fl^w^^K 'V^^fe' *<&$ TO*/. * > -^flKji: ^> -> Sa. I? I *& LIBKAKX LIFE AND TIMES RICHARD THE FIRST. tf / /'/ / / /r ///////// f r////v//' ///, y /v // . THE LIFE AND TIMES OF RICHARD THE FIRST, Contr#&r#fon, KING OF ENGLAND. BY WILLIAM E. AYTOUN. Ma tu de' pensier nostri ultimo segno Espugnar di Sinn le nobil mura, E sottrare i Christian! al girco indegno, Di servitn cosi spiacente, e dura, Fondando in Falestina n novo Regno, Ou' habbia la pieta sede sicura: Ne ia chi neghi al Peregrin devoto D' adorar la gran tomba, e sciorre il voto. Tissa Giermalemmt Liberals. LONDON: PRINTED FOR THOMAS TEGG, 73, CHEAPSIDE. LONDON ! - BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITKFRFARS. PREFACE. THE only records of our earlier English history are the Histories and Chronicles of the Monks, the solitary class of men who then cultivated litera- ture and science, or had sufficient leisure or learning to depict the stirring events which perpetually passed around them. These histories are all written in Latin; for the English language, as now spoken, did then not exist no amalgamation of the Nor- man and Saxon tongues had been effected the first was the language of the higher, and the latter, of the lower classes. Such records are very valu- able, since, as they could not be intended for publi- cation, but were written for the exclusive use of the Monasteries or Abbeys to which the authors belonged, we find them generally accurate and faith- ful, as will be seen in almost every instance when collated together. From these sources, therefore, our VI PREFACE. later historians have been forced to draw the materials for their works, and have entered more or less minutely into the history, policy, and events, of each successive reign. Notwithstanding the great amount of talent, learning, and industry, which has been brought to the task, it is plain, that the authors of the long and continuous Histories of England from its nominal commencement must, in order to keep their works within a reasonable compass, have omitted much valuable information, illustrative of the feelings and manners of the times, and also avoided such minor occurrences as did not produce a marked effect upon the state and policy of the country. For the same reason, they have been forced to notice, very slightly, the politics of other countries, by which our own were often influenced and guided. Thus, the popular histories of England, in referring to the remoter periods, do little more than exhibit a faint out- line, leaving a wider field to speculation than to thought. This is peculiarly the case with regard to the reign of Coeur-de-Lion. Not one of our English monarchs has achieved a wider fame than Richard, and yet his personal history is, perhaps, of all others, least studied or generally understood. All men know that he rebelled against his father, but PREFACE. Vll comparatively few are aware of the causes which led to that rebellion. All know that he conducted a crusade to the Holy Land, and there encountered Saladin, but few, save laborious students, are ac- quainted with the real extent of his conquests, or the causes which drove him back, almost a fugitive, to Europe. As for his subsequent imprison- ment, the story of Blondel de Nesle, unsupported by any competent testimony, yet daily quoted as an historical fact, is a strong proof of the looseness of our general information. Yet hardly any period, of the romantic ages at least, is more interesting, or better entitled to a close examinination at our hands. I have therefore attempted in this volume to give as clear and distinct, and, at the same time, as par- ticular a narrative, of the principal events which occurred at home and abroad during the reign of the Lion-hearted monarch, as I could obtain from the old records to which my attention was directed ; and at the same time I have endeavoured to keep Richard personally in view throughout, except where it appeared necessary to go somewhat back, in order to give an idea of the origin of events which were to be developed in the course of the narrative. Some apology might otherwise be due for the sketch of the Crusades, and progress of the Latin kingdom Vlll PREFACE. in Palestine, contained in the fifth and sixth chap- ters of this volume ; but so much of the interest of this reign is derived from the Holy Wars, and so ex- traordinary is the history of the origin and establish- ment of a Christian dynasty in Syria, that I felt myself justified in so far departing from the main object of the work. The authorities which I have principally consulted are as follows: Rogeri de Hoveden Annalium Pars prior, et posterior Matthsei Paris, Monachi Albanensis, Angli, Historia Major Gulielmi Neubri- gensis Historia, sive Chronica Rerum Angli carum Benedictus, Abbas Petroburgensis, de Vita et Gestis Henrici II. et Ricardi I. Chronica Gualteri Hem- ingford, Canonici de Gisseburne Ge offry Vine- sauf's Itinerarium Regis Anglorum Ricardi, et aliorum, in Terram Hierosolymarum, &c. I have also received much information from the works of the Arabian writers Bohadin and Abulfeda; very interesting in so far as regards the movements, con- duct, and feelings, of the Saracens, and more par- ticularly of Saladin, the great Asiatic opponent of Richard. In addition to those I have frequently had occasion to refer to the French historians of the Crusades, viz.: Foulchier de Chartres, Odon de Deuil, Guillaume de Tyr, Bernard le Tresorier, and Jacques de Vitry. Most of those last are PREFACE. IX to be found in M. Guizot's splendid work, " Col- lection des Memoires sur 1'Histoire de France," for which the world of letters has much reason to be grateful. It is still to be regretted that no attempt has been made to reprint the works of our earlier historians in a similar form. The task might be too great for one individual, but could be easily forwarded by the co-operation of the learned societies or clubs, who have already done something to res- cue our ancient literature from oblivion. Such edi- tions as that of the Chronicon de Lanercost, presented to the Maitland Club by the late respected Mr. Campbell of Blythswood, would, if placed within reach of the public, be found of invaluable service to the scholar and the student. In conclusion, it may be proper to state, that the object of the following pages is merely to reproduce the material, which has not been collected without some pains and labour, in a popular form. If, in the opinion of those best qualified to judge, he shall be thought to have effected this, and to have made more perspicuous a somewhat obscure portion of the pages of English history, the utmost wish of the author will be gratified. Edinburgh, March 1, 1840. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. PAGE The Norman Conquest State of England during the Reign of Stephen Accession of Henry II. His Family Dissensions with France Thomas a Becket, Archbishop of Canter- bury His Character Privileges of the Clergy Collision between them and the King Constitutions of Clarendon Disgrace of Becket Expedition against Wales Richard affianced to Adelais, Daughter of Louis of France Corona- tion of the young Prince Henry Return of Becket to England His Murder Conquest of Ireland Henry is reconciled to the Pope Rebellion of his Sons and his Queen Eleanor League of the Princes with the King of France Military Operations and Conference at Gisors Inroad of the Scots and Rebellion of the English Nobles Return of Henry to England His Penance Capture of the King of Scots Henry is reconciled to his Sons Rich- ard in Guienne State of the Holy Land and Embassy from Queen Sybilla Insolent Behaviour of Heraclius, Patriarch of Jerusalem . . . .1 CHAPTER II. Disputes among the Princes Refusal of Richard to do Ho- mage to his Brother War in Guienne Prince Henry takes the Cross His Death Conduct and Death of Geoffry Cause of the Disputes between Richard and his Father His Alliance with Philip of France The Third Crusade preached by William Archbishop of Tyre Preparations for the Crusade Saladin's Tithe .Intrigues of Philip and Richard Incursions on Touraine Conference of Bon- Moulins Final Rupture between Henry and Richard Interference of the Legate-cardinal of Anagni Spirited Behaviour of Philip War in the Territory of Maine Peace concluded at Azay Narrative of the Conference there Death of Henry II. His Obsequies, Character, and Family . . . . . .28 Xll CONTENTS. CHAPTER III. PAGE Richard's Policy on his Accession to the Throne Amicable Adjustment with Philip Eleanor appointed Regent Order of Richard's Coronation Disturbance caused by the Intrusion of the Jews Outrages against that People in different Parts of England, and horrible Massacre at York Richard's Preparations for the Crusade Anecdote of the Bishop of Durham Disposal of the Crown-Lands and public Offices Homage of the King of Scotland remitted Embassy from Philip William Longchamp, Bishop of Ely. appointed Chancellor and Justiciary Richard crosses over to France Final Arrangements before his Departure Great Meeting at Vezelai Richard arrives at Marseilles His personal Appearance, Temper, and Reputation . . . . .52 CHAPTER IV. Arrival of Richard at Messina His Reception by King Tan- cred Disturbances with the Natives Their Attack upon the English Richard takes Messina by Assault Dispute with Philip Richard makes a Treaty with Tancred Builds the Castle of Mategriffon Encounter of Richard and William de Barres The Abbot Joachim of Haute- pierre Domestic History Queen Eleanor arrives in Sicily with the Princess Berengaria of Navarre Tancred reveals to Richard the Treachery of Philip Marriage of Richard and Adelais finally broken off Richard leaves Messina Seizure of some of his Ships at Cyprus, and Attempt of the Emperor Isaac to seize on his Sister and Berengaria Richard takes Limesol, and defeats the whole Army of the Cypriots with a few of his Knights Treachery of Isaac Richard takes Famagosta and Nicosia Arrival of Guy of Lusignan, whose Party is adopted by the King Marriage of Richard and Berengaria Richard leaves Cyprus Encounters and sinks a large Turkish Trireme Arrives at Acre ..... CHAPTER V. State of Palestine after the first Crusade Hostility of the Turks Capture of Edessa by Noureddin The Second Crusade preached by Saint Bernard Expedition of Louis CONTENTS. Xlll PAGE VII. and the Emperor Conrad III. Misfortunes of the Germans, and Treachery of the Greek Emperor, Manuel Great Defeat of the Germans in Cappadocia Arrival of the French in Asia Passage of the Mseander Battle of Laodicea Arrival of the Crusaders in Palestine Siege of Damascus Dissentions among the Syrian Nobles Return of the Crusaders Military Orders of Knighthood The Hospitallers The Templars Antioch attacked by Noured- din Death of Baldwin III. Amaury's Egyptian Expe- dition Shiracouch and Saladin despatched to Egypt Defeat of Amaury Egypt occupied by Saladin for the Caliph of Bagdat: Death of Noureddin ; of Amaury Baldwin IV. and V. Guy de Lusignan elected King of Jerusalem Quarrel with Count Raymond, of Tripoli Great Preparations by Saladin for the Invasion of the Holy Land ..... 106 CHAPTER VI. Advance of Saladin Combat of the Turks and Templars Death of Gamier of Naplouse, Grand Master of the Hos- pitallers Reconciliation of Lusignan and Raymond of Tri- poli Battle of Tiberias and Defeat of the Christians Conduct of Saladin after the Battle His further Con- quests Siege and Surrender of Jerusalem Generosity of the Sultan History of Conrad, Marquis of Mont- serrat His arrival at Tyre Defence of that City Valour of a Spanish Cavalier Destruction of the Turkish Fleet Abandonment of the Siege New Crusade preached in Europe Expedition of the Emperor Frederick BarbaVossa His death Saladin repulsed at Tripoli Lusignan set at liberty Refusal of the Marquis Conrad to admit him \ntgf Tyre Commencement of the Siege of Acre Arrival of new Crusaders Great Buttle fought before the Town Gallantry of the Knights Templars The Christians besieged in their Camp Arrival of the Count of Champagne Isabella divorces Humphrey of Thoron and marries the Marquis of Montserrat, who claims the Crown of Jeru- salem Arrival of the German Crusaders, under Fre- derick, Duke of Suabia New Attack upon Acre, and Gallantry of Duke Leopold 'of Austria Death of the Duke of Suabia, and Return of the Germans Privations of the Christian Army during the Siege . . 139 XIV CONTENTS. CHAPTER VII. PAGE Joy of he Crusaders at Richard's Arrival at Acre ; and Jea- lousy of Philip and the Marquis Conrad State of the Siege Richard's Illness Unsuccessful Attack upon the City by Philip Death of Alberic Clement, Marshal of France Richard continues the Siege; effects a Breach, but is re- pulsed Offer by the Garrison to capitulate refused Gene- ral Assault upon the City, and final Surrender Further Disagreement between Richard and Philip Dispute for the Crown of Jerusalem finally settled Departure of Philip from the Holy Land Saladin puts to death the Christian Captives ; and Richard in return causes the Garrison of Acre to be beheaded Preparations for the Campaign March to Caiphas Attack of the Turks repelled Order of the March Arrival at Cesarea Hardships of the Cru- saders Skirmish near Cesarea The Army are harassed by the Saracens during their advance inland Want of Provisions Arrival at the River of Assur, and prepara- tions for a general Engagement . . . 1 70 CHAPTER VIII. Battle of Assur, and Defeat of the Saracens Death of James D'Avesnes Arrival of the Crusaders at Joppa Saladin destroys the Fortifications of Ascalon Adventure of Richard Combat between the Templars and Saracens Negotiations of Conrad and Richard with Saladin Quarrels amongst the Crusaders Their advance to Ascalon Defection of the Dukes of Austria and Burgundy The French retire to Acre Disputes of the Pisans and Genoese Alarming intelligence from England and proposed Return of Richard Conrad of Montserrat and Tyre elected King of Jerusalem Account of the Haussassiz Conrad mur- dered by the Emissaries of the Old Man of the Moun- tain Marriage of Count Henry of Champagne with Isa- bella, whereby he acquires the Crown of Jerusalem . 199 CONTENTS. XV CHAPTER IX. PAGE The Duke of Burgundy returns to the Army Capture of Darutn Richard makes over the Island of Cyprus to Guy of Lusignan Advance to Bethanopolis Skirmishes with the Saracens, and Valour of the Earl of Leicester and the Bishop of Salisbury Siege of Jerusalem proposed Capture of a valuable Caravan by Richard Retreat from Bethanopolis Final Defection of the French and Disper- sion of the Crusaders Saladin takes Joppa, whereupon Richard sails to the Relief of the Garrison The English land and recover the Town Desperate Engagement with the Saracens Personal Daring of Richard and final Victory Noble Conduct of Malek-el-Adel Proposals of Peace accepted The Christians visit Jerusalem Interview be- tween the Sultan and the Bishop of Salisbury Richard accepts an Escort from the Templars and departs for Europe Lands near Trieste His Adventures and Capture at Vienna by the Duke of Austria . . . 232 CHAPTER X. Government of England during the third Crusade Disputes between the Chancellor and the Bishop of Durham Op- pressive Conduct, of the former, and Intrigues of Prince John Assault upon the Archbishop of York The Chan- cellor is deposed Interference of the Pope in his behalf Return of Philip from the Crusade He prepares to invade Normandy The Duke of Austria transfers the Custody of Richard to the Emperor Henry General excitement throughout Europe at the news of his Imprisonment Measures taken by the English Government Accusation and Appearance of Richard before the Germanic Diet His Ransom fixed John enters into a Treaty with Philip, who invades Normandy The Ransom is raised in England Richard arrives at Sandwich Reduces Nottingham Cas- tle Is recrowned at Winchester Receives a Visit from William of Scotland Crosses to Normandy, and pardons his Brother John . . . 261 XVI CONTENTS. CHAPTER XI. PAGE Military Operations in Normandy Defeat of the French Tournaments first established in England Disputes of the Archbishops of Canterbury and York Richard's Conduct towards his Brother and Nephews Proposed Marriage between Otho of Saxony and the Daughter of William the Lion Policy of the Church of Rome Negotiations with the Emperor War with France continued Letter from the Old Man of the Mountain Its Authenticity discussed Scandalous Behaviour of Philip to the Danish Princess Riot in London History and Death of William Fitz- Osbert Character and Conduct of Hubert Archbishop of Canterbury and of Hugh Bishop of Lincoln Dispute with the Archbishop of Rouen, and Fortification of Andeli Marriage of Richard's Sister Joanna, and Succession of William Longespee to the Earldom of Salisbury . .291 CHAPTER XII. State of Bretagne Prince Arthur The Earl of Flanders enters into an alliance with Richard Military Operations in France The Bishop of Beauvais taken Prisoner His Letter to the Pope, and the Reply Laws for the Encour- agement of Manufactures, &c. in England Its State at the Time Death of Saladin New Crusade from Germany Death of Henry of Champagne Of the Emperor Henry and of Pope Celestine Otho elected Emperor New War with France The French routed at Gamages and Courcelles Peace concluded between the two Countries Philip accuses John of Treachery, which is disproved Richard in Aquitaine Demands a Treasure found by the Viscount of Limoges Besieges the Castle of Chaluz Is wounded by an Arrow from the Walta His Death and Character ; . . . . .322 NOTES (Appendix) . . . . . . .351 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF RICHARD THE FIRST. CHAPTER I. The Norman Conquest State of England during the Reign of Ste- phen Accession of Henry II. His Family Dissensions with France Thomas a Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury His Character Privileges of the Clergy Collision between them and the King Constitutions of Clarendon Disgrace of Becket Expedition against Wales Richard affianced to Adelais, Daughter of Louis of France Coronation of the young Prince Henry Return of Becket to England His Murder Conquest of Ire- land Henry is reconciled to the Pope Rebellion of his Sons and his Queen Eleanor League of the Princes with the King of France Military Operations and Conference at Gisors In- road of the Scots and Rebellion of the English Nobles Return of Henry to England His Penance Capture of the King of Scots Henry is reconciled to his Sons Richard in Guienne State of the Holy Land and Embassy from Queen Sybilla Insolent Behaviour of Heraclius, Patriarch of Jerusalem. IT is difficult to decide whether the Norman conquest, by means of which the system of chivalry was introduced into England, was at first produc- tive of salutary or of noxious effects. ' Although that system, hy the powerful aid of fiction, appears to us now, like a dazzling day-dream, surrounded with adventitious glory, there was much in its nature 2 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF opposed to the progress of social improvement, and to that state of fraternization which constitutes the safeguard and prosperity of kingdoms. Still it was of use as a transition from greater barbarism, such as prevailed in England during the rule of the Saxons ; and since, from its own nature, it could not be of long continuance, but must be and was modi- fied by the expansion of the virtues of which it con- tained the germ, whereas the other state held out no promise of further improvement, the Norman con- quest may be considered in nearly the same light as the Roman invasion, which first reclaimed the English savage from the hands of untutored nature. It is not our purpose to trace the progress of the new dynasty to a remoter period than the accession of Henry II. When that monarch ascended the throne, he found his insular possessions in a state of the utmost desolation and distress. The civil war, which throughout the whole of Stephen's reign raged with unceasing violence, arose from the competition for the crown, between that monarch and Matilda the mother of Henry, and produced the most baleful effects upon the country at large. Stephen's autho- rity was never sufficiently grounded to restrain his powerful vassals from committing excesses, which in that rude and lawless age were both frequent and cruel. Many of the barons, without espousing the party of either candidate, retired to their castles, and, collecting around them gangs of desperate ruf- fians, commenced a system of plunder and pillage of their neighbours' property. Where castles were want- ing, churches were seized and fortified ; the house of God became in the most literal sense a den of thieves : RICHARD THE FIRST. 3 and, in short, so miserably weak was the executive power, that the life and property of none could be considered safe. Even the thunders of the church, usually esteemed so terrible, were disregarded by these marauders. Priests suffered equally with lay- men, and the whole country was thrown into a state of anarchy and confusion. The reconciliation of Ste- phen and Matilda, and the appointment of Henry a9 successor to the crown, tended but little to restore England to tranquillity ; nor was it until the death of Stephen and the accession of Henry, that the rebellious barons were compelled to acknowledge the paramount authority of the king. In the year 1154, Henry II., being then in his twenty-first year, ascended the throne of England* No monarch, perhaps, ever commenced his reign under more promising auspices ; few have met with a larger share of vexation, hostility, and disappoint- ment. Even before he succeeded to his English possessions, he was one of the most powerful princes in Christendom. From his father he inherited Anjou and Touraine, from his mother, Maine and Nor- mandy ; and with his wife, Eleanor of Poitou, the divorced spouse of Louis of France, he received the seven important provinces of Poitou, Saintonge, Au- vergue, Perigord, Angoumois, Limousin andGuienne. As vassal of the French king he was at least as powerful as his feudal lord, and far more so when to his other possessions he added the sovereignty of England. Rich, active, and enterprising, he was hailed on his arrival, by his new subjects, with every demonstration of joy; and the commencement of his career seemed to promise a long and uninterrupted B 2 4 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF course of prosperity to himself and to the realm. His first care was to suppress the power of those nobles who, during the previous reign, had grown up from vassals into lawless and independent chiefs, and to deprive them of those castles which were now transformed into the strongholds of rohbery and rapine. In this he succeeded, though not without some opposition ; but the barons being constantly engaged in petty warfare with each other, could not make any united or effectual resistance, and conse- quently were gradually overcome and deprived of their immoderate power. Having so far succeeded in reinstating the tranquillity of the country, Henry turned his attention towards the northern frontier, and without much difficulty received from Malcolm, the minor king of Scotland, the three coimties of Northumberland, Cumberland, and Westmoreland, in exchange for the earldom of Huntingdon. As our sketch of the events occurring during Henry's reign must necessarily.be short, owing to the abundance of materials presented to us in that after- stage of English history, which it is our present pur- pose to elucidate, we cannot give a detailed account of the many wars and political negociations in which that prince was concerned, but shall only allude to the most remarkable as bearing upon the history of his son. Henry, by his wife Eleanor, had eight chil- dren William, who died in infancy, Henry, Rich- ard, Geoffry, John, and three daughters, besides other offspring, the fruit of illegitimate amours. With the view to strengthen his alliance \vith the French king, and furthermore to prevent certain dis- putes touching his patrimonial territories, which were RICHARD THE FIRST. 5 likely to arise from a disputed clause in his father's will, Henry had no sooner established himself firmly in his English dominions, than he entered into a O ' treaty by which Henry, his eldest surviving son, was affianced to Margaret the infant daughter of Louis. This important negociation was conducted by the celebrated Thomas a Becket, then chancellor of the kingdom and archdeacon of Canterbury, whose personal history forms a prominent feature of the time. The prospect, however, of this alliance was naturally too distant to form a firm or an en- during tie ; and a fresh cause of dissension presently arose between the kings of France and England, in the claim advanced to the duchy of Toulouse by Raymond, count of St. Gilles. The consequence of this new dispute was a war which produced no material results, and was afterwards ended by the papal intervention; but cordial amity never after- wards prevailed between the monarchs. Henry soon found ample occupation at home, and Louis, though indisposed to recur to actual hostilities, lost no opportunity of strengthening by his secret inter- est every cabal most obnoxious to his English rival. In 1161, died Theobald, archbishop of Canterbury, a good and a wise prelate, to whose advice and assist- ance Henry owed much of his early prosperity. The situation thus left vacant was one of the high- est importance, as the revenues and patronage of the see, besides its spiritual dignity, rendered its occu- pant the most important personage in England after the king. Henry, who during the vacancy drew the revenues, allowed a period of thirteen months to elapse without nominating a successor ; at. last, as 6 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP was anticipated by the country at large, his choice fell upon the chancellor Becket, who was immedi- ately installed into office. It has been said by some writers that Becket was most unwilling to accept the distinction thus thrust upon him, as he fore- saw that the necessary consequence of such an exalt- ation must be a series of disputes with the king and might draw down his severest enmity no light matter, since Henry was one of the most implacable of mankind ; and that he would have much pre- ferred to remain in a situation, better adapted to his natural character than that of primate of the church. These assertions, however, have been chiefly made by the notorious advocates of Becket's policy, and defenders of his personal character. Others, whose evidence is at least as credible, have asserted the con- trary ; and there seems every reason to believe, from his behaviour both before and afterwards, that he not only expected the distinguished office, but had maturely considered the line of conduct which he should thereafter pursue. It is probable that Henry, in making this appointment, expected to secure a partisan and a coadjutor in one whom he had always found a pliant and a politic servant ; without con- sidering that the same motives which made him tractable and useful in the one character, might render him stubborn and dangerous in the other. Certain it is, that no sooner was Becket appointed archbishop, than his character and bearing underwent a remark- able change. As chancellor he was distinguished for his love of pomp and show, the magnificence of his establishment, his courtesy to the nobles, and his veneration for the king : as archbishop he affected RICHARD THE FIRST. 7 to despise all external splendour ; his train was nar- rowed and reduced ; he became reserved and haughty, difficult of access, cold, sullen, and insolent. As if to show how little he regarded the interests of his patron, he sent back the seals of his former office to the king without explanation or apology, and that at a moment when his services as chancellor were imperatively required. Henry was hurt and disap- pointed ; the nobles regarded with alarm the power thus cast into the hands of an ambitious and unprin- cipled man, and lost no opportunity of fanning the spark of rancour ; while the clergy in general ex- ulted in what they called the noble spirit of their champion, and already began to calculate on further possessions to be wrung from the laity, and greater privileges to be conferred on the servants of mother church. But other eyes than theirs were directed towards the same object. Not only the hereditary nobility, but the commons at large, had remarked with corresponding jealousy the augmenting power andpro- gress of the religious institutions, which threatened, if not speedily arrested, to attain an undue preponder- ance in the state, and to curtail not only their rights and privileges, but the power and authority of the king. Henry himself was perfectly conscious of the absolute necessity which existed of setting some bounds to this spirit of clerical ascendancy, and an opportunity to commence the attack was soon afforded him by the conduct of the bishops them- selves. The special authority and jurisdiction of the civil and ecclesiastical courts in England were at that time by no means accurately defined. The principle 8 established by the Roman emperors, that all dis- putes among the clergy should be settled in their own courts, was readily admitted ; but the decision of Justinian, who referred all cases, in which only one of the parties was a clergyman, to the same tribunal, gave rise to much dissatisfaction among the laity, who, with great show of justice, complained that in these circumstances undue favour was shown to the other estate. But the greatest grievance of all, and that which was most loudly reprobated, was the jurisdiction claimed by the clergy in strictly criminal cases, wherein any of their own order were concerned. By the canon law, the clergy were excluded from inflicting punishments of blood : the severest sen- tences they could pronounce were mulct, flagellation, and imprisonment; and as every person who had received the tonsure, whether in regular orders or not, was entitled to the full clerical privileges, it often happened that the worst malefactors in their own courts received a trifling sentence, whereas had they been tried in the ordinary courts of the realm, they would have been subjected to a far severer penalty. This provision, as was argued with much justice, plainly held out a bonus for sacrilege and crime, nor was the reform of any law in England more loudly demanded by one party, or more stoutly resisted by the other, than this. At last the civil and ecclesiastical powers were brought to issue on the following case. In the days of Theobald, the predecessor of Becket, Philip de Brois,' a canon of Bedford, had been tried before his bishop for manslaughter, and having been found guilty, was ordained to make payment of a RICHARD THE FIRST. 9 certain sum to the relations of the deceased, by way of recompense. In a subsequent quarrel with the high justiciary, Fitz Peter, this De Brois, presuming too much upon the shelter of his profession, used such offensive language, that the king insisted upon his being tried for the offence in the spiritual court, and the bishops having passed a sentence upon him which the king deemed wholly inadequate, he re- quired the reverend judges to make oath that they had duly exercised their functions. This demand was met by a refusal on the part of the bishops, with the co-operation of Becket, now primate, who warmly espoused the cause of his brethren and order; a reference by the king to the ancient customs of the realm was met by an evasive answer; and Henry, in high wrath, broke up the assembly which he had convened, and appointed another to be held at Cla- rendon, where his will should be publicly declared. In the interval, the other bishops, wisely consider- ing their inability to cope with the king, and perhaps being convinced of the unrighteous nature of their cause, agreed among themselves to conform to the royal will, and so wrought upon Becket, that he at last abandoned his resolution. Accordingly, along with the other bishops, he swore to observe and con- form to the laws and customs of the realm, as then first reduced to writing, and promulgated as the celebrated " Constitutions of Clarendon." By these Constitutions, the separate powers of the civil and ecclesiastical courts were clearly denned; juries were appointed to return verdicts in certain classes of dis- putes between the laity and clergy; members of the latter order might be tried before the civil courts; 10 / THE LIFE AND TIMES OF no tenant of the crown could be excommunicated without the concurrence of the civil judge ; and lastly, from the archbishop an appeal might be made to the king, whose decision in the archiepiscopal court was declared to be final. These were the principal heads of those remarkable Constitutions, which, with- out depriving the clergy of their due influence, set moderate bounds to their privileges, placed them upon a more equal footing with the other classes of the realm, and tended to prevent the undue interference of the pope with matters which lay entirely without his cognizance as head of the Christian church. To these Becket assented, though with sufficient ill will, but no sooner had he retired from the assembly, than he thought proper again to change his mind, and to write a recantation of his oath to the pope, Alexander III. In consequence, no fewer than ten out of the sixteen articles of the Constitutions were condemned by the pope, as contrary to the canons of the church. The king, already ill-disposed towards the archbishop, now regarded him with extreme aver- sion. At last matters went so far, that Becket was summoned to appear before the great council at Nor- thampton, and to defend himself against various charges of perversion of justice, and embezzlement of the royal revenues. Of these he was found guilty, and sentence of restitution was passed upon him. Some of the lesser demands he paid or gave security for, but a claim of restitution to the amount of two hundred and thirty thousand marks, being the alleged amount of the revenues of vacant bishoprics and abbeys which he had drawn while chancellor, was so exor- bitant as to be utterly beyond his means. As a last RICHARD THE FIRST. Jl resource he appealed to the pope. The king, on the other hand, ordered the nobles to proceed in enforcing the decree ; the bishops, who highly disapproved of the conduct of Becket, would have concurred, had they not been withheld by the threat of instant excommu- nication which the archbishop vehemently held out ; the other estates, however, were unanimous, and the head of the English church was declared guilty of perjury and treason. The scene which followed was one of the strangest kind. Becket, transported with passion, persisted in his appeal, denied and set at nought the king's authority, abused in the grossest terms the noblemen who announced his disgrace, and finally left the castle-yard amidst the yells and exe- crations of the people, who treated him as the oppo- nent of their rights ; and from whom, moreover, a favourite in disgrace seldom meets with much sym- pathy or support. England was now no place for the archbishop, who crossed over to France, and after- wards proceeded to the court of his papal protector, Alexander. Expeditions against the native princes of Wales, and the settlement of disputes regarding his conti- nental possessions, engaged the attention of Henry for several years after this violent rupture with the stubborn archbishop. In the first he was not always successful, as the fierce and daring courage of the mountaineers baffled him on more than one occasion; but in the adjustment of the latter, his usual dex- terity was conspicuous, and by uniting his third son, Geoffry, with Constantia, daughter of Conan, earl of Richmond, he secured to his family the important and extensive province of Bretagne. While thus oc- 12 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF cupied inFrance,the consideration of the oldquestionof church rights was again thrust upon him by the pope, who warmly espoused the cause of Becket, and sub- jected the prelates who had opposed him to ecclesi- astical censure ; insomuch that Henry, who, though superior to much of the prejudice of his times, was not prepared to come to open rupture with the pope, consented to receive Becket at various conferences, whereat such modifications of the Constitutions were agreed upon, as seemed to promise for the future more amity between the king and the primate. Not- withstanding these, no perfect confidence could sub- sist between parties whose feelings had been so far outraged by each other. Becket, on his departure, asked the kiss of peace, a token of reconciliation which the king had not the hypocrisy to accord. "We have already stated that the French king took every opportunity of strengthening the hands of Henry's enemies. The English king, according to O O 7 O the tenure of his continental territories, was only a vassal of Louis, and his barons were therefore enti- tled to appeal against him to their feudal lord when- ever they deemed themselves aggrieved. Louis rather encouraged than discountenanced these appeals, in dis- posing of which he found frequent opportunity of loosening his rival's authority, until matters went so far that a general war between France and England was expected. Neither monarch, however, was will- ing to strike the first effectual blow, and another at- tempt was made, by way of marriage, to reconcile the contending parties. The young prince Henry was already espoused to one daughter of Louis. His brother Richard, then a boy of twelve years of age, RICHARD THE FIRST. 13 was now affianced to another daughter, Adelais; and Henry consented to give up Anjou and Maine to his eldest, and Aquitaine to his second son. It was at the same time stipulated that these possessions should be held directly of the French king, an imprudent arrangement certainly for Henry, and one to which much of the domestic discord which embittered the last hours of his life may be attributed. Shortly afterwards he procured the coronation of his eldest son, in spite of the menaces of Beckct, who alleged that, as .primate of England, he alone possessed the right of officiating at the august ceremony. The career of this turbulent priest now drew near its close. Henry, with the probable view of put- ting an end to the disturbances, revolts, and misun- derstandings arising from the intrigues of the arch- bishop with foreign powers, and believing that he would be better able to control this factious subject in England than while abroad, made at last such ~ f concessions as met with the unqualified approbation of the French king and his nobility ; nor could Becket, although still reluctant, refuse to accept them without forfeiting the countenance of his most pow- erful supporters. After six years of exile, the arch- bishop returned to England, but more in the guise of a conqueror than of an offending but pardoned sub- ject. Policy, if not a better feeling, might have sug- gested to him the propriety of avoiding all ostentatious, or offensive demeanour, but the nature of the man was such, that at all risks he resolved to gratify his personal vanity, although at the expense of his sove- reign's credit ; and accordingly, no sooner had he landed, than, instead of returning to his diocese, he) 14 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF commenced a sort of triumphal procession through Kent, in the course of which the people, instigated by the monks, and attracted by the unusual magni- ficence of his parade, welcomed him with shouts of joy. His intention was to have proceeded directly to Woodstock, and paid his respects to the young king, but that prince, in whose memory the personal insult conveyed in the attempted interdict by the archbishop to his coronation was still fresh, despatch- ed a messenger to Becket, declining his attendance, and peremptorily ordering him to retire to his diocese. This unexpected rebuff had the effect of compelling him to return to Canterbury without an audience, but not of controlling his factious spirit. On Christ- mas day thereafter he ascended the pulpit, and after inveighing bitterly against those who had in any way opposed his views, proceeded to excommunicate various noblemen for aggressions on the property of the church, and for personal insults offered to himself; and amongst the number of those thus violently thrust from the pale of the church were several of the king's ministers and officers, with persons of the highest station in the realm. Henry was not the man to brook such insolent defiance of his power. He was still residing in France when the news of this outrageous proceeding was brought him, and in the first transports of his anger is reported to have exclaimed, " Is there not one coward of ye all who eat my bread, who will free me from this turbulent priest?" This hasty expression was but too literally interpreted by four of his knights, William de Tracy, Hugh de More- ville, Reginald Fitzurse, and Richard Brito, who RICHARD THE FIRST. 15 secretly departed from the court, repaired to Canter- bury, and there, under circumstances of peculiar barbarity, murdered Becket at the altar. The sensation which this bloody tragedy produced, not only in England but over all Christendom, was excessive. The thunders of the church were in- stantly levelled against all who had the remotest share in the murder, and against every one who should harbour or defend the assassins. Henry himself was compelled, by a speedy submission, an earnest avowal of his own innocence, and the payment of a large sum, to purchase a suspension from the sentence of excom- munication. The imperious and haughty Becket, whose life had been a tissue of arrogance and dis- loyalty, was canonized by Alexander without the usual formalities; and the excitement which prevailed throughout England was such, that the king deemed it necessary, without waiting for the result of the investigation ordered by the pope, to divert the minds of his subjects by engaging in some foreign enter- prise. This has always been a favourite scheme of monarchs to avert the evil effects of their own mis- government at home, for no plea is more specious than that of national glory, and how can national glory be more easily attained than by ravaging and plundering the possessions of a weaker neighbour ? Ireland was the country whose conquest was doomed to avert the consequences of Beckers mur- der from the head of the English king. Its geogra- phical situation marked it as a desirable acquisition ; and the inferiority of the natives in the art of war, and the dissensions which prevailed amongst the va- rious chieftains or kings, combined to render it an 16 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP easy prey. Richard de Clare, surnamed Strongbow, Earl of Pembroke, a nobleman of ruined fortunes, had already landed in Ireland with a numerous body of adventurers,- had formed an alliance with Dermot king of Leinster, and had possessed himself of Water- ford and Dublin. It was probably the intention of Strongbow to found a dynasty of his own upon the island, but if so he was greatly disappointed, for Henry no sooner learned the success of his vassal than he issued a proclamation, forbidding any more of his subjects to cross over to Ireland, and recalling all those who had already joined in the expedition. Strongbow, like the jackal at the approach of the lion, felt himself compelled to abandon his booty, but by submission and proffers of assistance, was allowed to retain, as vassal, a portion of the territories which he expected to have governed as lord. Henry landed at AVaterford, proceeded to Dublin, and com- pleted the work which his liegeman Pembroke had begun. All the native princes of Ireland, with the exception of those of Ulster, yielded to his authority. Henry, in the spring of the year 1172, returned to England ; and we shall here conclude our notice of the conquest of Ireland by stating that, after his de- parture, the natives recommenced hostilities, and almost succeeded in driving the English from the island. A new treaty, however, was made with O'Connor, king of Connaught, who consented to hold his lands as vassal of the English crown, and in 1177, Henry's general, De Courcy, ancestor of the noble family of Kinsale, succeeded in subjugating the fer- tile province of Ulster. John, the youngest son of Henry, was appointed by his father lord of Ireland, RICHARD THE FIRST. 17 and was confirmed in that high dignity by the pope, but his wanton and insolent behaviour to the native chiefs was stich as to excite a rebellion, and after nine months of misgovernment he was recalled in disgrace. The subsequent management of Ireland was left to John de Courcy, an old and sagacious soldier, who discharged his trust with success. Henry did not tarry long in England, but pro- ceeded with all expedition to Normandy, where, after various conferences, he succeeded in making peace with the papal legates, and was absolved from all censure on account of the murder of Becket. The following were the terms upon which he obtained this immunity. He took a solemn vow and obliga- tion that he would, at the sight of the Knights Tem- plars, consign as much money as would maintain two hundred men-at-arms for the space of one year in the Holy Land ; that he would take the cross, if the pope desired it, and serve against the Saracens either in Palestine or in Spain ; that he would re- store the possessions of the see of Canterbury in full, and reinstate in his favour all persons whom he might in any way have injured on account of their adherence to the now sanctified Becket *. All subjects of dispute seemed now to have termi- nated, and Henry had every reason to expect that the remainder of his reign would be passed in tranquillity. Reconciled to the pope, and at peace with his neighbours, he flattered himself that every threatening cloud had disappeared from the political horizon, and knew not that the storm was brewing *See Hoveden, " Purgatio Hcnrici Regis, pro morte beati Tbo- mae," and the " Charta absolutionis." C 18 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP at home. His eldest son, Henry, a vain and ambi- tious prince, was so wrought upon by his father-in- law Louis, that he had the audacity to demand from his father that he should cede to him entirely either Normandy or England, on the plea that, after his formal coronation, it was beneath his dignity to re- main in the simple capacity of a subject. Henry of course met this proposal with a flat denial, accusing his son of ingratitude, whereupon the prince, with- out further expostulation, left his presence, and fled to the court of his father-in-law. Henry, who, whatever might have been his other faults, was not wanting in affection towards his children, sent to the king of France, entreating him not to countenance a rebellious son in his resistance to a father's command, and received in reply a taunting letter from Louis, wherein the prince's right to the throne of England, after his coronation, was broadly asserted, and his de- termination to support that right as openly avowed. Hardly was Henry recovered from the shock thus suddenly inflicted, than his feelings were still more severely lacerated by the departure of two other sons, Richard and Geoffry, who asserted the same claims as their elder brother, to the territories of Poitou and Bretagne. It now became evident that queen Elea- nor was the instigator of these domestic quarrels. She was a woman of a high and ambitious spirit, qualified by her own talents to have ruled an ex- tensive empire, and most jealous of any innovation on rights which she considered her own. We have already mentioned that she brought to Henry a dowry of seven important provinces. These she fain would have governed herself, but Henry was too fond of RICHARD THE FIRST. 19 rule to commit any part of his jurisdiction to another; and the queen now sought to secure to her children those possessions which she could not in her own per- son enjoy. Moreover, her attachment to her husband had long been converted into a bitter and vindictive feeling. The infidelities of Henry were notorious. He had many mistresses, the most famous of whom was Rosamond de Clifford, the subject of so much romance; and his natural offspring were not only promoted, but publicly acknowledged by the king. All this was gall and wormwood to the proud soul of Eleanor. With that deep resentment which none but a slighted woman can feel, she determined to repay the injury and wrong ; and the method she adopted of alienating the affections of her children from their father, and instigating them to rebellion, was the surest way of effecting her revenge. Although successful so far, she failed in making her own escape, for when on her way, disguised in male attire, to join her sons at the French court, she was seized by the emissaries of her husband, and placed in confinement, from which she was not released until her son Richard succeeded to the throne. The overtures of an ambassador, whom Henry sent with the view of effecting an amicable arrangement with his children and their protector, the king of France, were peremptorily rejected ; and at Easter 1173, a great assembly was held at Paris, when Louis and his barons bound themselves by oath to assist the young king in prosecuting his rights; he, at the same time engaging never to make peace with his father without the knowledge and consent of France. Philip, earl of Flanders, and William the Lion, king 20 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF of Scotland, the one tempted by the promise of the earldom of Kent, and the other by that of Northum- berland, joined the confederacy, and thus Henry, from a situation of almost perfect security, was menaced with danger on every side of his dominions. As it was impossible to place implicit reliance on his own subjects, many of whom, particularly the barons, would have rejoiced to see the throne occupied by a less careful and vigilant monarch, he took into his service twenty thousand of those free companions or Brabanters, who, like the Swiss in later times, were ready to engage in any war if sufficiently paid, and who, notwithstanding their mercenary habit, were reckoned the best soldiers of that age. Philip of Flanders was the first of the confederates who began the war. He entered Normandy at the head of a numerous army ; reduced Albemarle and Neuchatel, and invested Driencourt. At this latter place his brother, Matthew of Boulogne, was mortally wounded, and the earl, struck by remorse with this unhappy event, which he considered as a judgment upon him for engaging in so unnatural a war, drew off his forces and returned to his own country. Louis and the young king invested Verneuil, which they reduced by famine, and Henry, marching to relieve the place, had the mortification on his arrival to be- hold it in flames. An attack, however, upon the rear-guard of the French army was crowned with success, and a large body of insurgents who had taken possession of the town of Dol, were defeated and made prisoners. Another conference was now held near Gisors, when Henry made most reasonable pro- posals to his sons, offering the two eldest half the RICHARD THE FIRST. 21 revenues of the territories they demanded, with a certain number of castles, and Geoffry, the estates of earl Conan, in Bretagne, provided his marriage should be sanctioned by the pope. If left to themselves the young princes would probably have accepted of these offers, but Louis, who having kindled the torch of rebellion was by no means desirous that it should be so easily quenched, threw fresh obstacles in the way, and the earl of Leicester, a notable rebel, who had joined heart and hand in the confederacy, conducted himself so violently to the king that the conference was broken off in disgust. In the meantime Richard de Lacy, the grand jus- ticiary, had in revenge for the earl's revolt taken the town of Leicester, and in conjunction with Hum- phrey de Bohun, the lord high constable, repulsed the Scots, who had begun to pillage the frontier ; after- wards they carried the war into the Scottish terri- tory, burned the town of Berwick, and ravaged the Lothians. On their return from this expedition, the generals of the king fell in with the earl of Leicester, who, along with Bigod earl of Norfolk, was marching to the relief of his town, and made him prisoner. The approach of winter put an end to these hostilities for the present ; but in the ensuing spring they were re- newed with double vigour. Although the Norman dominions of the king were threatened with a most formidable invasion from France, the state of England was even more alarming. Fresh armies of the Scots .poured into the northern counties, carrying everything before them. Yorkshire was in a state of revolt. Earl Ferrers, and David earl of Huntingdon, brother of the Scottish king, were in arms in the heart of 22 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP England. Norwich was occupied by the earl of Nor- folk, and a numerous fleet of the earl of Flafliders lay at Gravelingen, waiting for a favourable wind to transport prince Henry and his army to the coast. Under these circumstances, the return of the king to England was indispensable, and accordingly, without permitting his enemies to gain intelligence of his in- tention, he set sail for Southampton. The rebellion of his sons, the ingratitude of his nobles, the danger of his kingdom, all seem to have weighed most heavily upon the mind of Henry, and to have impressed him with the belief that so many calamities could not be the result of mere accident, but were intended as . a direct visitation from the hand of God, in token of his displeasure for the mur- der of Becket. Perhaps, too, the steps which he now adopted were not only meant to reconcile him with Heaven, but also to conciliate his siibjects, a great proportion of whom were convinced of the saintly qualifications of the defunct archbishop, and quoted with reverential awe the wonders that were worked at his shrine. As soon as he landed, Henry proceeded direct to Canterbury, walked barefooted through the streets to the tomb of Becket, protesting his innocence of the deed in all save the utterance of a hasty ex- pression ; submitted to be scourged on the naked back by several monks ; and, after performing length- ened devotions, returned to London, where the fatigue he had undergone and his anxiety of mind threw him into a fever. From this he was recovered by the joyful news of the capture of William of Scotland by Ralph de Glanville, an exploit which, by the way, re- dounded less to the credit of the victors than of the RICHARD THE FIRST. 23 vanquished*. Fresh vigour was instilled into the frame of Henry by these unexpected tidings. He instantly set out to join his army, but before he reach- ed it the danger was over. On the loss of their king the Scots had retired to their own country. David of Huntingdon had laid down his arms, and the English barons were fain to secure their safety by flight or by surrender. "Within three weeks from the time of Henry's landing, tranquillity was restored to England, and the army which had been levied for the purpose of opposing the Scots, was transported to the shores of Normandy. On his arrival, Henry found his sons, along with the king of France and the earl of Flanders, who by this time had overcome his compunction, in the act of besieging Rouen. The English army proved too strong for the confederates, who burned their engines and retired without hazarding a general engagement. Henry, who all along appears to have been unwilling to continue the contest with Louis, whose vassal he was for his Norman territories, again made overtures for a conference, and this time they were not rejected. Peace was made upon very advantageous terms for the princes, who certainly received more favour than they were entitled to from their rebellious conduct. The young king Henry received two castles in Nor- mandy, with a yearly subsidy of fifteen thousand Angevin pounds ; Richard was gifted with two cas- tles in Poitou, and half the revenue of that province ; and GeofFry with two in Bretagne, and half the estates of earl Conan. William of Scotland was released * For an account of this skirmish in which William was surprised, see " Chronica Gualteri Hemiugford, Cap. XXI.' 1 24 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP upon harder conditions. He was compelled to take an oath of fealty to the king as his liege lord, and to deliver up as security the castles of Edinburgh, Stir- ling, Roxburgh, Jedburgh, and Berwick, along with his brother and twenty barons as hostages. These terms were at last agreed to, and peace being once more restored, Henry along with his eldest son returned to England, and the whole nation, wearied of war, prayed that no domestic feud might again disturb their tranquillity. Richard, who had received his knighthood from Louis, began to signalize himself by displaying proofs of a warlike and enterprising genius. The moun- tains of the Pyrenees bordering on Guienne were at this time infested by bands of robbers, who, descend- ing in large hordes upon the lower country, commit- ted great ravages and depredation. These he hunted to their fastnesses and almost extirpated. He then turned his arms against some refractory nobles with like success ; and also took by storm the strong fort- ress of Taillebourg, formerly reputed impregnable. In the meantime, his brother Henry found occupa- tion by enacting the part of a knight-errant, visiting every tournament which was proclaimed, and hold; ing others, wherein he often carried off the prize of superior skill and activity. Geoffry remained in Bretagne, and also signalized himself by quelling an insurrection raised by Guiomar, viscount of Leon. The desperate state of the Christians in the Holy Land under Baldwin the Leper, now attracted the attention of all the princes of Christendom, and for the first time Henry bethought him of his vow to lead a crusade into Palestine. The affairs of RICHARD THE FIRST. 25 Jerusalem will be so fully narrated in the sequel, that we need not here state the peculiar circum- stances which gave rise to the appeal ; suffice it to say that the kings of England and France agreed to proceed together, for the relief of the harassed Chris- tians, and would in all probability have done so, had not the mutual arrangement been dissolved by the illness and death of Louis. Henry, after this, applied himself to the internal arrangement of his kingdom, and enacted many, wise and salutary laws, tending to restrain the power of the nobles, and to promote the administration of equal justice. He also com- pleted the conquest of Ireland, to which we have already alluded. In 1185, a deputation from queen Sybilla of Jeru- salem, headed by the patriarch Heraclius and Roger du Moulin, grand-master of the Hospitallers, arrived in England and craved his personal assistance. They had previously visited the court of France, where the young king, Philip Augustus, though large in his promises of support, declined for the present to engage personally in the enterprise ; and their hopes now rested upon Henry, whom they considered bound by his former oath to draw the sword in their defence against the infidel, especially in such a crisis, when the existence of Jerusalem itself was at stake. Henry received the embassy with much kindness, but declined pledging himself to the crusade, until he had convened the estates of the realm, and taken their opinion upon the expediency of the measure. A great assembly was accordingly held at London, where not only the English nobles, but William of Scotland and his brother David, were present, and 26 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF Henry submitted to their decision the question of a crusade. The opinion expressed by the nobles was contrary to the wishes of the patriarch. Richard, archbishop of Canterbury, himself maintained that the oath taken by the king might be, and ought to be, dispensed with ; that Henry had taken another oath at his coronation, to the effect that he would always watch over the welfare of his subjects ; that this oath, being the tenure of his crown, superseded all others, and that a crusade to Palestine was obvi- ously incompatible with the first duties of a monarch. The opinion thus expressed was no doubt agreeable to Henry, who, in fact, had such experience of the temper of his sons, that he durst not have left his kingdom ; but to sweeten the disappointment he privately sent for the ambassadors, and having ex- plained to them more fully the relation in which he stood with France, concluded by making them an offer of fifty thousand marks, and added that he would further bind himself to support any of his subjects who might be willing to take up the cross. But the old patriarch Heraclitis, whose heart was in the Holy City, indignantly spurned the offer, and burst into a torrent of the wildest invective against the king. " It is not for money, but for men we come," cried he. " And as for you, sir, you have hitherto reigned with abundance of glory but know that God, whose cause you have now aban- doned, is about also to abandon you, and will let you see the consequence of your enormous ingrati- tude for all the riches and kingdoms you have ob- tained by your crimes ! You have violated your faith to the king of France who is your sovereign, RICHARD THE FIRST. 