Italian Prisons / St. Angelo; the Piombi; the Vicaria; Prisons of the Roman Inquisition

by Arthur Griffiths

Gabriello Fiamma was bishop of Chioggia, near Venice, and a popular preacher throughout Italy. He narrowly escaped the Inquisition. When in Naples all his manuscripts and note books were seized, even to the last scrap in his possession, but nothing compromising was found to convict him, and it appeared that he had been betrayed by some envious and malevolent foe.

Fra Paolo Sarpi, the historian of the Council of Trent, was nearly undone by an invitation to appear in Rome, which he prudently evaded, but an unsuccessful attempt was made to assassinate him secretly, and he was dangerously wounded. His Latin pun is remembered when he said, “agnosco stylum Romanum,” a phrase with a double meaning, “I recognize the Roman way” or “I know the Roman dagger.” His friend and brother priest, Fulgencio Manpedi, was less fortunate. Manpedi rashly accepted the invitation to Rome, and left Venice under a safe conduct which was tantamount to an arrest. On arrival, he was treated at once as a prisoner for trial and sentence was in due course passed upon him. He was to remain in Rome for five years, during which he was to visit weekly the seven “privileged” churches within the city and recite in them the seven penitential psalms with certain litanies, orisons and prayers, and he was to fast rigorously every Friday. This fiat was pronounced by the commissary of the Inquisition seated in state in the palace of the Holy Office, and Manpedi heard it kneeling. His offence was a suspicion of heresy in his preaching in Venice, and too great friendliness with Sir Henry Wotton, the British ambassador there. He was not, however, to be let off thus lightly, and being persuaded to make abjuration, signed his own death warrant. He was thrown into the Tor di Nona and thence removed to a dungeon of the Inquisition, and fresh charges were brought against him, based on the papers seized at his arrest. Examination under torture followed, then conviction and sentence. He was then handed over to the governor of Rome and whipped with a lash of bulls’ hide but without drawing blood. Last of all, he was taken to the Campo di Fiori, that Smithfield of Rome, and there strangled and burned.

The Holy Office boldly proceeded against foreign subjects when it caught them, and much scandal was caused by the arrest and ill-treatment of a certain Abbé de Bois, a Frenchman. This was held to be a violation of the law of nations, as the abbé was an agent of the Crown of France with authorised letters of credit, but he was forced to do penance in Rome for sermons he had preached in Paris against the Jesuits. The story of De Dominis, ex-archbishop of Spalato in Dalmatia, shows that the long arm of the Inquisition might be extended to interfere with a former dignitary of the Church, even in England, where he had taken refuge. De Dominis had come over in the character of a convert to Protestantism and was cordially welcomed. Numbers flocked to see and hear him. Great personages relieved his poverty with rich gifts. The King, James I, gave him valuable preferment; the deanery of Windsor, one of the most genteel and complete dignities in the land, the mastership of the Savoy and a fat living in Berkshire. He is described as ostentatious, vain and eaten up with conceit. He was certainly impudent, for he exasperated his former masters by publishing many controversial writings, and his vigorous attacks produced great discomfiture in Rome. A deep plot was designed to ruin him. His rapid rise in the English Church had made him the subject of much envy and many detractors were at work to undermine his standing with the King. De Dominis, stung to the quick, said some foolish things and let it be supposed that he might be won back to Rome if handled properly. Gundomar, the famous Spanish ambassador at the court of St. James, sent word to the pope that De Dominis would accept pardon if it were offered to him. Gregory XV, an old friend, expressed his willingness to forgive and forget and promised De Dominis the archbishopric of Salerno if he would come back, and the still greater gift of a cardinal’s hat. On receiving these overtures, De Dominis wrote to James I, asking leave to depart as he was bent on securing “the reunion of all the churches in Christendom.” He went first to Brussels, where he waited six months for a safe conduct; and as none came, ventured to proceed to Rome, relying upon the friendship of the pope. At this juncture Gregory died and was succeeded by Urban VIII, who did not know De Dominis and had a special hatred for heretics. The confiding priest had been given no archbishopric, the cardinal’s hat was not in sight, but he had been living till now upon a comfortable pension and in a certain state. All this ceased suddenly and he found lodgings in the castle of St. Angelo just as he was on the point of seeking safety in flight. There was much to incriminate him found in the papers seized at his arrest, and even in the castle he adhered to his detestable opinions. His heart, they said, was still with the heretics although his body was in Rome.

