The capitulation remained unexecuted; Saladin, under various pretexts, deferring the completion of the conditions. Richard, irritated by a delay which appeared to him a breach of faith, revenged himself upon the prisoners that were in his hands. Without pity for disarmed enemies, or for the Christians he exposed to sanguinary reprisals, he massacred five thousand Mussulmans before the city they had so valiantly defended, and within sight of Saladin, who shared the disgrace of this barbarity by thus abandoning his bravest and most faithful warriors.
This action, which excited the regret of the whole Christian army, sufficiently exposed the character of Richard, and showed what was to be dreaded from his violence; a barbarous and implacable enemy could not become a generous rival. On the day of the surrender of Ptolemaïs, he committed a gross outrage upon Leopold, duke of Austria, by ordering the standard of that prince, which had been planted on one of the towers, to be cast into the ditch.
Leopold dissembled his resentment, but swore to avenge this insult whenever he should find an opportunity. Richard, for ever carried away by his violent and imperious character, desired to command as a master, and alone dictate laws for the whole army of the Crusaders. He endeavoured to corrupt the troops of Philip by largesses; he set a price upon infidelity and treason; and Philip, fearing to compromise the dignity of a king and the interests of the crusade by punishing the outrages and perfidy of his rival, resolved to return to France, where fortune offered him more than one opportunity of usefully revenging himself upon the king of England.
Philip quitted Palestine, leaving in the army ten thousand foot and five hundred horse, under the command of the duke of Burgundy. On his arrival at Tyre, from which port he embarked, he received a solemn embassy from Saladin, who sent him magnificent presents, and complimented him as the most powerful monarch of the West. He soon arrived in Italy, where the holy pontiff praised his devotion, and bestowed upon him the palms of pilgrimage. Welcomed on his return to his kingdom by the benedictions of his people, he carried back the sacred oriflamme to the church of St. Denis, and returned thanks to the apostles of France for having protected his life and the glory of his arms amidst the greatest perils.
When Philip left Palestine, Richard remained at the head of an army of a hundred thousand Crusaders. After having repaired the walls of Ptolemaïs, and allowed his soldiers some little repose, he passed the Belus, crossed Mount Carmel, and marched towards Cæsarea. A fleet from Ptolemaïs kept close to the shore, and transported the provisions, machines of war, and baggage of the Christian army. Saladin, whom Arabian writers often compare to a lioness that has lost her young, upon receiving intelligence of the march of the Crusaders, gathered together his army, and set out in pursuit of them; sometimes getting in advance and attacking their van, at others harassing their flanks, and seizing every soldier that ventured to stray from the main body. Although Cæsarea was only twelve leagues from Ptolemaïs, the Crusaders could not accomplish the distance in less than six days. All the Christians, who were unable to keep up with the army, and fell into the power of Saladin, were put to death by his orders, and their bodies left upon the shore, as an expiation of the massacre of the garrison of Ptolemaïs.
Richard, who found that perils and obstacles multiplied in his route, desired an interview with Malek-Adel, and proposed to make peace, if the Mussulmans would restore the city of Jerusalem to the Christians. Malek-Adel replied that the last of the soldiers of Saladin would perish, rather than renounce conquests made in the name of Islamism. Richard, irritated by this refusal, swore that he would obtain by victory that which he could not obtain from Saladin, and gave orders for the army to pursue their march.[341]
The Crusaders advanced towards the city of Arsur, marching over a long but narrow plain, intersected by torrents, ravines, and marshes, and covered in many places with fragments of rocks, marine plants, and reeds. They had the sea on their right, and on the left rose the steep mountains of Naplouse, defended by the inhabitants of the country and the troops of Saladin. At every passage of a torrent, at every dune or hillock of sand, at every village, a fresh contest had to be sustained, whilst the Mussulman archers, placed upon the heights, annoyed them unceasingly with their arrows. Richard’s army marched in order of battle; the cavalry being placed in the centre; whilst the foot, closing their ranks, presented an impenetrable wall to the enemy, and braved their constantly renewed attacks.
The army of the sultan got in advance of the Crusaders, and laid waste everything in their way; exhausting their efforts and ingenuity to retard, or entirely stop their march. Across the plain of Arsur flowed a torrent which cast itself into the sea near the ramparts of the city; and not far from this torrent, a wood of oaks, which historians call the forest of Sarun, and which is believed to be the forest celebrated by Tasso, extended along the declivities of the mountains of Naplouse: it was upon this spot Saladin awaited the Crusaders to offer them a decisive battle.
