CHAPTER II.

NAPLES.

In Naples the Inquisition had been introduced by Charles of Anjou after

the battle of Benevento had acquired for him the succession to the

unfortunate Manfred. The house of Aragon, which followed that of Anjou,

had permitted its existence, but under conditions of such subjection to

the crown that it was for the most part inert. Yet Naples offered an

abundant harvest for the zealous laborer. The Waldenses from Savoy, who

had settled and multiplied in Calabria and Apulia, had obtained, in

1497, from King Frederic, a confirmation of their agreements with their

immediate suzerains, the nobles, and felt secure from persecution.[99]

Still more inviting were the banished Jews and fugitive New Christians

from Spain, who found there a tolerably safe refuge. There was also a

considerable number of indigenous Jews. In the twelfth century Benjamin

of Tudela describes flourishing synagogues in Capua, Naples, Salerno,

Amalfi, Benevento, Melfi, Ascoli-Satriano, Tarento, Bernaldo and

Otranto, and these doubtless were representatives of others existing

outside of the line of his wanderings.[100] They had probably gone on

increasing, although, in 1427, Joanna II called in the ruthless St.

Giovanni da Capistrano to suppress their usury and, in 1447, Nicholas V

appointed him conservator to enforce the disabilities and humiliations

prescribed in a cruel bull which he had just issued.[101] Possibly,

under this rigorous treatment, some of them may have sought baptism for,

in 1449, we find Nicholas despatching to Naples Fra Matteo da Reggio as

inquisitor to exterminate the apostate Judaizers, who were said to be

numerous.[102] If we may believe Zurita, when Charles VIII of France

made his transitory conquest of Naples, in 1495, the Jews were all

compulsorily baptized, with the usual result that their Christianity was

only nominal.[103] Such unwilling converts of course called for

inquisitorial solicitude but, when Ferdinand of Spain obtained

possession of the land, it was the fugitives from the Spanish

Inquisition that rendered him especially desirous of extending its

jurisdiction over his dominions on the Italian mainland.

A single example will illustrate this and also throw light on the

resistance which, as we shall see, the Neapolitans offered to the

introduction of the Holy Office after the Spanish pattern. In the

inquisitorial documents of the period, no name occurs more frequently

than that of Manuel Esparza de Pantolosa, who was condemned _in

absentia_ as a heretic, in Tarragona. He had evidently sought safety in

flight, abandoning his property which was confiscated and sold, June 4,

1493, for 9000 libras to his brother, Micer Luis Esparza, a jurist of

Valencia, whose final payment for it is dated February 2, 1499, when the

inquisitor, Juan de Monasterio, was authorized to retain a hundred

ducats in reward for his labors.

Meanwhile Pantolosa had prospered in Naples as a banker and had become

one of the farmers of the revenue. As a condemned heretic, however, all

dealings with him were unlawful to Spaniards. It was difficult to avoid

these in transactions between Spain and Naples and, in February, 1499,

the inquisitors of Barcelona created much scandal by arresting a number

of merchants for maintaining business relations with him, an excess of

zeal for which Ferdinand scolded them, while ordering the release of the

prisoners. Pantolosa seems to have held out some hopes of returning and

standing trial, for a safe-conduct was issued to him, October 4, 1499,

good for twelve months, during which he and his property were to be

exempt from seizure, dealings with him were permitted and ship-masters

were authorized to transport him and, on the plea that he had been

impeded, the safe-conduct was extended, August 22, 1500, for two years.

There was manifest policy in suspending the customary disabilities for a

personage of such importance, as appears from one or two instances.

When, in the autumn of 1499, Ferdinand’s sister, Juana, Queen of Naples,

and her stepson, the Cardinal of Aragon, came to Spain, they provided

themselves with bills of exchange drawn by the farmers of

revenue--Pantolosa, Gaspar de Caballería and others--on Luis de

Santangel, Ferdinand’s _escribano de racion_, or privy purse. They could

not anticipate any trouble in a transaction between officials of Spain

and Naples, but Santangel, also a Converso, had reason to be cautious as

to his relations with the Inquisition and he refused to honor the bills,

because the drawers were fugitive condemned heretics, with whom he could

have no dealings. Ferdinand was obliged to confer with the

inquisitors-general, after which he authorized Santangel to supply the

necessities of the royal visitors. Possibly in this case the association

with Caballería neutralized Pantolosa’s safe-conduct, but this

disturbing element was absent from a flagrant exhibition of

inquisitorial audacity when, in 1500, Ferdinand sent the Archbishop of

Tarragona to Naples on business connected with his sister, the queen.

Requiring money while there the archbishop sold bills of exchange to

Pantolosa and, when they were presented in Tarragona, the inquisitors,

apparently regarding them as a debt due to a condemned heretic, forbade

their payment and sequestrated the archiepiscopal revenues to collect

the amount. The bills were returned and were sent back with a fresh

demand for payment, when Ferdinand intervened and, by letters of July

3d, ordered the inquisitors to remove the sequestration so that they

could be paid and the archbishop’s credit be preserved.[104] It is easy

to understand how Ferdinand felt towards the Neapolitan asylum for

condemned Spanish heretics and banished Jews and how Naples regarded the

arbitrary processes of the Spanish Holy Office.

When, in 1500, Ferdinand had seized Calabria and Apulia, in fulfilment

of the robber bargain between him and Louis XII, he lost little time in

turning to account his new acquisition for the benefit of the Sicilian

Holy Office. A letter of August 7, 1501, to his representatives recites

that the inquisitors of Sicily say that they will be aided in their work

by the testimony of the New Christians of Calabria, wherefore all whom

they may designate are to be compelled to give the evidence

required.[105] When, in 1503, Ferdinand obtained the whole kingdom by

ousting his accomplice Louis, Gonsalvo de Córdova, to facilitate the

surrender of Naples, made an engagement that the Spanish Inquisition

should not be introduced, for its evil reputation rendered it a

universal object of dread, to which the numerous Spanish refugees had

doubtless largely contributed.[106] The Neapolitans also desired to

destroy the principal incentive of the existing Inquisition by a

condition that confiscation should be restricted to cases of high

treason, but this they were unable to secure and the final articles

allowed its use in heresy and treason.[107] Ferdinand’s order of August,

1501, as to obtaining evidence for Sicily, seems to have met with slack

obedience, for there is a letter of November 16, 1504, from Gonsalvo to

the royal officials in general, reciting that Archbishop Belorado, as

Inquisitor of Sicily, had sent to Reggio, to obtain certain necessary

depositions, but that the officials had prevented it, wherefore he

reminds them of the royal commands and imposes a penalty of a thousand

ducats for all future cases of disobedience.[108]

No sooner was the conquest of Naples assured than Ferdinand proceeded to

clear the land of Judaism by ordering Gonsalvo to banish all the Jews.

The persecution at the time of Charles VIII had left few of them _de

señal_--those who openly avowed their faith by wearing the prescribed

letter Tau--and Gonsalvo seems to have reported that prosecution of the

secret apostates was the only method practicable. Julius II opportunely

set the example by instituting a severe inquisition, under the Dominican

organization at Benevento.[109] Ferdinand regarded with extreme jealousy

all exercise of papal jurisdiction within his dominions and to prevent

the extension of this he naturally had recourse to the commission of his

inquisitor-general which covered all the territories of the Spanish

crown. A secret letter was drawn up, June 30, 1504, by Ferdinand and

Isabella, in conjunction with the Suprema, or Supreme Council of the

Inquisition, addressed to all the royal officials in Naples, reciting

that as numerous heretics duly burnt in effigy in Spain had found

refuge there, the Inquisitor-general Deza had resolved to extend over

the kingdom the jurisdiction of Archbishop Belorado, Inquisitor of

Sicily, and had asked the sovereigns to support him in his labors of

arresting and punishing heretics and confiscating their property. All

officials were therefore ordered, under pain of ten thousand ounces, to

protect him and his subordinates and to do their bidding as to

arresting, transporting and punishing the guilty, all oaths and compacts

to the contrary notwithstanding. At the same time a personal letter to

Gonsalvo expressed the determination of the sovereigns to introduce the

Inquisition, their founding of which they believed to be the cause why

God had favored them with victories and benefits. Gonsalvo was warned

not to allow the suspect to leave the kingdom while, to avoid arousing

suspicion, Belorado would come to Naples as though on his way to Rome

and Gonsalvo was to guard all ports and passes through which the

heretics could escape. To prepare for the expected confiscations, the

commission of Diego de Obregon, receiver of Sicily, was extended over

Naples and Francisco de Rojas, then ambassador at Rome, was instructed

to obtain from the pope whatever was necessary to perfect the functions

of the Neapolitan Holy Office.[110]

Everything thus was prepared for the organization of the Spanish

Inquisition in Naples, but even Ferdinand’s resolute will was forced to

abandon for the time the projected enterprise with its prospective

profits. What occurred we do not know; the historian, to whom we are

indebted for the documents in the matter, merely says that Ferdinand, in

spite of his efforts, was prevented from carrying out his plans by

difficulties which arose.[111] We can conjecture however that Gonsalvo

convinced him of the impolicy of provoking a revolt in his newly

acquired and as yet unstable dominions. The Neapolitans were somewhat

noted for turbulence and had an organization which afforded a means of

expressing and executing the popular will. From of old the citizens were

divided into six associations, known as _Piazze_ or _Seggi_, in which

they met to discuss public affairs. Of these five, designated as

Capuana, Nido, Porta, Porta nueva and Montagna, were formed of the

nobles and the sixth was the Seggio del Popolo, divided into twenty-nine

districts, called Ottine. Each piazza elected a chief, known as the

_Eletto_, and these six, when assembled together, formed the Tribunale

di San Lorenzo, which thus represented the whole population. There were

Piazze in other cities but when, under Charles V, the national

Parliament was discontinued, the Piazze of Naples arrogated to

themselves its powers and framed legislation for the whole kingdom. A

Spanish writer, in 1691, informs us that no viceroy could govern

successfully who had not dexterity to secure the favor of a majority of

the Piazze, for the people were obstinate and tempestuous, easy to

excite and difficult to pacify, and, if the nobles and people were

united, God alone could find a remedy to quiet them.[112] In the

unsettled condition of Italian affairs, to provoke revolt in such a

community was evidently most unwise; there is no appearance that

Belorado made his threatened visit, and when Ferdinand himself came to

Naples, in 1506 and 1507, he seems to have tacitly acquiesced in the

postponement of his purpose.

