CHAPTER IV.

THE ALBIGENSIAN CRUSADE—THE EARLY WAR.

The Albigensian Crusade lasted for twenty years, from the original

mobilization and march of the crusading army to the treaty which

finally ended hostilities. Naturally, for the greater part of this

long period there was no heavy fighting, the resources of the

opponents could not have supported any such continuous performance;

indeed throughout considerable intervals there seems to have been no

actual fighting at all. Nevertheless, for twenty years there were

hostile forces in being and a state of war existed.

The chief single episode of these twenty years is the astonishing

battle of Muret. It will be best, therefore, to consider separately,

first the earlier stages of the war, and second the campaign of Muret

and the subsequent events which that action made possible.

The early war falls naturally into two periods of unequal length.

The first, of only two months, comprises the original crusading

march with its overwhelming numbers, and the capture of Beziers

and Carcassonne. It ends with the appointment of Simon de Montfort

to govern the conquered territories, and the return of the great

majority of Crusaders to their homes. The second period lasts for

four years. Throughout this time de Montfort commands the Crusade,

maintains a government in Languedoc, and extends his power. This he

does, in spite of his slender resources, by virtue of high personal

ability. The period ends with the military intervention of King Pedro

of Aragon against the Crusade, and the general expectation that de

Montfort, with his greatly inferior forces, would be annihilated

forthwith.

All warfare, it is axiomatic, is merely a means to a political end.

One group attempts to impose its will upon another which asserts a

contrary will of its own and resists.

We have seen in the first chapter that the Middle Ages were

politically decentralized to a high degree, but that, on the other

hand, they had a strong sense of moral unity. Christendom was one

big family. Mediæval warfare was conditioned by these two political

factors. On account of decentralization in all its forms, the central

governments had only a slight power to compel the entire body of

their nominal subjects to move, irrespective of the individual wills

of those subjects with regard to the particular matter in dispute;

slight, that is, compared with the power of modern governments. On

account both of decentralization and also of the moral unity of

Christendom, wars between Christian men in the Middle Ages seldom

involved any great point of principle. There could be no opposition

between different and mutually exclusive types of civilization, as

between the French and German types to-day. Usually the dispute

concerned merely the opposing claims of two parties to ownership

of, and therefore feudal administration over, a patch of land.

Accordingly campaigns were apt to be short and inconclusive, and

warfare in general somewhat of an adventurous sport. It is true that

in the thirteenth century, a time still simple, war had not yet

taken on the unreality of aim and the elaborate trappings which are

the mark of the later Middle Ages. Already, however, it had become

something of a “gentleman’s game,” as were the dynastic wars of the

eighteenth century. Naturally, therefore, when a vital principle was

involved (as in the Crusade which we are about to study), operations

were always tending to relapse into the haphazard fashion fostered by

the contemporary idea of war as an affair in which nothing of great

moment to society as a whole was at stake.

As far as the technique of operations is concerned, the important

features are mail-clad cavalry and permanent fortification.

Axiomatically, infantry is worth more than cavalry in combats between

disciplined bodies of troops, but less than cavalry in raids and in

defence against raids, as in our own Indian wars, and in the Boer

War. Thus, in late Roman times and the Dark Ages, cavalry gradually

became preponderant over infantry, throughout the greater part

of Europe. The Franks who ended by setting up their chieftain as

successor to the Western Emperors, were an exception. It was not

until the great Viking harry of the ninth century, in which our

tradition almost went under, that the defenders of “Francia” began to

rely mainly upon cavalry. That arm alone was fast enough to overtake

the pirates whose first act on landing was to steal horses for

themselves. And it was in the repulse of the Viking, as we have seen,

that mediæval society crystallized.

Fortified points, as well as cavalry, take on additional importance

when the resources of one’s opponent seldom permit him to sit

down before them and maintain a blockade and regular siege for

a long time. A great deal of nonsense has been talked about the

“impregnability” of fortification before the discovery of gunpowder.

Any man acquainted with military things knows that, even irrespective

of blockade, any fortress must fall before besiegers in sufficient

numbers and possessed of armament and engineering skill equal to the

defenders, unless the defence can receive relief from outside. Thus

Philip Augustus took Chateau Gaillard, the strongest fortress of its

time, not by blockade but by regular siege.

On the other hand, it has been truly observed that mediæval

commanders of Philip’s type, and with his resources, were rare. The

value of fortification is that it gains time, and few men of the

Middle Ages had their troops well enough in hand to hold them long

at the monotonous drudgery of siege work—even if they had resources

sufficient to keep their force continuously in being at all. The

well-provisioned fortress could usually count on starving out its

besiegers before being starved out itself. Accordingly, if one party

to a quarrel felt himself to be weaker than his enemy, he was apt to

shut himself up promptly behind walls.

Furthermore, fortifications played a large part in mediæval warfare

because a fortress covering only a small area could resist a regular

siege as well as one of great extent. The importance of comparatively

small fortified points, that is of castles, sprang from the lack of

missile weapons capable of battering down stone walls. Obviously, as

the power, accuracy, and effective range of missile weapons increase,

the circumference of the first-class fortress must correspondingly

increase if it is to escape being overwhelmed by the converging fire

of the greater number of engines which the concentric position of the

besiegers enables them to bring to bear upon it. Conversely, when

the problem (as in the Middle Ages) is of close-in defence only, the

area to be defended matters little with reference to the siege work

involved. Whereas, on the other hand, the expense of construction

mounts as the circumference to be fortified increases. The resources

of the besiegers were sapping or battering the base of the walls; or

escalade from behind the cover of movable towers which could be set

up out of range, and then rolled up so as to let down drawbridges on

a level with the battlements.

Finally, the mediæval was no fool. I have made this point in my

first chapter; nevertheless, I repeat it here. We have seen that the

importance of cavalry and of fortification, especially of castles

(i.e., small highly-fortified points) resulted not from folly, but

from the conditions of the time. Social and political conditions,

again, were unfavorable to regular discipline, but no more so than in

our own American Revolution. Less so, in fact. It is true that there

was no regular study of war as an art. Nevertheless, our modern staff

colleges could not easily improve on the decisions of many mediæval

commanders. Even the lack of maps on which modern staff work is built

up did not necessarily blind the eye of the commander operating in

familiar or partially friendly country.

The men of the Middle Ages sometimes show the power of sizing up the

strategic essentials of a large theatre of war which they had never

seen, and had never even seen mapped. For instance, take the case of

Philip Augustus’s advice to his son with regard to the campaign of

1216 in England, that is that the Prince should first of all seize

the castle of Dover which commanded the English terminus to the

shortest possible sea route between England and France.

In the present instance, the mobilization point and the line of march

were intelligently chosen. It was clearly out of the question to

cross the “Massif Central,” the mountains of Auvergne, since armies

are compelled to seek the lines of geographical least resistance, and

must avoid, whenever possible, thinly peopled districts which cannot

keep them in food and shelter. The choice which faced the leaders of

the Crusade was whether to outflank the mountainous country by the

west or by the east.

It is only a guess, but I think that the decision to march by the

easterly route was mainly for political reasons. To march by the west

would have brought the crusading army close to territory still held

by John of England. That monarch was still firmly planted on both

sides of the lower Garonne, and had even held on to parts of Poitou

well to the north of that river. The much widowed Raymond of Toulouse

had married John’s sister Joan, who had since died. John had broken

with the Pope over the candidacy of Stephen Langton, later of Magna

Charta fame, for the archbishopric of Canterbury; and when Innocent

had replied by interdicting all England, John had been able to compel

most of the English clergy from enforcing the sentence. Since the

Crusade was obviously directed against Raymond, John might move.

It would be well, therefore, for the Crusaders not to give him an

opportunity of falling upon their flanks or rear while marching south

on the westward route.

Furthermore, there were geographical points to be considered.

Crusaders from Germany and the Slavonic lands east of the Adriatic

could more easily reach Lyons than, say, Limoges. Of course, most of

the Crusaders would be “French,” that is North French, but German and

Slavonic contingents were expected and did, in fact, turn up. East

of the mountains, the expedition would be in closer touch with Rome,

which might prove important in those days of slow couriers. Finally

Lyons, being a large town, would be more suitable for a mobilization

point than any smaller city further west, for cities draw armies like

magnets since only in cities is there enough surplus food and shelter

for large bodies of men. Lyons was, therefore, wisely chosen as the

concentration point, and the Rhône Valley as the line of march.

The main force which assembled at Lyons was extremely large. The

“Chanson de la Croisade” says twenty thousand knights and men-at-arms

plus two hundred thousand “villeins” on foot. Until recently it has

been fashionable for historians to disbelieve mediæval high numbers,

but fashions change. At any rate, a huge army assembled.

The weakness of the great force was that only forty days’ service

sufficed to fulfil the crusading vow. Hence the Crusade, if

prolonged, was bound to suffer (like so many American armies from

Washington’s to the Civil War) from the plague of short enlistments.

Besides the papal legates Arnaut Amalric and Milo, there were with

the army the Archbishops of Reims, Sens, and Rouen, the Bishops of

Autun, Clermont, Nevers, Bayeux, Lisieux, and Chartres, the Duke of

Burgundy, and the Counts of Nevers and St. Pol.