A part of his army covered the heights, whilst the remainder encamped upon the banks of the torrent of Arsur. The Christians soon arrived in face of their enemy, and drew up in order of battle. The Danes, Flemings, and Tuscans, commanded by Jacques d’Avesnes, formed the van. Richard marched in the centre, at the head of the English, Normans, Gascons, the Syrian troops, and those of the count of Champagne: the rear-guard was composed of French and Germans, under the orders of the duke of Burgundy and Leopold of Austria. Whilst the archers were showering their arrows from a distance, Saladin passed through the ranks, and roused the courage of his soldiers, who replied to him with cries of Allah ac bar!—God is powerful.[342] Profound silence prevailed in the Christian army; the black cuirasses of the Crusaders seeming to darken the horizon, whilst sixty thousand swords gleamed out from amidst clouds of dust. All at once the Christian infantry opened their ranks, and the cavalry rushed forward towards the enemy, drawn up on the banks of the torrent of Arsur. Jacques d’Avesnes, who commanded them, penetrated twice into the closely-pressed ranks of the Saracens, and twice was compelled to retreat in disorder. At the third charge his leg was severed by the stroke of a sabre, but he still pursued the infidels, when the arm with which he fought was struck off at a blow. The Christian hero fell amidst the enemy, calling aloud upon Richard, and conjuring him to avenge his death.
The king of England advanced with the main body, sweeping away the crowd of Saracens that opposed his passage, and pursuing them to the other side of the torrent; but whilst he yielded to his ardour, and advanced before the Christian army, the chosen troops of the Mussulmans descended from the mountains of Naplouse, and poured down upon the rear of the Christians. Richard was forced to retrace his steps to support the French and Germans, who were beginning to give way. The plain in which the battle was fought, could scarcely contain all the combatants. The Christians and Mussulmans closed, and attacked each other man to man; the foot fought pellmell with the horse, exhorting each other to brave death. The cries of rage, despair, and agony were mingled with the clashing of swords, lances, and shields. The two armies, confounded and mixed together, became nothing but one horrible spectacle. If we believe the somewhat improbable account of an English historian,[343] Richard and Saladin met in the mêlée, and rushed upon each other sword in hand, and the two armies instantly became motionless, leaving to their great leaders the honour of deciding the fate of the battle. This singular circumstance, which poetry might envy history, is not mentioned by Arabian writers.[344] The battle lasted almost during the whole day. Towards evening the Mussulmans were broken on all sides, and retreated in disorder into the forest of Saron, whither the fear of an ambuscade prevented the Christians from pursuing them, and destroying the wreck of their army.
The battle of Arsur was one of the most celebrated of this war; in it the Mussulmans lost a great number of their bravest emirs, and particularly regretted a chief of Saladin’s Mamelukes, whose heroic courage is highly celebrated by their historians. No Saracen warrior was more prompt to meet danger, and he was always the first to fly to the assistance of his companions, though he himself needed aid from no man. His horse being slain, this brave emir was encumbered with the weight of his iron armour, and received several mortal wounds. Many Mussulman soldiers hastened to his relief; but he was already amongst the inhabitants of heaven!
The Christians wept for the death of Jacques d’Avesnes, who had so often shown them the path to victory. In this glorious day the loss of the Crusaders was much less than that of the Mussulmans; their leaders and soldiers displayed a degree of skill that they had never evinced before. The Saracen cavalry, superior to that of the Crusaders, had not room to perform their usual evolutions with advantage in so confined a field. They attacked the Christians several times with great impetuosity, but the Crusaders withstood them with immovable firmness, and constantly rallied around their great standard, which floated from the summit of a rolling tower. A remarkable circumstance of this battle is, that it was principally gained by the infantry, a force which, although held in contempt in the first crusade, had learnt to be redoubtable under the walls of Ptolemaïs.
Richard, who had conquered the Saracens, was not wise enough to profit by their defeat; instead of pursuing the enemy, or marching straight to Jerusalem, he led his army to Jaffa, the ramparts of which Saladin had demolished, and which the Mussulmans had abandoned. He occupied himself with repairing the fortifications, and sent for the Queen Berengaria, Jane, the widow of the king of Sicily, and the daughter of Isaac. Surrounded by a brilliant court, he forgot, in the intoxication of pleasure and festivities, the conquest of Jerusalem, for which he had come into Asia. During this fatal repose, he was on the point of losing with his life and liberty the fruit of all his victories. Being one day hunting in the forest of Saron, overcome by heat or fatigue, he alighted from his horse and fell asleep under a tree. All at once he was aroused by the cries of those who accompanied him,—a troop of Saracens was close upon them! He sprang upon his horse, and prepared to defend himself; but was near sinking beneath the force of numbers, when a knight of his suite, named William Pourcelet, cried out in the Arabic tongue, “I am the king; spare my life.”[345] At these words, this generous warrior was surrounded by the Mussulmans, who made him prisoner and conducted him to Saladin. The king of England, thus saved by the heroism of a French knight, escaped the pursuit of the enemy, and returned to Jaffa, where his army learnt with terror the danger they had been in of losing their leader.
Richard formed the project of besieging Ascalon; and Saladin being doubtful of his power to defend that city, resolved to destroy it. In vain the inhabitants came to implore his pity; in the space of a few days the strongest and most flourishing city of Syria was consumed by fire, and remained nothing but a heap of ruins.