The popular repugnance was wholly directed to the Spanish Inquisition

and there was no objection to the papal institution, which had long been

a matter accepted. In 1505 a letter of Gonsalvo directs the arrest in

Manfredonia of three fugitives from Benevento, who are seeking to escape

to Turkey; he does this, he says, at the request of the inquisitor and

of the Bishop of Bertinoro papal commissioner.[113] Evidently there must

have been active persecution on foot in Benevento and, though the

inquisitor is not named, he was probably the Dominican Barnaba

Capograsso, whom we find, in 1506, styled “generale inquisitore de la

fede” when, in conjunction with the vicar-general of the archbishop and

the judges of the vicariate, he burned three women for witchcraft.[114]

Yet anxious as was Ferdinand for the extirpation of heresy, he would not

abate a jot of the royal supremacy and would allow no one to exercise

inquisitorial functions without his licence. The correspondence of the

Count of Ribagorza, who succeeded Gonsalvo as lieutenant-general and

viceroy during the years 1507, 1508, and 1509, shows that Fra Barnaba

held a commission directly from the king. When a certain Fra Vincenzo da

Fernandina endeavored in Barletta to conduct an inquisition, Ribagorza

expressed surprise at his audacity in doing so without exhibiting his

commission; he was summoned to come forthwith and submit it so that due

action could be taken without exposing him to ignominy. So minute was

this supervision that, when Fra Barnaba reported that a colleague had

received a papal brief respecting a certain Lorenzo da Scala, addressed

to the two inquisitors and the Bishop of Scala, Ribagorza ordered it to

be surrendered unopened to the regent of the royal chancery and that all

three addressees should come to Naples when, in their presence and his,

it should be opened and the necessary action be ordered. From a letter

of February 24, 1508, it appears that the old Neapolitan rule was

maintained and that inquisitors had no power to order arrests, but had

to report to Ribagorza, who issued the necessary instructions to the

officials; indeed, a commission of January 14, 1509, indicates that

heretics were seized and brought to Naples before the viceroy, without

the intervention of the Holy Office. At the same time, when inquisitors

were duly commissioned and recognized, the authorities were required to

render them all needful assistance and any impediment thrown in their

way was severely reproved, with threats of condign punishment.[115]

Thus quietly and by degrees the old papal Inquisition was roused into

activity and was moulded into an instrument controlled by the royal

power even more directly than in Spain. Yet this did not satisfy

Ferdinand, who had never abandoned his intention of introducing the

Spanish Inquisition, and apparently he thought, in 1509, that the

Neapolitans had become sufficiently accustomed to his rule to endure

the innovation. Rumors of his purpose spread, causing popular agitation,

and Julius II, who wanted his aid against the French in Northern Italy,

earnestly deprecated action which might necessitate the recall of his

troops to put down insurrection. To the Spanish ambassador the pope

represented the danger of exciting the turbulent population; the time

would come when the Spanish Inquisition might safely be imposed on

Naples, but so long as the French were in possession of Genoa, the king

must be cautious.[116]

Ferdinand was not to be diverted from his course by such considerations

and, on August 31, 1509, a series of letters was addressed to Naples

showing that the organization had been fully and elaborately prepared.

Montoro, Bishop of Cefalù, whose acquaintance we have made in Sicily,

and Doctor Andrés de Palacios, a layman and experienced inquisitor, were

appointed to conduct the office, with a full complement of subordinates,

whose liberal salaries were to be paid out of the confiscations, showing

that a plentiful harvest was expected.[117] Viceroy Ribagorza and all

royal officials and ecclesiastics were instructed to give them all

necessary support and assistance under penalty of ten thousand ounces

and punishment at the royal pleasure, notwithstanding any previous

compacts or conventions, for agreements contrary to the faith were not

to be observed by Catholics. On arrival they were to be established in

the Incoronata or, if they preferred other quarters, the occupants

were to be summarily ejected and a proper rent be paid. The

Cardinal-archbishop of Naples was ordered to give them powers to act as

his ordinaries and vicars; a pragmatic sanction was drawn up for

publication, forbidding, under heavy penalties, the use of any papal

letters of absolution until they should have received the royal assent.

The local officials were also written to, ordering them to aid the

inquisitors in every way and a circular to the same effect was sent to

all the barons of the kingdom. As it was expected that, as soon as the

letters were published, the heretics would endeavor to escape, the

viceroy was ordered to take measures that none should be allowed to

embark, or to send away property or merchandise, and all who should

attempt it were to be delivered forthwith to the inquisitors.[118]

Evidently the matter had been thoroughly worked out in detail and

Ferdinand was resolved to enforce his will. Then followed, however, an

unexpected delay. Ribagorza left Naples, October 8th, probably resigning

or being removed owing to his conviction of the difficulty of the task

imposed on him, and his successor, Ramon de Cardona, did not arrive

until October 23d, showing that the change was sudden and unexpected.

The Bishop of Cefalù, also, did not reach Naples until October 18th and,

although officially received, he exhibited no commission as inquisitor

and took no action, awaiting his colleague Palacios, whose coming was

delayed until December 29th.

Meanwhile rumors of what was proposed had been spreading, popular

excitement had been growing and it now became uncontrollable. It was

openly declared by all classes that the Inquisition would not be

tolerated and, when it was reported that, on a certain Sunday, the

inquisitor would preach the customary sermon in the cathedral, an

unanimous resolution was adopted, January 4, 1510, that such an attempt

would be resisted, if necessary by force of arms. A delegation, selected

as usual by all the Piazze, was sent to the viceroy and overwhelmed him

with fierce denunciations of the detested institution as developed in

Spain--the tortures and the burnings inflicted for the most trivial

causes, the sentences against the dead and the burning of bones, the

execution of pregnant women, the disinheriting of children, the

scourging of naked virgins through the streets and the seizure of their

dowries, the innocent impelled to flight by terror and consequently

condemned in order to confiscate their property, while their servants

were tortured to find out whether anything was concealed, and the

stories of sacrilege invented in order to gratify rapacity. Although

most of this was the ordinary inquisitorial practice, it was

sufficiently embellished to show that the refugee New Christians had

been busy in fanning the excitement which now burst upon the viceroy.

Every delegate sought to outdo his colleagues in vociferously

enumerating the horrors which justified the evil reputation of the

dreaded institution, and the viceroy was told that they never would

allow themselves to be subjected to the accusations of informers, whose

names were concealed and whose perjuries were stimulated by a share in

the spoils; the whole business was not to protect religion but to get

money and they would not be dishonored and put to death and despoiled as

infidels under such pretexts. If he valued the peace of the realm, he

would prohibit the sermon. Cardona listened to the storm of objurgation

and, when it had exhausted itself, he replied that he had the king’s

orders to receive the inquisitors and would obey them. This aroused a

greater uproar than before and he weakened under it. He retired to

consult the council and on his return he told the deputies that they

might send envoys to the king to expound their views and learn his

decision; meanwhile he would prevent the inquisitors from acting and

they must preserve the peace.

The agitation continued; daily assemblies were held in the Seggi and,

on January 9th and 10th, a formal agreement was drawn up and executed

between the nobles and the people, in which they bound themselves to

sacrifice life and property sooner than to permit the introduction of

the Inquisition and, at the same time, they elected Francesco Filomarino

as envoy to Ferdinand. The next day a trivial occurrence nearly produced

a serious outbreak, showing how dangerous was the tension of popular

feeling. Luca Russo, who was one of the most active agitators, had an

old quarrel, arising from a lawsuit, with Roberto Bonifacio, the

justiciary of the city; he chanced to meet Colantonio Sanguigno, a

retainer of Bonifacio; words passed between them and Sanguigno made a

hostile demonstration, which started a rumor that Russo was slain. The

shops forthwith were closed, the populace rushed to arms, shouting

_ferro, ferro! serra, serra!_ and the house of the justiciary was

besieged by an enormous mob thirsting for his blood, but on the

production of the supposed victim they quietly dispersed. During all

this we hear nothing of the Bishop of Cefalù, but his colleague, Andrés

Palacios, was expelled from one domicile after another; he was a

dangerous inmate and finally found refuge in the palace of the Admiral

of Naples, Villamari, Count of Capaccio, where he lay in retirement for

some months.

Filomarino, the envoy to Ferdinand, did not start for Spain until April

and the reports received from him during the summer were such that the

people lost hope of a peaceful solution. Yet during the whole of this

anxious time, although the kingdom everywhere was united in support of

the capital, though all the troops in the land had been sent to the wars

in Northern Italy and there was not a man-at-arms left, factions were

hushed; Angevines and Aragonese and even Spaniards unanimously agreed

that they would endure the greatest sufferings rather than consent to

the Inquisition and perfect internal peace and quiet were everywhere

preserved. This did not indicate that agitation had subsided, for peace

was seriously imperilled on September 24th, when a rumor spread that

royal letters had been received ordering the Inquisition to be set to

work. Meetings of the Seggi were held and it was proposed to close the

shops and ring the bells to call the people to arms, but moderate

counsels prevailed and a deputation was sent to the viceroy to assure

him that they were ready to suffer all things in preference to the

Inquisition. He expressed his surprise; he had no letters from the king,

to whom he would write earnestly begging him to desist, and meanwhile he

exhorted them to abstain from violence. Another month passed, in

alternations of hope and despair; the nobles and people made a closer

union, in which they pledged their lives and property for mutual defence

and this was solemnized, October 28th, with a great procession of both

orders, seven thousand in number, each man bearing a lighted torch.

How little Ferdinand at first thought of yielding is seen in a letter of

March 18th to the inquisitors, acknowledging receipt of reports from

them and the viceroy; he was awaiting the envoy and meanwhile counselled

patience and moderation; they must persuade the people that matters of

faith alone were concerned and when this was understood the opposition

would subside. He had ordered the payment of four months’ salaries and

they could rely on his providing everything. Then, a few days later, he

announced that the vacant place of gaoler had been filled by the

appointment of the bearer, Francisco Velázquez, to whom salary was to be

paid from the date of his departure. If Ferdinand had had only the

Neapolitans to reckon with he would undoubtedly have imposed on them the

Inquisition at the cost of a revolt, but there were larger questions

involved which counselled prudence. In preparation for trouble in

Naples, he began to withdraw his troops from Verona. Julius II took the

alarm at this interference with his plans and urged that the Neapolitans

be pacified. At the same time, with an eye to the possible revendication

of the old papal claims on Naples, he sought popular favor by promises

to the archbishop to revoke the commissions of the inquisitors and

inhibit the Inquisition, thus creating a wholly unforeseen factor in the

situation. The viceroy clearly comprehended the danger of the position,

when a revolution could so readily be brought about and the people would

gladly transfer their allegiance to the pope or to France, thus costing

a new conquest to regain the kingdom. It is doubtful whether he acted

under positive orders from Ferdinand, or whether he assumed a certain

measure of responsibility, stimulated by a fresh excitement arising from

a rumor that the Inquisition had commenced operations at Monopoli.

However this may have been, on November 19th he sent word to the popular

chiefs, inviting them to the Castello Nuovo to hear a letter from the

king. Five nobles from each Seggio were deputed for the purpose, who

were followed by a crowd numbering three thousand. The viceroy read to

them two pragmáticas, by which all Jews and Conversos of Apulia and

Calabria, including those who had fled from Spain after condemnation by

the Inquisition, were ordered, under pain of forfeiture of person and

property, to leave the country by the first of March, taking with them

their belongings, except gold and silver, the export of which was

forbidden by the laws. From this the corollary followed, that as the

land would thus be purged of heresy, there would be no necessity for the

Inquisition. Thus the unfortunate Hebrews and New Christians were

offered up as a sacrifice to enable the government to retreat from an

untenable position.

The news at first was received with general rejoicings and some quarters

of the town were illuminated, but the people had not been taught to

trust their rulers; doubts speedily arose that it was intended to

introduce the Inquisition by stealth and, when on November 22d the

heralds came forth to proclaim the new laws, they were mobbed and driven

back before they could perform the duty. The next day a delegation

waited on the viceroy and asked him to postpone the proclamation for two

days, during which they could examine the pragmáticas. This was an

assumption of supervision over the legislative function which the

viceroy naturally denounced as presumptuous, but the necessity of

satisfying the people was supreme and, on the next day, the Eletti by

further insistence secured a preamble to the first pragmática, in which

the king was made to declare formally that, in view of the ancient

religion and Catholic faith of the city and kingdom, he ordered the

Inquisition to be removed, for the benefit of all. In this shape the

proclamation was made on November 24th, and on it was founded the claim

which, for more than two centuries, Naples persistently made that

exemption from the Inquisition was one of its special privileges. Andrés

Palacios departed on December 3d and thus the victory was won without

bloodshed, after a struggle lasting for a year.[119]

Even the pragmáticas ordering the expulsion of Jews and Conversos were

not obeyed and the situation was rendered more aggravating by the

facilities of escape from the Sicilian Inquisition afforded by the

proximity of the Neapolitan territories. In June of 1513 Ferdinand wrote

to the viceroy concerning this ever-present grievance and ordered him to

hunt up all refugees and send them back with their property, while at

the same time a royal letter to the alcaide of Reggio rebuked him for

permitting their transit and threatened him with condign punishment for

continued negligence.[120] That it continued is shown by the escape,

from Sicily to Naples, in the following September, of some four hundred

of these unfortunates (see p. 12) and they doubtless carried with them

funds sufficient to close the eyes of those whose duty it was to turn

them back. There does not seem to have been in Italy the popular

abhorrence felt in Spain for the Hebrew race or any desire for active

persecution, but at the same time there was no opposition to the

existence of the Inquisition, provided always that it was not of the

dreaded Spanish type. In December of the same year, 1513, the Dominican

Barnaba, now styling himself papal Inquisitor of Naples, applied to

Ferdinand, stating that in Calabria and Apulia the New Christians lived

as Jews and held their synagogues publicly; he evidently could have had

no support from the local authorities, for he solicited the aid of the

king. Ferdinand promptly replied, December 31st, ordering him to

investigate secretly and, if he could catch the culprits in the act he

was, with the assistance of the Bishop of Isola, to arrest and punish

them and the viceroy and governor of the province were instructed to

lend whatever aid was necessary. At the same time Ferdinand sought to

make this an entering wedge for the Spanish Inquisition, for Barnaba was

told to obey the instructions of Bishop Mercader, Inquisitor-general of

Aragon, with whom he was put into communication and to whom he reported.

