Satan the Heretic

The Birth of Demonology in the Medieval West

ALAIN BOUREAU

Translated by Teresa Lavender .fagan

Tht Uni'i'ersity of Chicago Pre.t1 0 Chfrago and London

The University of Chicago Press gratefully
acknowledges a subvention frorn the government of
France, through the French Ministry of Culture and
Centre National du Livre, in support of the costs of
translating this volume.

The lTniversity of Chicago Press, Chicago 60637

The University of Chicago Press, Ltd., London
2006 by The University of Chicago
All rights reserved. Published 2006.
Paperback edition 2or4
Printed in the United States of Arnerica

23 22 2r 20 r9 r8 r7 16 IS 14 2 3 4 5 6

Originally published as Satan hiritique: Naissance de

la dimonologie dans !'Occident Midiival (I280-I330),
:Editions Odile Jacob, 2004.
Contents
ISBN-13: 978-0-226-06748-3 (cloth) Preface to the English-Language Edition ix
ISBN-13: 978-o-226-roo26-5 (paperback)
Acknowledgments xu1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Introduction I

Boureau, Alain. Satan the }feretic: The Judicial Institution of Demonology

[Satan hCrCtique. English]
under John XXII 8
Satan the heretic : the birth of demonology in the
medieval west Alain Boureau ; translated by Teresa 7'he Tree ofHistorians and the Forest o_fDocuments IO

Lavender Fagan. A Continuous E_ffert I4

p. cm. An Ordinary Evil? I9
Includes bibliographical references (p. ) and
The Demonological Convictions ofJohn XX.II 22
index.
ISBN 0-226-06748-3 (cloth: alk.paper) A Portrait o_f]ohn XX.II as a Limb ofthe Devil 25
t. Demonology-History of doctrines-Middle The .Emergence ofthe Fact 27
Ages, 600-1500. 2. Devil-History of doctrines- The Inquest and the Fact JI
1\/liddles Ages, 600-1500. 3. Heresies, Christian-
History-Middle Ages, 600~1500. 4. Europe-- Procedural Questions 3J
Church history-600-1500. I. Title. Trial and Majesty 37
BFr522.s68I3 2006 Distrust ofthe Inquisition 39
235'-40902-dc22
2005032847
2 Satanic Sacraments? Enrico del Carretto's Discovery 43
@This paper meets the requirements of ANsIINISO The Consultation of IJ20 43
z39.48-1992 (Pern1anence of Paper). The Ten Experts 45
Results of the Consultation 49
Preface to the English-Language
Edition
This book may come as a surprise to American readers. In fact 1

the history of the birth of the United States corresponds closely

to the age of witch hunts and religious persecutions in F~urope.
Thus the histo.ry of demonology appears to be inherent to Chris-
tianity inasmuch as the struggles of the Reformation led to a
return to the Greek and Latin Church Fathers, to the early years
of the Church, and therefore to a specific concern with hos-
tile enterprises, including those of the Devil. American scholars
have contributed a great deal to the study of demonology, espe-
cially that of the Reformation; l am proud that this translation
of my book follows two important works, also published by the
University of Chicago Press. 1 ln broader contexts, questions of
genre, law, individualization, relationships between politics and
religion, between the demon and social levels, and the like have
also been explored in depth. 2
My approach in this volume is distinctive in that I focus on
the tin1e between Augustine or c;regory and Scholasticism. In
a sense, that long period can be reduced to very little since
Augustine's descriptions and arguments, in this realm as in
x Prej'ace to the .English-Language Edition Preface to the English-Language E'dition xi

others, have been meticulously studied and cited. In another the development of demonology in the time of the Reforma-
sense, however, everything changed: for a few centuries, the Devil tion. My work proposes to shed light on an origin, not to be a
appeared to have been defeated or confined. Without returning substitute for the studies that have preceded it. I hope this change
to the circumstances of this "triumph,!! I will simply mention the in perspective will be of interest to my American readers.
doctrine of Saint Anselm at the end of the eleventh century: evil
is only a nonbeing, a defect, more than it is a true being. Saint Alain Boureau
Thomas himself didn't consider Satan to be a particularly active
enemy. This is not to say one must exaggerate the irenicism of the
Scholastics; there was no shortage of enemies. Heresies were in
abundant supply. But those enemies were primarily humans, for-
mer pagans, present Saracens, or perpetual half-scholars. Their
links with the Devil could come into play, notably in eschatolog-
ical schemas, but such connections were not considered essential.
Another Christianity, delivered from Satan, could have ensued.
I am interested, then, in the return of the Devil and in the
renewed obsession with the demoniacal. I focus on an impor-
tant event in 1320, a consultation that PopeJohnXXII held with
ten theologians and canonists, 3 who classified the frequenting
of demons as heresy and delivered followers of the Devil to the
Inquisition because of their practices and not simply for their
opinions. This was a significant turning point. I then study the
evolution that led to this choice, which became so very impor-
tant for the beginning of witch hunts. It seems to me that during
the thirteenth century, the political and religious theory of the
fundamental importance of the pact, of which the Devil offered
a prototype, and the concept of the human person as an unpre-
dictable and sometimes empty vessel, capable of ecstasy or of
possession, constituted the two principal factors for this new fear
before Satan. Which means that this return is unique to a period
in time and that the use of ancient sources was more a recourse,
a justification, than it was a cause.
It is not certain that this essential turning point was perpet-
uated with the same causalities. The continuity of the facts can
mask a range in our understanding. In short, I believe I have
uncovered a necessary but not perhaps sufficient condition for
Acknowledgments
Parts of this book have been presented and discussed during the
past fifteen years or so in articles I have published in various
journals (Medieva!es, Micro!ogus, Fait de !'Analyse, and Chimeres)
and in lectures I have given at several universities (St. Andrews
in Scotland; the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor; Cor-
nell University in Ithaca, New York; Budapest University in
Hungary). I thank the readers, publishers, and discussants who
have helped me to advance in my research. I am gratefol to
Irene Rosier-Catach for letting me see the manuscript of her
book on the sacraments, soon to be published by Editions du
Seuil. I owe many snggestions and much information to Etienne
Anheim, Luc Fevrier, Charles de Miramon, and Sylvain Piron.
My thanks to them. Finally, my gratitude goes to my wife, Laura
Lee Downs, who has patiently and generously followed and par-
ticipated in the slow development of this book.
Introduction
The local inquest (in partibus) into the saintliness of Thomas
Aquinas, which occurred in Naples from July 21 to September r8,
1
1319 under the energetic direction of Guillermo da Tocco, the
1

promoter and witness for the case, included very odd testimony.
Giovanni Blas.io, a judge in Naples and, according to his own tes-
timony, an intimate friend of Qyeen Mary of Naples, recounted
his memory of a personal encounter he had had many years ear-
lier with Thomas (who died in 1274, that is, forty-five years be-
fore the inquest). !!is testimony was viewed with skepticism by
the specialists on Thomas' s life, especially since he claimed to
have heard Thomas preach for ten years and notably during an
entire J_,ent on the Ave Maria, which did not e:Xactly correspond
to the known biographical data. But up until now another aspect
of Blasio's testimony has been neglected: Giovanni Blasio told
of how one day when he was with Thon1as in his Dominican
convent cell in Naples, he went out on the terrace with him, and
a demon in the form of a black man dressed in black appeared
to them. As soon as he saw hirn, 'I'hornas, his fist raised, ran
up to the man and started to punch him while shouting, "Why
have you come here to tempt rne?" But befOre the fist could reach
its target, the demon disappeared and never appeared again. In
itself the event is not surprising: ever since Christ in the desert
2 Introduction
and Saint Anthony, it was known that the struggle with the
Devil was one of the attributes of saintliness. The emphasis on
Thomas's agility and on the force of his fist [pugnus], despite his
great corpulence attested to by nurr1erous sources, connected the
saint, etymologically and typologically, to the group of athletes
and fighters [pugiles] for God.
Historians, however, have rarely been interested in the stupe-
fying response that Giovanni gave to the investigators who asked
him how he was able to recognize that the black figure on the
terrace in Naples was indeed a demon. "He said that on other
occasions he had seen the demon himself in a crystal, during a
conjuration of demons for the purpose of finding a book that had
been stolen from a university student; it was that demon he had
recognized in the apparition with Brother Thomas." 2 Granted,
the practice of conjuring spirits with the help of a crystal, a
polished fingernail, or a sword in order to find a treasure or to
recover a stolen object was well known at the end of the Middle
Ages. 3 And granted, the beginning of the fourteenth century was
a particularly active period of "necromancy'' (the term used for
consulting demons), as illustrated by a series of famous matters
and by the attempts of Pope John XXII to stem the flow of such
activities. Nevertheless, this episode is remarkable in that it oc-
curred so early (if, at least, we are to rely on the memory of the
venerable Giovanni Blasio), and above all because of the ingenu-
ousness with which the witness testified without being coerced.
The canonization inquest was not inquisitorial in the strict sense
of the term; the witness could well have justified his identifi-
cation by referring to Thomas Aquinas's convictions or to the
very classic aspect of that black and evanescent figure. Nor did
anything require the judges to retain and record that testimony:
when one looks at entire lists of testimonies during canoniza-
tion inquiries, one notes the omission of certain depositions. 4
Guillermo da Tocco indeed knew that he was supposed to trans-
mit the proceedings of the inquest to John XXII in the following
months. The pope, a few years later (in 1326 or 1327), in his bull
Super illius specula, threatened with immediate excommunication
Introduction J
all those who '(make or have made images, rings, rnirrors, phials,
or other things for magic purposes, and bind themselves to
demons. They ask and receive responses from them and to fulfill
their most depraved lusts ask them for aid." 5 John .XXII, at the
very beginning of his pontificate 1 was concerned about invok-
ers of demons. Finally, it must be pointed out that Giovanni
Blasio, by identifying the classic demon who threatened Thomas
Aquinas with the auxiliary demon invoked in the crystal to repair
a_ human wrong and damage done, neutralized the contrast that
had long been maintained between white (beneficial) magic and
black (malevolent) magic or, according to the terms of Richard
Kieckhefer, between "demonology" and "daimonology." For the
necromancers, the daimones, f8.llen or neutral angels, were not
necessarily in concert with the Devil. It was precisely at this time
that the Cistercian monk Jean de Morigny turned to the ars no-
toria, to formulaic conjuration, to call forth apparitions of the
Virgin Mary.
The calmness of Giovanni Blasio and the investigators shows
that the beginning of the fourteenth century indeed was a turning
point in the perception of demons. The event in Naples might
be perceived as a sign of the end of a world, that of a tense but
controlled coexistence with the forces of Evil. A few months
later another event occurred, this time in Avignon; it was an
indication of the emergence of another universe, one governed
by fear before the power of Satan and his demons. Indeed, a
consultation was launched by Pope John XXII in 1320: he sought
to obtain from ten theologians and canonists arguments that
would have permitted the invocation of demons and magic to be
described as heresy. This was a major change, since thirteen cen-
turies of Christianity had established that heresy could only reside
in thoughts and speech, not in actions. This description opened
the door to exceptional processes of inquest and of repression
by inquisitional tribunals, connected exclusively to the pursuit of
heresy. In fact, witch hunting was in part led by the inquisitors.
This work shows that in contrast to what has previously been
believed, an obsession with the Devil did not constitute an
4 Introduction
essential aspect of medieval Christianity but that it emerged
rather suddenly between 1280 and 1330. The thematic and
mythological content of the Sabbath was thus adventitious and
secondary. This turning point was decisive: three centuries of
demonic obsession weighed heavily on the development of
Europe. It notably led to the manic persecution of sorcerers
(witchcraze) from the end of the fifteenth to the middle of the
seventeenth century, which pitted judges and inquisitors per-
suaded of the reality of Satanic enchantments and involvements
against populations that apparently shared beliefs in the reality
of evil spells and in the effective existence of the Sabbath-that
occult gathering of sorcerers and demons.1:'he doctrine was new:
the medieval Church, in its legislative and pastoral activities, had
continually condemned or banished the practice of magic, but it
was dealt with scornfully, as vain superstition. The Devil made
people believe in his effectiveness through illusions that affected
weak minds. The reality of his power remained limited and natu-
ral (in the Scholastic sense-nature encompassed all of the effects
created by God).
Dozens of books have been written on the causes of witch
hunting, that strange phenomenon that oriented the theologi-
cal rationalism of the Scholastics toward fanaticism and obscu-
rantism, and which caused beliefs that were imperceptible be-
fore to emerge in common perception. Simplifying greatly, one
might say that in one century four explicative theses were pro-
gressively offered and were sometimes combined: (1) Beliefs in
sorcery derived from ancestral forms of worship and rituals. An
often-criticized and often-reprinted book by Margaret Murray
has revealed this thesis 6 (2) The witches' Sabbath is a pure
creation of clerics, assigned to victims of persecution through
the use of violence (terror and torture). This is the thesis of
Robert Mandrou, among others. 7 (3) The Sabbath was a "forma-
tion of compromise" according to which clerics transcribed into
Christian terms forms of communication with the beyond that
Introduction s
belonged to a vast network of representations which persisted
1
through certain significant and partial forms. In this thesis one
recognizes the work of Carlo Ginzburg. 8 (4) According to Stuart
Clark, the existence of demons globally fashioned the intellectual
and ordinary culture of Renaissance Europe, and witch hunting
constituted only one particular aspect of that culture. 9
None of these theses takes into account the genesis of the
obsession with demons which arose, completely armed with
1
procedures and certitudes, around 1430-50, the time of the pop-
ularization of the Sabbath and of the beginnings of the sys-
tematic persecution of sorcerers. lt is precisely this genesis that
now concerns us here. The period that includes the demono-
logical turning point (r280-1330) coincides with a moment of
high tension between the spiritual and the secular powers, be-
tween the papacy and the monarchies. What was at stake in
the public pursuit of the adorers of demons can be easily under-
stood within this context of institutional and ideological violence,
which culminated in the capture of Pope Boniface VIII by the
troops of King Philip the Fair in Anagni in rJ03. The presence of
Satan alongside one or the other camp gave rise to special judicial
procedures and important matters. But the concon1itanc~ is not
enough; it is in terms of intellectual history that vve propose to
examine the changes that first affected the guardians of Scholas-
tic rationality, 10 the theologians and canonists who gave shape
and strength to a concern with demons. Our "demonological
turning point" might be placed in the terrible year 1277, which
marked a halt in the development of a certain conquering ra-
tionality that had succeeded in Christianizing the philosophy of
Aristotle. Indeed, the bishop of Paris, Stephen Tempier, in r277
published a list of 219 heretical or doubtful propositions that were
apparently being taught at the Faculty of Arts at the University
of Paris. A fair number of these propositions in fact, came out
1
of the doctrine of Thomas Aquinas. In a certain sense, the attack
represented the revenge of Franciscan theology, which favored
will over reason and placed Aristotelian naturalism at a distance
by liberating Goel from the limitations imposed by the laws of
6 lntr'Jduction lntroduclio11 7

the natural world. 'fhe picture is simplified, since the Franciscan of sacerdotal n1ediation, consequently weakenecl the protective
()rder, in those years 1280-1330, was itself shaken by a great crisis power of the Church and lefr the individual defenseless before
surrounding the dernands of absolute poverty) which led to the the supernatural.
bloody repression of the extremist Spiritual wing. In any event, Supernatural possession also gained in consistency in the thir-
it was indeed the opposition of two anthropologies) represented teenth century: an anthropology, which ca1ne both from Cis-
here by the l)ominican 'fhomas Aquinas and the l~~ranciscan tercian descriptions of inner rn:1n and from Aristotelian science,
J:>etcr of John Olivi, that contributed to the return of Satan in developed around the strengths and weaknesses of the personal
thoughts and doctrines. unity of man, which became essential to the doctrine of the sacra-
'T'he concern with demons was born of the conjunction, the ment. Jnsane or inspired individuals, crazy people, sleepwalkers,
actualization, and the interaction of two ancient themes, that of or the enraptured took on a singular relief as so rnany concave
a pact made with the Devil and that of possession. The Satanic or convex mirrors of the human condition. 1~he female vision-
pact had taken on a fearsome actuality in the thirteenth century ary and inspired mystic, who marked the end of the thirteenth
for two reasons-one political, the other theological. Ever since century, settled into the confines of possession. The body and
the vast move1nent of demographic expansion and of a concen- the soul of individuals became receptacles that were more widely
tration of living space that characterized the beginning of the open to supernatural influence. The individual power of the hu-
first rnillennium) the forms of organization of collective life mul- man being created strength out of its fragility; human autonomy
tiplied by being superimposed on each other (rural and urban subjected the being to Satanic subjugation. The coming of Satan
counties, parishes, lordships, principalities, kingdoms, and the was preparing a new Christianity.
like). The complex and multilayered status of ownership within
the feudal organization increased the opportunities fOr multiple
associations. In the thirteenth century, after a period don1inated
by competition, which led to progressive exhaustion of fallow
land and of possibilities for expansion, there was a period of
confrontations, of tensions between the various forms of orga-
nization. Sovereignties attempted to assert themselves without
having the institutional or ideological means of doing so, whereas
at the end of the century intense political reflection began to de
velop both in the practical world and in Scholastic knowledge,
notably after the introduction of Aristotle's Politics. The fear of
plots and of conspiracies, manifested by famous incidents (such as
that of the Templars at the beginning of the fourteenth century),
consumed those who governed in both the lay and the religious
realms. From the theological side, there was a gradual develop-
ment, starting in the r23os, of a theory of sacramental causality,
which promoted the idea of a pact between God and his human
creatures. Of course that doctrine, by diminishing the necessity

Satan the Heretic: ,..fhe Judicial
Institution of Demonology
under John XXII
Demons have a very long history in Christianity, but the insti-
tution of a study of demons, a demonology, appears to be much
more recent. Granted, one can reconstruct a certain patristic and
Scholastic knowledge of the undertakings of the Devil and his
bad angels; one can speak of demonology, however, only when
an autonomous discipline no longer focuses on demons' mode of
existence and action but is also, and above all, concerned with the
relationships they form with humans, and with the techniques
used in discerning evil spirits that enabled people to distinguish
the possessed from the inspired. A practical knowledge, an art,
based on a more or less precise doctrine, replaced or at least
perfected the ancient gift of recognizing evil spirits. One of the
concrete signs of the emergence of a new discipline is found in the
writing of specific treatises that transmitted a cumulative knowl-
edge or experience. That is why we have long dated the birth of
demonology from the first known practical and theoretical trea-
tise, the Malleus Malejicarum (The Hammer ofWitches), published
in 1486 by the Dominican inquisitor Henry Institoris. 1 Granted,
T'he]udicial Institution oj'Demonology 9
other manuals for inquisitors had come befOre, the most famous
of which were those of Bernard Gui (ca. 1323) and Nicholas
Eymeric (ca. 1376), 2 but the hunting of demons and their allies,
sorcerers and witches, did not play a major role in them. The
pursuit of heretics in the strict sense and the technical questions
of procedure were more important. This chronology is ofinterest
in that it suggests that the beginnings of demonology coincided
with those of "demonomania" as illustrated by the great witch
hunt.
Recent work, notably that of the group led by Agostino Par-
avicini Bagliani and that of Pierrette Paravy, 3 has, however,
shown that a fundamental moment in the constitution of an early
practical and theoretical demonology must have occurred around
the end of the 1430s, with the first detailed sorcery trials in the
Valais and documents of procedural doctrine such as the report
by the chancellor Johan Friind on the sorcerers of the Valais, the
Formicarius by the Dominican John Nider, the anonymous text
titled Errores Gazariorum, or the treatise by the Dauphinois judge
Claude Tholosan. The Council of Basel (1431-37) is believed to
have played an essential role in the confrontation of experiences
and doctrines. 4
I propose going back even farther, pushing back the invention
of demonology more than a century and highlighting not the
simultaneous beginnings of a doctrine and a pursuit, as occurred
in the fifteenth century, but the considerable procedural mutation
that assimilated invocations of the demon and sorcery with the
crime of heresy, which led to new judicial displays and new reve-
lations. Furthermore, the old theme of a pact with the Devil took
on new doctrinal content, which took into account its universal
action in the world, beyond cases of individual imprudence. This
proposition might appear futilely nominal, for it would call sim-
ple evolutions in mentalities or doctrines a new "demonology."
Every historical phenomenon has its prehistory, which one can
construct into a history by erasing differences and accentu-
ating similarities. However, the significance of this chrono-
logical displacement is great, if only for our historiographical
IO Chapter One
understanding of the phenomena of sorcery. By pushing de-
monology to the very end of the Middle Ages, medievalists rid
themselves of a heavy burden that challenged Scholastic ratio-
nality, but in doing so they lost the opportunity to discover
the theological and philosophical roots of the phenomenon.
Witch hunting has long been associated with "modern" history;
consequently, the clear distance between the light of the Renais-
sance and the persecutory medieval darkness forther accentuated
the marginalization of demonological thinking, which was re-
duced to a powerful rearguard battle of dark and repressive forces
that refused modernity. In the last twenty years, however, his-
torians (Jacques Chiffoleau, Nicole Lemaitre, Denis Crouzet)
have attempted to reestablish the continuities between medieval
Christianity and the various forms of Reformation and Counter-
Reformation.
Our proposal is not entirely novel: Richard Kieckhefer has
written a short stimulating book on the witch trials that in
1
fact begins with the year 1300. 5 Further, a both famous and
misunderstood bull by John XXII, Super i!!ius specu!a (1326 or
1327), has sometimes been considered to be the founding text
of the new demonological obsession that gripped many clerics
at the end of the Middle Ages. Joseph Hansen, who, at the
beginning of the twentieth century, established contemporary
studies on sorcery, placed this text among the very first in his
famous anthology, Que!!en und Untersuchungen zur Geschichte des
Hexenwahns und der Hexenverfolgung. 6 Thirty years later, the
great historian of science, Lynn Thorndike, devoted a chapter of
his work on magic to John XXII. 7 Qiite recently, the work of
Nicolas Weill-Parat once again raised the question of the pope's
interest in magic. 8
The Tree ofHistorians and the 1'orest o/Documents
In fact, it is essentially magical practices (the creation of images
and various implements) that are condemned in the bull Super
i!!ius specu!a, because they were considered to be directly related
T'he}udicial Institution oj"De1nonology II
to the worship of demons. Sorcerers "allay themselves with death
and make a pact with he1L" 9 1.''he invocation of demons and as-
sociated practices were referred to as !'dogmas": "none of them
ought dare to teach or learn anything at all concerning these
perverse dogmas" [de dictis dogrr1atibus perversis]; designated as
heresies, they were to be punished "by all of the punishments
which by law heretics deserve" [penas omnes et singulas quas de
iure merentur heretici]. This text rectifies the bull Accusatus by
Alexander IV (1260), 10 which, in response to a request, speci-
fied that magical infractions were not under the jurisdiction of
the Inquisition, except if they "clearly represented heresy" [nisi
manifeste saperent heresim]. Indeed, the exclusive mission of
the Inquisition tribunals, created in the 1230s, was the pursuit of
heresy. ,._fhe importance of categorizing the invocation of demons
as heresy is obvious for the later construction Of demonology and
the Sabbath, which was largely carried out by inquisitional work.
The inquisitorial institution, by taking on the heresy of sorcer-
ers, could devote its exceptional judicial powers, it; theological
expertise, and its cumulative knowledge, transmitted through
the numerous guides of the inquisitor and through his archives)
whereas the episcopal and secular tribunals did not benefit from
the same continuity-and any given bishop or civil judge might
be indifferent to the pursuit of sorcerers.
Furthermore, Super i!!ius specu!a, by taking the claims of sor-
cerers and invokers of demons seriously, abruptly broke with
earlier Church tradition and notably with the canon Episcopi
(tenth century), which considered spells and other deeds of sor-
cery or magic as only so many diabolical illusions that had no
effective reality. This text, which was found for the first time in
a canonical or penitential collection edited by Regino of Prum
(ca. 904), and was then found regularly in other series before ap-
pearing in Gratian's Decretum, 11 has always fascinated historians,
notably because it describes, five centuries in advance, certain
forms of the witches' Sabbath: the author of the canon dismisses
these beliefs as simple dreams, induced by the Devil, which cause
weak minds to believe that they could derive some supernatural
12 C'hapter One
strength from their evil contacts. None of the alleged facts had
any physical reality, and those images of nocturnal rides are com-
pared to normal nocturnal fantasies and dreams. What is more,
the canon severely limited the powers of the Devil: "Whoever
therefore believes that anything can be made, or that any crea-
ture can be changed to better or to worse or be transfOrmed into
another species or sin1ilitudc, except by the Creator hin1self who
made everything and through whom all things were made, is
beyond doubt an infidel and is worse than a pagan."
Despite this disparity, historians have had a tendency to make
little of the Super illius specula. Critics have sometimes doubted its
importance, questioning its novelty, its effects, or its authenticity.
Its novelty may have appeared limited, on the one hand, be-
cause the imputation of heresy seems already to have appeared
in the canon Episcopi and, on the other hand, because the reality
of evil spells is not explicitly asserted in John XXII's bull. ln fact,
the adorers of Diana and Herodias are presented as infidels, and
in reference to them the author of the canon invokes a verse
from the Epistle to Titus (po): "A man that is a heretic after
the first and second adrr1on.ition avoid." However, that infidelity
or heresy is attributed to "false opinion," to the belief in more or
less Satanic divinities, and not to the act of invocation or magic
itself. In John XXIl's procedural construction, it is the notion of
"heretical deed/' beyond or in addition to opinion or error, that
is important. We shall return to this.
Further, the notion of heresy did not have the same meaning
at all in the tenth and the fourteenth centuries; in the intervening
years the great dissidences of the eleventh and twelfth centuries,
Waldensianism, Catharism, and Beguinism, led to the consti-
tution of heresy as a mi~jor crime, related to the crime of lese-
rnajeste since the time of Innocent III and his bull Vergentis, 12 and
it was pursued following legal procedures and punished severely.
It is true that a careful reading of John XXJI's bull does not
allow one to attribute an effective reality to operations of magic
and invocation. But as we shall see, the long series of normative
The Judicia/ .fnstilution oj'Dcmonofugy 13
texts and the trials during his pontificate erase all doubt as to the
beliefs of the pope and his entourage.
The second objection, regarding the effects of the bull, is con-
cerned above all with the lapse of time between its publication
and its first textual reappearance fifty years later in the Direclo-
riurn Inquisitorum by the Dominican inquisitor Nicholas F~yrneric
(1376) 13 who, n1oreover, reiterated the thesis of the invocation of
1
dernons as a heretical activity. But this resurfacing is not related
.only to the repressive fr1ntasies of the (~atalan inquisitor, who was
famous for his excesses. In fact, tvvo years earlier, on August 15,
r374, Pope Gregory Xl, who named Eymeric inquisitor, had sent
the inquisitor of France, the Dominican Jacques de Morey, a let-
ter that began precisely by mentioning Super spew/a militantis and
that recomrr1ended he proceed in a summary fashion and with-
out appeal against the invokers of den1ons [den1ones invocant], 14
especially when they were ecclesiastics. The pope's text helps ex-
plain one of the reasons for the delay in the application of]ohn
XXII's directives; indeed, he rnentions the opposition of some
people: i'Some, even the learned, are opposed to it, claiming that
it does not belong to your responsibilities according to canonical
decisions."l'l In fact, the main treatise on heresies, written around
1340 by Guido Terreni, who had been inquisitor of Majorca and
a close collaborator of John XXII, nowhere mentions the ador-
ers of demons among the definitions of heretics. 16 Well before
the first coherent and corresponding descriptions of the witches
Sabbath, beginning in 1430, the path was open to the inquisi-
torial treatment of invokers of demons: in 1398, the Faculty of
Theology at Paris determined that sorcery carried out through
an explicit or implicit pact with the Devil implied an apostasy of
Christian faith and was thus related to heresy." We shall return
to the issue of the delay in the effective application of the bull
and even in a common perception of demons. 18
The third objection, regarding the authenticity of the text,
cannot be avoided. Granted, it has been wrongly noted as being
absent from the two canonical collections that completed the
I4 Chapter One
composition of the Corpus iuris canonici, while numerous dec-
retals by John XXII, the Extravagantes ]ohannis XXII and the
Extravagantes communes, were included in it; indeed, the first
collection of twenty bulls by the pope was compiled in 1J25 by
Jesselin de Cassagnes, who never had the time to return to it be-
fore his death. The second collection was assembled only much
later, at the beginning of the sixteenth century, 19 at a time when
John XXII's message on this point had become moot. But it is
more surprising not to find a trace of the bull in the pontifical
registers. 20 However, the fact that the enormous project of pub-
lishing John XXII's letters, undertaken more than a century ago,
was never completed does not enable us to transform this surprise
into doubt. Finally, the very status of this text is strange, since
it is addressed to all Christians without distinction, inciting the
guilty to give up their books of magic within eight days. Yet John
XXII often preferred discreet and precise commissions assigned
to men he trusted.
Doubt may thus persist, but the bull Super i!!ius specu!a, that
stunted and perhaps inexistent tree, has masked a very real forest
and prevented the seeing of the great novelty of the demonology
of John XXII. It is in that forest that we are going to travel,
focusing first on the procedural aspects that qualified demoni-
acal magic as a heretical crime, and which indeed showed the
continuity and the importance of the inquiry into the worshipers
of demons.
A Continuous Effort
The main element of the case we are examining involves a request
for expertise that John XXII made of ten theologians and canon-
ists in the autumn of 1320 concerning the description of magical
practices and invocations of demons as heretical. It seems likely
that the pope thus wanted to prepare new legislation. The doctri-
nal leap he proposed to effect necessitated serious doctrinal work.
The text of the pope's questions and ten responses have been
preserved in the Vatican library's Borghese manuscript 428, which
The Judicial Institution oJDemonology IS
was rediscovered by Anneliese JVIaier and whose corr1plete text
I have published. 21 Granted, the first three questinns, to which
we shall return, deal with various spells not explicitly connected
with demonology, but the fourth question is clear: "Should those
who make sacrifices to demons with the intention of worship-
ping them-so that, attracted by the sacrifice, the demons force
someone to do what the sacrificer wanted-or should those who
invoke the derr1on be considered heretics or sirnply casters of
spells?" This consultation, despite the reticence of most of the
theologians consulted, produced remarkable results by accredit-
ing the new thesis of the "heretical deed"; one of the experts,
Enrico del Carretta, even sketched a description of an effective
Satanic sacrament, a description derived from the contractual
theory of the sacrament perfected in the second half of the thir-
teenth century. 22
It is possible that the practices of some ecclesiastical judges
preceded the doctrinal explanation of the question. This is what
might be gathered from a letter dated July 28, 1319, from John
XXII to the canon Seguin de Belegney, an ecclesiastical judge
under Fontius d'Auch, the bishop of Poitiers. Seguin had un-
burdened himself to the pope about a scruple that had struck
him: an accused woman had died after being tortured by order
of the judge. The accused had had the soles of her feet burned
on flaming coals. 23 The canon thus wondered whether he was
incurring an "irregularity," that is, whether he would be unable
to remain in the priestly order under the circumstances for hav-
ing shed blood. The pope reassured Seguin by stressing that the
victim had died some time after the torture and that "one could
doubt that because of the torments she died more quickly than
if she had died without having been tortured." 24
The judge's victim had been denounced [diffamata] publicly
for crimes of sorcery and heretical perversion [super criminibus
sortilegii et heretice pravitatis]. It is possible, although we cannot
be certain, that it was the judge who associated sorcery, listed first,
with heresy. Resorting to torture seems to have been dictated by
the desire to uncover networks of complicity, a result that was
16 Chapter One
indeed obtained and praised by the pope: "All that was thus
discovered, to all appearances, would not have been revealed if
that woman had not revealed it through the effects of torment.>' 25
One can note here a practical reason for assin1ilating sorce1y\vith
heresy: resorting to torture in an ecclesiastical court had been
introduced in 1252 [ad abolendam] by Pope Innocent IV, for tbe
sole use of the inquisitors and not by episcopal judges. It was only
in 1308, at the time when he created the episcopal commissions to
judge the Templars, that Clement V extended the use oftorture
to other official bodies (that is, for use by the episcopal courts),
but it was always related to implications of heresy. Seguin must
not have been very sure of this, since he claimed he hesitated to
use torture until after he had consulted "very honest people who
assured him that they had seen heretics in the Toulouse region
who had been subjected to torture." 21'
Another matter, known through a letter from the pope sent
in July 1319 to Jacques Fournier, the bishop of Pamiers, associ-
ated the invocation of demons with heresy. The pontiff asked
the bishop to pursue three people, a cleric, a Carmelite, and a
woman, whom he accused of"creating in1ages, incantations, and
consultations with demons, bewitchings [fascinationibus], using
evil spells." 27 John XXII speaks later of their "errors" and, in his
paragraph of exhortation, expresses the wish that "the Catholic
faith, troubled by the above-mentioned errors, regain its clarity."
A few weeks before the consultation with experts, on August
22, 1320, a letter was sent, in the name of Pope John XXII, by
Cardinal Guilhem de Peyre Godin to the inquisitors of Car-
cassonne and Toulouse, Jean de Beaune and Bernard Gui. This
time, and even more clearly than in the bull Super illius specula,
the request for judicial action was concentrated on invocations
of demons and on pacts concluded through them:
Brother Guilhern, bishop of Sabina, through the effects of divine
grace, sends his greetings to the man of religion ... inquisitor of
heretical crimes in the region of Carcassonne. Our very holy father
and master, Lord John XXII, pope through the effects of divine
The judicial Institution oj'L)en1onology r7
providence 1 fervently wishes to banish fron1 the center of God's
house casters of evil spells vvho kill the flock of the Lord; he orders
and confers the task to you to make inquiries and to proceed, while
conserving the modes of procedure which the canons have set down
for you, for you and the prelates, in n1atters concerning heresy>
upon encountering those vvho sacrifice to demons or who vvorship
them or pay homage to them. [Y'ou rr1ust also proceed] against
those vvho make explicit pacts with those demons, or who create or
have created any image or anything else to connect themselves to the
demon or to perpetuate any evil. by invoking demons, against those
who by abusing the sacrament of baptism, baptize or have baptized
an image made of \.Vax or other materials, or who, through other
means and with the invocation of de1nons, create or have created
those images in some way, against those who, with full knowledge,
reiterate baptism, the order or the confirmation, against those who
use the sacrament of the Eucharist or the consecrated host and
other sacraments of the Church or some part of these sacraments
in form or in matter to abuse them for their sorcery or evil spells.
And indeed, our master mentioned above> with sure knowledge> 28
expands and extends to all cases cited, without exception, the power
given by right to the inquisitors as to the exercise of their function
against heretics, as well as their privileges, and this until the time
he judges he may revoke this extension. We signify all this to you
by our present official letters through the special mandate that the
Lord Pope has conferred to us, through the very oracle of his voice.
Written in Avignon, August 22, 1320, in this fourth year of the reign
of the Lord Pope. 29
One might wonder why John XXIl did not sign this letter
himself: it is possible that the pontiff cautiously wanted to test the
waters before broaching a consultation with ten experts. Why was
Guilhem de Peyre Godin chosen to be the pope's spokesman to
the inquisitors? Guilhem, born in Bayonne around 1260, had very
early on, around 1279, entered the Dominican Order of Beziers
before traveling around as a student to various convents and
studia in the southwest (Orthez, Bordeaux, Condom), pursuing
his studies in theology at Montpellier, then again making the
rounds of the convents (Bayonne, Condom, Montpellier) as a
18 Chapter (Jne
lector. 1--Je spent only a short ti1ne at Paris, in 1292. His true
university career) after a period of teaching in Toulouse (1296),
began in 1306 when he was named lector of the Sacred Palace
(professor at the pontifical university) alongside Clement V, who
made him cardinal-priest of Sainte-Cecile in December 1312,
during the same ordination of cardinals that included Jacques
Dueze, the foture Pope John XX!l.
Guilhem enjoyed both wide experience and reputation,
since he was a reputed theologian (his commentary on Peter
t,on1bard's Sentences, written around r300 was recognized as
1
I~ectura Tho1nasiana, the official interpretation of the thinking
of 'fhon1as Aquinas within the Dominican Order), an active
member of the Dominican Order (general preacher of Narbonne
in 1289; "definitor"-an organizational function in a Dominican
chapter~in Caho rs in 1298; provincial prior of Provence in 1301),
and curialist (assigned in 1309 by Clement V to see to the posthu-
mous trial of Boniface VJII). John XXII appreciated his talents
because he promoted him to cardinal-bishop of Sabina in 1317,
then designated him as papal legate in Spain from 1320 to 1324.
From this career it is clear that Guilhem de Peyre Godin had no
legal training and represented the best Thomist orthodoxy; this
detail is irr1portant, for the task of the inquisitors was associated
more with theology than with law. Guilhem had not been con-
sulted in 1320 on the question of the heretical classification of in-
vokers of demons, perhaps because he had already left for Spain;
in 1326, however, he received a new papal commission, along-
side the cardinals Pierre d'Arablay and Bertrand de Montfavet,
with the task of proceeding to the trials of several clerics and
laymen of the dioceses of Toulouse and Cahors who had been
accused of having created images out of lead or stone that were
intended to invoke denions. 30 ,.fhe accused had been summoned
first before the episcopal court of Toulouse before being re-
ferred to the king of France, probably because their images had
been based on the model of the royal coinage [sub figura seu
typario regio ).3 1 In 1328 Guilhern was assigned the task of orga-
nizing the local inquest with a view toward the canonization
The Judicial Institution r~/f)eniunology x9
trial of Nicholas of Tolentino; this event comprised broad
demonological aspects. 32
'I'o this dense series of indications that show a continuous
effort to classify demoniacal undertakings as heretical, one can
add a notation by the J)ominican Bernard c;ui, who, strength-
ened from his experience as inquisitor, wrote his Practica ojftCii
inquisitionis heretice pravitatis, most likely after 1324. For hirn the
invocation of dernons was connected to heresy if it was done "at
the same time as an i1nrnolation or as the sacrifice of some thing
by making an offCring to those san1e dernons through sacrifices
or inunolation." 33
~ren years later on November 4 1330 John XXII sent two
1 1 1
letters-one addressed to the archbishop of Narbonne, his suf-
fragans, and the inquisitor of Carcassonne, Henri de Chamay;
the other to the archbishop of Toulouse, his suffragans, and the
inquisitor of that city, Pierre Brun. 34 Each letter contained a
copy of the letter sent in 1320 by Guilhem de Peyre Godin to
the inquisitors of Carcassonne and 1'oulouse and ordered the
addressees to pursue the work that was more necessary than
ever. 35 l-fowever, the text introduced an important corrective:
the bishops were to get to work, and the inquisitors, alone or
in collaboration with the bishops, were to complete the actions
undertaken, but the latter were not to start new proceedings
without a papal commission. This corrective did not imply that
demoniacal invocations and other forn1s of magic were no longer
to be considered heretical) since the inquisitorial activity was not
suspended or simply transferred to the bishops; it simply reflected
a certain distrust of the inquisitors, to which we shall return.
An Ordinary Evil?
One might wonder what urgent peril the pope felt to act with
such persistence. Magical practices, popular or learned, which
were targeted in the articles of the consultation of 1320 1 appear
to have been universal and frorr1 all time. Criminal or amorous
bewitchment through the use of wax or terra cotta itnages has
20 Chapter One
been found in Greco-Roman antiquity (notably under the name
of diftxiones). 36 The magical diversion of Christian sacramental
objects had long been noted. 37 As customs were Christianized,
the old traditions of natural and beneficial magic borrowed from
Christian liturgical rituals, without any true changes.
1
,..fwo factors no doubt explain the pope s anxiety. :F'irst, "sci-
entific" magic, imported from the East or from Spain at the
same time as naturalist science, had been developing widely in
scholarly milieux since the beginning of the thirteenth century,
as is noted by the concerns and the condemnations present in
the work of William of Auvergne, a theologian and bishop of
Paris from r228 to r249. Recent research has shown the range
and the complexity of that knowledge. 38 Alchemical and astro-
logical knowledge, endowed with great scientific prestige, could
be combined with "necromancy" or with the magical arts. The
ambivalence of the Church's attitudes vis-a-vis alchemy began
to unravel at the end of the thirteenth century, 39 precisely at the
moment when the conquests of natural science appeared to be
dangerous to the faith, whereas astrology still maintained some
legitimacy, in spite of suspicions about it. As we know, the fa-
mous condemnation pronounced in 1277 by the bishop Stephen
Tempier, which dealt with 219 propositions believed to be held by
members of the Faculty of Arts, was preceded by a prologue con-
demning "books, scrolls, or notebooks dealing with necromancy
or containing experiments of sorcery, invocations of demons, or
conjurations to harm souls."40 Alchemy, protected up until the
r27os by the popes in quest of an elixir for long life, also began to
become suspect: as Agostino Paravicini Bagliani notes, Cardinal
Francesco Orsini, in his testament of 1304, ordered all his books
on alchemy to be burned. 41 Astrology, despite its more academic
appeal, attracted the same suspicions. The tragic destiny ofCecco
d'Ascoli, who was a respected astrology professor at Bologna be-
ginning in 1322 before being burned for heresy in Florence in
1327 along with his books on astrology, although unusual, per-
haps indicates that ambivalence in attitudes. Astrology, in fact,
despite its increasingly suspect status, grew in prestige during the
T'he judicial Institution of Demonology 2I
fourteenth century as much due to the progress it was making
as it was to the common perception of the limits of Aristotelian
science.
The Robert ofMauvoisin case, followed closely by John XXll,
confirms that ambivalence. Robert, the archbishop of Aix-en-
Provence, was judged in 1318 by a papal commission and had to
abandon his post. 42 The status of that pursuit was uncertain) as
was often the case in those commissions named directly by the
pope: the action was in fact disciplinary, but it could have been
criminal, depending on the evaluation of a given offense, which
could have related either to the condemnable excesses of a prelate
or to a crime. It is very possible that the description depended on
a negotiation: the pope wanted to recover the post, and Robert
sought to get himself out of the situation. But whatever the
case may have been, the first of fifteen articles of accusation, the
most developed, played a decisive role in the relative clemency
of the commission. This article claimed that Robert, from the
time of his studies in Bologna in the 1300s until the time of
his prelature, had had recourse "to spells, to the magical arts
[arti mathematice] and to divinations." The article specified that
those practices were "condemned and forbidden by law." In his
interrogation, Robert took care to constantly describe his various
advisers as "astrologists" and to relate precisely the modes and
the goals of his consultations. All the while asserting that he
did not believe in those arts, Robert, as confirmed by a witness,
maintained that he thought in good faith that those astrological
practices were licit.
It indeed seems that the new suspicion of astrology and
alchemy, which was more or less shared by scholars and high
dignitaries in the Church, was, for reasons that are difficult to
determine, accompanied by a dissemination of the necromantic
and alchemical culture in the lowest echelons of the Church.
The second astrologer whom Robert of Mauvoisin consulted to
evaluate his birth chart was a copyist [grossator] from the papal
Curia. We noted earlier the pursuit of clerics and laymen who
were accused of creating images by using the royal effigy. Their
22 Chapter One
own confessions explicitly n1entioned the use of alchemy; here it
is a question of the search for the "truth of alchemy" [veritatem
alquimie].
To this general and ambivalent anxiety was added the personal
concern of John XXll, who appeared to have determined that
demons were directly involved in these suspect arts and exercised
a fearsome role in the live::> and deaths of humans.
The Demonological Convictions ojJohn XXU
As seen in the _judicial practices he developed, John XXII's insis-
tence on the dangers of demoniacal invocations is also reflected
in the many accusations that were made either as the primary rea-
sons for an arrest, 41 or secondarily, when someone was arrested
on other charges, such as the bishop of Cahors, Hugues Geraud,
the archbishop of Aix, Robert of Mauvoisin, or the Franciscan
Bernard Delicieux, who was accused of seriously impeding the
work of the inquisitors. Looking briefly at some of these cases
will help us understand the pope's personal concerns about magic
and demoniacal invocations.
On February 27, 1318,JohnXXII spoke to Barthelemy, bishop
of Frejus, Pierre Tissier, prior of Saint-Antonin, near Rodez,
and the provost of Clermont-Ferrand, to ask them to undertake
legal action following summary procedure without the possibility
of appeal against several clerics who were devoting themselves
to "black magic, geomancy, and other magical arts." 44 Those
magical arts were closely connected to the invocation of demons;
they were "the arts of demons, derived from a plague-ridden
association between men and evil angels." Magicians "fiequently
use mirrors and images consecrated following their execrable rite
and, standing in a circle, repeatedly invoke the demons that they
seal up in the mirrors) circles, or rings." Through these invoca-
tions the accused attempted to harm or to predict the future. 45
Another aspect of their activity, mentioned later in the letter,
was also a papal concern: "'I'hey are not afraid to assert that with
the help of libations or food, but also by uttering a single word,
The Judicial Institution ~j'Dernonology 23
it is possible to shorten or prolong the life of men." This brings
to mind, of course, the various research and practices sponsored
by the popes of the thirteenth century who sought ways to pro-
long their lives, as revealed in the work of Agostino Paravicini
46
Bagliani. The great English alchemist John Dastin, who had
written books of alchemy for Cardinal Napoleone Orsini, an
acquaintance and enemy of the pope, sent John xxn a letter
regarding drinkable gold, believed to be capable of prolonging
47
life. As the trial of Boniface VIII had shown, the boundary
between the magical arts and alchemy, between the legal wish to
prolong the li!C of popes and the underhanded wish to shorten
them, was quite murky. The octogenarian John XXll, elected as
a transitional pope, knew that his life was fragile and his suc-
cession anticipated. The first important judicial matter of the
pontificate, a few months after the accession of John XXII, im-
plicated the bishop ofCahors, Hugues Geraud, who was accused
of having made an attempt on the lives of the pope and the car-
dinals by using poison, but also by creating wax effigies that had
been given the names of the victims and that were stuck with
needles, according to the precise description the pope gives in his
letter of commission of April 22, 1317, concerning the matter. 48
Thus one can understand John XXII's obsession with supernatu-
ral manipulations of nature, especially since certain alchemists or
doctors, including Arnold of Villanova, had recently developed
strong ties with the Franciscan Spirituals or with the Orsini and
Colonna clans of the Curia.
The case brought against the Franciscan Bernard Delicieux in
1319 illustrates this conjunction very well. Bernard Delicieux was
pursued essentially for his attacks against the Inquisition and his
attempts to liberate southern cities from the power of the inquisi-
tors. The matter was already quite old, but the Franciscan had
recently worsened his case by defending the Spiritual Franciscans
called to Avignon in 1317. Articles 24-31 of the act of accusation
brought against him deal with his attempts to murder Benedict
Xl by use of incantations and acts of magic. 49 In this list of
charges, as in the accusations made against Robert ofMauvoisin,
24 Chapter One
the magical practices of Bernard DClicieux are not related to an
invocation of demons) as if natural magic was only punishable
for its evil ends. It was as if]ohn XXII, the heir of his predeces-
sors) fascination with the power of the occult sciences, was still
hesitating to link magic wi.th demoniacal activities, which would
explain the urgency and irnportance of the consultation of 1320.
A few years later, those uncertainties no longer existed. On
August 23, 1326, 50 the pope sent a letter to Cardinal Bertrand de
_Montfirvet ordering him to pursue an inquest into the activities
of Bertrand d'Audiran, canon of Agen, who was involved in
"pluribus et diversis dampnatis scientiis et artibus" and "not
without a transgression of the Catholic faith, canon law, and
civil law." The suspect used books, writings, vases made of glass)
clay, and wood in which he blended powders and fetid potions.
"And above all, this Bertrand, by using and abusing these
sciences and arts, was trying to tempt demons and to invoke evil
spirits and to apply to that end conjurations and other illicit and
11
condernned things. And such practices were effective: "There
resulted terrifying thunderclaps, shaking, lightning, storms,
floods, all blows by demons, attacks and the deaths of men and
other countless damage."
Bertrand had accomplices, two of whom are named in the
letter. They had been caught in the act when they were seen
carrying off from the gallows two heads and an arm of the hanged.
The layman had confessed and had been burned at the stake; the
cleric was imprisoned in the dungeon of the bishop of Agen.
The bishop had Bertrand taken to the papal prison at Avignon.
The inquest was assigned to Bertrand de Montfavet and to the
cardinal Pierre Tissier, who then died (in 1323). The length of the
proceeding, which was entirely in the hands of the pontiff, indeed
shows that John XXII sought to learn more before sentencing.
Another letter shows JohnXXII's concern in the face of super-
natural mysteries and notably when confronted with the possibil-
ity of extraordinary transport, which perhaps foretells one of the
most spectacular aspects of the Sabbath, the flight of demoniacs
through the air. On March 3, 1325,John XXll wrote to the bishop
T'hc judicial lnstitufi(Jn oj'l)onono!ugy 25
of Paris: the parish priest of Saints-Innocents had disappeared
one evening frorn inside his locked room. The pope ordered an
inquest "surnmarie, simplicitcr ac sine strepitu et figura judicii" in
order to find out "where the said rector had gone, or was carried
off1 or transported" [dictus rector iverit, vel asportatus aut trans-
latus fuerit]. 11 The urgent and anguished tone of the letter and
the mention of the possibility of supernatural transport, without
actually evoking the Sabbath, show a true anxiety in the pope's
reaction to this srnall matter.
At the time of the famous controversy over beatific vision 1
which the pope launched in 1331, one of the arguments he pro-
duced to prove the partial and limited nature of individual judg-
1nent consisted of insisting on the freedom of demons befOre
the Last Judgment. In a sermon of 1332 the pope said: "Indeed,
the damned, that is, demons, could not terr1pt us if they were
secluded in hell. That is why one must not say they reside in hell,
but in fact in the entire zone of dark air, whence the path is open
to them to tempt us. "52
A Portrait o/John XXJI as a Limbo/the Devil
If John XXII was so adamant about pursuing demons and their
worshipers, doubtless it is because he hi1nself was sometimes
presented as a creature of the Antichrist or of the Devil, es-
pecially in the various milieux influenced by the Franciscans of
the Spiritual movement (Beguins, Fratricelli). This description
was partially an insult and partially the reflection of convictions.
Indeed, on the one hand, the Spiritual Franciscans, believers in
absolute poverty, who had enjoyed relative tranquility under the
pontificate of Clement V, endured the violent repression ofJohn
XXll at the start of his pontificate: four Spiritual Franciscans
were burned in Marseille in 1318; a series of bulls from I.JI7 to
1328 condemned certain groups and then the very doctrine of
absolute poverty and its foundation in Christ. This led to the
schism of 1328, when Michael of Cesena and a few brothers fled
frorn Avignon to join the court of the emperor Louis of Bavaria)
26 Chapter One
who created the brief schismatic pontificate of Nicholas V. ln the
volumes of the Franciscans' battle writings, the pope was often
depicted as Satanic.
But there was more. In the writings of Peter of John Olivi,
who was the chief inspiration behind these movements, the es-
chatological schema derived from the thinking of Joachim of
Fiore, modified and perfected throughout the thirteenth cen-
tury, revealed the conviction that the present time was that of
the passage to the sixth period in the history of the Church, itself
the annunciator of the third and final age of humanity. While
reading the Apocalypse, Olivi had discovered that the Antichrist,
whose ultimate defeat was to initiate a long period of peace be-
fore the end of time, was divided into a "mystical" antichrist
(that is, hidden) and the great, manifest Antichrist. This mys-
tical antichrist was believed to be a pseudo-pope. If Olivi, who
died in 1298, was unable to advance the identification further,
his disciples, convinced by the persecutions, proceeded with this
assimilation of the pope with the mystical antichrist.
On this point, an odd testimony provides a true mythical
founding tale of the origins of John XXII's hatred for the Spiri-
tual Franciscans. In 1333 a knight from Roussillon, Adhemar de
Mosset, was arrested for his Beguin sympathies, under the initia-
tive of King James II ofMajorca. 53 The king, in his third article
of accusation, relates a personal memory. One day when he was
traveling with Adhemar, the conversation turned toward Pope
John XXII and the persecution of the Spirituals, for which the
knight strongly reproached the pontiff. Adhemar asked the king
if he knew why the pope, who at the beginning of his pontificate
had been a holy and good man, had come to that. James didn't
know, but the knight informed him: at one time John XXII loved
Angelo Clareno, one of the principal leaders of the Spirituals,
very much. One day he asked him to question God, to find out
whether his state [status J was pleasing to Him or not. 54 Angelo
began to pray and "then saw a large group of Devils who were
carrying a chalice full of sinful poison; he asked them where they
were going, and what they were going to do with the chalice.
'J'he Judicial Institution of' Demonology 27
They answered that they were going to the pope to convince
him to drink from the chalice of iniquity." Angelo asked them
to come see him on their way back, which they did. They in-
formed him that the pope had drunk, and they advised Angelo
henceforth to beware of him. When Angelo revived from that
vision, the pope asked him the outcome of his consultation; the
Franciscan refused to speak but was ordered, in the name of the
principle of obedience, to provide the information, which he did.
"And ever since that time the Lord Pope wished ill to befall him,
on him and all the other Beguins." Adhemar de Mossel, who
had been in the service of Philip of Majorca, the regent of the
kingdom while Jam es II was a minor and an active partisan of
the Beguins, probably sympathized with the dissidents, without
being directly involved in their battle and without having either
their theological or exegetic training; it is probable that he was
transmitting a widely known anecdote.
Ifwe are to better understand the development of the personal
involvement of the pope, we must now seek to understand the
modalities of his struggle and what was at stake in it.
The Emergence '!fthe fact
The doctrinal revolution launched by the pope consisted of deal-
ing with acts, with deeds, considered to be heretical, in contrast
to an ancient and continuous Church tradition that presented
heresy as an opinion. This creation of the factum hereticale, quite
present in the questions put to the experts of the commission
of 1320, cannot be reduced to a simple desire for an increase in
criminal prosecution. John XXJI had no need of that description
to severely punish magical and demon-associated acts.
The issue was epistemological: by default, the deed had be-
come an essential argument of certainty. At the end of the thir-
teenth century and the beginning of the fourteenth, great inter-
rogations were held into the possibility of proving dogma or of
establishing it in reason. The fertile association between reason
and faith, at work in writings from Saint Anselm of Canterbury
28 Chapter One
to Thomas Aquinas, was dissolving. Given the reality of limited
proof and demonstration, the solidity of facts, deeds, gathered
and authenticated by tradition, offered some recourse. The mys-
teries of truth and the obscurity of error could not nor should
be separated from the facts that manifested them, and which
induced confidence and faith. Confronted with the extreme di-
versity of opinions and schools, it was necessary to grasp onto
facts.John:XXII, exactly like William ofOckham, concluded that
faith rested on a certain confidence in all of Christian tradition,
as confirmed by facts provided by the Scriptures.
One of the most vehement reproaches that John XXII made
against the Spiritual Franciscans, whom he persecuted violently
had to do with their rejection of the factual data in the Scrip-
tures. In the Gospel, Jesus had property and gave his money to
Judas. But through the artifices of interpretation, said the pope,
The Judicial Institulion of.De1nonology 29
More generally, the Spiritual Franciscans, imagining that
Christ and the apostles practiced de facto usage without any
judicial appropriation, constructed a story that had no respon-
dent, no verification in the "nature of things" [natura rerum],
where the consumption of goods rested either on a right or on
an offense. Their use of the word fact upset the natural order
of the world. 57 The Franciscans became heretics by rejecting
evangelical facts and by reconstructing their own, with the help
of a strengthened ideology and the collective identity that they
created.
It was thus pointless and dangerous, insofar as heresy was
1 concerned, to wait for the clear expression of an error 1 when
deeds and facts indicated it. This epistemological conviction
vvas confirmed by an analogous evolution in moral and judicial
judgments. 58