The demolition of Ascalon excited great sorrow among the Mussulmans; and the king of England, who had entertained hopes of rendering himself master of the place, was as much afflicted as if he had lost one of his conquests. This city, which had cost the Christians and Mussulmans so much blood, opened at once to the Crusaders the gates of Palestine and Egypt. Richard undertook to rebuild the ramparts that the Mussulmans had destroyed, and led his army into the plain, covered by the ruins of Ascalon.
It was a curious spectacle to behold thirty thousand warriors from the West employed in rebuilding the walls of a city of Syria. The Crusaders, as the Hebrews have been described to us whilst erecting the temple of Jerusalem, were obliged to work with the sword in one hand and the tools of masonry in the other. Saladin might have disturbed their labours; but he preferred giving his army a little repose, and recruiting its numbers; persuaded that the divisions that existed among his enemies would soon work to his advantage. The Christian army obeyed Richard very unwillingly. Leopold of Austria, accused by the king of England of remaining idle with his Germans, contented himself with replying that he was neither a carpenter nor a mason. The greater part of the knights who were thus employed in moving stones and digging ditches, were exceedingly indignant, and said aloud that they did not come into Asia to rebuild Ascalon, but to conquer Jerusalem.
Whilst the Christian army was in this dissatisfied state, the marquis of Tyre, who had been ill-treated by Richard, courted the alliance of the sultan, and promised to restore Ptolemaïs to him, if the Mussulmans would agree to protect him against his enemies. The king of England, warned of this perfidious negotiation, became only anxious to defeat the projects of Conrad, and himself made propositions to Saladin. He renewed the promise he had made to Malek-Adel to return into Europe if Jerusalem and the wood of the true cross were restored to the Christians. “Jerusalem,” replied Saladin, “never belonged to you; we cannot without a crime abandon it to you, for in it were accomplished the mysteries of our religion.” As to the wood of the true cross, Saladin considered it as an object of scandal, as an insult to divinity. He had refused to give it up to the king of Georgia or the emperor of Constantinople, both of whom had offered him considerable sums for it. “All the advantages to be procured by peace,” said he, “cannot bring me to restore this disgraceful monument of their idolatry to the Christians.”
Richard, who really considered the restitution of the true cross of very little importance, did not reiterate his demand; but as he was desirous of peace, he made other proposals, in which he adroitly interested the ambition of Malek-Adel, the brother of the sultan. The widow of William of Sicily, the sister of Richard, was offered in marriage to the Mussulman prince; under the auspices of Saladin and Richard, they might reign together over Mussulmans and Christians, and govern the kingdom of Jerusalem. The historian Omad was charged by Malek-Adel with the task of communicating this proposition to Saladin, who appeared to adopt it without repugnance.[346] The project of this singular union created great surprise among the imauns and doctors of the law; and the Christian bishops, when they were informed of it, expressed the strongest indignation, and threatened both Jane and Richard with the thunders of the Church.
The execution of this plan appeared impossible in the midst of a religious war: and everything leads us to believe that Saladin only affected to give it attention that he might gain time to fortify Jerusalem, which the Christians still demanded of him. Skilful workmen from Aleppo were, by his orders, employed in widening the ditches and repairing the walls. Among the Mussulman workmen were two thousand Christian prisoners, condemned to rebuild the fortresses occupied by the infidels. Saladin encouraged the labours by his presence and his example, animating the zeal of the people and soldiers by frequently reminding them of the victories of the Mussulmans, and of the massacre of their brethren slaughtered before Ptolemaïs.
The conquest of the holy city was the object of the war,—the great reward promised to the labours of the crusaders; and they at length earnestly pressed Richard to march towards Jerusalem. He was obliged to yield to their impatience, and led them as far as Bethonopolis,[347] situated between Ascalon and the capital of Palestine. At the approach of the Franks, Saladin ordered all the country through which their army must pass to be laid waste. By the commands of the sultan the ramparts of Ramla and Lidda, with the fortress of Nitro, were demolished. All the routes which led to Jerusalem were guarded by Mussulman cavalry, who unceasingly harassed the Christians, and prevented their receiving provisions from Ptolemaïs or other maritime cities.
In proportion with their approximation to Jerusalem, the enthusiasm and ardour of the Crusaders increased; but Richard and most of the leaders did not at all partake of the impatience of the soldiers. The Christian army was only one day’s march from the sea-coast, and yet want of provisions began to be sensibly felt. If in the plains of Ptolemaïs, where the Crusaders could look for provisions to the Mediterranean, they had experienced all the horrors of famine, what miseries had they not reason to expect under the walls of Jerusalem? Mussulman troops were encamped in the plains of Jericho and Hebron, and in the country of Naplouse, and had the power at all times to throw succour into Jerusalem, if that city were besieged by the Christians. Winter, besides, was beginning to create a dread of contagious diseases; the leaders of the army were divided among themselves, and even the sight of danger could scarcely bring them to act in concert. All these circumstances produced doubt and irresolution in the minds of Richard and the most prudent of the barons and knights.