27 and you make that your excuse for refusing this war, because you are afraid he will make war upon you. You have barbarously murdered the archbishop of Canterbury, and yet you refuse, in expiation of your guilt, to undertake this holy war, for the defence of the Holy Land, to which you have engaged your- self on the blessed sacrament ! Never believe " continued he, observing the colour rush to the face of the king " Never" believe that I dread the fury which glows in your cheeks and in your eyes, and which the truth of what I have now spoken has kindled in your soul There ! take my head ! Treat me as you did St. Thomas ! I had rather die by your hand in England than by that of the Saracens in Syria, since I esteem you little less than a Sara- cen yourself !" It is much to the credit of Henry, whose temper was none of the coolest, that he did not take the patriarch at his word, or at least in some way exact revenge for his insolent and mad demeanour ; but former experience had by this time taught him the necessity of bridling his passions, and he dismissed the ambassadors without any marks of his displeasure. But one remark of the aged pa- triarch was true. Henry had yet to drink deeply of the bitter cup of. afflict! on. 28 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF CHAPTER II. Disputes among the Princes Refusal of Richard to do Homage to his Brother War in Guienne Prince Henry takes the Cross His Death Conduct and Death of Geoffry Cause of the Dis- putes between Richard and his Father His Alliance -with Philip of France The Third Crusade preached by William Archbishop of Tyre Preparations for the Crusade Saladin's Tithe Intri- gues of Philip and Richard Incursions on Touraine Conference of Bon-Moulins Final Rupture between Henry and Richard Interference of the Legate-cardinal of Anagni Spirited Beha- viour of Philip War in the Territory of Maine Peace con- cluded at Azay Narrative of the Conference there Death of Henry II. His Obsequies, Character, and Family. IN the unfortunate disputes, noticed in the prece- ding chapter, which caused such dissension and ill- blood in the royal family, it will be observed that the young princes made common cause together against their father, and that by a general rebellion they sought to obtain or wrest from him the boon which each particularly desired for himself. Such an al- liance was not likely to be lasting. The same lust for independence, and impatience of control, which had made them so far transgress the laws of nature and the ordinances of man, as to league with the professed enemies of their parent, now began to ma- nifest itself in their conduct towards each other. Henry was selfish and overbearing ; Richard, head- strong and proud ; Geoffrey, cunning and perfidious. No common bond of union now existed among them. Henry dreaded Richard as a rival, and looked for- ward with apprehension to the time when his younger brother might dispute with him the sovereignty of England and of Normandy. Richard even now re- fused to own his brother as superior, and Geoffry, RICHARD THE FIRST. 29 with the cunning of a base and ungenerous spirit, lost no opportunity of fomenting the discord thus unhappily begun. Their father Henry, at the instigation of his eldest son, whose coronation gave him a plausible pretext for the demand, ordered the others to do homage to their brother for the duchies of Brittany and Gui- enne. To this act of submission Geoffry assented, but the high-spirited Richard at first flatly refused to owe fealty to his brother whilst his natural sove- reign and father was alive. This declaration was followed by a hot and vehement dispute, in which young Henry took a part ; and when Richard, at last yielding to the entreaties of his father, consented to waive his objection, the young king spurned his homage, and the brothers parted interchanging threats of animosity and defiance. Richard, who knew his brother's temper by experience, lost no time in re- tiring to his own country, and in fortifying his cas- tles. The barons of Guienne, with whom Richard, overfond even in so limited a stage of the display of his power, had never been popular, offered their ser- vices to Henry, and that prince, collecting an army of Brabanters and assisted by his brother Geoffry, marched into Guienne and took the town of Limoges. Richard, thus deserted by his own subjects, had re- course to his father, who, commiserating the situa- tion of his son, and anxious for the sake of all parties to preserve the appearance of peace, marched with a large army into Guienne in the hope that his mere presence would cause the invaders to abandon their design. But both Henry and Geoffry were weary of their father's authority, and could by no means 30 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF be brought to an amicable understanding with their brother. Nay, if we may believe some historians, though for the credit of human nature we are unwill- ing to place implicit reliance on their statement, so utterly were these young men abandoned to their own evil passions, that they did not hesitate to plot the death of their father, whose greatest fault to- wards them had been unmerited indulgence. Accord- ing to these writers the two princes had appointed a conference with the king near the walls of Limoges, and while he was awaiting their arrival the soldiers in the castle discharged a flight of arrows, by one of which his horse was shot through the head, and a knight who rode beside him was dangerously wound- ed by another. This detestable action so alarmed and incensed the king, that prince Henry deemed it prudent to make humble concessions for the present, and to cast the greater part of the odium on the shoulders of his brother GeofFry, who still continued rebellious. Whether Henry took the cross with the view of establishing himself in his father's favour, as Hoveden asserts, concealing all the while the most treacherous designs under a penitent and saintly exterior, or whether he \vas really anxious to seek out some larger field of action than Brittany or Guienne, will probably remain a disputed question for ever. The annals of the time do not enter with sufficient minute- ness into the history of these family feuds to enable us to fathom the precise nature of the motives which actuated this unfortunate young man throughout the whole of his short career. Enough only is said to show how c!e?ply he trarsgressed, and luw cruelly RICHARD THE FIRST. 31 these transgressions were felt by his fond and affec- tionate father. Certain it is that very soon after his rupture with Richard, and while Geoffry yet per- sisted in disobedience, the prince announced his intention of proceeding to Palestine ; and the king, though at first disconsolate, yielded a reluctant con- sent. But the hand which had been so often raised against a father was not destined to strike one blow in defence of the sepulchre of Christ. A few days after his intention was made public, the prince was taken with a violent fever at Martel, in Turenne, and as is often the case with the worst and most dissolute characters, when they behold their end ap- proaching, being seized with the utmost terror and remorse, he despatched a messenger to his father to implore his forgiveness, and to entreat the favour of a visit before he died. But such had been the for- mer duplicity of the prince, that the advisers of the king could not place reliance in the sincerity of this awful appeal. Their remonstrances induced the king to refrain from according the visit ; but willing, so far as he might, to assure the dying penitent of his per- fect forgiveness, Henry sent the archbishop of Bordeaux with his own signet as a" token of love and reconciliation. The churchman hastened to fulfil his mission, and arrived just in time to speak the soothing message to the prince. Thus, says one historian with as much terseness as truth, "Henricus tertius Anglias Ilex Junior immatura morte decessit: plane immatura si fetatem respicias, sed multum sera si actus attendas*." Geoffry, deprived of this powerful coadjutor in * Ilemin^ford. 32 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF rebellion, yielded for a time, and tranquillity appear- ed again to be established in the royal family, until a demand from the king upon Richard, now heir- apparent, to cede his territory of Guienne in favour of his younger brother John, awoke fresh dissensions, which ended in another appeal to arms and was with difficulty quieted by the intercession of the king. Geoffry, in this dispute, made common cause with John ; indeed it was solely at his instigation that the younger brother, who never evinced the possession of any military genius, ventured to oppose himself to the energetic and daring Richard. Geoffry next proceeded to demand the earldom of Anjou, which being refused, he took the opportunity of leaving his father's court, threw himself into the arms of Philip the young king of France, who inherited his father's personal pique against the English king, and offered to hold Brittany in direct vassalage from him, provided he would countenance and aid his designs upon Normandy, and other parts of his fa- ther's continental territories. A new war, however, was prevented by the death of this perfidious prince, who expired in consequence of some internal injury sustained by a fall from his horse at a tournament, and a truce of two years' duration was concluded between England and France. It will be recollected that Richard, when a boy of twelve years old, was affianced to Adelais, daughter of Louis and sister of his successor Philip. This princess was entrusted to the care of Henry, until such time as the marriage could be properly solemnized, and had all this time been sedulously kept from the com- pany of her intended spouse. Public rumour began RICHARD THE FIRST. 33 to assign strange reasons for this unusual restriction. The well-known temperament of Henry gave rise to suspicions that some other motive than solicitude for the purity of Adelais had led to her seclusion, and Richard was taught to fear thathe had found asuccess- ful rival in the person of his father. This is a grave charge against Henry, and one on which, in justice to his son, we are bound to lay considerable weight, as such an outrage of morality, if it does not alto- gether extenuate, .at least palliates the subsequent conduct of Richard, and makes it appear more con- sistent with the character of one, who, if headstrong, was never wanton in his resistance to a father's au- thority. About the same time, a report became pre- valent in England that Henry intended to disinherit his eldest son, and to leave the greater part of his dominions to the younger brother, John, who had not joined with his brothers in their former cabals, pro- bably because he was then too young to think or act for himself. The suspicions engendered by such a report, and the thought of the deeper injury to which we have above alluded, made Richard doubly jealous of his father, and of those by whose counsel he was usually directed. In the young king of France he found an apparent friend, ready to sympathise with him in at least one of his grievances : Richard went over to Paris, and an extraordinary intimacy was soon formed between the two young men, one deeply interested in the recovery of his bride, and the other in the vindication of the character and honour of his sister. With the view of testing his father's feelings towards him in the matter of the succession, Richard drew up a formal petition, wherein, after premising that, as his 34 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF elder brother Henry had died without issue, all the rights and titles enjoyed by that prince were now transferred to him as heir-apparent, he humbly prayed that his father would, in consideration of the circumstances, and in support of the authority of his heir, be pleased to consent to his coronation with the same ceremonies previously granted to his brother. This request was met by Henry with an absolute refu- sal ; which ought not, however, to be construed as an ac- knowledgment of his designs in favour of John, since later experience had given him ample proof of the danger attendant upon such a step, and' the folly of expecting any one to remain content with the sha- dow, whilst another possessed the substance and re- ality of rule. Richard considered this refusal as the first step towards his disinherison, and drew yet more closely towards his new ally of France. Henry, alarmed at this ominous conjunction, strove by pro- mises of all reasonable favour to win back the confi- dence of his son, but in vain. Richard remained sullen and suspicious ; and in a moment of irritation received the cross, swearing that if he were deprived of his rights in England and Normandy, he would go to Palestine, and wrest a better kingdom than either from the hands of the infidel. This sudden resolution, engendered by passion, soon however died away, and the confederates began to occupy themselves with schemes which boded no good to the peace and hap- piness of Henry. In the commencement of the year 1188, the plans of Philip and Richard began to be developed. The former despatched an embassy to Henry, demanding the restitution of the territory of Gisors, and the im- RICHARD THE FIRST. 35 mediate solemnization of his sister's marriage with Richard ; and threatening:, in the case of a refusal, to march an army into the heart of Normandy, and to lay it waste with fire and sword. One at least of these demands was too reasonable to be peremptorily rejected, nor could Henry have done so without fortifying the suspicions which his former mysterious conduct towards the princess Adelais had excited ; he therefore had recourse to another con- ference, in which he doubted not by his diplomatic skill to gain a peaceful triumph, and a meeting was accordingly held at a place between Gisors and Trie, where, besides the kings, many of the principal nobi- lity of both realms were assembled. Hardly had the customary greetings been inter- changed, when William, the famous archbishop of Tyre, ambassador from queen Sybilla of Jerusalem, rose up in the midst and recounted, with great elo- quence and feeling, the struggles of the Christians in the Holy Land against their infidel invaders. He told them how at the bloody fight of Tiberias the bravest of the Christian chivalry were slain, how their king was taken, and how the Holy Cross itself had fallen into the hands of the Saracens. He drew a touching picture of the state of Jerusalem thus be- reaved of her defenders ; he told them how every soul within her walls, even old men and women, had taken up arms in her defence ; how Saladin with his victo- rious legions had encamped before the city ; and how the Holy Sepulchre was lost to Christendom. Then, proceeding in a still higher strain, he conjured them, as they loved their God, not to suffer the country in which their blessed Redeemer had lived and died to D 2 36 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP be profaned by the scorners of their faith ; he be- sought them to have pity upon their Christian bre- thren, now driven from house and home, or languish- ing in hopeless captivity ; he urged them instantly and with one accord to take the cross, and promised them, in return, victory and glory here and an eter- nity of blisshereafter. This harangue, delivered by one of the greatest orators of his age, wrought an extra- ordinary effect on the feelings of his hearers. By common consent the subjects of dispute between En- gland and France were laid aside, a general crusade from both kingdoms was planned upon the spot ; and Henry, Philip, and the earl of Flanders, with all the nobility present, received from the hands of the arch- bishop the emblem which pledged them to the holy war. The vast concourse of people assembled to be- hold the conference were transported with joy at the news of this sudden and unexpected concord. The crusades were always popular amongst the lower ranks, who regarded Palestine with something of the same feelings that animated the Spanish soldiery to the conquest of Peru, since if religion had a greater share in producing their enthusiasm, it was not al- ways unmingled with sentiments of a grosser and more worldly kind. It was arranged that the En- glish should carry a white, the French a red, and the Flemish a green cross, in the projected expedition ; and that a general tax, under the name of the Saladin tithe, should be levied throughout the countries thus engaged. The exact terms of this remarkable impost were as follows: Such persons as engaged in the crusades were exempted from the contribution, but all others, clergy as well as laity, were compelled to RICHARD THE FIRST. 37 pay one tenth of their revenues and moveables arms, jewels, and consecrated vessels alone excepted to- wards defraying the expenses of the war. All inter- est upon money lent was suspended during the time the debtors were engaged in service in the Holy Land, and all persons might mortgage their inheritances or benefices for the period of three years, during which time the creditors should peaceably enjoy them whatever might happen to the owners. Other ar- rangementsregardkig dress, accoutrements, behaviour, &c., were then agreed upon, and the assembly broke up for the purpose of putting these resolutions into effect. Henry returned to England, where the Sa- ladin tithe was immediately proclaimed. Jews as well as Christians were declared liable to the impost; and ambassadors were sent to William king of Scot- land, urging him to levy the same tax throughout his dominions. In Scotland, however, a country too remote and too little in correspondence with its neighbours to share in the excitement which the loss o of Jerusalem created, the proposal of so serious an impost was listened to with general dissatisfaction, and was negatived by a meeting of nobles and pre- lates to whom the message of Henry was submitted by the king. Whilst the minds of all in France and England were occupied and engrossed with this splendid phantasy, whilst the one magnificent dream of rescuing Palestine from the dominion of the heathen, drove the realities of life, and the urgent demands of political arrangement from the thoughts of others, Richard still continued to brood over his own wrongs and disappointments, and came at last to regard the 38 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF cause of Christendom as hostile and injurious to his own. What mattered it to him whether the cross or the crescent waved on the towers of Jerusalem, if his own long -cherished hopes were to be abandoned, and his hereditary dominions taken from him, and bestowed upon another ? or how could the brightest laurels he might win abroad repay him for the de- fection and treachery that were sure to undermine him at home ? Had he yielded to the universal impression, and, with such consequences staring him in the face, embarked as a simple soldier in that long and doubtful expedition, his character would have remained to subsequent historians either an enigma or a cause of dispute : some might have praised him as heroic some represented him as disinterested but the greater part, beyond all doubt, would have set him down as negligent or weak. In history we are bound to judge men by the common standard, not certainly extenuating their faults, but not requiring from them that extraordinary self- denial which better suits the stoic than the Chris- tian ; and adhering to this view, even without losing sight of the prejudices of the times, we are free to confess our opinion that Richard, under all the cir- cumstances, was justifiable in the motive which led him to assert his natural rights, although the man- ner of such assertion might be rash, culpable, and impolitic. Philip was the first to whom he opened his mind, and history leaves us in doubt of the nature of that eventful conference. By some it is sup- posed that a secret understanding existed between the princes, and that the subsequent conduct of Richard was privately sanctioned by Philip. Others RICHARD THE FIRST. 39 have asserted that the resentment of the English prince was kindled as much against the king of France on account of what he deemed his unworthy defection, as against his father for his cold and obstinate refusal. \Ve are rather inclined, from the evidence adduced, to lean to the former opinion, and think that after events sufficiently support the allegation of a secret understanding between Richard and Philip. However this might be, it is certain that the former, pretending to revive an old quarrel, invaded in a hostile manner the territories of the count of Thoulouse ; and that Philip, being solicited to assist his vassal, entered the duchy of Berry, part of the dominions of the king of England, reduced the most important towns and fortresses in Auvergne, and finally led his troops into the territory of Tou- raine. Amidst his preparations for the crusade, Henry was startled by the news of this fresh aggres- sion of the French. An ambassador whom he de- spatched to Paris received for answer, that Philip had no intention of disbanding his army until he had reduced the whole of Berry and the Norman Vexin. This announcement at once determined his course. Henry in all haste levied a strong army of English and AVelch auxiliaries, and, in conjunction with Ri- chard, marched into France, where he took and burned several of the frontier towns. Animosity was now so thoroughly excited on either side, that, had the prolongation of the contest depended solely upon the kings, there is little doubt that a fierce and devas- tating war would have raged between England and France. But the nobles of both countries, whose power as chieftains was altogether independent of 40 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP their kings, thought proper to interfere, and to recal them from this hasty dispute, to the remembrance of the oath which they had so lately taken in common as crusaders. At the first conference, Philip insisted upon retaining his recent conquests, and the negotia- tion was broken off by Henry in disgust ; nor would it have been renewed, had not the earls of Flanders and Blois declared their conviction of the unreasonable nature of Philip's demands, and avowed their inten- tion of abiding by their vow, never to bear arms against a Christian prince, until their return from the Holy Land. This announcement from the most powerful of his friends made Philip hesitate ; and another con- ference was appointed at Bon-Moulins, at which it was hoped the treaty would be finally adjusted. At this meeting, Henry proposed, by way of an amicable arrangement, that the conquests on either side should be abandoned, and that matters should be allowed to remain in the same situation in which they stood when the kings accorded together to take the cross. To his amazement, the first person who objected to this foundation of the treaty was Richard, who absolutely refused to give up his latter conquests, without some equivalent. Philip also, instead of siding with Henry, insisted upon other terms. He offered, it is true, to abandon the towns he had taken, but on these conditions only that the marriage between Richard and his sister Ade- lais should be instantly solemnized; and that all the subjects of Henry, whether in England or in Normandy, should be required to take the oath of allegiance to his son. Henry refused to fulfil either. His obstinate denial, thus publicly announced, to RICHARD THE FIRST. 41 what Richard deemed his just and natural rights, snapped asunder the last cord which held the king and his son together. Richard again formally re- peated in his own name the demands urged by the king of France, which being again peremptorily denied, he stepped forth into the midst of the assem- bled circle, and, eyeing his father with a look of indignation, exclaimed, " I now see that to be true, which I formerly deemed to be impossible ;" and, unbuckling his sword and presenting it to Philip on his knee, he added, "From you, sire, I crave the protection of my rights, and to you I do hom- age for all the lands in France held of you, as liege lord and suzerain." Philip instantly accepted of the prince as his vassal ; and the assembly broke up in confusion and dismay. If called upon to give an opinion on the conduct of the actors in this extraordinary scene, we should be inclined to say that Henry's obstinacy, in refus- ing to agree to the nuptials of the French princess with his son, was, to use the mildest terms, wanton and unjustifiable ; that his resistance to this and the other demand of Philip was sufficient to confirm Richard in his belief of the rumour that the sovereign rule was intended for his brother John to his own especial prejudice; and that acting upon this convic- tion, he was perfectly justified in throwing himself upon the protection of the king of France. It would seem too that Philip, considering the treatment of his sister, and the reports which were current of her liaison with Henry, did no more than justice to his family in insisting upon a speedy marriage, and in accepting, upon the refusal of this demand, the 42 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP homage of the injured prince. It is fortunately sel- dom that in history we meet with cases involving so delicate a point, but whenever such are obtruded upon our notice, we are bound to side with the party willing to observe his engagements, and to give our testimony against the other, whose refusal to perform them strengthens the suspicion originated by rumour, of a breach of the laws of nature, morality, and religion. All thoughts of the crusade were for the present abandoned ; and indeed the aspect of affairs was such, that even the warmest advocates for the expedition began to despair of its possibility. The pope, Cle- ment III., who was deeply interested in the cause, viewed the disturbed and hostile state of northern Europe with anxiety and alarm. His remonstrances and exhortations had the effect of rousing the dor- mant spirit of the Germans and Italians, large num- bers of whom were actively preparing to set out for the Holy Land ; but without the co-operation of the kings of England and France, who were in fact the two pillars of the enterprise, success was more than, doubtful ; and until some arrangement of these do- mestic disputes could be made, it was obvious that neither monarch would stir one foot from his own dominions. The truce agreed upon at the com- mencement of the last conference had not quite ex- pired ; and though Henry, Philip, and Richard, in their own territories, were making active prepara- tions for war, hostilities had not yet commenced. The pontiff resolved to profit by this short interval, and despatched a cardinal-legate to mediate between the contending parties. This time, however, it ap- RICHARD THE FIRST. 43 peared that the questions at issue could not be set- tled otherwise than by the arbitration of the sword ; for although Henry and Philip yielded so far as to submit their quarrel to the judgment of the legate - cardinal of Anagni, and the archbishops of Rheims, Rouen, Bourges, and Canterbury, Richard, to whom the latter prelate was sent in the capacity of media- tor, stood out upon the justice of his cause, declaring that no reference was required, seeing that even his father could not deny his title to those articles, the fulfilment of which had nevertheless been so often and so ignominiously evaded. Public opinion also manifested itself on the side of Richard. Many of the most influential nobles of Brittany, Normandy, and Anjou, who on all previous occasions had taken the part of Henry, now went over to his son ; for the odium of rebellion was not now so generally cast upon Richard, as that of tyranny and unnatural malignity was attached to the conduct of the king. Active warfare would have commenced upon the expiry of the truce, had not the legate, with the greatest perseverance, urged another conference be- tween the kings, which neither of them could with any appearance of decency refuse. At La Ferte Bernard, then, the princes met ; and Philip, on the part of himself and Richard, stated as an indispen- sable article the restitution and marriage of his sister. If this was agreed to, he hinted that the other points at issue might be easily arranged, and the prepara- tions for the crusade resumed. One more stipula- tion, however, he thought it necessary to make, viz. that, as Henry, on account of his advanced age and increasing infirmities, was to be held excused from 44 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF Ms oath, and absolved from the necessity of embark- ing for Palestine, John, the youngest of his sons, should accompany his brother to the crusade. This stipulation was obviously meant for the benefit of Richard, and probably was suggested by him ; but Henry chose to interpret it differently, and replied with a sneer, that if his eldest son had been foolish enough to take the cross without his knowledge or consent, and without making any previous arrange- ments for contingencies at home, he saw no reason why he should copy his imprudence, and leave his dominions open to foreign invasion, in the event of his death during the absence of his children. " But," added Henry, " I will make one proposal, by adopt- ing which all our differences may be settled. Let Adelais be wedded to John instead of Richard, and I will not only give up her dower, but gift them with more important territories." This infamous suggestion, so contrary to all principle, so outrage- ously unjust towards Richard, and so injurious to the honour of the princess, was met by Philip with a contemptuous refusal ; nor is it easy to conceive how Henry could have entertained so preposterous an idea, knowing as he well did the proud spirit of Philip, and the violent passions of Richard. It in fact could be construed no otherwise than as a declara- tion of his intention to set aside his elder son, and invest the younger with the privileges of heir appa- rent, unless we regard the proposal as a mere trick to delay the marriage of the princess ; in which case we must come to the obvious conclusion, that Henry had a personal interest in throwing obstacles in the way of the union of Adelais with his son. In either RICHARD THE FIRST. 45 view his conduct was highly reprehensible, and cal- culated to produce the very worst effects ; nor does it appear that he was supported on this occasion by any of the prelates of either realm, or by any of the nobility who were usually favourable to his cause. The cardinal-legate, notwithstanding, thought fit to maintain the argument of Henry, and urged the duty of concession upon the othpr party, with rather more vehe- mence than was altogether consistent with his cha- racter as mediator. On being reminded that all concessions must necessarily be mutual, and that the duty was also incumbent on the other party, the zeal of the legate increased. Vituperation began at last to supersede eloquence in his discourse, and yet he was allowed to proceed without interruption, until he uttered a threat of laying the whole domin- ions of Philip under an interdict. " I fear not your interdict," replied Philip, u nor shall I heed it if pro- nounced, seeing that it is not founded upon any principles of equity. What right, I would fain learn, has Rome to interfere in these disputes, least of all in any that concern the honour of France ? What title has she to animadvert upon my conduct, if I am called upon to exercise the duties of a sove- reign ? What right has she to step between me and my vassals, if I find it necessary to chastise them for disobedience and rebellion ? O, my lord, it is not difficult to perceive that the savour of the English sterling is still in your nostrils, and perverts the fine perception of a judge !" As for Richard, he was so indignant at the insolence of the- legate, that he clapped his hand to his sword, and was with the greatest difficulty prevented from offering violence to the terrified priest. 46 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF The nature of this conference was such that all ideas of negotiation were abandoned, and hostilities instantly commenced. The county of Maine was this time the seat of war. Philip and Richard ad- vancing with their combined forces from Xogent-le- Rotrou in Orleannois, reduced in succession La Ferte Bernard, Monfort, Malestable, Beaumont, and Bal- lon. Henry threw himself ito Mans, the city of his birth, which he expected to make good against his enemies ; but they, appearing before the walls after a forced march, created such confusion, that the suburbs were accidentally set on fire by Stephen de Tours, seneschal of Anjou, and the conflagration ex- tended to the town. Henry himself had great difficulty in escaping to Fresnoy, whither he was not followed by the confederates, who marched towards Tours, re- ducing every place of strength upon the road, and at last by escalade took possession of that important city. In the mean time, Ranulph de Glanville was despatched to England for the purpose of levying additions to the royal forces, and Geoffry, the natural son of Henry by Rosamond de Clifford, whose at- tachment to his father was unshaken, and who filled the dignified office of chancellor, was actively en- gaged for the same purpose in Normandy. The prelates and princes whose mediation at the conference of La Ferte Bernard had proved ineffectual, came to the determination of waiting until the suc- cess of one party or another should give them an opportunity of again proposing terms with more likelihood of a favourable consideration. They, therefore, took no part on either side during the continuance of the contest, but kept themselves in RICHARD THE FIRST. 47 readiness to renew the negotiation as soon as they could with propriety interfere. The distress of Henry was now so extreme, that for very shame they felt themselves bound to step forward in his behalf; and accordingly the count of Flanders, the duke of Burgundy, and the archbishop of Rheims, proceeded to Tours, and submitted to the king of France and Richard the terms on which, as it ap- peared to them, an advantageous peace might be concluded. These being remarkably favourable to the confederates, were accepted by them; and Henry, finding that his continental subjects were daily de- serting him, and that the success of Geoffry in raising the Norman levies was more than doubtful, was forced, with a swelling heart, to yield to terms which in his better days he would have scorned to hold with the most puissant monarch in the world. At Azay the kings met, and the treaty as origin- ally proposed was ratified by all parties. The heads of it were as follows. Henry agreed to renew to Philip the homage, which at the commencement of the war he had renounced ; Adelais was to be delivered up to persons whom Richard should no- minate, and the nuptials were to be consummated immediately upon the return of the affianced bride- groom from the Holy Land ; all the vassals of Henry were to take the oath of fealty to Richard before his departure ; all the barons and others, holding of Henry, who had taken part with his son were to receive full pardon ; twenty thousand marks of silver were to be presently paid over to Philip ; and Mans, Tours, and the castles of Trou, and le Loir, or in the option of Henry, Gisors, Pacy, and 48 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF Nonaneourt, were to be held by the confederates until all the stipulations of the treaty were fulfilled. Thus was Henry, once the greatest warrior and most powerful prince of his time, after a career re- markable for the number and the extent of its conquests, forced to succumb to the rising fortunes of two youths whom he had seen in their cradles. Bitter indeed must have been this reverse to a mind so haughty and unyielding as his, and bitter the necessity which compelled him to sign the act of his own degradation before the assembled chivalry of England and of France. It was the last deed of this famous monarch, and heaven and earth were wit- nesses. The kings met on horseback in the plain of Azay, and the treaty was read to them by the archbishop. The day was sultry, and the clouds unusually dark and heavy fit canopy for a king consenting to his own disgrace. Henry and Philip were standing close together, and the former had just commenced an expostulation against some of the proposed articles, when a vivid flash of lightning blinded them for a moment, and the thunder roared above their heads with a long and terrific peal. It appeared that a fireball had struck the earth in the midst of the small space which separated the kings. Henry, over- excited and nervous, trembled so violently, that had it not been for his attendants he must have fallen from his horse. In the outbreak of the elements he imagined that he had heard the voice of God com- manding him to yield ; and, with fear and precipita- tion, he consented to every article of the treaty. One only stipulation he made, which was this, that RICHARD THE FIRST. 49 since he had granted a free pardon to all his subjects who had taken up arms against him, or had made a separate treaty with the confederates, he might at least be informed of their names. The scroll was delivered to him ; and the first name he saw there inscribed was that of John, his youngest and best beloved son. This blow was alone wanting to crush the broken spirit of the king. Richard's defection he had seen with anger, but he was conscious that it was at least partly attributable to his own harshness and jea- lousy ; other sons had left him, but that was in the days of his prosperity John had turned upon him when he was almost without a friend. This com- bination of misfortune and ingratitude was too much for his frame, already weakened by disease. He was conveyed in a litter to the castle of Chinon, where his disorders assumed the appearance of a rapid fever. He fell into a state of delirium, during which he was heard to invoke the curse of Heaven on his dis- obedient and rebellious children. The chancellor Geoffry heard of his father's illness, and hastened to Chinon. He found him again sensible, but so weak- ened that it was obvious to all that his end was rapidly approaching. Henry received his natural son, whose conduct shamed the legitimate, with signs of sensible joy ; he gave him the ring from his finger; and expressed a wish that he should be promoted to the archbishopric of York or the see of Winchester, and hoped that Richard would pardon his fidelity to his father and king. The chancellor, as well as the prelates who still watched beside his deathbed, prayed him, for the good of his own soul, E 50 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF to revoke the curses he had called down upon his sons, and not to suffer his anger to reach beyond the grave. Henry, however, obstinately refused to un- say his malediction, and, becoming gradually weaker, requested to be carried into the church, where, hav- ing partaken of the communion, he died at the altar. Immediately afterwards the prelates and barons departed a new star was culminating in the sky a new king demanded their homage. None were left to watch the royal corpse save menial attendants ; and even these, as soon as the others were gone, laid hands on every valuable in the place and departed. " And who BO poor as do him reverence ?" In this condition was the body found by some of the returning nobles, and conveyed to the nunnery of Fontevrault. Intelligence of the king's decease was instantly conveyed to Richard, who heard it with much sor- row, and probably not without contrition. Although the conduct of his father towards him had been such as to justify many of the steps he had taken, the mere fact of such rebellion, even though forced upon him, was a terrible and appalling thought. He too had not been blameless, for timely submission per- haps might have healed the mutual wound, and restored him to his father's confidence; but it was too late, and all the reparation he could offer was to la- ment the errors of the past. Leaving the camp of Philip, he hastened to Fontevrault, and assisted at the ceremony of the interment, after which he re- ceived the great seal from the hands of Geoffry, and the homage of the barons present. RICHARD THE FIRST. 51 Henry II. expired on the sixth day of July, 1189, in the fifty-seventh year of his age, and the thirty- fifth of his reign. Subsequent historians have differ- ed as to his personal character, but all bear witness to the beneficial reforms which he introduced, and the happy effects of his internal policy upon England. Had he been more moderate in his temper, and less suspicious of those around him had he been as vir- tuous in his private as lie was just in his public capa- city, he would in all probability have known nothing of the sorrows which embittered his existence, and hurried him prematurely to the grave. His history is a warning to princes, that greatness in the king cannot compensate for the want of sterling virtue in the man. Henry left behind him two sons, Richard and John, and three daughters, by his queen Eleanor. Of these the eldest, Matilda, was married to Henry the Lion, duke of Saxony and Bavaria, whose name is so conspicuous in the annals of Germany, though more for his misfortunes than his merits. Eleanor, the second, was married to Alphonso king of Castile, and Joan, the third, to William king of Sicily. By Rosamond Clifford, Henry had two sons, William surnamed Longsword, who married the heiress and succeeded to the title of Salisbury, and Geoffry, first chancellor, and afterwards archbishop of York. It is almost unnecessary to add that the story of Rosa- mond's death by means of poison administered by queen Eleanor is a mere fiction, and unsupported by any credible testimony. 52 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP CHAPTER III. Richard's Policy on his Accession to the Throne Amicable Ad- justment with Philip Eleanor appointed Regent Order of Richard's Coronation Disturbance caused by the Intrusion of the Jews Outrages against that People in different Parts of England, and horrible Massacre at York Richard's Prepara- tions for the Crusade Anecdote of the Bishop of Durham Disposal of the Crown-Lands and public Offices Homage of the King of Scotland remitted Embassy from Philip Wil- liam Longchamp, Bishop of Ely, appointed Chancellor and Justiciary Richard crosses over to France Final Arrange- ments before his Departure Great Meeting at Vezelai Richard arrives at Marseilles His personal Appearance, Temper, and Reputation. THE accession of Richard to the throne of England was greeted by his subjects with various feelings. The unruly and the turbulent, judging of his character from the mere circumstance of his opposition to his fa- ther's will, and from the military disposition which the wars in Guienne and Normandy had developed, confi- dently expected to reap a rich harvest under the auspices of a monarch who seemed little burdened with scruples, and less inclined even than his father to pay that homage to the clergy which the church of Rome in those days was wont most scrupulously to exact. The partisans of Henry, on the other hand, expected nothing but wrong and outrage from a prince who had gone so far from the path of duty as to league with a foreign power against their patron and his natural guardian. Fidelity to the father, they thought, must be construed into treason against the son; neither could they expect that, under the circum- stances, the honest plea of adherence to the interests of their country, which was all they could offer, RICHARD THE FIRST. 53 would be either admitted or approved. Their fears were entirely groundless. Richard knew well how to appreciate the worth of loyalty, and was not slow in perceiving that those who, from a high motive, had supported the cause of the former monarch, would be the most likely to rally round the standard of his legitimate successor. It was his first care, therefore, to confirm in their offices and places of trust all the retainers of the late king. Geoffry, the chancellor, was nominated by him, according to his father's wish, archbishop of York. His brother John was not only confirmed in his English possessions, but was gifted with the earldom of Mortaigne : in short, no one who had been favoured by Henry had reason to complain of the partiality or injustice of Richard. Stephen de Tours, alone, the seneschal of Anjou, who was probably suspected of malversation, was treated with some severity ; for he was thrown into prison, until he consented not only to deliver up the castles and treasures which he had held from Henry, but to pay a considerable ransom for his own per- sonal liberty. Even in this case, Richard's severity was tempered with mercy, since, after his conditions were complied with, he continued Stephen in his former place of trust. At Rouen, in the presence of the continental nobility, he was girt with the ducal sword of Normandy, and received the homage of his vassals. Immediately afterwards he held a confer- ence with king Philip, whereat the French monarch showed some liberality and confidence in his royal brother, by waiving his claim for the castle of Gi- sors, conceded by Henry at the meeting of Azay, in consideration of the payment of four additional thou- 54 THE LIFE AND TIMES' OF sand marks, and by restoring to Richard all the other possessions which he had taken from his father. Whilst occupied with these continental arrange- ments, Richard did not forget the situation of his mother, whom he dearly loved, and who, with the exception of one short interval, had been kept a close prisoner ever since the revolt of her sons. With the order for her release was transmitted a com- mission investing her with the dignity of regent, so that Eleanor no sooner issued from her confinement, than she took upon herself the highest dignity of the realm. The prisons at the time of Henry's death were remarkably full, partly no doubt with offenders against the law, but partly also with those whose crimes were more political, and therefore more leni- ently to be judged by a king succeeding under such circumstances as Richard. Eleanor therefore pro- claimed a universal amnesty; ordered the doors of all the prisons to be opened, and the captives to be set at liberty; and moreover, ordained that every freeman in the realm should take an oath of allegiance to her- self and to the reigning monarch, which ordinance, according to the historians of the time, was taken universally, and almost without one dissentient voice. This general feeling on the part of the people is a strong proof of the favour with which they regarded the cause of Richard, not only in his new capacity as king, but in the latter struggle, which must have been so fresh in the memory of all, that, had they disapproved of his conduct, their homage would not have been by any means so readily conceded. Having thus settled his affairs in Normandy to the satisfaction of all, Richard crossed over to RICHARD THE FIRST. 55 England for the purpose of holding the ceremony of coronation, and of placing himself upon an amicable footing with his nobles. His first care was to con- firm the act of amnesty passed by his mother, Elea- nor; his next was to restore to the barons those estates and castles which had been declared by Henry forfeited, on account of the adherence of their owners to the cause of his son. The earl of Leicester was courteously and kindly received by the new king. John, in addition to the earldom of Gloucester, re- ceived new and extensive grants of the crown-lands. He was now the sole surviving brother of Richard ; and, doubtless, these marks of the royal favour were heaped upon him no less from affection than from policy. Domestic strife had caused already so much woe and distress in the family, that Richard hoped the remembrance of the past would act as a salutary check in restraining the ambition of his brother; and, to remove the slightest cause of complaint, he placed him in a more opulent situation than was ever occu- pied by a prince of the royal blood. The third of September, 1189, was appointed for Richard's coronation ; and on no previous occasion was it celebrated with more pomp and magnificence. As the particulars of this august ceremony have at no earlier period been given by contemporary histo- rians, it may not be uninteresting to the reader to know how it was conducted in this instance, and we have, in that hope, selected the account of one who was probably an eye-witness of the scene. In the morning, the bishops, abbots, and principal clergy, went in procession to the palace, their attendants bearing the cross before them, and carrying censers. 56 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP The king received them at the door of his private chambers; and, all the arrangements having been com- pleted, the procession moved on towards Westminster abbey (the path from the palace to the altar being covered with broad-cloth) in the following order. First walked the clergy carrying the cross, the cen- sers, and vessels of holy water; after them came the priors, abbots, and bishops, in the midst of whom were four barons carrying huge candlesticks of gold; then came Godfrey de Lucy, with the cap of state, and John de Mareschall, with the golden spurs ; next "William earl of Pembroke, with the sceptre, and William earl of Salisbury, with the rod and dove ; after these came David earl of Huntingdon, brother to the king of Scotland, prince John, and Robert earl of Leicester, bearing three swords, the scabbards of which were curiously inlaid with gold ; they were followed by six earls and six barons, carrying a cas- ket containing the other royal insignia and robes of state; then came William de Mandeville earl of Albemarle, bearing the royal crown before Richard, who walked between the bishops of Durham and Bath, while four barons, two on each side, bore on the points of their lances a silken canopy above him. In this order, and followed by an immense crowd, the procession entered the abbey and proceeded to the altar, where Baldwin, archbishop of Canterbury, was stationed. Kneeling down before the altar, Richard swore upon the Evangelists and the most esteem- ed relics, to maintain his fidelity to God and observe the ordinances of the holy church ; to rule his people with justice and equity ; to abolish all evil laws and customs, and to establish none others but such as RICHARD TBE FIRST. 57 should tend to the general welfare. After this oath he was divested of his mantle and upper garment ; sandals worked with gold were placed upon his feet ; and the archbishop of Canterbury, pouring the conse- crated oil upon his head, breast, and arms, anointed him as king. The cap of state, carried by Godfrey de Lucy, was then placed upon his head, and the royal robes assumed, after which he received the sword of justice, and two earls kneeling down buc- kled on the spurs. Richard was now led to the altar on which the crown was placed, and received an ad- monition from the archbishop not to lay hands upon it, unless he were prepared with the utmost strictness and rigour to observe every article of the oath for- merly administered. To this the king replied that, by the grace of God, without fraud or reservation, he would observe all that he had sworn ; and thereupon he lifted the crown from the altar and delivered it to the archbishop, who placed it on his head. The sceptre and rod were then given to the king, who was led from the altar, and took his seat upon the throne. Mass was then performed, and at the offer- tory the king was reconducted to the altar, on which he placed a mark of the purest gold. After mass, the procession returned in the same order as before*. After the ceremony, a splendid banquet was held in the choir of the abbey, at which all the nobility were present. Unfortunately, however, the festivi- ties of the day were interrupted by a brawl, which speedily increased into a riot, and produced disturb- ance and bloodshed not only in London, but in other of the principal cities and towns throughout * Hoveden. Matthew Paris. 58 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF the realm. Every one is aware of the hatred which during the middle ages was borne by the people, not of England alone, but of all the European states, towards the Jews. This savage and unnatural feel- ing was fostered and encouraged by the priests, who considered the Hebrew nation as labouring un- der the curse of God, and therefore liable to be persecuted by his servants. Even the Saracens were more respected by the Christian church than were the seed of Abraham. Baptism could wash away the sins of the first, but what could remove the taint which poisoned the blood of the latter ? Yet, though thus despised and oppressed, the Jews had even then, by their acuteness and industry, established themselves extensively in the country, and prospered so well that many a proud noble and franklin were in their danger ; nay, being the sole bankers of the time, even the state was compelled to grant them immunities and a precarious protection, in return for the advances which its exigencies often required. "With the commons, who derived their ideas on the subject from their spiritual teachers, the Jews were held in abhorrence. Men shrunk from a Hebrew when he passed them on the road as though the mere touch of his garment were contamination. " They called him misbeliever cut-throat, dog, And spat upon his Jewish gaberdine." On the occasion of Richard's coronation, the Jews were expressly forbid, by proclamation, to approach the abbey, lest their presence should take away from the holiness of that most august ceremony. After it was ended, the Jews probably thought that the re- striction was removed, and being anxious to ingra- RICHARD THE FIRST. 59 tiate themselves with the new sovereign, a deputation of their elders entered the banquet hall, to pay him their homage, and to lay some costly presents at his feet. This intrusion was instantly resented by the clergy and their retainers, who rose up in a body, and drove the Hebrews from the hall, loading them with blows and imprecations. The multitude with- out, taking the cue from the priests, fell upon them as they came out, and inflicted such gross injury that several died in consequence. This outrage was followed by a worse. The mob of London, hearing what was done at Westminster under the sanction of the clergy, rushed to arms. Every Jew whom they could lay hands upon was beaten or slain ; their houses were broken open, pillaged, and set on fire. As soon as Richard was made acquainted with the particulars of this barbarous riot, he despatched the justiciary with an armed force to disperse the rioters, and caused three of the ringleaders to be hanged, more, as Matthew Paris tells us, on account of their having, in the midst of the tumult, pillaged and burned the houses of Christians, than for any injury they had inflicted on the proscribed and friend- less Jews. But no example could stop the mischief thus calamitously begun. The spirit of fanaticism and the appetite for plunder was kindled in the hearts of the rabble everywhere, when they heard of the tragedy at London. In Lynn, Stamford, Norwich, Lincoln, and many other places, the Jews were maltreated, plundered, and slain; butthecruel- est persecution of all awaited those who dwelt in York. Two wealthy merchants from that city, Benedict 60 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF and Jocenus, were amongst the number of those de- puted to wait upon Richard at the banquet, and were handed over like the rest to the tender mercies of the populace. Benedict, under the fear of instant and violent death, exclaimed that he abjured his faith and was willing to become a Christian. On O these conditions he was saved, but being next day brought before the bishops, he refused to be baptised, alleging that he was still a Jew at heart, and had only made profession of a change when he saw his life in jeopardy. This man was shortly afterwards murdered at Northampton ; but his partner Jocenus succeeded in escaping from the hands of the banditti and brought the news of the alarming catastrophe to his brethren at York. More Jews had their resi- dence there than in any other city of the kingdom, London alone excepted ; and the wealth they had amassed was prodigious. They were much in the habit of trafficking with the neighbouring proprietors, and had flattered themselves that on any occasion of popular outbreak they were sure of influential pro- tection little dreaming that the men they had so often obliged would be the first to heap ruin on their heads. Yet so it was. At York the attack upon the Jews was not a mere movement of popular im- pulse, but a regularly planned conspiracy, in which men whose station at least ought to have restrain- ed them from joining in such excesses, were deeply implicated ; and one as terrible in its catastrophe as any which the pages of history can show. A dark and tempestuous season was chosen for this diabolical purpose; and at midnight the citizens of York were roused from their rest, by the cry that RICHARD THE FIRST. 