CHAPTER III. THE SECOND CRUSADE

Winged is each heart, and winged every heel; They fly, yet notice not how fast they fly; But by the time the dewless meads reveal The fervent sun’s ascension in the sky, Lo, towered Jerusalem salutes the eye! A thousand pointing fingers tell the tale; “Jerusalem!” a thousand voices cry, “All hail, Jerusalem!” hill, down, and dale Catch the glad sounds, and shout, “Jerusalem, all hail!”

--TASSO (_Jerusalem_, Canto iii).

[Sidenote: [1147-1189 A.D.]]

The enthusiasm of the First Crusade is a natural and simple event, while hope was fresh, danger untried, and enterprise congenial to the spirit of the times. But the obstinate perseverance of Europe may indeed excite our pity and admiration: that no instruction should have been drawn from constant and adverse experience; that the same confidence should have repeatedly grown from the same failures; that six succeeding generations should have rushed headlong down the precipice that was open before them; and that men of every condition should have staked their public and private fortunes on the desperate adventure of possessing or recovering a tombstone two thousand miles from their country. In a period of two centuries after the Council of Clermont, each spring and summer produced a new emigration of pilgrim warriors for the defence of the Holy Land; but the seven great armaments or crusades were excited by some impending or recent calamity; the nations were moved by the authority of their pontiffs and the example of their kings; their zeal was kindled, and their reason was silenced, by the voice of their holy orators; and among these, Bernard, the monk or the saint, may claim the most honourable place.

ST. BERNARD

[Sidenote: [1115-1147 A.D.]]

About eight years before the first conquest of Jerusalem he was born of a noble family in Burgundy; at the age of twenty-three he buried himself in the monastery of Citeaux, then in the primitive fervour of the institution; at the end of two years he led forth her third colony, or daughter, to the valley of Clairvaux in Champagne; and was content till the hour of his death with the humble station of abbot of his own community. A philosophic age has abolished, with too liberal and indiscriminate disdain, the honours of these spiritual heroes. The meanest among them are distinguished by some energies of the mind; they were at least superior to their votaries and disciples; and in the race of superstition, they attained the prize for which such numbers contended. In speech, in writing, in action, Bernard stood high above his rivals and contemporaries; his compositions are not devoid of wit and eloquence; and he seems to have preserved as much reason and humanity as may be reconciled with the character of a saint. In a secular life he would have shared the seventh part of a private inheritance; by a vow of poverty and penance, by closing his eyes against the visible world, by the refusal of all ecclesiastical dignities, the abbot of Clairvaux became the oracle of Europe, and the founder of 160 convents. Princes and pontiffs trembled at the freedom of his apostolical censures; France, England, and Milan consulted and obeyed his judgment in a schism of the church; the debt was repaid by the gratitude of Innocent II; and his successor, Eugenius III, was the friend and disciple of the holy Bernard.

It was in the proclamation of the Second Crusade that he shone as the missionary and prophet of God, who called the nations to the defence of the Holy Sepulchre. At the parliament of Vézelay he spoke before the king; and Louis VII, with his nobles, received their crosses from his hand. The abbot of Clairvaux then marched to the less easy conquest of the emperor Conrad; a phlegmatic people, ignorant of his language, was transported by the pathetic vehemence of his tone and gestures; and his progress from Constance to Cologne was the triumph of eloquence and zeal. Bernard applauds his own success in the depopulation of Europe; affirms that cities and castles were emptied of their inhabitants; and computes that only one man was left behind for the consolation of seven widows. The blind fanatics were desirous of electing him for their general; but the example of the hermit Peter was before his eyes; and while he assured the crusaders of the divine favour, he prudently declined a military command in which failure and victory would have been almost equally disgraceful to his character.[b]

In the consternation throughout Palestine which the fall of Edessa occasioned, all classes of people beckoned their compatriots in the West. The news of the loss of the eastern frontier of the Latin kingdom reached France at a time peculiarly favourable for foreign war. After having reduced his vassal the count of Champagne to obedience, Louis VII the French king exceeded the usual cruelty of conquerors, and instead of sheathing his sword, when the inhabitants of Vetri submitted, he set fire to a church, to which more than thirteen hundred of them had fled for refuge. His sacrilegious barbarity excited the indignation of the clergy and laity. A fit of sickness calmed his passions; his conscience accused and condemned him, and he resolved to expiate his sins by a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Louis VII was the first sovereign prince who engaged himself to fight under the banner of the cross. The news of the calamities in Palestine quickened his holy resolution, and like other men he was impetuously moved by the eloquence of St. Bernard, the great oracle of the age.

The wish of Louis for a crusade was applauded by Pope Eugenius III. His intention was pronounced to be holy; and Bernard was ordered to travel through France and Germany, and preach a plenary indulgence to those who followed the royal example. Eugenius wrote to the faithful sons of the church, urging them to cross the seas to Palestine. The first crusaders had provoked the wrath of heaven by their dissoluteness and folly; but the new soldiers of Christ ought to travel simple in dress, and disdaining the luxury of falcons and dogs of the chase. As Peter had represented the scandal of suffering the sacred places to remain in the hands of the infidels, the eloquent Bernard thundered from the pulpit the disgrace of allowing a land which had been recovered from pollution again to sink into it. He was admitted to the thrones of princes, as well as to the pulpits of their churches; to public assemblies and to private meetings. In a parliament held at Vézelay, in the season of Easter, 1146, Louis was confirmed in his pious resolve; and having on his knees received the holy symbol, he joined with Bernard in moving the barons and knights to save the sanctuary of David from the hands of the Philistines. No house could contain the multitude; they assembled in the fields and Bernard addressed them from a lofty pulpit. As at the Council of Clermont, so on this occasion shouts of “_Deus id vult_” rent the skies; the crosses which the man of God had brought with him to the meeting fell far short of the number of enthusiasts; and he therefore tore his simple monkish garment into small pieces, and affixed them to the shoulders of his kneeling converts. The successful incendiary then crossed the Rhine; and every city and village from Constance to Carinthia echoed the call to war.

[Sidenote: [1147-1148 A.D.]]

But the emperor Conrad III made a long and firm denial. As politics prevented the exercise of religious fervour, the preacher endeavoured to impress him with the belief that were he in arms for the kingdom of God, heaven would protect his kingdom in Europe. Still the emperor wanted faith; but when the holy orator, in a moment of peculiar energy, drew an animated picture of the proceedings of the day of judgment, of the punishments which would be inflicted on the idle, and the rewards which would be showered upon the Christians militant, then it was that conviction flashed across the mind of the royal auditor; and the profession was made that the lord of the Germans knew and would perform his duty to the church. Encouraged by this example, the barons and people flew to arms.[50]

Mainz was the rendezvous of the French crusaders, and Ratisbon of those from Germany. The French levies were of priests, of people, and of soldiers; and of the last class the number of men armed with the helmet and coat of mail was seventy thousand. The civil wars of England had been closed by the weakness of all parties; but some of the nobility, restless when not engaged in deeds of blood, joined themselves to the force of Louis. Conrad had an army quite as large and formidable, with a due proportion of light-armed men, and simple pilgrims. The enthusiasm of the crusade realised the dreams of romancers, and heroines as well as heroes had prepared themselves to make war upon the paynim brethren. A considerable troop of women rode among the Germans; they were arrayed with the spear and shield, but (like Virgil’s Camilla) some love of usual delights had mingled itself with the desire of great exploits, for they were remarkable by the splendour of their dress, and the bold leader was called “the golden-footed dame.”[51] The emperor marched through Hungary and solicited the friendship of the Grecian court.

