BATTLE OF TIBERIAS—FALL OF JERUSALEM.
In the meantime Saladin had gathered into his hand the reins of Egypt
and western Asia. In 1185 the Christians of Palestine sent an appeal for
aid to all the courts of Europe. The imminence and magnitude of the
danger led them to select the most important dignitaries as their
messengers: Heraclius, the Patriarch of Jerusalem, together with the
Grand Masters of the Hospitallers and Templars. The ambassadors offered
the crown of Jerusalem to King Henry II. of England, presenting him with
the keys of the Holy Sepulchre and of the tower of David. The appeal of
the East was seconded by Pope Lucius, whose letter to Henry shows that
Europe dreaded as much as it pretended to despise the new Moslem leader.
The letter read: “For Saladin, the most inhuman persecutor, has arisen
to such a pitch in his fury that, unless the vehement onset of his
wickedness is checked, he may entertain an assured hope that all the
Jordan will flow into his mouth, and the land be polluted by his most
abominable superstitions, and the country once more be subjected to the
accursed dominion of the most nefarious tyrant. By the sorrows thus
imminent, we entreat your Mightiness with a palpitating heart,” etc. But
neither King Henry’s conscience nor his hope of gaining a brighter crown
in heaven was sufficient to lure him from projects nearer home.
Saladin quickly verified the Pope’s estimate of his ability. In May,
1187, he overthrew the Templars in a battle at Nazareth. With eighty
thousand horse he then invested and crushed Tiberias on Galilee. The
citadel of this place alone remained untaken. The Christians massed
fifty thousand men on the plain of Hattîn, above the city, for one
supreme endeavor. The boldest feared the result. The sight of the wood
of the True Cross gave a martyr courage rather than hope of success.
Raymond, whose bravery no man questioned, made an address to the
assembled barons, counselling retreat. He said: “In this army is the
only hope left to the Christians of the East. Here are gathered all the
soldiers of Christ, all the defenders of Jerusalem. The archers of
Saladin are more skilful than ours, his cavalry more numerous and better
trained. Let us abandon Tiberias and save the army.” To lose that battle
in the open plain would be, as Raymond foresaw, to lose everything. To
retreat might force the enemy to fight against strongholds, when the
advantage would be on the Christians’ side.
This discreet counsel of the veteran was derided by the Master of the
Templars, who openly taunted Raymond with some secret alliance with
Saladin. Raymond rejoined, “I will submit to the punishment of death if
these things do not fall out as I have said.” The barons were for
following the advice of the veteran, but King Guy, after various changes
of mind, gave the fatal order for battle.
The day (July 4, 1187) was excessively hot. The Christians, worn out
with the march, advanced to the fight, sustained chiefly by the
desperation of their resolve. The Mussulmans occupied the vantage-ground
on the hills which make the western shore of the Lake of Tiberias, and
welcomed their adversaries’ approach with a furious discharge of arrows.
Then suddenly, as lightning through a pelting storm, the white turbans
and cimeters of the Saracen cavalry, led by Saladin in person, flashed
across the field. In the language of the Arabic chronicler: “Then the
sons of paradise and the children of fire settled their terrible
quarrel. Arrows hurtled in the air like a noisy flight of sparrows, and
the blood of warriors dripped upon the ground like rain.”
The True Cross, which had animated the Christians’ courage, was an
occasion of their weakness; for, despairing of victory through their own
valor, they sought the protection of the emblem of their religion.
Saladin said afterwards that the Franks flew round the cross like moths
round a light. Again and again the sultan drove his squadrons through
the thickest ranks of his opponents, and would that day have sealed the
Christians’ fate had not night given recess to the battle. During the
darkness the Christians closed their ranks in dense array. The Saracens,
having superior numbers, adopted the opposite plan and extended their
lines, so that when morning broke they surrounded their antagonists on
every side. The Christians in vain tried to break the cordon, which was
steadily drawing closer and closer, limiting the space within it as one
by one the doomed knights fell. The Saracens fired the grass of the
plain. Swords flashed through the lurid smoke, and the bravest, whom
arms could not daunt, dropped from suffocation. The Templars and
Hospitallers maintained the battle all day long, rallying about the
cross; but that symbol was ultimately taken. It was being borne by
Rufinus, Bishop of Acre, when he fell, pierced with an arrow. Says a
contemporary writer: “This was done through the righteous judgment of
God; for, contrary to the usage of his predecessors, having greater
faith in worldly arms than in heavenly ones, he went forth to battle
equipped in a coat of mail.”
Guy was a captive, together with the Master of the Templars and many of
the most celebrated knights, who had failed to find death, though they
sought it. Raymond cut his way through the line of Saracens, who praised
his amazing valor as they witnessed his exploit, while the Christians
denounced him for connivance with the foe.
A scene followed which showed the temper of Saladin. The conqueror
received King Guy and his surviving nobles in a manner to lessen, if
possible, their chagrin for the disaster. He presented to the king a
great goblet filled with drink, which had been cooled in the snows from
the Lebanons. Having drunk from it, Guy passed the cup to Renaud, the
man who had violated the truce in former years. Saladin could be
magnanimous to a worthy antagonist. So great was his self-command that
he observed the most punctilious etiquette even in the rage of a
hand-to-hand fight. But to the false and treacherous he could show no
mercy. The sight of the truce-breaker fired him with uncontrollable
frenzy; he exclaimed, “That traitor shall not drink in my presence.” He
gave Renaud the instant choice of death or acceptance of the religion of
Mohammed. Renaud refused to subscribe the Koran. Saladin smote him with
the side of his sabre, a mark of his contempt. At a signal a common
soldier swirled his cimeter, and the head of Renaud fell at King Guy’s
feet.
