Jasper County Democrat, Volume 1, Number 45, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 18 February 1899 — THE CHILDREN'S CRUSADE [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

THE CHILDREN'S CRUSADE

By CAP T. PREDERICK WHITTAKER

(Copyright.) CHAPTER I. Once upon a time, a boy of 18, riding ] through a oonatry village, noticed a crowd; and, in turning aside to see wlmt was the matter, changed the whole course of liis life. He was an ardent, romantic hoy, just such as many we have to-day. and shall have, 1 trust, for many a year to come. | He had done many a foolish thing in his . haste, hut never a meaw one. And his heart “was in the right place," or I should not think it worth while to he telling his story, seven hundred years after he lived and died. Perhaps some of you may shy away from from me the moment you hear what an old story is coming; hut as Mr. Lincoln used to say, “hold your horses." Good things can afford to grow old; bad ones fall to pieces before ihcy are fairly of age. We Americans are liable to think that people who lived before us ought to be forgotten. We are so busy, boasting of the marvels of to-day, dreaming of greater marvels to he accomplished to morrow, that we dub the dvents of our fathers' boyhood by the scornful title of “ancient history,” and, by reason of our scorn, tumble into many pitfalls. A certain wise Greek—never mind his name now. for I don’t wish to frighten you—called history "philosophy, teaching ! by example.” The wisest of Englishmen tells us that “histories make men wise;” while the most dishonest i*olitieian England ever hud said that he liked "anything but history; for history must be false." You eau take your choice he- : tween Bacon the Wise nnd Walpole the Cynic; but if you ure hoys of the right sort, from seventeen to seventy, you eau go hunting for the moral that was buried in this story, seven hundred years ago. Let us go back to our boy. His name was Stephen, after his father. The elder Stephen, in consequence of owning » large i estate in a famous valley, was called “Stephen of the Valleys,” which, in liis native tongue—he was a man of the southeast j Of France—became Etienne de Vaux. Both young Stephen and old Stephen were called “nobles”; not, as many think, j be cause they were thought to he better \ than their neighbors, hut because they were “known men" in the country; from the Latin word uobilis. The founder of the family had been a famous soldier, a ! chosen companion to King Clovis, who conquered France front the Romans. When the Franks won the victory, they gave.to the king's friends the Roman title of “Coiuites,” which means "companions;” and this, in time, had been corrupted to “counts." Young Count Stephen being rich, healthy and happy, had never known what sorrow was in his own ease. He lived in the little kingdom of Provence, where the wars that desolated Europe rarely came. Provence, thanks to a generous soil and to a climate like that of our own Florida, was the richest part of France, nnd her nobles and i>oasants, instead of being soldiers or roblters ail the year round, had leisure to cultivate the graces of life. Young Count Stephen was well known throughout the country ns a sweet singer and poet, whose verses had made him u youth of mirk in the ranks of the troubadours; aud when he turned his horse toward the crowd in the market place of ■Vaucluse, he bore a lute at his back, and was on his way to join a congress of minstrels at the castle of his friend, Raymond Lenoir. Not far behind the boy count, and following him on another horse, was a stout, burly young fellow of his own age, called Pierre Le Gros, or “Big Peter,” from his great size. Big Peter had a shrewd, kindly face, a great deal of common sense, and a devoted affection for his young lord, whose foster-brother he was, and for Whom he would have laid down his life at any time. As Count Stephen reined in his horse at the outskirts of the crowd, he perceived that it was gathered rouud an old man, whose brown rol>e, bare feet and emaciated look proclaimed him as a mendicant friar. He was preaching a sermon of the kind that sent people wild in those days. Just as a noted revivalist does in our own times. 