61 the city was on fire. And in truth flames were bursting out in various quarters ; the townspeople were busied with extinguishing them ; and thus every obstruction was removed from the path of the con- spirators. The house of Benedict, the murdered Jew, was the present object of their attack. It was known to contain property to a large amount; and the pre- sent state of the family, bereaved of their master, favoured the attack. The doors were burst open every individual of the household, man, woman, and child, was put to death without mercy, the trea- sures were packed up with the greatest expedition, and after having removed every article of value, the murderers set fire to the house, and decamped un- molested with their booty. This awful example showed the Jews how little they could trust to the faith of their so-called protectors. Their situation was desperate in the extreme, for the robbers, having had tangible proof of the riches contained within the walls of one Hebrew dwelling, were not likely to leave the rest unvisited ; so, with the consent of the governor, the majority removed with their wives and children, and the greater part of their property, to the castle, which was of strength sufficient to repel any attack from without. It shortly appeared that these suspicions were well founded; for, a few days afterwards, the same banditti returned, but much more openly than before, and, being reinforced by some of the town rabble, marched to the house of Jocenus, where, as it was a place of considerable strength, some of the Jews, who did not judge it necessary to retire to the castle, had taken up their abode. The atrocities of the former night were then reacted, 62 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF with circumstances of even greater horror; and on the following day all restraint was thrown off by the people, all law abandoned, all humanity renounced, and every street throughout the city of York be- came a scene of rape, robbery, and bloodshed. The only terms offered to the unhappy Jews were death or baptism; even the latter alternative did not save their property. Very few of them recanted, and all the others were, murdered in cold blood before the eyes of their distracted brethren in the castle. These latter began to fear for their own safety, and to suspect the fidelity of the governor. The temptation indeed was large, for they had brought with them immense treasures, and experience had taught them that the cupidity of a Christian was often stronger than his promise. They resolved, therefore, to take measures for themselves, and ac- cordingly one day, when the governor was absent in the city on some business, they disarmed the senti- nels, secured the gates, and refused him admission. The consequence of this ill-advised step was, that the governor applied instantly to the sheriff of the district, who pronounced this act of the Jews to be leze-majesty, and an insult to the king's authority. A general attack upon the castle was ordered. Per- sons of all ranks, from the country as well as from the town, flocked together, excited by the hopes of booty ; the zeal of the multitude became uncontrol- lable; and, although the sheriff presently repented of the steps which he had so rashly taken, and revoked his previous order, the mob were now entirely be- yond his authority, and refused to disperse until the castle was taken, and the besieged delivered into RICHARD THE FIRST. 63 their hands. In consequence the assault commenced, and lasted for several days, for the Jews defended themselves with obstinate desperation. Still, how- ever, the rage of the people increased, nor were there wanting men of holy calling to hound them on. Many friars took an active part in the proceedings ; and, according to Hemingford, there was a hermit present, whose hloody denunciations of death to the enemies of God excited the people almost to mad- ness. This fanatic, however, met with his reward, for, venturing to approach too near, he was killed by a stone from the walls. At last, the Jews, finding they could hold out no longer, took council among themselves what was best to be done. A rabbi, who was held in great repute among them for his learn- ing and knowledge of the law, advised suicide as a last resource, declaring that it was far better they should perish by their own hands, than be put to a slow and lingering death, by their brutal enemies. Many of the Jews acceded to this proposition, but others refused, saying they would rather trust to the mercy of the besiegers. These having left the assembly, the work of destruction began ; Jocenus and his friends slew their wives and children, and then put an end to their own lives, having first burned such of their treasures as were consumable, and buried the rest. An attempt also was made to set fire to the castle, but this was vehemently resist- ed by the remainder, who next morning appeared upon the walls, stretching out their hands with the most humble supplications, and fervently entreating that their lives at least might be spared. This was pro- mised ; but no sooner were the gates opened than 64 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF every surviving Jew was dragged forth and massa" cred in the most barharous manner*. Such was the miserable fate of the Jews of York, which, as the classical reader will remark, resembles in many points the history of Virius and the Capuans as re- lated by Livy. Such parallels, it is true, may be often drawn between events recorded in ancient and mo- dern times : would that the balance of humanity lay oftener on the Christian side ! Richard was terribly incensed at these inhuman deeds ; in fact, his honour was thereby compromised, as he had promised peace and security to the Jews. The bishop of Ely was instantly despatched to York, and commenced a rigorous inquiry ; but the princi- pal ringleaders had fled to Scotland : and, beyond sus- pending the governor and sheriff from their offices, and taking many of the principal inhabitants bound under heavy penalties to answer for the late outrages to the king, and in addition levying a pecuniary mulct, his expedition cannot be said to have answered the ends of justice. > Richard now commenced in good earnest his pre- parations for the crusade ; an expedition which had always lain near his heart, and which he now con- sidered himself bound to accomplish, by the double tie of religion and glory. It is difficult for us, the children of an age so far removed from that of the crusades, to appreciate the motives we say, it is difficult for us to comprehend the spirit, amounting almost to a mania which drove the great majority of the potentates of Europe from the calm enjoyment of their own possessions, and the * Hemingford. RICHARD THE FIRST. 65 moral and intellectual improvement of their subjects, to squander their blood 'and treasure on the sterile wastes of Syria. Chivalry alone, or the thirst for military glory, would not have urged them so far, nor were there any solid temporal advantages to tempt the cupidity of monarch s, whatever induce- ment there might have been to a poor and courageous knight. It is to religion we must look for a solution of the problem; religion, trammelled with all thein- cumbrances of superstition, and struggling towards an imaginary goal, yet still retaining evidences of its pristine strength, and exhibiting in the persons of the crusaders traces of that pre-eminent faith which sup- ported the early martyrs on the cross and in the fire. Towards Judea, the land of the redemption, Christian Europe bent with yearning, and her lamentation was raised for fallen Jerusalem, like the wailing of a child over the tomb of its mother. When so many other princes had obeyed the call of the church, and repaired to Palestine, it would have been quite inconsistent with his character and profession, had Richard tarried at home. During the last fifty years, war had been frequently pro- claimed through different states of Europe, battles had been fought, and provinces conquered and recovered, but these events, except in the bosoms of the interested actors, created little sensation. No general spirit was roused, no lasting glory was to be obtained by such partial contests. All dwindled away into insignificance before the aspect of the dubious strife maintained by the Latins and Saracens in the plains of Palestine ; and the simple soldier of Christ, who returned home with no other trophy than his 66 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP wounds, was held in more honour than the man who had wrested a province from his neighbour. It was intended by the kings of France and England, that the present crusade should be more extensive than either of the former ; and indeed the power and talent of Saladin, with whom they had to deal, made this indispensable. Their preparations, therefore, were commensurate with the importance of the undertaking. All able volunteers for the cause were accepted, and the Saladin tithe rigorously levied throughout the kingdom. Richard found in his father's treasury about a hundred thousand marks; but this sum was by no means adequate to the demand, and he resorted without scruple to other means of obtaining money. To Hugh de Pusey, bishop of Durham, he sold the temporalities of his see, the life- rent of the earldom of Northumberland, and the honour of Sudberg for ever. " Am I not," said the king, " a cunning alchemist, thus to transmute an old bishop into a fire-new earl ? " The same prelate pur- chased from the kinme to have arisen from a mistake in the dates of the several masterships. John Thiery, or Johannes Terricus, as his name is written in the books of the order, was undoubtedly grand-master at the time of the battle of Tiberais, but was not taken prisoner, as Bernard le Tresorier and others -confidently assert. I have placed in the Appendix (note A) a very remarkable letter written by Thiery, wherein he designates himself grand-master, and gives an account of the battle, and of his escape. Matthew Paris also expressly says, u Evasit etiain ab hac clade Theodoricus magister militiae Templi." Immediately after the taking of Jerusalem, Thiery abdicated his office and was suc- ceeded by Gerard de Riderfort, who fell during the siege of Acre. It is much to be regretted that the historians of the time have so often omitted to give us the names of the several commanders of the military orders. RICHARD THE FIRST. 147 times had taught them. They organised themselves into armed bands, increased their fortifications, and brought into the city whatever victual and forage could he collected from the surrounding country. In the midst of these preparations, Balian lord of Ibelin, a tried and respected soldier, arrived amongst them, and was elected, by unanimous consent, the governor of the city. The silver shrine which surrounded the Sepulchre was removed and melted down, and, the more to encourage the spirits of the people, Balian created fifty knights from the ranks of the hardy citizens. Meanwhile, Saladin advanced rapidly on his march of conquest.. In addition to the towns which fell into his hands immediately after the battle of Tiberias, he took Gabul, Caesarea, Jaffa, and Ascalon, with all the castles and strong-holds in the district. At Karac alone he received a partial check. The garrison of that place, although deprived of their lord, the ill-starred Reginald of Chatillon, defended themselves to the utmost extremity, and yielded only when compelled by absolute famine. Saladin, on this occasion, gave way to his natural disposition, and let the garrison go free. Tyre and Jerusalem were now the only cities that remained unconquered, and against the latter of these Sala- din now advanced. Before making the attack, he offered the people of Jerusalem, if they would sur- render the city, not only safe-conduct for themselves, but thirty thousand bezants in money, besides per- mission to settle in the surrounding country. These proposals were rejected by the Christians, who replied, that if it were God's will, they would never render up the city where the Saviour had died upon L 2 148 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF the Cross, and shed his blood for mankind. Tlii* answer being so decided, Saladin, without further parley, commenced the siege. The defenders, not- withstanding their straitened circumstances, fought well and bravely. Their principal endeavours were directed at the enormous military engines which Saladin had advanced to their walls. Some of them shook the solid masonry to its foundation, while others flung huge masses of rock into the town. All the attempts of the Christians to destroy them proved unavailing. Day by day they saw their fortifications weakened and overthrown ; their provisions began to fail, and want to show itself in the streets of the besieged city. On the tenth day, a large breach was made on the north side of the walls', and the inhabitants called a general council to consider what ought to be done, now that the place seemed no longer tenable. Strange as it may appear, the greater part of the knights and citizens were opposed to any terms of concession, and declared that, although they knew well that Jerusalem must be taken, yet they would rather suffer death than incur the disgrace of surrendering it by a voluntary act of their own. The patriarch Heraclius, however, dis- suaded them from persisting in their noble obstinacy. " It were well," said he, " for us to die, if our deaths were all ; but by so doing, we would deliver over to perdition the souls of those whom we have most interest to save. For each man in this city there are fifty women and children ; and should we all perish, the Saracens will, not slay them, but will convert them to the creed of Mahomet, and so they will be lost to God for ever. My opinion is, that wu RICHARD THE FIRST. 149 should send some one to treat with Saladin, for a safe-conduct, and remove to some Christian country ; leaving the Sepulchre in the care of God, who, in his own good time, can redeem it from the Turkisli thraldom." These arguments of Heraclius carried conviction to the citizens, and Balian of Ibelin, in person, went forth to treat with Saladin. The sultan was not obdurate, although he commented severely on the rejection of his previous offer, aud could by no means be brought to renew it in its full extent. At last it was agreed, that a certain price should be put upon every person in the city, and that, if not paid within fifty days, those who failed in their ransom should be considered the prisoners of Saladin ; that the* others, who were able to comply with the terms, should be allowed to leave the city, and should receive a safe-conduct to the nearest Christian state. These terms were complied with, and the necessary sum for the ransom was raised, partly from the effects of the citizens, and partly from a large sum of money lodged in the treasury of the Hospital by Henry II. of England, as the expenses of a crusade which he proposed to undertake in expiation of the murder of Thomas of Canterbury. When the day fixed for the departure of the Christians from the Holy City arrived, there was nothing but lamentation and weeping to be heard in the streets of Jerusalem. Altogether, independently of the regard which its sanctity inspired, it was the birthplace of most of those men who were now about to leave it for ever. Its venerable temples and fanes were endeared to them, not only by historical asso- ciation, but as the objects most familiar from their 150 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP childhood ; and these and their own homes were now to be delivered over to the enemy, and that enemy the scorner of their God ! Mournfully and slowly the procession filed through the gates of the city with the patriarch at their head, and passed before the spot where Saladin was seated, a triumphant spectator of their departure. On this occasion, the conduct of the sultan was manly and honourable in the extreme. When the queen Sybilla approached, he descended froftt his throne, greeted her with the utmost courtesy, and comforted her with the assur- ance that her husband should speedily be set free, on the payment of a moderate ransom. He also inquired whither she intended to go ; and having learned that Ascalon was the place of her destination, appointed a special guard of honour to accompany her thither. Emboldened by these tokens of a generosity which they could not have expected, the women of Jerusalem ventured, ere they departed, to make a request to the sultan. They told him that many of their nearest and dearest relatives had been slain or taken prisoners at the battle of Tiberias, and prayed him earnestly not to deprive those who were now without house or land of the only consolation they had left, the society of their friends. Saladin, with a magnanimity which has few parallels in history, acceded to their request, and set such of his prisoners as they requested free, without exacting ransom. It is pleasant to record such gentle and merciful conduct in the person of a Moslem prince, and in an age so comparatively unenlightened. It would be still more delightful if, while glancing over the pages of history, we could find such examples RICHARD THE FIRST. 151 becoming more frequent as the world advanced in civilisation ; nor be compelled to turn away, loathing and heart-sick, at the tale of such atrocities as those enacted within the walls of Magdeburg and Saint Sebastian. Thus, in the year of our Lord 1187, was Jerusalem retaken by the Saracens, after having been in the possession of the Latins for a period of eighty-eight years. The unfortunate Guy regained his freedom upon signing, along with his queen, a complete abdi- cation of his rights. Antioch was also reduced to a state of subjection ; and but for one city, and the firmness of one champion, the Latin kingdom would have perished. The house of Montserrat was highly distinguished among the great families of the time. They were descended from the dukes of Saxony, closely allied to the emperor Conrad by marriage, and were esteemed the strongest and most influential princes in Italy. Conrad, son of the marquis William, (who, as we have already related, was taken prisoner by Saladin at the battle of Tiberias,) was from his earliest youth remarkable for a high and undaunted courage, an active spirit, and an ambition which gave promise of the happiest results, if properly guided and controlled. In his person he was eminently handsome, perfect in all sorts of exercises befitting his station, and so skilled in the military art, that, at a very early age, he was placed in command of his father's army. Afterwards at Constantinople he did such good service to the emperor Isaac Angelus, by quelling a rebellion which Branas an imperial gene- ral had raised, that he received in marriage the hand J52 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF of the emperor's sister, and was promoted to the highest dignities in that lax and luxurious court. But a life of ease and indolence was no ways suited to the habits of the enterprising marquis. Every day he felt the bonds which tied him to Constanti- nople becoming more and more tightly drawn ; every day he saw the field of action narrowing before him, and the news of the bloody wars that were raging in Palestine, wherein his father had no little share, smote on his ear like a stern reproof of his own indolence and disgrace. At length, finding that the emperor would by no means consent to his departure, he privately collected some troops which he had brought from Italy, and embarking these with all secrecy and despatch, set sail for the Holy Land ; without taking any formal leave of the emperor or of his bride. So rapid had been the advance of Saladin, that Conrad, when he left Constantinople, was neither aware of the total defeat of the Christian army, nor of the captivity of his father. Directing his course towards Acre, he was surprised, on arriving off that city, that no bells were rung ; as was the custom when stranger vessels were about to enter the harbour. This led him to suspect some error or treachery, and in consequence he lay-to ; until a boat put off from the shore, and gave him the astounding intelligence, that Acre was in the hands of the Saracens. Having learned that Tyre still held out, though its reduction was confidently anticipated, the marquis at ones resolved to proceed thither ; to join his forces with those of the Chris- tians in the city, if any defence was yet meditated, and if not, to land somewhere on the coast of Tripoli, RICHARD THE FIRST. 153 whither Saladin had not yet carried the terror of his arms and his name. Conrad arrived in Tyre just in time to save it. After the battle of Tiberias, Reginald lord of Sidon had taken refuge in the city, and being menaced with instant siege by Saladin, and seeing no prospect of speedy succour, he, along with the castellan, had. come to a private under- standing with the enemy, that the city should shortly be surrendered. So many chevaliers how- ever had taken refuge there, and were determined to maintain it to the last, that further measures were postponed until the siege of Jerusalem was com- pleted ; and this delay was the salvation of the city. Conrad on his arrival was received by the towns- men, fugitives, and garrison, with manifestations of the utmost joy. By universal consent he was named governor and (as Lusignan had abdicated his rights, and no paramount authority now existed in Pales- tine) seigneur of the city. This adventure was exactly suited to the enterprising genius of the mar- quis. He accepted their offer with eagerness, and entered immediately into the duties of his new office ; inspecting the fortifications, visiting the armoury, and taking order for the necessary supplies of pro- visions. In the castle he found two flags of the Saracens, which had been privately sent to Reginald of Sidon to be planted on the walls, when it should suit Saladin to advance to the subjugation of Tyre. These the marquis ordered to be flung into the ditch, and Reginald and the castellan, seeing that their influence was gone, and fearing alike the vengeance of the Christians and the Saracens, privately stole on board a vessel and departed to Tripoli. When 154 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF Saladin was made acquainted with the arrival of this new crusader, and informed of those active operations, which threatened to check, at least, the progress of the Turkish arms, he, before proceeding to oppose force to force, sought to win over Conrad to his will, by means which, on former occasions, he had found more effectual than threats. He sent a private messenger to Conrad, urging the folly of further resistance, and promising, if he would render up the city, to set his father at liberty and to pay a large sum as the price of his compliance. But Con- rad stoutly answered, that he had not taken up the cross for his own advantage ; that he was resolved to do battle to the last ; and that even for his father, whom of all men he loved the best, he would not give the smallest stone of the city in exchange. This resolute answer roused the anger of Saladin, who instantly marched with his army against Tyre, in the full expectation of a quick and easy conquest. But the Sultan had yet to learn the powers of his new antagonist. Long before the Turks arrived before the city, Conrad had so strengthened its defences, that it appeared doubtful to the best engineers of Saladin, whether it would be possible to reduce it, without incalculable loss, so long as it was left open for the import of provisions by sea. Another attempt was made to work upon the feelings of Conrad by exposing his aged father as a prisoner before the walls, and in sight of the garrison, but this, like the former, proved utterly ineffectual ; and Saladin, sending for ships from Acre, prepared to blockade the city both by sea and land. Day and night did the military engines shower stones into the town, RICHARD THE FIRST. 155 but the houses were so well protected that they received little injury, and the Christians made fre- quent sorties upon their besiegers ; in which they were uniformly successful. A Spanish knight, who from the colour of his armour gained the designation of " Chevalier Vert," usually led these sallies, and was particularly dreaded by the Turks on account of his gigantic strength, and almost supernatural daring. Conrad meanwhile occupied himself with the defence of the city to the seaward, from which point he apprehended the greatest danger. The entrance to the port of Tyre was defended by a huge chain drawn across, and protected by three towers, the usual mode of securing harbours ; being the same which was practised with such success at a much later period, during the celebrated siege of Malta. Fourteen galleys of the Saracens lay imme- diately without, to prevent any succours from reach- ing the town, and to gall the inhabitants with their shot. Conrad caused several flat-bottomed vessels to be constructed, with lofty fire-proof sides, and perfo- rated with apertures like windows. These being filled with archers, and pushed out as far as the bar, so annoyed the crews of the galleys, that they were compelled to withdraw to a respectful distance, and content themselves with remaining in passive block- ade. As Conrad had now reasonable expectation of speedy relief, it became of the utmost importance to him that every obstacle should be removed. For this purpose he made a feint of leaving the city, and caused his men all night to make a stir and tumult in the seaward quarter, as if the troops were embark- ing and about to leave the city to its fate. When 156 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP day dawned, the great chain across the mouth of the harbour appeared to have been removed, and the Saracens, falling into the snare, and believing that the Christians had departed overnight, (for not a single soldier was to be seen upon the walls,) towed their galleys into the harbour. No sooner had five of these entered, than the chain was lifted, and the Christians rushed forth from their hiding-places, and fell upon the astonished Turks, who were slaughtered without mercy. The captured vessels were instantly manned, and, along with those belonging to Conrad, were taken out to engage the remainder of the broken armament. In the naval combat which ensued the Christians were equally successful ; for the Turkish vessels were either sunk or driven ashore, with the exception of two which hoisted sail and escaped to Berytus. While the greater part of the garrison were thus employed at sea, Saladin commenced a furious attack on the other side. Part of his troops succeeded in carry- ing the outward fortifications, but were stopped by a high and thick wall ; which, as -they were not able to surmount it with their ladders, they attempted to undermine. The news of this assault being brought to Conrad, he hastened with a strong body to the spot, ordered an instant sally to distract the atten- tion of those without and prevent them from rein- forcing their companions, and fell upon the Turks who were entangled among the fortifications. These were driven back after sustaining severe loss, and Saladin, finding himself completely baffled by the enterprise and energy of the marquis, and being unwilling to hazard further loss, set fire to his RICHARD THE FIRST. 357 military engines, and broke up the siege of Tyre. The elder marquis of Montserrat was shortly after- wards admitted to ransom. While these operations were going forward in the Holy Land, Europe was again preparing to put forth her strength in a new crusade. After the fall of Jerusalem, emissaries, the principal of whom was the famous William archbishop of Tyre, were sent round to the different courts of Europe, to enlist the sym- pathies of the Christian princes in the cause of their Latin brethren. Frederick Barbarossa, emperor of Germany, was the first who responded to the call. He assembled a large army, and set out for the Holy Land, by the same road which Conrad III. had taken. After experiencing great opposition from the Greeks, who on all occasions seemed to form the outer guard of the Holy Land against the advances of the crusaders, and after repeated battles with the barbarians in the Asiatic dominions which he tra- versed, this illustrious emperor, who was then in his seventy-first year, died of a violent shock which he received in consequence of bathing in the cold waters of the Cydnus. His army, under the command of his son Frederick, duke of Suabia, continued their march and effected their passage to the Holy Land. Before their arrival, William the Good, king of Sicily, despatched a fleet to Tyre with three hundred cavaliers, to assist the enterprising Conrad, who, by those means, was enabled in his turn to attack the enemy. Other martial pilgrims from Italy, France, and England, now began to arrive, and increased the numbers of his army. Saladin, alarmed at these demonstrations, proceeded to fortify Acre, one of the 158 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF most important sea-ports in his possession, and having done this in a substantial manner, marched against Tripoli, which he hoped also to subdue. Conrad, ever vigilant of his adversary's motions, lost no time in despatching the Sicilian cavaliers, under the command of the " Green Knight," whose valour was so conspicuous at Tyre, to strengthen the gar- rison of Tripoli. At the head of the very first sally which the townsmen made against their besiegers, the Turks beheld, with amazement and dismay, the same champion whose fatal prowess they had so often witnessed without the fortifications of Tyre, and refused to cope with one whom they firmly believed to possess not only the malignity but the power of a demon. Saladin, finding the place more strongly garrisoned than he had reason to expect, did not persist in the siege, but advanced towards the less important town of Tortosa. At the same period, in consequence of the incessant applications of Sybilla and his previous promise, he set Guy of Lusignan and others of his prisoners at liberty, only exacting from them an oath that they would not bear arms against him. But as, according to the morals of the time, an oath or promise given to an infidel was in nowise binding upon a Christian, he had soon reason to repent of his over - confident generosity. The deposed king and queen lost no time in proceeding to Tyre, which city they intended to make the ren- dezvous of those forces with whose assistance they hoped to reconquer their kingdom. It was. however, no part of Conrad's intention that the great labour and pains he had bestowed on the preservation of Tyre should redound to the benefit of Lusignan, whom he RICHARD THE FIRST. 159 regarded with supreme contempt in his double character of obscure adventurer, and pusillanimous prince ; he felt that to himself alone the credit was due of havinw saved the Christian remnant ; and - i moreover, as the inhabitants of Tyre had ceded their city to him, and acknowledged him as their seigneur, he was determined to submit to the jurisdiction of no other potentate whatever. Therefore, when Guy and Sybilla arrived at the city, they found the gates shut against them, and in reply to a demand for admittance, backed by the royal authority, they received this answer, " That God had committed the charge of that city to Conrad, now marquis of Tyre; that he trusted to be able to maintain it against any one who might challenge his right ; that no stranger should put a foot within it, except by his permission, and that those who demanded entrance might seek for quarters elsewhere, for in Tyre they were likely to find none." So enraged was Guy at this message, that, being joined by a few of his old followers and a remnant of the military monks, he proposed, in the first transports of his wrath, to lay immediate siege to the city. Being at last dissuaded from this ridi- culous scheme, he turned his steps towards Acre, and sent for reinforcements to Tripoli, announcing his intention of besieging the town. Acre, as famous in modern as in ancient history, was the great seaport of the dominions of Jerusalem. It was taken from the Saracens by Baldwin I., aided by a fleet of Genoese, after a siege of twenty- four days. Saladin reduced it in two days only, whereas the present siege, of which we are about to speak, occupied a period of nearly three years. The city J60 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF was very strongly fortified and built in the shape of a triangle, with the base opposed to the east, while the north and south sides terminated on a rock running a good way into the sea, and crowned with a strong and lofty tower, serving both as a defence and a lighthouse to the haven, and bearing the singular designation of the Tower of Beelzebub. High walls and barbicans, with deep and wide trenches, encircled the city, and these were further strengthened by towers placed at convenient dis- tances. A small river flowed directly through the town, and the country around was level and cham- paign, with the exception of two hillocks in the immediate vicinity, one called the hill of the Mosque, and the other the hill of Toron. Such was the situ- ation and strength of Acre, the theatre of the most memorable siege recorded in the annals of the cru- sades. When Lusignan commenced his operations, his army was so insignificant as to excite the ridicule of the Turkish garrison in Acre ; who treated the whole demonstration as a mere bravado, and were hardly at the trouble of increasing the ordinary guard upon the walls. However, by the arrival of a large body of Pisans, and of other crusaders whose impatience had anticipated the general preparation in Europe, the Christian force increased to such a degree, that the Saracens began to fear they had under-estimated the power of the enemy, and sent notice to Saladin of the formidable appearance which the siege had latterly assumed. That prince immediately paused from his minor conquests in the territory of Tripoli, and moved towards Acre with so strong a force, RICHARD THE FIRST. 161 that if he had given hattle at once, the Christians must have been cut off to a man. It would appear that the late successes of Saladin had taught him to regard too slightingly the power of the Christians, since, instead of crushing them by a speedy movement, he thought proper to delay, until his brother Malek- al-Adel should come up, in order, as he himself said, that he should be a partaker in the victory. This delay cost him dear. Guy of Lusignan, who well knew that he durst not cope with the Sultan in the open field, on receiving tidings of his approach, posted his army on the hill of Toron, and proceeded to construct such fortifications as would be sufircient to secure him from assault, until the arrival of more European forces, which were every day confidently expected. When, therefore, Saladin came up he found the Christians so strongly entrenched, that all his endeavours to carry the camp were unavailing, and he was compelled in his turn to lay siege to the besiegers, hoping in a short time that famine would compel them to surrender. But fortune, who had been so long hostile to the Latins, now began to incline towards their side. Before their provisions were exhausted, two large fleets were espied at sea, making towards the shores of Palestine, and these were soon recognised to be part of the long-expected succours from Europe. The first was an armament of Danes and Prisons, which also brought the vanguard of the French and English crusaders; the second conveyed the German troops, sent to reinforce the emperor Frederick, along with those of the marquis Conrad of Tyre, M 162 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP who having sufficiently established himself in his newly-acquired territory, no longer withheld his aid from his Christian brethren. This reinforcement so raised the hopes of the Christians, that they re- solved without delay to hazard a general engagement with the Saracens. On the fourteenth of October 1 190, the two armies drew up in the plain before Acre in battle array. The right wing of the Christians, consisting of the troops of Palestine, and France, with the squadron of the Hospitallers, was commanded by Guy of Lusig- nan. The left was composed of the chevaliers from Tyre, and the Italian crusaders under Conrad of Montserrat, and the centre of part of the Germans, under the landgrave of Thuringia, the Danes, En- glish, and Pisans. The body of reserve consisted of the remainder of the Germans, and the Knights of the Temple, under the command of their grand- master, Gerard de Riderfort. Geoffry of Lusignan, brother of Guy, and James, lord of Avesnes, a most distinguished warrior, were left in charge of the fortified camp. Saladin drew up his army, which was more numerous than the Christians, into two lines, with a strong reserve. His chief strength consisted in the light Syrian cavalry, while the Latin depended upon their foot. Both parties were con- fident of conquest, and awaited with eagerness the signal for the onset. The battle commenced with a general charge of the Christian cavalry, which threw the enemy into some disorder, and the foot immedi- ately advancing with levelled pikes drove back the first line of the Saracens, after a desperate resistance, RICHARD THE FIRST. 163 upon the second. These, seeing the cavalry again preparing to charge, were seized with a sudden panic, and without waiting to receive them, turned the rein, and fled in every direction. The Christians having cleared the field, believed that the'y had gained a complete victory, and made a furious onset on the camp of Saladin, routed the guard that were left for its defence, and fell to plunder, without at- tempting to pursue the broken forces of the enemy, in order to prevent them from rallying agaim The Tem- plars alone, like worthy soldiers, maintained their ranks, and turning away from the camp, advanced in pursuit of the fugitives. The Turkish troops, however, unlike the Christians, with whom disorder was defeat, were easily rallied. Like the Parthians of old they fled only to return to the charge when a fitting opportunity presented itself, and the keen eye of Saladin instantly detected the error into which his enemies had fallen. Rallying his forces he advanced against the small body of Templars, whom he accounted the most formidable opponents of the whole, but whom from the paucity of their numbers he doubted not he could easily overcome. If these were removed, an attack upon the Christians encum- bered as they were with booty could hardly fail to be successful, and accordingly the whole tide of the Syrian cavalry rolled down on the warriors of the Temple. But the knights, faithful to their old renown, bore themselves manfully and well. The first charge being over, their long swords did fearful execution among the ranks of the lightly-armed Saracens, who, drawing back for a space, began to shower their arrows against the formidable group M 2 164 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF whom their wildest onset had failed even foran instant to shake. Saladin, maddened by the opposition which threatened to frustrate his schemes and deprive him of the victory, ordered another and more desperate charge, but again were the Saracens driven back in disorder from the front of this impenetrable phalanx. Nor perhaps would they ever have succeeded had they not received a strong and unexpected reinforce- ment. A body of the garrison, about six thousand strong, seeing the Christians busily employed in the Turkish camp, maTched out with the intention of making an attack upon the other ; but espying a small troop of knights maintaining their ground against a very superior body of Turks, they changed their first design and fell upon the rear of the Tem- plars. Thus inclosed on all sides, and unassisted by their friends, the Templars could no longer continue the unequal struggle. They made a desperate attempt to hew their way through the swarm of Infidels, and at last succeeded, but not without the loss of their master, Gerard de Riderfort, and many brave companions. Saladin having thus removed opposition, proceeded directly to his own camp, now full of Christian soldiers, whose disgraceful eagerness for plunder was such that they had not even observed the obstinate resistance and defeat of the valiant band. No effectual resistance could be made by men so thoroughly surprised. The whole Christian army disbanded and in confusion fled precipitately towards their camp, pursued by the Turks, who made pri- soners of many during the retreat, and cut more to pieces. The consequences might have been still RICHARD THE FIRST. 165 more disastrous, had not James D'Avesnes and Geoffry de Lusignan, who were left in custody of the camp, collected their forces, and by making a vigorous attack upon the pursuers, again turned the fortune of the day so far as to allow the harassed Christians to enter their entrenchments in safety. So ended this memorable battle, the honour of which was claimed by both parties with some show of reason. It appears, however, that the Saracens on the whole sustained the severest loss, as a son and a nephew of the sultan, besides many of his most dis- tinguished officers, were slain in the first attack ; whereas, besides the Templars, Andrew count of Brienne was the only man of note among the crusa- ders who fell. This battle made both parties so well acquainted with their relative strength, that neither felt desirous again to try their fortune in the open field. They therefore remained in a state of double siege, the Christians watching the city, and the army of Saladin hanging on the skirts of the Christians with- out making any general demonstration. Only, whenever the crusaders made a more active attack than usual upon the city, and began to ply their military engines, they were sure to be disturbed by a similar attempt upon their own camp by Saladin, and were compelled to turn upon the defensive. Du- ring the first winter, the crusaders suffered severely from famine. The fleets of Saladin which occupied the sea, conveyed large stores of provisions into the city ; and his own army was well supplied from the adjacent country, the resources of which were utterly barred against his adversaries. So pressing at one 166 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP time did the necessity become, that horse-flesh was almost the only subsistence of the crusaders ; and even this miserable shift must soon have failed them, had not Conrad, by collecting his vessels from Tyre and hazarding a naval engagement with his usual success, relieved them from their sad emergency. As soon as the passage by sea was thus re-opened, new supplies of provisions were introduced, and new reinforcements from Europe sustained the hopes of the Christians. The most important of these fresh arrivals was that of Henry the young count of Champagne, nephew of king Richard, who brought the joyful news that his uncle and the French king might shortly be expected to arrive in the Holy Land. Meanwhile a new cause of dissention and jealousy arose. Isabella, who was half-sister to the queen Sybilla, and daughter of Amaury, by his second marriage with the princess Mary, daughter of Sebas- tocrator Isaac Comnenus, had been married when a mere child to Humphrey of Thoron, a weak and foolish man, who was held in less respect by his brother barons than even the vacillating Guy. This marriage, as might have been expected, proved an unhappy one, the parties being quite unsuited to each "other by temper and inclination. The renown and personal accomplishments of Conrad of Mont- serrat at first attracted the attention, and finally gained the affections of the ambitious Isabella, in whose eyes his good qualities seemed even greater than they were, when contrasted with the humili- ating inferiority of her spouse. The result of this liaison was a mutual divorce, and a marriage between RICHARD THE FIRST. 167 the amorous pair. Isabella alleged that she had been compelled as a child, contrary to her inclina- tions, to espouse Humphrey ; and Conrad, who had already deserted his Grecian bride, passed over these former nuptials as indifferently as though they never had taken place. The laxity of morals prevailing among the Franks gave countenance to this scan- dalous proceeding : Humphrey was a mere cipher, whose consent or opposition were equally disre- garded ; and although Baldwin, archbishop of Can- terbury, entered a strong protest against the ille- gality of the measure, Conrad and Isabella were publicly married by the complaisant bishop of Beauvais. On the part of the marquis this alliance was one of policy as well as of inclination. Sybilla and her infant daughter were now both dead, and as Guy of Lusignan had only acquired the crown of Jerusalem by marriage, it was agreed by the partisans of Conrad, that the right now devolved upon Isabella, who was the sole surviving descendant of the royal family of Jerusalem. Vehement resistance was of course made to this doctrine by the friends of Lu- signan, but these were few in number compared with the adherents of his rival, who was certainly in every respect better fitted to maintain the dignity and honour of the crown, especially in such troublesome times. Such being the case, there is some reason to commend the moderation of Conrad, in not instantly assuming, as he was urged to do, the royal style and authority, but in consenting to waive his claim, until the arrival and arbitration of the kings of England 168 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF and France should put an end to the dispute. Matters were on this footing when the German crusaders under Frederick, duke of Suahia, son of the late emperor, arrived at Acre. Another general assault upon the city was ordered, and a protracted struggle took place, in which duke Leopold of Austria particularly distinguished himself; for, having gained the top of the walls, and being cut off from his men, he defended himself for a long time single-handed, against a great body of the garrison, and at last, when overcome by numbers, threw himself all armed as he was into the sea ; in token of which exploit, Frederick assigned him for his armorial bearings, a fez argent on a shield gules, which the house of Austria carry to this day. Notwithstanding all their endeavours, the Chris- tians were not able to obtain possession of the city, but were again compelled to retire to their lines. Shortly afterwards Frederick of Suabia, the valiant leader of the Germans, fell sick and died, and his troops, disheartened by the fatigues they had endured in their passage from Europe, and disconsolate at his loss, refused to remain longer, but returned to their own country. Leopold of Austria and his own particular retainers were all that remained of the numerous army of German crusaders. The remaining history of the military operations in Palestine, until the arrival of Richard and Philip Augustus, presents no features of remarkable in- terest. Both sickness and famine were unusually prevalent in the Christian camp, and though the RICHARD THE FIRST. 169 latter was sometimes alleviated by the activity of the marquis of Montserrat, the troops were never in a condition to hazard another general engagement, or to undertake an effectual assault. They therefore contented themselves with repelling the attacks of Saladin, and the sallies of the besieged garrison, and awaited with intense eagerness the approach of the allied kings. Philip arrived first and assumed the chief command, but nothing of importance was done until Co3ur-de-Lion set foot on the Holy Land. 170 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP CHAPTER VII. Joy of the Crusaders at Richard's Arrival at Acre ; and Jealousy of Philip and the Marquis Conrad State of the Siege Richard's Illness Unsuccessful Attack upon the City by Philip Death of Alberic Clement, Marshal of France Richard continues the Siege; effects a Breach, but is repulsed Offer by the Garrison to capitulate refused General Assault upon the City, and final Surrender Further Disagreement between Richard and Philip Dispute for the Crown of Jerusalem filially settled Departure of Philip from the Holy Land Saladin puts to death the Christian Captives ; and Richard in return causes the Garrison of Acre to be beheaded Preparations for the Campaign March to Caiphas Attack of the Turks repelled Order of the Marcli Arrival at Cesarea Hardships of the Crusaders^Skirmish near Cesarea The Army are harassed by the Saracens during their advance inland Want of Provisions Arrival at the River of Assur, and preparations for a general Engagement. THE arrival of Richard was hailed by the crusa- ders with tokens of extraordinary joy. The fame of his prowess had gone before him, and even in Pales- tine, a country wherein war for a hundred years had never ceased to rage, his military operations in Cyprus were watched with no common interest, and his success was looked upon as a pledge and assurance of the victories which he, the great Achilles of this army, would gain in Palestine at the head of the warriors of the cross. The camp was that day deserted by its inmates, who all thronged eagerly to the shore to catch a glimpse of their expected champion. The French as well as the English crusaders were of course already acquainted with his person, and vaunted of such knowledge, as if the mere circumstance of eye-familiarity rendered them superior to the rest. But the Italians, Ger- RICHARD THE FIRST. 171 mans, Danes and Flemings, the old inhabitants of Jerusalem, and the knights of the Temple and Hos- pital, had never yet cast eyes upon Richard, though often and often while straining their vision to dis- cover the distant speck of his sails upon the sea, they had discoursed together of the stalwart frame, high look, and noble gesture of the far-famed English monarch. Their expectations were more than ful- filled. Th& kingly bearing of Richard surpassed the pictures they had drawn, and as he set foot upon the holy earth, such a shout arose as made the walls of Acre tremble. Two men only in the Christian army beheld the approach of Richard with dissatisfaction, although even they were forced to disguise their sentiments. These were the king of France and the marquis Conrad of Tyre. The first, until this day, had been the principal personage in the camp, the most admired and applauded of all ; but he now saw that the star of his reputation was destined to wane before the brilliancy of his rival, whom he had long ceased to love, and whom he now began to hate. Conrad, on the other hand, regarded Richard as the man who was to deprive him of his influence and kingdom, to place an unworthy rival over his head, and to rob him even of the principality which his sole distinguished valour had rescued from the grasp of the heathen. This last he had indeed taken steps to preserve, by placing Tyre under the protection of the king of France, who was friendly to his interests. But who could tell how far such pro- tection might avail against the power of Richard, if excited by the machinations of Lusignan ? For 172 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP himself, he was conscious that his own talent and influence were not sufficient to enable him to cope with Richard on anything like equal terms, and he looked forward with anxiety to the time when his royal protector should depart from Palestine, and leave the conduct of the enterprise in the hands of Coeur-de-Lion alone. Nor was this event at all improbable, for Philip, the count of Flanders, had died immediately after reaching Acre ; and the king of France, not content with appropriating his per- sonal property, harboured the intent of annexing his dominions to his own, and was therefore anxious to find a pretext for abandoning the crusade, which, though it might add something to his reputation, promised, in return for his labour and cost, no lasting or solid advantages. Notwithstanding this state of feeling, both Philip and Conrad were among the first to welcome Richard, and to conduct, him to the quarters allotted him in the camp. That night there was feasting and gladness among the Chris- tians, and in the city sorrow and despair. By that unaccountable intelligence which always exists between the inhabitants of a besieged citv and its O * besiegers, the garrison of Acre were made acquainted with the loss of the vessel upon which their principal dependence was placed, and of the arrival of one whom they hated as the destroyer of their friends, and feared as their own mighty and invincible foe. The Christians had not made any great progress with the siege at the time of Richard's arrival. The O king of France contented himself with preparing his engines, and disciplining his troops ; perhaps, had he been allowed to follow his own inclination, he RICHARD THE FIRST. 173 would have hazarded an assault, but the majority of the crusaders preferred that this should be delayed, until by the presence of Richard their whole force should be concentrated, and Philip was compelled to yield. Richard, on his part, lost no time in pre- paring for the enterprise, and having landed his military stores, proceeded to erect such engines, as were then reckoned the most effectual im- plements for battering the walls, and for hurling missiles into the midst of a beleaguered town. While thus employed, the Pisans and the Genoese offered Richard their services during the crusade. The overtures of the first were accepted, and the Pisans afterwards foxight with credit to themselves beneath the English flag, but Richard refused the Genoese, on account of their having previously made the same offer to Philip and to the marquis of Tyre. The engines being at last erected, a day for the general assault upon the city was fixed, and the crusaders flattered themselves with the hope of an easy victory. But the time for the reduction of Acre was not yet come. Richard was suddenly attacked by one of the fevers so common in southern countries, and which was at the time peculiarly prevalent in the camp. He became so weak and languid as to be utterly unable to support the weight of his armour, and presently afterwards to stir from his couch. Notwithstanding this grievous disappointment, it was determined that the attack upon the city should be made, and accordingly Philip, once more the leader of the Christians, manned his engines, and advanced * O against the city. The Saracens in Acre, aware of 174 TH*E LIFE AND TIMES OP his intention, made the usual signals by atabals and shouting to warn Saladin of their danger, and in the mean time returned with great vigour the shower of stones which were flung against them, and endeavoured, with the Greek fire, to destroy the enormous towers, which even overlooked their walls. Saladin, always on the alert, drew out his forces, and fell upon the rear of the Christians, filling up the fosse by which their camp was pro- tected, tearing down the palisades, and even burn- ing some of the tents. Geoffry of Lusignan, the brother of Guy, to whom this important post was assigned, resisted obstinately the attack of the sultan, performed prodigies of valour, and finally beat his opponents back. Yet so vigorous, this time, was the onset of the Turks, that he was forced to call to his assistance some of the assailants of the city; others, hearing the noise behind, and seeing part of their own troops hastening to the rear, left their engines, and followed their example. The Saracens in 'Acre profited by the opportunity, and made a sally, which threw the crusaders into such confusion, that Philip deemed it advisable to aban- don the assault for the present, and retired to his own quarters, in chagrin and disappointment. He was shortly seized by the same malady which con- fined Richard to his bed, and although the Templars and Hospitallers with the duke of Burgundy and others continued day and night to annoy the city from their engines, the walls were too strong to give way, and the wooden towers of the besiegers were one by one destroyed by means of the Greek fire, against which not even raw hides, esteemed the RICHARD THE FIRST. 175 best preventive, were found to be effectual. The details of the siege are so long, that we must be excused from particular mention of the exploits performed on both sides during the illness of the kings. Philip was the first to recover. As soon as he was able personally to superintend the opera- tions, he determined to make another attempt, in order if possible to wipe off the disgrace of his former failure. For this purpose he caused part of the walls to be undermined, and on the morning ' O fixed for the attack ordered the wooden props to be set on fire, confidently expecting to effect a breach. The work, however, seems to have been clumsily executed, for the wall, instead of falling into ruin, merely sunk into the earth, and inclined slightly outwards ; enough, however, was done to terrify the besieged, and to animate the hopes of the assailants, who rushed forward with loud shouts, and attempted to carry the town by escalade. 'At the same moment the forces of Saladin, under his ablest general, Kahadin, fell upon the camp, but this time they were not able to penetrate further than the fosse, their manoeuvre having been antici- pated, and a large body of crusaders stationed to receive them. The Saracens within Acre fought desperately and well. Every ladder placed against the walls was overthrown, and crowds of soldiers dashed from the topmost rounds to the earth, where they lay crushed and helpless. Much noble blood was that day spilt in vain. No Christian foot was planted upon the battlement, until Alberic Clement, marshal of France, whose name has been rendered immortal by his prowess, swore that he would con- 176 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF quer Acre, or perish in the attempt; and calling on his men to follow him, he placed a ladder against the wall, and leaping upon the battlement, struck down the Turks who attempted to oppose his progress. Multitudes of the French strove to come to his assistance, but this very eagerness defeated their object, for so crowded was the ladder with men-at- arms, that it broke across, and all who were upon it fell heavily upon the ground. Alberic Clement, thus left alone, defended himself nobly for a time, until, oppressed by numbers, he died iipon the walls of Acre. A knight more valiant, and more beloved, was not in the Christian army ; and so dispirited were all the assailants, by the spectacle of his untimely end, that again they withdrew from the attack, leaving the city still unsubdued. By this time Richard had recovered so far from his illness that he was able to leave his couch, and though still weak and emaciated applied himself to the task, which the Christians, without his assist- ance, seemed incapable of accomplishing. He caused a high and strong shed, the roof of which was fire-proof, to be erected, and under it he placed his engines and balistae, thus directing his whole force against one particular tower, instead of attempting several breaches at once. The tower which he thus assaulted, was one of the loftiest and strongest of those which flanked the walls. It bore the appella- tion of the Wicked Tower, from a tradition current in Palestine, that it was built with the thirty pieces of silver for which Judas betrayed his master ; and it had hitherto resisted the shock of Philip's artillery. Strong as it was, it began now to give way before RICHARD THE FIRST. 