Memoirs of Extraordinary Popular Delusions - Chapter 9b - The Crusades



The chiefs, though they had determined to stay at Antioch for two
months, could not remain quiet for so long a time. They would, in
all probability, have fallen upon each other, had there been no
Turks in Palestine upon whom they might vent their impetuosity.
Godfrey proceeded to Edessa, to aid his brother Baldwin in
expelling the Saracens from his principality, and the other
leaders carried on separate hostilities against them as caprice or
ambition dictated. At length the impatience of the army to be led
against Jerusalem became so great that the chiefs could no longer
delay, and Raymond, Tancred, and Robert of Normandy marched
forward with their divisions, and laid siege to the small but
strong town of Marah. With their usual improvidence, they had not
food enough to last a beleaguering army for a week. They suffered
great privations in consequence, till Bohemund came to their aid
and took the town by storm. In connexion with this siege, the
chronicler, Raymond d'Agilles, (the same Raymond, the chaplain,
who figured in the affair of the Holy Lance,) relates a legend, in
the truth of which he devoutly believed, and upon which Tasso has
founded one of the most beautiful passages of his poem. It is
worth preserving, as shewing the spirit of the age and the source
of the extraordinary courage manifested by the crusaders on
occasions of extreme difficulty. "One day," says Raymond, "Anselme
de Ribeaumont beheld young Engelram, the son of the Count de St.
Paul, who had been killed at Marsh, enter his tent. 'How is it,'
said Anselme to him, 'that you, whom I saw lying dead on the field
of battle, are full of life ?'—'You must know,' replied Engelram,
'that those who fight for Jesus Christ never die.'—' But whence,'
resumed Anselme, 'comes that strange brightness that surrounds you
?' Upon this Engelram pointed to the sky, where Anselme saw a
palace of diamond and crystal. 'It is thence,' said he, 'that I
derive the beauty which surprises you. My dwelling is there; a
still finer one is prepared for you, and you shall soon come to
inhabit it. Farewell! we shall meet again to-morrow.' With these
words Engelram returned to heaven. Anselme, struck by the vision,
sent the next morning for the priests, received the sacrament; and
although full of health, took a last farewell of all his friends,
telling them that he was about to leave this world. A few hours
afterwards, the enemy having made a sortie, Anselme went out
against them sword in hand, and was struck on the forehead by a
stone from a Turkish sling, which sent him to heaven, to the
beautiful palace that was prepared for him."

New disputes arose between the Prince of Antioch and the Count of
Toulouse with regard to the capture of this town, which were with
the utmost difficulty appeased by the other chiefs. Delays also
took place in the progress of the army, especially before Arches,
and the soldiery were so exasperated that they were on the point
of choosing new leaders to conduct them to Jerusalem. Godfrey,
upon this, set fire to his camp at Arches, and marched forward. He
was immediately joined by hundreds of the Provencals of the Count
of Toulouse. The latter, seeing the turn affairs were taking,
hastened after them, and the whole host proceeded towards the holy
city, so long desired amid sorrow, and suffering, and danger. At
Emmaus they were met by a deputation from the Christians of
Bethlehem, praying for immediate aid against the oppression of the
infidels. The very name of Bethlehem, the birthplace of the
Saviour, was music to their ears, and many of them wept with joy
to think they were approaching a spot so hallowed. Albert of Aix
informs us that their hearts were so touched that sleep was
banished from the camp, and that, instead of waiting till the
morning's dawn to recommence their march, they set out shortly
after midnight, full of hope and enthusiasm. For upwards of four
hours the mail-clad legions tramped steadfastly forward in the
dark, and when the sun arose in unclouded splendour, the towers
and pinnacles of Jerusalem gleamed upon their sight. All the
tender feelings of their nature were touched; no longer brutal
fanatics, but meek and humble pilgrims, they knelt down upon the
sod, and with tears in their eyes, exclaimed to one another,
"Jerusalem ! Jerusalem!" Some of them kissed the holy ground,
others stretched themselves at full length upon it, in order that
their bodies might come in contact with the greatest possible
extent of it, and others prayed aloud. The women and children who
had followed the camp from Europe, and shared in all its dangers,
fatigues, and privations, were more boisterous in their joy; the
former from long-nourished enthusiasm, and the latter from mere
imitation,73* and prayed, and wept, and laughed till they almost
put the more sober to the blush.

The first ebullition of their gladness having subsided, the army
marched forward, and invested the city on all sides. The assault
was almost immediately begun; but after the Christians had lost
some of their bravest knights, that mode of attack was abandoned,
and the army commenced its preparations for a regular siege.
Mangonels, moveable towers, and battering rams, together with a
machine called a sow, made of wood, and covered with raw hides,
inside of which miners worked to undermine the walls, were
forthwith constructed; and to restore the courage and discipline
of the army, which had suffered from the unworthy dissensions of
the chiefs, the latter held out the hand of friendship to each
other, and Tancred and the Count of Toulouse embraced in sight of
the whole camp. The clergy aided the cause with their powerful
voice, and preached union and goodwill to the highest and the
lowest. A solemn procession was also ordered round the city, in
which the entire army joined, prayers being offered up at every
spot which gospel records had taught them to consider as
peculiarly sacred.

The Saracens upon the ramparts beheld all these manifestations
without alarm. To incense the Christians, whom they despised, they
constructed rude crosses, and fixed them upon the walls, and spat
upon and pelted them with dirt and stones. This insult to the
symbol of their faith raised the wrath of the crusaders to that
height that bravery became ferocity and enthusiasm madness. When
all the engines of war were completed the attack was recommenced,
and every soldier of the Christian army fought with a vigour which
the sense of private wrong invariably inspires. Every man had been
personally outraged, and the knights worked at the battering-rams
with as much readiness as the meanest soldiers. The Saracen arrows
and balls of fire fell thick and fast among them, but the
tremendous rams still heaved against the walls, while the best
marksmen of the host were busily employed in the several floors of
the moveable towers in dealing death among the Turks upon the
battlements. Godfrey, Raymond, Tancred, and Robert of Normandy,
each upon his tower, fought for hours with unwearied energy, often
repulsed, but ever ready to renew the struggle. The Turks, no
longer despising the enemy, defended themselves with the utmost
skill and bravery till darkness brought a cessation of
hostilities. Short was the sleep that night in the. Christian
camp. The priests offered up solemn prayers in the midst of the
attentive soldiery for the triumph of the Cross in this last great
struggle, and as soon as morning dawned every one was in readiness
for the affray. The women and children lent their aid, the latter
running unconcerned to and fro while the arrows fell fast around
them, bearing water to the thirsty combatants. The saints were
believed to be aiding their efforts, and the army, impressed with
this idea, surmounted difficulties under which a force thrice as
numerous, but without their faith, would have quailed and been
defeated. Raymond of Toulouse at last forced his way into the city
by escalade, while at the very same moment Tancred and Robert of
Normandy succeeded in bursting open one of the gates. The Turks
flew to repair the mischief, and Godfrey of Bouillon, seeing the
battlements comparatively deserted, let down the drawbridge of his
moveable tower, and sprang forward, followed by all the knights of
his train. In an instant after, the banner of the Cross floated
upon the walls of Jerusalem. The crusaders, raising once more
their redoubtable war-cry, rushed on from every side, and the city
was taken. The battle raged in the streets for several hours, and
the Christians, remembering their insulted faith, gave no quarter
to young or old, male or female, sick or strong. Not one of the
leaders thought himself at liberty to issue orders for staying the
carnage, and if he had, he would not have been obeyed. The
Saracens fled in great numbers to the mosque of Soliman, but they
had not time to fortify themselves within it ere the Christians
were upon them. Ten thousand persons are said to have perished in
that building alone.

Peter the Hermit, who had remained so long under the veil of
neglect, was repaid that day for all his zeal and all his
sufferings. As soon as the battle was over, the Christians of
Jerusalem issued forth from their hiding-places to welcome their
deliverers. They instantly recognized the Hermit as the pilgrim
who, years before, had spoken to them so eloquently of the wrongs
and insults they had endured, and promised to stir up the princes
and people of Europe in their behalf. They clung to the skirts of
his garments in the fervour of their gratitude, and vowed to
remember him for ever in their prayers. Many of them shed tears
about his neck, and attributed the deliverance of Jerusalem solely
to his courage and perseverance. Peter afterwards held some
ecclesiastical office in the Holy City, but what it was, or what
was his ultimate fate, history has forgotten to inform us. Some
say that he returned to France and founded a monastery, but the
story does not rest upon sufficient authority.

The grand object for which the popular swarms of Europe had
forsaken their homes was now accomplished. The Moslem mosques of
Jerusalem were converted into churches for a purer faith, and the
mount of Calvary and the sepulchre of Christ were profaned no
longer by the presence or the power of the infidel. Popular frenzy
had fulfilled its mission, and, as a natural consequence, it began
to subside from that time forth. The news of the capture of
Jerusalem brought numbers of pilgrims from Europe, and, among
others, Stephen Count of Chartres and Hugh of Vermandois, to atone
for their desertion; but nothing like the former enthusiasm
existed among the nations.

Thus then ends the history of the first Crusade. For the better
understanding of the second, it will be necessary to describe the
interval between them, and to enter into a slight sketch of the
history of Jerusalem under its Latin kings, the long and fruitless
wars they continued to wage with the unvanquished Saracens, and
the poor and miserable results which sprang from so vast an
expenditure of zeal, and so deplorable a waste of human life.

The necessity of having some recognized chief was soon felt by the
crusaders, and Godfrey de Bouillon, less ambitious than Bohemund,
or Raymond of Toulouse, gave his cold consent to wield a sceptre
which the latter chiefs would have clutched with eagerness. He was
hardly invested with the royal mantle before the Saracens menaced
his capital. With much vigour and judgment he exerted himself to
follow up the advantages he had gained, and marching out to meet
the enemy before they had time to besiege him in Jerusalem, he
gave them battle at Ascalon, and defeated them with great loss. He
did not, however, live long to enjoy his new dignity, being seized
with a fatal illness when he had only reigned nine months. To him
succeeded his brother, Baldwin of Edessa. The latter monarch did
much to improve the condition of Jerusalem and to extend its
territory, but was not able to make a firm footing for his
successors. For fifty years, in which the history of Jerusalem is
full of interest to the historical student, the crusaders were
exposed to fierce and constant hostilities, often gaining battles
and territory, and as often losing them, but becoming every day
weaker and more divided, while the Saracens became stronger and
more united to harass and root them out. The battles of this
period were of the most chivalrous character, and deeds of heroism
were done by the handful of brave knights that remained in Syria,
which have hardly their parallel in the annals of war. In the
course of time, however, the Christians could not avoid feeling
some respect for the courage, and admiration for the polished
manners and advanced civilization of the Saracens, so much
superior to the rudeness and semi-barbarism of Europe at that day.
Difference of faith did not prevent them from forming alliances
with the dark-eyed maidens of the East. One of the first to set
the example of taking a Paynim spouse was King Baldwin himself,
and these connexions in time became, not only frequent, but almost
universal, among such of the knights as had resolved to spend
their lives in Palestine. These Eastern ladies were obliged,
however, to submit to the ceremony of baptism before they could be
received to the arms of a Christian lord. These, and their
offspring, naturally looked upon the Saracens with less hatred
than did the zealots who conquered Jerusalem, and who thought it a
sin deserving the wrath of God to spare an unbeliever. We find, in
consequence, that the most obstinate battles waged during the
reigns of the later Kings of Jerusalem were fought by the new and
raw levies who from time to time arrived from Europe, lured by the
hope of glory, or spurred by fanaticism. The latter broke without
scruple the truces established between the original settlers and
the Saracens, and drew down severe retaliation upon many thousands
of their brethren in the faith, whose prudence was stronger than
their zeal, and whose chief desire was to live in peace.

Things remained in this unsatisfactory state till the close of the
year 1145, when Edessa, the strong frontier town of the Christian
kingdom, fell into the bauds of the Saracens. The latter were
commanded by Zenghi, a powerful and enterprising monarch, and,
after his death, by his son Nourheddin, as powerful and
enterprising as his father. An unsuccessful attempt was made by
the Count of Edessa to regain the fortress, but Nourheddin, with a
large army, came to the rescue, and after defeating the Count with
great slaughter, marched into Edessa and caused its fortifications
to be rased to the ground, that the town might never more be a
bulwark of defence for the kingdom of Jerusalem. The road to the
capital was now open, and consternation seized the hearts of the
Christians. Nourheddin, it was known, was only waiting for a
favourable opportunity to advance upon Jerusalem, and the armies
of the Cross, weakened and divided, were not in a condition to
make any available resistance. The clergy were filled with grief
and alarm, and wrote repeated letters to the Pope and the
sovereigns of Europe, urging the expediency of a new Crusade for
the relief of Jerusalem. By far the greater number of the priests
of Palestine were natives of France, and these naturally looked
first to their own country. The solicitations they sent to Louis
the Seventh were urgent and oft repeated, and the chivalry of
France began to talk once more of arming in the defence of the
birthplace of Jesus. The kings of Europe, whose interest it had
not been to take any part in the first Crusade, began to bestir
themselves in this; and a man appeared, eloquent as Peter the
Hermit, to arouse the people as he had done.

