Chapter II: Naples (1)

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.