ORGANIZATION.
We have seen how the Church had found persuasion powerless to arrest the
spread of heresy. St. Bernard, Foulques de Neuilly, Durán de Huesca, St.
Dominic, St. Francis, had successively tried the rarest eloquence to
convince, and the example of the sublimest self-abnegation to convert.
Only force remained, and it had been pitilessly employed. It had
subjected the populations, only to render heresy hidden in place of
public; and, in order to reap the fruits of victory, it became apparent
that organized, ceaseless persecution continued to perpetuity was the
only hope of preserving Catholic unity, and of preventing the garment of
the Lord from being permanently rent. To this end the Inquisition was
developed into a settled institution manned by the Mendicant Orders,
which had been formed to persuade by argument and example, and which now
were utilized to suppress by force.
The organization of the Inquisition was simple, yet effective. It did
not care to impress the minds of men with magnificence, but rather to
paralyze them with terror. To the secular prelacy it left the gorgeous
vestments and the imposing splendors of worship, the picturesque
processions and the showy retinues of retainers. The inquisitor wore the
simple habits of his Order. When he appeared abroad he was at most
accompanied by a few armed familiars, partly as a guard, partly to
execute his orders. His principal scene of activity was in the recesses
of the dreaded Holy Office, whence he issued his commands and decided
the fate of whole populations in a silence and secrecy which impressed
upon the people a mysterious awe a thousand times more potent than the
external magnificence of the bishop. Every detail in the Inquisition was
intended for work and not for show. It was built up by resolute, earnest
men of one idea who knew what they wanted, who rendered everything
subservient to the one object, and who sternly rejected all that might
embarrass with superfluities the unerring and ruthless justice which it
was their mission to enforce.
The previous chapter has shown us the simplicity which marked the
beginnings of the institution, consisting virtually of the individual
friars selected to hunt up heretics and determine their guilt. Their
districts were naturally coterminous with the provinces of the Mendicant
Orders, whose provincials were charged with the duty of appointment, and
these provinces each comprised many bishoprics. Though the chief town of
each province came to be regarded as the seat of the Inquisition, with
its building and prisons, yet it was the duty of the inquisitor to go in
pursuit of the heretics, to visit all places where heresy might be
suspected to exist, and to summon the people to assemble, exactly as the
bishops formerly did in their visitations, with the added inducement of
an indulgence of twenty or forty days for all who attended. It is true
that at first the inquisitors of Toulouse established themselves in that
city and cited before them all whom they wished to appear, but such
complaints arose as to the intolerable hardship of this that, in 1237,
the Legate Jean de Vienne ordered them to transport themselves to the
places where they wished to make inquest. In obedience to this we see
them going to Castelnaudari, where they were baffled by the people, who
had entered into a common understanding not to betray each other, so
they turned unexpectedly to Puy Laurens, where they took the population
by surprise and gathered an ample harvest. The murders of Avignonet, in
1242, gave warning that these itinerant inquests were not without risk,
yet they continued to be prescribed by the Cardinal of Albano, about
1244, and by the Council of Béziers, in 1246. Although, in 1247,
Innocent IV. authorized inquisitors, when there was danger, to summon
heretics and witnesses to some place of safety, yet the theory of
personal visitation remained unchanged. In Italy we see it in the bulls
_Ad extirpanda_; a contemporary German inquisitor describes it as the
customary practice; in northern France we have the formulas used in 1278
by Friar Simon Duval for summoning the people on such occasions; about
1330 Bernard Gui alludes to it as one of the special privileges of the
Inquisition; and, about 1375, Eymerich describes the method of
conducting these inquests as part of the established routine.[328]
Nothing could well be devised more effective than these visitations, and
though they may have become neglected when the machinery of spies and
familiars was perfected, or when the heretics had been nearly weeded
out, during the busy times of the Inquisition they must have formed an
important portion of its functions. A few days in advance of his visit
to a city, the inquisitor would send notice to the ecclesiastical
authorities requiring them to summon the people to assemble at a
specified time, with an announcement of the indulgence given to all who
should attend. To the populace thus brought together he preached on the
faith, urging them to its defence with such eloquence as he could
command, summoning every one within a certain radius to come forward
within six or twelve days and reveal to him whatever they may have known
or heard of any one leading to the belief or suspicion that he might be
a heretic, or defamed for heresy, or that he had spoken against any
article of faith, or that he differed in life and morals from the common
conversation of the faithful. Neglect to comply with this command
incurred _ipso facto_ excommunication, removable only by the inquisitor
himself; compliance with it was rewarded with an indulgence of three
years. At the same time he proclaimed a "time of grace," varying from
fifteen to thirty days, during which any heretic coming forward
spontaneously, confessing his guilt, abjuring, and giving full
information about his fellow-sectaries, was promised mercy. This mercy
varied at different times from complete immunity to exemption from the
severer penalties of death, imprisonment, exile, or confiscation. The
latter is the grace promised in the earliest allusion to the practice
in 1235, and in a sentence of 1237 on such an occasion the offender
escaped with a penance consisting of two of the shorter pilgrimages, the
finding of a beggar daily during life, and a fine of ten livres Morlaas
given "for the love of God" to the Inquisition. After the expiration of
the term they were told that no mercy would be shown; while it lasted,
the inquisitor was instructed to keep himself housed, so as to be ready
at any moment to receive denunciations and confessions; and long series
of interrogatories, most searching and suggestive, were drawn up to
prompt him in the examination of those who should present themselves.
Even as late as 1387 when Frà Antonio Secco attacked the heretics of the
Waldensian valleys, he commenced by publishing in the church of Pignerol
a summons giving a week of grace during which all who should confess as
to themselves and others should escape public punishment except for
perjury committed before the Inquisition, and all who did not come
forward were denounced as excommunicates.[329]
Bernard Gui assures us that this device was exceedingly fruitful, not
only in causing numerous happy conversions, but also in furnishing
information of many heretics who would not otherwise have been thought
of, as each penitent was forced to denounce all whom he knew or
suspected; and he particularly dwells upon its utility in securing the
capture of the "perfected" Catharans who habitually lay in hiding and
who thus were betrayed by those in whom they trusted. It is easy, in
fact, to imagine the terror into which a community would be thrown when
an inquisitor suddenly descended upon it and made his proclamation. No
one could know what stories might be circulating about himself which
zealous fanaticism or personal enmity might exaggerate and carry to the
inquisitor, and in this the orthodox and the heretic would suffer alike.