We find, however, that the enthusiasm of the second did not equal
that of the first Crusade: in fact, the mania had reached its
climax in the time of Peter the Hermit, and decreased regularly
from that period. The third Crusade was less general than the
second, and the fourth than the third, and so on, until the public
enthusiasm was quite extinct, and Jerusalem returned at last to
the dominion of its old masters without a convulsion in
Christendom. Various reasons have been assigned for this; and one
very generally put forward is, that Europe was wearied with
continued struggles, and had become sick of "precipitating itself
upon Asia." M. Guizot, in his admirable lectures upon European
civilization, successfully combats this opinion, and offers one of
his own, which is far more satisfactory. He says, in his eighth
lecture, "It has been often repeated, that Europe was tired of
continually invading Asia. This expression appears to me
exceedingly incorrect. It is not possible that human beings can be
wearied with what they have not done—that the labours of their
forefathers can fatigue them. Weariness is a personal, not an
inherited feeling. The men of the thirteenth century were not
fatigued by the Crusades of the twelfth. They were influenced by
another cause. A great change had taken place in ideas,
sentiments, and social conditions. The same desires and the same
wants were no longer felt. The same things were no longer
believed. The people refused to believe what their ancestors were
persuaded of."

This is, in fact, the secret of the change; and its truth becomes
more apparent as we advance in the history of the Crusades, and
compare the state of the public mind at the different periods when
Godfrey of Bouillon, Louis VII. and Richard I. were chiefs and
leaders of the movement. The Crusades themselves were the means of
operating a great change in national ideas, and advancing the
civilization of Europe. In the time of Godfrey, the nobles were
all-powerful and all-oppressive, and equally obnoxious to kings
and people. During their absence along with that portion of the
community the deepest sunk in ignorance and superstition, both
kings and people fortified themselves against the renewal of
aristocratic tyranny, and in proportion as they became free,
became civliized. It was during this period that in France, the
grand centre of the crusading madness, the communes began to
acquire strength, and the monarch to possess a tangible and not a
merely theoretic authority. Order and comfort began to take root,
and, when the second Crusade was preached, men were in consequence
much less willing to abandon their homes than they had been during
the first. Such pilgrims as had returned from the Holy Land came
back with minds more liberal and expanded than when they set out.
They had come in contact with a people more civilized than
themselves; they had seen something more of the world, and had
lost some portion, however small, of the prejudice and bigotry of
ignorance. The institution of chivalry had also exercised its
humanizing influence, and coming bright and fresh through the
ordeal of the Crusades, had softened the character and improved
the hearts of the aristocratic order. The Trouvères and
Troubadours, singing of love and war in strains pleasing to every
class of society, helped to root out the gloomy superstitions
which, at the first Crusade, filled the minds of all those who
were able to think. Men became in consequence less exclusively
under the mental thraldom of the priesthood, and lost much of the
credulity which formerly distinguished them.

The Crusades appear never to have excited so much attention in
England as on the continent of Europe; not because the people were
less fanatical than their neighbours, but because they were
occupied in matters of graver interest. The English were suffering
too severely from the recent successful invasion of their soil, to
have much sympathy to bestow upon the distresses of people so far
away as the Christians of Palestine; and we find that they took no
part in the first Crusade, and very little in the second. Even
then those who engaged in it were chiefly Norman knights and their
vassals, and not the Saxon franklins and population, who no doubt
thought, in their sorrow, as many wise men have thought since,
that charity should begin at home.

Germany was productive of more zeal in the cause, and her raw,
uncivilized hordes continued to issue forth under the banners of
the Cross in numbers apparently undiminished, when the enthusiasm
had long been on the wane in other countries. They were sunk at
that time in a deeper slough of barbarism than the livelier
nations around them, and took, in consequence, a longer period to
free themselves from their prejudices. In fact, the second Crusade
drew its chief supplies of men from that quarter, where alone the
expedition can be said to have retained any portion of popularity.

Such was the state of the mind of Europe when Pope Eugenius, moved
by the reiterated entreaties of the Christians of Syria,
commissioned St. Bernard to preach a new crusade. St. Bernard was
a man eminently qualified for the mission. He was endowed with an
eloquence of the highest order, could move an auditory to tears,
or laughter, or fury, as it pleased him, and had led a life of
such rigid and self-denying virtue, that not even calumny could
lift her finger and point it at him. He had renounced high
prospects in the church, and contented himself with the simple
abbacy of Clairvaux, in order that he might have the leisure he
desired, to raise his powerful voice against abuses wherever he
found them. Vice met in him an austere and uncompromising
reprover; no man was too high for his reproach, and none too low
for his sympathy. He was just as well suited for his age as Peter
the Hermit had been for the age preceding. He appealed more to the
reason, his predecessor to the passions; Peter the Hermit
collected a mob, while St. Bernard collected an army. Both were
endowed with equal zeal and perseverance, springing, in the one,
from impulse, and in the other from conviction, and a desire to
increase the influence of the church, that great body of which he
was a pillar and an ornament.

One of the first converts he made was in himself a host. Louis
VII. was both superstitious and tyrannical, and, in a fit of
remorse for the infamous slaughter he had authorised at the
sacking of Vitry, he made a vow to undertake the journey to the
Holy Land.74* He was in this disposition when St. Bernard began to
preach, and wanted but little persuasion to embark in the cause.
His example had great influence upon the nobility, who,
impoverished as many of them were by the sacrifices made by their
fathers in the holy wars, were anxious to repair their ruined
fortunes by conquests on a foreign shore. These took the field
with such vassals as they could command, and, in a very short
time, an army was raised amounting to two hundred thousand men. At
Vezelai the monarch received the cross from the hands of St.
Bernard, on a platform elevated in sight of all the people.
Several nobles, three bishops, and his Queen, Eleanor of
Aquitaine, were present at this ceremony, and enrolled themselves
under the banners of the Cross, St. Bernard cutting up his red
sacerdotal vestments, and making crosses of them, to be sewn on
the shoulders of the people. An exhortation from the Pope was read
to the multitude, granting remission of their sins to all who
should join the Crusade, and directing that no man on that holy
pilgrimage should encumber himself with heavy baggage and vain
superfluities, and that the nobles should not travel with dogs or
falcons, to lead them from the direct road, as had happened to so
many during the first Crusade.

The command of the army was offered to St. Bernard; but he wisely
refused to accept a station for which his habits had unqualified
him. After consecrating Louis with great solemnity, at St. Denis,
as chief of the expedition, he continued his course through the
country, stirring up the people wherever he went. So high an
opinion was entertained of his sanctity, that he was thought to be
animated by the spirit of prophecy, and to be gifted with the
power of working miracles. Many women, excited by his eloquence,
and encouraged by his predictions, forsook their husbands and
children, and, clothing themselves in male attire, hastened to the
war. St. Bernard himself wrote a letter to the Pope, detailing his
success, and stating, that in several towns there did not remain a
single male inhabitant capable of bearing arms, and that
everywhere castles and towns were to be seen filled with women
weeping for their absent husbands. But in spite of this apparent
enthusiasm, the numbers who really took up arms were
inconsiderable, and not to be compared to the swarms of the first
Crusade. A levy of no more than two hundred thousand men, which
was the utmost the number amounted to, could hardly have
depopulated a country like France to the extent mentioned by St.
Bernard. His description of the state of the country appears,
therefore, to have been much more poetical than true.

Suger, the able minister of Louis, endeavoured to dissuade him
from undertaking so long a journey at a time when his own
dominions so much needed his presence. But the king was pricked in
his conscience by the cruelties of Vitry, and was anxious to make
the only reparation which the religion of that day considered
sufficient. He was desirous moreover of testifying to the world,
that though he could brave the temporal power of the church when
it encroached upon his prerogatives, he could render all due
obedience to its spiritual decrees whenever it suited his interest
or tallied with his prejudices to so do. Suger, therefore,
implored in vain, and Louis received the pilgrim's staff at St.
Denis, and made all preparations for his pilgrimage.

In the mean time St. Bernard passed into Germany, where similar
success attended his preaching. The renown of his sanctity had
gone before him, and he found everywhere an admiring audience.
Thousands of people, who could not understand a word he said,
flocked around him to catch a glimpse of so holy a man; and the
knights enrolled themselves in great numbers in the service of the
Cross, each receiving from his hands the symbol of the cause. But
the people were not led away as in the days of Gottschalk. We do
not find that they rose in such tremendous masses of two and three
hundred thousand men, swarming over the country like a plague of
locusts. Still the enthusiasm was very great. The extraordinary
tales that were told and believed of the miracles worked by the
preacher brought the country people from far and near. Devils were
said to vanish at his sight, and diseases of the most malignant
nature to be cured by his touch.75* The Emperor Conrad caught at
last the contagion from his subjects, and declared his intention
to follow the Cross.

The preparations were carried on so vigorously under the orders of
Conrad, that in less than three months he found himself at the
head of an army containing at least one hundred and fifty thousand
effective men, besides a great number of women who followed their
husbands and lovers to the war. One troop of them rode in the
attitude and armour of men: their chief wore gilt spurs and
buskins, and thence acquired the epithet of the golden-footed
lady. Conrad was ready to set out long before the French Monarch,
and in the month of June 1147, he arrived before Constantinople,
having passed through Hungary and Bulgaria without offence to the
inhabitants.

Manuel Comnenus, the Greek Emperor, successor not only to the
throne, but to the policy of Alexius, looked with alarm upon the
new levies who had come to eat up his capital and imperil its
tranquillity. Too weak to refuse them a passage through his
dominions, too distrustful of them to make them welcome when they
came, and too little assured of the advantages likely to result to
himself from the war, to feign a friendship which he did not feel,
the Greek Emperor gave offence at the very outset. His subjects,
in the pride of superior civilization, called the Germans
barbarians, while the latter, who, if semi-barbarous, were at
least honest and straight-forward, retorted upon the Greeks by
calling them double-faced knaves and traitors. Disputes
continually arose between them, and Conrad, who had preserved so
much good order among his followers during their passage, was
unable to restrain their indignation when they arrived at
Constantinople. For some offence or other which the Greeks had
given them, but which is rather hinted at than stated by the
scanty historians of the day, the Germans broke into the
magnificent pleasure garden of the Emperor, where he had a
valuable collection of tame animals, for which the grounds had
been laid out in woods, caverns, groves, and streams, that each
might follow in captivity his natural habits. The enraged Germans,
meriting the name of barbarians that had been bestowed upon them,
laid waste this pleasant retreat, and killed or let loose the
valuable animals it contained. Manuel, who is said to have beheld
the devastation from his palace windows without power or courage
to prevent it, was completely disgusted with his guests, and
resolved, like his predecessor Alexius, to get rid of them on the
first opportunity. He sent a message to Conrad respectfully
desiring an interview, but the German refused to trust himself
within the walls of Constantinople. The Greek Emperor, on his
part, thought it compatible neither with his dignity nor his
safety to seek the German, and several days were spent in
insincere negotiations. Manuel at length agreed to furnish the
crusading army with guides to conduct it through Asia Minor; and
Conrad passed over the Hellespont with his forces, the advanced
guard being commanded by himself, and the rear by the warlike
Bishop of Freysinghen.

Historians are almost unanimous in their belief that the wily
Greek gave instructions to his guides to lead the army of the
German Emperor into dangers and difficulties. It is certain, that
instead of guiding them through such districts of Asia Minor as
afforded water and provisions, they led them into the wilds of
Cappadocia, where neither was to be procured, and where they were
suddenly attacked by the Sultaun of the Seljukian Turks, at the
head of an immense force. The guides, whose treachery is apparent
from this fact alone, fled at the first sight of the Turkish army,
and the Christians were left to wage unequal warfare with their
enemy, entangled and bewildered in desert wilds. Toiling in their
heavy mail, the Germans could make but little effective resistance
to the attacks of the Turkish light horse, who were down upon them
one instant, and out of sight the next. Now in the front and now
in the rear, the agile foe showered his arrows upon them, enticing
them into swamps and hollows, from which they could only extricate
themselves after long struggles and great losses. The Germans,
confounded by this mode of warfare, lost all conception of the
direction they were pursuing, and went back instead of forward.
Suffering at the same time for want of provisions, they fell an
easy prey to their pursuers. Count Bernhard, one of the bravest
leaders of the German expedition, was surrounded, with his whole
division, not one of whom escaped the Turkish arrows. The Emperor
himself had nearly fallen a victim, and was twice severely
wounded. So persevering was the enemy, and so little able were the
Germans to make even a show of resistance, that when Conrad at
last reached the city of Nice, he found that, instead of being at
the head of an imposing force of one hundred thousand foot and
seventy thousand horse, he had but fifty or sixty thousand men,
and these in the most worn and wearied condition.