the Franciscans destroyed those facts in support of their inter-
pretation. The great bulls condemning the Franciscan doctrine
of absolute poverty stress the destruction of the factual data that
established the articles of faith. 55 In the bull Cum inter nonnullos
(November 12, 1223), the pope said:
Since among not a few scholarly men it often happens that there
is called into doubt, whether to affinn pertinaciously, that Our l~e
deemer and Lord Jesus Christ and His Apostles did not have any-
thing individually, nor even in common, is to be censured as heretical,
diverse and opposite things being opined concerning it, We, desiring
to put an end to this contest, after [having taken] the counsel of our
brothers [the cardinals] by this perpetual edict do declare that a per-
tinacious assertion of this kind, when sacred scriptures, which assert
in very many places that they had not a few things, expressly contra-
dict it, and when it supposes openly that the same sacred scripture,
through which certainly the articles of orthodox faith arc proven in
regards to the aforesaid things, contains the ferment of falsehood,
and consequently, as much as regards these things, crnptying all faith
in them, it renders the Catholic Faith doubtful and uncertain, taking
away its demonstration, is respectively to be censured erroneous and
heretical. 56
As we know, thinkers in the twelfth century, from Peter
Abelard to Peter the Cantor, produced a morality of intention.
The actual fact was relativized. Let's look at an example: John
is killed. Paul killed him. This is an occurrence. The moral
theology of intention asserts that this occurrence in itself
signifies nothing before it is qualified according to the intentions
of Paul, for whom the event represented (1) a murder (he wanted
and planned the act, out of a long-standing hatred); or (2)
injuries inflicted without the intention of murder (following a
scuffle, for example); or (3) an accident (Paul, during a hunt, was
aiming for an animal, not at John); or (4) a meritorious act (Paul
rid Christianity of a persecutor, along the lines of Judith killing
Holofernes). The "death of John" event, emptied of its intrinsic
significance, becomes what I call a weak fact, a simple residue of
reality.
Throughout the thirteenth century there developed a pro-
gressive reaction against the morality of intention) an attempt
to objectivizc moral and judicial judgment. This phenomenon is
probably related to the moverr1ent of writing normative texts
and to the constitution of law as a type of knowledge that
was increasingly independent of moral theology. 19 The fact was
30 Chapter One
considered the necessary but insufficient subject of the transcen-
dent independence of the law, which the caste ofjurists attempted
to extract from the contingencies and compromises of everyday
affairs. An attachment to factuality was also related to a reac-
tion by the Church against heretical undertakings based on a
reliance on secrets and ambiguity. 60 The sanctuary of one's inner
life could appear as a hiding place for criminals. The persecution
of the Cathars and the Beguins shows this clearly: inquisitors
perfected techniques for uncovering dissimulation. This evolu-
tion tended to replace the weak fbct of the morals of intention
with the strong fact of the tribunals of inquest. Does this mean
that at the tribunal any excuse concerning the circumstances of
the act was rejected? Most certainly not, but the presumptions
and the circumstances, aggravating or extenuating, were them-
selves subjected to an objectification. Here are two examples of
this: the notion of irresponsibility, granted to obvious classes of
individuals (the insane, children, sleepwalkers), was defined at
the beginning of the fourteenth century in a decretal of Clement
V. 61 1~\irthennore, in inquisitorial proceedings a preliminary in-
quest into the reputation (Jama) of suspect individuals delegated
the evaluation of motives to an external body befOre the inquest
would actually correlate the evaluation with the precise facts. 62
Granted, the .fama was largely derived by the inquiries them-
selves, but judges beld to its objective and measurable nature.
l)uring inquisitorial trials, regarding canonization as well as in
criminal or heretical matters, the judges or commissioners fre-
quently asked witnesses to define the meaning of the word.fama,
its place of origin, its extension. Some even went so far as to
ask a witness to quantitatively evaluate the rninin1al number of
opinions or murrr1urings necessary to constitute a reputation.
Might this medieval positivism, whose judicial and moral roots
we have atternpted to discern, be linked to a more widespread
evolution than is found in the history of the sciences? The
question is delicate, for the dominant physics of the time,
inspired by Aristotle, was concerned more with causes than with
phenomena, as Alexandre Koyrc has shown. The phenomenon
1'he judicial Institution oj'L)e111onalogy JI
was essentially reducible. I--Iowever, a certain development in
scientific factuality has been observed precisely in those final
years of the thirteenth centu1y in engineers such as the famous
1
Pierre de Maricourt, who described and experimented with the
properties of the magnet in the goal of improving the compass.
A thinker such as Roger Bacon, champion of experirncntat.ion,
succeeded in combining theology optics, and alchemy in his
1
work by hunting down facts through observation. The catchall
category of "marvels" (mirabi/ia) began to disappear in favor of
a simultaneous expansion of miraculous phenornena and natural
phenomena. Finally, a non-Aristotelian physics, arguing about
borderline cases and connected to a real but rare factuality, was
making headway. 61
The Inquest and the fact
On the level ofjudicial pursnits, the notion of facts tended to
beco1ne important beginning in the r23os, when the search for
heretics, within largely complicit populations, became extremely
widespread and demanded broader criteria and more effective
methods than individual interrogation. An order from the arch-
bishop ofTarragona was drawn up in May r242 with the help of
the Don1inican Raymond of Penafort, 64 the great jurist vvho also
became the superior-general of the Order of 'Preachers, so that
"one might look more clearly into the fact of heresy [circa factum
heresis ]."Granted, the wordfactum here still had the meaning of
judicial imputation that it had had in Roman law, but the detail
of the order shows that it was henceforth important to consider
acts tbat did not come directly from belief. Indeed, the text dis-
tinguishes seven population categories linked to heresy. 65 But
only the first is named as heretical, because it professes beliefs
while continuing in error.
The second category, the "believers" [credentes], is assimilated
with heresy (one rnust, of course, realize that they were singled
out before the salutary warning that would transform them, in
case they refused to recant, into heretics in the strict sense).
32 Chapter One
Then come those "suspected" of heresy. Only actions and facts
determine this categorization: listening to the preaching or the
lectures of heretics (in this case it was a rnatter of insahbatici,
of heretics who were difficult to identify and who were cited in
the company ofWaldensians) or kneeling in their company. An
element of belief can, however, be added: the suspects believe
that the heretics in question are "good men." Depending on
whether such actions are repeated, suspicion would be simple,
vehement, or very vehement. Then come the passive accomplices:
the "nondenouncers" [celatores], who abstain from revealing the
public presence of heretics; the "dissimulators" [occultatores],
"who have made a pact not to reveal anything" [fecerunt pactum
de non revelando]; the "hosts" [receptatores], who welcome into
their homes-at least twice-heretics or gatherings of heretics;
the "defenders" [defensores], who take the side of heretics in
words or in deeds [verbovel facto], either through speech, or with
material assistance. 66 These last four categories were gathered
into the single category of"supporters" [fautores] of heresy. For
Raymond there were degrees of offenses linked to heresies [magis
vel minus], whereas heresy itself implied a strictly binary structure
in which the true was in opposition to error. It fell to positive
law to convert that dust of circumstances into a heretical fact:
in contrast to the ministry of the confessor, who, in the depths
of his conscience, in jbro conscientiae, dealt with the continuum of
sins and omissions, the task of the inquisitor in Jure consisted of
reducing a plethora of unclear circumstances and actions to the
binary purity of the accusation. Later in the century the notion
of the "presumption of the law" strengthened this tendency.
But there was still a great deal of hesitation: the fourth point
of the order dealt with the classification of the one who embraced
a heretic, or who prayed in his company or hid him, as heretical:
"Must he be judged as a believer in the error of the heretic?"
The answer was negative. However, farther on, the text suggests
that the bones of those who had supported heresy should be
exhumed, because "support [fautoria] is the continuation and
the complement of heresy." A few years earlier, in 1235, in one of
The Judicial Institution oj'.Demono!ogy JJ
the first texts devoted to the mies of the Inquisition, Raymond of
Penafort believed that those who harbored heretics (in this case,
Waldensians) should be judged as heretics, because they believed
that the Church was wrong to pursue heretics 67
As we can see, ever since the beginning of the Inquisition, the
temptation to construct heretical facts was enormous. When on
June 14, 1303, Guillaume de Plaisians presented his accusations
against Pope Boniface VIII at the Louvre, he reproached the
pope for having forced priests to reveal secrets that had been
told to them during confessions in order to divulge and use
them. He concluded this article by saying: "Because of that,
he appears to have been heretical regarding the sacrament of
penitence" [propter quod in sacramento penitentie hereticare
videtur]. It was thus indeed an act, manifested in Latin by the
active verb hereticize, that passed as a manifestation of heresy. 68
As Jean Coste notes in his edition of the "trial," Cardinal Pietro
Colonna, who had a better knowledge of canon law, had added in
an analogous article: "The same Boniface doctrinally proclaimed
[dogmatizabat] that he had the right to act thusly."69
The judges assigned to the trial of Bernard Delicieux in 1319
made the leap, at least in their act of accusation of October 23,
1319. They began their accusation in a very legislative tone, but
without invoking the law, by declaring that any man, whether
a lord, a ruler, or a judge, who dares to liberate the prisoners
of the Inquisition, to refUse to execute its mandates, to prevent
sentencing or trials, or is opposed in any way to the pursuit of
heretics, "incurs ipso facto a sentence of excommunication and,
if he incurs it with a resolute will for a year, is then condemned
as a heretic." 70
Procedural Questions
Faced with the threat of demons, it was important to act ef-
fectively and quickly; these two demands were contradictory,
however, for effectiveness assumed the slow and laborious es-
tablishment of truth. The pontiff had a multitude of judicial
J4 Chapter One
solutions that implied differences in the types nf procedure to
employ, in jurisdictional choices, and in the modalities of an
inquest.
The Church encouraged the development of the inquisitorial
procedure (through inquests) over the accusatory mode, follow-
ing a movement launched by the decretals of Innocent III, be-
ginning in rr98, the maturation of which is seen in canon 8 of
the Fourth Lateran Council (1215). As we know, the accusatory
procedure, dominant up until the twelfth century, which contin-
ued in British and U.S. common law, limits incrimination to an
accuser, who initiates the accusation and might suffer from it.
The judge and the jury are merely arbitrators. The two stages of
the legal action are made up of (1) the meticulous construction
of the case, which must be rigorously demonstrated (in Roman
terms, this is the phase of litis contestatio), and (2) deliberation.
Inquisitorial procedure, by contrast, favored official accusation,
formulated by a judge or a prince, following a "defamation," ob-
tained by listening to accusatory hearsay. The trial involved two
successive inquests: the first established the Jama, the reputation,
either good or bad, which led to indictment or acquittal; the
second inquest determined the truth of the facts introduced by
thefama.
Various judicial bodies might have taken on the invokers of
demons: the episcopal court, with its various tribunals, the tri-
bunal of the Inquisition, and ad hoc papal commissions. As we
have noted, the Inquisition was created by the papacy- beginning
in rz33 with the goal of pursuing heresy, and it kept that special-
ization for a long time. This required the recruitment of judges
who were more theologians than jurists. It is diflicult to make an
unbiased judgment on the medieval Inquisition, since its image
has been the object of violent controversies. Some rnedievalists
have tried, not without some reason, to reject the idea of per-
secutory madness associated with that image. Edward Peters
has shown how a veritable dark myth about the Inquisition
was constructed over the years; a fascinating article by Richard
Kieckhefer has placed doubt on the institutional reality of the
The Judicial Institution oj'Den1ono!ogy 35
71
Inquisition. In fact comrnon opinion has often conflised the
1
implacable realities of the Roman Inquisition (created in r542)
and above all the Castilian Inquisition (a state institution estab
lished in 1481-82) with the limited and often incoherent attempts
of the medieval Inquisition. And yet the medieval Inquisition
indeed existed as a powerful institution, in spite of its weak
foundation. The Inquisitor was named by the Holy See but re-
mained closely connected to the religious order he belonged to
(in most cases the Dominican Order, but also the Franciscan and
to a lesser extent the Carmelite Order). Its daily practice put it
in close contact with secular power.
The special commissions of the pope in a sense derived frorn
the assigned legality of the pontiffs, established since the twelfth
century, but they assumed a special irnportance under the pon-
tificate of John X:XII, for reasons we shall examine later. His
anxiety about the power of demons led John X:XII to suspend
many judicial and beneficent guarantees and to refer conspir-
acy cases involving suspicions of magical or demoniacal practices
to papal commissions, which made use of surnmary procedure. 72
The notion of summary procedure had slowly developed in canon
law since the end of the twelfth century. This was a matter of
formalizing the efforts of the preceding decades in matters of ar-
bitrage or compromise within the Church, as a reaction to the ex-
cesses ofjuridicism that had been denounced by Saint Bernard in
his fascinating treatise De consideratione. The notion of "canon-
ical equity" was contrasted with the rigor iuTis of the civilists.
The procedure slowly gained its form from scattered elements in
Roman law, through a collection ofindependent clausules: if the
parties were in agreement, the cognitio summaria (translated in
our texts by the adverb summarie or simpliciter) implied lightening
the demands for proof; one could make do with "half-full" proof
(a simple statement, a witness, or a single document). The strictly
procedural phase of the trial was also reduced: the composition
of a "record" (libel/us) and the debate of the !itis contestalio (which
established the judiciary roles and what was at stake in the trial)
became optional. The mention of a de piano procedure, which
3h Chapter One
referred to the uselessness of formally sitting in a court, insisted
n1ore on speed and the absence of external elements. Finally, the
clausules sine strepitu judicioru;n (without the din of trials) and
sine/igurajudicii (without the form of the trial) simplified things
further by insisting on the elimination of lavvyers and the noisy
fr)rms of opposition and recourse.
In the time of John XXII, this formalization of ecclesiastical
arbitrage had just been completed with the publication of two
decretals by Clement V: Dispendiosam, produced for the Council
of Vienna in 1311-12, and Saepe, written in 1314. Dispendiosam
declared very succinctly that the summary procedure could be
applied to cases that had already been previewed by the canon
law of the thirteenth century regarding the Church's own al~
fairs ("elections, requests and provisions, attributions of dignities
or Unctions, offices 1 canonicates, revenues or any ecclesiastical
benefices" the exacting of tithes), but also regarding questions of
marriage and usury. 73 This extension was considerable: it ended
up providing for the possibility of a summary procedure in al-
most all matters brought by the Church. Only successions were
not mentioned, but they necessarily came into matrimonial cases.
The decretal Saepe detailed the specificities of the summary pro-
cedure at greater length and carefully summed up the aspects
that had been assembled for close to a century. 74
The parallel use of the summary procedure in matters pertain-
ing to the pursuit of heresy is somewhat puzzling, for it is quite
unrelated to the doctrine of arbitrage. The only point in connnon
between the two procedures relates to the essential role of the
judge, who was responsible for the procedure, the instructions,
and the decision. liowever, it was not before the decretal Statuta
quedam, promulgated by Boniface VIII in his Liber Sex/us in
1296-28, that summary procedure was explicitly granted for the
inquisitorial process: "While collating certain statutes by our pre-
decessors of fond memory) Innocent, Alexander, and Clement,
and while interpreting and adding certain points, we grant that in
the affairs of inquisition on heretical perversion, one may proceed
in a simple and informal way, without din nor the appearance of
The judicial llfstitution oj"Dentonology .17
lawyers and judgn1cnts [_procedi possit simpliciter et de plano) et
absque advocatorurn ac judiciorurn strepitu et figura]." The rest
of the decretal justifies keeping the narnes of the witnesses or
accusers secret, fOr security reasons.
Trial and Majesty
All the levels and distinctions we have just sketched were blended
together in judicial practice, since the Inquisition was largely
based on inquisitorial procedure, whereas the bishops 1 such
as Jacques 'F'ournier, the famous bishop of Pamiers, or ("'juido
Terreni, bishop of Majorca then of Elne, received their func-
tions as inquisitors in their dioceses from the pope.
John XXII, however, had little confidence in the justice of the
bishops. He knew that they often preferred the peace of their
diocese to the demands for truth. Thus, the effective and zealous
Jacques f<"'ournier was succeeded in 1326 by Dominique Grima, a
brilliant theologian and the former assistant inquisitor ofBernard
Gui in Toulouse, who incurred the anger of the pope for his neg-
ligence in the pursuit ofheresy. 75 The pope frequently preferred
to use special cornmissions of inquest and judgment following
sumn1ary procedure rather than the inquisitorial tribunals. This
was the case in particular for the trials of Hugues Geraud, Robert
of Mauvoisin 1 and Bernard Delicieux. Sorr1etimes the charge of
the crime of lese-majeste permitted the granting of even greater
latitude for extraordinary procedures: thus on April 12, rJ3r, fol-
lowing a complaint by the king of France, the pope ordered the
bishop of Paris to proceed against Hertaud, abbot of a monastery
in the diocese of Au tun and against Jcan Albericus, a I)ominican)
for their "evil doings and excesses" [super rnaleficiis et excessi-
bus] against the king and his court. lt was certainly a matter of
magical evil spells [multis maleficiis] that threatened the "public
good" and which, in any case, was connected to the crime of
lese-m<~jeste. The pope, in this case, not only ordered a summary
procedure [simpliciter, et de piano sine strepitu et figura judicii]
but removed all the privileges and security of the two religious
J8 Chapter One
figures, authorizing their arrest [captione.m], their incarceration,
and their torture [necnon questionibus subici prout a canonibus
est permissum]. 76
One might wonder why John XXII was so reluctant to refer
demonological cases to the Inquisition at the very time when he
was trying to connect the invocation of demons to heresy. '"fhe
most common answer links that choice to the political nature of
many of the cases in which the demon seemed to intervene as a
pretext rather than a cause. In fact, the exceptional procedures
that blended together attempts against royal or divine majesty,
accusations of heresy, and charges of sorcery or the invocation
of demons must be associated with the great wave of political
trials that occurred at the beginning of the fourteenth century:
Philip the Fair, who in 1303 had instigated the trial against Pope
Boniface VIII, 77 was accused, among other things, of having
invoked demons and consulted with magicians; then the Icing,
between 1306 and 1314, set out against the Templars for being
worshippers of the Devil. Between 1308 and 1314 Philip the Fair
had accused Guichard, bishop of Troyes, who supposedly con-
spired in the murders, through poisons and magical images, of
the queen and other royal personages-" In 1315, Enguerran de
Marigny, who had so effectively collaborated in these trials, was
himself hanged for having harmed King Louis X and Charles of
Valois by using magical images. 79 John XXII continued his work
with trials against Hugues Geraud, bishop of Cahors, in 1317,
against Mateo and Galeazzo Visconti in r320, and against the
allies of Federico de Montefeltro at the Marches of Ancona. 30
In all these cases, the perfect correspondence between the seri-
ousness of the accusations and the antagonistic positions of the
accused suggests viewing these trials as simple and cynical ploys
in which the judicial exception was meant to confirm the political
rule.
Such an interpretation does not take realities fully into ac-
count. ,..fhe crushing of adversaries was not systematic: the serious
accusations against Bernard Delicieux concerning the demoni-
acal murder of Clement V were not included in the judgment,
The judicial .Institution oj'Demonology 39
contrary to what occurred with Hugues Geraud. Robert of Mau
voisin escaped with a simple removal of his archiepiscopal see.
Granted, the judges had some autonomy, but one might think
that the pope had experienced true doubts about the guilt of
some accused. These questions perhaps account for the consul-
tation of 1320, which resulted less fi-om the question in dispute,
or from the collegiality of decision making, than with the need
for expertise.
Distrust ofthe Inquisition
John XXII's choices of procedure must be explained in another
way. His preference for the extraordinary form comes first from a
great distrust of the Inquisition. The inquisitors had a tendency to
persecute without taking social status or political circumstances
into account: the famous case of John the Archbishop, lord of
Parthenay, involved with the practice of sorcery around 1323,
shows this well. The inquisitor had attacked a powerful person
who benefited from royal protections and who was able to consult
with the great jurist Oldrado da Ponte. 81 Twice the pope wrote to
the inquisitors ofCarcassonne to command them not to uselessly
torment the consuls and bourgeois ofMontpellier. 82
The pope might also have experienced the extreme unpopu-
larity of the Inquisition obvious in the Bernard Delicieux affair: a
simple agitator had almost overthrown French monarchic power
by bringing together citizen groups hostile to the intervention of
the inquisitors. In 1317-18 the excessive zeal of Michel Le Moine,
the Franciscan inquisitor of Provence, had enflamed the Beguin
resistance in the Midi by exalting the martyrs of Marseille. In
1321-22 in Narbonne, the inquisitor Jean de Beaune's lack ofjudg-
ment led the pope to untested ground. The inquisitor did not
always measure the impact of his acts, and above all he could act
too publicly, at least in the initial phase of an inquest (the procla-
mation of the inquest) and in its concluding phase (the general
declaration); thus, it was the public dispute between the inquisi-
tor ofCarcassonneJean de Beaune and the Franciscan lector of
40 l'hapter One
the convent of Narbonne, Berenger Talon, that had provoked the
revival of the debate on the poverty of Christ. Finally, and above
all, the inquisitor enjoyed a certain independence as compared
to the papacy: on the one hand, his nomination also depended
on the good will of the master general of the Dominicans or
of the general minister of the F'ranciscans; on the other hand,
he could sometimes align himself with royal power. One might
wonder whether the different descriptions of the inquisitors of
Carcassonne and Toulouse, between 1320 and 1330, mentioned
in the letters (cited earlier) by Guilhem de Peyre Godin and then
by the pope, did not convey this perception: in the first case, the
cardinal was addressing "the inquisitor of heretical perversion in
the region of Carcassonne"; in the second case, he was "the in-
quisitor of heretical perversion, deputy of the apostolic See in the
kingdom of France, in residence in Carcassonne." This second
description insists on the fact that inquisitional power indeed
derived from the papac'}'- In fact, the southern Inquisition, after
the rumblings caused by the Bernard Delicieux affair, in which
the royal officers had tolerated or even supported the Franciscan
troublemaker, had been used by the monarchy largely for its own
ends, as is shown by what occurred with the Templars.
Furthermore, the pontiff was quite irritated with the lack
of respect certain inquisitors showed for the law. Thus, in r33r
he received and approved the complaints of master Giovanni
Anselmo of Genoa, a surgeon, and of Reginald de Cravant,
cleric of the diocese of Auxerre, who had been falsely accused of
heresy and of performing evil spells by the inquisitor of France,
Aubert de Chiilons, and by the bishop of Paris, Hugues Michel of
Besans;on. The pontiff reproached them for having acted with-
out establishing any previous crime, without respecting judicial
order, without permitting any legitimate defense. 83 One need
not imagine a John XXII concerned with justice out of any pro-
fessional training: as we have seen, the order of law enabled the
careful establishment of truth, which was much more important
than repression. The case of the censure of Olivi's commentary
on the Apocalypse shows this well: the text was dangerous since
The judicial Institution o_/Demo11ology 4r
it directly inspired the Beguins by means of abbreviations and
translations into the vernacular. The antipontifical content of
this text was clear. However, the pope used four different com-
missions directly or indirectly for eight years (1318-26), with a
supplemental inquest in r322, before reaching a condemnation.
The repressive result was certainly acquired as of 1318, but it was
important to meticulously follow the paths of the error. This
concern appears clearly in a letter of 1330 written by the pope
to Henri de Chamay, inquisitor of Carcassonne: 84 Henri had
succeeded in arresting two Italian heretics who had confessed
to their crime. The pontiff warmly congratulated the inquisitor
but firmly ordered him to pursue the inquest, even though he
already had in hand all the elements needed to sentence them:
"Because we believe that you should have known a more ample
truth [novisse te plenius credimus veritatemJ on the subject of
why they had been brought to you, we wish and it pleases us that
having God alone before our eyes, you watch, according to the
demands ofjustice, not to neglect what you know to be adequate
in this matter."
These recommendations were not purely formal: the logic
of the Inquisition did not lead it simply to the incrimination
of demoniacs. The institution remained profoundly theological
and not juristic. The procedural foundation of the Inquisition
rested less on automatic prosecution and the inquest than on a
third form of prosecution (alongside the inquisitorial procedure
and the accusatory procedure) defined by Innocent Ill in canon
8 of the Lateran Council: the "evangelical denunciation," the
issue of fraternal correction. Now, denunciation directed the
prosecution toward penitence. The confession, rapidly obtained
by threat, terror, or torture, led to a request for absolution, dearly
negotiated. It was important to the inquisitor to obtain that
confession as quickly as possible, without spending too much
time on the inquest into the fama or on the truth, which was
neutralized by the confession. Paradoxically, the accused had the
best chance with the summary procedures dear to the pope than
with the Inquisition, because the truth could force the pope to
42 Chapter One
show indulgence, whereas the mechanics of inevitable guilt of
every sinner led every accused into the penal collectivity of the
Inquisition.
It is perhaps these problems of procedure that provoked what
Jean-Patrice Boudet pleasantly called a "delayed ignition" in the
pursuit of sorcerers in the fourteenth centu1y: as long as the pa-
pacy was reticent to delegate its power of inquest, the practical
limits of papal justice prevented the associated distribution of
charges and repression. And it was precisely the forced abandon-
ment of papal absolutism, after the councils of Constance and
Basel in the fifteenth century, that opened up the first judicial
and doctrinal campaigns against sorcerers and worshippers of
demons in the r43os. But the rapid development of demonology Satanic Sacraments? Enrico del
had been well prepared by John XXII.
In 1320, unlike many inquisitors, the pope wanted to consider Carretta' s Discovery
clearly the obscure zones through which the Devil might pass.
'"fhis is why) in rnatters concerning spells, it was more irnportant The work of the commission assembled by John XXll in 1320 is
to John XXII to assemble opinions on the complex relationships the focus of the present chapter; that work involved the discussion
that brought together magic, the invocation of...Qcmons, and and clarification of the pope)s suggestions regarding his consider-
heresy than it was to punish. And one of the theologians he ing the invocation of demons a heretical act. Furthermore, one of
consulted indeed enabled him to find the most complete answers the contributions of the commission was to give a nevv and strong
to his questions. meaning to the Satanic ritual that was considered to be analo-
gous to and the mirror image of the divine sacrament) the central
institution of the Christian religion: through the sacrament, God
grants the faithful his effective grace through rituals instituted by
the Church. The theology of the twelfth century had formalized
the scptenary of the sacra1nents, but the two principal sacraments
ren1ained baptisrr1 and the Eucharist, which were precisely the
sacraments used and distorted by worshipers of Satan.