He evidently did what he could, in the absence of secular support, for a

letter of June 14, 1514, to a bishop instructs him to assist Barnaba and

the Bishop of Isola who are about to visit his diocese to punish some

descendants of Jews who are living under the Mosaic Law, but his efforts

were fruitless. When he applied to the viceroy and to the Governors of

Calabria and Apulia for aid in making arrests, they replied that they

would have to consult the king. Moreover the viceroy reported that the

pragmáticas of 1511 were not enforced because they were construed as

applicable only to natives and not to foreigners such as Spaniards and

Sicilians. All this stirred Ferdinand’s indignation, which found

expression in a letter of June 15, 1514, to the viceroy, accusing him

and the regents and governors of sheltering the refugees,

characterizing as absurd the construction put on the pragmáticas and

ordering anew that every assistance should be given to Barnaba and the

Bishop of Isola. In spite of all this there was a deplorable slackness

on the part of the secular authorities--the spirit of persecution seemed

unable to cross the Faro. The Neapolitan officials would not arrest the

Sicilian refugees without formal requisitions from the Sicilian

inquisitors, brought by a duly accredited official. From what we have

seen of the disorganization of the Sicilian tribunal we can readily

believe their assertion that they had applied to both Alonso Bernal and

Melchor Cervera, but that neither had given the matter attention.

Ferdinand thereupon wrote to Cervera expressing his surprise at this

neglect, especially as it was understood that the refugees had large

amounts of property concealed. This seems to have produced little effect

for when, six months later, Ferdinand scolded Don Francisco Dalagon,

Alcaide of Reggio, about the refuge granted to the Sicilian fugitives,

the alcaide replied that, if he had proper authorization he would seize

them all, whereupon Ferdinand wrote, September 7th, to Cervera, ordering

him to send to Dalagon a list of the fugitives, with a commission for

their arrest--an order which seems to have been as resultless as its

predecessors.[121]

When Ferdinand’s restless energy exhausted itself ineffectually on the

inertia or corruptibility of the Neapolitan authorities, there was

little chance that, after his death, in February, 1516, the business of

persecution would be more successfully prosecuted. There was no inherent

objection to it and the old Dominican Inquisition with its limitations

continued to exist but, in the absence of the secular support so

essentially necessary to its success, its operations were spasmodic and

it affords but an occasional manifestation of activity, of which few

records have reached us. The only instances, during the next twenty

years, which the industry of Signor Amabile has discovered, are those of

Angelo Squazzi, in 1521 and of Pirro Loyse Carafa, in 1536.[122] It was

a remarkable development from the events of 1510 that the secular

courts came to assume jurisdiction over heresy and claimed that the

pragmática of Ferdinand deprived the bishops of cognizance of such

cases. That an assumption so subversive of the recognized principles of

canon law should call for protest was inevitable and, in the general

Parliament of 1536, the ninth article set forth the grievance that a lay

judge had gone to Manfredonia and thrown in prison several heretics.

Complaint was made to the viceroy, Pedro of Toledo, of this invasion of

episcopal rights, when he ordered the cases to be referred to the Bishop

of Biscaglie but, in spite of this, the prisoners were not surrendered

and remained for two years, some in the Castello Nuovo of Naples and

some in the castle of Manfredonia and, although an appeal was made to

the pope and briefs were obtained from him, these were not allowed to

reach the bishop, wherefore the barons supplicated the emperor to order

the cases to be remitted to the bishop and to forbid the intrusion of

the secular courts.[123] The affair is significant of the contempt into

which the Inquisition, both episcopal and Dominican, had fallen. Charles

was in Naples in 1536, when a letter from the Suprema to Secretary

Urries alludes to a previous one of February 8th, urging upon the

emperor his duty to revive the institution on the Spanish model and the

secretary is exhorted to lose no opportunity of advancing the matter,

but policy prevailed and nothing was done.[124]

Still, there came a sudden resolve to enforce the pragmática of 1510,

which seems to have been completely ignored hitherto and, in 1540, the

Jews were banished, after vainly pleading with Charles V at Ratisbon.

Most of them went to Turkey, and the expulsion was attended with the

misfortunes inseparable from such compulsory and wholesale expatriation.

Many were drowned and some were captured at sea and carried to

Marseilles, where Francis I generously set them free without ransom and

sent them to the Levant. Their absence speedily made itself felt

through the deprivation of facilities for borrowing money and, to

supply the vacancy, the viceroy founded the Sagro Monte della Pietà, or

public pawnbroking establishment.[125] This expulsion, however, does not

seem to indicate a recrudescence of intolerance and, if there were

apostate Conversos and Judaizing Christians, the authorities did not

trouble themselves about them. Yet the time was at hand when a more

threatening heresy would arouse afresh the persecuting spirit and lead

the Church to bare its sharpest weapons.

Lutheranism had not penetrated as far south as Naples, but the spirit of

inquiry and unrest was in the air and a local centre of revolt developed

there independently. A gifted Spanish youth, Juan de Valdés, brought up

in the court of Charles V and a favorite of his sovereign, attracted the

attention of the Inquisition and, to avoid unpleasant consequences,

abandoned his native land in 1529. After some years of wandering he

settled in Naples, in 1534, where he drew around him the choicest

spirits of the time, until his death about 1540.[126] Among those whom

he deeply influenced may be mentioned Pietro Martire Vermigli,

Bernardino Ochino, Marcantonio Flaminio, Pietro Carnesecchi, Vittoria

Colonna, Isabella Manrique, Giulia Gonzaga and Costanza d’Avalos--names

which reveal to us how Naples became a centre from which radiated

throughout Italy the reformatory influences of the age.[127] Valdés was

not a follower of Luther or of Zwingli; rather was he a disciple of

Erasmus, whose teachings he developed to their logical results with a

hardihood from which the scholar of Rotterdam shrank, after the fierce

passions aroused by the Lutheran movement had taught him caution. Though

not driven like Luther, by disputation and persecution to deny the

authority of the Holy See, there is an infinite potentiality of

rebellion against the whole ecclesiastical system in Valdés’s

description of the false conception which men are taught to entertain of

God, as a being sensitive of offence and vindictive in punishment, who

is to be placated by self-inflicted austerities and by gifts of gold and

silver and worldly wealth.[128] He was also largely tinged with

mysticism, even to the point of _dejamiento_ or Quietism, the result

possibly of his intercourse with Pedro Luis de Alcaraz, in 1524, when

they were together in the household of the Marquis of Villena at

Escalona--Alcaraz being the leader of a knot of Alumbrados, who was

severely handled by the Inquisition.[129] This is manifested in Valdés’s

conception of the kingdom of God, in which man renounces the use of

reason and abandons himself to divine inspiration.[130] In his little

catechism, moreover, there is a strong Lutheran tendency in the doctrine

that man is saved by faith; there is no intercessor but Christ and the

whole sacramental system, save baptism, is condemned by being

significantly passed over in silence.[131] Still more significant is his

classification, in the _Suma de la predicazion_ Cristiana, of those who

rely on vain ceremonial observances, with the worldly and wicked, as fit

only to be ejected from the Church of Christ.[132]

All these were dangerous doctrines, even when merely discussed in the

little circle of bright intelligences which Vaidés drew around him. They

did not, moreover, lack public exposition in a guarded way. Bernardino

Ochino, the General Minister of the Capuchins, was reckoned the most

eloquent preacher in Italy. In 1536 he visited Naples, where he came in

contact with Valdés and preached the Lenten sermons with such success

that he emptied all the other churches. On February 4th of the same year

Charles V, then at Naples, issued an edict forbidding, under pain of

death and confiscation, any one from holding intercourse with Lutherans

and, on his departure, he impressed on Pedro de Toledo, the viceroy, the

supreme importance of preventing the introduction of heresy. Envious

friars accused Ochino of disseminating errors in his sermons and Toledo

ordered him to cease preaching until he should express himself clearly

in the pulpit as to the errors imputed to him, but he defended himself

so skilfully that he was allowed to continue and, on his departure, he

left numerous disciples. Three years later he returned and made a

similar impression, veiling his heretical tendencies with such dexterity

that they passed without reprehension. Yet the seed had been sown; it

was a time when theological questions were matters of universal interest

and soon the city was full of men of all ranks who were discussing the

Pauline Epistles and debating over difficult texts. No good could come

of such inquiries by the unlearned and the viceroy felt that some action

was necessary.[133] With the year 1542 came a sort of crisis in the

religious movement, not only of Naples but of Italy. The Archbishops of

Naples, who were customarily cardinals residing in Rome, had long

neglected the moral and spiritual condition of their see but, in that

year, the archbishop-cardinal, Francesco Carafa, conducted a visitation

there--the first for many years--and doubtless found much cause for

disquietude.[134] In that same year also, by the bull _Licet ab initio_,

July 21st, Paul III reorganized the papal Inquisition, placed it under

the conduct of a congregation of six cardinals, and gave it the form of

which the terrible efficiency was so thoroughly demonstrated during the

second half of the century.[135] In September of that year, moreover,

Ochino and Vermigli threw off all disguise and openly embraced

Protestantism. This naturally cast suspicion on their admirers and the

viceroy commenced a persecution; preachers were set to work to

controvert the heretical doctrines; an edict was issued requiring the

surrender of heretical books, of which large numbers were collected and

solemnly burnt, and a pragmática of October 15, 1544, established a

censorship of the press. Finally, Toledo wrote to the emperor that

sterner measures were necessary to check the evil and Charles ordered

him to introduce the Inquisition as cautiously as possible.[136]

It seems to have been recognized as useless to endeavor to establish the

Spanish Inquisition and Charles was not as firmly attached to that

institution as his grandfather Ferdinand had been, but it was hoped

that, by dexterous management, the way might be opened to bring in the

papal Holy Office.[137] Towards the end of 1546 Toledo wrote to his

brother, the Cardinal of San Sisto, who was one of the six members of

the Congregation, expressing his desire to introduce the Inquisition and

his dread of the consequences, for the very name was an abomination to

all, from the highest to the lowest, and he feared that it might lead to

a successful revolution. To encompass the object, it was finally

resolved to procure from the pope a commission for an inquisitor against

heresy which was prevalent among the clergy, both regular and secular.

The required commission was issued, in February, 1547, to the prior and

the lector of the Dominican convent of Santa Caterina; Toledo did not

personally grant the exequatur for it but caused this to be done by the

regents of the _Consiglio Collaterale_, but this precaution and the

profound secrecy observed were useless. Rumors spread among the people

that orders had been received from the cardinals to proceed against

regular and secular clerks; the old animosity against anything but the

episcopal Inquisition at once flamed up and deputies were sent to the

viceroy to beg him not to grant the exequatur. He assured them that he

wondered himself at the fact; he had written to the pope that it was not

Charles’s will or intention that the Inquisition should be introduced

and that meanwhile he had not granted the exequatur. Little faith was

placed in his statements and the general belief was that Paul III was

eager to create strife in Naples in order to give the emperor occupation

there and check his growing ascendency. It is said that he actually sent

two inquisitors but, if so, they never dared to show themselves, for

there is no allusion to them in the detailed accounts of the ensuing

troubles.

