Permanence of Arab Ideas in the South of Europe—Social Corruption—Revolts against the Papacy—Antagonism of the Holy See and the German Empire—Consolidation of the Papal Power under Innocent III.—Civilizing Agencies in Sicily—Influence of the Normans as Heirs of the Arabs—Birth of Frederick II.—Character of Innocent III.—Genius of the Emperor—His Reforms—System of Jurisprudence—Commerce—Legislation—The University of Naples—The Medical School of Salerno—Character of Frederick—His Court—The South of France—Its Early Civilization—Cosmopolitan Character of its Population—Its Wealth, Intelligence, and Profligacy—-Debased Condition of the Clergy—The University of Montpellier—The Troubadours—The Albigenses—Their Defiance of Rome—A Crusade is preached against Them—They are annihilated—Cruelty of the Crusaders—Parallel between the Civilization of Sicily and Languedoc—Survival of the Philosophical Principles and Opinions of the Thirteenth Century.
The extraordinary impulse to scientific investigation, to historical research, to the development and perfection of the industrial arts, to the extension of commerce, to the improvement of the social and economic conditions which are so intimately connected with the comfort and happiness of mankind, imparted by the Saracen kingdoms of Southern Europe, was far from being destroyed by the absorption or conquest of their provinces or by the final extinction of their empire. The progress of their humanizing influence upon other nations had been slow and imperceptible. The philosophical ideas and principles advanced by the Arab universities were necessarily hostile to the doctrines of Christianity, to the opinions of the Fathers, to the inspiration of an infallible Pope, to the imperious claims of ecclesiastical supremacy. In consequence of their heretical tendency, they were perused in secret; and the diligence with which this prohibited literature was studied is revealed by the number of sects which arose, and the defiance of Papal authority, which is the distinguishing characteristic of European annals during the first half of the thirteenth century. The doctrines taught at Cordova and Palermo inspired those audacious mediæval reformers, far in advance of their age, whose aspirations for intellectual and religious liberty were promptly and mercilessly extinguished at the stake and on the scaffold. The spirit of resistance to Papal aggression, corruption, and tyranny, temporarily checked, in time revived, and found permanent expression in the bold and revolutionary theories of the Reformation. These great and radical changes were not spontaneously effected; the causes of their development had been in silent operation for many centuries.
The schools of Moslem Spain and Sicily had long been the resort of students, ambitious of literary attainments and distinction, from every country in Europe. Princes of Castile and France had for generations enjoyed the benefits of the educational advantages to be obtained in the Spanish Peninsula. The proximity of the polished and luxurious towns of Sicily to the ancient seat of Roman greatness and power had produced a corresponding effect, less evident and less durable, it is true, but still most civilizing and beneficial, upon the ferocious barbarism which had succeeded the cruel and shameless vices of the Cæsars. The sacerdotal order had profited more largely than all others by the learning of the Mohammedans. Pope Sylvester II., the most accomplished ecclesiastic of his time, whose prodigious acquirements caused him to be accused of sorcery and led to his assassination by poison, was educated at the University of Cordova. Roger Bacon, another reputed wizard, had deeply imbibed the heretical but fascinating opinions of the sages of the Tagus and the Guadalquivir. In almost every European monastery, whose inmates, corrupted by wealth and depraved by sensual indulgence, had abandoned the ascetic habits of the cloister, the infidel works of the Arabian philosophers were studied with curiosity and delight by jovial monks, long strangers to the vows inculcated as cardinal precepts by the regulations of their order.
With the secular clergy, whose ostentatious luxury was proverbial, the case was even worse. While considerations of policy and self-interest prevented the avowal of principles totally at variance with the tenets of their profession, the fact that those principles were entertained was far from being a secret. The influential prelates of the Church, ignorant or heedless of the prejudicial effects which must inevitably ensue from familiarity with the works of the Moslem philosophers, did not vigorously attempt to suppress them until the mischief they had produced was almost irreparable. The unbelief and moral obliquity of the clergy reacted upon their flocks. The latter saw—first with surprise, then with indifference—the ill-concealed skepticism and open immorality of their spiritual counsellors. As a result of this lax and inconsistent behavior, society became permeated with hypocrisy. The popular tales of the Middle Ages, many of them undoubtedly founded on fact, indicate only too plainly the estimation in which the clergy were held by the people. That such pictures of ecclesiastical life could be drawn and published without interference or punishment shows not only the extent of the evil, but the recognition of its existence by every class of the community. The licentious stories of the mediæval writers were read or repeated with delight both in the palace of the noble and the hovel of the serf. One of the most remarkable of these collections owes its origin to the patronage of Louis XI., the Most Christian King of France.