The Consultation ofIJ20

The con1mission's task was not sin1ple: if the pope's wishes and
the practice of repression tended to call n1agicians and invok-
ers of demons heretical, the doctrinal and judicial justifications
were lacking. The Church had a solid tradition concerning the
44 Chapter T'wo
definition of heresy, Inquisitorial procedure had brought about
the development of inquiry and a knowledge of the extent of
dissidence, but it had hardly made any innovations in the defi-
nition of heresy, a domain reserved for the papacy and clarified
by theologians, Furthermore, even within the strictly defined
framework of heresy as an obstinate error regarding faith, the-
ologians had often shown strong resistance to excessive or careless
incriminations, as is proven in the many cases of university cen-
sure, And so it was a bold step that John XXII was taking in 1320
in convoking a commission of experts assigned to find doctrinal
foundations for treating invokers of demons and other magicians
as heretics.
The pope had asked four precise and detailed questions of the
theologians and prelates whom he consulted: is a person who,
following the Catholic form, baptizes an image with the goal
of committing evil acts heretical or simply a caster of spells?
(question r)! The same question was asked on the subject of
someone who baptized a Christian a second time in order to give
him the power to cure his epilepsy (question 2), of someone who
used consecrated hosts to cast spells (question 3), or, finally, of
those who invoked demons in the goal of commanding them to
harm others (question 4), 2
In principle, the first three operations targeted did not nec-
essarily require the invocation of demons as mentioned in the
fourth question, The magical use of the host was sometimes
practiced without having recourse to the Devil, as is seen in
many tales of miracles, The aggression against the consecrated
host could itself have purely human motives and means: in the
1270s Henry of Ghent envisioned the possibility that a Jew might
strike the host through a desire for experimentation [experimen-
tum J before deciding to convert. 3
In any event, in the context of the beginning of the fourteenth
century, many judicial cases had clearly implicated the Devil's
association with cases of the baptism of images to cast evil spells.
We have already seen the case of Hugues Geraud, bishop of
Cahors, but the older case (1308) of Guichard, bishop of Troyes,
Satanic Sacrarnents? 45
was even clearer. A.ccording to the articles of accusation of
William ofHangest, the royal bailiff of Sens, Guichard, wanting
to get rid of Qyeen Jeanne de Navarre, the wife of Philip the
Fair, went with a religious figure "who possessed the science of
invoking demons" to a magician woman. The demon, invoked
after having received homage from tbe prelate, advised Guichard
to have a wax image made and to baptize it in the name of the
queen, then to stab the figurine. He did as he was told, in the
presence of godfathers and godmothers of the image, and ul-
timately Qyeen Jeanne died. 4 This tale brings to light all the
activities gathered together by the new demonology: the invo-
cation of the Devil, the pact, evil spells, It goes without saying
that this sequence, frequently repeated, closely linked the call to
demons with the various practices mentioned in the first three
questions, even if the different experts, in their desire to care-
fully examine the matter, considered other motivations before
broaching the question of the invocation of Satan,
The Ten Experts
The choice of experts, prelates, or high-level masters was appar-
ently made in function of their actual presence in Avignon at
that particular moment, John XXII, who was constantly creating
commissions on any subject that worried or interested him, often
took advantage of the passage of prelates or abbots through the
Curia, on the occasion of a visit or a trial, to fill out the circle of
his experts. Members of the regular orders made up almost all of
the commission of 1320 (two Dominicans, two Franciscans, three
Augustinians, one Carmelite, and one Cistercian), Most of the
members were theologians, Let us follow the order of responses
from the manuscript to briefly present the ten authors,
'I'he Dominican Augustin l(aZotiC, born in Trogir, Croatia,
around 1260, was, since 1303, the bishop of Zagreb. He came
to the Curia after unforeseen political events: in 1318 he had
been delegated to the pope by the Hungarian-Croatian bishops
during their conflict with the king of Hungary, Charles-Robert
46 Chapter Tv.!o
of Anjou, In r322, the pope transferred him to the bishopric
of Lucera, in the kingdom of Naples, He participated in the
consistory of March 6, 1322, within sight of the drawing up of
John XXII's bull Cum inter nonnullos, which condemned the
doctrine of the absolute poverty of the Spiritual Franciscans, He
died in 1323 and was beatified in 1700, 5
Johannes Wulfingvon Schlackenwerth was a doctor in decrees
and laws and had been a protonotary of the king of Bohemia in
1303, Bishop ofBrixen from 1306, he was transferred to Bamberg
in 1322, then to Freising in 1323, and died in 1324, 6 He had also
participated in the consistory of March 6, 1322,
The Dominican Jacques de Concotz, penitentiary and confes-
sor of the pope, came from a family in Qyercy, whose members
were close friends of John XXIL He had been a lector in the
Dominican convents of Cahors, Figeac, PCrigueux, Montpel-
lier, Condom, Agen, and Bordeaux from 1300 to l3I7' He was
bishop of Lodeve from 1318 to 1322, Before 1322 he had been
responsible for the docu1ncnt of accusation against the Spir-
itual Franciscans, which was initiated after an accusation by
Bonagrazia di Bergamo, a conventual F'ranciscan who later
switched to the other side, Jacques de Concotz recommended not
pursuing the Spirituals, to the great displeasure of the pope, 7 The
pope nevertheless named him archbishop of Aix-en-Provence, in
spite of grumbling and protests, Bonagrazia held that post from
1322 until his death in 1329,
The Franciscan Enrico de! Carretto belonged to a powerful
Genoese family, whose members were related to and allies of
the Fies chis, 8 Bachelor of theology at Paris, he had been a lector
at the Franciscan studiuni at Bologna. There he wrote a very
unusual commentary on the visions of Ezekiel. 9 Then he was
named bishop of Lucca by Pope Boniface VIII in 1300, against
the wishes of the canons, During the political disturbances that
fomented in Lucca, he was forced to leave the town and settled
in Avignon in the first years of the pontificate of John XXIL It
was on that occasion that the pope named hirn one of the experts
responsible for examining the case of the Spiritual Franciscans in
Satanic Sacrarnents? 47
1318, before including him in the preparatory discussions of the
bull Cum inter nonnullos, even though his text was not included
in the collection of opinions but was kept separately, 10 He died
m 1323,
In 1308, well before that investigation and even before the
pontificate of John XXIl, Enrico del Carretta had written syn-
odal statutes for his bishopric 11 Chapter 43 of this text deals with
the prohibition of incantations: any "person engaging in spells,
incantations and divination" would be excommunicated. 12 The
short article indicates the aims of those incantations; they in-
volved the provocation of abortions or sterility or even conjugal
1
impotence. Granted this interdiction was rather innocent 1 but
one detail shows that the bishop firmly believed in the effective
power of incantation: at the end of his article, he decreed that ac-
tion would be taken "unless the incantation was done with divine
or medicinal words for the liberation of the sick." 13 Liturgical
(exorcism) and medical (charms) incantations were legitimate
and comparable in how they were carried out. 14
The Carmelite Guido Terreni, 15 of Catalan origins, had been
the student of Godfrey ofFontaines, then master regent at Paris
(ca, 1312-16), where two of his disciples were John Bacontho1pe
and Sigebert of Bekke, He was regent of the studium generale of
the Carmelites in Avignon and lector at the Sacred Palace (13r7-
r8), provincial prior of Provence (before a new division among
the provinces of Provence, .Narbonne and Catalonia), and prior
general of the Carmelite Order (1318-21), Shortly after the com-
mission he was named bishop of Majorca (1321-32), then ofElne
(from 1332 until his death in 1342). At the same time he was in-
quisitor of Majorca (a commission renewed by the pope in 1332
after his departure). In 1318 he had been delegated by the pope,
and accompanied by the Dominican Petrus Paludanus, to exam-
ine a Catalan adaptation of Peter of John Olivi's commentary
on the Apocalypse, 16 Of the ten experts, he was the only one to
have anticipated or encouraged the pope's interest in the possible
heresy ofinvokers of demons, In his sixth quodlibet, a question is
raised: "Is he who baptizes something without a soul or without
48 Chapter Two
reason and not a man a heretic?" 'I'he date of this quodlibet re-
rnains uncertain, but an analysis of the text leads me to believe
that it borrows from the text of the consultation, written betvveen
i121 and 1323. 17
- Alexander Fassitelli, or Alexander St. Elpideo, 18 prior general
of the Augustinian Order from 1312 until his death in 1326, had
been master of theology at Paris before 1308. He had been a
1nen1ber, in 1309-ro, of the commission of theologians respon-
sible for examining the case of the mystic Marguerite Porete,
author of the Miroir des simples Cones, who was accused of heresy
and burned in Paris on June 1, r3ro. He belonged to the cohort
of pontifical theologians and wrote one of the many treatises on
the power of the Church (De ecclesiae potestate) that were charac-
teristic of the beginning of the fourteenth century. Shortly after
the time of the commission, he became bishop of Melfi
The Franciscan Arnaud Royard, from Perigord, the brother
of the Franciscan Bernard Royard, auditor of causes of the apos-
tolic palace, then auditor of contradicted letters until 1316, before
becoming bishop of Arras, had himself exercised the function
of lector in theology at Toulouse (13n), then had been named
master of theology at Paris under the orders of Clement V in
1314. !Ie had been one of the thirteen masters who condemned
three articles attributed to the Spiritual Franciscans of Provence
in 1318. In 1319 he was designated an expert to judge Peter of
Joh~ Olivi's commentary on the Apocalypse. A few months af-
ter the consultation, on April 30, 1321, he succeeded Bertrand
de la Tour, who was named cardinal, as archbishop of Salemo.
He participated in the consistory of March 6, r322, which pre-
pared the writing of the bull Cum inter nonnullos. The same year
he was consulted by the pope on the marriage of major clerics.
John XXII transferred him to Sarlat in June 1330, where he pre-
served the archiepiscopal ornament, the pallium, and obtained
exen1ption from archiepiscopal jurisdiction. He died November
30, 1334-
'T'he Augustinian John of Rome, nicknamed Cacantius, from
19
the Parentii family, the least known of the ten experts, was
Satanic Sacranients? 49
rr1aster of theolo,gy at JJaris fforn Nove1nber 30 1319 where the
1 1
Augustinian Order had sent hirr1 as a student in 1298~99, then as
a sententiary bachelor in 1306.
The Augustinian c;regory of I_,ucca was master of theology at
Paris and in 1J22 becan1e bishop of Sorra in Sardinia. l,ike his
colleague Alexander St. Elpideo, in 1309-ro he had been a mem-
ber of the comn1ission of theologians responsible for exa1nining
the case ofJ\!Iarguerite Porete.
. ~fhe Cistercian Jacques Fournier, the future Pope Benedict
Xll, born in 1285, had been abbot of Fontfroide after studies
in theology at the College of Saint-Bernard at the University of
Paris. In 13I7 he was elected bishop of Pamiers, where he pursued
his fan1ous activities of inquiry into heresies (1318-23). l-ie was
then transferred to the see of Mirepoix (1326), then elevated
to the cardinalate (1327), before being elected successor to John
XX]l on Decerr1ber 20 1334, and enthroned under the name of
1
Benedict XlL
As we can see, theologians largely predominated, but canonic
and even civil expertise was not lacking. Most of the me1nbers
of the group already had some experience with the repression of
heresy and had close ties to the pope.
Results ofthe Consultation
None of the experts completely rejected expanding the notion of
heresy, and n1ost ofthern approved ofit. However, their positions
were extremely diverse: four degrees of adherence to John XXll's
propositions can be detected.
r. l"he first two responses are the inost hesitant about the
pontifical innovation. Augustin l(aZotiC, in his short clarifica-
tion, without quotations or claims, appears deaf to the pope's
suggestions. He concedes the attribution of heresy only if the
rnagicians believe that the sacra1nent or the host could also pro-
duce evil effects. But this belief is not implied by the practice
itself At the beginning of his report, moreover, he recalls the
traditional definition of heresy as a false and maintained opinion.
so Chapter T'wo
In Johannes Wiilfing's text, approval of the pope's proposition
intervenes only allusively, as a brief concession [tamen] made to
the pontiff after a long passage in which the author directly re-
jects the extension of the notion of heresy, instead supporting the
traditional position based on quotes by Thomas Aquinas and Pe-
ter ofTarentaise, accompanied by a few claims taken from canon
law and from its most recent glossarists. Furthermore, Wiilfing's
tactic of avoidance consisted of gathering a thick collection of
judicial claims (that is, passages from the Justinian Corpus and
from the corpus of canon law) to show that the infractions at issue
were already seriously punished by canon and civil law without
having to be qualified as heresy. In this sense, Wulfing, despite
his brief precaution, seemed to be the strongest opponent to the
pope's doctrine.
2. Two authors appear deeply ambivalent and apparently at-
tempt to practice a "double speak" by accepting the extension to
the concept of heresy, while accompanying that agreement with
distinctions that partially neutralize it. Alexander St. Elpideo ac-
cepts the notion of a heretical deed while discussing separately
the decision to call its author a heretic. On the one hand he dis-
tinguishes heresy in the strict sense and heresy in a broader sense,
and on the other hand he examines the means and the ends of
the infraction, which lead him to call magicians casters of spells
rather than heretics. And if, throughout the report, he comes
up with phrases that agreed with the pontiffs opinion (magi-
cians "dogmatize through the deed" [facto dogmatizantes]) and
if he proposes that a double infraction (spell and heresy) leads
to a double punishment, he concludes his response by citing
at length the decretal Accusatus by Alexander IV (1260), 20 which
called for inquisitorial pursuit only if the practices "seemed clearly
heretical."
The ambivalence ofJacques de Concotz is even stronger, even
though it, too, uses the awesome concept of "presumption of
law." The Dominican's ultimate position is difficult to grasp,
because his text is divided into two fairly equal parts: the first
argues in favor of the pursuit of magicians in the name of the
Satanic Sacrarnents? 5z
presumption of law (from the judicial decision that does not
require proof), whereas the second part shows that, depending
on the "truth of the thing," magicians are not heretics but the
casters of spells, or murderers, and the like. The first part con-
stitutes a small treatise on the presumption of the law: the law is
subaltcrnated (that is, subjected) to morality, which knows only
unique and variable cases. It can prove nothing. Furthermore, the
magician could be called a heretic, for, through his evil deeds,
he spontaneously admits his error. The external deed has "the
strength of speech" [habeat vim verbi exterius J. By contrast, re-
garding the "truth of the thing," the extension is not justified:
every sin would then be a heresy. Religion and worship are not
confused with faith. The sign differs from the thing. Faith comes
before its confession. Jacques de Concotz gives the image here
of a knowledgeable expertise that provides a contradictory text,
"sic et non," by refusing to take a stand.
3. A third group is made up of opinions that clearly lean in
favor of John :XXII's position, with a few minor exceptions, and
they are all based on a simple argument: these magical practices,
which distort Christian sacredness, imply a false judgment of
the sacraments or the host (as to the mode and the ends of the
sacrament). The magician "seems to believe" [videtur credere] in
the doctrinal contents implied by his practices. Such is the opin-
ion ofJohn of Rome, expressed briefly and without references or
claims: such magicians must be called heretics, and even if they
are not, they must be punished as such. Relying on the notion
of "habitus of infidelity," of behavior showing disbelief, enabled
him to connect opinions, behavior, and actions.
Jacques :F'ournier presents an analogous argument, developing
it further, using many patristic quotations on the institution
of the sacraments and on the seriousness of the heresy that
consists of practicing a second baptism. Nevertheless, after
giving his arguments for each of the questions (which he
condenses into three queries) and affirming them ("I, bishop of
Pamiers, hold this opinion"), he presents at length the opposing
position, which he attributes above all to jurists but also to a few
52 Chapter Two
theologians. His experience in the field suggests to him practical
methods of repression: the priest who has baptized images must
recant his heresy, undergo degradation, and be locked up behind
murus strictus. One would also pursue the dead (fol. 54v). The
final paragraph beseeches the pope to proceed with increased
canonical punishments in the face of a worsening danger
(fol. 6ov).
Arnaud Royard gives a similar argument while adding even
new theological errors implicit in the practice of magic. He
concludes his text with a clear declaration in favor of a declaratio
1
an explicit decision by the apostolic see: it is precisely because
the behavior under scrutiny is not directly seen as heretical that
the Church must clearly define them as heresies. And as an
example he cites Boniface VIII's bull Contra christianos, which
called the converted who returned to Jewish rituals heretics.
The direct relationship of this behavior with the earlier heresy
of the Ebionites could only appear through a "declarion" by the
apostolic see (fol. 44r).
Initially, Gregory of Lucca seems to lean toward the position
ofThomas Aquinas on heresy as a type of genre ofdisbelief[infi-
delitas], by emphasizing the parallel between the articles of faith
and the principles of knowledge, and on the analogy between
the conclusions of knowledge and the aims of moral action. The
aim of the act gives it its form, and thus the sacrilegious act or
the spell is not heretical. The expression "factum hereticale" is
taken, then, in its judicial sense (the charge of heresy) and not in
the sense of an action equivalent to a heretical opinion. But this
initial part of Gregory's response constitutes only the opinion of
the adversary in a disputed question: the contrasting argument
that follows this initial part leads to a clear conclusion on the
attribution of heresy. Two objections repeat the argument of
the opponens, but they are vigorously countered. The response to
the second objection deserves to be mentioned: every sin would
be considered a heresy if one believed that it implied an opin-
ion that would put into doubt the peccant nature of the act in
question. Gregory replies that an act that relates to a sacrament
Satanic Sacra1ne11ts? 53
is specific in the sense that its matter is directly an object of faith.
I_,et us also note the absolute use of the verb hereticare which in-
1
deed corresponds to the pontifical desire to categorize the action
as heresy.
4. A final group gathers together energetic and unfailing sup-
port for the pope's suggestions. Guido Terreni composed a true
treatise. The Carmelite first offers three long developments on
the notions of heresy, superstition, and idolatry. His treatment of
heresy is classic, but his work on superstition, taken as a genre en-
Compassing four types (displaced worship-that is, "excessive"-
idolatry, divination, and magical or superstitious practices, in the
true meaning of the term) is more original and tends to sys-
tematically integrate the practice of magic into a whole linked
to faith. In a second part Guido sets four prerequisites, the first
three of which rigorously and gradually speculate on the notion
of "presumption of the law," dealt with here more ethically and
theologically rather than judicially. One must note the subtlety of
the reasoning: to demonstrate that it is impossible to assign a sure
intention to an act, he takes the classic example of the Christian
who distributes alms not out of charity but through vainglory.
He complicates the example ingeniously by showing that this
intention, relatively easy to detect, can hide another: a swindler
or a thief might feign vainglory and ostentatious expenditure to
hide theft. The interpretation can he pursued indefinitely. Fi-
nally, in a third part, the Carmelite responds in detail to the
pope's questions.
John XXII therefore had an extensive arsenal of arguments
at his disposal, and we can understand better the function of
the consultation: in spite of the inevitable repetitions, each of
the texts at least offers a new argument. It was quite possible for
the pope to construct a solidly supported bull by sifting through
the arguments. liowever there was an essential point concerning
1
which the pontiff must have been frustrated by the collection
of responses (except one). The experts did not attach special
importance to a recourse to demons, and their developments
on the repetition of baptism and on the profanation of the host
54 Chap!er l'n,o
were n1uch rnore substantial than considerations on sacrifices
and invocations addressed to dernons. Worse, this recourse to
dernons son1etirnes appeared as an extenuating circumstance
with regard to the attribution of heresy: indeed, a magician who
worshiped the Devil might indulge in sacrilegious acts only to
please him, without having sinful thoughts on the nature of
baptism and the Eucharist.
Another contribution that provided considerable support for
the pope was that of Enrico de! Carretta, who presented a true
theological argument in favor of extending allegations of heresy
and who constructed a radically new explanation of the effective-
ness of rnagical practices. We look more closely at the Francis-
can's response not only because he was the only expert to provide
strong support of the pope but, above all, because his solution
constituted a true doctrinal turning point and not just a simple
extension of the notion of heresy.
Enrico considers the first question on the baptisrn of images
with the purpose of casting evil spells quite meticulously: he
first exarnines the arguments pro and contra, then successively
analyzes the notions of heresy and spells, before questioning
the ends, the matter, the mode of production, and the fOrms of
in1ages. f<""'inally, he gives his overall solution) his "deterrnination,"
then deals briefly with the other questions raised by the pope.
In Search of the Causality ofthe Evil Spell- God,
the Image, or the Ritual?
The Franciscan's response first establishes the reality of the evil
spell carried out through the baptized image: the evil truly oc-
curred [realiter fit]. And so, '\insofar as it is a real phenomenon
[in quanturn res est], it necessarily has a cause and it must there-
fore have an operative fOrce [virtus], through which it occurs, and
that this force belongs to God, or to the image, or to the Devil,
or to something else [agent]." It is in this initial assertion that the
originality of Enrico's analysis resides: the nine other experts ex-
amined a series of magical practices in which the Devil, a creature
Satanic Sacrarne11ts? 55
of the natural world, played only an auxiliary role. It was thus
a matter of describing those practices rnore specifically and of
finding a stronger punishment for them. The difficulty here was
that Church tradition already had powerful repressive means of
dealing vvith then1 at its disposal, while assirnilating magic with
heresy posed more problerns than it resolved. All deviant prac-
tices could be heretical, since they went against a teaching of the
Church. If everything was heresy, then nothing truly was so any
longer. Enrico, on the contrary, establishes the specific effective-
ness of a Satanic ritual endowed with a unique operative force:
the power of the Devil is concentrated in an act whose occurrence
humans assure and from which they profit. The parallel between
the Satanic ritual and the divine sacran1cnt was already evident;
in both cases, the theologian had to account for the causality be-
hind a supernatural act of transformation to which man lent his
support. The Devil was therefore beginning to leave the natural
order where he had been confined as a fallen angel.
To understand the causality of the effective rite, Enrico ex-
amines the cha.in of actions as it was conceived by sorcerers: the
irr1age is created by a person, baptismal consecration operates ac-
cording to the sacramental power granted by (]od, and its use is
diabolical. It rernained to attribute to each of the realities evoked
the causal element that produced the evil spell: God, the image,
or Satan.
God could accomplish the effect in question, if that effect were
good: thus he produces spiritual good such aS the sacra1nents,
corporeal good (for example, he carried out hcalings in the Pool
of Bethesda or through Moses' bronze snake), and judgments
or sentences against evildoers. This type of extraordinary effect
could only come fron1 the express will of(Jod, not from things in
which he had chosen to manifest hi1nself in other ways, such as
the sacrament of baptism in the case that concerns us here. ,_fhe
divine act always assurnes a connection between the operative
force and the things to which it is applied: "But because it comes
from C~od alone to unite his operative force to things [suam
virtutem rebus unire] according to his own will or that of the
56 Chapter Two
Catholic Church, which acts according to the will of God, to
believe that the operative force of God is present according to this
mode in any deed or any good is erroneous and superstitious.ii
Baptism therefore has no divine effect unless God wishes it,
and sacramental rites and forms have effectiveness only through
divine will. And God could not wish for the effects aimed for by
Satan's minions.
Enrico then eliminates a second possible causality, that of the
image itself, whether its potential action is direct or instrumental.
The operative force that brings about the evil spell does not come
directly from the image, nor by means of its material, nor as a
result of its shape. Indeed, as a material object, "its mode of
action [operatio] is determined by nature; and such a malefice
is not a natural action." Its shape [figural, that is, the fact that
it represents such-and-such a human or animate being, "is not
in itself the principle of any action, except that of representing."
The elimination of this immediate causality produced by the
image had been meticulously prepared in Enrico de! Carretto's
preliminary considerations; he had already wondered about the
efficient cause of the images, their purpose, their matter,21 their
mode of fabrication, and their shape.
The creator of the images is the intellect of man; in the law of
nature (that is, before sin), the images had only one function: to
represent and to signify. In the law of nature before Moses (that
is, between the Fall and the writing of the law), images some-
times received a transcendent function: they sometimes had the
power, given by God, to heal the soul. As examples of this,
Enrico mentions circumcision and sacrifices. The combination
is interesting: without providing justification, the Franciscan al-
most turns images into a sacrament, no doubt because he is
thinking of the model of the effective sign, which would guide
his later reflections. In a third period of time, that of the law of
Moses, an analogous example of an effective image is the bronze
snake, which healed snake bites. Finally, in the fourth moment
of human history, the time of Evangelical law, some images, in
much greater numbers, were endowed with a double power to
Satanic Sacraments? 57
represent and to produce an operative force: examples of these
are "the image of the cross and of hotiness."22 1'his resolution of
a question by resorting to the history of the human race since
creation comes out of a Franciscan tradition born in the 1240s
with Alexander of Hales and William ofMeliton. 23
Paralleling this history of the image that was either indifferent
or good through divine will was the history of the evil image, us-
ing the model of idols. But even in that case the creator remained
the human intellect: it was Aaron who made the golden calf. The
Devil was involved [immiscuit], but without any pact or invoca-
tion. Man's immense vanity and the orders of tyrants contributed
to the production of idols, without the Devil necessarily being
involved. But in certain cases, the Devil himselfwas incorporated
into the image, or even created it. From this analysis, Enrico con-
cludes that, beyond the one and only divine intervention, images
have only one purpose-representation. He grants an important
objection: the book of Revelation (r3:r5), which states that the
second beast with two horns was given the "power to give life
unto the image of the beast." And that image began to speak
and to kill. For Enrico, this is only appearance and in truth it
was Satan himself who was carrying out those acts. Granted, the
Devil attempts to imitate God by instilling power in images, but
that power, unlike divine power, is never immediate; it is con-
structed and acquired through many intermediaries [per multa
media].
Once the direct causality of the image was discarded, Enrico
also rejects the idea of a power delegated [ministerialiter] to
the image by the Devil, "because an angel cannot act without
mediation, unless it is by displacing natural things that can receive
an operative force from its own form." The agent must be present
at the movement he unleashes. Enrico gives examples of this
natural capacity of the evil or good angel: the angel was able to
attack Job's children and house with the use of a stone; 24 it was
able to destroy Job's sheep by using a column of fire that came
down from the heavens. In all of these actions, the evil angel
proceeds through the intermediary of natural operative principles
58 Chapter T7..uo
[mediantibus virtutibus naturalibusJ. By contrast, this mode of
action is impossible in the case of images, since "the image is very
far from the person who is enduring the malefice." These remarks
refor to a constant principle of Aristotle's physics, which was
widely shared by the Scholastics: a natural action can only occur
through contact. 25 We should note a detail: causality rejected in
the name of the natural l.imits of the power of angels is called
"ministerial," which refers specifically to the type of sacramental
causality that Thomas Aquinas, around 1255, contrasted to the
doctrines of contractual causality developed in certain Franciscan
circles. We shall return to this point.
Talking Images
Afrer eliminating God and the image itself as causative principles,
Enrico disposed of a third and final causality: the Devil himself
as present in the image. For the Franciscan, the demon could be
lodged in the image in two ways: he was there as a motor in a
mobile thing or as the signified in the sign, depending on the
type of presence he had in an idol. This last mode of presence
referred to the countless tales of ancient Christianity, endlessly
copied in hagiographic texts, in which pagan statues confessed to
God by proclaiming their pain and their defeat. The divinities of
paganism were reduced to being the Devil, a perverse polymorph.
'"fhese two modes are rather analogous, moreover, since in both
cases it was a matter of the Devil slipping into a created object
and animating it. In the debates of the thirteenth century on
the relationships between the soul and the body, theologians and
philosophers frequently envisioned the possibility of considering
the soul as the motor of the body, but they most often rejected it
as being "Platonic." In the case of the Devil, however, animation
that came from without could indeed be admitted; moreover, it
constituted the principal cause of Satanic possession, even if the
progress of Scholastic anthropology led to a more subtle analysis
of this possession of the soul, connected to the faculties involved.
The taking possession of an animate or inanimate object by the
Satanic Sacraments? 59
demon was not relevant: "[the demon] is not in the irr1age as a
motor, even though he can speak through it, as through an idol."
This possibility, which combined the ancient theme of talking
idols and that of the new natural magic, is illustrated well by a
matter that we mentioned in the preceding chapter: in 1326 the
pope had assigned to three cardinals the trial of several laymen
and clerics from the dioceses of'"foulouse and Cahors who were
accused of having made or having had made "images formed
out of melted lead in the image or the seal of the king, or im-
ages made of stone, in order to carry out, through the magical
arts, horrible evil spells, .incantations, and invocations of demons
and other abominable acts."21' The papal version of the affair is
rather plain and is indeed placed within the category of pursuits
against the casters of evil spells at the beginning of the fourteenth
century. But by chance we have the testimony of the two accused,
the clerics Pierre Raymond Esparvier and Pierre Engilbert, in the
first phase of the trial, before the procurer of Toulouse, in r323n
The accused's version is quite different: they don't refer at all to
the invocation of demons but to alchemical science. Nor is there
a question of a royal seal or effigy. Pierre Raymond Esparvier
said that one day the prior of Saint-Sulpice showed him a piece
of parchment on which an image representing a man was drawn
and made the following comment about it: "I spoke with Pierre
En gilbert to ask him to find me someone who could secretly carve
a mold in stone for me that resembled this image. And the lead
image that would be made from that mold, accordinQ" to Pierre
Fabri, could speak once a month, speaking the truth ;bout what
was asked of it, so that it would tell us the truth about alchemy,
with which we were having so much difficulty." Granted, the
accused had an interest in describing their experiments in terms
of scientific curiosity; but it does indeed seem that the use of the
image was in fact associated with alchemy, 28 even if the practical
applications appear to have been of more interest to the accused
than to speculative research. A na'ive statement by Esparvier in-
dicated that the talking image was to be used for other purposes
since, according to him, the abbot envisioned asking the image
{Jo Chapter I'v.HJ
29
if the daughters of the Viscount Bruniquel had been poisoned.
According to Pierre I~ngilbert's testimony, Pierre 'Fabr.i, the al-
chernist of the group, had clairned that the speech of the in1ages
would reveal the location of hidden treasure to them. The three
,- irnages didn't speak because, according to Pierre 1-<""'abri, they had
not been rnade under the right constellation.
'{'he Satanic Sacrament
Let us return to Enrico del Carretto's reasoning. The possibility
of the dernon's presence in the image itself, as a motor, manifest
or not through speech, is not excluded in the case of baptized
images, but it is not relevant in the case of sorcerers' invocations
since the issue is to explain an evil action that has been produced
fiorn afar upon the person represented in the image. There thus
ren1ained only one solution: the demon is present in the image "as
the signified in the sign" and not as in an idol. Enrico thus turns
toward another causal model, that of the sign. Indeed, he says,
the demon "has effectively established in the image a relationship
of sign as regards the rnalefice [instituit efficaciter in ymagine ra-
tionen1 signi ipsius 1naleficii]: just as the representation [ymago]
is stricken) the person represented [ymaginatum] is stricken."
Even though the magical practice targeted here uses Christian
baptism, the model of the sign thus established is clearly that of
the Eucharist, in which the bread signifies the body of Christ by
becoming the true body. The ordinary sign, which does nothing
but represent, does not actually re-create that which it represents:
the word dog does not bark. The analogy between the image of
evil spells and the Eucharist was understandable for medieval
readers because of the 1nany Eucharistic miracles that presented
divine or human punishment against those who attempted to
harm Christ in the host.
The many uses of the model of the sign render Enrico's brief
text a bit unclear. We are probably dealing with a treatment of
several effCctive signs. We must first consider the object/matter
Satanic Sacnnncnts? 61
of the fltture sign: the bread of the t~ucharist or the wax figure;
that object is established as the signifier of the sign "consecrated
host/' or the "baptized in1age" (sign r). 'rhis last sign is then
constituted as signifier of the sign "Eucharist/body of Christn
or "Satanic i1nagel) (sign 2) ..Finally, this nevv sign stands out as
signifier of n1ultiple effective signs, "that fragrnent of the host
that confers grace," "that evil image that kills" (sign 3).
This triple sign, or at least the second sign that we have just
P?inted out, depends on a creation, an "institution" by Satan) the
analogy of which is fi)und in hun1an society: "We see, indeed,
that rnan uses the circle in a relationship of sign with wine."'"I'his
last example refers quite specifically to the thirteenth-century
discussions on the typology of signs. The circle of iron was used
on the sign of inns and signified that wine was for sale. Irene
Rosier-Catach, who has done admirable work on the questions
of Scholastic se1niology 30 has f:Ound several occurrences of this
1
example in the years 1240-60, from the time of Richard Fishacre
and Roger Bacon: the case of the sign illustrates the conven-
tional installation of a nonlinguistic sign. "fhe case is all the
clearer in that, unlike other rr1ore metonyn1ic signs, the relation-
ship between the sign and the signified was not imitativc.:H The
motivation fOr it must have been rather obscure, even if one can
assurne, without any certainty) that it might have had to do with
the circle of a barrel. 32
Enrico del Carretto had thus finally found the true causality
of this type of evil spell. The ubiquity of Satan and his natural
power enabled hitn to construct a sacrament, that is, an effective
sign, "a sign that effects what it represents," according to the
formula that was ofren repeated in Scholasticism. The parallel
between the Eucharist and Satanic ritual, however) cannot nor
should not be rnaintained in its entirety: the first sign, which ex-
tracts an object from the natural world to place it as a support for
supernatural transforrnation, had been introduced by Christ dur-
ing Communion. Satan did not have that founding power. This
is why he needed to redirect a significant (~hristian structure,
62 Chapter Two
that of baptism, which enabled the separation of the wax image
from its natural state. "The priest consecrates this being with the
invocation of the Trinity in consecrated water, all divine things
that are ordained [ordinate] toward the honor of the one who
introduced [instituentis] the relationship of sign." Indeed, it was
the consecration (water and invocation) of sacred things that di-
rected the operation toward the one who established the sign.
This redirection was enabled through active devotion, the "rev-
erence" offered by magicians to the Devil when they submitted
the Christian rite of sacralization to him: "And because, through
the consecration of the image following the divine mode, such
a signifying relationship is directed toward the Devil, then there
is heresy, not because there is necessarily belief in the existence
of some operating force in the image, or in the demon (beyond
its natural strength), but because, during the consecration of the
image, reverence is shown to the sign of the Devil, because there,
God or his presence is as if in a sign." 33 The blasphemy is related
not to the rite itself but to the act of signification that is consti-
tuted by the "separatio" (separation) through consecration. The
image effectively becomes diabolical through consecration; "it is
spiritually reserved distinct from other images."
Enrico gives a clear indication of precisely where heresy arises.
Calling on the Devil could be done without heresy if the magician
were content simply to call on the natural help of Satan. In
this case, the rite would not be a sign but a simple signal, a
way of sending information to the demon. The image is then
only a favored instrument of communication at a distance, like a
telephone.
If an image has been made through human art, but if it has not
been consecrated, but it is only a simple image through the nature
of its material and the way it was created; if it were struck, as is the
consecrated image, but by someone who did not believe regarding
the evil spell he is aiming for that some operating force resides in the
fact of striking the image, but who believes that the Devil truly has
that power and who strikes the image so that the Devil will strike
Satanic Sacrarnents? 63
the victim of the evil spell, vvithout a pact, or faith 1 or reverencc 1
then the act would be superstitious and not heretical.
Superstition, here, designates bad religious practices.
The purely utilitarian "superstitious)) attitude pinpoints the
1
sin of rnagicians who practice true Satanic rituals: they profess
"reverence, pacts, and faith" to Satan. Enrico rnentions two sorts
of possible heresy in the evil spell: in the first place, tbe magician
might believe in the direct operating force of the image, in the
sense of instrumental causality, as we have seen earlier. In fact,
this first type of heresy, which attributes the object with super-
natural powers that it doesn't have, was fairly widespread, says
our author for three reasons: due to the shrewdness of the Devil,
1
the crudeness of human intellect, and tbe very nature of the deed
under consideration, which leads to a belief in the power of the
image. The second type of heresy consists of showing reverence
to the Devil and of forming a pact with him. This would not nec-
essarily imply a belief but would constitute a schismatic practice
that related to heresy. The notion of pact, which relates not to
a simple convention between those involved but to the complex
and effective rite we have just described, directs us toward the
then recent and controversial doctrine of Scholasticism.
Theology ofthe Pact
Beginning in the 1240s, the great masters of theology (Richard
Fishacre, Robert Kilwardby, Saint Bonaventure, Peter of
Tarentaise), borrowing from the thinking of William of
Auvergne, had constructed the idea of a sacramental relation-
ship founded on a pact, an agreement between God and the
faithful. Here is the analysis of the Dominican master Richard
Fish acre:
If therefore there is something more in the baptismal water that was
not found in it before or that is not found in other water, if one
asks what more is found in it, I think one must not respond on the
nature of "what there is more of~" but "on the occasion of what"
64 Chapter T'wo
there is something more. Indeed, the water is in a relationship and
a rnode of being that was not at work in it before, nor in another
water, and the principle of this relationship resides in will, not in
nature. One must therefore not look onto what categorial reality this
relationship is based, by arguing the necessity that some categorial
reality be added to the nature of water that it didn't possess before, in
which this relationship is rooted. Nothing like that must be sought.
For this relationship is not derived from any sort of nature-and it
is of course in nature--but {)fa will, exactly as the denier becomes
of worth without any change or any addition of anything, excCpt the
relationship. There is thus in the sacraments an agreement, which
corresponds to a pact between God and rnan [Focdus ergo quod
pactum est inter Dcum ct fidelt:s, in sacramentis est]. And it is due
to such a relationship that there exists a holiness in these signs and
that what is unique to God is attributed to thcm.~ 4
This must not be seen as a marginal position of certain cantons
of theology in the thirteenth century; despite Thomas Aquinas's
strong opposition to the contractual conception of the sacrarnent,
which gave him the opportunity to develop his "ministerial" the-
ory of sacramental causality-God delegates his power to the
Church and to the liturgical institution-the contractual doc-
trine had notable success until the end of the Middle Ages: at
the beginning of the fourteenth century, the Carmelite John Ba-
conthorpe ensured that it earned the support of most theologians.
And at the end of the fifteenth century, the Dominican Insti-
toris, in his famous Ma/Zeus Malejicarum, rather strictly Thomist
in general, marks his acceptance of the contractual doctrine.
By applying the theology of the pact to Satanic rituals, Enrico
was doing something new while rediscovering the thinking of
William of Auvergne, a theologian and bishop of Paris (1228-
49). This great inventor of new problematics, greatly influenced
by the beginnings of the scientific changes inspired by the ar-
rival of the naturalist texts of Aristotle, had been the first to
sketch a contractual theory of the sacraments and to raise the
question of the relationship between liturgical formulas and
incantations. 35 He had also presented the hypothesis of the
Satanic Sacrarnents? 65
constitutive force of a pact with Satan in his treatise De legibus.
All the same, the parallelism between the constituent force of di-
vine and Satanic sacrarnental spe.ech was never pursued. Thomas
Aquinas, who had refuted the idea of a contractual causality
of the sacrament, rejected this parallelism. The theologians of
the sacramental pact (Bonaventure, Robert Kilwardby, Richard
Fishacre, Peter ofJohn Olivi), busy with the precise development
of this causality, were not at all interested in the powers of the
demon. Enrico de! Carretta was indeed the first theologian to
deepen and justify the first intuitions of William of Auvergne.
The hypothesis of an institution of the Satanic sacrament is,
however, not completely absent from Franciscan theology. ln
his commentary on the Apocalypse regarding the possibility of
making an image of the Antichrist speak (rp5), 36 Peter of John
Olivi had offered two interpretations, that of Joachim of Fiore
and that of Richard of Saint-Victor, his two principal sources.
Joachim was content with a metaphorical explanation: the law
composed by the Antichrist would appear to comprise the spirit
of God by using signs and teachings of the pseudo-prophets;
in this way, he would give the impression of speaking himself.
Olivi, rather liberally adapting Richard of Saint-Victor, pro-
posed two interpretations that are more interesting for our pur-
poses: "Through their incantations, they [the followers of the
Antichrist] act in such a way that the physical statue of the An-
tichrist will speak through the diabolical spirit that enters into it
through their incantations. 37 Or they will see to'it that the dia-
bolical spirit, like a familiar spirit, lends assistance to the principal
imitators of the Antichrist or to himself, following a perfect imi-
tation of him, and thus such people, through the power of the evil
spirit, will speak in different languages, as was given to the apos-
tles to do by the Holy Spirit." 38 The first interpretation by Olivi,
who read Richard's writings, referred to the phenomenon of the
idol that speaks because it is inhabited by a demon. The second,
less precise, is odd; Olivi adds the verb assistere (to be present,
assist, help) to Richard of Saint-Victor's interpretation, 39 which,
for the theoreticians of the contractual causality of the sacrament,
66 (7haptcr '.f'7..UU
precisely designates the n'lodc of the presence of God at the tirne
of the implen1entation of the sacrament. Enrico perhaps found
support for his views in this interpretation, no doubt well known
in the Curia where many theologians had been working since
1318 to censure Olivi's commentary. 40 (}ranted, he preferred the
first interpretation by Richard of Saint-Victor, perhaps in order
to distance himself from a suspected Olivi, but he shared with
()livi an adherence to the contractual doctrine of the sacrament.
Pact and Agreement
The doctrine of the sacramental pact with Satan could only be
touched on: indeed, a strict parallelisrn between the two sacra-
1nents caused the Devil to be granted an overly "divine" status.
'rhe shadow of Manichean dualism always hovered over me-
dieval Christianity. :t--:nrico, as we have seen, tended to situate
den1onic action beyond the natural world, but it was under-
stood that certain limits should be maintained. This is why the
Franciscan seemed to hesitate between the traditional idea of a
simple "agreement" with the Devil and the doctrine of a pact
with the creator. ,_fhus he distinguishes two meanings in the
word "faith" ((ides), the second, more classical use being the
rational adherence to revealed truths. 'I'he first meaning is de-
fined by the confidence in a promise, a meaning that derives
both from the tradition of ancient Christianity (from the pistis
of the (;reeks up to the considerations of Saint Augustine on
the necessity of having confidence in authorities) 41 and from its
transposition into feudal terms of faithfulness to commitments.
Every comn1itment involving the Devil was heretical in that it
granted him some truth, that is, some concern with truth: "'-fo
believe that the Devil gives some solid assurance because of such
[pacts, promises) and oaths] is heretical, because in that case one
would believe that the Devil, by the nature of such an obligation,
would reap the benefit of a right choice." Here, again, we see a
great theme of Franciscan theology: freedom of choice, which is
fundarnentally the freedo1n to make the right choice, is a divine
.c'i'alanir S'acrarnents? 67
gift granted to the created and taken away fron1 evil ones. l-Iercsy 1
once again, does not even need to defend itself against the explicit
adoration or the affirmation of the nature of the J)evil; it consists
of the very act of asking fOr a contract or a pact) regardless of
their ritual forrns: "'fo request a pact of the Devil, through the
nature of the act, is to believe that the Devil can do sornething
by virtue of a pact." Enrico del Carretto thus tended to ren1ove
the l)evil from the contractual structure that defined the sacra-
. ment and, more generally, the righteous relationship between
man and (}od, since the Devil was not capable of observing a
pact. 'I'o assurne as much by entering into a pact would irnply, by
that very fact, a serious theological error. Just as bad intentions
do not change the nature of an act, and, for example, ahns given
out of vanity is still a good act, so does a pact made in good faith
with son1eone who cannot enter into a contract remain a bad and
heretical act: "Any rnan who concludes a pact with anyone shows
his faith by the very fact of the pact."
f:nrico del Carretto had thus succeeded in giving a new foun-
dation to the classification of magicians and sorcerers as heretics,
but the intuitions and contradictions of the Franciscan regarding
the nature and the scope of the Satanic pact-was it a sim-
ple agreement between two parties, or a fOunding act of an evil
schism-drew a new horizon of concern, well beyond the canon-
ical and theological questions raised at the commission of1320 . .In
the societies of the Central Middle Ages, the constitutive force
of pacts was extremely relevant, a fact of which Satan could make
use. The following chapter attempts to explore this relationship
betvveen a fear of Satan and a fascination with the pact.

