But the hour was now fast approaching when the vigorous and sincere faith which had inspired the apostles of the First Crusade was once more to revive and to shine forth in all its pristine brilliancy; and it was again in France that the flame of Christian devotion was to be rekindled at the cry which still found its echo in every heart, the cry of “Dieu le veut!” The French nation, the eldest daughter of the Church, had then at its head one of those pure and simple-minded men whom Providence too rarely raises up for the honour and welfare of mankind. Louis IX., the son of Blanche of Castile, and the grandson of King Philip Augustus, united in his pure and magnanimous soul all the gentle virtues of his mother to the generous and chivalrous sentiments of his grandfather.
Whilst bestowing an assiduous and intelligent care on the government, and, it may be said, on the regeneration of his kingdom, whilst devoting the influence of his moral authority to appease the political discord which was agitating and devastating Europe, the sainted king could not forget that his Eastern brethren were groaning under slavery and persecution. The object of his dreams, at some future day when his kingly task should be nearing its accomplishment, when peace should reign in his dominions and in those of his neighbours, was to deliver Jerusalem and to drive the Saracen from the Holy Land. He was forced to postpone this noble undertaking, but it was only to await a more propitious opportunity of carrying it out in a thoroughly efficacious manner.
“Or advint,” says the Sire de Joinville in his Memoirs, “que le roi cheut en une grande maladie, et tellement fut au bas, qu’une des dames qui le gardoient, cuidant qu’il fût oultre, lui voulut couvrir le visage d’un linceul, et de l’autre part du lit y eut une autre dame qui ne le voulut souffrir. Or Notre-Seigneur ouvra en lui et lui redonna la parole; et demanda le bon roi qu’on lui apportât la croix; ce qui fut fait. Et quand la bonne dame, sa mère, sut qu’il eut recouvré la parole, elle en eut une si grande joie qui plus ne se pouvoit, mais quand elle le vit croisé, elle fut aussi transie que si elle l’eût vu mort (1244).”[9]
Notwithstanding, however, the grief of the queen-mother, who, in spite of her devotion to the holy cause, feared lest the absence of the king might prove disadvantageous to France, Louis IX., having once taken the vow, was determined faithfully to perform it. Moreover, he was encouraged by seeing that his example alone had more influence than the warmest exhortations of his preachers, for, as soon as it was known that their revered sovereign had assumed the cross, zeal revived among all classes, faith regained its sway, and an impatience to set forth on the crusade manifested itself on all sides.
But the king, sagacious and prudent in spite of his ardour, and forewarned by the errors of his predecessors, was unwilling to give the signal until he had taken all proper precautions and made all necessary arrangements. Three years elapsed, during which Louis IX. continued his preparations, and collected provisions of every kind, which were conveyed to Cyprus, the spot chosen for the general rendezvous of the Crusaders; in the meantime, he busied himself in preparing, in the interests of his kingdom, for the events that might take place in his absence. At length, having appointed his mother regent, he embarked from the port of Aigues-Mortes on the 15th of August, 1248, with his wife, his brother, and his principal adherents. At Cyprus he was joined in turn by all the nobles of France, with their men-at-arms and their vassals. He passed the winter in organizing the expedition, which was first destined for Egypt; for, of all the Mahometan chiefs who were at that time contending for the possession of Palestine, the Sultan of Cairo, who had already made himself master of Syria, was considered the most powerful, and it was the opinion of the most competent soldiers that the conquest of the Holy Land must commence on the shores of the Nile.
Everything seemed to promise a happy result. A considerable fleet, a numerous and well-disciplined army, an abundant supply of provisions, arms, and military stores, the supreme command concentrated in one hand, and, above all, a real feeling of devotion to the sacred cause—a feeling inspired by the exhortations and the example of the king—such were the elements from which the Seventh Crusade might have hoped to attain success.
In the spring, eighteen hundred vessels sailed from Cyprus, where they had been fitted out, and conveyed the crusading army to Damietta. The king, armed from head to foot, was one of the first to spring ashore. Several of his knights and men-at-arms followed him, and, in the midst of a shower of darts, dispersed the Saracens, with whom the shore was covered, and drove them back in disorder into the town (Fig. 107). The attack was so bold and so unforeseen, that the infidels, struck with terror, no longer believed themselves secure behind the walls which thirty years before had sustained a siege of eighteen months, and abandoned Damietta without striking a blow in its defence.
The possession of this stronghold, situated on the sea-coast at the mouth of the Nile, would have been of but little importance to the Crusaders, but its conquest had been so rapid and easy that they were led by the intoxication of success to neglect the first elements of prudence and discipline. Their entry into the town was the signal for its pillage, in spite of the orders and entreaties of the king, whose humane and generous character was repugnant to this act of barbarism.
The Christian host should have profited by the enemy’s discomfiture, and immediately have penetrated into the interior of the country, instead of remaining, as it did, stationary for five months, either on account of the periodic inundations of the river, or in expectation of the reinforcements which were due from Europe. This long delay, which fostered idleness, dissipation, and insubordination, was fatal to the expedition. When the king at last gave the order to advance, he had under his orders none but effeminate, enervated troops, without obedience and without discipline; and the Saracens, who had had plenty of time to forget their panic and overcome their discouragement, found, in the demoralization of their enemies, a still further ground for comfort, and a fresh motive for confidence.