Although the clergy, and especially the members of the monastic orders, were, in these facetious productions, uniformly represented as objects of hatred and contempt, the practice of the vices and weaknesses imputed to them was evidently so common to their calling as not even to arouse those feelings of resentment which would naturally arise from accusations so nearly affecting their piety and virtue. So little attention, indeed, was paid to these disclosures of the habits of ecclesiastics, that their recital formed one of the ordinary diversions of conventual life, and the Gesta Romanorum, which long maintained a questionable celebrity, is a monkish compilation. When the spiritual guides of a community are deliberately held up to ridicule as the incarnation of all that is vile, rapacious, and bestial, their usefulness as directors of the public conscience and arbiters of private morals is at an end. Their pernicious example was not lost upon the people, although their influence for good declined. Universal corruption became the most prominent trait of every rank of society. The most glaring acts of impiety remained unrebuked. National faith and personal obligations were alike unblushingly violated. Every revolting crime was committed by those whose means were sufficient to appease sacerdotal venality and purchase temporary absolution. No epoch in European history presents a more distressing picture of social demoralization, of royal perfidy, of priestly hypocrisy, of universal wickedness, than the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. But while this condition of affairs was productive of widespread moral debasement, it was not wholly an unmixed evil. The weakening of the sentiments of fatuous reverence with which things denominated sacred had for ages been regarded, awakened among the masses a spirit of intellectual independence. The right of the exercise of private judgment began to be first tolerated, and afterwards tacitly recognized. Then originated the great moral revolution which, subsequently checked and almost overwhelmed by the power of the Papacy and disgraced by scenes of horror to which history affords no parallel, ended in the momentous struggle of the sixteenth century, and the permanent triumph of reason over dogma, of intelligence over ecclesiastical authority.
But it was not only by the removal of superstitious prejudice, through the comparison of creeds, the judicious employment of the principles of philosophical criticism, and the public exposure of the lives of the clergy, that this great and beneficial change was accomplished. The commerce of the European Moslems was almost coextensive with the world at that time familiar to mariners. The excellence and beauty of their wares, unequalled by those of any other nation, were eagerly sought after by the wealthy and luxurious inhabitants of Christian countries. Merchants, traders, and students had spread far and wide accounts of the marvels to be seen beyond the Pyrenees,—opulent and flourishing communities, where the meanest citizen was in the daily enjoyment of comforts unattainable as luxuries by the greatest potentates of Christendom; edifices whose decorations surpassed in richness the wildest conceptions of Oriental fiction; vast plantations, where fruits, unknown to colder climes, grew in prodigal abundance; caravansaries and markets crowded with a profusion of costly fabrics, and resounding with a Babel of strange and guttural tongues; institutions of learning frequented by tens of thousands of students, whose attainments—extraordinary in a world of ignorance—were believed to have been secured by an unholy compact with the infernal powers.
The existence of this civilization in close proximity to the semi-barbarous Mediterranean nations and the salutary experience of its benefits could not fail to produce upon the latter a deep and lasting impression. The Crusades, also, to some extent had enlarged the minds of the fierce warriors of the West. Their respect had been inspired by the equal valor and superior intelligence of their Mohammedan adversaries; and a Saracen was no longer, as formerly, considered a demon incarnate, destitute of honor, insatiable of blood, incapable of compassion, ignorant alike of the courtesies of war and the suggestions of humanity. These various moral and physical agencies, acting through the maintenance of maritime intercourse and the promiscuous association with travellers of every description, gradually produced effects long unperceived and unappreciated by the class whose material interests were most vitally endangered.
