Teresa Gil de Vidaure

After James I of Aragon's first wife was annulled and second wife died, it seems he did not seek a third marriage. He had been, however, in a long-term relationship with someone else already.

Teresa Gil de Vidaure was the daughter of a Navarre nobleman and considered to be very beautiful. He promised to marry her after the annulment of his first wife, but instead he married Violant of Hungary in 1355. Teresa married Sancho Pérez de Lodosa. Despite these two marriages, the king and Teresa continued their relationship.

Violant died in 1251, by which time Sancho Pérez de Lodosa had died. Rather than try to legitimize a relationship, James ignored the policies of the Roman Catholic Church and treated their relationship as a common law marriage. He gave her gifts: a castle in Valencia called Jérica (an early map of the town is shown here), to go to her descendants upon her death (they had a son, James, who was given Jérica in 1276), and some villages.

Was she his wife? The contracts granting these possessions to her use legal language used for concubinage contracts, but James told Pope Clement IV in 1265 that the two were married and he wanted an annulment because Teresa (he claimed) had leprosy. The truth is that James' eyes were wandering and he started another relationship with his cousin, Berenguela Alfonso. Pope Clement was appalled, especially since this was improper even if it were not incestuous, and refused the annulment.

After Clement's death in 1268, the bishop of Valencia gave James his wish, annulling the "marriage"; Pope Gregory X, however, when he came to the papacy, affirmed Clement's decision. James tried for an annulment again in 1275, claiming that he had sexual relations with Teresa's cousin before the marriage, but Gregory was not moved.

Whether he were officially linked in a relationship to Teresa, he chose not to have her by his side. She was sent to a Cistercian monastery for the rest of her life and buried there when she died on 15 July 1285.

Tomorrow we will conclude the life of James I of Aragon, and then decide where to go after that.

The Marriages of James I

The first marriage of James I of Aragon was to Eleanor of Castile. She was the daughter of King Alfonso VIII of Castile and Eleanor of England, who was a daughter of Henry II of England. The marriage was annulled in 1229 after only eight years of marriage and a single son, Alfonso. The reason was consanguinity. Their agreement was that Eleanor would not wed again.

Eleanor retired to the Abbey of Santa María la Real de Las Huelgas where her sisters Berengaria and Constance were living. She died in 1244, aged 44. Her son, Alfonso, was married to Constance of Béarn on 23 March 1260, but he died three days later, leaving Constance to wed two more times.

In 1235, after seeking advice from Pope Gregory IX, James wed Violant of Hungary (c.1215 - 1251), who was a valuable advisor to her husband until her death. She would even ride out on horseback with him and the army, and would speak encouragingly to the soldiers. She and James had ten children, including a later queen of Castile, a king of Aragon, a queen of France (she married Philip III), and an archbishop of Toledo.

When she died, her body went to the Monastery of Santa Maria de Vallbona in Spain, where she was a benefactor, in 1275 (seen in the illustration). Her memory is still honored in street names and a celebration on 9 October in Valencia, the date she and James entered Valencia.

James was not interested in pursuing another marriage, but he did not become celibate. Instead, he essentially took a concubine, Teresa Gil de Vidaure. In fact, he had been carrying on an affair with her for a long time, even during his marriage to Violant. We will go into that story tomorrow!

James the Pawn

James I of Aragon (2 February 1208 – 27 July 1276) was used by his father as a political tool. He was the only child of Peter II of Aragon (shown here in the only contemporary image of him), and therefore was Peter's only opportunity to make a political alliance with someone through marrying off a child.

In the case of James, the marriage was supposed to be with Amicie de Montfort, the daughter of Simon IV de Montfort, the 5th Earl of Leicester. This was not a simple alliance, though. Simon was leading the Albigensian Crusade in an attempt to exterminate Catharism. Peter, on the other hand, was supporting the Cathars, who believed in leading a "pure" life, rejecting materialism. Unfortunately for the Catholic Church, they also rejected the idea of the Trinity.

Peter hoped that making a marriage between his son and Simon's daughter could give Peter an edge to hold off Simon's crusade. It should be noted that both children were less than two years old at the time of the discussions. Peter even sent James to Montfort's care in 1211, to be raised in his household.