All scandals passing from mouth to mouth would be brought to light. All
confidence between man and man would disappear. Old grudges would be
gratified in safety. To him who had been heretically inclined the
terrible suspense would grow day by day more insupportable, with the
thought that some careless word might have been treasured up to be now
revealed by those who ought to be nearest and dearest to him, until at
last he would yield and betray others rather than be betrayed himself.
Gregory IX. boasted that, on at least one such occasion, parents were
led to denounce their children, and children their parents, husbands
their wives, and wives their husbands. We may well believe Bernard Gui
when he says that each revelation led to others, until the invisible net
extended far and wide, and that not the least of the benefits thence
arising were the extensive confiscations which were sure to follow.[330]
These preliminary proceedings were commonly held in the convent of the
Order to which the inquisitor belonged, if such there were, or in the
episcopal palace if it were a cathedral town. In other cases the church
or municipal buildings would afford the necessary accommodation, for the
authorities, both lay and clerical, were bound to afford all assistance
demanded. Each inquisitor, however, necessarily had his headquarters to
which he would return after these forays, carrying with him the
depositions of accusers and confessions of accused, and such prisoners
as he deemed it important to secure, the secular authorities being bound
to furnish him the necessary transportation and guards. Others he would
cite to appear before him at a specified time, taking sufficient bail to
secure their punctuality. In the earlier period, the seat of his
tribunal was the Mendicant convent, while the episcopal or public prison
was at his disposal for the detention of his captives; but in time
special buildings were provided, amply furnished with the necessary
appliances and dungeons--cells built along the walls and thence known as
"_murus_," in contradistinction to the "_carcer_" or prison--where the
unfortunates awaiting sentence were under the immediate supervision of
their judge. It was here, for the most part, that the judicial
proceedings were carried on, though we occasionally hear of the
episcopal palace being used, especially when the bishop was zealous and
co-operated with the Inquisition.
During the earlier period there was no limitation as to the age of the
inquisitor; the provincial who held the appointing power could select
any member of his Order. That this frequently led to the nomination of
young and inexperienced men is presumable from the language in which
Clement V., when reforming the Holy Office, prescribed forty years as
the minimum age in future. Bernard Gui remonstrated against this, not
only because younger men were often thoroughly capable of the duties,
but also because bishops and their ordinaries who exercised
inquisitorial power were not required to be so old. The rule, however,
held good. In 1422 the Provincial of Toulouse appointed an inquisitor of
Carcassonne, Friar Raymond du Tille, who was only thirty-two years of
age. Though he was confirmed by the general of the Order, it was held
that the office was vacant until an appeal was made to Martin V., who
ordered the Official of Alet to investigate his fitness, and, if found
worthy, the Clementine canon might be suspended in his favor.[331]
The trials were usually conducted by a single inquisitor, though
sometimes two would work together. One, however, sufficed, but he
generally had subordinate assistants, who prepared the cases for him,
and took the preliminary examinations. He had a right to call upon the
provincial to assign to him as many of these assistants as he deemed
necessary, but he could not select them for himself. Sometimes, when the
bishop was eager for persecution and careless of the episcopal dignity,
he would accept the position; and it was frequently filled by the
Dominican prior of the local convent. When the state defrayed the
expenses of the Inquisition, it seems to have exercised some control
over the number of officials. Thus in Naples Charles of Anjou, in 1269,
only provides for one assistant.[332]
These assistants represented the inquisitor during his absence, and thus
were closely assimilated to the commissioners who came to be a
permanent feature of the Holy Office. Even in the twelfth century it was
determined that a judicial delegate of the Holy See could delegate his
powers; and in 1246 the Council of Béziers authorized the inquisitor to
appoint a deputy whenever he wished to have an inquest made in any place
to which he could not himself proceed. Special commissions were
sometimes issued, as when, in 1276, Pons de Pornac, Inquisitor of
Toulouse, authorized the Dominican Prior of Montauban to take testimony
against Bernard de Solhac and forward it to him under seal. In the
extensive districts of the Inquisition the work must necessarily have
been divided in this manner, especially during the earlier period, when
the harvest of heresy was abundant and numerous laborers were requisite.
Yet the formal authority to appoint commissioners with full powers does
not seem to have been granted to inquisitors until 1262 by Urban IV.,
and this had to be confirmed by Boniface VIII. towards the close of the
century. These commissioners, or vicars, differed from the assistants,
inasmuch as they were appointed and discharged at the discretion of the
inquisitor. They became a permanent feature of the institution, and
conducted its business in places remote from the main tribunal; or, in
case of the absence or incapacity of the inquisitor, one of them might
be summoned to replace him temporarily, or the inquisitor could appoint
a vicar-general. Like their principal, they had, after the Clementine
reforms in 1317, to be at least forty years of age, and they wielded
full inquisitorial powers, in the citation, arrest, and examination of
witnesses and prisoners, even to the infliction of torture and
condemnation to imprisonment. Whether they could proceed to final
sentence in capital cases was a disputed question, and Eymerich
recommends that such authority should always be reserved to the
inquisitor himself; but, as we shall see, the cases of Joan of Arc and
of the Vaudois of Arras show that this reservation was rarely observed.
A further limitation on their powers was the inability to appoint
deputies.[333]
In the later period there seems to have been occasionally another
official with the title of "counsellor." In 1370 the Inquisition of
Carcassonne claimed the right to appoint three, who should be exempt
from all local taxation. In a document of 1423 the person filling this
position is not a Dominican, but is qualified as a licentiate in law;
and doubtless such a functionary was a useful and usual member of the
tribunal, though with no precise official status. Zanghino informs us
that in general inquisitors were utterly ignorant of law. In most cases
this made no difference, for, as we shall see, they enjoyed the widest
latitude of arbitrary procedure, with little danger that any one would
dare to complain, but occasionally they had to deal with victims not
entirely unresisting, and then some adviser as to their legal duties and
responsibilities was desirable. Eymerich, in fact, recommends that a
commissioner should always associate with himself some discreet lawyer
to save him from mistakes which may redound to the disadvantage of the
Inquisition, call for papal interposition, and perhaps cost him his
place.[334]
As absolute secrecy became a main feature of all the proceedings of the
Inquisition after its earlier tentative period, it was a universal rule
that testimony, whether of witnesses or of accused, should only be taken
in the presence of two impartial men, not connected with the
institution, but sworn to silence. The inquisitor was empowered to
compel the attendance of any one whom he might summon to perform this
duty. These representatives of the public were preferably clerics, and
usually Dominicans, "discreet and religious men," who were expected to
sign with the notary the written report of the testimony in attestation
of its fidelity. Though not alluded to in the instructions of the
Council of Béziers in 1246, a deposition taken in 1244 shows that
already the practice had become customary; and the frequent repetitions
of the rule by successive popes and its embodiment in the canon law show
what importance was attached to it as a means of preventing injustice,
and giving at least a color of impartiality to the proceedings. Yet in
this, as in everything else, the inquisitors were a law unto themselves,
and disregarded at pleasure the very slender restrictions imposed on
them. One of the rare cases in which the Inquisition lost a victim
turned upon the neglect of this rule. In 1325 a priest named Pierre de
Tornamire, accused of Spiritual Franciscanism, was brought to the
Inquisition of Carcassonne in a dying state. The inquisitor was absent.