Just how the higher command was organized we do not know. Arnaut

Amalric seems to have been the strongest personality.

Inconspicuous, no doubt, among the lesser nobles was a Baron of the

Isle of France, also Earl of Leicester in England, Simon de Montfort

by name. Possibly people pointed him out as the only man in the

Fourth Crusade five years before to refuse to march against Zara,

so that when the Venetians persuaded the other Crusaders to pay for

their passage to the East by taking this Christian city he had left

the expedition and gone home. It seems quite clear, however, that at

the beginning he was of little authority in the Crusade.

In the last week of June the Crusaders moved south from Lyons,

keeping, apparently, to the east bank of the river where the main

Roman road ran.

In their march down the valley of the Rhône, with its glare and

white dust, they were met at Valence by Raymond of Toulouse himself.

Without hesitation, virtually on the morrow of his humiliating

penance at St. Gilles, with the welts of the monkish lash unhealed

on his back, this man, against whom the Crusade was principally

directed, himself took the Cross and joined the army which had

mustered to destroy him. Following out Innocent’s plan of “divide et

impera” (divide and conquer) he was permitted to join the army, which

continued on its march. Of course the Crusade was, officially, aimed

at the heretics of the south, and Raymond, with all his shiftiness,

was no heretic. Protestant historians have blamed the Churchmen in

charge of the policy of the Crusade for duplicity in this matter.

Of course, Raymond’s submission was accepted merely because it was

temporarily convenient for them not to have him for an open enemy,

although it was intended in the long run to ruin him altogether.

Still I confess that I cannot see that severe condemnation is

justified. He had played fast and loose too often.

Where the army crossed the Rhône we are not told; possibly at Orange

or Avignon, but more probably from Tarascon to Beaucaire, where the

main Roman crossing had been. Once across the Rhône, it took up again

the old road by Nismes into Spain which so many armies had followed

since Hannibal. At Montpellier, Raymond Roger Trencavel, Viscount

of Beziers and Carcassonne, and nephew to Raymond of Toulouse, came

to meet the chiefs of the Crusade, as his uncle had already come to

them at Valence, to make his peace. He was refused a hearing. It was

necessary that the great army should not disband without striking

terror into the heretical south and giving some, at least, of its

feudal lordships into the hands of proved and zealous Catholics.

Otherwise the effort involved in organizing the expedition would have

been wasted. Accordingly, for Raymond Roger to plead his own personal

orthodoxy and claim that only irresponsible subordinates had favoured

heresy, was not to the point. The “Chanson” says that Raymond of

Toulouse, with his usual shortsighted cunning, suggested an attack on

his nephew, with whom he had recently quarrelled. It would have been

so like the wretched Count of Toulouse to have done so, that we may

accept the story.

Raymond Roger hurried back from Montpellier to his own lands. Why

the Crusaders, after once having had him in their power, let him go

in peace to organize resistance against them is not clear. Perhaps

he had come in under some sort of guarantee like the modern flag of

truce, and was therefore protected by the highly developed military

courtesy of the day, which had grown up around the idea of knighthood.

At any rate, he was allowed to go, and made haste to put his two

chief towns, Beziers and Carcassonne, in a state of defence,

following the usual custom for the weaker party in a mediæval

conflict, i.e., to stand on the defensive behind walls. The Crusaders

sat down before Beziers on the 20th or 21st of July. They had

started from Lyons between the 24th and 30th of June, and had marched

close to 230 miles, making an average march of between 10 and 8¾

miles a day, a very creditable showing, and one which deserves to be

called to the attention of despisers of things mediæval. No doubt it

was desired to waste as little as possible of the short forty-day

enlistment before coming to grips with the heretics and their noble

patrons.

Before Beziers they were joined by two detachments, one from the

neighbourhood of Agen and the other from Auvergne. Each detachment

had won certain successes of its own on its way. The Agenais had held

to ransom two towns in the Aveyron Valley, Caussade and St. Antonin,

and were looked upon with some disfavour (mingled perhaps with envy)

by the other Crusaders, for having compounded with wickedness for a

money payment. One of the commanders of the Auvergnats bore the great

name of Turenne. His detachment had captured a strong castle and

burned the heretics found therein, the first but not the last time

that we shall hear of burning in connection with the Crusade.

Incidentally, the military aspect of this concentration deserves a

word. Lyons and Agen are 225 miles apart as the crow flies, with the

mountainous country of Auvergne between. Anyone with the slightest

military experience knows how hard it is to synchronize the movements

of distant columns so that they may meet at a common centre, even

with accurate maps and with all modern means of communication. In

this case, maps, telephone, telegraph, and all means of mechanical

rapid transit were lacking. Probably an advance concentration point

in the neighbourhood of Beziers was selected before any of the

columns commenced its march, and during the march communication was

kept up by an inter-weaving system of mounted couriers. The risk

of the comparatively weak centre and right columns being cut off

before they could join was practically nil because of the submission

of the Count of Toulouse, and because the entire countryside was

terror-stricken by fear of the Crusaders. Even so, the accurate

concentration of the three columns on Beziers was a feat of

considerable military skill.

Beziers, like most Mediterranean towns, had been an organized city

throughout the time of recorded history and before. Under mediæval

conditions it was easy to defend, being built on a hill. Heresy was

particularly strong there; we have seen in the last chapter how de

Castelnau, in 1205, had had to leave the place because of the fury

stirred up against his person and his defence of the faith. There

is even some reason for believing that the great majority of the

citizens were heretical, which was by no means the case in places

like Toulouse, where the utmost that the heretics dared do was to

hold their services at midnight. If there were only a few Catholics

within the walls, it is not surprising that the city refused to

surrender. Its bishop was with the Crusaders, and was allowed to

propose that the town should capitulate and hand over its heretics

for punishment in return for guarantees on the part of the Crusaders

for the persons and property of the Catholic citizens. This most fair

and liberal offer, from the crusading point of view, was rejected.

The besieged preferred to run the chances of war, probably not

because of any great solidarity between the heretical and Catholic

citizens (as certain modern Protestant historians do vainly talk),

but no doubt because the Catholics were few in numbers, and did not

control the decisions taken by the defence.

Having refused to treat, the inhabitants made a sortie across the

bridge over their river, killed a Crusader and threw his body into

the stream. The sortie was repulsed, and thereupon, according to

the account generally received, the camp followers of the Crusade

succeeded in rushing the defences. This surprising success was

achieved without orders, by divine inspiration as the legates piously

put it, while the chiefs of the Crusade were deliberating as to their

next step. Those in search of secular explanations may well suppose

that the assailants entered on the heels of the inhabitants driven

back in the repulse of the sortie before the gate could be closed,

or that defective dispositions of the defence had left some point

unguarded, or, finally, that a local panic among the men told off to

guard a particular tower or bit of wall had permitted the success of

the attack.

After the storming of the walls there took place in the crooked,

steeply sloping streets of the town, the massacre for which Beziers

and the Albigensian Crusade itself are principally remembered.

Priest and layman, woman and child seem to have suffered equally. Of

a great crowd which had taken sanctuary in the church of St. Mary

Magdalene, not one survived. With the sword came fire. Since, as

we have seen, the camp followers, probably mixed with the peasant

infantry, had been the first to enter, the knights began to drive

them out by force, for fear that they themselves would get no loot.

In their anger at this, the “villeins” set fire to the town, which

burned fiercely. The cathedral of St. Nazaire got so hot that the

stone vaulting cracked and fell in.

One admiring Cistercian contemporary makes Arnaut Amalric answer the

question as to whether the Catholic citizens should be spared with

the famous “Kill them all, for God will know His own,” for fear that

many heretics might escape by feigning orthodoxy. Certain modern

Catholic writers maintain that the lay chieftains of the Crusade had

determined beforehand upon a massacre, as a military measure, to

terrify the country. It would seem as if no such decision could have

been made by the lay nobles if the legates had opposed. Still the

point is not worth labouring, inasmuch as it has over and over again

on these occasions proved impossible to restrain armies much more

regularly and firmly disciplined than the Crusaders. The definite

reasons for doubting the completeness of the massacre are that the

church of St. Mary Magdalene, where the slaughter was heaviest, is so

small that not a third of the seven thousand supposed to have been

killed in it could possibly have packed into the place, and further,

that the corporate life of the town was so quickly reconstituted that

it was soon able to resist the Crusaders again.

At all events the impression caused by the massacre was tremendous.

As many as a hundred castles, some say, were abandoned by their

garrisons who fled to the mountains. The turbulent city of Narbonne

made haste to put itself on record by executing some heretics, by

contributing generously to the expenses of the Crusade, and by

allowing certain of its castles to be garrisoned by Crusaders as

pledges of good faith.

The next objective of the Crusade was the strong hill-fortress city

of Carcassonne. Thither Raymond Roger Trencavel had gone, leaving

Beziers before its investment. The massacre had strengthened his

determination to resist, and he had gone so far as to destroy all

mills near Carcassonne so as to hinder the provisioning of the

Crusaders should the expected siege be prolonged. The “soldiers of

Christ” appeared before the place on or about July 24, 1209, having

left Beziers the morning of the 22nd, the day after the massacre, and

covered the intervening distance of over fifty miles in forty-eight

hours, assuming that they went through Narbonne along the line of the

Roman road and the modern railway—another good piece of marching.