To carry out the plot, action was commenced in a tentative way by the

archiepiscopal vicar affixing at the door of his palace an edict

forbidding the discussion of religion by laymen and announcing that he

would proceed by inquisition to examine into the beliefs held by the

clergy. The very word inquisition was sufficient to inflame the people;

cries of _serra, serra!_ were heard and the aspect of affairs was so

alarming that the vicar went into hiding and the edict was removed. The

Piazze of the nobles were assembled and elected deputies charged with

enforcing the observance of the _capitoli_, or liberties of the city.

The Piazza del Popolo was crippled, for the viceroy some months

previously, in preparation for the struggle, had dismissed the Eletto

and replaced him with Domenico Terracina, a creature of his own, who did

not assemble his Piazza but appointed the deputies himself. Then, on

Palm Sunday (April 3d), Toledo sent for Terracina and the heads of the

Ottine and charged them to see that those guilty of the agitation were

punished but, in place of doing this the Piazze assembled and sent to

him deputies who boldly represented the universal abhorrence felt for

the Inquisition which gave such facilities for false witness that it

would ruin the city and kingdom, and they expressed the universal

suspicion felt that the edict portended its introduction. The viceroy

soothed them with the assurance that the emperor had no such intention;

as for himself, if the emperor should attempt it, he would tire him out

with supplications to desist and, if unsuccessful, would resign his post

and leave the city. But, as there were people who talked about religion

without understanding, it was necessary that they should be punished

according to the canons by the ordinary jurisdiction. This answer

satisfied the majority, but still there were some who regarded with

anxiety the implied threat conveyed in the last phrase.

Then, on May 11th, the patience of the people was further tested by

another edict affixed on the archiepiscopal doors, which hinted more

clearly at the Inquisition. At once the city rose, with cries of _armi,

armi! serra, serra!_ The edict was torn down; Terracina was compelled

against his will to convene the Piazza del Popolo, where he and his

subordinates were promptly dismissed from office and replaced with men

who could be relied upon. The ejected officials could scarce show

themselves in the streets and three of them were only saved from popular

vengeance by taking sanctuary. The viceroy came from his winter

residence at Pozzuoli breathing vengeance. He garrisoned the Castello

Nuovo with three thousand Spanish troops and ordered the popular leaders

to be prosecuted. By a curious coincidence, one of these was Tommaso

Aniello, whose homonym, a century later, led the revolt of 1647. He it

was who had torn down the edict and forced Terracina to assemble the

Piazza. He was summoned to appear in court, but he came accompanied with

so great a crowd, under the command of Cesare Mormile, that the judges

were afraid to proceed and when the people seized Terracina’s children

as hostages, Aniello was discharged. Then Mormile was cited and went

accompanied by forty men, armed under their garments and carrying papers

like pleaders; the presiding judge was informed of this and dismissed

the case.

Finding legal measures useless the viceroy adopted severer methods. On

May 16th the garrison made a sortie as far as the Rua Castillana, firing

houses and slaying without distinction of age or sex. The bells of San

Lorenzo tolled to arms; shops were closed and the people rushed to the

castle, where they found the Spaniards drawn up in battle array. Blinded

with rage, they flung themselves on the troops and lost some two hundred

and fifty men uselessly, while the cannon from the castle bombarded the

city. Angry recrimination and threats followed; the citizens determined

to arm the city, not for rebellion, as they asserted, but to preserve it

for the emperor. Throughout the whole of this unhappy business, they

were strenuously eager to demonstrate their loyalty and, when the news

came of Charles’s victory over the German Protestants at Muhlberg, April

24th, the city manifested its rejoicing by an illumination for three

nights. So when, on May 22d, the viceroy ordered another sortie, in

which there was considerable slaughter, the citizens hoisted on San

Lorenzo a banner with the imperial arms and their war-cry was “Imperio e

Spagna.” They raised some troops and placed them under the command of

Gianfrancesco and Pasquale Caracciolo and Cesare Mormile, but it was

difficult to form a standing army, owing to the question of pay, as the

money had to be raised by voluntary subscription.

Bad as was the situation, it was embittered when some catch-poles of the

Vicariat arrested a man for debt. On the way to prison he resisted and

called for aid; three young nobles stopped to enquire the cause and,

during the parley, the prisoner escaped. This enraged Toledo, who had

the youths arrested at night and condemned with scarce a pretext of

trial. On May 24th they were brought out on the bridge in front of the

Castello Nuovo, where their throats were cut by a slave and the corpses

were left in blood and mud, with a placard prohibiting their removal.

This gratuitous cruelty inflamed the people almost to madness; houses

and shops were closed, arms were seized and crowds rushed through the

streets, threatening they scarce knew what. To manifest his contempt for

the populace, Toledo rode quietly through the town, where he would

infallibly have been shot had not Cesare Mormile, the Prior of Bari and

others of the popular leaders earnestly dissuaded reprisals. Meetings

were held in which the nobles and people formally united for the common

defence, which was always regarded as a most threatening portent for the

sovereign, and they resolved to send envoys to the emperor, for which

office they selected the Prince of Salerno, the greatest noble of the

land, and Placido di Sangro, a gentleman of high quality. Toledo

summoned the envoys and told them that, if their mission concerned the

Inquisition, it was superfluous, for he would pledge himself within two

months to have a letter from the emperor declaring that nothing more

should be done about it; if it was about the _Capitoli_, he could assure

them that any infraction of the city’s privileges would be duly

punished; if it was to complain of him, they were welcome to go. The

envoys were too well pleased with their appointment to accept his offer

and wait two months for its fulfilment; the people suspected the viceroy

of trickery and the envoys set out. Six days later they were followed by

the Marquis della Valle, sent by the viceroy to counteract their

mission; the prince dallied in Rome with the cardinals, so that della

Valle reached the court before him and gained the ear of the emperor.

Meanwhile crowds of exiles and adventurers, under chosen leaders, came

flocking into the city and a guerrilla warfare was organized against the

Spaniards, who had advanced from house to house up to the Cancellaria

vecchia, making loop-holes in the walls and shooting everyone within

range. With the aid of these reinforcements the Spaniards were gradually

driven back to the Incoronata. On the other hand Antonio Doria came with

his galleys, bringing a large force of Spanish troops. Of course the

courts were closed and a state of virtual anarchy might be expected, yet

the chronicler tells us that four things were remarkable. First, there

were no homicides, assaults, or other crimes. Second, although there was

no government of the city, yet food and wine were abundant and cheap and

no fraud or violence was committed on those who came with provisions.

Third, although there were great numbers of exiles or bandits, with

their chiefs, some of them bitterly hostile towards each other, there

was no quarrelling or treachery; on one occasion two mortal enemies met,

each at the head of his band and a fight was expected, but one said

“Camillo, this is not the time to settle our affair,” to which the other

replied “Certainly; let us fight the common enemy; there will be ample

time afterwards for our matter.” Fourth, the prison of the Vicaria was

full of prisoners, some condemned to death and others held for debt, but

no attempt was made to rescue them and food was sent to them as usual by

women and children. Evidently the people felt that they were fighting

for their liberties and would not allow their cause to be compromised by

common lawlessness.

At length Toledo’s preparations for a decisive stroke were completed

and, on July 22d, a sortie was made in force, while the guns of the

fortresses and galleys bombarded the city. There was much slaughter and

some four hundred houses were burnt, whose ruins blockaded the streets.

Desultory fighting continued for some days and then a truce was agreed

upon until the envoys should return. On August 7th came Placido di

Sangro, the bearer of a simple order, signed by Secretary Vargas, to the

effect that the Prince of Salerno should remain in the court, while he

should return and tell the people of Naples to lay down their arms and

obey the viceroy. This cruel disappointment came near producing a

violent outbreak, but the Prior of Bari succeeded in quieting the people

and persuading them to obey the emperor. The next day, by order of the

Eletti, a huge collection of arms was made, loaded on wagons and carried

to the viceroy. Then the tribunals were opened and every one returned to

his private business. On August 12th the viceroy summoned the Eletti and

read to them a royal indult, which purported to be granted at his

request, pardoning the people for their revolt, except those already

condemned and seventeen other specified persons. Most of those deeply

compromised had, however, already sought safety in flight.

This doubtful mercy did not amount to much. A bishop came, commissioned

by the emperor, to try the city for its misdeeds when, as we are told,

through the procurement of the viceroy, witnesses were found to swear

that the cry of _Francia, Francia!_ was often raised. Whether this was

true or not, the letters of Diego Hurtado de Mendoza, imperial

ambassador at Rome, show that active negotiations had been carried on

with both France and the pope, and the sovereignty of Naples had even

been offered to Cardinal Farnese, the grandson of the latter. Mendoza

evidently regarded Paul III as ready to take advantage of the situation

if occasion offered and, when the revolt was suppressed, he mentions

that the fugitives received a warm welcome in Rome. It is not surprising

therefore that the decision of the episcopal commissioner was adverse to

the city, containing, among other things, a fine of a hundred thousand

ducats for ringing the bells as a call to arms.

The viceroy, moreover, by no means confined himself to the persons

excepted from pardon, but threw into prison all the leaders whom he

could seize. He had already published a considerable list of those

excluded and the seventeen also grew to fifty-six, of whom twenty-six

were condemned to death, although it does not appear that any were

actually executed, and the prisoners were gradually liberated,

twenty-four at one time, four at another and all the rest in 1553. Among

them was Placido di Sangro, whose friends could not learn the cause of

his confinement and sent Luigi di Sangro to the emperor to find out.

Charles said that Placido was _buon cavaliero_, but that he was a great

talker and that orders had already been sent to the viceroy about him.

The incident which left on the emperor the impression of Placido’s

loquacity is too characteristic of the former’s good-nature to be

omitted. Once, as he left his chamber, Placido followed him, pleading

for the city; he appeared not to listen and Placido had the audacity to

pluck his mantle and ask his attention. Charles turned smilingly and

said “Go on Placido, I am listening.” The Duke of Alva was close behind

and Placido said “Signore, I cannot talk, for the Duke of Alva hears all

I say,” to which Charles replied, laughing, “Tell him not to hear it”

and then obligingly drew Placido to one side and let him say all that he

wanted. The conclusion of the whole business was that their arms were

returned to the citizens and the emperor contented himself with the

fine, but the hated viceroy kept his post until his death in 1553, and

no assurance against the Inquisition was obtained.[138]

Yet the stubborn endurance of the Neapolitans had won a temporary

victory. Although they gained no formal condition of exemption from the

papal Inquisition, the attempt to introduce it was, for the moment,

abandoned. For awhile even the episcopal jurisdiction over heresy

appears to have been inert, as it has left no traces during the next few

years. This respite, however, was brief, for the tide of persecution was

arising in Italy. In March, 1551, Julius III issued a savage bull,

pronouncing by the authority of God eternal malediction on all who

should interfere with bishop or inquisitor in their prosecution of

heretics.[139] Paul III, in 1549, on the resignation of Cardinal

Farnese, had appointed, as archbishop of Naples, Cardinal Carafa, who

was unsparing in the extirpation of heresy and had been the leader in

promoting the reorganization of the papal Inquisition in 1542, of which

he was made the head. Charles V had refused to grant his exequatur to

Carafa, but yielded, in July, 1551, to the urgency of Julius, and Carafa

lost no time in appointing Scipione Rebiba as his vicar-general, through

whom the papal Inquisition was introduced into Naples.[140] It was at

first confined to his archiepiscopate, for various letters to bishops,

in 1552, from the viceroy Toledo show them to be busy in the prosecution

of heretics.[141] Toledo died, February 12, 1553 and was succeeded by

Cardinal Pacheco, who did not reach Naples until June. The interval,

under Toledo’s son Luis, seems to have been thought opportune for

extending the jurisdiction of the papal Inquisition for, by a decree of

the Congregation, May 30, 1553, Rebiba was created its delegate and

subsequently styled himself “Vicar of Naples and Commissioner of the

Holy Inquisition of Rome.”[142]

