THE THIRD CRUSADE.
“Signor, saciez, ki or ne s’en ira
En cele terre, u Diex fu mors et vis,
Et ki la crois d’outre mer ni prendra
À paines mais ira en paradis.”
_Thibault de Champagne._
We are not writing a history of the Crusades, and must hasten over
all those episodes in the long struggle of three hundred years which
do not immediately concern the Holy City. It is with regret that one
turns from the glowing pages of Vinsauf, Villehardouin, and
Joinville, with the thought that they have little to do with our
subject, and that we must perforce leave them for other pastures,
not so fair.[72] But a few words to show the progress of events, if
it is only to make us understand the story of Saladin, are
indispensable.
Footnote 72:
Why has no English historian treated of the Crusades? Besides the
scattered notices in Milman there is only the work of Knightley,
meritorious in its way, but as dry as sawdust; spoiled, too, by
the accident that it was written for the Society for the Promotion
of Christian Knowledge, and the author seems always horribly
afraid of saying something which might offend the Committee.
The news of the fall of Jerusalem was received in Europe with a
thrill of horror and indignation. From every pulpit, preachers
thundered in the ears of the stupefied people the intelligence that
the city for which so much had been risked and spent was fallen, and
that it was the judgment of God upon the sins of the world.
Terrified and conscience-stricken, all Europe repented and reformed.
Luxury was abandoned, mortifications and self-denial were practised;
every sinner looked on the fall of the city as partly caused by
himself; nothing but prayers and lamentation were heard through all
the cities of Western Europe. And then when Pope Gregory sent his
circular letter exhorting the faithful to take up arms for the
recovery of Jerusalem, and when William of Tyre, eloquent, noble in
appearance, illustrious for learning and for virtues, came to Europe
to pray for help in the name of Christianity, kings forgot their
quarrels, nobles their ambitions, and it seemed as if, once more,
the cry of “Dieu le veut” would burst spontaneously from the whole
of Western Europe. It might have done had there been a man with the
energy and eloquence of Peter the Hermit. But the moment of
enthusiasm was allowed to pass, and Philip Augustus after taking the
Cross, delayed his Crusade, while he renewed his quarrel with Henry
the Second.
In England and in France, in order to defray expenses, a tax called
the Tithe of Saladin, consisting of a tenth part of all their goods,
was levied on every person who did not take the Cross. The clergy,
with their usual greed, endeavoured to evade the tax, on the ground
that the Church must keep her property in order to preserve her
independence. They were overruled, however, and had all to pay,
except a few of the poorer orders, and the Lepers’ Hospitals. In
every parish the Tithe of Saladin was raised in the presence of a
priest, a Templar, a Hospitaller, a king’s man, a baron’s man and
clerk, and a bishop’s clerk. As this did not produce enough, Philip
Augustus arrested all the Jews, and forced them to pay five thousand
marks of silver. In order to prevent such a rush of villagers as
might lead, as it had already led, to the desertion of the fields,
every one had to pay the tithe except those who took the Cross with
the permission of their seigneur. And when the money had all been
collected, war broke out again between the two kings of France and
England. Peace was made between them by aid of the pope’s legate,
but Henry died in the midst of his preparations. Richard saw in the
death of his father the consequence of his own unfilial conduct, and
took the Cross as a sign of his unfeigned repentance. Baldwin,
Archbishop of Canterbury, preached the Crusade throughout England.
It was the first time that it had been preached here, and the old
enthusiasm of the French was aroused among the English. All wanted
to take the Cross; wives hid their husbands’ clothes; they ran naked
to Baldwin. Everywhere all sorts of miracles took place; the people
gathered the very dust which the bishop had trodden on as a holy
relic; they flocked together from every part of England, Wales,
Ireland, and Scotland, and if the numbers were less than those which
went from France it was because a selection was made, and only those
went who obtained permission to go. The religious zeal of the
English found its first exercise in the famous massacre of the Jews.
From them Richard got large sums of money, and as, with all his
resources, he could not get enough, he mortgaged a large part of his
estates, sold the dignities of the crown, and was quite ready to
sell the city of London itself, could he have found a purchaser.
