The 13th Century Is Misunderstood

The 13th Century Is Misunderstood

To finish off this series on the centuries from shock to peace, I will say that the 13th century contrasts the 19th century quite well. I describe the 19th century as a child era, and I believe the 13th century was also a childish century, but in the exact opposite way. The 19th century had the child at the helm, unrestricted creativity which included whatever dark, disgusting, or completely outlandish thing that could be brought about by the child's imagination. The 19th century was the atomized child left to their own devices, sometimes quite literally.

The 13th century was the opposite. It was the child kept in check. The child was part of something larger than themselves. And while creativity and individuality were still present, they were more limited and censored. As a result, this era seems much more unified and wholesome than the 19th century does, but can also seem less exciting and more stifling. I consider the 13th century to be the “family era”. 

The parallels between the 19th century and the 13th century come largely from the equilibrium between masculinity and femininity. While six of the eight centuries in this cycle lean one way or the other, the 13th century and the 19th century are the only ones that are more neutral in tone as they have a greater balance between the sexes. But despite this, they are still transitionary phases. I mentioned that the 19th century, after centuries of masculine energy, sought some feminine energy as a counterbalance. It just so happens to be that the 13th century after centuries of feminine energy, sought some masculine energy as a counterbalance. 

In the 13th century, the masculine aesthetic was defined by the intersection of martial duty, religious piety, and the birth of courtly chivalry. Unlike later medieval periods that emphasized tight, hyper-exaggerated shapes, the 13th-century masculine ideal focused on a vertical, draped, and balanced silhouette that seamlessly transitioned from the battlefield to the royal court. 

The ultimate 13th-century masculine icon was the gallantly equipped knight. Men wore a long, flowing over-tunic called a surcoat over their heavy chainmail (and in civilian life, over their regular tunics). Slit up the front for horse riding, it created a dramatic, billowing effect when moving. The iconic "bucket" style helmet emerged in this century. It was completely flat-topped or slightly domed, projecting an imposing, architectural, and faceless martial presence. Around 1250, knights began fastening flat, rectangular shoulder shields called ailettes to their armor. Primarily popular in France and England, these panels displayed vibrant heraldry, broadening the wearer's upper stance. 

The literature of the High Middle Ages—such as accounts written during the Crusades—laid out a very specific physical standard for "virility”. According to contemporary descriptions of celebrated figures like Richard the Lionheart, the ideal man was expected to be tall, with long, straight legs and suppleness optimized for combat. Shorter stockings were tied to linen undergarments (braies), highlighting shapely calves. Unlike the rugged, bearded Vikings of previous centuries, the 13th-century courtly elite favored a youthful appearance. Men typically wore their hair in full, meticulously styled curls framing the face, paired with clean-shaven jaws or neatly trimmed, minimal facial hair. As illustrated by mystics like Hildegard von Bingen, the male body was viewed as a mirror of divine architecture. Real beauty was measured not by modern hyper-muscularity, but by symbolism, posture, and moral discipline. Under the influence of troubadour culture, a masculine man had to be capable of composing poetry, debating philosophy, and executing refined manners to court noble ladies.

To use examples of the transition to the masculine, I will use three examples. The first one is “The Romance of the Rose”. The Romance of the Rose is a 13th century French allegorical poem about courtly love, written in two parts: the first by Guillaume de Lorris and the continuation by Jean de Meun. The poem is especially interesting if you read it through the idea of “redeeming the masculine”—that is, the attempt to make masculine desire, authority, and behavior worthy of love rather than simply aggressive or self-serving.

The poem is framed as a dream experienced by a young male narrator, the Lover. He enters a garden and sees a beautiful rose enclosed within a garden of allegorical figures. The rose becomes the object of his desire. The Lover's pursuit of the Rose follows the conventions of courtly love. He encounters personified virtues, emotions, and social forces—including Reason, Shame, Fear, Pity, Venus, and Love—that either encourage or obstruct his pursuit. In Guillaume de Lorris's section, the Lover's desire is presented as a process of education and refinement. He must learn how to behave as a courtly lover: he has to be humble, patient, courteous, discreet, and capable of suffering for his beloved. 

Jean de Meun's much longer continuation changes the tone dramatically. The poem becomes a sprawling debate about love, marriage, women, men, sexuality, social hierarchy, money, religion, and human nature. Characters such as Reason, Genius, and Nature offer competing theories about sexual desire and human behavior. The Rose therefore remains both a woman/object of desire and an allegorical representation of the Lover's goal. Whether the Lover ultimately achieves a morally or emotionally satisfying form of love is deliberately complicated.

The phrase can be used to describe one of the poem's central tensions: what would it take for masculine desire to become something other than possession? The medieval male lover begins with a fundamentally unequal position. He sees the Rose, wants her, and structures his experience around obtaining her. That desire can easily become aggression, entitlement, or domination. But the courtly-love framework attempts to discipline that desire. 