In 1555 the episcopal jurisdiction was completely subordinated to the

papal, for we find several instances in which prisoners of bishops were

demanded by the Roman Inquisition, when Mendoza, the lieutenant of the

Viceroy Pacheco, orders them sent under good guard to Naples, in order

to be transmitted to Rome and, in 1556, it would even seem that bishops

were required to obtain Roman commissions, for a letter of Mendoza to

the Bishop of Reggio reproves him for publishing his commission before

it had received the vice-regal exequatur.[143] It was probably to

reconcile the Neapolitans to this intrusion of the authority of the

abhorred institution that, by a brief of April 7, 1554, Julius III

abolished the penalty of confiscation, but this grace was illusory, for

it required the assent of the sovereign which was withheld and the brief

itself was revoked by Paul IV in 1556.[144]

It was not long after this that occasion offered to extend still more

directly the authority of Rome. Early in the fourteenth century, bands

of Waldenses, from the Alpine valleys, flying from persecution, had

settled in the mountains of Calabria and Apulia. Their example was

followed by others; they increased and multiplied in peace, under

covenants from the crown and from the nobles, on whose lands they

settled and made productive, until it was estimated that they numbered

ten thousand souls. As a matter of self-protection they strictly

prohibited marriage with the natives, they used only their own language

and their faith was kept pure by biennial visits from the _barbes_ or

travelling pastors of their sect, but it was under a prudent reserve,

for they occasionally went to mass, they allowed their children to be

baptized and they were punctual in the payment of tithes, which secured

for them the benevolent indifference of the local priesthood.[145] More

than two centuries of this undisturbed existence seemed to promise

perpetual immunity, but the passions aroused on both sides by the

Lutheran revolt were too violent to admit of toleration earned by

dissimulation. The heretical movement in Naples seems to have aroused

more watchful scrutiny for, in January, 1551, the Spanish Holy Office

had information, through its Sicilian tribunal, about the Waldenses,

whom it styled Lutherans, and it wrote to Charles V urging him to adopt

measures for their eradication.[146] Nothing came of this, however, and

the peaceful sectaries might possibly have remained in obscurity had

they not commenced to feel dissatisfied with their ancestral teachings

and sent to Geneva for more modern instructors. Religious zeal in Geneva

was at a white heat and the missionaries despatched--Giovan Liugi

Pascale and Giacomo Bonelli--were not men to make compromises with

Satan. They made no secret of their beliefs and they paid the penalty,

the one being strangled and burnt in Rome, September 15, 1560, and the

other in Palermo.[147] Pascale had been arrested, about May 1, 1559, by

Salvatore Spinello, lord of La Guardia, apparently to preserve his

vassals from persecution for, since the coming of the ardent

missionaries, they had ceased to attend mass.[148] With his companions

he was carried to Cosenza and delivered to the archiepiscopal

authorities. Then the viceroy, the Duke of Alcalá, intervened in a

manner to show how uncertain as yet was the inquisitorial jurisdiction,

for in letters of February 9, 1560, he urged the episcopal Ordinary to

try the prisoners for heresy and, to prevent errors, he was to call for

advice and assistance on a lay judge, Maestro Bernardino Santacroce, to

whom powers and instructions were duly sent, thus constituting a mixed

tribunal under royal authority.[149] Eventually however the papal

Inquisition claimed and took Pascale, who was carried to Rome and

executed.

Its attention was thus called to the Calabrian heretics, but it was not

until November 13, 1560, that the Dominican Valerio Malvicino da

Piacenza presented himself at Cosenza as inquisitor commissioned by Rome

to take the affair in charge. He wandered around among the Waldensian

villages of Montalto, San Sisto and La Guardia, distinguishing himself,

we are told, as a glutton and drunkard, and investigating the beliefs of

the people. Then at San Sisto he ordered them all to abjure their errors

and wear the “habitello” or sanbenito. This they refused, nor had he

more success at Montalto, though at La Guardia many abjured on his

telling them that their brethren at San Sisto had done so. Castañeto,

the Spanish Governor of Montalto, prepared to arrest the principal

inhabitants of San Sisto, when the whole population took to the woods,

and Fra Valerio returned to Cosenza to seek aid from the Marquis of

Bucchianico, Governor of Calabria, who chanced to be there. He ordered

the people to lay down their arms and return to San Sisto, which they

obediently did, on May 8, 1561, but they took flight again on being

commanded to present themselves in Cosenza with their wives and

children. Castañeto then raised a force to reduce them; he allowed them

to send the women and children back to San Sisto, before attacking them,

but when he did so he fell with fifty of his men. This victory availed

little to the victors. San Sisto was burnt; the women and children,

subjected to every species of outrage, scattered through the mountains,

where most of them were captured and sent to Cosenza; hunger forced the

men to disband and nearly all of them fell into the hands of

Bucchianico.

San Sisto being thus settled, Bucchianico proceeded to La Guardia with

Fra Valerio and a commissioner named Pansa appointed by the viceroy to

execute justice. Many of the inhabitants fled, but returned under

promise of pardon--their flight being subsequently held as relapse into

the errors which they had previously abjured. These numbered 300 men and

100 women, the latter of whom were sent to Cosenza, while the former,

together with the captives of San Sisto, were carried to Montalto, where

a sort of inquisitorial tribunal was formed, consisting of Fra Valerio,

Pansa, and two auditors, Barone and Cove. These divided the prisoners

between them and each proceeded to employ torture indiscriminately to

force them to confess the foul practices ascribed to them and to profess

conversion. Those who were condemned were confined in a warehouse and

their sentence was read in presence of a crowd gathered from all the

neighboring towns. The auto de fe which followed, June 11, 1561, is

described in a letter written the same day from Montalto by a Catholic

who cannot conceal his profound horror at the scene. From their place of

confinement the executioner led his victims one by one, bandaging their

eyes with the bloody rag which had served for their predecessors. Like

sheep to the slaughter they were thus taken to the public square where

he cut their throats; they were then quartered and the fragments were

distributed on poles along the roads from one end of Calabria to the

other--a spectacle which another pious contemporary describes as fearful

to the heretic while confirming the true believer in the faith. The

number thus butchered on that day amounted to eighty-eight, while in

addition there were seven who had triumphed over the torture and refused

to recant their heresies, and these were to be burnt alive as

impenitents. Sentence of death was also pronounced against a hundred of

the older women; the whole number of captives was reckoned at 1600, all

of whom were condemned. The writer adds that unless the Holy See and the

viceroy interfere, Bucchianico will not hold his hand until he has

destroyed them all.[150]

He doubtless continued his cruel work with the rest of his prisoners,

but details are lacking for our next source of information is a letter

of June 27th, written from Montalto by Luigi d’Appiano (apparently an

official of the Archbishop of Reggio) to the Abate Parpaglia. Rome had

taken alarm at the butchery of June 11th and had commissioned the

archbishop, then returning to Naples, to take charge of the affair and

conduct it in more regular fashion. D’Appiano explains that the

prisoners from La Guardia were regarded as relapsed (and consequently

to be abandoned to the secular arm), because they had abjured, while

those from San Sisto, who had not, were simple heretics, whom the Church

would receive back on their submission. He tells us that Bucchianico,

with the commissioner and the archiepiscopal vicar of Cosenza, had

concluded to impose a salutary penance on the least guilty; those more

obstinate were to be sent to the galleys, and the ministers and leaders

to the stake; of these five had already been sent to Cosenza to be burnt

alive, after smearing them with pitch so as to prolong their sufferings

and serve as a terrifying example. A reward of ten crowns a head had

been offered for the capture of fugitives and they were being daily

brought in. Many women prisoners, who were instruments of the devil,

were to be burnt and of these five, who had confessed to the nocturnal

orgies attributed to the heretics, would be executed at Cosenza the next

day.[151] All children under fifteen years of age were scattered among

Catholic families, at a distance of at least eight miles from the

Waldensian settlements and were forbidden to intermarry.[152] How long

the persecution lasted does not appear, but a letter of December 12,

1561, from the viceroy, alludes to prisoners whose trials he ordered to

be expedited.[153]

That the persecution was religious and not political is seen in the fact

that the people of San Sisto, who had risen in arms and had defended

themselves, were treated with much less harshness than those of La

Guardia whose offence was technically construed as relapse into heresy.

The conditions imposed on those who were spared the galleys or the stake

confirm this. The Roman Inquisition prescribed that all should wear the

yellow habitello with the red cross; that all should hear mass every

day, before going to labor, under heavy fines; that confession and

communion should be observed on the prescribed feast-days by all of

proper age; that for twenty-five years there should be no intermarriage

between them; that all communication with Piedmont and Geneva should

cease, together with various other prescriptions looking to the training

of the children in the faith and the instruction of the elders. To these

Fra Valerio added that not more than six persons should assemble

together and that their native tongue, which they had sedulously

preserved, should be abandoned for Italian.[154]

In the exigencies of the moment the papal Inquisition had thus obtained

a recognition in Neapolitan territory for which it had hitherto been

vainly struggling, but it was intermingled with the episcopal and royal

jurisdictions in a manner indicating how little organization there was

for action in an emergency. The royal jurisdiction, moreover, asserted

itself still further when, November 13, 1561, the viceroy issued a

commission to Fra Valerio as inspector of heretical books throughout the

kingdom, authorizing him to go to the points of importation and

empowering him to summon to his aid the secular magistrates--a

commission which was renewed May 8, 1562.[155] The viceroy also enforced

one of the provisions of the Spanish Inquisition, for he laid claim to

the confiscations and, on September 17, 1561, he commissioned Dr.

Antonio Moles to proceed to the spot and take possession of all the

property of those convicted, including the debts due to them. Apparently

there had been general plunder, for he was empowered to enforce the

surrender of what had been taken. Dr. Moles seems to have had much

trouble with clerics, who had been active in the spoiling and had

committed many enormous offences; as clerics they were beyond his

jurisdiction, but the vicar of Cosenza sent him an assistant to exercise

the necessary spiritual jurisdiction.[156] As La Guardia and San Sisto

had both been burnt and the country laid waste, there cannot have been

much left to confiscate, but Dr. Moles seems to have conscientiously

stripped the land bare, for when the results were sent to Naples and

sold at auction they produced a handsome amount of money.[157] This

evidently represents only the movable property; the real-estate seems to

have been granted by Philip II to the Confraternity for the redemption

of captives; it was valued at 5000 ducats and was sold for 2500 by the

Confraternity to Salvatore Spinello. He had been created Marquis of

Fuscaldo in recompense for the zeal with which he had aided the

Inquisition in destroying his vassals, and he finally sold the lands to

the communities for an annual revenue of 180 ducats.[158] Strenuous as

were the methods of the Inquisition, however, deeply rooted faiths have

power of protracted resistance, and some correspondence of the Roman

Congregation with the Duchess of Montesalto, in 1599 and 1600, would

indicate that there were still remnants of these heretics in Calabria

and that there was talk of establishing a school for their

conversion.[159]

The Waldenses of Apulia had a milder fate. The ruin and butchery in

Calabria was a warning to all parties. Their lords were powerful

nobles--the Prince of Molfetta, the Duke of Airola, the Count of Biccari

and others--who did not wish to see their lands laid waste and

depopulated. Fra Valerio was not called in, but a papal commission was

procured for Ferdinando Anna, Bishop of Bovino, in whose diocese most of

the infected district lay; less inhuman measures were employed and

doubtless the savage work in Calabria led the heretics to be

accommodating. Only a few of the more zealous were prosecuted; the mass

of the population submitted and seem to have been taken to the bosom of

Mother Church without severe penalties.[160]

Possibly Fra Valerio may have been engaged in more congenial occupation

in the province of Reggio, where at this time there were discovered some

survivors of those who had embraced the doctrines taught by Juan de

Valdés. The viceroy sent thither the Commissioner Panza, fresh from his

labors at Montalto. He must have had inquisitorial assistance and

though, in the fragmentary records, Fra Valerio’s name does not appear,

he was the most probable collaborator in the active work which ensued.

