The emperor at first sent messengers to the pope to explain and justify

his conduct; but the inexorable Gregory refused to listen to them, and

complained to all the sovereigns of Europe, representing Frederick as

a faithless and perjured prince. He accused him of having consigned

his wife Yolande to close imprisonment, in which she died of grief;

of having left the Crusaders to perish with hunger, thirst, and heat

in the plains of Apulia; and of having, at last, under the frivolous

pretext of sickness, violated his oath and deserted the banners

of Christ, _in order to return to the customary enjoyments of his

kingdom_. He made him many other reproaches; and in his anger called

down upon him the maledictions of all Christians.

Frederick, exceedingly irritated, replied to the accusations of

Gregory with much bitterness. In his apology, which he sent to all

the princes of Christendom, he complained strongly of the usurpations

of the Holy See, and exposed, in the most odious colours, the policy

and ambitious designs of the court of Rome. “The Church of Rome,”

said he, “sends legates everywhere, _with power to punish, to suspend,

and excommunicate, not with the designs of spreading the word of God,

but to heap up money, and reap that which they have not sown_.” The

emperor reminded the princes, in his letters, of the violences which

the pope had exercised against the count of Thoulouse and the king of

England; he said that the domains of the clergy did not now satisfy the

ambition of the Holy See, and that the sovereign pontiffs wished to lay

their hands upon every kingdom. From that moment open war was declared

between the pope and the emperor; neither of them possessed a pacific

character or a love of quiet; both were animated by boundless ambition,

jealous to excess of their power, implacable in their revenge, and

always ready to employ the arms which the Church or fortune placed

in their hands. Gregory displayed an indefatigable activity, leaving

his enemies no repose, but pursuing them at the same time with the

thunders of religion and war. In addition to the arms of eloquence,

the pontiff did not disdain to employ satire; the manifestoes which

he published against his adversaries constantly recalled the spirit

of the denunciations made by the prophets. These denunciations, mixed

with obscure allegories, gave to his words a dark and mysterious tone,

which caused him to be considered as the interpreter of angry Heaven.

Frederick was neither a less able prince nor a less redoubtable enemy:

the art of war contained no stratagems or secrets with which he was

unacquainted; policy dictated no means that he scrupled to employ.

Endowed with all the gifts of mind, and with a keen spirit of raillery,

he was as competent to confound his enemies in a discussion, as to

conquer them in the field of battle. Descended, on the female side,

from those famous Normans who had conquered Sicily and the kingdom

of Naples, he united, as they had done, courage with subtlety, and

audacity with dissimulation: to please the court of Rome, he had made

barbarous laws against heretics; and, now become the enemy of the

popes, he did not fear to arm heretics or Saracens against the court of

Rome. When the kingdom of Jerusalem was offered to him, he set no great

value upon the acquisition; but he accepted it with joy, in order to

increase his popularity in the Christian world, and to arm himself,

one day, against the sovereign pontiff with a title, which was then

held in universal veneration.

A war between such enemies must necessarily prove terrible, and spread

desolation and confusion throughout Christendom. Gregory, on his

return to Rome, repeated his excommunications in the church of St.

Peter; Frederick, in order to revenge himself, seduced into his party

most of the Roman nobles, who took up arms, insulted the sovereign

pontiff at the very foot of the altar, and compelled him to abandon

the capital of the Christian world. The pope, driven from his states,

pursued his enemy with more fury than ever; and, availing himself of

the formidable authority of the Church, he released the subjects of

Frederick from their oath of fidelity, by reminding them that they

could owe no obedience to those who _opposed themselves to God and his

saints_. On his side, Frederick drove the Templars and Hospitallers

from the kingdom of Naples, plundered the churches, and ill-treated

all ecclesiastics whom he suspected of being attached to the party of

the Holy See. He sent troops to ravage the patrimony of St. Peter,

and enlisted the Saracens established in Sicily, under the banners of

a Christian prince, to combat the head of the Christian church. The

Roman states were ravaged, and given up to the horrors of war. The eyes

of all Europe were fixed upon these deplorable scenes, and every one

seemed to have forgotten the holy war.

The Christians of Palestine, however, never ceased to implore aid from

the West. A letter to the pope from the patriarch of Jerusalem, the

bishops of Cæsarea and Bethlehem, and the grand masters of the three

military orders, painted in strong colours the despair into which the

Christians of the East had fallen, when they learnt that Frederick

had deferred his departure. The pope received their complaints with

expressions of sorrow and kindness, and communicated them to the

faithful with greater zeal, from their furnishing him with a fresh

opportunity of accusing the emperor of Germany. But the nations of

the West, occupied with their own dangers, and terrified at the sight

of the violent storms that had recently burst forth, were not in the

least moved by either the lamentations from Palestine or the pressing

exhortations of Gregory. In this unfortunate position of European

affairs, the Christian colonies, abandoned to themselves and their own

feeble resources, and a prey to the greatest disorders, must have been

invaded and entirely destroyed, if Providence had not stirred up fresh

discords among their enemies.

During the siege of Damietta, the common danger had united the children

of Malek-Adel; after victory, ambition resumed the place of fear; and

the Ayoubite princes quarrelled for the provinces which their union had

wrested from the power, or saved from the invasion of the Christians.

Conraddin, sultan of Damascus, dreading the views of Melik-Kamel,

called Gelaleddin, prince of the vast empire of Carismia, to his aid.

The sultan of Cairo, in great apprehension of the consequences of this

alliance, turned his eyes towards the princes of the West. During

several years, the report alone of the preparations of Frederick had

been a source of terror to the Mussulman powers. The emperor of Germany

was considered, in the East, as the head of all the nations of Europe.

The sultan of Egypt attached the greatest importance to the disarming

of a formidable enemy; and as the complaints of the pope, and the

report of the discords that had broken out among the Christians, had

reached his ears, he conceived a hope of finding in Frederick a sincere

ally and a powerful auxiliary.[235]

Melik-Kamel sent presents and ambassadors to the emperor of Germany;

he invited Frederick to come into the East, and promised to deliver

Jerusalem up to him. This proposition gave the emperor as much

surprise as joy; and he, in reply, sent an ambassador into Egypt, to

ascertain the exact intentions of the sultan of Cairo, and offer him

his friendship. The envoy of Frederick was received at the court of

the sultan with the greatest honours, and returned to announce to

his master that Melik-Kamel was ready to favour his expedition to

Palestine.

This negotiation, with which the pope and the Christians of the West

were perfectly unacquainted, made Frederick determine to follow up the

project of the crusade: he had, besides, several other motives for not

renouncing the Eastern enterprise. He knew that John of Brienne was

on the point of returning to Palestine, and resuming possession of

the kingdom of Jerusalem. The pope continued to represent him as the

enemy of Christ, and the scourge of Christians. To secure the failure

of the plan of John of Brienne, and, at the same time, reply to the

sovereign pontiff in a victorious manner, Frederick resolved to embark

for the Holy Land. He was desirous of proclaiming his intention with

the greatest pomp; and caused a magnificent throne to be erected in

the plain of Barletta, which he ascended in the presence of an immense

crowd of spectators. In all the splendour of imperial magnificence, he

presented himself invested with the pilgrim’s cross, and announced to

the assembled people that he was about to set out for Syria. In order

to give more solemnity to this pompous ceremony, and affect the hearts

of the multitude, the emperor caused his will to be read with a loud

voice; and the barons and nobles swore at the foot of the throne, to

see that his last commands should be executed, if he should chance to

lose his life, either in the perils of the sea or the wars of the East.

When the pope learnt this determination of Frederick’s, he sent

ecclesiastics to forbid him to embark. The sovereign pontiff reproached

the emperor with presenting to the Christian world the scandal of a

crusade directed by a prince reproved of God: as the fleet of Frederick

consisted of only twenty galleys, and as he took with him only six

hundred knights, Gregory reproached him with not having fulfilled his

promises, and compared his imprudent attempts to the expedition of a

captain of pirates. The emperor did not condescend to make any reply to

the messengers of the pope; the more opposition the head of the Church

gave to his departure, the more impatient Frederick appeared to set

out and accomplish his design: in his indignation, he congratulated

himself at having to brave the anger of the Church and the arms of the

Saracens at the same time. He left the greater part of his army in

Sicily; charging his lieutenant, the duke of Spoleto, to negotiate for

peace with the pope, but at the same time to carry on the war commenced

against the Roman states with unabated vigour.

When he heard of the departure of the emperor, Gregory was in the

little city of Assisi, occupied in the canonization of St. Francis.

During several days, he had sung nothing but hymns of hope and joy:

“Francis,” said he, “had appeared like the star of morning, like the

orb of day, like the moon in its splendour.” This language of peace,

this festive pomp, were all at once interrupted by the maledictions

that the pope pronounced against Frederick: the sovereign pontiff

repaired to the foot of the altar, and there implored Heaven to

confound the pride of impious monarchs, and frustrate all their

sacrilegious enterprises.

