WILLIAM OF TYRE—BARBAROSSA.
With the news of the fall of Jerusalem came William, Archbishop of Tyre
(the chief chronicler for this time), to stir up Europe to avenge the
great disaster. This man possessed powers of speech equal to those of
his pen. He appeared before an assembly near Gisors, where were gathered
the bravest knights of England and France under their respective kings,
Henry II. and Philip Augustus. These monarchs had laid aside the arms
they were bearing against each other, that they might hear the appeal to
holier warfare. The presence of such royalty did not restrain the fiery
and indignant eloquence of William of Tyre. He cried, “To meet you here
I have traversed fields of carnage. But whose blood have you been
shedding? Why are you armed with these swords? You are fighting here for
the banks of a river, for the limit of a province, for transient renown,
while Infidels trample the banks of Siloam. Does your Europe no longer
produce warriors like Godfrey and Tancred?” Even the blood of Henry II.,
poisoned as it was with many sins, felt the ardor of the appeal. He
embraced his foe, Philip Augustus, with tears, while they together put
on the badge of the cross. Princes and nobles followed the royal
example, foremost among them Richard, then Duke of Guienne. Upon those
who did not enlist was imposed a tax of one tenth of the value of their
property, to be annually continued in a tenth of their incomes. This, in
attestation of the terror inspired by the arms of the Saracen, was
called “Saladin’s tithe.” The appeals of William of Tyre were supported
by the pastoral letters of Pope Gregory VIII., which promised to all who
should “undertake the labor of this expedition ... plenary indulgence
for their offences and eternal life; ... and no person is to make any
claim against the property of which, on assuming the cross, they were in
quiet possession; ... they are not to pay interest to any person if they
have so bound themselves.” The Pope further ordered a Lenten fast on
every Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday, to appease the wrath of Heaven
for sins, adding that the papal household would also abstain from flesh
on Mondays.
The entire ritual of worship became infected with militarism and fear of
the common enemy beyond the sea. In 1188 the Pope ordained that prayer
against the Saracens should be offered everywhere daily. In the Church
of St. Paul a recognition of the distressful condition was introduced
into the liturgy. On Sundays there was read the psalm beginning, “Why do
the heathen rage?” On Mondays, “Save us, O God, by Thy name.” On
Tuesdays, “O God, why hast Thou forsaken us?” On Wednesdays, “O God, why
hast Thou cast us off forever?” On Thursdays, “O God, the heathen are
come into Thine inheritance.” On Fridays, “God standeth in the
congregation of the mighty.” On Saturdays, “O Lord God, to whom
vengeance belongeth, show Thyself.”
The peace between Henry II. and Philip Augustus made under the crusader
enthusiasm, like other sudden excitements of religious emotion, did not
long continue. A believer in the doctrine of the perseverance of the
saints would hardly expect to find its proof in the house of Anjou, save
by its exceptions. The recklessness of Richard again embroiled his
father and the French king in war. An attempt to restore the truce on
the same “sacred field” of Gisors where it had been solemnly enacted
failed, and Philip Augustus cut down the elm-tree under which they had
sworn it, that nature might not taunt them with their perjury. Saladin’s
tithe was first devoted not against the Infidels, but to the infidelity
of Christians in warring with one another, and was ominous of much of
the subsequent use of that treasure. Rome excommunicated Richard, who
drew his sword upon the papal legate that announced to him the decree.
Philip as quickly repelled the interference of the spiritual power with
what he deemed the more sacred right of conducting his own quarrels. It
required the opportune intervention of a thunder-storm to shake the
worldly purpose of Henry II., who, in genuine terror at the voice of
heaven, at length agreed to peace.
In the meanwhile William of Tyre had electrified Germany with his
appeals. The old emperor, Frederick I., took the cross, together with
many of his chief nobles, including his son, Frederick, Duke of Swabia.
