[1167-1208 A.D.]
The crusade directed by Simon de Montfort against the populations of the south of France was at first most disastrous in its effects. During all the time that Christian warriors were being sent out to do battle with miscreants at the opposite end of the Mediterranean Sea, many infidels were awaiting conversion in the very heart of Europe. Not the Jews, who had furnished the first cause for the Crusades in the fury with which they inspired their early persecutors, but the mixed populations in the south of France, composed of Iberians, Gauls, Romans, Goths, and Moors, whose religious beliefs were far removed from orthodoxy. Just what name to give to their heresy it is hard to decide; even contemporaries were at a loss in this respect since they called the people simply Albigenses, from the town Albi, which was their common centre. One thing only is certain—that in 1167 a council was held near Toulouse, presided over by Nicetas, a Greek from Constantinople, at which many oriental ideas were adopted; it has also been asserted that ecclesiastics were treated with scorn in every part of the land, and even St. Bernard himself was received there with derision. From this centre of heresy missionaries were sent out in every direction, and already unseemly doctrines were making themselves known in Flanders, Germany, England, and even in Italy, while recently bands of marauders had spread out in the direction of Auvergne, pillaging churches and profaning sacred objects.
Among the rich and brilliant cities of the south the most important was Toulouse, where resided Count Raymond VI, one of the greatest nobles of the south. Another prominent house was that of Barcelona, which had lately obtained rule over Aragon and possessed Roussillon and Provence; there were further the proud and adventurous nobles of the Pyrenees, who lived free and independent lives, and owed not the least allegiance to either church or king.
The south of France had long been separated from the north. Having other customs and speaking a different tongue, it had made serious efforts under Dagobert, Charles Martel, Pepin, Charlemagne, Charles the Bald, and Hugh Capet, to constitute itself an independent state. Increase in commerce had brought ease to its citizens and affluence to its nobles, and the two classes united in peace and harmony to discharge municipal duties, thus assuring the peace of the whole community. But in those wealthy cities and brilliant courts, made gay by the songs of troubadours, religious doctrines were accorded scant attention, and heresy leaked in from every side.
The all-powerful Innocent III resolved to stamp out this hotbed of impiety that threatened to spread contagion far and wide. He began by organising the Inquisition, which was to seek out and judge heretics, and countless victims were immolated without in any way lessening the number of unbelievers, the rack and the stake being but indifferent demonstrators of the truth. The pope next sent to Raymond VI his legate, the monk Peter of Castelnau, with the demand that the heretics be immediately expulsed. But the heretics formed the main body of the population, and Castelnau accomplished nothing. Raymond was excommunicated and threatened with eternal fires, and the legate was murdered during his passage back over the Rhone (1208).
[1208-1228 A.D.]
“Anathema on the count of Toulouse,” cried the pope, “and remission of sins to all who will take up arms against these pestilent inhabitants of Provence! Forward, soldiers of Christ! let the heretics be wiped out, and colonies of Catholics spring up where their cities now stand!”
The doctrine of extermination was preached by all the organs of the pope: and the duke of Burgundy, the counts of Nevers, Auxerre, Geneva, the bishops of Rheims, Sens, Rouen, Autun, with many Germans and inhabitants of Lorraine, massed forces, and set out on the crusade. Three armies made irruption into the south of France, headed by Simon de Montfort, a feudal lord of the environs of Paris, ambitious, fanatical, and cruel. The count of Toulouse was not immediately attacked, the pope hoping to weaken his resistance by appearing ready to extend a pardon, and hostilities were all directed against the viscount of Béziers. When the latter’s town was taken, the victors, not being able to distinguish the heretics, hesitated whom to strike. “Kill all,” said the legate, “God will easily recognise his own.” Thirty thousand are said to have perished. Carcassonne also succumbed, and the knights of the Ile de France divided up the country under Simon de Montfort, who was made suzerain over all.
Raymond hoped to be spared, now that so sanguinary a sacrifice had been offered up on the altar of orthodoxy, and Innocent himself was inclined to clemency, but the legates were without pity; they would extend mercy to the count only on condition that he should cause all his subjects to don the garb of penitents, degrade his nobles to the state of villeins, discharge his hired troops, raze his castles to the ground, and himself start on a crusade.