Simon and the Albigensian Crusade did not falter, however, and the two sides met in battle. On 12 September 1213, Peter and Simon's forces met in the Battle of Muret, in which Simon's smaller force defeated the much larger alliance of Peter II and Raymond IV of Toulouse. Peter II was killed in this battle.

Simon now had the next king of Aragon—who was only a few years old—in his possession. He could have turned this into a huge political advantage and managed to possess Aragon, or at least force himself onto the country as Regent for James. The Aragonese, however, would not have it. They appealed to Pope Innocent III, who demanded that Simon relinquish custody of James, which he did in 1214 to the papal legate Peter of Benevento.

The six-year-old James was handed over to the head of the Knights Templar in Aragon, one Guillem de Montredó. Aragon was being managed by James' great-uncle Sancho and cousin Nuño, respectively Counts of Provence and Cerdanya. They were not doing a good job, supposedly, and in 1217 the Templars brought James back to the capital and enlisted the aid of loyal nobles to help him rule.

In 1221, at the age of 14, he was married to the 19-year-old Eleanor of Castile, the daughter of Alfonso VIII of Castile (mentioned here and here). The next half-dozen years were tumultuous for him. We'll take a look at his troubles next time.

Jews in Aragon

The subject of Jews and their treatment in the Iberian Peninsula has cropped up several times in this blog, regarding individuals like Isaac Abrabanel, or how Portugal was a safe place until Ferdinand and Isabella's Alhambra Decree of 1492. Jews in several European countries were protected by the rulers because of their learning, their hard-working natures, and their ability to generate large amounts of wealth from which a ruler could borrow or which a ruler could unfairly tax.

Aragon was no exception. James I of Aragon (1208 - 1276) issued a decree:

All Jews and Saracens dwelling in our domains belong to the king and are, with all their possessions, under the king's especial protection. Any one of them who shall place himself under the protection of a nobleman shall lose his head; and all his possessions, wherever they be, shall be forfeited to the king.

This ensured that no non-Christian would place themselves in a feudal relationship with anyone else. It also meant that no Jew or Saracen could be made a prisoner of anyone but the king. Jews and Muslims had complete freedom of movement in the kingdom of Aragon; no one should harm the king's "property."

This did not give them complete social equality, of course. Jews lived in special areas of the cities unless they had the king's permission. They could not move to another city without permission. Trade with Christians needed special permission. Without the king's permission (yes, that word is being used a lot), they could not build a synagogue, create a cemetery or a school, or even buy wheat to make their bread.

James also tried to determine the rightness of Christianity by arranging the Disputation of Barcelona, pitting a converted Jew, the Dominican Friar Pablo Christiani, against the leading Jewish scholar Moshe ben Nachman, called Nachmanides. The debate was chiefly on the question "Was Jesus the Messiah?" (Christianity was declared the winner, but James gave Nachmanides 300 gold coins for his performance.)

James valued Jews for their knowledge and work ethic. A confident and close member of James' administration was his head bailiff and royal treasurer, Jehudano de Cavallería (1227 - 1286). James also had two Jews as his personal physicians, Masters David and Solomon, and the Jew Master Samson was physician to his queen.

Pope Clement IV tried to stop this tolerance of the Jews, but James was immune. His son, Pedro III, eventually relented and went so far as to agree to prohibit Jews from the position of bailiff. Jews had been too generous in their financial support of Aragonese wars and its navy to treat them too harshly; in fact, they were forgiven taxes for several years because of their donations to ship-building needs.

James I has been mentioned before, but there was more to his reign than arranging the Disputation of Barcelona. I'll tell you more about him (and maybe about his three wives) next time.

Medieval Cataracts and Couching

A cataract is a medical condition where the lens of the eye becomes increasingly cloudy, leading to blindness. You would think that the Middle Ages had no way to treat this condition, but you'd be wrong. There was a method used that was actually developed thousands of years ago and described in medical texts. It was called "couching."

Couching is described in Greek and Sanskrit documents. It involves pushing the cloudy lens away from the pupil and into the interior of the eyeball, allowing more light to enter. This was done by inserting a thin sharp needle into the eye through the pupil and, well, simply pushing the lens until it is no longer blocking the light. This was done, of course, without access to anesthetics.