'As the careless youth neared them, he perceived that most of the people in the crowd were pale aud frightened. Some were in tears; others, with eyes flashing Wildly and heaving breasts, stared at the speaker, and hung on every word he spoke, as if afraid to lose a syllable; while all were rapidly working themselves into a state of frantic excitemeut. Count Stephen, who had heard, at Lenoir’s castle, much sneering at the wild preachers of the “Crusades,” nevertheless stopped to listen, and checked his horse right in front of the preacher, who saw him and instantly drew the attention of the crowd to him, on Account of his conspicuous appearance. Baiaiag his skiany arms in the air and shaking his white beard from side to side, he called out to the careless boy, in pierelag tones of warning: “Ho, you that ride on horses, you that sing gay songs to the music of the lute, know ye that the day of wrath is coming, yea, is now at hand! Is this a time for music and dancing, when the cross of Christ is trampled in the dust! Sing while the Turk defiles the sepulcher! Dance while he spits upon the cross whereon your Saviour died that ye might lire! Ay, 'ay, sing on, dance on! But I remember, the day of doom is coming!" His voice rose to almost a shriek as be paused for breath, staring straight at the mam awe-stricken Stephen, who began to

tremble, lie hardly -know wiijy, \wliiUe tike eyes «if every person iin Site arrmvtl worn concentrated on lhim, with .n tfiandl gnoithrtt increased liis iigttittion .null nsnitu* meat. Then the <ild tutniik wvmtt tun iin in lower tone, redolent df iintinme'sinnriiv: “But whut know>ye ilTithe:«giimiM-!lli«tt have mode me an illkl mum Huff on mjy time? Ye are -safe at iltirau- whnre rthi golden fruit hangs'lrom tthe igroon UonglU. where the purple ignipes .iHinttor am trio trellis, where the -sound 'iff ttln- liitte Itiilh to deep flu- conscience riiutt uuiigiitt Huff the voice of 'God cun ’wiiken. Bfitt H—o hove seen ambltottrU it'iill. OUmveliimniiiii the midst <tf the kUngilltitT. I] tiutve Hatton ed to the dying sign iff 'the llmtt«Chr»aa»ibir: have seen the tierce Tirtk trrmupJjug ll«1 tenth his chargers Ihmffs tthe h*'*4> off knight and noble. !Birt the -stiff off tiinao who call themselves •('hnmttituff ;ure •■*<> great that they utc and qsnrmltndl tn >-*<►)■ the Holy Sepulcher, ’ffikctflofl'iff Hatttbm demands for his -surwiee tihe ip ure iin lin urfx the young not yet dead iin-oiit. dhoti, young man —-thou that llivcttt mifftlj —ttlum from whose bright vyoung 'Oyiff tthe gibw of ottr lost tinrudise'inlth nutt \yifl ffulhdl ore it*he too late, diced tflte iwardsuff ffiim who died to suviaiul follow!" As he said slim. -ittlll tikiing tflm sarnie count witli his wildly -gloaming ujws. lhc beckoned to id opium witli Utin Mean ffimtinger; and the duly, Huxrßfer tinwrwing 'wiliitt he did in his excitement .and tilutt olf tthe crowd which sirnrounUetl lhim, uregctl Iliahorse through the date- ithitt -stomud! rto U«e opened to him by eonmion •poiwam :tmK advanced close tto ttihiirre trite muuik ottonil, on u high block iff-atone iin ttlie muritott place of A’uncluse. Stephen bail hearddm'foreaff HUHbHrwnit! of Tours, tin 1 iit •Mtrrewow off trite great: Peter, who had ipreaillieH trite fflmtt tChui sade a century le'fon . IKi'wlhe iwnsffutato face witli him, am! ithe*otyes'iff .till trim assembly were fixed on trite 1 boy osiuiit-, a* the hermit spread Ibis Ihunth. 