The emperor, notwithstanding, arrived safely on the coast of Syria,

and was received at Ptolemaïs by the patriarch, the clergy, and the

grand masters of the military orders. For some days, the Christians

of the East viewed him as the liberator and the king of Jerusalem;

but a change speedily took place. Two disciples of St. Francis, sent

by the pope, came to announce to the faithful that they had received

a prince rebellious to the will of the Church. From that moment,

contempt, hatred, and mistrust took place of respect and submission.

They began by perceiving that Frederick was followed by only a small

number of warriors, and that he had not troops enough to render him

formidable to either the Saracens or the Christians. Nothing was talked

of in Ptolemaïs but the excommunication of the pope, and the means of

withdrawing themselves from obedience to a heretic prince: never had

the deliverance of Jerusalem been less thought of.

At the moment in which Frederick arrived in Syria, Conraddin, sultan

of Damascus, died; and the death of this prince gave birth to more

discords among the Mussulman powers. The principality of Damascus was

governed by a young inexperienced prince; and the spirit of license and

insubordination, which had, in the last wars, been already observed

among the troops of Syria and Egypt, made, every day, greater progress,

and put all the Mussulman thrones in peril.

The sultan of Cairo, when informed of the arrival of Frederick, came

into Palestine, at the head of an army. Some asserted that he came to

defend Jerusalem, and to fight with the Christians; but his true design

was to take advantage of the chances of war, and of the discords which

everywhere prevailed, to get possession of Damascus, and defeat the

plans of the enemies that jealousy and ambition had raised up against

him among the Mussulmans and princes of his family.

The emperor of Germany marched out of Ptolemaïs, at the head of his

small army, and directed his course towards the mountains of Naplouse.

He had sent Count Thomas de Celano to Melik-Kamel, to remind him of

his promises, and to tell him, that, being master of the most vast

provinces of the West, he was not come into Asia for the purpose of

making conquests; that he had no other design but that of visiting the

holy places, and taking possession of the kingdom of Jerusalem, which

belonged to him.[236] The sultan received the ambassador of Frederick

with due respect; but whether he was ashamed to make peace before

he had begun the war, or whether he feared to draw upon himself the

hatred of the Mussulmans, by showing too much deference for a Christian

prince, he at first made no reply to the propositions that were made to

him.

Nevertheless the two princes sent fresh ambassadors, charged on both

sides to express a desire for peace; both were placed in embarrassing

circumstances, being surrounded by enemies who blamed their

proceedings, and did not allow them to publish all their sentiments

freely. The Mussulman army from Damascus, encamped in the neighbourhood

of Jerusalem, watched all the movements of the sultan of Egypt, and

seemed much more disposed to fight with him than to repulse the

Christians. The emperor of Germany found himself in the presence of

two hostile armies, and that which he himself commanded inspired him

with no more confidence than he inspired in it. The Hospitallers and

Templars had left him, and followed him at a distance; in the camp

of the Christians no one durst pronounce the name of the prince who

commanded the army. Frederick had been obliged to withdraw the standard

of the empire, and his orders were only issued to the soldiers of the

cross in the name of God and of the Christian republic.

In this difficult situation, Frederick and Melik-Kamel were equally

sensible of the necessity for peace, and of the danger of commencing

war; they therefore gave more employment to their ambassadors than

to their soldiers; this crusade was nothing but a long negotiation,

disapproved of by both Christians and infidels. As the two sovereigns

covered their policy with a veil of profound mystery, it was easy

for hatred to spread and procure countenance for sinister reports.

Criminal intentions were discovered in the simplest actions. In the

Christian army it was conceived that Frederick had committed a crime by

sending his sword and cuirass to the sultan of Cairo, as a pledge of

his wish for peace. Among the Mussulmans, Melik-Kamel was reproached

with seeking an alliance with the enemies of Islamism, by sending to

the leader of the Franks an elephant, some camels, and the rarest

productions of Arabia, India, and Egypt. The scandal reached its height

when the emperor received as a present from the sultan of Cairo, a

troop of girls, brought up, according to the custom of the Orientals,

to sing and dance in the banqueting-hall.

At length prejudices were carried so far on both sides, that Frederick

was judged more favourably of by his enemies than by his own army; and

Melik-Kamel would sooner have found grace among the Christians than

among his own troops. The infidels regarded the emperor of Germany as

a prince full of wisdom and moderation; Abulfeda, and all the Arabian

authors, have celebrated the qualities and virtues of the monarch of

the Franks, whilst the continuator of William of Tyre only speaks of

this prince with bitterness, and reports in his history, that all the

apostles and other Christians had great doubt and great suspicion that

he was far gone in infidelity, and warm in his belief in the law of

Mahomet.

Hatred soon broke out in acts of treachery and the most odious plots.

As the emperor had expressed an intention of going to bathe in the

waters of the Jordan, the Templars addressed a letter to Melik-Kamel,

pointing out the means of surprising the head of the Christian array

in his pilgrimage: the sultan of Cairo despised such treachery,

and sent the letter he had received to Frederick. At the same time

Melik-Kamel learnt that the sultan of Damascus had declared war against

him, and would be joined by several other Mussulman princes. The sultan

of Cairo and the emperor of Germany had carried on their negotiations

for peace during several months, but now, pressed on all sides by

enemies, and surrounded by dangers, even in their own camp, they at

length resolved to end the matter, and conclude a treaty, which would

permit them to dispose of their forces for their security or for their

personal ambition. They agreed between themselves, that they would

make a truce of ten years, and that Jerusalem, Nazareth, Bethlehem,

and Thoron should be given up to Frederick or his lieutenants.[237]

According to the conditions of the treaty, the Mussulmans were to

retain in the holy city, the mosque of Omar and the free exercise of

their worship: the principality of Antioch and the county of Tripoli

were not comprised in the treaty. The emperor of Germany undertook to

divert the Franks from every kind of hostility against the subjects or

lands of the sultan of Egypt.

When the articles of the treaty became known in the two camps, the

peace was considered by both as impious and sacrilegious.[238] The

imauns and cadis, invoking the name of the caliph of Bagdad, loudly

condemned a truce which conveyed away from the Mussulmans the holy

city, which they called _the house of God, the city of the prophet_.

The prelates and bishops, speaking in the name of the pontiff of Rome,

declaimed vehemently against a treaty which left mosques standing

by the side of the Holy Sepulchre, and in some sort confounded the

worship of Mahomet with that of Christ. When the envoy of the emperor

of Germany went to Damascus, to procure the ratification of the treaty

which had been concluded, the sultan and his vizier refused to hear

him. The peace made with the Christians was a subject of affliction

and scandal for all true believers. One of the most celebrated orators

of Islamism pronounced the panegyric of Jerusalem in the great mosque;

and, when recalling in pathetic terms the loss the Mussulmans had

experienced, he drew tears from all the assembled people.

The patriarch of Jerusalem placed an interdict upon the recovered

holy places, and refused pilgrims permission to visit the sepulchre

of Christ. Jerusalem was no longer, in the eyes of Christians, the

holy city and the heritage of the Son of God; when the emperor made

his public entrance, the faithful preserved a sullen and melancholy

silence as he passed along. Accompanied by the German barons and the

Teutonic knights, he repaired to the church of the Holy Sepulchre,

which was hung with mourning, and appeared as if guarded by the angel

of reprobation; all the ecclesiastics had deserted the sanctuary,

and everything wore the air of abomination and desolation. Frederick

himself took the crown, and placing it upon his head, he was proclaimed

king of Jerusalem without any religious ceremony; the images of the

apostles were veiled; nothing was seen around the altars but swords

and lances; and the sacred vaults gave back no sounds but the noisy

acclamations of warriors.

After his coronation, Frederick wrote to the pope and to all the

princes of the West, that he had reconquered Jerusalem without the

effusion of blood; in his account he endeavoured to enhance the

splendour and merit of this victory, which must fulfil all the hopes of

the Christian world. At the same time, the patriarch wrote to Gregory,

and all the faithful of Christendom, to show them the impiety and the

disgrace of the treaty Frederick had just concluded. When he heard of

the success of the emperor, the sovereign pontiff deplored the conquest

of Jerusalem as he would have deplored its loss, and compared the new

king of Judæa to those impious monarchs whom the anger of God placed

upon the throne of David.

Frederick was not able to remain long in the holy city, which resounded

with imprecations against him. He returned to Ptolemaïs, where he found

only revolted subjects and Christians scandalized at his successes.

The patriarch and the clergy placed an interdict upon the city during

the time the emperor should remain in it; all religious worship was

suspended; the altars were deprived of their ornaments, and the

crosses, relics, and images of the saints were cast upon the ground;

no more bells, no more religious hymns were to be heard; a melancholy

silence prevailed in the sanctuary, where mass was celebrated in a

low voice, and with closed doors. The dead were buried in the fields,

without funeral ceremonies or monumental stones; everything, in short,

denoted a season of great calamities, and a dread of the vengeance of

Heaven: it was thus that the liberator of Jerusalem was welcomed at

Ptolemaïs.