The result was more light, but the light was no longer being focused. The client's world was blurry—assuming the client was not rendered completely blind by damage to the eyes or killed by infection.

Roman artifacts found in the British Isles suggest that the technique was introduced there during the Roman occupation, and perhaps survived throughout the early Middle Ages, although we know of no cases prior to the 1560s.

Physicians and surgeons elsewhere knew of it. John II of Aragon went blind from cataracts by the time he was 70. A physician in his employ, a Jew named Abiathar Crescas, performed couching in September 1468 and restored his sight—or what there was available considering the lack of a functioning lens. John lived until the age of 80.

John's son, Ferdinand, would later, along with his wife, Isabella of Castile, expel all Jews from Spain. This was a major change in policy, since Jews had been prominent in the Court of Aragon. Tomorrow we'll look at the relationship between Aragon and Jews.

The End of John II of Aragon

John II of Aragon lived to the age of 80. He had been married twice, had a few children (one whom he treated poorly, a few who had better careers), including a few illegitimate ones who did all right for themselves (one became a Duke of Villahermosa, one became the Archbishop of Zaragoza).

He caused the Navarrese Civil War (1451-1455) because he refused to allow his son Charles, Prince of Viana, to inherit Navarre. That war could be said to have stretched out with periods of civil unrest until 1461, when Charles died, possibly poisoned by John's second wife.

Because of John's mistreatment of Charles and the Navarre succession, he also had to deal with a Catalan Civil War, also called quite specifically the "War Against John II." Some in the Principality of Catalonia wished to support Charles' rightful claim to Navarre, some were willing to back John's actions. 

After a lot of back-and-forth (the French weighed in on John's side as well), including Catalans bringing in pretenders to the throne to try to push John out, and lawyers enumerating the violations of the constitution of which John was guilty, it all ended when Charles died in 1461. Navarre went to John's daughter Eleanor  for about two weeks in 1479 and then passed to Francis Phoebus, another Prince of Viana.

At the end of John's life he suffered from cataracts and was blind by the age of 70. Fortunately for him, he had a surgeon who restored his eyesight through surgery. That surgeon was a Jew named Abiathar Crescas, who was also a leader among Jews of Aragon. When John died, Abiathar preached a memorial sermon at the funeral service.

Tomorrow we'll look into the medieval surgical technique for cataract removal.

John II of Aragon

The father of Ferdinand II of Aragon was John II of Aragon (1398 - 1479, pictured here). He had other titles as well, including King of Sicily and King of Navarre, which he gained from marrying Blanche I of Navarre, daughter of King Carlos III of Navarre and Eleanor of Castile and Navarre.

Their eldest son was Charles, who was made Prince of Viana by his maternal grandfather. He was also named the successor to Navarre after his grandfather and mother, a decision by them which angered John.

When Blanche died in 1441, John refused to allow Charles to rule, retaining control of Navarre, even though Charles was referred to as king by the people of Navarre.

John decided that, instead of naming Charles as the successor to his own possessions of Sicily and Aragon (as well as Navarre), John would seek another heir. He therefore married Juana Enriquez in 1447. She bore him two children, Ferdinand and Joanna. Charles saw this (correctly) as an attempt to disinherit him from Aragon. John named Ferdinand his successor when Ferdinand was nine years old.

In 1451, Charles rebelled against his father's possession of Navarre and the Navarrese Civil War began, a period of unrest and fighting until Charles was captured in 1452, the same year Ferdinand was born. Charles was released if he promised not to seek the throne of Navarre until after John's death.

All this actually took place while John was still a prince; the current king in Aragon while John was growing up was Alfonso V. Alfonso died in 1458, and Prince John became King John II of Aragon, offering Charles Naples and Sicily. Charles declined, and returned to Navarre in 1459, with a plan to marry Isabella of Castile. That fell through (she later married Ferdinand, of course). Charles died in Barcelona in 1461; the suspicion was poison, administered by his stepmother Juana.

John had several more years in him, however, and we'll wrap him up in a few paragraphs next time.

