Cardinal Giovanni Caraffa, who became Pope Paul IV, was known as the father of the Inquisition. He was an extraordinarily cruel man and, at his death in 1559, the Roman people set fire to the prison of the Inquisition – such was their hatred of the activities of the friars who did the work of that evil organisation. But the next Pope, Pius IV, a milder man, pardoned the Roman people and released from prison those who were being held on suspicion of heresy. Pius reigned for less than six years and was followed by Pius V. He has been described as having “bigoted zeal”; he “had passed his whole life in the suppression of feeling and in the practice of those austerities which harden the heart and extinguish the sympathies of humanity. In the dark dungeons of the Inquisition he had witnessed unmoved the application of torture and studied as a science the art of entrapping his helpless victims into a confession of their faith and a betrayal of their friends. His heart had never throbbed with human affection, and that which was considered the virtue of a saint was the triumphal power of the evil one.”2
The same writer has commented, “No language can describe the heart-sickening desolation of a prisoner drawn from his family in the dead of night and consigned to the hands of his tormentors. The deathlike silence, the heavy air, the unimpressionable countenances of his judges, the specious arguments, the seducing falsehoods whispered to the sufferers on the rack, were enough to appal the stoutest heart. What then must have been the faith and constancy of those who endured it all in the service of Him who is invisible! When a man3 who has been long nurtured in the infliction of suffering and accustomed to the groans of his victims is suddenly raised to irresponsible power and finds his inquisitorial zeal rewarded with a crown which enables him to rid the earth of all who reject his paramount authority, then the havoc begins among the followers of Christ. And this devastation, it is grievous to say, was done in the name of Him who came to ransom the world from sin and from sorrow.”2,4
One of those who so suffered was Pietro Carnesecchi, a native of Florence, a man of great ability and well educated. Under Pope Clement VII, he was raised to positions of some importance in the Church; he was appointed head of two abbeyes, one in France and the other in Naples. The latter appointment brought him, about 1536, into contact with Juan Valdés5 and his expositions of the Scriptures. It seems that this led him to study the Scriptures for himself and to find the way of salvation, through faith alone in Jesus Christ alone – in contrast with the teaching of the Church in which he had been brought up. He learnt to love the truth, and M’Crie states that “his attachment to these doctrines daily acquired strength from reading, meditation and conference with learned men” (p 174).
Carnesecchi’s travels through Italy made it possible for him to meet various people who were searching for true spiritual light, and he became a means of communication between them. He was determined to follow the truth even when others hesitated at the thought of leaving the Church of Rome. After Bernadino Ochino and Peter Martyr had fled from Italy, and from the Roman Church, Carnesecchi came under the suspicion of the heresy hunters and in 1546 he was summoned to Rome, where one of the inquisitors was directed to investigate the charges against him. These charges included corresponding with heretics who had fled from Italy, helping heretics to flee by supplying them with money, and supporting teachers who had been instructing their pupils from “heretical” catechisms. But, because he was in favour with Paul III, he was cleared of these charges.
Yet Carnesecchi felt it necessary to leave Italy for the time being. After spending some time in France and elsewhere, he returned to Italy in 1552. He benefited from discussions with the Protestants he met while he was abroad, becoming more confirmed in the doctrines of the Reformation. After his return, he lived mainly in Padua, which was under the control of Venice; he was in less danger there from the efforts of the Inquisition and could meet with others who shared his views.
Shortly after Paul IV became Pope, Carnesecchi was summoned to Rome. He could clearly see that he would be shown no mercy, so he ignored the summons. But in 1559 he was excommunicated, which meant that he would be handed over to the civil powers to be punished as a heretic – by being put to death. Nothing further happened before Pope Paul died, and Carnesecchi, a friend of the new pope’s family, was able to have the sentence of excommunication reversed without having to recant. M’Crie reports on the complaints of Roman Catholic writers that Carnesecchi, in spite of the “repeated favours” shown to him, continued to act as he had in the past, keeping up “his correspondence with heretics” in various parts of Italy, supplying money to men who had fled to Geneva, “and that he recommended the writings of the Lutherans, while he spoke degradingly of those of the [Roman] Catholics” (p 175). At this time he was reading with enjoyment the writings of, in particular, Martin Luther and Peter Martyr.