His deputy and notary took the deposition in the presence of three
laymen who chanced to be present, and the priest died before it was well
concluded. Two Dominicans came, after he was speechless, and, without
making any inquiry as to its correctness, signed their names to the
deposition in attestation. On this irregular evidence a prosecution
against Pierre's memory was based, and was contested by his heirs to
save his property from confiscation. Thirty-two years the struggle
lasted, and when the inquisitor came, in 1357, to ask assent to his
sentence of condemnation in the customary assembly of experts,
twenty-five jurists unanimously voted against it on the ground of
irregularity, and only two, both Dominicans, ventured to uphold it. It
was not long after this that Eymerich instructed his brethren how the
rule could be evaded, when it was inconvenient, by at least having two
honest persons present at the close of the examination, when the
testimony was read over to the deponent. No one else was allowed to be
present at the trial, except at Avignon for a brief period, about the
middle of the thirteenth century, when the magistrates temporarily
secured the right of attendance for themselves and a certain number of
seigneurs. With this exception, the unfortunates who were wrestling for
their lives with their judges were wholly at the discretion of the
inquisitor and his creatures.[335]
The _personnel_ of the tribunal was completed by the notary--an official
of considerable standing and dignity in the Middle Ages. All the
proceedings of the Inquisition were taken down in writing--every
question and every answer--each witness and each defendant being obliged
to confirm his testimony when read over to him at the close of the
interrogatory, and judgment was finally rendered on an inspection of the
evidence thus recorded. The function of the notary was no light one, and
occasionally scriveners were called in to his assistance, but he
formally attested every document. Not only was there the fearful
multiplication of papers accumulating in the current business of the
tribunal, and their careful transcription for preservation, but the
several Inquisitions were continually furnishing each other with copies
of their records, so that a considerable force must have been
necessarily employed. As in everything else, the inquisitor was
empowered to call for gratuitous service on the part of any one whom he
might summon, but the continuous business of the office required
undivided attention, and its proper despatch rendered desirable the
peculiar training acquired by experience. In the earlier periods, the
authorization to impress any notary to serve, and the advice to select
if possible Dominicans who had been notaries, with the power, if none
such could be had, to replace him with two discreet persons, shows that
the itinerant tribunals depended for the most part on this chance
conscription; but in the permanent seats of the Inquisition the notary
was a regular official, in receipt of a salary. In the attempted reform
of Clement V. it was provided that he should take his official oath
before the bishop as well as before the inquisitor, and to this Bernard
Gui objected on the ground that the exigencies of business sometimes
required the force to be suddenly increased to two or three or four, and
that in places where no public notaries were to be had, other competent
persons were necessarily employed on the spur of the moment, as it often
happens that the guilty will confess when in the mood, and if their
confession is not promptly taken they draw back, and they are always
more given to concealment than to truth. Curiously enough, the power to
appoint notaries was regarded with so much jealousy that it was denied
to the inquisitor. He may if he choose, says Eymerich, send three or
four names to the pope, who will appoint them for him, but this leads to
such bad feeling on the part of the local authorities that he had better
content himself with the notaries of the bishops or of the secular
rulers.[336]
The enormous mass of documents produced by these innumerable busy hands
was the object of well-deserved solicitude. At the very inception of the
work its value was recognized. In 1235 we hear of the confessions of
penitents being sedulously recorded in books kept for the purpose. This
speedily became the universal custom, and the inquisitors were
instructed to preserve careful records of all their proceedings, from
the first summons to the final sentence in every case, together with
lists of all who took the oath enforced on every one to defend the faith
and persecute heresy. The importance attached to this is shown by the
frequent iteration of the command, and by the further precaution that
all the papers should be duplicated, and a copy lodged in a safe place
or with the bishop. With what elaborate care they were rendered
practically useful is shown by the Book of Sentences of the Inquisition
of Toulouse, from 1308 to 1323, printed by Limborch, where at the end
there is an index of the 636 culprits sentenced, grouped under their
places of residence alphabetically arranged, with reference to the pages
on which their names occur and brief mention of the several punishments
inflicted on each, and of any subsequent modifications of the penalty,
thus enabling the official who wished information as to the people of
any hamlet to see at a glance who among them had been suspected and what
had been done. One case in the same book will illustrate the
completeness and the exactitude of the previous records. In 1316 an old
woman was brought before the tribunal; on examination it was found that
in 1268, nearly fifty years before, she had confessed and abjured heresy
and had been reconciled, and as this aggravated her guilt the miserable
wretch was condemned to perpetual imprisonment in chains. Thus in
process of time the Inquisition accumulated a store of information
which not only increased greatly its efficiency, but which rendered it
an object of terror to every man. The confiscations and disabilities
which, as we shall see hereafter, were inflicted on descendants,
rendered the secrets of family history so carefully preserved in its
archives the means by which a crushing blow might at any moment fall on
the head of any one; and the Inquisition had an awkward way of
discovering disagreeable facts about the ancestry of those who provoked
its ill-will, and possibly its cupidity. Thus, in 1306, during the
troubles at Albi, when the royal _viguier_, or governor, supported the
cause of the people, the inquisitor, Geoffroi d'Ablis, issued letters
declaring that he had found among the records that the grandfather of
the _viguier_ had been a heretic, and his grandson consequently was
incapable of holding office. The whole population was thus at the mercy
of the Holy Office.[337]
The temptation to falsify the records when an enemy was to be struck
down was exceedingly strong, and the opponents of the Inquisition had no
hesitation in declaring that it was freely yielded to. Friar Bernard
Délicieux, speaking for the whole Franciscan Order of Languedoc, in a
formal document of the year 1300, not only declared that the records
were unworthy of trust, but that they were generally believed to be so.
