Continuing his exploration of the medieval worldview, focusing on love, family, the position of women, and the impact of war on daily life, Oleg Voskoboinikov, a medievalist historian, delves into the perception of foreigners in medieval Europe. The fourth lecture elucidates how war played a crucial role in shaping both medieval society and the contemporary map of Europe.
Throughout history, the Egyptians, Persians, Greeks, and Romans all possessed a combative attitude. The sweeping migrations of various peoples—the Vandals, Goths, and Huns—marked another chapter in the tumultuous history of Europe. The belligerence of the barbarians became a proverb among the Romans during their decadent phase, as their once-potent militancy had dwindled to mere survival. For the barbarian tribes, as Tacitus1
Let's briefly delve into the realm of new onomastics, focusing on names that have been inherited by modern Europe not from the Romans or Greeks but from the ancient Germans. Consider names like Richard (Rik-hard, signifying ‘might’ and ‘bravery’), Wilhelm/Guillaume (Wile-helm, combining ‘will’ and ‘helmet’), Gerard/Herhard (Ger-hard, denoting ‘a strong spear’), Matilda (Macht-hildis, reflecting ‘might in war’), Clotilde (Chlote-hildis, meaning ‘glorious battle’), Ludovic/Lewis (Chlodo-wed, representing ‘a glorious fight’), and Herbert (Chari-bercht, ‘shining in war’). This influx of barbaric military terminology swiftly integrated into Latin, a development that shouldn't be surprising. It's noteworthy that words such as the English ‘war’, French ‘guerre’, and the Italian and Spanish ‘guerra’ can all trace their origins back to the Frankish term ‘werra’, which encompasses strife and scuffle.
Unfortunately, war always was and still remains the traditional way of resolving internal and external conflicts at all levels. Let's try to identify the distinct medieval characteristics within this framework. A closer examination of the history of disputes and battles reveals the following progression. During the tenth and eleventh centuries, lords and their armies engaged in power struggles without clear oversight. However, as time passed, the Church assumed this role, followed by feudal society, and eventually the king, all seeking to bring order to the prevailing chaos.
What did medieval armies look like?
The paradox lies in the fact that a significant portion of the medieval population was formally unarmed. The concept of warfare was exclusive to a minority of nobles, for whom arming and martial skills were not only a duty but also a costly endeavor. Society was divided between the armed elite known as warriors or ‘milites’, and the unarmed, and consequently defenseless, peasants or ‘rustici’. This distinction meant that the armed minority held sway over nearly every aspect of life, except for matters concerning their relationship with the divine. Ironically, even that influence was present as the clergyi
The military hierarchy paralleled the social and political hierarchy, and the extent of duties and honors tied to warfare were directly correlated with the size of a noble's feudal estate. Feudal structures, whether they were counties, towns, bishoprics, or significant monasteries, owed their suzerain a type of assistance known as ‘ban’. This entailed providing a predetermined number of armed cavalry and infantry troops upon demand. The term ‘ban’ not only referred to this military obligation but also extended to a range of other feudal privileges. The modern word ‘banal’ is derived from the same origin. The Germanic verb ‘bannan’, related to the Russian word ‘bait’, denoted a command or order, disobedience to which invited punishment.
This scenario bears little resemblance to the professional armies we are familiar with today, resembling the concept of private military companies (PMCs) to a greater degree. The emergence of regular armies occurred towards the end of the Middle Ages, particularly during the latter phases of the Hundred Years’ War2
It would be a mistake to assume that the alignment of warfare with the state, both ethically and legally, became absolute—at least not until the nineteenth century—within the confines of the Old Order4
When medieval poets sang of military exploits, much of their work, at times splendid and reminiscent of great epics, was a product of the imagination rather than science, a creation of myth rather than a meticulous historical account of the facts like today. However, if one delves into the extensive body of medieval chronicles, letters, and even epic or chivalric romances, the narrative becomes more nuanced. Although the majority of the pre-thirteenth-century chronicles were penned by monks, they still contain glimpses of the practical aspects of organizing military operations—from the procurement of forage and financial resources to the construction of siege weaponry. Behind these written records lies a subtly elusive oral tradition, which, in part, preserved both the military practices of the Romans and, in contrast, those of the Germans, who often found themselves hard-pressed to match the might and training of the Roman legions. Unlike the detailed maps that provide insight into the wars of the Modern Age, no such cartographic legacy remains from the Middle Ages. The notion of conjuring up portolan or pilgrim itineraries to strategicallyi
Explore regions untouched by the industrial surge of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries and you'll often encounter an astonishingly intricate network of defensive structures. Unlike the monumental Great Wall of China or the sprawling Roman Limesi
Only a sizable state possessed the resources necessary to construct and maintain an uninterrupted network of frontier fortifications. This is precisely why extensive fortifications from the Middle Ages are relatively scarce. In the eighth century, King Offa of Merciai
Lords constructed castles of varying sizes positioned along routes that troops might traverse. This strategic placement aimed to prevent any incursions by enemy forces in their rear, ensuring that adversaries would be compelled to contend with each castle they encountered. The enemy would have to establish themselves nearby if the castle was prepared to withstand and repel attacks rather than yielding easily. In the later medieval period, the narrow Aosta River Valley, which guided the way from the Padana Plain to Mont Blanc and its passes, was adorned with an intricate array of sturdy small fortifications. Some stood at lower elevations, while others clung to the cliffs. Those structures, looking like eagle's nests, were called ‘rocchi’ in Italian and ‘roches’ in French, signifying ‘cliffs’. Starting from the tenth century, stone castles began to dot the landscapes of many other regions, especially in strategically significant zones and entire historical territories such as Castile, a land of castles that lay along the boundary between the Christian north and the Islamic south of Spain.