The Pact: An Overview
Enrico del Carretto's doctrine on the diabolical pact might appear
as a knowledgeable and Scholastic version of an old, and possibly
universal, Christian myth based on a certain parallelism between
supernatural powers. The human being might choose the bad
power, allying himself with it against the good power, although
he might regret or suffer as a result, for parallelism does not imply
equality of means and ends. Countless folkloric traditions recount
tales of a pact with the Devil in many forms. All the same, is it true
that this theme, central to the formation of the witches' Sabbath,
served only to stoke an obsession with demoniacal sorcery? We
believe, on the contrary, that in the thirteenth century the social,
political, or religious theme of the pact assumed new importance.
In this chapter we attempt to discover the degrees of relevance
and the specific configurations of the pact in the societies of the
Central Middle Ages. But in contrast to this potential contextual
relevance, we first look at the endurance of a weak and common
conception of the individual pact as manifested in a famous
ancient tale fi-om Christian culture, several versions of which
were written during the period under discussion.
T'he Paci: An Over'viev.1 69
Banality ofthe Pact? The Story of Theophilus
The story of Theophilus is very old, since one of its versions is
found in the Life of Saint Basil, written in Greek by Amphilo-
ch10s and translated into Latin by the subdeacon Ursus in the
ninth ~entury. 1 Another version, written in Greek by Eutychi-
anos (srxth century), was adapted in the ninth century by Paul the
Deacon, then by Hrotsvita (in the tenth), Fulbert of Chartres,
Peter Damian in the eleventh century, and many others, before
moving into the universal body of legends and into vernacular
literature in the works of Gautier de Coinci and Rutebeuf 2 The
story's _plot is simple: Theophilus, vicar and bishop of Cilicia,
loses his po~t to a new prelate. As a result he becomes very bitter,
and he decides to consult a magician, who offers to introduce
him to the Devil. Theophilus renounces the Christian religion,
worships the Devil, and draws up a charter of fidelity to him.
In exch~nge, the Devil transforms his earthly condition, and
Theophilus regains his post. But he is soon stricken with re-
morse, seeks the help of the Virgin Mary, repents, and through
her has the charter revoked. He confesses his sin publicly in front
of the bishop and gives him the charter to burn.
Around r220 Gautier de Coinci granted the diabolical pact
special importance. Indeed, he presents Theophilus as a cleric
who lives happily before tying any contractual knot as the
vi dame of his bishop, he elistributes his assets to the poor,without
expectmg any recompense. Divine grace falls upon him in abun-
dance: "His master was not money, which earned him so much
profit that he deserved the love of God." The bishop's confidence
comes precisely from Theophilus's inexperience with contracts:
"His life was so holy that he committed no base act either for a
promise or for money." Theophilus devotes himself to the Virgin
without the slightest calculation; here, too, grace is offered as a
supplement, not as a condition: "Ifhe called on the Virgin when
he needed her, I don't believe he found her deaf." Then comes
the moment, following the death of the bishop, when he has to
choose his career. Elected by the people, he hesitates to accept
70 Chapter T'hree
the office, "for he knew surely that if he agreed to take on such
an honor, vainglory, which brings so many evils, might grip him
so tightly that it would cause him to stir up a gm1t deal of evil."
One must no doubt read in this assessment, by a rnonk of Saint-
Medard de Soissons who came from a noble family, the severe
judgment of the corruption of a bishopric that he had never at-
tempted to obtain. Theophilus refuses that post, but, emerging
from the state of innocence that predated the contract, he places
himself in an inextricable situation: an involven1ent in this world
repulses him, whereas the consequences of his refusal weighs
upon him; another bishop is elected, who removes Theophilus
from the position of vidame. Although refusing the risky agree-
ment with the world, he is still tainted by it and can henceforth
only perceive his exclusion as a damnation. The monk Gautier's
message is clear: as soon as you enter into the world of contractual
involvement, you lose your soul.
,..fhis simple narrative schema was rather effective, and it was
quickly put to use by Cardinal Pietro Colonna in 1J06, and then
in 1309 when he wanted to prove Pope Boniface VIII' s association
with demons. One of the articles of accusation claimed to prove
the existence of a pact similar to that of Theophilus. The car-
dinal reported that in 1294, in Perugia, when Pietro di Murrone
(Celestine V) was elected pope, Cardinal Gaetani went home
furious, had fumigations prepared by his familiar, Constant of
Foligno, "as he was accustomed to doing when he wanted to ob-
tain a response from demons," and locked himself in his room.
Some of his close associates looked through the keyhole and saw
him on his knees, surrounded by fumigations; they heard the
future pope's dialogue with his demons: "How could you have
tricked me? I gave you my soul and my body and you promised
to have me elected popej and now sorneone else has been made
pope!" ,...fhe demons, after this flood of recrimination, responded:
"Why are you so upset? In the present circumstances you could
not be pope, for your pontificate must be obtained through our
intervention, and must occur through means that are an error
in the Church of God; we will arrange all that soon, have no
The .Pact: .lln ()veruie'w 7r
1" 3 'l'l
d.~u bt.... dcrnons exacerbated the pact: they gave the pon-
ie
tificate 1n exchange for the body and soul of Boniface) with a
bonus for them of an ecclesiastical error, that is, the illegitimate
resignation of Pope Celestine V from the papal throne.
The outline of the story of Theophilus is once again reflected
in the crimes of Guichard, bishop of Troyes, according to the
articles of accusation brought by William of Hangest, bailiff of
King Philip the Fair in Sens in 1308. The first four articles present
the reasons fOr the bishop)s anger: Guichard, implicated in an
embezzlement scheme against Blanche de Navarre, the dowager
countess of Champagne, lost his post as influential counselor
to her daughter Jeanne de Navarre, the wife of Philip the Fair,
and was taken to court. He tried in vain to win back her con-
fidence through the intermediary of confidants. Afterward he
conceived the plan to bring about her death. Assisted by a monk,
he went to see a magician [ divinatrixJ and asked her to invoke
the Devil. After paying tribute, he set about baptizing the wax
figures mentioned earlier. 4 On the whole, the great trials of the
beginning of the fourteenth century can be considered as varia-
tions of the story of Theophilus, but variations that ended badly.
What makes Guichard's story different is that it combines the
old schema of the Satanic contract with the theme of sacra-
mental efficacy, since the baptism of the image of Blanche de
Navarre, followed by blows to the wax figure, indeed led to her
death.
The miracle ofTheophilus, however, as it was told in the thir-
teenth century by Gautier de Coinci and Rutebeuf, had little to
do with our sacramental pacts: it concerned promises, arrange-
n:ents for the future, subjected to the vagaries of renegotiation.
Every agreement, even when set down in writing, can be broken
and reformed. It is perhaps this trait that enabled the story to
pass so eas1ly frorr1 generation to generation without any major
changes. Passing into the feudal world could only confirm this
vision of pacts that were certainly dangerous but could be mod-
ified; historians, such as Ganshof, 5 who have insisted on the
ritual power of the feudal agreement, have tended to neglect
72 Chapter Three
the co1nmon reality of retraction, that codified practice of feudal
disengagement or of the imbalance of tributes.
Furthermore, here the Devil keeps his role as fallen angel
without pulling himself up to a level of competition with God; it
is the Virgin who is his effective adversary and who steals his pact
with Theophilus from him. God is far from this battle, as he was
in the ancient story of Job, and he grants Satan the possibility of
a certain autonomous action, while protecting the just and the
repentant through the intermediary of his good angels, his saints,
or the Virgm Mary. Thomas Aquinas clearly envisions this pos-
sibility of the pact within the framework of the powers granted
to the Devil by God. In a question from the Summa theologica, he
wonders whether the corporeal changes obtained through ritual
practices are lawful. The third preliminary argument, intended to
support the lawfulness of those practices, puts forth that "demons
too are able to alter bodies in many ways, as Augustine states (De
trinitate iii, 89). But their power is from God. Therefore it is
lawful to make use of their power for the purpose of producing
these alterations." Thomas refutes that argurnent: "It belongs to
the dornain of the divine majesty, to Whorn the demons are sub-
ject, that God should employ them to whatever purpose He will.
.But n1an has not been entrusted with power over the dernons, to
en1ploy thern to whatsoever purpose he will; on the contrary, it is
appointed that he should wage war against the demons. Hence
in no way is it lawful for man to make use of the demons' help
by [pacts] either tacit or explicit [per pacta tacita vel expressa]."6
Here the pact is associated with the feudal treason that consists
of soliciting the help of the enemy of one's lord through an ex-
plicit agreen1ent. This mundane and external notion of the pact,
as a mode of negotiation between rival powers at a vassalic level,
was quite widespread in the thirteenth century. We cite only one
variant of it, interesting in that it implies a good intention on
the part of the one entering into the contract. In his book On
Bees, written between 1253 and 1264, the Dominican ,_fhomas of
Cantimpre recounts that Jordan of Saxony, master general of the
Order of Preachers, had to confront demoniacal assaults against
The Pact: An (J.ver1..Jic'w '73
the brothers of the Order at the convent of Bologna. One day the
de1non proposes a pact to him: if Jordan will cease Dominican
preaching and confession, Satan will abstain fron1 torn1enting the
brothers. Jordan agrees, and the persecution immediately stops.
But a few days later a divine voice calls Jordan back to the duties
of his Order; the torment is still halted, although now no longer
the result of the pact but thanks to insistent prayer. 7 'fhe situ-
ation is clear in this tale: the enemy is perfectly identified; the
battle in the service of God is not fi)rgotten. But to wage that
battle, it seems wise at a certain rnoment to call a local truce. 8
The story of Theophilus and all of its variants, tales that are
in sotne way outside the vain or dangerous activities of the Devil,
are not as disturbing as the cases of the sacran1ental pact in
which Satan is excessive in his imitation of God, and in which
the willingness of the human being to enter into contracts ac-
complishes a subversion of the divine order. In the model of
Theophilus, the action does not exceed the natural powers of the
Devil, who is perfectly capable of ensuring the ear61ly restoration
of Theophilus's career, whereas the Satanic pact envisioned by
Enrico del Carretto led to a supernatural action. Theophilus's
pact is reduced to the creation and the holding of a charter, a
simple object that can be stolen. In short, we are dealing here
with a weak part; granted, this literary and cornrr1on reference
probably contributed to the wide dissemination of the theme of
the sorcerers' pact, but it lacked the tear induced by the strong
part, which constructed and involved much rnOre.
The two thirteenth-century versions of the miracle of
Theophilus did not take into account a radical transformation
of the old theme of a pact with the Devil, even if they placed
new ernphas.is on the intervention of Satan. Gautier de Coinci
hesitated between two depictions of status: on the one hand, the
necromancer, a Jew, is a powerful intercessor who, through his
invocations, forces the Devil to appear. But in the rest of the
story, the Jew acts like a timid courtier who leads Theophilus
to the Satanic court, outside the town. Rutebeuf~ in his version
in }""'rench verse, written around 1260, takes it upon himself to
74 Chapter Three
describe the intermediary, Salatins, as a necromancer and practi-
tioner of incantations. The poet goes so far as to give the text of
the incantation, which sounds vaguely like Arabic or Hebrew; 9
the function of the invocation of demons, so important to our
concerns in the fourteenth century, thus emerges gradually. Fur-
thermore, an odd lapse, revealed by the last editors ofRutebeufs
text, may indicate some confusion with the notion of pact: a di-
dascaly mentions that the bishop, after Theophilus's confession,
will read his pact out loud publicly. What he reads, however,
is not the charter but a "comrnon letter" from the Devil, which
presents the charter as if the essential document had to come
from the sovereign beneficiary and guarantor of the pact, well
beyond the fragile individual certificate, and as if the creation of
individual pacts had meaning only within the global framework
of a contractual society out of which a sovereignty was emerging
to assure control over it.
Conditional Powers
The idea of a social contract as a legitimate source of power ap-
pears singularly modern. In fact, it assumes a certain immanence
of the criteria of legitimation, without the majestic shadow of
the divinity. We will not attempt to construct a medieval geneal-
ogy of Jean-Jacques Rousseau, and, to clear any confusion, we
prefer the term pact to designate a model oflegitimation of pow-
ers that one might also describe as conditional. This conditional
power will be contrasted to the "absolute" power that, beginning
in the fourteenth century, acquired important doctrinal instru-
ments: sovereignty, majesty, the idea of the state. It will also
be contrasted, moving back in time, to a "vicarial" construct of
powers conceived as lieutenancy. The model of the vicar can be
used rather handily within the sphere of ecclesiastical power. The
pope calls himself the "vicar of Christ," then "vicar of God." On
the earthly level, Peter or the apostles take the place occupied by
the Word at the time of the incarnation, through the effects of
an express delegation. It is oflittle importance that the nature of
The Pact: An O'uervie'w 75
vicarial authorities has been the object of countless discussions,
which the triumph of the papacy at the beginning of the second
millennium suspended for only a short time. Until the thirteenth
century, given occurrences of vicarial legitimacy were contested,
but not its principle, which also played a role in the gradual
sacrnlization of the corpus of authorities, hierarchized according
to their proximity to the original core of truth: the Gospels, then,
in decreasing order, the Epistles, conciliar canons, and patristic
writings were placed on a scale of truth defined by unbroken
traditional transmission.
According to an old schema of church doctrine, there exist in
this world only two types of universal power: regnum and sacer-
dotium, which are, directly or indirectly, organized for salutaty
ends. Lay power, or regnum, proceeds from the same schema of
lieutenancy, starting with the royalty of Christrn Kings could
claim the prosperity that justified their power only by submitting
themselves to ecclesiastical control. Here, too, up to the investi-
ture conflict in the eleventh century, debates deal only with the
source of the delegation: is it God himself, or the papacy, or the
Church? The vicarial construction of dual power, which crys-
tallized legitimacy in an origin, was able to develop quite freely
throughout a millennium: depending on the location of the lieu-
tenancy, lay power had greater or lesser independence.
It seems that this vicarial model was slowly waning at the
beginning of the second millennium. The separation of the re-
ligious and secular spheres, envisaged by the Gregorian Reform
at the end of the eleventh century, made the royal or imperial
function more specialized by claiming it was subject to the moral
control of the Church. 11 Manegold of Lautenbach, a regular
German canon close to Gregory VII, used the word pact to des-
ignate the source of legitimacy of secular and imperial power,
but his meaning pointed out the conditional rather than contrac-
tual nature of that power. Manegold evoked that conditionality
somewhat harshly by saying that if a ruler did not hesitate to
dismiss unceremoniously, without compensation, a swineherd
who did his job badly, all the more so should one get rid of
76 Chapter Three
rnonarchs whose duty it is to watch over the salvation of their
12
peoples and who allow them to wallow in sin. This type of
treatment of monarchs was found two centuries later during an-
other investiture conflict between Boniface VIII and the king of
France, Philip the Fair 1 when, according to the pope's accusers
in 1303, he was charged with threatening to dismiss the monarch
"like a farm hand" [sicut unum garsionem]. 13
It was, however, less the imperial challenge than the logic of
ecclesiastical doctrine that put the system of vicarial legitimacy
in danger by expanding it and blending it with functional le-
gitimacy. This opposition to a unique vicarial legitimacy passed
down from Peter appeared from several directions: the bishops
demanded their own legitimacy, on the basis of both a continu-
ous transmission beginning with the apostles and the eminence
of the pastoral function, notably during the great crises that,
particularly between 1280 and 1290, set the seculars against the
mendicants who were protected by the pope. The priesthood it-
self, whose representatives, in the same circumstances, identified
with the tradition of the seventy disciples, focused more and more
on holiness and absorbed the notions of auctoritas, magisterium,
and ministerium.
Furthermore, the schema of dual power was threatened by the
demands of a third power, whose structural presence was delin-
eated in the primitive Church by the charismatic and prophetic
functions. Granted, by the third century these functions had been
integrated into the "priestly/episcopal" function, but the renewal
of prophetic and mystical inspiration beginning in the twelfth
century, along with the development of university knowledge,
which led to that third source of power being named studium,
succeeded in rendering the legitimacy of any exercise of power
conditional and disputable. 14
In sum, through increased proclamations of usefulness, the
legitimacy of the exercise of power was questioned from all
directions, subjected to the imperative of justification, within
the no doubt confused and poorly designed framework of an
implicit pact, which was rendered explicit in times of crisis or
The Pact: An Overview 77
tensions 1 forn1ed with a view to salvation or good govcrnn1ent.
It is this broad pact that Pope John XX!! invoked in his letter of
April 221 1317, which commissioned a preliminary investigation
of the bishop Hugues Geraud, accused of attempting to poison
and of casting a mortal spell on the pontiff and the cardinals,
"through the effects of bestial savagery and by in fact violating
the entire pact of human nature [omni quasi humane nature ...
federe violato] which, by establishing among all men a certain
kinship, established that it was unworthy [nephas] to attack each
other." Further on, the pontiff issued a warning to the world:
once the pact of confidence is broken [rupto fidclitatis federe],
"what place of government could be safe?" 15
If we go from the abstraction of universal powers to the con-
crete reality of relationships of power, we once again find the
same emergence of constituent contracts.
The Pact as a form of Collective Action
One might, of course, assume that the structures of feudal so-
cieties, by transcribing the relationships of domination into sin-
gle and mutual agreements, contributed to the proliferation of
the idea of an established pact. The feudal agreement did not,
however, constitute the essential part of the contractual edifice
of the Middle Ages. The agrarian revolution at the beginning
of the second millennium produced a proliferation of forms of
association, either competitive or complernentary: beginning in
the eleventh century, parishes, villages, rural communes, ~nd
. . were create d.1'' A part of these forms of social orga-
se1gneur1es
nization, separate from the earlier, global institutions, was based
on mutual agreement. In a more formal manner, from the early
twelfth century on, an increasing number of legally constituted
societies, corporations of all types, were established on the princi-
ple of mutual contractual obligations. 17 Starting in the thirteenth
century confraternities were forrned and underwent a remarkable
developmentrn The principle of a sworn agreement, of mutual
aid) was constant. The virtual power of these communities was
78 Chapter T'hree
often perceived as a threat by the clerical and lay authorities, who
constantly attempted to control thern.
Civil law exuberantly increased contractual categories, end-
lessly embellishing the new contrast between the inudcii pact
(a second category of Roman law) and "clothed" pact (an inge-
nious medieval spinning of the Roman metaphor).
Beginning in the mid-thirteenth century, the notion of con-
tract, derived in part from a Romanist interpretation of feudal
relationships, began to be used much more generally and was
even extended to sacramental theology, as we have seen. 1~hus
Pope Innocent IV, in his commentary on the Decreta!s, written
before his pontificate, had dealt with the question ofjust war and
the problems that it raised within the lord-vassal relationship.
l--Iis solution was to consider the lord as the inandator of an action
and the vassal as the mandatee. ln Roman law, the mandate was a
free and honorable contract. In those conditions, a mandatee who
had been wronged could request legal reparations through the
procedure of actio mandati contraria. But the mandate could be
criminal, and in penal law the term mandator also designated the
one behind a crime. 19 The contract was thus generally considered
the most solid foundation of relationships between people: the
twenty-first article of accusation against Boniface VIII, written
on August 3, 1310, by Guillaume de Nogaret and Guillaume de
Plaisians, mentions that the pope "broke easily and without just
cause contracts, pacts, and conventions that he had promised to
folfill and observe."w
Effective action, at the beginning of the fourteenth century,
was thus easily thought of in terms of contractual associations:
in September i331 John XXII urged the bishops of Langres,
Constance, and Strasbourg to "unite together through a league
and a confederation" [vos per ligarn et confederationern invicem
uniretis]. 21 It was precisely the effectiveness of a good league
that emphasized the potential harm of an evil league, whether
political (such as the league of the Flemish cities that the pope
constantly denounced at the beginning of his reign) or Satanic.
This contractual conception of society was supported by another
1'he Pact: An () uervieu
0 79
medieval invention-that of the "moral person" or the i'fictive
person"22 -owed to canon law and developed in the r25os by
Pope Innocent IV. This category constituted the abstract unity
of judicial existence. lt was radically distinguished from the em"
pirical individual, from Peter or Paul. A church, a pre bend, could
constitute a person. The person was defined by his social rele-
vance and thus by his participatory attributes: the person is that
being who is able to buy to sell, to bequeath, and to receive a
1
legacy, capable of error and of punishment. A person may consist
of several empirical individuals, or inversely an individual could
1
include several persons. This considerable novelty, which estab-
lished an entire enduring area in the law of societies in that era,
1
goes well beyond the practical realm of the complex management
of Church property.
The Practice of the Pact: The Syndicate o/Albi
The pact, as a fiJndamental social institution, thus corresponded
to an irnage of the legitimate foundation of power on a local
scale, apart fron1 the great authorities and traditions (the einpire
and the papacy). This is illustrated by an episode during the trial
of the Franciscan Bernard Delicieux in 1319. We may recall that
the Franciscan was imprisoned in 1317 in Avignon after attempt-
ing to organize the defense of the Spirituals, who were being
pursued by Pope John XXIl. But the persecution he himself en-
dured was not related to deeds of"Beguinisrn," of support for the
Franciscan extrernists, but to earlier infractions (the poisoning of
Pope Benedict XI, obstruction of the Inquisition, and conspiracy
against the king of France with a view toward ousting hirr1 from
Languedoc in favor of Prince Ferrand ofMajorca).
The pope's two judges delegate, in their sentencing of
December 1319, included an opinion that accused Delicieux of
fraud and of using fraud in a pact made with the citizens of Albi.
This accusation reveals a fairly precise example of the public use
of the pact. In 1300 Bernard Delicieux, who at the tirne was lector
at the convent in Carcassonne, had begun his career as a sworn
80 Chapter Three
enemy of the Dominican Inquisition by succeeding in thwarting
posthumous actions against the notable Castel Fabre, who had
died in 1278 and who was suspected of believing in Catharism.
In the months that followed, Delicieux was sent to the convent
at Narbonne, where he extended his range of action by offer-
ing to help the citizens of Albi in their struggle against their
bishop, Bernard de Castanet, a great persecutor of heretics. 23
Here too the Franciscan was remarkably successful, notably in
exposing the grievances of the citizens of Albi at the court of
Philip the Fair at Senlis. The king reprimanded Bernard de Cas-
tanet harshly and de facto banished the Dominican Inquisition
from the city. It was at that moment that Delicieux entered into a
notarized pact, a syndicate agreement [syndicatus], with his local
allies.
The judges delegate did not consider the constitution of an
Albigensian syndicate, formed to defend the inhabitants against
their bishop and the inquisitors, to be a crime. They reproached
Bernard for having falsified the contract of mutual obligation
without the consent of the parties involved:
Indeed, the same Brother Bernard, during the frantic pursuit of such
matters [the struggle against the Inquisition], has committed the
crime of forgery. Indeed, whereas the consuls and the community of
Albi had placed syndics to pursue the same matters, unbeknownst to
said consuls and communities, under his dictate and on his order, the
following point was added to the document that had been received
to be seen by this syndicate and out of which a notarized document
was prepared: "in pursuing these matters, said syndics could receive
loans, as they saw fit to each and all, and to obtain the payment they
could force the cornmunity of Albi and the people that are members
of it to hold hostages; the same syndics or their proxies [potestas]
shall not be removed by said community nor by said consuls as long
as the causes they are pursuing against the bishop and the inquisitors
arc not completely concluded before the Holy See." 24
In the judges' opinion, this syndicate emanated from the en-
tire Albigensian community, as represented by the consuls. Such
The Pact: An Overvie'w 8I
a contract, in itself: was valid. Bernard DClicieux presented the
pact as emanating from the entire Albigensian collectivity~ with-
out the consuls, under the circumstances, enjoying a specific
status; Bernard had acted as a sage among all the sages of the
community who could modify the contract before it was read
and sealed. The syndicate reconstructed the town on the basis of
a general participation, without being limited to the traditional
forms of authority. Bernard's additions were not immaterial: they
concerned a sort of general tax meant for action beneficial to all,
levied depending on individual fortunes,2 5 and they created a
means of coercion. In other words, the new Albigensian syndi-
cate created a sort of political sovereignty.
The judicial opinion of the pact of Albi is thus sufficiently
clear. The pact was not criminal in itself: it constituted a danger-
ous instrument when it was concluded with a suspect individual.
If one attempts to find a historical referent beyond this judi-
cial screen, it seems likely that the syndicate had been imposed
on the Albigensian consular authorities by Bernard Delicieux
and his local allies. The struggle against the bishop and the In-
quisition did not bring together all of the ruling strata of the
city; the favor the Franciscan appeared to enjoy with the king
of France at the time enabled an active minority to force the
consuls into an agreement, the effectiveness of which was the
result of the balance of power that existed in the city at that
time.
The Plot: An Evil Pact
The syndicate of Albi caused the judges to begin to make a
connection between a contractual association and a treacherous
plot. However, the two judges delegate did not continue on that
path and kept the two matters separate from each other, although,
for Bernard Delicieux, who throughout his career showed his
political sense, the failure of Albi's local power structure certainly
led to a broader plan for the establishment of a kingdom of
Languedoc to be ruled by Ferrand of Majorca.
82 Chapter Three
In other circumstances, however) the relationship between the
contractual form of organization and subversive activities was
postulated by various judicial commissions under the pontificate
ofJohn XXII, notably in the case of heresy. Heresy had to create
a consensus and could imply the establishment of confidential
institutions, or of groups based on mutual solidarity. Granted)
the theme of the new synagogue, of the anti-Church, of small
ritualized groups (conventicula), was as ancient as the pursuit of
heresy, but at the beginning of the fourteenth century it took on
particular intensity. An indication of heresy was thus its ability
to engender associations, pacts (jOedera, pactus). In fact, when
the inquisitor Geoffroy of Ablis interrogated those suspected of
Catharism in 1308-9, he always asked them if they had made
a pact with the "perfected" that committed them to receive the
consolamentum, the ritual of departure from the world at the mo-
ment of death. The Latin term conventio transcribed the Occitan
convenenza, which designated a solemn promise that suppos-
edly was demanded of the Cathar bishops from members of the
garrison of Montsegur in 1244. 26
A careful examination of the great trials commissioned by
John XXII would easily show a preoccupation with conspiracies.
During the very first trial (against Hugues Geraud, the bishop of
Cahors), one of the pope's initial measures consisted of releasing
the bishop's subjects from all of their contractual obligations to
him. Beyond the logic unique to theology, which is looked at in
the following section, this obsession with plots had, to be sure,
many political repercussions-" One need only read the pope's
letters on the Flemisb leagues that were opposed to the king
of France. It was probably the congruence of the two logics-
theological and political-that prompted the alarming succession
of major trials under John XXII.
In Ecstasies: Deciphering the Witches' Sabbath, Carlo Ginzburg
has proposed a reading of the Western construct of sorcery ac-
cording to a series of imaginary plots, beginning specifically
in 1321 1 a moment when lepers, occasionally associated with
Jews, were accused of having poisoned the wells in order to
The Pact: An Overview 83
destroy Christianity. Then in 1348, when the Great Plague ar-
rived in the West, the Jews were victims of the same accusation.
Finally, around r375 and more explicitly at the beginning of the
fifteenth century, sorcerers took the place of lepers and Jews,
after the disappearance of the former and the expulsion of the
latter. Ginzburg suggests that sorcerers assumed the Unction of
scapegoat lefr vacant by the disappearance of the earlier targeted
groups.
This schema, despite its precision, leaves one puzzled; on the
one hand, it assumes an enduring logic of the scapegoat, under-
standable in r348 at the time of the stupefying arrival of an epi-
demic that had been unknown for centuries 1 but was less justified
in r32r, which was certainly a time of economic depres~ion but
not one of any specific threat. On the other hand, this schema
associated specific groups that had for centuries been seen as
dangerous or suspicious (lepers and Jews) with a kind of nebula,
hard to define, present everywhere and nowhere. In every me-
dieval community, lepers and Jews were easy to identify in that
they were confined to institutions or very limited places and lived
radically different lives, whereas anyone, without warning or any
particular reason, could be identified as a sorcerer. :Furthermore)
the logic of the scapegoat assumes a constant representation of
the other; yet this status of exclusion was not really fixed earlier
on. This is certainly true oflepers: the beginning of the fourteenth
century constituted the brutal end of a Christian integration of
the illness. Things were a little different for the Jews, who cycli-
cally were victims of pogroms, but in the Midi, Jews were not
automatically suspected. It is remarkable that, during the trial
of Robert of Mauvoisin, archbishop of Aix, who was accused of
having used the services of the astrologer Moses ofTrets, no tes-
timony reveals the slightest anti-Semitism. Inverting Ginzburg's
schema, I suggest that it was not the need to designate scapegoats
that engendered an obsession with plots but rather an obsession
with effective plots that triggered the search for adequate targets.
Although fascination with the institutive power of the pact is
hardly in doubt, it was rarely theorized in the thirteenth century,
84 Chapter 1'hree
except in the realm of sacramental theology discussed in the
preceding chapter. A surprising text enables us to pull together
various n1eanings of the pact and to make sense of thern.
Olivi's Strong Pact: The Contractual f<oundations
of Royalty and Property
This section concerns a lengthy question by Peter of John Olivi,
titled Quid ponat jus? (What does the law construct?), which
belongs to book 4 of his Summa on Peter Lombard's Sentences,
written in the 128os. 28 In this text, which brings together many
elements, the author wonders whether royal power, the right to
property, language, and the sacrament add some form of being
to the world or whether they belong to the natural world. The
response is clear: all four cases involve a relationship based on
an agreement and not on an existing reality. In the preceding
chapter we have already seen how the sacrament, in a doctrinal
tradition going from William of Auvergne to Olivi, came out of
a contractual relationship betvveen God and man.
The most developed series of arguments deals with the type
of causality produced by the royal institution. In what way is it
effective? l''he natural causes of an act of authority or subjection
can be "absent or distant"; one endures, however, the effective-
ness of power "as if the cause was present," "through an express
agreernent" [per consensum expressum]. Words (political, sacra-
mental, or ordinary) do not construct causality itself; they are only
"the voluntary signs of an internal will." Political or social effee ..
tiveness can, moreover, be deferred or conditioned (a donation or
an assignrnent can be promised for a future time or under certain
conditions). This break between the decision-making authority
and the effect it produces indicates that we are not in the world of
natural, immediate, and continuous causality. Causality through
influx or influence must also be disrnissed, for as the source of
the influence disappears (the sun), the influx ceases (light). And
the political relationship continues in the absence of an apparent
source of power. Nothing authorizes the granting of a specific
The IJact: An (J.vcr-vicv.1 85
value to speech or to instruments of power: the same political
relationship can pass through an indefinite number of signs. An
utterance must be co1npleted to signify a power, which shows
that no effectiveness derives fro1n the work of language alone.
I~\nally, a relationship of power assumes an agreement between
the one who gives and the one who receives, between the one
who cornmands and the one who obeys.
Olivi pursues his analysis by showing that power, no rr1ore
than language or the sacrament, cannot be confined either in
a vessel [subjectum] or in "fOundations," or in "dispositions"
[habitudines], or in effects, or in a specific ability to dominate
over free will, or in an accumulation of powers along the lines
of the divine. 2'1 Royal power was defined, therefore) as a pure
relationship, fin1nded on an agreen1ent of wills.
This general theory of the contract can be associated with
different contexts of production and reception, depending on
whether it is considered to be centered around a doctrine of the
effoctive sign or around a belief in the practical universality of
the pact. William Courtenay, who wrote essential articles on the
contractual causality of the sacraments,:io emphasized this second
context. The development of instruments of credit in merchant
societies (letters of exchange 1 contracts for naval transport, and
the like), which occurred beginning in the twelfth century, pro-
vided a powerful model for establishing the fundamental effec-
tiveness of the sign compared to signified reality: the effectiveness
of the transfer of goods carried out through mUtual agreements,
which was made concrete through contracts. 'I'homas Aquinas's
rejection of the contractual causality of the sacrament indicates
an obstinate attachn1ent to the substantialist and inert concept of
money inherited from Aristotle. ~rhe argument is very convinc-
ing and is confirmed when we note that Peter of John Olivi was
the author of Treatise on Contracts written in the 1290s, the fame
of which is derived from the fact that this work greatly extends
the category of lawful uses of contracts for monetary investment
by including incurred risk among the just retributions for a con-
tract that generally the Church considered to be usurious. Sylvain
86 Chapter Three
Piron has shown how writings of that type were composed for
merchants who were assailed either by religious scruples or by
31
the suspicions of ecclesiastical or royal judges.
We may note another reflection on the significance of the pact,
situated at the crossroads of ethics and the economy. The work of
Giovanni Ceccarelli has shown that in the Franciscan theology
of the thirteenth century (starting with Alexander of Hales and
Bonaventure), the game of chance was interpreted as coming
out of an implicit contract between the participants." It ceased,
then, to be perceived as a sort of theft or usury, and the potential
gains were not to be subject to a restitution. That did not imply
moral approval, and a distinction was made between useless risk,
the object of a futile and unpraiseworthy contract, and useful or
necess~ry risk, which could give rise to an honorable contract. As
Sylvain Piron shows, 33 the very word "risk" (risicum) had been
borrowed from the Arabic in the twelfth century to designate
the portion of uncertainty that affected maritime contracts in the
purchase and transport of freight. The danger of the sea, under
the term of"risk," becarr1e measurable. This led to the invention
of maritime insurance in the middle of the fourteenth century,
an institution unique in the world, which was an essential driving
force in European expansion.
The Strong Pact and Divine Absolutism
Up to now we have gathered together the tendencies favorable to
the idea of a genuine effectiveness of the pact concluded between
people, by bringing together elements of the merchant culture
(the practical effectiveness of the convention of exchanges), ju-
dicial techniques (the formation of "fictive" and contractual per-
sons, endowed with an effective existence out of a pure voluntary
creation), and a functional and immanent concept of political
power. In the thirteenth century there was a slow advancement
toward a perhaps not "democratic" understanding, but one that
was in any case representative, of power as a whole. Even within
the Church the pontifical absolutism of the popes dominant at
T'he Pact: An Overview 87
the end of the century was contrasted to the first elements of a
nascent, though still not effective, conciliarism, notably after the
withdrawal of Celestine V (1295) and the contested election of
Boniface VIII.
This image, however, does not take into account the strictly
supernatural power of the pact in the cases of divine and Satanic
sacraments. Furthermore, the most developed and most explicit
concept of the "strong pact," in Peter ofJohn Olivi's work, does
not present this immanent aspect of the social contract that we
have uncovered. We intend to show that the ultimate reference
to the strong pact in Olivi comes from the biblical pact between
God and man.
The Universal Debt
The institution of conventions that established royal power or
property rights does not come out of the world of secular ex-
change and agreement but from a much n1ore ancient and fun-
damental pact that ties God to his creation. The pact, according
to Olivi, was formed at Creation, since it rests on an obligation,
a debt contracted with God:
There is a rational nature which, through itself, and through all that
has been received from God, owes perfect obedience and reverence
to God. It also owes the virtue of unanimous and faithful concord
and friendship toward all rational people insofaras they are good or
can be led to the good; further, from the heights of its intellectuality
and freedom, it holds an order of direction over nonrational things;
due to the supereminence of its wisdom and virtue, it holds a degree
of relative direction over all persons who are inferior to it in virtue
and wisdom; finally, due to the order of its place in relation to God,
it must consider divine will itself, everywhere it is observed, as an
inviolable law."34
This idea of an initial pact earlier than the aliiances of the Old
Testament (Noah, Abraham, Moses) is unique but not without
precedent or posterity. One finds it sketched in Saint Augustine:
88 Chapter Three
"Novv there are many things called God's covenants besides those
two great ones, the old and the new, which anyone who pleases
may read and know. For the first covenant, which was rnade
with the first man, is just this: 'In the day ye eat thereof, ye shall
surely die."' 35 In the thirteenth century, Robert Grossetestc, in his
small treatise De cessatione legalium, 36 had refined this suggestion
by showing that the purpose of the ban on the fruit, without
meaning in itself, was to put two incommensurable things in
relation-God and the creature-to create a relationship; the
sin opened human history on debt and the pact. Much later we
find a new development of this theme in the "federal theology"
of the Anglo-American puritans at the end of the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries, in which two pacts are distinguished-
the pact of works, which since Adam connects every creature,
whatever his religion, to God; and the pact of grace, through
which Christ, by being incarnated, took the place of the bad
contractant, incapable of fulfilling his obligations. 37
The idea of a fundamental contract with God the donor and
judge is virtually present in every Christian or other monotheist
culture and is crystallized in moments of institutional crisis or
reform, when institutional rnediations appear insufficient. ,_fhe
series of gatherings that occurred in I_,~rance around the year
rooo, known by the name Peace of (}od, gave rise to types of
pacts (the word was uttered) in which the faithful committed to
penitence and good in the hope that God would put an end to
the misfortunes of the times. It is not clear that this movement
was spontaneous; it might have masked an episcopal attempt to
take control, 38 but it does give the image of the restoration of
the pact with God as a permanent necessity in the lives of the
faithful.
A more direct linearity can be found, however, and the partic-
ularly sharp nature of Olivi's thought must not mask its context.
From Robert Grosseteste to :F'ranciscan thought, the continuities
are clear: Grosseteste was the first teacher of the Franciscans at
Oxford, 39 where the first theories of the sacramental pact were
developed. The Dominican Robert Kilwardby, who was one of
l/;e Pact: An ()verview 89
its promoters, was greatly interested in the precise historicity
of the divine sacraments, to which he devoted almost his en-
tire commentary on book 4 of Peter Lombard's Sentences. On
the Continent, Franciscan thought derived from Bonaventure
had borrowed the historicist tendencies of Joachim of Fiore,
the monk who, at the tum of the thirteenth centmy, produced
exegetical techniques and a theology of history that renewed
the modes of eschatological expectation. His doctrine on the
three ages of the world (ages of the Father, of the Son, and of
the Holy Spirit) and of their profound cyclical analogy led to this
perception of a unique and repeated relationship between God
and man, beyond the divisions between the law and the Gospel.
In short, the prestige of the theme of the divine pact largely
went beyond the meticulous developments of O!ivi, whom we
should consider as the favored revealer of less distinct but well-
disserninated tendencies.
This concept obviously does not imply an equality between
contracting parties; the idea of the pact referred rather to the
willful decision of a master who set the rules and then awaited
participation. The contractual principle did not necessarily chal-
lenge the preeminence of the Church in the transaction with
the divine sovereign; it put the commitment of the faithful in
the foreground. The faithful, by benefiting from the sacrament,
contracted an infinite obligation that called for the constitu-
tion of a sort of syndicate of debtors, whose organization fell
to the Church. But at the same time, the contractual struc-
ture erased legitimacy based on tradition by making sacramental
effectiveness an endlessly renewed, but never accomplished, er
feet of a relationship between men and God. Once again, the
theological politics of the contract did not necessarily have a
"democratic" implication, as is seen in the exceptionally dense
relationship between the Spiritual Franciscan movement and the
Aragon monarchy, one of the first European royalties that could
be called "absolute. "40 The autocratic nature of a monarchical
management says nothing about its foundation; the contract to
90 (:hapter T'hree
which the truly faithful adhere implies a human freedom and
divine election, but the organization of collective responsibilities
of the debtor party in the divine contract could be made on an
authoritarian rnodel.
,.-fhe contractualist current, however, supported by its refer-
ences to Augustine, disseminated by the rnost influential the-
ologians at the end of the Middle Ages, including Duns Scotus
and William of Ockham, was also present in lay society. The
theory 1night even be combined with a certain political Ar.is-
totelianisrn, well developed in the fourteenth century: Oresme,
who translated the .Politics into French, was a fervent contractu-
41
alist both in monetary matters and in general political theory.
'J'he ultirnate implication of the contract in political matters-
its revocability-had many echoes in a Europe that, until the
end of the fifteenth century, was developing a theory of tyran-
nicide, whereas the Church always listened more to the sirens
of conciliarism. The absolutist effort must be understood as a
response to the contractual doctrine, but also as a reclaiming of
it, through the harnessing and sublimation of individual will in
the service of the common good. The religious theory of the con-
tract lastingly installed debt, both personal and collective, at the
center of the political institution in the foundation of the modern
state.
Pact and Will
'fhe connection between the absolute pact and the relative con-
tract was, however, rnaintained in Olivi's text, at an inferior level,
but in keeping with the superior level of the pact. Indeed, after
having placed this insertion of royal power into the providential
order, the Franciscan specified: "Jn addition to these nvo orders
[royal power and the right of property], there is assumed, either
in the past or in the present, everything through the intermediaty
of which God wants a given right to be granted or held, such
as the choice of men to be kings, the consent of the elected, or
7/:1e Pact: An ()'U1>r'uie'UJ 9I
rnutual conventions such as those that exist between the seller
and the buyer, and so forth." 42 Further on Olivi adds that these
contracts concluded within the structure of the pact can be rene-
gotiated: "One must finally know that, although the acts of the
rational creature are transitory, one can acquire through thern a
certain contractual relationship constructing a new relationship
and a new order, without anything being added outside the act
itself"
This ability given to human will explains the apparent para-
doxes in Olivi's text. As we know, he bases f"ranc.iscan spiritual-
ity on the complete rejection of property, the full legitimacy of
which he shovvs, tnoreover, in Quid ponat jus. But, precisely, the
highest poverty of the Franciscans is a renunciation [abdicatio]
of an authentic right, of the very principle of human right,
through a sort of short circuit that directly links the renouncer to
the divinity. 1~he correct rnanagement of human contracts and
law is in conformity with the order of natural law: such is the
meaning of the Treatise on Contracts; but hurnan freedom can
include renouncing that intern1ediary relationship to construct
a more direct relationship with God, in advance of providen-
tial chronology. This freedom must not be imposed on human
societies: it may be claimed by individuals or by limited groups
that aim for a state of perfection [status perfectionis]. This per-
fect state, instituted by Saint Francis, rests fundamentally on the
notion of a vow: through the vow the human being institutes a
1
direct, not ecclesial, relationship with God, by putting into play
his own will, which he freely gives up to the divinity.
Olivi pushes the principles that animate the Augustinian cur-
rent of Scholasticisrn, as contrasted with Thomism, to their ex-
treme. The emphasis placed on the intractable role of free will
comes out of this tendency. Olivi extended the relational or con-
tractual reading of human reality very far; for him, the "person"
enjoys no unique existence in relation to human nature. The
notion designates the relationship that man institutes when he
uncovers his racine, his free will. 43 Nor does original sin have
objective existence; it denotes a relationship of guilt. 44
92 Chapter Three
In showing the awesome potential of a diabolical sacrament,
Enrico de! Carretta tapped into the temptations and the terror
provoked by a developing perception of the pact as an essential
and unstable driving force in the construction ofh um an societies,
by focusing them on Satan. But Satan was not just a simple target
for the anxieties of the times; in the last decades of the thirteenth
century he had acquired a new stature.