Richard entertained hopes that Saladin would come and offer him battle, and that a victory would at once throw open the gates of Jerusalem to him; but the sultan, who had proved the strength and bravery of the Christians at Arsur, was not willing to expose his conquests to the hazard of a battle. Richard, on his part, dreaded the perils and fatigues of a protracted siege, and suddenly led back his army to the plains of Ascalon.
The multitude of the Crusaders, who were ignorant of or did not appreciate the motives of the king of England, only obeyed him with murmurs, and most of the leaders, declared enemies of Richard, mingled their complaints with those of the soldiers. Several dissatisfied Crusaders deserted the standards which no longer pointed out to them the road to Jerusalem.
Whilst the army was marching despondingly back to the plains of Ascalon, the Genoese and Pisans, continually at variance, broke into open war within the walls of Ptolemaïs. Conrad took part with the Genoese, whilst the king of England as eagerly defended the Pisans, and terminated this civil war by forcing Conrad and the Genoese to retreat to the city of Tyre.
Amidst these sanguinary disputes, Conrad, who had an ambassador at the court of Saladin, unable longer to endure the authority of Richard, entered into an alliance with the Mussulmans. Saladin, by treaty, abandoned to the marquis of Tyre all the cities the latter might take from the Christians, and promised to aid him in his conquests, only reserving the booty for the Mussulman soldiers. This treaty, dictated by hatred to Richard, was the signal for the death of Conrad; a very short time afterwards the marquis of Tyre perished by an unknown hand.
English authors assert that Conrad had had quarrels with the chief of the Ismaëlians, and that he was assassinated by the orders of this redoubtable enemy. Two young slaves left the voluptuous gardens, in which their master had brought them up, to execute his vengeance. They arrived at Tyre, and, in order to conceal their purpose the better, received baptism. They engaged themselves in the service of Conrad, and remained six months about his person, apparently only occupied in offering up prayers to the God of the Christians. One day, as the marquis was coming from dining with the bishop of Beauvais, the two Ismaëlians attacked him, and wounded him mortally. Whilst the people congregated tumultuously, one of the assassins fled into a neighbouring church, into which, likewise, the bleeding marquis was borne. The Ismaëlian, who had concealed himself, suddenly rushed through the crowd, and again falling upon Conrad, struck him repeatedly with his dagger, till he was quite dead. The two assassins were seized, and both died amidst tortures, without uttering a single groan, or naming the person who had employed them to take away the life of the marquis of Tyre.[348]
The continuator of Tabary says that Saladin had offered the Old Man of the Mountains ten thousand pieces of gold if he would cause the marquis of Tyre and the king of England to be assassinated; but the prince of the mountain, adds the same historian, did not think proper to deliver Saladin entirely from his war with the Franks, and only performed half of that which had been required of him. The Christians did not attribute the death of Conrad to Saladin, but many among them accused Richard of it. A short time after the murder, a letter was published, in which the lord of the mountain avowed himself to be the author of the assassination; but this letter bore no character of authenticity about it. The savage lord of the mountain could not write, and could have no interest in making the apology of a Christian prince.[349] The king of England himself strengthened the public suspicions by taking possession of Tyre, and giving the widow of Conrad in marriage to his nephew, the count of Champagne. However it may be, this accusation, which was accredited among the Christians, announced plainly the idea they entertained of the character of Richard. The account of the death of Conrad soon reached Europe, and Philip Augustus, dreading the same fate, no longer appeared in public without being surrounded by a guard. The court of France accused Richard of the blackest attempts; but it is probable that Philip, on this occasion, showed more fear than he really felt, in order to render his rival the more odious, and to arm against him the hatred of the pope, and the indignation of all the princes of Christendom.
After the death of Conrad, Richard had no rivals to suspect, or enemies to fight with among the Christians; the opinion even that was entertained of his character, only served to augment his authority, by creating a dread of his hatred or vengeance. He took advantage of a moment, in which Saladin disbanded part of his army, to get possession of the castle of Darcum, built upon the confines of Palestine, towards Egypt. He undertook several other enterprises, which spread terror and surprise among the Saracens; and, all at once, to satisfy the wishes of the Crusaders, marched towards Jerusalem, in which city Saladin had shut himself up with all the troops he could gather together. At the approach of the Christians, the sultan convoked his emirs, and made them swear, on the stone of Jacob, to be buried beneath the ruins of the city rather than yield it up to the soldiers of Richard.
The Christian army encamped at the foot of the mountains of Judea, all the passes of which were guarded by the troops of Saladin and the Saracen peasants of Naplouse and Hebron. As Richard drew near to Jerusalem, his aversion to the idea of allowing the duke of Austria and the duke of Burgundy to share in such a glorious conquest increased; whilst they were not at all willing to assist the king of England in an enterprise that would so much augment his pride and renown. Every time that he proposed to proceed against the holy city, the zeal of the leaders of the army appeared to cool;[350] and when Richard sought to defer the conquest, most of them endeavoured to arouse the enthusiasm of the Crusaders, and repeated the oath they had taken to deliver the tomb of Christ. Thus the proximity to Jerusalem, which ought to have united the Christians more firmly, only served to increase their divisions, and spread trouble, disorder, and discouragement through the whole army.