Four citizens of Reggio and eleven of San Lorenzo were burnt, while a

number abjured and escaped with imposition of the habitello.[161]

* * * * *

In all these proceedings there is an incongruous intermingling of

jurisdictions--papal, episcopal and secular--which shows how well the

people had thus far succeeded in preventing the establishment of an

organized Inquisition. They looked with complacency on the sufferings of

the heretics and offered no opposition to the measures adopted,

satisfied with the participation of the civil and episcopal powers. They

had, however, lost none of their horror of the Spanish institution and,

when Philip II endeavored to force it upon Milan, their fears were

aroused that it might be imposed upon Naples. In 1564 there was much

popular excitement; the Piazze assembled and adopted strong

declarations; Pius IV, who did not wish to see the Spanish Inquisition

in Italy, seconded these efforts and peremptorily ordered the Theatin

Paolo d’Arezzo--subsequently cardinal and archbishop of Naples--to

accept the mission with which the city charged him to Philip, to

remonstrate against the threatened introduction of the Inquisition and

also to ask for the revival of the brief of Julius III abolishing

confiscations. The latter request Philip refused but, in letters of

March 10, 1565, he assured his subjects that he had no intention of

introducing the Spanish Inquisition and that trials for heresy should be

conducted in the ordinary way as heretofore.[162]

The “via ordinaria” meant episcopal jurisdiction exercised in accordance

with the practice of the spiritual courts in other criminal trials as

distinguished from the secret procedure of the Inquisition, which denied

to the accused almost every means of defence. This in the subsequent

struggles was constantly cited by the Neapolitans as their protection,

but it was easily evaded. The Roman Inquisition, it is true, was not

allowed to organize a tribunal with an inquisitor at its head and

commissioners in all the cities, as was the case in the northern

provinces of Italy, and to exhibit its power with the spectacle of autos

de fe, but it had its agents more or less openly and its victims were

transmitted to Rome for trial and execution. Alongside of this, for a

time at least, the episcopal jurisdiction over heresy was fully

recognized and a number of vice-regal letters of the period show that it

was vigorously exercised by some of the prelates, though whether by the

_via ordinaria_ or not does not appear.[163] This gratified the

Neapolitans who, in 1571, sent a deputation to Archbishop Carafa to

congratulate him on his holy labors against the heretics and Jews and to

ask him to express to the pope their satisfaction that these people

should be punished and extirpated by the episcopal Ordinaries, according

to the canons and without the interposition of the secular court.[164]

This is a scarcely veiled hint of the popular detestation of the

Inquisition, whether Spanish or papal, and that this continued unabated

is manifested by the Venetian envoy, Girolamo Lippomani who, in his

relation of 1575, describes the Neapolitans as most religious and filled

with zeal for the love of God, but nevertheless they will not endure the

very name of the Inquisition and would be ready to rise against it as

they have done in the past.[165]

The occasion of this address to the archbishop presumably was a lively

persecution of Judaizers then on foot. There had been many abjurations,

some burnings, and the archbishop was preparing to build cells attached

to the walls of his palace to provide for the confinement of those

sentenced to perpetual prison. There was considerable popular excitement

because an inquisitorial deputy, with the title of vicar, had been sent

from Rome, and there was faction among the citizens, for the number of

accused was large, with kinships ramifying throughout the community.

Cardinal Granvelle, then recently appointed viceroy, in a letter of July

31, 1571, to the Cardinal of Pisa, head of the Roman Inquisition,

expressed his fears of a tumult; he had asked the archbishop to suspend

the prosecutions and postpone building the cells; it would be better to

send, as the pope desired, the accused to Rome, where they would be

vigorously punished. In effect, towards the end of December, four women

and three men were sent as Judaizers to Rome, where they were duly

strangled and burnt on February 9, 1572.[166]

This sending of the accused to the Roman Inquisition, whether for trial

or execution, gradually became the accepted custom, as a sort of

compromise between the pretensions of the Holy Office and the settled

repugnance of the people. It was not, however, without some

complications. Of old, no arrests by the Inquisition were permitted

without the royal assent in each case, but in the absence of an

organized Inquisition this salutary rule seems to have been forgotten

and it evidently was not observed in the Calabrian persecutions. When,

however, in 1568, the authorities of Reggio were ordered by the Sicilian

tribunal to arrest and forward two individuals charged with heresy,

obedience was refused and the Duke of Alcalá, still viceroy, was

notified. He approved the position taken but instructed the officials to

arrest the parties and hold them until the Sicilian tribunal should

report whether the alleged offences were committed in Sicily or in

Naples; in the former case he was to forward them; in the latter to hold

them until it should be determined whether they were justiciable by the

Ordinary or by the Roman Holy Office, and such was to be the rule

hereafter. The Sicilian tribunal did not relish this interference with

its arbitrary methods and the next month there came news that two of its

emissaries had landed at Reggio, gone inland and carried off to Messina

a friar from an Augustinian convent; moreover they were now endeavoring

to do the same with another of the brethren. Thereupon the viceroy

ordered the utmost watchfulness to be observed and, if any attempt of

the kind were made, the inquisitorial agents were to be thrown in prison

and held for his instructions.[167]

If this caution was necessary in dealing with a province under the same

crown, much more was it applicable to the Roman Congregation of the

Inquisition. No independent state could permit its citizens to be

abducted, without the knowledge of the authorities, at the bidding of a

foreign prince whose policy at any moment might be hostile. To submit to

such a claim was an abdication of sovereignty.[168] Moreover, nearly all

Catholic kingdoms had been forced, by the perpetual meddling of the

papacy with their internal affairs, to adopt the rule that no papal

rescript of any kind should be enforced without first submitting it to

the government for its exequatur. Naples, as especially exposed to

papal encroachments, was particularly careful as to this, and no brief,

however trivial, was allowed to take effect without being submitted to

the authorities for approval.[169] In 1567 we find Pius V exhaling his

indignation to Philip II at the violation of the rights of the Holy See

because a bishop, whom he had sent to Naples as visitor to report on the

condition of the clergy, was not allowed to exercise his functions

without the exequatur.[170]

This necessarily applied to the citations and orders of arrest with

which the Roman Inquisition was endeavoring to extend its jurisdiction

over Naples. In April, 1564, Hieronimo de Monte, Apostolic Commissioner

in Benevento (a papal enclave in Neapolitan territory), in the case of

the Marquis of Vico, was taking testimony to the effect that no one

would dare to serve a summons from Rome on him without the vice-regal

exequatur, as he would thus expose himself to punishment, including

perhaps the galleys.[171] Rome endeavored to evade this limitation on

its jurisdiction and was met with consistent firmness. In 1568 Alcalá

was informed that, under orders from the Inquisition, the bishop had

arrested a citizen named Martino Bagnato and was holding him for

transmission to Rome. The bishop was at once notified that he must

surrender the prisoner to the captain of the city, to be held subject to

prosecution in the _via ordinaria_ by his competent judge, and the

captain was ordered, in case of refusal, to take him by force. This did

not avail Bagnato much, for the Roman Inquisition then wrote to the

viceroy, asking to have the prisoner forwarded, which presumably was

done.[172]

There was in this merely an assertion of sovereignty and no desire to

shield the heretic, for when the Inquisition accepted the inevitable and

made application to the viceroy, it was granted almost as a matter of

course. The formality was simple. The application was referred to the

chief chaplain, who made a show of consulting with the judges of the

Audiencia and reported that it was in due form, when the exequatur was

granted. Occasionally, however, some question might be raised when the

process called attention to some abusive extension of inquisitorial

jurisdiction. Thus in 1610 a certain Fabio Orzolino asked for the

exequatur on a citation which he had obtained directed to the Abate

Angelo and Carlo della Rocca of Traetto (Gaeta). On this the chief

chaplain reported that the parties owed to Orzolino 88 ducats, for

non-payment of which they had been publicly excommunicated. Under this

excommunication they had lain for a year, which, according to the canon

law, rendered them suspect of heresy and thus, by a strained

construction, subjected them to inquisitorial action. It is not easy to

understand the decision of the chaplain that the exequatur should be

granted as to the abate and not as to the layman.[173] A more wholesome

case was one in 1574, shown in the application of Giovanni Tomase,

Modesto Abate and Sebastiano Luca for an exequatur to the order of the

Roman Inquisition to sell the property of Nicola Pegna and Giovanni

Mateo of Tagio, to reimburse the applicants for expenses amounting to

338 crowns arising from false accusations of heresy brought against them

by Pegna and Mateo, who had been condemned for false-witness to

scourging in Rome, with the addition of the galleys for Mateo.[174]

Under this system the Roman Inquisition had a tolerably free hand in

Naples and its arrests were sufficiently numerous for it to establish a

regular service of vessels to carry its prisoners, transportation by sea

being much more economical than by land. The latter was expensive, as we

chance to learn from a letter of March 8, 1586, ordering Captain Amoroso

to be forwarded by land because the tempestuous weather prevented

vessels from putting to sea. He was to have a guard of six soldiers who

were to bring back a certificate of his delivery to the Inquisition, and

the expenses of the journey were to be defrayed from the property of the

prisoner.[175] The sea service, however, was not without its risks.

When, in 1593, Fray Gerónimo Gracian, the disciple of Santa Teresa, left

Naples for Rome, it was on a _fragata de la Inquisicion_, which is

described as well provided with chains and shackles for securing

prisoners. It chanced to be captured by the Moors and Gracian narrowly

escaped burning, as he was supposed to be an inquisitor.[176]

Still Rome was not satisfied with this and it found Viceroy Osuna

(1582-86) obsequious to its exigencies. About 1585 he allowed Sixtus V

to establish in Naples a regular Commissioner of the Inquisition, with

jurisdiction practically superseding that of the archbishop. By this

time the spirit of the Neapolitans had been effectually broken. Already,

in 1580, the Venetian envoy Alvise Lando, in describing how they had

been subdued by the universal misery attendant on the Spanish

domination, especially under the vice-royalty of the Marquis of Mondéjar

(1575-79), adds that it is the opinion of many that if the king chose to

establish the Inquisition, so greatly abhorred, there would be little

opposition.[177] How speedily under these circumstances the episcopal

functions became atrophied is illustrated by a case occurring in 1592.

In 1590 a French youth named Jacques Girard was captured by a Barbary

corsair, circumcised and forced to embrace Islam. In 1592 he was sent on

shore in Calabria with a boat’s crew to procure water, when he escaped

and, being taken for a Moor, was thrown in prison at Cosenza. He applied

to the archbishop for reconciliation to the Church; the prelate felt

unable to act, even in so simple a matter, and wrote to the Roman

Inquisition for instructions. Before these came, Jacques had been

transferred to Naples; a second application was made to Rome and the

necessary powers were sent to the Archbishop of Naples, with orders to

report the result.[178] So, in the trial for heresy of the celebrated

Fra Tommaso Campanella, in 1600, Clement VIII designated as a court his

nuncio at Naples, the archiepiscopal vicar and the Bishop of Termoli,

and they were to transmit to Rome a summary of the case, with their

opinions, before rendering sentence.[179]

Under such a viceroy as Osuna, the inquisitorial commissioner was

superfluous, for all the powers of the state were put at the disposition

of the papal representatives. As early as 1582 we find the nuncio

assuming jurisdiction and requesting Osuna to execute a sentence of

scourging which he had passed on the Venetian Giulio Secamonte for

suspicion of heresy, a request which was promptly granted. The Roman

Inquisition had only to ask for the arrest of any one throughout the

kingdom, when immediately orders were given to the local authorities to

seize him and send him to Naples for transmission to Rome, and if

necessary to take possession of and forward all his books and papers.