The Liberation of Demons: The

Birth of Scholastic Demonology
The Satanic pact, the ultimate form of worship and of con-
juring of demons, implied partners, contractants. However, as
in the sacramental pact, the reciprocity of involvement did not
imply that the parties were equivalent. The concluding of the
pact was a process implying an agent and patients. The agent
encouraged the pact and gave it strength, while the patients con-
sented to it through their receptive capacity. This chapter exam-
ines the capabilities of the diabolic agent, whereas the following
three look at demoniacal possession and at the new anthropol-
ogy that described the conditions that made diabolical influence
over human patients possible. The concept of evil agent is no
doubt understood more easily and more directly since the most
ancient depiction of the Devil, present both in Genesis and in
the Gospels, in Christ's episode in the desert,1 shows him as
a tempter, a seducer. The Devil is the Enemy, the Adversary.'
Demons are his acolytes and followers. The story of the com-
position of this court of evil, in contrast to the heavenly court,
was well known: certain angels had followed Satan in his fall and
served him faithfully. A simple dualism contrasted seduction
94 Chapter Four
through the flesh, ambition, or despair (as with Job before his
final resistance) with the call of charity (the medieval name for
love directed toward God), of compassion, and of hope.
Diverse representations altered the simplicity of this schema,
however. Already in the Old Testament there appeared obscure
forces of evil, without specific ties to Satan, such as Asmodeus in
the book of Tobias, Lilith in Job and Isaiah, Azabel in Leviticus,
or satyrs in the form of goats from various biblical books. In
Christian history, centuries of the pastoral had constructed or
confirmed the image of an abundant and multiform presence of
demons in the world or near the world of men, although that
population was not placed alongside a coordinated and precise
action on the part of the Devil, who barely figured in ordinary
people's thinking. 3 We know the famous little story of Gregory
the Great: 4 a nun had eaten a lettuce leaf without taking the
precaution of making the sign of the cross over her food. She was
immediately possessed by the demon hidden in the leaf. This
"epidemiological" conception, however "folkloric" it appears, did
indeed have scriptural foundations, since in Gerasa Christ had
enclosed an evil spirit whose name was Legion in the bodies of
two thousand pigs. 5 Thus 6,ooo demons (according to the ac-
counting of military history, corrected to 6,666 by SaintJerome) 6
had been thrown into the sea. This perception of the proximity
and density of demons, whose domain was located in the obscure
and dense layers of the atmosphere, just above the clear layers of
the sky of humans, was shared by Pope John XXIL It was not,
moreover, incompatible with the tale of the fall of the angels,
who were quite numerous, nor with the traditional location of
the fall, taken in its literal sense, since it threw the angels from the
Empyrean heavens, the ultimate sphere accessible to creatures, to
the lower sphere of the dark atmosphere that surrounds the earth.
New Questions about Demons
Until the end of the thirteenth century, theology had shown little
interest in demons, who did not raise any specific speculative
l''he liberation of' Demons 9S
problems, whereas the question of Satan and his fall had incited
some reflection linked to evil, to predestination, and to divine
providence. One of the most illustrious examples of this reflection
was in Saint Anselm's treatise De casu diaboli (The Fall of the
Devil), written at the end of the eleventh century. Nevertheless, it
was the divine plan and its consec1uences for humanity 1 more than
the situation of the Devil, that were of interest. Peter Lombard's
Sentences, written around rr50, which offered the fran1ework for
questions to be dealt with at university, only briefly mentioned
demons. Limited questions, in book 4, related to the f3.te of
demons in hell. Only one isolated notation, in book 2) went any
farther, as we shall see below.
This situation seems to have changed rather abruptly begin-
ning in the 1270s. The first great text of Scholastic demonology
might be the long question on demons that Thomas Aquinas
wrote in his treatise De malo (On Evil), probably in 1272, at the
end of his life. 7 The twelve articles of the question considerably
supplemented the sparse notations in the Summa theologica or
Commentary on the "Sentences," and formed a body of ample and
original doctrine whose importance has been largely underesti-
mated by historians. 8 These articles correspond to as rnany ques-
tions, which can be regrouped into four categories. F'irst there is
a question on the nature of demons (article r: "Do demons have a
body that is naturally connected to them?"). Second, three articles
deal with the circumstances of the fall of the Devil and the bad
angels (article 2: "Are demons evil by nature or by will?"; article 3'
"Did the Devil, in sinning, wish to be equal to God?)); article 4:
"Did the Devil sin or could he have sinned at the moment of his
creation?"). Third, there follow six articles on the capabilities of
demons after their fall (article 5: "Can free will among demons
be turned toward good after sin?"; article 6: "Is the intellect of
the Devil, after sin, darkened to the point that it can be subject
to error or illusion?)); article 7: "I)o demons know the futur~?";
article 8: "Do demons know our innermost thoughts?"; article 9:
"Can dernons change their bodies through a mutation of shape?";
article ro: "Can demons move bodies around?"). The final two