Totally ignorant of the treachery of the Greek Emperor, although
he had been warned to beware of it, Louis VII. proceeded, at the
head of his army, through Worms and Ratisbon, towards
Constantinople. At Ratisbon he was met by a deputation from
Manuel, bearing letters so full of hyperbole and flattery, that
Louis is reported to have blushed when they were read to him by
the Bishop of Langres. The object of the deputation was to obtain
from the French King a promise to pass through the Grecian
territories in a peaceable and friendly manner, and to yield to
the Greek Emperor any conquest he might make in Asia Minor. The
first part of the proposition was immediately acceded to, but no
notice was taken of the second and more unreasonable. Louis
marched on, and, passing through Hungary, pitched his tents in the
outskirts of Constantinople.

On his arrival, Manuel sent him a friendly invitation to enter the
city, at the head of a small train. Louis at once accepted it, and
was met by the Emperor at the porch of his palace. The fairest
promises were made; every art that flattery could suggest was
resorted to, and every argument employed, to induce him to yield
his future conquests to the Greek. Louis obstinately refused to
pledge himself, and returned to his army, convinced that the
Emperor was a man not to be trusted. Negotiations were, however,
continued for several days, to the great dissatisfaction of the
French army. The news that arrived of a treaty entered into
between Manuel and the Turkish Sultan changed their
dissatisfaction into fury, and the leaders demanded to be led
against Constantinople, swearing that they would raze the
treacherous city to the ground. Louis did not feel inclined to
accede to this proposal, and, breaking up his camp, he crossed
over into Asia.

Here he heard, for the first time, of the mishaps of the German
Emperor, whom he found in a woeful plight under the walls of Nice.
The two monarchs united their forces, and marched together along
the sea-coast to Ephesus; but Conrad, jealous, it would appear, of
the superior numbers of the French, and not liking to sink into a
vassal, for the time being, of his rival, withdrew abruptly with
the remnant of his legions, and returned to Constantinople. Manuel
was all smiles and courtesy. He condoled with the German so
feelingly upon his losses, and cursed the stupidity or treachery
of the guides with such apparent heartiness, that Conrad was half
inclined to believe in his sincerity.

Louis, marching onward in the direction of Jerusalem, came up with
the enemy on the banks of the Meander. The Turks contested the
passage of the river, but the French bribed a peasant to point out
a ford lower down: crossing the river without difficulty, they
attacked the Turks with much vigour, and put them to flight.
Whether the Turks were really defeated, or merely pretended to be
so, is doubtful; but the latter supposition seems to be the true
one. It is probable that it was part of a concerted plan to draw
the invaders onwards to more unfavourable ground, where their
destruction might be more certain. If such were the scheme, it
succeeded to the heart's wish of its projectors. The crusaders, on
the third day after their victory, arrived at a steep
mountain-pass, on the summit of which the Turkish host lay
concealed so artfully, that not the slightest vestige of their
presence could be perceived. "With labouring steps and slow," they
toiled up the steep ascent, when suddenly a tremendous fragment of
rock came bounding down the precipices with an awful crash,
bearing dismay and death before it. At the same instant the
Turkish archers started from their hiding-places, and discharged a
shower of arrows upon the foot soldiers, who fell by hundreds at a
time. The arrows rebounded harmlessly against the iron mail of the
knights, which the Turks observing, took aim at their steeds, and
horse and rider fell down the steep into the rapid torrent which
rushed below. Louis, who commanded the rear-guard, received the
first intimation of the onslaught from the sight of his wounded
and flying soldiers, and, not knowing the numbers of the enemy, he
pushed vigorously forward to stay, by his presence, the panic
which had taken possession of his army. All his efforts were in
vain. Immense stones continued to be hurled upon them as they
advanced, bearing men and horse before them; and those who
succeeded in forcing their way to the top, were met hand-to-hand
by the Turks, and cast down headlong upon their companions. Louis
himself fought with the energy of desperation, but had great
difficulty to avoid falling into the enemy's hands. He escaped at
last under cover of the night, with the remnant of his forces, and
took up his position before Attalia. Here he restored the
discipline and the courage of his disorganized and disheartened
followers, and debated with his captains the plan that was to be
pursued. After suffering severely both from disease and famine, it
was resolved that they should march to Antioch, which still
remained an independent principality under the successors of
Bohemund of Tarentum. At this time the sovereignty was vested in
the person of Raymond, the uncle of Eleanor of Aquitaine. This
Prince, presuming upon his relationship to the French Queen,
endeavoured to withdraw Louis from the grand object of the
Crusade—the defence of the kingdom of Jerusalem, and secure his
co-operation in extending the limits and the power of his
principality of Antioch. The Prince of Tripoli formed a similar
design, but Louis rejected the offers of both, and marched after a
short delay to Jerusalem. The Emperor Conrad was there before him,
having left Constantinople with promises of assistance from Manuel
Comnenus; assistance which never arrived, and was never intended.

A great council of the Christian princes of Palestine and the
leaders of the Crusade was then summoned, to discuss the future
operations of the war. It was ultimately determined that it would
further the cause of the Cross in a greater degree if the united
armies, instead of proceeding to Edessa, laid siege to the city of
Damascus, and drove the Saracens from that strong position. This
was a bold scheme, and, had it been boldly followed out, would
have insured, in all probability, the success of the war. But the
Christian leaders never learned from experience the necessity of
union, that very soul of great enterprises. Though they all agreed
upon the policy of the plan, yet every one had his own notions as
to the means of executing it. The Princes of Antioch and Tripoli
were jealous of each other, and of the King of Jerusalem. The
Emperor Conrad was jealous of the King of France, and the King of
France was disgusted with them all. But he had come out to
Palestine in accordance with a solemn vow; his religion, though it
may be called bigotry, was sincere; and he determined to remain to
the very last moment that a chance was left, of effecting any good
for the cause he had set his heart on.

The siege of Damascus was accordingly commenced, and with so much
ability and vigour that the Christians gained a considerable
advantage at the very outset. For weeks the siege was pressed,
till the shattered fortifications and diminishing resistance of
the besieged gave evidence that the city could not hold out much
longer. At that moment the insane jealousy of the leaders led to
dissensions that soon caused the utter failure, not only of the
siege, but of the Crusade. A modern cookery-book, in giving a
recipe for cooking a hare, says, "first catch your hare, and then
kill it;" a maxim of indisputable wisdom. The Christian chiefs on
this occasion had not so much sagacity, for they began a violent
dispute among themselves for the possession of a city which was
still unconquered. There being already a Prince of Antioch and a
Prince of Tripoli, twenty claimants started for the principality
of Damascus, and a grand council of the leaders was held to
determine the individual on whom the honour should devolve. Many
valuable days were wasted in this discussion, the enemy in the
mean while gaining strength from their inactivity. It was at
length, after a stormy deliberation, agreed that Count Robert of
Flanders, who had twice visited the Holy Land, should be invested
with the dignity. The other claimants refused to recognise him, or
to co-operate in the siege, until a more equitable arrangement had
been made. Suspicion filled the camp; the most sinister rumours of
intrigues and treachery were set afloat; and the discontented
candidates withdrew at last to the other side of the city, and
commenced operations on their own account, without a probability
of success. They were soon joined by the rest of the army. The
consequence was that the weakest side of the city, and that on
which they had already made considerable progress in the work of
demolition, was left uncovered. The enemy was prompt to profit by
the mistake, and received an abundant supply of provisions, and
refortified the walls, before the crusaders came to their senses
again. When this desirable event happened, it was too late. Saph
Eddin, the powerful Emir of Mousoul, was in the neighbourhood, at
the head of a large army, advancing by forced marches to the
relief of the city. The siege was abruptly abandoned, and the
foolish crusaders returned to Jerusalem, having done nothing to
weaken the enemy, but every thing to weaken themselves.

The freshness of enthusiasm had now completely subsided;—even the
meanest soldiers were sick at heart. Conrad, from whose fierce
zeal at the outset so much might have been expected, was wearied
with reverses, and returned to Europe with the poor remnant of his
host. Louis lingered a short time longer, for very shame, but the
pressing solicitations of his minister Suger induced him to return
to France. Thus ended the second Crusade. Its history is but a
chronicle of defeats. It left the kingdom of Jerusalem in a worse
state than when it quitted Europe, and gained nothing but disgrace
for its leaders and discouragement for all concerned.

St. Bernard, who had prophesied a result so different, fell after
this into some disrepute, and experienced, like many other
prophets, the fate of being without honour in his own country.
What made the matter worse, he could not obtain it in any other.
Still, however, there were not wanting zealous advocates to stand
forward in his behalf, and stem the tide of incredulity, which,
unopposed, would have carried away his reputation. The Bishop of
Freysinghen declared that prophets were not always able to
prophesy, and that the vices of the crusaders drew down the wrath
of Heaven upon them. But the most ingenious excuse ever made for
St. Bernard is to be found in his life by Geoffroi de Clairvaux,
where he pertinaciously insists that the Crusade was not
unfortunate. St. Bernard, he says, had prophesied a happy result,
and that result could not be considered other than happy which had
peopled heaven with so glorious an army of martyrs. Geoffroi was a
cunning pleader, and, no doubt, convinced a few of the zealous;
but plain people, who were not wanting even in those days,
retained their own opinion, or, what amounts to the same thing,
"were convinced against their will."

We now come to the consideration of the third Crusade, and of the
causes which rendered it necessary. The epidemic frenzy, which had
been cooling ever since the issue of the first expedition, was now
extinct, or very nearly so, and the nations of Europe looked with
cold indifference upon the armaments of their princes. But
chivalry had flourished in its natural element of war, and was now
in all its glory. It continued to supply armies for the Holy Land
when the popular ranks refused to deliver up their able-bodied
swarms. Poetry, which, more than religion, inspired the third
Crusade, was then but "caviare to the million," who had other
matters, of sterner import, to claim all their attention. But the
knights and their retainers listened with delight to the martial
and amatory strains of the minstrels, minnesangers, trouveres, and
troubadours, and burned to win favour in ladies' eyes by shewing
prowess in Holy Land. The third was truly the romantic era of the
Crusades. Men fought then, not so much for the sepulchre of Jesus,
and the maintenance of a Christian kingdom in the East, as to gain
glory for themselves in the best, and almost only field, where
glory could be obtained. They fought, not as zealots, but as
soldiers; not for religion, but for honour; not for the crown of
martyrdom, but for the favour of the lovely.

It is not necessary to enter into a detail of the events by which
Saladin attained the sovereignty of the East, or how, after a
succession of engagements, he planted the Moslem banner once more
upon the battlements of Jerusalem. The Christian knights and
population, including the grand orders of St. John, the
Hospitallers, and the Templars, were sunk in an abyss of vice, and
torn by unworthy jealousies and dissensions, were unable to resist
the well-trained armies which the wise and mighty Saladin brought
forward to crush them. But the news of their fall created a
painful sensation among the chivalry of Europe, whose noblest
members were linked to the dwellers in Palestine by many ties,
both of blood and friendship. The news of the great battle of
Tiberias, in which Saladin defeated the Christian host with
terrible slaughter, arrived first in Europe, and was followed in
quick succession by that of the capture of Jerusalem, Antioch,
Tripoli, and other cities. Dismay seized upon the clergy. The Pope
(Urban III.) was so affected by the news that he pined away for
grief, and was scarcely seen to smile again, until he sank into
the sleep of death.76* His successor, Gregory VIII. felt the loss
as acutely, but had better strength to bear it, and instructed all
the clergy of the Christian world to stir up the people to arms
for the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre. William, Archbishop of
Tyre, a humble follower in the path of Peter the Hermit, left
Palestine to preach to the Kings of Europe the miseries he had
witnessed, and to incite them to the rescue. The renowned
Frederick Barbarossa, the Emperor of Germany, speedily collected
an army, and passing over into Syria with less delay than had ever
before awaited a crusading force, defeated the Saracens, and took
possession of the city of Iconium. He was unfortunately cut off in
the middle of his successful career, by imprudently bathing in the
Cydnus77* while he was overheated, and the Duke of Suabia took the
command of the expedition. The latter did not prove so able a
general, and met with nothing but reverses, although he was
enabled to maintain a footing at Antioch until assistance arrived
from Europe.

Henry II. of England and Philip Augustus of France, at the head of
their chivalry, supported the Crusade with all their influence,
until wars and dissensions nearer home estranged them from it for
a time. The two kings met at Gisors in Normandy in the month of
January 1188, accompanied by a brilliant train of knights and
warriors. William of Tyre was present, and expounded the cause of
the Cross with considerable eloquence, and the whole assembly
bound themselves by oath to proceed to Jerusalem. It was agreed at
the same time that a tax, called Saladin's tithe, and consisting
of the tenth part of all possessions, whether landed or personal,
should be enforced over Christendom, upon every one who was either
unable or unwilling to assume the Cross. The lord of every feof,
whether lay or ecclesiastical, was charged to raise the tithe
within his own jurisdiction; and any one who refused to pay his
quota, became by that act the bondsman and absolute property of
his lord. At the same time the greatest indulgence was shewn to
those who assumed the Cross; no man was at liberty to stay them by
process of any kind, whether for debt, or robbery, or murder. The
King of France, at the breaking up of the conference, summoned a
parliament at Paris, where these resolutions were solemnly
confirmed, while Henry II. did the same for his Norman possessions
at Rouen, and for England at Geddington, in Northamptonshire. To
use the words of an ancient chronicler,78* "he held a parliament
about the voyage into the Holy Land, and troubled the whole land
with the paying of tithes towards it."