The Christians were but a few leagues from Jerusalem, and the council assembled to determine what steps must be taken. Many of the leaders thought that they ought at once to besiege the city, and spoke of the consternation of the Mussulmans. The soldiers of Saladin, said they, had not forgotten the evils of Ptolemaïs, and trembled at the idea of again shutting themselves within the ramparts of a city. Fugitives from Jerusalem had informed them that the presence even of Saladin could not keep up the spirits of the soldiers, and that all the inhabitants, seized with terror, were upon the point of flying to Damascus.
They who maintained an opposite opinion, among whom was Richard, thought that the reports spread regarding the disposition of the Mussulmans were but a snare of Saladin’s, by which he hoped to lure the Crusaders into places in which he could destroy them without fighting. “At the moment in which we are speaking,” said they, “the Mussulman cavalry surround the plain on which our army is encamped. It is difficult and dangerous to advance across the mountains of Judea. The roads, bordered by precipices, are, in many places, cut through the solid rock, and are dominated by steep heights, from which ill-armed peasants will be sufficient to crush, or at least to stop the columns of the Christians. How are we to transport through such narrow passes our baggage, our machines, or our munitions of war? If our bravery should succeed in surmounting all these difficulties, will it be easy to keep up our communications with the coast? If we are conquered, how shall we make our retreat, pursued by the army of Saladin?”
Opinions continued to be divided: the king of England wished to retreat to Ascalon; whilst the dukes of Austria and Burgundy warmly maintained that they ought to march towards Jerusalem. Twenty-four knights were selected to determine upon the course that was to be adopted, and the Christian army awaited their decision with an impatience mingled with fear. After having deliberated for some time, the twenty-four knights concluded that the army could not pursue its march without danger, and that the most prudent plan would be to retreat towards the sea-coast. Richard, after having given the order for retreat, whether he was sincerely afflicted, or whether he wished to regain the confidence and esteem of the Crusaders, turned towards Jerusalem with his eyes filled with tears, and covering his face with his buckler, declared himself unworthy to behold a city that he could not conquer.
The Crusaders once more turned their backs upon Jerusalem, which they had sworn so often and so solemnly to deliver, the soldiers totally unable to comprehend the policy or intentions of their leaders. Richard, who had led the Christian army towards the holy city, might at least be accused of want of determination of purpose.[351] The uncertainty of his plans completed the destruction of the confidence which his skill and great military talents had created; and the despair of the Crusaders put an end to the fear of a chief they no longer loved. Discord broke out with fresh fury; such as remained partisans of Richard, reproached his enemies with misleading the spirit of the army; but all parties mutually accused each other of favouring the cause of the infidels. As is generally the case in unsuccessful wars, perfidy and treachery were the subjects most current among the Crusaders.
The most violent complaints were uttered against Richard, who replied to his enemies in a strain of high-minded bravery, worthy of an Amadis or a Roland. At the head of a weak detachment, he took a convoy of seven thousand camels on the way to Jerusalem; on another occasion, going on board a vessel with a few knights, he landed at Jaffa, where the banners of Saladin floated over the towers and ramparts; he pursued the conquerors sword in hand, and forced them to abandon their temporary conquest. A few days after, the king of England, with a troop of his chosen knights, attacked a body of seven thousand Mussulman horse; he rushed in amongst them, and with a stroke of his sabre struck dead at his feet the leader of the Saracens, who all appeared stupified and motionless with surprise and fear.
But all these perils and all this glory were lost for the cause of the Christians. Richard became every day more odious to his associates; the duke of Burgundy with the French retired discontented to Ptolemaïs; the Germans, commanded by the duke of Austria, quitted Palestine, and Richard remained alone with the English.[352] Hitherto the king of England, as he himself told the ambassadors of Saladin, had taken but little interest in the deliverance of the holy places, and had only performed such prodigies of valour to increase his fame in the Christian world. A desire to efface the glory of Philip, much more than a zeal for religion, governed him in his contests with the Saracens; he underwent the labours of the holy war in the hope that his exploits in Palestine would assist him in triumphing over his rivals and enemies beyond the seas; but as he began to fear being left without an army, and dreaded the enterprises of Philip, and the plots of his brother John, against his European states, he determined to resume his negotiations with Saladin. The various thoughts that harassed his mind, the shame of not having conquered Jerusalem, the fear of losing his own kingdom, made him adopt and reject resolutions of the most opposite nature. At one time he determined upon returning to Europe without making peace at all—first he supplicated, then he menaced Saladin, and endeavoured to frighten him, by spreading a report that the pope was about to arrive in Palestine with an army of two hundred thousand Crusaders.