96 Chap!cr Ji'our
questions deal with the powers that the dernons exercise over
n1en (article 11: "Can den1ons modify the cognitive part of our
soul as to its sensory or externa1poweL'" ; art1c
. 1e 12:
"C an demons
rnodify man's intellect?;')_
Ffhis coherent group does not constitute a simple synthesis of
theological opinions on demons; it presents argued and risky po-
sitions that were rapidly attacked by certain Franciscans, notably
by William de la Mare in 1277. Shortly afterward, another the-
ologian, Peter of f"alco, regent master at Paris, devoted four. very
long disputed questions to bad angels by carefully and minutely
showing the points at which Thomas Aquinas had leaned more
toward the philosophers than toward the holy doctors (and above
all, Saint Augustine). 9 Finally, at the beginning of the 1280s, the
Franciscan Peter of John Olivi, in the second book of his com-
rnentary on Peter l,ombard's Sentences, devoted seven long ques-
tions to the fall of angels. 10 Once again, it was the opposition
between Thomas Aquinas and Peter of John Olivi that provides
us with the outlines of the new demonological cartography. We
n1ust therefore look very closely at their arguments. But it is not
a matter of the clashing of two individualities. Other theolo-
gians participated in this exploration. At the beginning of the
11
1290s the Don1inican rr1aster Jean de 'Paris (or Jean Qyidort), in
the same way as the Sentences, brought interesting complements
to Thomas's doctrine. All of these texts, which were linked to
the great controversies of the time, constitute a rich corpus to
which a few others could be added, 12 and which indeed offers
the elements of a true Scholastic demonology whose primary
importance we shall attempt to uncover.
The renewed Scholastic interest in the Devil and in demons
can be explained by a series of causes. }"""'irst, it is possible that
the persistent vigor of the dualist heresies, notably the Cathars,
throughout the thirteenth century led to the necessity of a doc-
trinal response to the fundamental proposition of the dualists:
it was the Devil 1 an evil demiurge, who governed the world
by filling it with demons. Jacques Fournier, one of the ten ex-
perts consulted in 1320, had practical experience with the wide
T'hc Libera/ion ~/I)en101is 97
dissen1ination of dualisrn, L> acquired during his rneticulous in-
quisitional inquiries around l\1ontaillou. In 1241, the lJniversity
of Paris had condemned a proposition that asserted that "the bad
angel was evil at the beginning of his creation and was never any-
thing but evil." 14 It is difficult to know who was targeted by this
nonglossed condenH1ation. 'l'aking it literally, one might sense a
heresy that postulated an evil creation contrasted to divine cre-
ation. Indeed) in his Sentences Peter Lombard had mentioned the
opinion of sotne who said that "the angels had been created in evil
and had fallen without delay. Some have thought that the angels
that fell had deviated toward evil not because of their free will,
but because they had been made by God in evil." 15 ln his trea-
tise J)e nia!o, to which we shall return, 'fhornas Aquinas points
out the error, condemned in 1241, but doesn't see an allusion to
an evil nature or creation in it. }"or him, the question relates to
Satan's instantaneous use of a free will that had made him choose
sin: "Certain moderns have had the audacity to insist that the
Devil was evil at the first rnoment of his creation, certainly not
by nature, but by the movement of free will that made him sin.
But this position has been condemned by all the masters who
were teaching at Paris at the ti1ne." 1r'
Second, the association of de1nons with the ancient dai1nones,
with natural and superhurnan forces that were not connected
to Satan 1 was inspired both by the discovery of ancient pagan
knovvledge and by the new prestige of ancient N eoplatonic or
Arab currents that filled the world with interrnediary creatures
arranged in hierarchical order. The question of "separate sub-
stances" took on new relief in the cosn1ology of the end of the
thirteenth century: this term designated the angels and the souls
of dead humans, who were also lacking a material body, who,
along with the celestial bodies, shared the fact of existing in the
superlunar space, within the first rnoveable sphere. Greco-Arab
peripatetic cosmology, notably by way of the Book al Causes, in-
cluded the Intelligences separated from matter and the agent In-
tellect. We have noted the return of these daimones in the account
of C;iovanni Blasio, 17 during his deposition at the canonization
98 Chapter Four
trial of Thomas Aquinas. This return constituted a challenge for
Christian thought, but one finds traces of it in the twelfth cen-
tury, in the work of Bernard Silvestris, one of the rare Platonists
convinced of this period of "rebirth." In his treatise De mundi
universitate, 18 he distinguishes between the good demons who
live above the moon and the evil ones, the satellite demons, who
incite evil and inhabit the obscure zone of the atmosphere. This
confusion between the angels and the daimones was maintained
through the desire to see the angels participate closely in the
world of men and to make them descend from their Empyrean
heaven. Thus the Dominican Guerric of Saint-C2.\lentin, around
1240, noted that the angels have two homes: one in the Empyrean
heaven, through nature (ex natura), and the other in the obscure
zones of the atmosphere, through function (ex officio). After the
19
fall, the demons retained only their lodging of function.
Then, the new relevancy of the question of demons in the
thirteenth century related to the role they might play in the great
historical scenography constructed by the Spiritual Franciscans'
eschatology based on the thinking of Joachim of Fiore. The
time was near when the Devil would solicit a new assistant, the
Antichrist, who would he supported by the reorganized cohort
of demons, delivered from their imprisonment by Christ dur-
ing the brief period preceding the establishment of the reign of
God, at the end of time, according to the announcements in the
Apocalypse of John. 20 The demons were thus pulled from their
dark timelessness and became active participants in the story of
salvation.
Finally, in the Scholasticism of the thirteenth century, an-
gels had become the subject of a vast inquiry within the great
paradigm that, aiming to explore the limits and virtualities of
the human person, brought together ordinary humans, favored
humans (essentially the Virgin Mary), the Christ-man, and the
angels. 21 This new categorization gathered together souls and
the angels and gave man, according to the expression of Tiziana
Suarez-Nani, a "virtual angelicity," which further increased in-
terest in a study of angels. But the question of will and of reason
The Liberation o_/Demons 99
in angels was to be dealt with necessarily in function of the fall
of bad angels. This is perhaps the question of determining the
primacy of will or reason, an essential point of dispute between
Thomas and the Franciscans, which inspired the Dominican to
study demons systematically, in spite of some difliculty. In short,
the first Scholastic interest in demons came from the borderline
cases they represented and not from a fascination with demoni-
acal powers.
The Nature ofDemons
Thomas's difficulty is apparent in the first article, which deals
with the corporality of demons, in which he asserts that "the
question of knowing whether demons possess bodies which are
naturally united to them is not very important to the teaching
of Christian faith." 22 Granted, he leans in favor of the absence
of bodies, but, earlier in the treatise, concerning the question of
the moment of the fall of the angels he explores the possibility
of a certain corporality. The thesis of incorporeality was only the
most common opinion. This slight doubt might be surprising: if
one admits that demons are indeed fallen angels, it is absolutely
certain that they conserve their nature as incorporeal angels. The
only alternative would consist of refusing that origin, either by
attributing to them a status that is different from that of angels or
by denying the existence of demons. In article 3 of the question,
Thomas, using Saint Augustine, mentions the opinion accord-
ing to which demons came not out of the ranks of the celestial
angels but out of the ranks "of those who govern the terrestrial
order."23 I'Ie doesn't mention the author of the opinion, but it
suggests a strong authority, that of Saint John Damascene. Once
again we find the influence of Neoplatonic doctrines, notably
that of Dionysius the Areopagite. The great prestige of Diony-
sius, constant in the West ever since the introduction of his texts
in the ninth century, and which grew aga.in in the thirteenth cen-
tury, did not prevent Thomas, through his opponent (the real or
fictive opponens of the disputed questions), to reject Dionysius's
100 Chapter }/our
1
allegations as being "Platonic. 'I'he denial of the very existence
' "'VVith beneficent or rnaleficent supernatural powers). A passage
of demons could certainly not be admitted by a Christian the-
ologian, but Aristotle and the Peripatetics were unaware of the
existence of demons and attributed their so-called power only to
natural processes that were badly understood by people. Thomas
thus had to give his own proofs, which related to the theme of
the invocation of demons, so significant in 1320: this denial "is
manifestly false_, for one finds actions of demons, which cannot
come out of a natural cause: it is thus that someone possessed
[arreptus Jby the demon speaks an unknown language. And other
works of demons are manifest as much in those possessed as in
the arts of necromancy [in nigron1anticis artibus ], which cannot
originate in some intellect. "24
In order to escape this difficulty Thomas looks again at the
philosophical history of the discovery of incorporeals, which he
had undertaken the year before, in 1271, in his little treatise De
substantiis separatis, which was never con1pleted. 25 'I'he history is
that of a continual progress in the knowledge of incorporeals; in
an earlier time the observers of the world saw only the corporeal
everywhere, and the Manicheans remained at that point. Then
certain ancients were able to conceive of a noncorporeal being,
but without abolishing its connection with a body: God was the
soul of the world. Finally there came the time of Anaxagorus
and Aristotle, who perceived the incorporeal immobility of the
Prime Mover. Among the first Christians, Origen remained a
prisoner of this schema, recognizing incorporeality only in God,
without grasping the only rational and revealed truth: intellects
subsist without a body.
It remained to place dernons within this historical and on-
tological schema: Thomas thus pursued his historical inquiry,
based largely on Saint Augustine, without following an exact
chronology but an increasing order of approximation of Chris-
tian truth, since he first mentions the solution of Plotinus, who
described the souls of the deceased, calling them !ares if they
were good, lemurs if they were evil) and manes if their status was
uncertain, as demons (but in fact he was dealing with daimones,
The Liberation of Demons JOI
from Saint John Chrysostom enables us to extend this solution
which, without any scholarly reference, corresponded to the com-'
mon representations of demons, often imagined as evil ghosts,
as we shall see in the following chapter. Plato is attributed with
another theory of demons: all beings endowed with a rational
soul are divided among gods, men, and demons; the first are
assigned the heavens, the second the earth, and the third the
atmosphere. Tho1nas's determination ended with a refutation of
the Platonists, without the corporality of demons having been
proven in a clear and concrete way. 'The assimilation of demons
to evil angels and thus to separated substances was done for lack
of anything better. Their assignment to a superlunar residence
had the advantage of confining the activity of demons, whose
incursions into the world of humans, like those of the angels 1
could only be occasional and rare. Generally, the various ques-
tions that were raised about the limits of demons) actions were
resolved by Thomas in a rather restrictive way, whereas his ad-
versaries, numerous and active in the years 1270-90, tended to
liberate the power of demons by challenging the essential im-
pediments to their action and by bringing them closer to human
beings.
The Moment ofthe }all
This radical difference is particularly clear if we consider the
second group of questions in 1'homas's treatise, which deals with
the reasons for and the modes of the fall of Satan. It might
seem that we could pass over these articles, which look again at
the classic question of the fall of the Devil, without particular
relevance to the status of demons. But we would be wrong, for
it is the detern1ination of these questions that establishes the
following considerations on the limits of their power. Just as
Thomas's initial choices curtailed the possible action of demons
in the present world, so do the Franciscan critiques against his
solutions liberate them from numerous constraints.
102 (7haptcr f~our
The preernincnce of intellection over will, in ~fhornas's doc-
trine, rendered this explanation difficult: the goals of man's will
are determined by knowledge. This knowledge, when it is defi-
cient, leads to a bad will, a sin. This lack of knowledge is part of
111an's nature: his rational knowledge proceeds through abstrac-
tion from tangible data and thus remains dependent on the body
and its limits. But the case of Satan is just the opposite: his sin
could con1c only frorn his will and not from his nature, separated
from the weight of a body. His knowledge is of the intellective,
not sin1ply rational type. f-Iow could an incorporeal creature with
perfect intellect sin with full knowledge? How could it "want the
impossible," that is, equality with God?
Thornas's solution consisted of adding a level in the structure
of the act of knowledge, that of the rule (regula), which rec-
ognizes a divine order. Through his intellective knowledge, the
angel knows itself, the creature, and its own essence perfectly,
but to achieve the act of knowledge he must recognize himself
as dependent on God. Satan turns away from this divine order
through an act of aversio, of bad orientation, whereas the faith-
ful angel chooses the good orientation (cOrl'versio) toward God.
(If we dare to make an irreverent comparison) the knowledge and
the will of the angel would be like perfect software that its user
nevertheless needs to register with the author for it to be effec-
tive. If sorneone uses the software without registering it, then he
is a fiaudulent user.) .-fhis rigorous construction implied that the
fall was almost in1n1ediate, since .it involved a bad development
of a creation, not an episode in the willful life of an angel. Any
delay sent Thomas to the aporia of bad will formed by perfoct
knowledge.
,_fhon1as's solution was close, then, to the proposition
condemned by the University of Paris in 1241 mentioned earlier.
Article 4 of his question precisely attempts to reconcile the
imposed doctrine and the necessities implied by his own propo-
sition. He undertook to justify the article of the Parisian masters
(the Devil could not have sinned at the first moment of his cre-
ation) while also attempting to have his own doctrine accepted.
'The Liherati(J11 ~/l)en1011s IOJ
He rejects two bad reasonings: fOr sorne, the in1possibility comes
from the good nature of the angel. That doesn't hold, says
'l'hornas i:Or sin and nature are not excluded since nature is the
1
place where sin occurs. Another reason, which in fact had been
given by Saint Bonaventure, was also fallacious. The act of sin,
like all voluntary acts, implies at least an instant of deliberation.
But, --rhornas replies, deliberation has no relevance in intellective
knowledge. He then gives his ovvn explanation; one must
conceive of two instants that are imrriediately connected-that
~f creation, in which the inunediate developn1ent of the knowing
and willing rnovement that is "connatural" to the essence of the
angel is produced, and that of supernatural validation (aversio
or conversio). This portrayal implies taking the angel out of
continuous tin1e, in which it is impossible for two instants to
be contiguous, according to the Aristotelian description of time.
'rhe subtraction is due to the fact that successive time is produced
by the movement of the first heaven, below the Empyrean
heaven of the angels. 'rhomas Aquinas, here, en1phasizes the
notion of"aeviternity," of aevum a notion that had been recently
1
constructed in Western theology. It refers to a temporality
without continuity, forrned exclusively of instants, comparable
to eternity, with the exception that it is created and thus has a
beginning-"'
1_,hornas's solution, at least the initial fonn of this response in
the first part of the Summa theologica, was attacked in 1277 27 the 1
year of all the troubles, by the Franciscan William de la Mare,
in his engine of war directed against the Dominican doctor, his
Correctorium.fratris Thomae. 28 From William de la Mare's acer-
bic criticism we look only at his radical rejection of the notion
of aevum, which he judged to be contrary to the teachings of
the saints. l . Iere, the Franciscan revealed his custon1ary con-
servatism: indeed, the notion had been adn1itted by the great
majority of doctors, regardless of their mutual oppositions. In
contrast, an influential theologian, the Franciscan Peter of John
Olivi, rejected it vehe:nently a few years later. But his criticism
ofThomas included other important aspects.
ID4 Chapter :Four
ln his long question on the sin of the angel at the first moment
of his creation, Olivi reviews the various and faulty reasons to
reject this instantaneousness of creation and sin. The fifth rea-
son clearly refers to Thomas Aquinas; it is challenged for a dual
error: first, it is wrong to think that the two orders-natural and
supernatural-which affect the act of the angel, cannot be simul-
taneous. Second, Olivi challenges the naturality of the movement
of love of self, vvhich, according to Thomas, constitutes the :first
moment of angelic creation. ,.I"'his love of self, when it is not ori-
ented toward God, has nothing natural about it. Olivi's solution
is exactly the opposite of Thomas Aquinas's: Satan could not
have sinned at the first instant of his creation as long as he was
not "established or placed in a state or situation that enabled him
to avoid sin." In other words, the angel is no different from man:
in both cases, the will unique to the creature damns him or saves
him. Unlike Thomas's angel, Olivi's is much closer to man than
to God.
The Abilities ofDemons
The final eight articles ofThomas's treatise concern the powers
of the demon after his fall, without focusing on the leader of all
demons. Then he successively considers the permanent states of
their free will, their intellect, applied to a knowledge of the fu-
ture, human thoughts, then the possibility of their acting on the
world and on humans in particular. The most striking aspect of
this description is that it is superimposed rather exactly on that
of the power of angels. The only difference in demons comes
from the initial bad use of their intellect, which is, moreover, left
intrinsically intact after the fall. Demons can make false judg-
ments by applying their intellect to realms that are not within
its jurisdiction, whereas good angels abstain from doing so. In
everything else angels, good or evil, no longer have free will, since
the elective choice has already been made. A knowledge of the
future, reserved for God, is accessible to them only secondarily
through access to necessary or probable causes. Knowledge of the
T'he Liberation of.Demons IOJ
thoughts of man is lirnited to conjectures derived from exterior
indications. The formal transformation of beings of the world,
that is, the production or the suppression of substances (gener-
ation and corruption), is equally impossible for angels, who can
effect only specific movements in beings. The human being, by
contrast, is relatively permeable to demoniacal or angelic influ-
ences: granted, his knowledge is protected and in part locked up,
since, on the one hand, it relates to the species, objective .represen-
tations that come from the object to be known, which no creation
can invent; on the other hand, the use of these species depends
on the will and the interiority of the subject. However, sensory
knowledge can be affected by the flow of humors and spirits
(of spiritus understood as physiological particles that assure the
flow of life and of sensations in the human body). Intellective
knowledge itself, protected by its practice of the species, can ex-
perience interference caused by misleading signals (signa).
In short, Thomas Aquinas's demons have no animation. This
no doubt does not simply reflect a limited explanation but a
theological orientation toward a Christianity of tbe light for
which Christ contained and chained up the demons, who would
enjoy a brief freedom only in a short moment preceding the
Last Judgment, beyond a few tightly controlled escapes. The
essential part of their story occurred in the second instant of
their creation. Since that time they sadly manage their mediocre
capacity for marginal and controllable harm. Paradoxically, the
first true treatise on Scholastic demonology no doubt represents
the final moment of a controlled coexistence with the Axis of
Evil, of a cold war with Satan. The power of demons even seems
to diminish throughout the treatise. Whereas, as we have seen,
in the first article Thomas notes that the existence of demons is
proven by the practice of necromancy, in article 7, by contrast, he
challenges the possibility of discovering treasures with the help
of demons, an activity connected to "necromancy": "Rifling in
a grave has a cause; and the fact that a treasure is hidden in a
certain place also has a cause. But the accidental encounter of
these two causes, which means that someone who wishes to rifle
I06 Chapter .F'our
in a grave does so in a place where a treasure is hidden 1 does
not have a cause because it happens accidentally."29 Similarly,
1 questions arc dealt with by means of a simple reforencc to the
in article 9, the possibility of a contract with demons is brought
up, but it is reduced to simple natural causes: "'I'he signs or
miracles that magicians produce by concluding private contracts
are not located above the order of natural causes, as are those
that are produced by divine power, but they occur through the
effect of active natural factors that go beyond the understanding
and abilities of men.n This natural effectiveness has three .causes:
the good knowledge of natural factors by demons, their ability
to assemble them rapidly, and finally, the better efficiency of
their use of natural factors. In the same article, the phenomenon
of fascination) that is 1 of the inductive power of the stare, as
it had been defined by Avicenna, is taken out of demoniacal
supernaturalism. Fascination 1 as it is practiced "by old women"
(one must think of the various forms of the evil eye), corresponds
to a natural cause: the intensity of feelings of jealousy or hatred
affects "spirits," those physiological particles of the human body
that produce changes in the personality of the victim, in particular
if his constitution is fragile, such as those of children.
Jean Quidort, or Thomism Illustrated
Thomist tradition largely followed this tendency toward the con
finement of demoniacal powers, as is shown in the series of vari-
ous Correctorium corruptorii, that is, in the four detailed responses
of Dominican thinkers to the Correctorium of William de la
Mare. Apart from this genre, we shall examine another work be
cause it in fact completes Thomas's treatise on the relationships
among magic) astrology, and demons: the comrnentary on the
Sentences, written in the 1290s by the Dominican Jean Qyidort
(or Jean de Paris), the illustrious Parisian master who became
famous a few years later for what would become a well-known
political treatise on the power of popes and emperors. Ile himself
had written the last of the Correctorium corruptorii. Jean Qgidort
devotes nine questions to demons with regard to distinctions
l''he Liberation oj'Dentons 107
5 and 7 of the second book of the Sentences. Three of these
Summa theologica. Essentially, on the classic questions about the
nature of the sin of Satan or of the instant of his fall, Jean re-
peats Thomas's solutions while expanding and illustrating them.
A question that deals with the possibility of demons producing
true natural effects specifies the limits of demoniacal power as
outlined by Thomas. Jean Qyidort picks up and provides details
:o Avicenna's argument on fascination. We return to this topic
m chapter 6; here we look only at his classification of natural
effects into three types.
First, a natural effect can be produced by the modification
of a new substantial form (that is, the form that engenders a
substance). The effect then consists of a sort of reprocessing of
natural existents, through division or assembly. This type of ef
feet is perfectly accessible to demons, through local movement.
The second type seems to assume the introduction of a substan-
ti~l f~rm but in exceptional cases comes from natural agents;
this is essentially a matter of spontaneous generation. Angels
produce an effect of this type only by applying active factors to
adequately receptive objects. The last type implies the real intro
duction of a substantial form: a demon can only obtain this effect
through illusion. For Jean Qyidort as for Thomas, the superior
rty of the angel or the demon over man resides in its intellect:
"It is greater to think of the toad than to beget a toad." The
following question concerns our subject moie directly: "Does
what is produced through the art of magic come with the help
of demons?" Jean's response is largely affirmative. After present
ing the ancient doctrines that attribute magic to earthly gods
(Hermes Trismegistus), to celestial bodies (the Egyptians), or to
naturally evil substances (Proclus) the Dominican goes on to a
1
modern and Christian explanation of rr1agic. For him, the most
c~mmon opinion asserts the rninisterial role of demons. l\1agi-
c1ans use both words of invocation and images. In the testimony
of Porphyrus the words of invocation come out of prayer, orders,
or threats. And "such words can only be addressed to a being
108 Chaptel' F'our
endowed with intellect," notes Jean 1 prefiguring here the notion
of the illocutionary act in contemporary linguistics. 1"'hus there
indeed exists a recipient endowed with intelligence and power,
who could only be a demon,
rI'he case of magical figures or characters is rr1ore complex.
Jean Q,1idort envisions four hypotheses: these figures are the
agent causes of the result. 1'his is not possible because a math-
en1atical being is the principle of no action. Second, these
figures produce an effect on a celestial body through a mech-
anism of influence, but the sought-after effect bears on man.
Third, they predetermine universal figures and celestial images
inducing these effects. Strangely, Jean Qyidort does not chal-
lenge this causality and grants astronotnical (that is, astrological)
irnages real power, 30 giving the example of a ring engraved with
a certain i1nage that has the ability to chase away scorpions. Si1n-
ply1 this causality is not relevant since acts of invocation are not
addressed to celestial bodies but to beings endowed with intel-
lect, as is shown, once again, by the illocutionary aspect of the
speech that accompanies the sketching of figures.
There remains the fourth and final causality, the only one
retained by the Dominican: "They use figures like signs., , ,
l)emons are attracted by these figures, not as food attracts ani-
mals, but insofar as they are signs. But I add that it is a matter
of determined signs, for each one wants and desires an honor
that is his own and that is well determined." 31 In other words,
Jean Q\1idort, in spite of his Thomism, was already sketching
the solution of Enrico del Carretto. This confirms the decisive
irnportance of the notion of the pact in the thirteenth century.
Jean Q,1idort completes the resolution of the question by set-
ting up a portrayal of the magical arts, which were all connected
to de1noniacal action. "fhis position is irnportant, for, as we have
seen, the status of magic at the end of the century remained
an1biguous. The Dominican distinguishes two types of .magic.
The first type regroups forms that use human invocations. He
includes "prestige" (praestigiu1n-a juggler's trick), the art in-
vented by Mercurius, which consists of producing optical and
'l'he liberation ~fl)emons 09
oral illusions that trick people, The following five categories con-
cern prediction or revelation, distinguished depending on their
medium: necrornancy, geomancy, hydromancy, aeromancy) py-
rotnancy. 1'he second type of magic is not connected to an explicit
invocation of demons; den1ons intervene when hurnans indulge
in superstitious knowledge that exceeds their capabilities. When
they are interested in an in1pious way in celestial bodies, this
concerns astrology, when they consider the inferior bodies, they
practice augury (auguriun1) or its variants (auspices, chiromancy).
The Dominican thus traces the rather precise boundaries of de-
moniacal 1nagic, even if son1e roo1n rernains for a naturalized
white magic Astronomy is carefully distinguished from astrol-
ogy; but in between astronorny, "mathematical and certain," and
demoniacal astrology, connected to the discovery of treasures or
to the prediction of contingent futures, a "natural" astrology is
inserted, which enabled the prediction of events that came frorn
the movement of the sky, such as droughts and rain. Similarly,
the practice of auguries could be justified by the fact that the
influences of the celestial bodies are stronger among the most
uncultivated beings. Birds, then, could announce natural phe-
nomena, even if it was superstitious to imagine that the first
encounter with a hazel grouse signaled misfortune and that the
orientation of the beak of a magpie was a good or bad ornen.
Many other valuable notations enrich this text and show the
ambivalence of the Scholastic culture regarding magical phe-
nomena. A large nun1ber of notations on the action of demons
and on ancient "daimonology" came frorn Saint Augustine, who
was not concerned with the incorporeality of angels of eviL The
fascination with ancient and Arab naturalist facts during the
Central Middle Ages found a useful patristic covering. The rigor
ofTho1nas Aquinas was not enough to stop the flow of curiosity.
'"fhere were, however, more fundamental reasons for the
fragility ofThomas's coherent demonology. As we have seen, the
Dominican granted little power to demons because he wanted
to preserve the intellective excellence of the angels ..Dernoniacal
will was therefore dim.inished, against the cornmon experience
IIO Chapter Four
of encounters with demons. Moreover, 1'homas's theology \Vas
impermeable to historicity. The Franciscans contrasted an alter-
native demonology to his. Naturally, sucb an entity ("the Francis-
cans") has no meaning since the Order was torn apart by strong
divisions in which distinct theological orientations were in op-
position, at least until the Order found cohesion in the thought
of John Duns Scotus at the beginning of the fourteenth century.
Nevertheless, most Franciscan theologians of the thirteenth cen-
tury were in agreement on the primacy and the autonomy of will
in man and in the angels. As we have seen, Saint Bonaventure
contrasted the time needed for the exercise of free will with the
thesis of the fall of Satan at the first instant of his creation. Peter
of Falco, a lesser-known theologian but whose applied modera-
tion indeed highlights the tensions at work in Scholastic thought,
clearly defined this contrast at the end of the 1280s:
On the mode of sin, one finds contrasting opinions. Indeed, some
adhere to the words of the Philosopher [Aristotle] who says, in the
Ethics, that "every evil man is ignorant" and asserts that sin can
be situated in will only if there is some error in reason .... Others
adhere to the words of Augustine and other Catholic Doctors and
say that the angel sinned not following an error of reason, a trickery
or from ignorance; but following an error of his voluntary choice,
he turned toward his own reversible good, leaving aside the true
irreversible good. 32
This effective primacy of will rendered the angel relatively close
to man as a subject endowed with will.
To grasp what was at stake in this debate, we must return to the
work of Peter ofJohn Olivi for reasons different from those that
inspired us to read Peter of Falco. The powerful and difficult
thinking of Olivi, who, along with Thomas Aquinas and Henry
of Ghent, represents the apex of Scholastic theology in the thir-
teenth century, brings us to the extremes; it is not representative
of a common tendency, but, in its extremism, it reveals spiritual
issues that rarely show up in Scholastic theology. Furthermore,
Olivi's thinking, despite its uniqueness, was influential, on the
The Liberation oj'Demon> III
one hand, with the lay groups of southern Beguins and, on the
other, with later Franciscan doctrine; we have recently discovered
the breadth of the Olivian legacy in Duns Scotus.
Demons and Franciscan Eschatology
In book 2 of his commentary on the Sentences, Olivi attacks the
sensitive points of Thomas's doctrine without actually naming
him. The first question of the series (question 42) deals with
the possibility, for Satan, of sinning at the first moment of his
creation. We mentioned earlier the criticism leveled at Thomas
and the response provided by Olivi. The following long question
(question 43) offers a subject without questioning and presents
the text as a necessary clarification: "Because it seems truly un-
believable to some 'philosophers' [philosophantes] that the first
angel was able to sin according to the mode that is given us by the
teaching of the faith, I therefore present a few observations on
this subject." The term philosophantes clearly refers to Thomas
and, more generally, to all the theologians who attempted to
harmonize the thinking of Aristotle ("the Philosopher") with
Christian doctrine. Already Peter of Falco had noted the oppo-
sition in these terms.
The seven points of the philosophantes referred to the question
of will in relation to the impossible, which had given Thomas
so much difficulty, as we have seen. How could the excellence of
angelic intellect have been allowed to reach this logical incoher-
ence? Olivi undertakes first to analyze the nature of the will of
demons at the moment of the fall. Thomas had not dealt with
the fall of angels other than Satan, which implies that this fall
had been collective and simultaneous, as opposed to tradition,
which gave Satan a leading role. As for Olivi, he deals first with
the population of angels: angels, in spite of the excellence of their
intellect, do not have visual knowledge of God; their intellect is
addressed to him as ifhe were absent [ ut absentem]. By contrast,
they have the visual pleasure of their own company [societas].
Now, affect turns more easily toward that with which it has a
II2 Chapter Four
close and visible experience. Granted, their virtuous affCct is di-
rected toward justice and God, but their natural affect goes first
to their pleasant, delectable, and multiple company. This natural
love makes them aspire to beatitude and to all the goods linked
to their angelic nature, even if their virtuous affect orients them
toward the final goal of their superior desire. But once that goal
is abandoned, the inferior affects develop indefinitely.
We may note in passing the relationship between this de-
scription of the indefinitely recurrent nature of that desire with
the defense of absolute poverty within the Franciscan Order: the
smallest attachment to self and to worldly goods led to an end-
less pursuit of increasing satisfactions. The reason for sin is thus
common to men and to angels: '':Just as love is the root of all
affects, love of self is the root of all nonvirtuous affects; thus the
first defect brought on by sin begins in the bad love of self, rather
than in an appetite or a desire derived from itself" 33 'I'he choice
[electio J no longer has that initial and instantaneous dimension
that it had in Thomas. Presumptuous ambition is then only a
consequence oflove of self The circumstances of the angelic life
favor love of self; the happy company of identical angels further
increases love of self; principally in Satan: "He found himself
multiplied and magnified, like a man who sees himself at the
same time in multiple mirrors. Seeing each one of thern as an
object of delight and as an object subject to him, he embraced
all that was good for him as his cherished and own goods, like a
king or a lord who contemplates all his wealth and possessions,
and everything desirable to him." 34 This wonderful analysis of
individual and collective narcissism as a first sin resolved the
question of the instant; the enjoyment of self and of the other
angels unfolded through time, along with the development of a
knowledge of self.
The simplicity ofOlivi's solutions implied an important revi-
sion of Scholastic anthropology; indeed, the place of natural afC
feet in a rational process was unthinkable for Thomas Ac1uinas.
This affect greatly resembled a wish, a desire (appetitus). But
in Thomas we find a radical distinction between the sensitive
T'he Liberation of Den1ons IIJ
wish and the intellective wish. The sensitive wish is, by defini-
tion, connected to the body. The intellective wish, by contrast,
relieved of corporeal weight, could only aim for the good previ-
ously perceived by the intellect. The will of the impossible cannot
be understood either on the side of sensitive desire, in an incor-
poreal creature, or on the side of a pure intellective will. Granted1
Thomas was not entirely diminished, since he had developed a
patristic discernment between will as nature and v,rill as reason
as Andrea Robiglio has shown in a useful study. 35 Will as natur~
is an imperfect, conditional \vill: it desires good without con-
sidering the conditions fOr its achievement; one of its forms is
"impulse" (velleitas). The two systems could be superimposed,
natural affect corresponding to will as nature and virtuous af-
fect to will as reason. This does not happen, for will as nature
in Thomas remains oriented toward external good; the love of
self can only be guided by the presence of the body. For Olivi,
however, the various forms of wishing are not dependent on the
presence of the body, and the boundary between the corporeal
and. incorporeal Unctions is porous. Incorporeal beings have the
equivalent of sensations. 36
Olivi then reinstalled demons in the time continuum, and they
thus recovered a history. Their perseverance in the practice of evil
had no meaning in Thornas since their fate was sealed from the
moment of the fall. For Olivi, the history of demons contin-
ued, as shown in question 44 of the Summa ("Can demons learn
or forget?"). The Franciscan briefly recalls Thomas's position-
demons can neither learn nor forget "because they have in them
the complete apparatus [habitus] of knowledge of which they are
naturally capable-and rejects it completely. In fact, for Thomas,
the angelic intellect remains intact after the fall, which affected
only the regulatory disposition of its use. For Olivi, the very idea
of a permanent apparatus with which the creature is endowed
was to be challenged. The intellective and memorial dispositions
of every creature are finite and limited and can be perpetuated
within a certain perfect functioning only if they are maintained
by a permanent flow ofgracei equivalent to the perpetual creation
114 Chapter F'aur
1
the f"'ranciscan professed. Here we touch on the heart of Olivi s
doctrine: every creature is dependent. This is why the angels
and dernons are much closer to man than to God, whereas for
Thomas, the intellective perfection of the angel places it closer
to (]od than to man. 'fhis doctrinal position, while rigorously
fonnulated, was found in cornmon representations of the prox-
imity of demons, which were often badly distinguished from the
souls of dead evildoers.
Although the damnation of fallen angels was decided at the
n10111ent of their fall, their moven1ents did not cease, and their
evil action was developed throughout history. Thomas had some
difficulty explaining the harmful permanence of demonical ac-
tivity. Peter of Falco took it into account by showing that the
inability of demons to do good was related, for the Dominican, to
a positive cause: will was determined by intellect. The perfection
of intellect in the angel allowed it to instantaneously grasp what
the human mind grasps only through discourse. The weakness of
man-he cannot fix his conclusions right away-gives him the
advantage of being able to repent. After the fall of man, bis de-
sires may be redirected by a renewed knowledge. To this notion
Peter of Falco contrasted the Franciscan tradition to which he
adhered: the inability of the demon to want good comes from a
negative efficient cause, the suspension of divine grace after the
refusal of the angel. Secondary causes (preparatory causes) were
added: the darkening of intelligence, the defect of auxiliary virtue,
a pern1anent disposition for evil, and absorption of the spirit of
the de111on due to an excess of pain or punishment. But Peter of
Falco concluded on a note of doubt: he did not see how these
causes necessitate the production of evil acts. This is where ()livi
introduced important answers, by rejecting the two competing
traditions, and his is probably the only Scholastic explanation of
the existing rnotivations of demoniacal activity.
Olivi s favorite image is that of the tree: demons' sins and their
1
punishment constitute the roots of a plant that progressively ex-
tends outward (question 45: "Does their permanent malice in-
crease until Judgment Day?"). The following question shows that
T'he Liberation a_fIJe111ans 1_rs
dcrnons, bef()rc Judgn1ent experience pleasure and joy in what
1
they want and do according to their voluntary involvement [ad
votum], while also producing acts that manifest anger or sadness.
".fhis return of a demoniacal '(psychology," which accounts fOr
their constant activity in the world) is the result of the lirnits of
created intellect: demons guess their damnation without truly
knowing it. The partial successes that they enjoy by tempting
men exalt thcn1 rnomcntarily before the perspective of darnna-
1
tion strikes them. 01.ivi compares this manic-depressive structure
of their behavior with the staggering of the drunk. The will of
the demons after the fall constitutes another important aspect of
their personality: Olivi speaks of the "necessity of wanting that
into which their radical malice necessarily forces then1." 3" The
paradox of this necessary will comes fron1 the notion of the vow 1
of a voluntary co1n1nitment that the Franciscan developed-
conccrning hun1an beings-at the time of the great controversies
on poverty. The vow, then, constituted a way of voluntarily
alienating one's free will through a com1nitment to God, which
led to irrevocable obligations. The demon has a will even though
he no longer has the true use of free will; he is thus formulated
into the reverse irnage of the Christian committed by his vow.
The temporality and the proximity of demons are not ex-
plained simply by a different anthropology but also and above all
by a specific eschatology. Olivi rediscovers a somewhat forgot-
ten or neglected ancient teaching: the creation of humans was
desired by God in order to replace the same number of fallen an-
gels. This is the subject dealt with in question 47 of the Summa:
"Have the beauty and the integrity of the community formed by
the angelic hierarchy been diminished to the point of absolutely
needing to be restored?" The Franciscan concludes in favor of an
exact and precise numeric complement, which has important es-
chatological consequences: the end of this world will come when
the number has been reached, and that mornent, in the opinion
of Olivi and his disciples, was very close. The difficulty of the
demonstration in favor of an affirmative response consisted of
showing the possibility that saintly men could be associated with
1r6 Chapter Four
angels, which is dealt with in the following question (question 48:
"Was it good that the destruction of the angels was repaired by
men?"). Olivi's anthropology enabled him to prove the possibil-
ity of that change of man into angel. Whereas Thomas Aquinas
'and his disciples established a single substantial form in man-
his soul 38 -the Franciscan distinguished three forms, that of the
body, of the sensitive part of the soul, and of its intellective part
(the mind or mens). Whereas the human soul differed in type
from the angelic soul, the minds of the angel and of man were
of the same sort. "God, in composing the formal nature of the
human mind with the sensitive nature of man, added to him a
certain inclination and union [toward human support] that he
could also remove by giving him the mode of being enjoyed by
the mind of the angel ... the human mind, through this ten-
dency toward union and from that union differs in type from the
angelic mind not in its absolute essence, but in the diverse formal
beings that they receive."39 Further, the metaphor of the trans-
plant, clearly derived from Saint Paul's Epistle to the Romans
(where it is applied to the two origins-Jewish and Pagan-of
the Christian community), accounts for this insertion of elected
men into the cohort of angels: "If someone grafts onto a pear tree
that has seven branches, three of which are dried up and cut off,
three branches of an apple tree in their place, it is necessary, fOr
the production of pears and for the maintenance of an appropri-
ate state of things, that the branches compensate, according to a
40
just proportion, for the absence of the three original branches."
The reasoning, which is tight and complex, is pursued, but an
essential argument had been brought, at the end of question 47,
through a rather stupefying revelation: "To this conclusion corn-
peted many revelations made to holy men to whom it was shown
openly that the saints who went up to heaven were installed in
places from which angels had fallen. Similarly, regarding our
holy father Francis, a very solemn vision reports that, due to the
intensity of his humility, he was to take the seat of the first and
supreme head of the angels, who had fallen into the ahyss due
to his pride."41 Unfortunately, we don't know who received this
1'he Liberation of De1nons 117
vision. Despite the shock that it must have provoked, this vision
of Francis as prince of the angels was foretold by the implicit
comparison between Franciscan perfection and the evil commit-
ment of the demon on an axis of contrast that placed face to face
the vow of poverty and the vow of evil, the humility of Francis
and the pride of Satan. The exceptional status of Francis had
also been prepared, in Franciscan tradition, by an interpretation
by Saint Bonaventure, who in the 1250s had seen in the presence
of the angel of the seventh seal of the Apocalypse an announce-
ment of the coming of Saint Francis. Nevertheless, the analogical
status of this interpretation did not have the strength of that ef-
fective replacement. The human elect did not have the status of
auxiliaries in the army of the angels, since it was a human who
became the prince of angels.
A Scholastic demonology was thus developed during the thirty
or forty final years of the thirteenth century, for rather diverse
reasons that do not all imply a vivid concern with demoniacal
power. T'o some extent, it was the exacerbation of doctrinal op-
positions that contributed to the development of this discipline.
Scholastic knowledge progressed, in fact, through the inquiry
and the disputation. As we have seen, the question of the fall
of Satan offered a new battleground for the question of will,
which tended to invade all theological fields. It also constituted
a testing ground for the perfection of the new notion of ae'vum.
However, this doctrinal crystallization would not have been ef-
fective if the questioning regarding demons had not encountered
concerns that were more spiritual than speculative, such as those
that were revealed inJoachimite and Franciscan eschatology. The
new explanations of the incessant or growing activity of demons
probably echoed well beyond the Joachimite or Franciscan cir-
cles, notably in the milieux opposed to Aristotelian Thomism.
The condemnations of 1277 naturally did not include any article
on demons, since they targeted teachings given at the Faculty of
Arts and not in the Faculty of Theology.
As noted in chapter r, however, the introductory letter of
Stephen Tempier attacked the magical practices with which the
120 Chapter fi'ive
everything to the DeviL" 1 Yves was then gripped by such strong
diabolie<1l forces that four people were scarcely enough to hold
him down. During the night two huge black demons resembling
goats attempted to take hi1n away, saying: uy ou are ours, because
your tnother has given you to us!" The mother's words, relin-
quishing the fruit of her womb to someone else, the Devil, were
enough for tbe possession. Then Saint Yves appeared and said to
his devout namesake: "Do not fear, since you came to rny grave
and called me by my name, I have come to save you; indeed,. your
mother was not able to give you to the Devil, for she has no more
right over you [nichil juris habebat in te] than the sack has over
the wheat that it holds'" Then the demons disappeared.
The anecdote can be analyzed according to traditional
themes--the seriousness of defarnation in rural societies, the po-
wer of human curses, the ubiquity of demons, parental power-
accornpanied by a certain medieval misogyny: the rnother is but
a vessel and has nothing to do with the salvation of her son. But
this traditional substance slips into a specific judicial form. The
n1other, to n1ake a donation to the Devil, invokes her right over
the thing given, as founded in nature: she produced and fed her
son. A hurnan being, having rights over an object, can give it up
through a solemn and effective utterance. This effectiveness is
related both to the strength ofjudicial acts and to the liturgical
power of speech.
The language of donation is irreversible according to human
law: indeed, according to the testimony of the father of the
possessed man, the mother follows the procession that leads her
son to the saint's grave in Trtguier, the day after the crisis. I1:er
presence is enough to renew the son's torment, which ceases
temporarily only when the giver, having repented but judicially
powerless, utters words of invocation: "My son, I recommend you
to Saint Yves!" But the saint, himself filled with the power given
by other words, those of the victim who has devoted himself to
the saint, offCrs opposition and uses a more personal contract as
an argument: the possessed Yves shows that through divine law
he is devoted and has committed his soul to the saint. Yves' tale
T'he Nr:cw Possessed I2I
rnasks so1newhat the solemnity of this commitn1ent by having the
saint appear during the crisis of possession, without describing
the victirn's own actions.
The father's story gives a different version: when Yves has
fallen prey to evil (he seems to have fallen prey to madness,
proclaiming his terror before the demons, barking like a dog,
attempting to bite those near him), four women hold him still
and the fi1ther promises his son to Saint Yves: "Oh Saint Yves,
1
1 recommend my son to your' 'I'hen at cock s crow the son
1
1
says to his father: "Let me speak with Saint Yves who defends
me!" We must clearly understand that the possessed, held firmly
and gagged to avoid blaspheming, succeeds in making himself
understood by his guardians and is able to devote himself to the
saint.
In this confrontation of rights and powers, it is not maternity
or fetnininity that must retreat but nature and natural law that
bows before a choice of personal will and divine law. The image of
the sack of wheat conveys this transfer of power. The career
of Yves Helory (1248-1303) perhaps explains the judicial nature
of the episode: the saint, born to a noble family of Brittany,
had studied canon law and theology at Paris (1268-79), then civil
law at Orleans (1279-80), before becoming a chief justice in the
archdeaconry at Rennes, then with the bishop ofTreguier (1280-
ca.1297). In the final years of his life he had given up his judicial
responsibilities to devote himself to preaching and to managing
the parish that had been assigned to him.
The episode we've just seen combined with that of Giovanni
1
1
Blasio s crystal, shows that the canonization trials of the begin-
ning of the fourteenth century, carried out under the pontificates
of Clement V and John XXII, are valuable sources in uncover-
ing the great demonological turning point that we have sensed.
Granted, they do not represent a remarkable procedural novelty,
beyond the slow developn1ent of techniques of interrogation 1
recording, and cornpilation, which becan1e increasingly precise
and meticulous. Further, that progress was not continuous or
unifOrrr1, so important were the personalities of the promoters
122 Chapter Five
and the judges in each case. However) they reflected or con-
tributed to the creation of a new doctrine concerning the pres-
ence of demons in this world, either with regard to the saints
themselves, in their ability to confront the Devil and his min-
ions, or with regard to the faithful, in their fragility and need for
protection.
The canonization trials are a very rich source for the question
of interest to us here: indeed, despite the great number of institu-
tional filters, they offer the rare opportunity to witness the contact
between the scholarly, theological, and judicial culture and the
common cultures reflected in the depositions of the individual
witnesses. The precautions and distortions of the commissioners
and curialists give a glimpse of the nature of the interactions.
Furthermore, the very subject of the testimonies-miracles-
puts into play the complex relationships between nature and the
supernatural (divine or satanic) that we are looking at here. Fi-
nally, the great number of witnesses as well as the sometimes
meticulous detail of the depositions offer abundant material for
our purposes.
Thus, using the accounts of canonization inquiries, we shall
attempt to detect indications of the new den1onological preoccu-
pations that dominated the beginning of the fourteenth century,
notably, and influenced the actions of popes Clement V and
John XXII. We use all of the texts available from those two pon-
tificates concerning the canonization trials of Peter Morrone,
Louis of Anjou, Thomas Cantilupe, Thomas Aquinas, Clare of
Montefalco, Yves Helory, Nicholas of Tolentino, and Raymond
of Penafort.2
Madness and Possession
In some respects, exorcisms performed on the graves of saints
and with their intercession are not really new. Throughout the
twelfth and thirteenth centuries this type of healing, without be-
ing con1mon, appears from time to time in hagiographic sources.
Demoniacal possession is not, moreover, always distinguished
The .LVew Possessed 12]
from madness or epilepsy (morbus caducus) in those sources; it
is essentially passive; its origin is not immediately obvious. In
the Central Middle Ages, the population of demons appears to
have weakened: we are no longer in the time of what might be
called the "epidemic" conception of possession, as illustrated in
the preceding chapter with the anecdote of the demon ingested
by an imprudent nun. Traces of this ancient and "digestive" rep-
1
resentation of possession are also found in Sulmona s text of the
trial of Peter Morrone: a woman demoniac freed by the saint
vomited something that resembled pieces of coal. 3
In the corpus of trials from the beginning of the fourteenth
century one can distinguish two tendencies in the treatment of
the possessed. In the cases of Thomas Cantilupe and Louis of
Anjou, the demoniac was essentially absent from the throng
of those who were miraculously saved, 4 whereas ~ad people were
rather abundant. In the trials of Nicholas of Tolentino, Peter
Morrone, 5 and Clare of Montefalco, the proportion appears to
be the inverse. We can easily draw a conclusion from this: mad-
ness was becoming naturalized and medicalized in the thirteenth
century; the canonization trials that were most tightly controlled
by the papacy best conveyed that evolution and attompted to
clear up a common confusion in contemporary perceptions. 6
The canonization trial of Louis of Anjou (1274-97) shows well
this reticence toward possession. 7 The local inquest took place
in Marseille in 1308, and the trial itself was completed in the
first months of the pontificate of John XXII (the canonization
bull is dated April 7, 1317). Every phase of the trial was tightly
controlled by the pope. Indeed, the memory of the young prince,
who had given up the throne of Naples in 1295 and had agreed
to become bishop only in exchange for entering the Franciscan
Order, absolutely had to be separated from his association with
the Spirituals: during his captivity in Catalonia and after the
military defeat of his father, King Charles II, Louis had asked to
meet Peter of John Olivi, and he considered Hugues de Digne
and his sister Douceline to be his spiritual masters; he wanted
to be buried alongside them in Marseille. Among the articles
124 Chapter Fi11e
of inquest, a single one mentions I..ouis' contact with a dernon,
in the form of a huge cat that briefly appeared during one of
the saint's nightly prayer sessions. 8 None of the witnesses could
confirm the episode, which was probably inserted into the articles
at the request of the family from Anjou, since its source was L,ouis'
own brother, Raymond Berenger.
The inquest presents four cases of madness, classified as such;
the commission did not recognize the presence of any dernoniac,
but some witnesses alluded to the possibility. Regarding a young
girl who was ten years old at the time of the miracle, one of the
five witnesses, who describes her as "rabid and furious" [rabiatam
et furiosam], mentions that "people believed she was possessed"
[demoniata]. 9 Furthermore, the victim and her father-but not
her mother-introduce her as "crazy and possessed)) [amens et de-
moniata]. The description of her condition does not suggest the
pressure of demons: the young girl spoke crazy words, attacked
her family, took off her clothes, tried to eat dirt or stonesrn
Another crazy man "was considered to be a demoniac" [demo-
niacus credebatur]; perhaps this description was due to the fact
that the story of the priest Raymond Olivier evoked the famous
story of Theophilus: indeed, he had obtained a pontifical letter
hinting at the collation of a benefice. But when a prebend be-
came vacant, the bishop of Carpentras refused to give it to him,
and furthermore, he confiscated the letter. The violence of the
injustice drove the priest mad [in furiam converses]. Before the
saint's intervention, none of the disturbed people just mentioned
was treated by exorcism of any sort but by the usual method of
managing madness: putting the mad person in chains, along with
a consultation with doctors, as in the case of Raymond Olivier,
according to his own testimony.
The Caution ofthe Curia
The trial of Thomas Cantilupe enables us to see the filtering
employed by the authorities of the pontifical Curia: at the end
of the procedure, there were no cases of rr1adness or possession,
T'he JVew _Possessed I25
whereas the early materials were filled with them. The case of
Thomas Cantilupe (r2r8-82) was very unique, which no doubt
explains the attentive care the Curia took in dealing with it.
The bishop of Hereford, Thomas Cantilupe, died in Italy on
August 25, r282, while he was attempting to see the pope to
fight a sentence of excommunication brought against him by
the Franciscan John Peckham, the archbishop of Canterburyn
In 1283 his bones began to bleed when the funeral procession,
heading for the cathedral of Hereford, went through the province
Of Canterbury, as if to accuse the archbishop of the region of his
assassination. The matter was serious: it was discussed during
the canonization trial that began in r307 under Pope Clement V
and ended in 1320 under John XXIL
Thomas Cantilupe was descended from Norman barons on
both his father's and mother's side. He studied first at Oxford
then at Paris, where he became master of arts in 1245. At th~
time of the First Council of Lyons, in r245, he was named Pope
Innocent IV's chaplain and he accumulated prebends. After the
council he began to study civil law at Orleans and canon law at
Paris. Then he returned to Oxford as a professor of canon law
and, twice, as chancellor of the university. He participated in the
Second Council of Lyons (1274), and on September 8, r275, he
was elected bishop of Hereford. Cantilupe also played a certain
political role: his family had close ties to Simon de Montfort,
Count of Leicester, who was at the head of the baronial rebel-
lion against Henry III, which in r258 led to tlie Provisions of
Oxford. Thomas's mother, Millicent, was the widow of Amaury
de Montfort, Count of Evreux, and his uncle, the bishop
Walter, participated actively in the baron's undertakings-" In
December r263 Thomas, who had just left his first chancellorship
at Oxford, was designated one of the representatives of the party
of barons at the Mise d'Amiens, where Saint Louis arbitrated
between the two camps. On February 25, 1265, he was elected
chancellor and guard of the seals until the battle of Evesham,
on August 4, 1265, at which Simon de Montfort was beaten and
killed.
t26 Chaj>ler fi'i'!.1c
Cantilupc was rich and powerfoL ln his canonization bull of
April 17, 1320, Pope John XXII described him as "poor in spirit,
rich in goods." 13 That strange praise should probably be under-
stood as a heavy jibe from the one who was devoting himself at
the sarne n1oment to the struggle against the Spiritual Francis-
cans, defenders of absolute poverty and the heirs of Peckham. As
Andre Vauchez has shown, borrowing a category from Robert
Brentano, Cantilupe indeed represented the typical manor bishop,
actively involved in the practical management of his property.and,
because of that, close to his people.
The case was thus quite delicate to deal with: the saint was
considered to be a martyr by some, but he had suffered from
the ecclesiastical hierarchy. 14 Cantilupe had been an adversary of
the English monarchy. 15 Finally, his memory was cursed by the
Franciscans in the name of their solidarity with John Peckham;
in the eyes of Clement V and John XXII, however, the prudence
it was necessary to show toward an Order that was so useful to the
papacy was counterbalanced by the fact that Peckham, a disciple
of Bonaventure and a teacher of Olivi, the author of a treatise on
poverty that continued to inspire the Spiritual Franciscans, had
been named by Nicholas III, writer of the bull Exiit qui seminat,
which John X:Xll had nullified and condemned.
The collection of Cantilupe's miracles includes several levels:
n1any miracles were recorded in Hereford, even before any com-
mission for inquest was created immediately following his death.
Then in r307 an in partibus inquest was conducted by three com-
missioners assigned by Pope Clement V. The file was given to
a commission of six cardinals in 1313. Thirty-six miracles were
selected from the file of l.J07, and nineteen were listed before
being exarnined again by a curialist, who estimated their value
and increased the number of them to twenty-six.
If we combine the miracles collected since the death of Can-
tilupe, we note that out of close to three hundred recipients of
n1iracles, there are twenty-four madmen and only one demoniac.
The mad persons, predominately male, are generally qualified as
"raving" [foriosi], additionally as "demented" [dementes], but the
Yhe New J:iossessed 27
testimonies do not describe the sympton1s or the possible causes.
The depositions carefully mention how long the individuals had
been suffering up to the moment of healing, from a few weeks
to two years, probably in order to establish that the problem was
chronic. Only two cases cast any doubt about a possible posses-
4
sion. 1 hree Irish sailors, having succumbed one day to sunstroke,
fall into a deep sleep, then into delirium. One of them dies falling
off the roof of a windmill, and the two others "were as if possessed
[tamquatn arrepticiiL or as disturbed [mente capti], that is, in
the situation of people who have lost their human intellect." 16 As
we see there is little doubt, and the mention of possession could
1
be reduced to a sin1ple comparison of conditions.
'T'he choice of the word arrepticius is interesting: this rare tern1,
borrowed from Saint Augustine, 17 avoids the terrible "demoniac"
[demoniacus]. 1t is precisely this term that returns in another
deposition, which constitutes the only document in the file of
1307 given to the Curia, but which was not listed or examined
by the curialist. The witness, a merchant, llobert, husband of
the one who had been cured by the miracle, seems to suggest
the possibility of possession: for two years his wife had been
"raving." .After she has an attack of delirium, he chains her up
and asks two neighbor women whom he pays to look after her.
Robert notes that Edith "screamed and said crazy and insane
words"; he doesn't remember if she had blasphemed God and
the saints, but he believes she is possessed [arrepticia]; however,
he had not noticed whether she had been transported and moved
from place to place or if she had committed any act through the
power of evil spirits. 18 The responses of the merchant suggest
that the con1missioncrs of 1307 were very attentive to possible
Satanic connections. The contradiction between the assertion
of possession and the denial of its effects shows that in the
eyes of the simple faithful, the boundary between possession
and n1adness was thin, whereas for the comtnissioners it was of
extreme importance.
'fhe only explicit case of demoniacal possession not retained
by the commission of 1307 is that of a young girl named Christine,
28 Chapter F'ive
who "was tormented [sollicita] for five years by a certain incubus
demon, it was believed." 19 This demon promises her many good
things if she consents to sleep with him. She refuses in horror
and "protects her body" with the sign of the cross. Another time,
evil spirits lead her to a place of delight [in locum amoenum],
where a table stands covered with sumptuous, refined dishes
of food. Once again, the sign of the cross "liberates her from
these illusions." But immediately after this experience, she falls
into a deep sleep out of which she awakes to find herself in
a condition of semi-madness [quasi in amenciam est conversa],
with her fingers paralyzed. Even in that case, reported from some
distance ("one believes"), possession was not far from madness
T'he New Possessed 129
were seeking to verify the absence of ~'agencies" connected to
thaumaturgy.
The preliminary inquest reports eleven cases of demonia-
cal possession that show the saint's miraculous power of ex-
orcism. This number is not negligible, especially since, as Andre
Vauchez has shown,20 the canonization trials, looking exclusively
at the pontificate of John XXII, bring to light a clear decline in
thaumaturgy in favor of the exaltation of pastoral and spiritual
virtues.
Ordinary Demons
1