From this the highest in the land were not secure. In 1583 Cardinal

Savelli, then secretary of the Inquisition, wrote that the person of

Prince Gianbattista Spinello was wanted in Rome to answer for matters of

faith, when immediately Osuna issued orders to seize him wherever he

might be found and bring him to the Royal Audiencia, where he was to

give security in 25,000 ducats to present himself within a month to the

Holy Office and not to leave Rome without its permission.[180]

Osuna’s successor, Juan de Zuñiga, Count of Miranda, was equally

subservient, but he insisted on the observance of the formalities when

Rome sought to act independently without vice-regal intervention. In

1587, at the order of Cardinal Savelli, the Apostolic Vicar of Lecce

induced the Audiencia of the Terra d’Otranto to arrest Giantonio Stomeo.

This was overslaughing the viceroy who rebuked the Audiencia, telling it

that it should have referred the matter to him and awaited his

instructions, meanwhile assuring itself of the person of the individual.

It was purely a matter of etiquette for, in the end, after some further

correspondence, Miranda ordered Stomeo to be forwarded to Naples by the

first chain (of galley slaves), giving advices so that arrangements

could be made for his transmission to Rome. There seems to have been

some doubt as to the correctness of the stand taken by Miranda for

subsequently Annibale Moles, Regent of the Vicaria, was called upon for

a consulta in which he stated the rule to be that arrests for the

Inquisition must always pass through the hands of the viceroy, who

always ordered their execution.[181]

Rome was not satisfied with this and continued its encroachments, taking

advantage of any weakness of the civil power to establish precedents and

claim them as rights. In 1628 we find it represented by the Dominican

Fra Giacinto Petronio, Bishop of Molfetta, who styled himself inquisitor

and was especially audacious in extending his powers. He arrested Dr.

Tomas Calendrino, a Sicilian, because he assisted in the escape from

Benevento of a contumacious person. He was carried to the Archbishop of

Naples and placed on the papal galleys for transmission to Rome, but the

Neapolitan spirit was rising again and the Collaterale and Junta de

Jurisdicion called on Viceroy Alba to demand his surrender under threat

of not allowing the galleys to depart and of banishing Fra Petronio

within 24 hours. Alba however conferred with the nuncio and archbishop,

who assured him that it was customary to arrest and send people to Rome

without notice to him. In this perplexity Alba referred the matter to

his master Philip IV, who warmly praised his prudence in so doing. The

papal nuncio at Madrid, he said, had received orders from Rome to

protest against the attempted innovation of requiring notice to the

viceroy and he therefore ordered Alba, as the matter was of the highest

importance, to investigate precedents of persons arrested with or

without notice, and not to introduce any novelty. What was the ultimate

result as respects Calendrino does not appear, but this nerveless way of

treating the matter was not calculated to check the insolence of Fra

Petronio who, in the course of the affair, excommunicated the judges

Calefano and Osorio, summoned the auditor Figueroa to present himself to

the Roman Inquisition and finally arrested him with his own armed

sbirri. This was no novelty, for he had no scruple in imprisoning and

maltreating royal officials for executing orders of the government.[182]

Philip was accustomed to allow his own officials to be thus abused by

the Spanish Inquisition, but the Neapolitan temper was stubborn and, in

1630, the Collaterale reminded Fra Petronio that all commissions to

arrest required the exequatur; it ordered him to present within three

days all that he had received from Rome, and moreover forbade him to

keep armed retainers. It made complaints to the king and to the Spanish

ambassador at Rome, while Urban VIII issued briefs defending him, under

which encouragement he continued his arbitrary methods. At length

Philip, by a letter of March 18, 1631, ordered that no papal brief

should be executed without the exequatur; a new viceroy, the Count of

Monterey, was prompted to defend the royal jurisdiction and Fra Petronio

complained to Rome that the aid of the secular arm was withheld unless

he would state the names of those whom he desired to imprison. The pope

appealed to Philip IV, who apparently had forgotten about the matter

and, in a letter of November 27, 1632, asked for explanations. Then Fra

Petronio commenced taking evidence against the auditor Brandolino, but

when the Collaterale deliberated, January 31, 1633, on a proposition to

banish him, he yielded. Monterey negotiated with Rome to have him

replaced with some one less objectionable and also that the new

incumbent should not hold a tribunal but should only report to the

Congregation the cases occurring. Urban VIII offered to appoint any one

whom they might select, and when the name was presented of Antonio

Ricciullo, Bishop of Belcastro, then their ambassador at Rome, he was

duly commissioned.[183]

There was nothing gained by the change. Ricciullo styled himself

inquisitor-general; he held a tribunal and in his time condemned four

clerics for functioning without priest’s orders--three strangled and

burnt in public, and one strangled privately. The pope ordered that the

Dominican convent should serve as an inquisitorial prison and its prior

should be a consultor, and thus after a struggle of nearly a century the

papal Inquisition was fairly established in Naples.[184]

Ricciullo died, May 17, 1642, and was succeeded by Felice Tamburello,

Bishop of Sora. He died in 1656 and was replaced temporarily by the

nuncio Giulio Spinola, who served until 1659, when Camillo Piazza,

Bishop of Dragona was appointed. That Naples should be impatient at

finding itself thus gradually and imperceptibly brought under the yoke

of the papal Inquisition was natural. The turbulent city had gallantly

resisted, at no little cost to itself, the imposition of the Spanish

Holy Office, through times in which unity of faith was seriously

threatened by successive heresies. Now all such danger was past. There

were no Cathari or Waldenses or Protestants to rend in Italy the

seamless garment of the Church and the period was one of spiritual

apathy, wholly averse to proselytism. Only the unappeasable longing of

Rome to make its power manifest everywhere could explain its persistence

in thus insinuating the abhorred jurisdiction in a city which prided

itself on its piety, on the number of churches and convents which

impoverished it, on the obedience of the people to the priesthood and on

the strictness of its religious observance. The only field of

inquisitorial activity lay in reckless speeches which might savor of

irreligion, in the blasphemy through which anger or despair found

expression, in the superstitious arts of wise-women, in burning clerics

who administered sacraments without having received the requisite orders

and in such offences as bigamy and seduction in the confessional, all of

which could only by a strained construction be deemed as savoring of

heresy, and could readily be disposed of by the ordinary spiritual or

secular courts. The Holy Office was a manifest superfluity and its

imposition was all the more galling.

Nor was there any alleviation in the fact that the tribunal was papal

and not Spanish, for there was nothing to choose between them, in spite

of frequent appeals to the pledge of Philip II that the _via ordinaria_

alone should be observed. There were the same confiscation and

impoverishment of families. There were the same travesty of justice and

denial of rightful defence to the accused. There were the same secrecy

of procedure and withholding from the prisoner the names of his accuser

and of the witnesses. There was the same readiness to accept the

denunciations and testimony of the vilest, who could be heard in no

other court, but who, in the Inquisition, could gratify malignity,

secure that they would remain unknown. There was even greater freedom in

the use of torture, as the habitual solvent of all doubts, whether as to

fact or intention. There were the same prolonged and heartbreaking

delays during which the accused was secluded from all communication with

the outside world. A careless speech overheard and distorted by an

enemy--or perhaps invented by him--sufficed to cast a man into the

secret prison, where he might lie for four or five years, while his

trial proceeded leisurely and his family might starve. It would probably

end in his torture, to make him confess if he denied the utterance, or

to ascertain his intention if he admitted and sought to explain it. If

he succumbed in the torture he was subjected to a humiliating penance,

to wearing the habitello and to infamy--probably also to confiscation.

If his endurance in the torture-chamber enabled him to “purge the

evidence,” as the legists phrased it, he was discharged with a verdict

of not proven, with nothing to make amends for his sufferings and wasted

years. Such was the fate which hung over every citizen and it was felt

acutely.[185] How little was required to arouse inquisitorial vigilance

was shown in 1683, when Agostino Mazza, a priest employed in teaching

philosophy, was thrown in prison by the Commissioner of the Inquisition

and humiliated by having to abjure in public two abstract propositions

which to the ordinary mind have the least possible bearing on the

faith--“The definition of man is not that he is a reasoning animal” and

“Brutes have a kind of imperfect reason.”[186] The human intellect

evidently had small chance of development under such conditions.

It is easy therefore to understand the growing uneasiness of the people

when they saw the commissioner, Monsignor Piazza, appointed in 1659,

gradually erect a formal inquisitorial tribunal, with a fiscal and other

customary officials and a corps of armed familiars, recruited, as we

are told, from the lowest class of the population. His activity was such

that he constructed eight prisons in as many convents, where even women

were confined, without respect to rank or condition, under the

guardianship of the _frati._ He celebrated _atti di fede_ in public,

where abjurations were administered, followed by scourgings through the

streets, and he levied on the resources of the Regular Orders to defray

the expenses of his court. Indignation gathered and, on April 2, 1661,

the Piazze ordered their representative body, the Capitolo di San

Lorenzo, to consider the innovations of the commissioner. The aspect of

the people grew threatening and Count Peñaranda, the viceroy, ordered

Monsignor Piazza to leave the kingdom, which he did on April 10th, under

escort of a troop of horse to assure his safety. This did not appease

the deputies who, on May 18th, presented a memorial to the viceroy, in

which they further drew attention to the subject of confiscation and

asked that the prohibitory bull of Julius III, in 1554, should be

enforced. Consultations and negotiations were long continued during

which discussion became so hot that Peñaranda threw some of the deputies

in prison, but, on October 24th, he announced that Philip IV had decided

that the grant of Philip II must be maintained and the _via ordinaria_

alone must be followed. Nothing was said as to the abandonment of

confiscation and efforts to procure it were protracted, but without

success.[187]

If the Neapolitans flattered themselves that they had obtained release

from the odious institution, they were mistaken. Rome continued to send

commissioners and they continued to disregard the privileges of the

kingdom. Another outbreak occurred in 1691 when, under orders from the

Roman Congregation, its commissioner--Giovanni Giberti, Bishop of

Cava--seized several persons without obtaining the exequatur of the

viceroy. The Collaterale, or Council, notified him that there was no

Inquisition in Naples and that the prisoners must be transferred to the

archiepiscopal prison, under pain of legal proceedings against him. He

treated with contempt the notary who bore this message and threatened

him with the savage penalties provided for impeding the Inquisition, in

response to which the Collaterale hustled him out of the kingdom, barely

allowing him time to perform quarantine at Gaeta. Innocent XII felt this

keenly, for he was a Neapolitan and had been Archbishop of Naples, and a

warm correspondence ensued with the Spanish court. It was claimed by the

curia that the pope was omnipotent in matters of faith; that he could

abrogate local laws and enact new ones at his pleasure, while the papal

nuncio at Madrid warned the king that Naples would be given over to

atheism without the Inquisition and the whole vast monarchy of Spain

might be destroyed. The city of Naples was equally vigorous in asserting

its rights and complained of the numerous officials of the commissioner,

exempted from secular jurisdiction and committing scandals with

impunity. The pope threatened an interdict and the Piazze threatened to

rise; the latter danger was to Carlos II the most imminent and, in 1692,

he prohibited all further residence in Naples of papal delegates or

commissioners. To render secure the fruits of this victory, the Piazze

took the decided step of appointing a permanent deputation whose duty it

was to guard the city from further dangers of the same nature.[188]

If again the good people of Naples imagined that they had at last shaken

off the dreaded Holy Office they underrated the persistence of Rome.