It was Passion-week, and this religious period gave additional

influence to the clergy and more solemnity to the maledictions of the

Church. Frederick found himself obliged to negotiate for peace with

the Christians, as he had done with the infidels, and being unable

to regain their good-will he still further exasperated them by his

violence. He caused the gates of the city to be closed, and prohibited

the bringing in of provisions; he planted archers and arbalatiers in

every place where they could insult the Templars and pilgrims; and by

his orders, mendicant preaching monks were dragged from the foot of the

altar, and beaten with rods in the public places of the city.

Hatred and vengeance were carried, on both sides, to the greatest

excess. It was impossible for the emperor, surrounded as he was by

enemies, to remain long at Ptolemaïs, in addition to which motive, he

daily received letters from Europe urging his return. Two formidable

armies, under the banners of the Holy See, had entered the kingdom of

Naples, pillaged the cities, ravaged the country, mutilated prisoners,

and committed all kinds of enormities. These armies were under the

command of John of Brienne, impatient to revenge his own injuries, and

two Sicilian counts, whom the emperor of Germany had driven from the

kingdom of Naples.

Frederick at length quitted Palestine and returned to his own

dominions. As he left Ptolemaïs, the inhabitants chanted hymns of

deliverance and joy. He accused the Templars of having endeavoured to

deliver him up to the Saracens; the Templars, on their part, accused

him of having wished to surrender all the Christian cities to the

sultan of Cairo: these accusations, and a thousand others, dictated by

hatred, ought to inspire the historian with great and just suspicions.

The Christians might have urged against Frederick a much more

reasonable reproach; he had taken no means to secure his conquest, and

they were warranted in believing that he had only made his triumphal

entry into Jerusalem with the view of annoying the Holy See, and dating

a reply to the inculpations of Gregory from the holy places: having

attained his object, he had deceived the faithful, by inviting them to

a city that he was disposed neither to defend nor fortify. In addition

to this, Frederick himself felt very little pride in the advantages

of which he made such a pompous display throughout Europe; and the

crusade in which he had taken a part was frequently the object of his

pleasantries and sarcasms.

On his return to Italy, he found a much more serious war than that

he had carried on in Asia. The pope had not only levied troops to

ravage his states, he had induced the Lombard republics to take up

arms against him. John of Brienne, deprived of his title of king of

Jerusalem, determined to endeavour to be acknowledged emperor, and

his pretensions were supported by all that was then held most sacred,

the authority of the Church and the right of victory. The presence of

Frederick restored courage to his subjects, whose fidelity was still

unshaken; he met his enemies in several engagements, in which he always

gained the advantage. The army of John of Brienne was dispersed, and

the pontifical troops quitted all the cities and provinces they had

conquered, in the greatest disorder.

The pope, learning that fortune had deserted his banners, again had

recourse to the thunders of religion, and employed the most terrible

of its denunciations against Frederick. He declared that all were

excommunicated who should hold any kind of commerce with the emperor,

all who should sit at his table, be present at his councils, celebrate

divine service before him, or offer him any mark of attachment or

respect. Frederick was terrified at this sentence, which was published

with great solemnity in all parts of Europe, particularly in his own

dominions; and sent ambassadors to the pope, who, in spite of the

thunders with which he was armed, dreaded the consequences of war,

and showed himself disposed to receive the submission of an enemy he

dreaded.

After a negotiation of several days, a treaty was made, in which the

conquered pope dictated laws to his conqueror, and appeared, whilst

receiving peace, to accord a pardon. But in spite of this treaty of

peace, the effects of discord still subsisted, and were felt even in

the East, where debates, raised in the name of the Church, had divided

men’s minds, and depressed the general courage; and where the Christian

states, for which Europe had taken up arms, remained without support

and without defence. As Frederick had abandoned Jerusalem without

fortifying it,[239] the Christians were in constant dread of the

invasion of the Mussulman peasants, whom the hopes of pillage attracted

from the mountains of Naplouse. The great bell of the church of the

Holy Sepulchre often gave warning of the approach of an enemy eager

for carnage; and most of the inhabitants retired with their terrified

families, some to the fortress of St. David, which was still standing

among the ruins, and others into desert places.

The patriarch of Jerusalem, the prelates, barons, and people of

Palestine, who had no longer either a leader or a king, in vain

implored the assistance of the warriors and princes of the West:

prayers and complaints so frequently repeated, had no power to awaken

in the hearts of the faithful either the sentiments of pity or the

enthusiasm which had so often caused them to take up arms and the

cross. They could have no faith in perils that followed so closely

upon victory; and they despaired of ever being able to assure the

deliverance of a country which required to be delivered so often.

The pope, however, had not abandoned the project of the crusade, and

still entertained the hope of reviving the ardour and zeal of the

Christian warriors by his exhortations. He convoked an assembly at

Spoleto, at which Frederick, with the patriarchs of Constantinople,

Antioch, and Jerusalem assisted. It was resolved in this assembly, to

renew the war in Palestine, notwithstanding the truce concluded with

the sultan of Cairo.

Gregory was impatient to accomplish his designs, and proclaim the

laws of the Church in the rich countries of the East; and, to employ

the time till warriors could be gathered together, he sent several

missionaries across the sea, armed with the sword and the word, to

endeavour to convert the infidels of Syria and Egypt. The sovereign

pontiff was so persuaded of the success of this pacific crusade,

that he wrote to the caliph of Bagdad, the sultan of Damascus,

and the principal Mussulman chiefs, to exhort them to embrace

Christianity.[240] History does not say what the fate was of these

mendicant preachers in the East; but the caliph of Bagdad and the

Mussulman princes did not cease to be inveterate enemies to the

Christians. Gregory IX. was better inspired and more fortunate when

he sent sacred orators into several of the provinces of the West, to

appease the troubles and civil wars that were so injurious to the

cause of religion, and diverted the minds of the people from the great

enterprise of the holy wars.

The disciples of St. Dominick and St. Francis of Assisi, charged with a

mission worthy of the Gospel, pervaded cities and countries, preaching

peace and concord. Among the preachers thus sent to pacify states,

Brother John of Vicentia made himself conspicuous by the miracles

effected by his eloquence.[241] In all the countries he visited, the

nobles, the peasants, the citizens, and the warriors flocked to listen

to him, and swore to pardon all injuries and terminate all quarrels.

After having re-established peace in several cities troubled by the

spirit of jealousy, and animated by the stormy passions of undefined,

ill-understood liberty, he announced that he should preach in the

plain of Peschiera, on the banks of the Adige. All the inhabitants

of the neighbouring cities, headed by their clergy and their

magistrates, repaired to the place appointed, to listen to the _Angel

of Concord_[242] and the orator of public peace. In the presence of

more than four hundred thousand auditors, Brother John mounted a pulpit

elevated in the centre of the plain of Peschiera; a profound silence

prevailed throughout the assembly; every eye was fixed upon the holy

preacher; his words seemed to descend from heaven. He took for his text

these words of the Scripture: “I give you my peace, I leave you my

peace.” After having drawn a frightful picture of the evils of war and

the effects of discord, he ordered the Lombard cities to renounce their

enmities, and dictated to them, in the name of the Church, a treaty of

universal pacification. At no period had the middle ages presented a

more sublime and touching spectacle; the historian of that time, who

has nothing but troubles and wars to describe, ought to be delighted at

an opportunity to tell of such an imposing and solemn scene, wherein

religion recalled assembled nations to a sense of all that her maxims

contain that is most consoling and salutary. The discourse of Brother

John filled his auditory with a holy love of peace, and the cities then

at war swore, before him, to forget for ever the subjects of their long

divisions and eternal rivalries.

These evangelical discourses restored to Italy a few days of peace,

and gave the Holy See an opportunity of preaching a new crusade with

success. Gregory addressed pastoral instructions to all the bishops

and prelates of Christendom. In his letters to the French bishops, he

applied these words of Christ to the holy war: “If any one would come

with me, let him renounce himself, let him take up my cross and follow

me.” The sovereign pontiff declared all who would not employ their

utmost efforts to conquer the heritage of Christ, guilty of treason.

The circulars of the pope ordered all the faithful, of both sexes, to

pay a denier per week towards the expenses of the crusade. The head of

the Church compared these alms to those which St. Paul solicited for

the poor of Jerusalem, and did not fear to assert, beforehand, that

they would suffice for the maintenance of the army of Crusaders for ten

years.

The preaching of this crusade was confided to the fraternities of St.