We shall see hereafter facts which fully justified this assertion, and
the popular mistrust was intensified by the jealous secrecy which
rendered it an offence punishable with excommunication for any one to
possess any papers relating to the proceedings of the Inquisition or to
prosecutions against heretics. On the other hand, the temptation on the
part of those who were endangered to destroy the archives was equally
strong, and the attempts to effect this show the importance attached to
their possession. As early as 1235 we find the citizens of Narbonne, in
an insurrection against the Inquisition, carefully destroying all the
books and records. The order of the Council of Albi in 1254, to make
duplicates and lodge them in some safe place was doubtless caused by
another successful effort made in 1248 by the heretics of Narbonne. On
the occasion of an assembly of bishops in that city a clerk and a
messenger bearing records with the names of heretics were slain and the
books burned, giving rise to a good many troublesome questions with
regard to existing and future prosecutions. About 1285, at Carcassonne,
a plot was entered into by the consuls of the town and several of its
leading ecclesiastics to destroy the inquisitorial records. They bribed
one of the familiars, Bernard Garric, to burn them, but the conspiracy
was discovered and its authors punished. One of these, a lawyer named
Guillem Garric, languished in prison for about thirty years before his
final sentence in 1321.[338]
* * * * *
Not the least important among the functionaries of the Inquisition were
the lowest class--the apparitors, messengers, spies, and bravos, known
generally by the name of familiars, which came to have so ill-omened a
significance in the popular ear. The service was not without risk, and
it had few attractions for the honest and peaceable, but it was full of
promise for the reckless and evil-minded. Not only did they enjoy the
immunity from secular jurisdiction attaching to all in the service of
the Church, but the special authority granted by Innocent IV., in 1245,
to the inquisitors to absolve their familiars for acts of violence
rendered them independent even of the ecclesiastical tribunals. Besides,
as any molestation of the servants of the Inquisition was qualified as
impeding its operations and thus savoring of heresy, any one who dared
to resist aggression rendered himself liable to prosecution before the
tribunal of the aggressor. Thus panoplied, they could tyrannize at will
over the defenceless population, and it is easy to imagine the amount of
extortion which they could practise with virtual impunity by threatening
arrest or accusation at a time when falling into the hands of the
Inquisition was about the heaviest misfortune which could befall any
man, whether orthodox or heretic.[339]
All that was needed to render this social scourge complete was devised
when the familiars were authorized to carry arms. The murders at
Avignonet, in 1242, with that of Peter Martyr, and other similar events,
seemed to justify the inquisitors in desiring an armed guard; and the
service of tracking and capturing heretics was frequently one of peril,
yet the privilege was a dangerous one to bestow on such men as could be
got for the work, while releasing them from the restraints of law. In
the turbulence of the age the carrying of weapons was rigidly repressed
in all peace-loving communities. As early as the eleventh century we
find it prohibited in the city of Pistoja, and in 1228 in Verona. In
Bologna knights and doctors only were allowed to bear arms, and to have
one armed servant. In Milan, a statute of Gian-Galeazzo, in 1386,
forbids the carrying of weapons, but allows the bishops to arm the
retainers living under their roofs. In Paris an _ordonnance_ of 1288
inhibits the citizens from carrying pointed knives, swords, bucklers, or
other similar weapons. In Beaucaire, an edict of 1320 prescribes various
penalties, including the loss of a hand, for bearing arms, except in the
case of travellers, who are restricted simply to swords and knives. Such
regulations were of inestimable value in the progress of civilization,
but they amounted to little when the inquisitor could arm any one he
pleased, and invest him with the privileges and immunities of the Holy
Office.[340]
As early as 1249 the scandals and abuses arising from the unlimited
employment of scriveners and familiars who oppressed the people with
their extortions called forth the indignant rebuke of Innocent IV., who
commanded that their numbers should be reduced to correspond with the
bare exigencies of duty. In those countries in which the Inquisition was
supported by the State there was not much opportunity for the
development of overgrown abuses of this nature. Thus, in Naples, Charles
of Anjou, in permitting the carrying of arms, specifies three as the
number of familiars for each inquisitor; and when Bernard Gui protested
against the reforms of Clement V. he pointed out the contrast between
France, where the inquisitors relied upon the secular officials, and
were forced to be content with few retainers, and Italy, where they had
almost unlimited opportunities. There, in fact, as we shall see, the
Inquisition was self-supporting and independent by reason of its share
in the fines and confiscations, and restraint of any kind was difficult.
Clement V. forbade the useless multiplication of officials and the abuse
of the right to bear arms, but his well-meant efforts availed little. In
1321 we find John XXII. reproving the inquisitors of Lombardy for
creating scandals and tumults in Bologna by their armed familiars of
depraved character and perverse habits, who committed murders and other
outrages. In 1337 the papal nuncio, Bertrand, Archbishop of Embrun,
seeing by personal observation the troubles which existed in Florence,
owing to the practice of the inquisitor issuing licenses to carry arms,
which was abused to the frequent injury of defenceless citizens,
restricted him to twelve armed familiars, informing him that the secular
authorities would furnish whatever additional armed assistance might be
necessary for the capture of heretics. Yet within nine years one of the
accusations brought against a new inquisitor, Frà Piero di Aquila, was
that he had sold licenses to carry arms to more than two hundred and
fifty men, bringing him in an annual revenue of about one thousand gold
florins, and proving sadly detrimental to the peace of the city.