Manuel, the grandson of Alexius, was on the throne, and although like his ancestor he beheld with secret dread the armaments of Europe, yet for the protection of his subjects he entered into a treaty with Conrad for the regular purchase and sale of provisions. There was frequent matter of charge and recrimination between the Greeks and the Germans in the march of the latter to Constantinople; and circumstances occasioned many negotiations between the two emperors. But Conrad apprehended the duplicity of Manuel, and in indignation at the Grecian’s infraction of the treaty relating to intercourse, he crossed the Bosporus without meeting or conferring with the emperor.

Manuel received the king of France as an equal. He met him in the court of his palace, and after mutual embraces conducted him into an apartment, where they sat with equal dignity. In the midst of feasts and public rejoicings the French monarch learned that the emperor and the sultan of Iconium were in correspondence. The impatience of the barons and knights to visit Jerusalem overcame every suggestion to revenge, and made them think that the defence of the Holy Land, and not the destruction of the Greek Empire, was the object for which they had taken up arms. But there were not wanting men who urged that the time was arrived for removing the barrier between Europe and Asia.

DISASTERS OF THE GERMANS

The passage through Bithynia completed, Conrad entered Lycaonia, the heart of the dominions of the Seljuk Turks. The sultan had assembled from every quarter of his states all the troops that could possibly be brought into the field, and the number was so great that the rivers could not satisfy their thirst or the country furnish provisions. The imperial guides conducted the objects of their care either through deserts where the soldiers perished from hunger, or led them into the jaws of the Moslems. In their occasional transactions, the bread which the crusaders purchased was mixed with chalk, and various other cruel frauds were practised by the Greeks. The assaults of the Turks were incessant. The staff of the pilgrim was a poor defence from a scimitar, and the heavily armed Germans could not retreat from the activity of the Tatars. Only a tenth part of the soldiers and palmers that had left the banks of the Danube and the Rhine escaped the arrows of the Moslems, and with their commander secured their retreat to the French army. Louis had been lulled into security by the flattering assurances of Manuel that Conrad, so far from standing in need of succour, had even defeated the Turks and taken Iconium. The French king was lying in camp on the borders of the lake near Nicæa, when some wretched German fugitives arrived with news of the perfidy of the Greeks, and the triumph of the Moslems. The allied monarchs soon met and consulted on the road which the champions of the cross should take. They united their crusaders, turned aside from the path which had been trodden by the feudal princes of Europe, and marched in concert as far as Philadelphia in Lydia; but the Germans had lost their baggage, and on a prospect of new calamities, many returned to Constantinople, and near Ephesus (to which place the army directed its course) the emperor himself embarked, and went to Jerusalem by ship.

THE FRENCH FAILURE

The French recruited themselves on the shores of the Ægean Sea, and pursued their march in an easterly direction. They rejected with disdain an offer of Manuel of a protection from Moslem fury, and they gallantly kept up their course with the usual portion of suffering, till they arrived at the banks of the Mæander. They found there the Turks, who having safely deposited their spoils came to dispute with the Latins the passage of the river. The battle was not of long duration; the French made so great a slaughter of their foe, that the bones of the Moslems were conspicuous for years. The crusaders proceeded in good order and discipline through the town of Laodicea, into the barrier mountains between Phrygia and Pisidia. The vanguard of the army advanced beyond the appointed rendezvous. The rearguard, in which was the king, moved forwards with perfect confidence that the heights before them were in possession of their friends. Their ravenous enemy, who always hovered round them, seized the moment when the ranks of the Christians were divided, and casting aside their bows and arrows, fell upon them with tumultuous rapidity, sword in hand. It was in a defile of the mountains that the Turkish tempest burst on the Latin troops. Rocks ascending to the clouds were above the crusaders, and fathomless precipices beneath them. The French could not recover from the shock and horror of the surprise. Men, horses, and baggage were cast into the abyss. The Turks were innumerable and irresistible. The life of the king was saved more by fortune than by skill. He escaped to an eminence with a few soldiers, and in the deep obscurity of the night made his way to the advanced guard. The snows of winter, deficiency of stores, and the refusal of the Greeks to trade with them, were the evils with which the French had to contend. They marched, or rather wandered, for they knew not the roads, and the discipline of the army was broken. They arrived at Attalia (Adalia), the metropolis of Pamphylia, seated on the sea shore near the mouth of the Cestrus. But the unchristian Greeks refused hospitality to the enemies of the infidel name.

[Sidenote: [1148-1149 A.D.]]

Famine had so dreadfully thinned the ranks of the army, and so many horses and other beasts of burden had perished, that the most sage and prudent among the crusaders advised their companions to turn aside from scenes of desolation, and proceed by sea to Antioch. The king and his soldiers embarked for Antioch. The way-worn pilgrims and the sick were committed to the charge of Thierry, count of Flanders, who was to march with them to Cilicia. But when Louis quitted the harbour, the Turks fell upon the Christians who were left behind, and the escort was found to be feeble and ineffective. The people of Attalia not only declined to open their gates, but even murdered the sick. Every day the Turks killed hundreds of the pilgrims, and as it was evident that flight alone could save the remainder, Thierry escaped by sea. Seven thousand wretched votaries of the cross attempted to surmount the higher difficulties of the land journey to Jerusalem; but the Holy City never opened to their view, and in perishing under Moslem vengeance they thought that the loss of the completion of the pilgrimage was compensated by the glories of martyrdom.

The nobility, the clergy, and people of Antioch received the French king with every demonstration of respect; but no blandishments of persuasion or petulant threats of divorce from his wife Eleanora, could move Louis from his purpose of marching into Palestine. He repaired to the Holy City; entered it in religious procession, while crowds of ecclesiastics and laymen were singing the psalm, “Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord.” His arrival had been preceded by that of the emperor of Germany, the dukes of Saxony and Bavaria, and the ruined German band.

A council was held at Ptolemais, composed of the princes, barons, and prelates of Syria and Palestine, and the new commanders from Europe. The misfortunes of the Edessenes were forgotten, or yielded to higher feelings, for though the recapture of the principality of the Courtenais was the great object of the crusade, yet there were Moslem cities in Syria far more dangerous to Jerusalem than the remote city of Edessa. The decree for a march to Damascus was passed, and the emperor of Germany and the kings of France and Jerusalem brought their troops into the field; but the best disciplined parts of the army were the knights of the Temple and St. John. Eager to relieve Damascus from the yoke under which she had groaned for nearly five centuries, the champions of Christianity soon arrived under her walls. Numerous and of long continuance were the engagements between the Latins and the Syrians. The city was apparently in the power of the crusaders, and the people abandoned themselves to despair. But instead of taking possession of Damascus the Latins anticipated the event and thought only to whom the prize should be given. Much time was wasted in intrigues, and after sustaining for a short time the sallies of reinforcements, and rejecting in a council of war the advice of some unsubdued spirits for an attack on Askalon, the Christian army raised the siege of Damascus, and retrograded to Jerusalem in sorrow and in shame. Conrad soon returned to Europe with the shattered relics of the German host, and his steps were a year afterwards traced by the French king, the queen, and most of the French lords.

