not only was he strict on its being given, but he dispensed it himself as far as his affairs would admit. He heard cases twice a week, Mondays and Thursdays, assisted by cadis and people of the law. Great and small, everyone found the door open. He did the same on his journeys as in his capital, receiving all petitions presented to him, and rejecting no demands. When a case demanded a great amount of attention he examined it at leisure, sometimes in the day, sometimes at night, and judged it as God prompted him. Never was his sense of justice invoked in vain; it was the same for the princes of his family as for his other subjects, for he made exception of no one.”
There would be no end were one to transcribe all that the Arab chroniclers, particularly Boha ad-Din, relate concerning Saladin’s justice and piety. The latter is especially devoted to bringing out these virtues of his hero, and purposely omits to speak of the vices that stained them. In the whole course of his reign Saladin encountered no great opposition except on the part of the Christians, and especially those of the West. So he had come to believe in no enemies but the Franks. These he treated as enemies of God, and called the war they brought upon him, “the holy war.”
“When God shall have put into my hands the other Christian cities,” he told Boha ad-Din,[f] “I shall share my states with my children, leave them my last instructions, and bidding them farewell, embark upon that sea to subdue the western isles and lands. I shall never lay down my arms while there remains a single infidel upon the earth, at least if from here to there I am not stopped by death.”
Thus Saladin’s ambitions reached as far as the conquest of France, Italy, and the other Christian countries. And lest one should believe the words reported by Boha ad-Din to be a vain threat, we find the same idea in the sultan’s reply to a letter from the emperor Barbarossa. What is more singular is that the hate of Saladin was directed towards the Christians only as a body of nations. Once in his power, he looked at them through different eyes. Thus we can explain the magnificent and even exaggerated eulogies of certain contemporary Christian and especially Italian writers, eulogies which perhaps no Mohammedan writer has exceeded. For example, there is the following passage in the Arab history of the patriarchs of Alexandria, whose author was one of the Coptic Christians:
“Saladin in all the surrenders he had from the Franks was faithful to his word. When a town capitulated he left the inhabitants their liberty, with their wives, their children, and their belongings. As to their Mohammedan captives, Saladin offered to buy them back, and mentioned a sum greater than their value. If the Franks refused this he let them keep their prisoners, saying, ‘I don’t want to interfere with your captives; only treat them well, as I treat your people.’ Whenever his policy would permit it Saladin sought to please everybody. ‘I much prefer,’ he said, speaking of the Christians, ‘that they should remain contented and happy.’”
Saladin’s two most glorious achievements in the eye of the majority of the Mohammedan historians were the taking of Jerusalem and Palestine from the Christians, and the destruction of the Fatimite caliphate in Egypt. To these relate most of the titles and phrases in which they refer to him and which may be found on many monuments of the period. “With Saladin,” says Imad ad-Din, his secretary, “the great men perished, with him disappeared people of true worth; good deeds diminished, and bad ones increased; life became difficult, and earth was covered with shadows; the century had its phœnix to deplore, and Islam lost its support.”[k]
FOOTNOTES
[56] Among the causes of the First Crusade we mentioned the influence of the spirit of commerce on the love of pilgrimages. That spirit was afterwards mingled with the desire of conquest, particularly in the case of the Egyptian polities. Situated between the Red Sea and the Mediterranean, Egypt was the communication between Europe and the Indies; and the possession of that country would have rendered the Europeans masters of commerce.
[57] There was a decree in these statutes forbidding a crusader to take any woman with him, except a laundress on foot of good character. This qualification of the exception was necessary; for in the Middle Ages the words “lotrix” and “meretrix” were synonymous.
[58] It will not be worth while to inquire whether the emperor bathed in the Cydnus or the Calycadnus: “If he went in to wash himself, he neither consulted with his health nor honour. Some say, his horse foundered under him as he passed the water; others, that he fell from him. But these several relations, as variety of instruments, make a doleful concert in this, that there he lost his life; and no wonder, if the cold water quickly quenched those few sparks of natural heat left in him at seventy years of age.”--FULLER.[i]
[59] The Christian camp was so well fortified, that the Saracens used to say, “not even a bird can enter it.”
[60] Thus, as has often been the case, the extreme of misery produced the effects of the extreme of luxury. Pagans and Christians considering God as the author of temporal good and evil only, and observing that the virtuous suffered as much as the wicked, concluded that moral conduct was disregarded by heaven. Unbounded licentiousness followed. No laws of God limited the people: the laws of man were equally inefficacious, because the criminal thought that he might die before the day of trial, or if he should live to that time, those who would have been his accusers might have perished in the general calamity. Compare Thucydides’ account of the plague at Athens.
[61] [Richard of Devizes[e] calls her “a wonderful ship, a ship than which, with the exception of Noah’s ark, we do not read of any being greater.” He says the Turks “fought fiercely because ‘the only hope for the conquered is to have nothing to hope for.’”]
[62] [On the other hand Richard of Devizes[e] quotes Saladin’s brother as saying, “Thanks be to God, Richard was burdened with the king of the French and hindered by him like a cat with a hammer tied to its tail.”]
[63] [The Arab historian Imad ad-Din[d] speaks thus concerning the prisoners put to death by Richard. “After the retreat of the Christians into the town, we found the Mussulman martyrs exposed quite naked on the sands. We went to inspect them. They recognised their friends and related what they had suffered for God’s cause, what honours they had received, what benefits they had acquired by martyrdom, what felicity they enjoyed at the price of their blood.”]
[64] Defensive war was so completely the object of the crusaders, that each man was covered with pieces of cloth, united together by rings, on which he received without injury the enemy’s arrows. Boha ad-Din[f] (who narrates this curious circumstance) adds, that he himself saw several of the Christians who had not one or two, but ten arrows adhering to their backs, and yet who marched forwards with a quiet step, and without trepidation. “So close did they march, that if an apple had been thrown, it must have struck either a man or a horse,” says Vinsauf.[g]
[65] According to Boha ad-Din[f] and Abulfeda,[j] in all these negotiations, the people of the two armies lived in friendly intercourse, and mingled in the tournament and dance. More than this, through the whole of the war, Saladin and Richard emulated each other as much in the reciprocation of courtesy, as in military exploits. If ever the king of England chanced to be ill, Saladin sent him presents of Damascene pears, peaches, and other fruits. The same liberal hand gave the luxury of snow, in the hot seasons, according to Hoveden.[h] Saladin could not but have felt some kindness for gallant warriors, whether Christians or Mussulmans, if it be true, that as soon as he was old enough to bear arms, he had requested and received the honour of knighthood from a French cavalier, named Humphrey de Thoron. See Vinsauf.[g]
[66] Saladin had but little indulgence in religious matters. The abbé Renaudot, in his manuscript history, relates that he caused a philosopher to be strangled who ventured to preach new doctrines in the city of Aleppo.
[67] [The well-known story of the discovery of Richard in Leopold’s hands, by Blondel, through the singing of a song which king and minstrel had composed together, is now believed to be apocryphal and quite fabulous.]