Aragon and Castile

Although Ferdinand II of Aragon and Isabella I of Castile were married, their two kingdoms did not become one. Sure, they worked in concert and agreed on many policies, but when Isabella died on 26 November 1504, her will did not leave Castile to her husband. Instead, it went (in proper succession, one would say), to their daughter Joanna, later called "the Mad."

Ferdinand and Isabella had son born before Joanna, John, but he had died a few years earlier. Joanna was next in line, although Isabella was concerned that despite her extensive education she might not be suited to the task, nor would her husband, Philip the Handsome, Duke of Burgundy and Archduke of the Netherlands. (The illustration is their marriage contract.) Philip was happy to become King of Castile, but his father-in-law took issue with that.

Ferdinand had been named in Isabella's will as potential regent for Castile if ever Joanna were absent from the country or unable to rule, or if she decided she did not want to be queen. Ferdinand, however, wanted more. He minted coins in Castile imprinted with "Ferdinand and Joanna, King and Queen of Castile, León and Aragon." In 1505 he convinced the Castilian Court that Joanna was unable to govern due to infirmities, and they named Ferdinand her guardian and the governor of the kingdom. Joanna's husband took umbrage at this, and so he minted coins imprinted with "Philip and Joanna, King and Queen of Castile, Léon and Archdukes of Austria."

Philip agreed that Ferdinand would be regent of Castile during the times when Philip and his queen traveled to Philip's Netherlands.

Ferdinand, concerned that without another heir he might see Aragon go to Joanna and Philip,  decided he needed a second wife who might produce an heir who could inherit both kingdoms. He married the 17-year-old Ursula Germaine of Foix by proxy on 19 October 1505. Ferdinand was 53. They did not meet until 18 March 1506, where (we are told) the marriage was consummated.

This made France and Aragon closer politically, but Castile saw Ferdinand's re-marriage as a betrayal of the beloved Isabella.

Philip died on 25 September 1506, and Ferdinand was named regent, since Joanna was deemed unfit to rule.

Germaine bore a son on 3 May 1509, but he died shortly after.

Ferdinand died on 23 January 1516, leaving Syracuse, Sicily, several towns in Catalonia, and a town in Naples to his widow, and leaving her in the care of his grandson by Joanna and Philip, Archduke Charles of the Netherlands. Charles moved to Castile in 1517, and Germaine moved to Castile from Aragon to be near him. Germaine went with Charles in 1519 to Aragon where he was crowned as Ferdinand's successor.

In the original post on Ferdinand I mentioned that there was some controversy over his father naming him the heir when Ferdinand was only nine years old. Let's get back to that story (and an earlier time; stretching into 16th-century affairs seems strange to me, given the name of this blog), and see what that was about.

Ferdinand II of Aragon

Ferdinand II of Aragon had many more titles. Throughout his 63 years (10 March 1452 - 23 January 1516) he was not only king of Aragon, Majorca, Sardinia, Valencia, and Count of Barcelona, he also gained the titles King of Castile and León (as Ferdinand V), King of Sicily, King of Naples (as Ferdinand III), and King of Navarre (as Ferdinand I)!

He was the son of John II of Aragon and his second wife, Juana Enríquez, who was Castilian. When Ferdinand was nine years old, his father named him his heir apparent and governor of all John's lands and kingdoms. (This was despite an older son Charles, but that's another story.)

In October 1469 he married his second cousin, Isabella I of Castile, with a prenuptial agreement, (allegedly) the motto tanto monta, monta tanto, translated as "They amount to the same, the same they amount to." The point was that they treated each other as equals. The truth is that this was a purely political arrangement. Aragon longed to reconnect to Castile, and Isabella needed strong support to gain the throne of Castile when its ruler, her half-brother Henry IV of Castile (called "the Impotent") eventually died (which he did in 1474).

They did have several children, however, including Catalina, born in 1485 and later known as Catherine of Aragon, first wife of King Henry VIII of England. Other of their children became Queens of Portugal, Prince of Asturia, Archbishop of Zaragoza, and Queen of Castile and Aragon.

Ferdinand's father died in 1479, and Castile and Aragon were now united in some measure (the legal merging of the two into "Spain" took place in the early 18th century). The couple set about starting to Christianize the parts of the Iberian Peninsula over which they had any influence. The goal was to eliminate Muslims and Jews, leading to what was called the Reconquista. The conversion of Jews and Muslims in this part of the world has been recently discussed.

