TOURS
The battle of Tours had as result the dominance of the Aryan race
over the Semitic in Europe; and of the Cross over the Crescent
throughout the world. As Gibbon says speaking of the phenomenal
conquests of the followers of Mohammed: “A victorious line of
march had been prolonged above a thousand miles from the rock of
Gibraltar to the banks of the Loire; the repetition of an equal
space would have carried the Saracens to the confines of Poland
and the Highlands of Scotland; the Rhine is not more impassable
than the Nile or Euphrates, and the Arabian fleet might have sailed
without a naval combat into the mouth of the Thames. Perhaps the
interpretation of the Koran might now be taught in the Schools of
Oxford, and her pulpits might demonstrate to a circumcised people
the sanctity and truth of the revelation of Mahomet. From such
calamities was Christendom delivered by the genius and fortune of
one man.” (Charles Martel).
Persia, Lydia, northern Africa, Spain, had successively fallen
under the devouring zeal of the fanatics of the desert. Hot and
arid and consuming as the sun o’er yellow sands was the inspiration
of the Prophet fire-breathing thro’ the Koran. “The sword,” says
Mahomet, “is the key of heaven. A drop of blood shed in the cause
of God is of more avail than two months of fasting and prayer;
whoso falls in battle, all his sins are forgiven; at the day of
judgment his wounds shall be as resplendent as vermillion and
odoriferous as musk.” Hearts thus athirsting aflame had as their
dream-goal, their vermillion glory--the conquest and subjugation
of the city of the Cæsars, the city of the Church, Rome, Immortal
Rome.
From the Bosphorus to the Gibraltar glowed the victor Crescent with
extremities burning into Europe. Unsuccessful on the Bosphorus
but successful on the Gibraltar, Spain was soon enveloped in its
fanatic fire and its flame-tongues darted over the Pyrenees.
The Saracens of Spain were commanded by Abderame, favorite of the
caliph Hashen, victor of many fields, idol of the army, and devout
believer in the promises of the Prophet. Abderame was proud of
his battle scars, not yet indeed resplendent as vermillion and
odoriferous as musk, but potentially so and cherished accordingly.
He would yet slay “many cut-throat dogs of misbelievers” and so
gain more vermillion. One is here tempted to say, in the words of
Virgil describing the sacrifice of Iphigenia,
“Learn thou then
To what damned deeds religion urges men.”
Too bad that the word “religion” must needs do service to express
the extravagances of mythology, the ravings of fanaticism, and the
teachings of the gentle Christ.
Eudes, duke of Aquitaine, first opposed the Moslems as they
advanced beyond the Pyrenees. He was at first successful but later
suffered a signal defeat at Toulouse, “in so much so”, says an old
chronicler, “that only God could count the number of Christians
slain.” Eudes himself escaped and hastening northward sought the
aid of Charles, duke of Austrasia, mayor of the palace, and soon to
be known as Charles Martel (Charles the Hammer.)
On came the conquering Saracen hosts, grown insolent by victory,
deeming themselves invincible, and proudly confident in the destiny
that should lead them to Rome. Asia and Africa were in arms
against Europe; the old against the new; maturity against lusty
youth; and they met steel to steel on the plains of Tours.
“He either fears his fate too much
Or his deserts are small;
Who dares not put it to the touch
And gain or lose it all.”
Tours towers in solemn awe in the vague _What might have been_. Was
it wise to have risked Christendom on the issue of one battle? The
result says Yes; but--
Upon what seeming trifles turns the hinge of destiny! The
casting-vote of Callimachus, urged by the eloquence of Miltiades,
made Marathon; panic-fear let loose among Darius’ million men
made Arbela; an eclipse of the sun won at Zama; Teutoberger Wald,
Chalons, Tours--invisible, unknown, but not the less effective were
the forces in these fights making fatefully for defeat and for
victory. That which we term a trifle may be as a single bead of
perspiration; trifling in itself, no doubt, but representative of a
force far from trifling.
Battle raged indecisively all day long from early light till dark.
Prince Charles seemed to wield the hammer of Thor. Abderame fell.
The Saracens withdrew sullenly within their tents. Quiet darkness
gathered mournfully over the living, the dying, and the dead.
And the next morning there was a great silence in the Moslem
camp; in so much that the Christians trembled as at some uncanny
treachery and stood awaiting they knew not what. But as the early
morning hours passed and broad daylight brought back manly courage,
the Christian army approached the camp of the enemy. It was
deserted. The foe had fled. Christendom had won.