In one respect this Crusade started with far better prospects of
success than any which had preceded it. They went by sea, thus
avoiding the horrible sufferings inevitable in crossing Asia Minor;
and they established a code of laws, to maintain discipline and
order in the army. Whosoever struck another was to be dipped three
times in the sea; whosoever drew his sword upon another was to have
his right hand cut off; whosoever swore at another was to be fined
an ounce of silver for every oath; if a man were convicted of theft
he was to be shaven, hot pitch was to be poured on his head, which
was then covered with feathers, and he was to be put upon the
nearest shore; while if a man murdered another, he was to be tied to
the corpse, and both bodies thrown together into the sea. No woman
was to go with the Crusaders at all, save such as were necessary for
the service of the camp, and those only who were of sufficient age
to be above suspicion. No one was to practise gaming in any shape
whatever; and all luxury in dress or in the table was forbidden.
Thus the army started with the most admirable intentions as regards
virtue. It was to be a camp where there was no vice, no gaming, no
swearing, no violence—under penalties of boiling pitch and feathers,
abandonment on a savage coast, the loss of the right hand.
Richard started from Marseilles; Philip Augustus from Genoa;
Frederick Redbeard from Germany followed the old course of Bulgaria
and Asia Minor. He had with him a hundred thousand men; and he
refused to allow any man to join the army who was not possessed of
at least three marks of silver. Frederick had the courtesy to send
an ambassador to Saladin, announcing his intention of making war
upon him.
He fought his way across Asia Minor to Iconium, which surrendered.
The old terror which Godfrey and Baldwin had been able to inspire
among the Saracens was inspired again by Frederick. The Mohammedans
expected his arrival in Syria with the liveliest apprehensions. But
he never got there, for bathing in the river Selef he was seized
with a chill, and died. After his death large numbers of his men
deserted; the rest fought their way under the Duke of Swabia; and at
length, out of the one hundred thousand who had followed Frederick,
there entered into Palestine six hundred horse and five thousand
foot.
Saladin, meantime, had besieged Tyre and Tripoli, both
ineffectually. He had, however, got possession of the strong post of
Kerak, after a siege of more than a year. The Christian defenders
actually sold their wives and children to the besiegers, in order to
save them from starvation. Saladin gave them back again after the
capitulation. He also, in 1189, two years after his capture,
restored liberty to Guy de Lusignan, on his taking a solemn oath
never to go to war with him. Guy swore, and directly after he
returned to Christian soil got the oath annulled, and returned to
besiege Acre. This was the crime which, above all things, enraged
the Saracens, and made a man like Saladin unable to understand a
religion which permitted it. Here was a captive king released from
his prison by the clemency of his conqueror, and without ransom,
solely on the condition that he would leave it to others to make war
upon him. Yet the very first thing he does is to break his oath, and
get up an army to attack him. Conrad de Montferrat, who was in Tyre,
refused to admit Guy, not thinking it necessary to acknowledge a
king who was unable to defend himself. But Guy, who was not without
courage, found means to raise a small army, and with it sat down
before Acre. He nearly took it by assault, when an alarm was spread
that Saladin was coming, and his men fled in a panic. It was not
Saladin who was coming from the land, but the first reinforcement of
the Crusaders from the sea. The Frisians and Danes, twelve thousand
in number, came first, and camped with Guy. Next came the English
and the Flemings. And then Saladin, becoming aware of the new storm
that was rising against him, came down from Phœnicia, and prepared
to meet it. Every day the Crusaders arrived; before Richard and
Philip were even on their way there were one hundred thousand of
them, and the hearts of the Mohammedans sank when they beheld a
forest of masts, always changing, always being renewed as the ships
went away and others came. The Christians, on the other hand, were
confident of success; a French knight, looking on the mighty host
about him, is reported to have cried out, blasphemously enough, “If
God only remains neuter the victory is ours.” Saladin forced on a
battle, and experienced a disastrous defeat. The Saracens fled in
all directions, and already the Christians were plundering their
camp, when a panic broke out among them. Without any enemy attacking
them, they threw away their arms, and fled. Saladin stopped his men,
and turned upon them. The rout was general, and victory remained
with Saladin, but a victory which he could not follow up, in
consequence of the confusion into which his camp had been thrown. He
withdrew, and the Crusaders, recovering from their panic, set to
work, fortifying their camp, and besieging Acre. They passed thus
the winter of 1189-90, without any serious success, and contending
always against Greek fire, which the besieged threw against their
movable towers. In the spring came Saladin again; the Crusaders
demanded to be led against the Saracens, the chiefs refused; the
soldiers revolted, and poured forth against the enemy, only to
experience another defeat, exactly similar to the first. And then
the leaders, despondent at their ill-success, endeavoured to make
peace with Saladin, when the arrival of Henry, Count of Champagne,
followed by that of Frederick, Duke of Swabia, raised their hopes
again. But then came famine, winter, and disease. Worse than all
these, came dissension. Queen Sybille died with her two children.
