REIGN OF RICHARD I.
[Sidenote: Richard I. A.D. 1189]
Whilst Henry lived, the King of France had always an effectual means of
breaking his power by the divisions in his family. But now Richard
succeeded to all the power of his father, with an equal ambition to
extend it, with a temper infinitely more fiery and impetuous, and free
from every impediment of internal dissension. These circumstances filled
the mind of Philip with great and just uneasiness. There was no security
but in finding exercise for the enterprising genius of the young king at
a distance from home. The new Crusade afforded an advantageous
opportunity. A little before his father's death, Richard had taken the
cross in conjunction with the King of France. So precipitate were the
fears of that monarch, that Richard was hardly crowned when ambassadors
were dispatched to England to remind him of his obligation, and to pique
his pride by acquainting him that their master was even then in
readiness to fulfil his part of their common vow. An enterprise of this
sort was extremely agreeable to the genius of Richard, where religion
sanctified the thirst of military glory, and where the glory itself
seemed but the more desirable by being unconnected with interest. He
immediately accepted the proposal, and resolved to insure the success as
well as the lustre of his expedition by the magnificence of his
preparations. Not content with the immense treasures amassed by his
father, he drew in vast sums by the sale of almost all the demesnes of
the crown, and of every office under it, not excepting those of the
highest trust. The clergy, whose wealth and policy enabled them to take
advantage of the necessity and weakness of the Croises, were generally
the purchasers of both. To secure his dominions in his absence, he made
an alliance with the princes of Wales, and with the King of Scotland. To
the latter he released, for a sum of money, the homage which had been
extorted by his father.
His brother John gave him most uneasiness; but finding it unworthy, or
impracticable, to use the severer methods of jealous policy, he resolved
to secure his fidelity by loading him with benefits. He bestowed on him
six earldoms, and gave him in marriage the Lady Avisa, sole heiress of
the great house of Gloucester; but as he gave him no share in the
regency, he increased his power, and left him discontented in a kingdom
committed to the care of new men, who had merited their places by their
money.
It will be proper to take a view of the condition of the Holy Land at
the time when this third Crusade was set on foot to repair the faults
committed in the two former. The conquests of the Croises, extending
over Palestine and a part of Syria, had been erected into a sovereignty
under the name of the Kingdom of Jerusalem. This kingdom, ill-ordered
within, surrounded on all sides by powerful enemies, subsisted by a
strength not its own for near ninety years. But dissensions arising
about the succession to the crown, between Guy of Lusignan and Raymond,
Earl of Tripoli, Guy, either because he thought the assistance of the
European princes too distant, or that he feared their decision, called
in the aid of Saladin, Sultan of Egypt. This able prince immediately
entered Palestine. As the whole strength of the Christians in Palestine
depended upon foreign succor, he first made himself master of the
maritime towns, and then Jerusalem fell an easy prey to his arms; whilst
the competitors contended with the utmost violence for a kingdom which
no longer existed for either of them. All Europe was alarmed at this
revolution. The banished Patriarch of Jerusalem filled every place with
the distresses of the Eastern Christians. The Pope ordered a solemn fast
to be forever kept for this loss, and then, exerting all his influence,
excited a new Crusade, in which vast numbers engaged, with an ardor
unabated by their former misfortunes; but wanting a proper subordination
rather than a sufficient force, they made but a slow progress, when
Richard and Philip, at the head of more than one hundred thousand chosen
men, the one from Marseilles, the other from Genoa, set sail to their
assistance.
[Sidenote: A.D. 1191]
In his voyage to the Holy Land accident presented Richard, with an
unexpected conquest. A vessel of his fleet was driven by a storm to take
shelter in the Isle of Cyprus. That island was governed by a prince
named Isaac, of the imperial family of the Comneni, who not only
refused all relief to the sufferers, but plundered them of the little
remains of their substance. Richard, resenting this inhospitable
treatment, aggravated by the insolence of the tyrant, turned his force
upon Cyprus, vanquished Isaac in the field, took the capital city, and
was solemnly crowned king of that island. But deeming it as glorious to
give as to acquire a crown, he soon after resigned it to Lusignan, to
satisfy him for his claim on Jerusalem; in whose descendants it
continued for several generations, until, passing by marriage into the
family of Cornaro, a Venetian nobleman, it was acquired to that state,
the only state in Europe which had any real benefit by all the blood and
treasure lavished in the Holy War.
