A CRUSADE AGAINST CHRISTIANS
Heresy in the Middle Ages differed in some respects from the heresy of
the earlier years of Christianity. It was less confined to scholars and
theologians; it originated among the people, who--poor, oppressed, and
helpless--turned in vain to the Church for assistance. And, instead of
being concerned with subtle points of theology, it was inspired mainly
by the iniquities of the ecclesiastical order. Simple men felt, by a
wholesome instinct, that an immoral life was inconsistent with the
function of leading them in the way of righteousness, and some of these
simple men began to inquire whether everything taught by the priesthood
was really true. This was one of the reasons why the lives of heretics
were generally purer than the lives of their oppressors. The mighty of
this world persecuted the heretic; the secular courts were severe, the
ecclesiastical tribunals were severer still; the main stream of public
opinion ran strongly against all innovation in religion. It is not,
therefore, to be supposed that the heretic became a voluntary outcast
from a love of danger, or for the sake of enjoying the pleasures of sin
for a season. The highest authorities in the Church admitted that heresy
was caused, though not justified, by the scandalous lives of her
ministers. When slaying heretics the Church should have remembered that
the chief culprit was herself.
Sharp controversies as to the efficacy of the Mass arose about the
middle of the eleventh century, and on this subject the Church showed
some vacillation. Its official doctrine was that the virtue of the
sacrament did not depend upon that of the ministrant. The contrary was,
however, asserted by Pope Nicholas II, and the Synod of Rome adopted a
canon forbidding any one to be present at a mass celebrated by a priest
known to be of loose morals. Gregory VII’s revival of this canon
produced great confusion, for virtuous priests were rare exceptions.
Against the official views the heretics consistently protested, but
hundreds of years elapsed before the professions and the conduct of the
clergy were brought into something like agreement.
In the South of France heresy, mainly of a Manichean or dualistic type,
took firm hold, probably because the great progress which had there been
made in civilization favoured independence of thought and a certain
indifference to the claims of sacerdotalism. St. Bernard (1060-1153)
may, like some other writers, have exaggerated the evil condition of the
Church, but it must have been under a cloud when he could write thus of
the Toulouse district: “The churches are without people, the people
without priests, the priests without the reverence due to them, and
Christians without Christ.... Men die in their sins, and their souls are
hurried to the dread tribunal neither reconciled by penance nor
fortified by the Holy Communion. The little ones of Christ are debarred
from life, since baptism is denied them. The voice of a single heretic
silences all those Apostolic and prophetic voices which have united in
calling all the nations into the Church of Christ.”[17] Heretics
appeared, founded sects, flourished for a time, and were ultimately
silenced. Henry of Lausanne, Arnold of Brescia, and the far more
influential Peter Waldo of Lyons, from whom the famous sect of
Waldenses took its rise, asserted that the power of absolution belonged
alone to good men, that the ministrations of sinful priests were
invalid, that the sacrament of penance was not the prerogative of the
clergy. They rejected indulgences and transubstantiation, forbade all
oaths and all means of self-defence, and held that every lie was a
mortal sin. These principles would have reduced the Church to poverty
and purity, both equally unwelcome. Most of the heretical sects held
such strict views of sexual relationships that there is probably very
little foundation for the charges of immorality which were freely
brought against them. In an extremely loose age they doubtless fell
something short of the moral ideal, but they were at least considerably
nearer to it than their persecutors. In the following terms an
Inquisitor testifies to their good conduct: “Heretics are recognizable
by their customs and speech, for they are modest and well-regulated.
They take no pride in their garments, which are neither costly nor vile.
They do not engage in trade, so as to avoid lies and oaths and frauds,
but live by their labour as mechanics--their teachers are cobblers. They
do not accumulate wealth, but are content with necessaries. They are
just, and temperate in meat and drink. They do not frequent taverns, or
dances, or other vanities. They restrain themselves from anger. They are
always at work; they teach and learn, and consequently pray but
little.”[18] This remarkable purity of life brought upon these poor
people the full fury of persecution. Virtue was an indication of heresy,
and one priest whose exhortations had weaned women from vain adornments
ran a serious risk of being burnt as a heretic.