Winter had not yet passed away, and the passage of the Mediterranean was not without danger. “The sea is stormy,” wrote he one day to Saladin, “but I will brave its tempests, and return to Europe if you are disposed to make peace. But if you still desire war, I will brave all its perils, and will lay siege to Jerusalem.” Saladin was encamped in the vicinity of Ramla, and called his emirs together to deliberate upon the proposals of Richard. “Up to this period,” said he, “we have fought with glory, and the cause of Islamism has triumphed by our arms. I fear that death may surprise me during a peace, and may prevent my terminating the good work we have begun. Since God gives us victory, he commands us to continue the war, and we ought to obey his will.” Most of the emirs applauded the courage and firmness of Saladin, but they represented to him, “that the cities were without defence, and the provinces were devastated; the fatigues of war had weakened the Mussulman army; the horses wanted forage, and provisions for the soldiers were dearer than gold.” “If we reduce the Franks to despair,” added they, “they may still overcome us, and wrest all our victories from our hands. It is wise to observe the maxim of the Koran, which orders us to grant peace to our enemies when they ask it. Peace will give us time to fortify our cities, to recruit our forces, and resume the war with advantage; when the Franks, always faithless in treaties, will offer us fresh pretexts for attacking them.”
Saladin plainly perceived by this speech of his emirs, that the greater part of the Saracen warriors were beginning to lose the ardour and zeal they had evinced for the cause of Islamism. The sultan was abandoned by several of his auxiliaries, and dreaded the appearance of division in his own empire. The armies were close to each other, and the dust which arose from the two camps, says an Arabian author, mingled in the air and formed but one cloud. Neither the Christians nor the Mussulmans showed the least impatience to go beyond the boundaries of their ramparts and ditches, and both being equally tired of the war, it became the interest of the two leaders to make peace. The disposition of the minds of the combatants, with the impossibility of pursuing any warlike enterprises, at length led to the adoption of a truce for three years and eight months.[353]
It was determined that Jerusalem should be open to the devotion of the Christians, and that they should hold all the sea-coast from Jaffa to Tyre. The Saracens and the Christians had both claims upon Ascalon, which was considered as the key to Egypt, and which the Arabs called the spouse of Syria. To terminate these disputes, it was agreed that this city should be again demolished. It is not unworthy of remark, that not a word was said about the true cross, which had been the subject of the first negotiations, and for which Richard had sent several ambassadors to Saladin. The principal leaders of the two armies swore, on the one side upon the Koran, and on the other upon the Gospel, to observe the conditions of the treaty. Royal majesty assumed something more imposing and august than even the sanctity of an oath, for the sultan and the king of England contented themselves with giving their word and touching the hands of the ambassadors.
All the Mussulman and Christian princes of Syria were invited to sign the treaty concluded between Richard and Saladin. Among those who were called upon to be guarantees of the peace, neither the prince of Antioch, who had taken little share in the war, nor the chief of the Ismaëlians, the enemy of both Christians and Mussulmans, was forgotten. Guy de Lusignan alone was not named in the treaty. This prince enjoyed a momentary importance from the dissensions he had given birth to, and sunk into oblivion as soon as fresh subjects of discord arose among the Crusaders. Despoiled of his kingdom, he obtained that of Cyprus, a far more real possession, but for which he was obliged to pay the Templars, to whom Richard had sold it. Palestine was ceded to Henry, count of Champagne, the new husband of that Isabella who appeared to be promised to all the pretenders to the crown of Jerusalem, and who, by a singular destiny, had married three kings, without being able to ascend a throne.[354]
The conclusion of the peace was celebrated by tournaments and festivities, in which the Mussulmans and Christians laid aside the fanaticism and hatred which had led them to shed so much blood. Most of the warriors of the West, by the invitation of Saladin, visited the holy places they had been unable to deliver, and then embarked for Europe. At the moment of departure, the French lost the duke of Burgundy, who fell sick and died in the city of Tyre, as he was preparing to leave Palestine.
Thus finished this third crusade, in which all the western powers in arms obtained no greater advantages than the taking of Ptolemaïs and the demolition of Ascalon; in it Germany lost, without glory, one of the greatest of its emperors and the finest of its armies. If we may believe Arabian authors, six hundred thousand Crusaders appeared before Ptolemaïs, and scarcely one hundred thousand of these warriors saw their native country again. Europe had the greater reason to deplore the losses of this war, from the fact of her armies having been so much better composed than in preceding expeditions; criminals, adventurers, and vagabonds, had been strictly excluded from the ranks. All that the West could boast of the most noble and illustrious of its warriors had taken up arms.
The Crusaders that contended with Saladin were better armed and better disciplined than any that preceded them in Palestine; the foot-soldiers employed the cross-bow, which had been neglected or prohibited in the second crusade. Their cuirasses, and their bucklers covered with thick leather, defied the arrows of the Saracens; and on the field of battle, soldiers were often seen bristling with arrows and darts, whom the Arabs compared to porcupines, still keeping their ranks and fighting bravely. The Saracens had likewise made some progress in the art of war, and began to resume the use of the lance, which they did not employ when the first Crusaders arrived in Syria. The Mussulman armies were not confused multitudes; they remained longer under their banners, and fought with less disorder. The Curds and Turks surpassed the Franks in the art of attacking and defending cities and castles. The Mussulmans had, besides, more than one advantage over the Crusaders; they made war upon their own territories and in their own climate; they were under the command of one single leader, who communicated the same spirit to all, and only presented to them one cause to defend.