The final step in making their territory solely Christian was The Alhambra Decree in 1492, ordering all Jews to depart, convert, or be executed.

When Isabella died, Ferdinand lost all influence on Castile, because it passed into other hands. I'll explain that tomorrow.

The Moriscos of Spain

Twelfth-century Castilian texts see the word morisco as an adjective for Moorish people, and used it to refer to Muslims in general. Medieval Castilians used it to mean a Muslim or an Arabic speaker when talking about a Muslim convert to Christianity, as opposed to a Jewish convert. This was more convenient than the other way we see them described: nuevos christianos convertidos de moros, "new Christians, converted from Moors."

(In early—and perhaps still—Spanish-speakers such as the slavery-era southeastern United States, Morisco was a pejorative term used for the offspring of a Spaniard and a mulatto, the offspring of a Spaniard and a person with at least some African ancestry.)

1492 was a turning point for the Iberian Peninsula. It was the year Ferdinand and Isabella expelled all Jews from their kingdoms. It was also the year that the last Muslim kingdom on the peninsula, the Emirate of Granada, surrendered and was annexed to Castile. Although the Treaty of Granada allowed them to remain Muslim, efforts to convert the Muslim population to Christianity led to rebellions. The rebellions, in turn, led to suppression and the usual choice: accept conversion, leave the country, or be killed. Departure from the country was not economically feasible for many, and the former population of Granada essentially became Christian en masse in 1502. (The illustration is from the 1520s, showing conversion of Muslims in Granada.)

As we saw in yesterday's post, conversion to Christianity did not mean cultural parity with those born Christian. The Moriscos maintained the same clothing, cuisine, and culture, and of course secretly practiced their original Faith. This lasted for a couple generations, until in 1567 the Pragmatica of King Philip II of Spain ordered them to abandon their clothing and customs and language. This led to revolts, which led to expelling all Moriscos from Granada, forcing 80,000-90,000 people to spread out to other towns across Castile.

Granada had been the largest Muslim population on the peninsula. With their mass conversion, the new largest Muslim population was that of the Kingdom of Valencia, part of Aragon (Ferdinand II's domain). Valencia allowed Muslims to practice their religion and follow their own legal system. Unfortunately, a 1520s Revolt of the Brotherhoods that originally had nothing to do with religion affected them and took on an anti-Islam facet, with killings and forced conversions to follow.

One of the rulers heavily involved in forcing the Iberian Peninsula to become wholly Christian was Ferdinand II of Aragon. It is usually his queen, Isabella, who gets all the attention, but we should give him his due and take a look at his career. We'll start that tomorrow.

Conversos and Marranos

The Spanish Inquisition had more concerns about converts than the regular Roman Inquisition, because the Iberian Peninsula had a larger percentage of Jews and Muslims. When members of those groups converted, there was concern that they simply converted publicly to avoid oppression but secretly practiced their faiths. There were special terms for these converts. Conversos were Jews who converted to Christianity. Moriscos ("Moorish") were converted Muslims.

Suspicion of conversos remaining true to Judaism could simply be because the conversions were motivated by fear, not a willingness to change. The Archdeacon of Écija, Ferrand Martinez, started preaching loudly against Jews in 1378, advocating violence against them. In June 1391, his efforts led to the destruction of several synagogues in Seville and mass murders of Jews, causing many Jews to flee the country or convert to save their lives.

Even if there were no evidence of secretly practicing your previous faith, converts were not automatically accepted into Christian society, especially since they were forced to convert by fear. Conversos were distrusted by their new Christian community and reviled by their former Jewish community. Long before Martinez, a new term for conversos entered common parlance: tornadizo, "renegade."

Rulers such as James I of Aragon, Alfonso X of Castile, and John I of Castile tried to protect the converted, and forbade the use of the pejorative tornadizo. Although the rulers wanted all citizens protected, there were restrictions placed on conversos: they could not associate with Jews (lest they backslide), there were some offices they were not allowed to hold, and it was illegal to try to convert them back to Judaism.