Accordingly a law was passed restricting the inquisitor to six familiars
bearing arms, the Bishop of Florence to twelve, and the Bishop of
Fiesole to six, all of whom were required to wear the insignia of their
masters. Still, the profit arising from the sale of such licenses was
too great a temptation, and in the Florentine code of 1355 we find
general regulations intended to check it in another way. Any one caught
bearing arms and pleading a license was deported beyond the territory of
the republic, to a distance of at least fifty miles from the city, and
had to give a bond to remain there for a year. Even the podestà was
prohibited from issuing such licenses under the penalties of perjury and
a fine of five hundred lire. All this was an infraction of the liberties
of the Church, and formed the substance of one of the complaints of
Gregory XI., when, in 1376, he excommunicated the republic; and when, in
1378, Florence was forced to submit, one of the conditions was that a
papal commissioner should expunge from the statute-book all the
obnoxious laws. Yet the excesses of these brawling ruffians were too
great to be long submitted to, and in 1386 another device was tried. The
two bishops and the inquisitor were forbidden to have armed familiars
who were taxable or inscribed on the roll of citizens; those to whom
they issued licenses had to be declared their familiars by the priors of
the arts, and this declaration had to be renewed yearly by a public
instrument delivered to them. Some restraint thus was exercised, and
this provision was retained in the recension of the code in 1415. This
same struggle was doubtless going on in all the Italian cities which had
independence enough to seek a remedy for the daily outrages inflicted by
these licensed bravos, though the record of the troubles may not be
accessible to history. Even in Venice, which kept the Inquisition in so
subordinate a position, and wisely maintained its rights by defraying
the expenses of the institution--even Venice felt the necessity of
restraining the multiplication of pretended armed retainers. In August,
1450, the Great Council, by a vote of fourteen to two, denounced the
abuse by which the inquisitor had sold to twelve persons the license to
bear arms; such a force, it is said, was wholly unnecessary, as he could
always invoke the assistance of the secular power, and therefore he
should, in accordance with ancient custom, be restricted to four armed
familiars. Six months later, in February, 1451, at the earnest request
of the Franciscan general minister, this regulation was rescinded; the
inquisitor was allowed to increase the number to twelve, but the police
were directed to observe and report whether they were really engaged in
the duties of the Inquisition. Yet Eymerich assures us that all such
interference is unlawful, and that any secular ruler who endeavors to
prevent the familiars of the Holy Office from bearing arms is impeding
the Inquisition and is a fautor of heresy, while Bernard Gui
characterizes in similar terms any limitation of the number of officials
below what the inquisitor may deem requisite, all of which, according to
Zanghino, is punishable at the discretion of the inquisitor.[341]
In the preceding chapter I have alluded to the power claimed and often
exercised of abrogating all local statutes obnoxious to the Holy Office,
and of the duty of every secular official to lend aid whenever called
upon. This duty was recognized and enforced so that the organization of
the Inquisition may be said to have embraced that of the State, whose
whole resources were placed at its disposition. The oath of obedience
which the inquisitor was empowered and directed to exact of all holding
official station was no mere form. Refusal to take it was visited with
excommunication, leading to prosecution for heresy in case of obduracy,
and humiliating penance on submission. At times it was neglected by
careless inquisitors, but the earnest ones made a point of it. Bernard
Gui, at all his _autos de fé_, solemnly administered it to all the royal
officials and local magistrates, and when, in May, 1309, Jean de
Maucochin, the royal seneschal of the Tolosain and Albigeois declined to
take it, he was speedily brought to see his error, and submitted within
a month. Bernard himself, as we have seen, admits that the help thus
promised was efficiently rendered, and when, in 1329, Henri de Chamay,
Inquisitor of Carcassonne, applied to Philippe de Valois for a
reaffirmation of the privileges of the Inquisition, the monarch promptly
responded in an edict in which he proclaimed that "each and all, dukes,
counts, barons, seneschals, baillis, provosts, viguiers, castellans,
sergeants, and other justiciaries of the kingdom of France are bound to
obey the inquisitors and their commissioners in seizing, holding,
guarding, and taking to prison all heretics and suspects of heresy, and
to execute diligently the sentences of the inquisitors, and to give to
the inquisitors, their commissioners and messengers, safe-conduct,
prompt help and favor, through all the lands of their jurisdictions, in
all that concerns the business of the Inquisition, whenever and how
often soever they may be called upon." Any hesitation on the part of
public officials to grant assistance when summoned was promptly
punished. Thus, in 1303, when Bonrico di Busca, vicar of the podestà of
Mandrisio, refused to furnish men to the representatives of the Milanese
Inquisition, he was forthwith condemned to a fine of a hundred imperial
solidi, to be paid within five days. Even the condition of an
excommunicate, which rendered an official incapable of performing any
other function, did not relieve him from this duty; he could be called
upon to execute the commands of the inquisitor, but he was warned that
he must not imagine himself competent therefore to do anything
else.[342]
In addition to this the Inquisition had, to a greater or less extent, at
its service the whole orthodox population, and especially the clergy. It
was the duty of every man to give information as to all cases of heresy
with which he might become acquainted under pain of incurring the guilt
of fautorship. It was further his duty to arrest all heretics, as
Bernard de St. Genais found in 1242, when he was tried by the
Inquisition of Toulouse for the offence of not capturing certain
heretics when it was in his power to do so, and was condemned to the
penance of pilgrimages to the shrines of Puy, St. Gilles, and
Compostella. The parish priests, moreover, were required, whenever
called upon, to cite their parishioners for appearance, either publicly
from the pulpit or secretly as the case might require, and to publish
all sentences of excommunication. They were likewise held to the duty of
surveillance over penitents to see that the penances enjoined were duly
performed, and to report any cases of neglect. A very thorough system of
local police, framed upon the model of the old synodal witnesses, was
devised by the Council of Béziers in 1246, under which the inquisitor
was empowered to appoint in every parish a priest and one or two
laymen, whose duty it should be to search for heretics, examining all
houses, inside and out, and especially all secret hiding-places. In
addition to this they were instructed to watch over penitents and
enforce the faithful observance of the sentences of the Inquisition, and
a manual of practice of the period instructs inquisitors to see that
this system is thoroughly carried out. In fact, the whole resources of
the land, public and private, were freely placed at the disposal of the
Holy Office, so that nothing should be wanting in its sacred mission of
extirpating heresy.[343]
* * * * *
An important feature in the organization of the Inquisition was the
assembly in which the fate of the accused was finally determined. The
inquisitor had technically no power to pass sentence by himself. We have
seen how, after various fluctuations of policy, the co-operation of the
bishops was established as indispensable. As in everything else, the
inquisitors contemptuously neglected this limitation on their powers,
and when Clement V. endeavored to reform abuses he pronounced null and
void any sentences rendered independently, yet to avert delays he
permitted consent to be expressed in writing if after eight days a
meeting could not be arranged. If, indeed, we may judge from some
specimens of these written consultations which have reached us, they
were perfunctory to the last degree and placed no real check upon the
discretion of the inquisitor. Still Bernard Gui complained bitterly even
of this restriction in terms which show how little respect had
previously been paid to the rule, and he adds, in justification, that
one bishop kept the trials of some persons of his diocese from being
finished for two years and more, while another delayed the celebration
of an _auto de fé_ for six months. He himself observed the regulation
scrupulously, both before and after the publication of the Clementines,
and in the reports of the _autos_ held by him in Toulouse the
participation of the bishops of the prisoners, or of episcopal
