If, on the other hand, it was thought desirable to hasten the sinner’s repentance, the confinement was made so terribly harsh that it frequently brought about the result desired. Torture had not been greatly employed in the earlier half of the thirteenth century, but Pope Innocent’s Bull of 1252 expressly authorized its use by the secular authorities to discover heresy. The secular courts were slow to adopt it, but its rapid extension by the Holy Office showed how useful it was. Although not frequently mentioned in the records, various indications prove that it was freely employed. Not only accused persons, but witnesses whose statements appeared doubtful or unsatisfactory, were put to the torture; and the Inquisition had an ingenious way of manufacturing witnesses, for a person who had confessed his own offence would be treated as a witness to the guilt of others, and was tortured to betray them. Confessions made under torture were subject to confirmation; if they were not confirmed, but denied, the accused was treated as an obstinate impenitent and perjurer, and handed over to the secular arm.
Evidence.
Lea remarks that “the matter-of-course way in which rules destructive of every principle of justice are laid down by men presumably correct in the ordinary affairs of life affords a wholesome lesson as to the power of fanaticism to warp the intellect of the most acute.â€�[25] Such rules as there were for the protection of accused persons were systematically set aside, and the lives of even devout Catholics hung on the merest trifles and technicalities. A new crime termed “suspicion of heresyâ€� was invented, and of this three degrees were formulated—light suspicion, vehement suspicion, and violent suspicion, all of which offered ample scope to inquisitorial ingenuity. A merchant found it a dangerous civility to bow to acquaintances who, unknown to him, were heretics. Two witnesses were required to prove heresy, but at a pinch one was made to suffice, and if the one witness revoked testimony in favour of the accused his revocation annulled the evidence, while if the original testimony was adverse to the defence it was the revocation that became void! The minimum age of witnesses was also liable to fluctuation. By the Italian civil law it was twenty years, but the Holy Office was not particular to a year or two, and a case is recorded in which the evidence of a boy of ten was accepted against his own family and sixty-six other people who had listened to a heretical sermon a year before. Wives, children, and servants could not testify in favour of an accused; against him their evidence was readily accepted. The only thing that disabled a witness was proof that he was actuated by mortal enmity against the accused; but, as the accused was kept in ignorance of the witness’s identity, proof of this sort was made practically impossible.
Witnesses seldom refused to testify. If they did, the torture chamber generally induced them to reconsider the matter; in fact, an unlucky witness ran as great a risk as the defendant of an acquaintance with the rack or the pulleys. Nor was the secrecy of the confessional of much avail, for all priests were instructed to use every means in their power to induce confessions of heresy, and the results were conveyed to the tribunals in a judiciously indirect manner.
All these precautions, thorough and effective as they were, were not thought sufficient, and were supplemented by instructions to the Inquisitors that less evidence was needed to prove heresy than to prove any other crime. The crowning infamy of keeping secret the names of witnesses was a peculiarity of the ecclesiastical procedure, of which its administrators were a little ashamed; but the feeble protests of one or two councils were ignored. As a slight concession to justice the accused was, though rarely, shown a list of names, but without being told which of them applied to his own case; and also a witness would sometimes be sworn in the presence of the accused, but examined apart. On occasion the whole of the evidence was withheld from the knowledge of the accused, and if a witness retracted his testimony the fact was not revealed to the interested party. In practice it was found best to leave all these details to the Inquisitors’ discretion.
The field which all this secrecy opened to malice, slander, and perjury may be faintly imagined. Serious abuses in connection with the handling of evidence were exposed in the fourteenth century by conscientious Inquisitors themselves, and the fact suggests that an appalling amount of injustice remained undiscovered. The extraordinary rule by which a perjured witness was to be punished, but his testimony was to hold good, was a development that might have been expected from an organization bent on the manufacture of criminals. And, because it was fairly safe, perjury by witnesses for the prosecution was by no means uncommon.
The Defence.
The whole tendency of the Inquisitorial procedure was to afford as few opportunities as possible for an effective answer to a charge of heresy. Inquisitors were expressly ordered not to worry about legal forms, but to extract confessions. In the early part of the thirteenth century the accused was gratuitously allowed an advocate, but, as the lawyer entrusted with this delicate duty rendered himself liable to a charge of heresy if he showed zeal on behalf of his client, the office became little sought after, and the benefit inappreciable. In time the practice was more honoured in the breach than in the observance; and, as the Inquisition could deprive an advocate of his papers and put him in the dangerous position of a witness, it is doubtful whether his services were of much value, or, indeed, whether, in many cases, they were rendered at all. It was sometimes impossible to secure advocates, and instances are known in which prisoners, in despair, declined to exercise their right to call for copies of the evidence against them. The Inquisitors then placed on record that the privilege had been offered and refused, without superfluous detail as to reasons. Denial of the accusation of heresy, or refusal to plead, rendered the person charged liable to torture or the stake. If the Inquisitors did happen to break the rules and expose themselves to appeal against their judgments, there were manuals available in which they were instructed in the numerous devices and deceptions by which they could escape responsibility. An acquittal never took place; the Inquisitors were expressly authorized to pronounce no one innocent, as it was always desirable to leave a loophole for future proceedings. The rare verdict, “Not proven,� was the utmost length to which the mercy of the Holy Office would extend.
Sentence.
Strange though it may appear, what the Inquisition really wanted was the salvation of the sinner’s soul, the appropriation of his goods being quite a secondary consideration. Its penalties were benevolently designed to wash away the stain of mortal guilt, and thus prepare him for a future state of bliss. Assuming the reality of this state, its enjoyments would certainly be enhanced by contrast with the heretic’s earthly experiences. The exact condition of the soul, however, being difficult to ascertain, the chastisement of the body was believed to afford the most efficacious means of purification. Accordingly the Church, in its tenderness, did not condemn to death; it merely withdrew its protection from the unrepentant. It did not confiscate his property; all it did was to declare him guilty of a crime which rendered him incapable of holding property. If it imposed a fine, it was because the proceeds were to be employed in works of charity, which, of course, included the upkeep of its own organization. The ultimate disposal of the condemned heretic could safely be left in the hands of the obedient civil power.