Dominick and St. Francis, which had, in Asia, missionaries for the

conversion of infidels, and in the West, preachers to re-establish

peace among Christians; the new apostles of the holy war received from

the pope the power, not only to give the cross, but to commute the vow

of pilgrimage to a pecuniary alms, a practice that had never been seen

since the beginning of the crusades; they had likewise the faculty

of granting indulgences for several days to all who came to listen

to their sermons. According to the spirit of their institutions, the

disciples of St. Francis and St. Dominick lived amidst austerities and

penance; they devoted themselves to poverty, and were bound to furnish

a constant example of Christian humility; but, in this instance, the

pope desired they should be received into monasteries and cities with

pomp and ceremony; and that the clergy should come out to meet them,

with the banners and most splendid ornaments of their churches. Whether

this magnificence changed the simplicity of their manners, or that the

people did not like to behold men whom they had lately seen devoted to

evangelical poverty, treated with ceremonial pomp, the preachers of

the crusade inspired their auditors with neither esteem nor respect,

and the crowd diminished every day. As they received abundant alms, of

which no one could see the employment, neither the solemnity of their

mission nor the sanctity of their characters could screen them from the

suspicions and accusations of the multitude: the murmurs and complaints

which arose on all sides, at length weakened the authority of their

words, and assisted in cooling the zeal and devotion of the Christians

for the holy war.

The enthusiasm of the people, which Christian eloquence could not

revive, stood in need of the example of the most illustrious princes

and warriors. France was then at peace; the war against the Albigeois

was drawing towards its end: most of the knights and barons, reared

amidst battles, could not endure rest, and sighed for an opportunity of

signalizing their warlike temperament. They took the oath to go into

Asia and fight against the Saracens.

Thibault V., count of Champagne, and king of Navarre, son of Thibault,

who died before the fifth crusade, undertook to discharge the vow his

father had made to the Church and to Christ. The king of Navarre was

celebrated among knights and among troubadours; his muse, which had

sung profane loves, now gave voice to the complaints of Jerusalem, and

awakened, by Christian songs, the ardour of the soldiers of the cross.

“Learn,” said he, “that heaven is closed to all those who will not

cross the seas to visit and defend the tomb of God. Yes, all the brave,

all who love God and glory, will not hesitate to take up the cross and

arms. Those who prefer repose to honour, those who dread perils, will

remain alone in their homes. Jesus Christ, in the day of judgment, will

say to the one party: ‘You, who helped me to bear my cross, go to the

place in which dwell the angels and my mother Mary;’ he will say to the

others: ‘You, who have not succoured me, descend to the abode of the

wicked.’”[243] The example and the exhortations of Thibault attracted

princes, barons, and knights from all the provinces of France.

Pierre de Dreux, duke of Brittany, whom the clergy surnamed Mauclerc,

because, in his youth, he had abandoned the ecclesiastical state,

wished to expiate his numerous felonies, his unjust wars, his tyranny

towards his subjects, his perfidies towards his allies, by the holy

pilgrimage. Hugh IV., duke of Burgundy, the counts of Bar, Ferez,

Mâcon, Joigny, Sancoure, and Nevers; Simon de Montfort, Andrew de

Vitri, Amaury fils, Geoffrey d’Ancenes, and a crowd of barons and

knights took the cross, and engaged to follow the duke of Brittany and

the king of Navarre into Palestine.

As the preaching of the crusade had been accompanied by several abuses

that might prove injurious to the success of the holy expedition, a

council assembled at Tours, employed itself in remedying and stopping

the evil at its source. We have seen, on preceding occasions, that

preachers of the crusades, by receiving criminals under the banners of

the cross, had scandalized Christian knights; and crusades, as was seen

in the twelfth century, were not considered as a means of salvation

for the faithful, and as the way of the Lord, in which all the world

might enter. Great criminals no longer found a place in the ranks

of the pious defenders of Christ. The council of Tours decided that

Crusaders, arrested by justice, should be transferred to the hands of

an ecclesiastical judge, who would pay no respect to their privileges,

and should even take the cross from them, if he found them guilty of

homicide or any other great crime committed against divine and human

laws.

As in other crusades, the people were led into violent excesses against

the Jews, whom they accused of having immolated the God for whom they

were going to fight, and who retained immense treasures in their hands,

whilst the Crusaders were obliged to pledge their property to perform

the voyage to Palestine. In order to stop the course of these popular

violences, the council forbade any ill-treatment of the Jews, either by

plundering them of their wealth or by doing them personal injury, under

pain of heavy ecclesiastical censures.

Another abuse, not less prejudicial to the Crusaders than all the

others, had been likewise observed. The preachers of the holy wars and

many other theologians had permitted Crusaders to buy off their vow

by paying a sum of money equal to that which they would have expended

in their pilgrimage:[244] this abuse caused great scandal among the

faithful, but the Holy See, which derived considerable sums from it,

paid no attention to the complaints made on account of it in England

and many other states of Europe.

The Crusaders were preparing for their departure, when, all at once,

a fresh cry of alarm resounded through the West. The empire of the

Latins, at Constantinople, was reduced to the lowest extremity. After

the reigns of Baldwin of Flanders and his son Henry, the family

of Courtenay, called to the throne, derived nothing from their

exaltation but the griefs and reverses inseparable from the government

of an empire which is hastening to decay. Peter of Courtenay, count

of Auxerre, when on his way to take possession of the throne of

Baldwin, was surprised and massacred in Macedonia, by the orders of

Theodore Comnenus, prince of Epirus. A short time afterwards, the

empress, who had arrived at Constantinople by sea, died of grief,

on learning the tragical end of her husband. Robert of Courtenay,

second son of Peter, only ascended the throne to experience the rapid

decline of the empire; conquered in a great battle by Vataces, the

successor of Lascaris, he lost all the provinces situated beyond the

Bosphorus and the Hellespont; whilst, on the other side, the prince

of Epirus took possession of Thessaly and a great part of Thrace.

Constantinople, threatened by formidable enemies, beheld from its

towers the standards of the Greeks of Nice and of the barbarians of

Mount Hemus, floating near its walls and insulting its majesty. Amidst

these various disasters, Robert died, leaving, as his only successor,

his brother Baldwin, still in his childhood. John of Brienne, whom

fortune had made, for a short period, king of Jerusalem, was called to

the tottering throne of Constantinople, at the moment that the Greeks

and Bulgarians, animated by the ardour of pillage, were at the gates

of the capital. Their fleets penetrated to the port, their numerous

battalions were preparing to scale the ramparts; but the new emperor

fought several battles with them, obtained possession of their ships,

and dispersed their armies. The miraculous victories of John of Brienne

added greatly to his renown, but only served to diminish his forces:

after having defeated his enemies, he found himself without an army;

and whilst the poets were comparing him to Hector, Roland, and Judas

Machabæus,[245] he was obliged to wait in his capital for succours

that had been promised him, and which never arrived. More than eighty

years of age, he terminated his active career in contesting with the

barbarians the remains of a power which had been founded by arms, and

the miserable wreck of which could only be preserved by prodigies of

valour.

The ruins which surrounded him in his last moments must have made him

sensible of the nothingness of human grandeur, and produced sentiments

of Christian humility. He had passed the early days of his life amidst

the austerities of the cloister. On his death-bed he laid aside the

imperial purple, and was desirous of breathing his last sigh in the

habit of a Cordelier. A simple French knight, seated for some few

days upon two thrones, both ready to pass away, son-in-law of two

kings,[246] father-in-law of two emperors, John of Brienne only left,

when dying, the remembrance of his extraordinary exploits, and the

example of a wonderful destiny. Young Baldwin, who had married his

daughter, and who was to have succeeded him, was unable to obtain his

inheritance; and departing as a fugitive from his capital, he wandered

through Europe as a suppliant, braving and enduring the contempt of

princes and nations. Spectacle worthy of pity! the successor of the

Cæsars, clothed in the purple, was beheld imploring the charity of the

faithful, begging for the assistance granted to the lowest indigence,

and frequently not obtaining that for which he sued.

Whilst the emperor of the East was thus travelling through Italy,

France, and England, Constantinople was left without an army, and

sacrificed for the defence of the state, even to its relics, the

objects of the veneration of the people, and the last treasures of

the empire. The sovereign pontiff was touched with the misery and

degradation of Baldwin, and, at the same time, could not hear without

pity the complaints of the Latin church of Byzantium: he published a

new crusade for the defence of the empire of the East.

The Crusaders, who were about to set out for the Holy Land, were

invited to lend their assistance to their brethren of Constantinople;

but the prayers and exhortations of the Holy See produced but very

feeble effects; opinions were divided; some wished to defend the empire

of the Latins, others, the kingdom of Jerusalem.