Charles did not immediately pursue the fleeing Moslem hordes. He
still feared treachery. Perhaps, too, some wakening sentiment of
humanity restrained him from further bloodshed. The vast plains of
Tours were covered with ghastly forms horribly hacked and hewed
but now strangely still. According to an old chronicle the number
of Moslem dead upon the field of Tours was three hundred and fifty
thousand; that of the Christians, fifteen hundred. Surely that was
enough of slaughtering death even for Karl Martel.
The battle of Tours was fought Oct. 4, 732 A. D. The following
Spring Charles went in pursuit of the Saracens who were still
ravaging southern France. They withdrew from place to place
as Charles drew near; and ultimately--without risking another
encounter with the Hammer of Thor--they retired across the
Pyrenees. France was freed from the Crescent.
THE EIGHTH CENTURY.
All writers agree that the eighth century was the darkest age of
the so-called Dark Ages. The Benedictine monks, authors of _L’
histoire litteraire de la France_ say that the eighth century was
_the darkest, the most ignorant, the most barbarous_ that France
had ever seen. It seemed to be the seething culmination of four
hundred years of Barbarism, one infusion following fast upon
another.
In 407 A. D. the Vandals from the upper Rhine invaded Gaul and
Germany: in 410 the West Goths under Alaric besieged and sacked
Rome: in 429 the Vandals under Genseric came down upon Numidia
and Mauritania: in 443 the Burgundian invaders settled on the
upper Rhone and on the Saone: in 451 came the Huns under Attila.
Towards the end of the fifth century the Franks from the lower
Rhine came into Gaul, destroying every vestige of civilization that
had survived the invasion and occupation of France by the Vandals
and Burgundians. About this time, too, the Angles and Saxons
established themselves in Britain, and the Visigoths in Spain. In
the sixth and seventh centuries the Heruli, the East Goths, and
the Lombards destroyed whatever remained of Roman civilization in
northern Italy.
And now to complete this scene of chaotic confusion came the
fanatic Moslem hordes from the south. Surely every remaining
reminder of old-world civilization seemed about to be crushed and
broken to pieces between these contending crest waves of barbarism.
The cataclysmic clash and crash came at the battle of Tours.
THE CHURCH.
William Turner, S. T. D. in his History of Philosophy speaking of
the eighth century says: “We can scarcely realize the desolation
that during these centuries reigned throughout what had been the
Roman Empire. Although surrounded by all the external signs and
conditions of dissolution and decay, the Church remained true
to her mission of moral and intellectual enlightenment, drawing
the nations to her by the very grandeur of her confidence in her
mission of peace, and by the sheer force of her obstinate belief
in her own ability to lift the new peoples to a higher spiritual
and intellectual life. It was these traits in the character of the
Church that especially attracted the barbarian kings. But, though
towards the end of the fifth century Clovis became a Christian, it
was not until the beginning of the ninth century that the efforts
of the Church to reconquer the countries of Europe to civilization
began to show visible results. The Merovingian kings--the
‘do-nothing-kings,’ as they were styled--could scarcely be called
civilized. Even Charlemagne, who was the third of the Carolingian
dynasty, could hardly write his name.”
The Church is for all ages and all conditions of men. She is
equally effective in answering the soul-questionings of savage
peoples, barbarous, semi-civilized, cultured, and æsthetic: of
a superstitious monk of the Thebaid and of the philosopher
Augustine, Bishop of Hippo: of a Thais of the desert and of
Ursula, virgin and martyr: of Charles Martel, of the bloody battle
Tours, and the gentle Francis of Assisi: of Constantine, Clovis,
Charlemagne; and of John Henry Cardinal Newman, Mangan, Oscar
Wilde, Strindberg, and Francis Thompson. As the manna that fell
from heaven for the Israelites had in it every taste that might
be in accordance with the peculiar desire of him who tasted, so
in like manner, the Church of all ages has ever brought to her
children that which was in accordance with their peculiar needs and
desires. Fiercely kind, sternly kind, firmly kind, humanly kind,
and divinely kind--as occasion may require, the Church has been and
may be.
In Charles Martel, hero of Tours, the Church had a gallant
defender. Under his son Pepin, and his greater grandson
Charlemagne, the Church made that leap forward, away from ninth
century barbarism, up and onward to her fair and full flowering in
the thirteenth century Renaissance.
GREEK FIRE.
At the second siege of Constantinople, when Moslemah with a
land force of one hundred twenty thousand Arabs and Persians
stood ready to attack the city; and a fleet of eighteen hundred
ships--as a moving forest,--covered the Bosphorus, Constantinople
seemed doomed. A night attack of the combined land and sea forces
was planned; and no one might reasonably doubt the issue of the
conflict. But here again the unexpected happened.