Conrad of Tyre resolved to break the marriage of her sister
Isabelle, now the heiress to the crown of Jerusalem, with Humphrey
de Toron, and to marry her himself. He did so, and claimed the
throne; so that the camp was split into two parties, that of Guy,
and that of Conrad. It was resolved to submit the matter to the
arbitration of the kings of England and France. The two kings were
quarrelling on their way. Richard refused to espouse Alice, Philip’s
sister, to whom he was betrothed, and married in her place
Berengaria. He further offended Philip by his conduct in Sicily, and
by his conquest of Cyprus, which island he refused to share with
Philip. Of course, therefore, directly Richard declared for Guy,
Philip took the part of Conrad; and it was not till after long
discussions that it was decided that Guy should hold the crown
during his life, after which it was to descend to Conrad and his
children. Then both kings fell ill; Saladin also was ill, with
continual fevers, and constant messages were sent to and from the
Christian and Saracen monarchs, which were construed by the savage
soldiers into proposals of treachery. Acre fell, after a two years’
siege, and the loss of sixty thousand Christians by the Saracens’
swords. Philip went home after this, and Richard, pleased to be left
without a rival, began his ferocious course in Palestine by the
cold-blooded slaughter of two thousand seven hundred Saracens.
From Acre, after a short rest, devoted to those very pleasures
against which such stringent edicts had been passed, Richard led his
army to Cæsarea. In the midst was a sort of _caroccio_, a sacred
car, in which was the standard of the Cross, whither the wounded
were brought, and where the army rallied. The Saracens hung upon the
march, shooting their arrows into the ranks of the Christians. If
one was killed he was buried there and then. At night, when the camp
was fixed, a herald cried aloud three times, to remind the soldiers
of their vows, “Lord, help the Holy Sepulchre.” And at break of day
the march was resumed. They moved slowly, only performing about ten
miles a day. And then came the great battle of Assur, when Saladin
lost eight thousand of his men, and ought to have lost Palestine, if
Richard had been as good a Crusader as he was a general. Had they
marched upon Jerusalem there was nothing in their way. But they
stopped at Jaffa. Richard made propositions to Saladin. Would he
give up Jerusalem? The Saracen replied that it was impossible to
abandon a city whence the prophet had mounted to heaven. Then Cœur
de Lion made a proposition which called forth, to his extreme
astonishment—for the strong-armed king had but little insight into
the intricacies of theology—such vehement opposition, that he was
forced to abandon it. It was nothing less than to marry his sister
Jane, widow of William of Sicily, to El Melik el ‘´Adil, Saladin’s
brother. Both were to govern Jerusalem together. El Melik el ‘´Adil,
who was on terms of personal friendship with Richard, was perfectly
willing to arrange the marriage; but it was impossible to meet the
objections of imams as well as bishops, and the negotiations were
broken off, Richard proving thereupon his zeal for the faith by
murdering his captives. He then gave orders to march, declaring that
he was going to deliver Jerusalem. They started, but on the way he
changed his resolution, and determined to rebuild Ascalon, to the
chagrin and even despair of the common soldiers. And then the chiefs
quarrelled. Peace was re-established. Guy de Lusignan was made king
of Cyprus, and Richard gave the crown of Jerusalem to Conrad of
Tyre. But the latter was murdered by two emissaries of the sheikh of
the Assassins, “the old man of the mountains.”[73] Henry of
Champagne then married his widow Isabelle, and received the title of
king.