The dawn of the thirteenth century witnessed the outbreak and the arrest of two most significant movements of the human mind, destined to exercise immense influence on the intellectual character and political destiny of Europe. The one appeared in Sicily; arose under the auspices and was supported by the power of the Emperor Frederick II.,—that prodigy of mediæval learning and diplomacy, great by birth, and, through the hereditary traditions of his line, still greater through the talents with which he was endowed and the accomplishments that adorned his character; a colossal figure among the pygmy soldiers and churchmen of his time; a combination of opposite and eccentric qualities; brave but treacherous, impetuous but crafty; a skeptic, and an unrelenting persecutor of heretics; at one time heading a crusade for the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre; at another marshalling Saracen armies against the partisans of the Pope; a vassal of the Holy See, and an open ally and friend of the infidel; a professed champion of Christianity, while endeavoring to wrest from its acknowledged head that spiritual dominion which invested him with unlimited power over the lives, the fortunes, and the ultimate destiny of men; legislator, troubadour, author, naturalist; “a poet in an age of schoolmen, a philosopher in an age of monks, a statesman in an age of crusaders.”
The other intellectual revolution against ecclesiastical traditions and Papal despotism originated in the sunny lands of Provence and Languedoc, between the Mediterranean and the Pyrenees. That region, early overrun and colonized by the Saracen, had long remained subject to the Mohammedan princes of Spain. Although nominally Christian, its population was deeply infected with heterodox and atheistical opinions. The country had never lost the characteristics peculiar to the Moslem conqueror,—the intelligent and persevering cultivation of the soil, the venturesome spirit of commercial enterprise, the development and profitable adaptation of every natural resource, the pride of ostentatious luxury, the profound distrust of the female sex, which condemns its members to the seclusion of the harem. Amidst the freedom and gayety of its semi-Oriental cities, sectaries of every creed lived unquestioned and undisturbed. Polygamy was practised without concealment or reproach; scarcely a castle of count or baron was without its numerous seraglio. Education was general, and remarkable in its scope and efficiency when contrasted with the ignorance of contemporaneous societies. The famous University of Montpellier, a manifestation of the intellectual ideas and spirit which pervaded the South of France, was for generations a monument of the progress and erudition of the inhabitants of Languedoc. Among the public teachers were many Jews and Mohammedans, who, in addition to the profound and varied learning of the schools of Cordova, brought to the notice of a curious and speculative race theories that boded ill to the ecclesiastical establishment, which, stained with every hideous and disgusting vice, was fast sinking into universal and deserved contempt. The practice of improvisation,—the composition of extemporaneous poetry,—derived from the imaginative but unlettered tribes of the Arabian Desert, and for generations the delight of the capitals of Moorish Spain, found here its most fascinating expression and its highest development. Next to the prince himself, the troubadour was the most important personage of the Provençal court. His accomplishments, often acquired by association with the Moslem, were the envy of the cavalier and the horror of the priest. His elegant manners and poetical talents gained for him the passionate adoration of high-born ladies, whose beauty he celebrated in florid and licentious verse. His satires were often directed against the clergy, whose lives too readily furnished cause for ridicule and censure. With him occasionally travelled the jongleur, who, to the recitation of amorous chants, added the charm of harmonious minstrelsy. The ditties of the troubadours, like the coarse and facetious tales of this and subsequent periods, afforded an unfailing index of popular taste and prevalent opinions. In their lays the ecclesiastic is almost invariably an object of derision. His hypocrisy, his licentiousness, his greed, are depicted in language which admits of no palliating or ambiguous interpretation. He is constantly represented as the proverbial embodiment of all that is execrable and repulsive. If a butt for ridicule was needed, to give an appropriate climax to a story composed for the amusement of the court, the monastery could be relied upon to furnish an inexhaustible number of subjects, whose foibles were at once recognized by the delighted and scoffing auditors. The sacred calling of the ministers of religion was constantly made the occasion of ribald pleasantry; the tricks of practical jokers were played with impunity upon every incumbent of the sacerdotal dignity, from the haughty bishop to the cowled and barefooted friar. Even the populace, in whom the spirit of superstitious reverence is always the first to be awakened and the last to be destroyed, shared in an equal degree