As far as our household is concerned, there are three New Years. One on 1st January (fair enough); another when school goes back in September (yes, OK); and another when the new season of X Factor starts at the end of August.
Thousands upon thousands of hopefuls queue up, drawn by the dreams of making in big and by the drive deep within the heart that makes almost every single one of them assert (usually through tears) that 'I really, really want this more than anything, I really really want it.'
Thousands upon thousands of hopefuls queue up, drawn by the dreams of making in big and by the drive deep within the heart that makes almost every single one of them assert (usually through tears) that 'I really, really want this more than anything, I really really want it.'
Queuing for Clermont 1095 I don't know how many other medieval historians watch X Factor - though a straw poll amongst my peers in Oxford suggests more than you might think (just because you obsess about William of Malmesbury's sources or about new coin finds by the Danube does not mean you're not human, you know!). It should be compulsory watching for anyone interested in the Crusades.
Queuing for X Factor Auditions In 1095, Pope Urban gave an electrifying speech at Clermont in Central France, calling for armed men to join an expedition to save the Byzantine Empire which was teetering on the point of collapse (I have written a book about this). As word spread around Europe that something was going to be done to save Constantinople, the most important city in Europe with treasuries filled with Christianity's crown jewels, and better still, then carry on to Jerusalem, young men - and women - clamoured to take part.
Their motivations for doing so were varied, many of them conflicting: it was well-known that the journey east was long, dangerous and expensive. So leaving family behind was a wrench; and it cost a lot; and there was a good chance of not making it back alive.
But think of the rewards in the next life - that was the priests' favourite line. Sure. But also think of the glory, said the vaguer, medieval public school types; think of the financial rewards, thought the sharper ones on the make; think of what fun it will be, friends will have cajoled each other; think of what people will say if you don't go (a few of the sterner fathers would have tried that); and remember, darling, with thousands taking part, it will never be safer (the common sense of the mother, I suspect).
Unscrambling those is not easy, despite the solemn and dry explanations set out most historians of this period, who talk religious conviction, faith and endless variations of similar noble causes. Where's the fun, guys - and where's real life?
What about the peer pressure; where's the one drink too many, of course I'm coming promise that turns into something serious. Where's the showing off to the foxy daughter of the local landowner who's bound to be impressed? Where's the reluctant knight who had other things he was planning to do; or the one whose eyesight just wasn't that great and who didn't fancy it?
But think of the rewards in the next life - that was the priests' favourite line. Sure. But also think of the glory, said the vaguer, medieval public school types; think of the financial rewards, thought the sharper ones on the make; think of what fun it will be, friends will have cajoled each other; think of what people will say if you don't go (a few of the sterner fathers would have tried that); and remember, darling, with thousands taking part, it will never be safer (the common sense of the mother, I suspect).
Unscrambling those is not easy, despite the solemn and dry explanations set out most historians of this period, who talk religious conviction, faith and endless variations of similar noble causes. Where's the fun, guys - and where's real life?
What about the peer pressure; where's the one drink too many, of course I'm coming promise that turns into something serious. Where's the showing off to the foxy daughter of the local landowner who's bound to be impressed? Where's the reluctant knight who had other things he was planning to do; or the one whose eyesight just wasn't that great and who didn't fancy it?
| Well, look no further than X Factor for the perfect modern counter-sample. What anyone who watches can tell you, no two people are the same. While it's normally easy to tell a good 'un from a bad 'un, sometimes you get a surprise. But what's most striking is how many people come, year after year, to take part and to audition. |  X Factor Crusade style |  Logo coincidence - I don't think so |
They are drawn, just like the Crusaders, by the conviction that the upside outweighs the downside: the shot at glory, riches, fame, eternal life made the risk of embarrassment, humiliation and (social) death worth it. Some are egged on by friends whose blind faith in their talent is touching - especially when it is profoundly misplaced; others are driven by desperation, by their fears and their hope of a better life.
For those who go on to the live shows - woohoo ! - and reach the final stages attain a level of fame claimed by those who returned from the Holy Land after the capture of Jerusalem in 1099. The Crusaders were feted and mobbed as One Direction are today; there were signings, portraits, songs - you name it - when they got home.
For those who go on to the live shows - woohoo ! - and reach the final stages attain a level of fame claimed by those who returned from the Holy Land after the capture of Jerusalem in 1099. The Crusaders were feted and mobbed as One Direction are today; there were signings, portraits, songs - you name it - when they got home.
 Judges Houses : 21st century |  Judges Houses: c.12th century |
The Gary Barlow of the age was Bohemond: men wanted to hang out with him; women wanted to marry him. (I can tell you now, by the way, that our Gary is nothing like that 'Norman dog' as one Byzantine source called him).
 Bohemond: scoundrel |  Gary: lovely guy |
Just like X Factor has its share of idiots, so did the Crusade. In the case of the TV show, the worst that happens is that security gets called and a can or two gets kicked by the wannabe hero who comes off the hinges; in the Crusade, there was no such safety net: thousands of Jews were murdered as the lunatic fringe went on the rampage, shouting ever louder how much they want it more than anything. The Y generation in the 11th century gave as little reason to proud as their peers ten centuries later.
 Nope |  That's three nos |  And it's a No from me |
This week David Attenborough has spoken of his belief that humans have stopped evolving. I can't tell you much about that. But what I can say is that human beings have not changed so much as some of my medieval historian colleagues think. Just because it was the Middle Ages, not all men were noble, not everyone was convinced by devotion, not all were pious, and not everyone was guided and led by their faith.
That, of course, is what the Simon Cowells of the day wanted you to believe. The medieval monks who wrote the histories of the Crusade and of this period were PR men par excellence. No superyachts, fast cars and messy relationships for them (erm...); but just like with the evil genius behind X Factor, the cash flowed in. All those cathedrals where you went if you wanted to hear real singing weren't free, you know.
That, of course, is what the Simon Cowells of the day wanted you to believe. The medieval monks who wrote the histories of the Crusade and of this period were PR men par excellence. No superyachts, fast cars and messy relationships for them (erm...); but just like with the evil genius behind X Factor, the cash flowed in. All those cathedrals where you went if you wanted to hear real singing weren't free, you know.
 Coining it in |  If you could make it out for 'Cash' please |
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