Among the few men whose virtues and abilities spread some rays of moral and intellectual light over the twelfth century was Suger, the abbot of the celebrated religious fraternity of St. Denis, in France. Strongly imbued with the superstition of his time, his fondest wish was for the overthrow of the Moslems. As minister of Louis VII, however, he had exposed to his royal master the embarrassment of the state finances, the fierce and menacing aspect of the crown vassals, and other circumstances of a political nature, to deter him from quitting his dominions. But the spirit of romantic devotion in the heir of Charlemagne could not be quenched, and Louis well consulted the interests of his kingdom in delivering the sceptre to the charge of the abbot of St. Denis. After his return from Palestine, the king ardently wished to recross the seas, and by martial achievements to obliterate the memory of former disasters. When all thoughts of a crusade had apparently died away, France was astonished at the appearance of a martial missionary in the person of him who had opposed the second holy war. The clergy of the East implored Suger to restore the fortunes of the Holy Land, knowing that he possessed more credit in France than all the other princes and prelates, and that his piety equalled his authority. Papal benediction was bestowed upon him, though the pope was at first amazed at the enthusiasm of a man nearly seventy years of age; but his influence was exerted in vain. Angry at the timidity of his countrymen, his own courage rose; he resolved to conduct a small army to Palestine himself, and his reliance on the favour of heaven made him hope that the vassals of St. Denis alone would be more powerful than the congregated myriads of Europe. All aspirations for glory were humbled by a fever; he died at St. Denis, and his successor in the abbacy pursued the usual duties of his station, without superadding those of a martial description.[c]

THE FALL OF THE KINGDOM OF JERUSALEM

[Sidenote: [1149-1154 A.D.]]

The very question that had proved a stumbling-block to the Germano-Roman world, namely, the right of women to succeed to the throne, also kept the knightly ecclesiastical colony of the kingdom of Jerusalem in perpetual unrest. War broke out between Melusina--who, assuming the management of public affairs at the death of her husband Fulk, gave great power into the hands of her cousin, the constable of Manassa--and her son, King Baldwin III, around whom rallied a number of barons, all ill-disposed to acknowledge the new rule. The feud was fought out by the mother and son near the Holy Sepulchre in 1152, with the result that Melusina was obliged to relinquish all her pretensions.

Hodierna, Melusina’s sister, on the other hand, was given guardianship over her youngest son, after the murder of her husband, Raymond I of Tripolis. The remainder of the countship of Edessa passed to Greece, by reason of a pact which assured to the widowed countess and her children a considerable income; Jocelyn II was taken prisoner by the Turkomans and died in captivity. Raymond of Antioch had also been killed while bravely fighting in 1149, and his widow Constantia now became the object of the liveliest contention. It was at first feared that she would listen to the many proposals made to her by Greeks; but when she finally accepted the French knight, Rainald de Chatillon, a struggle broke out between him and the patriarchs, who had hitherto held the preponderance of power, laming the forces of both sides. Under such circumstances there could be as little thought of establishing one solid supremacy and power in the Orient as of accomplishing a like result in France at the same period.

[Sidenote: [1154-1163 A.D.]]

The wonder was that there had actually risen to prominence on the side of the Abbasids and Seljuks, during the late struggles for the possession of Aleppo, Edessa, and Damascus, a well-consolidated might--that of the atabegs of Mosul, who disposed of a particularly warlike element in the Kurds, with whom their borders were overrun from the north. Nur ad-Din vigorously pursued the policy laid down by his father, Zenki. He was by far the more capable and enlightened of the two; since the days of the Omayyads, so historians tell us, there had been no prince so liberal and law-abiding, and there never reigned one more just. Four times each week he sat in judgment. He made no personal use of the state revenues, looking upon them as a sacred trust placed in his hands to be expended for the public good. He was equally zealous in the conduct of the holy war. All the dust that settled on his shoes and garments during his various battles against unbelievers, he caused to be collected in a sack which was to be placed under his head when he was dead. As already related, he conquered Damascus (1154), which was under the rule of a weak prince who had in vain sought safety on the side of the Christians, and took up his residence in the immediate neighbourhood of that kingdom. He was a brave and worthy representative of the Abbasid caliphate, which he had formerly served in the capacity of Emir al-Omara. At times the Christians rallied for a successful feat of arms, and under the sacred symbol of the cross, which after preliminary worship in the king’s tent they gave into the keeping of the archbishop of Tyre, they even inflicted defeat on Nur ad-Din (1158). Also Baldwin III, who died in 1162 at the age of thirty-three, achieved some fame and several victories. He was brave and circumspect--in every way a fit man for the particular kind of warfare he was obliged to carry on. Still it was not in these battles alone that the real issue lay; the result was determined as much by the weakness of the Fatimites in Egypt as by the strength of the atabegs in Syria.

Neither had the power of the Ismailite doctrines, founded on those in circulation before the beginning of the Fatimite caliphate, suffered any diminution; rather it had recently taken on a new form in the most singular and hideous of all religious sects. Who has not heard of the Assassins and of their leader, the Old Man of the Mountain? Unlike the Sunnite caliphate which had been restored to power by the victories of the great Seljuk sultans, the sect founded by the Persian, Hassan, towards the end of the eleventh century, rose to prominence by reason of teachings based on the extremest Ismailite beliefs, and compounded of fanaticism, sensuality, and blind obedience, which raised up men to be assassins and general instruments of terror. Mainly by the agency of that Ridwan of Aleppo who fought with the crusaders before Antioch, and wavered in allegiance between the Abbasids and the Fatimites, there was planted in northwestern Syria a colony of Assassins which, under the rule of a certain sheikh, Al-Jebel, grew to occupy an important place in history--if such can be said of a purely destructive principle. It was by the Assassins that Raymond of Tripolis was slain. But their dagger struck Moslem as well as Christian, Shiite as well as Sunnite, since a foe of their nature lies outside all partisanship--is in fact beyond the pale of any human ordinance.

That the Fatimite caliphate profited nothing by this latest religious movement is apparent from the symptoms of decay that shortly afterward began to be manifest. The caliphs themselves were given over to a life of luxury and disorder, and vizirs, who bore the title of sultan, were constantly engaged in quarrels with each other, in which right was decided by might alone. The conditions were similar to those which preceded the fall of the Abbasid caliphate in the tenth century. In the year 1163 the sultan and vizir Shawer was deposed and supplanted by his rival Dargham, who enjoyed for some time the fruits of his usurpation. But Shawer eventually returned, and with him the emir and Kurd chieftain, Shirkuh, whom Nur ad-Din, regardless of religious differences, had sent to his assistance. Dargham was murdered and Shawer again assumed the sultanate, but he could not reconcile himself to fulfilling the promise he had made the Kurds, that he would pay over to them one third of the revenues of Egypt. To protect himself more fully against his extortionate allies, he besought assistance of Almeric, king of Jerusalem, brother and successor of Baldwin III.

[Sidenote: [1163-1168 A.D.]]