Carcassonne was a much tougher nut to crack than Beziers. The steep

escarpements of its hill were crowned by the remarkable circuit of

late Roman walls and towers which we see to-day. Only the château,

the outer town wall, the gates in the main wall, and a few large

towers easily distinguishable from the older work have been added

since 1209. The customary first assault to feel out the defence was

repulsed with loss, although the defenders also suffered. Another

attack carried the slightly fortified suburbs on the lower slopes of

the hill crowned by the city proper. This success was followed by a

pause of some weeks, during which siege engines of different sorts

were constructed.

Meanwhile diplomacy was active. King Peter of Aragon intervened

in the hope of making peace between the Crusaders and his vassal,

Trencavel. He was a picturesque person, a great lover of tournaments

and of women, what we should call to-day a sportsman; also a great

fighter against the Moslem. In language and culture Aragon was

then closer to Languedoc than Languedoc to Northern France. Peter,

himself a troubadour and a generous patron of troubadours, held the

Roussillon in his own right, and claimed from many of the southern

nobles a homage difficult, if not impossible, to reconcile with the

homage they owed to the far-off king “of Paris.” Like the other

southern leaders, who sooner or later opposed the Crusade, he was no

heretic. On the contrary, he delighted to be known as “the Catholic,”

and had in person done homage to the Pope for his kingdom, as

recently as 1204, and received in return the title of “First Standard

Bearer of the Church.” His ferocious legislation against heretics

in general has been noted in the last chapter. On the other hand,

Spanish religious enthusiasm, in the early Middle Ages, was generally

directed far more towards belabouring the infidel than towards

discussing doctrine. Politically, King Peter necessarily disliked

any extension of North French influence in the south, and could

not sit still and see his kinsman and vassal Trencavel destroyed

merely because he had not been active enough in putting down heresy.

Finally, he was now brother-in-law to Raymond of Toulouse, whose

fifth and last wife was his sister. While there was no question at

this time of his resisting the Crusade by arms, he made haste to

offer his services as peacemaker.

Accordingly Pedro appeared at the crusading camp followed by a

handsome suite, and made straight for Raymond’s tent. It was soon

arranged that the Aragonese should enter the town to treat with

Trencavel. The Crusaders’ terms were hard. The young viscount would

be permitted to leave accompanied by twelve knights, but the town

must surrender unconditionally. Therefore, although a prolonged

drouth was causing the besieged in their hill city to suffer from

want of water, terms were refused; and King Peter, whose dignity

seems to have been ruffled, went off in a rage against the crusading

leaders.

Another assault was delivered, but was repulsed with the aid of

boiling oil and melted lead. To console them for their failure, the

Crusaders could boast of an act of personal gallantry on the part

of de Montfort, who went back into the ditch after the repulse and

rescued a severely wounded Crusader.

Meanwhile time was working against the besieged through disease,

aggravated by the want of water. They had expected a bread shortage

in the crusading camp, the mills having been destroyed far and wide,

but the expectation was not realized, on account of aid given by

certain nearby castles whose owners were friendly to the Crusades.

Calling the legates sorcerers, and the Crusaders “devils in human

form who could live without food,” failed to help matters, so that at

last the besieged surrendered, and were allowed to leave the town in

peace, abandoning all their goods. Trencavel was held a prisoner.

The legates apologized by letter to the Pope for the comparative

mildness shown in not burning the place and massacring its people, as

at Beziers. The nobles, they said, could not control their troops in

the matter; which may well indicate that there had been a shortage of

food, so that the rank and file saw severe privations staring them in

the face if any more destruction was indulged in. As far as Trencavel

was concerned, from the crusading point of view, the aftermath of the

siege left nothing to be desired. The young viscount promptly died in

his prison. Dysentery was officially given as the cause of death, but

some suspected poison.

The month of August was now well along. Having accomplished the

prescribed forty days and won the crusading indulgences, the great

body of the army were preparing to return home gorged with spiritual

graces and not altogether lacking in temporal booty. The great force

was about to melt away (as Washington’s militia so often melted

away). But before the crusaders could return to their homes, they

had first to provide for the continuance of the campaign against

heresy. Someone must be set up in the viscounty of Beziers and

Carcassonne, left vacant by the death of Trencavel. Furthermore,

several other towns, including Albi and Pamiers, together with a

number of castles, had surrendered without fighting. These places

had been garrisoned, and the garrisons needed a central command.

The Duke of Burgundy, the Counts of Nevers, and of St. Pol, to whom

in turn the fief was offered, refused on the pretext that they had

lands enough already; but really, says the “Chanson de la Croisade,”

because they felt that they would dishonour themselves should they

accept the spoils of such a conquest. Perhaps the corpses of Beziers

were already beginning to stink in their nostrils, as they have stunk

in the nostrils of so many historians to this day. Furthermore,

dishonoured or not, the new viscount would be in an exposed position,

alone—a northerner, confronted by Raymond of Toulouse and Peter of

Aragon, with only the Church to back him. The Church had the feeble

Christians of Palestine to support; it had taken five years to launch

the Albigensian Crusade, and might take as long to organize another.

Altogether, there is nothing improbable in the story that only after

considerable pressure from the legates and much prayer on his own

part did de Montfort, the fourth candidate, finally accept the office.

With the acceptance by de Montfort of the viscounty of Beziers

and Carcassonne, and with the prompt disbandment of the original

crusading army, the first period of the Crusade comes to an end.

It had lasted little over the forty days required to win the

indulgences, and had been marked by the overwhelming superiority

in numbers of the crusading forces in the field. Throughout the

second period this superiority no longer exists, and for nine years

the military strength of the Crusade is found principally in the

qualities of its leader.

Simon de Montfort was one of those extraordinary men who deflect the

course of history. He was descended from Rollo the Norman, and took

his name from a small domain which he held in the Ile-de-France,

on the road from Dreux to Paris. Physically, he was blond, tall,

broad-shouldered, distinguished in appearance, and full of activity.

Naturally enough his character has been both praised and blamed

to the _n_th power. Peter de Vaux-Cernay praises his eloquence,

affability, faithfulness in friendship, his rigid chastity, and

rare modesty. Sismondi, in a famous passage, says of him: “an able

warrior, austere in his personal habits, fanatical in religion,

inflexible, cruel and treacherous, he combined all qualities

calculated to win the approval of a monk.” The important thing is

that de Montfort was, above all, a soldier, and a soldier of a type

not uncommon in French history, from the First Crusade to the wars

of the French Revolution, in that he was consumed with a sense

of the sacredness of his cause. As in so many determined men of

strict sexual morality, in him fairness was all but swallowed up in

fanaticism.

Such men are ill understood by men of English culture. It is a

commonplace, for example, that no character approaching the type is

to be found in the long gallery of Shakespearean portraits.

Meanwhile, although the student may smile at the fanatic, he will

do well to remember the greatness of the work done in the world by

fanatics ... those curious creatures. Directly, by keeping alive

crusading activity in Languedoc, de Montfort preserved the moral

unity of Christendom. That unity, rescued from the grave peril which

threatened it in the beginning of the thirteenth century, endured

until destroyed by the great sixteenth century centrifugal movement,

which is only just beginning to subside. Indirectly, he broke down

the Provençal culture, and established the French monarchy upon the

Mediterranean, thus establishing the permanent unity of the French

nation. But from de Montfort, as from all men, the future was hid.

Geographically, his position was strong. Of the two centres of his

power, Beziers and Carcassonne, Beziers preserved his communication

with the east, and, when war broke out, would help to cut off

Toulouse from the Rhône valley. Carcassonne was the capital strategic

point of the whole theatre of war, commanding as it did the main

Narbonne-Toulouse road from the Mediterranean to the Atlantic. All

considerable west-bound traffic headed for Toulouse coming from as

far north as Belfort or Dijon would naturally pass under the walls

of Carcassonne. To do otherwise meant either a vast circuit by

Limoges or a struggle with the mountains of Auvergne. Similarly,

the main route to Toulouse from the south was, and is, around the

Mediterranean end of the Pyrenees, north to Narbonne and west by

Carcassonne. A man starting from as far west as Saragossa, or in

winter from far to the west of that point, would normally travel

thus. An alternative route existed by way of the Cerdagne: once over

that pass a road led north-east to Perpignan, and north-west by the

Puymorens to Foix and Pamiers. Its grades were steep, but traffic

could use it well enough at most seasons of the year. De Montfort’s

garrison at Pamiers, one of the strongholds occupied during the panic

caused by the great crusading army, threatened the Cerdagne route.

Should he gain Foix, he could close it almost altogether. From Albi,

the fourth of his main strongholds, he could threaten Toulouse from

the north-east, and, perhaps, operate in the Agen and the Cahors

districts.