Richard arrived in Palestine some time after the King of France. His
arrival gave new vigor to the operations of the Croises. He reduced Acre
to surrender at discretion, which had been in vain besieged for two
years, and in the siege of which an infinite number of Christians had
perished; and so much did he distinguish himself on this and on all
occasions, that the whole expedition seemed to rest on his single valor.
The King of France, seeing him fully engaged, had all that he desired.
The climate was disagreeable to his constitution, and the war, in which
he acted but a second part, to his pride. He therefore hastened home to
execute his projects against Richard, amusing him with oaths made to be
violated,--leaving, indeed, a part of his forces under the Duke of
Burgundy, but with private orders to give him underhand all possible
obstruction. Notwithstanding the desertion of his ally, Richard
continued the war with uncommon alacrity. With very unequal numbers he
engaged and defeated the whole army of Saladin, and slew forty thousand
of his best troops. He obliged him to evacuate all the towns on the
sea-coast, and spread the renown and terror of his arms over all Asia. A
thousand great exploits did not, however, enable him to extend his
conquests to the inland country. Jealousy, envy, cabals, and a total
want of discipline reigned in the army of the Crosses. The climate, and
their intemperance more than the climate, wasted them with a swift
decay. The vow which brought them to the Holy Land was generally for a
limited time, at the conclusion of which they were always impatient to
depart. Their armies broke up at the most critical conjunctures,--as it
was not the necessity of the service, but the extent of their vows,
which held them together. As soon, therefore, as they had habituated
themselves to the country, and attained some experience, they were gone;
and new men supplied their places, to acquire experience by the same
misfortunes, and to lose the benefit of it by the same inconstancy. Thus
the war could never be carried on with steadiness and uniformity. On the
other side, Saladin continually repaired his losses; his resources were
at hand; and this great captain very judiciously kept possession of that
mountainous country which, formed by a perpetual ridge of Libanus, in a
manner walls in the sea-coast of Palestine. There he hung, like a
continual tempest, ready to burst over the Christian army. On his rear
was the strong city of Jerusalem, which secured a communication with the
countries of Chaldea and Mesopotamia, from whence he was well supplied
with everything. If the Christians attempted to improve their successes
by penetrating to Jerusalem, they had a city powerfully garrisoned in
their front, a country wasted and destitute of forage to act in, and
Saladin with a vast army on their rear advantageously posted to cut off
their convoys and reinforcements.
[Sidenote: A.D. 1192.]
Richard was laboring to get over these disadvantages, when he was
informed by repeated expresses of the disorder of his affairs in
Europe,--disorders which arose from the ill dispositions he had made at
his departure. The heads of his regency had abused their power; they
quarrelled with each other, and the nobility with them. A sort of a
civil war had arisen, in which they were deposed. Prince John was the
main spring of these dissensions; he engaged in a close communication of
councils with the King of France, who had seized upon several places in
Normandy. It was with regret that Richard found himself obliged to leave
a theatre on which he had planned such an illustrious scene of action. A
constant emulation in courtesy and politeness, as well as in military
exploits, had been kept up between him and Saladin. He now concluded a
truce with that generous enemy, and on his departure sent a messenger to
assure him that on its expiration he would not fail to be again in
Palestine. Saladin replied, that, if he must lose his kingdom, he would
choose to lose it to the King England. Thus Richard returned, leaving
Jerusalem in the hands of the Saracens; and this end had an enterprise
in which two of the most powerful monarchs in Europe were personally
engaged, an army of upwards of one hundred thousand men employed, and to
furnish which the whole Christian world had been vexed and exhausted.
It is a melancholy reflection, that the spirit of great designs can
seldom be inspired, but where the reason of mankind is so uncultivated
that they can be turned to little advantage.