Inheriting the desire of Baldwin I for ascendency in Egypt, Baldwin III had besieged and taken Askalon in 1153. The garrison had defended itself ably, even to the point of driving back a body of Templars that had penetrated within the walls, and the king had reason to believe that all was lost. But the support of the Jerusalem patriarchs enabled him to press the siege, and a successful sally on the part of the knights of St. John, who with their grand master had been particularly active, finally placed Askalon at his mercy. At this the inhabitants, in despair, having received no reinforcements from either Damascus or Egypt, called upon their military commander to surrender. Without doubt Almeric (1162-1173) was the most important of the later kings of Jerusalem. Like Louis VII he was tireless, despite his corpulence, in the hunt and in war, and took no pleasure in any kind of diversion. In theological questions he often revealed an acuteness that brought his prelates to confusion; with a firm hand he held the troublesome barons in subjection, even giving precedence over them to certain newly arrived Franks--Milo de Plancy, for example.

It could escape no one that there was danger to the kingdom in allowing the Kurds of Nur ad-Din to become firmly established in Egypt. Losing no time in reflection, Almeric took decisive steps at once, and fortune so far favoured him that he succeeded in confining the Kurds within Pelusium (1164); he was obliged to grant them a free withdrawal, however, in consequence of domestic troubles that had befallen Nur ad-Din. A Christian knight addressed Shirkuh, who was striding with uplifted axe behind his followers: “Think you we do not mean to keep our pact with you?” “You dare not break it!” was the reply.

No sooner had they returned home than the Kurds began preparations for a second and greater expedition; Shirkuh incited the Sunnites to wrath against the perfidious caliph in Cairo, and in 1167 he set out for Egypt. Almeric also assembled his forces at the same time, and in Egypt the native populations consolidated with the Pullanes in a formal alliance. That the caliph might be encouraged by the support of their presence, the Christian delegates were conducted into the palace. Scarcely could they repress their admiration and astonishment at the wonders that everywhere met their gaze. When they arrived in a splendid hall that was divided in the middle by a curtain embroidered in gold and pearls, the vizir prostrated himself and went through the form of taking a solemn oath; at the conclusion of this ceremony the curtain was drawn aside and the figure of the caliph was revealed. From his golden chair he extended his right hand to the Christian knights, but the hand was enveloped in a veil. Hugo of Cæsarea objected that in entering upon a pact both sides must act with perfect fairness and good faith; whereupon the caliph uncovered his hand, but with exceeding ill grace, as though his royal dignity had been affronted. To the Christian knights was entrusted the defence of the walls and towers of Cairo.

[Sidenote: [1168 A.D.]]

Compelled to abandon his position opposite Cairo on the left bank of the Nile, Shirkuh withdrew his forces in the direction of Upper Egypt. Almeric pursued him hotly at the head of a mixed band of Frankish and oriental troops, such as were never again brought together in that land until the time of Napoleon. The two armies met in the pass of Babein. Shirkuh was about to cross over to the other side of the river with the intention of fleeing into the regions beyond, when a mameluke of Nur ad-Din overtook him and exclaimed: “What, you who rejoice in all the blessings of Islam are about to fly from the enemy? Do you not know that the atabegs will take from the Kurds all the lands they may find on the other side?” Thus it came about that Shirkuh remained where he was, and taking up his position with a picked band of men on the right flank of the main body of his troops, he overcame the king while the latter was making an attack on the enfeebled centre. So hard was Almeric beset that he could scarcely cut his way back to his own forces. He retained sufficient power, however, to surround and harass Alexandria, which Shirkuh had left in the charge of his nephew, Saladin, the son of Eyyub. Shirkuh was induced to conclude a peace, according to the terms of which both sides, Christians as well as Kurds, were obliged to evacuate Egypt. As the price of this concession Shirkuh received from Shawer fifty thousand pieces of gold, while to the Christians, so Abulfeda tells us, were promised a special magistracy in Cairo and an important yearly revenue.

It is well to contemplate closely these events, as they offer not only the final standpoint from which to judge the kingdom of Jerusalem, but the highest and best from which to take cognisance of the entire Christian world of that time in its relation to Islam. The main fact derived by history is that the establishment of the Franks in the Orient was made possible only by the antagonism that subsisted between the Abbasid and Fatimite dynasties; so long as this antagonism continued the colonial kingdom could be upheld, but let it once subside and the whole structure would fall to the ground. At the period of which we write the Cairo caliphate had sunk into a state of impotency and demoralisation; in order to prevent its falling into the hands of the Mohammedans of Syria the kings of Jerusalem must either take forceful possession of Egypt themselves, or must sustain it in its present show of independence by the most rigid political conjunction. For the first course they were far too weak, as the sequel showed, and as might have been expected from a study of the circumstances by which they were surrounded; but for the second they possessed quite sufficient strength, as was evidenced by the successes of Almeric. Indeed in all respects this was the better course to pursue, since by the exercise of a moderate degree of wisdom affairs would doubtless, even in the natural course of events, so have shaped themselves that to the Christian element would gradually fall a peaceful sovereignty over the whole realm of Egypt. What a position in the world would have been gained to the Latin races by such a solution! Entrance into all the Indian waters would have been open to the Italian sea powers, and it was furthermore to be expected that northern Africa, cut off entirely from the powers of the East, would eventually fall into the hands of the Spaniards or of the Sicilian Normans.

It is not to be denied, however, that mankind at that period was not yet ripe to exercise complete ascendency either over the Orient or over any other considerable portion of the world. The religions of both divisions of humanity permitted not the slightest compromise with unbelievers, and the very factors that had brought about the first amazing successes later acted as a check on the progress of their cause towards complete fulfilment. It seemed to be self-evident that no kind of serious alliance could ever permanently subsist between the crusaders and the caliphs; nay, there was something almost against nature in the thought of Christians defending the towers of Cairo on behalf of infidels in a struggle of Moslem against Moslem. Religious antagonism was stronger in the guardians of the Holy Sepulchre than loyalty and good faith.

Almeric united with Manuel of Byzantium,[52] who had already formed a league with the Lombards and the pope, and allowed himself to be drawn into a joint scheme of conquest in Egypt. This union between Greeks and Latins was the more easily effected inasmuch as the king had married a Greek and the emperor a Syrian princess. The idea of the expedition seems to have emanated from Manuel who, in his all-embracing policy, kept a constant watch on both East and West, in search of undertakings that might promise him success. Influence was brought to bear on Almeric to gain his consent by the grand-master of the knights of St. John; but the Templars were strongly opposed to the project, seeing in it a shameful violation of the peace.

Without waiting for the arrival of the Greek forces, the Christians of Jerusalem opened the war in November, 1168. They took Pelusium, and advanced on Cairo--at a very slow rate of progress, to be sure, as they were awaiting ransom for a son of Shawer, whom they had taken prisoner. The ransom was brought them, but at the same time they learned that the invincible Shirkuh had set out from his desert in their direction. Both Shawer and the caliph had overcome their former repugnance and had addressed an appeal for aid to Nur ad-Din. Thus the supporters of the two caliphs came together in a coalition similar to that formed by the Greeks and Latins. The bravest and hardiest Turkomans composed the troops led by Shirkuh and Saladin. Almeric had courageously advanced into the desert to meet them, but Shirkuh passed him by; it was destined that the Franks should depart from Egypt in dishonour. And now fate hurried events on to the climax. Arrived in Jerusalem Shirkuh and Saladin opened hostilities with the sultan, Shawer, who was accused of having plotted to murder the Turkoman emirs. An opportunity was given Saladin to become possessed of the sultan’s person on the occasion of a visit the latter made to the grave of a Moslem saint. The caliph gave his consent to the captive’s execution, and was further persuaded to appoint Shirkuh his vizir.

