The age of the crusades

by James M. Ludlow

In 1215 the Lateran Council issued the grand order for the crusading expedition. The Pope and cardinals taxed themselves a tenth of their income, and all ecclesiastics a twentieth. So great was the excitement for war that two astounding phenomena were observed: luminous crosses appeared in the heavens, and the Troubadours sang only of battle, no longer of love. Innocent III. proposed to head the crusade in person, but when his example had wrought its full influence discreetly retired from the leadership. Shortly after he died, and Honorius III. came into the pontificate.

In 1217 the mighty armament was in motion. Andrew II., King of Hungary, was designated chief. Germany, under its representative dukes of Bavaria and Austria, followed in his train. The host was augmented by those from Italy and France and the islands of the Mediterranean. According to the Arabian historian, it was the largest force ever at one time pitted against them in Palestine.

The army landed at Acre. The new soldiers signalled their arrival by an impressive exhibition of their pilgrim zeal. They formed an immense procession. At their head was the Patriarch of Jerusalem, who bore aloft a piece of wood which had been surreptitiously cut from the True Cross at the time it was captured by Saladin at Hattîn. With utmost pomp they passed over the land from the sea to the Jordan, bathed in the waters of the sacred river, and lingered to pray amid the ruins on the shores of the Sea of Tiberias. They gathered many relics, and did not hesitate to take as their pious plunder many of the people of the land, whom they brought with them as prisoners to Acre.

No enemy molested them. Malek-Ahdel had advised that the invaders be left to their own dissensions, which, judging from previous observation, were sure to follow as soon as they should attempt to divide the spoil they might take. The martial spirit of the Christians did not resent this idleness, and stagnation of energy bred moral malaria. Camp vices thrived to such an extent that the leaders were forced to drive out the soldiers in search of manly adventures. Mount Tabor, the Mount of Transfiguration, lifted high its head, crowned with Moslem forts in place of the Church of St. Helena and of the two monasteries which had formerly commemorated the tabernacles of Moses and Elias. The crusaders were ordered to capture the holy mountain. That all doubt of Heaven’s favor in the enterprise might be removed, the patriarch read the gospel for the day, first Sunday in Advent, and interpreted the words, “Go ye into the village over against you,” to mean the castle on Tabor.

Led by this high dignitary, who carried the ubiquitous piece of the True Cross, they made the ascent through a shower of Moslem arrows and an avalanche of stones. The defenders at first retired within their citadel, but an unaccountable panic seized the assailants: they deserted their own cause at the moment of victory, and made a disorderly retreat down to the plain. Their piety was, however, compensated by the capture of a number of women and children, whom they forced to be baptized. The anticipated dissensions followed. Each leader reproached the others. On Christmas eve a terrific storm swept the camp, which, in the general discouragement, they attributed to the displeasure of Heaven. Lack of provisions forced them to encamp in different neighborhoods—Tripoli, Acre, Mount Carmel, and the plains of Cæsarea. The commander-in-chief, the King of Hungary, returned to Europe, consoling himself for lack of martial laurels by the possession of the head of St. Peter, the hand of St. Thomas, and one of the seven water-jars in which Christ had made water wine at Cana. The sacred relics did not, however, prevent his subsequent excommunication.

This crusade was saved from utter and ignominious failure only by the arrival of fresh enthusiasts from the West. Bands from Friesland and the banks of the Rhine had taken ships on the Baltic and coasted by France and Portugal. They told of the luminous crosses which appeared in the heavens and signalled them by moving towards the East, and how squadrons of angels had fought with them against the Moors on the Tagus.

The courage of their brethren was thus rekindled to venture at the opening of spring (1218) upon an invasion of Egypt. The chronicler tells us of a favorable omen here observed by the crusaders: the water of the Nile, which was sweet to the taste on their arrival, afterwards became salt.

The city of Damietta was guarded by a strong tower, which rose from the middle of the Nile, and was connected with the walls by an immense chain which impeded the passage of ships. The crusaders attacked this unavailingly. There were in the host certain skilled mechanics, who, “by the inspiration of the Almighty,” constructed an enormous wooden tower, which floated upon two vessels and overtopped the walls of the great citadel. In vain did the Moslems set fire to this with streams of liquid flame. The prayers of the monks on the shore, together with the “tears of the faithful,” and, we may add, the abundant oblation of the buckets, soon subdued the conflagration. The huge drawbridge which dropped from the top of the floating tower successfully landed upon the walls three hundred brave knights. Their valor, together with the spiritual prowess of the patriarch, who lay stretched on the ground wrestling with the will of Heaven, was resistless, and soon the flag of the Duke of Austria was flying from the ramparts; not, however, until the usual band of celestial knights in white armor had dazzled the eyes of the Moslems, so that they could not see where to strike their foes. This was on August 24th, which, being St. Bartholomew’s day, enabled the crusaders also to see that saint, clad in red, at the head of their celestial assistants.

Mastering the tower of the Nile and breaking the chain which obstructed the channel, the Christian fleet lay close to the walls of the city.

Seventeen months were destined to pass in the siege of Damietta. In September Malek-Ahdel died. He had before formally laid down the chieftainship, and divided his realm among his many sons; but his prestige and continually sought counsel made him until his death the virtual head of the Moslem power. He maintained a sumptuous court and a splendid palace, the recesses of which were regarded by the faithful as a sanctuary where Heaven daily blessed its favorite son. The various courts saluted him as “king of kings,” and the camps hailed him as saphadin, the “sword of religion.” His death threw a shadow upon the Moslem world.