When Pius V became pope, Carnesecchi realised that he was now in danger and, it seems, decided to make for the safety of Geneva. Yet he changed his mind and, instead, went to Florence and placed himself under the protection of Cosimo, the Duke of Tuscany. But the Pope wrote personally to Cosimo “to deliver up a heretic [Carnesecchi] who had long laboured to destroy the Catholic faith and corrupted the minds of multitudes” (quoted, p 176). When the messenger bearing the letter arrived, Carnesecchi was sitting with Cosimo at a meal; yet the Duke at once had him arrested and taken to Rome. Cosimo received the profuse thanks of the Pope and was rewarded with the title of Grand Duke, which he had coveted for a long time.
Without delay, the Inquisition laid no fewer than 34 charges against Carnesecchi; these included many distinctive doctrines of the Protestant movement. The charges against the prisoner included the following beliefs: justification is by faith alone; works are not necessary for salvation;6 works cannot merit eternal life; human beings are by nature inclined to sin; it is impossible to keep God’s commandments perfectly; the unique trustworthiness of the Scriptures; indulgences are not based on Scripture; bread and wine should be used in the Lord’s Supper; the pope is not chief bishop by any authority, as he is only the bishop of Rome; monks have more zeal than knowledge; Christ is the only mediator; and accordingly it is useless to pray to saints; it is not wrong to read prohibited books.
It was also held against him that he doubted the usefulness of pilgrimages and that he expressed disapproval of monks and friars and of the celibacy of priests and nuns; Yet Carnesecchi had not come to a full understanding of Scripture teaching; he was, for instance, unsure about the doctrine of purgatory, but even his doubt of that Roman Catholic invention was accounted sufficiently serious to place it among the charges laid against him.
M’Crie quotes a Roman Catholic historian describing Carnesecchi, from his own prospective: “With hardened heart and uncircumcised ears, he refused to yield to the necessity of his circumstances and thus rendered the admonitions, and the often-repeated delays granted to him for deliberation, useless; nor could he, by any means, be induced to abjure his errors and return to the true religion, according to the wish of Pius, who had resolved, on the appearance of penitence, to visit his past crimes with a more lenient punishment than they merited”. Carnesecchi had to endure torture, the main purpose being to induce him to betray fellow believers. In this the Inquisition failed, and no threats or promises could make him deny his faith. No doubt he was upheld by strength from above.
On 16 August 1567 he was condemned as an incorrigible heretic. He was to be degraded from the priesthood and then clothed with a sanbenito, a garment decorated with representations of devils and flames, which those condemned by the Inquisition had to wear before they were put to death. His execution was delayed for a further 10 days, during which a friar spent time with him in his prison, in the hope of bringing him to recant. The friar was completely unsuccessful, and on October 3 Carnesecchi was brought out to be beheaded, after which his body was burnt. A contemporary report, written in the same spirit as others already quoted, states that his “fanaticism sustained him to the very last moment. He went to execution as to a triumph” (quoted, p 177). Rather we should attribute this to God’s grace.
1A further part of a Theological Conference paper, somewhat enlarged. The previous part, last month, focused on Galeazzo Caracciolo, who had to flee from Italy, initially to Geneva, to escape persecution. Page numbers in the text refer to Thomas M’Crie, History of the Progress and Suppression of the Reformation in Italy in the Sixteenth Century, Edinburgh and London, 1856.
2M Young, The Life and Times of Aonio Paleario, vol 1, London, 1860, pp 518-19.
3Referring, no doubt, to particular popes.
4M Young, The Life and Times of Aonio Paleario, vol 1, p 519.
5For Valdés, see the August issue of this Magazine, p 245.
6Yet good works will feature in the life of everyone that is saved.