[Sidenote: [1169-1174 A.D.]]

On the death of Shirkuh, shortly after, Saladin acceded to the vacant post (1169). He looked upon himself as in truth the chief power under Nur ad-Din, who persistently urged him to overthrow the Fatimite caliphate. But Saladin shrewdly withheld compliance[53] until he had obtained complete possession of the capital and had rid himself of all his enemies, even delaying until the Fatimite Aladid, who was still young, fell sick unto death. He died in 1171 and Saladin, who had meanwhile repulsed an attack by Almeric and a Byzantine fleet from Damietta, and torn from the Franks the harbour of Ailah, on the Red Sea, took possession of the entire treasure of the Fatimites and became master over all Egypt.

[Sidenote: [1174-1181 A.D.]]

A momentary advantage accrued to the Christians from this usurpation, inasmuch as a continuance of friendly relations between the new master of the Nile and his supreme chief, the atabeg in Damascus, was not to be thought of. Saladin immediately sought to cut himself loose from all allegiance to Nur ad-Din. That no hostages might be left in the hands of the atabeg ruler, he caused his entire family to come to him in Egypt, giving to his aged father, Eyyub, the post of guardian of his treasure. Nur ad-Din first conceived suspicions as to his subordinate’s fealty when the latter refused to assist him in conquering certain Frankish settlements that guarded the route from Damascus to Egypt. He was stricken by death, however (1174), in the midst of preparations for an expedition that was to punish the faithless emir. Now Saladin’s plans took on wider expansion, and his aspirations soared to greater heights. Nur ad-Din had left behind him but one minor son, Malik as-Salih, and it was his name that appeared on the coins Saladin at first caused to be struck off. But the Syrians were highly dissatisfied with the rule that had succeeded that of Nur ad-Din, and were inclined to welcome Saladin whenever he should present himself among them. Without drawing sword he entered Damascus in 1174, and Emesa, Hama, and Baalbek also fell into his power. Malik as-Salih was allowed to retain Aleppo on condition that he should withdraw from Damascus. At his death (1181) Saladin gained possession of Aleppo and little by little extended his territory as far as Mesopotamia; eventually the entire heritage of Nur ad-Din fell into his hands.

In this manner there arose in the course of a few years a might that, springing as it did from a union of Egypt and Syria, threatened great danger to the Christians, and even placed in question the further existence of the many Frankish colonies that were scattered about the Orient. The forces at the command of the consolidated power were trained to obey the slightest gesture of a single chief, and were saturated with the doctrines of a single religion. Of lateral religious branches there was no longer any question, save as they still survived in the sect of the Assassins of Lebanon, whose leader, the Old Man of the Mountain, occasionally instigated some fresh disturbance. Saladin himself was one day set upon by three assailants, but his strong arm successfully defended his life. He immediately thereafter started out to exterminate the Assassins, and devastated their entire domains, making his name a terror wherever he went. All Saladin’s prowess and success was the outgrowth of a remarkable personality. Like Zenki and Nur ad-Din, he was a devout Mohammedan; it was even his custom to read the _Koran_ to armies about to rush upon each other in battle. He scrupulously made up for all fasts that he missed, and never failed to say the five prayers through to the end. He drank nothing but water, wore garments of harsh wool, and allowed himself to be summoned before the bar of judgment. He personally instructed his children in the tenets of Islam; but his own close observance of religion did not prevent him from unlawfully usurping power. When fortune favoured him, as on the achievement of some brilliant victory, he delighted in exhibiting a certain careless magnanimity that greatly enhanced the majesty of his bearing. In misfortune he was steadfast and patient, never once turning aside from the aim he had in view. He was brave and crafty, contriving to win for himself supporters even among the ranks of his enemies, and he governed his subjects with justice and moderation. As a ruler he possessed all the qualities necessary to accomplish the building up of a state and its conservation in prosperity and power; and to a far greater degree than had the atabegs he became the hero of reconstructed Islam, the man of fate in the destinies of the kingdom of Jerusalem.

Had the Christians then but known how to make the most of the little time that was left them, all might yet have been well; but it is not to be denied that simultaneously with the rise of the new oriental might occurred the rapid and shameful decay of the Christian administration in the East. The western laws of succession which had been transplanted in full force, and which secured the throne to the direct line of descent whether male or female, dealt the finishing blow to the tottering kingdom. In a community of which the head should be above all a military commander, where the commonweal could be secured only by holding the whole state in constant readiness for war, the rule frequently fell into the hands of feeble, incompetent youths, the whole question of succession was repeatedly and violently reopened by the marriages of female heirs to the throne; and regencies were successively established, disputed, and destroyed. There was no permanent, inflexible power to hold in check the inordinate ambition of the knights, and a general lawlessness prevailed that penetrated to every rank of political and religious life.

[Sidenote: [1173-1185 A.D.]]

Almeric died before Nur ad-Din in 1173. He was succeeded by his thirteen-year-old son, Baldwin IV, who was a victim to the terrible disease of leprosy, and up to the time of his early death in 1185 never really came into possession of the rule. During the first part of his reign Raymond II of Tripolis, son of Hodierna, acted as vicegerent, and in 1175 he concluded a truce with Saladin by which he bound himself not to oppose the latter in any of his struggles for the succession of Nur ad-Din. It was this act that lost for Raymond all his authority in the realm. The knights now looked towards the West for a ruler more to their liking, and Longaspada, marquis of Montferrat, arrived among them in answer to their summons in October, 1176, shortly afterward marrying Sybilla, the eldest sister of the minor king. He had firmly established himself in the respect and confidence of all when his untimely death occurred (1177). His successor was Philip of Flanders and Vermandois, a former adversary of Henry II of England and an adherent of Becket, who was obliged to make this pilgrimage to Jerusalem in expiation of certain violent acts he had committed. There was some reluctance felt at placing the government in the hands of this prince, the general opinion being that only one who was bound by self-interest to the kingdom could effectually serve it. Philip was willing either to assume the authority himself or to relinquish it into the hands of the count of Bethune, provided the latter would cede to him certain possessions in the vicinity. The project had been formed of organising, in alliance with the Greeks, an expedition against Saladin; but Philip proved to be totally inadequate to the command of such an enterprise, and returned home without having performed a single act of moment.

A prince who fulfilled in all respects the requirements of the knights next assumed the vicegerency, Rainald of Chatillon, who had taken part in the siege of Askalon, and was afterwards chosen as husband and the guardian of her son by Constantia, widow of Raymond of Antioch. In this noble were represented all the warlike tendencies of the times. He defeated Saladin in November, 1178, near Askalon, as he had only a short time previously defeated Saladin’s brother, Turan Shah, near Damascus. A breathing space fell to the kingdom after these victories that was utilised to construct near Paneas, on the Jordan, a citadel which was entrusted to the Templars to defend. Near this very place, however, Saladin achieved a victory over the Christians in a battle wherein fell the grand master of the Templars, Odo de St. Amand. On his death Saladin laid siege to the stronghold and carried it by storm. The defeated Templars sought death by remaining behind in the burning citadel, plunging into the waters of the Jordan, or precipitating themselves from the top of a steep cliff.