[Sidenote: A.D. 1193]
With this war ended the fortune of Richard, who found the Saracens less
dangerous than his Christian allies. It is not well known what motive
induced him to land at Aquileia, at the bottom of the Gulf of Venice, in
order to take his route by Germany; but he pursued his journey through,
the territories of the Duke of Austria, whom he had personally affronted
at the siege of Acre. And now, neither keeping himself out of the power
of that prince, nor rousing his generosity by seeming to confide in it,
he attempted to get through his dominions in disguise. Sovereigns do not
easily assume the private character; their pride seldom suffers their
disguise to be complete: besides, Richard had made himself but too well
known. The Duke, transported with the opportunity of base revenge,
discovered him, seized him, and threw him into prison; from whence he
was only released to be thrown into another. The Emperor claimed him,
and, without regarding in this unfortunate captive the common dignity of
sovereigns, or his great actions in the common cause of Europe, treated
him with yet greater cruelty. To give a color of justice to his
violence, he proposed to accuse Richard at the Diet of the Empire upon
certain articles relative to his conduct in the Holy Land.
The news of the king's captivity caused the greatest consternation in
all his good subjects; but it revived the hopes and machinations of
Prince John, who bound himself by closer ties than ever to the King of
France, seized upon some strongholds in England, and, industriously
spreading a report of his brother's death, publicly laid claim to the
crown as lawful successor. All his endeavors, however, served only to
excite the indignation of the people, and to attach them the more firmly
to their unfortunate prince. Eleanor, the queen dowager, as good a
mother as she had been a bad wife, acted with the utmost vigor and
prudence to retain them in their duty, and omitted no means to procure
the liberty of her son. The nation seconded her with a zeal, in their
circumstances, uncommon. No tyrant ever imposed so severe a tax upon his
people as the affection of the people of England, already exhausted,
levied upon themselves. The most favored religious orders were charged
on this occasion. The Church plate was sold. The ornaments of the most
holy relics were not spared. And, indeed, nothing serves more to
demonstrate the poverty of the kingdom, reduced by internal dissensions
and remote wars, at that time, than the extreme difficulty of collecting
the king's ransom, which amounted to no more than one hundred thousand
marks of silver, Cologne weight. For raising this sum, the first
taxation, the most heavy and general that was ever known in England,
proved altogether insufficient. Another taxation was set on foot. It was
levied with the same rigor as the former, and still fell short.
Ambassadors were sent into Germany with all that could be raised, and
with hostages for the payment of whatever remained. The king met these
ambassadors as he was carried in chains to plead his cause before the
Diet of the Empire. The ambassadors burst into tears at this affecting
sight, and wept aloud; but Richard, though touched no less with the
affectionate loyalty of his subjects than with his own fallen condition,
preserved his dignity entire in his misfortunes, and with a cheerful air
inquired of the state of his dominions, the behavior of the King of
Scotland, and the fidelity of his brother, the Count John. At the Diet,
no longer protected by the character of a sovereign, he was supported by
his personal abilities. He had a ready wit and great natural eloquence;
and his high reputation and the weight of his cause pleading for him
more strongly, the Diet at last interested itself in his favor, and
prevailed on the Emperor to accept an excessive ransom for dismissing a
prisoner whom he detained without the least color of justice. Philip
moved heaven and earth to prevent his enlargement: he negotiated, he
promised, he flattered, he threatened, he outbid his extravagant ransom.
The Emperor, in his own nature more inclined to the bribe, which tempted
him to be base, hesitated a long time between these offers. But as the
payment of the ransom was more certain than Philip's promises, and as
the instances of the Diet, and the menaces of the Pope, who protected
Richard, as a prince serving under the Cross, were of more immediate
consequence than his threats, Richard was at length released; and though
it is said the Emperor endeavored to seize him again, to extort an other
ransom, he escaped safely into England.
[Sidenote: A.D. 1194]
Richard, on his coming to England, found all things in the utmost
confusion; but before he attempted to apply a remedy to so obstinate a
disease, in order to wipe off any degrading ideas which might have
arisen from his imprisonment, he caused himself to be new crowned. Then
holding his Court of Great Council at Southampton, he made some useful
regulations in the distribution of justice. He called some great
offenders to a strict account. Count John deserved no favor, and he lay
entirely at the king's mercy, who, by an unparalleled generosity,
pardoned him his multiplied offences, only depriving him of the power of
which he had made so bad a use. Generosity did not oblige him to forget
the hostilities of the King of France. But to prosecute the war money
was wanting, which new taxes and new devices supplied with difficulty
and with dishonor. All the mean oppressions of a necessitous government
were exercised on this occasion. All the grants which were made on the
king's departure to the Holy Land were revoked, on the weak pretence
that the purchasers had sufficient recompense whilst they held them.