Another term used in Spain and Portugal for converted Jews who continued to follow Judaism is Marranos. It is an insult, meaning "pig," and became a common word after the Alhambra Decree. Our modern term for these conversos is "Crypto-Jews." (The illustration is an 1893 painting by Moshe Maimon called "Marranos: A secret Passover Seder in Spain during the times of Inquisition.")

Tomorrow we will look at the plight of the morisco in Spain and Portugal.

The Spanish Inquisition

While the Roman Catholic Church established the Inquisition in the 12th century to root out heresy, etc., some countries felt the need to create their own versions. In 1478, Isabella I of Castile and her husband, Ferdinand II of Aragon, created their own that would not be controlled by the popes: the Tribunal of the Holy Office of the Inquisition. We know it as the Spanish Inquisition.

Spain had a slightly different situation than much of Western Europe, because historically it had a large Muslim and Jewish population. Ferdinand and Isabella would eventually release the Alhambra Decree in 1492 (yes, the same year Isabella financed Columbus' travels), requiring all non-Christians to convert or leave the country on pain of death. There were two terms for these converts. Conversos were Jews who converted to Christianity. Moriscos, from the word for "Moorish," were converted Muslims.

Prior to 1492, however, there was still a desire to ensure that converts from Judaism and Islam to Christianity were sincere, but after 1492 the job of the Spanish Inquisition became more widespread and intense, since so many who could not afford to leave the country converted under duress.

Besides heresy and apostasy ("backsliding" to your previous beliefs), the Spanish Inquisition went after witchcraft, blasphemy, bigamy, sodomy, Protestantism (when it came along later), and even Christian mystics (called alumbrados, "illuminati").

It was a Dominican, Fray Alonso de Ojeda, who convinced Isabella that there were "Crypto-Jews" in Andalusia: Jews who had converted but practiced Judaism in secret. This was confirmed by Isabella and Ferdinand's confessor, Tomás de Torquemada (a name that became synonymous with torture). The Spanish Inquisition held its first investigations in late 1480, and had a result by 6 February 1481, when six people were burned alive in public, a practice known as auto da fé, a Portuguese phrase meaning "act of faith." (The illustration shows an auto da fé in the public marketplace.)

Not all subjects were executed. Public flogging, imprisonment, and exile were also used, as well as being force to serve as a galley-slave, forced to row on the royal ships. There were also monetary fines. "Surviving" the investigation did not mean resuming life as you knew it: you and your descendants were prohibited from certain high-level professions like doctor and tax-collector.

If you were a good and faithful converso or a morisco, however, you were probably safe, right? Hmm, tomorrow let's see how converts were actually treated by society.

(By the way, everybody expected the Spanish Inquisition! The Inquisition protocol was to send you a message saying to be available for interrogation.)

What Started the Inquisition?

As Christianity expanded to different regions and with different authorities, philosophical discussions and policies and practices developed in isolation from each other. Councils and Synods were held to bring the various regional groups together to form consistent understanding of their message.

Once you have an approved message, however, you have to guard it, and therefore you have to find ways to stamp out dissent, disagreement, and maybe even simple debate. This need to drag dissenters back into the community of the faithful—or else—led to inquisitions, when the subject was questioned at length to determine whether they were truly UN"faith"ful or were simply misunderstood, and perhaps needed re-education.

This process, too, needed to be made consistent across the Christian world, and therefore the (upper-case) Inquisition was formed, with rules and regulations. The Catholic Encyclopedia website describes the Inquisition thusly:

Its characteristic mark seems to be the bestowal on special judges of judicial powers in matters of faith, and this by supreme ecclesiastical authority, not temporal or for individual cases, but as a universal and permanent office. Moderns experience difficulty in understanding this institution, because they have, to no small extent, lost sight of two facts.

On the one hand they have ceased to grasp religious belief as something objective, as the gift of God, and therefore outside the realm of free private judgment; on the other they no longer see in the Church a society perfect and sovereign, based substantially on a pure and authentic Revelation, whose first most important duty must naturally be to retain unsullied this original deposit of faith.

The period known as the Medieval Inquisition ranged from the 12th to 15th centuries, and started in France to deal with Cathars and Waldensians. It quickly expanded to other countries, looking into the Hussites, the Spiritual Franciscans ("Spirituals"), and the Beguines.