About this time the bishops of the oriental Latin church began to assume prominence in the Council of Lateran; among them being Archbishop William of Tyre, historian of the kingdom, who in chronicling the defeat of the Templars employed the language of the Bible: “The Lord, their God, departed from them.” The eyes of all were now turned towards the West. Nothing would have so fully met the aspirations of Alexander III as another crusade, entered upon in the spirit that had marked that of Urban II; shortly before his death he even caused a petition to be drawn up urging the advisability of such an undertaking. It was then generally assumed that in case the two great western monarchs, the kings of England and France, should again decide to invade the Orient, they could count on the support and assistance of the emperor Manuel, who had maintained friendly relations with the Christians of Syria while engaging in fresh wars with the Seljuks of Asia Minor. Most reluctantly had he given up the expedition against Egypt, even after Saladin had made himself master of the land; he could not have been induced to do so at all, in fact, had not the knights of Jerusalem been so tardy in rendering aid. Unfortunately for the Christian cause he died in the year 1180; conditions in the West at that time were also unfavourable to the undertaking of any important enterprise, Frederick I being deeply engaged in war with Henry the Lion and in negotiations for a treaty with the Lombards while the sons of Henry II kept France and England in a state of constant turmoil. Thus the kingdom of Jerusalem, being deprived of all hope of outside aid, was thrown completely on its own resources.

Life was not utterly intolerable there, nor was hope definitively abandoned so long as Saladin was kept from entering into possession of the entire inheritance of Nur ad-Din. The knights still gained an occasional victory over him, as in the plain of Belveir and Ferbelet in 1182; and he was compelled to raise the siege of Berytus at the approach of the Christian troops. The daring Rainald de Chatillon even succeeded in his bold attempt to reconquer the harbour of Ailah, on the Mediterranean sea. The Latin fleet proceeded thence to the coast of Arabia, where it threatened Mecca and Medina, but was finally overcome near Haura, and the knights were slain in a battle with the Arab prophet. By this defeat Ailah was again lost to Jerusalem. Brave to the point of foolhardiness as was Rainald de Chatillon in his undertakings against Saladin, and knightly as was the spirit by which he was moved, he failed to achieve any serious result for the cause to which he was devoted.

The affairs of the opposite side now took a decisive turn. In 1181 Malik as-Salih, prince of Aleppo and Nur ad-Din’s son, had died, leaving no kinsman worthy to succeed him. Imad ad-Din had essayed to fill the difficult post of ruler, but was totally incompetent, and when Saladin marched against him in 1183 he surrendered Aleppo without a struggle, and made no attempt to regain any of the fortresses that had already been taken from him. Saladin made his formal entry into Aleppo in June, 1183. He was universally accepted as the bravest and mightiest warrior that had ever fought on the side of Islam, and religious fervour, once more risen to great height among the Mohammedans, further aided to smooth all difficulties from his path.

[Sidenote: [1185-1187 A.D.]]

In contrast to this success disaster followed disaster in the Frankish camp. In 1185 Baldwin IV succumbed to his fatal malady, and was succeeded by his nephew, Baldwin V, the son of Sybilla and of William Longaspada, who was but five years old. As if this misfortune were not enough, Sybilla espoused in second marriage, contrary to the wishes of all her advisers, a certain knight, Guy de Lusignan, of an ancient and noble family of Poitou, whom no one believed capable of successfully defending the kingdom in case of need.[54]

At this juncture Raymond of Tripolis again assumed the vicegerency, and as before held a compact with Saladin to be the only means by which he could preserve authority over the realm. A truce was concluded on the only terms possible--the payment by Raymond of a certain tribute. A fresh disturbance arose when Sybilla gave the crown, which she had claimed for herself on the death of Baldwin V in 1186, over to her husband, Guy de Lusignan. This was done in direct opposition to Raymond, who had planned to usurp the crown himself, and endangered his newly concluded pact with Saladin. While Guy de Lusignan, at the head of the whole body of knighthood which had gone unhesitatingly over to the side of the rightful heiress, was preparing to attack Raymond at Tiberias, the latter appealed for aid to Saladin, who sent him a band of Turkish horsemen. It had come, then, to this, that a master Templar was obliged to fly to Saladin in his distress, and march out, at the head of an army of infidels, to do battle against his fellow Templars of Jerusalem! All bonds of honour and tradition were severed at a single blow. The clergy made itself particularly obnoxious at this crisis, being incited thereto by the patriarch Heraclius of Jerusalem. Thus, eaten up by corruption from within and left by its natural supporters in the West to face alone an enemy that was practically all-powerful, the kingdom that had once given such rich promise for the future was now tottering helplessly to its fall.

Saladin, standing ready to seize the first favourable opportunity, had some show of justice on his side in choosing the present crisis as the most suitable for attack, since Rainald de Chatillon, now in command of certain citadels on the other side of the Jordan, had recently, in flagrant breach of the truce, fallen upon and plundered a passing caravan in which was the mother of the sultan. After in vain demanding indemnity of Rainald, Saladin rallied all his forces for another great sacred war, and at head of countless warriors made forcible irruption into Galilee.

As on many previous occasions the Christian army again assembled near the spring of Saffuria. The grand master of the Templars had contributed an important sum, sent him by Henry II of England, toward the preparations for war, and Count Raymond of Tripolis was present in person. Once more the holy cross of Jerusalem was worshipped by the Christian army on the eve of battle. The very first day’s operations were disastrous, however, as the army, impelled by the knights, hurried to the relief of beleaguered Tiberias. On the evening of July 4th, 1187, after a battle that brought victory to neither side, Saladin’s light horse drove the Christians back to a parched and arid eminence in the neighbourhood of Hittin, named by tradition as the scene of Christ’s sermon on the mount. Here, at the close of a torrid summer day, they were obliged to pass the night in the tortures of thirst. On July 5th Saladin resumed his attack on the enfeebled, exhausted Christians, of whom very few survived the battle that ensued. Count Raymond escaped, thanks to the clemency of the Saracens, who opened their ranks before him and his body of knights, as before one who had once been their friend. King Guy and as many of his followers as had not been slain, together with the holy cross, fell into the hands of Saladin, who this time knew no mercy. All the captured Templars and knights of St. John were put to death, while with his own hand the angry monarch struck down Rainald de Chatillon, the perjured violator of the truce.[d]

MOSLEM ACCOUNTS OF THE BATTLE OF TIBERIAS

[Sidenote: [1187 A.D.]]

Imad ad-Din, the Moslem historian, who took part in the battle, remarks with astonishment that as long as the Christians kept in the saddle they were unharmed, for they were covered from head to foot with a protecting mail woven of iron rings; but when the horse fell, the rider was lost. “That battle,” adds the writer, “took place on a Saturday. The Christians, like lions at the beginning of the fray, were as scattered lambs at the end. Of many thousands, but a small number survived. The battle-field was covered with the dead and dying. I myself walked over Mount Hittin; it was a horrible spectacle. I saw all that a happy nation had done to a miserable people. I saw the condition of their leader--who could describe it? I saw severed heads; dull, dead eyes; dust-covered bodies, twisted limbs; severed arms; crushed bones; gashed and bloody necks; broken thighs; feet no longer joined to the leg; bodies in two pieces; torn lips and split foreheads. On seeing their faces strewn over the ground and covered with blood and wounds, I recalled these words of the _Koran_: “The infidel shall say ‘What am I but dust!’ What sweet odour is exhaled from this victory!”