The Lover has to learn humility instead of entitlement, self-control instead of immediate gratification, service instead of domination, courtesy instead of crude aggression, patience instead of coercion, and vulnerability instead of purely masculine self-sufficiency. In that sense, courtly love can be understood as a project of redeeming masculinity through discipline. The man becomes worthy of love by learning not simply how to get the woman, but how to transform himself in relation to her. 

Yet the poem never completely solves the problem. This is important. The Romance of the Rose doesn't simply say, “Good men are respectful and therefore everything is fine.” This is the biggest difference between peace and denial, denial just assumes if you do things, it’ll solve all problems. Whereas peace believes that nothing will solve all the world's problems, but it’ll help with some of yours. Jean de Meun's continuation repeatedly exposes the contradictions within masculine desire. The Lover may learn humility, but he still wants possession. He may idealize the woman, but idealization can itself reduce her to an object. 

So there is a tension where courtly love civilizes masculine desire without necessarily eliminating its desire for control. That's one reason the poem is so useful for thinking about gender. One of the most interesting ways to read Guillaume's section is as a training narrative for masculinity. The Lover begins relatively inexperienced. Love teaches him a code of behavior. You notice this in a lot of peace era stories - one learns that simply wanting something doesn't give you the right to have it. This makes the poem almost a masculine Bildungsroman: the male protagonist has to become a particular kind of man.

The beloved woman is paradoxically the instrument of that education. The Rose's resistance forces the Lover to confront his own impulses. Desire becomes productive because it is frustrated. That is a major feature of peace: the distance between lover and beloved creates an environment in which one can be transformed. 

Another major theme in the peace era was the conflict between reason and love. Reason tries to teach the Lover to control his passions. Love, meanwhile, encourages him to pursue the Rose. This conflict can be connected directly to “redeeming the masculine.” The ideal man isn't necessarily the man who doesn't desire. Rather, the poem asks whether desire can be brought under ethical and intellectual discipline. One therefore has to negotiate between desire, discipline, self-knowledge, and potentially ethical love. The project of “redeeming the masculine” emerges through the transformation of male desire: the Lover must learn humility, restraint, courtesy, and vulnerability in order to become worthy of love. 

What’s even more interesting is that by the end of The Romance of the Rose, the Lover finally reaches the Rose and plucks it. The Rose represents the beloved woman—and, at the most immediate level, sexual fulfillment. After a long struggle against obstacles such as Reason, Shame, and Fear, the Lover finally achieves his desire. The story ends on a more somber note, it is sad that the rose was plucked, as if the rose itself is an embodiment of that feminine era that now has to go away for a while.

The 16th century had a theme of the absence of the mother. The masculine and feminine constantly usurp one another in some sort of cosmic ebb and flow. The plucking of the Rose exposes the limits of the Lover's moral education: although courtly love has taught him to discipline his masculine desire and the rose represents the feminine finally being plucked or gone. 

Another example of this “redeeming the masculine” is the story of Robin Hood. In the stories Prince John and the Sheriff of Nottingham and the other male authority figures in these stories are hard asses and complete jerks to Robin Hood and any other misfit.

However, this legend showcases the redeeming qualities of the misfits by the end. This theme of looking positively towards the misfit, whether that be Robin Hood, Little John, or all the merry men, I believe is a reaction to the 12th century acceptance era, which had a very serious tone and a “that's just the way life is” outlook on life. The 12th century was rather conformist and wanted everyone to stay in their lane. The 13th century peace era, by contrast, welcomed in some frivolity and embraced the silly.

The stories interestingly often have John’s brother Richard come back from crusade and pardon Robin Hood and his men. In proper peace era fashion, even the outlaw becomes an ally. As the line from Game of Thrones goes, "We make peace with our enemies, not our friends." The peace era is all about extending an olive branch towards the other which is another interesting connection to the bargaining phase as that is also often about a momentary truce between two parties that don't like each other. However, I suppose the main difference is that the peace stage is a sincere offer of peace whereas the bargaining stage is more like a temporary ceasefire. Oftentimes the peace agreed upon in the bargaining is in bad faith. Either one's hand is forced and they make the deal against their will. Or perhaps they are being sneaky and intend to betray and gain the upper hand later on.

Finally, for a third example of the redemption of the masculine, I'd like to take a look at The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri. While not technically from the 13th century, I think it fits with the theme of the peace era rather well, although it does have some influence from that 14th century death era as well. Mostly notably due to it taking place in the entire afterlife and making death seem inevitable. 

One thing that is notable about the first part, Inferno, is that it shows Dante alone in the forest, he is completely atomized and alone in the forest. We don’t know about his life before the woods. This is to set up how alone and atomized Dante is and how he needs to be part of something larger than himself. He meets Virgil who tells him he's been sent by Beatrice to take Dante across a journey through the afterlife. 