The French princes and nobles, however, persisted in their resolution

of going to fight against the Saracens in Asia. The barons and knights

either pawned or sold their lands to purchase horses and arms, quitted

their donjons and their castles, and tore themselves from the embraces

of their wives. Thibault, their leader and interpreter, bade adieu to

France in verses which are still extant, and which express, at the same

time, the devotion of a Christian and the spirit of chivalry. His muse,

at once pious and profane, deplores the torments of love, the griefs of

absence, and celebrates the glory of the soldiers of Christ; to console

himself for having left the lady of his thoughts, the king of Navarre

invokes the Virgin Mary, _the lady of the heavens_, and finishes his

complaints, by this verse, which so admirably paints the manners of the

time:

Quand dame perds, Dame me soit aidant.[247]

Other troubadours, after the example of the king of Navarre, sang

the departure of the pilgrims; they promised, in their verses, the

indulgences of the crusade to the warriors that would set out for

Syria, advising the dames and demoiselles not to listen to those that

should be left in Europe; for, said they, there will remain none but

cowards: all the brave are going to seek glory in the battles of the

East. Whilst France was repeating the songs of the troubadours, and

prayers were offered up to Heaven in the churches for the success of

the expeditions, the Crusaders from all the provinces of the kingdom

commenced their march, directing their course towards the port of

Marseilles, where vessels waited, to transport them into Asia; all

were animated by the most ardent zeal for the deliverance of the holy

places; but the pope, at whose voice they had taken up arms, no longer

applauded their enthusiasm. Gregory, who had made himself a great many

formidable enemies in the West, appeared to have forgotten a war he

had so warmly promoted, and was entirely engrossed by his own dangers.

Most of the leaders of the crusade were assembled at Lyons to

deliberate upon the best means of carrying on their enterprise, when

they received a nuncio from the sovereign pontiff, who commanded them

to return to their homes. This unexpected order from Gregory IX. gave

great offence to the princes and barons, who told the envoy of the

court of Rome, that the pope might change his policy, and disapprove of

that which he himself had set on foot; but that the defenders of the

cross, they who had devoted themselves to the service of Christ, would

remain steadfast in their intentions. “We have made,” added they, “all

our preparations; we have pledged or sold our lands, our houses, and

our goods; we have quitted our friends and our families, giving out our

departure for Palestine: religion and honour forbid us to retrace our

steps.”[248]

As the pope’s nuncio wished to speak and uphold the authority of the

Church, and as he accused the barons of betraying the cause they were

going to defend, the Christian warriors could not restrain their

indignation; the soldiers and leaders were so exasperated, that they

even ill-treated the ambassador of the pontiff; and, but for the

intercession and prayers of the prelates and bishops, would have

immolated him to their anger.

Scarcely had the Crusaders dismissed the pope’s nuncio with contempt,

than deputies arrived from the emperor of Germany, equally supplicating

them to suspend their march, and wait till he had collected his troops,

in order to place himself at their head. The knights and barons,

animated by a sincere zeal for the objects of their expedition, could

not comprehend the meaning of the delays thus attempted to be thrown in

the way of it, and sighed over the blindness of the powers that wished

to turn them aside from the road to salvation. The king of Navarre, the

dukes of Brittany and Burgundy, with most of the nobles that had taken

the cross, persisted in the design of accomplishing their vow, and

embarked for Syria at the port of Marseilles.

A new misunderstanding had broken out between the pope and Frederick,

who were disputing the sovereignty of Sardinia; all the passions

were soon engaged in this quarrel, and armed themselves, by turns,

with the vengeance of Heaven and the furies of war. Gregory, after

having excommunicated Frederick afresh, was determined to attack his

reputation, and degrade him in the opinion of his contemporaries.

Monitories and briefs from the pope were read in all the churches

of Europe, in which the emperor was represented as an impious man,

an accomplice of heretics and Saracens, an oppressor of religion

and humanity. Frederick replied to the accusations of the sovereign

pontiff by the most violent invectives; he addressed himself to the

Romans, to excite them against the Holy See, and called upon all the

princes of Europe to defend his cause as their own.[249] “Kings and

princes of the earth,” said he, “look upon the injury done to us as

your own, _bring water to extinguish the fire that has been kindled

in our neighbourhood_; a similar danger threatens you.” The irritated

pope hurled all the thunders of the Church against his adversary; and

even went so far as to preach a crusade against the emperor, saying,

“There was more merit in combating a prince who was rebellious to the

successors of St. Peter, than in delivering Jerusalem.” Throughout this

scandalous contest, the Church was allowed to possess nothing that

was sacred, the authority of princes nothing that was legitimate; on

one side, the sovereign pontiff considered all who remained faithful

subjects to the emperor as the ministers and accomplices of the

demon; on the other, the emperor would not acknowledge the pope as

the vicar of Christ. At last, Gregory promised the imperial crown to

any Christian prince who would take up arms against the emperor, and

drag him from his throne: Louis IX., more wise than the Church itself,

refused the empire which was offered to him for his brother Robert,

and employed earnest but vain endeavours to restore peace to Europe,

disturbed by the pretensions and menaces of the pope.

They soon came to hostilities; and Frederick, after having gained a

great victory over the Milanese, and carried terror amongst all the

republics of Lombardy, marched towards Rome at the head of an army.

Gregory, who had no troops at all, went through the streets of his

capital at the head of a procession; he exhibited to the Romans the

relics of the apostles, and, melting into tears, told them he had

no means of defending this sacred deposit without their assistance.

The nobility and people, touched by the prayers of the pope, swore

to die in defence of the Holy See. They set about preparations for

war, they fortified the city with the greatest expedition; and when

the emperor drew near to the gates, he saw those same Romans, who, a

short time before, had embraced his cause against the pope, drawn up

in battle-array on the ramparts, determined to die in the cause of the

head of the Church. Frederick besieged the city, without being able to

get possession of it; in his anger, he accused the Romans of perfidy,

and revenged himself by exercising horrible cruelties on his prisoners.

The hatred enkindled between the pope and the emperor soon passed into

the minds of the people, and the furies of civil war devastated the

whole of Italy.

Amidst such general disorder and agitation, the cries and prayers of

the Christians of Palestine were scarcely audible. At the expiration of

the truce concluded with Frederick, the sultan of Damascus re-entered

Jerusalem, and destroyed the tower of David and the weak ramparts

erected by the Christians: this conquest, which revived the courage

of the Mussulmans, necessarily produced more than proportionate

despair among the unfortunate inhabitants of the Holy Land. Instead

of receiving within its walls the innumerable armies that fame had

announced, Ptolemaïs only had to welcome the arrival of a few unarmed

pilgrims, who had nothing to relate but the deplorable quarrels of

Christian monarchs and princes. Most of the communications with the

East were closed; all the maritime powers of Italy were contending for

the empire of the sea; sometimes in league with the sovereign pontiff,

sometimes with the emperor. Several of the Crusaders who had sworn to

go to Constantinople or Ptolemaïs, took part in the crusade that had

been preached against Frederick; others resolved to proceed to Syria

by land, and almost all perished in the mountains and deserts of Asia

Minor; the French lords and princes, who, in spite of the orders of the

pope, set out for Asia from the ports of Provence, were able to bring

with them into Palestine but a very small number of warriors.

At the period of the arrival of these Crusaders, the East was not less

troubled than the West. Melik-Kamel, the sultan of Cairo, had recently

died, and his death became the signal for many sanguinary wars among

the princes of his family, who disputed by turns the kingdom of Egypt,

and the principalities of Damascus, Aleppo, and Hamah. Amidst these

divisions, the emirs and the Mamelukes, whose dangerous support was

constantly sought for, were accustomed to dispose of power, and proved

themselves more formidable to their sovereigns than to the enemies of

Islamism. Supreme authority seemed to be the reward of victory or of

skill in treachery; the Mussulman thrones were environed by so many

perils, that a sultan of Damascus was seen abandoning his sceptre,

and seeking retirement, saying, “a hawk and a hound afforded him more

pleasure than empire.” The princes, divided among themselves, called

for the succour of the Carismians and other barbarous nations, who

burnt their cities, pillaged their provinces, completed the destruction

of the powers they came to defend, and perfected all the evils that

were born of discord.

The Crusaders might have taken advantage of all these troubles, but

they never united their forces against the enemy they had sworn to

contend with; the kingdom of Jerusalem had no government capable of

directing the forces of the crusade; the crowd of pilgrims had no tie,

no common point of interest which could hold them together for any

length of time under the same standards: scattered troops of soldiers

were to be seen, but there was nowhere an army; each of the leaders and

princes followed a plan of his own, declared war or proclaimed peace in

his own name, and appeared to fight entirely for his own ambition or

renown.

The duke of Brittany, followed by his knights, made an incursion into

the lands of Damascus, and returned to Ptolemais with a rich booty;

the other Crusaders, jealous of the success of this expedition, were

desirous of distinguishing themselves by exploits, and formed the

project of attacking the city of Gaza. As they marched without order

or precaution, they were surprised and cut to pieces by the Saracens.

The duke of Burgundy, who was at the head of this expedition, escaped

the pursuit of the conquerors almost alone, and came back to Ptolemaïs,

to deplore the loss of his knights and barons, who had all met with

slavery or death on the field of battle. This reverse, instead of

uniting the Christians more closely, only increased their discords; in

the impossibility of effecting any triumph for their arms, they treated

separately with the infidels, and made peace, as they had made war.