'over dtophon’s head, crying liloud iin ui ttuueuffustultntion: "At last the ILotH 'hath nuswiireil rnjy prayor! Jtelndd the leaiiur 'iff trite *flhh droll's Crusade!" Tin- boy beneath lhim -smrtati wiiHratifcy. while u thrill of enthusiasm trail trirmigiii i the crowd, expressed lin immmum; off dhlight at the pro*q«ott 'Of :n mow owe tie Bicnt. The old niioiik east Bits njyes triumli on tile surging mints I beneath lhim. and! his lean liglire stunned 'to grow iin -rfutureas lie cried aloud: “Stephen de A'uux, U adjure trios■ iin tilling me of t Ite 'H dly if from 1 tin a tihnu luwwnr me truly: Willi died stn -sovettlim'.?" ■Stephen had answered rthrtt (iiiettiiim many a time bofoTc iiitriieuartofiiiisni.witttiout thinking of the mtaaiiingaff tthe worths he ustnl; but now, 'throat ;Ot Uiini ms triayr were by the old niotik iin us -dirmtkoff millfl inquiry, the boy Trenildeil vuirthuttly ami! answered in u low thine, gnaing mji tin heaven, having instinctvvhly ditlfelUhwiciH) in reveretiee at the question; “My leird nntt'Httviour,.lleHiff(<ThtHtt!!” As he tinislitA. his eyes Silled vwtili uenre and he looked up ttt'tke -idsy Ulkeameim m dream. Hildebrand clapped Ibis !hands ttrjgetlerr, his haggaTd fare liirfhting HQ) \wtth ui strange tire, as Ihearried dloull: "O young mum. than bust -tuiid its! ffic. the ruler of the worlds.'died iriie dohtli off a thief on the cross 'U» -save trine• ttrnn: the pains of hell! And mow rrin-dnatriain; defile His sanctuary, nnd tGhTiatUui anral stay at borne Io tovo! in'theirihdlls. \wthlh the fnlse prophet siH? iin ttriunnih .mill cries: ‘Where is now triioir <God.?"’’ A low grouu hurst £from triH* toanituillb i people in the crowd itouiiH IfttgUm, ui groan of a kind similar Ttofriu»*etriu£t me, often heaT 'in our own 'day mndor rtiie preaching of some great 'revivalist. Men beat their breasts mud iwujn. Wilhite j the enthusiastic hoy, sxftio 'found Uimmiih the c<*nter of all eyes, ’trentbled inurre wiolently than before, asihe inikeU.ihimltimif®whisjier: “What wouldst thou Ihove rnieillo, lhrijy father?” The old monk caught .at tthe inuestimi with the eager readiness'dTm Harm ureUkrr and echoed it liloud: “What shonldst Vbou dit? 1® rthou synmig man, when the add ifaltor !htt "the jyaung, take up the, sword ferr 'thi-arrood! Bbduidl j the sign of "the Holy TOini! TlMlu' dt >nn thy breast and swcut to ffdllnwitt trill trim | last Turk is swept from Bfnlestine auiil the crescent of 'Mahound its drowned iin the sea!” As he spoke he snaitdmß from Hi® breast, within the folds off this iTidaj, tn. simple -cross of whtte Hnon nnd I laid id um the youth, as if abont fa fastan id triurm. When the crowd burnt 'into :a wild -Shoitt: “Dien le vend! Then He amiitt! (tfiaß wills It! *God wills iitll)” They ware as wild as "the'‘fttrifitaonsinners" in a revival of tWhttfkild!s trime uir the enthusiasts of a camp miwttiiiK iin trim woods of A T irginia; While she Hsg lenintt, who had been so caw Hess a few miinuws before, was -so oviareome By trim onauidement that he hardly -knew What Um was doing. With his eyes -still "raised fa dionvnn. ms if he saw some vision iin 'the dilut- »U®, die said, slowly and dreamily; “If thou deomest one 'wnrflij rdf trite cross, holy father, 3 will rtiiiie id umd tfifidt against the infidel!” The words were harflly ottT'dTdiieiiiinurii when his fosteT-lrrother, Who ifamfl tttmaC his way toward him 'by 'this f ime. SnU mitt without difficulty, oaHefl tout, tm iwmiinns tones: “My lord! my lord! ShnnoxifiMr bout lady mother! Hemenlbei But before he eoiilfl ifinidfa'enmr are an»gry murmur from "the

monk, with dis fierce eyes blazing, shrieked! OUfc "" > ■ t ““He that will not leave father and inOtiinr for my sake hath no part in me! (tot thee behind me, Satanf ” :* Blit Big Fiftrr, without heeding tfie cry off tfto excited; ord man, struggled on totrio side of his yonng muster and laid his hand.on Stephen's arm, saying hurriedly: “My lord, my lord, Consider what you j<lb!! 