Nevertheless, as he considered his position, he had military and

political difficulties enough to appal a weaker man. His military

resources were small. The crusading army had scattered to their

homes, leaving him with a mere remnant of about four thousand

five-hundred effectives, mostly Burgundians and Germans. The

crusading leaders had sworn to come and help him at need, but none

knew better than he how slight was the chance of their willingness

or even of their power to do so. Indeed, one is forced to believe

that so hard-headed a zealot asked for the promise more to keep

their goodwill by emphasizing his humility and comparative weakness

than for any other reason. He could count only upon such crusaders

as might chance to come from time to time for a forty days’ tour of

duty, and, permanently, upon those whom he was able to pay or to

attach to himself by gifts of lands and castles. Moreover, he knew

that many of his new southern vassals were bitterly hostile to him,

and he himself had alienated moderate opinion by sailing very close

to the wind of dishonour in accepting this new viscounty, won by

massacre, and made vacant for him (as many believed and whispered) by

poison.

Of the forces in opposition, Raymond of Toulouse alone, with all

his weakness of will and his recent humiliation at St. Gilles, was

far stronger in material resources than de Montfort. King Pedro of

Aragon had been angered against the Crusaders at Carcassonne, all

the more because their temporary numbers made it impossible for him

to oppose them, and Pedro had much credit at Rome. He persisted in

refusing to accept de Montfort’s homage as Viscount of Carcassonne.

John of England who held Gascony, Guienne, and parts of Poitou was,

like Pedro of Aragon, brother-in-law and friend of Raymond. John had

broken with the Pope for reasons of his own, and was, nevertheless,

flourishing like the green bay tree. Otto of Brunswick who had

crushed all opposition throughout Germany and most of Italy, and was

about to be crowned emperor by Pope Innocent, was John’s favourite

nephew. For the present, Otto was strongly pro-papal, but as emperor

he would be strong enough to make trouble even for such a pope as

Innocent, should he so desire. Altogether, there was ample material

for the building up of alliances against the Crusade, and possibly

against the Papacy itself.

Against all this de Montfort had chiefly his own stout heart and

resourceful brain. His cause was bound up with that of legate

Arnaut Amalric, who was prepared to go to any lengths. Innocent

would be a tower of strength, provided only King Peter of Aragon did

not get at him, and Arnaut Amalric ought to be able to manage the

Pope. Finally, Philip Augustus not only stood with the Pope on most

political matters but also, as King of France, would be delighted to

see “Frenchmen” (that is North Frenchmen) established in southern

lordships. While Philip was cautious and would always rather wait for

fruit to fall in his lap than risk a fall by climbing the tree after

it, still he might move if he saw his way absolutely clear, and he

and Innocent were a redoubtable pair.

De Montfort made haste to put himself right with Rome, while

insisting, at the same time, on his need for aid. He wrote promptly

to Innocent announcing his election, and his purpose of rooting out

heresy altogether. He owed allegiance, he said, only to God and

the Pope. He promised payment of local Church tithes held up by

the heretics, and a hearth-tax throughout his lands for the direct

benefit of the Holy See. On the other hand, he somewhat illogically

emphasized his need of money, offering to the Pope with one hand

while begging from him with the other. Even his men-at-arms, he said,

were demanding double pay, and without heavy Church subsidies he

could not long maintain himself in Languedoc.

Innocent confirmed Montfort’s acts and titles, and enlarged upon

the crushing successes in fulsome letters to Otto of Brunswick

whom the Pope himself had just crowned Emperor. But, with a bad

situation in Palestine on his hands, his definite financial support

of the Albigensian Crusade left something to be desired. The most

fruitful of his measures was to empower de Montfort to confiscate

all valuables which heretics had deposited for safe keeping with

Churchmen throughout Languedoc.

Meanwhile, the Church’s activities were not confined to the Crusade.

St. Dominic with his little band of followers continued going up

and down Languedoc preaching. Early in September the future saint

met de Montfort, and a warm friendship sprang up between them. At

the same time Durand of Huesca and his “poor Catholics” were also

active. Innocent had to write and reassure the Languedocian bishops,

scandalized because Durand and his followers had clung to certain

outward marks of their former Waldensianism; at the same time warning

the poor Catholics to cooperate with the regular clergy and not

try to act independently of them. The Pope understood clearly that

orthodox propaganda must be carried on more strongly than ever, if

possible, in the existing state of war.

Meanwhile, far from the jealousies and violence of Languedoc, Francis

of Assisi was putting on his brown habit to mark himself the joyous

bridegroom of poverty.

During the martial summer of 1209, diplomacy had been silent. Now

she came out of cover and became active once more; indeed, for the

next four years the struggle is as much diplomatic as military. On

the one hand the fair-spoken, shifty, and unstable Count Raymond

and behind him (and more formidable) the chivalric sportsman King

Peter of Aragon sought to check, or at least to limit, the Crusade.

On the other, the legates, de Montfort, and the newly-imported,

irreconcilable, Languedocian clergy, all completely absorbed (as the

Pope was not) by the struggle, were out for the destruction of the

house of Toulouse.

To persuade the Pope was, of course, the object of both sides.

Innocent was determined to destroy heresy. In that he never

wavered. It was with reference to the implications of the job of

heresy-smashing that there was room for difference of opinion,

especially with regard to Count Raymond. Could a prince, himself

Catholic, be lawfully deposed for failing to suppress heresy? To the

men of the early thirteenth century it was by no means a foregone

conclusion that he could. We have seen even the zealous crusading

nobles shrinking from the “dishonour” of taking up the bloody titles

left vacant by the the death of Trencavel. Innocent was no more a

vulgar zealot than were these reluctant nobles. He had the high

sense of fairness often bred in upright natures by the study of

law, plus the exercise of power. Accordingly, his conscience was

troubled, and there were many who worked to keep it so. But, troubled

or not, the great Pope having set his hand to the plough was not

one to turn back. And, even should he desire to do so, the slowness

of communication was such as to make it almost impossible for him

effectually to control his agents.

Exactly how long it took for a despatch to pass between, say, St.

Gilles and Rome is not clear. By land, the distance was over six

hundred miles. By sea it was somewhat shorter, but a sea trip

involved waiting for a ship to start and might mean delay because of

storms or head-winds during the passage.

The first move in the complex diplomatic game was made by the

legates. Raymond of Toulouse had left the crusading army after the

capture of Carcassonne. Outwardly he kept on friendly terms with de

Montfort, and talked of marrying his son to de Montfort’s daughter.

But presently the legates demanded from the municipality of Toulouse

the surrender of a number of citizens accused of heresy, and at the

same time de Montfort wrote to Raymond threatening to attack in case

the demand was not met. The municipality protested vehemently that

theirs was a Catholic town, which had proved its orthodoxy by burning

heretics as long ago as the time of Count Raymond V and was still

doing so. They refused to surrender their accused fellow-citizens,

whereupon the legates promptly called a council at Avignon on

September 6, at which they re-excommunicated Raymond and laid his

lands under interdict. Municipality and Count severally appealed to

the Pope against this sentence. The legates, on their side, told

Raymond that the toilsome journey would profit him nothing. But when

he had made his will and departed in spite of them, they showed

uneasiness. Vehemently they insisted, in letters to Rome, that the

slippery count had failed to keep his former promises and would

be equally ready to make and break new ones. In particular, they

urged that the castles handed over by him as security for his good

behaviour were now forfeited because of his slackness in repressing

heresy, and that, for the same reason, the citizens of Avignon,

Nismes, and St. Gilles owed no more homage to Raymond but only to the

Church. Should the seven castles be restored to him, he would again

be in a position to resist. Finally, they urged that it would have

been better never to have undertaken the Crusade than to abandon it

with its work half-accomplished.

The foreboding of the legates was in some part justified. The Pope

pronounced himself satisfied with the Toulousains, and directed the

lifting of the interdict laid upon them. With Raymond, Innocent’s

play was more subtle. Outwardly he received him graciously and gave

him costly presents, a mantle, a ring, and a horse. The Count had

something of a case. He had surrendered the seven castles and agreed

to forfeit the three towns merely as guarantees for the execution

of the agreement made at St. Gilles the previous June. Some of the

clauses of this agreement he had already fulfilled; he produced a

list of churches whose former wrongs at his hands he had redressed.

Further, he urged that although never convicted of heresy and legate

murder, he had nevertheless submitted to heavy penance as if guilty,

and had been reconciled in due form. Innocent, therefore, gave

judgment that the castles and towns were not yet forfeit, “inasmuch

as it is not seemly that the Church should enrich itself with the

spoils of another.” Three months after receipt of the Pope’s letter

the legates were to hold a council to determine Raymond’s guilt.

There, if no one formally presented himself as his accuser, he was

to be admitted to canonical purgation; after which he was to be

publicly declared a good Catholic, and was to receive back the seven

castles. If he were accused, a hearing was to be held but no decision

taken. The record of the proceedings was to be forwarded to Rome,

where judgment would be pronounced. Because of Raymond’s personal

objections to Arnaut Amalric, a new papal agent, Theodisius by name,

without the title of legate, was appointed to arrange the details of

the Count’s reconciliation. The Crusaders were not to touch Raymond’s

lands. In appearance, the Pope seemed to come out strongly for

moderation.

Raymond’s diplomatic victory, however, was far more apparent than

real. Innocent secretly placed Theodisius altogether under the orders

of Arnaut Amalric, stating dryly that the new agent was to be merely

the bait by which Raymond was to be caught on the hook of Arnaut’s

sagacity. Meanwhile the seven castles, although not yet declared

forfeited, were to be held.