Footnote 73:
See p. 410.
The next winter passed, and in the spring Richard, who had spent his
time in small skirmishes, whence he usually returned with
half-a-dozen heads at his saddle bow, declared his intention of
returning to Europe. He was persuaded to remain, and once more led
the army in the direction of Jerusalem. But he stopped some twenty
miles from the city. And the army, like the people of Israel,
murmured against him. There must, it seems to us, have been some
secret reason why he never marched upon Jerusalem. Could it have
been some superstitious one? Joachim, the hermit of Calabria, had
prophesied that Jerusalem should be taken seven years after its
capture by Saladin. It was now only five years. Was he waiting for
the fulfilment of the prediction? From his vacillation, it would
almost appear so. One day he rode within sight of the city. And then
this great knight, this type of his age; wild beast and murderer in
and after battle; illiterate and rude; yet full of noble impulses,
and generous above his peers, burst into bitter weeping, and
covering his face with his shield, cried aloud that he was not
worthy even to look upon the city of his Saviour. He could not bear
the thought of giving up the conquest of the Holy Land. On the other
hand, if we are right in our conjecture as to his motives for delay,
he could not possibly, with everything in his own kingdom going
wrong in his absence, wait two years more. He shut himself up in his
tent and passed hours alone, with pale and gloomy countenance. A
temporary relief to his sorrow was afforded by the successful
cutting off of the caravans which were going to Saladin from Egypt.
He got, too, a piece of the True Cross, which was paraded through
the camp with great rejoicing.
Then, for the whole army looked to him for advice and guidance, he
called a council, and exposed certain reasons which made him
hesitate before advancing on Jerusalem. Of these, the principal
were, want of knowledge of the country, and its arid and thirsty
nature. He proposed to submit the matter to a council of twenty, of
whom half should be Templars and Hospitallers, and to be guided by
their advice; but the council could not agree, and dissension broke
out between the Duke of Burgundy and King Richard. The design of
besieging Jerusalem was given up, and the army slowly and sadly
returned to Ramleh, and thence to Jaffa.
A peace was concluded shortly after between Richard and Saladin, in
which it was agreed to destroy Ascalon entirely, by the joint labour
of Christians and Mohammedans; the Christians were to have all the
coast between Tyre and Joppa; peace was to be enforced in the north
of Syria; pilgrimages were to be freed from the former tax, and a
truce for two years was to be agreed upon.
The English Crusaders, divided into three bodies, all went up
unarmed to Jerusalem. They were received with kindness, and the
Bishop of Salisbury, who came last, with distinction, being
entertained by Saladin himself, who showed him the wood of the True
Cross, and granted him, as a favour, that two Latin priests should
be permitted to serve at the Church of the Sepulchre. And then, all
being arranged, Richard embarked at Acre. The people crowded to the
shore, weeping and crying over the loss of their champion, the most
stalwart warrior that ever fought for the Cross. The king himself
could not restrain his tears. Turning to bid farewell to the
country, he cried, “Oh, Holy Land! God grant that I may yet return
to help thee!” And his last message was one to Saladin, telling him
that he was only going home to raise money in order to complete the
conquest of the land. “Truly,” said the courtly Saladin; “if God
wills that Jerusalem pass into other hands, it cannot fall into any
more noble than those of the brave King Richard.”
Such, briefly and baldly told, is the picturesque crusade of Cœur de
Lion. Of the terror which his name inspired; of his many and valiant
gests, of his personal strength, his chivalrous generosity, we have
not room to speak. Nor can we do more than allude to those other
qualities for which he made his name known; his ferocious and savage
cruelty; his pleasure in fighting for love of mere butchery; the
ungovernable rage which sometimes seized him; his want of
consideration for others; his “masterfulness;” the way in which he
trampled on, careless over whose body he passed, provided he
attained his ends. For these, and the other stories which can be
told about him, we refer our readers to the chronicles, and to that
book on the Crusades which has yet to be written.