After these reflections, which show well the Arab taste, the writer presents another picture: “The tent ropes,” he says, “did not suffice to bind the prisoners. I saw thirty or forty men bound by the same rope; I saw one or two hundred of them placed together and guarded by a single man. These warriors, who formerly exhibited extraordinary prowess and enjoyed might and power, now with lowered brows and naked bodies were indeed a miserable sight. Counts and Christian lords had become the prey of the hunter, the knights that of the lion. Those who had humiliated others were humbled in their turn; the free man was in irons. Those who accused the truth of falsehood and treated the _Koran_ as imposture had fallen into the hands of the true believers.”

After the battle Saladin retired to his tent and caused King Guy and the principal prisoners to be brought before him. It was his will that the king be seated at his side; and as the prince was suffering from thirst he had melted snow brought to him. The king, after drinking, offered the cup to Rainald, but Saladin cried: “It is not I who have asked that wretched man to drink; I am in no way bound to him.” In fact, according to Imad ad-Din’s statement, it was the custom with the Arabs never to kill a prisoner to whom drink or food had been offered. Now Saladin had on two occasions vowed to kill Rainald did the lord of Karak ever fall into his hands--the first, when the knight planned to attack Mecca and Medina; the second, when he captured a caravan in times of peace. The sultan turned to Rainald and in terrible tones reproached him with these two deeds; then rushed upon him with uplifted sword. Following his example the emirs threw themselves upon Rainald and severed head from body. The trunk rolled to the feet of the king, who at the sight trembled in great fear; but Saladin hastened to reassure him and promised to respect his life.

Imad ad-Din relates later that what had most angered Saladin against Rainald was that on the occasion of the above-mentioned seizure of the Moslem caravan he called in jest to his captives to invoke Mohammed to see whether the prophet would come to their assistance, and that before killing him the sultan said to him: “Well, how does it seem to thee? Have I not sufficiently avenged Mohammed for thy outrages?” Finally, adds Imad ad-Din, he proposed to Rainald to become a Mohammedan; the latter refused, saying that he preferred to die. Imad ad-Din relates on his own side that when Saladin reproached Rainald with his perfidies and bad faith, the lord replied by interpreter that such was the custom of princes and that he in this respect had but followed the beaten path.

Finally the sultan had the king brought to Damascus, the captive lords with him. With regard to the Templars and Hospitallers, Ibn al-Atir relates that the sultan collected all he had in one place and cut off their heads. He ordered also all those in his army who had any belonging to these religious orders in their hands to put them to death; then judging that the soldiers would not be sufficiently generous to make this sacrifice, he offered fifty pieces of gold for each Templar or Hospitaller surrendered to him. Two hundred of these warriors who were brought to him were at once decapitated. What led the sultan to these extreme measures was that the Templars and Hospitallers made war by profession upon Islam and were its most cruel enemies. Thus Abul-Faraj in his _Syrian Chronicle_ puts on this occasion these words into Saladin’s mouth: “Since killing when it can be turned to the good of their religion seems to them so sweet a thing, let us kill them in their turn.” Saladin sent also to his lieutenant in Damascus ordering to be put to death all the knights held in that city, whether they were his own property or that of others; and this was done.

We read in Imad ad-Din, an eye-witness, that during the massacre of the knights Saladin looked on with smiling countenance and that the victims were sunk in hopeless despair. The Moslem army was drawn up in battle array, the emirs in two rows. Some of the executioners performed their duty, adds the author, with a degree of skill that brought deserved praises; some, however, refused to act and left it to their companions. Before beheading, a proposition was made to the prisoners to embrace Islamism but the opportunity was taken by a very small number.

Such is the manner in which the Arabian chroniclers describe the battle of Tiberias. The compiler of _The Two Gardens_ gives several letters written on that occasion. We read in one of them, sent to Baghdad, that of the forty-five thousand men composing the Christian army scarcely one thousand survived, and since one poor Mohammedan soldier, having taken a prisoner, exchanged him for a pair of sandals, posterity may know that the number of prisoners was so great that they were sold for footgear. Imad ad-Din says in another place that all Islam rejoiced in this victory which was but the prelude to the conquest of Jerusalem and the source of greater triumphs.[e]

THE FALL OF JERUSALEM

A panic terror now overspread the land, and under its resistless impulse all hastened to place themselves in subjection to the conqueror. Even the most strongly fortified coast towns fell one after the other; Tyre, Tripolis, and Antioch alone upheld their independence. Askalon demanded as the price of its surrender the release of the captive king. Jerusalem held out in its own defence a few days longer; but what could the few knights that remained avail against an enemy so mighty? On the 2nd of October, 1187, Saladin took formal possession of the Christian capital, to shouts of “_Allah akbar!_” instead of the “Christ victorious!” that had been heard in former times.[d]

Jerusalem became the refuge for such of the Christians as had escaped the swords or the chains of the Turks. One hundred thousand people are said to have been in the place; but so few were the soldiers, and so feeble was the government of the queen, that the Holy City was no object of terror. Saladin declared his unwillingness to stain with human blood a spot which even the Turks held in reverence, as having been sanctified by the presence of many of God’s messengers. He offered the people, on condition of the surrender of the city, money and settlements in Syria. Prudence suggested the acceptance of this offer, but, clinging to that feeling of superstition which had given birth to the holy wars, the Christians declared that they would not resign to the infidels the place where the Saviour had died. Saladin was indignant at this rejection of his kindness, and swore to enter the place sword in hand, and retaliate the dreadful carnage which the Franks had made in the days of Godfrey de Bouillon. The people cast their eyes on Balean of Ibelin as their commander. The veteran organised the forces, and put arms into the hands of the citizens.

During fourteen days there were various engagements; but the Christians, though brave to desperation, could never destroy the military engines of the Moslems. At the end of fourteen days the Latins discovered that the walls near the gate of St. Stephen’s were undermined. From that moment the defence of the city was abandoned; the clergy prayed for the miraculous protection of heaven, the soldiers threw down their arms and crowded into the churches. The consternation was augmented by the discovery of a correspondence between some Greeks that were in the place and the Moslems. The Latins then recollected the proffered clemency of Saladin, and a deputation of them implored a renewal of it. But he urged the force of the oath which he had taken, and that it was ridiculous to capitulate for a fallen town. “But,” said he, “if you will surrender the city to me, I will behave to you with mercy, and allow you to redeem the inhabitants.”

After some deliberation, the Christians resolved to trust the generosity of the conqueror. Saladin stipulated that the military and nobles should be escorted to Tyre, and that the Latin population should become slaves, if they were not ransomed at the rate of ten crowns of gold for a man, five for a woman, and one for a child. After four days had been consumed by the miserable inhabitants in weeping over and embracing the Holy Sepulchre and other sacred places, the Latins left the city and passed through the enemy’s camp. Children of all ages clung round their mothers, and the strength of the fathers was used in bearing away some little portion of their household furniture. In solemn procession the clergy, the queen, and her retinue of ladies followed. Saladin advanced to meet them, and his heart melted with compassion, when they approached him in the attitude and with the air of suppliants. The softened warrior uttered some words of pity, and the women, encouraged by his sympathising tenderness, declared that one word of his would remove their distress.