With regard to the reconciliation of Toulouse, Innocent had empowered

the legates to take guarantees and precautions. Accordingly Arnaut

Amalric set himself to humiliate the city, with the able but guarded

assistance of its bishop, the zealous Fulk. The ex-troubadour bishop

was fast increasing his influence. He had organized the more orthodox

Toulousains into a powerful brotherhood, in order to work against

heresy and usury. Finally, after much backing and filling, the city

contributed heavily in money to the Crusade and gave hostages to de

Montfort for future good behaviour.

Before the campaigning season of 1210 opened, de Montfort’s military

position had taken a turn for the worse. He and his remaining

crusaders were far too few to garrison effectively the multitude of

towns and castles which had submitted. Beziers, Carcassonne, Pamiers,

and it seems Albi were still held, but a number of smaller places,

such as Castres north of Carcassonne, and Lombez south-west of

Toulouse, together with many castles, returned openly to Catharism.

Furthermore, Raymond Roger Count of Foix broke with the crusaders.

This worthy and his family have already been touched upon in the last

chapter. As soon as the huge, terror-inspiring army of Crusaders was

disbanded, he returned to his normal policy of favouring heresy.

He was especially anxious to recover possession of his second best

stronghold of Pamiers; but a conference, arranged and presided over

by his suzerain Peter of Aragon, failed to come to any agreement with

the Crusaders.

During the year de Montfort took several castles in his new Viscounty

of Carcassonne, such as Bram about ten miles west of Carcassonne

itself on the road to Castelnaudary (where he put out the eyes of

a hundred of the garrison, leaving their commander one eye so that

he might act as their guide), Alairac to the south of Capendu about

ten miles east of Carcassonne overlooking the road to Narbonne,

and Puivert in the mountains west of Quillan. However, he had

force enough for two major operations, the capture of the strong

castles of Minerve (a hill fortress about seventeen miles north-west

of Narbonne, which looked down upon that city and threatened

communications between his two main bases of Beziers and Carcassonne)

and Termes in the south-east.

The first operation was not the act of the Crusaders alone, but was

accomplished with the aid of Narbonese militia. Mediæval cities were

normally willing to attack nearby strong castles which too often

served as bases for brigandage against their trade. In attacking

these eagles’ nests in the mountains of Languedoc, the chief task of

the besieger was to cut off the garrison from access to the brooks

or springs in the canyons below the ramparts. If this could be done,

then the besieged were compelled to depend upon cisterns and could

not long hold out. In this case, after a lively siege of about a

month, supplies and especially water in the castle ran short, so

that its garrison offered to surrender on terms. Its lord and the

Catholics within the walls were offered their lives. On strict orders

from Rome to fit such cases, even the heretical believers and Perfect

were to be spared, should they recant. The army murmured. The “very

Catholic” Robert Mauvoisin, de Montfort’s first lieutenant, expressed

the general disgust at accepting such forced conversions of wretches

whom they had taken up arms expressly to kill. “Calm yourself,” said

Arnaut Amalric, “the converts will be few.” In fact, only three out

of a hundred “Perfect” abjured. The rest did not even need to be

forced into the fire prepared for them, but cast themselves in. The

resistance had served to prove a certain solidarity between heretics

and Languedocian Catholics.

The siege of Termes lasted into November, and was finally decided by

want of water in the place.

Artillerymen should remember the name of Archdeacon William, de

Montfort’s chief of artillery (i.e., master of the catapults) during

the siege. This Parisian priest, a veteran of crusades against the

Moslem, was so fascinated with his machines that he afterwards

refused the fat bishopric of Beziers, “loving better to follow the

wars and handle the artillery”!

At St. Gilles, in September, was held the council to arrange for

the reconciliation of the Count of Toulouse. In a single interview

with Theodisius, Arnaut Amalric had fully convinced him that either

Raymond or the Languedocian Church must inevitably be destroyed.

How the Count was to be rebuffed in the face of Innocent’s positive

instructions to the contrary was a puzzle. After anxious thought,

a single phrase of the Pope’s was seen to offer means of escaping

his general tenor. Raymond, as we have seen, had fulfilled some

but not all of the conditions demanded of him. In particular he

had neither dismissed his mercenaries nor expelled heretics, both

groups being essential for his support. By the phrase in question,

Innocent had informed the legates that he himself had directed

Raymond to fulfil completely the conditions already demanded and to

do so before the council should meet. At the council, therefore, he

was told that, being false to his oath in these minor points, his

testimony in his own behalf on the two chief points of his personal

orthodoxy and his share in the murder of de Castelnau was worthless.

At this disappointment he burst into tears, which was interpreted

by Theodisius to the assembly as a proof, not of contrition, but of

innate despicableness. The wretched nobleman, saying that his whole

county would not satisfy the legates, broke off negotiations and rode

sadly away. Whereupon the legates promptly set themselves to write to

Innocent in such wise that the Pope might believe that the culprit

had not wished to clear himself.

When the news came to Rome, Innocent clearly had his suspicions;

inasmuch as he wrote to Philip Augustus saying that he did not know

whether or not Raymond had failed through his own fault in proving

his innocence. At the same time, now that the Count’s failure to

suppress heresy had been made the key-point, it is hard to see how

the Pope could fail to sustain the council. He therefore wrote

severely to Raymond, reproaching him for breaking faith inasmuch as

he continued to tolerate the heretics. On the whole, Arnaut Amalric

had carried his point, and made haste to press his advantage in

subsequent conferences.

Meanwhile, during the year the general position of the Papacy in

European politics had changed for the worse. Otto of Brunswick, once

crowned emperor, had rapidly become anti-papal. Indeed, he had been

so aggressive and successful in Italy that he might soon be in a

position to menace the Pope. Innocent had therefore excommunicated

him and had raised against him numerous German nobles who feared from

the new emperor a policy of centralization and regular taxes such as

marked the government of his near kinsmen the Plantagenets. But,

despite Pope and German rebels, Otto continued successful. In England

John was at the height of his prosperity. With an excommunicated

emperor and an excommunicated King of England on the Pope’s hands, a

better man than the Count of Toulouse might have turned the European

scale.

The same papal courier who had brought the Pope’s letter of reproach

to Raymond, also brought instructions to him, to the Counts of Foix

and Comminges, and to Gaston, Viscount of Bearn, demanding aid for

de Montfort and threatening to hold them favourers of heresy in case

they failed to give it. These letters resulted in the holding of

three councils in quick succession, at Narbonne in December, 1210,

continuing into January 1211, at Montpellier later in January, and at

Arles in February.

At Narbonne there were present not only the legates, de Montfort and

Raymond, but also Count Raymond Roger of Foix, and his suzerain the

King of Aragon. Here Arnaut Amalric changed his tone and enlarged

on the material wealth which would accrue to the Count of Toulouse

should he participate in suppressing heresy—the houses and lands of

the convicted would be his according to the law and custom of the

time, and also a fourth or even a third of the captured castles whose

owners had favoured heresy. Still Raymond refused. At the instance of

King Pedro, the council next took up the case of the Count of Foix,

who was anxious to recover his second best stronghold at Pamiers and

others of his castles from garrisons which held them for de Montfort.

After Raymond Roger, that inveterate favorer of heresy, had refused

an offer of the return of everything that had been taken from him

except Pamiers, on condition that he swear to obey the Church and

cease resisting de Montfort, the King of Aragon went over the head of

his vassal, promised to garrison Foix with his own troops and turn

the place over to the Crusaders should its owner turn against them.

Pedro’s anxiety was natural. The Count of Foix was one of his most

important northern vassals. The road running from the north-west over

the Puymorens to the pass of the Cerdagne went by way of Pamiers,

Foix, and the upper Ariege. The Cerdagne was the one broad and easy

inland pass across the Eastern Pyrenees. By the Cerdagne also ran the

shortest line of communication between the centre of Pedro’s power

in the kingdom of Aragon on the one hand, and his outlying personal

domains, i.e., the Roussillon and the lands of his northern vassals,

on the other. Obviously, since the chances of an open break with the

Crusade must have been ever present with him, he had no mind to see

the north-western approach to so important a pass in de Montfort’s

hands.

The Pope had been pressing the Aragonese to come out strongly for

the Crusade. When at last Pedro obeyed he did so with a Spanish

thoroughness, accepting de Montfort’s long refused homage for Beziers

and Carcassonne, offering to marry his son Jaime, the heir of Aragon,

with de Montfort’s daughter, and even handing over the young prince

into de Montfort’s power as a sort of hostage. Probably the King,

like Count Raymond two years before, thought that the best way of

keeping the Crusade within bounds was to go along with it. That it

was his real intention to continue playing a double game he presently

proved by marrying his sister to the often widowed Count of Toulouse.

At Montpellier and Arles the same parties in interest, minus the

Court of Foix, were present. For Raymond the conditions offered were

hard: razing of his castles, unlimiting billeting rights throughout

his lands for crusading soldiers, and, for himself, pilgrimage to

the Holy Land “as long as the legates shall wish to prolong his

penitence.” King Pedro took the matter calmly, remarking merely that

the conditions needed amendment at the hand of the Pope himself.