The Templars and some leaders of the army agreed for a truce with the

sultan of Damascus, and obtained the restitution of the holy places;

on their side, the Hospitallers, with the count of Champagne, and the

dukes of Burgundy and Brittany, concluded a treaty with the sultan of

Egypt, and undertook to defend him against the Saracens who had just

given up Jerusalem to the Christians.

After having disturbed Palestine by their disorders, the Crusaders

abandoned it to return to Europe, and were replaced at Ptolemaïs by

some English, who arrived under Richard of Cornwall, brother to Henry

III. Richard, who possessed the tin and lead mines of the county of

Cornwall, was one of the richest princes of the West: if old chronicles

are to be believed, Gregory had forbidden him to go to the East, hoping

that he would consent to remain in Europe, and would impart a portion

of his treasures to the Holy See, to procure the indulgences of the

crusade. When Richard arrived before Ptolemaïs, he was received by the

people and the clergy, who went out to meet him, singing, “Blessed be

he who comes in the name of the Lord.” This prince was the grandson of

Richard Cœur de Lion,[250] whose courage and exploits had rendered him

so famous in the East. The name alone of Richard spread terror among

the Saracens; the prince of Cornwall equalled his ancestor in bravery;

he was full of zeal and ardour, and his army shared his enthusiasm for

religion and glory. He prepared to open the campaign, and everything

seemed to promise success; but, after a march of some days, and a few

advantages obtained over the enemy, finding himself very ill-seconded

by the Christians of Palestine, he was obliged to renew the truce made

with the sultan of Egypt. As the whole fruit of his expedition, he

could only obtain an exchange of prisoners, and permission to pay the

honours of sepulture to the Christians killed at the battle of Gaza.

Without having seen either the walls of Jerusalem or the banks of the

Jordan, Richard embarked for Italy, where he found the pope still

engaged in the war against Frederick. All Europe was in a blaze; a

council convoked for the peace of the Church had not been able to

assemble; the emperor still besieged the city of Rome, and threatened

the head of Christendom. Amidst this general disorder, Gregory died,

cursing his implacable adversary, and was succeeded by Celestine IV.,

who only wore the tiara sixteen days. The war was continued with

renewed fury, the Church remained without a head, and Christ without

a vicar upon earth; the cardinals wandered about dispersed; Frederick

holding several of them in chains. “The court of Rome,” says Fleury,

“was desolate, and fallen into great contempt.” This deplorable anarchy

lasted nearly two years; all Christendom was loud in complaints, and

demanded of Heaven a pope able to repair the evils of Europe and the

Church.

The conclave met at length, but the election of Innocent IV., made

amidst trouble and discord, put an end to neither the public scandal

nor the furies of the war, which grieved all true Christians. The new

pontiff followed the example of Innocent III. and Gregory IX., and

soon surpassed all their excesses. Under his pontificate, disorder

continued increasing, until it had reached its height. The Christians

of Greece and Palestine were quite forgotten. Missionaries in vain

perambulated the kingdoms of the West, to exhort the faithful to make

peace among themselves, and turn their arms against the Saracens; many

of these angels of peace were proscribed by Frederick, who was, at

once, at war with the sovereign pontiff, the emperor of the East, and

all those who, in taking the cross, had sworn to defend Rome, or to

deliver Constantinople or Jerusalem. We will not attempt to describe

the violent scenes of which the West, but particularly Italy, was

the theatre. Attention becomes fatigued by dwelling long upon the

same pictures; the wars and revolutions which lend so much life to

history finish by presenting only a wearisome, twice-told tale; and

thus, likewise, may the reader perceive that the passions have their

uniformity and tempests their monotony.

* * * * *

Each of the preceding crusades had a distinct object, a march which

could be easily followed, and was only remarkable for great exploits

or great reverses. That which we have just described, which embraces a

period of thirty years, is mingled with so many different events, with

so many clashing interests, so many passions foreign to the holy wars,

that it at first appears to present only a confused picture; and the

historian, constantly occupied in relating the revolutions of the East

and of the West, may with reason be accused of having, as a European

Christian, forgotten Jerusalem and the cause of Christ.

When we have read the twelfth book of this history, we perceive that

we are already far from the age that gave birth to the crusades, and

witnessed their brilliant progress. When comparing this war with those

that preceded it, it is easy to see that it has a different character,

not only in the manner in which it was conducted, but in the means

employed to inflame the zeal of the Christians, and induce them to take

up arms.

When we observe the incredible efforts of the popes to arm the nations

of the West, we are at first astonished at the small quantity of

success obtained by their exhortations, their menaces, and their

prayers. We have but to compare the Council of Clermont, held by

Urban, with the Council of the Lateran, presided over by Gregory. In

the first, the complaints of Jerusalem excite the tears and sobs of

the auditory; in the second, a thousand different objects intrude,

to occupy the attention of the fathers of the Church, who express

themselves upon the misfortunes of the Holy Land, without emotion and

without pain. At the voice of Urban, knights, barons, and ecclesiastics

all swore together to go and fight against the infidels; the council

became, in a moment, an assembled host of intrepid warriors: it was

not so at the Council of the Lateran, in which no one took the cross,

or burst forth into an expression of that high enthusiasm which the

pope desired to awaken in all hearts.

We have drawn attention, in the course of our recital, to the

circumstance of pilgrims being permitted by the preachers of the

holy war to buy off their vow by paying a sum of money; this mode

of expiating sins appeared to be a scandalous innovation: and the

indulgence of the missionaries of the holy war, who thus released the

faithful from the pilgrimage, made them lose a considerable portion

of their ascendancy. They were not, as formerly, the messengers of

Heaven; the multitude no longer endowed them with the power of working

miracles; they were even sometimes obliged to employ the menaces and

promises of the Church to draw hearers to their sermons; in short,

at length the people ceased to consider them as the interpreters of

the gospel, and saw in them only the collectors of the dues of the

Holy See. This sale of the privileges of the crusade, purchased at an

extravagant price, necessarily checked the effects of all generous

passions, and, in the minds of Christians, confounded that which

belonged to Heaven with that which belonged to earth.

Preceding ages were unacquainted with any other motive but religion and

its promises.[251] The companions of Peter the Hermit and Godfrey, the

warriors who followed Louis the Young, Philip Augustus, Richard Cœur

de Lion, Boniface, and Baldwin of Flanders, could not have possibly

believed that gold could be made a substitute for the merit and glory

of the holy war.

We find another remarkable difference in the preaching of this

crusade,—the refusal to admit great criminals under the banners of

the cross. The astonishment which the enrolment of a crowd of obscure

persons in the holy militia caused among the Christian knights,

suffices to denote a great change in the manners and opinions of

the Crusaders. The sentiment of honour, which is allied with a love

of glory, and has a tendency to establish distinctions among men,

appears to have prevailed over the purely religious feeling which

inspires humility, acknowledges the equal rights of all Christians, and

confounds repentance with virtue. The crusade, into which none were

admitted but men of acknowledged bravery and good conduct, ceased, in

some sort, to be a simply religious war, and began to resemble other

wars, in which leaders have the power of selecting the soldiers they

have to command.

The enthusiasm for the holy wars only revived at intervals, like a

fire upon the point of going out of itself; the people required some

great event, some extraordinary circumstance, some striking example of

princes or warriors, to induce them to take arms against the infidels;

the subtleties of theologians, who insisted upon everything being

subservient to their discussions, contributed to cool the remains of

that pious and warlike ardour, which, till that time, it had been

found necessary to moderate and restrain within just limits. Disputes

were started in the schools upon such questions as these: In what case

was a Christian exempt from the accomplishment of his vow? What sum

was sufficient to redeem a promise made to Christ? If certain pious

exercises could be substituted for pilgrimage? If an heir was bound

to fulfil the oath of a testator? Whether the pilgrim who died on his

way to the Holy Land, had more merit in the eyes of God than one who

died on his return?[252] Whether a wife could take the cross without

the consent of her husband, or the husband without the consent of the

wife? &c. From the moment in which all these questions were solemnly

discussed, and, upon several points, the opinions of theologians

differed, enthusiasm, which never reasons, was rendered languid by the

cold arguments of the doctors; and pilgrims appeared to yield less

to the transports of a generous feeling, than to the necessity of

performing a duty or of following an established rule.

This sixth crusade was more abundant in intrigues and scandalous

quarrels than in military exploits; the Christians never united all

their efforts against the infidels; no spirit of order presided over

their enterprises; the Crusaders, who only held their mission of their

zeal, set out at the time their will or their fancy selected; some

returned to Europe without having faced a Saracen in fight; others

abandoned the colours of the cross, after a victory or a defeat; and

fresh Crusaders were constantly summoned to defend the conquests or

repair the faults of those that had preceded them. Although the West

had counted in this crusade more than five hundred thousand of her

warriors departing for Palestine or Egypt, great armies were rarely

assembled on the banks of the Nile or the Jordan. As the Crusaders were

never gathered together in great bodies, they were not subjected to

famine, or the other scourges that had so fearfully thinned the ranks

of the early defenders of the cross; but if they experienced fewer

reverses, if they were better disciplined, we may say that they showed

none of that ardour, or of those lively passions which men communicate

to each other, and which acquire a new degree of force and activity

amidst a multitude assembled for the same cause and under the same

banners.

