The age of the crusades

by James M. Ludlow

This relic of the Jewish custom, together with the universal pagan practice of venerating shrines and consulting local oracles, became an ever-pressing temptation to the early Christian church. It was difficult for either Jewish or heathen converts not to regard the land trodden by the feet of Jesus as peculiarly a holy land, and not to imagine that the celestial interest that once centred upon the scenes of His death and resurrection made “heaven always to hang lowest” over these spots. There was nothing in the teaching or practice of the apostles and early fathers of the church to suggest or approve these notions. They were willing exiles from the home of the faith; unlike the patriarch Joseph, they gave no “commandment concerning their bones” being interred in the dust of Palestine.

The conversion of Constantine to Christianity may have been genuine, but it did not completely exorcise the paganism to which he had been habituated. The pilgrimage of his mother, Helena, to Palestine, the alleged reidentification of sacred sites and relics by miraculous agencies, and their adornment with lavish magnificence, were the natural efflorescence of the hybrid religion that sprang up. Multitudes imitated the example of emperors and princes in the show of devotion. The new glory which Constantine gave to Jerusalem engaged their reverence, as his new capital on the Bosporus gratified their pride.

St. Jerome (345-420) wrote to Paulinus: “The court of heaven is as open in Britain as at Jerusalem.” Nevertheless the saint took up his abode in the Church of the Nativity at Bethlehem. Paula, his companion, wrote: “Here the foremost of the world are gathered together.” St. Augustine (354-430), oppressed by the fact that the beauty of the heavenly city was shadowed by men’s reverence for the earthly Jerusalem, wrote: “Take no thought for long voyages; it is not by ship, but by love, that we go to Him who is everywhere.”

But the enthusiasm for pilgrimage could be checked neither by the voice of saint nor by common sense. From the depths of the German forests, from the banks of the Seine and the bleak shores of Britain, as well as from the cities of southern Europe, poured the incessant streams of humanity, to bathe in the waters of the Jordan where their Lord was baptized, or perchance to die at the tomb which witnessed his resurrection.

As early as the fourth century itineraries were published to guide the feet of the pious across the countries of Europe and Asia Minor; hospitals were also established along the road, the support of which by those who stayed at home was regarded as specially meritorious in the sight of Heaven.

In 611 Chosroes the Persian and Zoroastrian captured Jerusalem, slaughtered ninety thousand Christian residents and pilgrims, and, more lamentable in the estimate of that age, carried off the wood of the true cross. But Heraclius, the Greek emperor, after a ten years’ war triumphed over the Persian power. Neither conquered lands nor the spoils of princely tents compared in stirring enthusiasm with the recapture of this relic. With great pomp the emperor left a part of the cross to glorify his capital, Constantinople. On September 14, 629, Heraclius entered Jerusalem, bearing, like Simon the Cyrenian, the remainder of the sacred beams upon his back. With bare feet and in ragged garments he traversed the city and re-erected the symbol of the world’s faith upon the assumed site of Calvary. This event is still commemorated throughout the Roman Catholic world by the annual festival of the “exaltation of the holy cross.”

Marvellous stories, the innocent exaggerations of weak minds or the designed invention of less conscionable shrewdness, fed the credulity of the people. Bishop Arculf told of having seen the three tabernacles still standing upon the Mount of Transfiguration. Bernard of Brittany as an eye-witness described the angel who came from heaven each Easter morn to light the lamp above the Holy Sepulchre.

At the opening of the ninth century the friendship of Haroun-al-Raschid, King of Persia, for Charlemagne extended the privileges of pilgrims. The keys of the sepulchre of Jesus were sent by him as a royal gift to the Emperor of the West. Charlemagne’s capitularies contain references to “alms sent to Jerusalem to repair the churches of God,” and to provide lodging, with fire and water, to pilgrims en route.

The cruel persecution by Mad Hakem, the caliph of Egypt (see p. 57), made scarcely an eddy in the current of humanity moving eastward. Counts and dukes vied with prelates in the multitude of their companions. In 1054 the Bishop of Cambray started with a band of three thousand fellow-pilgrims. In 1064 the Archbishop of Mayence followed with ten thousand, nearly half of whom perished by the way.

In the latter part of the eleventh century, as has been related, the strong hand of the Turk first effectually checked the pilgrims. The horrors of the atrocities perpetrated by this new Mohammedan power afflicted Europe less than the cessation of the popular movement. The evil was twofold, secular and spiritual.