But it was not England only that was "troubled" by the tax. The
people of France also looked upon it with no pleasant feelings,
and appear from that time forth to have changed their indifference
for the Crusade into aversion. Even the clergy, who were
exceedingly willing that other people should contribute half, or
even all their goods in furtherance of their favourite scheme,
were not at all anxious to contribute a single sous themselves.
Millot79* relates that several of them cried out against the
impost. Among the rest the clergy of Rheims were called upon to
pay their quota, but sent a deputation to the King, begging him to
be contented with the aid of their prayers, as they were too poor
to contribute in any other shape. Philip Augustus knew better, and
by way of giving them a lesson, employed three nobles of the
vicinity to lay waste the church lands. The clergy, informed of
the outrage, applied to the King for redress. "I will aid you with
my prayers," said the Monarch condescendingly, "and will intreat
those gentlemen to let the church alone." He did as he had
promised, but in such a manner, that the nobles, who appreciated
the joke, continued their devastations as before. Again the clergy
applied to the King. "What would you have of me?" he replied, in
answer to their remonstrances: "You gave me your prayers in my
necessity, and I have given you mine in yours." The clergy
understood the argument, and thought it the wiser course to pay
their quota of Saladin's tithe without further parley.

This anecdote shews the unpopularity of the Crusade. If the clergy
disliked to contribute, it is no wonder that the people felt still
greater antipathy. But the chivalry of Europe was eager for the
affray: the tithe was rigorously collected, and armies from
England, France, Burgundy, Italy, Flanders, and Germany, were soon
in the field; The two kings who were to have led it, were,
however, drawn into broils by an aggression of Richard; Duke of
Guienne, better known as Richard Coeur de Lion, upon the territory
of the Count of Toulouse, and the proposed journey to Palestine
was delayed. War continued to rage between France and England, and
with so little probability of a speedy termination, that many of
the nobles, bound to the Crusade, left the two Monarchs to settle
their differences at their leisure, and proceeded to Palestine
without them.

Death at last stepped in and removed Henry II. from the hostility
of his foes, and the treachery and ingratitude of his children.
His son Richard immediately concluded an alliance with Philip
Augustus, and the two young, valiant, and impetuous Monarchs,
united all their energies to forward the Crusade. They met with a
numerous and brilliant retinue at Nonancourt in Normandy, where,
in sight of their assembled chivalry, they embraced as brothers,
and swore to live as friends and true allies, until a period of
forty days after their return from the Holy Land. With a view of
purging their camp from the follies and vices which had proved so
ruinous to preceding expeditions, they drew up a code of laws for
the government of the army. Gambling had been carried to a great
extent, and had proved the fruitful source of quarrels and
bloodshed, and one of their laws prohibited any person in the
army, beneath the degree of a knight, from playing at any game for
money.80* Knights and clergymen might play for money, but no one
was permitted to lose or gain more than twenty shillings in a day,
under a penalty of one hundred shillings. The personal attendants
of the Monarchs were also allowed to play to the same extent. The
penalty in their case for infraction was that they should be
whipped naked through the army for the space of three days. Any
crusader, who struck another and drew blood, was ordered to have
his hand cut off; and whoever slew a brother crusader was
condemned to be tied alive to the corpse of his victim and buried
with him. No young women were allowed to follow the army, to the
great sorrow of many vicious and of many virtuous dames, who had
not courage to elude the decree by dressing in male attire. But
many high-minded and affectionate maidens and matrons, bearing the
sword or the spear, followed their husbands and lovers to the war
in spite of King Richard, and in defiance of danger. The only
women allowed to accompany the army in their own habiliments, were
washerwomen, of fifty years complete, and any others of the fair
sex who had reached the same age.

These rules having been promulgated, the two monarchs marched
together to Lyons, where they separated, agreeing to meet again at
Messina. Philip proceeded across the Alps to Genoa, where he took
ship, and was conveyed in safety to the place of rendezvous.
Richard turned in the direction of Marseilles, where he also took
ship for Messina. His impetuous disposition hurried him into many
squabbles by the way, and his knights and followers, for the most
part as brave and as foolish as himself, imitated him very
zealously in this particular. At Messina the Sicilians charged the
most exorbitant prices for every necessary of life. Richard's army
in vain remonstrated. From words they came to blows, and, as a
last resource, plundered the Sicilians, since they could not trade
with them. Continual battles were the consequence, in one of which
Lebrun, the favourite attendant of Richard, lost his life. The
peasantry from far and near came flocking to the aid of the
townspeople, and the battle soon became general. Richard,
irritated at the loss of his favourite, and incited by a report
that Tancred, the King of Sicily, was fighting at the head of his
own people, joined the mêlée with his boldest knights, and,
beating back the Sicilians, attacked the city, sword in hand,
stormed the battlements, tore down the flag of Sicily, and planted
his own in its stead. This collision gave great offence to the
King of France, who became from that time jealous of Richard, and
apprehensive that his design was not so much to re-establish the
Christian Kingdom of Jerusalem, as to make conquests for himself.
He, however, exerted his influence to restore peace between the
English and Sicilians, and shortly afterwards set sail for Acre,
with distrust of his ally germinating in his heart.

Richard remained behind for some weeks, in a state of inactivity
quite unaccountable in one of his temperament. He appears to have
had no more squabbles with the Sicilians, but to have lived an
easy luxurious life, forgetting, in the lap of pleasure, the
objects for which he had quitted his own dominions and the
dangerous laxity he was introducing into his army. The
superstition of his soldiers recalled him at length to a sense of
his duty: a comet was seen for several successive nights, which
was thought to menace them with the vengeance of Heaven for their
delay. Shooting stars gave them similar warning; and a fanatic, of
the name of Joachim, with his drawn sword in his hand, and his
long hair streaming wildly over his shoulders, went through the
camp, howling all night long, and predicting plague, famine, and
every other calamity, if they did not set out immediately. Richard
did not deem it prudent to neglect the intimations; and, after
doing humble penance for his remissness, he set sail for Acre.

A violent storm dispersed his fleet, but he arrived safely at
Rhodes with the principal part of the armament. Here he learned
that three of his ships had been stranded on the rocky coasts of
Cyprus, and that the ruler of the island, Isaac Comnenus, had
permitted his people to pillage the unfortunate crews, and had
refused shelter to his betrothed bride, the Princess Berengaria,
and his sister, who, in one of the vessels, had been driven by
stress of weather into the port of Limisso. The fiery monarch
swore to be revenged, and, collecting all his vessels, sailed back
to Limisso. Isaac Comnenus refused to apologize or explain, and
Richard, in no mood to be trifled with, landed on the island,
routed with great loss the forces sent to oppose him, and laid the
whole country under contribution.

On his arrival at Acre, he found the whole of the chivalry of
Europe there before him. Guy of Lusignan, the King of Jerusalem,
had long before collected the bold Knights of the Temple, the
Hospital, and St. John, and had laid siege to Acre, which was
resolutely defended by the Sultan Saladin, with an army
magnificent both for its numbers and its discipline. For nearly
two years the crusaders had pushed the siege, and made efforts
almost superhuman to dislodge the enemy. Various battles had taken
place in the open fields with no decisive advantage to either
party, and Guy of Lusignan had begun to despair of taking that
strong position without aid from Europe. His joy was extreme on
the arrival of Philip with all his chivalry, and he only awaited
the coming of Coeur de Lion to make one last decisive attack upon
the town. When the fleet of England was first seen approaching the
shores of Syria, a universal shout arose from the Christian camp;
and when Richard landed with his train, one louder still pierced
to the very mountains of the south, where Saladin lay with all his
army.

It may be remarked as characteristic of this Crusade, that the
Christians and the Moslems no longer looked upon each other as
barbarians, to whom mercy was a crime. Each host entertained the
highest admiration for the bravery and magnanimity of the other,
and in their occasional truces met upon the most friendly terms.
The Moslem warriors were full of courtesy to the Christian
knights, and had no other regret than to think that such fine
fellows were not Mahomedans. The Christians, with a feeling
precisely similar, extolled to the skies the nobleness of the
Saracens, and sighed to think that such generosity and valour
should be sullied by disbelief in the Gospel of Jesus. But when
the strife began, all these feelings disappeared, and the struggle
became mortal.

The jealousy excited in the mind of Philip by the events of
Messina still rankled, and the two monarchs refused to act in
concert. Instead of making a joint attack upon the town, the
French monarch assailed it alone, and was repulsed. Richard did
the same, and with the same result. Philip tried to seduce the
soldiers of Richard from their allegiance by the offer of three
gold pieces per month to every knight who would forsake the
banners of England for those of France. Richard met the bribe by
another, and promised four pieces to every French knight who
should join the Lion of England. In this unworthy rivalry their
time was wasted, to the great detriment of the discipline and
efficiency of their followers. Some good was nevertheless
effected; for the mere presence of two such armies prevented the
besieged city from receiving supplies, and the inhabitants were
reduced by famine to the most woeful straits. Saladin did not deem
it prudent to risk a general engagement by coming to their relief,
but preferred to wait till dissension had weakened his enemy, and
made him an easy prey. Perhaps if he had been aware of the real
extent of the extremity in Acre, he would have changed his plan;
but, cut off from the town, he did not know their misery till it
was too late. After a short truce the city capitulated upon terms
so severe that Saladin afterwards refused to ratify them. The
chief conditions were, that the precious wood of the true cross,
captured by the Moslems in Jerusalem, should be restored; that a
sum of two hundred thousand gold pieces should be paid; and that
all the Christian prisoners in Acre should be released, together
with two hundred knights and a thousand soldiers, detained in
captivity by Saladin. The eastern monarch, as may be well
conceived, did not set much store on the wood of the cross, but
was nevertheless anxious to keep it, as he knew its possession by
the Christians would do more than a victory to restore their
courage. He refused, therefore, to deliver it up, or to accede to
any of the conditions; and Richard, as he had previously
threatened, barbarously ordered all the Saracen prisoners in his
power to be put to death.

The possession of the city only caused new and unhappy dissensions
between the Christian leaders. The Archduke of Austria
unjustifiably hoisted his flag on one of the towers of Acre, which
Richard no sooner saw than he tore it down with his own hands, and
trampled it under his feet. Philip, though he did not sympathise
with the Archduke, was piqued at the assumption of Richard, and
the breach between the two monarchs became wider than ever. A
foolish dispute arose at the same time between Guy of Lusignan and
Conrad of Montferrat for the crown of Jerusalem. The inferior
knights were not slow to imitate the pernicious example, and
jealousy, distrust, and ill-will reigned in the Christian camp. In
the midst of this confusion the King of France suddenly announced
his intention to return to his own country. Richard was filled
with indignation, and exclaimed, "Eternal shame light on him, and
on all France, if, for any cause, he leave this work unfinished!"
But Philip was not to be stayed. His health had suffered by his
residence in the East, and, ambitious of playing a first part, he
preferred to play none at all, than to play second to King
Richard. Leaving a small detachment of Burgundians behind, he
returned to France with the remainder of his army; and Coeur de
Lion, without feeling, in the multitude of his rivals, that he had
lost the greatest, became painfully convinced that the right arm
of the enterprize was lopped off.

After his departure, Richard re-fortified Acre, restored the
Christian worship in the churches, and, leaving a Christian
garrison to protect it, marched along the sea-coast towards
Ascalon. Saladin was on the alert, and sent his light horse to
attack the rear of the Christian army, while he himself,
miscalculating their weakness since the defection of Philip,
endeavoured to force them to a general engagement. The rival
armies met near Azotus. A fierce battle ensued, in which Saladin
was defeated and put to flight, and the road to Jerusalem left
free for the crusaders.

Again discord exerted its baleful influence, and prevented Richard
from following up his victory. His opinion was constantly opposed
by the other leaders, all jealous of his bravery and influence;
and the army, instead of marching to Jerusalem, or even to
Ascalon, as was first intended, proceeded to Jaffa, and remained
in idleness until Saladin was again in a condition to wage war
against them.

Many months were spent in fruitless hostilities and as fruitless
negotiations. Richard's wish was to recapture Jerusalem; but there
were difficulties in the way, which even his bold spirit could not
conquer. His own intolerable pride was not the least cause of the
evil; for it estranged many a generous spirit, who would have been
willing to co-operate with him in all cordiality. At length it was
agreed to march to the Holy City; but the progress made was so
slow and painful, that the soldiers murmured, and the leaders
meditated retreat. The weather was hot and dry, and there was
little water to be procured. Saladin had choked up the wells and
cisterns on the route, and the army had not zeal enough to push
forward amid such privation. At Bethlehem a council was held, to
debate whether they should retreat or advance. Retreat was decided
upon, and immediately commenced. It is said, that Richard was
first led to a hill, whence he could obtain a sight of the towers
of Jerusalem, and that he was so affected at being so near it, and
so unable to relieve it, that he hid his face behind his shield,
and sobbed aloud.

The army separated into two divisions, the smaller falling back
upon Jaffa, and the larger, commanded by Richard and the Duke of
Burgundy, returning to Acre. Before the English monarch had made
all his preparations for his return to Europe, a messenger reached
Acre with the intelligence that Jaffa was besieged by Saladin, and
that, unless relieved immediately, the city would be taken. The
French, under the Duke of Burgundy, were so wearied with the war,
that they refused to aid their brethren in Jaffa. Richard,
blushing with shame at their pusillanimity, called his English to
the rescue, and arrived just in time to save the city. His very
name put the Saracens to flight, so great was their dread of his
prowess. Saladin regarded him with the warmest admiration, and
when Richard, after his victory, demanded peace, willingly
acceded. A truce was concluded for three years and eight months,
during which Christian pilgrims were to enjoy the liberty of
visiting Jerusalem without hindrance or payment of any tax. The
crusaders were allowed to retain the cities of Tyre and Jaffa,
with the country intervening. Saladin, with a princely generosity,
invited many of the Christians to visit Jerusalem; and several of
the leaders took advantage of his offer to feast their eyes upon a
spot which all considered so sacred. Many of them were entertained
for days in the Sultan's own palace, from which they returned with
their tongues laden with the praises of the noble infidel. Richard
and Saladin never met, though the impression that they did will
remain on many minds, who have been dazzled by the glorious
fiction of Sir Walter Scott. But each admired the prowess and
nobleness of soul of his rival, and agreed to terms far less
onerous than either would have accepted, had this mutual
admiration not existed.81*

The King of England no longer delayed his departure, for
messengers from his own country brought imperative news that his
presence was required to defeat the intrigues that were fomenting
against his crown. His long imprisonment in the Austrian dominions
and final ransom are too well known to be dwelt upon. And thus
ended the third Crusade, less destructive of human life than the
two first, but quite as useless.

The flame of popular enthusiasm now burned pale indeed, and all
the efforts of popes and potentates were insufficient to rekindle
it. At last, after flickering unsteadily, like a lamp expiring in
the socket, it burned up brightly for one final instant, and was
extinguished for ever.

The fourth Crusade, as connected with popular feeling, requires
little or no notice. At the death of Saladin, which happened a
year after the conclusion of his truce with Richard of England,
his vast empire fell to pieces. His brother Saif Eddin, or
Saphaddin, seized upon Syria, in the possession of which he was
troubled by the sons of Saladin. When this intelligence reached
Europe, the Pope, Celestine III. judged the moment favourable for
preaching a new Crusade. But every nation in Europe was unwilling
and cold towards it. The people had no ardour, and Kings were
occupied with more weighty matters at home. The only Monarch of
Europe who encouraged it was the Emperor Henry of Germany, under
whose auspices the Dukes of Saxony and Bavaria took the field at
the head of a considerable force. They landed in Palestine, and
found anything but a welcome from the Christian inhabitants. Under
the mild sway of Saladin, they had enjoyed repose and toleration,
and both were endangered by the arrival of the Germans. They
looked upon them in consequence as over-officious intruders, and
gave them no encouragement in the warfare against Saphaddin. The
result of this Crusade was even more disastrous than the last—for
the Germans contrived not only to embitter the Saracens against
the Christians of Judea, but to lose the strong city of Jaffa, and
cause the destruction of nine-tenths of the army with which they
had quitted Europe. And so ended the fourth Crusade.

The fifth was more important, and had a result which its
projectors never dreamed of—no less than the sacking of
Constantinople, and the placing of a French dynasty upon the
imperial throne of the eastern Caesars. Each succeeding Pope,
however much he may have differed from his predecessors on other
points, zealously agreed in one, that of maintaining by every
possible means the papal ascendancy. No scheme was so likely to
aid in this endeavour as the Crusades. As long as they could
persuade the kings and nobles of Europe to fight and die in Syria,
their own sway was secured over the minds of men at home. Such
being their object, they never inquired whether a Crusade was or
was not likely to be successful, whether the time were well or ill
chosen, or whether men and money could be procured in sufficient
abundance. Pope Innocent III. would have been proud if he could
have bent the refractory Monarchs of England and France into so
much submission. But John and Philip Augustus were both engaged.
Both had deeply offended the church, and had been laid under her
ban, and both were occupied in important reforms at home; Philip
in bestowing immunities upon his subjects, and John in having them
forced from him. The emissaries of the Pope therefore plied them
in vain;—but as in the first and second Crusades, the eloquence of
a powerful preacher incited the nobility, and through them a
certain portion of the people, Foulque, Bishop of Neuilly, an
ambitious and enterprizing prelate, entered fully into the views
of the Court of Rome, and preached the Crusade wherever he could
find an audience. Chance favoured him to a degree he did not
himself expect, for he had in general found but few proselytes,
and those few but cold in the cause. Theobald, Count of Champagne,
had instituted a grand tournament, to which he had invited all the
nobles from far and near. Upwards of two thousand knights were
present with their retainers, besides a vast concourse of people
to witness the sports. In the midst of the festivities Foulque
arrived upon the spot, and conceiving the opportunity to be a
favourable one, he addressed the multitude in eloquent language,
and passionately called upon them to enrol themselves for the new
Crusade. The Count de Champagne, young, ardent, and easily
excited, received the cross at his hands. The enthusiasm spread
rapidly. Charles Count of Blois followed the example, and of the
two thousand knights present, scarcely one hundred and fifty
refused. The popular phrensy seemed on the point of breaking out
as in the days of yore. The Count of Flanders, the Count of Bar,
the Duke of Burgundy, and the Marquis of Montferrat, brought all
their vassals to swell the train, and in a very short space of
time an effective army was on foot and ready to march to
Palestine.

The dangers of an overland journey were too well understood, and
the crusaders endeavoured to make a contract with some of the
Italian states to convey them over in their vessels. Dandolo, the
aged Doge of Venice, offered them the galleys of the Republic; but
the crusaders, on their arrival in that city, found themselves too
poor to pay even half the sum demanded. Every means was tried to
raise money; the crusaders melted down their plate, and ladies
gave up their trinkets. Contributions were solicited from the
faithful, but came in so slowly, as to make it evident to all
concerned, that the faithful of Europe were outnumbered by the
prudent. As a last resource, Dandolo offered to convey them to
Palestine at the expense of the Republic, if they would previously
aid in the recapture of the city of Zara, which had been seized
from the Venetians a short time previously by the King of Hungary.
The crusaders consented, much to the displeasure of the Pope, who
threatened excommunication upon all who should be turned aside
from the voyage to Jerusalem. But notwithstanding the fulminations
of the church, the expedition never reached Palestine. The siege
of Zara was speedily undertaken. After a long and brave defence,
the city surrendered at discretion, and the crusaders were free,
if they had so chosen it, to use their swords against the
Saracens. But the ambition of the chiefs had been directed, by
unforeseen circumstances, elsewhere.

After the death of Manuel Comnenus, the Greek empire had fallen a
prey to intestine divisions. His son Alexius II. had succeeded
him, but was murdered after a very short reign by his uncle
Andronicus, who seized upon the throne. His reign also was but of
short duration. Isaac Angelus, a member of the same family, took
up arms against the usurper, and having defeated and captured him
in a pitched battle, had him put to death. He also mounted the
throne only to be cast down from it. His brother Alexius deposed
him, and to incapacitate him from reigning, put out his eyes, and
shut him up in a dungeon. Neither was Alexius III. allowed to
remain in peaceable possession of the throne; the son of the
unhappy Isaac, whose name also was Alexius, fled from
Constantinople, and hearing that the crusaders had undertaken the
siege of Zara, made them the most magnificent offers if they would
afterwards aid him in deposing his uncle. His offers were, that if
by their means he was re-established in his father's dominions, he
would place the Greek church under the authority of the Pope of
Rome, lend the whole force of the Greek Empire to the conquest of
Palestine, and distribute two hundred thousand marks of silver
among the crusading army. The offer was accepted, with a proviso
on the part of some of the leaders, that they should be free to
abandon the design, if it met with the disapproval of the Pope.
But this was not to be feared. The submission of the schismatic
Greeks to the See of Rome was a greater bribe to the Pontiff, than
the utter annihilation of the Saracen power in Palestine would
have been.

The crusaders were soon in movement for the imperial city. Their
operations were skilfully and courageously directed, and spread
such dismay as to paralyse the efforts of the usurper to retain
possession of his throne. After a vain resistance, he abandoned
the city to its fate, and fled no one knew whither. The aged and
blind Isaac was taken from his dungeon by his subjects, and placed
upon the throne ere the crusaders were apprized of the flight of
his rival. His son Alexius IV. was afterwards associated with him
in the sovereignty.

But the conditions of the treaty gave offence to the Grecian
people, whose prelates refused to place themselves under the
dominion of the See of Rome. Alexius at first endeavoured to
persuade his subjects to submission, and prayed the crusaders to
remain in Constantinople until they had fortified him in the
possession of a throne which was yet far from secure. He soon
became unpopular with his subjects; and breaking faith with regard
to the subsidies, he offended the crusaders. War was at length
declared upon him by both parties; by his people for his tyranny,
and by his former friends for his treachery. He was seized in his
palace by his own guards and thrown into prison, while the
crusaders were making ready to besiege his capital. The Greeks
immediately proceeded to the election of a new Monarch; and
looking about for a man with courage, energy, and perseverance,
they fixed upon Alexius Ducas, who, with almost every bad quality,
was possessed of the virtues they needed. He ascended the throne
under the name of Murzuphlis. One of his first acts was to rid
himself of his youngest predecessor—a broken heart had already
removed the blind old Isaac—no longer a stumbling block in his
way—and the young Alexius was soon after put to death in his
prison.

War to the knife was now declared between the Greeks and the
Franks, and early in the spring of the year 1204, preparations
were commenced for an assault upon Constantinople. The French and
Venetians entered into a treaty for the division of the spoils
among their soldiery, for so confident were they of success, that
failure never once entered into their calculations. This
confidence led them on to victory, while the Greeks, cowardly as
treacherous people always are, were paralysed by a foreboding of
evil. It has been a matter of astonishment to all historians, that
Murzuphlis, with the reputation for courage which he had acquired,
and the immense resources at his disposal, took no better measures
to repel the onset of the crusaders. Their numbers were as a mere
handful in comparison with those which he could have brought
against them; and if they had the hopes of plunder to lead them
on, the Greeks had their homes to fight for, and their very
existence as a nation to protect. After an impetuous assault,
repulsed for one day, but renewed with double impetuosity on
another, the crusaders lashed their vessels against the walls,
slew every man who opposed them, and, with little loss to
themselves, entered the city. Murzuphlis fled, and Constantinople
was given over to be pillaged by the victors. The wealth they
found was enormous. In money alone there was sufficient to
distribute twenty marks of silver to each knight, ten to each
squire or servant at arms, and five to each archer. Jewels,
velvets, silks, and every luxury of attire, with rare wines and
fruits, and valuable merchandise of every description, also fell
into their hands, and were bought by the trading Venetians, and
the proceeds distributed among the army. Two thousand persons were
put to the sword; but had there been less plunder to take up the
attention of the victors, the slaughter would in all probability
have been much greater.

In many of the bloody wars which defile the page of history, we
find that soldiers, utterly reckless of the works of God, will
destroy his masterpiece, man, with unsparing brutality, but linger
with respect around the beautiful works of art. They will
slaughter women and children, but spare a picture; will hew down
the sick, the helpless, and the hoary-headed, but refrain from
injuring a fine piece of sculpture. The Latins, on their entrance
into Constantinople, respected neither the works of God nor man,
but vented their brutal ferocity upon the one and satisfied their
avarice upon the other. Many beautiful bronze statues, above all
price as works of art, were broken into pieces to be sold as old
metal. The finely-chiselled marble, which could be put to no such
vile uses, was also destroyed, with a recklessness; if possible,
still more atrocious.82*

The carnage being over, and the spoil distributed, six persons
were chosen from among the Franks and six from among the
Venetians, who were to meet and elect an Emperor, previously
binding themselves by oath to select the individual best qualified
among the candidates. The choice wavered between Baldwin, Count of
Flanders, and Boniface, Marquis of Montferrat, but fell eventually
upon the former. He was straightway robed in the imperial purple,
and became the founder of a new dynasty. He did not live long to
enjoy his power, or to consolidate it for his successors, who, in
their turn, were soon swept away. In less than sixty years the
rule of the Franks at Constantinople was brought to as sudden and
disastrous a termination as the reign of Murzuphlis: and this was
the grand result of the fifth Crusade.