'ilhere is none to take your place when you are gone, and my lady will die off grief Think of the castle aud the broad lands that need a master when the count i® gone. Think of ” Blit lie was not allowed to finish what He Had to say, for the old mong, raising His-thin.amis in the air, cried fiercely: “(tet thee liehind me, riatan! What am broad lands to the tires of hell? Get trine behind me, Satan; for thou savorest off this world! Let him that hindereth the march, of the cross look to himself! What, llul! (fount Stephen de Vaux, wilt thou Hear-trie cross for thy Master and win idee mnlace in heaven?” Big Peter would have answered and argued, hut at the words of the old monk m hundred hands were stretched out to alfitch.him, anil a confusion of cries arose. nm was dragged half off his horse, and was. ftireed Hack out of the hearing of his master, while the old monk, in the same frenwed: strain as before, continued his adllhess,. accompanied by the cries and sobs- off His hearers, till young Count SteSaHem, iin trie presence of them all, took the solhtnii until of the crusader. Big Peter saw the ceremony, though he ■ oonlll! not hear the words, as he hovered urn trio outskirts of the crowd; but he saw the omss fastened ou the shoulder of his Ibdbvedi young lord; and knew that'the 1 heel! was irrevocable. The people were wuldi with excitement, and a number of : ' .trier beys, witri even some girls—for in trie great Children’s Crusade none was span»fr fastened the white cross on their stiinddbnv and formed a procession, headed! by trie- old: monk, who told them that !l« would: lead them to the plains of Avigrmnf where trie camp of the children had HeoUi pitchctl. Then he told Stephen to “gn to his father's castle, and prepare for Iris journey and to join the crusade on trie nhiinsof Avignon, within three days, witii; as many as he could persuade to follow him.”’ Then, and not till then. Big Peter was 'allowed! to rejoin his master, whom he found! pale aud all in a tremor, as if he hntll passed through some terrible excitement,. from which he had not yet reeov- ] a raid! Slowly and mechanically he rode away toward; Chstie Vaux, like a boy in a dream, HU he was roused from his reverie hr trie 'tty tones off Big Peter, who said: "Ifine work, your worship hath mole toW.Uat will your lady mother think Uffiti?r Big Poton being foster-brother to his young lOrrl. was accustomed to much familiarity,. aud was amazed when Count Stephen turned on him with an angry ftiiic. saying sharply: “SUimee, sacriligemis wretch! Is not tile sepulcher of trie Lonl better than fifty rnntrium-?.' Smv> by my faith, Peter, this Ihy thou; hast shamed me, and I hate Itfiee!:" j Tile unaci’usttimed tone of harshness, Itrite worrls. hitter as gall, all seemed to , surprise and! grieve the faithful fosterbrother so. much; that he answered never {ai worth. Hut hung his head, flushed scarU.rr, till Stephen! seeing the effect of his wnrrht- on one who loved him so deeply, omirinm'd in a more placable tone: “fiff thou hialst loved me really, Peter, tttuui wouldst have taken the cross with j m«- tie-lay.” ffktnr shook his head, with a strange j Hspnoswon, off face, saying: “Dfryrmrrwortdiip goes to Palestine, I go, tuwthut fldonit pretend that I go for the gnud! off my soul! Killing men is not the way. tt)' go to heaven, or we should ail be i aiignik-’ 'ilha' young count flushed deeply at the wondk,. an- iff they stung him strangely; sduuk; his bridle with an angry twitch, amllgnUbped. on. till the towers,of Castle Mams, nose before him above the trees. Than: lie halted abruptly, saying, rather | uiwh wanlly: “ffhter;. yomfi'r comes my sister, Blluiubin. friim. hawking I dare not trust 1 mywulß tU'twH hoc She will weep, and I ttuiwo-gnne too larto retreat. I must go to 1 Hhlbstiuo now.”' They heard the sound of gay voices and Homos' foot coming toward them, and trimugfi, die trees shone the bright garinimtw- off indies and cavaliers. At the Uuiuil off trie* train: rede a girl of fifteen, umli, a® Stephen, saw her, his face grew gaibr;. ffitr He dreaded telling her the news ttiutt lie find! taken the cross. But it had i <te Be-iflawt ((Ob' be continued.)