Necessity seemed to justify this, as well as many other measures that
were equally violent. The whole revenue of the crown had been
dissipated; means to support its dignity must be found; and these means
were the least unpopular, as most men saw with pleasure the wants of
government fall upon those who had started into a sudden greatness by
taking advantage of those wants.
Richard renewed the war with Philip, which continued, though frequently
interrupted by truces, for about five years. In this war Richard
signalized himself by that irresistible courage which on all occasions
gave him a superiority over the King of France. But his revenues were
exhausted; a great scarcity reigned both in France and England; and the
irregular manner of carrying on war in those days prevented a clear
decision in favor of either party. Richard had still an eye on the Holy
Land, which he considered as the only province worthy of his arms; and
this continually diverted his thoughts from the steady prosecution of
the war in France. The Crusade, like a superior orb, moved along with
all the particular systems of politics of that time, and suspended,
accelerated, or put back all operations on motives foreign to the things
themselves. In this war it must be remarked, that Richard made a
considerable use of the mercenaries who had been so serviceable to Henry
the Second; and the King of France, perceiving how much his father,
Louis, had suffered by a want of that advantage, kept on foot a standing
army in constant pay, which none of his predecessors had done before
him, and which afterwards for a long time very unaccountably fell into
disuse in both kingdoms.
[Sidenote: A.D. 1199.]
Whilst this war was carried on, by intervals and starts, it came to the
ears of Richard that a nobleman of Limoges had found on his lands a
considerable hidden treasure. The king, necessitous and rapacious to the
last degree, and stimulated by the exaggeration and marvellous
circumstances which always attend the report of such discoveries,
immediately sent to demand the treasure, under pretence of the rights of
seigniory. The Limosin, either because he had really discovered nothing
or that he was unwilling to part with so valuable an acquisition,
refused to comply with the king's demand, and fortified his castle.
Enraged at the disappointment, Richard relinquished the important
affairs in which he was engaged, and laid siege to this castle with all
the eagerness of a man who has his heart set upon a trifle. In this
siege he received a wound from an arrow, and it proved mortal; but in
the last, as in all the other acts of his life, something truly noble
shone out amidst the rash and irregular motions of his mind. The castle
was taken before he died. The man from whom Richard had received the
wound was brought before him. Being asked why he levelled his arrow at
the king, he answered, with an undaunted countenance, "that the king
with his own hand had slain his two brothers; that he thanked God who
gave him an opportunity to revenge their deaths even with the certainty
of his own." Richard, more touched with the magnanimity of the man than
offended at the injury he had received or the boldness of the answer,
ordered that his life should be spared. He appointed his brother John to
the succession; and with these acts ended a life and reign distinguished
by a great variety of fortunes in different parts of the world, and
crowned with great military glory, but without any accession of power to
himself, or prosperity to his people, whom he entirely neglected, and
reduced, by his imprudence and misfortunes, to no small indigence and
distress.
In many respects, a striking parallel presents itself between this
ancient King of England and Charles the Twelfth, of Sweden. They were
both inordinately desirous of war, and rather generals than kings. Both
were rather fond of glory than ambitious of empire. Both of them made
and deposed sovereigns. They both carried on their wars at a distance
from home. They were both made prisoners by a friend and ally. They were
both reduced by an adversary inferior in war, but above them in the arts
of rule. After spending their lives in remote adventures, each perished
at last near home in enterprises not suited to the splendor of their
former exploits. Both died childless. And both, by the neglect of their
affairs and the severity of their government, gave their subjects
provocation and encouragement to revive their freedom. In all these
respects the two characters were alike; but Richard fell as much short
of the Swedish hero in temperance, chastity, and equality of mind as he
exceeded him in wit and eloquence. Some of his sayings are the most
spirited that we find in that time; and some of his verses remain, which
is a barbarous age might have passed for poetry.