Then he fell sick and suddenly died. No one could well believe it was a natural death. Four sworn physicians to the pope examined the corpse, however, and deposed that no signs of violence were to be seen upon it. The suggestion of poison was not met because it was not put forward. But the Holy Office desired to show that it would have been justified in taking his life. At an imposing ceremony in the church of St. Mary, and in the presence of the greatest personages, ecclesiastical and civil, the effigy of De Dominis was arraigned and condemned to peculiar pains and penalties. “Marc Anthony” was declared to have relapsed and was sentenced to be degraded and cast out. All his writings were to be burned and his goods confiscated to the Inquisition. His body, now far advanced toward putrefaction, was torn from the coffin, thrown upon a pile in the Campo di Fiori and consumed before a vast crowd.

The Inquisition in Rome was active to the last and died hard. Napoleon would have none of it and threw wide open its prison, but Leo XII, when the popes regained mastery, revived the old tyranny; the congregation of cardinals was reëstablished with the pope as prefect, and persecution was resumed on the old lines. In the revolution of 1849, when Pope Pius IX fled to Gaeta, it was again done away with. At that time the Inquisition prison was still found to contain two inmates, an aged bishop and a nun. The first was no doubt the person mentioned by Whiteside in his travels in Italy, dated 1848, and the incident may be fitly quoted here.

“We returned from our delightful walk by the prison of the Inquisition, close to the Vatican. Within these gloomy walls has been confined for many years a very extraordinary person, the archbishop of Memphis. Passing on foot in this quarter of Rome, we were conversing with a student for the priesthood, who said mysteriously, ‘There has been a bishop in prison there for many years,’ pointing to the Inquisition building. Curiosity impelled me afterward to inquire into the history of the ecclesiastic so long confined, when the following singular narrative was given me by a clergyman, who appeared to be well informed on the subject: In the reign of Leo XII, some twenty-five years ago, that pope received a letter from the Pasha of Egypt, informing His Holiness that he and a large portion of his subjects desired to embrace Christianity and to be received into the bosom of the Church of Rome; and announcing that he and they were willing to conform to everything, providing the pope sent out an archbishop, with a suitable train of ecclesiastics, and requesting His Holiness to do him the favour of appointing a certain young student, whom he named, the first archbishop of Memphis and despatch him to Egypt. No doubt whatever was entertained of the truth of this communication, but an objection presented itself in the youth of the ecclesiastical student whom the Pasha wished to have consecrated archbishop. The pope consulted the cardinals, who advised him not to make so dangerous a precedent as that of raising a novice to so high a rank in the Church, but His Holiness, tempted by the desire of extending the empire of the Church and converting a kingdom to Christianity, resolved to conform to the wishes of the Pasha, and consecrated the youth as Archbishop of Memphis.

“The new archbishop was sent out, attended by a train of priests, to Egypt. When the ship arrived, a communication was made to the authorities in Egypt, who repudiated the archbishop and declared the affair was an imposition. His Grace then confessing the fraud, was instantly arrested and reconducted to Rome. He had been the author of the letter which imposed on the pope; his original intention having been to confess to the pope as a priest, after his consecration, the imposition he had practised; and as the pope could not betray a secret imparted to him in the confessional, the offender might have obtained absolution in time and so escaped punishment. Whether this would have been practicable, I know not; but as it was not accomplished, and as the youth had the rank of archbishop indelibly imprinted on him, nothing remained but to confine His Grace for the remainder of his life; and accordingly he was at once consigned to this prison near the Vatican, where he has now spent twenty-five summers; and occasionally the Archbishop of Memphis may be seen putting his head out of the windows to breathe the fresh air of heaven and gaze upon the Vatican from a prison whence he never can escape.”[4]

The latest account of the old Inquisition is from an eye witness the Father Gavazzi who made some noise in his time as a fugitive priest and who visited the place in 1852. He wrote the following description:

“I found no instruments of torture, for they were destroyed at the first French invasion and because such instruments were not used afterwards by the modern Inquisition. I did, however, find in one of the prisons of the second court a furnace and the remains of a woman’s dress. I shall never be able to believe that that furnace was used for the living, it not being in such a place, or of such a kind as to be of service to them. Everything, on the contrary, combines to persuade me that it was made use of for horrible deaths and to consume the remains of victims of inquisitorial executions. Another object of horror I found between the great hall of judgment and the luxurious apartment of the chief jailer, or primo custode, the Dominican friar who presided over this diabolical establishment. This was a deep trap, a shaft opening into the vaults under the Inquisition. As soon as the so-called criminal had confessed his offence, the second keeper, who is always a Dominican friar, sent him to the father commissary to receive a relaxation of his punishment. In the hope of pardon, the confessed culprit would go toward the apartment of the Holy Inquisitor; but in the act of setting foot at its entrance, the trap opened and the world of the living heard no more of him. I examined some of the earth found in the pit below this trap; it was a compost of common earth, rottenness, ashes and human hair, fetid to the smell and horrible to the sight and thought of the beholder.