Count Raymond again broke off negotiations, and rallied his vassals

to him by publishing far and wide the harsh conditions offered.

This time the legates re-excommunicated him. Gradually, in spite of

himself he was being forced into a position of open hostility.

Innocent sustained Arnaut Amalric and in April confirmed the renewed

excommunication of Raymond. Still the latter failed to break

completely with the Crusade.

Perhaps it was the Pope’s stronger line that had bettered recruiting

for the Crusade in 1211 as compared with 1210. At any rate, as

the campaigning season of that year came round, de Montfort found

himself in a position to act with considerable vigor. The hitherto

impregnable castle of Cabaret capitulated to him without waiting

to be attacked, putting him at last in complete possession of his

viscounty. He moved first to besiege Lavaur. Its capture would

improve his communications with his northern base at Albi, and

correspondingly threaten communications between Toulouse and Castres.

He besieged it with his usual energy, and on their side the besieged

resisted desperately, under the leadership of the lady of the place,

an elderly “Perfect” of scandalous life, so said the orthodox. Early

in the siege, Raymond visited de Montfort in camp, although he had

previously sent some of his knights to help garrison the place.

Accordingly he was upbraided for double dealing by certain northern

barons, temporarily crusading, who were his near kinsmen. Soon

afterwards, he had words with Bishop Fulk, who defied him and marched

off to the siege of Lavaur with many of his Toulousain Catholic

brotherhood at his back. Nevertheless, all this time, the Count

allowed supplies to be sent to the Crusaders from Toulouse. Even

when a body of German Crusaders, marching to take part in the siege,

without proper precautions for security, was successfully ambushed

and cut to pieces by the Count of Foix, who thereby broke the oath

which King Pedro had sworn in his name, still Raymond held aloof. At

last, the place was taken by assault, and the capture celebrated with

the usual wholesale hangings, beheadings and burnings.

The notorious elderly chatelaine had the distinction of being thrown

into a well which was then filled up with stones. She was pregnant

as a result of incest, so she is reported to have said herself, with

her brother and her own son. St. Dominic was present at the siege

and with the other clergy sang the “Veni Creator” during the final

assault, but what part, if any, he took in the genial goings on which

followed the capture is not recorded.

Having consolidated his positions towards the north by the capture of

Lavaur, de Montfort made the bold decision to attack Toulouse itself.

A first-class city was nearly always too hard a nut for any

mediæval army to crack. In this case there were grounds for

expecting dissension within the walls, inasmuch as a bastard brother

of Raymond’s had recently deserted to de Montfort, and Bishop

Fulk’s Toulousain brotherhood had shown zeal at Lavaur. Therefore

de Montfort’s permanent forces, amply reinforced with temporary

Crusaders, moved against Toulouse with high hopes.

Nevertheless, the siege failed, constituting the first serious

military check to the Crusade. The practically independent mediæval

commune bred an intense local patriotism of which to-day our large

nations have only the shadow. The citizens resisted as one man,

Catholic confraternity and all. Fulk himself had not returned to his

episcopal seat after the siege of Lavaur, having quarrelled with

Raymond. Even Raymond, who with his vassal the Count of Comminges was

in the place, now, when driven to the wall, showed a flash of spirit.

By an irony typically mediæval, the favourer and patron of heretics

was ardently engaged in building the new nave of the Cathedral, and

forced the workmen to stick to their task in spite of stray missiles,

for the building was near the walls. Such was the spirit and energy

of the besieged that they not only kept their gates open for sorties

but opened new sally ports by knocking breaches in their own walls.

From the beginning, there must have been little chance of success if

no factions arose within the place. De Montfort stuck to it for three

weeks and then, seeing that the besieged held firm, raised the siege.

During this siege, a ceremony of some political importance was

gone through. In full sight of the besieged, the Bishop of Cahors

renounced allegiance to Raymond and did homage to de Montfort in the

name of his city and its neighbourhood. On the charter attesting this

act, last on the list of nobles and clergy stands the signature of

“Brother Dominic, Preacher.”

The next move of the Crusaders was to ravage the county of Foix. No

doubt their thorough devastation of the country round Toulouse had

strengthened Raymond politically, by angering the Toulousains. At any

rate, the Count now felt himself strong enough to take the offensive,

and undertook to besiege Castelnaudary.

De Montfort, from his base at Carcassonne, was just in time to

throw himself into the threatened castle. Apparently many Crusaders

had gone home, as their aggravating custom was, for the force

which he was able immediately to concentrate was far inferior in

numbers to Raymond’s troops. Nevertheless the Crusaders were so

superior in morale that the Toulousain could not extend his lines

so as to blockade the place, but instead spent his time in heavily

entrenching his own camp. The Count of Foix, that specialist in

laying ambuscades, prepared to trap a reinforcement of Crusaders

marching from Lavaur. The reinforcement discovered the ambush too

late to refuse battle. They had just time to deploy and charge in

the hope of cutting their way through. Hard pressed by numbers,

their case was desperate when de Montfort, by a brilliant sortie,

created a diversion and enabled them to gain the castle. Even after

other bodies of Crusaders from Castres and Cahors had come in, the

Toulousains still outnumbered the Crusaders, and matters seemed to

be at a standstill. About this time word came that certain castles

had gone over to Raymond on the strength of a rumour, spread by the

Count of Foix, that de Montfort had been captured, flayed alive and

finally hanged. To break the deadlock, the crusading leader decided

to go himself to Narbonne and Beziers for reinforcements; whereupon

Raymond, on learning that his redoubtable enemy was no longer in his

front, mustered up courage to destroy his cherished entrenchments and

retire.

On the whole, the third year of the Crusade had been successful,

despite the check at Toulouse. Peter of Aragon had not been there to

hinder, having gone off to southern Spain to fight the Moors. The

European situation had changed little. Emperor Otto had conquered

more Italian territory. Toward the end of the year, southern Germany

had definitely declared against him, but the rebels were still the

weaker party. John of England was still none the worse for being

excommunicated to his face by a papal legate. Whether or not Otto

and John aided Raymond, is not clear. One of John’s biographers says

that it was their aid which enabled him to hold Toulouse against de

Montfort, but no reference to John and Otto’s interference at this

time appears in the historians of the Crusade itself.

1212 saw de Montfort growing still stronger. His theatre of

operations was now to the north-west of Toulouse, where he took La

Penne d’Agen and Moissac. At Moissac appeared the first signs of

active disunion in any of Raymond’s cities. The inhabitants attacked

the garrison which was composed of mercenaries and of Toulousain

militia, and delivered the place to de Montfort. On the Garonne,

Castelsarrasin, Verdun, Muret, and St. Gaudens opened their gates,

while Raymond, now practically reduced to Toulouse itself and

Montauban, attempted no counter-stroke. De Montfort, on his side,

made no attack upon Toulouse.

Naturally, after so much success, the morale of the Crusaders rose

higher and higher. In their enthusiasm they saw miracles, and they

fought, massacred, and burned with a touching joy. De Montfort

himself was the first to seek danger or hardship. After entering

Muret with his knights, he found his infantry unable to ford the

flooded Garonne after the horsemen. Mediæval infantry were accustomed

to being despised, being recruited from men of low social class and

considered of little military value, as we have seen in the opening

paragraphs of this chapter. Furthermore, an attack from Toulouse was

feared. Nevertheless de Montfort insisted upon recrossing the river

to share the dangers and hardships of the “poor in Christ.” His wife,

the Countess Alice, was hardly inferior to him in spirit and energy.

His successes were achieved in spite of many difficulties. He was

often short of men, many of the Crusaders having to be brought up

with a round turn by the legates for trying to make off before

serving even their forty-day tour of duty. Money, too, was lacking.

Once the commander could not even buy bread for himself, and had to

go for a walk at meal times so that his poverty would not be noticed.

De Montfort was statesman as well as soldier. In December 1212, he

called together at Pamiers the “three estates,” nobles, clergy,

and townsmen, of his new dominions for a sort of constitutional

convention. This convention discussed the whole body of North French

law, known as the “custom of Paris,” for Languedoc, and ended by

voting for its adoption. To the townsmen, the régime stood for order

and the suppression of brigandage, a feat which the Counts of

Toulouse had never achieved. To the clergy, the “custom of Paris”

meant increased privileges and immunities. Of the nobles, most

were by this time already committed to de Montfort. All parties

concerned had the chance to “save face” by accepting the opportunity

to vote freely in favour of the proposed changes. For de Montfort,

the parvenu, the convention was a triumph. Clearly the Crusade was

turning into a permanent government of Languedoc by the “French.”

With so much success, de Montfort had received but one check during

the year. A temporary coolness had sprung up between him and Arnaut

Amalric. The redoubtable Cistercian, having been elected Archbishop

of Narbonne, wished to be Duke of that city as well. The title was

hereditary in Raymond’s family, but by this time he was no longer

worth considering in Languedocian politics; the sole contest for the

office was between Arnaut Amalric and de Montfort. Angry at being

opposed, Arnaut Amalric went off to join Pedro of Aragon and fought

under him through the summer of 1212 against the Moors in Spain.