177 the blows of the ponderous missiles, hurled from the engines of Richard ; some of which were stones of enormous size and hardness, specially selected for the purpose at Messina, and used in the passage to Palestine as ballast to the ships. The wall, composed of softer materials, began to crumble down, and under cover of the shed the miners advanced their operations so far as to sap the foundations of the tower. Meanwhile Richard was constantly pre- sent, inspecting the progress of the work and direct- ing with his own hand the arbalist and mangonel. Almost every Turk who showed himself upon the wall was struck down, and one who, clad in the armour of the deceased Alberic Clement, had the hardihood to expose himself, was transfixed by a bolt driven from the cross-bow of Richard*. At last the tower gave way and a practicable breach appeared. The English instantly sent word to the other crusaders, but without waiting for the arrival of auxiliaries armed themselves in haste, and, under the guidance of the earl of Leicester and the warlike bishop of Salisbury, rushed towards the breach. To reach this they had to climb over a vast quantity of rubbish, and found the entrance guarded by an innumerable swarm of Turks, who, knowing well that the struggle was for life or death, defended themselves with desperation. Their determined spirit became more apparent when the assailants mounted to the breach ; for there even the sweep of their long and heavy swords could not dissipate the multitude, who repaid them stroke for stroke, and crowded forwards to supply the places of the slain. * Yinesauf. N 378 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF Meanwhile, from above the breach stones and lances were flung down, which the English, engaged hand to hand with other adversaries, had no means of avoiding : their mimber also was very small com- pared with that of the enemy; and although the French were well aware of their situation, such was the jealousy of Philip that he would not suffer a man to leave his quarters and join the fray. The only troops who supported the English on this occa- sion were the Pisans, who behaved with uncommon gallantry ; but their assistance was not sufficient to crown the efforts of their comrades with success. For a long time the combat thus continued, neither party advancing nor giving way, until the Saracens betook themselves to a weapon, which in their hands was more serviceable than their stores of stone and steel. This was the Greek fire ; which they brought in quantities to the top of the wall, and from thence showered it down copiously upon the struggling crusaders. It was beyond human fortitude to endure the pain of this diabolical composition, which ran down the armour of the Christians in a blazing stream, and wherever it entered a joint or rivet burned to the bone. The English fell back in confusion ; some of them, rendered frantic by the pain, tore off their armour, and were instantly transfixed by the arrows of the Turks. The Pisans with extraordinary gallantry made another attempt to carry the breach, but were speedily driven back and forced to abandon the enterprise. During the ensuing night the Turks laboured diligently to repair their walls, and in spite of the continuous shot RICHARD THE FIRST. 179 from the engines of the English, succeeded so well as to render the breach no longer practicable from below. Notwithstanding this successful resistance, it be- came apparent to the Saracens themselves that the Christians would never raise the siege, and that sooner or later they must be constrained to ren- der the city. By sea they could expect no further supplies, because the English and French fleets blockaded the harbour ; the most vigorous efforts of Saladin to break through the lines of the crusaders and relieve the garrison had proved ineffectual; their provisions were almost exhausted; and the accidents of a long and bloody siege had terribly reduced their number. Moreover, they were griev- ously thwarted in all they undertook by clandestine treachery of a very singular kind. Whenever any sally was meditated, or any new device for destroy- ing the engines proposed by those in Acre, letters were shot from the walls into the camp of the Chris- tians, giving them notice of the motion, and advising them how it might be foiled. That the writer was a person of some rank was evident, for he narrated cir- cumstances which could only be known to the chiefs of the garrison. He stated himself'to be a Christian, but never divulged his name ; and what was still more extraordinary, after the reduction of the city, although the most diligent search was made, no trace of him could be found. All these circumstances combined to render the garrison most desirous of capitulating upon favourable terms, although when they considered how many of the besiegers they had slain, and how many more had died of famine and N 2 180 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF disease before the walls, they were not very sanguine of obtaining this. Accordingly, in pursuance of the declared opinion of the garrison, Mestoc and Caracos, two of the five emirs who commanded in the town, craved a parley, and being admitted to the presence of the kings, offered to deliver up the city and all it con- tained, on the sole condition that the garrison should be permitted to depart free and unmolested. Philip, it is stated, was ready enough to concede to these terms, but Richard positively refused. " Do you reckon," said he, " my power so small that I cannot take by force what you now offer as a favour? Look at your shaken walls and tottering turrets, and then tell me if you require to evacuate Acre before I become master of the town." Philip at last deferred to his judgment, and the only terms upon which the garrison could be allowed to depart were stated as follows : That the whole of the territory in Pales- tine occupied by the Latins at the time of the depart- ure of Louis from the second crusade should be restored ; that the True Cross, which at the battle of Tiberias fell into the hands of Saladin, should be given back, and that all the Christian captives should be set free. To these proposals, which no doubt were extravagant, considering that their fulfil- ment depended upon Saladin, (over whom the Chris- tians had hitherto gained no advantage,) and not upon the garrison, the emirs replied that they had no power to enter into any such treaty without the will and consent of their master the Sultan, but that if permission were given them to lay these proposals before his- feet, they would do what in them lay to urge him to compliance. This being allowed, they RICHARD THE FIRST. 181 proceeded to the camp of the sultan, and having stated the above terms, received a positive refusal. Saladin bewailed their unfortunate situation, but put it to the emirs themselves, if they, being in his situation, would have thought themselves entitled to buy off the garrison at the expense of the honour of the Moslem. The emirs acknowledged the justice of his decree, and, after an affecting interview, re- turned to the city*. On the same night Saladin made a furious attack upon the trenches, to the intent that, whilst the crusaders were occupied in defending their camp, the garrison of Acre might have an opportunity of quitting the city, and of joining their friends by a circuitous route. This stratagem, which was as well executed as planned, would probably have succeeded, had not the mysterious correspondent of the Chris- tians warned them of the design, so that the sultan on approaching the trenches found the crusaders on their guard ; and the garrison, who did not fail to issue forth at the appointed time, were surprised to discover fresh troops upon the alert, and were forced again to betake themselves to their old quarters. Saladin, perceiving that his real object was known, presently retired. Next day the English set fire to the wooden props which they had -placed in the mines, with such success, that not only the Wicked Tower, but the wall itself to the extent of a rood, fell to the ground, and left the interior of the city ex- posed. The English army were now drawn out and ready for the assault, when those of the garrison made a conditional signal of surrender ; and Richard, * Bohadin. 182 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF being well aware that should he persist in his design the Turks would sell their lives dearly, and would probably occasion him the loss of some of his bravest soldiers, accepted the sign and returned to the camp. The five emirs now issued forth and repeated their former offer, which was again rejected; but permission was granted them, as before, to visit Saladin, and to try what terms they could wring from him by a representation of their miserable circumstances. They returned with an offer from the sultan, that he would restore Jerusalem, the Holy Cross, and all the towns and castles which he had taken in Palestine after the battle of Tiberias, when Guy of Lusignan was taken prisoner. He offered, moreover, to set free all his Christian captives, upon the condition, that the garrison of Acre should be dismissed, and that the kings of England and France should assist him with six thousand horsemen and twenty thousand infantry, in repelling an invasion made by the sons of his pre- decessor Noureddin, who had already conquered his uncle Tokeddin, and possessed themselves of the greater part of Mesopotamia. This proposal was at once rejected by the kings, who, unlike Amaury, refused to make or meddle with the intestine disputes of the Saracens ; and the emirs, finding their whole overtures rejected, returned in sorrow and despair to the city. On the succeeding day, which was the seventh of July, 1191, Philip of France made an assault upon the town, but was driven back, with the loss of several men. On the eighth, Saladin burned the town of Caiphas, on the south side of the bay of Acre, which had been for some time in the hands of the crusaders, and destroyed all the vine- RICHARD THE FIRST. 183 yards. Two more days were spent in preparation, and on the eleventh, the English and Pisans advanced to the breach, when the garrison again signified their willingness to surrender, and the emirs having once more conferred with the kings, the following terms were arranged. The city of Acre, with all it con- tained, was surrendered to the Christians. The emirs pledged themselves to obtain from Saladin restitution of the True Cross, together with the payment of two hundred thousand bezants; and it was moreover agreed, that a thousand Christian captives and two hundred knights, to be selected by the kings, should be set at liberty. For the performance of these articles the whole garrison were considered as hostages, and thirty days were allowed for Saladin's performance of the same ; wherein if he failed, on the tenth day thereafter the whole of the Turks were, life and limb, at the entire disposal of the conquerors. Thus was Acre conquered, after a siege of nearly three years, though not without the loss of an infinite number of crusaders from all parts of Europe, who perished before its walls, and the expenditure of so much treasure as drained the coffers of the wealthiest countries of Europe. Such indeed is the constant result of war. When we look at the real value of the conquest, and take into consideration the vast loss of productive life, and the destruction inevitable to the acquisition, when we know that each rood has been purchased by the expenditure of a human life, and the tears and misery of thousands, how revolting to a human mind is the triumph, and how inadequate the gain ! These are considerations which all would do well to ponder deeply, for the J84 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF moral may sooner or later come home to every heart ; and what would it profit a parent, to know that a distant province has been wrested from the hands of the old occupants of the soil, when he hears that the heart's-blood of his child was shed npon the battle- field by which that province was won ? The crusaders marched into Acre immediately after the capitulation. Richard took possession of the royal palace, while Philip was lodged in the mansion of the Templars. According to an old agreement, the city was divided between them ; but the other crusaders received a share of the treasures found within its walls. In order to give a distinct and concise account of the siege of Acre, we have postponed the mention of several important circum- stances which throw much light upon the reciprocal feelings of the different crusaders, and especially of Richard and Philip, and to these we shall now advert. Very shortly after the landing of the English, Philip demanded as his right the posssession of half the island of Cyprus ; alleging that the agreement entered into by the kings, to share their conquests during the holy war, applied to all subjects acquired during the expedition, as well as to those recovered within the boundaries of Palestine. To this proposal Richard replied that he had not the slightest objection to agree, provided Philip would in like manner make over to him half of the territory of Flanders, and half the personal property which he had seized, or which had fallen to his lot, after the decease of the earl ; and as Conrad had formally delivered his city of Tyre to Philip, Richard put in his claim for the moiety of that also. These demands on both sides RICHARD THE FIRST. 185 were vexatious, and dictated by a spiteful spirit, yet Philip seemed inclined to persist, until the mediation of others put an end to the disagreement by deciding that the original contract only referred to Palestine. No sooner was this dispute ended than another arose, on account of the interfering pretensions of the com- petitors for the Syrian crown. Guy of Lusignan rose in full assembly, and accused Conrad of having perverted the laws and embezzled the revenue of the realm ; to which the other replied, that in exercising his authority and collecting the customs, he merely availed himself of the right which he derived from his wife, the queen Isabella. As these matters de- pended entirely upon the settlement of the crown, the Templars and Hospitallers were appointed to collect the revenue and take charge of the harbour of Acre, until such time as the kings should choose one of the two competitors. Hot words ensued in the assembly, and Geoffry of Lusignan, brother of Guy, started fiercely up, defied Conrad as a perJTired man and a traitor to his brother, and flung his gauntlet before his feet. Conrad did not want per- sonal courage, indeed he was one of the most accom- plished cavaliers of his day, but he did not lift the gage, as by so doing, he might have compromised the character he claimed ; a sovereign being by the laws of chivalry exempt from accepting the challenge of a vassal. He eyed Geoffry with a scornful glance, and, without saying a word, left the assembly. Some of the crusaders (probably the English) began to scoff at and to call him traitor, but none dared to lay hands upon him ; for his popularity in the camp was great, and the first blow aimed at him would 186 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP have been the signal for the Templars, Genoese, and native Latins to rise to arms. Indignant at the insult, he retired to Tyre, and did not return until the siege of Acre was ended, when Philip requested his presence as a personal favour, and treated him with the most marked distinction. The pause which ensued between the reduction of the city and the day fixed for the ransom of the garrison seemed a proper time for settling the disputes for the throne, as while this important point remained unsettled no unanimity could be expected, and without unanimity the recapture of Jerusalem was a vain and hopeless attempt. After much consultation and various meetings, at which the partisans of either candidate disputed long and loudly, it was finally agreed that Guy of Lusignan should for the remainder of his life continue king of Jerusalem, .but that his children, if he should marry again, could have no claim to the succession; that the reversion of the crown should remain to the marquis Conrad and his children by Isabella, and that in the meantime he should draw half the revenues of the realm, besides those of Tyre, Sidon, and Baruth, which however, were to be held of the crown ; and that Geoffry of Lusignan, on the same condition, should possess the counties of Jaffa and Caesarea. Under all the circumstances, this appears to have been an equitable adjustment ; it did not, however, satisfy Conrad, who knew his superiority to his weak and unlucky rival, and waited only for the time when Richard should depart from Palestine to make himself master of the whole. These matters being so far arranged, Philip pre- sented the marquis with his moiety of the city of RICHARD THE FIRST. 187 Acre, and on the same day, communicated to Richard his intention of returning forthwith to Europe, craving at the same time his assent to a step so likely to affect the interests of all concerned. Ri- chard's reply was short and scornful. " The king of France," said he, " is my liege lord, but I am bound to say that it will be an eternal disgrace and infamy to him if he leaves Palestine before he has accomplished the work for the sake of which he came hither. Nevertheless, if he feels himself infirm and weak, or fears to die in the Holy Land, let him go ! * " Philip still persisted in his resolution, which, when divulged, caused the utmost dismay and consternation among the crusa- ders, particularly among those who were native to the soil, and whose interests were identified with the recapture of Palestine. They considered his defection as the first of a series of abandonments which should leave them again without defence at the mercy of the Infidel ; and they used every means in their power, by tears, prayers, and supplications, to turn him from his purpose. It was all in vain. A more lucrative object than the recovery of Jeru- salem lured the king of France back to Europe. A larger conquest than that of the Sepulchre awaited him at home, and having satisfied his conscience by striking a single though ineffectual blow for the cause of Christendom, he now hastened to reward his virtues by spoiling the territories of his neigh- bours. This violent haste on the part of his rival and unfriend seemed rather suspicious to Richard, who, although in his adopted country Palestine, did * Hovedcn. 188 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF not quite forget the contiguity of Normandy, or the narrowness of the sea which separates Britain from France. Before therefore giving his consent to his departure, he compelled Philip to take an oath, that he would protect the lands and subjects of his cru- sading companion until the return of the latter from Palestine, and that he would neither do injury to them himself, nor suffer others to molest them in any manner whatsoever. Having thus freed himself from his first obligation by incurring a second, Philip made hasty preparations for his departure. Part of his troops he left under the command of the duke of Burgundy, who thenceforward acted as the repre- sentative of France ; part he sent to the assistance of Raymond, prince of Antioch, under the command of Robert de Quincy : and on the thirty-first of July he set sail for Tyre, taking with him those prisoners of the garrison of Acre who had fallen to his share, and whom he made over to the marquis Conrad. On the third of August he left Tyre, and proceeded homewards, carrying with him the maledictions of all the crusaders, save those of his own country, and heartily despised by all for his faint-heartedness and want of resolution. Richard considered the abduc- tion of the prisoners as a breach of the articles made with Saladin, and not without justice, since, if that prince should implement his part of the agreement, he, as generalissimo of the Christian army, was bound to set the whole of the garrison of Acre free. This he could not do whilst the marquis retained the custody of the prisoners allotted to Philip, and he therefore sent to Tyre, desiring that these might be returned without delay. On receiving a refusal, he RICHARD THE FIRST. 189 burst into a violent passion, and swore that he would go to Tyre in person and fetch them back. From this rash step he was dissuaded by the duke of Bur- gundy, who claimed and received the prisoners as the representative of his king ; and Richard, finding no further obstacle in his path, awaited with stern patience the day fixed for the ransom or death of the captive Saracens, which fell upon the twentieth of August. The tenth of August came, but neither the money, the True Cross, nor the Christian pri- soners appeared, whereupon a council was held, by which the garrison were sentenced to be decapitated ; and their resolutions were conveyed to Saladin, in order that before the other ten days expired, he might implement his agreement and save the lives of his friends. The reply of the sultan was this, " If a hair of any of my men be harmed, I will cut off the head of every Christian in my power," an ominous answer, and one which was destined to be fulfilled to the letter. On the fourteenth of the same month, Richard removed from behind his entrenchments, and pitched his camp on a spot nearer the Saracen army. The same day he received ambassadors from Saladin, who offered him gifts of value, with a request that he would further prolong the day of ransom. This Richard positively refused, but returned the presents, and desired the messengers to inform their master that he would most assuredly put the sentence into execution, unless the ransom was paid and the other stipulations fulfilled by the day appointed. Saladin, on receiving this message, ordered all his captives to be led forth on the plain in sight of the Christian army, which being done, the unfortunate 190 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP victims were decapitated a horrible spectacle, which so inflamed the indignation of the crusaders, that they instantly rushed to arms ; and, the Saracens being as ready to meet them, a furious combat en- sued, in which neither party gained any material advantage, but fought until separated by the ap- proach of night. Richard, although frantic at the cruel conduct of Saladin, did not take immediate vengeance, but with scrupulous honour waited until the stipulated term had expired. That day being arrived, he also led out his prisoners in sight of the Saracens, and subjected them to the same fate as that which two days before had befallen the Chris- tians. At the same time the duke of Burgundy slew his prisoners within the city. Five thousand are said to have been put to death on this occasion, and only a few of the emirs and other principal chiefs were spared, in order that they might be thereafter exchanged for crusaders of the highest class. So ended this scene of mutual butchery, dis- graceful to both parties and to both kings, who could thus impeach the native nobility of their souls *. The atrocities committed upon the bodies of the slain are almost too shocking to be narrated*!*. * It- is proper to state that I have here followed the account given by the Christian writers, especially by Hoveden, who is very clear and distinct in his statements. Bohadin, the Arabian his- torian, throws much of the blame upon Richard. He assert* that Saladin was willing to perform his agreement, provided proper hostages for delivery of the prisoners had been given, but that the arrogance of the English was the cause of the sultan's failure. As, however, Bohadin makes no mention of the previous slaughter of the Christians, which seems to rest upon good authority, I am in- clined to adhere to the previous version of the tragedy. f See Note B. RICHARD THE FIRST. 191 The fortifications of Acre having been repaired, and the city garrisoned, Richard determined to pur- sue his march to Ascalon by the sea-shore, on account of the advantage of transporting stores for the army by his ships. It was, however, no easy matter to force the crusaders from Acre. For the first time after two years of incalculable hardship and toil, they felt themselves placed in a situation of compar- ative comfort and luxury. The rich wines of the East, and other more enervating temptations, com- bined to render the period of their sojourn there so delicious, that they had hardly courage to face the fatigues of a new campaign. The appearance of even the gravest and most temperate knights under- went a remarkable change ; the bronzed face, firm step, and sinewy frame of the warrior were gradually altered into the ruddy cheek, listless gait, and loose figure of the bacchanal ; the old order and military discipline were relaxed or forgotten; and the aggres- sions of the Turks, who still hovered in the neigh- bourhood, were no longer repelled with the former vigour and alacrity. It required all the energy of Richard to draw his forces from the town ; nor was tliis accomplished without largesses, entreaties, and threats. No women were allowed to accompany the army on its march ; even Richard set a salutary example by leaving his queen, his sister, and the Oypriot princess at Acre, under the charge of Ber- tram de Verdun. When all the arrangements were finally completed, the Christian army began their march ; Richard leading the van, and the duke of Bur- gundy bringing up the rear. As they wound along the sea-shore they observed large masses of Turkish 192 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF cavalry gathering at the foot of the inland mountains, and at times a single mounted Arab would gallop up within how-shot of their line, pace leisurely along- side, as if to spy their weakness or strength, and then ride off to join his companions. These indications caused the crusaders to keep as closely together as possible, and not to allow any straggling from the ranks. Order was thus preserved so long as the ground remained tolerably open; but before reaching Caiphas, the nearest town to the southward of Acre, the road became extremely narrow and winding, owing to the inequalities of the ground, so that the line of march was considerably lengthened, and the van in some measure separated and concealed from the rear. Richard and his division met with no opposition on the road; but whilst the duke of Burgundy and his men, with whom were the bag- gage carts and stores, were toiling through the pass, a crowd of Saracen horsemen bore down upon them unawares. Some drove away the guard from the waggons, and commenced to plunder, whilst others, levelling their lances, made an impetuous charge upon the Christians, whose situation prevented them from acting in a body. The cries and shouts from the rear reached the ears of some of the knights who already had surmounted the pass. These came galloping back in parties of two and three, and pushed boldly into the combat. Still the Turks, being more numerous and lighter mounted, had the advantage, and more than one warrior of name lay gasping on the ground. At the commencement of the attack a messenger was despatched to Richard, but he was already so far advanced with his troops that some RICHARD THE FIRST. 193 time necessarily elapsed before he could hasten to the spot, and the injury to the Christians would have been very serious had not William de Barres, the same knight whose behaviour in Sicily excited the displeasure of Cceur-de-Lion, come up at this critical juncture, and by his own great prowess and exertions kept the enemy at bay, until the English monarch with some of his best knights appeared emerging from the pass. The well known apparition of Richard was the signal for the dispersion of the Saracens, who presently vanished and left the army to pursue its march unmolested. Richard paid De Barres the compliments due to his valour, and from that day sought to efface by every mark of kindness and condescension the memory of his previous harsh- ness. After this skirmish the army proceeded to Cai- phas without encountering any active opposition, although- the cavalry of the enemy were seen at intervals approaching, as if to make another onset, whenever the narrowness or steepness of the road rendered it necessary for the Christians to defile. As, however, the utmost order and caution were pre- served during the march, and as the audacity of the Turks had taught every one to keep on the alert, they reached Caiphas in safety, and still pursuing the route by the sea- shore directed their steps towards Cesarea. The duties of acting as rear and van- guard, were performed alternately by the knights of the different nations. The English, French, Temp- lars and Hospitallers by turns preceded the advance or guarded the rear of the army. When they encamped for the night, an officer stationed in the 194 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP midst gave the signal to the heralds, who proclaimed aloud the watch-word, "Save the Holy Sepulchre ! " a sentence which was instantly taken up and repeated by the mouths of thousands, who, falling upon their knees and raising their hands to heaven, prayed that -God would vouchsafe them the victory and pardon their manifold transgressions. The fatigue they encountered on their march was great. The knights found the weight and heat of their armour almost insupportable beneath the blaze of an eastern sun. At some places they had to hew their way through woods and thickets of the densest and most intricate growth, and at night they were tormented by the attacks of insects and tarantulas, whose bite was so venomous as to cause alarming inflammation. Still the army moved steadily on, the fleet sailing all the while within sight, and in like manner the Saracens moved parallel with them, but more to the interior. At last they arrived at Cesarea, which the Turks had visited before them, and had destroyed the fortifications and burned part of the town. The crusaders therefore encamped by the side of a stream called the Crocodile river, which flows close to Cesarea, and the very same night had ocular demonstration of the propriety of its name, as two of the soldiers, while bathing, were devoured by those rapacious monsters. Here Richard remained for some time, to disembark his stores from the fleet. He also sent several ships back to Acre for reinforcements, and these arrived without any acci- dent. The number of the Christian army, horse and foot included, amounted to a hundred thousand men, and being most of them tried and hardy soldiers were RICHARD THE FIRST. 195 a very effective force, and capable of any enterprise, had there existed among them a regular commissariat department. But our ancestors were better acquainted with the more practical part of war, than with the complicated arrangements which modern science con- siders absolutely indispensable to secure success. Thus while passing through a rich and fertile country, they fared indifferently well, feasting without much nicety on the cattle they found, and on the natural produce of the soil. But when engaged in any extended O O ^ siege, like that of Acre, where they were constantly liable to delays and disappointment in their sxipplies, or when passing through a barren and deserted region, they were always exposed to the miseries of want and famine, and their large numbers only served to aggravate the misfortune. Hence it was a favourite practice of the Turks, as we have already seen, to burn the towns and villages, to drive away the cat- tle, and to destroy the vineyards on the path of the crusaders, and they often contrived by these means to embarrass their enemies more, than if they had fallen upon them sword in hand. Whilst Richard halted at Cesarea to complete his arrangements, the Saracens having in the meantime received large reinforcements became more trouble- some, and repeatedly advanced close to the Christian army discharging their arrows into the camp. This confidence on the part of the enemy created a general expectation among the crusaders that an engagement might shortly be expected, and accordingly before they had advanced far on their way to Joppa, a large body of cavalry appeared, who kept hovering on their flank, and seemed to invite the attack. The o 2 196 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF main body of the crusaders steadily continued their march, but some squadrons were detached, and sent against the enemy in order to discover whether these manoeuvres were merely a part of their constant system of annoyance, or the prelude to a general battle. The result was a short skirmish, in which was slain the emir who commanded the Saracens, a man of gigantic stature and prodigious strength, who carried a lance which is described to have been twice as heavy as the spears of the crusaders, and who although without defensive armour, had the hardihood to meet the charge of the mail-clad knights. The fall of this champion so astounded and terrified his followers, that they fled precipi- tately, and the Christians advanced as before. They were now compelled to deviate from their course, and pursue an inland track, on account of the innu- merable thickets that grew along the sea-shore, and perpetually obstructed their progress. This gave a fresh advantage to the Turks, who could now attack them upon both sides, and accordingly additional caution was observed ; the squadrons were drawn closer together, and an advanced guard sent forward to prevent the possibility of an ambuscade. The country they now traversed was bare and barren, affording neither pasture to their horses, nor pro- visions to themselves. Moreover the Saracens de- scended from the hills in larger numbers than they had yet exhibited, and plied their arrows and lances so dextrously, that a vast number of horses were killed. The Templars, who brought up the rear, suffered in this way such severe loss that they were almost driven to desperation. The count of Saint RICHARD THE FIRST. 197 Paul, who was with them, had hardly one horse left him, yet notwithstanding he exerted himself so much, as to gain the applause of the whole army. Richard, also, during this trying day put forth all his powers, riding from one division of his troops to another, cheering and encouraging his men, and ever and anon, whether supported or not, dashing out against the enemy, and striking down all whom he could reach. Even he did not escape with impunity, for he was wounded, although slightly, in the side by an arrow. So incessant was the discharge, that the historian affirms, on looking back at the ground over which the crusaders passed, there was nowhere a space of four feet where an arrow or a lance did not lie.* This skirmishing lasted for the whole of the day ; at night the Saracens retired, and the weary Christians encamped beside a river, the water of which was brackish and unpalatable. Here they remained for two days, and were so pressed for want of provisions, that the soldiers began to quarrel for the carcases of the dead horses. Richard on hear- ing this caused proclamation to be made, that he would bestow a live horse upon every one who should give up the body of his dead steed for the use of the others, and accordingly horse-flesh became the staple food of the camp ; and as Vinesauf, who was probably a sharer in the banquet, quaintly re- marks, " Hunger being an excellent sauce, it was pronounced not only tolerable, but delicious fare." During these two days they received no annoy- ance from the Saracens, which surprised them not a little, as they had confidently expected and pre- * Vinesauf. ]98 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP pared for an attack upon their camp. On resuming their march, therefore, they advanced with the greater caution, as their course inclining towards the sea, lay through an extensive forest in which they were apprehensive of an ambuscade. No traces of such appeared, but as they approached the mouth of a river near Assur, their scouts brought intelli- gence that the Saracens, to the number of three hundred thousand, were encamped on a plain at a short distance, and appeared determined to make a stand. This prospect roused the spirits of the soldiers, who desired nothing more earnestly than an opportunity of measuring their force, with that of the Saracens, in a fair and open battle. They enter- tained no doubt of the results, however superior the numbers of the enemy might be, and hoped that by striking one severe and effectual blow, they would be delivered from the daily recurrence of that system of annoyance by which they had suffered so much. With joyful alacrity, therefore, they heard the order issued, that every man should prepare himself for a pitched battle on the morrow, and their few dispo- sitions being made, they lay down on the field, and slept until the blast of the trumpet woke them to a clay of victory and blood. RICHARD THE FIRST. 199 CHAPTER VIII. Buttle of Assur, and Defeat of the Saracens Death of James D'Avesnes Arrival of the Crusaders at Joppa Saladin de- stroys the Fortifications of Ascalon Adventure of Richard Combat between the Templars and Saracens Negotiations of Conrad and Richard with Saladin Quarrels amongst the Cru- saders Their advance to Ascalon Defection of the Dukes of Austria and Burgundy The French retire to Acre Disputes of the Pisans and Genoese Alarming intelligence from England and proposed Return of Richard Conrad of Montserrat and Tyre elected King of Jerusalem Account of the Hausassiz Conrad murdered by the Emissaries of the Old Man of the Mountain Marriage of Count Henry of Champagne with Isa- bella, whereby he acquires the Crown of Jerusalem. EARLY in the morning Richard drew np his forces in battle array, and made his dispositions as follows: First of all marched the Templars, under their Grand Master, Robert de Sablay. Then followed the main body, the right of which was commanded by James d'Avesnes, a most esteemed soldier, under whom were the Danes, Brabanters, and Hollanders. Richard in person led the centre, consisting of the English and Norman troops, and with him was Guy of Lusignan. The French and Germans occupied the left, Tinder the command of the Duke of Bur- gundy and Leopold of Austria, and the Hospitallers brought up the rear. As the Saracens were infi- nitely more numerous than the crusaders, no doubt was entertained by the latter that their progress would be opposed. Much however to their asto- nishment, the huge masses of cavalry which dark- ened the plain before them began gradually to move off towards the mountains, leaving the passage free ; at the same time it was observed that as the Sara- 200 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF cens took their new ground, they formed into a sort of crescent, over against the left wing, and Richard, who was more apprehensive of an attack upon this, than on any other quarter, inasmuch as he had no great opinion of the trustworthiness of the duke of Burgundy, despatched his nephew the count of Champagne with some select troops to form the extremity of the left, and watch the operations of the enemy. It was now completely evident that the Saracens intended to follow their old mode of attack, and to annoy the army on their march, with- out hazarding a general engagement. This Richard determined if possible to prevent ; he had suffered so much since his departure from Acre, by this petty and continuous warfare, that he was resolved to strike such a blow as would effectually cripple the Saracens, and relieve himself from a torment exactly similar to that which a traveller endures, when a swarm of hornets circle round his head, buzzing in his ear, and fretting his temper by their continual attempts to sting. His scheme, therefore, was to proceed leisurely onward, as if indifferent to their attacks, until the greater part of the enemy had gathered round them, when he trusted, by a vigorous and simultaneous charge, to force the Sara- cens into such a position, that it would be worse policy for them to fly than to fight. In this case he thought he could confidently reckon on the result. Strict orders were therefore issued, that no one, however great the provocation might be, should presume to commence the attack, but that all should keep in their ranks until the signal was given, by two distinct blasts of the trumpet from RICHARD THE FIRST. 201 the van, the centre, and the rear, when the knights of each squadron were at liberty to address them- selves against the nearest of the foe. The army accordingly began their march as leisurely as if no enemy were in sight, though no doubt many a heart beat fast and anxiously, and many an eye was turned to the hills whereon the dark masses of the enemy hung, fearful and threatening, as a cloud charged with the artillery of thunder. A movement was at last descried among the ranks of the Saracens, and as precipitately as the waters rush down the channel of a winter torrent, when a waterspout has broken among the mountains, came ten thousand of the Turkish horsemen, in full career, the atabals clashing, plumes waving, and banners streaming, as they charged. The left wing instantly faced about to receive them, but it was not the wish of the Saracens to penetrate the line. When almost upon the point of the spears, they wheeled round, flung their lances and javelins into the midst of the crusaders, (whose array was so dense that, according to the historian, an apple could not have fallen amongst them without touch- ing either man or horse,) and made way for a body of savage warriors, Bedouins, from the Arabian desert, expert archers, whose constant discharge did much damage to the horses. While these hung upon the left wing, the cavalry, now doubled in number, fell upon the rear and right wing, whilst the vanguard and main body of the Christians re- mained almost unmolested. The scene was most terrific. In the middle of the plain, the crusading army closely packed, and to all appearance a mere 202 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF handful when compared with their foes, stepped slowly forwards, the rear ranks retiring with their faces to the enemy ; whilst on three sides thousands on thousands of Saracen horsemen rode impetuously round, brandishing their long lances, shooting their arrows, and casting their javelins against the iron phalanx. All at once the confusion ceased, the Turks fell back upon either side, and at the head of a fresh and magnificent body of cavalry, the sultan galloped into the field " See where amidst the battle's rolling tide King Saladin comes on! Around him wheel Emirs and princes, and the chiefest flower Of all the Moslem chivalry, and each Bears him as if he were a. kin^ himself To all except the Sultan ! How their steeds Come plunging through that heavy wall of dust, Which closes as they pass, and canopies The rearward of the army !" The Hospitallers bore the brunt of this new attack with that fortitude which they always displayed, although their situation was now perilous in the extreme. Many of their horses were slain, and the dismounted riders, cased in complete armour, (a most unfit garb for a pedestrian,) were forced to keep pace with their mounted brethren. Some of them attempted to use the cross-bow, but with little effect, owing to the narrowness of the space in which they moved. Indeed during the whole of this battle the crusaders received almost no assist- ance from their archers. A body of these were stationed on the left wing, but the first onset of the Turkish cavalry drove them in upon the main body, where they were of little service. All this while no charge had been made by any of the Christian RICHARD THE FIRST. 203 knights in consequence of the order issued, but the Hospitallers, now furious at finding themselves attacked so fiercely without the power to make reprisals, sent word to Richard that it was utterly impossible for them to support any longer the violence of the infidels unless they were allowed to charge. Cceur de Lion, who thought the time was not yet come, entreated them to contain themselves for a little period longer; and this they did, until the Saracens, grown bolder, advanced close to the re- treating ranks, and began to interchange with the knights blows of the sword and mace, and even O ' attempted to .penetrate their array. This the Hos- pitallers could not endure. Never since their order was founded had they been brought to such a pass, as patiently to endure the blows of the infidels with- out charging them in return. A loud murmur of discontent spread through the ranks, and one of the brethren, Gamier by name, signified to the Grand Master, Godfrey de Duisson, the resolution of the rest. The Master instantly rode forward to Richard and communicated his situation. Still the king delayed to give the order to charge. His intention probably was to entice the Saracens to surround his army, in which case, no doubt, they might have been more completely routed; but if so, his plans were frustrated by the impetuosity of two knights, the marshal of the Hospital, and Baldwin de Carreo, a subject and companion of his own. These men, galled beyond endurance by the pertinacity of the Turks, set spurs to their horses and charged into the thickest of the assailants. They instantly dis- appeared from the view of their friends, but the 204 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF gathering crowd, and the Christian war-cry which sounded loud above the clash and clang of the O Turkish music, indicated the spot where these brave hearts were contending, unsupported, amongst thousands. " Come what may," cried Godfrey de Duisson, " we must not leave our brethren to perish !" and placing his spear in the rest, he dashed into the press, followed by the whole renowned chivalry of Saint John. Almost at the same moment, James D'Avesnes on the right, and Henry of Champagne on the left wing, rushed forth against the enemy. The earl of Leicester, with part of the English, did the like, and the other troops, seeing these advance without the signal, followed their example. The first shock was tremendous. At no time could the Turks sustain the charge of the red-cross knights, which the strength of their horses, and the weight and length of their spears, rendered peculiarly for- midable. The Saracens usually endeavoured, by manoeuvring, to escape this encounter; but now, blocked up by multitudes of their own friends be- hind, they had no means of evading it. Hundreds of saddles were emptied in a moment, and the foot soldiers coming rapidly up, hewed down, or trans- fixed with their pikes, all who were borne to the ground. Richard, mounted on his favourite Cyprus charger, gave entire vent to his ardour, and, exert- ing the whole of his gigantic strength, did that day such deeds of arms as excited the wonder and admi- ration of those who knew him best, and inspired the Turks with the belief that he was rather an aveng- ing demon, than a mere mortal man. Wherever he came, a wide lane was opened, through which RICHARD THE FIRST. 205 he rode, striking right and left, and whosoever fell beneath one of these terrible blows, never rose again. Panic-struck, and astounded by the sudden move- ment of the crusaders, the Saracens began first to waver, and then to fly. Even Saladin turned the rein, and then the rout became general ; nor, as was usually the case when the Turks retreated, did they venture to turn again, but fled straight onward to the hills, pursued by their victorious antagonists. Such was the fortune of battle in the centre, which decided the fate of the day. On the left, also, the Christians were victorious, though some of the Burgundian troops gave way ; but the Germans maintained the old reputation of their country, and routed their assailants. The first charge of the right wing was likewise .effective, but the advantage so gained was burdened with the loss of that valiant soldier James D'Avesnes, who penetrated too far into the ranks of the enemy, and was separated from his followers. Alone, against hundreds, he fought with his usual gallantry and success, until he received a cruel wound on the thigh. Notwith- standing the great loss of blood, he fought on most valorously, and almost succeeded in disengaging himself from the press, when another blow brought him to the ground. It so happened that the tide of battle had carried him near the spot where Richard was fighting, but all his endeavours to reach him were in vain. While sinking from his horse, he turned towards his royal master and cried, " Brave king, avenge my death !" and having said this he dropped from the saddle. Richard heard the cry and recognised the voice ; a few blows cleared him 206 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP of his immediate assailants, but he arrived too late to save his friend, though not to avenge his fall. The body of James D'Avesnes was found after the battle, quite buried beneath a heap of slain. The charges of the Crusaders, and the flight of the Turks, had changed the place of action, which now was carried towards the hills. The royal standard of England alone stood in its former place in the middle of the plain, and was guarded by a small but select body of English and Norman knights. A squadron of Turkish cavalry, who had not been engaged in the previous contest, under the command of the emir Tokeddin, a near relation of Saladin, espied the standard thus comparatively defenceless, and made a sudden charge upon it ; but, forgetting their usual cautious mode of warfare, they closed with the knights, and an obstinate combat with the sword and mace began. The English fought bravely, but they were fearfully over-matched in numbers, and the foremost of the Turks had almost reached the standard, when William de Barres, re- turning from the pursuit, rushed with his men to the rescue, and drove them back. The arrival of fresh succours soon forced the Turks to betake themselves to the hills for safety. The battle now seemed over, the recall was sounded, and the Chris- tian warriors returned from the pursuit. As it was now near night-fall, they pitched their camp with- out the walls of Assur, in the hope of enjoying a quiet night's repose, after a day of so much anxiety and toil. Their work, however, was not yet ended, for whilst they were employed in fixing the tents, a fresh battalion of Saracens issued from the town, RICHARD THE FIRST. 207 and fell upon them unawares. Richard, hearing the tumult, leaped upon his horse, and attended only by some fifteen knights, spurred towards the place, and shouting the war-cry, " God for us and the Holy Sepulchre!" burst into the middle of the combat- ants. Every one who heard his voice rushed to arms, and after a short but sanguinary conflict the assailants were beaten off and slaughtered to the very gates of Assur. So ended this memorable battle, the most import- ant if not the most brilliant of Richard's achieve- ments in Palestine. It was fought on the seventh day of September 1191, and lasted from nine o'clock in the morning until nightfall. The number of the Saracens who were slain is differently estimated by the historians, some reckoning it as high as forty and others as low as seven thousand. As, however, we are informed that the bodies of thirty-two emirs were found on the field of battle, we may conclude that their loss was immense ; indeed, Richard in writing to the abbot of Clairval says, that Saladin during fifty years of warfare had never suffered so signal a defeat ; and the Arabian historian Bohadin, who was in attendance upon the sultan, confesses that the result of the day was such as to strike terror into the hearts of all, and to make them tremble for the safety of Jerusalem. Very few of the Christians were slain, and of these James D'Avesnes was the only leader of distinction. It was in this battle that the prowess of Richard won for him the famous appellation of the Melech-Ric, a name by which to this day he is as well known in the East, as by that of Cceur-de-Lion in Europe. Some notion of the 208 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF terror which his person inspired may be gathered from the recorded fact, that the Saracen mothers were wont to awe their children into silence by the mention of his name ; and that it was common for the Turkish cavaliers to chide an unruly horse, by asking if he saw king Richard in the way. * On the third day after the battle, the army resumed its march towards Joppa, without encountering any impediment save at the fords of a river near Assur, where a body of Turks were posted. These, however, merely waited until the vanguard prepared to cross, and then, having discharged their arrows, rode off precipitately. At Joppa the Christians found great plenty of fruits and provisions. Their fleet also had arrived in the port, and supplied them with every necessary. In the meantime, the forces of the Sa- racens being collected, a great council of their chiefs was summoned by the sultan, to consider what plan of operations it were best for them to adopt. All agreed that the state of affairs was more alarming than they had anticipated, and that it was usejess to attempt a series of attacks, which sooner or later must end in inevitable defeat. It was therefore pro- posed and carried, that part of the army should remain under the charge of Malek-al-Adel, brother of the sultan, to observe the proceedings of the * The following is the testimony of Bernard le Tresorier : " Le Roi Richart fu mult doute par toute paieuime, et avenoit aucune fois, si com Ten dist, que quant les enfans as Sarrazins ploroient, il disoient Tes-toi, por le roi d'Engleterre ! Et quant un Sarrazin chevauchoit cheval restif, et il veoit bien son ombre, il reculoit ariere, et quant li Samizin le hurtoit des esperons, si disoit 'Guides tu que le roi Richart soit mucie en cest buisson, ' on en ce dont le cheval avoit paor." Histoire de la Conqu6te de la Terrc Salute. RICHARD THE FIKST. 209 Christians ; and that Saladin and the rest should advance to the strong city of Ascalon, and either place a garrison there or demolish the fortifications, so as to render it of little value to the Christians, should they afterwards take possession. Accordingly Saladin, with his eldest son, Malek-al-Aphdal, and the historian Bohadin, set out for Ascalon, and on his arrival there, held a long consultation as to the destruction of the fortifications. Saladin was ex- ceedingly unwilling to take this desperate step, for Ascalon was the principal seaport that remained in his possession since Acre was lost ; but it was plain, that the miserable fate which befel the garrison of that latter town had so disheartened his troops, that they dared not stand the consequences of another siege, and Ascalon was therefore condemned. " By Allah ! " said Saladin, turning to Bohadin, " I would rather see all my sons dead before me than pull down one stone of that noble city : but since it is His will and necessary for the safety of the Moslem, let it be done." So the work of destruction pro- ceeded*. Some of the townspeople escaping from Ascalon, fled to Joppa, and informed Richard of the sultan's design. Such an act of desperation on the part of Saladin, who, notwithstanding his late defeat, was still immensely powerful, seemed hardly credible; but Geoffry of Lusignan was despatched in a swift- sailing galley to lie off the town, and ascertain the truth of the report. That Baron, on his return, corroborated the statement of the fugitives, where- upon a council of the princes was held to consider * Bohadin. 210 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF what steps should be taken in consequence. Richard strongly urged the necessity of an instant advance upon Ascalon, asserted that the Saracens who were engaged in demolishing the fortifications would not venture to give battle to the crusaders, and enlarged upon the advantages to be derived from the posses- sion of so important a town. The duke of Burgundy and others were of a contrary opinion ; and argued that Ascalon was so far removed from the scene of action as to be of minor importance. Joppa, they said, being much nearer Jerusalem, was the fittest point from which they could direct . their march towards the holy city ; and as its fortifications also had been destroyed, they proposed to remain there for a season, and rebuild the walls. This proposition was carried by acclamation, although there can be no doubt that the suggestion of Richard was the wisest and most politic, since, had Ascalon been taken and rendered tenable by the Christians, we have the authority of the Turkish historians for saying that Saladin would instantly have abandoned great part of his conquests, and would have retired to the in- terior, perhaps even at the sacrifice of Jerusalem itself*. Whatever were the arguments of Burgundy, the real cause of the disinclination of the Christians to proceed to Ascalon was not the proximity of Joppa to the holy city, but the attractions and pleasures which were to be found in that town. Some of the crusaders seemed to consider the war as ended for the time, and, taking advantage of the ship- ping, returned to their old haunt of Acre. Others remained, but instead of applying themselves dili- * Bohadm. Abulfeda. RICHARD THE FIRST. 211 gently to the work, plunged into the midst of dissipation, and resumed their former excesses. All this was very galling to Richard, who did all in his power to recall the stragglers to their duty, and for that purpose even proceeded in person to Acre. Here, by dint of great perseverance, he collected most of the defaulters ; and embarking along with some fresh troops, returned to Joppa in company with his queen and sister. While the army tarried at Joppa, it was the almost daily custom of the king to ride out on hunting expeditions, partly from the love of pastime, and partly because in these excursions he frequently fell in with the Turks who loitered in the neighbour- hood, and thus had an opportunity of indulging his passion for adventure. One day, while thus employed in hawking, he rode out further than usual, with a very small train of knights in his company, and being overcome by the heat of the day, dismounted from his horse, lay down upon the grass, and soon fell fast asleep. A body of Saracens from the army of Malek-al-Adel, who, unobserved by him, had been watching his motions from a neighbouring height, resolved to profit by the opportunity, and, if possible, to take prisoner the great enemy and scourge of their race. With this intention they mounted their horses, and by taking advantage of the ine- qualities of the ground and the intervening thickets, approached so near, that the Christians were scarcely awake and aware of their danger, before their ene- mies were upon them. The foot of Richard was just in the stirrup when the Saracens came up ; never- theless he swung himself into the saddle, and p 2 212 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF drawing his sword, with a few strokes brought the foremost of his assailants to the ground. The others turned the rein, and commenced a precipitate flight. Richard, who desired no better sport, spurred after them with his followers ; but they had not ridden far before a number of Saracens started up from the bushes, wherein they had lain concealed, and sur- rounding the party, attempted to drag the knights from their horses. Fortunately for Richard, these Saracens, though convinced that the king was of the party, did not recognize his person ; and therefore, instead of concentrating their attack upon him, they clustered around each of the knights, trusting that they might unhorse the whole, and thus be secure of their royal prize. This was no easy matter, for the English chivalry were prepared to defend themselves against any odds, and, though fearfully overmatched in numbers, made a most desperate and stubborn resistance. Notwithstanding their gallantry, they must have been overcome, and Richard would, in all probability, have been led a prisoner to Saladin, had not William de Pratelles, a Provencal knight, divined their object, and with a self-devotion rarely if ever equalled, exclaimed in the Saracen language, " Back, ye infidel dogs ! I am the Melech Ric." Instantly the whole body of Turks crowded round him, and dragged him from his saddle, and, without paying the least attention to the others, galloped off in triumph, carrying their captive along with them. Richard would willingly have attempted his deliverance, but four of his bravest knights were slain, and others wounded, so that a rescue was im- possible, and he was perforce compelled to return RICHARD THE FIRST. 