the feelings of their superiors. The vagrant rhymer, declaiming his sarcastic verses in the streets or by the wayside, was always sure of a liberal and appreciative audience. Such a condition of society indicates a certain degree of intellectual progress which can only result from independence of thought and moral irresponsibility of action. The extraordinary opinion began to be advanced and largely accepted that the investiture of the priesthood, of itself, conveyed no special virtue which dispensed with the rules of social morality or conferred immunity from public criticism. This idea, at variance with all the traditions of a Church which attached the highest importance to the rigid observance of mere formalities, was followed by others of even more novel and startling character. The unbroken intercourse with the Moslem principalities of the Peninsula had introduced into a country, whose people might, in some degree, justly claim consanguinity with the Saracens of Andalusia, the arts, the philosophy, and the erudition which had long embellished the accomplished courts of the Western Khalifate. Hence arose the popularity of the works of Averroes, and the general familiarity with the pantheistic ideas of Indian origin, subsequently adopted by the heretical sects which, from time to time, sprang up to vex the Papal orthodoxy of Europe. With their importation into France, the doctrines of the Arab philosophers were invested with a far broader significance than had ever been claimed by those who first inculcated their truths. The gay ballads of the South assumed a greater license of sentiment and language than their prototypes, whose freedom had provoked the censure of the Mohammedan society of the Guadalquivir, little inclined to displays of prudish morality. It was from such beginnings that were derived the suggestions of those memorable religious revolutions which, headed by Wyclif in England, Huss in Bohemia, and Luther in Germany, in defiance of the tremendous power of the Vatican, impressed an indelible seal upon the character and belief of so large a portion of the inhabitants of the civilized globe. The influence that Troubadour and Trouvère—poets and minstrels—during their incessant wanderings exerted upon the provincial dialects in which their productions were composed, and the extensive distribution of the latter, did more than all else to form and perfect the language of France. It was the same in Italy. That country also indirectly owes the sweet and musical accents of its graceful idiom, equally adapted to the descriptions of the historian, the representations of the dramatist, and the melodious versification of the poet, to a race foreign in all its characteristics and traditions to that quarter of the world where it exercised its greatest power. As with poetry, so it was with other manifestations of genius. Much of the architecture of Southern Europe, and especially those buildings devoted to religious worship, present unmistakable evidences of their Moorish origin; and thus the law of Mohammed, while it failed to retain its dominion over the minds of men, was enabled to perpetuate the memory of the arts, which it promoted in the construction of magnificent and imposing edifices raised for the celebration of the rites of another and an inimical religion. In a thousand ways, the march of intellectual improvement, suggested by the presence and example of Moslem skill and learning, was accelerated in the provinces of the South of France. The active minds of the inhabitants of the valley of the Rhone devoured with eagerness the extravagant tales of Moorish fiction, and their curiosity was stimulated by the study of the maxims of Plato and Aristotle contained in Arabic versions of those writers. Their manners insensibly became softened, their ideas were enlarged, their tastes were cultivated; they no longer regarded the torture of heretics and the massacre of infidels as conformable to the precepts of a religion based upon “peace and good-will to men.” With deep disgust they threw off their allegiance to the Church of Rome. Woman, hitherto a slave, subjected to the caprice of an imperious and irresponsible master, was raised by the hand of chivalry and made the cherished companion, if not the equal, of her lord. Semi-barbarous Europe looked with wonder upon a land so blessed by nature and adorned by art; where the remains of classic antiquity were taught in the same schools with the botany of Syria and the chemistry of Spain; where a philosophic spirit of inquiry had awakened the noblest aspirations of the human intellect, and where knightly courtesy had replaced the rudeness of the sword.
This advanced civilization had, unfortunately, come four centuries too soon. The fears of the Papacy were excited, and a ferocious crusade, which spared neither rank, age, sex, nor infirmity, was published against the unfortunate Albigenses. Upon the ruins of one of the most refined societies that had arisen to instruct mankind since the days of Athenian greatness, a society which embodied all that was interesting, learned, profitable, or entertaining in human life, was erected the Inquisition, the bane of science, and the implacable foe of civil and religious liberty.