Pope Innocent III, although he had looked with no very
unfavourable eye upon these proceedings, regretted that nothing
had been done for the relief of the Holy Land; still, upon every
convenient occasion, he enforced the necessity of a new Crusade.
Until the year 1213, his exhortations had no other effect than to
keep the subject in the mind of Europe. Every spring and summer,
detachments of pilgrims continued to set out for Palestine to the
aid of their brethren, but not in sufficient numbers to be of much
service. These periodical passages were called the passagiuum
Martii, or the passage of March, and the passagium Johannis, or
the passage of the festival of St. John. These did not consist
entirely of soldiers, armed against the Saracen, but of pilgrims
led by devotion, and in performance of their vows, bearing nothing
with them but their staff and their wallet. Early in the spring of
1213 a more extraordinary body of crusaders was raised in France
and Germany. An immense number of boys and girls, amounting,
according to some accounts, to thirty thousand, were incited by
the persuasion of two monks to undertake the journey to Palestine.
They were, no doubt, composed of the idle and deserted children
who generally swarm in great cities, nurtured in vice and daring,
and ready for anything. The object of the monks seems to have been
the atrocious one of inveigling them into slave ships, on pretence
of sending them to Syria, and selling them for slaves on the coast
of Africa.83* Great numbers of these poor victims were shipped at
Marseilles; but the vessels, with the exception of two or three,
were wrecked on the shores of Italy, and every soul perished. The
remainder arrived safely in Africa, and were bought up as slaves,
and sent off into the interior of the country. Another detachment
arrived at Genoa; but the accomplices in this horrid plot having
taken no measures at that port, expecting them all at Marseilles,
they were induced to return to their homes by the Genoese.

Fuller, in his quaint history of the "Holy Warre," says that this
Crusade was done by the instinct of the devil; and he adds a
reason, which may provoke mirth now, but which was put forth by
the worthy historian in all soberness and sincerity. He says, "the
devil, being cloyed with the murdering of men, desired a cordial
of children's blood to comfort his weak stomach;" as epicures,
when tired of mutton, resort to lamb for a change.

It appears from other authors that the preaching of the vile monks
had such an effect upon these deluded children that they ran about
the country, exclaiming, "O, Lord Jesus, restore thy cross to us!"
and that neither bolts nor bars, the fear of fathers, nor the love
of mothers, was sufficient to restrain them from journeying to
Jerusalem.

The details of these strange proceedings are exceedingly meagre
and confused, and none of the contemporary writers who mention the
subject have thought it worth while to state the names of the
monks who originated the scheme, or the fate they met for their
wickedness. Two merchants of Marseilles, who were to have shared
in the profits, were, it is said, brought to justice for some
other crime, and suffered death; but we are not informed whether
they divulged any circumstances relating to this matter.

Pope Innocent III does not seem to have been aware that the causes
of this juvenile Crusade were such as have been stated, for, upon
being informed that numbers of them had taken the Cross, and were
marching to the Holy Land, he exclaimed, "These children are
awake, while we sleep!" He imagined, apparently, that the mind of
Europe was still bent on the recovery of Palestine, and that the
zeal of these children implied a sort of reproach upon his own
lukewarmness. Very soon afterwards, he bestirred himself with more
activity, and sent an encyclical letter to the clergy of
Christendom, urging them to preach a new Crusade. As usual, a
number of adventurous nobles, who had nothing else to do, enrolled
themselves with their retainers. At a council of Lateran, which
was held while these bands were collecting, Innocent announced
that he himself would take the Cross, and lead the armies of
Christ to the defence of his sepulchre. In all probability he
would have done so, for he was zealous enough; but death stepped
in, and destroyed his project ere it was ripe. His successor
encouraged the Crusade, though he refused to accompany it; and the
armament continued in France, England, and Germany. No leaders of
any importance joined it from the former countries. Andrew, King
of Hungary, was the only monarch who had leisure or inclination to
leave his dominions. The Dukes of Austria and Bavaria joined him
with a considerable army of Germans, and marching to Spalatro,
took ship for Cyprus, and from thence to Acre.

The whole conduct of the King of Hungary was marked by
pusillanimity and irresolution. He found himself in the Holy Land
at the head of a very efficient army; the Saracens were taken by
surprise, and were for some weeks unprepared to offer any
resistance to his arms. He defeated the first body sent to oppose
him, and marched towards Mount Tabor, with the intention of
seizing upon an important fortress which the Saracens had recently
constructed. He arrived without impediment at the Mount, and might
have easily taken it; but a sudden fit of cowardice came over him,
and he returned to Acre without striking a blow. He very soon
afterwards abandoned the enterprise altogether, and returned to
his own country.

Tardy reinforcements arrived at intervals from Europe; and the
Duke of Austria, now the chief leader of the expedition, had still
sufficient forces at his command to trouble the Saracens very
seriously. It was resolved by him, in council with the other
chiefs, that the whole energy of the Crusade should be directed
upon Egypt, the seat of the Saracen power in its relationship to
Palestine, and from whence were drawn the continual levies that
were brought against them by the Sultan. Damietta, which commanded
the river Nile, and was one of the most important cities of Egypt,
was chosen as the first point of attack. The siege was forthwith
commenced, and carried on with considerable energy, until the
crusaders gained possession of a tower, which projected into the
middle of the stream, and was looked upon as the very key of the
city.

While congratulating themselves upon this success, and wasting in
revelry the time which should have been employed in pushing the
advantage, they received the news of the death of the wise Sultan
Saphaddin. His two sons, Camhel and Cohreddin, divided his empire
between them. Syria and Palestine fell to the share of Cohreddin,
while Egypt was consigned to the other brother, who had for some
time exercised the functions of Lieutenant of that country. Being
unpopular among the Egyptians, they revolted against him, giving
the crusaders a finer opportunity for making a conquest than they
had ever enjoyed before. But, quarrelsome and licentious as they
had been from time immemorial, they did not see that the
favourable moment had come; or, seeing, could not profit by it.
While they were revelling or fighting among themselves, under the
walls of Damietta, the revolt was put down, and Camhel firmly
established on the throne of Egypt. In conjunction with his
brother, Cohreddin, his next care was to drive the Christians from
Damietta, and, for upwards of three months, they bent all their
efforts to throw in supplies to the besieged, or draw on the
besiegers to a general engagement. In neither were they
successful; and the famine in Damietta became so dreadful, that
vermin of every description were thought luxuries, and sold for
exorbitant prices. A dead dog became more valuable than a live ox
in time of prosperity. Unwholesome food brought on disease, and
the city could hold out no longer, for absolute want of men to
defend the walls.

Cohreddin and Camhel were alike interested in the preservation of
so important a position, and, convinced of the certain fate of the
city, they opened a conference with the crusading chiefs, offering
to yield the whole of Palestine to the Christians, upon the sole
condition of the evacuation of Egypt. With a blindness and
wrong-headedness almost incredible, these advantageous terms were
refused, chiefly through the persuasion of Cardinal Pelagius, an
ignorant and obstinate fanatic, who urged upon the Duke of Austria
and the French and English leaders, that infidels never kept their
word; that their offers were deceptive, and merely intended to
betray. The conferences were brought to an abrupt termination by
the crusaders, and a last attack made upon the walls of Damietta.
The besieged made but slight resistance, for they had no hope, and
the Christians entered the city, and found, out of seventy
thousand people, but three thousand remaining: so fearful had been
the ravages of the twin fiends, plague and famine.

Several months were spent in Damietta. The climate either weakened
the frames or obscured the understandings of the Christians; for,
after their conquest, they lost all energy, and abandoned
themselves more unscrupulously than ever to riot and debauchery.
John of Brienne, who, by right of his wife, was the nominal
sovereign of Jerusalem, was so disgusted with the pusillanimity,
arrogance, and dissensions of the chiefs, that he withdrew
entirely from them, and retired to Acre. Large bodies also
returned to Europe, and Cardinal Pelagius was left at liberty to
blast the whole enterprise whenever it pleased him. He managed to
conciliate John of Brienne, and marched forward with these
combined forces to attack Cairo. It was only when he had
approached within a few hours' march of that city, that he
discovered the inadequacy of his army. He turned back immediately,
but the Nile had risen since his departure; the sluices were
opened, and there was no means of reaching Damietta. In this
strait, he sued for the peace he had formerly spurned, and,
happily for himself, found the generous brothers, Camhel and
Cohreddin, still willing to grant it. Damietta was soon afterwards
given up, and the Cardinal returned to Europe. John of Brienne
retired to Acre, to mourn the loss of his kingdom, embittered
against the folly of his pretended friends, who had ruined where
they should have aided him. And thus ended the sixth Crusade.

The seventh was more successful. Frederic II, Emperor of Germany,
had often vowed to lead his armies to the defence of Palestine,
but was as often deterred from the journey by matters of more
pressing importance. Cohreddin was a mild and enlightened monarch,
and the Christians of Syria enjoyed repose and toleration under
his rule: but John of Brienne was not willing to lose his kingdom
without an effort; and the Popes in Europe were ever willing to
embroil the nations for the sake of extending their own power. No
monarch of that age was capable of rendering more effective
assistance than Frederic of Germany. To inspire him with more
zeal, it was proposed that he should wed the young Princess,
Violante, daughter of John of Brienne, and heiress of the kingdom
of Jerusalem. Frederic consented with joy and eagerness. The
Princess was brought from Acre to Rome without delay, and her
marriage celebrated on a scale of great magnificence. Her father,
John of Brienne, abdicated all his rights in favour of his
son-in-law, and Jerusalem had once more a king, who had not only
the will, but the power, to enforce his claims. Preparations for
the new crusade were immediately commenced, and in the course of
six months the Emperor was at the head of a well-disciplined army
of sixty thousand men. Matthew Paris informs us, that an army of
the same amount was gathered in England; and most of the writers
upon the Crusades adopt his statement. When John of Brienne was in
England, before his daughter's marriage with the Emperor was
thought of, praying for the aid of Henry III. and his nobles to
recover his lost kingdom, he did not meet with much encouragement.
Grafton, in his Chronicle, says, "he departed again without any
great comfort." But when a man of more influence in European
politics appeared upon the scene, the English nobles were as ready
to sacrifice themselves in the cause as they had been in the time
of Coeur de Lion.

The army of Frederic encamped at Brundusium; but a pestilential
disease having made its appearance among them, their departure was
delayed for several months. In the mean time the Empress Violante
died in child-bed. John of Brienne, who had already repented of
his abdication, and was besides incensed against Frederic for many
acts of neglect and insult, no sooner saw the only tie which bound
them, severed by the death of his daughter, than he began to
bestir himself, and make interest with the Pope to undo what he
had done, and regain the honorary crown he had renounced. Pope
Gregory the Ninth, a man of a proud, unconciliating, and
revengeful character, owed the Emperor a grudge for many an act of
disobedience to his authority, and encouraged the overtures of
John of Brienne more than he should have done. Frederic, however,
despised them both, and, as soon as his army was convalescent, set
sail for Acre. He had not been many days at sea, when he was
himself attacked with the malady, and obliged to return to
Otranto, the nearest port. Gregory, who had by this time decided
in the interest of John of Brienne, excommunicated the Emperor for
returning from so holy an expedition on any pretext whatever.
Frederic at first treated the excommunication with supreme
contempt; but when he got well, he gave his Holiness to understand
that he was not to be outraged with impunity, and sent some of his
troops to ravage the Papal territories. This, however, only made
the matter worse, and Gregory despatched messengers to Palestine,
forbidding the faithful, under severe pains and penalties, to hold
any intercourse with the excommunicated Emperor. Thus between them
both, the scheme which they had so much at heart bade fair to be
as effectually ruined as even the Saracens could have wished.
Frederic still continued his zeal in the Crusade, for he was now
King of Jerusalem, and fought for himself, and not for
Christendom, or its representative, Pope Gregory. Hearing that
John of Brienne was preparing to leave Europe, he lost no time in
taking his own departure, and arrived safely at Acre. It was here
that he first experienced the evil effects of excommunication. The
Christians of Palestine refused to aid him in any way, and looked
with distrust, if not with abhorrence, upon him. The Templars,
Hospitallers, and other knights, shared at first the general
feeling; but they were not men to yield a blind obedience to a
distant potentate, especially when it compromised their own
interests. When, therefore, Frederic prepared to march upon
Jerusalem without them, they joined his banners to a man.

It is said, that previous to quitting Europe, the German Emperor
had commenced a negotiation with the Sultan Camhel for the
restoration of the Holy Land, and that Camhel, who was jealous of
the ambition of his brother Cohreddin, was willing to stipulate to
that effect, on condition of being secured by Frederic in the
possession of the more important territory of Egypt. But before
the crusaders reached Palestine, Camhel was relieved from all
fears by the death of his brother. He nevertheless did not think
it worth while to contest with the crusaders the barren corner of
the earth which had already been dyed with so much Christian and
Saracen blood, and proposed a truce of three years, only
stipulating, in addition, that the Moslems should be allowed to
worship freely in the Temple of Jerusalem. This happy termination
did not satisfy the bigoted Christians of Palestine. The tolerance
they fought for themselves, they were not willing to extend to
others, and they complained bitterly of the privilege of free
worship allowed to their opponents. Unmerited good fortune had
made them insolent, and they contested the right of the Emperor to
become a party to any treaty, as long as he remained under the
ecclesiastical ban. Frederic was disgusted with his new subjects;
but, as the Templars and Hospitallers remained true to him, he
marched to Jerusalem to be crowned. All the churches were shut
against him, and he could not even find a priest to officiate at
his coronation. He had despised the Papal authority too long to
quail at it now, when it was so unjustifiably exerted, and, as
there was nobody to crown him, he very wisely crowned himself. He
took the royal diadem from the altar with his own hands, and
boldly and proudly placed it on his brow. No shouts of an
applauding populace made the welkin ring, no hymns of praise and
triumph resounded from the ministers of religion; but a thousand
swords started from their scabbards, to testify that their owners
would defend the new monarch to the death.