Had the energetic legate remained in Languedoc, de Montfort’s great

successes of the year might have been even greater. However, the

estrangement between the two leaders of the Albigensian Crusade was

only temporary. From de Montfort’s point of view, the serious thing

about the Spanish campaign was its complete success and the increased

prestige of King Pedro which resulted therefrom. Far to the south,

at “Las Navas de Toulosa,” about the time that La Penne d’Agen fell

to de Montfort, King Pedro helped to break the last great army of

the African Moslems that Spain was ever to see. For the Albigensian

Crusade to have its chief opponent known as one of the foremost

champions of Christendom in Europe was an ominous thing.

All the time the Pope, the mainspring of the enterprise now rapidly

outgrowing his original design, had kept clearly in his mind the

religious purpose of the Crusade as opposed to its later political

development. During the year he had again protected Durand of Huesca,

writing letters in behalf of his following of converted heretics

turned Catholic missioners to the bishops of France and Italy. By

such action Innocent obstinately refused to go over to the extreme

party that was for making an end of mildness and mercy even to the

repentant sinner. Furthermore, outside Languedoc, in the previous

year in the case of a canon of Bar-sur-Aube who feared for his life

because of his heretical reputation in his own neighbourhood, he had

insisted that the accused be protected from mob violence. The great

Pope was a great lawyer and a great gentleman.

Clearly Innocent was not the man to approve lightly of the

transformation of the Crusade into a general deposition of the

southern nobles, and their replacement by “Frenchmen.” Accordingly,

the winter of 1212-13 and the following spring saw the diplomatic

crisis of the Crusade. For some months past, the legates had been

asking from Rome a sentence of deposition against Raymond and, for

de Montfort, a confirmation in all the titles of the deposed. When

that news reached Paris, Philip Augustus undertook to read the Pope

a lesson in law to the effect that only the suzerain of a fief could

dispose of it in case of confiscation. Innocent felt obliged to

reply defensively, assuring the king that the legates had strict

orders to safeguard the “honor and interests of the realm of France.”

Meanwhile, Peter of Aragon, back from his Andalusian triumph over

the Mohammedan, displayed great activity; went himself to Toulouse;

took the place formally under his protection; and sent an embassy to

Rome to plead the cause of the southern lord against de Montfort.

Towards the end of 1212 the first fruits of the Aragonese diplomacy

appeared in the shape of letters from Innocent to Arnaut Amalric and

his co-legate the Bishop of Uzes, and other letters to the Bishop of

Riez and Theodisius, whom Innocent over two years before had charged

with the reconciliation of the Count of Toulouse. The Pope flatly

refused to substitute de Montfort for Raymond, blamed the legates for

even proposing to disregard the rights of Raymond’s innocent heir,

and disavowed altogether the acts of the councils of St. Gilles,

Narbonne, and Montpellier. Finally, he gave strict orders to the

Bishop of Riez and Theodisius to arrange for Raymond’s reconciliation

forthwith; to lay aside their lukewarmness and sloth, and to write

the whole truth and nothing but the truth to Rome henceforward!

Still the Pope felt that he had not done enough. Towards the middle

of January, therefore, he began to send out a whole series of letters

to Languedoc. Already there had been a good deal of correspondence

with de Montfort complaining of the scanty returns of the three

deniers hearth tax. Now, on January 15th, 1213, Innocent again

reproves the chief of the Crusade, this time for non-observance of

his duties as vassal to Pedro of Aragon for his Viscounty of Beziers

and Carcassonne. On the same day, another papal letter left Rome

addressed to Arnaut Amalric directing him bluntly to cease preaching

the Crusade and to come to an understanding with Pedro and with the

“counts, barons, and other prudent persons whose assistance shall

appear to be needed,” for the pacification of Languedoc in the

interest of the Christians of Spain and Palestine threatened by the

Moslem. Not content even with this, two more papal bulls, dated the

17th and 18th, repeated the orders to the legates and de Montfort to

make an end of the Albigensian Crusade altogether. They repeated the

imposing list of charges brought by Pedro and the Toulousains to the

effect that Comminges and Bearn, vassal lands of Pedro’s, had been

attacked by de Montfort at the very moment when their suzerain was

fighting the battles of Christianity at Las Navas. The Pope therefore

ordered the crusading leader to restore the lands he had taken from

the vassals of Aragon. The charges against Arnaut Amalric, to wit

that he had practised “usurpation” in directing the Crusade against

Raymond’s lands, were also paraded over the papal signature and

seal. Pedro had guaranteed, so Innocent wrote, that Raymond would

do penance by crusading in Spain or Syria. The heir of Toulouse was

to be the ward of Aragon during his minority, and was to be brought

up by him as a good Catholic. These propositions were to be debated

at a sort of constituent assembly of Languedoc, in which not only

the higher clergy and the nobles but also the city “consuls” and

the “bailiffs,” that is the mayors of villages, were to sit. This

assembly was to report its findings to Rome, where the Pope would

render the final decision.

While going so far in support of the Aragonese policy, Innocent

nevertheless made two important reservations. In the first place, he

did not take the decisive step of recalling Arnaut Amalric. Although

the redoubtable Cistercian’s policy was disavowed, he was still given

the job of calling the congress and of bringing the new papal policy

into force by taking “suitable measures.” Secondly, the ancient and

good tradition of caution in papal diplomacy was followed in that

care was taken to state repeatedly that Pedro’s accusations against

Arnaut Amalric and de Montfort were, after all, only charges not

yet proved. Rome knew very well by long and no doubt often bitter

experience how impossible it was to get full and accurate knowledge

of affairs at a distance. The slow and fitful communications of the

time made infinitely difficult the decisions and operations of a

centralized system like the Papacy.

However, it was rare even then that agents on the spot were able

so completely to oppose the will of their distant master. Even as

the formidable January letters were being written by the scribes of

the Lateran, the Council (called in obedience to the Pope’s orders

of the previous autumn to proceed with Raymond’s reconciliation)

was meeting on the “dark and bloody ground” of Lavaur prepared to

go clean counter to the spirit of its instructions. It consisted

only of the papal legates and agents, and about twenty Gascon and

Languedocian bishops. Raymond feared to put himself in de Montfort’s

power by coming. Therefore, in the absence of the accused, and in the

teeth of the Pope’s express wish, the Council proceeded to declare

that his testimony in his own behalf would have been worthless in any

case. Since his return from Rome where, so the Council solemnly held,

the Pope had treated him much better than he deserved, he had failed

to restore Church property formerly stolen by him, had persecuted

bishops and abbots and had not shown the slightest sign of dismissing

his bandit-mercenaries or of banishing heretics. Since he had sworn

to do all these things, the Council formally held that the oath of

such a hardened perjurer was worthless and should not be received,

even should he offer to give it. Raymond’s counter proposition, made

for him by one of his notaries, that Theodisius and the Bishop of

Riez should cause the oath to be administered to him at Toulouse

or at some other place not held by de Montfort’s troops, was not

even discussed. The decision of the Council, so the commissioners

reported to the Pope, forbade its being considered. They ended their

written report by turning Innocent’s own phrase against him and

solemnly stating that “the whole truth and nothing but the truth” of

the matter was contained therein.

Raymond thus disposed of, King Pedro next addressed the Council.

He wished to discuss, he said, the restoration of the fiefs of the

three Counts of Toulouse, Foix, and of the Viscount of Bearn. Arnaut

Amalric demanded written proposals under the royal seal. King Pedro

thereupon asked for an armistice while the documents were being drawn

up, during which time the Crusaders “were not to do evil” to their

opponents. “I will not cease from doing evil,” replied de Montfort,

“but for a week I will abstain from doing good, for it is not doing

evil to pursue the enemies of Christ. I consider that, on the

contrary, a good work.”

As far as promises went, the Aragonese proposals were fulsome enough.

All four accused nobles were prepared to give full satisfaction

to the Church, and asked only the restoration of their lands. If

restoration was refused in Raymond’s case, then at least a guarantee

was asked as to the legitimate rights of his son who was to be

brought up a good Catholic under the guardianship of King Pedro.

Meanwhile, Raymond himself would do penance by crusading in the Holy

Land or Spain. For the four nobles, the King of Aragon said he had

come to ask mercy rather than justice; more especially as the Crusade

in Spain made it more necessary than ever that Christians should not

fall out among themselves.

The Council may or may not have known that this programme had already

been proposed by Pedro to the Pope. Neither the Council nor Pedro

could possibly know that the Pope had already accepted it. In any

case it was clear enough that, in case of its acceptance, its value

would depend entirely on the King’s willingness to enforce its terms

upon the four nobles, with whom he had already shown his sympathy.

Besides, every cleric sitting at Lavaur was steeped in the bitterness

of a long, fierce, and still doubtful struggle. Therefore, they

refused the Aragonese proposals. The Pope, so they truly told the

King, had expressly reserved to himself the final decision in the

matter of Raymond’s reconciliation with the Church. Therefore, since

the excommunicated count refused to appear before them and take

the preliminary steps, they were powerless; and in actual fact the

papal commissioners might not have been safer in going to Toulouse

than Raymond would have been, even with King Pedro beside him, in

venturing to Lavaur. As for the other three nobles, Bernard of

Comminges was believed to have stirred up the Toulousains to oppose

the Crusaders in arms. Raymond Roger of Foix, they reminded the King,

was a notorious patron of heretics and despoiler of churches, and

had failed to keep even the recent convention agreed to in his name

by Pedro himself. Gaston of Bearn had protected the assassins of

Castelnau, persecuted the Church, and fiercely opposed the Crusade.

