The age of the crusades

by James M. Ludlow

Richard thus inherited much of the disposition which marred his many nobler traits. Guizot’s portrait of him is fair: “Beyond comparison the boldest, the most unreflecting, the most passionate, the most ruffianly, the most heroic adventurer of the middle ages.” The first suggestion of his title, “Lion-hearted,” is perhaps in the pages of Roger de Wendover (died 1237), who, describing the ravages Richard committed in France, says: “He invaded the territory with more than a lion’s fury, carried off the produce, cut down the vines, burned the villages, and demolished everything.” His first act upon coming to power was to release his mother, Eleanor, from the twelve years’ imprisonment she suffered at the hands of her husband, Henry II. Then was remembered, and applied to her and to Richard, a prediction of Merlin, the “Wizard of the North,” in the fifth century: “The eagle of the broken treaty shall rejoice in her third nestling.” Roger de Wendover thus interpreted the hitherto enigmatic words: “The queen [Eleanor] is meant by the eagle, because she stretches out her two wings over two kingdoms, France and England. She was separated from the king of the French by divorce on account of consanguinity, and from the king of the English by suspicion and imprisonment; and so she was on both sides the eagle of a broken treaty. ‘She shall rejoice in her third nestling’ may be understood in this way: the queen’s first-born son, named William, died when he was a boy; Henry, her second son, was raised to the rank of king, and paid the debt of nature after he had engaged in hostilities with his father; and Richard, her third son, who is denoted by the ‘third nestling,’ was a source of joy to his mother.”

Richard was crowned September 11, 1189. Wendover, who may have witnessed it, describes the coronation service. Richard was conducted to Westminster in solemn procession, headed by ecclesiastics bearing the cross, holy water, and censers; four barons carried candlesticks with wax candles, two earls holding aloft two sceptres, one surmounted with a golden cross, the other with a dove; three earls followed, carrying three swords with golden sheaths; six earls and barons carried a checker, over which were placed the royal arms and robes, while a seventh held aloft a golden crown. Richard swore upon the Gospels his kingly devotion, pledging to observe peace, honor, and reverence towards God and the holy church, and to exercise true justice to all his people. “After this they stripped him of all his clothes except his breeches and shirt, which had been ripped apart over his shoulders to receive the unction. He was then shod with sandals interwoven with gold thread, and Baldwin, Archbishop of Canterbury, anointed him king in three places, namely, on his head, his shoulders, and his right arm, using prayers composed for the occasion. Then a consecrated linen cloth was placed on his head, over which was put a hat, and when they had again clothed him in his royal robes, with the tunic and gown, the archbishop gave into his hands a sword wherewith to crush all the enemies of the church.... Then they placed the crown upon his head, with the sceptre in his right hand and the royal wand in his left.” Preceded by candles and cross, he went to the celebration of mass; thence “to the dinner-table, and feasted splendidly, so that the wine flowed along the pavement and walls of the palace.”

A very different scene, though not less characteristic of the age, took place beyond the palace. Richard had issued an edict forbidding any Jew to appear at his coronation. Some of the wealthiest Hebrews, presuming upon the splendid gifts they brought, approached the dining-hall. The populace, willingly interpreting the king’s mandate as a license for persecution, set upon the Jews, not only at the palace gate, but throughout the city. They murdered them without stint and looted their houses. The king, essaying an investigation, found that the chief dignitaries and citizens were leaders of the mob, and stayed further inquiry. Other cities emulated the cruelty and greed of the Londoners. At York five hundred Jews, who had fled for safety to the castle, unable to defend themselves, slaughtered their own wives and children to save them from worse fate, threw the dead bodies to the Christians without the walls, and then set fire to their refuge, perishing in the flames. The people to whom the Jew’s had loaned money, the bonds of which were kept in the cathedral, seized these evidences of debt and burned them in pious offering before the altar.