It was hardly to be expected that he would renounce for any long
period the dominion of his native land for the uneasy crown and
barren soil of Palestine. He had seen quite enough of his new
subjects before he was six months among them, and more important
interests called him home. John of Brienne, openly leagued with
Pope Gregory against him, was actually employed in ravaging his
territories at the head of a papal army. This intelligence decided
his return. As a preliminary step, he made those who had contemned
his authority feel, to their sorrow, that he was their master. He
then set sail, loaded with the curses of Palestine. And thus ended
the seventh Crusade, which, in spite of every obstacle and
disadvantage, had been productive of more real service to the Holy
Land than any that had gone before; a result solely attributable
to the bravery of Frederic and the generosity of the Sultan
Camhel.

Soon after the Emperor's departure a new claimant started for the
throne of Jerusalem, in the person of Alice, Queen of Cyprus, and
half-sister of the Mary who, by her marriage, had transferred her
right to John of Brienne. The grand military orders, however,
clung to Frederic, and Alice was obliged to withdraw.

So peaceful a termination to the Crusade did not give unmixed
pleasure in Europe. The chivalry of France and England were unable
to rest, and long before the conclusion of the truce, were
collecting their armies for an eighth expedition. In Palestine,
also, the contentment was far from universal. Many petty Mahomedan
states in the immediate vicinity were not parties to the truce,
and harassed the frontier towns incessantly. The Templars, ever
turbulent, waged bitter war with the Sultan of Aleppo, and in the
end were almost exterminated. So great was the slaughter among
them that Europe resounded with the sad story of their fate, and
many a noble knight took arms to prevent the total destruction of
an order associated with so many high and inspiring remembrances.
Camhel, seeing the preparations that were making, thought that his
generosity had been sufficiently shewn, and the very day the truce
was at an end assumed the offensive, and marching forward to
Jerusalem took possession of it, after routing the scanty forces
of the Christians. Before this intelligence reached Europe a large
body of crusaders was on the march, headed by the King of Navarre,
the Duke of Burgundy, the Count de Bretagne, and other leaders. On
their arrival, they learned that Jerusalem had been taken, but
that the Sultan was dead, and his kingdom torn by rival claimants
to the supreme power. The dissensions of their foes ought to have
made them united, but, as in all previous Crusades, each feudal
chief was master of his own host, and acted upon his own
responsibility, and without reference to any general plan. The
consequence was that nothing could be done. A temporary advantage
was gained by one leader, who had no means of improving it, while
another was defeated, without means of retrieving himself. Thus
the war lingered till the battle of Gaza, when the King of Navarre
was defeated with great loss, and compelled to save himself from
total destruction by entering into a hard and oppressive treaty
with the Emir of Karac.

At this crisis aid arrived from England, commanded by Richard Earl
of Cornwall, the namesake of Coeur de Lion, and inheritor of his
valour. His army was strong, and full of hope. They had confidence
in themselves and in their leader, and looked like men accustomed
to victory. Their coming changed the aspect of affairs. The new
Sultan of Egypt was at war with the Sultan of Damascus, and had
not forces to oppose two enemies so powerful. He therefore sent
messengers to meet the English Earl, offering an exchange of
prisoners and the complete cession of the Holy Land. Richard, who
had not come to fight for the mere sake of fighting, agreed at
once to terms so advantageous, and became the deliverer of
Palestine without striking a blow. The Sultan of Egypt then turned
his whole force against his Moslem enemies, and the Earl of
Cornwall returned to Europe. Thus ended the eighth Crusade, the
most beneficial of all. Christendom had no further pretence for
sending her fierce levies to the East. To all appearance, the holy
wars were at an end: the Christians had entire possession of
Jerusalem, Tripoli, Antioch, Edessa, Acre, Jaffa, and, in fact, of
nearly all Judea; and, could they have been at peace among
themselves, they might have overcome, without great difficulty,
the jealousy and hostility of their neighhours. A circumstance, as
unforeseen as it was disastrous, blasted this fair prospect, and
reillumed, for the last time, the fervour and fury of the
Crusades.

Gengis Khan and his successors had swept over Asia like a tropical
storm, overturning in their progress the landmarks of ages.
Kingdom after kingdom was cast down as they issued, innumerable,
from the far recesses of the North and East, and, among others,
the empire of Korasmin was overrun by these all-conquering hordes.
The Korasmins, a fierce, uncivilized race, thus driven from their
homes, spread themselves, in their turn, over the south of Asia
with fire and sword, in search of a resting place. In their
impetuous course they directed themselves towards Egypt, whose
Sultan, unable to withstand the swarm that had cast their longing
eyes on the fertile valleys of the Nile, endeavoured to turn them
from their course. For this purpose, he sent emissaries to
Barbaquan, their leader, inviting them to settle in Palestine; and
the offer being accepted by the wild horde, they entered the
country before the Christians received the slightest intimation of
their coming. It was as sudden as it was overwhelming. Onwards,
like the simoom, they came, burning and slaying, and were at the
walls of Jerusalem before the inhabitants had time to look round
them. They spared neither life nor property; they slew women and
children, and priests at the altar, and profaned even the graves
of those who had slept for ages. They tore down every vestige of
the Christian faith, and committed horrors unparalleled in the
history of warfare. About seven thousand of the inhabitants of
Jerusalem sought safety in retreat; but before they were out of
sight, the banner of the Cross was hoisted upon the walls by the
savage foe to decoy them back. The artifice was but too
successful. The poor fugitives imagined that help had arrived from
another direction, and turned back to regain their homes. Nearly
the whole of them were massacred, and the streets of Jerusalem ran
with blood.

The Templars, Hospitallers, and Teutonic knights forgot their long
and bitter animosities, and joined hand in hand to rout out this
desolating foe. They intrenched themselves in Jaffa with all the
chivalry of Palestine that yet remained, and endeavoured to engage
the Sultans of Emissa and Damascus to assist them against the
common enemy. The aid obtained from the Moslems amounted at first
to only four thousand men, but with these reinforcements Walter of
Brienne, the Lord of Jaffa, resolved to give battle to the
Korasrains. The conflict was as deadly as despair on the one side,
and unmitigated ferocity on the other, could make it. It lasted
with varying fortune for two days, when the Sultan of Emissa fled
to his fortifications, and Walter of Brienne fell into the enemy's
hands. The brave knight was suspended by the arms to a cross in
sight of the walls of Jaffa, and the Korasminian leader declared
that he should remain in that position until the city surrendered.
Walter raised his feeble voice, not to advise surrender, but to
command his soldiers to hold out to the last. But his gallantry
was unavailing. So great had been the slaughter, that out of the
grand array of knights, there now remained but sixteen
Hospitallers, thirty-three Templars, and three Teutonic cavaliers.
These with the sad remnant of the army fled to Acre, and the
Korasmins were masters of Palestine.

The Sultans of Syria preferred the Christians to this fierce horde
for their neighbours. Even the Sultan of Egypt began to regret the
aid he had given to such barbarous foes, and united with those of
Emissa and Damascus to root them from the land. The Korasmins
amounted to but twenty thousand men, and were unable to resist the
determined hostility which encompassed them on every side. The
Sultans defeated them in several engagements, and the peasantry
rose up in masses to take vengeance upon them. Gradually their
numbers were diminished. No mercy was shewn them in defeat.
Barbaquan, their leader, was slain, and after five years of
desperate struggles they were finally extirpated, and Palestine
became once more the territory of the Mussulmans.

A short time previous to this devastating irruption, Louis IX.
fell sick in Paris, and dreamed in the delirium of his fever that
he saw the Christian and Moslem hosts fighting before Jerusalem,
and the Christians defeated with great slaughter. The dream made a
great impression on his superstitious mind, and he made a solemn
vow that if ever he recovered his health, he would take a
pilgrimage to the Holy Land. When the news of the misfortunes of
Palestine, and the awful massacres at Jerusalem and Jaffa, arrived
in Europe, St. Louis remembered him of his dream. More persuaded
than ever, that it was an intimation direct from Heaven, he
prepared to take the Cross at the head of his armies, and march to
the deliverance of the Holy Sepulchre. From that moment he doffed
the royal mantle of purple and ermine, and dressed in the sober
serge becoming a pilgrim. All his thoughts were directed to the
fulfilment of his design, and although his kingdom could but ill
spare him, he made every preparation to leave it. Pope Innocent
IV. applauded his zeal and afforded him every assistance. He wrote
to Henry III. of England to forward the cause in his dominions,
and called upon the clergy and laity all over Europe to contribute
towards it. William Longsword, the celebrated Earl of Salisbury,
took the Cross at the head of a great number of valiant knights
and soldiers. But the fanaticism of the people was not to be
awakened either in France or England. Great armies were raised,
but the masses no longer sympathized. Taxation had been the great
cooler of zeal. It was no longer a disgrace even to a knight if he
refused to take the Cross. Rutebeuf, a French minstrel, who
flourished about this time (1250), composed a dialogue between a
crusader and a non-crusader, which the reader will find translated
in "Way's Fabliaux. The crusader uses every argument to persuade
the non-crusader to take up arms, and forsake every thing, in the
holy cause; but it is evident from the greater force of the
arguments used by the noncrusader, that he was the favourite of
the minstrel. To a most urgent solicitation of his friend, the
crusader, he replies,

"I read thee right, thou boldest good
To this same land I straight should hie,
And win it back with mickle blood,
    Nor gaine one foot of soil thereby.
While here dejected and forlorn,
My wife and babes are left to mourn;
My goodly mansion rudely marred,
All trusted to my dogs to guard.
But I, fair comrade, well I wot
    An ancient saw, of pregnant wit,
Doth bid us keep what we have got,
    And troth I mean to follow it."

This being the general feeling, it is not to be wondered at that
Louis IX. was occupied fully three years in organizing his forces,
and in making the necessary preparations for his departure. When
all was ready he set sail for Cyprus, accompanied by his Queen,
his two brothers, the Counts d'Anjou and d'Artois, and a long
train of the noblest chivalry of France. His third brother, the
Count de Poitiers, remained behind to collect another corps of
crusaders, and followed him in a few months afterwards. The army
united at Cyprus, and amounted to fifty thousand men, exclusive of
the English crusaders under William Longsword. Again, a
pestilential disease made its appearance, to which many hundreds
fell victims. It was in consequence found necessary to remain in
Cyprus until the spring. Louis then embarked for Egypt with his
whole host; but a violent tempest separated his fleet, and he
arrived before Damietta with only a few thousand men. They were,
however, impetuous and full of hope; and although the Sultan
Melick Shah was drawn up on the shore with a force infinitely
superior, it was resolved to attempt a landing without waiting the
arrival of the rest of the army. Louis himself in wild impatience
sprang from his boat, and waded on shore; while his army, inspired
by his enthusiastic bravery, followed, shouting the old war-cry of
the first crusaders, Dieu le veut! Dieu le veut! A panic seized
the Turks. A body of their cavalry attempted to bear down upon the
crusaders, but the knights fixed their large shields deep in the
sands of the shore. and rested their lances upon them, so that
they projected above, and formed a barrier so imposing, that the
Turks, afraid to breast it, turned round and fairly took to
flight. At the moment of this panic, a false report was spread in
the Saracen host, that the Sultan had been slain. The confusion
immediately became general—the déroute was complete: Damietta
itself was abandoned, and the same night the victorious crusaders
fixed their headquarters in that city. The soldiers who had been
separated from their chief by the tempest, arrived shortly
afterwards; and Louis was in a position to justify the hope, not
only of the conquest of Palestine, but of Egypt itself.

But too much confidence proved the bane of his army. They thought,
as they had accomplished so much, that nothing more remained to be
done, and gave themselves up to ease and luxury. When, by the
command of Louis, they marched towards Cairo, they were no longer
the same men; success, instead of inspiring, had unnerved them;
debauchery had brought on disease, and disease was aggravated by
the heat of a climate to which none of them were accustomed. Their
progress towards Massoura, on the road to Cairo, was checked by
the Thanisian canal, on the banks of which the Saracens were drawn
up to dispute the passage. Louis gave orders that a bridge should
be thrown across; and the operations commenced under cover of two
cat-castles, or high moveable towers. The Saracens soon destroyed
them by throwing quantities of Greek fire, the artillery of that
day, upon them, and Louis was forced to think of some other means
of effecting his design. A peasant agreed, for a considerable
bribe, to point out a ford where the army might wade across, and
the Count d'Artois was despatched with fourteen hundred men to
attempt it, while Louis remained to face the Saracens with the
main body of the army. The Count d'Artois got safely over, and
defeated the detachment that had been sent to oppose his landing.
Flushed with the victory, the brave Count forgot the inferiority
of his numbers, and pursued the panic-stricken enemy into
Massoura. He was now completely cut off from the aid of his
brother-crusaders, which the Moslems perceiving, took courage and
returned upon him, with a force swollen by the garrison of
Massoura, and by reinforcements from the surrounding districts.
The battle now became hand to hand. The Christians fought with the
energy of desperate men, but the continually increasing numbers of
the foe surrounded them completely, and cut off all hope, either
of victory or escape. The Count d'Artois was among the foremost of
the slain, and when Louis arrived to the rescue, the brave
advance-guard was nearly cut to pieces. Of the fourteen hundred
but three hundred remained. The fury of the battle was now
increased threefold. The French King and his troops performed
prodigies of valour, and the Saracens, under the command of the
Emir Ceccidun, fought as if they were determined to exterminate,
in one last decisive effort, the new European swarm that had
settled upon their coast. At the fall of the evening dews the
Christians were masters of the field of Massoura, and flattered
themselves that they were the victors. Self-love would not suffer
them to confess that the Saracens had withdrawn, and not
retreated; but their leaders were too wofully convinced that that
fatal field had completed the disorganization of the Christian
army, and that all hopes of future conquest were at an end.