through diabolical illusions.
The Roman Curia thus kept the battles of saints against
demons at a distance, although they did appear in other sources,
notably in the canonization trials of Nicholas of Tolentino (1245-
1305), whose in partibus inquest phase occurred in the Marches of
Ancona between July 23 and September 28, 1325, and concluded
only much later, in 1446. The hiatus in the procedure is sur-
prising, so opportune might seem the canonization of Nicholas,
the first saint who belonged to the Order of Hermits of Saint
Augustine, the eminent figure of a peaceful asceticism in a
province constantly prey to the spiritual agitation of the Francis-
cans and the Fratricelli. Traditionally, such a delay was attributed
to the pressure of other important and urgent business, such as
the Franciscan issue that so concerned the Curia of John XX.II
between 1323 and 1330. But the vigor of the Curia's polymorphous
action might make us skeptical of such an easy explanation. In
fact, if we look closely, the devotion to Nicholas caused some
concern, notably regarding his relationships with demons. One
must emphasize the particular care the investigators took to have
witnesses define precisely the nature, the meaning, and the ex-
tent of the Jama that surrounded the miracles. They also sys-
tematically asked which person was invoked [cuius invocatione],
which words were used [qui bus verb is] in the miracle, as if they
Five of the eleven cases of possession in Nicholas's trial relate to
that weak demonology. According to the testimony of Nicholas,
the abbot of Sainte-Marie de Machis, a woman named Zona,
who lived near the monastery, was liberated after a year of pos-
session. No description is given by the witness, who had observed
her as a demoniac [uidit ... demoniacam] without being present
at her liberation, about which he had only heard. 21 A second case
is reported by a lay witness: a man from Montefalco had fallen
asleep under a walnut tree and was then "stricken or tempted
by the demon" [percussus seu tentatus]. 22 Here too the context
of this possession escapes us entirely: the witness doesn't know
anything about the victim and notes only his condition and his
healing. Upon awakening, the possessed could no longer speak
or walk; he was "lost" [perditus]. We don't know how, but he
managed to devote himself to Saint Nicholas by promising him
ten pounds and having himself dragged by a cart to the saint's
23
grave. Possession was hard to distinguish from sudden paralysis;
it was, moreover 1 termed an "illness" [infirmitas]. A somewhat
analogous case is cited without any mention of demoniacal pos-
session or madness: Lady Fina describes a sudden illness of her
young son Ciccho, who for thirty days lost his vision, speech,
and hearing and started to bite his tongue and to try to bite those
around him. 24
130 Chapter Five
The proximity of madness and a possible possession appear in
a case glossed at length by several witnesses. This is the case of
an attempted suicide: lacobuccio Facteboni had hanged himself
in his attic and, found dead by his wife, had been resuscitated
when Saint Nicholas was invoked, 25 around five years before the
inquest. Iacobuccio himself is interrogated in a specific way: the
investigators do not go through the usual questions concerning
the holiness of Nicholas and do not allow him to speak at will
but interrogate him directly about the reasons for his suicide
attempt: was it because of a ~state of melancholy or illness, or due
to the trickery of the Devil" [malinconiam uel infirmitatem uel
deceptionem dyaboli). 26 lacobuccio doesn't remember anything
and can only refer to the testimony of his neighbors. He cannot
remember whether it was "through a temptation of the Devil or
because of something else" [tentatione dyaboli uel alio modo).
Three other witnesses are questioned: two neighbors, Margarita
and Mathiola, and Iacobuccio's daughter, Planucia. What is most
important, for the witnesses and the judges, is to establish the
miracle and thus to prove that Iacobuccio had actually died, by
describing the clinical signs and by a meticulous reconstruction
of the chronology of events: the desperate man had sent his wife
to the oven to bake a cake [calzo). The judges ask about the
distance between the house and the oven in order to establish
that Iacobuccio had been left alone for a certain amount of time
and tbus that he had been hanging long enough to die. They ask
for the precise distance between the beam and the ground.
Another circumstance establishes the thaumaturgic power of
Nicholas: indeed, Iacobuccio's wife, Bionda, at first frightened
for the salvation of her husband's soul and for the reputation of
her family, asked the saint only for his temporary resurrection,
just enough time for him to confess and be absolved. But the
saint carried out a complete resurrection. In spite of everything,
the judges are concerned about the reason for the act: extraor-
dinarily, although Planucia makes her final declaration on the
vox et Jama, the inquisitors ask her "wby her father had hanged
himself. She says that he was sometimes crazy and delirious, lost
'l"he JVew l 3 osscssed IJI
his good sense: she believes tbat he had acted that way under the
action of the demon" [erat aliquando 8.tuus ct fantasticus et non
boni sensus: credit de opere dyabolico id fecisset]. The neighbor,
Margarita, agrees with that diagnosis: "Qyestioned about the
miracle that the saint had performed on the body oflacobuccio,
she says that one day Iacobuccio was sick and seemed to have
lost his mind [uidebatur quasi mente captus] so that when he
was pushed by who know what evil spirit [malo spiritu] or for
what reason, he hanged himself."
The very weak presence of madness in the illnesses treated
through Nicholas's intercession suggests that the cases of posses-
sion mentioned up to now relate perhaps to mental disturbances
being considered demoniacal, following a rather uncertain clas-
sification. Indeed, a single case of "pure" madness is reported,
that of loannes Salimbene, who, in the company of his wife,
testifies to the fact that "at a certain moment, he was crazy and
disturbed [furiosus et mente captus], to the point of grabbing his
wife Annucia by the throat to strangle her and kill her." 27
Two other cases, reported elliptically, relate to a vague and
dubious concept of the demon: the priest of Collo, near San
Ginesio, declares that he had seen the healing of a "woman
reputed to have been diabolical" [que dicebatur dyabolica], with-
out knowing the circumstances of her cond.ition. 28 The priest
thus shows some prudence in his description, like his colleague
Galteruccio, priest of San Ginesio, who says that at the grave of
Tolentino he had seen "a few men who had gone there as demo-
niacs and that they were considered as such" ruenientes tamquarn
demoniacos et quod pro tali bus tenbantur et habebantur]. 29
The banishing of demons [effugatio demonum], without fur-
ther precision, enters into the recapitulative lists of the virtues
of the saint as given by two different witnesses, along with the
resurrection of the dead, the healing of the sick, the restoration
of vision, of hearing, and the like. 30 Moreover, the bull Pater
luminum, through which Pope John XXII, on May 23, 1325,
had declared the opening of the inquest, included "effugatio
demonum" in the list of miracles on which the inquest was to

132 ChajJter Fi'UI!
focus.-' 1 _However, behind that relatively benign demonic tradi-
tion one finds more disturbing, personal, and aggressive forms
of demoniacal invasion.
Ghosts
A transitional case, situated between "hazy" demons and the
personal attack of evil spirits is presented in the testimony of
1
Aldisia Iacobucci: for five weeks she endured assaults (vessatio]
by a demon who every night shook her bed and then, once,
manifested himself in the form of a kite. The bird flew in through
the window during the night and threw itsclf"with fury, violence
and noise" against the chest that was at the foot of Aldisia's bed.
But this violent apparition only involved the victim: her brother,
the Cistercian monk Gentelucio, who was sleeping in the same
house, and her daughter who shared Aldisia's bed, didn't even
wake up. 32 __
In contrast, the personality of demons is specified in the tes-
tirnony of Salimbena Vissanuc.ii, who had been !'tempted and
invaded [tentata et inuasata] by devils and five evil spirits, that
is, Scambio Reynaldi, Vectesalvo de Piedivalle, Nicolecta de
Paterno, and two others whom she didn't know and who, dur-
ing their lives, were considered to be bad people and had been
burned alive. "33 I1er possession was manifested by her speaking
"very sharneful words that were inappropriate in a good woman."
The story stops short since Salimbena was quickly liberated from
the demons through the invocation of Saint Nicholas of To-
lentino. But in passing she reveals that the demons that can
infest the faithful are sometimes "ghosts" of local criminals or
tyrants who had been summarily done away with.
Another possessed wornan, Zola, recounts that she had been
the victim of Lardo <md Traverso, "who had been bad men and
had committed many bad acts during their lives and who, be-
cause of clan wars [partialitates], had been burned de facto with-
out judgment or confession." 34 Philippucia, one of the possessed
Cistercian nuns from the Santa Lucia convent in San Ginesio, a
I'hc Nt7.!J PoHe.Hed IJJ
case we look at more closely in a following section, also narncs
two dead local tyrants who had been attacking her, Rainaldo
de BrunfOrte and (}iovanni d'Esculo 1 who, according to the tes-
timony of Sister Johanucciai "in their lifetin1e had corrnnitted
1nany attacks, homicides, robberies, and other evils. 1135 This cir-
cumstance is itnportant; the return of the crin1inal dead who were
burned without confession can be analyzed frorn several angles,
but one cannot help thinking of the terrible stampedes of the
Mesnie 1--lellequin, described two centuries earlier by ()rdericus
Vitalis.Jc,
In a n1ore i1nrnediate context, we must also think of the vic-
ti1ns of the Inquisition, when they were refErred to the secular
branch to be burned alive, often without confession. The ill-
fi1ted return of crirninals was the mirror image of the beneficial
return of victims of the Inquisition whom dissidents, notably the
Beguins and Fratricelli, considered to be martyrs and who, as
saints, were capable of manifEsting themselves after their deaths.
This was the case of the Franciscans burned in Marseille in 1318
on the orders of the inquisitor Michel I_,e Moine. Now, as we
know, the Marches of Ancona, the birthplace of Saint Nicholas of
Tolentino, constituted one of the rnost intense seats of Francis-
can dissidence. Mentioning the nan1e of Rainaldo de Brunforte
leads one to rnake such a connection, since the Brunforte f1mily,
presented here as a gang of thieves, protected Angelo Clareno,
one of the greatest inspirations of the Spiritual Franciscans; an-
other spiritual leader, Peter of Macerata, who took the name
Brother Liberato, also came from that family.'17
Dissidents left cumbersome bodies, which were susceptible to
real or cultual reappearances. 1''he fate reserved for the remains
of Peter of]ohn Olivi shows this well: according to Bernard Gui,
his body was burned at Narbonne in 1318 after having been ex-
humed, whereas according to the-granted, belated-testimony
of Nicholas Eymeric, he was transported to Avignon and thrown
into the Rhone River. If we combine the two versions/ 8 we can
assurne that the rernains became the object of a simulated execu-
tion by fire, burned along with the Franciscan rnaster's writings,
IJ4 Chapter Five
destined to stamp his memory with the seal of heresy, since it was
customary to burn heretics posthumously. But Olivi had never
formally been declared a heretic, for he had never committed a
publicly denounced infraction. Only immersion enabled the dis-
appearance of the remains, necessary to prevent any worship of
him, and ensured the natural absorption of the body (a form of
burial authorized by canon law, notably in cases of death on the
high seas), which prevented the ghost from returning.
The parallel between demons and heretics was not limited
to their status as ghosts. Clare of Montefalco had the gift of
spotting both masked demons and hidden heretics. Thus she
unmasked the :Franciscan brother Johaniccius of Mevanea, who
"through a diabolical ruse, under the appearance of holiness,"
hid his heresy, whereas "all of his words reeked of error." Clare's
gift was precisely that of extracting that odor out of pleasant
39
fragrances. She engaged in truly inspired work as an inquisitor.
Thus, one day Brother Johaniccius spoke to her of a brother who
"had peace in him for four years." Through her questions Clare
was able to see that he was in fact talking about himself and that
this innocuous assertion of mastered peace was connected very
precisely to the heresy of the Free Spirit. 40 Another day she saw
the apparition of demons in the form of two Beguins [in specie
duarum beghinarum]. 41 This effective demonization (and not
simply damning) of heretics paralleled the aims of John XXII,
who was preoccupied with turning magicians into heretics.
>>><<~
The heretics themselves, moreover, added to this confusion, at
least according to the account of Thomas of Cantimpre, who
around 1260 reported that a heretic of Cambrai, named Gilles
Boogris, feared being discovered and burned at the stake by
the Inquisition. Thomas doesn't specify this, but he is probably
referring to the campaign that the famous Robert le Bougre
launched against heresy in 1236. Gilles thus feigned demonic
possession and was led to the sanctuary of Saint Achaire in
Haspres near Valenciennes, where as a madman he was tied
The Ne'lV Possessed IJ5
up to endure a curative incubation period with the saint. 42 But
another possessed man was also there 1 a cleric, who was able to
untie himself, piled straw mats and bedding onto Gilles' body,
and set him on fire: 'Without delay, the judgment of God was
exercised, the cleric was freed from the demon and appeared
completely cured."43
Nicholas of Tolentino Confronted with Belia!
The demoniacal apparitions endured by Philippucia were not
limited to the evjJ spirits of burned robbers. She saw and pro-
claimed the presence of Belia!. Now, Belia! had played an im-
portant role in the life of Nicholas of Tolentino. Article 20 of the
interrogation protocol mentions his attacks against the saint:
While setting himself with much piety and faith to his devotion and
his prayers, the Devil, mocking him, attacked him not only through
evil inspirations or temptations, but also by harsh words and terri-
ble apparitions. :First, he proceeded thus: once when Nicholas was
praying with much piety in the oratory before the abovementioned
altar, not only did the Devil extinguish the lamp that was lit, but he
broke it by throwing it on the ground. Second, the Devil perched
on the roof of the oratory, imitated the voices of various wild beasts,
turned over the roof tiles, and appeared to be knocking the roof
off, while Nicholas, knowing that this was an attack by the Devil,
concentrated ever harder on his prayer. ~rhird, the Devil, spreading
furor and terror, entered by the door of the house where Nicholas
lived, found him praying, and attacked him with so many blows
that for several days scars from the wounds appeared over his entire
body. Fourth, Nicholas had a tunic; the enemy of the human race
took one of its edges and when Nicholas wanted to close the tunic,
he couldn>t find the other edge; he looked, and looked again. He
said: "Holy God, who can mock me in this way! Truly, he who does
not deserve to be named, that is indeed the one who is assailing me."
Immediately, to these words of Nicholas, the Devil responded and
said: "It is true that I was assailing you and that I will assail you, but
I am going to proceed differently with you, since I cannot dominate
you." Nicholas said to him: "Who are you?" "I am Belial, who has
.!_J6 Chapter _Five
been given to you as an incentive to your holiness." And the other
responded: ''If the Lord comes to help me, I will not fear what man
may do to inc." Fifth, one night when Nicholas did not want to
abandon his customary praying and devotion and when the oratory
was not open, he tried to enter into the building of the refectory,
where a crucifix had been painted on the threshold; he was then
pushed back by Belial and thrown so violently on the ground that he
stayed there practically curled up. But fortifying himself with only
the name of the crucified, he got up and was once again struck down
by the Devil. But Nicholas endured this with humility, patience and
joy in honor of Our Lord Jesus Christ, while giving thanks to him,
and he didn't interrupt his prayers in any way. 44
Around thirty-five witnesses were questioned about this ar-
ticle 20; no response provides detailed confirmation of it. 'fhe
witnesses declare that they didn't know anything, or they repeat
the common opinion. In fact, the elernents of the episode came
from the saint's biography, which had been written exactly at
the time of the local inquest by Pietro de Monterubbiano, 41 a
fellow brother, who was summoned as a witness but was not
deposed. Personal battles with demons, which, not far away, had
also been of great concern to Clare de Montefalco, whose ex-
ploits and battles against Satan are described in five articles of the
interrogatory protocol of her trial, proved to be a danger to the
community of the saint's fOllowers, as is shown in the surprising
episode of multiple possessions in a Cistercian convent.
The Possessed ofSanta Lucia
The acts of Nicholas's trial relate this important episode, which
occurred in the Cistercian convent of Santa Lucia in San Ginesio
and which seems to have announced much later occurrences, such
as that of the possessed at Loudun. Three of the nuns were freed
from the demon through the intercession of Nicholas. Ten nuns
were interrogated, and the testimonies of eight of them were
assembled.
l''he Ne7.v Possessed IJ7
The best-described case is that of Philippucia, which we have
already mentioned with regard to demons/ghosts and who herself
delivered testimony about her condition, about her "illness and
stupefaction." 46 According to Philippucia, her possession, which
had lasted for five years, had ended three years earlier, around
1322, and had been manifested by the rolling of her eyes, contor-
tions of her face, tremors, and inappropriate language addressed
to the other nuns. She experienced many horrible visions, which
caused hoards of mice, repulsive faces of rnen, and animals to
ap.pear. After having tried in vain the intercession of local saints
(Venantius of Camerino and Claude ofMacerata), she called on
Nicholas, promising him she would visit his grave barefoot and
with her hands tied. Six other nuns confirm this possession and
her liberation, while adding important details.
Thus Franciscucia affirms that Philippucia, during her at-
tacks, called to the two ghosts we mentioned earlier, but also to
Belia!, who was asked for help against the ghosts: "Oh, Belia!,
come, come to me and bring a thousand horsemen with you, for
here come Rainaldo de Brunforte and Giovanni d'Esculo who
are coming toward me and against me with many horsemen."47
The witness also reports a Satanic marvel carried out by the pos-
sessed nun: she was able to make an egg balance on top of a
wall. The other witnesses do not change the tale very much. Sis-
ter Solamea increases the number of magnates and devils called
upon and specifies that she herself and "all the other nuns in
this convent, seeing and hearing all that, said and believed firmly
that Belial or other demons had entered into the body of Sister
Philippucia."48 Sister Servedea (znd) 49 says further that, dur-
ing her attacks, Philippucia walked on her hands. The calls to
the demons were limited to Belial and to other devils, without
the mention of ghosts, 50 which, however, Sister Andrea notes,
adding to the Satanic gestures the fact that she bit her tongue.
The cases of the other two possessed nuns are related more
quickly: Anthonia had, in a certain sense, succeeded Philippucia
in her role, since she had been liberated two years earlier, around
~]8 Chapter fi'i,1 1c
1123 , after eight rnonths of possession (one and a half years for
l~r::~nciscucia), which irnplies that the attack came just after the
liberation of her fellow nun. Her symptoms were apparently
Jess serious: according to Philippucia, an expert in the rnatter,
she threw rocks, sang indecent songs, said harmful things, and
shrieked [stridebat] day and night. According to Franciscucia,
she spun yarn constantly, but especially at night and on feast
days, also endured trembling, contortions of her face, and the
rolling of her eyes.
1'he third possessed nun, Estephanuccia-who "did nothing
51
but hO'icrgle
b )
so1netimes lay as if dead, and called on demons" -is
rnen-tioned by only one nun, }'rancescha, who doesn't rernem-
ber the approximate date of this case. This lack of knowl-
edge and the absence of testirnony from the other sisters must
place the possession before that of Philippucia. We are thus
able to reconstruct a true transmission of the status of the
possessed,
This relatively complex state of affairs indicates a belief in
demoniacal possession that is rather different from that of
laypersons: here there is no confUsion with mcnt~l illness: ~fhe
1
possessed nuns engaged in demoniacal acts and did not s1m?ly
endure attacks. Working at night and on holidays signals an in-
1
version of Christian values, exactly as walking on one s hands
inverts the state of nature. A practical knowledge of or a concrete
experience with Satanic acts is implied by Servedea (znd) when
she says of Philippucia: "She made all the demornacal and dia-
bolicai gestures and acts." The attacks of the demon have some
relationship with the experience of Saint Nicholas of Tolentino,
since as we have seen, he had to battle against Belial and because
1
it was he, 1110 re than the other saints who was able to perform
1 ports that she had been miraculously healed by Nicholas thirteen
the exorcisnL
1~he connection betvveen holiness and possession is marked by
the slight trace of a pact with Belia!, in the inversion of gestures
and ac~ions, but also in the naming of demons. Philippucia is said
to have called them [clam are], but it would be better to translate
that verb using "proclai1n." Indeed) the one possessed proclaimed
1'hc Afcw Possessed 1._J')
the na1nes of ghosts as well as that of the dernon, whereas she only
called on Belia! to help her. We may recall that when the Devil
appeared, Nicholas refi1sed to narne Belial ("he who does not
1
deserve to be named' and, on the contrary, f()rced hirn to adrnit
)
his ~ame hirr1self, fOllowing a rnini-procedure that might bring
to mind the ruses of the inquisitor. During the inquest into (=lare
of J\!Iontefalco, a witness, Angiorellus Jacoponus, recounts that
he had visited the Church of Sainte-Croix and had seen a man
there named Berthollillus and a woman) Chiaruccia) attacked
by demons. These detnons, conjured, carne out of their bodies
and "mocked Saint Clare, calli~g her 'little Clare, little Clare'
[Chiaruccia, Chiaruccia], and they refused to hear her name
them" [nolebant ean1 audire norninari]. 52 The demon atten1pted
to take back the initiative by naming without beir.ig named as if
1
to invert the baptistn ritual.
The tradition of possession in Santa 1.,ucia did not, how-
ever, represent a unifOrn1 occurrence. In spite of the brevity
of the testin1onies, we can detect different modes of access to
the supernatural. As we have seen, the contents of the testi-
tnonies differ greatly within this rninuscule arena. 'fhus, one of
the nuns, Servedea (rst), doesn't mention any possession, which
rnight seen1 an1azing. Beyond the approval of some articles on
the holy life of Nicholas, her testimony essentially deals with a
miracle that resuscitated her young brother _Puccio Angeli, who
had fallen into the canal of a mill and was half crushed by the
wheel nine years before the inquest around 1316. The 111.iracle
1
is confirmed by their mother, Johanna or Jacobuccia, by Puc-
cio's and Servedea's sister, Bellaflos, 53 and by three neighbors or
relatives) including the boy's maternal uncle. Bellaflos herself re-
years earlier) around 1312. Concerning the n1iracle of IJuccio, we
can detect a true familial network apparently dominated by the
mother) who carried out the invocation of the saint. Servedea's
entrance into the community of Santa l~ucia, no doubt after the
two familial miracles only completes the spiritual nature of the
1
network.
r40 Chapter Five
As for Philippucia, she instigated an individual relationship
with Saint Nicholas of Tolentino by sharing her battle with
or against Belia! and by going to the saint's grave. Finally,
Anthonia's situation is, again, different. In her testimony Philip-
pucia mentions that Anthonia, before the demoniacal attack, had
been treasurer of the convent "because she was good and had good
judicial knowledge and good behavior" [quod bona erat et legalis
et bone sci en tie et conversationis J. Anthonia apparently belonged
to a high social class. Her father and sister Servedea (Jrd) ar-
ranged for her pilgrimage to the grave of Saint Nicholas. The
commissioners did not require her testimony: her fellow sisters
attested that she had been cured the day of the inquest. She was
thus indeed present in the convent. It is possible that her family
exerted pressure to avoid the publicity of a deposition.
We might wonder whether the pursuit of demonic tradition
in the convent after Philippucia's liberation might not imply
the repossession of an influence that had been lost to Philippu-
cia's powerful personality. The convent constructed a tradition
of possession by weaving strong ties with Saint Nicholas thanks
to Philippucia-and also against her.
This episode at Santa Lucia and, more generally, the way the
question of possession was dealt with in the acts of the trial of
Saint Nicholas inspire us to look back at our early hypotheses:
the mentions of exorcisms cannot be reduced to representing
archaic procedures in contrast to the naturalist wave that was
medicalizing the mad. The Naples inquest into the saintliness
of Thomas Aquinas, which, we may recall, featured a consulter
of demons, presented no curing of madness. But it did indeed
include a posthumous exorcism on the body of Pietro Francisci,
a Cistercian layperson from Fossanova who had been tempted
by a "hairy man." One night the man suggested that Pietro
could avoid going to get water in the refectory by drinking out
of his own hand. After Pietro refused, the demon manifested
himself through a monstrous apparition and a fetid odor, leaving
Pietro's hands and feet paralyzed. Six monks or laymen confirmed
this testimony, completing the testin1ony of the victim with
1''he NeV,1 Possessed 141
classic descriptions of the condition of possession. 54 This inquest,
led under the control of the Dominican Order, has a resolutely
"modern" tone, with weak thaumaturgy and a strong insistence
on the eminence of virtues and knowledge.
We know that Pope John XXII had questioned the exis-
tence of saintliness without miracles. The reticence of the curi-
alists that we noted in regard to Thomas Cantilupe and Louis
of Anjou is no doubt not the result of skepticism but, on the
contrary, of the difficulty that the renewed presence of demons
ra{sed not only in the "caliginous" air but in the hearts and bod-
ies of the faithful. It is quite possible that the failure of the
cases of Nicholas ofTolentino and Clare ofMontefalco, despite
their great ecclesiological merits (Clare denounced the Satanic
works of the heretics of the Free Spirit; Nicholas loyally oc-
cupied the dangerous ground of the Marches), is explained by
the saints' strong involvement in the battle against the Devil,
which led their followers to engage in dangerous dialogues with
demons.
Among the traditional manifestations of the Devil, we have
thus seen the appearance of new and pervasive forms of posses-
sion that associated Satan with ghosts, with heretics, and with
the dead who hadn't confessed, which constructed little societies
or networks and which associated the suffering personality of
the persecuted saint more closely with that of the possessed. We
should stress the fact that both Nicholas of Tolentino and the
possessed nun of Santa Lucia mentioned Belia!. Belia! is one of
the Hebrew names for the Devil, or for a demon, but his name
appears above all in the insulting expression "son ofBelial," which
designated the evil or the possessed. 55 The accursed association
with the sons ofBelial is somewhat related to the Satanic pact, as
seen in the verse of Paul (2 Cor. 6:r5): "And what concord hath
Christ with Belia!?" [que autem conventio Christi ad Belia!?]. It
is in the rest of this verse that Paul deals precisely with the human
being as a "temple of God," open to divine inhabitation. At the
beginning of the fourteenth century, the issue of the inhabiting
of the creature by God or by the devil was raised in new terms.
142 Chapter Five
Indeed the saint as well was exposed to attacks by the demon
and had to rebuild the walls of the corporeal temple to resist.
To fully understand the anthropological components of these
two complementary figures-the adversary of Satan and.the pos-
sessed-in the following two chapters we place them mto two
paradigms, that of the guardians of borders and that of weak be-
ings. The Scholastic exploration of the bordern and lmuts of the
personality led to serious questions about the m:serable we~k~~ss
and the extraordinary powers of the human being, potent1aht1es
that are put into action under the assaults of the Devil. As we have
seen the madman does not absorb the possessed: he becomes a
ter~ of comparison when we begin to explore t.he openness of
the subject, who, with a word or a wish, is so easily possessed by
the Devil.
The Openness of the Subject:
A Scholastic Anthropology
of Possession
The saints' difficult battle has shown us that the Devil could pos-
sess human beings, slip into them, put himself in their place. A
long tradition bears witness to this, beginning with the Gospels
and continuing throughout the centuries in countless tales of
possession and exorcism. Possession took on new meaning in the
thirteenth century when a new anthropology, derived both from
naturalist knowledge and from Scholastic reflection, explored the
strengths and weaknesses of human nature. PoSsession and mad-
ness rnanifested the weakness of the human personality. Neither
demoniacal mental disturbance nor dementia could be explained.
However, a representative of such disturbance who was quickly
demonized-the sleepwalker-can guide us in our exploration
of the breaches that were opened in the edifice of the human
personality.
On May 6, 1312, during the third and final session of the
Council of Vienna, Pope Clement had a series of constitutions
read out loud. These decretals were not promulgated until after
Clement's death by his successor,JohnXXlI, in the bull Quoniam