213 to Joppa. The joy of the Christians at this narrow escape of their leader and champion was unbounded ; but although some of his familiars took so much upon them as to remonstrate against the impropriety of this wanton exposure of his person, whereby the success of the common cause was endangered, Ri- chard laughed at their entreaties, and often courted a similar danger, but happily without a similar result. It is proper, however, to state that one of his last actions before leaving the Holy Land was to procure the freedom of his brave deliverer, William de Pratelles. Saladin, having finished the dismantlement of Ascalon, fixed his head-quarters at Ramula, thus placing himself in the way of the further progress of the crusaders towards Jerusalem. Richard, with the view of rousing the dormant energies of his followers, drew them out from Joppa, and encamped between the castles of Planes and Maey, two places of strength which had been partially destroyed by the Saracens, and which he now proposed to re-fortify. Accordingly, the greater part of his army were em- ployed in these works, whilst the rest kept guard or rode into the country on foraging excursions, during which they freqxiently encountered armed bands of the enemy. On one occasion, a small troop of Tem- plars were employed on this service, at no great distance from Maey, where Richard was ; and whilst cutting grass, and collecting it into bundles, were attacked and surrounded by nearly four thousand of the Turkish cavalry, who came upon them before they could mount their horses. The knights, though surprised, were not dismayed. They set back to 214 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF back, and protected each other from the vehement assault of the Saracens, as well as they could. At the first onset, three of the Templars were slain, and as they were not provided with spears, the others were forced to maintain a close combat, at fearful disadvantage, each man having several adversaries to contend with, and many more being ready to supply their place, even should they dispose of the first assailants. Notwithstanding all their efforts, the Templars were nearly overpowered, for the Turks had succeeded in beating down their swords and had laid hands upon them, at the moment when Andrew de Savigny, with fifteen other knights, rode up to the rescue, and repelled the foremost of the enemy. But this small reinforcement was presently sur- rounded also, and, had not speedy succour arrived, must have been slain or taken prisoners. The noise of the combat soon reached the ears of Richard, who, ascending the tower of Maey, saw by the cloud of dust upon the plain, and the active movements of the Turkish horse, that some part of his forces were in jeopardy. " By Saint George ! " said the king, " yonder is a tough battle ; who rode out this morn- ing to protect the foragers ? " An attendant replied that they were Templars, which order was then par- ticularly obnoxious to Richard, on account of their adherence to Conrad, and the haughtiness of their manner toward the English knights, whom they affected to consider as inferior to themselves. " Tem- plars ! " repeated Richard, " I would to God they were aught else ; but, Templars or no, it shall never be said that I deserted a brave knight in the hour of need." So saying, he hastened to put on his armour, KICHAKD THE FIRST. 215 and ordered the earl of Leicester and the count of Saint Paul to take such men as were ready, and ride to the relief of the encompassed band. Very few, however, were prepared to follow these noblemen, and they failed to beat off the Turks, although the earl of Leicester, who was the right hand of Cceur- de-Lion, and as fearless as his master, performed prodigies of valour. The combat was still raging, when Richard came up and threw himself into the thickest of the press, in spite of the entreaties of his followers, who besought him not to peril his person in so unequal a contest. The result was the discom- fiture of the enemy and the death of their leader, an emir of distinction, who perished by the sword of Coeur-de-Lion. Such scenes were of common occurrence, and afforded the knights of the crusading army ample opportunity of gaining that reputation for individual prowess which was so much prized by the adven- turous chivalry of the age. The names of the earl of Leicester, Henry de Gray, Peter de Pratelles, Robert Nigel, William de Barres, Robert de New- burg, and the brothers de Bruil, are mentioned by different historians with much reverence and honour ; but the palm of merit, by universal consent, is given to Richard, whose superiority to all others, both as a general and a soldier, is at all hands admitted. The conduct of the Templars and Hospitallers also was worthy of their old renown ; but little mention is made of the duke Leopold of Austria, and less of the duke of Burgundy, the leader of the French. Notwithstanding all these conflicts and aggres- sions, the war had by this time assumed a milder 216 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP and more humane character. At its commencement no quarter was given by either party. The tragedy of the Christian captives and of the garrison of Acre engendered feelings of the bitterest rancour between the contending armies. All the prisoners taken by the Turks were beheaded as for the crusaders, their general rule was to make no prisoners, but indiscri- minately to slay all who fell in their way. This savage and brutal system was at length relaxed, either from policy or from shame. During the siege of Acre, when the kings of England and France were attacked with the epidemic fever, Saladin, with great courtesy, sent them presents of the most deli- cious fruits of Damascus, and other Astatic luxuries; and this noble spirit on the part of his rival, though apparently disregarded at the. time, was not forgotten by Richard, who, moreover, conceived a great re- spect for Saladin on account of his personal valour, which he had more than once witnessed on the field of battle. Insensibly, therefore, the English began to treat the Saracens with the same consideration that they would have extended to enemies professing the Christian faith, and this forbearance was reci- procated. The military friars, alone, retained their savage customs, and between them and the Turks no quarter was asked or given. During the former crusades a treaty with the infidel was never either urged or contemplated ; but the state of parties now rendered such a step not only highly probable but extremely judicious. Con- rad, after the departure of his patron Philip, remained at Tyre, taking no active share in the enterprises of the army, but waiting for an opportunity to advance RICHARD THE FIRST. 217 his own interest and secure the recognition of his claims. All application to Richard for this purpose would, as he was well aware, prove ineffectual, but the present position of Saladin warranted him in the belief that by making interest in that quarter, he might secure such terms as would leave him, when the English departed, in undisturbed enjoyment of the kingdom. He therefore, sent one of his adhe- rents to the sultan, offering, if the latter should guarantee him the possession of Tyre, along with Sidon and Berytus, to break altogether with the crusaders, and if necessary to join his forces with those of the Saracen, to drive the intruders from the Holy Land and achieve the recapture of Acre. This offer was listened to by Saladin with considerable interest, and would no doubt have been at last accepted, had not Richard also proposed terms for a general peace. " The foundation of these was the restitution of Jerusalem, and all the territory between Jordan and the sea, together with the True Cross ; and Saladin considered this manifestation of Rich- ard's good- will to be of so much importance, that he despatched his brother Malek-al-Adel, or Saphadin as he was otherwise called, to treat in person with the English king. A lengthened negotiation ensued, but neither party would agree to the terms. The Turk asserted that Jerusalem was as dear to the Moslem as to the Christian, being the favoured city of God, and that as for the Holy Cross, he held it a crime to countenance a respect which savoured more of idolatry than of pure and lofty religion. Never- theless, this meeting was not without its effect in further removing the mutual prejudices of tho 218 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP princes. It is even said that Richard went so far as to bestow the honour of knighthood upon a son of Saphadin, to the great disgust of the Templars, who regarded the proceeding as a flagrant violation of the first principles of chivalry ; and the story, however strange it may appear, is entitled to some credit, as we are informed that Saladin in his earlier years solicited and obtained the same distinction from the sword of Humphrey de Thoron, a powerful baron of Jerusalem. The treaty between Saladin and Richard was thus broken off, nor does it appear that the pro- posals of Conrad were formally accepted by the sultan, although the conduct of that nobleman was such as to make many believe that a very good understanding prevailed between him and the com- mon enemy. Shortly afterwards a much more objectionable method of ending the war seems to have occurred to Richard : this was the marriage of * O his sister Joan, widow of William of Sicily, with the Saracen prince Malek-al-Adel, and the union of the Syrian territories in their persons : a proposition so utterly wild and extravagant, so inconsistent with the high profession of a crusader, and so unbecoming the character of a Christian prince, that were we not assured of the fact by the concurring testimony of the Asiatic and European historians, we would be inclined to dismiss it as the foul invention of an enemy. It is equally strange that Saladin was no- wise indisposed to concur in this proposal, and that his brother agreed to it at once ; but no sooner wag it rumoured abroad that such an extraordinary alli- ance was meditated, than the chiefs of both armies RICHARD THE FIRST. 219 expressed the strongest dissatisfaction, and Joan indignantly declared that she would rather die than temporise with her faith, or suffer the pollution of the embraces of a Saracen spouse. This idea, there- fore, was speedily abandoned, and hostilities recom- menced anew. The season was now far advanced, and the rains set in, so that it became necessary to place the army in winter-quarters. The crusaders had by this time marched into Ramula, a town deserted and dilapi- dated by the sultan, and even penetrated as far as Bethanopolis, a place of strength situated about seven leagues to the westward of Jerusalem. Rich- ard would fain have pushed forward and invested the Holy City, but the Templars and Hospitallers remonstrated against such a step, which would leave the army exposed to the inclemency of the weather during the winter months, without any corresponding advantage, since Jerusalem was so strongly fortified and garrisoned that the siege must have been a work of time. Yielding to these representations Richard led back his army, and took up his winter-quarters in Joppa. The difficulty of maintaining anything like una- nimity among a body of men so divided by country and interest as the crusaders, now became still more apparent than before. Whilst the enemy were hover- ing around them, the common danger caused the Christians for a time to forget their minor differences, but as soon as this stimulus was withdrawn, they lapsed into their former state of insubordination and jealousy. Some of their leaders, such as the dukes of Burgundy and Austria, began to weary of the 220 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF supremacy of Richard, and to cool in their enthu- siasm for the great object of the enterprise. There- fore, when a general council was summoned to consider the operations of the next campaign, opinions were very much divided. The proposal of Richard for an instant advance upon Jerusalem was negatived ; and with strange inconsistency, the same men who formerly argued against the expedition to Ascalon, at the time when their appearance might have pre- vented the destruction of the fortifications, now brought forward that measure, although the walls were razed to their foundations. This motion, however, was finally carried, and the army were ordered to prepare for their march. Great dissatis- faction was expressed by the common soldiers, when they learned that the advance upon Jerusalem was postponed for what they believed to be an interested and nugatory object. They were besides still suffer- ing from the effects of a protracted winter, and had no inclination to recommence immediately that species of toil which they had found so irksome while en- gaged in repairing the walls of Joppa. The French, in particular, not only testified their unwillingness to proceed by loud murmuring, but actually deserted in great numbers. Some of them returned to Acre, and some accepted the invitation of Conrad, and -journeyed as far as Tyre, where they were received with open arms. In addition to this defection, sickness was very prevalent in the camp, and provi- sions neither cheap nor plenty. Richard was sensibly affected by this alarming posture of affairs, but he was too intrepid and con- fident to relax his efforts on account of the pusillani- RICHARD THE FIRST. 221 mity of others. With great pains, therefore, and difficulty, in the coldest and most stormy weather, he led the remnants of his army to Ascalon, where he arrived about the commencement of January 1 192, and forthwith proceeded to repair and rebuild the fortifications, which were at least as strong as those of Acre. Saladin, understanding that his enemy was so occupied, gave permission to his sol- diers, except those in garrison, to return to their families, enjoining them, however, to reassemble in the month of May ; and this liberty was joyfujly embraced by the Saracens, who, for a period of nearly four years, had served their sultan in the field without intermission, and with far more constancy and good-will than their Christian opponents had shown. A tacit truce was thus in some measure concluded between the armies, and it was expected that during the ensuing summer, the great attempt upon Jerusalem would be made, and the crusaders either rewarded for their toils by the possession of the Holy Sepulchre, or forced to retrace their steps to Europe with disappointment and defeat. Meanwhile, great progress was made in the works at Ascalon. Nobles, knights, and priests laboured at the fortifications like common soldiers ; nor could they well do otherwise, since Richard in his own person set them a strenuous example. One man alone, Leopold duke of Austria, refused to lend his aid, asserting that he was neither a carpenter nor a mason ; for which specimen of ill-timed vanity and conceit he was so shrewdly reprimanded by Cceur- de-Lion, that he was weak enough to retire with the whole of his Germans, and lent no further assist- 222 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF ance during the crusade. This prince, whose valour during the first year of the siege of Acre we have already mentioned, had always regarded Richard with an evil eye, and, to say the truth, his dislike was repaid with interest by the bold and overbearing king. On the reduction of Acre the duke had caused the banner of Austria to be displayed on the prin- cipal tower ; an instance of presumption which Richard, without any remonstrance, punished, by causing the flag to be hurled into the ditch, and the ensign of England to be displayed in its stead. This was an unpardonable insult, and Leopold studied to avenge it ; unfortunately he found an opportunity, and eagerly availed himself of it, as we shall learn in the sequel. Very shortly after this a dispute arose between the king and the duke of Burgundy, with reference to a loan which the latter requested For the payment of his troops, but which Richard, who already had expended large sums for the main- tenance of the French, thought proper to refuse. The result was the defection of the duke, who with the greater part of his forces marched off to Acre. On his arrival he found that city in a state of great disorder. The Pisans and Genoese had been quartered there for the winter ; an unfortunate arrangement, as these of all the crusading troops bore the strongest ill-will to each other, both on account of their native politics, and the adverse causes which they had espoused in Palestine. The Pisans were the close allies of the English, and favoured Guy of Lusignan. The Genoese on the contrary adhered to the French, and declared them- selves partisans of Conrad. Such combustible ma- RICHARD THE FIRST. 223 terials could not long be together, without bursting into a flame ; accordingly when the duke of Bur- gundy reached Acre, he found them at open hostilities on the plain without the city. The sight of the French banner was greeted by the Genoese with loud acclamations, but the Pisans nothing dismayed, made a vigorous attack upon their opponents in spite of the reinforcement, struck the duke of Bur- gundy from his horse, and retreating into the city closed the gates and manned the walls as though they had expected a siege. Nor were they altogether wrong in their expectation, for the Genoese, by advice of the duke, sent an express to Tyre, and offered, in return for his assistance, to place the marquis in possession of Acre. Conrad desired no better terms, and assembling his forces invested the city, which the Pisans defended with great gallantry, having previously sent to Richard to warn him of their situation. Coeur-de-Lion did not lose a mo- ment, but advanced as far as Cesarea, when, the rumour of his approach having preceded him, Conrad and the duke of Burgundy abandoned their operations and set sail for Tyre. Richard arrived at Acre, and with some difficulty succeeded in recon- ciling the contending parties. Returning to Ascalon he found that the few French who still remained with the army had been invited by the marquis to join their countrymen at Tyre, and had yielded to the temptation. They now applied for leave to depart, which Richard contemp- tuously granted, and further assigned them a body- guard, lest, as he said, " such summer warriors might take harm by the way." As for himself he 224 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP continued the works at Ascalon, assisted by his nephew count Henry of Champagne, who through good and evil report cleaved steadfastly to his side, although he thereby incurred the displeasure of his other uncle the king of France; and, before long, they had the satisfaction of beholding their task completed, and the fortifications of the city thoroughly restored. Richard next meditated an attack upon the strong holds of Gaza and Daroun, which Saladin perceiving, reassembled his army and put himself in a posture of defence. Before any offensive movement was made by either party, the prior of Hereford arrived from England with letters from the chancellor, William bishop of Ely, to the king, containing a most alarm- ing account of the aggressions of prince John, and the rapid strides which he was making towards possession of the English crown. The instant return of Richard so wrote the chancellor was absolutely necessary, if he wished to preserve his kingdom, and even his utmost haste might fail to anticipate the dreaded evil. This was cruel news for Richard, whose confidence in his brother had been unbounded, and very perplexing, at the moment when he hoped by a vigorous exertion to conclude the Avar, and add Jerusalem to his other conquests. To leave Palestine at this critical conjuncture would be to sacrifice for ever all hopes of the re-establishment of the Latin kingdom ; for the animosity of those in the two camps of Ascalon and Tyre was so strong that they did not only refuse to act in concert, but in all probability, as soon as his back was turned, would come to an open and violent rupture, thereby RICHARD THE FIRST. 225 giving an advantage to Saladin which that sagacious prince was but too ready to seize. On the other hand if he tarried longer, it appeared likely that on his return he would find himself dethroned, his brother in possession of the crown and backed by France, and his old and faithful followers stripped of their wealth and exiled. There was only one man in Palestine capable of supplying his place, and that man had shown himself throughout his most active and uncompromising enemy. This was Conrad of Tyre, whose valour and abilities were acknowledged and appreciated by all the crusaders except the English, who partook of the prejudices of their monarch, but he alone of all the princes seemed qualified to cope with Saladin. As for Guy of Lusignan, even his most intimate friends could not deny his vast inferiority to Conrad, which now became every day more perceptible, and cooled in a great measure the devotion of Richard to his cause. The line of conduct adopted by the English mon- arch under these trying circumstances reflects great honour upon himself. Dismissing all memory of the past, he called a general assembly of the crusa- ders, and announced to them his intention of shortly .returning homewards. This statement was heard by all with tokens of the deepest distress ; the old warriors of the cross crowded round him, fell at his feet, and entreated him in the most affecting manner not to leave them until the Holy Sepulchre was recovered. Richard was much affected, but, mastering his feelings, declared that the imperious calls of duty and not his own inclination forced him back to Europe ; and added that before he departed it was 226 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP his earnest wish that all disputes regarding the succession to the crown of Jerusalem should be ended, and the crusaders united under one head, whom they might all serve with fidelity and regard with honour and esteem. So momentous a decision, he said, should not be submitted to the nobles alone, the meanest as well as the highest had an interest in the choice, and he, as the leader of the present crusade, now took upon himself the responsibility of allowing them the free election of their king, and pledged himself to support and maintain the man whom the people favoured. Two candidates were before them, Guy of Lusignan, and Conrad of Montserrat and Tyre, and between them they had now to choose. No sooner was this speech concluded, than the crusaders, by acclamation^ elected Conrad for their king. Richard, who had anticipated the result, heard their determination with great equanimity, and instantly despatched count Henry of Cham- pagne, with several other nobles, to Tyre, to inform the marquis of his good fortune, and to request a personal interview at his earliest convenience, when such dispositions might be made as would ensure the success of the Christian arms in Palestine. It is difficult to say whether Conrad was more surprised or pleased, on receiving so unexpected a message. He expressed to the ambassadors his determination to prove himself worthy of the dignity he had re- ceived, and his gratitude to Richard for his candid and honourable conduct. The enthusiasm and joy of the people of Tyre, who almost adored the marquis, was unbounded. Already, in imagination, they beheld their favourite crowned in state at Jeru- RICHARD THE FIRST. 227 salem, the land from Antioch to the Arabian frontier cleared of the Saracen enemy, and the Holy Sepulchre regained. But an end was speedily put to their lofty aspirations; and never was the beautiful senti- ment which Schiller has put in the mouth of Wallenstein more thoroughly exemplified. *' Frohlocke nicht ! Denn eifersiichtig sind des Shicksals Miichte. Voreilig Jauchzen greift in ilire Rechte. Den samen legen wir in ihre Hande ; Ob Gliick, ob Ungluck aufgeht, lehrt das Eude." " Rejoice not yet ! For jealous are the powers of destiny. Triumph, too hasty, trenches on their rights We leave the seed with them ; unknowing still Until the harvest proves it good or ill." The mountainous tract of country lying between Tripoli and Tortosa was at that time inhabited by an extraordinary race of people called the Hausassiz, who were governed by a sheik, or prince, known by the name of the Ancient, or the Old Man of the Mountain. Their origin was supposed to have been Persian ; but they had been settled upwards of five hundred years in the country, during all which time they had maintained their entire independence against king and sultan, Christian and Infidel. This freedom they did not owe to their numerical strength, for the tribe was never estimated at a larger number than sixty thousand souls, but to the situation and character of the region they had selected for their abode, which was an extensive plain surrounded on all sides by the steepest mountains, the passes of which were so blocked up and commanded by castles, that it was utterly impossible for a stranger or enemy Q 2 228 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF to enter. The most fantastic rumours regarding this secluded region and its inhabitants were circu- lated through Palestine and Europe. Some believed it to be the seat of the earthly paradise, a garden still radiant with the glories derived from its heavenly Creator ; others talked of a mysterious edifice within its confines a paradise within a paradise, the won- ders of which were guarded from the sight of the Hausassiz themselves, and revealed only to those who, by long and meritorious service, had deserved the favour of the Ancient, who was the castellan of this wondrous structure. One fact is certain. This prince was so implicitly obeyed by his subjects, that they hesitated not to undertake any duty he might assign, however great or perilous, and did not con- sider their own lives as of the slightest value when the sacrifice could further the object he sought to attain*. It so happened, that a vessel belonging to the Ancient was compelled by stress of weather to put into the harbour of Tyre, and was instantly seized and confiscated by the marquis, as though it had been the property of Saladin. The Hausassiz had taken no part in the war, and therefore should not have been considered as enemies. Still, they pro- fessed the Mahomedan religion, or at least were infidels, and in these days enemy and infidel were nearly synonymous terms. But the devotion of his subjects to the Ancient was so well known, that few men were hardy enough to provoke a feud with a prince whose emissaries could penetrate everywhere, and therefore both Christian and Saracen had hitherto allowed the mountaineers to pass without RICHARD THE FIRST. 229 let or hindrance. Conrad was the first to break this neutrality, and received with scorn and deri- sion the peremptory order from the Ancient for the restitution of his ship and crew ; but dearly did he pay for his temerity. Henry of Champagne, having concluded his em- bassy, left Tyre, and had proceeded as far as Acre, when he was overtaken by the startling news of the assassination of the marquis Conrad, which took place in the following manner. Conrad had dined with the bishop of Beauvais, and was returning on horseback to his palace, unarmed, and attended only by a few of his most intimate friends. When near the door of his own house, two of the Hausassiz, who by some means or other had baffled the vigilance of the guard and gained admission into the city, glided from behind a pillar, and throwing themselves upon the unfortunate nobleman, buried their daggers in his breast. One of the murderers was instantly cut down ; the other, profiting by the confusion, fled to a neighbouring church, but without the thought of escape, for when the body of Conrad was brought in and placed before the altar, to the astonishment and horror of all, the concealed assassin leaped forward, and again, as if uncertain of the efficacy of his former blow, drove the weapon hilt-deep into the bosom of his victim. The murderer was instantly hurried to the rack, and subjected to the most cruel tortures in order to force confession of the instigator of the deed, but neither screw nor fire could extract one word from the lips of the zealot ; he baffled the ingenuity of his tormentors, and died without a groan. The count of Champagne instantly hastened to Tyre, where he found the inhabitants in the utmost 230 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP disorder, lamenting the death of their favourite chief- tain, and expressing their feara lest this unhappy event should again throw the sovereign power into the hands of the incapable Guy of Lusignan. But other claimants appeared in the persons of the French, who, to the number of ten thousand, were encamped without the city, and now sent a formal summons to the widow of Conrad, desiring her to deliver it up to them for behoof of their master Philip. Isabella, who was a woman of great spirit, immediately replied, that she would surrender Tyre to king Richard, if he should come in person to ask it, for he was the head and champion of the crusade, but to none other ; neither did she acknowledge any title in the person of Philip to the possessions of her husband to or her own. Incensed at this reply, the turbulent French soldiery prepared to attack the city, and would certainly have done so, had not the arrival of the count of Champagne compelled them to pause. This young nobleman was exceedingly popular among all classes of men in Palestine, being of a frank and open manner, a generous and gentle disposition, and as much distinguished by his bravery in action, as by personal grace and accomplishments. Richard, in particular, loved him like a brother, taking the warmest interest in his renown and ad- vancement ; and this attachment was most gratefully repaid by Henry, to whom the English monarch was in all things a pattern and an oracle, and whose proudest title was that of the nephew of Coeur-de- Lion*. The citizens of Tyre received him joyfully, and proposed that, as they were now without a lord, * Henry's mother was the daughter of queen Eleanor by her first marriage with Louis of France. RICHARD THE FIRST. 231 he should immediately assume the reins of govern- ment, and put an end to all dissentions by espousing the widow of Conrad, who was still young, and possessed of considerable charms. To this the count replied, that he would be proud to undertake the charge, and would do his utmost to supply the loss of the murdered marquis; but he could not take such a step without the express sanction of Richard, and the consent of the other crusaders. This was readily obtained, and the nuptials were speedily celebrated ; for the exigencies of the case required that the usual form and period of mourning for the marquis should be abridged. The crown of Jeru- salem was declared to belong to the royal pair, and Isabella assumed the title of queen, though Henry, with much modesty, continued still to designate himself as the count of Champagne. It would have been singular if so remarkable a circumstance as the assassination of the marquis Conrad had been attributed only to its real cause, without malicious rumour or intentional falsification. Accordingly, with many, the Old Man of the Moun- tain passed as the mere instrument, and not the instigator of the outrage. Saladin, Humphrey of Thoron, and Richard, were severally suspected of a share in the bloody deed, but no doubt the charge against all of them was false. No facts were men- tioned which could throw suspicion on any other than the Ancient, who indeed gloried in his revenge, and the rumour, as far as regarded Richard, would have sunk into oblivion, had it not been revived on an after occasion, as we shall presently have occa- sion to state. 232 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF CHAPTER IX. The Duke of Burgundy returns to the Army Capture of Darum Richard makes over the Island of Cyprus to Guy of Lusignan Advance to Bethanopolis Skirmishes with the Saracens, and Valour of the Earl of Leicester and the Bishop of Salisbury Siege of Jerusalem proposed Capture of a valuable Caravan by Richard Retreat from Bethanopolis Final Defection of the French and Dispersion of the Crusaders Saladin takes Joppa, whereupon Richard sails to the Relief of the Garrison The English land and recover the Town Desperate Engage- ment with the Saracens Personal daring of Richard and final Victory Noble Conduct of Malek-el-Adel Proposals of Peace accepted The Christians visit Jerusalem Interview between the Sultan and the Bishop of Salisbury Richard accepts an Escort from the Templars and departs for Europe Lands near Trieste His Adventures and Capture at Vienna by the Duke of Austria. THE election of Count Henry to the throne of Jeru- salem was so far favourable to the interests of the Crusaders, that it infused new energy into the minds of the French, who thought themselves equally honoured with the English by the exaltation of the nephew of their sovereign. The Duke of Burgundy, therefore, at the particular request of Henry, agreed to sink all former differences, and once more to co- operate hand and heart with Richard, should that monarch remain longer in Palestine, in the prose- cution of the war ; and even should he take his departure, the duke promised to wait until by the conquest of Jerusalem Henry was put in possession of his newly-acquired kingdom. The French troops were in consequence withdrawn from Tyre and Acre, and marched along with Henry and Burgundy towards Ascalon, where Richard still continued. The RICHARD THE FIRST. 233 mind of that monarch was kept in a perpetual ferment by the news which he received from England. Every week fresh messengers arrived with further intelli- gence of the intrigues of John, and the steps which he was obviously taking towards the usurpation of the kingdom. By way of relief from this anxiety, Cceur-de-Lion rode out oftener than before in search of adventures, and had various encounters with the Turks, wherein he proved himself such a redoubted combatant that, says one historian, "no single Christian champion, since the commencement of the crusades, ever slew or took prisoner so many of the infidels as did this athletic king*." Besides these encounters, he marched his army against the strong fortress of Darum on the Arabian frontier, and took it after a siege of four days. Other castles in that neighbourhood also fell into his hands, and were garrisoned for Henry, who shortly afterwards arrived with the French forces at Ascalon. One cause only of dissension seemed now to exist among the crusaders, and that lay in the treatment which Guy of Lusignan had received. The Templars with some other troops still adhered strenuously to his cause, vindicating his conduct throughout, and pointing to his sole exploit, the commencement of the siege of Acre, as a proof of his courage and capacity. Richard, willing to conciliate these, and sincerely pitying the prospects of Guy, made over to him his conquered territory of Cyprus, with the title of em- peror, and thereby not only received due credit for his generosity, but had also the satisfaction of know- ing that he had removed the last competitor from * V'nesauf. 234 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP the path of his favourite nephew. This matter being adjusted, a great council was held, at which the assembled nobles and knights determined with one accord to advance against Jerusalem,whether Richard remained or no, and signified to him their determin- ation accordingly. Richard was till then in doubt what course he should adopt ; but this unanimity of the crusaders, and, as it is said, the eloquent exhort- ations of a certain chaplain, named William, had the effect of fixing his resolution, and he caused it to be proclaimed through the camp that he would delay his departure until after the term of Easter in the following year. This announcement was rapturously received by the soldiers, who now thought the cap- ture of Jerusalem as secure as if they were encamped around it, or had effected a breach in the walls. The camp at Ascalon was speedily broken up ; and the army, in the beginning of June, marched onwards to Bethanopolis, where they halted to await the arrival of the remaining forces from Acre, for which the count of Champagne was despatched in order that no paucity of numbers might in any way hinder their success, and that all the crusaders in Palestine might have an opportunity of sharing in the glorious work of the redemption of the sepulchre. Bethanopolis is situated seven leagues to the east of Jerusalem, and is separated from that city by a chain of mountains. These were occupied by the Saracens, who, at the command of Saladin, now really alarmed for the safety of his conquests, mustered in immense numbers, and commenced their old system of annoyance. Daily encounters took place between them and the Christians : sometimes the skirmishes RICHARD THE FIRST. 235 occurred in the plain, sometimes they were fought among the hills. Into the recesses of these, Richard took delight in driving the scattered enemy. One morning, in particular, he chased them so far that he found himself unexpectedly at the fountain of Emuiaus, and in sight of the Holy City, with all its minarets and turrets gilded by the early sun. The prospect of that place, for the redemption of which he had come so far, affected him even to tears ; nor was it without great difficulty that his attendants could persuade him to retire from so dangerous a vicinity. At this time, the Saracen dwellers in Jeru- salem were so much terrified at the approach of the crusaders, that they left the city in great numbers. Saladin himself anticipated a defeat ; and had Richard at once advanced, instead of encouraging a delay which only served to cool the enthusiasm of his men, the capital of Palestine Would have fallen almost withoiit resistance into his hands, and the main object of the crusade would have been accom- plished. But a spirit of vacillation and doubt, hitherto foreign to the character of Cceur-de-Lion, seemed at this crisis to have crept into his councils, and deterred him from making the last decisive effort. It is obvious that, notwithstanding his published resolution to remain, the thoughts of the danger of his own kingdom, and of the friends in England who were hourly praying for his return, still beset him ; if glory called him forward, duty, with as imperious if not so loud a voice summoned him back, and between the two, Richard remained irresolute. The army, as on former occasions, speedily ex- hausted their provisions, and accordingly a line of 236 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP communication was established between the port of Joppa and the camp at Bethanopolis. A large caravan set out from the former place under the escort of a few knights, the chief of whom were Baldwin Carron and Claribald de Mont Chablun, and proceeded on their journey as far as Ramula without encountering any opposition. The Saracens, however, having received notice of their intention, placed a large body of troops under the Emir Bed- roddin, in ambuscade at a very dangerous part of the road, where discovery was next to impossible. The crusaders fell into the snare, and were attacked by the Saracens on all sides while struggling through the intricacies of the defile. Many of the knights were dragged from their horses, disarmed, and hurried away to the mountains ; most of those who still con- tinued the contest were wounded and overpowered ; and the whole caravan would have fallen into the bauds of the enemy, had not the opportune arrival of the Earl of Leicester, with a considerable force, changed the fortunes of the day, and compelled the Saracens to retire. Another skirmish of a similar nature took place about the same time in the neigh- bourhood of Bethanopolis, wherein the bishop of Salisbury, more warrior than priest, gained great reputation by his deeds of arms, having brought off in safety the routed band of Hospitallers, whom the Count of Perche, through timidity, had failed to succour*. It was now the middle of summer, and the army had lain at Bethanopolis for the space of a month idle, except when occupied by petty and useless * Vinesauf ; Bohadin. RICHARD THE FIRST. 237 skirmishes, and still undecided as to what course they ought to pursue. This state of things could not continue longer, .and" accordingly another council was summoned, at which, as usual, the greatest diversity of opinion prevailed. The French and others of the crusaders expressed their wish to march straight upon Jerusalem, but Richard did not approve of their proposal. Saladin, he said, was evidently informed of all their movements ; every spring of water in the neighbourhood of Jerusalem was de- O stroyed, and as soon as they should encamp before the city, troops of Saracens would fall upon Ramula and Joppa, and not only intercept the stores on their way to the army, but perhaps make themselves masters of these towns. It was moreover admitted by those who knew the country best, that so great was the extent of the fortifications of Jerusalem, that all the forces which the crusaders could muster, even by withdrawing the garrisons from Acre and Ascalon, would be insufficient by one half to establish a blockade, and as for carrying it by assault, no soldier would be hardy enough to propose much less to undertake so extravagant a design. " Therefore on the whole," said Cceur-de-Lion, " if you will march against Jerusalem, you must not expect me to be your leader. I will go with you as a companion, and aid you so far as I can, but I will not undertake a charge, accompanied with so much responsibility. They of France have blamed me before for my pre- cipitation, and have raised an outcry against me, as if I cared little for the safety of my people in the prosecution of my designs, and I see full well that there are some who are fain to have me peril my 238 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP reputation upon this design, and whose sorrow for the failure of the cause of Christendom would be light compared with their exultation at my personal defeat. My advice is, that we should seek out some more practicable conquest ; but, that no man may hereafter say that I invented reasons for abandoning the siege, let the decision of this matter be referred to the Templars, Hospitallers, and native barons, who are chiefly interested in our progress, and whose ancient possessions it is ourcommon object to restore." This last advice was followed, and twenty men were chosen, five from the Templars, five from the Hos- pitallers, five from the Syrian barons, and five from the crusaders of Europe. These were solemnly sworn upon the Evangelists, to consult together as to the further prosecution of the war in all good faith and probity, and with no other object than the wel- fare of Christendom in their view, and their decision, whatever it might be, was to regulate entirely and without appeal the future proceedings of the army. The result of their deliberation was to confirm the judgment of Richard in so far as regarded the attack upon Jerusalem, and they further advised that an attack should be made upon Cairo, which might easily be reached by sea, before any of the Saracens now collected in Palestine could gather for its defence. The French still murmured, protesting that they would besiege no city except Jerusalem ; but it was obvious that their attitude of determination was assumed more for the purpose of annoying Richard, than from any genuine disappointment they felt in turning their backs upon the Holy City. In vain did Coeur-de-Lion offer them the use of his navy, RICHARD THE FIRST. 239 his stores, his men, and even his personal assistance, if they would only yield to the opinion of that council whom they themselves had nominated, and proceed to Cairo in vain did even their own friends, the Templars, entreat them to consent. The demon of jealousy had entered into the hearts of the French, and they still lingered at Bethanopolis, repeating their worthless bravadoes to the disgust of all the better portion of the camp. Richard, whilst engaged in this fruitless negocia- tion, was informed by his spies that an immense caravan from Cairo, laden with the most costly wares, was on the road to Jerusalem, and might be expected in a short time to pass near Gaza, where the nature of the country was such as to render an attack not only easy but almost certainly successful. The instant that he received this intelligence, Richard departed with a chosen body of troops, and discovered the place where the caravan rested for the night. The Saracens, however, took the alarm, and departed long before day-break, so that when the Christians advanced for the purpose of attacking them, they found the fires extinguished and the enemy gone. A mounted body of archers and crossbow-men were dispatched on the track, with orders to hang upon the rear of the Saracens, and to use every means for impeding their progress, while the rest of the cavalry followed at more leisure. The manoeuvre was suc- cessful. In spite of very desperate resistance the Christians succeeded in putting their enemies to the rout, and returned to Bethanopolis in triumph, with the largest and most valuable booty that had ever fallen into their hands. Some idea of the size of 240 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP tills caravan may be formed, when we mention that four thousand seven hundred camels and dromedaries, besides . horses, mules, and asses, all laden with the most precious products and manu- factures of the East, were taken by the victors. Richard behaved with his usual generosity, and caused the greater part of the spoil to be divided amongst the soldiers, not excluding those who had remained in the camp from a participation with the rest. The time appointed by the council for the depart- ure of the crusaders from Bethanopolis now arrived, and the soldiers struck their tents and formed into marching order, not in hope or triumph as before, but in silence and sorrow, as exiles might begin their dreary journey from the land of their nativity and love. Many of these no doubt had assumed the cross with a keener regard to their own interest than to the advancement of the Christian faith, but there were others in that army, and their number was not small, who set sail for Palestine with no other object than that of visiting the soil of their redemption, and rescuing it if possible from the profanation of its infidel owners, men who, in the distant countries of Europe, had felt their hearts burn within them at the mere mention of Calvary and Jerusalem who had meditated by day and dreamed by night of the brook Cedron and the mount of Olives, the mys- tical scenes of the Transfiguration, the Temptation, and the Agony in the garden, until every other feeling was swallowed up in the strong absorbent desire to tread upon that ground and kneel upon that sward once hallowed by the foot of their Sa- RICHARD THE FIRST. 241 viour. And what was their situation now ? After years of suffering and toil, after enduring the ter- rors of shipwreck, pestilence, and the sword, after braving an unwholesome climate, and contending almost daily with a subtle and pertinacious enemy, they had come so far, that only one chain of moun- tains, of itself an insignificant barrier, separated them from the land of promise. They looked upon the confines of the most sacred portion of the earth; the breeze that blew upon them came fresh from the gardens of Jerusalem. The Saracen sentinels, the sparkling of whose lances upon the hill-tops they could discern clearly from the camp, stood in like view of the inhabitants of the Holy City, and yet that short distance was as unachievable as if the widest and deepest chasms of the glaciers had yawned between them and the summit of the mountains. Others of the army commenced their retreat with even sorer hearts and bitterer feelings than the class we have just described. These were the old inhabit- ants of Jerusalem, the men who had been born and bred within the walls of Sion, who had left their homes in sorrow when the Saracen obtained posses- sion of the land, who remembered the days of Ray- mond and Amaury, and the bloody battle of Tiberias. For long years they had cherished the hope of one day returning to the place of their nativity, and now they saw that hope, when its accomplishment seemed in all human probability the nearest, fade away and for ever. Never perhaps was there exhibited a more doleful spectacle than this most melancholy march. The very music was silenced and the troops wended on their way with arms reversed, for the occasion R 242 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP was too mournful to admit of any manifestation of military pomp or parade. Thus the army returned to Joppa, and no sooner did they reach the sea-coast, than the worst effects of their late disunion began to be manifested. The duke of Burgundy, with the greater part of the French, took up his quarters at Cesarea, and refused any longer to co-operate with Richard. This nobleman had always been hostile to the English and their king. At Messina, as we have already seen, he was the confidential emissary and abettor of the plots of Philip, whose unworthy policy he fol- lowed out to the fullest extent, when intrusted with the army of his master. Now his malignity was vented in scurrilous lampoons and songs against the English monarch, which he stooped not only to compose, but to distribute among his soldiers, as if there were not already sufficient elements of discord in the Christian army, without the aid and instiga- tion of his own contemptible genius. Others of the crusaders proceeded direct to Acre and Tyre, and thus the numbers of those who remained at head- quarters was so much lessened, that Richard could not but perceive the impossibility of prosecuting the expedition against Cairo, and therefore turned his serious attention to the best mode of embarking his troops for Europe, and of abandoning the crusade with honour. Saladin in the mean time was not idle. Accurate information of all that passed in the Chris- tian army was conveyed to him, and he was far too sagacious not to perceive that the prospects and power of the Christians were ruined by their own dissension, and that the time had arrived when a RICHARD THE FIRST. 243 rapid and vigorous attack would recover all the losses which he had sustained, and enable him to dictate his own terms to the harassed and abandoned Latins. Therefore without a moment's delay he despatched messengers to every corner of the exten- sive regions over which he ruled, and in an incredibly short space of time collected round his standard at Jerusalem, a larger force of cavalry and infantry than he had ever before led to battle. Richard was not ignorant of these preparations, and although when affairs wore a different aspect, he would rather have rejoiced at the opportunity of measuring his strength in a fair field with his Saracen rival, and would have staked the fate of Palestine with con- fidence upon the result; yet now, knowing how little his allies were to be depended on, and how impor- tant it was for him to secure a speedy and unmo- lested retreat for his army, he deemed it prudent to offer terms for a truce during the remainder of his stay in the Holy Land. To these proposals Saladin would not agree, unless Ascalon were levelled with the ground ; whereupon Richard being determined not to yield this point, and seeing the inutility of further negotiation, despatched the Templars and Hospitallers with orders to pull down the fortifi- cations of Darum, as it was a place which could not be long maintained against a superior force, and also to establish a sufficient garrison for the defence of Ascalon. The wounded and sick of his army he left at Joppa, and proceeding to Acre with the rest, began to embark his stores and to make such dis- positions as would enable him to quit Palestine at a moment's notice if necessary. R 2 244 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF No sooner was Saladin aware of the motions of the enemy than he marched from Jerusalem, and de- scending by the plain of Ramula, invested Joppa and erected his engines against it. With such fury did he make the assault, that in five days a large portion of the walls was battered to the ground, and the Turks having effected their entrance into the city, slaughtered all whom they met. Some of the garrison, at the head of whom was the governor Alberic de Remes, a man unworthy of the high trust confided to his care, fled to the harbour and consulted their own safety by seizing the vessels and putting out to sea. Others, with more determination, took refuge in the citadel, and maintained it against Saladin, until it became obvious that resistance was useless, since the walls were fast crumbling down before the incessant battery of the engines. In this desperate situation, the patriarch of Jerusalem assumed the principal command, and having hung out a flag of truce, made offer to Saladin that the fortress should be next day surrendered, provided succour did not in the mean time arrive, and that a certain ransom should be paid for every one of the garrison. In security for the performance of these articles, he offered himself, and several of the most distinguished knights in Joppa, as hostages, and Saladin consented to the proposal. Meanwhile Richard had embarked the greatest part of his army at Acre, and was just on the point of setting sail, when messengers from Joppa arrived with tidings of the loss of that town, and the perilous situation of those who were cooped up within the citadel. The appeal from his beleaguered brethren RICHARD THE FIRST. 245 was not lost upon Richard, who instantly proclaimed his intention of hastening to their relief, and invited all the crusaders who still lingered at Acre to aid him in his generous design. The French most dis- gracefully refused to stir one step, or to co-operate further in any way with the English ; but the Tem- plars and Hospitallers displayed their usual gallantry, and headed by the count of Champagne, instantly marched by land towards Cesarea. The king set sail in his galleys for Joppa, but a contrary wind detained him so long off Caiphas that he did not arrive at his destination until the very day fixed for the ransom of the garrison. These had now abandoned all hope of relief, and were just on the point of delivering themselves up to the mercy of the Saracens, when, to their great joy, they beheld the vessels of England steering into the port. It was nevertheless no easy matter for the English to disembark. The Turks, who were in possession of the town, perceived the approach of the galleys, rushed down in great numbers to the shore, and com- menced an incessant discharge of arrows, darts, and stones, against the intruders. Richard was still in doubt whether the garrison had surrendered or not ; and as their relief was the primary object, without which he would have judged it unnecessary to attempt the recapture of the town, he remained on board, anxiously expecting some signal or token that he had not arrived too late. While thus irresolute, a man was seen swimming towards the king's vessel, and was taken up. He proved to be a priest attached to the train of the patriarch, who guessing the cause of the delay, had resorted to this desperate expedient 246 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP of communicating the perilous state of the besieged. The garrison, he said, could hold out no longer, and were in momentary expectation that the fortress would be carried by assault, in which case every man would certainly be put to the sword. He there- fore conjured Richard, as he loved his friends, to effect an immediate landijig, and save the remnant of the defenders of Joppa from so miserable a fate. Coeur de Lion did not hesitate a moment : he ordered his galleys to be roSved up until their keels touched the bottom ; and no sooner was this done than he leaped into the water, although it reached nearly to his waist, and followed by some of his trusty knights, struggled towards the shore in the face of thousands of the opposing enemy. At the same time the cross- bowmen and the archers from the ships shot so closely that the Saracens gave back a little, and the rest cf the troops followed the example of their king. Once on land, Richard stayed not for reinforcements, but threw himself into the thickest of the throng, and after a brief but desperate combat drove back the Turks into the heart of the city. Upon this the garrison, who had eagerly watched the progress of the fight, made a vigorous sally, and uniting them- selves with the English, so improved their advantage, that in the space of an hour not a Turk was left within the walls, and Joppa was once more in the possession of the Christians. The fortifications, however, were so ruinous, and the camp of Saladin was so near, that Richard did not judge it prudent to rest contented with this success. Although only three horses could at the moment be procured, he collected his men together, and once more throwing RICHARD THE FIRST. 247 open the gate, marched upon the Saracens before they had recovered from their panic, and actually drove them from their position. The three following days were occupied in repairing the walls ; and this was done so far as to render the city defensible, though neither lime nor mortar could by any means be procured. Meantime Saladin, angry and ashamed that a mere handful of the warriors of the West should thus have discomfited his numerous army, held a council of his emirs, at which it was determined that a general attack should be instantly made upon the enemy who remained encamped before the town, and that this should be done before any reinforce- ments could arrive from Acre or from Tyre*. In this last respect, however, they were disappointed, for on the third day, Count Henry of Champagne, with his little band of Templars and Hospitallers, joined his uncle. Still, even with this accession of force, the number of crusaders was insignificant, com- pared with that of their enemies ; and the council of Saladin further determined that the attempt should be made in the grey of the morning, with the double object of taking the Christians unawares, and per- haps of seizing Richard as he lay in his tent asleep. The Saracens therefore armed themselves over night, and advanced with so much caution that they were not perceived until they were close upon the camp, when one of the Genoese, hearing the neighing of horses, looked out from his tent and instantly gave the alarm. In a moment the Christians were astir, and hurried forth in great confusion with such armour * Bohadin. 248 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF only as came readiest to hand. Fortunately, the Saracens on perceiving that their approach was dis- covered, halted for a brief space, so that Richard had time to arrange his men in a square, which he did with consummate address, placing between each pikeman two archers, who that day did admirable execution. He then exhorted them above all things to remain in their places, and on no account to attempt a charge, even though the enemy should appear to fly ; and having done this, he, along with ten other knights, all poorly mounted, but who con- stituted the whole of his cavalry, fell back behind the battalion*. The Saracens advanced in seven squadrons ; the first of which charged impetuously on the Christians, but were received on the point of the pikes, and forced to retire in confusion ; the archers at the same time sent a volley after them, by which many a saddle was emptied. The second, third, and fourth squadrons were received in like manner. Nothing could break the iron front which the English reso- lutely maintained, so that the Turks presently desisted from the attempt to come to close quarters, and commenced their favourite mode of warfare by hurling javelins and discharging arrows into the midst of the impenetrable phalanx. This was the * The names of these knights are well worthy of preservation, as their exploit before Joppa was what, in modern phrase, would be termed one of the most dashing actions recorded in the annals of the crusades. They were as follows : Henry, Count of Champagne ; Robert, Earl of Leicester ; Bartholomew de Morternar ; Raoul de Mauleon ; Andrew de Savigny ; Gerald de Furnival ; Roger de Lacy ; William de L'Estang ; Hugh de Neville ; and William de Barres. RICHARD THE FIRST. 