Impressed with this truth, the crusaders sued for peace. The
Sultan insisted upon the immediate evacuation of Damietta, and
that Louis himself should be delivered as hostage for the
fulfilment of the condition. His army at once refused, and the
negotiations were broken off. It was now resolved to attempt a
retreat; but the agile Saracens, now in the front and now in the
rear, rendered it a matter of extreme difficulty, and cut off the
stragglers in great numbers. Hundreds of them were drowned in the
Nile; and sickness and famine worked sad ravage upon those who
escaped all other casualties. Louis himself was so weakened by
disease, fatigue, and discouragement that he was hardly able to
sit upon his horse. In the confusion of the flight he was
separated from his attendants, and left a total stranger upon the
sands of Egypt, sick, weary, and almost friendless. One knight,
Geffry de Sergines, alone attended him, and led him to a miserable
hut in a small village, where for several days he lay in the
hourly expectation of death. He was at last discovered and taken
prisoner by the Saracens, who treated him with all the honour due
to his rank and all the pity due to his misfortunes. Under their
care his health rapidly improved, and the next consideration was
that of his ransom.

The Saracens demanded, besides money, the cession of Acre,
Tripoli, and other cities of Palestine. Louis unhesitatingly
refused, and conducted himself with so much pride and courage that
the Sultan declared he was the proudest infidel he had ever
beheld. After a good deal of haggling, the Sultan agreed to waive
these conditions, and a treaty was finally concluded. The city of
Damietta was restored; a truce of ten years agreed upon, and ten
thousand golden bezants paid for the release of Louis and the
liberation of all the captives. Louis then withdrew to Jaffa, and
spent two years in putting that city, and Cesarea, with the other
possessions of the Christians in Palestine, into a proper state of
defence. He then returned to his own country, with great
reputation as a saint, but very little as a soldier.

Matthew Paris informs us that, in the year 1250, while Louis was
in Egypt, "thousands of the English were resolved to go to the
holy war, had not the King strictly guarded his ports and kept his
people from running out of doors." When the news arrived of the
reverses and captivity of the French King, their ardour cooled;
and the Crusade was sung of only, but not spoken of.

In France, a very different feeling was the result. The news of
the King's capture spread consternation through the country. A
fanatic monk of Citeaux suddenly appeared in the villages,
preaching to the people, and announcing that the Holy Virgin,
accompanied by a whole army of saints and martyrs, had appeared to
him, and commanded him to stir up the shepherds and farm labourers
to the defence of the Cross. To them only was his discourse
addressed, and his eloquence was such that thousands flocked
around him, ready to follow wherever he should lead. The pastures
and the corn-fields were deserted, and the shepherds, or
pastoureaux, as they were termed, became at last so numerous as to
amount to upwards of fifty thousand,—Millot says one hundred
thousand men.84* The Queen Blanche, who governed as Regent during
the absence of the King, encouraged at first the armies of the
pastoureaux; but they soon gave way to such vile excesses that the
peaceably disposed were driven to resistance. Robbery, murder, and
violation marked their path; and all good men, assisted by the
government, united in putting them down. They were finally
dispersed, but not before three thousand of them had been
massacred. Many authors say that the slaughter was still greater.

The ten years' truce concluded in 1264, and St. Louis was urged by
two powerful motives to undertake a second expedition for the
relief of Palestine. These were fanaticism on the one hand, and a
desire of retrieving his military fame on the other, which had
suffered more than his parasites liked to remind him of. The Pope,
of course, encouraged his design, and once more the chivalry of
Europe began to bestir themselves. In 1268, Edward, the heir of
the English monarchy, announced his determination to join the
Crusade; and the Pope (Clement IV.) wrote to the prelates and
clergy to aid the cause by their persuasions and their revenues.
In England, they agreed to contribute a tenth of their
possessions; and by a parliamentary order, a twentieth was taken
from the corn and moveables of all the laity at Michaelmas.

In spite of the remonstrances of the few clearheaded statesmen who
surrounded him, urging the ruin that might in consequence fall
upon his then prosperous kingdom, Louis made every preparation for
his departure. The warlike nobility were nothing loth, and in the
spring of 1270, the King set sail with an army of sixty thousand
men. He was driven by stress of weather into Sardinia, and while
there, a change in his plans took place. Instead of proceeding to
Acre, as he originally intended, he shaped his course for Tunis,
on the African coast. The King of Tunis had some time previously
expressed himself favourably disposed towards the Christians and
their religion, and Louis, it appears, had hopes of converting
him, and securing his aid against the Sultan of Egypt. "What
honour would be mine," he used to say, "if I could become
godfather to this Mussulman King." Filled with this idea he landed
in Africa, near the site of the city of Carthage, but found that
he had reckoned without his host. The King of Tunis had no
thoughts of renouncing his religion, nor intention of aiding the
Crusaders in any way. On the contrary, he opposed their landing
with all the forces that could be collected on so sudden an
emergency. The French, however, made good their first position,
and defeated the Moslems with considerable loss. They also gained
some advantage over the reinforcements that were sent to oppose
them; but an infectious flux appeared in the army, and put a stop
to all future victories. The soldiers died at the rate of a
hundred in a day. The enemy, at the same time, made as great havoc
as the plague. St. Louis himself was one of the first attacked by
the disease. His constitution had been weakened by fatigues, and
even before he left France he was unable to bear the full weight
of his armour. It was soon evident to his sorrowing soldiers that
their beloved monarch could not long survive. He lingered for some
days, and died in Carthage, in the fifty-sixth year of his age,
deeply regretted by his army and his subjects, and leaving behind
him one of the most singular reputations in history. He is the
model-king of ecclesiastical writers, in whose eyes his very
defects became virtues, because they were manifested in
furtherance of their cause. More unprejudiced historians, while
they condemn his fanaticism, admit that he was endowed with many
high and rare qualities; that he was in no one point behind his
age, and, in many, in advance of it.

His brother, Charles of Anjou, in consequence of a revolution in
Sicily, had become King of that country. Before he heard of the
death of Louis, he had sailed from Messina with large
reinforcements. On his landing near Carthage, he advanced at the
head of his army, amid the martial music of drums and trumpets. He
was soon informed how inopportune was his rejoicing, and shed
tears before his whole army, such as no warrior would have been
ashamed to shed. A peace was speedily agreed upon with the King of
Tunis, and the armies of France and Sicily returned to their
homes.

So little favour had the Crusade found in England, that even the
exertions of the heir to the throne had only collected a small
force of fifteen hundred men. With these few Prince Edward sailed
from Dover to Bourdeaux, in the expectation that he would find the
French King in that city. St. Louis, however, had left a few weeks
previously; upon which Edward followed him to Sardinia, and
afterwards to Tunis. Before his arrival in Africa, St. Louis was
no more, and peace had been concluded between France and Tunis. He
determined, however, not to relinquish the Crusade. Returning to
Sicily, he passed the winter in that country, and endeavoured to
augment his little army. In the spring he set sail for Palestine,
and arrived in safety at Acre. The Christians were torn, as usual,
by mutual jealousies and animosities. The two great military
orders were as virulent and as intractable as ever; opposed to
each other, and to all the world. The arrival of Edward had the
effect of causing them to lay aside their unworthy contention, and
of uniting heart to heart, in one last effort for the deliverance
of their adopted country. A force of six thousand effective
warriors was soon formed to join those of the English prince, and
preparations were made for the renewal of hostilities. The Sultan
Bibars or Bendocdar,85* a fierce Mamluke, who had been placed on
the throne by a bloody revolution, was at war with all his
neighbours, and unable, for that reason, to concentrate his whole
strength against them. Edward took advantage of this; and marching
boldly forward to Nazareth, defeated the Turks and gained
possession of that city. This was the whole amount of his
successes. The hot weather engendered disease among his troops,
and he himself, the life and soul of the expedition, fell sick
among the first. He had been ill for some time, and was slowly
recovering, when a messenger desired to speak with him on
important matters, and to deliver some despatches into his own
hand. While the Prince was occupied in examining them, the
traitorous messenger drew a dagger from his belt, and stabbed him
in the breast. The wound fortunately was not deep, and Edward had
gained a portion of his strength. He struggled with the assassin,
and put him to death with his own dagger, at the same time calling
loudly for assistance.86* His attendants came at his call, and
found him bleeding profusely, and ascertained on inspection that
the dagger was poisoned. Means were instantly taken to purify the
wound; and an antidote was sent by the Grand Master of the
Templars which removed all danger from the effects of the poison.
Camden, in his history, has adopted the more popular, and
certainly more beautiful, version of this story, which says that
the Princess Eleonora, in her love for her gallant husband, sucked
the poison from his wound at the risk of her own life: to use the
words of old Fuller, "It is a pity so pretty a story should not be
true; and that so sovereign a remedy as a woman's tongue, anointed
with the virtue of loving affection," should not have performed
the good deed.

Edward suspected, and doubtless not without reason, that the
assassin was employed by the Sultan of Egypt. But it amounted to
suspicion only; and by the sudden death of the assassin, the
principal clue to the discovery of the truth was lost for ever.
Edward, on his recovery, prepared to resume the offensive; but the
Sultan, embarrassed by the defence of interests which, for the
time being, he considered of more importance, made offers of peace
to the crusaders. This proof of weakness on the part of the enemy
was calculated to render a man of Edward's temperament more
anxious to prosecute the war; but he had also other interests to
defend. News arrived in Palestine of the death of his father, King
Henry III; and his presence being necessary in England, he agreed
to the terms of the Sultan. These were, that the Christians should
be allowed to retain their possessions in the Holy Land, and that
a truce of ten years should be proclaimed. Edward then set sail
for England; and thus ended the last Crusade.

The after-fate of the Holy Land may be told in a few words. The
Christians, unmindful of their past sufferings and of the jealous
neighbours they had to deal with, first broke the truce by
plundering some Egyptian traders near Margat. The Sultan
immediately revenged the outrage by taking possession of Margat,
and war once more raged between the nations. Margat made a gallant
defence, but no reinforcements arrived from Europe to prevent its
fall. Tripoli was the next, and other cities in succession, until
at last Acre was the only city of Palestine that remained in
possession of the Christians.

The Grand Master of the Templars collected together his small and
devoted band; and with the trifling aid afforded by the King of
Cyprus, prepared to defend to the death the last possession of his
order. Europe was deaf to his cry for aid, the numbers of the foe
were overwhelming, and devoted bravery was of no avail. In that
disastrous siege the Christians were all but exterminated. The
King of Cyprus fled when he saw that resistance was vain, and the
Grand Master fell at the head of his knights, pierced with a
hundred wounds. Seven Templars, and as many Hospitallets, alone
escaped from the dreadful carnage. The victorious Moslems then set
fire to the city, and the rule of the Christians in Palestine was
brought to a close for ever.

This intelligence spread alarm and sorrow among the clergy of
Europe, who endeavoured to rouse once more the energy and
enthusiasm of the nations, in the cause of the Holy Land: but the
popular mania had run its career; the spark of zeal had burned its
appointed time, and was never again to be re-illumined. Here and
there a solitary knight announced his determination to take up
arms, and now and then a king gave cold encouragement to the
scheme; but it dropped almost as soon as spoken of, to be renewed
again, still more feebly, at some longer interval.

Now what was the grand result of all these struggles? Europe
expended millions of her treasures, and the blood of two millions
of her children; and a handful of quarrelsome knights retained
possession of Palestine for about one hundred years! Even had
Christendom retained it to this day, the advantage, if confined to
that, would have been too dearly purchased. But notwithstanding
the fanaticism that originated, and the folly that conducted them,
the Crusades were not productive of unmitigated evil. The feudal
chiefs became better members of society, by coming in contact, in
Asia, with a civilization superior to their own; the people
secured some small instalments of their rights; kings, no longer
at war with their nobility, had time to pass some good laws; the
human mind learned some little wisdom from hard experience, and,
casting off the slough of superstition in which the Roman clergy
had so long enveloped it, became prepared to receive the seeds of
the approaching Reformation. Thus did the all-wise Disposer of
events bring good out of evil, and advance the civilization and
ultimate happiness of the nations of the West, by means of the
very fanaticism that had led them against the East. But the whole
subject is one of absorbing interest; and if carried fully out in
all its bearings, would consume more space than the plan of this
work will allow. The philosophic student will draw his own
conclusions; and he can have no better field for the exercise of
his powers than this European madness; its advantages and
disadvantages; its causes and results.