By transferring the theatre of the war to Egypt, the Christians no

longer had before their eyes, as in Palestine, the revered places and

monuments, which could recall to them the religion and the God they

were about to fight for; they had no longer before them and around them

the river Jordan, Libanus, Thabor, or Mount Sion, the aspect of which

had so vividly affected the imagination of the first Crusaders.

When the people of Europe heard the head of the Church exhort the

faithful to the conquest of Jerusalem, and at the same time curse

Frederick, the liberator of the holy city, the object of the crusade

lost its sacred character in the eyes of Christians. The emperor of

Germany, after his return from his expedition, sometimes said, “If God

had been acquainted with the kingdom of Naples, he never could have

preferred the barren rocks of Jerusalem to it.” These sacrilegious

words of Frederick must have been a great subject of offence to

pilgrims; but, indeed, this prince only sent to the Holy Land such of

his subjects as he was dissatisfied with, or wished to punish. The

popes also condemned to pilgrimage the great criminals whom society

rejected from its bosom, which was very repugnant to the manners

and opinions of the nobles and knights of Europe. As a crowning

misfortune, the reverses or exploits of the Crusaders beyond the seas

frequently created divisions among the princes of the West. From that

time, Palestine was no longer, in the eyes of the faithful, a land

of blessedness, flowing with milk and honey, but a place of exile.

From that time Jerusalem was less considered the city of God and the

heritage of Christ, than a subject of discord, or the place in which

were born all the storms that disturbed Christendom.

In the other crusades, the popes had been satisfied with awakening

the enthusiasm of pilgrims, and addressing prayers to Heaven for the

success of the Crusaders; but in this war, the heads of the Church

insisted upon directing all the expeditions, and commanding, by their

legates, the operations of the Christian armies. The invasion of Egypt

was decided upon in the Council of the Lateran, without a thought of

asking the advice or opinions of any of the skilful captains of the

age. When hostilities began, the envoys of the pope presided over all

the events of the war; weakening the ardour of the soldiers of the

cross, by their ambitious pretensions, as well as by their ignorance.

They let all the fruits of victory slip through their hands, and

gave birth to an injurious rivalry between the spiritual and the

temporal powers. This rivalry, this reciprocal mistrust, were carried

so far, that the sovereign pontiff and the emperor of Germany, by

turns, arrested the march of the pilgrims; the first fearing that

the Crusaders, on embarking for Palestine, would become the soldiers

of Frederick; the second, that these same soldiers might become the

defenders of the temporal power of the popes.

At the period of which we have just retraced the history, so many

crusades were preached at once, that the eyes of the faithful were

necessarily diverted from the first object of these holy expeditions.

Called upon to defend so many causes, no one could distinguish which

was the cause of God and Jesus Christ; so many interests presented

themselves at the same time to the attention of Christians, and were

recommended to the bravery of warriors, that they gave birth to

hesitation and reflection; and these produced indifference. Europe,

for a length of time in a state of fermentation, was undergoing the

vague uncertainty of a change; states began to think more of their

independence, people of their liberty. The passions which politics

bring forth, took the place of passions of which religion is the motive.

The sanguinary quarrels of the emperor and the popes contributed

greatly to the revolution which was brought about in men’s minds:

the motive which animated the heads of the Church was not always a

religious one; the emperor of Germany and the pontiffs of Rome had

pretensions to the domination of Italy, and had been, for a long time,

engaged in a rivalry of ambition. Gregory could not see Frederick

master of the kingdom of Naples without great pain; and when he pressed

him to go into Asia, to make war upon the Saracens, he might have been

compared to that personage of ancient fable, who, in order to get rid

of his rival, sent him to combat the Chimera.

Four popes, although of a different character, finding themselves in

the same circumstances, pursued the same policy. Frederick, by his

cruelties, injustice, and extravagant ambition, often justified the

violences of the Holy See, of which he was, by turns, the ward, the

protector, and the enemy; like his predecessors, he made no secret of

his project of restoring the empire of the Cæsars; and, had it not been

for the popes, it is not improbable that Europe would have been brought

under the yoke of the emperors of Germany.

The policy of the sovereign pontiffs, whilst weakening the imperial

power, favoured, in Germany, the liberty of cities, and the growth

and duration of small states; we do not hesitate to add, that the

thunders of the Church preserved the independence of Italy, and

perhaps that of France, which was less ill treated by the court of

Rome than neighbouring nations. The French monarchy took advantage of

the troubles that existed on the other side of the Rhine, and of the

interdict set upon England, to repel the invasions of the English and

Germans; and, at the same time, availed itself of the absence of the

king of Navarre, the dukes of Brittany and Burgundy, with several other

great vassals, whom the crusade attracted beyond the seas, to increase

the prerogatives of the royal authority, and extend the limits of the

kingdom.

England herself owes something to the authority of the popes, who,

by overwhelming John Lackland with excommunications, rendered him

powerless in his attempts to enslave the English people, or to resist

the demands of the barons and the commons. This is a truth which

impartial history cannot deny or doubt, and which disposes us not to

approve, but to blame with less bitterness, excesses and abuses of

power of which all the effects have not been deplorable.[253] The

populace of London, who burn every year the effigy of the pope, would

be much astonished if, amidst a fanatical delirium, they were told that

the army which once fought for the independence of Great Britain was

called _the army of God and of the Holy Church_; if they were reminded

that the great charter of the Forest, the first monument of British

liberty, was the fortunate fruit of the menaces and thunders of the

Church of Rome, and that this charter would never have been granted by

John, without the redoubtable influence and the imperious counsels of

the sovereign pontiff.[254]

Without wishing to justify the domination of the popes, we may say

that they were led to grasp at supreme power by the circumstances in

which Europe was placed in the eleventh and twelfth centuries. European

society, without experience or laws, and plunged in ignorance and

anarchy, cast itself into the arms of the popes, and believed that it

placed itself under the protection of Heaven.

As nations had no other ideas of civilization than such as they

received from the Christian religion, the sovereign pontiffs naturally

became the supreme arbiters between rival or neighbouring countries;

amidst the darkness which the light of the Gospel had a continued and

never-ending tendency to diminish, their authority must naturally

have been the first established and the first recognised; temporal

power stood in need of their sanction; people and kings implored their

support and consulted their wisdom: they believed themselves authorized

to exercise a sovereign dictatorship.

This dictatorship was often exercised to the advantage of public

morality and social order; it often protected the weak against the

strong; it arrested the execution of criminal plots; it re-established

peace between states; and it preserved a young society from the

excesses of ambition, licentiousness, and barbarism. When we cast

our eyes over the annals of the middle ages, we cannot help being

struck by one of the most beautiful spectacles that human society

has ever presented,—it is that of Christian Europe recognising but

one religion, having but one law, forming as it were but one empire,

governed by a single head, who spoke in the name of God, and whose

mission was to make the Gospel reign upon earth.

In the general reflections by which we shall terminate this work, we

will enter into much greater developments upon this head; we will

compare modern Europe with the Europe of the middle ages, and we will

make it clear that, if we have acquired some wisdom in the art of

civilization, we are still far from having turned it to the advantage

of public liberty: nations are at the present day led away by the

spirit of the French revolution, as they were in the middle ages by the

spirit of the court of Rome and enthusiasm for the crusades. The French

revolution began by liberal ideas, it was continued by victories. The

military spirit allied itself with the fanaticism of new ideas, as it

formerly allied itself with religious enthusiasm. On casting a glance

over our Europe, we are astonished at seeing two contradictory things,

which should naturally exclude each other; we see almost everywhere a

tendency to favour the propagation of liberal ideas, and at the same

time an inclination to increase the mass of armies; it is difficult to

explain a policy which tends, on the one side, to multiply the apostles

of liberty, on the other to multiply soldiers; which, by turns,

proclaims a principle, and raises a regiment; which speaks, at the

same time, of recruiting, and of a constitution; which appears never

to have laws enough, and yet is insatiable of cannons and bayonets. It

is easy to foresee the near and distant results of such a monstrous

amalgamation.[255] Everything leads us to believe that these results,

like those of the crusades and the influence of the pope in the middle

ages, will not turn out _entirely_ for the advantage of civilization.

But without dwelling longer on these distressing reflections, we will

return to our subject, from which, perhaps, we have strayed too long.