First, Dante and Virgil arrive in Hell. Hell is depicted as completely unproductive and stagnant. Every circle in Hell involves souls being trapped or stuck forever, including physically as people are unable to move. Keep that in mind, about productivity, when the story shows the rest of the afterlife. Dante and Virgil eventually reach the lowest point in the cycle, the last circle of Hell. Interestingly the final circle is for treason, and this could represent how the testing era is about willing to do what you have to do, even if it involves backstabbing or believing in something that goes against the values of your family or even country or even yourself. And the final circle shows everything as completely frozen. Everything and everyone is completely stagnant. 

After Dante and Virgil leave Hell, they enter Purgatory. It's interesting how Inferno is the only one that's referenced and adapted, not Purgatory or Heaven. This is especially true for the 20th and 21st centuries. The 20th and 21st centuries were unproductive eras so of course they'd probably most likely to feature the least productive part of the afterlife. 

In Purgatorio, Dante and Virgil finally enter Purgatory. Interestingly, Purgatory is depicted as very productive. People in the circles of Purgatory actually have to move and do things, and it's done so they can redeem themselves and go to heaven. Unlike Hell, the actions in Purgatory actually yield tangible results. 

Finally, Dante gets to go to Heaven and Virgil can't come with him because he is a pagan, and he is guided by Beatrice. What's fascinating about Paradiso is that it is neither stagnant like Hell nor is it endlessly productive, it is not indulgent and escapist. It is just filled with people who have simply abstained from all desires and live in relative peace. And later Beatrice drops Dante off at St. Bernard and she flies off, once again showing Beatrice herself as the feminine era that now has to go away for a while. 

St. Bernard takes Dante to meet God and Dante meets him and his soul is aligned by God's love. 

But moving on, to contrast the 13th century and the 19th century and their contrasting transition eras, you could say that the lone child longs for the mother for support, whereas the united family longs for the father to do his duty, which is why these eras bring about opposite outcomes. I'm sure many may say that this point of view is uncharitable to the feminine with how the transition to the masculine creates an era that brings about productive outcomes whereas the transition to the feminine brings about disaster and disharmony. But I think this all depends on your own point of view, as the lone child of the 19th century was an inevitable conclusion after the masculine era. So in a way you could blame the carelessness of the masculine phase as being what ultimately leads to the following chaos. But perhaps that would be just as uncharitable.

Personally, I believe there is a yin and yang to all of this. And I think it's petty and nearsighted to blame either masculinity or femininity for all the world's ills. And I think it's far too easy to fall into the trap of all this gender war nonsense you see exacerbated on social media. But at the end of the day, masculinity and femininity ultimately feed into each other. The pendulum swings back and forth.

I'd also like to deconstruct an idea that I myself may have put forth, that peace is the ultimate end goal. I'm not so sure that this is the correct way to go about things. This century process being cyclical means that the peace era will leave just as fast as it arrived. It is not a permanent end state. And ironically, viewing peace as an end actually prevents you from feeling the bliss of peace itself and trying to make it last forever is what causes backlash against the peace. As peace is content with its ephemeral nature. I mentioned that the bargaining 19th century was about living in the moment and that is what I admire about it. The 13th century peace era is similar in that it also lives in the moment. However, there is a major difference. Bargaining wants to hold on to that moment and make it last. Whereas peace embraces the inevitable change.

Another way to look at it is that bargaining is desire incarnate, whereas peace is the absence of desire. As someone whose personal disposition is to desire due to my perhaps Nietzschean or Faustian nature, I personally find bargaining far more alluring. But if one's disposition is more Buddhist or Christian in nature, they will likely find peace more appealing as they either lack or repress the desire that I embrace. 

And a lot of Medieval scholars seem to uphold the 13th century as some sort of golden age they wish they could return to, at least before the “plague” came along and ruined everything. According to them, it's also interesting that those same people who put the 13th century on a pedestal also seem to despise the 9th and view it as a very pagan and decadent time. I have of

course described the 9th century as a former bargaining period. So that's probably why they hate it. It is the antithesis of the peace era. 

I know that so far I haven't really touched on the family theme of the 13th century all that much, but that's because I think it's pretty self-explanatory and I don't have that much to say on it. It's just a wholesome era of family values. And because it's the one stage of grief that's not really grieving, there isn't a lot of suffering or drama in the media of this phase. As a result, I just find 13th century fiction a little dry and a little boring for my taste generally speaking. 

People may instinctually wish to retort to this by saying that the late 13th century was the most

exciting time in history with the whole First War of Scottish Independence and the explosion of plague and famine and whatnot. But I think all that exciting stuff towards the end of the century was actually the beginning of the death era. So yeah, there was stuff happening in the 13th century, but this isn't exactly an example of peace media. 