Frederick I., called Barbarossa by his Italian enemies because of his
red beard, was the most astute statesman, the most experienced general,
and the most powerful of the crowned heads of Europe during the twelfth
century. He had been thirty-seven years on the throne of Germany. Though
not altogether successful in his strifes with the popes, he had been
able to consolidate his empire and extend its prestige. Now, at
sixty-seven years of age, the peace of his dominion offered him the most
envied imperial honors and the quiet ending of his days; but his heroic
soul forgot the fatigue of age; he spurned the enjoyments of his palace
when he heard the call for new adventures. He was the first _en route_
for Palestine; indeed, had completed his ill-fated expedition before the
younger princes of the West were afield.
The array of Frederick reflected the dignity of its commander. It was
under careful, even stringent discipline; camp followers were unwelcome;
no women were allowed in the expedition. This was a grievance to many of
the fair sex, whose love would have led them to accompany their
husbands, or whose adventurous instinct prompted them to put on armor;
but the order rid the army of the throng of immoral creatures who were
accustomed to attach themselves to the crusading masses. The usual crowd
of paupers who became soldiers only to better their condition, and bands
of pilgrims who sought safe convoy to the sacred shrines, were ordered
out of the ranks, only those being allowed to start who showed
possession of sufficient money to maintain themselves for two years.
In true chivalric spirit, the veteran warrior of the West sent to
Saladin his royal challenge before proceeding to battle. His letter was
true to the times also in that it showed the customary bravado of the
knight, entering the lists with self-laudation, and hurling scorn at the
visor of his antagonist. “We, Frederick, by the grace of God, Emperor of
the Romans, ever August, the Magnificent Triumpher over the enemies of
the empire, to the Illustrious Saladin, Governor of the Saracens....
Thou hast profaned the Holy Land, over which we, by the authority of the
eternal King, bear rule.... God willing, you shall learn by experience
the might of our victorious eagles.” Then Frederick lists the nations in
his following: “The towering Bavarian, the cunning Swabian, the cautious
Franconian, Saxony that sports with the sword, the active Brabantine,
the Lorrainer, unused to peace, the fiery Burgundian, the nimble
mountaineer of the Alps, the Friesian, with his javelin and thong, the
Bohemian, ever ready to brave death, Polonia, fiercer than her own
fierce beasts,” etc. “And, lastly, also, you shall be taught how our own
right hand, which you suppose to be enfeebled by old age, can still
wield the sword.”
Saladin, in turn, outdid his challenger in courtesy if not in bravado.
“To the Great King, his sincere friend, the Illustrious Frederick, ...
in the name of God the merciful.... You enumerate those who are leagued
with you, but if we wished to enumerate those with us, the list could
not be reduced to writing. With us are the Bedouins, alone sufficient to
cope with you; the Turkomans, unaided able to destroy you; our peasants,
able to despoil and exterminate you; the warlike Soldarii, by whom we
have already beaten you. These and all the kings of Islam are with me;
Babylon, with its dependencies, the land of Damascus, and Jerusalem on
the sea-coast, ... and the land of Sudia, with its provinces. If you
wish for war, we will meet you in the power of the Lord; but if you wish
for peace, we will restore to you the holy cross, and liberate all
Christian captives, and permit pilgrims to come freely and do them good.
And may Allah give us counsel!” A rumor was current, based, doubtless,
upon the clemency of Saladin to the Christians, that he was himself
contemplating conversion to the faith of Europe. His letter to Frederick
was its sufficient refutation, even without its closing invocation, “May
God save our Prophet, Mohammed!” He emulates the conceit of his
antagonist by signing himself, possibly with a touch of sarcasm,
“Saladin, Illustrious Lord, Victorious King, Adorner of the standard of
truth, Corrector of the world,” etc.