delegates, is always carefully specified. Yet how easy was the evasion
of this, as of all other regulations for the protection of the accused,
is seen when even Bernard Gui accepted commissions from three
bishops--those of Cahors, St. Papoul, and Montauban--to act for them in
the _auto_ of September 30, 1319. This device became frequent, and
inquisitors constantly rendered sentence on their individual
responsibility under power granted them by the bishops, as in the
persecutions of the Waldenses of Piedmont in 1387, and that of the
witches of Canavese in 1474. Sometimes, however, the bishops were not
altogether free agents, as when, in the early persecution of the
Spiritual Franciscans, about 1318, those of the province of Narbonne
were coerced to consent to the burning of some unfortunates by the
inquisitor threatening them with the pope, who was known to have the
prosecutions much at heart.[344]
This episcopal concurrence in the sentence was reached in consultation
with the assembly of experts. As the inquisitors from the beginning were
chosen rather with regard to zeal than learning, and as they maintained
a reputation for ignorance, it was soon found requisite to associate
with them in the rendering of sentences men versed in the civil and
canon law, which had by this time become an intricate study requiring
the devotion of a lifetime. Accordingly they were empowered to call in
experts to deliberate with them over the evidence and advise with them
on the sentence to be rendered, and those who were thus summoned could
not refuse to serve gratuitously, though it is intimated that the
inquisitor can pay them if he feels so inclined. At first it would seem
as though notables were assembled at the condemnation of prominent
heretics rather to give solemnity to the occasion than for actual
consultation, as when, in 1237, at the sentence passed on Alaman de
Roaix in Toulouse, the presence is recorded of the Bishop of Toulouse,
the Abbot of Moissac, the Dominican and Franciscan provincials, and a
number of other notables. The amount of work, in fact, performed by the
Inquisition of Languedoc in the early years of its existence would seem
to preclude the idea of any serious deliberation by counsellors thus
called in, who would have to consider the interminable reports of
examinations and interrogations; especially as, at a comparatively
early date, the practice was adopted of allowing a number of culprits to
accumulate whose fate was determined and announced in a solemn "_Sermo_"
or _auto de fé_. Still, the form was kept up, and in 1247 a sentence
rendered by Bernard de Caux and Jean de St. Pierre on seven relapsed
heretics is specified as being "with the counsel of many prelates and
other good men." In the final shape which the assembly of counsellors
assumed, we find it summoned to meet on Fridays, the "_Sermo_" always
taking place on Sundays. When the number of criminals was large there
was thus not much time for deliberation on special cases. The assessors
were always to be jurists and Mendicant friars, selected by the
inquisitor in such numbers as he saw fit. They were severally sworn on
the Gospels to secrecy, and to give good and wise counsel, each one
according to his conscience and the knowledge vouchsafed him by God. The
inquisitor then read over to them his summary of each case, sometimes
withholding the name of the accused, and they voted the
sentence--"Penance at the discretion of the inquisitor"--"That person is
to be imprisoned, or abandoned to the secular arm," while the Gospels
lay on the table in their midst, "so that our judgment may come from the
face of God and our eyes may see justice."[345]
As a rule it is safe to assume that these proceedings were scarcely more
than formal. Not only was the inquisitor at liberty to present each case
in such aspect as he saw fit, but it became the custom to call in such
numbers of experts that in the press of business deliberation was scarce
possible. Thus the Inquisitor of Carcassonne, Henri de Chamay, assembled
at Narbonne, December 10, 1328, besides himself and the episcopal
Ordinary, forty-two counsellors, consisting of canons, jurisconsults,
and lay experts. In the two days allotted to them this unwieldly
assemblage despatched thirty-four cases, which would show that little
consideration could have been given to each. In only two cases, indeed,
was there any difference of opinion expressed, and these were of no
special importance. On September 8, 1329, he held another assembly at
Carcassonne, attended by forty-seven experts, which in its two days'
session acted upon forty cases. Yet these assemblies were not always so
expeditious and self-effacing. From Narbonne Henri de Chamay passed to
Pamiers, where, January 7, 1329, he called together thirty-five experts
besides the Bishop of Toulouse. On the first day several cases were
postponed for greater deliberation, and of these some were acted upon
and others were not. Considerable debate took place, each individual
expressing his opinion, and the result was apparently settled by the
majority vote. They evidently felt and assumed the responsibility of the
decision; and yet the impossibility of deliberate action by so cumbrous
a body is seen in their bunching together all the cases of "believing"
heretics, condemning them _en masse_ to prison, and leaving it with the
inquisitor to determine the character of the imprisonment for each
individual. Curiously enough, this assembly also assumed legislative
functions in laying down general rules of punishment for false-witness.
A still more notable instance of deliberation occurred at an assembly
convoked by Henri de Chamay at Béziers, May 19, 1329, where there were
thirty-five experts present. In the case of a Franciscan friar, Pierre
Julien, all agreed that, strictly speaking, he was a "relapsed," but
many were anxious to show him mercy. After long debate, the inquisitor
told them to meet again in the evening, and in the meanwhile consider
whether they could devise some means of grace. At the evening session
there was again earnest discussion, and postponement was agreed to on
the excuse that no bishop could be had in time for his degradation. The
experts were finally summoned, under pain of excommunication, to give
their opinions, which were taken down in writing and ranged from simple
purgation to abandonment to the secular arm. The assembly then was
dismissed and consultation was held with some of the more prominent
members, when it was agreed either to send to Avignon, Toulouse, or
Montpellier for advice or to await an _auto de fé_ at Carcassonne for
further counsel.[346]
Yet, while the forms were thus preserved, the inquisitors, with their
customary arbitrary disregard of all that limited their discretion,
paid attention or not to the decisions of the experts, as best suited
them. In the sentences which follow the reports of these assemblies it
is by no means unusual to find names which had never been laid before
them. After the assembly of Pamiers, for instance, which showed so much
disposition to act for itself, there is a sentence condemning five
defuncts, only two of whom are named in the proceedings. On the same
occasion, another culprit, Ermessende, daughter of Raymond Monier, was
condemned by the assembly for false-witness to the "_murus largus_," or
simple prison, and was sentenced by the inquisitor to "_murus
strictus_," or imprisonment in chains, which was a very different
penalty. In fact, it was a disputed point whether the inquisitor was
bound to obey the counsel of the assembly, and though Eymerich decides
in the affirmative, Bernardo di Como positively asserts the
negative.[347]
* * * * *
From the necessity of these consultations with bishops and experts it is
easy to understand the origin of the "_Sermo generalis_," or _auto de
fé_. It was evidently impossible to bring all parties together to
consult over each individual case, and convenience was not only served
by allowing the cases to accumulate, but opportunity was also afforded
of arranging an impressive solemnity which should strike terror on the
heretic and comfort the hearts of the faithful. In the rudimentary
Inquisition of Florence, in 1245, where the inquisitor Ruggieri Calcagni
and Bishop Ardingho were zealously co-operating, and no assembly of
experts was required, we find the heretics sentenced and executed day by
day, singly or in twos or threes, but the form was already adopted of
assembling the people in the cathedral and reading the sentence to them,
when doubtless the occasion was improved of delivering a discourse upon
the wickedness of dissent and the duty of all citizens to persecute the
children of Satan. In Toulouse the fragment of the register of sentences
of Bernard de Caux and Jean de Saint-Pierre, from March, 1246, to June,
1248, shows a similar disregard of form. The _autos_ or _Sermones_ are
sometimes held every few days--there are five in May, 1246--and often
there are only one or two heretics to be sentenced, rendering it
exceedingly probable that the co-operation of the bishop was not asked
for, especially as he is never mentioned as joining in the condemnation.