The system of dualism known as Manichæism, a peculiar mixture of
Oriental and Christian elements, became popular through the influence of
the Cathari (“the pure”), who, even according to the testimony of their
enemy St. Bernard, lived a good and harmless life. The Church, however,
recognized no religion as true but its own, and the rapid growth of
Catharism stirred it to action of the most rigorous kind. All over
Europe the heretics were becoming numerous and influential, but it was
in the South of France, especially in the territories of the Counts of
Toulouse, that the smouldering embers burst into flame.
In 1178 Pope Alexander III proclaimed the first crusade against
Christians, which resulted in failure. Early in the thirteenth century
matters came to a climax. In an address to the Lateran Council Innocent
III had plainly asserted that “the corruption of the people has its
chief source in the clergy”; but, fearless as he was, he hesitated to
attempt the cleansing of the Augean stable, and adopted the simpler
method of trying to rid Christendom of the heretics who troubled its
serenity. Despite their active missionary labours, they lived with their
orthodox neighbours in a tolerant and friendly spirit, of which the
Church bitterly disapproved as being fatal to its exclusive claims.
Papal emissaries succeeded in getting the civil authorities, and
afterwards the Count of Toulouse, to promise the expulsion of heretics;
but the promises remained usually a dead letter, and the strength of the
heretics was shown by the fact that the tables were turned on the Bishop
of Carcassonne, who was expelled from the city for reprimanding his
heretical flock. A threatened crusade and vigorous mission work having
also failed, Count Raymond VI of Toulouse, one of the most powerful
princes in Europe, was excommunicated. He made peace, and the curse was
lifted; but he failed to see the importance of the Papal point of view,
and obeyed it as little as possible. Unfortunately, the murder, in
January, 1208, of the Papal Legate, Peter of Castlenau, by a gentleman
of Raymond’s court, gave the Pope a pretext for sterner action. Raymond
was accused of being party to the crime (he was probably innocent), and
was excommunicated with greater solemnity than before. He submitted,
and, after being soundly flogged, was absolved.
This murder formed one of the principal reasons for the great crusade
which the Church was determined to go on with, though the Count’s
submission had deprived it of the official excuse. The passions of the
bigoted and the mercenary were successfully appealed to, and the most
appalling campaign in history was begun under the furious stimulation of
the Papal Legates. It was proposed to the inhabitants of Bezier that if
the chief heretics were expelled or given up the town would be spared.
To the special honour of the Catholic inhabitants, who lived in entire
peace with their heretical fellow townsmen, the two parties made common
cause and refused the terms, whereupon the town was stormed in July,
1209, and about 20,000 of the people massacred. In August Carcassonne, a
fortress of immense strength, was surrendered to the crusading army
commanded by the elder Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester. By the end
of the autumn 500 towns and castles had been wrested from the grasp of
the heretics; and, considering their task almost completed, several of
the leaders withdrew, and the army was reduced to a small force obliged
to maintain itself by partizan fighting.
In the spring de Montfort was reinforced and captured many more towns,
the inhabitants being offered the choice of submission to Rome or the
stake. Hundreds of obscure enthusiasts embraced the heroic alternative,
often cheerfully leaping into the flames of their own accord. At Lavaur
in May, 1211, as many as 400 heretics are said to have been burnt in one
vast pyre, and the moral sensibilities of the age may be estimated from
the statement that this dreadful spectacle caused great rejoicing among
the Crusaders. The slackness of Count Raymond in persecuting his
subjects was not pleasing to the Church, and he was summoned to purge
himself from the suspicion of favouring heresy, and to submit
unreservedly to the Pope’s demands. He presented himself in the Church
of St. Gilles, Toulouse, with his guarantees in the confident hope of
full reconciliation, and was then told that, having neglected to fulfil
his promises to extirpate heresy, his submission could not be received.
The facts that the promises had been forced from him, and that it was
beyond his power to give them full effect, were not taken into account.
