of civilization which we value, that was not, directly or indirectly, developed by the Crusades, yet which was not sought for, or anticipated even,—­the centralization of thrones, the weakening of the power of feudal barons, the rise of free cities, the growth of commerce, the impulse given to art, improvements in agriculture, the rise of a middle class, the wonderful spread of literature, greater refinements in manners and dress, increased toleration of opinions, a more cheerful view of life, the simultaneous development of energies in every field of human labor, new hopes and aspirations among the people, new glories around courts, new attractions in the churches, new comforts in the villages, new luxuries in the cities.  Even spiritual power became less grim and sepulchral, since there was less fear to work upon.

I do not say that the Crusades alone produced the marvellous change in the condition of society which took place in the thirteenth century, but they gave an impulse to this change.  The strong sapling which the barbarians brought from their German forests and planted in the heart of Europe,—­and which had silently grown in the darkest ages of barbarism, guarded by the hand of Providence,—­became a sturdy tree in the feudal ages, and bore fruit when the barons had wasted their strength in Asia.  The Crusades improved this fruit, and found new uses for it, and scattered it far and wide, and made it for the healing of the nations.  Enterprise of all sorts succeeded the apathy of convents and castles.  The village of mud huts became a town, in which manufactures began.  As new wants became apparent, new means of supplying them appeared.  The Crusades stimulated these wants, and commerce and manufactures supplied them.  The modern merchant was born in Lombard cities, which supplied the necessities of the crusaders.  Feudalism ignored trade, but the baron found his rival in the merchant-prince.  Feudalism disdained art, but increased wealth turned peasants into carpenters and masons; carpenters and masons combined and defied their old masters, and these masters left their estates for the higher civilization of cities, and built palaces instead of castles.  Palaces had to be adorned, as well as churches; and the painters and handicraftsmen found employment.  So one force stimulated another force, neither of which would have appeared if feudal life had remained in statu quo.

The only question to settle is, how far the marked progress of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries may be traced to the natural development of the Germanic races under the influence of religion, or how far this development was hastened by those vast martial expeditions, indirectly indeed, but really.  Historians generally give most weight to the latter.  If so, then it is clear that the most disastrous wars recorded in history were made the means—­blindly, to all appearance, without concert or calculation—­of ultimately elevating the European races, and of giving a check to the conquering fanaticism of the enemies with whom they contended with such bitter tears and sullen disappointments.