And much like how the 19th century clung on to some of the edgy aesthetics of the 18th century, I believe that the 14th century death era was still clinging on to the peace aesthetic of the 13th century. If the 13th century thematically was this easygoing time of playful relaxation, the 14th to 16th centuries was a dionian frenzy of explosive action. The masculine energy was back. And this itself is what interrupts the peace of the 13th century. 

But perhaps all of these cycles of culture are just like the seasons.  Maybe summer is your favorite season, but someone going around calling themselves a summerist and advocating for a year-long summer would probably seem a little delusional to you. And at the same time, perhaps you hate winter, but someone going around claiming the seasons will not change and saying that it will be winter forever nonstop would probably also seem a little delusional to you.

What if we are all doing the same thing? What if we are trying to apply human agency to something far beyond our will?  Do people just decide to change everything in society deliberately and organically? No, that's quite unlikely.  And I think even blaming politicians or those in power for orchestrating these events is still putting far too much human agency onto the situation. These people are still just people and even they are subject to forces far beyond their knowledge and control. 

The seasons are actually a good parallel for this cycle. The 17th century denial is summer, the high point that everyone seems to love and is popular with most people. The 19th century bargaining is autumn, which is the most beautiful time of year, but also when something gloomy is just around the corner. Again to quote Game of Thrones, “Winter is coming”. The 21st century testing, and formerly the 11th century as well, are the winter, the coldest and the harshest point in the cycle. The 13th century peace then would be spring. 

This comparison illustrates why eras like the Renaissance and the Industrial Era tend to be viewed more positively than other eras. It also shows the productivity angle.  Summer is the most productive season. Everything is growing and thriving. Whereas winter is a season of stagnation. Everything is quite literally frozen.

You see this difference in generations as well. People who grew up in the spring and the summer tend to be more productive people. Whereas people who grew up in the autumn and winter, not so much. And people like to attribute this lack of productivity on the part of people to individual failing. That people are just lazy, make bad choices, and just generally suck at life. 

But does that argument really hold any water when it's on such a massive scale? The way I see it, we just simply live in unproductive times. Trying to be productive in the 21st century is like fighting against gravity. It's like wearing a bikini during a blizzard convinced that it would be just like having fun at the beach. 

Likewise, a lot of resentful younger people act as if past generations consciously chose to just ruin the future, which is a bit disingenuous, too. Everyone likes to believe they have individual agency so they can point the blame at others for their supposed deliberate bad choices and also not feel so powerless themselves. But what if we're all just simply victims of bad weather?  And what if all our attempts to change this are just an elaborate rain dance that in reality does nothing at all?

To come to terms with the possibility of this is to truly be at peace. The 13th century was an era of non-grief when the stories and art of the time portrayed the embrace of the silly and the light-hearted. It enjoyed the moment like the 19th century, but did not try to hold on to that moment forever. The 13th century was content to let that go and not letting go in despair like the depression phase or complete resignation like acceptance. Peace is utterly indifferent to this letting go. It does not hold a negative attitude about it. And this complete absence of desire is why no individual member of this metaphorical family is at the helm in this stage. It is the family era because it is neither masculine nor feminine. Neither old nor young. Everyone just floats along. No one member is preferenced over another. If the bargaining stage is about giving the child what they want, then the peace era is about giving the child what they need.

I mentioned before that the 16th century grandfather era or the holy ghost was the animating spirit of productivity and the foundation of our entire current culture as if the populace had become possessed and started acting purely on impulse. I believe that the utter indifference and lack of desire of the peace mindset ultimately leaves one open to such a possession.  Which is why shock ultimately follows peace and peace can never last. And the spirit of shock is what we see in portrayals of the Renaissance of the late 15th and 16th centuries. Rather than a movement of peace itself, it is actually what inevitably follows peace.

We live in the rear view mirror as Marshall McLuhan would say, and what we tend to see as the present is actually what happened 100 years ago. Which is why I get a lot of comments saying I am wrong about the 20th century being the Depression era and the Depression era is right now. Everyone who says this has argued that the depression is actually right now. No, we are just finally catching up with the past. In the 21st century, we can finally see the 20th century in the rear view mirror. Whereas in the actual 20th century, people were still seeing the 19th century in the mirror and in the 19th century people were still seeing the 18th century in the mirror.  And some older people were even further removed and still insist on seeing the 17th century in the mirror.

Very few actually see the present for what it really is except the artist as they can actively reflect the current moment precisely. Works of entertainment are perhaps more accurate portrayals of various moments in time than the actual lived experience and faulty memory of those who lived through those times.  A movie or a piece of music is a time capsule that never changes with the times.  Whereas people are subject to bias that may cloud their assessment of both past and current decades and even future decades. I am now experiencing peace myself as I am no longer burdened by the desire of life. It is now finally complete.