Religious as Baldwin was, his piety did not prevent him from asserting the rights of the crown over those claimed by every successive patriarch, and many quarrels happened between him and the prelates, who tried perpetually to extend their temporal power. During one of these, the patriarch fell ill. Baldwin went to see him. “I am,” said the revengeful priest, “as you would wish to see me, Sir King,” implying that Baldwin wished his death, even if he had not compassed it. William of Tyre, a priest to the backbone, relates this incident without a word of comment. It must be remembered that the position of the Latin clergy in Palestine was not by any means so good as that which they enjoyed in Europe. Their lands were not so large in proportion, and their dignity and authority less. On the other hand, they were neither so nobly born, nor so well bred, nor so learned as their clerical brethren of the West. Thus it is reported that a Flemish pilgrim was once raised to the patriarchal seat, simply because, at the imposture of the Holy Fire, his taper was the first to light, and it will be remembered how, after the deposition of Dagobert, Ebremer, a simple and perfectly ignorant monk, was put into his place. And when the pope refused to confirm the appointment, they made him archbishop of another diocese by way of compensation. We have seen, so far, the growth of this little kingdom, created in a single campaign, sustained by the valour of kings whose crown was an iron helmet, whose throne was seldom anything but a camp-stool in a tent, or the saddle of a horse, whose hands grasped no sceptre but a sword, who lived hardly, and died in harness. We have next to see its decline and fall. Legends of Baldwin’s prowess grew up as the years ran on. As a specimen of the stories which gathered about his name we subjoin the following translation, almost literal, from a French romance of the fourteenth century. It treats of a visit made by Baldwin with two Mohammedan princes, secretly Christian, to the Old Man of the Mountains: