by Sean Martin
Catharism was the most successful heresy of the Middle Ages. Flourishing principally in the Languedoc and Italy, the Cathars taught that the world is evil and must be transcended through a simple life of prayer, work, fasting and non-violence. They believed themselves to be the heirs of the true heritage of Christianity going back to apostolic times, and completely rejected the Catholic Church and all its trappings, regarding it as the Church of Satan; Cathar services and ceremonies, by contrast, were held in fields, barns and in people’s homes.
Finding support from the nobility in the fractious political situation in southern France, the Cathars also found widespread popularity among peasants and artisans. And again unlike the Church, the Cathars respected women, and women played a major role in the movement. Alarmed at the success of Catharism, the Church founded the Inquisition and launched the Albigensian Crusade to exterminate the heresy. While previous Crusades had been directed against Muslims in the Middle East, the Albigensian Crusade was the first Crusade to be directed against fellow Christians, and was also the first European genocide. With the fall of the Cathar fortress of Montségur in 1244, Catharism was largely obliterated, although the faith survived into the early fourteenth century.
Today, the mystique surrounding the Cathars is as strong as ever, and Sean Martin recounts their story and the myths associated with them in this lively and gripping book.
Sean Martin is a writer, poet and filmmaker. He is the author of the bestselling The Knights Templar: The History & Myths of the Legendary Military Order, The Gnostics: The First Christian Heretics, Andrei Tarkovsky and New Waves in Cinema. He also co-directed the documentary Lanterna Magicka: Bill Douglas & the Secret History of Cinema and the feature film Folie à Deux.
Titles by the same author from Pocket Essentials
Other books by the same author
The Black Death
Alchemy and Alchemists
The Knights Templar
The Gnostics
Andrei Tarkovsky
New Waves in Cinema
As contributor
Through the Mirror:
Reflections on the Films of Andrei Tarkovsky
Temple Antiquities: The Templar Papers II
Music for Another World
Rocket Science
pocketessentials.com
For all the Good Christians, past and present
and
In Memory of My Father,
whose feet tread the lost aeons
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank Ion Mills, for bearing with me during the writing of this book; my sister Lois, for her advice; Nick Harding, for the usual lending of tomes and camaraderie; and fellow credente Adso Brown.
A Note on the Second Edition
For this edition, I have corrected a number of errors in the text and updated the bibliography. I would like to thank Dr Cyril Edwards for clarifying certain matters regarding Germanic Grail literature. The final chapter has received a revamp, in order to add some clarity to the bewildering array of myths surrounding the Cathars.
Throughout human history, believers have waged war against one another. Gnostics and mystics have not. People are only too prepared to kill on behalf of a theology or a faith. They are less disposed to do so on behalf of knowledge. Those prepared to kill for faith will therefore have a vested interest in stifling the voice of knowledge.
Michael Baigent and Richard Leigh,
The Inquisition
Bishop Fulk, asking a knight why he did not expel heretics, received the classic answer: ‘We cannot. We have been reared in their midst. We have relatives among them and we see them living lives of perfection.’
Malcolm Lambert,
The Cathars
Salvation is better achieved in the faith of these men called heretics than in any other faith.
Anonymous French peasant, quoted in
Emmanuel Le Roy Ladurie, Montaillou
Contents
Prologue: Béziers
1: Heresy and Orthodoxy
2: The Foxes in the Vineyard of the Lord
3: The Albigensian Crusade
4: The Inquisition
5: The Autier Revival
6: Italy and Bosnia
7: The Cathar Treasure
Endnotes
Appendix I: Chronology
Appendix II: An Heretical Lexicon
Suggestions for Further Reading
Index
Copyright
Prologue
Béziers
It was the Feast Day of St Mary Magdalene, 22 July 1209, and an all-out massacre had not been planned.
A French army from the north, under the leadership of the Papal legate Arnold Amaury, was camped outside the town of Béziers in the Languedoc. Recently arrived from a month-long march down the valley of the River Rhône, the army’s mission was to demand that the town elders hand over the 222 Cathars – less than 10 per cent of the town’s population1 – that they were known to be harbouring. The elders refused. That they did so says as much for the power of the Cathar faith as it does for the complicated political situation in the south in which the Cathars had been able to flourish.
The Cathars had come to prominence in the Languedoc some fifty years previously and were, by the beginning of the thirteenth century, virtually the dominant religion in the Languedoc. Unlike the majority of the Catholic clergy of the time, the Cathars were conspicuously virtuous, living lives of apostolic poverty and simplicity. This in itself would have been enough to get the sect branded as heretics, as happened to the Lyons-based group, the Waldensians.2 But what set the Cathars apart from the Waldensians was their belief in not one god, but two. According to Cathar theology, there were two eternal principles, good and evil, with the world being under the sway of the latter. They were also implacably hostile to the Church of Rome, which they denounced vehemently as the Church of Satan.
The Cathars were not the only ones to oppose Rome: most of the south of what we would today call France was fiercely independent, and regarded both the northern army and the Papal agents as foreign invaders. It was therefore unthinkable that the Cathars, fellow southerners, could be handed over to opposition. The enemy was not heresy, but anyone who challenged the authority and autonomy of the local nobility, the powerful counts and viscounts of Toulouse, Foix and Carcassonne.
The combination of heresy and politics was a combustible one, however, and Pope Innocent III (1198–1216) saw sufficient grounds to call for a Crusade. The west had been launching Crusades with varying degrees of success ever since 1095, but they had all been directed against the Muslims. Under Innocent’s pontificate, that began to change. The Fourth Crusade, launched in 1202, did not bode well for the heretics and nobles of the Languedoc: although aimed at the Holy Land, the Crusaders veered wildly off target in the spring of 1204 and sacked the fellow Christian city of Constantinople. The campaign called against the Cathars was different: it would be the first Crusade to be conducted within the west, against people who were fellow countrymen and women.
Arnold Amaury called for a meeting with his generals. It was clear that the heretics were not going to be given up without a fight. While the meeting was going on, a fracas broke out between a small band of Crusaders and a group on the walls of the town. Insults were exchanged. In a rash move, the defenders opened the gates and a small group of men from Béziers ventured out to teach the Crusaders some manners. They swiftly dealt with the northerners, but the news quickly spread that the gate was open. Crusaders poured into the town. Word got back to Arnold Amaury. What should they do? How would they recognise Cathars from Catholics? The Papal legate, paraphrasing 2 Timothy,3 uttered the notorious command: ‘Kill them all. God will recognise his own.’
In the ensuing bloodba
th of ‘abattoir Christianity’,4 approximately 8,000 or 9,000 innocent people were butchered. (The traditional figure of between 15,000 to 20,000 victims – claimed by pro-crusade apologists – is now thought to be too high; the population of Béziers in 1209 was probably less than 15,000.) Even women and children taking refuge in the Cathedral of St Nazaire were not spared: the cathedral was torched, and anyone caught fleeing was put to the sword. By the evening, rivers of blood coursed through the streets of Béziers. Churches and houses smouldered. Once they had finished killing, the Crusaders looted what was left.
The Albigensian Crusade, as it came to be known, had begun. Unlike the Fourth Crusade, however, it had gone out of control at the very beginning. The atrocities of Béziers would have confirmed to Cathars everywhere their belief that they alone were God’s elect, and that the world was indeed evil.
1
Heresy and Orthodoxy
Catharism was the most popular heresy of the Middle Ages. Indeed, such was its success that the Catholic Church and its apologists referred to it as the Great Heresy. As the twelfth century turned into the thirteenth, it was at its zenith: Cathars could be found from Aragon to Flanders, from Naples to the Languedoc. Its equivalent of priests, the Perfect, lived lives so conspicuously virtuous that even their enemies had to proclaim that they were indeed holy and good people. The Cathars found widespread support from all areas of society, from kings and counts to carpenters and weavers. Women, never welcomed by the Church, became Cathars knowing they could earn respect and actively participate in the faith. Needless to say, this mixture of women, virtue and apostolic poverty – to say nothing of the Cathar church’s popularity – did not sit well with Rome. But nor did Rome sit well with the Cathars, who believed that the Church had, in its pursuit of worldly power, betrayed Christ’s message.
That Catholicism would move against the Cathars was hardly surprising; indeed, in some areas in the south of France, Cathars were more numerous than Catholics. What shocked contemporaries was not that the Pope ordered a Crusade to put the heresy down, but that the Crusaders committed atrocities of such magnitude that they are still echoing down the centuries. In the Languedoc, these crimes have never really been forgotten.
Strangely, for all its popularity, the exact origins of Catharism are unknown. It emerged at a time when the Church, and Europe as a whole, was undergoing enormous changes prior to emerging into the so-called Renaissance of the twelfth century. Although it is difficult to imagine the scale of atrocities such as Béziers, we can go some way to understanding the mindset of the Cathars’ persecutors by studying the history of the Church and how heresy emerged from it. Moreover, a study of the history of the dualist heresy – essentially, the belief that the devil is as powerful as God, to which Catharism belongs – will help to set things in perspective. Like Catharism, Dualism has murky beginnings.
Dualism
Dualism existed before Christianity, and may even be older than recorded history itself. The term was first coined in 1700 by the English Orientalist, Thomas Hyde, to describe any religious system which held that God and the devil were two opposing, coeternal principles.5 The meaning of the term evolved to include any system that revolved around a central, binary pairing (such as the mind/body split in the philosophy of Descartes, or the immortal soul/mortal body in that of Plato). Dualist strands exist in one form or another in all major religions, whether monotheistic (acknowledging one god, such as Islam, Judaism and Christianity), polytheistic (acknowledging many gods, such as Shintoism, some forms of Wicca or the pantheon of classical Greece), or monistic (acknowledging that everything – the Divine, matter and humanity – is of one and the same essential substance, such as certain schools of Hinduism, Buddhism, Taoism and Pantheism). For example, fundamentalist Christianity has a pronounced dualist slant in that it sees many things in the world – rock music, drugs, New Age philosophies, Hollywood blockbusters – as being the work of the devil. Likewise, extremist Islamic groups see non-Muslims as either essentially asleep to the truth, or actively engaged in undermining the religion of the Prophet. In both cases, an ‘us and them’ mentality prevails, from which there is only one escape route (belief in Jesus and Mohammed respectively).
Despite these varying levels of Dualism in the different faiths of the world, religious Dualism proper stands apart in positing the notion of the two opposing principles of good and evil. Within the dualist tradition itself, there are generally held to be two schools of thought: absolute, or radical, Dualism; and mitigated, or monarchian, Dualism. The Italian historian of religions, Ugo Bianchi, identified three distinct features of Dualism:
1) Absolute Dualism regards the two principles of good and evil as coeternal and equal, whereas mitigated Dualism regards the evil principle as a secondary, lesser power to the good principle.
2) Absolute Dualism sees the two principles as locked in combat for all eternity, and, in many schools, regards time as cyclical (many absolute dualists, therefore, tend to believe in reincarnation), whilst mitigated Dualism sees historical time as being finite; at the end of time, the evil principle will be defeated by the good.
3) Absolute Dualism sees the material world as intrinsically evil, but mitigated Dualism regards creation as essentially good.6
The Good Religion
Zoroastrianism is usually held to be the first major world religion to espouse a dualistic view of the world. However, the Dualism present in ancient Egyptian religion predates Zoroastrianism by some centuries, if not a millennium (the exact dates of the founding of Zoroastrianism being unknown). Polarities – such as that of light and dark – are frequently found in ancient Egyptian religious thought, perhaps the best known of them being the opposition of Horus (sometimes Osiris) and Seth. In the various versions of the myth that have survived, the two gods are portrayed as being constantly at war with one another, with Seth never being able to destroy Horus (despite blinding him in one eye), but who himself is never quite annihilated either. They were known variously as ‘the two gods’, ‘the two brothers’ and ‘the two fighters’. Although they weren’t originally seen as good (Horus) versus evil (Seth), Seth developed trickster-type attributes and was gradually demonised until his name was virtually anathema in Egyptian religious rituals and was effectively banished from the Egyptian pantheon.