In this crusade the Franks appeared to be more polished than they had been till that time. Great monarchs making war against each other without ceasing to give evidences of mutual esteem and generous feeling, was a new spectacle for the world. Subjects followed the example of their princes, and lost beneath the tent much of their barbarism. The Crusaders were sometimes admitted to the table of Saladin, and emirs received at that of Richard. By thus mingling together, Saracens and Christians might make a happy exchange of usages, manners, knowledge, and even virtues.
The Christians, rather more enlightened than during the first crusades, stood in less need of excitement from the visions of fanaticism. The passion for glory was for them almost as powerful a principle as religious enthusiasm. Chivalry also made great progress in this crusade; it was held in such honour, and the title of KNIGHT was so glorious, even in the eyes of the infidels, that Saladin did not disdain to be decorated with it.
The sentiment of honour, and the humanity which is inseparable from it, often dried tears that the disasters of war had caused to flow; tender and virtuous passions associated themselves in the minds of heroes with the austere maxims of religion and the sanguinary images of battle. Amidst the corruption of camps, love, by inspiring the knights and troubadours who had taken the cross with noble and delicate sentiments, preserved them from the seductions of gross debauchery. More than one warrior, animated by the remembrance of beauty, caused his bravery to be greatly admired, whilst fighting against the Saracens. It was in this crusade that the Châtelain de Coucy fell, mortally wounded, by the side of King Richard. In a song, which is still extant, he had bid adieu to France, saying that he went to the Holy Land to obtain three things of inestimable value to a knight,—Paradise, glory, and the love of his mistress.[355] A chronicle of the middle ages relates, that after he had received a mortal wound and was about to breathe his last sigh, the faithful Châtelain first confessed himself to the legate of the Pope, and then charged his squire to bear his heart to the lady de Fayel. The last commands of Coucy, and the horrible banquet that a cruel husband caused to be served up to the victim of his jealousy, show at once what chivalry could inspire of the most touching kind, and that which the manners of the twelfth century could exhibit of the most barbarous.[356] The troubadours celebrated in their songs the chivalric love of the noble Châtelain, and the despair of the beautiful De Vergy, when she learnt she had eaten the heart of her faithful knight. If we may believe old chronicles, the lord de Fayel, pursued by remorse and the opinion of his contemporaries, was obliged to go to the Holy Land, to expiate his crime and the death of his unfortunate wife.
In this crusade, in which so many knights rendered themselves illustrious, two men acquired an immortal glory, one by a useless bravery, and qualities more brilliant than solid, the other by real successes and virtues that might have served as models to Christians. The name of Richard remained during a century the terror of the East, and the Saracens and Turks celebrated him in their proverbs a long time after the crusades. He cultivated letters, and merited a place among the troubadours; but the arts did not at all soften his character; it was his ferocity as well as his courage that procured him the surname of Cœur de Lion. Carried away by the inconstancy of his inclinations, he often changed his projects, his affections, and his principles of action; he sometimes braved religion, and very often devoted himself to its service. Sometimes incredulous, as often superstitious; measureless in his hatred as in his friendship, he was extravagant in everything, and only showed himself constant in his love for war. The passions which animated him scarcely ever permitted his ambition to have an aim or a determinate object. His imprudence, his presumption, and the unsteadiness of his plans, made him lose the fruits of his exploits. In a word, the hero of this crusade is more calculated to excite surprise than to create esteem, and appears to belong less to history than to the romances of chivalry.
With less rashness and bravery than Richard, Saladin possessed a more firm character, one far better calculated to carry on a religious war. He paid more attention to the results of his enterprises; more master of himself, he was more fit to command others. When mounting the throne of the Atabeks, Saladin obeyed rather his destiny than his inclinations; but when once firmly seated, he was governed by only two passions,—that of reigning, and that of securing the triumph of the Koran. On all other subjects he was moderate, and when a kingdom or the glory of the prophet was not in question, the son of Ayoub was admired as the most just and mild of Mussulmans. We may add that the stern devotion[357] and ardent fanaticism that made him take up arms against the Christians, only rendered him cruel and barbarous in one single instance. He displayed the virtues of peace amidst the horrors of war. “From the bosom of camps,” says an Oriental poet, “he covered the nations with the wings of his justice, and poured upon his cities the plenteous showers of his liberality.” The Mussulmans, always governed by fear,[358] were astonished that a sovereign could inspire them with so much love, and followed him with joy to battle. His generosity, his clemency, and particularly his respect for an oath, were often the subjects of admiration to the Christians, whom he rendered so miserable by his victories, and of whose power in Asia he had completed the overthrow.[359]
The third crusade, which was so glorious for Saladin, was not entirely without advantages for Europe. Many Crusaders on the way to Palestine, stopped in Spain, and by their victories over the Moors, prepared the deliverance of the kingdoms situated beyond the Pyrenees. A great number of Germans, as in the second crusade, prevailed upon by the solicitations of the pope, made war upon the barbarous inhabitants of the shores of the Baltic, and thus, by useful exploits, extended the limits of the Christian republic in the West. As in this war the greater part of the Crusaders went to Palestine by sea, the art of navigation made a sensible advance; the maritime nations of Europe acquired an accession of prosperity, their fleets became more formidable, and they were able, with glory, to dispute the empire of the sea with the Saracens.