In 1250, Pope Alexander IV appointed Dominicans as the official Inquisitors. (The illustration is by 15th-century artist Pedro Berrugete of St. Dominic presiding over the burning of a heretic, called an auto-da-fé.)

When "moderns" think of the Inquisition, what often comes to mind is the Spanish Inquisition. Let's see what made them special next time.

Heinrich and the Hammer of Witches

I've touched on the Malleus Maleficarum ("Hammer of Witches") briefly before. It was written by a Dominican who was frustrated because he wasn't allowed to do everything he wanted as part of the Inquisition.

It was first printed in 1486 in Germany and also known as Hexenhammer. It offers proof that witches exist, explains their powers, and explains how to properly conduct a trial of a witch. It recommends torture to gain confessions.

The Inquisition of the Catholic Church also used torture to extract confessions out of suspected heretics, but officially condemned the Malleus Maleficarum as unethical in 1489. That did not prevent its massive popularity, however. Here is how the book came about.

In 1485, after urging Pope Innocent VIII to make a statement against witches, which led to a papal bull, Heinrich Kramer (c.1430 - 1505) went to Innsbruck to root out witchcraft. Its bishop, Georg Golser, gave him permission to operate in the diocese. He and his personal crusade were well-known, and a woman by the name of Helena Scheuberin, the wife of a prominent burgher, seeing him in the street, spat and said "Fie on you, you bad monk, may the falling evil take you."

Kramer found out that she never attended any of his sermons, and moreover that she was telling others to avoid him, so he accused her of laying a curse and had her arrested. Bishop Golser urged Kraner to drop the investigation, since his accusations of witchcraft had no evidence to support them, but Kramer persisted until Golser demanded that Kramer leave the diocese.

That is when he decided to turn his focus on educating others of the dangers of witches among us, and so wrote his book. He included a forward with Innocent's bull, lending an air of legitimacy to his stance. It was reprinted 13 times up until 1520, and then had a revival between the 1570s and 1660s when it was reprinted 16 times. Its popularity finally started to fade during the Age of Enlightenment, although it is still published as a curiosity today, and paperback copies can be found from several booksellers.

Next time, let's go back to the beginning of the Inquisition, and see how it all started.

Innocent, Kramer, and Witchcraft

On 5 December 1484, Pope Innocent VIII issued a papal bull concerning witchcraft. Bulls are known by their opening lines, and so this one is referred to as Summis desiderantes affectibus, "Desiring with supreme ardor," although that opening hardly tells you what the bull addresses.

The rest of the first sentence (or at least most of the very long introduction) makes more sense:

Desiring with supreme ardor, as pastoral solicitude requires, that the catholic faith in our days everywhere grow and flourish as much as possible, and that all heretical depravity be put far from the territories of the faithful,...[source]

The bull was a response to the urging of Heinrich Kramer (c.1430 - 1505), a German Dominican and inquisitor for the county of Tyrol, and for Salzburg, Bohemia, and Moravia. Kramer saw witchcraft as a severe problem, and wanted permission to root it out and punish it everywhere. The local authorities did not support his campaign, so he appealed to Innocent and convinced the pope that this was a crisis that needed addressing. 

The bull continues with a list of the results of witchcraft:

...by their incantations, charms, and conjurings, and by other abominable superstitions and sortileges, offences, crimes, and misdeeds, ruin and cause to perish the offspring of women, the foal of animals, the products of the earth, the grapes of vines, and the fruits of trees, as well as men and women, cattle and flocks and herds and animals of every kind, vineyards also and orchards, meadows, pastures, harvests, grains and other fruits of the earth; that they afflict and torture with dire pains and anguish, both internal and external, these men, women, cattle, flocks, herds, and animals, and hinder men from begetting and women from conceiving, and prevent all consummation of marriage;

Despite the bull, the German authorities limited Kramer's inquisitorial activities. During one trial he brought against the wife of a prominent burgher in Innsbruck, his bishop accused him of not being able to prove any of his accusations, finally demanding that Kramer leave his diocese.

Kramer retired from the Inquisition and turned his attention to warning everyone about witchcraft and related topics. The result was a book that is still in print, the Malleus Maleficarum, or "Hammer of Witches." Let's talk about that next time.