The chief interest of Richard, even surpassing the care of his throne, was to fulfil the vow he had taken two years before (1187) to join a new crusade against the Infidels in Palestine.

THE THIRD CRUSADE.

CHAPTER XXVIII.
WILLIAM OF TYRE—BARBAROSSA.

With the news of the fall of Jerusalem came William, Archbishop of Tyre (the chief chronicler for this time), to stir up Europe to avenge the great disaster. This man possessed powers of speech equal to those of his pen. He appeared before an assembly near Gisors, where were gathered the bravest knights of England and France under their respective kings, Henry II. and Philip Augustus. These monarchs had laid aside the arms they were bearing against each other, that they might hear the appeal to holier warfare. The presence of such royalty did not restrain the fiery and indignant eloquence of William of Tyre. He cried, “To meet you here I have traversed fields of carnage. But whose blood have you been shedding? Why are you armed with these swords? You are fighting here for the banks of a river, for the limit of a province, for transient renown, while Infidels trample the banks of Siloam. Does your Europe no longer produce warriors like Godfrey and Tancred?” Even the blood of Henry II., poisoned as it was with many sins, felt the ardor of the appeal. He embraced his foe, Philip Augustus, with tears, while they together put on the badge of the cross. Princes and nobles followed the royal example, foremost among them Richard, then Duke of Guienne. Upon those who did not enlist was imposed a tax of one tenth of the value of their property, to be annually continued in a tenth of their incomes. This, in attestation of the terror inspired by the arms of the Saracen, was called “Saladin’s tithe.” The appeals of William of Tyre were supported by the pastoral letters of Pope Gregory VIII., which promised to all who should “undertake the labor of this expedition ... plenary indulgence for their offences and eternal life; ... and no person is to make any claim against the property of which, on assuming the cross, they were in quiet possession; ... they are not to pay interest to any person if they have so bound themselves.” The Pope further ordered a Lenten fast on every Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday, to appease the wrath of Heaven for sins, adding that the papal household would also abstain from flesh on Mondays.

The entire ritual of worship became infected with militarism and fear of the common enemy beyond the sea. In 1188 the Pope ordained that prayer against the Saracens should be offered everywhere daily. In the Church of St. Paul a recognition of the distressful condition was introduced into the liturgy. On Sundays there was read the psalm beginning, “Why do the heathen rage?” On Mondays, “Save us, O God, by Thy name.” On Tuesdays, “O God, why hast Thou forsaken us?” On Wednesdays, “O God, why hast Thou cast us off forever?” On Thursdays, “O God, the heathen are come into Thine inheritance.” On Fridays, “God standeth in the congregation of the mighty.” On Saturdays, “O Lord God, to whom vengeance belongeth, show Thyself.”

The peace between Henry II. and Philip Augustus made under the crusader enthusiasm, like other sudden excitements of religious emotion, did not long continue. A believer in the doctrine of the perseverance of the saints would hardly expect to find its proof in the house of Anjou, save by its exceptions. The recklessness of Richard again embroiled his father and the French king in war. An attempt to restore the truce on the same “sacred field” of Gisors where it had been solemnly enacted failed, and Philip Augustus cut down the elm-tree under which they had sworn it, that nature might not taunt them with their perjury. Saladin’s tithe was first devoted not against the Infidels, but to the infidelity of Christians in warring with one another, and was ominous of much of the subsequent use of that treasure. Rome excommunicated Richard, who drew his sword upon the papal legate that announced to him the decree. Philip as quickly repelled the interference of the spiritual power with what he deemed the more sacred right of conducting his own quarrels. It required the opportune intervention of a thunder-storm to shake the worldly purpose of Henry II., who, in genuine terror at the voice of heaven, at length agreed to peace.

In the meanwhile William of Tyre had electrified Germany with his appeals. The old emperor, Frederick I., took the cross, together with many of his chief nobles, including his son, Frederick, Duke of Swabia.