The age of the crusades

by James M. Ludlow

A similar sentiment was working in France. Probably what is known as the Pragmatic Sanction of Louis IX. (1268) is not genuine, but the revolt of that royal saint against the assessments of Rome without consent of the throne is undoubted, and Louis may be said to have revived the ancient Gallican liberties, which for a century and a half had apparently been dead. A bull of Boniface VIII. in 1298 caused open rupture between France and Rome.

With Boniface the Papacy was utterly humiliated. In 1309, within eighteen years of the fall of Acre into the hands of the Moslems, the popes were in exile at Avignon, and the government of the church became the foot-ball of secular ambition. Clement V. (1305-12) ascended the papal throne as the creature of Philip the Fair of France, and was forced to lend himself to that monarch’s cruel and unjust persecution of the Templars, which order was abolished and its Grand Master burned at the stake in 1312.

With the diminished prestige of the Papacy came the renaissance of freer thought throughout the world. The failure of the crusades to conquer the Moslem, and the futile experiments of war upon heretical sects like the Waldenses and Albigenses, led to a partial suppression of the epidemic for forceful conversions, and to a healthful recollection of our Saviour’s command to Peter, “Put up thy sword.” In this better condition of the human mind germinated the modern evangelical methods, the first-fruit of which was to appear in the Protestant Reformation.

There was something in the life of the crusaders that was favorable to the growth of a new political sentiment, a popular, not to say a democratic, impulse, which directly conduced to our modern civil liberties. In their long and adventurous marches, in the common camp and fighting together within or beneath the same fortresses, the lord and his retainers came close to one another. The common man saw that his muscles were as strong, his mind as astute, his character as good, as that of his crested superior. Manhood rediscovered itself on those Eastern plains. The returned knight could no longer disdain intercourse with the brave men whose hamlet nestled beneath his castle walls. Their common courage, the many scenes with which both classes were familiar, the dangers they had shared, were repeated in story and song about the castle gate. Aristocratic presumption more than once evoked insurrection among the brawny fellows, who sang:

“We, too, are men;

As great hearts have we,

And our strength as theirs.”

In their home forays there were to be seen, together with the ensigns of the feudal lords, the popular banners of the parishes. Indeed, the new power of the people came to be the reliance of the king in his contest with rebel lords. Thus everywhere were silently germinated the forces of the commune and of the Third Estate in France, whose first assembly was held in 1302. In 1215 England secured for itself Magna Charta, the central regulation of which was that no freeman should “be taken, imprisoned, or damaged in person or estate but by the judgment of his peers” and “by laws of the land,” a grant to liberty which stood in spite of the fact that the Pope declared it to be null and void. In 1265 there came together the first regular Parliament of England with the House of Commons a constituent branch.

To the crusades we must attribute much of the increased knowledge of men and the quickening of inquiry into every department of human welfare. The crusaders mingled with their enemies in the lull of active warfare, and especially became familiar with the arts and customs of the Greeks, their pseudo-allies. The immense treasures of art secured by the capture of Constantinople, and displayed in every centre of Western population, inspired æsthetic taste. Such buildings appeared as the Palazzo Vecchio, Santa Croce, and the Duomo at Florence (about 1290), Westminster Abbey and Salisbury Cathedral (1220) and Cologne Cathedral (1248). Pisano (died 1270) revived sculpture; Cimabue (1240-1300) was the first of modern painters; the new impulse to scientific study produced Roger Bacon (1214-92). The Troubadours enlarged the romance of the lady’s chamber to that of the field of exploit, where Europe strove with Asia, and were followed by the great poets Dante (1265-1321) and Petrarch (1304-74). Splendid seats of learning sprang up, like the universities of Oxford (revived in 1200), Paris (1206), Padua (1222), and Cambridge (1229). The march of the soldier prompted the voyage of the peaceful traveller, like Marco Polo, who in 1272 explored the world as far as eastern China. The crusader learned something of the science of government from the Moslem, especially in matters relating to municipalities, for he was compelled to note that Cairo and Damascus were better governed than Paris and London. The wars suggested improvements in military equipment and manœuvre; indeed, the art of handling immense multitudes of men as a single body was learned by the knights, who, fighting in independent groups, were often overwhelmed by the massed forces of their enemies.

Commerce during this time began to spread its white wings upon all seas. For two hundred years an almost incessant line of vessels passed to and fro between the ports of the eastern and western Mediterranean, conveying supplies to the soldiers. As we have seen, an English fleet transported the army of Richard I. along the Atlantic coast. Men learned how to lade ships with utmost economy of space and to take advantage of all winds in sailing them. Roads were opened which converged to the point of departure from the surrounding country, where the produce was gathered for shipment. Agents were scattered throughout Europe to purchase the needed articles in small quantities, and prepare them in bulk for the voyage. War thus fostered the commercial habit and skill which were utilized in times of peace.