Raymond’s bitter tears, instead of arousing pity, were regarded as
further proof of his depravity, and renewed abasement led only to the
infliction of harsher terms. His capital city, Toulouse, was besieged in
1211, but offered so vigorous a resistance that the Crusaders received a
serious check, and a fresh excommunication was hurled at the unfortunate
Raymond for “persecuting” the soldiers of the Cross. The military
abilities of de Montfort, however, won so many successes as to arouse
the alarm of Pedro, King of Aragon; and the Pope, remembering that
Raymond had never been tried and condemned, began to suspect that there
might, after all, be some injustice in depriving him of nearly the whole
of his territory. His promise that the Count (who was an independent
Prince) should receive a fair trial was broken, in consequence of
innumerable letters written by Bishops enlarging on the benefits which
had already resulted from the Crusade, and urging its vigorous
prosecution. Pedro at length declared war against de Montfort, advanced
to the support of Raymond and his friends, and laid siege to Muret, ten
miles from Toulouse. Here a battle took place, with disastrous results
to the better cause. Pedro’s army was utterly routed, with a loss of
from 15,000 to 20,000 men, that of de Montfort’s forces being only
twenty. If these figures are correct, this must have been one of the
most remarkable victories on record. The Crusaders saw in their triumph
a visible mark of God’s approval of their cause, the prosperity of which
increased daily. Fresh hordes of Crusaders, greedy for plunder, swarmed
into the fair provinces of the south; their conquest was completed in
1213; Raymond was deposed, and de Montfort made lord of the land, the
territories in the Rhône district of South Eastern France being held by
the Church for the benefit of the younger Raymond. The youth, then only
eighteen years of age, went thither in 1216, and was received with
acclamations. All the south of France rose in revolt, and while de
Montfort was engaged in successfully subduing it he was suddenly
recalled West by tidings that Toulouse was again in rebellion. He began
the second siege with his usual vigour, but one summer day in 1218 was
killed by a stone hurled from a mangonel worked, it is said, by women.
His conquests went to pieces in the hands of his incapable son Amauri,
who, six years after his father’s death, assigned all his rights to the
King of France, and Raymond was confronted with another powerful enemy.
With the Pope he made terms that amounted to complete submission. Even
this did not seem to the Church sufficient compensation for his lack of
zeal in the prosecution of heresy, and in 1226 another crusade on a
great scale was organized, ostensibly for religious, but still more for
political, reasons. King Louis VIII marched to the south with a large
and splendid army, and laid siege to Avignon. Surprised by the strength
of its resistance and ill provided with food, he was about to abandon
the siege when the city surrendered. Louis’s march on Toulouse was
broken off for reasons not fully known, and he retired from the
campaign, dying of sickness in November, 1226, when on his way home.
In the following year the war went on with varying fortunes, and towards
its close both sides were anxious to terminate a conflict which had
lasted for nearly twenty years. Two years later Raymond agreed to hard
and humiliating terms, which involved the loss of two-thirds of his
great dominions, their reversion to the King of France, and an oath to
persecute heresy to the utmost of his power--concessions wrung from him
by the distracted condition of his realm and of his unfortunate people.
The way was left open to the Church to reap the fruits of victory, and
the Inquisition was set to work among the people who for so long had
bidden it defiance.
_Religious Persecution._
To what extent the spirit of persecution is sanctioned by the New
Testament is not very easy to determine. Giving all due weight to its
gentler precepts, it is unhappily true that passages which reflect more
than a tinge of the temper of intolerance are to be found with some
frequency in the New Testament, and very many injunctions to extreme
severity in the Old. It was inevitable that in rude ages the latter
should exert a more potent influence on human conduct than the former,
because they harmonized more completely with the existing tendencies of
human nature.