It is the generous remark of an enemy that Saladin was in nothing a barbarian but in name. With courteous clemency he released all the prisoners whom the women requested, and loaded them with presents. This action, worthy of a gentle and Christian knight, was not the consequence of a transient feeling of humanity; for when he entered the city of Jerusalem, and heard of the tender care with which the military friars of St. John treated the sick, he allowed ten of the order to remain in their hospital till they could complete their work of humanity.

[Sidenote: [1188-1189 A.D.]]

The infidels were once more established in Jerusalem. The great cross was taken down from the church of the sepulchre, and for two days dragged through the mire of the streets. The bells of the churches were melted, and the floors and walls of the mosque of Omar were purified with Damascene rose-water. Prayers and thanksgivings were offered to heaven for the victory; all individual merit was forgotten, and the conquest of Jerusalem was attributed to the bounty of God, and his desire for the universal influence of Islamism. Askalon, Laodicea, Gabala, Sidon, Nazareth, Bethlehem--all those places and their territories fell when their great support was gone, and Tyre was almost the only town of consequence which remained to the Christians.

Saladin attacked it with all his efforts, but the spirit of freedom triumphed over the thirst of conquest, and the Moslems were necessitated to raise the siege. Some time after the capitulation of Askalon, Guy de Lusignan, the grand master of the Templars, and others obtained their liberty; and the husband of Sybilla solemnly renounced to Saladin his title to the kingdom of Jerusalem. The unprincipled Guy took the road for Tyre, and announced his resolve to enter the city as sovereign lord.

After the fall of Jerusalem, Saladin carried his conquering army into the principality of Antioch. Five and twenty towns submitted, and Antioch itself became tributary to the Moslems. The victories of Saladin and the loss of Jerusalem were melancholy contrasts to those hopes of the triumphs of Christianity over Islamism which the Council of Clermont had held out to Europe. In the eighty-eight years that the crusaders possessed the Holy City, peace seldom dwelt about her walls; surrounded by numerous hostile nations, she was in a continual siege, and as great a number of her wars were undertaken for the maintenance of her existence as for the purposes of conquest. In the time of Godfrey de Bouillon, Asia was in a state of more than usual imbecility. The Arabian and Tatarian storms were spent, the caliphs were pontiffs rather than sovereign princes, and the great empire of their predecessors was dismembered and scattered.

But states which are formed by arms, not by policy, are as quick in their rise as rapid in their decay, and ruin and disorder are the scenes of ambition. The passions and abilities of the enterprising lords of Syria raised several powerful governments; the hostile aspect of the Moslems increased in terror when the imperial and royal crowns of Germany and France were broken; and the crescent triumphed over the cross when Saladin united and led the Moslem nations to the conquest of Jerusalem. In the strength of body, and personal and military prowess, the Turks and the Franks were equal; but the Turks were in multitudes, the Franks were few; and as the twelfth century was an age of war rather than of policy, the Latins did not by intellectual superiority raise themselves above their enemies. The Christians scrupled not to break treaties[55] with the Moslems; they never attempted to conciliate the foe, or to live in terms of large and liberal intercourse. Except in the case of Egypt, they allowed the Saracenian nations to unite, without making any endeavour to break their force; and they were too proud and too ignorant to win any members to their cause from the great confederacy of atabegs. Conciliation could only be the result of weakness; a tender pitying forbearance of error was held a criminal indifference by armed saints. The Moslem contempt of infidels was not more sincere than was the hatred which the Christians felt for the supposed enemies of God.[c]

FOOTNOTES

[50] Germany was not affected by the First Crusade in an equal degree with Lorraine, Flanders, France, and Italy. Saxo Grammaticus says that when the Germans saw the troops of men, women, and children, on horseback and on foot, passing through their country on their way to Greece, they laughed at them as mad for quitting their homes to run after imaginary good in the midst of certain dangers, renouncing their own property in search of that of other people. Ekkehard mentions the same circumstance, and adds that the cause of the want of enthusiasm in Germany was that the divisions between the emperor and the pope prevented the preaching of the Crusade in that country. Signs, however, in the heavens, and other wonderful things, made many Germans take the cross and join the armies in the course of their march.

[51] The ladies of the twelfth century did not merely thread pearls, and amuse themselves with other employments equally delicate and elegant. The sword, and not merely the tongue, decided their disputes. Of this practice Ordericus Vitalis, p. 687, has given a remarkable instance. The love of “brave gestes” was the passion of the ladies as well as of the knights of chivalry.

[52] [Gibbon says “The emperor of Constantinople either gave or promised a fleet to act with the armies of Syria, and the perfidious Christian [Almeric] unsatisfied with spoil and subsidy aspired to the conquest of Egypt.”]

[53] After the death of Shirkuh, several emirs of the Syrian army came forward to fill his place: but the caliph chose Saladin and conferred on him the dignity of vizir, with the title of _malik nassir_ or general protector. According to the atabeg historian, “what induced the caliph to choose Saladin in preference to the others, was both his youth and his weakness. He imagined that by choosing Saladin, a man without an army and without strength, he could keep him dependent on him and could do with him whatever he wished. He also hoped to win over one part of the Syrian army and to drive away the other, which would restore his power to him and at the same time put him in a position to resist Nur ad-Din and the Franks.”

Ibn al-Atir makes the caliph’s advisers speak in the following manner on this occasion: “Among all the emirs of the Syrian army, there is not one weaker or younger than Joseph. He is the one to choose. As for him, he will do what we please; we will place in the army men devoted to our cause; we will put ourselves in a state of defence, and then we will decide whether to seize Joseph or to banish him to Egypt.”

But according to the remark of the atabeg historian, “God had decided differently,” and the caliph was to meet his ruin where he had founded his hopes. Besides, continues the same author, Saladin at first resisted. Frightened at the high rank to which they wished to raise him, it was necessary to persuade him by all possible means, like those beings of whom it is said that “they must be dragged with chains to be made to enter paradise.” At last he decided to go to the palace, and the caliph clothed him in the dress, cap, and other signs of the dignity of vizir.[e]

[54] [“Such,” says Gibbon, “were the guardians of the Holy City; a leper, a child, a woman, a coward, and a traitor; yet its fate was delayed twelve years by some supplies from Europe, by the valour of the military orders, and by the distant or domestic avocations of their great enemy.”]

[55] It was impossible that any respect could be entertained for people like the Latins, who were not only cruel invaders and sanguinary persecutors, but common robbers. At one time Baldwin III gave the Moslems liberty of pasturage round Paneas. As soon as the ground was covered with flocks of sheep, the Christian soldiers broke into the country, carried away the animals, and murdered their keepers. The principle of not keeping faith with infidels seems consequent on a dogma in the Decretals: “_Juramentum contra utilitatem ecclesiasticam præstitum non tenet._” Tancred and St. Louis were almost the only two eminent crusaders who distinguished themselves for preferring honesty and truth to utility and convenience.