In the eleventh and twelfth centuries, the nations of Europe, subject

to the authority of St. Peter, were united together by a tie more

strong than that of liberty. This motive, this tie, which was that of

the universal Church, for a length of time kept up and favoured the

enthusiasm for and the progress of holy wars. Whatever may have been

the origin of the crusades, it is certain they never would have been

undertaken without that unity of religious feelings which doubled the

strength of the Christian republic. The Christian nations, by the

agreement of their sentiments and their passions, showed the world all

that can be done by enthusiasm, which increases by communication, and

that lively faith, which, spread among men, is a miraculous power,

since the Gospel accords it the faculty of _moving mountains_. In

proportion as people, united by one same spirit, separated, and ceased

to make one common cause, it became more difficult to collect together

the forces of the West, and pursue those gigantic enterprises of which

our age can scarcely perceive the possibility.

It may have been observed, that the pontifical authority and the

enthusiasm for the crusades experienced the same vicissitudes; the

opinions and the exaltation of the religious spirit which caused men to

take up arms, necessarily, at the same time, increased the influence

of the sovereign pontiffs. But springs so active and so powerful could

not possibly last long; they broke by the violence with which they were

employed.

The popes, invested with authority without limit, exercised that

authority without moderation; and as the abuse of power brings on,

sooner or later, its own ruin, the empire of the sovereign pontiffs

finished by declining as other empires have done. Their fall commenced

with their long contests with Frederick; all Europe was called upon to

judge their cause; their power, founded upon opinion, the origin of

which was entirely religious, lost much of its prestige by being given

over to the discussions of men of the world.

At the same time that the sovereign pontiffs abused their power, the

spirit and enthusiasm that had produced the holy wars were likewise

abused. Many Christian princes took the cross, sometimes to obtain

the protection of the popes; sometimes as a pretext for assembling

armies, and enjoying the temporal advantages accorded to the soldiers

of Christ. The leaders of Christendom, without having originated the

wars of the East, were eager to profit by them; in the first place, to

extend their dominions, and in the next to gratify violent passions.

From that moment society sought other supports than that of the Holy

See, and warriors another glory than that of the crusades.

Thibault, king of Navarre, who, in his verses, had preached the war

beyond the seas, was disgusted at the troubles excited in Europe

by the heads of the Church, and deplored with bitterness _a time

full of felony, envy, and treachery_. He accused the princes and

barons of being without _courtoisie_, and reproached the popes with

excommunicating those who were most in the right (_ceux qui avaient

le plus raison_). If a few troubadours still raised their voices to

exhort Christians to take up the cross and arms, the greater part did

not partake of their enthusiasm for the holy wars; and beheld nothing

in these pilgrimages beyond the seas, but the griefs of a long absence,

and the rigours of a pious exile.

In a Tenson[256] which has come down to us, Folquet de Romans asks

Blaccas, the model of troubadours and of knights, whether he will go to

the Holy Land? After having answered that he loves and is beloved, and

that he will remain at home with his ladye-love, (she was countess of

Provence), Blaccas thus ends his simple song:—

“Je ferai ma pénitence,

Entre mer et Durance,

Auprès de son manoir.”[257]

“I will perform my penitence

Between the sea and swift Durance,

Near to my lady’s bower.”

These sentiments belonged to the manners of troubadours and knights;

but at the time of the first crusades, religious ideas were much more

mixed up with ideas of gallantry; a poet, invited to take the cross,

would not have dared to speak of his ladye-love,[258] without likewise

speaking of the mercy of God and the captivity of Jerusalem.

During the other crusades, the religion and morality of the Gospel

resumed their empire, and spread their benefits everywhere; at the

voice of the holy orators, Christians became penitent and reformed

their morals; all political tempests were laid by the simple name of

Jerusalem, and the West remained in profound peace.[259] It was not so

at the period we have just described; Europe was perhaps never more

agitated, or, perhaps, more corrupted than during the thirty years

which this crusade lasted.

In the relations between the Christians and Mussulmans, little respect

had, to this time, certainly, been paid to treaties; but in this

crusade, contempt for sworn faith and forgetfulness for the laws of

nations were carried to an extreme: signing a truce was a preparation

for war;—the Christian armies owed their safety to a treaty of peace;

and the sovereign pontiff, far from respecting the conditions of it,

preached a new crusade against the infidels. It must be allowed, also,

that the most solemn treaties were often violated by the Mussulmans.

The duration of peace depended solely upon the want of power in both

parties to resume hostilities with advantage. The least hope of

success was sufficient to induce them to fly to arms; the slightest

circumstance was an excuse for rekindling all the flames of war. The

continuator of William of Tyre says, with great ingenuousness, when

speaking of the death of a sultan of Damascus: “When the sultan died,

all the truces died with him.” These words alone are sufficient to give

an idea of the state of the East during the sixth crusade, and of the

small degree of respect then entertained for the laws of peace and war.

If, in the preceding crusade, the expedition of the soldiers of the

cross against Greece did not produce great advantages to the West,

it at least illustrated the arms of the Venetians and the French. In

the war we have just described, the knights and barons who took the

cross, added nothing to their glory or their renown. The Crusaders who

were fortunate enough to revisit their homes, brought back with them

nothing but the remembrance of most shameful disorders. A great number

of them had nothing to show their compatriots but the chains of their

captivity; nothing to communicate but the contagious disorders of the

East.

The historians we have followed are silent as to the ravages of the

leprosy among the nations of the West; but the testament of Louis

VIII., an historical monument of that period, attests the existence of

two thousand _léproseries_ (hospitals for lepers) in the kingdom of

France alone. This horrible sight must have been a subject of terror

to the most fervent Christians; and was sufficient to disenchant, in

their eyes, those regions of the East, where, till that time, their

imaginations had seen nothing but prodigies and marvels.

Among the abuses then made of the spirit of the crusades, and the

misfortunes they brought in their train, we must not forget the civil

and religious wars of which France and several other countries of

Europe were the theatre. In their expeditions into the East, Christians

had become familiarized with the idea of employing force and violence

to change men’s hearts and opinions. As they had long made war against

infidels, they were willing to make it, in the same manner, against

heretics; they first took up arms against the Albigeois, then against

the pagans of Prussia; for the same reason, and in the same manner,

that they had armed themselves against the Mussulmans.

Modern writers have declaimed with great vehemence and eloquence

against these disastrous wars; but long before the age in which we

live, the Church had condemned the excesses of blind fanaticism.[260]

Saint Augustine, St. Ambrose, the fathers of councils, had long taught

the Christian world that error is not destroyed by the sword, and that

the truths of the Gospel ought not to be preached to mankind amidst

threats and violences.

The crusade against the Prussians shows us all that ambition, avarice,

and tyranny can exhibit that is most cruel and barbarous; the tribunal

of history cannot judge with too much severity the leaders of this

war, the ravages and furies of which were prolonged during more than

a century; but, whilst condemning the excesses of the conquerors of

Prussia, we must admit the advantages Europe gained by their victories

and exploits. A nation that had been separated from all other nations

by its manners and customs, ceased to be a foreigner in the Christian

republic. Industry, laws, religion, which marched in the train of

the conquerors, to moderate and remove the evils of war, spread

their blessings among hordes of savages. Many flourishing cities

arose from amidst the ashes of forests, and the oak of Remove,[261]

beneath the shade of which human victims had been immolated, was

replaced by churches, in which the virtues and charity of the Gospel

were inculcated. The conquests of the Romans were sometimes more

unjust, then wars more barbarous; they procured less advantages to the

civilized world, and yet they have never ceased to be objects of the

admiration and eulogy of posterity.

The war against the Albigeois was more cruel and more unfortunate than

the crusade directed against the nations of Prussia. Missionaries and

warriors outraged, by their conduct, all the laws of justice and of

the religion whose triumph they pretended to aim at. The heretics,

naturally, sometimes employed reprisals against their enemies; both

sides armed with the steel and axe of murderers and executioners,

humanity had to deplore the most guilty excesses.

When casting a retrospective glance over the annals of the middle ages,

we are particularly grieved to see sanguinary wars undertaken and

carried on in the name of a religion of peace, whilst we can scarcely

find an example of a religious war among the ancients and under the

laws of paganism.[262] We must believe that modern nations and those of

antiquity have, and had the same passions; but, amongst the ancients,

religion entered less deeply into the heart of man or into the spirit

of social institutions. The worship of false gods had no positive

dogma; it added nothing to morality; it prescribed no duties to the

citizen; it was not bound up with the maxims of legislation, and

existed, in some sort, only upon the surface of society. When paganism

was attacked, or when a change was effected in the worship of false

gods, the affections, morals, and interests of pagan society were not

deeply wounded. It was not thus with Christianity, which, particularly

in the middle ages, mixed itself up with all civil laws, recalled

man to all the duties due to his country, and united itself with all

the principles of social order. Amidst the growing civilization of

Europe, the Christian religion was blended with all the interests of

nations; it was, in a manner, the foundation of all society; it was

society itself: we cannot wonder, then, that men were passionate in

its defence. Then all who separated themselves from the Christian

religion, separated themselves from society; and all who rejected the

laws of the Church, ceased to acknowledge the laws of their country. We

must consider the wars against the Albigeois and the Prussians in this

light; they were rather social wars than religious wars.