Truly the race is not to the swift nor is the battle to the strong.
Marathon, Salamis, Arbela, Tours, Cressy, Poitiers, Agincourt,
Saratoga, Valmy,--were battles not to the strong. “There’s a
divinity that shapes our ends.”
As night approached and the formidable “moving forest” gathered
round the doomed city, suddenly there darted amidst the towering
timbers--lighted monsters, Greek Fire-ships belching forth from
dragon-mouthed prows the fatal Greek Fire. Here, there, everywhere
plunged the fire-breathing ships leaving behind them Moslem vessels
in flames. The Bosphorus was on fire. Of the fated soldiers in that
mighty fleet of eighteen hundred ships, few escaped to make known
the tragedy or to describe the horribly magnificent scene.
What was the Greek Fire? how compounded? how used? how propelled?
does the world of today know the secret of Greek Fire? Gibbon
says: “The historian who presumes to analyze this extraordinary
composition should suspect his own ignorance and that of his
Byzantine guides, so prone to the marvelous, so careless, and,
in this instance, so jealous of the truth. From their obscure,
and perhaps fallacious, hints it should seem that the principal
ingredient of the Greek Fire was the naphtha, or liquid bitumen,
a light, tenacious, and inflammable oil, which springs from the
earth, and catches fire as soon as it comes in contact with the
air. The naphtha was mingled, I know not by what methods or in what
proportions, with sulphur and with pitch that is extracted from
evergreen firs. From this mixture, which produced a thick smoke and
a loud explosion, proceeded a fierce and obstinate flame, which
not only rose in perpendicular ascent, but likewise burnt with
equal vehemence in descent or lateral progress; instead of being
extinguished, it was nourished and quickened by the element of
water; and sand or vinegar were the only remedies that could damp
the fury of this powerful agent, which was justly denominated by
the Greeks the _liquid_ or the _maritime_ fire. For the annoyance
of the enemy it was employed, with equal effect, by sea and land,
in battles or in sieges. It was either poured from the rampart in
large boilers, or launched in red-hot balls of stone and iron, or
darted in arrows and javelins, twisted round with wax and tow,
which had deeply imbibed the inflammable oil; sometimes it was
deposited in fire-ships, the victims and instruments of a more
ample revenge, and was most commonly blown through long tubes of
copper which were planted on the prow of a galley, and fancifully
shaped into the mouths of savage monsters, that seemed to vomit a
stream of liquid and consuming fire.”
The paralyzing effect of fear let loose among a multitude of men
has decisively determined many a battle. When the Romans saw
elephants for the first time, and saw them too, in the midst
of Pyrrhus’ hostile hosts bearing down upon them--those brave
world-conquerors promptly turned and fled. Chariots armed with
scythes madly rushing down upon a body of infantry, were used with
success by the Britons against Cæsar’s terrified legions. And Greek
Fire, Byzantium’s secret for four hundred years, infused such
enduring terror into the hearts of the nations that had taken part
in that night attack upon Constantinople, that this remembering
fear, rather than the effective force of Byzantium, may be said to
have saved Christendom.
By the defeat of Tours in the west and the failure of the siege
in the east, the two horns of the Crescent, burning into Europe,
were effectively repulsed and chilled. Mohammedanism with its
threefold blight--propagation by the sword, polygamy, and religious
intolerance--was swept back into Asia, leaving Europe to develop
under the milder sway of Christianity.
Writers of note are unanimous in attributing to the victory of
Charles Martel over the Saracens at Tours the deliverance of Europe
from the thraldom of Mahomet. Even Gibbon so characteristically
fond of “Snapping a solemn creed with solemn sneer” speaks of this
battle as “the event that rescued our ancestors of Britain and our
neighbors of Gaul from the civil and religious yoke of the Koran.”
Arnold speaks of this victory as “among those signal deliverances
which have effected for centuries the happiness of mankind.” The
historian Ranke writing of this period points out as “one of the
most important epochs in the history of the world, the commencement
of the eighth century, when on one side Mohammedanism threatened to
overspread Italy and Gaul, and on the other the ancient idolatry
of Saxony and Friesland once more forced its way across the Rhine.
In this peril of Christian institutions, a youthful prince of
Germanic race, Karl Martell, arose as their champion, maintained
them with all the energy which the necessity for self-defense calls
forth, and finally extended them into new regions.” Schlegel, with
devoutly grateful heart, tells of this “mighty victory whereby the
arm of Charles Martel saved and delivered the Christian nations of
the West from the deadly grasp of all-destroying Islam.”