Towards the Templars and Hospitallers the sultan had conceived similar
hatred from the conviction that they regarded their covenants with their
enemies too lightly. As these knights of the white and the red cross
were led past him Saladin remarked, “I will deliver the earth of these
two unclean races.” He bade his emirs each slay a knight with his own
hand. Neither the defenceless condition of the captives nor the
protestation of his warriors against this cruelty produced any
compunction in the breast of the resolute conqueror.
Four days later St. Jean d’ Acre fell under Saladin’s assault; but the
people were spared and allowed to depart with all their movable
property. The churches were converted into mosques, and resounded with
prayers and thanksgiving to the Prophet. The yellow flag of Saladin soon
floated from the walls of Jericho, Ramleh, Arsuf, Jaffa, and Beirut.
Ascalon resisted for a while, in spite of the threats of the conqueror
and the entreaty of his prisoner, King Guy, that the garrison should not
prolong the useless conflict. The defenders of the city refused
submission unless the victor should pledge the safety of the women and
children and the liberty of the king. Saladin honored their bravery by
acceding to these conditions, and Ascalon became his possession
(September 4th).
Two weeks later (September 18th) his troops invested Jerusalem. Sending
for the principal inhabitants, he said to them: “I, as well as you,
acknowledge Jerusalem to be the house of God; I will not defile its
sanctity with blood if I can gain it by peace and love. Surrender it by
your Whitsuntide, and I will bestow upon you liberty to go where you
will, with provisions in plenty and as much land as you can cultivate.”
The reply of the Christians was valiant: “We cannot yield the city in
which died our God; still less can we sell it to you.” Saladin then
swore to avenge the slaughter perpetrated by the Christians upon the
Moslems when, under Godfrey, the first crusaders had captured Jerusalem
and massacred its inhabitants.
The assault was furious and met with equal valor. Within and without,
the walls were fairly buttressed with the bodies of the fallen. It was
not until the principal gate was undermined, the ramparts tottering, and
the soldiers of Saladin occupying some of the towers, that Balian
d’Iselin, the commandant, proposed to accept the conditions the
Christians had rejected before the fight. “It is too late,” replied
Saladin, pointing to his yellow banners, which proclaimed his occupancy
of many places along the walls. “Very well,” replied Balian; “we will
destroy the city. The mosque of Omar, and the mysterious Stone of Jacob
which you worship, shall be pounded into dust. Five thousand Moslems
whom we retain shall be killed. We will then slay with our own hands our
wives and children, and march out to you with fire and sword. Not one of
us will go to paradise until he has sent ten Mussulmans to hell.”
Saladin again bowed to the bravery which he might have punished, and
accepted the capitulation (October 2, 1187).
The Christian warriors were permitted to retire to Tripoli or Tyre,
cities as yet unconquered by Saladin. The inhabitants were to be
ransomed at a nominal sum of money for each. Many, however, in their
poverty could not produce the required amount. The fact, reported to the
victor, led to a deed on his part which showed his natural kindliness,
together with the exactness of his rule. The ransom money could not be
remitted; it belonged of right to the men whose heroism had been blessed
of Allah in taking the city. Saladin and his brother, Malek-Ahdel, paid
from their own purses the redemption money for several thousand
Christians, who otherwise, according to the usages of war, would have
become the slaves of their conquerors.
On the day for the evacuation of the city Saladin erected his throne at
the Gate of David to review the wretched army of the vanquished as it
passed out. First came the patriarch and priests, carrying the sacred
vessels and treasures of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Next followed
Queen Sibylla with the remnant of her court. Saladin saluted her with
great courtesy, and added words of seemingly genuine consolation as he
noted her grief. Mothers carried their children, and strong men bore the
aged and sick in their arms. Some paused to address the sultan, asking
that members of their families from whom they were separated might be
restored to them. Saladin instantly ordered that in no case should
children be separated from their mothers, nor husbands from their wives.
He permitted the Hospitallers to remain in the city on condition of
their resuming those duties which their order was originally instituted
to perform, and committed to them the care of the sick who could not
endure being removed. Many writers are disposed to analyze the motives
of Saladin and to attribute his clemency to politic foresight in
subduing the hatred as well as the arms of his enemies. But surely the
annals of war are too barren of such acts of humanity to allow us to mar
the beauty of the simple narration; and the virtues of Christians in
such circumstances have not been so resplendent that they may not
emulate the spirit of one who was their noblest foe.
The new lord of Jerusalem purged the sacred city of what to him was the
taint of idolatry, the worship of Jesus. The mosque of Omar on the
temple site was washed within and without with rose-water. The pulpit
which Nourredin had made with his own hands was erected by the side of
the mihrab, towards which the people prayed as indicating the direction
of Mecca. The chief imam preached from it on the glories of Saladin,
“the resplendent star of Allah,” on the redemption of Jerusalem, from
which Mohammed had made his miraculous night journey to Mecca, and on
the holy war, which must be continued until “all the branches of impiety
should be cut” from the tree of life.
The joy of the Moslem world had its refrain in the wails of Europe. It
is said that Pope Urban III., on hearing the news, died of a broken
heart. The minstrels composed lamentations as the captives did by the
rivers of Babylon. Courts and churches were draped in mourning. The
superstitious saw tears fall from the eyes of the wooden and stone
saints that ornamented the churches. The general gloom was described by
one who felt it as “like the darkness over the earth from the sixth to
the ninth hour, when Christ was crucified.”