Until Christianity became the State religion of the Roman Empire the
persecuting spirit wrought comparatively little harm. When the Church
was weak it perceived the blessings of toleration; when the Church grew
powerful it held toleration to be sinful. Even Constantine’s severe
edicts do not appear to have resulted in much actual persecution, the
few cases which occurred in the fourth century being looked upon as
horrifying novelties. After that, however, the systematic repression of
heretical opinions became general, and was warmly advocated by even the
holiest doctors of the Church. Chrysostom and Augustine taught that
heresy must be suppressed, but did not recommend the infliction of
death. Jerome heartily approved the heretic being made to suffer
corporal death in order to secure the eternal welfare of his soul, and
the harsh laws of Theodosius doubtless represented a public opinion
which was ever becoming more rigid and dangerous. It is somewhat curious
that outrages upon the heterodox were, until the twelfth century,
committed more frequently by “orthodox” mobs than by the ecclesiastical
authorities--a fact which does not indicate a very effective teaching
influence on the part of the Church. When, at Cologne in 1145, some
Cathari were burnt despite the opposition of the clergy, St. Bernard,
though arguing that they should have been won over by reason, quoted,
with some inconsistency, St. Paul’s dictum that the monarch was the
instrument of God’s wrath upon him that doeth evil.
The duty of the Church remained uncertain till about the close of the
twelfth century. The incalculable mischief caused by certain passages in
a book believed to be Divine is exemplified by the decree of Lucius III
in 1184, which ordered heretics to be delivered to the secular arm for
punishment, and expressly quoted John xv, 6, as authority for the
infliction of death by fire. It “commanded that all potentates should
take an oath before their bishops to enforce the ecclesiastical laws
against heresy fully and efficaciously. Any refusal or neglect was to be
punished by excommunication, deprivation of rank, and incapacity to
hold other station, while in the case of cities they were to be
segregated and debarred from all commerce with other places. The Church
thus undertook to coerce the sovereign to persecution. It would not
listen to mercy, it would not hear of expediency. The monarch held his
crown by the tenure of extirpating heresy, of seeing that the laws were
sharp and were pitilessly enforced. Any hesitation was visited with
excommunication, and if this proved inefficacious his dominions were
thrown open to the first hardy adventurer, whom the Church would supply
with an army for his overthrow.”[19]
Burning alive was first legalized in 1197, but it was the Albigensian
Crusade which afforded the earliest opportunity on a great scale for the
working out of the principle of religious persecution. This principle
was gradually embodied first in the canon law and then in the secular
law of Europe. The Inquisition codified and collated the various
enactments into a logical system, which, having behind it the united
authority of Church and State, became an irresistible engine of
terrorism and tyranny.[20] The suppression of heresy was, indeed, the
paramount duty of every Christian to the full extent of his power. No
matter who was the guilty party--father, son, husband, wife, or
sister--each must be denounced for concealing heresy; there could be no
excuse. “It was an absolute rule that faith was not to be kept with
heretics. As Innocent III emphatically phrased it, ‘According to the
canons, faith is not to be kept with him who keeps not faith with God.’
No oath of secrecy, therefore, was binding in the matter of heresy, for
if one is faithful to a heretic he is unfaithful to God.”[21]
With teaching of this sort drilled into an ignorant and obedient people,
it is not surprising that the popular prejudice against religious
innovations was strong enough to make life in general very unpleasant
for any one who had a taste for independent thought. In our own day all
Reformed Churches unite in disclaiming the idea of persecution, but the
Church of Rome still accepts as its greatest authority St. Thomas
Aquinas, whose language on the subject is clear. To him heresy was the
greatest of all sins, and its repression was more than defensible--it
was a duty. To corrupt the faith is a greater wickedness than to debase
the coinage, and if coiners are executed much more should heretics be.
In its great charity the Church pardons the repentant heretic once, or
perhaps twice; but if he sins again he is not to be released from the
penalty of death. This became the settled policy and the unalterable
practice of the Church. Even the dead heretic was not allowed Christian
burial, and, if he had been favoured with it by mistake, the body was
dug up and burned, and the grave remained for ever an accursed spot. In
times of ignorance this sort of thing paralyses people with terror, and
renders them an easy prey to the most absurd and debasing superstitions.
This universal dread of the unseen was ably and thoroughly exploited by
the Church of Christ.