“Signor, saciez, ki or ne s’en ira
En cele terre, u Diex fu mors et vis,
Et ki la crois d’outre mer ni prendra
À paines mais ira en paradis.”
Thibault de Champagne.
We are not writing a history of the Crusades, and must hasten over all those episodes in the long struggle of three hundred years which do not immediately concern the Holy City. It is with regret that one turns from the glowing pages of Vinsauf, Villehardouin, and Joinville, with the thought that they have little to do with our subject, and that we must perforce leave them for other pastures, not so fair.[[72]] But a few words to show the progress of events, if it is only to make us understand the story of Saladin, are indispensable.
[72]. Why has no English historian treated of the Crusades? Besides the scattered notices in Milman there is only the work of Knightley, meritorious in its way, but as dry as sawdust; spoiled, too, by the accident that it was written for the Society for the Promotion of Christian Knowledge, and the author seems always horribly afraid of saying something which might offend the Committee.
The news of the fall of Jerusalem was received in Europe with a thrill of horror and indignation. From every pulpit, preachers thundered in the ears of the stupefied people the intelligence that the city for which so much had been risked and spent was fallen, and that it was the judgment of God upon the sins of the world. Terrified and conscience-stricken, all Europe repented and reformed. Luxury was abandoned, mortifications and self-denial were practised; every sinner looked on the fall of the city as partly caused by himself; nothing but prayers and lamentation were heard through all the cities of Western Europe. And then when Pope Gregory sent his circular letter exhorting the faithful to take up arms for the recovery of Jerusalem, and when William of Tyre, eloquent, noble in appearance, illustrious for learning and for virtues, came to Europe to pray for help in the name of Christianity, kings forgot their quarrels, nobles their ambitions, and it seemed as if, once more, the cry of “Dieu le veut” would burst spontaneously from the whole of Western Europe. It might have done had there been a man with the energy and eloquence of Peter the Hermit. But the moment of enthusiasm was allowed to pass, and Philip Augustus after taking the Cross, delayed his Crusade, while he renewed his quarrel with Henry the Second.
In England and in France, in order to defray expenses, a tax called the Tithe of Saladin, consisting of a tenth part of all their goods, was levied on every person who did not take the Cross. The clergy, with their usual greed, endeavoured to evade the tax, on the ground that the Church must keep her property in order to preserve her independence. They were overruled, however, and had all to pay, except a few of the poorer orders, and the Lepers’ Hospitals. In every parish the Tithe of Saladin was raised in the presence of a priest, a Templar, a Hospitaller, a king’s man, a baron’s man and clerk, and a bishop’s clerk. As this did not produce enough, Philip Augustus arrested all the Jews, and forced them to pay five thousand marks of silver. In order to prevent such a rush of villagers as might lead, as it had already led, to the desertion of the fields, every one had to pay the tithe except those who took the Cross with the permission of their seigneur. And when the money had all been collected, war broke out again between the two kings of France and England. Peace was made between them by aid of the pope’s legate, but Henry died in the midst of his preparations. Richard saw in the death of his father the consequence of his own unfilial conduct, and took the Cross as a sign of his unfeigned repentance. Baldwin, Archbishop of Canterbury, preached the Crusade throughout England. It was the first time that it had been preached here, and the old enthusiasm of the French was aroused among the English. All wanted to take the Cross; wives hid their husbands’ clothes; they ran naked to Baldwin. Everywhere all sorts of miracles took place; the people gathered the very dust which the bishop had trodden on as a holy relic; they flocked together from every part of England, Wales, Ireland, and Scotland, and if the numbers were less than those which went from France it was because a selection was made, and only those went who obtained permission to go. The religious zeal of the English found its first exercise in the famous massacre of the Jews. From them Richard got large sums of money, and as, with all his resources, he could not get enough, he mortgaged a large part of his estates, sold the dignities of the crown, and was quite ready to sell the city of London itself, could he have found a purchaser.
In one respect this Crusade started with far better prospects of success than any which had preceded it. They went by sea, thus avoiding the horrible sufferings inevitable in crossing Asia Minor; and they established a code of laws, to maintain discipline and order in the army. Whosoever struck another was to be dipped three times in the sea; whosoever drew his sword upon another was to have his right hand cut off; whosoever swore at another was to be fined an ounce of silver for every oath; if a man were convicted of theft he was to be shaven, hot pitch was to be poured on his head, which was then covered with feathers, and he was to be put upon the nearest shore; while if a man murdered another, he was to be tied to the corpse, and both bodies thrown together into the sea. No woman was to go with the Crusaders at all, save such as were necessary for the service of the camp, and those only who were of sufficient age to be above suspicion. No one was to practise gaming in any shape whatever; and all luxury in dress or in the table was forbidden. Thus the army started with the most admirable intentions as regards virtue. It was to be a camp where there was no vice, no gaming, no swearing, no violence—under penalties of boiling pitch and feathers, abandonment on a savage coast, the loss of the right hand.