There are always present, however, a certain number of local
magistrates, civil and ecclesiastical, and the ceremony is usually
performed in the cloister of the church of St. Sernin, though other
places are sometimes mentioned, and among them the Hotel-de-Ville twice,
showing that divine service as yet formed no part of the solemnity.[348]
With time the ceremony grew in stateliness and impressiveness. Sunday
became prescribed for it, and as no other sermons were allowed on that
day in the city, it was forbidden to be held on Quadragesima or Advent
Sunday, or any other of the principal feast-days. Notice was given in
advance from all the pulpits summoning all the people to be present and
obtain the indulgence of forty days. A staging was erected in the centre
of the church, on which the "penitents" were placed, surrounded by the
secular and clerical officials. The sermon was delivered by the
inquisitor, after which the oath of obedience was administered to the
representatives of the civil power, and a solemn decree of
excommunication was fulminated against all who should in any manner
impede the operations of the Holy Office. Then the notary commenced
reading the confessions one by one in the vulgar tongue, and as each was
finished the culprit was asked if he acknowledged it to be true--care
being taken, however, only to do this when he was known to be truly
penitent and not likely to create scandal by a denial. On his replying
in the affirmative he was asked whether he would repent, or lose body
and soul by persevering in heresy; and on his expressing a desire to
abjure, the form of abjuration was read and he repeated it, sentence by
sentence. Then the inquisitor absolved him from the _ipso facto_
excommunication which he had incurred by heresy, and promised him mercy
if he behaved well under the sentence about to be imposed. The sentence
followed, and thus the penitents were brought forward successively,
commencing with the least guilty and proceeding with those incurring
severer penalties. Those who were to be "relaxed," or abandoned to the
secular arm, were reserved to the last, and for them the ceremony was
adjourned to the public square, where a platform had been constructed
for the purpose, in order that the holy precincts of the church might
not be polluted by a sentence leading to blood. For the same reason it
was not to be performed on a holy day. The execution, however, was not
to take place on the same day, but on the following, so as to afford the
convicts time for conversion, that their souls might not pass from
temporal to eternal flame, and care was enjoined not to permit them to
address the people, lest sympathy should be aroused by their assertions
of innocence.[349]
We can readily picture to ourselves the effect produced on the popular
mind by these awful celebrations, when, at the bidding of the
Inquisition, all that was great and powerful in the land was called
together humbly to take the oath of obedience and witness its exercise
of the highest expression of human authority, regulating the destinies
of fellow-creatures here and hereafter. In the great _auto de fé_ held
by Bernard Gui at Toulouse, in April, 1310, the solemnities lasted from
Sunday the 5th until Thursday the 9th. After the preliminary work of
mitigating the penances of some deserving penitents, twenty persons were
condemned to wear crosses and perform pilgrimages, sixty-five were
consigned to perpetual imprisonment, three of them in chains, and
eighteen were delivered to the secular justice and were duly burned. In
that of April, 1312, fifty-one were sentenced to crosses, eighty-six to
imprisonment, ten defunct persons were pronounced worthy of prison and
their estates confiscated, the bones of thirty-six were ordered to be
exhumed and burned, five living ones were handed over to the secular
court to be burned, and five more condemned for contumacy in absenting
themselves. The faith which could thus vindicate itself might certainly
inspire the respect of fear if not the attraction of love. Sometimes,
however, a godless heretic would interfere with the prescribed order of
solemnities, as when, in October, 1309, Amiel de Perles, a noted
Catharan teacher, who defiantly avowed his heterodoxy, immediately on
his capture commenced the _endura_ and refused all food and drink.
Unwilling thus to be robbed of his victim, Bernard hastened the usual
dilatory proceedings, and gave to Amiel the honor of a special _auto_
in which he was the only victim. A similar case occurred in 1313, when a
certain Pierre Raymond, who as a Catharan "_credens_" had been led to
abjure and seek reconciliation in the _auto_ of 1310, and had been
condemned to imprisonment, repented of his weakness in his solitary
cell. The mental tortures of the poor wretch grew so strong that at last
he defiantly proclaimed his relapse into heresy, in which he declared he
would live and die, only regretting that he could not have access to
some minister of his faith in order to be "perfected" or "hereticated."
He likewise placed himself in _endura_, and after six days of
starvation, as he was evidently nearing the end which he so resolutely
sought, he was hurriedly sentenced, and a small _auto_ was arranged with
a few other culprits in order that the stake might not be cheated of its
prey.[350]
* * * * *
With such an organization as this, in the hands of able, vigorous, and
earnest men, it shows the marvellous constancy of the heretics that the
Cathari for a hundred years opposed to it the simple resistance of
inertia, and that the Waldenses were never trampled out. The
effectiveness of the organization was unhampered by any limits of
jurisdiction, and was multiplied by the co-operation of the tribunals
everywhere, so that there was no resting-place, no harbor of refuge for
the heretic in any land where the Inquisition existed. Vainly might he
change his abode, it was ever on his track. A suspicious stranger would
be observed and arrested; his birthplace would be ascertained, and as
soon as swift messengers could traverse the intervening distance, full
official documents as to his antecedents would be received from the Holy
Office of his former home. It was a mere matter of convenience whether
he should be tried where he was caught or sent back, for every tribunal
had full jurisdiction over all offences committed within its district,
and over all such offenders wherever they should stray. When Jacopo
della Chiusa, one of the assassins of St. Peter Martyr, discreetly
absented himself, notices commanding his capture were sent as far as the
Inquisition of Carcassonne. Of course, questions sometimes arose which
seemed likely to give trouble. Before the Inquisition was thoroughly
organized, Jayme I. of Aragon, in 1248, complained of the Tolosan
inquisitor, Bernard de Caux, for citing his subjects to appear, and
Innocent IV. commanded that the abuse should cease, an order which
received but slack obedience; and with the growth of the Holy Office
such reclamations were not likely to be repeated. Cases, of course,
occurred, in which two tribunals would claim the same culprit, and in
this the rule of the Council of Narbonne, in 1244, was generally
observed, that he should be tried by the inquisitor who had first
commenced prosecution. Considering, indeed, the abundant causes of
jealousy, and especially the bitter rivalry between the Dominican and
Franciscan Orders, the cases of quarrel seem to have been singularly
few. Whatever there were, they were hushed up with prudent reserve, and
with occasional exceptions we find a hearty and zealous co-operation in
the holy work to which all were alike devoted.[351]
The implacable energy with which the resources of this organization were
employed may be understood from one or two instances. Under the
Hohenstaufens the two Sicilies had served as a refuge for many heretics
self-exiled by the rigor of the Inquisition of Languedoc, and merciless
as was Frederic when it suited him, his system was by no means so
searching and unintermittent as that of the Holy Office. After his
death, the active warfare between Manfred and the papacy doubtless left
the heretics in comparative peace, but when Charles of Anjou conquered
the kingdom as the vassal of Rome, it was at once thrown open and the
French inquisitors made haste to pursue those who had eluded them. But
seven months after the execution of Conradin, Charles issued his
letters-patent, May 31, 1269, to all the nobles and magistrates of the
realm, setting forth that the inquisitors of France were about coming or
sending agents to track and seize the fugitive heretics who had sought
refuge in Italy, and ordering his subjects to give them safe-conduct and
assistance whenever they might require it. In fact, the inquisitor's
jurisdiction was personal as well as local, and it accompanied him.