How was war perceived?
How, then, did people in the Middle Ages perceive war, considering that they both engaged in battles and analyzed their military actions? With the decline of the Roman Empire, a state that ostensibly ensured peace and justice for its citizens through perpetual warfare came to an end. However, if we take Tacitus's words to heart, the Germanic peoples also held warfare in high esteem as a noble endeavor. The gradual spread of Germanic influence across Europe blurred the line between civic life and the use of force. Nevertheless, as their kingdoms grew stronger through Christianization and the resurgence of culture, a collective desire emerged within various sections to rein in the unregulated elements and restore order.
The concept of a just war, referred to as ‘bellum iustum’ in Latin, has its origins in both antiquity and medieval theological, juridical, and political literature. Augustine6
In theory, any Christian was always meant to embrace the role of a peacemaker. Although this noble principle was rarely fully realized, its historical significance remains undeniable. The reflections of Augustine caught the attention of theologians and jurists alike. In the thirteenth century, Thomas Aquinas's7
However, even a cursory acquaintance with the brutalities displayed by Christian knights during the capture of Jerusalem in the summer of 1099 reveals the stark contrast between these high ideals and their actions. For instance, Richard the Lionheart, the crusader king of England, hailed as a near-national hero in medieval England and the son of the enlightened Alienora of Aquitaine, ordered the execution of over 2,000 Muslim prisoners in August 1191, directly in front of Salah ad-Din's army. This was a glaring and brutal betrayal of the principles he should have upheld. Soon after, the process of negotiating a treaty for a mutual exchange of prisoners came to an abrupt halt.
From a particular Christian perspective, every war was seen as a metaphor for a much grander conflict, which was the ongoing battle between good and evil for the soul of each believer. While these priestly visions could be dismissed or taken as literary metaphors, the visceral reality of war couldn't be ignored. The act of ripping a victim's belly open, whether carried out by a cavalryman or an infantryman, was a tangible act rather than a mere metaphor. Nevertheless, understanding the motives behind such actions is just as vital as comprehending the reasons for which they fought and died in the world wars, as it is to understand the motivations behind today's conflicts.
In Steven Spielberg's 1998 film Saving Private Ryan, a Jewish sniper chants psalms as he takes aim through his rifle’s scope. This gesture harkens back to a medieval sensibility, one that any crusader would recognize, as the psalms were often invoked both for war and peace. The resonance of this medieval perspective goes beyond Spielberg’s sniper, and it is crucial to grasp not only the act itself but also the deeper motivations that have historically driven and continue to drive individuals to take up arms.
In the twelfth century, Bernard of Clairvaux, a prominent military leader, delivered a sermon titled ‘Praise of the New Knighthood’. This discourse outlined a distinct code for crusaders, offering a unique perspective on their role. Bernard proclaimed that when Christians engage in combat against infidels, any act of homicide, termed ‘homicidium’, transforms into a justified killing, known as ‘malicidium’. According to Bernard, this transformation occurs because every infidel who takes up arms against Christians is considered a servant of worldly evil. This was no longer a mere metaphor or a linguistic play, but rather a solemn endorsement of killing, articulated by a revered saint wielding both spiritual and literary power.
The Knights Templari
A unique French manuscript from the third quarter of the twelfth century, now housed in the Château of Chantilly, has remarkably preserved some texts and precise notations of the Templar worship. Thanks to transcriptions by Marcel Pérez and the singing performance by the Organum group, we can now not only gain insight into the spiritual practices of these knights through words, but we can also audibly experience their resonances in a quite substantial reconstructive perspective. One intriguing aspect is the distinct medieval rhythm called ‘tripudium’, used in the chanting of the verses. It wasn't merely a matter of counting beats, as one might do with a hand gesture from the cantor. Instead, it involved a slight movement of the singer. This technique still persists in modern church choir singing. While the purely musical impact might not be fully discernible in a recording, it is critical in stimulating the imagination. One can envision these warriors solemnly chanting by memory, their swaying motions establishing a coherent rhythm, reminiscent perhaps of a march into battle.
Amidst the array of traditional Latin prayers, drawn from the rituals of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and the psalms, one breathtaking antiphon preaches: ‘Grant, O Lord, peace in our days; for there is none who will stand for us, except you, our God.’ This antiphoni