He maintained bandit-mercenaries who had violated the Cathedral of

Oloron, defiled the consecrated Host and parodied the mass. Even so,

should Foix, Comminges, and Bearn come for absolution and submit

all would be forgiven them. The Council took pains to preface their

refusal to treat on the Aragonese terms with a paragraph full of

personal compliments and courtesies to the King. Nevertheless, they

ended with a warning, reminding him of the honours he had received

from the Pope, of the oaths he had taken to suppress heresy, and the

suspicion which must fall upon him if he continued taking the part

of excommunicated persons accused of so grave a crime. If he was not

satisfied with their answer (which was quite likely inasmuch as they

refused him everything he asked) the Council would lay the whole

matter before the Pope.

Remained the task of persuading the Pope to sustain the Council,

as he was by no means eager to do. Accordingly, advice was rained

upon him from every corner of Languedoc. From Lavaur the Council

itself despatched letters by the hands of agents of Arnaut Amalric

and Count Simon. The letters reminded Innocent that he himself had

proclaimed the Crusade and afterwards entrusted de Montfort with

its command. The crimes of the Count of Toulouse were paraded. Had

he not asked help of the excommunicated Emperor Otto, and not only

asked but received it (in some measure) from the notorious Savary de

Mauleon, who commanded in Aquitaine for the excommunicate King John

of England? Had he not committed the abominable crime of insulting

all Christendom by sending an embassy to ask aid from the Sultan of

Morocco? Should the enemies of religion, by their appeal to Pedro,

succeed in “thwarting” the Pope, so that the axe might not be laid to

the evil tree of Toulouse; then indeed Christianity in Languedoc was

ruined. Another symphony on the same theme was furnished by a second

regional council, composed of the higher clergy of eastern Languedoc

and the valley of the lower Rhône country, which met at Orange

under the presidency of the Archbishop of Arles. Orange rivalled

Lavaur in its violent words against the “Toulousain tyrant.” Solos

were contributed by the Archbishops of Aix and Bordeaux, and by the

Bishops of Bazas, Périgueux, and Beziers. The tone of these prelates

varied somewhat, from His Grace of Aix (the immediate neighbourhood

of his cathedral city had as yet seen no fighting and he was

comparatively moderate in consequence), to the Lord Bishop of Beziers

who called Toulouse “a nest of vipers” which must be utterly crushed.

But through all variations of tone, the same motif was heard: Tolosa

delenda est. The house of Toulouse must be destroyed.

At Rome, the diplomatic struggle must have been bitter. It was not

a light thing to ask Innocent publicly to eat his words, and to act

on the assumption that the Aragonese version of matters was a mere

tissue of lies. On the other hand, I repeat, any central authority

in the Middle Ages was far more at the mercy of its agents on the

spot than is the case to-day with rapid transit and the telegraph.

For the Pope to sustain the Aragonese and disavow Arnaut Amalric and

his supporters would have been to go clean counter to the expressed

opinion of practically every important Churchman north of the

Pyrenees within a radius of 200 miles of Toulouse. Nevertheless, the

issue was so evenly balanced that for five months, while the agents

of Aragon and of the Crusade continued to set out their respective

positions, no decision was reached.

While the whole future of the Crusade thus hung in suspense, Paris

seemed for the first time ready to move. Philip Augustus hoped to

round off his successes against the Plantagenet by taking from him

England as well. But before a French army could cross the Channel,

the fullest possible diplomatic assistance from the Papacy was

desired. Therefore, in March 1213, the King of France called a

general assembly of his barons to decide what force should follow

his son, Prince Louis, crusading to Languedoc. To work up sentiment,

the zealous Bishop Fulk of Toulouse and Guy de Vaux-Cernay, Bishop

of Carcassonne, journeyed to Paris, the latter having appointed the

future St. Dominic to administer his diocese in his absence. To

oppose them, came the Bishop of Barcelona, as Pedro’s ambassador,

armed with Innocent’s January letters putting an end to the Crusade

and disavowing the legates! Here was a pretty complication. Philip

Augustus knew how to be shifty himself on occasion, but even he must

have been puzzled as to the true state of affairs in Rome. However,

it was decided that a large force should move south under Prince

Louis. Only Innocent’s own command received about a month later, that

Philip should take up the Pope’s quarrel with John by sending the

young Louis to invade England, prevented the French Monarchy, then

and there, from taking its part in the Albigensian Crusade.

At last, in Rome, the die was cast. About June 1, Innocent wrote in

his usual vigorous tone to Pedro, Simon, Arnaut Amalric, and Fulk of

Toulouse. The Pope had found, he said, that the ambassadors of the

southern lords had lied to him. He, therefore, disavowed his January

letters, withdrew his protection from the citizens of Toulouse and

from the Lords of Foix and Bearn; until such time as Fulk might

absolve the Toulousains, and Arnaut Amalric the three nobles, after

due and complete submission in all cases. Pedro was reminded of

the favours he had received from Innocent, and blamed for having

shown so little wisdom and piety as to have protected heretics and

favourers of heresy, more dangerous than the heretics themselves. He

was ordered not to attack de Montfort and, finally, was warned that

strong measures would be taken against him, darling of the Church

though he was, should he disobey. The extraordinary spirit of the

great mediæval Popes, their enormous sense of power and their bold

determination to use it to the uttermost, vibrates in the letter.

With the Emperor and the King of England both excommunicated and

defying the Church, Innocent nevertheless threatens to move against

the foremost champion of Christendom against the Mohammedan! As

before, he made one reservation. He granted the Aragonese request

for an additional new legate, and notified King Pedro that he was

sending the Cardinal Robert de Courcon to act in that capacity. But

this concession was but a drop in the bucket. The new papal policy

left the Aragonese practically no choice between war and abandoning

Languedoc to de Montfort.

Before the Pope’s decision was known, the first Standard Bearer of

the Church had chosen war. Without breaking openly with the Pope,

he decided that it was worth risking much to save Raymond, who had

himself married one of Pedro’s sisters and had married the heir of

Toulouse to another. It is characteristic of the man and of the

time that, even while he was ordering a general mobilization of his

forces against the Crusade, he was at the same time obtaining from

Innocent the renewal of a papal bull of the year 1095 which provided

that no interdict could be laid on the dominions of his house except

by the Pope in person, thus blunting the spiritual sword in the

hands of the redoubtable Arnaut Amalric. Meanwhile he formally took

Toulouse, Foix, and Bearn under his protection and began to bestir

himself mightily to raise troops, calling upon his lieges to pawn

their possessions and follow him to the rescue of his brother-in-law

whom clerics and “Frenchmen” were seeking to despoil. Conformably

to the immemorial traditions of Europe, Catalonia was already,

as it still is, inclined to be anti-clerical over against devout

Aragon. Accordingly, although the Aragonese held aloof and showed

little spirit for the war, the Catalans swarmed out briskly so that

by springtime Pedro had a large force equipped, as the “Chanson”

expressly says, not only with pack transport but also with wheeled

transport as well, and ready to march.

All these preparations were pushed on through the late winter and

early spring. Towards the end of spring, when mobilization was

complete, there seems to have been a pause. The anti-crusading

party in Languedoc were anxiously waiting for Pedro, as an extant

troubadour poem vividly shows, but the Aragonese delayed. No doubt

before he moved, he preferred to know how he stood with Innocent, who

was so long in coming to a decision. Should the Pope’s verdict be

favourable to the King, then he would certainly not have to use as

much force, perhaps he might not have to move at all. On the other

hand, should Aragonese diplomacy lose at Rome, then Pedro must win

some substantial military success quickly, so as to present Innocent

with an accomplished fact as a basis on which to treat. At last

came two abbots; charged by de Montfort and the legates to show the

King the papal letter of June 1, in which Innocent came out flatly

against Aragon. The King answered the two abbots by promising to

obey the Pope. De Montfort sent a knight, Lambert de Thury by name

(to whom he had entrusted the castle of Puivert about fifteen miles

from Quillan on the road to Foix), with a letter in which he told

Pedro, “without any of the ordinary salutations,” that the Aragonese

must withdraw his protection from the Languedocian nobles, “on pain

of being proceeded against like all other enemies of the Church.”

To which Pedro returned no answer, except to threaten the life of

the messenger, and crossed the Pyrenees with the greater part of his

large force, leaving the rear echelon to follow as fast as it could

and proclaiming that he was acting under orders from the Pope in

taking up arms against the Crusade.

Pedro’s intervention promised to be decisive. For four years, in the

face of heavy odds, Count Simon had snatched success out of the jaws

of hostile circumstance. But now the odds were so overwhelming that

only one result seemed possible. In the summer of 1213 any man (no

matter what he desired in the matter) estimating the chances of the

future would have told you that de Montfort and his little band of

Crusaders would be wiped out.