When, in 1359, some renegade converted Jews escaped from Provence to
Spain, Innocent VI. authorized the Provençal inquisitor, Bernard du Puy,
to follow them, arrest, try, condemn, and punish them wherever he might
find them, with power to coerce the aid of the secular authorities
everywhere; and he wrote at the same time to the kings of Aragon and
Castile, instructing them to give to Bernard all necessary
assistance.[352]
How the same tireless and unforgiving zeal was habitually brought to
bear upon the humblest objects is seen in the case of Arnaud Ysarn, who,
when a youth of fifteen, was condemned at Toulouse in 1309, after an
imprisonment of two years, to wear crosses and perform certain
pilgrimages, his sole offence being that he had once "adored" a heretic
at the command of his father. He wore the insignia of his shame for more
than a year, when, finding that they prevented him from earning a
livelihood, he threw them off and obtained employment as a boatman on
the Garonne between Moissac and Bordeaux. In his obscurity he might well
fancy himself safe; but the inquisitorial police was too well organized,
and he was discovered. Cited in 1312 to appear, he was afraid to do so,
though urged by his father to take the chance of mercy. In 1315 he was
excommunicated for contumacy, and, remaining under the censure for a
year, he was finally declared a heretic, and was condemned as such in
the _auto de fé_ of 1319. In June, 1321, by command of Bernard Gui, he
was captured at Moissac, but escaped on the road to be recaptured and
taken to Toulouse. He had been guilty of no act of heresy during the
interval, but his contumacious rejection of the parental chastisement of
the Inquisition was an offence worthy of death, and he was mercifully
treated in being condemned, in 1322, to imprisonment for life on bread
and water. The net of the Inquisition extended everywhere, and no prey
was too small to elude its meshes.[353]
The whole organization of the Church was at its service. In 1255 a
Dominican of Alessandria, Frà Niccolò da Vercelli, confessed voluntarily
some heretical beliefs to his sub-prior, who thereupon promptly ejected
him. He entered a neighboring Cistercian convent, and then, fearing the
pursuit of the Inquisition, quietly disappeared to some other convent
beyond the Alps. There would not seem much to be feared from a heretic
who would bury himself in the rigid Cistercian Order, and yet at once
Alexander IV. issued letters to all Cistercian abbots and to all
archbishops and bishops everywhere, commanding them to seize him and
send him to Rainerio Saccone, the Lombard inquisitor.[354]
* * * * *
To render it an instrumentality perfect for the work assigned to it, all
that was wanting to the Inquisition was its subjection to a chief who
should command the implicit obedience of its members and weld the
organization into an organic whole. This function the pope could perform
but imperfectly amid the overwhelming diversity of his cares, and he
needed a minister who, as inquisitor-general, could devote his undivided
attention to the innumerable questions arising from the conflict between
orthodoxy and heresy, and between papal supremacy and local episcopal
independence. The importance of such a measure seems to have made itself
felt at a comparatively early period, and in 1262 Urban IV. created a
virtual inquisitor-general when he ordered all inquisitors to report,
either in person or by letter, to Caietano Orsini, Cardinal of S.
Niccolò in carcere Tulliano, all impediments to the due performance of
their functions, and to obey the instructions which he might give.
Cardinal Orsini speaks of himself as inquisitor-general, and he labored
to bring the several tribunals into the closest relations with each
other and subjection to himself. May 19, 1273, we find him ordering the
Italian inquisitors to furnish to the inquisitors of France facilities
for the transcription of all the depositions of witnesses already on
record in their archives, as well as of all future ones. The perpetual
migration of Catharans and Waldenses between France and Italy rendered
this information most valuable, and the French inquisitors had requested
it of him, but the excessive diffuseness of the inquisitorial documents
made the task appalling in magnitude and cost, and the terms of the
cardinal's missive show that it was not expected to be welcome. Whether
any further attempt was made to carry out this gigantic plan, which
would have so greatly multiplied the effectiveness of the Inquisition,
does not appear, but its conception shows the view entertained by Orsini
of the powers of his office and of the possibilities of what the
Inquisition might become under energetic supervision. Another letter of
his, dated May 24, 1273, to the inquisitors of France, indicates that
for a time at least the general instructions to the functionaries of the
Holy Office were issued through him.[355]
We have no further evidence of his activity, but his elevation to the
papacy in 1277, as Nicholas III., may possibly indicate that the
position was one which afforded abundant opportunities of influence,
perhaps rendering its possessor disagreeably, if not dangerously
powerful, and when Nicholas appointed his nephew, Cardinal Latino
Malebranca, as his successor in the office vacated by his elevation, he
may have felt it necessary to secure himself by keeping the position in
his family. Malebranca was Dean of the Sacred College, and his influence
was shown when, in 1294, he ended the weary conflict of the conclave by
procuring the election of the hermit, Pietro Morrone, as pope, under the
name of Celestin V. He did not survive the short pontificate of
Celestin, and the proud and vigorous Boniface VIII. regarded it as
impolitic or unnecessary to continue the office. It remained in abeyance
under the Avignonese popes, until Clement VI. revived it for William,
Cardinal of S. Stefano in Monte Celio, who signalized his zeal by
burning several heretics, and in other ways. After his death the post
remained vacant, and at no time does it appear to have exercised any
special influence over the development and activity of the
Inquisition.[356]