249 signal for Richard to appear ; and, accordingly, after he had addressed a few words of encouragement to his knights, on whom he knew that he could depend to the death, this little company deployed from the rear, and dashed at once into the crowd of their assailants. When we consider the enormous supe- riority of the Saracens in number, this action appears little short of actual insanity ; nor woiild it have been at all excusable, had there been any other way of diverting the attack upon the battalion : but such was his dilemma, that personal risk entered even less than ever into the calculations of the lion-hearted monarch. He knew his own strength, and trusted moreover to the terror which his appearance always excited among the Turks. Some of his followers, as the Earl of Leicester and "William de Barres, were scarcely less formidable or less feared than himself, and the others were all good knights and true ; so, reckless of consequences, and trusting to the goodness of his cause, he went forth against odds, which Rolando or Oliver might have shuddered to encounter. The first line of the Turks gave way before the impetuous charge of the knights, each of whom with his lance, bore an antagonist from the saddle. The second squadron opened in like manner to let them pass ; but then closed up, so that the cavaliers were instantly surrounded, shut out from the view of their battalion, and forced to contend for their lives eleven against seven thousand. Their situation of course precluded all concert, so each man drew his sword and addressed himself to the nearest of the enemy, who, though astounded at their temerity, pressed eagerly 250 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF forward, in the confident expectation of seizing the persons of Richard and the other terrible warriors, of whose prowess in many battles they had gained such dear experience. But it was no easy task to unseat the English cavaliers. The first who drew near for that purpose were struck to the ground, and tram- pled under the horses' hoofs, whilst the blows of the sabre and javelin fell harmlessly upon the steel-clad knights. Richard, in particular, distinguished him- self this day, putting forth the whole of his gigantic strength, and opening a lane wherever he went through the thickest of the Saracen array. Once when the horse of the Earl of Leicester was slain, he rescued that gallant nobleman from the hands of his assailants, and helped him to a Saracen courser. At another time he cut his way into the heart of a squadron who were carrying off Raoul cle Mauleon in triumph, and likewise set him free. In short what- ever mortal man could do or dare, was dared and done by Coeur de Lion ; and it is no exaggeration to say, that in this instance the actual truth of history far exceeds anything contained in the wildest fictions of romance. And here on the part of the Saracen we meet with a splendid example of that romantic generosity, which to those who understand not the ancient chivalrous spirit, must appear extravagant and false. In the middle of the engagement, a Turk, leading two war-horses, splendidly caparisoned, ap- proached Richard, and informed him in the lingua Franca that these were a present from his master, Malek-al-Adel to the Melech-ric, and that he prayed him to make use of them in his extremity. Richard RICHARD THE FIRST. 251 thanked the messenger, and mounting one of these chargers, plunged again into the middle of the enemy*. During the combat, some Saracens perceiving that there was no garrison in Joppa, entered the town by a breach which was only partially repaired, and attempted to take possession of the citadel. Richard having cleared himself of the press, drew off in haste a body of the archers, with whom he burst into the town, and speedily drove out the aggressors. He then returned to the camp where the battle was still raging, and singling out the emir who com- manded in front, a tall and stalwart pagan, dealt him such a blow that he severed the head and right arm from the body. This completed his triumph. The enemy, dismayed at the loss of their leader, and dreading to encounter so formidable a champion, retired precipitately, leaving seven hundred of their number dead upon the plain, whilst not one knight, but only two of the common soldiers, perished on the part of the Christiansf . Notwithstanding this victory, it was obvious that the English, whose whole number did not amount to five hundred men, could not maintain themselves long in Joppa against the overwhelming power of Saladin, and this became still more painfully evident when, in consequence of fatigue and over-exertion, Richard was seized by another attack of his old disorder. In this situation, while they daily expected to behold the enemy advancing from Ramula, to which town they had retired immediately after the battle, Henry of Champagne, on the part of his uncle, * See Note D. -f- Vinesuuf. Bohadin. 252 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF opened a communication with the French at Acre, and again solicited their assistance. This negotiation was as fruitless as the former, but the French had now a better excuse for withholding: their aid, as O * their leader, the duke of Burgundy, lay iipon his death-bed, and many more were suffering from fever in its most malignant form. When this was told to Richard he evinced but little surprise, and expressed a wish that he might be conveyed to Ascalon, where he would make a stand for Christendom as long as one of the English or a -Templar and Hospitaller remained by his side. But even his most devoted followers were now convinced of the inutility of further resistance, and conjured him so earnestly to offer some terms to Saladin by which his own retreat might be secured, and a portion at least of their old possessions left in the hands of the native Christians, that he yielded to their entreaties, and commenced a negotiation with the sultan through the medium of Malek-al-Adel, who proved himself a truer friend than many who wore the cross upon their shoulder. A truce was agreed upon between the Christians and Saracens, and its duration fixed at the term of three years, three months, three weeks, and three days, from and after the succeeding feast of Easter. The castles and fortresses taken by the Christians since the siege of Acre, especially Ascalon, were to be demolished. The country from the sea-coast to the central chain of mountains was to remain in the hands of the Christians, and the rest ceded to Sala- din, with the exception of Ascalon, which it was agreed shoiild belong to neither until the expiration of the truce, when it was to fall to the lot of that RICHARD THE FIRST. 253 party esteemed the strongest at the time. In the mean while, all Christians were to be allowed free passage and safe-conduct to Jerusalem, and permis- sion to worship at the Holy Sepulchre, provided they came in small numbers and in the garb of peace. After these terms were arranged various messages expressive of the xitmost good- will and consideration passed between Richard and the sultan; and although the two monarchs never met in person, Malek-al- Adel and others of the Turkish nobility were frequent visitors at Joppa, and became especial favourites with the English knights, although not with the Templars or Hospitallers, whose prejudices were far too deeply rooted to approve of any inter- course with a heathen. After a short period Richard retired to Caiphas, for the re-establishment of his health, and as he was about to leave Palestine for ever, he begged of Saladin that he would suffer his army to visit in peace that holy city, which they had failed to reduce by the force of their arms. Saladin courteously granted his permission, which extended to all the crusaders except the French, whom, on account of their late conduct, Richard did not deem worthy of such an honour. Accordingly the army proceeded to Jeru- salem in three several divisions, and after visiting all that was most remarkable and sacred in that city and its neighbourhood, retired in peace to Acre. The bishop of Salisbury, who led the third division, was received by Saladin with marked distinction, and was admitted to the honour of a personal inter- view, for which, by the way, it was somewhat remarkable that the worthy prelate did not incur the 254 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF censure of the head of the church ; since the " hende soldan " was in those days considered, by all ortho- dox Catholics, as a personage only inferior in wicked- ness and malignity to the arch-enemy of mankind. After an interesting conversation regarding the cha- racter and peculiarities of the Melech-Ric, and the reputation of the sultan with the English, Saladin, after the Eastern manner, desired the bishop to ask a boon, which Salisbury did by requesting that at Je- rusalem, Bethlehem, and Nazareth, two Latin priests and two deacons might be permitted in future to reside, and perform the ceremonies of their own religion, for the edification of all pilgrims who might come to worship at these holy places. Saladin immediately gave his consent, and the bishop returned to Acre highly gratified with the result of his journey. No object of importance now remained which could detain Richard in Palestine. Accordingly he proceeded to satisfy his creditors in the different towns, and took an affectionate farewell of his nephew the count of Champagne, now king of Jeru- salem, and of the valiant Latin. warriors who had so well supported him in battle. As recent accounts from Europe led him to suspect the treachery of Philip and his collusion with John, he did not em- bark with the fleet, which was despatched with the two queens and the whole of his troops, but designed if possible, by a hasty and secret route, to reach England before them, and by his sudden appearance there to overturn the usurpation of his brother. None of his own knights when they sailed knew the nature of his plans. He only bade them God speed, and desired them when they reached England to RICHARD THE FIRST. 255 hasten to his assistance, if he should then have arrived ; if not, to keep themselves in readiness and act according to circumstances. After their departure he sent for Robert de Sablay, grand-master of the Templars, with whom he was now, though lately, reconciled, and thus addressed him : " Master, I know well that there are many who bear me but little love, and if I were to cross the sea in my own character, it might be that my enemies would take or slay me at the first port I should reach. There- fore I pray you to appoint me an escort of the brethren of your order, in company with whom, when we land in Europe, I may travel as a Templar to my own kingdom*." Robert de Sablay approved highly of the proposal, and selected a few of his trusty knights, with whom, and the following ad- herents of his own, Baldwin de Bethune, William de L'Estang, Philip the secretary, and Anselm the chaplain, Richard embarked on board a galley and left Palestine for ever. Nor was it without reason that he took the fore- going precautions, since every country seemed in arms against the unfortunate remnants of the crusade. The fleet, which had sailed a few days before the king's departure, was dispersed in the Mediterranean by a violent storm ; some of the ships were driven ashore on different coasts, and the crews made pri- soners and forced to redeem themselves by the sacrifice of all they possessed, although their cap- tors were nominally Christians. In fact the whole of Europe, especially the south, was at that time in a state of great barbarism ; and the petty princes * Bernard le Tresorier. 256 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF were further encouraged in their aggressions by the knowledge, that no insult or injury offered to the followers of Richard would be resented either by Philip of France or the emperor of Germany, as for England, they were too far distant to dread any vengeance from her. The vessel of Richard was driven by the same tempest into a harbour of Corfu, from which island he steered northwards up the gulf of Venice, and landed nearTrieste, from which he proposed to journey by land through the heart of Germany, under the disguise of a merchant, which he now thought would conceal him more effectually than if he assumed the military garb of the Templars. It is said by some that his enemies found means, ere his departure from Acre, to convey on board his vessel a person charged to watch his movements, and to betray him as soon as he should set foot in an unfriendly country. They further state that this spy no sooner landed at Trieste than he apprised the authorities of the real character of the voyagers. This account appears by no means improbable ; for it is certain that no sooner had the small company reached the town of Goritz in Carniola, not far from the port where they landed, than the lord of the territory, by name Meinhard, a blood relation of the marquis of Montserrat and also a kinsman of the emperor, sent to demand who the travellers were, and whither they were bound. In answer to this inquiry, they replied that the party consisted of sir Baldwin de Bethune, with his retinue, and a mer- chant of Damascus called Hugo, which was the name Richard thought proper to assume. At the same RICHARD THE FIRST. 257 time, somewhat imprudently, the pretended trader sent by the messenger a ring of considerable value, as a present to Meinhard, and this of course served to confirm any suspicions which he had entertained as to the real character and quality of the strangers. " No," replied the German Freyherr, " not the mer- chant Hugo, but king Richard, has sent me this ring. But tell him that although I am ordered to detain all pilgrims from the Holy Land who may pass through my territory, and to take no gift from any, yet so much do I honour the liberality and worth of the man, who without knowledge of me, has sent so magnificent a token, that I freely return him his ring, and accord him permission to pass at liberty and unmolested." Richard perceived that he Was discovered, but knowing not how far he might de- pend upon the secrecy of the German, thought it best without further apology or explanation to take his departure, and accordingly on the same night the little party mounted their horses and left the terri- tories of Meinhard. It does not appear clearly whether that baron concealed a treacherous design under the appearance of disinterested kindness, and merely wished to shift the responsibility upon other shoulders, or whether he was oftended at the want of confidence displayed by Richard. This at least is certain that he despatched a messenger to his brother, Frederick of Bretesow, with information of the motions of the king, and advice to se- cure his person as he passed through his territory, which would certainly be the case if the crusaders took the direct road to the north. Accordingly Richard and his men, having passed the river Drave, s 258 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP arrived at the town of Freisach, which pertained to Bretesow, and that nobleman being made acquainted with their arrival, directed a follower of his own, who was a Norman by birth, to linger about the inn, and attempt, by drawing the travellers into conver- sation, to discover from their speech, or any other token, whether Richard was really of their number. The better to ensure this man's fidelity, Bretesow promised him a large reward in case the king of England should by his means be taken prisoner; but the old recollections of his native country, and the duty which he owed to the son of his former liege, though for twenty years he had not set foot on the Norman soil, outweighed the lust of such ignoble gain in the heart of the ancient retainer. He went directly to Richard, and besought him so earnestly to disclose his real character, that the king yielded to his importunity, and made the important disclosure. The old man fell in tears at his feet, and not only entreated him to consult his safety by instant flight, but provided him with an excellent horse in place of his jaded steed, and then returning to Bretesow declared, that Meinhard must have been mistaken, since he had seen the whole of the travellers and was convinced that they were no other than Sir Baldwin de Bethune and his companions, with an actual merchant of Damascus. Meanwhile Richard had profited by the hint, but not having time to wait the return of his companions who were strolling in the town, he departed along with William De L'Estang, and a boy who understood the German lan- guage, in the full persuasion that if the others were examined, they would speedily be set at liberty when RICHARD THE FIRST. 259 it was ascertained that the king was not amongst them. With these two attendants he succeeded in reach- ing Vienna; but the rumour of his appearance in the country, and his sudden departure from Freisach, had gone before him, and the authorities of every town in the Austrian dominions were on the alert, and watched for the illustrious pilgrim. Richard and De L'Estang took up their abode in a mean lodging- house of the suburbs, where they hoped to escape observation. They would have proceeded directly on their journey, but the king felt himself so fatigued with the sea-voyage that the repose of a few days was absolutely indispensable. Neither of them ven- tured to go abroad, but sent the page every day to the market to purchase the necessary provisions, with strict injunctions to preserve silence as to the persons or quality of his masters, and above all things not to discover their abode. It so happened that the lad one day paid for his purchases in the Syrian coin, which fact when reported to the magis- trates was deemed so suspicious that they ordered the officers, when he next appeared, to bring the boy before them, in order that they might ascertain whence he came and in whose service he was. This was done, but farther suspicions were excited by the discovery of the king's gloves, which the page thoughtlessly carried with him. He was accordingly interrogated by the magistrates, but, faithful to his trust, steadily refused to answer any question which might implicate his master. But in those days there were modes of forcing evidence from a reluctant witness which are now happily in disuse. The tor- s 2 260 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP tures of the rack and screw were employed to wring confession from the boy even these he bore with extraordinary fortitude, but when the barbarians threatened to tear his tongue from the roots if he still persisted in silence, human nature could endure no longer and he told them all that he knew. In- o stant information of this important discovery was sent to the duke of Austria, then in Vienna; and by his orders the house where Richard and his companion lodged was surrounded by an armed multitude, who summoned the pair to surrender. Although escape was thus cut off, the rascal crowd did not dare to enter the dwelling or lay hands upon the person of the king, nor would Richard yield to them. He looked forth calmly and undismayed, and desired them, if they came by order of Leopold of Austria, to fetch that prince in person, for to no one inferior in rank would he ever surrender his sword. Leopold accordingly appeared and received the for- midable weapon from his captive, an unknightly deed, which has seared the former laurels of the duke, won on the walls of Acre, and rendered him even among his own countrymen an object of detestation and scorn. And here we must leave Richard for a while, to take a hasty review of the internal state of England subsequent to his departure for the Holy Land. RICHARD THE FIRST. 261 CHAPTER X. Covenjment of England during the third Crusade Disputes be- tween the Chancellor and the Bishop of Durham Oppressive Conduct of the former, and Intrigues of Prince John^Assault upon the Archbishop of York The Chancellor is deposed Interference of the Pope in his behalf Return of Philip from the Crusade He prepares to invade Normandy The Duke of Austria transfers the Custody of Richard to the Emperor Henry General Excitement throughout Europe at the News of his Imprisonment Measures taken by the English Government Accusation and Appearance of Richard before the Germanic Diet His Ransom fixed John enters into a Treaty with Philip, who invades Normandy The Ransom is raised in England Richard arrives at Sandwich Reduces Nottingham Castle Is recrowned at Winchester Receives a Visit from William of Scotland Crosses to Normandy, and pardons his Brother John. WHEN a monarch chooses to depart from his own dominions, and to delegate his authority to others, he makes a perilous experiment, wherein the chances of failure are much greater than those of success. For, of the many causes which combine to secure and confirm the supremacy of a king, there is hardly one applicable to a viceroy, who must be taken from a rank wherein he has many equals and rivals ; these are usually offended by his elevation, and will not recognise in the shadow that " divinity which doth hedge" the person of a sovereign. However just and well-disposed a viceroy may be, he is sure to create enemies ; justice itself, though a great, is not always an ingratiating quality; and sometimes the sword is required to defend the decision of the balance. Moreover, although rebellion against the delegate be equally criminal with open resistance to 262 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF the fountain of his authority, men cannot be brought to view it in the same light : for, however untenable the doctrine of divine right may be, it has, by the tacit consent of ages, acquired so strong a root in the minds of many, that it enters unconsciously into their calculation, and is, in fact, one of the principal safeguards and defences of a throne ; whereas the special favours of heaven are not supposed to be lavished upon a viceroy, opposition to him is con- sidered as a crime of less magnitude, and sometimes, in the opinion of the least scrupulous, even resolves itself into a question of expediency. These remarks, though applicable to all ages, are particularly so to the time which now occupies our attention, as will be seen from the aspect of affairs in England and Normandy, after Richard departed on his pilgrimage to the Holy Land. We have stated in a former chapter, that the government of England was entrusted in the ab- sence of the king to William Longchamp, chancellor and bishop of Ely, and to Hugh de Pusey, bishop of Durham. These were men of very opposite cha- racters : Longchamp was haughty and unscrupulous, with talents of no mean order, but marred by an overweening self-confidence which lost him many a friend. But though ambitious in so far as regarded his personal advancement, he maintained the strictest fidelity to his royal master, even when all others had forsaken him, and when to profess oneself a partisan of Richard was to incur almost certain penalties of banishment and ruin. De Pusey was a man of narrow understanding and little energy of character; far fitter to preside in a convent than to RICHARD THE FIRST. 263 rule hi a turbulent country, and no match for his acute and overbearing colleague. Indeed he owed, his elevation to this dignity solely to his enormous wealth, by means of which he was enabled to ad- vance large sums towards the outfit of Richard, when the royal coffers were exhausted; and that king, even when granting him the office of justiciary, made no scruple of expressing his mean opinion of the under- standing and abilities of the bishop. It soon became evident that the sovereign power could not remain equally lodged in the hands of persons whose characters were so opposite ; and of course the bishop of Durham, being the weaker, went to the wall. Longchamp, probably not without the tacit consent of Richard, usurped the whole au- thority of his colleague, and compelled him to remain contented with the mere semblance of power, with- out the least real weight or authority in the state. Thus freed from all restraint, Longchamp proceeded to such measures as were certainly most unconsti- tutional, and which would hardly have been borne if carried to that length by the king instead of his officer. He doubled the imposts upon the laity, increased the exactions which Richard had wrung from the clergy, and showed so much haughtiness in his inter- course with the nobles that they left him in disgust, protesting that they would endure such arrogance from no potentate on earth, much less from a base- born and mean adventurer. Those who felt themselves thus aggrieved, found a ready coadjutor in the person of prince John, who, regardless of all the benefits somewhat too prodigally heaped upon him, had, ever since the departure of 264 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP Richard, entertained a design upon the crown, and now watched with delight the tyrannical conduct of Longchamp, which he trusted would operate against the king, and so afford him a plausible excuse for realising the hopes of his ambition. Even in the event of Richard's decease, John was not the next in succession, for his elder brother Geoffry had left a son, the unfortunate Arthur, who was considered and proclaimed the heir-apparent to the kingdom ; but a friendless and powerless infant was not likely to prove a dangerous antagonist, and the strict rule of hereditary succession had been so often departed from already, that this obstacle might be easily sur- mounted, without any great odium or opposition on the part of the people. But Longchamp was de- termined to maintain the rights of Arthur, and had even, by the desire of Coeur-de-Lion, entered into a treaty with William of Scotland, whereby that king was bound, in the event of Richard's premature decease, to support his nephew. It was therefore necessary to displace the chancellor from his situ- ation, and that difficulty surmounted, the rest ap- peared comparatively easy. The prince went warily to work, and drew up a memorial, accusing Longchamp of an unjust assump- tion of authority highly prejudicial to the regal interests, of oppression, peculation, and acts of the grossest tyranny. This document he transmitted to Richard, then at Messina, by a sure messenger, and awaited with impatience the effect of his insidious statement. Richard was not wholly blinded by the artifice ; but, although inclined to place the most entire trust in the loyalty of the chancellor, he could RICHARD THE FIRST. 2G5 not shut his eyes to his glaring faults, and, therefore, thought it expedient to put some check upon him, lest a continued course of exaction should operate directly against himself, and force his people to seek other than constitutional redress. He therefore despatched Walter, archbishop of Rouen, to England, with a commission, constituting him and four others a council of advice on all matters of moment, and Longchamp was forbidden to act except under their sanction and authority. The authenticity of this document has been doubted, and some writers have not hesitated to pronounce it a direct forgery; but, genuine or not, it appears that the archbishop, inti- midated by the power of the chancellor, delayed to produce it, and did not assume that authority and direction which was thereby placed in his hands. Longchamp, in consequence, continued for a time unmolested in his rule, and might have maintained his place in spite of the machinations of all enemies, had not his own violence contributed to hasten his downfall. Gerard de Chamville, governor of Lincoln, having by some means or other incurred his displea- sure, the chancellor proceeded without more ado to depose him from his office, and appointed a favourite of his own, William d'Estoteville, in his stead. As Ghamville did not yield a ready acquiescence to this mandate, the chancellor marched with the royal troops against Lincoln, and was proceeding to invest the place, when John, whose influence had rapidly aug- mented, called round him some of the nobles and their retainers, laid siege to the royal castles of Not- tingham and Tickhill, and sent a peremptory message to Longchamp, ordering him to desist from his j)ur- 266 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP pose, under the penalty of beholding these fortresses taken from his hands. This decided step alarmed the chancellor, who till now could not be persuaded that his enemies would have the audacity to rise against him, still less that John would become the instigator and leader of the insurrection. Had his power been equal to his will, he would have per- sisted in his design, and put down the rebellion, for such it was, by force of arms ; but various circum- stances convinced him of the impolicy perhaps the futility of such conduct, and he entered into a nego- ciation with the prince, by which it was agreed, that several of the royal castles should be delivered to the custody of certain nobles for the king's interest, and that in the event of the monarch's death, these should instantly be made over to John. Having carried this point, which was of the utmost import- ance inasmuch as his right to the succession was thereby tacitly acknowledged, John thought it prudent to pause for the present, nor make any fur- ther inroads upon the authority of the chancellor, until his vehement temper should place him in a new dilemma. This shortly afterwards came to pass, and was in its effects still more decisive than the other. We have already stated that Geoffry, the natural brother of the king, had been chosen to the arch- bishopric of York ; but this appointment was in a manner rendered of no effect by Richard, who forced the prelate to take an oath that he would not set foot in England until three entire years subse- quent to his departure had elapsed, and at the same time orders were issued forbidding, in the most O ' positive manner, any bishop in the British dominions RICHARD THE FIRST. 267 to assist at his consecration. It is very probable that John was at the bottom of this intrigue, for Geoffry had on no previous occasion manifested a turbulent spirit, and Richard was not apt to take such precautions without some obvious reason. Geoffry, as was natural, felt this restriction a sore grievance, and as he entertained doubts whether, being a prelate, he was justified in adhering to a promise which removed him from the sphere of his utility, he laid his case before pope Celestine III., who judged proper to absolve him of his vow, and, moreover, issued the mandate for his consecration, which ceremony was performed by the archbishop of Tours. It was now confidently rumoured that Geoffry was about to cross over into England, where- upon the chancellor, whose instructions were posi- tive, sent to warn him, that if he should venture upon such a step in manifest violation of his oath, he would instantly be apprehended. Geoffry, how- ever, was not to be deterred by threats, but landed at Dover, where he managed to escape the vigilance of the emissaries of Longchamp, who were upon the watch, and took refuge in the church of St. Martin, where he proceeded to celebrate divine service. Whilst he was standing at the altar in full canon- icals, the . servants of the chancellor beset the church, and, bursting open the doors, seized upon the archbishop and dragged him to the castle, in spite of the remonstrances and execrations of the people, who reverenced Geoffry for his character, and saw with horror the sacrilege and the shameful insult thus offered to the person of one of the highest dignitaries of the church. Their remonstrances, 268 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP however, were unavailing, and Geoffry was deli- vered over to the custody of Matthew de Clare, constable of Dover castle. The news of this out- rage spread like wildfire through the country, and created a very general disgust at the violent conduct of the chancellor. John, who saw his opportxmity, demanded of Longchamp if this arrest was made by his order, and on receiving an affirmative answer, peremptorily insisted that his brother should be restored to liberty. Longchamp hesitated, but when the bishop of London became security that Geoffry would obey the decision of the assembly of barons and prelates, he yielded to the demand, and released his prisoner ; whereby he incurred the odium of having behaved with most unnecessary harshness, since the same terms might have been made with Geoffry without subjecting him to the indignity of a public arrest. The archbishop instantly repaired to Lon- don, where he was received by John with the sem- blance of remarkable affection, and cordially greeted by the barons, who, with one consent, denounced the late conduct of Longchamp as injurious and intolerable. The prince expressed himself so much offended, that he proposed the chancellor should instantly be summoned to answer in person for the outrage, and for his unjust conduct tpwards the bishop of Durham. Longchamp, as a matter of course, refused to place himself in so degrading a position, or appear as a criminal at the bar of those who were, to all intents and purposes, his subjects for the time. On this a great assembly was ap- pointed at Reading, in which the prince presided in person, supported by the archbishop of Rouen and RICHARD THE FIRST. 269 the principal nobility and prelates of the kingdom. As the chancellor did not appear, it was decided that another general assembly should be held at London, and that the chief magistrates of that city should be consulted with regard to the measures to be adopted towards the chancellor, who had shown himself so obnoxious to the welfare of the community, and so troublesome to the peace and dignity of the realm. While this league was forming, Longchamp re- mained quietly at Windsor Castle, in expectation that the storm would soon blow over, and that the majority of the nobles would, upon reflection, be indisposed to second the ambitious projects of John. Like most tyrannical men, lie was not at all aware of the extent of the dislike and hatred which his conduct had excited, but reckoned confidently upon the support of many who were in truth amongst his bitterest enemies, for subserviency is not always to be taken as a pledge of attachment, as many an un- fortunate prince has found to his cost and sorrow. However, the results of the deliberations at Reading were so ominous and alarming, that Longchamp could no longer flatter himself in the belief that the whole was an abortive project of John, but set out instantly to the capital, in hopes of anticipating the confederates. It had often been made an article of complaint againt the chancellor, that he never stirred from home without the attendance of a royal escort, so that he was a welcome guest neither at hall or abbey, where the visit of one night often consumed four months of the owner's revenue. However ob- noxious this assumption of state might have been to others, it was upon this occasion of essential service 270 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF to himself, for John, who was about as unscrupulous a plotter as the world ever saw, had despatched a body of soldiers to waylay the chancellor on the road, and either to bring him a prisoner to London, or deal with him in such a manner as would ensure his eternal silence. These, under the command of one Roger de Planes, fell upon the chancellor, and a desperate skirmish ensued, in which the leader of the prince's troops was slain ; but Longchamp with his servants were compelled to save themselves by a speedy flight. This brutal attack convinced the chancellor that the city of London was no longer a safe residence ; accordingly he took refuge in the Tower, which he had previously refortified, and where he thought himself secure from the armed ruffians of John. Although that prince, when it suited his ends, did not hesitate to have recourse to the most unworthy violence, he yet was politician enough to affect mo- deration, when moderation was likely to impress the commons with a favourable idea of his character. He therefore cautiously abstained from violent mea- sures, but having summoned the assembly, at which the chief citizens of London were present, he recapi- tulated the charges against the chancellor, and craved a hearing for the archbishop of Rouen, who then for the first time produced the commission, real or pre- tended, which he had brought from Sicily, appointing himself and four others joint guardians with Long- champ in the administration of the state. The arch- bishop now asserted that this document, although exhibited, had been altogether rejected, and the in- tention of the king frustrated by the presumption of RICHARD THE FIRST. . 271 his haughty viceroy. This evidence appeared so conclusive to the assembly that they instantly pro- ceeded to depose the chancellor from his rule, and substituted the archbishop of Rouen in his stead, to whom all the nobles and prelates swore fidelity. At the same time the citizens of London renewed their oath of fealty to Richard and his heir, and bound themselves, in case the king should die without issue, to receive his brother John as their lawful sovereign. Even Longchamp was forced to succumb, and pur- chased his individual safety by the relinquishment of his offices, and the delivery of the greater part of the royal castles. Some of his enemies were scarcely disposed to remain content with this victory and would have wreaked their vengeance upon his person, had not John more prudently interfered and suffered the ex-chancellor to retire unmolested into Nor- mandy. A remarkable letter from Hugh bishop of Coventry, a staunch partisan of John, narrating the circumstances of Longchamp's retreat, is still extant, and is wholly without example in its tone of coarse and vehement abuse. It produced a reply from Peter de Blois archdeacon of Bath, wherein he de- fends the conduct, and pronounces a warm eulogium upon the character of his banished patron, and with great vehemence rebukes Hugh of Coventry for this malicious and cowardly attack. Yet in spite of the powerful advocacy, Longchamp continued to suffer not only the persecution of the civil, but the censure of the ecclesiastical power, for by order of his successor, the archbishop of Rouen, he was held through Normandy as ah excommunicated man, and in every place through which he passed, divine 272 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP service was suspended for the time, as if his mere presence were enough to taint the sanctity of that holy rite. In addition to the high office of chancellor, Long- champ was also papal legate, but this latter dignity had fallen by the death of the pontiff Clement VII., who bestowed it, and was not yet ratified by his suc- cess'or. The new pope Celestine III. was a man of considerable ability, who interested himself much in the success of the Latin arms in Palestine, and was therefore disposed to exert his influence in behalf of Kichard, who at the moment was fighting the battles of Christendom against the unbeliever. To him, therefore, Longchamp resolved to appeal against the violence of John, and made such a representation of the state of affairs in England, and the danger to which the cause of the king was exposed, that Celes- tine was wrought upon to take a warm interest in the matter, and issued a bull renewing the legatine power in favour of Longchamp, and giving him full authority to subject all those who had plotted and achieved his ejection, to the heaviest censures of the church. Armed with these powers, the chancellor despatched letters to Hugh, bishop of Lincoln, desiring him instantly to put the prohibition of the pope in force Against all who had shown themselves most active in the late disturbances, and also an- nounced his speedy intention of returning to England; but the tide of popular opinion was yet too strong to admit of his carrying this resolution into effect, and the sentences of excommunication do not seem to have been formally pronounced. About the same time Philip of France returned RICHARD THE FIRST. 273 from the crusade, and thought it necessary for his own justification to appear before the pope, and explain the reason why he had so speedily relin- quished the undertaking. This he partly attributed to the precarious state of his health, but more to the arrogance of Richard, who, as he said, had driven him from the Holy Land, and disgusted the whole of the crusaders by his violence and reckless conduct. These assertions, however, did not impose upon Celestine, who was well acquainted with the true character of Philip ; but as remonstrances were obviously useless, he refrained from expressing any opinion upon the matter, and entertained the king for eight days with great courtesy and honour. Shortly afterwards, Philip had a personal conference with the emperor Henry, and, as it is reported, entreated him to seize upon the person of Coeur-de-Lion, should that monarch, on his return, pass through any part of the imperial dominions. Such a request covers with eternal infamy him who made it, and also, though in a less degree, the man who was weak and base enough to listen to such unworthy counsel. After this Philip returned to his own country, and commenced a series of plots with the view of freeing himself of his engagements, and of finding a pretext to carry war into the territories of his absent neighbour. Meanwhile John began to suspect that the arch- bishop of Rouen and several others who had joined him, heart and hand, in effecting the expulsion of Longchamp, were not likely to assist him in the prosecution of his ulterior plans for setting aside Richard and usurping the crown. So long as the T 274 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP prince professed to be actuated by a desire for the public good, those nobles and prelates followed with alacrity in his train. They were ready enough to join in any scheme which might unseat the chan- cellor, but rebellion against their monarch was a crime which they never contemplated; for with all his faults they were fondly attached to Richard, and would have preferred him, had these been ten times greater than they were, to the fickle and per- fidious John. The queen-mother, Eleanor, began to suspect the designs of her youngest son, and being an active and sagacious woman she espoused the party of the archbishop of Rouen, and caused the prelate of York and the other magnates of the realm to take anew the oath of fealty to Richard and his declared successor, against all men whomsoever. John perceiving that those measures were levelled against himself, and almost without hope of gain- ing over his former confederates to his purpose, bethought him of the absent chancellor, who, having many injuries to revenge, might, as he conceived, be persuaded, first to avail himself of his assistance, and afterwards to repay him in kind. With this view he invited Longchamp to England, but the confede- rated government were still strongly opposed to his return, so that after remaining a few days at Dover, the disappointed minister was fain to retrace his steps, and await in Normandy the return of his ancient master. In the mean time the king of France, by way of breaking ground, sent to the seneschal of Normandy demanding the restitution of his sister Adelais and the delivery of Gisors and its dependencies, as stipulated by the treaty of Messina. RICHARD THE FIRST. 275 The stout-hearted Norman replied that he had re- ceived no orders to that effect from his king, and that he would cede nothing of his charge without the positive royal commands. Philip seized upon this refusal as a ground for commencing the war, and levied a great army for the purpose of invading Nor- mandy ; but his nobles refused to countenance him in this open violation of his oath, and Celestine when he heard of his preparations, fulminated forth his anathema against all who should bear arms against the absent monarch ; so that Philip, baffled of his purpose, forbore his design until the return or capture of Richard should afford him an opportunity of again commencing hostilities. Nor was he long without such an excuse, for immediately afterwards he received the welcome tidings that Richard had been seized at Vienna by the vindictive duke of Austria, and was now a prisoner without the means or prospect of release. During the first few weeks of his captivity, Richard was treated by the duke with considerable courtesy, for Leopold was probably ashamed to heap per- sonal indignity upon the prince whom he had already robbed of his freedom. But the emperor Henry, whose interest was closely leagued with that of France, did not think it prudent that the royal cap- tive should be permitted to remain in the custody of his vassal, and for the sum of sixty thousand pounds obtained possession of his person. For greater secu- rity he confined him in the strong but sequestered castle of Durenstein upon the Danube, under such circumstances of concealment, that few even of his own subjects knew the exact spot where Richard was T 2 276 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF immured; nor would the secret have been discovered, had not a letter from the emperor to Philip of France fallen by some means or other into the hands of Longchamp, and made that prelate aware of the exact situation of his master. Richard was not entirely alone, for, in order to stifle their report, the companions of his voyage had also been seized, and were permitted to share his bondage during the day. At night, however, they were guarded in separate apartments, for the terror of Richard's personal strength and audacity was such, that his gaolers were in constant alarm of some desperate attempt to escape, in spite of the solid walls and armed soldiers who surrounded the impregnable fortress. Doubt- less, had there been the slightest prospect of success, Richard would have made the trial, but his situation was so utterly hopeless, that he resigned himself cheerfully to his lot. Fortunately he possessed within himself mental resources, which prevented him from falling into that state of listlessness so common among prisoners, and so pernicious in its effects ; and Schloss Durenstein will ever be memo- rable in the history of poetry, as the spot where our English monarch found leisure to turn to account the lessons he had formerly received from Blondel de Nesle and others of his favourite Troubadours, and proved himself as expert an adept in "the gaye science" as many of the renowned minstrels whose lays were sung in every court of Europe *. Even with the soldiers whom the emperor had placed- around his person he became a favourite, entering with zest into their rude sports, and was never so happy as * See note E. RICSARD THE FIRST. 277 when he could persuade any of the tall Germans to measure their physical strength against his own. It was impossible, notwithstanding the barbarous laxity of the time, that so flagrant an act of injus- tice as the detention of Richard could take place in - the heart of Europe, without exciting very general indignation. All the princes of influence, even those who had no interest in the matter, were loud in their expressions of anger against the emperor and the duke. Such conduct, they said, was most unworthy of noblemen and knights, subversive of the honour of nations, and contrary to the laws of chivalry. Frederick Barbarossa would never have lent his countenance to such a proceeding and unfavourable comparisons were drawn between that distinguished warrior and the present occupant of the throne. In England the news was received with sorrow, and at first with threats of vengeance. But as it was no easy matter to march a British army into the heart of Germany, especially when the forces of France were prepared to fall upon the rear, all such extravagant ideas were abandoned, and the nobles began to take the most prudent as well as effectual steps to recover the freedom of their monarch. At the instigation of Eleanor and the archbishop of Rouen, pope Celestine denounced all who were concerned in the capture or detention of Richard, and threatened to interdict the whole territories of the emperor. Two abbots were next despatched from England with orders to travel throughout Germany, and discover, if pos- sible, the spot where the king was lodged; for John, who saw that his brother's imprisonment was not likely to tend to his own advantage, had set a 278 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF report in circulation to the effect that Richard was actually dead. This feeling so universally expressed made the em- peror somewhat ashamed of his sorry conduct, and compelled him to adopt more open and manly pro- ceedings. He summoned Richard to appear before an assembly of the states at Hagenau to answer certain charges, and ordered him to be conveyed to that city under a strong military escort. By a curious coincidence it happened that the abbots, of whose mission we have just spoken, after having traversed the greater part of Germany in vain, met Richard at the confines of Bavaria. The greeting, as may well be supposed, was cordial in the extreme, and the churchmen, joining themselves to his company, com- municated all the late events in England, of which the king was wholly ignorant. Having assured himself of the fidelity of his subjects, and the con- tinued friendship of William of Scotland, whom he termed his most worthy ally, Richard made inquiries regarding the conduct of his brother John, and ap- peared neither shocked nor surprised at the narrative of his manifold treasons. " John," said he, " is not the man to win a kingdom by force of arms, if he meets with the slightest resistance." The assembly met, as appointed, and the following charges were preferred against Richard, and to these he was directed severally to reply : 1st. That when in Sicily he had aided and abetted the pretensions of Tancred in that island to the de- triment of the emperor, whose inheritance it became after the death of William the Good; and that he had also entered into a league with the usurper in oppo- sition to the interests of the realm. RICHARD THE FIRST. 279 2nd. That, without any just cause or declaration of war, he had taken possession of the island of Cyprus, dethroned and imprisoned the emperor, and carried off his daughter, who was niece of the duchess of Austria, 3rd. He was required to clear himself of all par- ticipation or share in the murder of Conrad, mar- quis of Montserrat, who was the emperor's near relation. 4th. He was accused of a treasonable conspiracy against his feudal lord, the king of France, and also of having broken, on various occasions, the mutual treaty made before their departure to Palestine. 5th. That he had plucked down the standard of Austria from the walls of Acre, and thereby insulted the national colours. Other charges of a similar nature were preferred ; but these are sufficient to show how eagerly the emperor sought for a pretext to justify his conduct ; nor was it explained in what manner an assembly of the German states was com- petent to try an independent sovereign for alleged offences in which it could not exhibit the shadow of a national interest. Still Richard was called upon to answer the various articles of indictment, and this he did in so clear and convincing a manner, with such eloquence and judgment, that the assembled princes were struck with admiration, and express- ed their conviction of his perfect innocence of the death of Conrad, and the more serious portion of the charge. Even Henry was so much moved by the noble demeanour of Richard, that he rose from his seat and embraced him, thereby adding his testi- mony to the opinion of others. After this, say 280 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP the historians, Richard was treated with much con- sideration and respect. It is difficult to imagine why he was not set free. If the generosity of the emperor had been equal to his avarice, this assembly could have had only one result, the instant liberation of Richard. Had this honourable course been pursued, posterity would have forgotten all the previous aggravating circum- stances, and would have regarded the German emperor as a just and upright man. Unfortunately for his memory, he would not relinquish the pos- session of his captive, even although his innocence was established, but detained him as a prisoner of war; most unjustifiably, -surely, considering the circum- stances under which Richard had entered Germany, and the part which Frederick Barbarossa and his son had taken in the advancement of the crusade. By purchasing from the duke of Austria the per- son of the royal prisoner, Henry had certainly not bought his quarrel also. Leopold might have detained the king under the pretext of reprisal for the insult offered to him at the siege of Acre, though even such revenge would have been scandalous; but that excuse was not transferred to Henry, and, therefore, he must always stand in the light of an imperial pedlar, a trafficker with misfortune, with- out true nobility of soul, and without even such an excuse as the vague and indefinite laws of chivalry could afford. The first advantage which he took was to force Richard to resign the kingdom of England into his hands as sovereign lord, and then reinstated him in that dignity, as vassal, but under the burden of a yearly payment of five thousand pounds; in return RICHARD THE FIRST. 281 for which complaisance, Richard was honoured with the obsolete title of king of Provence, a gift of no value, except that it conferred upon its possessor the right of voting at the Germanic diet, which privi- lege Richard, after the death of Henry, was sum- moned to exercise, but wisely refused. This partial subjection did not content the emperor, who, be- sides his own expectations, had yet to be repaid the large sura given to the duke of Austria for the ces- sion of his prisoner; and some time elapsed before the definite amount of the ransom could be deter- mined. In the meantime Richard was gratified by the appearance of his old chancellor and devoted friend Longchamp, who was no sooner aware of the assembly, than he set out to join his master; and not less by the advent of Hubert, the warlike bishop of Salisbury, who, when at Messina on his return from the Holy Land, had learned the particulars of Richard's captivity, and, as faithful in misfortune as he had shown himself when the brighter star was in the ascendant, hastened to offer his services to the oppressed and injured monarch. Such demonstra- tions of attachment could not fail to be most grati- fying to Richard, who requested his old servant to remain near his person, and despatched the bishop of Salisbury to England, there to negociate the sum fixed for his ransom. This amounted to a hundred and forty thousand marks of silver, accord- ing to the standard of Cologne an immense sum at that period ; and Richard also engaged to set Isaac, the late emperor of Cyprus, at liberty, and to restore his daughter to the custody of her uncle the duke of Austria. These conditions of course could 282 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP not be fulfilled at the moment, so that John, still indulging in the vain hope of sovereignty, took advantage of the delay. Up to this time his intercourse with Philip had been rather concealed than avowed, for even such of the English nobles as favoured the prince's party were exceedingly averse to an alliance with the French king, and would not countenance any proce- dure which might lead to an invasion of the Norman or British territories. But John now saw, that if he hoped to prevail, it was absolutely necessary to fling aside the mask, and make common cause with Philip, since all his arts and blandishments had failed to shake the allegiance of the great body of the people, and many of those whom he had confi- dently looked to for support were now among the most zealous for procuring the freedom of his brother. Accordingly he resolved to leave England, and to hold a personal conference with Philip, and for this purpose passed over into Normandy, where he found the seneschal and others busily engaged in raising their proportion of the sum required for Richard's ransom. The Normans believing that John was equally interested with themselves in this labour of love, craved him to attend a great meeting summoned at Alen9on, and to afford them his assistance and advice. To this John replied that if the Normans would acknowledge him as their liege lord, and take an oath of fidelity, he would assist them in all things, and be their defender against the king of France, but on no other condition. The astonished and indig- nant Normans rejected his proposal with contempt, and John proceeded to the court of Philip. As RICHARD THE FIRST. 283 robbers seldom quarrel with regard to a prospective division of their booty before it has fallen into their hands, whatever they may do afterwards, the bargain between Philip and John was speedily concluded. The French king promised to render every assist- ance in reducing the Norman provinces and England for behoof of his confederate ; and John in return engaged to cede Gisors and the Vexin in Normandy to France for ever, and proposed to rivet the union by a marriage with Adelais, to which there was no obstacle except the existence of his present wife. These matters being finally arranged, John re- turned to England with a large body of foreign troops, took the castles of Wallingford and Windsor, and sent an imperious message to the archbishop of Rouen and the justiciaries of the realm, repeating the false story of Richard's decease, and commanding their allegiance to himself. This message was of course treated with the contempt it deserved, and the treason of John being now apparent, forces were marched to every port of the kingdom in order to prevent the anticipated influx of foreigners from France and Flanders ; moreover an army was des- patched to cope with the levies of the traitorous prince. In the mean time Philip was not idle, but advanced into Normandy at the head of a numerous body of men ; ravaged the country, took several fortresses, and advanced as far as Rouen, to which he laid siege ; but the brave earl of Leicester, who had just returned from the crusade, happened to be in the place, and made such a vigorous defence, that the French were compelled to retire. In England, castle after castle fell into the hands of the royalist party,- 284 until John, perceiving that his efforts were useless' abandoned the idea of conquering the country, and once more returned to France. If the rumour of Richard's decease had gained any ground amongst his people, they were speedily undeceived by the arrival of the bishop of Salisbury with letters from the king, thanking his friends for their fidelity to his cause under such trying circumstances, and urging them to make every possible exertion to raise the sum requisite for his ransom. This was done in the following manner. A tax of twenty shillings was levied from every knight's fee; one-tenth of the tithes was taken from the parochial clergy, and a similar collection made from the burgesses of the towns ; the bishops, abbots, and nobility, contributed a fourth of their yearly revenue ; the Cistercians gave up for one year their income upon wool, and the plate of the churches was pawned or sold. All classes of the community thus bore their share, and made the sacrifice willingly, for not- withstanding the inconveniences necessarily produced thereby, they would have done even more to rescue themselves from the state of anarchy and confusion into which they were thrown, by the dissensions among the nobles and the repeated attempts of John. Two-thirds of the sum required were thus imme- diately raised, and as it had been settled by the diet of Worms that on payment of this proportion Richard should be set at liberty, provided he gave hostages for the remainder, the queen mother Elea- nor and the archbishop of Rouen proceeded to Mentz, where the ransom was appointed to be paid. Philip of France was too inveterate an enemy, and RICHARD THE FIRST. 