This seeming bombast was not peculiar to these potentates. The Greek
emperor, Isaac Angelus, styled himself “The Most Sublime, Most Powerful
Emperor, the Angel of the whole earth.” Isaac, however, possessed no
personal qualities worthy of commendation. He inherited, together with
the conceit, the cowardice and treachery of the whole line of Greek
monarchs. He wrote to Frederick, promising aid, and at the same time
made alliance with Saladin. Nicetas, the Greek historian of this period,
admits against his nation that Isaac broke the treaties, impeded the
roads, and diverted provisions from his German allies. At Adrianople he
laid ambush for their scouts. The veteran Frederick, incensed at this
treatment, made a bloody retaliation upon a detachment of Greeks. This
brought Isaac to terms. His friendship was measured by a flotilla of
fifteen hundred ships and twenty-six galleys, which he prepared for the
speedy transportation of the Germans beyond the Marmora and out of
menacing distance of his capital.
Kilidge-Arslan had sent fifty Moslem knights to meet Frederick on the
way, and to pledge his friendship, but when the army reached Iconium it
was discovered that this had been only a device to delay the emperor.
Frederick taught the Moslems that he was in no mood to be trifled with,
by suddenly assaulting and capturing the city. Pressing onward, the
Germans had daily to meet the guerilla attacks of the Infidels. Their
provisions were destroyed as fast as gathered. Water was scarce, only
the stagnant pools in fever-impregnated marshes affording palliation to
thirst. The soldiers at times killed their horses and drank their blood.
Yet the discipline was strictly maintained. No crime went unpunished. It
was evident that a stronger hand was guiding the crusaders than had
before been felt. The Armenian patriarch wrote to his friend Saladin,
warning him of the extraordinary type of man with whom he had to deal.
Christian and Turk awaited the issue of the campaign with respective
hope and solicitude.
In spite of all obstacles, the Germans made a triumphant march almost to
the borders of Syria. The pure water of the river Selef, which flows by
the walls of Seleucia, tempted the conqueror to bathe. Seized with
cramps, he was carried away by the hurrying current. At length he was
dragged from the water, but was in dying condition. Tradition says that
on a rock near this spot was carved this prediction: “Hic hominum
maximus peribit.” If the omen be fabulous, the description is correct,
for Frederick Barbarossa remains in history as one of the “greatest of
men.” William of Tyre, in his eulogy, translates his spirit to heaven,
while the Arabian historian, Omad, tells us with equal confidence that
the angel of death carried his soul to hell.
The German host, now led by the feebler hand of his son, Frederick of
Swabia, succeeded in reaching Antioch with less than seven hundred horse
and five thousand foot, a retinue scarcely sufficient to do honor to the
remains of the grand old hero, which they there buried in the Church of
St. Peter.
In June, 1190, the English and French made preparation to follow their
unfortunate forerunner. It was not, however, until a year later that
they arrived in Palestine.
The movements of Saladin, in the meanwhile, engrossed the fears of the
Christian world. After capturing Jerusalem he attacked Tyre. The bravery
of the defence was supplemented by the timely arrival of Conrad, whose
father, the Marquis of Montferrat, Saladin held prisoner. Conrad had
already made his name famous for valor. For his assistance of the Greek
emperor against seditions in Constantinople he had won the title of
Cæsar and the hand of the emperor’s sister. Saladin endeavored to divert
him by threatening to kill his father unless he relinquished the defence
of Tyre. Conrad’s reply was noteworthy: “The life of my father is less
dear to me and to him than the cause we both serve.” Saladin was forced
to give up the siege. He turned against Tripoli. Aided by Admiral
Margarit, whom the King of Sicily had sent with a fleet and who had won
the titles of “King of the Sea” and the “New Neptune,” the Tripolitans
successfully resisted. Saladin then assailed Carac, which was forced to
yield to the Moslem chief. He granted its defenders their liberty, and
restored to them their wives and children, whom, in an hour of deathly
fear, they had sold as slaves to Saladin rather than see them the
victims of such ravages as usually followed the capture by the common
soldiery. King Guy of Jerusalem had been released from imprisonment by
Saladin on condition that he would leave Palestine and return to Europe.
Guy paid no respect to his oath, but, gathering the loyal remnant of his
kingdom, laid siege to Ptolemaïs (Acre), there inaugurating a contest
which, for its duration and the fame of the great chieftains engaged in
it, was the most noted in the sad annals of the third crusade.