CHAPTER IV.THE ALBIGENSIAN CRUSADE—THEEARLY 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 willupon 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 thegreater 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-classfortress 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 mustavoid, 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 mediævalhigh 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. Ofcourse, 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 beforeBeziers 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 anorganized 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 areprincipally 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 inthe 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 thatonly 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 thenth 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 moralunity 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-hundredeffectives, 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 upwith 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 towrite 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 italmost 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 andprecautions. 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 Crusadersalone, 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 seento 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 andeasy 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 comparedwith 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 forany 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 ofFrance 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 ofrecalling 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 ofthe 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.”