Trials for heresy continued in the archiepiscopal court, conducted in

inquisitorial fashion and not by the _via ordinaria_. This caused

renewed dissatisfaction and, in hopes of reaching some terms of

accommodation, envoys were sent to Rome in 1693 to ask that the

procedure should be open, the names of the witnesses and the testimony

being communicated to the accused; that no one should be imprisoned

without competent proof against him; that the city should be allowed to

supply an advocate for the poor and that two lay assistants should be

appointed to see that these provisions were enforced. Prolonged

discussions followed, the cardinals entrusted with the matter seeking to

gain readmission for the commissioner and arguing that the bishops were

mostly unfit to exercise the jurisdiction.[189] There was little

prospect of reaching an agreement when Naples was startled with a wholly

novel aggression. February 1, 1695, there was published in Rome by the

Inquisition an Edict of Denunciation which, under its orders, was

similarly published in at least one of the Neapolitan dioceses. Such

edicts were issued annually in Spain, but in Naples they were unknown

and the present one was evidently intended for that kingdom, for it

included the episcopal ordinaries as well as inquisitors, as the parties

to whom every one was required, under pain of excommunication _latæ

sententiæ_, removable only by the Inquisition, and other penalties, to

denounce whatever cases might come in any way to his cognizance, of a

list of offences ranging from apostasy to bigamy, blasphemy and sorcery.

The Deputati took the matter up in a long memorial addressed to the

Collaterale, pointing out the invasion of the prerogative in publishing

the edict without the necessary exequatur and the evils to be expected

from converting the population into spies and creating a universal

feeling of insecurity. There was also the fact that the edict assumed

the jurisdiction of the Inquisition over Naples, that it made the

bishops its agents, authorized as its deputies to employ the

inquisitorial process, and that it comprised not only offences which the

Neapolitans contended to belong to the secular courts but a general

clause, vaguely embracing whatever else might be claimed as subject to

the jurisdiction of the Holy Office.[190]

This shrewd device of the Roman Inquisition was successful. The bishops

to a considerable extent exercised the powers delegated to them and the

Deputati found constant occupation in endeavoring to protect those whom

they imprisoned and tried by inquisitorial methods. Then came the

troublous times of the War of Succession which followed the death of

Carlos II in 1700. After a fruitless struggle Philip V was obliged to

abandon Naples in 1707 to his rival, Charles of Austria, and during the

interval the Inquisition succeeded in re-introducing a commissioner, who

made free use of his powers. The new monarch sought to secure the

loyalty of his subjects and from Barcelona sent orders to his viceroy,

Cardinal Grimani to support the Deputati in their efforts to uphold the

privileges of the kingdom. In spite of this the Deputati were obliged to

appeal to him, in a petition of July 31, 1709, representing that, after

the publication of his despatch to Grimani, the ecclesiastics proceeded

to the greatest imaginable oppressions and violence, so that their

condition was worse than ever, wherefore they prayed for relief at his

hands, so that trials should be conducted in the _via ordinaria_. To

this Charles replied, September 15th, to Grimani, commanding that

matters of faith should be confined strictly to the bishops, to be

handled by the _via ordinaria_; any departure from this was to be

severely punished and the authorities were to use the whole royal power,

through whatever means were necessary, for the enforcement of his

orders.[191]

This won as little obedience as the previous royal utterance and the

Deputati were kept busy in attending to the cases of those who suffered

from the persistent employment of inquisitorial methods--efforts which

were sometimes successful but more frequently in vain. It was probably

some special outrage that induced the Deputati, in 1711, to employ

Nicolò Capasso to draw up a report on inquisitorial methods. The work is

a storehouse of inquisitorial principles as set forth by accredited

inquisitorial authorities--papal decretals and manuals of practice such

as those of Eymerich, Peña, Simancas, Albertino, Rojas, the Sacro

Arsenale etc., admirably calculated to excite abhorrence by laying bare

the complete denial of justice in every step of procedure, the pitiless

cruelty of the system and the manner in which the lives, the fortunes

and the honor of every citizen were at the mercy of the malignant and of

the temper of the tribunal. Yet so far from being an advocate of

toleration, Capasso commences by arguing against it at much length.

Religion, he says, is the foundation of social order and the principle

of toleration infers toleration of irreligion. Protestants are

intolerant between themselves and the Catholic system cannot endure

toleration. That which is taught by the philosophers is chimerical, and

a community to be stable must be united in faith, but the enforcement of

this unity is a matter for the secular power. Punishment must be

corporal and the Church has authority over the spirit alone, not over

the body. An allusion to the _gravissime agitazioni_ of the people would

indicate that his labors were called forth by some action which had

aroused especial resentment.[192]

It was all in vain. By the death of his brother Joseph I, Charles VI

succeeded to the empire in 1711. Wars and other interests diverted his

attention from Naples and, though he consistently resisted the pressure

from Rome to give the Inquisition recognition, the bishops continued to

exercise inquisitorial jurisdiction in inquisitorial fashion. The

Deputati did what they could, but the success of their efforts depended

upon the uncertain temper of the successive imperial viceroys, who,

though they might sometimes manifest a spasmodic readiness to enforce

the royal decrees, did not countervail the persistent ecclesiastical

determination to wield the power afforded by inquisitorial

methods.[193]

A change was at hand when, in 1734, Carlo VII (better known as Carlos

III of Spain) drove the Austrians out of Naples and assumed the throne.

The kingdom, after two centuries of viceroyalties, at last had a

resident monarch of its own, anxious to win the affection of his new

subjects and inclined, as his subsequent career showed, to curb

exorbitant ecclesiastical pretensions. His royal oath included a pledge

to observe the privileges of the land, including those concerning the

Inquisition granted by his predecessor. Apparently for some years there

was hesitation in testing the quality of the new régime, but in 1738 and

1739, as though by concerted action under orders from Rome, Cardinal

Spinelli, the Archbishop of Naples, and various bishops throughout the

kingdom, undertook prosecutions in the prohibited fashion. Complaints

reached the Deputati, who appealed to the king. He reproached them for

negligence, ordered the proceedings stopped and the processes to be sent

to Naples, and gave to Spinelli a warning that such irregularities would

not be permitted. Undeterred by this, the episcopal Inquisition

continued at work and in 1743 three bishops, of Nusco, Ortono and

Cassano, were called to account; the papers of trials held by them were

examined and pronounced irregular; in one case the Bishop of Nusco had

cruelly tortured a parish priest named Gaetano de Arco, after holding

him in prison for eight months.[194]

It seems incredible that under such circumstances ecclesiastical

persistence should defiantly call public attention to its disregard of

the laws, yet on September 26, 1746, the octave of San Gennaro--a time

when the popular afflux to the churches was greatest--an _atto di fede_,

conducted according to inquisitorial practice, was celebrated in the

archiepiscopal church, where a Sicilian priest named Antonio Nava

abjured certain errors and was condemned to perpetual irremissible

prison. Popular indignation was aroused, the cry arose that Spinelli was

endeavoring to introduce the Inquisition and he was insulted in his

carriage by crowds as he drove through the streets. The Deputati

represented to the king that they had been appealed to by three

prisoners whose trials were not conducted by the _via ordinaria_,

showing that the ecclesiastics were seeking to impose the abhorred

Inquisition on the kingdom. Spinelli protested that the trials were open

and according to the _via ordinaria_ and that he was ready to obey

whatever commands he might receive from the king. Carlos sent all the

papers to his council, known as the Camera di Santa Chiara, with orders

to investigate and report.

The Camera made a thorough examination and reported, December 19th, that

Nava had lain in prison since April, 1741; another prisoner, a layman

named Trascogna, had been incarcerated for three years and his trial was

yet unfinished; the third, a deacon named Angelo Petriello, was accused

of celebrating mass on July 24th last and was about to put in his

defence. The archbishop argued that, unlike his predecessors, he did not

conceal the witnesses’ names and therefore the process was the ordinary

one, but investigation showed that in other respects inquisitorial

practice was followed and inquisitorial authorities were cited; during

the trial the prisoner was kept _incomunicado_ in his cell and debarred

from all communication with the outside world. In the papers the

expression “Tribunale della Santa Fede” was constantly used; in the

marble lintel of the door leading to the rooms occupied by it the words

“Sanctum Officium” were cut and the part of the prison used by it was

called “del Sant’ Officio.” It had a full corps of special officials and

in a passage-way there had been for five or six years a tablet bearing

their names and positions, with the inscription “Inquisitori del

Tribunale del S. Uffizio.” It also had a seal different from that of the

court of the Ordinary, bearing for device two hands, one of St. Peter

with the key, the other of St. Paul with a naked sword and the legend

“Sanctum Officium Archiep. Neap.” The Camera thence concluded that it

was the old Inquisition under various devices and only awaiting an

opportunity to establish itself openly, as was shown by the occurrences

in 1691, 1711 and 1739 and, as it was impossible to place reliance on

the promises of ecclesiastics, so often made and broken, it advised that

all the officials of the pretended Tribunal of Faith should be banished

as disturbers of the public peace; the three processes should be sealed

and filed away in the public archives, the accused should be restored to

their original position and be tried again by the _via ordinaria_.

Everything connected with the Tribunal should be abolished--officials,

prison, seal and inscription--and notice be given that any one in future

assuming such offices would incur the royal indignation. All spiritual

courts should be notified that, in actions of the faith against either

clerics or laymen, before arrest the informations must be laid before

the king for his assent and before sentence the whole process, so as to

make sure that there were no irregularities. The accused while in prison

must have full liberty of writing and talking to whom he pleased and be

furnished with an advocate chosen by the Deputati or the Camera. To

protect the laity against prosecutions for simple sorcery or blasphemy

or other matters not subject to spiritual jurisdiction, the nature of

the alleged crime must be clearly expressed when applying for licence to

arrest.[195]

These suggestions were promptly adopted and were embodied in a royal

decree of December 29th, by which two of the officials were banished

within eight days and similar punishment was threatened for any future

attempt to exercise such functions. By January 5, 1747, the Marchese

Brancone, under royal order, was able to report to the Deputati that the

seal and commissions had been surrendered, the inscription over the door

had been changed to “Archivium” and the name of the prison altered to

prisons of S. Francesco and S. Paolo. Archbishop Spinelli was compelled

to resign and, when Benedict XIV sent Cardinal Landi to Naples to seek

some method of re-establishing the tribunal, he was in danger of being

mobbed and was obliged to return without having secured an official

audience. Thus the Inquisition ceased to have a recognized existence in

Naples; the rejoicing was general and, as an expression of its

gratitude, the city made a voluntary offering to Carlos of three hundred

thousand ducats. Yet the Deputati did not disband; taught by past

experience they kept vigilant watch to see that the detested institution

or its methods were not smuggled in and that the ecclesiastical courts

observed the new rules. Carlos was called to the throne of Spain in

1759, by the death of his half-brother Fernando VI, leaving Naples to

his young son, Ferdinando IV. Possibly it may have been thought that

during a minority there was an opportunity to revive the institution

for, in 1761, the Deputati made an appeal to the king. The Regent

Tanucci was not a man to relinquish the advantage gained. The decree of

1746 was again sent to all prelates with commands that it be strictly

obeyed and the royal thanks were conveyed to the Deputati for their

vigilance, which they were ordered not to relax.[196]

They heeded the injunction and, in 1764, they addressed to the king a

memorial on the case of Padre Leopoldo di S. Pasquale, a Bare-footed

Augustinian, who had been tried by his brethren on charges of financial

irregularities and unchastity. Inquisitorial procedure had been

employed, no opportunity for defence had been allowed and, for seven

years, the unfortunate friar had been subjected by his superiors to a

series of inhuman cruelties.[197] What was the result I have no means of

ascertaining, but this prolonged vigilance indicates the profound and

enduring impression entertained of the Inquisition by the Neapolitans.