285 John too subtle a traitor, to permit the conditions of the late treaty to be kept, if any art of theirs could throw an obstacle in the way. The former, therefore, wrote a most pressing letter on the part of himself and his confederate to Henry, wherein he did not seek to conceal the personal advantages which they expected from a prolongation of Richard's captivity, but offered, if the emperor would only delay for a year the fulfilment of the treaty, to pay the same sum sti- pulated for the ransom, independently of all which might afterwards be exacted from the English. In making this proposal Philip showed that he perfectly understood the cold and selfish character, so unlike true German candour, of the man with whom he had to deal*; nor was it without its due effect, for when the day appointed for the negotiation arrived, the em- peror hesitated for a long time to receive the ransom, and finally, taking Richard aside, exhibited to him the letters of Philip and his brother John, and plainly hinted that he was more than half inclined to follow their advice. Richard almost began to despair of his liberty. This last declaration of the emperor showed that he regarded his honour little in com- parison with his interest; and if, as seemed very likely, these letters were shown to him in the hope that when he saw how high a value Philip placed on his captivity, he would offer an augmentation of his ransom, how was it possible to expect that the people of England, whose exertions and sacrifices were * Heiiry's character may be summed up in the few words of Menzcl. " Der neue Kaiser besass die ganze Thatkraft seines Vaters, scheute aber auch unedle Mittel nicht (wie gegen Richard Lowenherz,) und iibte kaltblutig Grausamkeiten." Geschichte der Deutschen. 286 THE LIFE AXD TIMES OP already so great, should rob themselves of more to glut the covetousness of a greedy foreign potentate ? But there were, among those assembled at Cologne, others besides the emperor who had a deep interest in the honour of the German nation, and these were not willing that their country should become in the mouth of Europe a by- word of infamy and reproach. The dukes of Suabia and Louvain, the count Pala- tine of the Rhine, and most of the principal clergy, made so strong a remonstrance to the emperor, that he dared not any longer delay the fulfilment of the treaty, but on payment of the stipulated sum declared Richard free ; and received the archbishop of Rouen, the bishop of Bath, and several noblemen, as hostages for payment of the remainder, and for Richard's observance of peace and amity towards Henry and the German empire. From the moment when Richard received his dismissal, all bad feeling between him and his captors seems to have expired. The emperor and German dignitaries instantly de- spatched state letters to Philip and prince John, ordaining them upon receipt thereof to surrender all towns, castles, and others, which they had taken in England or Normandy during the king's captivity to the rightful owner, apprising them at the same time that if they should refuse or delay to do so, they, the heads of the empire, would, in pursuance of their treaty with Richard, combine to assist him by force of arms. At the same time, Coeur-de-Lion promised, in the event of such a war, large revenues to the princes who might aid him in recovering his rights, and therefore the majority of those present did homage to him under the usual reservations. RICHARD THE FIRST. 287 From Mentz Richard proceeded under an imperial escort to Cologne, where he was affectionately re- ceived by the archbishop of the place, and after a short stay at Antwerp he embarked at Swyne, and amidst the acclamations of his subjects, landed at Sandwich on the thirteenth day of March, 1 194, after an absence of more than four years. In return for the services and attachment of Hu- bert, bishop of Salisbury, Richard while at Hagenau nominated him to the see of Canterbury, vacant by the death of archbishop Baldwin, who died in the Holy Land. On the return of Hubert to England, which event some time preceded that of his king, his nomination was confirmed, and he took a very active share in raising the ransom. It so happened that a certain churchman, by name Adam, of the establish- ment of Saint Edmund, a noted intriguer and confi- dential emissary of John, arrived in London a short time before the liberation of the king, and waited upon the archbishop, to whom he was personally known. As the limits of hospitality in those days were not very accurately defined, it is probable that the good cheer of the prelate overmastered the pru- dence of the diplomatist ; for Adam communicated without reserve the plans and projects of his master, stated that the king of France had delivered to him the castles of Driencourt, and the Arches in Nor- mandy, both of which were previously in the custody of the archbishop of Rheims, and that he would have put him in possession of more, had there been enough tall fellows in Normandy to maintain them against the forces of the king. He also threw out hints of the nature of his present expedition, and 288 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF said enough to convince the archbishop that, in spite of the apparent inactivity of John, a formidable plot was in progress, which might prove of the utmost detriment to England unless it were immediately checked. The situation of Adam, as his guest, pre- vented him from arresting his person, but on the next day, the mayor of London took the garrulous churchman into custody, and delivered over his papers to the archbishop of Canterbury, who imme- diately laid them before the council. These documents established so clearly the existence of a dangerous conspiracy in England among the friends of John, that the council with one consent determined to dispossess him of all his territories, and to lay siege to the castles which still remained in his hands ; and this was accordingly done. The bishop of Durham invested the castle of Tickhill, whilst David, earl of Huntingdon, and the lord Ferrers, marched against Nottingham. These two places alone held out when Richard landed at Sandwich ; the other castles, being those of Lancaster, Albemarle, and Saint Michael, surrendered after a feeble resistance. So soon as the governor of Tickhill castle, Robert de la Mare, heard the rumour of the king's arrival, he craved permission of the bishop of Durham to des- patch two messengers in order that he might ascer- tain the fact, and immediately after surrendered at discretion. The garrison of Nottingham made a more desperate resistance, and refused to yield even when Richard appeared in person before the walls; but a vigorous attack, under the superintendence of the martial king, soon convinced them of their follr, and they also delivered up their charge. RICHARD THE FIRST. 289 The faction of John being thus rendered harmless in England, Richard proceeded to punish the leading men who during his absence had proved false to their oaths and allegiance. This vengeance fell most heavily upon the bishop of Coventry, and upon, Gerard de Camville, and Hugo Bardolph, who were deprived of their respective charges in Lincoln and York ; and in respect of the oath unwarily taken by the nobility, and recognising the succession of John to the throne, that prince was declared, on accouut of his late treasons, incapable of succeeding, and the destination reverted to the young prince Arthur of Bretagne. Richard found himself compelled im- mediately after his return to resort to a step, which, had he been less popular with his subjects, must have caused the greatest dissatisfaction. The royal trea- sury was of course entirely exhausted, and it was absolutely necessary by some means or other to raise funds for the prosecution of the war with France, which now appeared inevitable. This could only be accomplished by further taxation, and the sale of public offices. No tax was probably ever levied iu such extreme haste, for Richard wasanxiousto be gone ; but, singularly enough, even when every hour was the most precious, it was deemed advisable that the ceremony of the coronation should be repeated ; and this was performed at AVinchester, by Hubert arch- bishop of Canterbury, in the presence of most of the prelates and nobility*. William king of Scotland also - *Geoffry archbishop of York would not attend upon this occa- sion, on account of a dispute with the archbishop of Canterbury regarding the right of the former to have a cross carried befons him out of the hounds of his own diocese. This squabble is repeat- edly mentioned by Hoveden, and seems to have excited no little interest among the church men of the day. TJ 290 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP paid a visit of congratulation to his brother sovereign upon this occasion, and was received with remarkable kindness, which indeed he well merited, as his con- duct during the absence of Richard had been most pure and blameless. He was further desirous to obtain a grant of the northern counties of England on the same terms on which his father had held them ; but this request was negatived by Richard, who repre- sented that even although the claim were just, this was a most improper time for England, menaced as she was from different quarters, to cede any of her territo- ries, as such a concession would certainly be considered as the dictate of fear, and not of justice or affection. Richard now hastened to join his army, which rendezvoused at Portsmouth, and on the second of May set sail; but the weather proved so tempestuous that he was forced to put back, and did not land in Normandy until a fortnight afterwards. One of the first persons who greeted him on his arrival was the arch-traitor John, who, as his brother truly re- marked, might succeed by intrigue, but could neither win nor keep a kingdom by force of arms. This proceeding of John was a bold though, strictly speak- ing, not a dangerous step ; for Richard had never shown any symptoms of a revengeful nature, parti- cularly towards those who trusted to his clemency, and Eleanor the queen-mother had promised to use her powerful intercession in behalf of her guilty son. John was accordingly pardoned ; but neither the broad domains nor the castles which he formerly possessed were restored to his keeping. It is likely that Richard attributed his ambition to the possession of undue authority, and resolved in future to prevent so convenient a plea for trespass. RICHARD THE FIRST. 291 CHAPTER XI. Military Operations in Normandy Defeat of the French Tour- naments first established in England Disputes of the Archbishops of Canterbury and York Richard's conduct towards his Brother and Nephews Proposed Marriage between Otho of Saxony and the Daughter of William the Lion Policy of the Church of Rome Negotiations with the Emperor War with France con- tinued Letter from the Old Man of the Mountain Its Authen- ticity discussed Scandalous Behaviour of Philip to the Danish Princess Riot in London History and, Death of William Fitzosbert Character and Conduct of Hubert Archbishop of Canterbury and of Hugh Bishop of Lincoln Dispute with the Archbishop of Rouen, and Fortification of Andeli Marriage of Richard's Sister Joanna, and Succession of William Longespee to the Earldom of Salisbury. PHILIP was engaged in the siege of Verneuil at the time when Richard landed in Normandy. The king of France, although previously aware of the great dili- gence and activity of his rival, presumed that after so long an absence he would find sufficient occupation to . detain him in England for a considerable period, and would beforcedtoleaveNormandy toits own resources. In this expectation, however, he was sorely disap- pointed. Coeur-de-Lion, burning with eagerness to pay back some portion of that heavy debt of injury which he owed to the author of his misfortunes, advanced from Barfleur by forced marches, and encamped near the castle of L'Aigle, at no great distance from the enemy. His sudden apparition so confounded the French, that they thought it prudent in the mean time to retire from Verneuil. Richard accordingly entered that town, and, after giving directions for the repair of the fortifications, hastened u 2 292 THE LIFE A>'D TIMES OP to Loches in Touraine, which still held out for Philip, and had been for some time invested by the troops of Navarre, under command of the brother of Beren- garia, but without success. A vigorous attack, directed and led by Richard, soon forced the garrison to surrender ; and several places of lesser note pre- sently fell into his hands. In the mean time Philip advanced upon Rouen, and took a castle at no great distance from that city ; but he must either have con- sidered his forces inadequate to its reduction, or been apprehensive that, if he advanced too far, the king of England might fall upon his rear, for, after remain- ing for a day or two in a menacing attitude, he drew off towards Evreux. Although Rouen was thus freed from impending danger, it sustained a severe loss in the capture of its bravest defender, the earl of Leicester, who, riding out without attendants as was his wont, fell unawares into an ambuscade of the enemy, and was made prisoner after a desperate resistance. Philip was too well aware of the value of his prize to part with him on easy terms ; and it was not until he had endured a lengthened imprison- ment, that the earl, by payment of an extravagant ransom, regained his personal liberty. Evreux was the next city which the French king terrified by hfe approach ; it was taken, plundered, and burned. In revenge for this injury, Richard set upon the French army near Freteval, and forced them to take flight, with the loss of many men, and their whole baggage and stores, besides the military chest, which was said to contain many important records of the kingdom. This was certainly a strange charter - box for such documents ; but French authors have since RICHARD THE FIRST. 293 not scrupled to assert that the principal materials for that period of their country's history were lost upon this occasion ; and the report is so singular, that it could hardly have arisen without some foundation upon fact. In the flight which followed this engage- ment Philip made a narrow escape, for Richareen entirely suspended since the days of king Stephen. Henry II. was too constantly engaged in war and state affairs to have leisure to patronise these gay and glittering shows, aiid perhaps he was too politic to allow of any such excuses for the mus- tering of his turbulent nobility, whose ambition he could scarcely bridle when they stood unsupported and alone. Moreover pope Alexander had prohibited under severe penalties all such martial meetings, denouncing them as savage and profane in the extreme, and forbade that any one who might be slain on such an occasion, even though he died con- fessed, should participate in the privileges of Christian burial. But this severe mandate was not confirmed by the successors of Alexander, and consequently 294 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF became a dead letter. Tournaments were repeatedly lield at various places on the Continent, and were the favourite amusement of Henry the elder brother of Richard ; and the English knights, who were debarred from these magnificent pageants at home, eagerly em- braced the opportunity of attending them abroad, and signalized themselves by prowess and dexterity. It had not escaped the keen eye of Richard, that his own knights, although as brave in battle as any whom the world could produce, were nevertheless inferior to the French in the management of the horse and conduct of the lance. This he attributed mainly to the want of such constant training as the tournament alone could afford ; and he therefore resolved to revive the obsolete custom in England under certain restric- tions. No person was qualified to enter the lists unless he could produce a licence, for which the following sums were exacted ; an earl paid twenty marks, a baron ten, a landed knight four, and all others were rated at two. This enactment was very popular, and moreover contributed in some degree to fill the royal coffers*. But another ordinance which Richard issued about the same time gave far less satisfaction to the community. The seal of the kingdom had been lost when the vice-chancellor perished by shipwreck off the island of Cyprus, and William Longchamp had used the one entrusted to his charge with so little discrimination, that Richard, partly impelled thereto by his own neces- sities, directed a new seal to be made, and ordained all those who held lauds from the crown to apply for a renewal of their charters, and to pay the customary * Hoveden. Gulielmus Neubrigensis. RICHARD THE FIRST. 295 fine. This was a most reprehensible exaction ; but the necessity of raising money became every day more pressing, and the sovereign was compelled to try all expedients for which he could show even the colour of an excuse. In this year, 1194, Tancred king of Sicily, whoso name has been already mentioned in this history, died, leaving a son called William, who succeeded to the crown. Tancred was himself a usurper ; for the real right to the throne, after the decease of William the Good, was vested in the person of Constance, sister to that king. This princess was married to Henry, then emperor of Germany, who, deter- mined to seize this opportunity of securing new possessions to his family, marched a large army into Apulia, and finally conquered Sicily. This triumph was stained by an act of the most cold-blooded atro- city, for he took the boy William, and, in spite of the tears and supplications of his mother Sibylla, who offered in the name of her son to resign every dignity which he held, except the countship of Lecce and Tarentum, the patrimonial possessions of the family, put out his eyes and mutilated him so that the house of Tancred was extinct for ever. Thus the lordly race of Hohenstaufen gained possession of Sicily ; but God did not forget the cruelty of Henry to that child, thoiigh the retribution fell upon the head of another generation. By the treaty of Worms forty thousand marks of Richard's ransom-money were payable to Leopold duke of Austria ; and it was moreover agreed that he should have the custody of the Cypriot princess, and that the sister of Arthur of Bretagne should be 296 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP married to his son. Notwithstanding the time which had elapsed since the conclusion of the treaty, and the large collection made, neither was the money yet paid nor the other stipulations performed ; whereat Leopold, losing patience, declared that he would cause all the hostages of the king of England to be beheaded, unless a speedy settlement of his claim was made. Baldwin de Bethune, the sharer of Richard's captivity, and still a pledge for his faith, was the bearer of this message to England, which, as may well be conceived, was exceedingly ungrateful to the king, whose reluctance to enrich the avaricious . duke at the expense of his subjects was, most natu- rally, notwithstanding his obligation, particularly strong. But the threat with which the demand was accompanied admitted of no compromise. The young princesses, with the necessary sum, were in conse- quence entrusted to the care of Baldwin de Bethune, who after a short stay in Normandy departed with them for Vienna ; but even that delay was sufficient to frustrate the purposes of his embassy. So far from any feeling of shame in owning himself the cause of Richard's imprisonment, Leopold gloried in it, as though it had been a brave and meritorious action. He even celebrated as a high festival the anniver- sary of the day on which the English monarch fell into his power. But shortly afterwards, while riding in the lists, his horse fell with him, and in the fall his leg was fractured near the ancle. Next morning symptoms of mortification appeared, and it was judged necessary to remove the foot by amputa- tion ; but so unskilful were the surgeons of the time, or so serious did they consider the responsibility, RICHARD THE FIRST. 297 that no one could be found to perform the operation ; so that at last Leopold, who was not deficient in a certain kind of courage, seeing that his life could be preserved by no other means, held with his own hand a broad axe across the limb, and forced his chamberlain to strike it through with a hammer. The sacrifice was unavailing, for the patient became manifestly worse, and it was soon apparent to all, and felt by himself, that his end was rapidly ap- proaching. Therefore, like a good catholic, he sent for his prelates, and craved absolution from his sins, before surrendering his soul into the hands of his Creator. The churchmen, more conscientious than himself, and coinciding in opinion with the pope, refused to allow him this comfort \mless he made reparation for his fault in seizing upon the person of a crusader, not only by remitting the ransom and setting the hostages free, but by binding his heir and successor along with the magnates of his duchy to the performance of the same after his own decease. Few men remain stubborn when death stares them so closely in the face. Leopold either felt or affected to feel a late contrition, and, having complied with the desire of the clergy, received absolution and died. His son was inclined to revoke the orders given under such circumstances, but the prelates adhered firmly to their point, and refused to sanction the burial of the body until every article was fulfilled. After ten days' delay, during which time the funeral was suspended, the new duke yielded a reluctant consent. The hostages were set free and the arreai's of ransom remitted ; and this intelligence having been communicated to Baldwin de Bethune, before 298 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP he entered the Austrian dominions, that knight con- sidered his mission at an end, and returned to Nor- mandy with the princesses still in his charge. In the year 1195, Hugh bishop of Durham, formerly grand justiciary of England, died, and a grievous dispute broke out between Hubert the primate of Canterbury, and Geoffry archbishop of York, regarding certain matters of church polity. The latter prelate was also embroiled with the clergy of his own diocese, whose privileges he treated with little ceremony ; but these questions are of small interest to the modern reader, although, judging from the space they occupy in the pages of the monkish historians, they must at the time have been considered of almost equal importance with the advancement of the power or the maintenance of the national honour. We need not particularise further than merely to state that Geoffry, throughout the whole of the discussion, whether from wilfulness, or from a conviction that the papal power was too readily acknowledged and its mandates too servilely fol- lowed by the independent states and clergy of Europe, pursued such a line of conduct as brought him fre- quently within the pale of censure, and drew down the strongest manifestations of displeasure from Rome. In spite of all these, he maintained his point with a firmness that might have done credit to any of the early reformers; and had his immediate antagonist been any other person than the experi- enced and sagacious Hubert, he would in all pro- bability have prevailed. If any proof of Richard's open and confiding dis- position were required, we might instance his generous RICHARD THE FIRST. 299 behaviour towards his brother John. That prince, as we have stated in the preceding chapter, received the royal forgiveness in spite of his repeated trea- cheries, but did not obtain restitution of the lands which the council during the absence of the king declared to be forfeited. It is difficult, judging from the tenor of his character, to suppose that John was in any wise struck with remorse for his ungrateful conduct. For cold and selfish calculators there is usually no repentance ; they may indeed act as if they wished to make amends for their fault, but a little scrutiny will always disclose some interested motive beneath the veil of hypocritical profession. And so it was in the present instance. The return of Richard the triumphant shouts of the people at the sight of their king and champion the universal joy which that occurrence diffused through England and the Norman provinces and lastly the discomfi- ture of the French, soon convinced John, at no time a decided visionary, that his splendid day-dream of wresting thesceptre from the hands of his brother, and founding a dynasty of his own, albeit at the expense of half the Norman territory, was a vain and hopeless illusion. Still, though less near, he beheld the image of a crown, which might be his hereafter by the more legitimate mode of succession, and to this only O ' one obstacle, the boy Arthur, was opposed. He could be removed at a more convenient season ; but in the mean time, as Richard was neither to be over- thrown by force or circumvented by treachery, it was necessary for John to regain his lost confidence, and this he strove to do, by exerting his peculiar talents against Philip, his old ally, as strenuously as 300 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF he had ever used them to supplant his absent brother. No one was now more devoted to the English cause than John no one more ready to suggest ex- pedients by which the power of the French might be crippled, or to teach his countrymen how to profit by the knowledge acquired during his long intimacy with the enemy. It is the possibility or rather the probability of such tergiversation that makes an unprincipled ally ten times more danger- ous than an open and determined foe. Richard's character could not be termed easy, in the common acceptation of the word. Nevertheless, like most men of a sanguine temperament, he became habitually attached to those who moved around his person, and seldom allowed any injury to rankle long in his mind. No schemer himself, he did not attempt to account for the alteration in the conduct of his brother by searching for hidden reasons. It was enough for him that John had returned to his allegiance, nor did he seek to canvass his motives further, but, carrying the accorded forgiveness to the furthest degree, reinstated him in his former honours, restored the earldoms of Gloucester and Mortaigne, with the exception of the castles, and, in lieu of these and some lands which were otherwise disposed .of, assigned him an annuity of eight thousand pounds. Some of Richard's older followers murmured at this excess of bounty towards a convicted traitor, but the king had long since forgotten the treason of his brother. This is but one instance of the affection which Richard displayed towards his kinsmen, nor ought his early disputes with his brothers to be considered RICHARD THE FIRST. 301 as proofs to the contrary. These arose from circum- stances of domestic dissension which cannot now be thoroughly understood ; and it must be recollected that the position of the sons of Henry toward each other was, through their father's strange conduct and improper partiality, so unfavourable to the growth of brotherly attachment, that we need not wonder if each used the power committed to him at so early an age without much reason or discretion. We do not seek to vindicate Richard from the com- mon blame, but we are amply borne out by the earlier historians in the assertion, that in his private character he was ever warm-hearted, attached, and generous to all his friends, and more O particularly to those who were connected with him by the ties of blood. We have in a former part of this narrative had occasion to notice his attachment to his nephew, count Henry of Champagne. His affection to John manifested itself in spite of so many tingrateful returns; and to his other nephews, Henry and Otho, sons of the celebrated duke of Saxony, he fulfilled the office of a father. The younger of these princes, afterwards emperor of Germany, was Richard's especial favourite ; and all his thoughts were bent to effect a marriage between him and the eldest daughter of William king of Scotland. The Old Lion was by no means averse to the match, and even went so far as to propose Otho for his successor to the assembled nobility. The Scotch, however, have always shown themselves to be a people most jealous of intrusion, and unwilling to own allegiance to any dynasty except their own. They considered such an arrangement as derogatory to the national 302 THE ETFE AND TIMES OF honour, and flatly refused to receive a foreign master from Germany, even although married to the daughter of their king, so long as the blood- royal of Fergus ran in the veins of a Scottish prince, and he so gallant and beloved as David the earl of Huntingdon and Garioch. In spite of all opposition William was inclined to press the point, and would have done so, had not the unexpected pregnancy of his queen at this important crisis given him new hopes of an heir-male, and these were subsequently confirmed by the birth of Alexander II. In order to compensate for this disappointment, Richard pre- sented Otho with the county of Poitou, which he held until the general voice of Germany raised him to the imperial throne. On account of the exactions which he was forced to levy from the clergy, who at that time were by far the most wealthy portion of his subjects, and also from the dissensions which arose among the different prelates during his reign, Richard has been some- times represented as an enemy to the church. Ac- cording to extreme Protestant notions, this might rather be considered as a favourable trait in his character than the reverse as a first commencement of that resistance to the Roman despotism which eventually, and after the lapse of centuries, succeeded in shaking off the yoke of spiritual bondage, and advanced the true doctrines of Christianity without any of the superstitious dross which the lapse of ages had suffered to accumulate. This maybe a grati- fying view to some, but it is essentially erroneous. No resistance to the authority of the pope was then contemplated on spiritual grounds ; nay more, we RICHARD THE FIRST. 303 are forced to admit, that although abuses in the church did then certainly exist, the clergy, as a body, and particularly the court of Rome, were far in advance of the population of any country in Europe both in morals, learning, and high religious prin- ciple, tinctured no doubt with error, but still ex- emplary and good. And (if we may be pardoned the digression) had the Roman church still con- tinued to keep ahead of the social and intellectual improvement of the people had she gone forward with a steady pace in the van of popular opinion trying all things, proving all things by the standard that was entrusted to her charge applying herself as sedulously to self-examination as she did to the suppression of heresy, and candidly reforming her errors as the daylight of truth flashed more vividly on the world instead of standing still when all other institutions w,ere progressing, and attempting to bar the torrent when she ought to have directed its course who shall say that the church of Rome might not now as then have retained her spiritual supremacy, and, without provoking a schism that has torn half the Christian world from her sway, have worn as pure and spotless robes as those churches who uphold the creed of Luther or of Calvin ? The truth is, that Richard received more countenance from the church than any other monarch of his time. The pope expressly forbade Philip to enter the terri- tories of his absent rival, and enforced his decree by suspension. The thunders of excommunication were launched against all those who had any share in the imprisonment of the Christian king and crusader ; and, as we have seen, the body of the duke of Austria 304 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP was not allowed to be buried in hallowed ground until satisfaction was made for the outrage he com- mitted. Nor was this support of Richard confined to Rome alone. The prelates and clergy of England were the principal instruments in restraining the ambition of John, and bridling the contumacy of other nobles they were the men who advanced the largest share of the expenses of the crusade, and con- tributed the most towards the royal ransom ; and this assuredly they would not have done had Ri- chard been an enemy of religion, or a rebel to the authority of the pope. Nor did the king repay their support and countenance with ingratitude ; for one of the first uses he made of his replenished exchequer was to restore to the different churches the plate and ornaments sold or pawned for his delivery, and to grant the clergy such additional privileges as in the end effectually reimbursed them for their sacrifices. The arrears of ransom due to Henry still remained unpaid, and Richard became apprehensive that some such message as that which he had received from the duke of Austria would be sent, and even tlie lives of his hostages perilled by his involuntary de- lay. But, to his great astonishment, the emperor, instead of assuming the character of an urgent cre- ditor, professed the utmost good-will and friendship towards him, prayed him to consult his own con- venience as to the payment of the money due, and sent a magnificent golden crown as a testimony of his sincere attachment. This altered conduct was altogether inexplicable, until a second message from Henry arrived and cleared up the mystery. After RICHARD THE FIRST. 305 passing some severe reflections on the conduct of Philip, the emperor offered to enter France at the head of a powerful army, and for the purpose of co-operating with the English forces, and should their efforts be crowned with success, to share with Richard the most fertile conquered provinces. Coeur-de-Lion was well aware that the junction of France with Ger- many had been long a favourite project with the emperors, and the present seemed an excellent op- portunity for carrying it into execution. By uniting with Henry he might, indeed, have the gratification of humbling his inveterate enemy, and enriching him- self at his expense; but there were other and posterior considerations attendant upon such a step, and these it was impossible to overlook. The doctrine of the balance of power was even then tolerably understood, and the attention of the pope, as master-diplomatist of Europe, had been repeatedly drawn to the in- creasing growth of the German power, and means had been devised to prevent its further extension. This was a salutary precaution, since Italy had been ere now inundated by the irruption of the northern hordes, and neither England nor France, in former ages, had been able to withstand the flow of that terrible invasion. Still more was it essential for the pope, as the possessor of Peter's chair could only maintain his supremacy by playing off one state against another, and so maintaining something like a reasonable equality. The temporal princes often grumbled, and sometimes even rebelled against the interference of their spiritual lord ; but in the end the church always carried her point ; and however odious such an assumption of power may appear to x 306 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF us, there is no doubt that it had a most salutary effect in maintaining order among the European nations, hardly yet civilised ; and it may further be doubted whether at the present day we have suc- ceeded, in spite of our congresses and quadruple alliances, in discovering an effectual substitute. Such were the feelings of the court of Rome, and even Richard, though no diplomatist, understood enough of political relations to divine that if the emperor succeeded in his design of incorporating France with the German states, England must in the long-run be the severest sufferer. Against Ger- many and France singly she could maintain her own independence, as she had done successfully before, but if by any means the united forces of the two countries could be brought to bear upon her, the least she could expect would be the loss of her continental possessions, followed perhaps by an attack upon her own insular fortress. The lure offered by the emperor of an additional province or two, which in all probability would hardly be united to the English crown before severed from it again, was too worthless to be con- sidered; and however anxious Richard might be to prosecute his quarrel with France, there is reason to conclude that he would far more readily have agreed to a binding peace, than united with an ally whose success would prove more dangerous than if he sustained a defeat, without interference, at the hands of his hostile neighbour. However, considering the peculiar situation in which he stood with the emperor, it was necessary to avoid every appearance of suspicion, and even to testify some acquiescence in the general principle contained in RICHARD THE FIRST. 307 his proposition. As an experienced and wary nego- tiator was absolutely indispensable for the con- duct of this important matter, Richard despatched his chancellor, Longchamp, to the emperor, with full powers to treat, but with private instructions to make such demands as the German would be likely to refuse, and so to break off the proposed alliance in a manner that could give no pffence to the author of the scheme. Philip having learned that Longchamp was about to pass through the French territories on his way to Ger- many, presently divined the nature of his mission, and resolved if possible to prevent it by seizing the person of the ambassador- The chancellor, however, found means to elude the vigilance of the French, and crossed the border unmolested ; whereupon Philip declared that such proceedings were nothing less than a gross violation of the truce, and again had recourse to arms. The campaign which followed exhibits no features of particular interest, as the operations on both sides were confined to the storm- ing of some insignificant castles, and mutual devas- tation of the country, which lasted for several months and would probably have continued much longer if the alarming news from Spain, of the inva- sion by the Moors, had not caused both monarchs to cease from their hostilities for a while, and led them to reflect seriously whether the blood and treasure they were squandering in the prosecution of their private quarrels, could not be made more available in repulsing the common enemies of Christendom. Another conference, therefore, was held at Gisors, when terms for the foundation of a lasting peace x 2 308 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP were proposed and favourably regarded on either side. Besides the adjustments of territory which formed the principal part of the negotiation, a marriage was negotiated between Louis the eldest son of Philip, and the princess of Bretagne ; and Richard, ashamed of the long detention of Adelais, restored her without any conditions to her brother. Philip, appre- hensive lest some new accident should arise again to mar her nuptials, married her without delay to John count of Ponthieu. It would have been well for England and France if the kings had in all sin- cerity proceeded to carry the above arrangements into effect ; but an obstacle presented itself in the person of Henry, who, in consequence of the arrange- ments made at the diet of Worms,, was necessarily a party in every treaty between Richard and Philip. It was by no means the interest of the emperor that peace should be concluded on any terms what- soever, as in that event his designs must have been totally frustrated, and perhaps more notice taken of his late proceedings in Sicily than he was at all desirous to permit. The reply which he sent by Longchamp in answer to a communication from Richard, was decidedly unfavourable to the proposed treaty ; but as he could not, of course, disclose his real reasons for withholding his consent, he affected to have a most paternal regard for the honour of England, and assured the king that such an arrange- ment with Philip would be construed by every court in Europe into an admission of French superiority. He counselled Richard most strongly to persevere in the contest, and as he owned that his detention in Germany had certainly encouraged the French in RICHARD THE FIRST. 309 their aggressions, he forgave the sum of seventeen thousand marks which still remained unpaid out of the balance of the ransom. Richard, however, was not so simple as to place implicit credit in the words or motives of the emperor ; and in spite of this appeal to his passions would certainly have come to an amicable arrangement with Philip, had not some misunderstanding upon a trivial cause arisen, which by the mutual jealousy of the kings speedily swelled into a quarrel. The negotiation ended by an arro- gant defiance on the part of Philip, pronounced by the bishop of Beauvais, a fierce member of the church militant upon earth; and all attempts at accommodation having proved fruitless, the kings returned to their own dominions, again to prepare for a longer and a bloodier campaign. The first incursion was made by the French, who ravaged Normandy as far as Dieppe, burned that town with all the shipping in the harbour, took the town of Issendon and laid siege to its fortress. Richard in- stantly marched to its relief, but no sooner did his army appear in the field, than the French, who were inferior in number if not in valour, thought proper to desist from their undertaking, and under cover of the proposal for a truce effected a safe retreat. Ri- chard was by no means disposed to listen to any such proposals, but his nobles and prelates, who were tired of the war, and willing to accede to almost any terms which should free them from the bondage of arms, wrought upon him so far as to gain his consent to a temporary cessation of hostilities. Under cover of this agreement the French withdrew; and here we cannot but notice how much the power of the king 310 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP was circumscribed, and how dependent lie was upon the fiat of his vassals; for had the scene of action been Palestine instead of Normandy not one of the invading army would have found their way home, unless by the exertion of such supernatural valour as the Saracens, who were by no means to be under- valued for their military talents, had never on any occasion exhibited. About this time there was circulated throughout the courts of Europe a very curious document, which is well deserving of our attention ; viz., a letter from the sheik of the Hausassiz or Old Man of the Moun- tain, regarding the death of the marquis Conrad, on account of which unfortunate occurrence Richard was impeached before the Germanic diet. We are not informed of the proof which he brought to clear himself of this grievous accusation, but it was no doubt satisfactory to his judges, as they declared him inno- cent of that as well as of the other offences laid to his charge. Only one man in Europe persisted in maintaining the calumny, but as this accuser was Philip, the bitterest personal enemy of Cceur-de- Lion, an opinion coming from such a quarter carried little weight and found no supporters. A tolerably accurate account of the proceedings at Worms seems to have been transmitted to Palestine, where of course it was received with the greatest eagerness, as indeed a matter of far less importance would have been if connected with the fate or fortune of Richard. Saracen as well as Christian listened with avidity to the tale of the wanderings, imprisonment, and trial of the Melech-Ric, and in the course of time it found its way even into the country of the shun- RICHARD THE FIRST. 311 ned and isolated Hausassiz. From that mysterious region a circular letter written in Arabic, Greek, and Latin, was sent to the court of every sovereign in Europe, acquitting Richard of all concern in the death of the marquis, and claiming the honour of that act of murder or justice for the Old Man of the Mountain alone. This epistle (which we have given in the Appendix*) has been rejected by various authors as a forgery, chiefly on account of the desig- nation of the sheik, " Vetus de Monte," as this was merely the name by which he was known amongst the Franks, and not his proper title. This objection appears to us of very little moment, as nothing could be more natural for the sheik, in addressing Euro- peans, than to use the only designation which they knew or could recognize. Neither the Arabic nor Greek version of the letter are now extant ; but we are convinced that if they were, the former at least would be found to contain the Asiatic title. The period also when this letter was produced argues favourably for its authenticity. If it had been laid before the Germanic diet there would have been a strong presumption against it, but as it arrived at a time when subsequent and more important events had almost obliterated the recollection of Conrad and his tragical end, we are not entitled to refuse it on a mere technical objection, even were it no otherwise remarkable than as a literary curiosity. It is also recorded that even Philip of France, after the perusal of this letter, declared himself perfectly convinced of the innocence of Richard, not only in so far as re- garded the marquis, but also of the alleged conspiracy * See Note, F. 312 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP against himself; and added that his principal ob- jection to a lasting peace with England was now removed*. It is said that at this period Philip was desirous of forming an alliance with England, by marrying Joanna, widow of William of Sicily and sister of Richard, but that his views were frustrated by the obstinate refusal of the lady. It is well worthy of attention, as illustrative of the feeling of that age, that Philip, who was by no means deficient in personal accomplishments, and certainly the most conspicuous widower in Europe, had the greatest difficulty in finding any princess who would consent to be his bride. This unusual reluctance to a royal alliance on the part of the fair sex generally, arose from the wanton and ungenerous behaviour of the king to Ingeburga, sister of the Danish monarch, whom he married one day and divorced on the next, from mere caprice, and added insult to injury by ordering her to leave France immediately and return home with the whole of her attendants. The kinor O of Denmark was not powerful enough to resent this brutal behaviour as he otherwise would have done, but the cause of the slighted Ingeburga was taken up with all the fervour and passion of chivalry by every manly heart in Europe, and Philip's unpopu- larity increased to such a degree, that proposals which he made to the daughter of the count Palatine and other princesses were rejected, and his third marriage with Agnes de Meranie was, on the part of the lady, rather one of compulsion than of choice. * Guil. Neubrig. Hemingfoid. RICHARD THE FIRST. 3] 3 Notwithstanding the failure of this more intimate alliance, the harassing wars between France and England were for some time discontinued, and both monarchs had more leisure to superintend the ar- rangement of their civil affairs, but in the following year, (1196) the truce was again broken, and hos- tilities commenced anew. It would be useless and tedious for us to recount every movement of the hostile armies, especially as no one battle was fought decisive of the contest, or worthy of a prominent place in the pages of history. In the reign of Rich- ard, daring warrior as he was, the arms of England did not strike terror into the heart of France, and paralyse the energy of her chivalrous sons, as after- wards when Harry the Fifth and the Black Prince stood triumphant on the fields of Agincourt and Cressy. The oath of the crusader was still upon the soul of Coeur-de-Lion, and the terrible sword that had so often cloven the ranks of the Saracens in Palestine, fell but lightly upon a Christian head. We have therefore only touched slightly upon the events of these campaigns, trusting that we shall still be able to give an idea of their general effect, without confusing the reader by entering into par- ticular detail. About this period the first popular disturbance which can be called a rising of the English mob, broke out in London, and for the time wore an alarming appearance. As these exhibitions of popu- lar ire are now by no means uncommon in our larger cities, it may be interesting to know how the first such demonstration commenced, and how it was regarded and suppressed by the existing authorities. 314 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF The imposts levied by Richard, for his ransom and the maintenance of the war with France, fell, as we have already stated, very heavily upon the shoulders of the people. In short " the rogues " began first to grumble, and from grumbling they naturally pro- ceeded to that species of resistance sometimes termed passive, but which in the eye of the law, as it then stood, was nothing short of actual rebellion. The nobles and the clergy who held their lands of the crown, and were entitled to expect further benefits, paid their quota without reluctance ; as did also the principal citizens and trades in the towns who enjoyed certain privileges and immunities denied to the lower classes. But the bulk of the people, upon whom the rays of royal favour never shone, the hewers of wood and drawers of water, however willingly they might have contributed their pittance to procure the liber- ation of their king, objected, with some reason, to allow a further portion of their hard-earned gains to be wrung from them in order to support wars from which they could not derive the remotest benefit, and to pay Brabanters and mercenaries, a force alien to English feeling, and obnoxious to the country at large. It must also be kept in mind, that the period of the Norman conquest had not so long gone by, as to reconcile the commons, who were chiefly Saxons by birth, to the domination of their foreign lords, or at least to effect such an amalgamation as to make the old national names forgotten, and blend the two races into one. No doubt the first strong feeling of dislike had gradually died away, but there still remained such lingering jealousy as needed only opportunity to resolve itself into something RICHARD THE FIRST. 315 stronger, in fact to make the distinction between the Norman and Saxon as broadly denned as it was after the celebrated battle of Hastings. Whether justifiable or not, there is little reason to doubt that the taxation fell fairly and equally upon all classes of the community ; but when were the people of England or of any other country dis- satisfied with the state, that they could not find specious reasons for resisting its authority? The mob took umbrage at some resolutions for the col- lection of the tax proposed and carried by the mayor and aldermen of London, whereby it was supposed that the richer part of the citizens were assessed equally with the poor, instead of paying proportion- ally to their wealth and income. This matter was taken up by William Fitz-Osbert, a citizen of Lon- don, one of those democratic champions who are always ready in times of excitement to espouse the popular cause, and who raise themselves to a tempo- rary notoriety by the freedom and intemperance of their language. This English Gracchus was of Saxon origin, a bitter enemy and contemner of the Normans, whose manners and customs he scorned to use. In London he was well known by the epithet of William with the Beard, on account of his adherence to the peculiarities of his ancestors, in preference to the fashion of trimming and sharing adopted by all persons of his quality. This man finding that his representations and speeches had no effect in changing the line of measures proposed by the mayor and aldermen, had recourse to the dangerous expedient of assembling the people themselves, and harangued them in such inflammatory terms, that the mob with- 316 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP out premeditation or purpose took up arms and threatened to set the city on fire. But the well affected part of the citizens, united by the prospect of common danger, took such effectual means to prevent the consummation of so mad an action, that the supporters of William, after the first moments of excite.ment had gone by, became ashamed of their precipitancy, and retired, leaving their leader to avert, as he best could, the punishment due for his rashness. The archbishop of Canterbury, as grand justiciary, issued his warrant for the apprehension of Fitz-Osbert, who, alarmed for the consequences, took refuge in the church of Saint Mary of the Arches, and claimed the protection of the sanctuary. This was usually extended even to the most grievous criminals, but in the case of Fitz-Osbert it was thought more expedient for once to depart from the general rule, rather than permit so notorious a dis- turber of the public peace to escape. Moreover, the citizens themselves were exceedingly incensed, and peremptorily demanded that a public example should be made of the man, whose folly and presumption had so nearly annihilated their property and destroyed the capital. Orders therefore were given to seize upon the person of the offender, but he, rendered desperate by the imminency of the danger, fled to the church tower, which he barred against his pur- suers. The rest of his story very much resembles that of Jacques Van Artevelde, in later days. The tower was set on fire, and Fitz-Osbert compelled to descend amidst the shouts of his adversaries, who seemed to consider his capture as ample compensa- tion for the loss of a great part of the sacred building. RICHARD THE FIRST. 317 Once in their hands his fate was decided. After the hasty semblance of a trial, he was dragged at the tail of a horse to the elms at Tyburn, and hanged in chains, along with some of his followers of whom it was judged necessary to make an example for the edification of the rest. So perished William Fitz- Osbert, whom some have honoured with the vener- able name of martyr, and others branded with the infamous designation of traitor. As such characters have been and always will be viewed by the majority of mankind though the glasses of their own prejudice, we shall not venture to decide which of these terms is the most veracious*. Richard, after his release from captivity resided exclusively on the Continent, visiting the different provinces in succession, and repairing the injuries which each had sustained from the French. In England the sole management of the public affairs was entrusted to the archbishop of Canterbury, who displayed remarkable prudence, and devotion to the cause of the king, at the same time cautiously re- garding the interests of the commons. Longchamp still continued to hold the office of chancellor, but was not allowed to exercise it in England, for Rich- ard, who loved the man for his personal qualities and unflinching fidelity, was quite sensible that the great body of his subjects were thoroughly disgusted with his pride and arrogance, nor had he any wish to be represented in his most important dominions by so unpopular a deputy. But the burden thus laid upon the archbishop proved almost too he ivy for a prelate so high in office, who had many im- * Mat. Paris. Hoveden. Guil. Neubrig. 318 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF portant duties of his own to perform. Like "Wolsey, Hubert perceived that it was a hard task to serve with equal devotion both his God and His king that the press of secular business, and the accumula- tion of worldly affairs had the effect of making him in some measure neglect the condition of the church generally, the regulation of his own diocese, and the welfare of his soul. Unlike most churchmen who have sunk their sacred character in that of the politician, Hubert was a strictly honourable and conscientious man, not lured from his original office by any desire of personal aggrandisement, but solely influenced by attachment to his king. The time had now arrived when he felt it his duty to entreat Richard that the load of government might be handed over to younger and more active men, so that in future he might devote the whole of his attention to his own peculiar functions and jurisdiction. But the king, although quite sensible of the justice of this request, positively refused to accept his resig- nation, alleging that he could not, in the whole of his dominions, find another man so well qualified to act as governor in his absence. This was no empty compliment, for it appeared from the archbishop's accounts that he had raised in England, during the two last years, the large sum of eleven hundred thousand marks, which had gone to defray the ex- penses of the war, and Richard could on no terms afford to lose the services of so able and honest a treasurer. Still it must be admitted that Hubert did not sufficiently exercise his influence over the king by restraining his lavish expenditure, and directing his attention to the internal state of England, which RICHARD THE FIRST. 319 far more required the fostering of a kind and paternal governor, than the exactions of an urgent taskmaster. In this respect his character is placed in an unfavour- able point of view when contrasted with the conduct of Hugh, the excellent bishop of Lincoln, who, on more than one occasion, peremptorily refused to assist in levying the subsidies in his diocese, and thereby incurred the severest displeasure of the king. But Hugh, being well acquainted with the peculiari- ties of his sovereign, cared little for his anger or his threats, and had even the hardihood to present him- self before Richard in Normandy, whilst the clouds of resentment were still lowering on the royal brow. Instead of excusing his conduct, he expostulated boldly against the repetition of such odious taxes, and exposed their injustice. This he did with so much frankness and good-humour, that the king, who at first received him very coldly, dismissed all vindictive feeling; and even took in good part a lecture on the subject of conjugal infidelity which the worthy bishop, in consequence of some rumours prejudicial to the happiness of Berengaria, thought necessary to inflict upon him*. The bishops, in fact, took far greater liberties with Richard than his nearest friends durst venture, and sometimes made such opposition to his will, as in the case of a lay subject would have amounted to rebellion. For instance, in the' course of these wars between England and France, the king thought pro- per to occupy the island of Andeli in the Seine, and laid the foundation of that castle which, under the name of Chateau- Gaillard, sustained a memorable * Vita S. Hug. 320 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF siege in the course of the ensuing reign. This island was situated a few leagues above Rouen, and be- longed in property to the archbishop of that place, a great friend and supporter of the king, as was testified when the affairs of England were entrusted to his O charge, but also very jealous of his own rights and those of the portion of the church over which it was his fortune to preside. Although the fortifica- tion of Andeli was manifestly of the utmost import- ance to Normandy; and although Richard offered ample compensation for the small spot he had occu- pied, the archbishop would not consent to cede one foot of the church lands for secular purposes, or even to sanction their alienation by accepting an equi- valent. Richard was equally determined to pro- secute his purpose, and the immediate consequence was, that the archbishop laid Normandy under his interdict, and appealed the question to the pope. This power of interdict was certainly one of the most objectionable and cruel parts of the papal sys- tem, inasmuch as it deprived the people, though innocent of all offence, of the benefits of the church. Marriages were suspended, baptism forbidden, even the burial of the dead was not permitted until the interdict was removed ; and on this occasion it is recorded that corpses were left lying exposed for weeks at the gates of the cemetery of Rouen, because no priest dared perform the funeral ceremony, or hallow the grave for the deceased. It is impossible to say how this dispute might have ended, or what advantage France might have taken of a quarrel so opportune as this, had the pope been as scrupu- lous as the archbishop. Fortunately for England, RICHARD THE FIRST. 