Suger and St. Bernard, united by religion and friendship, had a very different destiny; the first, born in a low condition, gave himself to the disposal of fortune, who carried him up to the highest dignities; the second, born in a more elevated rank, hastened to descend from it, and was nothing but by his genius. St. Bernard rendered few services to the state, but he defended religion with indefatigable zeal; and as church then took precedence of country, he was greater than the abbot Suger in the eyes of his contemporaries. Whilst he lived, the eyes of all Europe were fixed upon the abbot of Clairvaux; he was as a light placed in the midst of Christendom, every word he preached had the holy authority of the religion he taught. He stifled all schisms, silenced all impostors, and by his labours, merited in his age the title of the last father of the Church, as richly as the great Bossuet merited it in his.
St. Bernard may be reproached with having too frequently issued from his retreat, and with not having always been, as he himself expresses it, the disciple of oaks and beeches. He had a hand in most of the political events of his time, and interfered in all the affairs of the Holy See. Christians often asked who was the head of the Church; popes and princes sometimes murmured against his authority; but it must never be forgotten that he unceasingly preached moderation to kings, humanity to the people, and poverty to the clergy.
BOOK VII.
THIRD CRUSADE.
A.D. 1148-1188.
We cannot help being convinced, whilst reading this history, that the religion of Mahomet, thoroughly warlike as it is in principle, does not endue its disciples with that obstinate bravery, that boundless devotedness, of which the Crusaders presented so many examples. The fanaticism of the Mussulmans required victory to keep up its power or its violence. Bred in a conviction of blind fatalism, they were accustomed to consider successes or reverses as simple decrees of Heaven; victorious, they were full of ardour and confidence; conquered, they were depressed, and without shame succumbed to an enemy, whom they believed to be the instrument of destiny. An ambition for renown seldom excited their courage, and even in the excesses of their warlike fervour, the fear of chastisements and punishments kept their faces towards the enemy more frequently than any generous love of glory. A chief, whom they themselves dreaded, was the only captain that could lead them to victory; and thus despotism became necessary to their valour.
After the conquest of the Christians, the dynasties of the Saracens and the Turks were dispersed and almost annihilated; the Seljoucides themselves had fallen back to the very extremities of Persia, and the people of Syria scarcely knew the names of those princes whose ancestors had reigned over Asia. Everything, even despotism, was destroyed in the East. The ambition of the emirs took advantage of the general disorder: slaves shared the spoils of their masters; provinces and cities became so many principalities, the uncertain and transient possession of which was a constant subject of dispute. The necessity for defending the Mussulman religion, whilst threatened by the Christians, had alone preserved the credit of the caliphs of Bagdad. They were still the chiefs of Islamism; their approbation seemed necessary for the preservation of the power of usurpers or conquerors; but their authority, which was nothing but a sacred phantom, commanded nothing but prayers and vain ceremonies, and inspired not the least fear. In this state of degradation their only employment seemed to be to consecrate the fruit of treachery and violence. It was not sufficient to bestow cities and employments which they had no power to refuse; all whom victory and license had favoured came to prostrate themselves before the vicars of the prophet; and crowds of emirs, viziers, and sultans, to borrow an Eastern expression, appeared to rise from the dust of their feet.
The Christians were not sufficiently aware of the state of Asia, which they might have conquered; and agreed so ill among themselves that they could never take advantage of the divisions which prevailed among their enemies. They seldom had, either in attack or defence, a well-sustained plan, and their impetuous bravery, directed generally by chance or passion, could only be compared to the tempest, whose fury rages or abates at the pleasure of the winds which reign over the horizon. Fortune, which had offered them such a brilliant opportunity for extending their empire, became, at last, adverse to them, and from the bosom of the chaos in which the East was plunged, arose a formidable power, which was destined to conquer and destroy them.
Noureddin, son of Zengui, who had obtained possession of Edessa before the second crusade, had inherited the conquests of his father, and added to them by his valour. He was bred among warriors who had sworn to shed their blood in the cause of the Prophet, and when he mounted the throne he revived the austere simplicity of the early caliphs. Noureddin, says an Arabian poet, united the most noble heroism with the profoundest humility. When he prayed in the temple, his subjects believed they saw a sanctuary in another sanctuary. He encouraged the sciences, cultivated letters, and, above all, applied himself to the maintenance of justice throughout his states. His people admired his clemency and moderation; and the Christians even were forced to praise his courage and his profane heroism. After the example of his father Zengui, he made himself the idol of his soldiers by his liberality; by taking charge of their families, he prevented their desire for the possession of lands, and thus accustomed them to consider the camp as their home and their country. In the midst of armies which he had himself formed, and which respected in him the avenger of the Prophet, he restrained the ambition of the emirs, and directed their efforts and their zeal towards one sole object, the triumph of Islamism. His victories, his fortune, his religious and political virtues drew upon him the attention of the entire East, and made the Mussulmans believe that the period of their deliverance had arrived.
Baldwin III., who undertook to stop the career of Noureddin, displayed great valour in several battles. The most important and the most fortunate of his expeditions was the taking of Ascalon, in which the Mussulmans always kept up a formidable garrison. This city, which is situated in a fertile plain, and which the Mussulmans call the Spouse of Syria, was succoured by an Egyptian fleet, and for a long time resisted all the efforts of the Christians. Rivers of blood flowed before its walls during several months; both Mussulmans and Christians fighting with fury, and neither giving nor receiving quarter. During the siege the knights of the Temple particularly distinguished themselves by their valour; the thirst for booty, far more than the love of glory, making them brave the greatest perils. The garrison and the inhabitants, exhausted by fatigue and pinched by famine, at length opened the gates of the city. Baldwin granted them a capitulation, permitted them to retire into Egypt with their families, and caused a Te Deum to be sung in the great mosque, which he consecrated to St. Paul.
After this victory the king of Jerusalem marched to encounter Noureddin, and compelled him to raise the sieges of both Paneas and Sidon. Baldwin was engaged in assisting the principality of Antioch, always disturbed by factions, always threatened by the Mussulmans, when he was poisoned by a Syrian physician. As soon as he became sensible of his danger, he set out for Jerusalem, and died in the city of Berouth. His remains were transported to the holy city, the clergy coming out to meet the funeral train. The people descended from the mountains to join the procession, and through the country and in the cities nothing was heard