In several states of Europe, commerce, and the spirit of the holy wars contributed to the enfranchisement of the lower classes. Many serfs, upon becoming free, took up arms. It was not one of the least interesting spectacles of this crusade, to see the standards of several cities of France and Germany floating in the Christian army amongst the banners of lords and barons.
This crusade was particularly beneficial to France, from which it banished both civil and foreign wars. By prolonging the absence of the great vassals and the enemies of the kingdom, it weakened their power, and gave Philip Augustus authority to levy imposts, even upon the clergy. It afforded him an opportunity of surrounding his throne with a faithful guard, to keep up regular armies, and prepare, though at a distance,[360] that victory of Bovines which proved so fatal to the enemies of France.
A long captivity awaited Richard on his return to Europe. The vessel in which he embarked was shipwrecked on the coast of Italy, and fearing to pass through France, he took the route of Germany, concealed under the habit of a simple pilgrim. His liberality betrayed the monarch, and as he had enemies everywhere, he was seized by the soldiers of the duke of Austria. Leopold had not sufficient generosity to forget the outrages received from Richard at the siege of Ptolemaïs, and detained him prisoner. It was not known in Europe what had become of King Richard, when a gentleman of Arras, named Blondel, set out in search of his master, and traversed Germany in the dress and with the lyre of a minstrel. On his arrival before a castle, in which, it was said, languished an illustrious captive, Blondel began to sing the first couplet of a song which he had composed in conjunction with Richard. From the top of a high tower a voice answered him, and sang the second couplet.[361] Then the faithful troubadour returned into England to announce that he had discovered the prison of the king. The duke of Austria, terrified at this discovery, did not dare to detain longer his redoubtable captive in his own hands, and gave him up to the emperor of Germany. Henry VI., who had likewise insults to revenge, was rejoiced to get Richard in his power, and kept him in chains, as if he had made him a prisoner in the field of battle. The hero of the crusade, who had filled the world with his renown, was cast into a dark dungeon, and remained a long time a victim to the vengeance of his enemies—and they were Christian princes.
He was brought before the German diet, assembled at Worms, where he was accused of all the crimes that hatred and envy could invent. But the spectacle of a king in chains was so affecting, that no one durst condemn Richard, and when he offered his justification, the bishops and nobles melted into tears, and besought Henry to treat him with less injustice and rigour.
Queen Eleanor implored all the powers of Europe for the release of her son. The complaints and tears of a mother touched the heart of Celestine, who had recently ascended the chair of St. Peter. The pope several times demanded the liberty of the king of England, and even excommunicated the duke of Austria and the emperor; but the thunders of the Church had so often been launched against the thrones of Germany, that they no longer inspired fear. Henry braved the anathemas of the Holy See; the captivity of Richard lasted another year; and he only obtained his liberty after engaging to pay a considerable ransom. His kingdom, which he had ruined at his departure for the Holy Land, exhausted itself to hasten his return; and England gave up even her sacred vases to break the chains of her monarch. He was received with enthusiasm by the English; his adventures, which drew tears, obliterated the remembrance of his cruelties, and Europe only recollected his exploits and his misfortunes.
After the truce made with Richard, Saladin retired to Damascus, where he enjoyed his glory but one year. The Orientals celebrate the edifying manner in which he died, distributing his alms or benevolences to Mussulmans and Christians alike. Before he expired he ordered one of his officers to carry his shroud through the streets of his capital, and to cry with a loud voice: “Behold all that Saladin, who overcame the East, bears away of his conquests.”
Scarcely had he ceased to breathe, when nothing remained but a vain remembrance of his laws and his victories; his death was attended by that which so frequently happens in Oriental monarchies, where nothing is regulated concerning the succession; where victory appears to be the most legitimate title, and where a too numerous offspring await the death of the prince in fear, servitude, and in ignorance of the affairs of the state.
Saladin only left behind him slaves intimidated by his glory and his boundless power, who divided his authority among them, but could not support the weight of it. Twelve of his sons and relatives succeeded him and disputed the sovereignty. Malek-Adel, the brother of the sultan, and companion in his exploits, profited by the inexperience of his nephews, and took possession of Egypt and Mesopotamia. The most powerful of the emirs followed his example, and shared the cities and provinces amongst them. Asia then beheld that empire fall to decay, which, raised for the ruin of the Christians, had, in its growth and progress, twice roused all the nations of the West to arms.
END OF VOL. 1.