321 Celestine was not merely an ardent churchman, but a cool and decided politician, who never permitted his judgment to be warped by one-sided or pre- cipitate views. After a full hearing of the contending parties, he decided in favour of Richard, and the archbishop was wise enough to submit without mur- muring to the decree of the pontiff (not without credit to himself, as some of his brethren, for example the archbishop of York, had on previous occasions refused to conform to that supreme sentence), and received from Richard in exchange for Audeli, the towns of Dieppe and Louviers, which, in point of value, were far more than an equivalent for the little property in dispute. About this time Joanna queen dowager of Sicily, and sister of Richard, was married to the count of Saint Giles, a nobleman who had served with much distinction in the Holy Land ; and William Long- espee, the natural brother of the king, succeeded to the broad estates of his father-in-law, and received the title of earl of Salisbury. This nobleman was, next to Richard, the most distinguished of the sons of t Henry in warlike exploit, and at a sub- sequent period occupies a distinguished place in the pages of history, having taken an eminent lead in the operations of the next crusade. The earl has by some early writers been confounded with the martial bishop, but the exploits of the latter have, in point of time, the precedence. Longespee's reputation was not earned until after the decease of Richard. 322 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP CHAPTER XII. State of Bretagne Prince Arthur The Earl of Flanders enters enters into an Alliance with Richard Military Operations in France The Bishop of Beauvais taken Prisoner His Letter to the Pope, and the Reply Laws for the Encouragement of Ma- nufactures, &c. in England Its State at the Time Death of Saladin New Crusade from Germany Death of Henry of Champagne of the Emperor Henry and of Pope Celestine Otho elected Emperor New War with France The French routed at Gamages and Courcelles Peace concluded between the two Countries Philip accuses John of Treachery, which is disproved Richard in Aquitaine Demands a Treasure found by the Viscount of Limoges Besieges the Castle of Chaluz Is wounded by an Arrow from the Walls His Death and Character. THE year 1197 was marked by several important events. Constance, the widow of Geoffry and mother of prince Arthur, had wedded Ralph Blon- deville earl of Chester, and retained until now the guardianship of her son, and the administration of the affairs of his province. Richard considered Bre- tagne a territory too important to be left to its own resources when so vigilant an enemy as Philip was moving in its vicinity, and proposed to assume the guardianship of Arthur, to which office he had undoubtedly a right both as the sove- reign and as the uncle of that prince. Constance, however, was suspicious of his intentions, and never having been on very friendly terms with her brother- in-law, thought fit to refuse his demand, and to call upon the barons of Bretagne for support against him. Richard had never entertained the most distant idea of separating Constance from her son, nor did he wish to deprive her of her just autho- RICHARD THE FIRST. 323 rity ; his sole object was to prevent Bretagne from becoming a province of France ; but actual resist- ance on the part of his vassals was more than his fiery spirit could endure. Some of the barons to whom Constance appealed for support were notori- ously in the French interest, and they, too glad of any pretext for revolt, conveyed the young prince to St. Paul de Leon in the Lower Province, and sent to solicit the assistance and protection of Philip. Richard instantly despatched his Brabanters, under the command of their captain Marchades, to check the rising rebellion, which, after some bloodshed on either side, was effected, and Bretagne placed under the protection of the king. As for Constance, she was permitted, though not without a severe repri- mand for the injustice of her suspicions and the folly of her conduct, to retain the personal guardian- ship of her son. As we shall not again have occasion to speak of Arthur, whose most tragical end is well known, we ought not to pass over without notice the brilliant promise of future excellence given by his childhood, or the fond expectations entertained by the people of Normandy and England. Arthur, though constitu- tionally delicate, was possessed of an understanding and intelligence far beyond his years ; he was the darling of his mother and the idol of the little court of Bretagne, from whence his praises were spread over all the wide country that ought to have been his inheritance. But it was not alone the rumour of so rare a character that endeared him to the English hearts : the prophecies of Merlin were then universally known and believed; and by that old 324 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF soothsayer it was foretold, that although when the star of the first Arthur should have set, and the hero of the round table perish by domestic treachery, darkness and woe for a time must prevail in the land ; yet, that a second Arthur, more glorious than the first, would appear and raise England to a place of proud dominion far above the reach of any other nation of the world. In the son of Geoffry the English fondly hoped that they beheld the child of promise, and exulted in the anticipation of a long and prosperous reign. How these hopes were blighted in the bud is known to every student of history ; and, possibly, considering the spirit and immature growth of the age, had Arthur survived the period of boyhood and succeeded to the English crown, his reign might not have been more distinguished than that of John. It is not unlikely that his mild and ingenuous character might have postponed for many years the grant of the Magna Charta, from which we date our earliest impressions of constitutional liberty. Vain it is at all times to speculate upon what might have happened. What has happened, we know, and with that alone can we practically deal. Yet this one observation we may make as a conspicuous truth in world-history, though paradoxical, that a bad prince or vicious ruler is oftener the cause of ultimate good and regeneration to his people, than one more blameless. Virtue in kings is usually a passive, not an active quality. Whole generations have dreamed out their lives under such inoffensive sway, nor ad- vanced one step in a world where to stand still is to recede. But vice is rarely passive. It attracts obser- vation, excites resistance ; is combated, overthrown, RICHARD THE FIRST. 325 and one dogmatic stumbling-block is removed from the path of moral progression. Up to this time Richard had maintained the war in Normandy single-handed : the only foreign force engaged in his service was the troop of Brabanters, a mercenary body of Free Companions, who sold their duty and their blood to any monarch in any quarrel whatsoever. The Germans, as we have already seen, did not interfere in the contest further than by an offer of their services ; but other states now began to take some interest in the war. Baldwin count of Flanders, whose vicinity to France made him very jealous of the aggrandizement of Philip, entered into a league with Richard, marched his forces into the territory of Artois, and laid siege to Arras. On the advance of Philip to the relief of that place, the count retired slowly upon his own country, and manoeuvred so effectually, that he drew the French forces into a position where they could not advance, except in the teeth of a hostile and martial population who were all up in arms, nor in any way effect their retreat, as by a preconcerted plan every bridge was broken down behind them. In this dilemma, Philip was fain to offer any terms to Baldwin, and was at last permitted to retire unmo- lested, on promising to restore to the count that part of Flanders and Hainault which the French had occupied after the decease of his predecessor in the Holy Land. The princes also of the house of Cham- pagne declared their adherence to the cause of Eng- land, and other nobles of France seemed ready to follow their example. Amongst the partisans of Philip, there was none more active or more conspicuous in the council of tha 326 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP field than Philip bishop of Beauvais, whom we have already noticed as the only prelate unscrupulous enough to officiate at the scandalous nuptials of Conrad of Montserrat with Isabella wife of Hum- phrey de Thoron. This bishop was a near relative of king Philip, and a personal enemy of Richard, whom he hated on account of some former passages in Palestine, and whose captivity he had managed to prolong by his secret negotiations with the emperor. It was to his influence and machinations that the failure of the various treaties proposed from time to time between France and England were mainly to be attributed ; and once, at a public conference, he had the audacity to revile Richard as a traitor in presence of his king, who heard the vituperation of the foul- mouthed prelate in silence, nor thought it necessary to interfere. Baldwin of Canterbury and Hubert of Salisbury had set the example to churchmen by personally bearing arms in the holy wars. This practice was not only suffered, but highly approved of by the pope, who conceived that such instances of spiritual enthusiasm on the part of the dignitaries of the church could not fail to have a strong effect in rousing the energies and increasing the devotion of the army to the Christian cause. It was usually understood that in a war with the Saracens, a prelate might without reproach or derogation to his sacred character exchange the mitre for the helmet, and the crosier for the spear; but this licence was not extended to the case of wars waged between two Christian nations. It was, therefore, considered a scandal and disgrace to the church, when the bishop of Beauvais, armed to the teeth, rode forth to battle RICHARD THE FIRST. 327 against the English ; and even the French prelates felt themselves bound to remonstrate against such an indecorous exhibition, but without effect Philip was too glad of the assistance and talents of his kinsman to dissuade him from his present course. Since the priest thus belied his sacerdotal character, Richard resolved to treat him as a common but most virulent enemy. He despatched a considerable force under his brother John and Marchades, with orders to besiege the city of Beauvais, where the bishop resided in person, and if possible, to make him pri- soner. A siege was not necessary. No sooner was the prelate aware of the approach of the English, than he summoned his men, and came out at their head to give battle to the intruders. After a sharp but short conflict the French were beaten off, and the bishop, along with William de Merlon, a distin- tinguished soldier and old crusader, was taken and led to Richard at Rouen. All due respect and con- sideration was shown to the other prisoners, but the bishop did not receive any courtesy at the hands of the king : on the contrary, Richard upbraided him severely for his insolent conduct on a former, and his unclerical appearance on the present occasion, and finally ordered him to be strictly confined and even loaded with fetters. This was a bold step on the part of Richard, but it seems to have met with the general approbation of the church, as not one application was made from any quarter for the release of the bishop : on the contrary, it was deemed a matter of rejoicing that so turbulent and haughty a character was deprived of the power of fixing further scandal upon his order. 328 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF No one denied that the punishment was a sort "of retributive justice. The bishop had notoriously done all in his power to prolong the captivity of Richard, and now that he had fallen into the hands of his exasperated foeman, he had little right to com- plain if subjected to similar treatment. " I had more chains upon me in Germany," said Richard, "than a horse could carry, and all through this un- lucky bishop let us see how he will like to wear them himself." Ten thousand marks was fixed for the ransom ; but this was not paid until the bishop tried the effect of an appeal to the pope. The letter which he wrote, seconded only by the representations of his brother the prelate of Orleans, is still extant, and is one of the best specimens of Jesuitical pleading upon record. It is interlarded with pious saws and texts from Scripture, represents the writer in the light of a shepherd who is suffering on account of his exertions to keep his flock from harm, and ends with a request that the pope would interfere to procure his enlargement, and place Ri- chard under sentence of excommunication. But Celestine was well acquainted with the real character of his correspondent, and returned him an admirable answer, wherein he enlarged upon the true character of the priesthood, and rebuked the bishop for meddling with affairs so foreign to the nature of his duties. " Nevertheless," so runs his letter, " I will intercede for you with the king of England I say intercede, because under such circumstances as yours, I neither can nor ought to ask your freedom as a matter of right, but only as a personal favour." Celestine kept his promise and interceded with RICHARD THE FIRST. 329 Richard ; but that monarch, though exceedingly attached to the pope, and grateful for the favours and support he had uniformly received from him, was not disposed to part with his prisoner on such easy terms. His answer to Celestine is remarkable. He sent by a messenger the coat of mail which the bishop of Beauvais had worn on the day of his capture, and craved the pontiff to say if that was the garment of his son, or no. Celestine replied with a smile " The owner of that coat is no son of mine or of the church, but a child of Mars let Mars de- liver him if he can." The bishop of Beauvais did not recover his freedom until after Richard's decease, when John reduced the ransom from ten to two thousand marks. The threatening attitude assumed by Baldwin of Flanders and the house of Champagne induced Philip to sue for a truce, which lasted for another year. Profiting by this short period of repose, Richard sent for Hubert archbishop of Canterbury, and at his suggestion enacted some salutary laws for the internal administration of England. One of these was for the encouragement and improvement of the woollen manufactures, at that time a most important branch of industry ; and another was for the establishment of standard weights and measures throughout the kingdom. These, and one other enactment to mitigate the severity of forfeiture upon wrecks, which in former times were held in all cases to belong to the crown, are the only legislative im- provements of any consequence that were made during this reign ; a small recompense, indeed, to the people whose treasures were so lavishly squan- 330 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP dered upon wars from which they did not reap the remotest benefit. It is not until the moral influence of the middle classes rises to at least an equality with that of the aristocracy, that any country can attain a state of commercial prosperity. The mechanical improve- ments, the economy, the energy and perseverance, which are required to develop the national resources, always originate with the unprivileged many. In the reign of Richard, the influence of this class was altogether insignificant. Peaceful pursuits were considered incompatible with the character and pre- tensions of knighthood and gentility. War was the only profession which the descendants of noble houses could adopt as their own, and, therefore, we need not be surprised to find the history of the times rather a chronicle of battles lost and won, than a sober record of the progress of civilisation. To Europe, thus teeming with the elements of discord, a convenient field for those fiery spirits who could not have remained contented at home was found in Pa- lestine. The superfluities of each generation of young and ambitious soldiers were despatched to fight the battles of the cross against the Saracens, to gain, if they could, both laurels and land in the heart of the holy territory to ravage Asia and Africa, but not to return home. The crusades have often been desig- nated as the most remarkable instances of human folly and fanaticism upon record, but, as we think, er- roneously. There was as much diplomacy in Europe then as now; only, perhaps, the old views were broader and their operation less intricate than the new. Following out this view of the question, it will RICHARD THE FIRST. 331 not excite wonder that the stipulated treaty for three years between the Christians and Saracens was rather an unpopular than a favourite measure, and that in a great degree it deranged the calculations of the Roman court, who, as we previously remarked, held the strings which could set every kingdom of Christendom in motion. No excuse, however, could be found during the first year for its violation. Both Saladin and Henry of Champagne adhered scrupu- lously to the conditions of the treaty; and this mutual good understandingmight eventually have ripened into a lasting peace, had not the death of the sultan inter- vened. This greatest of the Eastern princes expired at Damascus within a year after the departure of Ri- chard, Imving previously divided his enormous terri- tories among his twelve sons. This was a most unfor- tunate partition, as it metamorphosed one mighty empire, powerful enough to have set the world at defiance, into twelve petty states, liable to the attacks of every enemy, and also to disssentions among them- selves. The military Saracen chiefs were not blind to the probable consequences, and the great majority declared themselves in favour of Malek-al-Adel or Saphadin, who was only second in conduct and valour to his illustrious brother. This movement, of course, was followed by a civil war, in which, how- ever, Henry of Champagne took no part, from feelings highly honourable to himself. But the princes of Europe, who cared not one straw for treaties, thought this an excellent opportunity to overrun Palestine, and accordingly, with the sanction of the pope, a great expedition set out for Germany. This crusade was honoured by the presence of queen 332 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP Margaret, first the wife of prince Henry, Richard's eldest brother, and afterwards of Bela of Hungary. She announced her intention of passing the remainder of her days in Palestine, and kept her word. AVith the exception of some few Italians, this crusade was confined to Germany, and neither the French nor the English were engaged. Philip thought it useless, considering his former precipitate retreat, to affect any desire to join ; and Richard, though he still continued to wear the cross, had not yet forgotten the dissen- tions of his old army, and his unfortunate journey home. To the entreaties of the emperor Henry, who addressed him on the subject from Messina, he re- plied in a direct negative, excusing himself on account of the unsettled state of his affairs in Normandy; but his remark to a friend was more significant : " The emperor is my very good friend, but I care not how little more I see of his housekeeping." The entrance of the Germans into the Saracen territory put an end to the truce, and Henry of Champagne found himself compelled to head an army whose assistance he neither asked nor required. But ere a blow was struck, this young and excellent nobleman was no more. The balcony on which he stood to review the Christian forces as they marched out of Acre gave way, and Henry was killed by the fall. His death was followed by that of the em- peror at Messina. While on his deathbed, he sent to Richard, with an offer of compensation for the sum exacted in the name of ransom, either in land or money ; but before the messenger, who happened to be the bishop of Bath, could communicate with the king, the emperor died. As he had been so- RICHARD THE FIRST. 333 lemnly excommunicated on account of his iniquitous behaviour, Celestine, in spite of the representations of the clergy of Messina, refused, in pointed terms, to allow the hody to be placed in hallowed ground, until Richard should signify his assent, and unless the whole amount of the ransom were repaid. This last article was never fulfilled, though no doubt promised by his family, as the burial at length took place. Frederick, his son, was crowned king of Sicily, an island rather conquered by English gold than by German valour, and with help of the same material the duke of Austria constructed the walls of Vienna. The succession to the vacant im- perial throne was a subject of much interest. Two competitors came forward, in the persons of Otho, nephew of Richard, and Philip of Suabia, brother of the late emperor. The king of France, out of enmity to the house of Plantagenet, used all his influence to secure the election of the latter; but the pope sided with Otho, and gained the support of most of the German princes. Richard was sum- moned, as king of Provence, to attend the diet at Cologne, but did not appear in person; nevertheless Otho was elected emperor. The obituary of distinguished individuals in this year was very great. Pope Celestine, the best of Richard's friends, and a man of excellent character, died at the advanced age of ninety years, having retained his faculties to the last, and was succeeded by Innocent III. The influence of the new pontiff was first employed in England to remove the arch- bishop of Canterbury, of whom he was jealous, from, his oflice of justiciary. This he did by admonishing 334 'THE LIFE AND TIMES OP him that the tenure of such a temporal dignity was incompatible with his duties as a churchman, and Hubert resigned without a murmur. His successor was Geoflry Fitzpierre, formerly justice of the king's court, under whose administration the burdens laid upon the people were grievously increased. Under him, too, the Forest-laws, with all their terrible penalties, which Henry II. had mitigated, were revived and put in force. The new justiciary, how- ever, was by no means deficient in ability or valour, of which he gave a signal proof by suppressing a dangerous insurrection in Wales, headed by Gwen- wynwyn, lord of Powis. The truce between England and France expired in the course of the year 1198; and for some time previous, both kings made active preparation for the renewal of hostilities. Richard felt that a pro- tracted war was far more injurious to him than to his rival, and that his authority in Normandy was sapped by these perpetual disturbances. He, there- fore, was most desirous to strike some decisive blow which might cripple the energies of France, and force her king to agree to the terms of a general peace. This he expected to do by the assistance of his allies, the counts of Flanders and Champagne, to whom he was extremely liberal ; and some of the French nobility now followed their example, and entered into a league offensive and defensive with him. The principal of these were the duke of Lou- vaine, and the counts of Bologne, Perche, and St. Giles, all powerful and esteemed noblemen, whose defection was in every way an irreparable loss to Philip. The count of Flanders began the war by RICHARD THE FIRST. 335 marching into Artois, and reducing St. Omer. Philip did not attempt to arrest his progress, but made reprisals, by ravaging the frontiers of Nor- mandy. The hostile armies met in a plain between Gamagcs, a castle of Richard's, and Yernun, which belonged to his adversary. After a short engage- ment, the French army were entirely routed, and fled to Vernun, pursued by the victorious English. From Yernun Philip retired to Mantes, where he collected his scattered forces, whilst Richard, follow- ing up his good fortune, invested and took the im- portant fortress of Courcelles. Before the news of its capture was communicated to Philip, he had advanced to its relief, and most unexpectedly was met by the English army on the way to Gisors. The field was fair and open, the parties well matched in point of strength and numbers ; so that a better opportunity for deciding the great national quarrel could not have been found. The conflict was main- tained for a long time with exceeding obstinacy; both kings were there in person, and encouraged their followers by word and example ; but an im- petuous charge, led by Richard, who bore three knights from their saddles with a single spear, threw the French into confusion, and finally into flight. The routed army, with the victors at their heels, took the road to Gisors ; but the bridge over the Ethe was not strong enough to sustain the weight of the fugitives, and broke down in the midst. Philip, with many of his knights, was immersed in the stream. The devotion of his followers saved the life and liberty of their monarch ; but all the French chivalry were not so fortunate. Upwards 336 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF of thirty nobles and knights perished in the waters, a hundred and fifty were taken prisoners, besides an immense number of inferior rank. The whole stares and baggage of the French likewise fell into the hands of Richard. This was the most important action of the whole war, and may be looked upon as the decisive battle ; for although hostilities were not immediately ended, and some places of minor importance were after- wards taken on the bounds of Normandy and France, such demonstrations were made merely in the way of petty reprisal, and seem to have been, so far as England was concerned, a kind of private speculation of Marchades, captain of the Brabanters, whose genius was peculiarly fitted for such preda- tory excursions. The nobility of both kingdoms were earnestly desirous that peace should be con- cluded ; and the new pontiff, Innocent, ambitious of more fame than his predecessors by the establish- ment of another crusade, which this time should fix the boundary of the Latin empire, not at the Jordan or the mountains of Bethanopolis, but at the Eu- phrates and the Arabian frontier, despatched his cardinal legate, Peter of .Capua, to mediate between the contending powers, and engage, if possible, their aid in the accomplishment of so glorious a work. It was not difficult to persuade Philip and Richard to yield their consent to a peace, of which the prin- cipal terms were these, that all the Norman posses- sions held by the former should, with the solitary exception of Gisors (and for that an equivalent was granted), be restored to England. That the treaty should be cemented by the union of Louis, the RICHARD THE FIRST. 337 dauphin, with Blanche, daughter of the king of Castille, and niece of Richard ; and that Philip should cordially join in supporting Otho, whose right to the throne of Germany was still disputed by another competitor. But even on this occasion, when all past animosities ought to have been forgotten in the dawn of the newly-riveted peace, the king of France was malignant enough to revive the domestic jealousy which formerly existed between Richard and his brother, but which subsequent events and the amended behaviour of John had gone far to obliterate from the recollection of both. Philip declared that the prince had privately entered into a league with him for the separation of the Norman provinces from England that during the whole of the late wars they had maintained a secret corres- pondence ; and in proof of this allegation, he ex- hibited a document, by which John owned the king of France as his feudal superior, in case the disunion of the Continental territories should be effected by his means. Richard was poignantly mortified at this cruel intelligence, and, acting on the first im- pulse, deprived his brother of all the lands in England and Normandy which he held of the crown. John, who in this instance was certainly guiltless, although his former conduct had been such as to give a strong colour to the accusation, demanded to know the cause of this disgrace and injury, and on being informed of the particulars disclosed by Philip, not only denied them utterly, but sent a challenge to the king of France, claiming to be allowed the proof of his own innocence and the falsehood of the other, by combat, either in person z 3,38 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP or by deputy. As Philip did not venture to com- ply, or even to notice the message, which by law and custom he was bound to do, Richard became convinced of his treachery, and restored the for- feited estates to John, with the assurance of more confidence than before. Immediately after this event, Richard was called into Aquitaine, and from that province he never returned. It has been the fate of many of the greatest warriors in ancient and in modern times to perish in such causes as we, enamoured of their former glory, would call unworthy and vile. Alexander died of a drunken debauch ; Hannibal, a hunted fugitive, by poison ; Pompey, by the dagger of the assassin. Even so did Richard Coeur-de-Lion, the greatest monarch, as well as the bravest soldier of his age, who had ridden unharmed and always vic- torious through a hundred fields of battle whose opponents were sultans, emperors, and kings, perish at last in an obscure brawl with an obscurer vassal, and by the hand of a common peasant. The manner of his death was this. Vidomar, viscount of Limoges, had discovered a buried treasure of gold and jewels within his own land, and on this being claimed for the king, to whom such waifs of right belonged, refused to part with more than a very small share. The deposit was probably considerable, else Vidomar would hardly have ventured to dispute the orders of his sovereign ; but whether it was so or not, Richard determined to make himself master of the whole, and to establish his rights by force. From the report of the country, he was led to believe that the trea- RICHARD THE FIRST. 339 sure was lodged within the castle of Chaluz, a fortress belonging to Vidomar, and thither he marched along with the Brabanters. It is said that the garrison offered to surrender the place on condition that they should be allowed to retire unmolested, and that Richard replied he would grant no terms to thieves and rebels, but would take the castle by storm and hang every man of them above the gate. There is no doubt that he was much incensed against the people of Limoges, who had rebelled against his au- thority before ; and it is quite possible that he used such a threat, and even intended to carry it into execution. The garrison, thus cut off from hope, prepared to defend themselves to the utmost, and mounted such engines as they possessed upon the walls. As Richard, accompanied by Marchades, rode round the fortress in his usual fearless manner to spy out the weakest point for the assault, he was marked from the battlement by a young archer whom some call Bertrand de Gourdun, and others Peter Basil. This man watched his opportunity, and, selecting a moment when the king was dismounted and directly opposed to his aim, discharged a bolt from his cross-bow, and transfixed the left arm of Richard just beneath the shoulder. The injury was so serious, that Co3ur-de-Lion, finding himself wax- ing faint, regained his horse with difficulty and rode back to his tent, previously, however, enjoining Marehades instantly to commence the assault. This commission the stout Brabanter was not slow to execute ; for in the course of a few hours the castle was taken, when every man of the garrison except Bertrand, who shot the fatal bolt, was hanged over z 2 340 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP the gate. While the conflict lasted, Richard would not permit his wound to be examined, but lay on his couch listening with savage sternness to the cries of the combatants and din of battle. When all was over, he allowed the surgeon of Marchades' band, a rude operator at best, but the only one near, to proceed to the extraction of the arrow. This was so clumsily done, that the shaft came away, leaving the iron head buried in the flesh : an incision became necessary, which caused the royal patient much pain, and brought on speedy gangrene. Richard felt that his last hour was come; but as he never had dreaded the face of living man, so now he quailed not at the approach of death. With the utmost calmness and composure he proceeded to settle his worldly affairs ; nominated his brother John as his successor in pre- ference to Arthur, whose tender years and inexpe- rience were not adequate to the task of ruling England and Normandy in such perilous times and when menaced by so formidable a neighbour as Philip, and he further ordered all present to take an oath of fealty to him who in a few hours must be their king. Three fourths of his treasure, likewise, he bequeathed to John, and ordered the remainder to be distributed among his old servants and the poor. To Otho emperor of Germany he left his jewels. These dispositions being made, he sent for a priest and confessed himself with much devo- tion, and then ordered Bertrand de Gourdun to be led into his presence. The young man, who expected no mercy and had resigned himself to his fate, bore an intrepid front, and boldly met the still keen glance of the dying monarch. " What harm had RICHARD THE FIRST. 341 I done to thee," said Richard, " that thou hast taken my life ? " " You slew my father and my two brothers with your own hand," replied the youth ; " and you would have slain me also. Do your worst, and put me to what tortures you please. Willingly would I suffer far more than you can inflict, since you, the cause of so much misery and wretchedness, have received your death-blow from my hand." Intrepidity, even in his bitterest foe, was never lost upon Richard : " Young man," said he, " I forgive you my death ; let him go, but not empty-handed ; give him a hundred pieces, and free him of these chains." Bertrand de Gourdun left the tent ; but ere he had taken ten steps, a heavy hand was laid upon his shoulder, and the deep voice of Mar- chades whispered the death-warrant in his ear. The generosity of Coeur-de-Lion was in vain ; for no sooner had his brave soul gone to its account, than the Brabanters seized upon their victim, and put him to a cruel and ignominious death. Meanwhile those stern warriors stood around the bed and saw their chieftain die. No wife, no sister, no brother, was there to do the last kind offices and close the eyes for ever. Far away from all whom he had loved in life, surrounded only by a band of rude and savage mercenaries, the lion-hearted Richard expired. The day of his death was the sixth of April 1 199, the tenth year of his reign, and the forty-second of his age. In compliance with his last instructions, his heart was sent to Rouen, and his body laid beside his father's at Fontevraud. 342 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP It is a serious task to meddle with the character of the dead. To heap indiscriminate eulogy upon them is worse than to flatter the living to slander them without a cause is cowardice without compare. We should therefore feel much inclined to leave the character of Richard as it stands in our pages, illus- trated by the detail of his deeds without comment, were it not we speak with all humility that many men are too apt, in forming their judgment of per- sonages who, like Richard, belonged to an early age, to expect an individual perfection far ahead of the social and moral condition of the world as it then existed, and to advance a more exalted standard than was compatible with the limited opportunities of the times. There can be no doubt, for the experience of every year demonstrates it, that the highest degree of such perfection can only be attained by man, both in his general and individual capacity, through a close observance of the doctrines of the Christian religion. One book we have, which, if accurately followed, would be found a far surer guide even to the statesman than the most subtile max- ims produced by mere human intellect ; and it is truly satisfactory for all who believe in the purity of these tenets to remark, that in every state where reli- gion is cultivated on the broad basis of such principles, the people are not only sure to advance in intellectual attainment, but also to acquire an actual supremacy over others who suffer their light to be obscured by the clouds of bigotry and superstition. We assign, as is most fitting and proper, the highest place in intellectual dominion to those who first broke the chain of spiritual thraldom, and revealed to a portion RICHARD THE FIRST. 343 of Europe the long-forgotten truth, that simplicity is the largest element in the composition of mental greatness, and that priestcraft is, and ever must be, the worst enemy of freedom. But we would no more, on that account, think it necessary, in discuss- ing the characters of such men as Eugenius, Innocent, or Celestine, to bring them into comparison with Luther or Melancthon, than we would judge it necessary to apply the Christian principles as a test to the conduct of Brutus or of Cicero. We cannot expect that every man should be in advance of his own age. The pioneers of civilisation must necessa- rily be few ; they rank amongst the exceptions of the exception, not of the generality of their race; and therefore, whilst we accord to them their full meed of honour, let us not put their supremacy to so base a use as to darken the lustre of their contemporaries, and still less of their predecessors. Let us be fully understood. We have no right to apply a higher standard to the character of any man than that of the age in which he lived. Every age has its faults. Want of early training and command of the passions, pastimes which tended to encourage a barbarous and savage feeling, laxity of morals by example if not by precept, bigotry of the worst kind, and revenge glossed over by the sophistries of ho- nour all these did, more or less, brutalise mankind during the existence of systematic chivalry, and even its virtues were at best of a questionable nature. It was therefore obviously impossible that men who were brought up under such a system, whose very civil conduct was regulated by loose and pernicious laws, could attain to any high degree of perfection ; 344 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP all that could be expected from them was abstinence from excess, and such an adherence to their own principles and faith as would prove their sincerity. Following out this doctrine, we shall as shortly as possible make a few remarks upon the character of Richard : and first let us premise, that no histo- rical personage has been more praised and blamed by writers of different nations and different creeds than Cceur-de-Lion. The early English authors represent him as a model of manly bearing as faith- ful to his word, true to his friend, open-hearted, generous, and brave. Such is the opinion of those who had the best opportunities of ascertaining and observing his character ; but some subsequent histo- rians, acting as we think in diametrical opposition to the principle we have endeavoured to explain, have stigmatised him as cruel, deceitful, and trea- cherous ; and one even goes so far as to say, that " his vices, which were numerous, undisguised, and prominent, flowed in a ruffled stream from their source ; and if he had any seeds of virtue, over- whelmed in the current, they never sprang into life *." These are hard words, and are, in fact, nothing else than the quintessence of such abuse as the French historians have always heaped upon Coeur-de-Lion. It is possible that the fault may be common to every nation, and, indeed, inseparable from humanity ; but we cannot help remarking that the French on all matters which regard their country in the remotest degree, do testify a singular share of self-complacency and disingenuousness. Opposition to France, even when France was in the height of * Bt-rington. RICHARD THE FIRST. 345 her wildest frenzy, has always been considered by them as an enormous and unpardonable offence. The enmity between Richard and Philip was of itself sufficient to blacken the English monarch in their eyes ; and if we are to believe their testimony, he was everything that was vicious, intolerant, and bad. Not so the Germans. That people, more allied to us in sentiment than the other, though not less strictly national, do not so readily permit their prejudices to warp their judgment. Their historians have freely blamed the emperor Henry and the duke of Austria for their unmanly and treacherous con- duct; nor does any historical personage figure in their pages with more renown than " Richard Lowenherz," the royal prisoner of Durenstein. Human characters may not unaptly be compared to pictures whereon various masses of colour are dis- posed. Some, though not the most vivid, are blended together so as to produce exquisite harmony some are made up of the extremes of light aud shade, and these dazzle the eye of the spectator. Coeur-de- Lion belonged to the latter class. In him there was no medium. From his father he inherited a hasty temper, which early independence served rather to increase than restrain. Hence he was essentially the child of impulse, proud and passionate of con- trol ; yet at the bottom of all his vehemence there lay a fund of excellence and good sense which ever and anon appeared, and which needed only circum- stance to be more fully developed. There was nothing mean or vindictive in his character. We have seen, in the course of the preceding history, how readily he yielded to the wishes of the cm- 346 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP saders, and offered his cordial support to Conrad, when experience had opened his eyes to the inef- ficiency of Lusignan ; we have seen how, in spite of repeated provocation, he lavished his love and favour upon his brother John, and forgave his manifold offences almost as soon as committed ; we have likewise seen in what good part he took the remon- strances of the bishop of Durham, and even par- doned the man from whom he received his death- blow : and these surely are not the traits of a revengeful tyrant. The case is very different as regards Philip of France, with whom the enmity was mutual; neither is a national quarrel to be con- founded with the actions of a king in a merely pri- vate capacity. The conduct of Richard towards his father is a far more serious charge, inasmuch as it involves the double question of disobedience towards a parent and rebellion against a sovereign. We have already, in that part of our narrative which treats of these domestic dissensions, ventured to indicate an opinion on this difficult subject ; and we may here again remark, that the very best-informed of the writers of the time touch so mysteriously upon the causes of those disputes, that the real truth, and consequently the amount of blame attributable to each party, can- not now be correctly ascertained. Enough, however, is said to convince us that neither father nor sons were guiltless; and by following out a very just and natural rule, we are inclined to bestow more censure upon the latter, since no errors which the first could com- mit in his private capacity ought to justify a crime like rebellion, especially in those so nearly connected RICHARD THE FIRST. 347 with the crown. There was, however, this differ- ence between Richard and his brothers, that the conduct of the last was wholly unprovoked, and arose from their own uncontrolled ambition ; whilst Richard had certainly some show for his resistance, in the refusal of Henry to deliver his affianced bride, even though that refusal should be ascribed to some other cause than the suspected one, and in the attempt to set aside his succession to the throne in favour of a younger brother. Richard has been often and justly blamed for his inattention to the interests of his subjects. But we must remember, while we fully concur in the doc- trine that a monarch holds his authority merely for the good of his people, and is not justifiable for using it in any other way than that most calculated to promote their prosperity, that such ideas, if they ever prevailed before, were materially affected by the Norman Conquest. That great event in the history of our country was not a revolution, but an invasion, in the strongest sense of the word. The new dynasty were compelled to maintain their place by force of arms ; and in such circumstances it was not to be expected that the reciprocal kindly feeling of constitutional king and loyal subjects, essentially based upon mutual support, could be either strong or cordial. In fact, society was then in a very singular state. The feudal power of nobility was not broken; but the crown, as in the case of Henry, was aware of the absolute necessity of re- straining it, and had accordingly struck some shrewd blows at its foundation. So this huge phantom of 348 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP authority stood tottering between the king and the people, menacing each by turns, and yet acting as an effectual barrier between them. Richard was un- doubtedly exorbitant in his demands upon the public purse. Personally he was not a spendthrift, and did not waste the money so acquired upon empty pa- geantry or mere sensual indulgence ; but the wars with France, to which he was constantly challenged by his restless and envious neighbour, rendered such exactions necessary; unless Normandy, at that time the brightest jewel of the British crown, was to be ceded without a struggle to a foreign power. Even if Richard had the wish, it is doubtful whether he could have done much, at least in person, to ame- liorate the condition of his subjects. All internal changes in the administration of a country should be approached with extreme caution ; for though it is easy to launch a stone from the top of a precipice by the mere exertion of a finger, it may baffle human strength to arrest its progress when once set in motion. Had the barons combined against Richard as they did against his successor when the granting of Magna Charta was the result, how would such a movement have affected England, except to cause the probable loss of Normandy, and possibly an insular invasion ? No one but a fool will deny that change is sometimes necessary ; but it is only in peaceful season? and prosperous times that such a task can be attempted with safety, or brought to conclusion without the chance of disastrous failure. As a warrior Richard is certainly entitled to rank amongst the most distinguished of ancient or of RICHARD THE FIRST. 349 modern times. The field of his exploits was indeed circumscribed when compared with that of others; but such as it was, it offers to our view as dazzling a train of splendid successes as ever fell to the lot of king or chieftain to achieve. We cannot we dare not bestow an unqualified eulogy upon the warrior, whose highest trophies ought, if men were more perfect than they are, to be regarded as the monuments of human folly and crime the sepulchres reared above a field of battle, to remind the passer-by how much that was fair and beautiful and young perished in one hour in the full bloom of their existence, and were laid in their mother earth ere yet her arms were ready to receive them. But yet, while we grieve that so dark an infatuation should have existed, and that men should so far have darkened the light of reason as to rival nay, to exceed the beasts of the forest in insatiable appetite for blood, let us not forget that we, in modern times, are not wholly exempt from the same grievous stain, and that our wars, when the full blaze of heavenly light is streaming around, will, if there be any truth in the Gospel, be visited with a severer retribution than those which originated from error, and professed, like the crusades, some motive which might be attributed to a fond but devotional error. We are not Utopian in our own views ; nor do we think that as society is pre- sently constituted, with so many conflicting in- terests abroad, that an appeal to arms will never more be made ; but we do trust and believe that, in his own good time, the great Father of all will 350 LIFE AND TIMES OP RICHARD THE FIRST. so dispose the hearts of his children, that the reign of love and peace will descend upon earth, and that the contests of nations, and all their consequent misery and woe, will be, to the then purified world, as much a subject of wonder and of pity, as the cru- sades are now to us, who live beyond the sphere of religious fanaticism and folly. NOTES. NOTE A. Page 146. Letter of John Thiery, eleventh grand-master of the Temple, written after the Battle of Tiberias, A. D. 1187, and ad- dressed to the absent Brethren Translated from the Latin. " Brother Thiery, styled grand-master of the poor- house of the Temple, and the reduced and almost anni- hilated convent of the Brethren, to all preceptors and others of the order to whom these letters may come health and grace in Him whom sun and moon adore. Brethren ! neither by letters, nor by words, is it possible for us, in full, to express to you the terrible calamities, which the wrath of God, kindled by our sins, hath at present heaped upon us. " The Saracens being collected in prodigious numbers, began to enter the territories of our Christian people. We, with the intent to drive them back, assembled our troops, and marched against them on the eighth day after the feast of the holy apostles Peter and Paul, and directed our course towards Tiberias, which place, with the exception of the castle, they had already taken. " There the enemy encountered us amongst the rocks, and fell upon us so fiercely, that they took our king and 352 NOTES. the sacred Cross, and slew the whole of our army. Of the Brethren we are firmly assured that two hundred and thirty were beheaded on the same day, beside those sixty who fell on the first of May. The count of Tripoli, the lord Reginald of Sidon, the lord Balian and ourselves, escaped with difficulty from that most disastrous field. " After this the Heathen, being drunk with the blood of our Christians, straightway marched with their whole force against Acre, which city they took by storm, and ravaged the whole country around ; Jerusalem, Ascalon, Tyre, and Berytus, are now the only cities left to us and to Christendom. Nor, since almost all the inhabitants are slain, can we, in anywise, preserve even these, with- out God's assistance and yours, and that right speedily. Even now the Saracens are encamped before Tyre, and cease not by day or night to attack the walls ; and so great is the number of their swarms, that like ants they cover the whole surface of the earth from Tyre to Jeru- salem, and even as far as Gaza. " Therefore, brethren, we charge you that with your utmost speed, ye hasten to the relief of us, and to the aid of the Christian cause in the East, which at this moment is in the utmost jeopardy ; so that by the help of God, and by the valour of your brotherhood, we may yet sustain and preserve our remaining cities. Farewell." Dupuy Histoirede f Ordre Militaire des Templiers. NOTE B. Page 190. The crusaders, after this wholesale murder of their captives, ripped the dead bodies open, in search of gold and jewels which might have been wallowed. Hoveden states that the disgusting quest was successful : " Numerus autem interfectorum erat quinque niillia Paganorum, quos NOTES. 353 omnes Christian! eviscaverunt, et aurum et argentum multum invenerunt in visceribus eorum." But this was not their only object, for he adds, immediately, that they extracted the galls of the Saracens for medicinal pur- poses, " et fel eorum usui medicinal! servaverunt." The effects of this heathen medicine upon the Christian con- stitutions are not stated, but it is possible that it acted with the same potency as mummy, a drug which, so late as the times of Sir Thomas Browne, was in high repute among the learned faculty. This singular attention on the part of the crusaders to the interests of science, no doubt gave rise to the report that Richard and his fol- lowers were a legion of cannibals, who, failing the supply of their favourite provision at home, had projected an expedition to Palestine for the purpose of battening upon the Saracens. True, there is no proof that Saladin or his followers evinced much terror for the Christian jaws ; it was reserved for a troubadour to discover and celebrate this notable appetite of his countrymen. There exists among the old romances one entitled the Gests of Richard Coeur-de-Lion, which professes to give a full and particu- lar account of the achievements in the Holy Land. This work is a singular mixture of superstition, absurdity, falsehood, and fact ; and is otherwise remarkable as re- ferring to a period of history far posterior to that of the other romances, wherein king Arthur, Guy of Warwick, Bevis of Hamptoun, sir Triamour, sir Eglamour of Ar- toys, and such like fabulous heroes, are celebrated. It is to be hoped that Homer is more veracious in his chro- nicle of " Troy town," than the author of this romance, else Achilles and Hector, Priam and Agamemnon, in whose identity we have been accustomed to believe, must fade away into phantoms of mere conjecture. According to this romance, Richard w r as twice in Pales- tine, and it was upon his return from the first of these A A 354 NOTES. expeditions that he was captured by the " king of Al- mayne." The account of his second voyage to the Holy Land is tolerably accurate, and not glaringly inconsistent with history ; but so soon as he lands at Acre, all truth is discarded, and the poet revels hi the wildest creations of fancy that ever emanated from the brain of a troubadour. Richard fell sick at Acre, and his first sensation on re- covery from the fever, was an irresistible longing for pork. But neither pork nor pig were plentiful in Pales- tine, and Richard might have died unsatisfied, had not a sufficient substitute been discovered. In the words of the romance, An old knight with Richard biding When he heard of that tiding, That the kingis wants were swyche, To the steward he spake privilyche. " Our lord the king is sick, I wis, " After pork he a-longed is ; " Ye may finde none to selle ; " No man so hardy as him to telle ! '' If he did, he might dye. " Now behoves to done as I shalle save. " That he wetc nought of that, u Takes a Saracen yonge and fatte ; " In haste let the thieffe be slayne, . " Opened and his hide off flayne ; " And sodden, full hastily, " With powder and with spicery, " And with saffron of good colour. " When the king feels thereof savour, " Wheu he has a good taste, " And eaten well a good repast, " And supped of the brewis a sup, " Slept aftere, and swet a drop, " Thorough Godis help and my consail " Soon he shall be fresh and haill." The sooth to say, at words few, Slain and sodden was the heathen shrew. Before the king it was forth brought Quod his men, " Lord ! we have pork sought ; NOTES. 355 " Eates and suppis of the brewis sweete " Through grace of Godde it shall be your boot !'' Before king Richard carff a knight, He ate faster than he carve might, The king ate the flesh and gnew the bones, And drunk well after for the nonce, And when he had eaten enough, His folk them turned away, and leuch ! He la}' still and drew in his arm, His chamberlain then wrapped him warm. He lay and slept and swet a stund *, And became whole and sounde, King Richard clad him and arose And walked about hiui in the close. Although boiled Saracen agreed so well with the royal stomach, his followers thought it advisable to keep the jest to themselves, and Richard would hi all probability have remained ignorant of his kitchen economy, had not a skirmish with Saladin again awakened his appetite. " Bring me," said Coaur-de-Lion, " The head of that ilke swine That I of ate!" Quod the cook, " That head I ne have." Then said the king, " So Godde me save, " But I see the head of that swine " For sooth thou shall lesen thine. " The cook, save none other mot be, He brought the head and let him see : He fell on knees, and made a cry, " Lo here the head ! my Lord mercy ! " The swarte face when the king seeth His black beard and white teeth, How his lippes grinned wide " What devil is this? " the king cried, And 'gan to laugh as he were wode, *' What ! is Saracens flesh thus good ? " That never erst, I not wist. " By Goddes death, and his up-rist, " Shall we never die for default, " While we may, in any assault, * Hour. AA2 356 NOTES. ' Slee Saracens, the flesh may take ' And eethen, roSten, and do them bake, ' And gnawen their flesh to the hones ! ' Now that I hare proved it ones, 4 For hunger ere I be woe ' I and my folk shall eat moe." This discovery was far too valuable to be neglected. The other crusaders thought with much reason that the food which their monarch relished so well would not disgrace meaner mouths, and when the garrison of Acre surrendered, the victors gloated upon their captives with the eyes of natives of New Zealand. The only restraint upon their appetites was the promise of a large ransom from Saladin, but as this was not forthcoming at the appointed time, Richard again gave way to his passion for the substitute of pork. He courteously invited the ambassadors of the sultan to dinner, and gave private orders that the heads of the principal prisoners should be struck off, cleansed, boiled, and placed as a particular delicacy before each of his guests. The horror of the Saracens at this new display of viands was great, but greater still was their astonishment when they beheld Richard fall furiously upon the head placed before him. Every man then poked other ; They said, " This is the devils brother " That slays our men and thus them eats ! >T Richard at last condescended to enter into the follow- ing explanation, and defence of cannibalism : King Richard spake to an old man, ' Wendes home to your soudan ! ' His melancholic that you abate ' And saves that ye came too late, ' Too slowly was your time yguessed ; ' Ere ye came the meat was dressed, NOTES. 557 " That men shoulden serve with me *' Thus at noon and my meynie. "Say him, it shall him nought avail, " Though he for-bar us our vitail, " Bread, wine, flesh, fish, salmon and conger ** Of us none shall die with honger, *' While we may wenden to fight, "And slay the Saracens downright, " Wash the flesh and roast the head. ** With one Saracen, I may well feed " Well a nine or a ten " Of my good Christian men, *' King Richard shall warrant " There is no flesh so nourissunt ** Unto an Englishman, "Partridge, plover, heron ne swan, " Cow, ne ox, sheep, ne swine, " As the head of a Sarezyn. " There he is fat, and thereto tender ; " And my men be lean and slender. " While any Saracen quick be, $rtor: % .*** %/tom