As Seth was gradually becoming depicted in ever darker colours, a dualist system that posited good against evil from its very outset was emerging in Persia. The prophet Zoroaster (also known as Zarathustra) was a great Persian religious reformer who founded what he called the Good Religion, or Zoroastrianism. The dates of his mission are unclear, and Zoroaster has been placed in various epochs, from 1700–1400 BC to 1400–1000 BC or 1000–600 BC. Current research tends to suggest the middle dates, making Zoroastrianism the world’s oldest revealed religion, a religion that ‘has probably had more influence on mankind, directly and indirectly, than any other single faith.’7 Zoroaster was ‘the first to teach the doctrines of an individual judgment, heaven and hell, the future resurrection of the body, the general Last Judgment, and life everlasting for the reunited soul and body.’8 All of these ideas were to influence Judaism, Christianity and Islam. Yet where Zoroastrianism differs from these later religions is in its treatment of evil. In its traditional form, the faith holds that there is one good god, Ahura Mazda (the name means Wise Lord), under whom are the two equal twin forces of Spenta Mainyu (the beneficent or holy spirit) and Angra Mainyu (the hostile or destructive spirit). Although Ahura Mazda’s creation is good, the source of all evil within it is caused by Angra Mainyu, who is destined to be overcome at the end of historical time, at which point eternity will begin.
Classical Zoroastrianism, however, underwent changes as the fortunes of the Persian Empire rose and fell. Over time, Ahura Mazda became identified with Spenta Mainyu, reducing the original trinity to a binary pairing. The names of the Wise Lord and his adversary also underwent transformation, being contracted to Ohrmazd and Ahriman respectively. By
the time of the Achaemenid Dynasty (550–330 BC), Ahriman was no longer seen as being created by, and inferior to, Ohrmazd, but was now regarded as his equal.9
The World, the Flesh and the Devil
Zoroastrianism, in all its forms, regards the world as a battleground between the forces of good and evil, and each individual is expected to make their own choice as to which side to be on. This, together with the idea of the two principles, would later resurface in Catharism. Several other concepts that developed before the Christian era would also help to shape the heresy, namely the split between the body and the soul, and the figure of the Judeo-Christian equivalent of Ahriman, Satan.
The body/soul split, although perhaps today synonymous with Descartes10 and modern empirical science, seems to have first emerged with the cult of Orpheus in the sixth century BC, which came to play an important part in the religious life of ancient Greece. Orphism contained elements of Dualism within it, as the legendary figure of Orpheus was said to be either the son of Apollo or the Thracian king Oeagres, who was of the dynasty founded by Dionysus. Apollo, the god of order and reason, traditionally stood opposite Dionysus, the god of intoxication and ecstasy, but in Orphism, as in later Zoroastrianism, neither god prevails over the other. Unlike Zoroastrianism, however, which regards the body as the material vehicle of the soul, Orphism regarded the soul as divine and immortal, while the body was its evil, mortal prison for the duration of its earthly existence. The origins of this belief derive from the story of the child Dionysus: as the son of Zeus, the boy incurred the jealousy of the Titans, the race of elder gods that Zeus had overthrown. The Titans tempted the child with a mirror, and while he was studying his own reflection, the Titans killed and dismembered the boy.11 Although Dionysus is later resurrected, Zeus destroys the Titans with a salvo of thunderbolts, and it is from the remains of the elder gods that humankind is born. The physical body was held to be made of Titanic material, and therefore evil, while the soul was formed of divine Dionysian material. Orphism developed practices whose focus was the fate of the soul in the afterlife, and the Orphic initiate hoped that, by following these practices, their soul would be granted salvation in the next world and released from the bonds of matter and the cycle of death and rebirth.