144 Chapter Six
nu/la of ()ctober 25, 1317 1 under the name (7/ementine Constitu-
tions. ln the section on homicide (V) title 4), the canon S\furiosus
provides sornething remarkably new: "If the madman, or the
child, or the sleeper [dormiens] harms or kills a man, he in-
curs, by that fact, no irregularity [= he cannot be separated from
priestly fltnctions because of a committed crime] and we believe
the same is true of hin1 who kills or harms an attacker) being
otherwise unable to avoid his own death." 1 Sleep, like madness,
childhood, or a legitimate defense, thus constituted a factor of
crin1in,Jl irresponsibility, to use an anachronistic term . .-fhis no-
tion of irresponsibility appears to have existed for a long tin1e
in Western judicial tradition: Roman law even had a rather re-
fined typology of mental illness and distinguished the ji1riosus
(a per1nancntly crazy person, no doubt the close equivalent of
the modern psychotic) from the demens (whose madness is cycli-
cal and limited to a specific realm, such as that of the neurotic)
and from the jatuus (the idiot or the simpleminded). The notion
of legitin1ate defense also has ancient origins and can be found
clearly in (}ratian 1s Decretum. 2 But the truly new category of
Clement V is that of the sleeper. We must point out that this
docs not constitute a simple addition or a particular refinement
in a list of cases of irresponsibility; nor docs it concern extreme
cases in the realm of pathology or events, but is a daily activity
shared by all; irresponsibility or mental incapacity arrives at the
very core of human life.
The Sleepwalker and the Possessed
The sleeper (dormiens) indeed refers to the sleepwalker, as is
confirrned in the glosses of the comrnentators of the pontifical
decretals: an illustration is even provided by one of the first com-
mentators of the Clernentines, (}uillaume de Montlauzun. Guil-
laun1e was professor of canon law at the lJniversity of Toulouse
frorn i306 to 1318, a Clunisian, who held an irnportant post at the
convent of I__,ezat, near Toulouse, and was abbot of Montierneuf
in Poitiers beginning in 1319; this great but neglected canonist
A Scholastic Allthropof!)gy ~lfJQsscssio11 I4S
was dose to popes Clement V and John XX!l. 1 In his Apparatus
in Clernentinas, he glosses Siji1riosus while 1ncntio11ing an event
he witnessed as a student in Paris: "But what can I say about hin1 1
an Englishman who was my fdlow student and who, sleeping
naturally, was so imprinted with the depth ofhis sleep that, coin-
ing out of the Church of Saint-Benedict in Paris, he went to the
Seine at night and there killed a child, then he came back, still
asleep, and went back to bed." Guillaume responds very firmly to
the question he raises: that friend was not at all guilty. To justify
this pontifical opinion he cites the episode of Lot's daughters
in Genesis (r9:]2-33): "And they made their father drink wine
that night: and the firstborn went in, and lay with her father;
and he perceived not when she lay down 1 nor when she arose."
After mentioning that authority, c;uillaume theorizes: "Sleep
[dormitio] is a sort of infirmity that completely throws man out-
side his mind and keeps hin1 in rest and in ecstasy [in quiete et
in extasi]; thus the sleeper is said to be like another sleeper who
is sleeping naturally." 4
This odd text is perplexing: the author distinguishes a "natu-
ral/' ordinary slee.P from an implicitly extraordinary sleep, while
placing them in the common category of infirmity (one sleeper
is the sarr1e as any other sleeper), a term that refers both to the
opacity of the pure body and to mental disturbance as it is de-
scribed in the law. The criterion of irresponsibility is based on the
suspension of control over the mind [mens], by neutralizing the
unifying authority of the soul; finally, we rnust ~ote that insanitv
in sleep was designated by the very term that defined mysti'-
cal ecstasy [in extasi]. This convergence of terms was certainly
of capital importance at the moment when John XXll was
devoting himself to the confinernent of feminine mystics and
to the legislation of the impossibility of beatific visions before
Judgment Day.
Later commentators confirmed this interpretation of Si furio-
sus. Giovanni d'Imola even connects the extraordinary actions of
the hon1icidal sleepwalker to the ordinary for1ns of the uncon-
sciousness of sleep: "Just as some people talk in their sleep, so arc
146 Chapter Six
there those who act when they sleep." Panormitanus (Nicholas
Tedeschi) clearly asserts that the sleeper belongs to a world of
pure nature: "He may endure a wrong, but not produce one; and
what is done by him is considered as if a four-footed animal
had done it or as if some tile had fallen." This determination of
criminal irresponsibility did not really reflect a moral casuistry;
it implied that the human being was in a state of pure nature
when it became a thing and was reduced to a state of passivity,
a simple receptacle for influences. This insanity and openness
to an external possession bring the figure of the sleepwalker
closer to that of the demoniac. The sleepwalker constitutes the
substratum, the suppositum of the possessed. In this chapter we
examine the figure of the sleepwalker in order to better un-
derstand that of the possessed, which is too dependent on the
unstable action of the Devil to be described directly by Scholastic
anthropology.
Possession offers a strong image of and a doctrinal justification
for what might be called a "federal" or multiple composition
of the subject: an internal and foreign source of domination
moves around in a person, talking and grumbling. In the first
centuries of Christianity, the possessed subject contained three
psychic apparatuses; three voices spoke in him-that of the actual
individual, that of a demon, and that of the divinity when an
exorcism forced the demon to utter pious words. Aline Rousselle
has shown the radical novelty of this figure of the energumen
(etymologically, "one who is acted upon"): at the time of the great
collective conversions of the fourth century, ancient divinities,
through the vociferations of the zealot, proclaimed in the church
itself that the human subject no longer belonged to them. 5 The
possessed could not be reduced to a pathological case: the voices
that were crisscrossing in him emanated from universal psychic
forces, potentially present in all people.
'fhroughout the centuries possession, which was relevant
above all at the time of conversions, had become commonplace,
was moralized, and no longer explained the general structure of
the human being, the exploration of which, so necessary for the
A Scholastic Anthropology qf.Possession I47
construction of sacramental theology beginning in the thirteenth
century, required new subjects and new descriptions.
A Christian Psychology ofPlenitude
Until the twelfth century, the completely involuntary and un-
conscious actions of the sleeper seerned to have had no piace
in the psychology solidly constructed by Saint Augustine, which
was founded on a monism of the human person governed by the
soul. Only the Devil, the producer of corporeal illusion, could
derail in the sinner that fragile domination of the inner man.
Before Scholasticism, Western religious thought established a
supple cohabitation between the soul and the body. The soul,
the human authority of faith and truth, was defined as the "inner
man," in which the most spiritual part of the soul functioned as
a pole that, in the virtuous, absorbed and converted corporality.
For a very long time, from Augustine to Bernard, the Chris-
tian description of the soul, ample and fluid, had essentially
never been questioned. A sign of the lasting solidity of the sys-
tem is found in the erroneous attribution to Saint Augustine
of a very widespread treatise, the foundation of Christian psy-
chology in the Central Middle Ages, the De spiritu et anima,
written in the twelfth century perhaps by Alcher of Clairvaux. 6
Even the definition of the soul presented no difficulty: it simply
concerned all the internal powers of the subject, which were as-
sembled, hierarchized, and oriented toward a contemplation of
God. Thus in the middle of the twelfth century the Cistercian
Isaac de l'Etoile listed from bottom to top the five psychological
levels that led every believer to God: the senses, imagination,
reason, intellect, and intelligence; a century later, the Franciscan
Bonaventure, who had remained obstinately Augustinian, added
a sixth level, the tip of the mind (apex mentis, or "spark of the
synderesis"). 7 One level led to another through an increasing
abstraction 1 through an elimination of earthly traits: for exam-
ple, in progressing from reason to intellect, the soul rids itself
of the categories of place; then from intellect to intelligence, the
I48 Chapter Six
temporal category is abandoned in favor of atemporality, which
is propaedeutic for the grasping of eternity. This vertical struc-
turing of the powers of the soul did not threaten the unity of
the subject, as the transcendent irnmanence of God was n1ani~
fest everywhere; already in Saint Augustine the rnost spiritual
1 texts of the Early Middle Ages. At the very most a corporal un-
part of the soul is designated both as the bottom and the top,
depending on whether the image of God acts in the depths, in
memory and in the recesses of the mind (abditum), or in the
tension toward the top, in the acies rnentis, 8 the tip of the soul. In
the twelfrh century Richard of Saint-Victor expressed clearly this
equivalence of the depths and the heights: 'Through ecstasy [per
excessum mentis], we are raised to the contemplation of divine
.
t h1ngs . "d e o f ourse lves. "9
above or ins1
Augustinian psychology horizontally juxtaposes the comple-
mentary spiritual faculties generically called "spirit" (spiritus) or
more specifically animus (that which produces will) or mens (prin-
ciple of spiritual operations). The power of this psychological
model is the result of the great ontological economy that it en-
ables through an extended monism: the soul and the body have
only one temporal and eternal existence, which is modified only
by events in the spiritual history of the subject; the soul of the
just, after the Last Judgment, rejoins his resuscitated body. Life
.on the earth and the intermediate separation of the body and the
soul constitute only stages in this integral restoration-adding
nothing-of the unity of man.
The fall and damnation are only insufliciencies of the being;
evil is defined as a deficient cause rnore than an opposing prin-
ciple. This notion of evil, developed in the upper echelons of
theology, might very well be reduced to a simple, what I have
called "epidemiological," concept of the demon: the weakness of
the human constitution threatens the in1munity of the soul in
relation to evil and favors the corporeal pole to the detriment
of the spiritual pole. But at the height of monastic thought, the
apogee of Augustinian theology, for Saint Anselm of Canterbury
Satan doesn't exist: he is nothingness. HJ It is in this context that
we must understand the canon Episcopi, at least in its original
A Scholastic Anthropology oj'Possession .r49
version fio1n the tenth century: the f)evil's actions are only pri-
vative and illusory.
The sleepwalker, a figure representing the doubling and the
permeability of the human personality, is completely absent from
conscious is manifest in the cracks of the system. Let us consider,
for example, the Liberresponsionum written at the end of the fifth
centmy by Pope Gregory the Great for Augustine, the apos-
tle of England. In a famous fragment, borrowed by Bede and
integrated into Gratian's Decretum, 11 the _pontiff responds to a
question raised by Augustine: "Can someone receive the body of
the Lord after an illusion such as those that occur during day-
dreams [but we will see he is also referring to sleep J and, if a
priest i~ involved can he celebrate the holy mysteries?" Augustine
thus raises the question of nocturnal pollution and its relation
to liturgical celebration. After evoking the Levitical rules of pu-
rification, Gregory recomn1ends a careful exarnination of things:
"In the case of this illusion, a very necessary distinction must be
made concerning the reasons for its production in the mind of
the sleeper; it is produced either because of drunkenness [cra-
pula], or due to a superfluity or infirmity of nature, or due to a
thought [cogitatione]." The third case presents no difficulty, for
the subject reaps what he sows - "If the illusion of the sleeper
comes from bad thoughts that he had when awake, then his guilt
1s clear to the mind. For he sees from what root that stain is
born: vvh~t he thought consciously he experiences unconsciously
[nesciens]." Nor does the first case call into question the Christian
structure of the personality: daytime sin, less than in the previous
case, establishes the passion of the sleeper in wakefol activity. In
both cases, the sleeper is considered to be responsible and must
necessarily be purged. But the second case escapes the descrip-
tion of the soul: Gregory finds a hole in the human personality
here that leads him to declare the irresponsibility of the sleeper,
which is serenely evoked: "And when this illusion arrives because
of a natural superfluity or infirmity, it must not be feared, for the
mind, without knowing it [nesciens], must rather be pitied for
r50 ChajJ!cr S'ix
having endured than punished for having acted." ]~here 1s no
previous consciousness that can explain the occurrences of the
unconscious: the body, lacking any control, is abandoned to its
excesses [superfluitas] or to its defects [infirmitas],
The c;regorian proto-sleepwalker was developed into a more
complex but equally inexplicable figure by Raoul Glaber, writing
in the eleventh century. The chronicler teJls, among the marvels
that followed the year 1000, of the fate of a monk, Gerard, and of
1
that of a priest frorn the abbey of Saint-Germain d Auxerre,. who,
unbeknown to themselves, moved around at night. But whereas
the other rnarvels all secn1 connected to a providential course
of things (later, Raoul attributes the signs and marvels of the
111onastery of Saint-Gern1ain to its eminent merit) or to the sin
of rnen (rnarvels that precede this passage announce the coming
deaths of those who witnessed them), Raoul abstains from any
con1n1entary or interpretation [qualiter aut a quibus hucusque
nescitur].
The New Aristotelian P<ychology
This supple and enveloping relationship between the soul and the
body was radicaJly challenged at the beginning of the thirteenth
century for two essential reasons: on the one hand, diverse het-
erodo; dualisms of the twelfth century (the best known of which
was Catharism)) paradoxically reinforced by ascetic tendencies
that claimed to unify them, shook up the traditional monism
of Western Christianity; on the other hand, and above all, a
powerful model with an irresistible attraction appeared in the
"psychology" of Aristotle, which had been known since the end
of the twelfth century. Scholastic psychology was born out of the
discovery of hylemorphism (found in translations of Aristotle),
the general theory of the composition of natural beings as matter
that acquires existence from form. And Aristotle's treatise On the
Soul applied this principle to the structure of man, positing that
"the soul is the substantial form of the body." In fact, this was
an enormous and profound misunderstanding, since Aristotle)s
A Scholastic A11thropo!ogy o_/I_)osscssio11 ISI
treatise did not consider the soul to be an eternal and divinely in-
fused principle ofhutnan substance but the psyche the unifying
1
and regulating principle of animate beings,
'l'his rnisundcrstanding enjoyed considerable success because
by playing with the meaning of the word soul, it finally ensured a
solid base) a f'Ooting fi)r the fundamental monism of Christian-
ity, sealed by the doctrine of incarnation but endlessly threatened
fro1n inside by Platonic interpretations of Augustine's texts and
. from without by heterodox dualisn1s. The new doctrine, which
was foJly developed in the work of Thomas Aquinas, locked up
the unity of the subject very securely: man did not diverge from
the general law of hylemorphic con1position, for he existed as a
composite of forrn and rr1atter. This coinposite was indissociable 1
since the form was the act of con1position. 'fhe case of man pre-
sented a considerable difficulty: the soul, substantial form, was
not deduced from the power of matter but was infused by God.
In other words) man received his being both through the corn-
posite and through the soul, understood as a subsistent spiritual
reality. Thomas thus had to say that the being of the composite
participated with the being of the souL This was not a simple
quibble but the humanist conviction that animated anthropol-
ogy and the noeticisrn of 'I'hon1ism: the intellective soul, the
single substantial form of the human body, proceeds from the
divine and participates in it, which guarantees the infallibility of
knowledge.
Far from disturbing the demonstration, the double ontolog-
ical anchoring of man (in his soul and in his composite self)
led to the principle of cooperation between God and 1nan through
operative powers (intellect, wiil, and memory), All the intellec-
tual and organic functions ofn1an collaborated in this unity. Error
and sin derived from sin1ple accidents) from simple infirmities
in this anthropological construcL 'fhis was a beautiful construc-
tion that was developed slowly and with difficulty by Thomas
throughout his career. But our recounting of the smooth pas-
sage from Augustinian monism to the psychological plenitude of
Thomism has ignored the naturalist context that had certainly
r52 Chapter Six
contributed to the acculturation of Aristotle's texts but that also
threatened the unity of the Christian, as is seen in the sudden
emergence of the sleepwalker.
The Return a.f'S!eepwa!kers
The science of the naturalists, the physici) because it was so com-
partmentalized, gave foll autonomy to the body. Let us con-
sider an essential corpus, the Prose Salernitan Questions, probably
written shortly before the year 1200. 12 As we know, these are
collections of responses to specific questions about the natural
world, Although the great school at Salerno, the ancient place of
the convergence of knowledge, was clearly influential, the actual
collections of the questions were written and distributed else-
where. The principal collection was written by an Englishman.
The question of sleepwalking recurs in it several times; thus in
the Questiones Salernitane a magistro Lo[rentius} the writer asks:
"It happens that many people get up at night while asleep, take
weapons or sticks, or ride a horse. What is the cause of this?
What is the remedy?"" The same description is found in two
other collections. 14 But in other collections sleepwalking is pre-
sented either in the prototypical, Gregorian form of nocturnal
pollution or in another specific form: "One wonders why, in one's
sleep, one speaks, shouts, cries. "15 'fhe responses are varied, but
they all show that these nocturnal activities have nothing to do
with dreaming, for they are not connected to the diurnal soul,
with few exceptions.
On the whole, the explanations fall under the category of pure
physiological mechanics: during sleep, the nervous system can
be opened and allow animal spirits to pass through which com-
municate with the brain, the lungs, the limbs. A single response
links nocturnal behavior to a secret concern in conscious life,
but another important nuance appears two or three times; habit
[consuetudo] fills the sleepwalking form and gives it contents,
which explains why the knight takes his weapons or gets on his
horse. The most complete response proposes an exhaustive theory
A Scholastic Anthropology of ~0ossession I5J
of sleep that completely detaches the raw (natural) corporeal be-
mg of the person from his animate being:
.We .wonder vvhy :ome people talk in their sleep. The answer: sleep
~s the rest of the virtues of animation [animalium virtutum] with
'fi f m
~ntens1 cation o natural virtues. 'fhe virtues ofanimation are reason)
~ntellcct, ~emory) th~ se~ses, voluntary movement. Thus, during
sleep, the virtues of an1mat1on rest from their operation because [the
sleeper] doesn't understand, doesn't love doesn't remember, doesn't
1
sense, doesn't move voluntarily. The natural virtues are intensified
because then nature, freed frorr1 the control of external factors can
better ~ct in~ide. Thus, through the effect of heat and hum{dity,
a smo~1ness is created in the liver. The nerves are filled with this
ascending s~oke, which, as a result of their intervention, can travel
thrc:ugh the instrument of the virtue of animation. This is why we
don t hear or. see while sleeping. The pathways through which the
[ammal] spmts mculate are plugged up by the smoke and thus
because the spirits can't escape, we do not speak or move while w~
sleep. But for some, not all of the pathways are plugged up and thu
t eh.an1ma
[ ' ! ]sp1nt,
' ' which is no longer blocked, leaves through thes
head, goes as 1r as. the plectn1m of the tont,>i.1e, which, stricken,
forms speec~. ~u~, since .each being is more capable and more ready
for that which ts its habit, the habit, in a secondary configuration
like a second nature, arranges the body. '
In the Salernitan corpus, the question of sleepwalking is re-
so~ve_d rather easily and is not at all dramatic, since this rnech-
an1s:1c. conception of the human body is not conffonted with
Christian anthropology; the contrast of the natural and the ani-
mate 1s made according to a division that goes back to Aristotle.
We are dealing with a yet very compartmentalized science that
was developed over the long term. Aristotle himself mentions
sleepwalkers in his treatise On the Generation ofAnimals; he at-
tributes the phenomenon, moreover, to a sort of fossil residue
of pu~e a~mality, of "naturality" in the complex and animated
organ1zat1on of man: "f"or animals have sensations even while
asleep, not only what are called dreams, but also others besides
r54 Chapter Six
dreams, as those persons who arise while sleeping and do many
things without dreaming." 16
We do not need to assume the presence of an Aristotelian tra-
dition to explain this rather Galen-inspired Salemi tan physiology
of sleepwalking, however. Aristotle's treatise arrived rather late
in the West: Michel Scot translated it in the 1220s, shortly before
delivering Averroes's comrnentary on it; ifitwas distributed fairly
widely (69 manuscripts), it took the new translation by William
ofMoerbeke {ca. 1260) for the treatise to be truly disseminated
(237 manuscripts have been preserved). We also know that it
was extremely difficult to have the corpus of Aristotle's naturalist
treatises admitted into the University of Paris. In fact, although
the West had long lacked a theory of human physiology, at the
beginning of the twelfth century it began to receive a composite
form of knowledge. The beginning of the question cited earlier,
on the distinction between the virtues of animation and natural
virtues, is taken from the Dragmaticon philosophiae of William
of Conehes (early twelfth century)." William belonged to that
school of Chartres that audaciously mixed the most mechanistic
theories with the most ethereal Platonism (we need only think
of the famous commentary by Thierry of Chartres on Genesis,
which explains creation in physical terms).
Gervais o/Tilbury and the Demonization ofthe Sleepwalker
Despite these naturalist antecedents, the growth of the relevant
literature at the end of the twelfth century is irr1portant, as is
its relationship with Christian anthropology during the crisis
that brought it out of the rigorous simplicity of the Augustinian
model. Physical knowledge then ceased to enjoy its status of ex-
territoriality. The figure of the sleepwalker entered the Christian
stage.
Thus a tale by Gervais of Tilbury, in the Otia imperialia that
he offered to Emperor Otto IV around r2n, presents an episode
of sleepwalkingrn Here, for the first time, the sleepwalker is
Satanized.
A Scholastic Anthropology a)' Possession
So1ne people maintain that an anxious and melancholic tempera-
ment can make people think they are seeing phantasms of this kind
the same thing often happens with people who are delirious anL1
suffering a violent attack of fever. And they clai1n that others see
hallucinations like these in their dreams with such vividness that
they believe they arc awake: Augustine, in his book City ~/God,
reports how some people adn1itted that this had happened to them.
But there arc other opinions which I cannot dis1niss, since I know
won1en, neighbours of ours, vvell-advanccd in years) who used to tell
me that they had seen in the night-time troops of nlen anrl won1en
stripped naked, to their shame; they also reported vvhat we vvcr~
doing at night in far distant places. Sometimes they tended wounds
which o~r ch.ildren had sustained from unseen nocturnal whippings.
They ma1nta1ned that, while their husbands were asleep, they crossed
the sea and traveled round the world in a swift Right with a band of
lamias; if any man or woman among them spoke the narnc of Christ
on such an excursion, he or she immediately fell to the ground
wherever they were, no matter how dangerous it was. VVe ourselves
saw, in the kingdom of Arles, a woman from the town ofBeauca.ire
who fCU, into the midst of the waters of the Rhone for this very
reason. She was soaked up to her waist, but escaped in the middle
of the night without danger to her life, though not without a fright.
We know that some women have been seen and wounded in the
form of cats by people keeping a secret watch by night, and the next
day they have exhibited wounds and missing limbs.
The wornan of Beaucaire indeed shows the characteristics
of a sleepwalker: real movement (she actually went into the
Rhone and was soaked in it) and complete lack of consciousness.
Moreover, Gervais' preliminary considerations connect the phe-
nomenon to the texts of the physicists: the Salemi tan collection
of magister Lorentius associates sleepwalking with a melancholic
19
temperament. But what is new in Gervais is the demonization
of the sleepwalker.
Indeed, this essential text, almost two centuries ahead of time,
announces the witches' Sabbath, which links nocturnal move-
ment, the splitting of the personality, and diabolical possession.
We can see clearly how the unfortunate sleepwalker of Ades,
I.</1 Chapter Six
observed by (}ervais, enters into a diabolical systerr1 of true
transfonnation through a game of associations and rumors. The
connection between sleepwalking and sorcery is explicitly estab-
lished, n1oreover, in the first great treatise on demonology from
the era of the Sabbath, the Malleus Ma!eficarum, published in
1486 by the oon1inican inquisitor Henry Institoris. In this text
we find the power of the name (but here, it is a question of the
baptismal name) to conjure sleepwalking:
l have not dared altogether to condc1nn the rebaptism under certain
conditions of bewitched persons, that they may recover that which
was at first omitted. It is said, also, of those who walk in their sleep
during the night over high buildings without any harm, that it is
the work of evil spirits who thus lead them; and rnany affirm that
when such people arc rcbaptized they are 1nuch benefited. And it
is wonderful that, when they are called by their own names, they
suddenly fall back to earth, as if that name had not been given to
t I1cn1 in proper 1orm
< at t hcir m
baptlsm.
It would be a bit absurd to honor Gervais de Tilbury for having
foreseen the Sabbath if we could not establish the schemas that
enable us to connect his perception of the sleepwalker with a
historical horizon of perception. _A text of canon law enables us
to understand how, at the beginning of the thirteenth century)
the connections among the sleepwalker, baptism, and the threats
against the faith were in fact made.
Character as a Connector ofthe Human Personality
In I201 lnnocent III responded to the questioning of the arch-
bishop of Aries through a letter that became the canon Majores
in the Decretals of Greg01y IX, published in 123+ 21 The arch-
bishop had asked the pontiff how it was appropriate to respond to
heretics who conden1ned the baptism of children. The exact con-
text of this questioning escapes us, but the archdiocese of .Arles
was located in the territory of the Petrobrusians, who, in the mid-
twelfth century, among other things, questioned the baptism of
/j Sch(l/astir /J.11thropology oj.Posscssio11 157
children on the basis of a literal understanding of the c;ospels
('vfhose who shall believe and will be baptized will be saved").
One can easily assume that the 'Petrobrusians had left some rem-
nants of resistance in IJrovence at the beginning of the thirteenth
century. Innocent responds first to an initial objection, the most
direct, concerning the absence of consent in a little child who
cannot understand [sentire] or consent [consentire]: in the new
lawi baptism replaced circumcision, which does not involve the
consciousness of the one who undergoes it; baptism extended the
field of application of circumcision since baptis1n was also applied
to females. Finally, baptism was necessa1y for the child, who was
always threatened by an early death. Furthermore, although one
could not say that the child believed in the act through practice
[per usum ], he at least believed through disposition to the faith
[per habitum fidei] through virtuality [aptitudo].
Then the pontiff brings up a second objection: "But some
believe from this response that they have found a path to other
questions, following what we have said on the remission of orig-
inal sin in children through baptism, arguing that if they were
baptized, adult madmen and sleepers [amentibus et dormien-
tibus] would sin1ilarly obtain remission." Let us leave aside for a
mornent the issue of identifying those "sleepers" to follow the ar-
gument. Innocent was opposed to baptizing madmen and sleep-
ers, arguing that their baptism would lead to an absurd situation:
original sin that is not cleansed deprives the person of the vision
of God; current sin (that is 1 individual sin) that is not cleansed
through confession leads to torture in perpetual Gehenna. The
baptized madman or sleeper would thus enjoy the vision of God
while enduring perpetual torture; these states are impossible to
endure together [incompassibilia]. Let us note the difference be-
tween the child and the madman or the sleeper. The young child
who dies does not sin since he doesn't experience the inconi-
passibilia~he is innocent; the madman or the sleeper can sin
(there is thus no ethical irresponsibility) without having access
to confession.
1s8 Chapter Six
This objection led Innocent to deal with an associated issue:
some people asserted that, because of the effectiveness of the
sacraments it was necessary to baptize not only madmen and
1
sleepers but also "contradictors" (contradicentes, or those who)
pagans or atheists, denied the truths of the faith); if they did not
receive the "reality" of the sacrament, they would at least endure
the "mark" (character) of it. This notion ofcharacter, the invisible
but real mark of the sacrament, had just been invented. Innocent
III was one of the first to use it (we shall return to this). 22 Ac-
cording to this opinion, not only children, who were incapable
of believing, but also ficti (the false believers, those who believed
with their mouths but not their hearts) should be baptized. Inno-
cent III refused this extension while accepting forced conversion
as instituted by the Councils of Toledo. Indeed, he who explic-
itly opposed the faith must not be baptized, for he would be
profaning the sacrament. The madman and the sleeper could
not receive baptism through the argument of necessity unless,
before falling into madness or sleep, they showed an intention to
convert.
This last specification indicates clearly that the human cate-
gories dealt with in Majores are considered as judicial cases whose
value is related precisely to their being extremes: one must imag-
ine here some cataleptically sudden catechumen. The sleeper,
in Innocent Ill's text, evidently cannot be our sleepwalker busy
brandishing his sword in the darkness of night. However, the
commentators of Sifuriosus (Giovanni d'Imola, the Panormitan)
referred to the Majores to explain Clement V's decision. We must
therefore attempt to understand why the pontiff introduced this
category of sleeper, which when added to that of madman, brings
nothing to the argument.
The primary impact of the demonstration concerns the sub-
ject's consent to the faith. We must imagine a little picture of
-the cases envisioned by Innocent: the normal and adult faith-
ful understands, consents, and believes; at the other extreme
the contradictor understands (badly, of course), doesn't consent,
A Scholastic Anthropology of' Possession 159
or believe. All the difficulties are found between these two ex-
tremes: the little child doesn't understand, consents by proxy, and
believes virtually. The madman (or the sleeper) doesn't under-
stand or consent; he cannot believe but might have been able to
believe before his condition. The_fictus understands, consents in
appearance; he doesn't believe, but, brought into the Church, he
may believe (conversion of his heart). In other words, the three
intermediary cases present three states of will, of free will (virtu-
ality, madness, and possibility). Within the sacramental edifice
the crack of free will is formed; the most important figure is thus
the fictus, whose very existence challenges the exact superposition
of the res and the character of the sacrament. He is the only one
to personally enjoy the value of the sacrament. We can see, then,
the function of the sleeper in relation to the madman: he has
no control over his body but does control his mind, unlike the
madman.
The introduction of the sleeper enables the assertion that raw
nature, humors, a bad sealing, or blockage of the nervous conduits
might explain certain refusals of faith. The soul of every ordinary
man, in his everyday sleep or in cataleptic pathology, is threat-
ened by the natural autonomy of the body. What is, necessary,
then, is to expulse the greatest danger, the secret and invisible
subversion of faith through evil will, out of the body. By refusing
the sacrament to the innocent sleeper, the pontiff excluded an
evil corporeity from the Christian community. More discretely
than in Gervais of Tilbury, we also see here the susceptibility of
the human person to true possession by the Devil through the
splitting of his personality.
"f o better understand this somatization of evil, we must re-
member that baptism represents the pardoning of original sin, a
terrible mystery that the Church has never been able completely
to dominate. In the Central Middle Ages there was a diffuse
but persistent attempt to assign original sin to the body. We
find the old traducianist assertion that the soul, at least in the
part affected by original sin, was continually transmitted from
the time of Adam; man was split, then, into two individuals,
I6o Chapter Six
one with a strong corporeal soul and the other with a strong
spiritual body. Thus, at the beginning of the twelfth century, in
his little treatise on the soul, Gilbert Crispin breaks with the
heroic theology of evil of his master, Saint Anselm, to adopt
traducianism. 23 This doctrine, with its Augustinian fOundation,
while remaining in circulation for many centuries, could not of-
fer a truly satisfying option, for it was too clearly opposed to the
idea of divine creation. But at the end of the thirteenth century,
the great theologian Henry of Ghent showed that original sin
was certainly not transmitted either through the soul or through
the body but through the effect of a sort of unhealthy disposi-
tion that remained in the limbs, which was deactivated through
baptism but nevertheless remained. 24 Henry even compared the
transmission of original sin through one's parents to that of lep-
rosy, which was propagated through heredity and not through
direct contact. From the twelfth to the sixteenth century, evil
continued to be incarnated.
Plurality ofthe Person
Thomism was not the dominant system in the thirteenth cen-
tury, despite what is suggested by the official Thomism of the
end of the Middle Ages or the neo-Thomism of our time.
The adversaries of Aristotelian 1.''homism, who are called "neo-
Augustinian," of whom there were many in the ranks of the
Franciscans but who were also present arr1ong the Dominicans
(Robert Kilwardby) or among the seculars (Henry of Ghent),
defended the idea of a plurality of substantial forms in man. The
human subject was thus made up of various autonomous strata:
one could, for example, define one corporeal form, one vege-
tative fOrm, and one sensitive form. Various systerns explained
the connection between these layers of the human being: for ex-
ample, the matter of one level could constitute the form of the
inferior level, and so forth. The detail of the constructions is not
important here; the pluralist theory proposed a federative or even
confederative structure of the subject.
A Scholastic Anthropology ~f J>ossession 16I
We can easily sec what was at stake in the debate. On the
one hand, the pluralists gave the soul back the autonomy that it
had had in Augustinianism through a pendulum motion that was
inherent in the history of Christianity; on the other hand, the
pluralists took greater account of evil, of the action of demons,
of sin, while preserving the divinity of the soul. The levels of the
human being then functioned as security doors, fOr whenever evil
penetrated one part of man, one had only to close the upper levels.
. The advent of the witches' Sabbath, of the reality of posses-
s10n, occurred when Scholastic knowledge had to confront two
contrasting but equally established statements: (r) Every person
is formed of a single personality stamped by the seal of God; and
(2) Every person is formed of two or several personalities.
The first statement, which carne out of an ancient theology
that firmly joined man's body and soul by following the model of
the incarnation, was considerably refined through the thought of
Thomas Aquinas. ~fhe second statement, more natural to human
reflection, was based both on a traditional refusal of the flesh and
on a new psychology developed in the thirteenth century through
contact with medical science. ~fhis contradiction, virtually laid
down in Christianity, burst forth in the thirteenth century; but
the theological dispute between the partisans of the single sub-
stantial form (the Thomists) and those of the multiple substantial
form (the "nco-Augustinians") took a sharp tum when judicial
a.nd political stakes were added and when the notion of ~espon
s1b1hty, of a moral person, was worked into canon law. 25 The
invention of objective sorcery, that complete innovation of the
notion of possession, occurred with the introduction of a third
statement, which, through creative quantification, reconciled the
first two: (J) Certain people, through a supernatural exception,
have a double or multiple personality.
Man and His Double
In the next chapter we look at the internal splitting of the per-
sonality, which caused the soul of the individual and a divine
z62 Chapter Six
or Sat:1nic guest to cohabitate within the same body. But we
must point out that this splitting could be external and strap the
subject with a familiar double, an angel or a demon, which was
the. result of the subject's susceptibility to supernatural influences
when it required or called upon either a protective presence or
demonic assistance. ln an earlier study I pointed out the rele-
vance of the biblical book of Tobias in the thirteenth century to
26
the development of an individualistic and p.ietistic spiritua.lity.
Now, in this tale, the archangel Raphael behaves exactly like a
guardian angel. The oldest Life of Raymond of Penafort, writ-
ten at an uncertain date, between 1318 and 1351, reports that the
Dominican had a "familiar angel of God" who woke him up in
the morning before the matins bell-"
By contrast, man could be endowed with a personal demon,
an extension of his own personality. Pope Boniface VIII, ac-
cording to the accusations leveled against him first by Guillaume
de Plaisians, 28 then as picked up and developed by the cardi-
nal Pietro Colonna, had bis individual demon, a familiar that
he called Boniface. The pontiffs master, in matters concerning
necrornancy and the invocation of demons, was a certain Boniface
the Lombard, from Vicenza, which would have enabled the pope
to engage in great verbal exaltation when the master ofVicenza
asked hi1n for news of his demon: "Boniface answered, on the
subject of Boniface, that Boniface, solemnly given to Boniface
by Boniface has indeed begun his work and I am beginning to
truly appreciate him."29 Angelo Clareno, the great director of the
Italian Spirituals, had been able to identify the familiar demon
Furcio, who inhabited certain heretics such as Gerard Segarelli
or Fra Dolcino. 30
From Demonic Possession to Divine Possession
Boniface's exaltation befOre his demon leads to a reversal in the
perception of the openness of the human creature. Whereas in
a Thomist anthropology any depravation of a faculty dimini-
shes the cognitive and spiritual power of man, in an Augustinian
A Scholastic Anthropology oj.Posscssio!l 63
anthropology, that li1nitation could be transforrned into an open,
ing. This is what is seen in a small text by Peter of John Olivi,
which radically alters an understanding of the sleepwalker.
The text of interest to us is found in his quodlibetical
questions. 31 ''fhe question raised is as follows: "l1ow is it that cer-
tain half-sleepers [scn1idormientes] see, hear, speak, walk, and
ride a horse with much more confidence than if they were folly
awake? Similarly we ask the question about the blind who walk
and act with rnuch rnore confidence than do many of those who
can see." Olivi invented the term "half-sleeper," which he substi-
tutes for "sleeper" [dormicnsJ, from the medical and Scholastic
tradition of the thirteenth century. This use, and the unusual
connection with the motor ability of the blind, indeed indicates
a desire to grant a positive existence to the sleepwalker, whereas
up until then he had appeared as a being deprived of control over
his soul.
Following the structure of the medieval disputation, Olivi
begins by setting forth the thesis he will dispute:
It n1ust be said that somc 1 against the explicit authority of Augus-
tine, say that reason can produce no act during sleep. But it is the
imagination [fantasia_], that asse1nbler of sensory intentions, that en-
genders all the acts of reason that sometimes appear to be produced
in this circumstance. For we reason in the state of wakcfUlnt;;ss: our
fantasy and our i1nagination are then put into motion by reason, and
an imprint of that reasoning is placed in the1n; according to the same
1ncchanisn1, from such an imprint left in it, imagination is induced,
during sleep, to certain acts similar to acts of reason. And the cause of
this inability of reason to act itself resides, fr>r them, our adversaries,
in the imaginative form [species fi1ntasmatum], which is then not
presented as the form of an absent thing, but as a thing present in
a material and sensory way. 'fhis form is thus not offered to reason
under the intelligible mode that enables abstraction, but under the
carnal and corporeal n1ode; now, his 1nodc is quite distanced from
the process of intellectual abstraction which, for our adversaries, is
accon1plishcd through the agent intellect.
r64 Chapter Six
The Thornists, who are targeted here, therefore contrast tvvo
types of externally similar acts (the sleepwalker's stroll is identical
to that of a man who is awake). But if the effects appear identical,
the mechanism is different: the sleepwalker's act is related to what
we call "reflex"; the imagination mechanically, passively stores a
signal that releases a series of gestures. This process is infra-
rational, for the imagination (fantasia) constitutes one of the
links of the sensorial mechanism: the five senses offer sensations,
which are coordinated by the common and unified sense through
the imagination. Up to that point, the process is the same for
man and the animals. Then, intermediary faculties, the cognitive
and the memorative (rational and human specifications of the es-
timative and memorative faculties of the animals), gradually pro-
duce the intelligible form [species], the emanation of the reality
of the thing rid of the animal detritus of sensation. Reason inter-
venes, then, in its most elementary form of classification and ab-
straction. Henceforth high reason, the agent intellect, a function
delegated by God, can deal with these forms, which are capable of
the abstraction that alone belongs to the intellect. This Christian
development of Aristotle's psychology confines the sleepwalker
in the low and pre-individual forms of animality, which are nor-
mally integrated into the unity of the personality desired by God,
who creates souls as "substantial forms of bodies.') The nescience
of the sleepwalker amounts to an exceptional accident.
Olivi considers this construction to be "stupid and ridiculous"
for several reasons, which I present neither in order nor in de-
tail. The facts contradict Thomist psychology: the distinction
betvveen conscience and nescience is not superimposed on the
contrast between wakefulness and sleep: "Often, during sleep,
we think [cogitamus] that we are asleep and sometimes, while
sleeping, we wonder whether what we see in a dream indeed cor-
responds to reality or is only appearing in the mode of images,
of dreams." In contrast, diurnal sensations can trick us, although
we have reason and free will. The conclusion is stark: "Reason
can be mistaken and, consequently, produce sinful acts."
A Scholastic Anthropology of Possession r65
Next, Olivi continues to destroy the Thomist system by at-
tacking the essential element of its cognitive theory, the notion
of "intelligible form" that assures the reality and the trnth of
knowledge and the infallible nature of human reason. Now, if
the form accounts for the essence of the thing, how could it
be different depending on the subject's state of wakefulness or
sleep? How would it be less susceptible to abstraction? ln fact,
says Olivi, every form of knowledge is a variant of the form of
memory and constructs only a human equivalent of the object.
I-i: constitutes not a representative, but a representation, an ac-
tive process by the subject. Reason thus has a function, capable
of turning [converti] toward an object. The confusion between
the real presence or absence of an object comes from a failure
in reason's capacity for synthesis. The break with the Thomist
construction of knowledge-a continuity beginning with sensa-
tions up to the use of the agent intellect (the only active polarity
in a passive process)-appears clear: on one end, reason, distinct
from consciousness, is always available, beginning with the stage
of sensation; on the other end, a knowledge of universal terms
and intellectual concepts (such as notions of generosity, faith,
charity) transcends all sensorial experience and can be acquired
only through analogous participation.
Olivi thus turns the Thomist pyramid of knowledge, estab-
lished on the wide base of perception, then rationalized progres-
sively through the imagination, then through intellection, upside
down. For him, every cognizant activity is rooted in reason; but
this reason must not be confused with consciousness, as is shown
in the example of the sleepwalker. This deep root is called free
will. This authority, which alone gives the subject his "personal-
ity" [personalitas], cannot be described by any function - it is a
radical mystery of the self. From this authority there emanates an
aspectus, literally an "aim," an adjustment of one's orientation. In
a common situation, the straight line of this aim passes through
imaginative then sensorial functions to reach natural objects. Or
the aim is adjusted differently, moving away from the imagi-
native and sensorial strata to reach, through its own strength
I66 Chapter Six
(and through the power inspired by analogous participation),
universals and concepts. In other cases, the arc of representation
leans directly toward the sensorial zones without going through
all the forms of the imagination that determine consciousness;
the unconscious sleepwalker is testimony to this. 'T'he superior
confidence of his behavior comes from the fact that he has neu-
tralized the estimative function, the inducer of fear. Thus the
unexpected connection with the blind person is explained: the
removal of one sense concentrates and intensifies the radius of
intention, the path of the aim; the memorative function, freed of
the weight of the visible, exhibits more instrumental capabilities.
The different adjustments in the still active subject produce a
dynamic, a situation in which one loses by what one gains and
one benefits from what one loses.
Reacting against the unitary machine of the subject, a closed
monad, opening only toward the heights of the divinity, but also
against the abilities of the confederal descriptions that juxtaposed
the levels, Olivi develops a federative system in which the only
common authority is situated in the obscure root of the being,
in his ability to produce intentions, the highest and most agile
of which got around the weight of consciousness. 'Nescience,
positive or negative, no longer constitutes a limit but a rnodality
of the self, here named free will. The praise of the sleepwalker
and of the blind person says this well: the subject exists only in
the alternating eclipses and lunations of intention.
Fragility of the Character
As we have seen, Innocent III had attempted to protect the tran-
scendence of the sacrament against the fragility of the subject by
creating or disserninating the notion of character) which armed
the weak structure of the human personality. But a few decades
later, the doctrine of the sacramental pact reduced character to
very little. Olivi, in a question from his commentary on book 3
of the Sentences, denies that the baptized child acquires a habitus
of grace, that is, becomes the "holder" or "possessor" of grace.
A Scholaslic Anthropology oj'Possession I6J
Rather than the notion of habitus he prefers that of habitudo, of
32
relation, which does not necessitate a sign any more than the
contract requires a written charter. ,_fhe contractual document is
only a support, without absolute value, compared to the effec-
tiveness of the contracting wills. Olivi cites Pseudo-Dionysius,
who.sc .translation~ contains the vvord habitus, while immediately
specrfymg that th.ts word should not be understood in relation to
the idea of a possession of the effective sign:
'I'hc bapti.srr1al transmission of our regeneration is a principle for sa-
cred action, that is, for the obsenrance of the sacred commandments
and it directs our internal farces fhabitus anlmales J with a view to
the adequate possibility of reception of other sacred words and ac-
t~ons and with a view to the speculative attainment of supercclcs-
tlal rest; and this rnust not be understood as the formation or the
figuration of the soul, as through the effect of an acquired intellec-
tual quality [habitum intellcctualem], that some call the baptismal
character. 33
Henceforth, the character is only an aspect of the sacramental op-
eration and not an autonomous reality: "By the name of character
[the saints] mean consecration in a passive sense, consecration
through which the entire person of the baptized, in his body
and hrs soul, always remains consecrated and dedicated to God
inasmuch as that derives from the strength of the sacrarnent."34'
. One of the character's functions is to serve as a sign of Chris-
tian adherence, one meant to repel demons: the sign invisible to
man appears to separated substances, including demons. Olivi
anributes the dissuasive effect of baptism not to the reading of a
sign but to the recognition of a will, assured by the transparency
of the spirit or by memory:
This relationship is completely apparent to the saints vvho see the will
of God; it is indicated to demons in part through the continual mcm-
~ry of the sacred baptismal action organized around this relationship,
in part through a strong and hidden effectiveness of the power of the
divine presence and of angelic protection. This effectiveness keeps
the demons away from the baptized as if by a secret force of baptism
68 Chapter Six
and 1nakcs thcrn trcmble 1 to the extent) however, it is appropriate
to the holiness of baptism and to the goodness or the malice of the
baptized. 'T'his character is not obvious to 1nen, except throug~ a
vision or through the memory of the transmission or the reception
ofbaptisn1 and through the filith that is added to such a memory.
I--Iere, again, the character is reduced to the memorial trace of
a permanent will that could only be known through supernatu-
ral visions. We must note Olivi's slight hesitation: the repulsive
action of baptisn1 that repulses demons is accomplished either
through the human mode of memory (the demon knows that
the will of God is at work in this person whose baptism rs be-
ing remembered) or through the mode of divine assistance {we
A Scholastic Anthropology oj.Pussessio11 69
character and conveyed, a111ong the faithful, by the character of
baptisrn and that of confinnation.
The "J'homist construct was threatened at the beginning of the
fr)l1rtecnth century by the considerable attraction of contractual
causality that extended well beyond the Franciscan circles of the
Bonaventure-Olivi-Duns Scotus line. We find a clear example
of it in the Carmelite John Baconthorpe, who was master of the-
ology at Oxford. In the 1330s, in a version of his commentary on
the Sentenres of Peter l_,ombard) he raises the fOllowing question:
"Can the creation of character or of grace or of all other being be
con1municated to the creature?" It is a rnatter, then, of knowing
how finite creatures can enjoy the divine power to create, that is
1

to produce in the world some ex nihilo being, and not through

may recall that the verb assistere denotes the presence of God
generation. The very fact of extending the creation of character
during a contractual sacrament) or of angelic protection. 35 This
to every being indicates that the question comes from a very gen-
need to multiply the divine presence pushes Olivi, in the follow-
eral theological difficulty, as ifBaconthorpe wanted to show that
ing' sentence, to envision "something like a secret force o.f bap-
tis~," which would come close to the ontological reality of the one could not make a specific case from the creation of character
without addressing the issue of the limits of human power. To
character.
resolve this difficulty, the Carmelite distinguishes three models
Criticisn1 of the ontological reality of the character was pur-
for the communication of this power of creation.
sued after Olivi, notably at the beginning of the fourteenth cen-
The first, which he attributes to Avicenna, consists ofa series
tury by John Duns Scotus, William ofOckham, Durand de_ Saint-
of delegations of divine power: God, primary intelligence, cre-
Pouryain, and Peter AurioL Duns Scotus supported the idea of
ates a secondary intelligence very close to him, \vhich is capable
character only because Pope Innocent III had proclaimed its ne-
of creating a third intelligence, and so forth. The second model,
cessity. I---Iowever, this notion was hugely important t~ Roman
explicitly attributed to Thomas Aquinas, rests on an instrumen-
ecclesiology. If the supporters of the contractual causality of the
tal causality: "Even though the sacran1ents, through their own
sacran1ent focused on the individual and his direct relationship
natural strength cannot as principal agents create anything, how-
1
with God while ignoring the mediation of the Church, the same
ever, they can receive from (}od in a meditative way an infused
was not true for the theologians who placed the Roman Church
strength, through which they can be the instrument of God, the
at the center of the history of salvation. Thomas Aquinas had
principal agent and in an instrurnental way create the sacramen-
1
undertaken a considerable reworking of the doctrine of character
tal character." Finally, the third model, attributed to Henry of
by making it the indelible mark received during the sacrament
Ghent and to Bonaventure, is constituted by contractual causal-
of the order, and no longer fron1 baptism. Instrumental causality
ity: "God, himself, is a participant and present at the sacraments
thus received full ecclesiological justification: the effectiveness
[insisteret aut assisteret sacramentisJ and, through that unique
of the sacrament passed through the divine choice to confer a
presence at the sacraments, as if through a certain pact [quasi ex
permanent ministry, indicated by the perenniality of the pnestly
quodan1 pacto], the sacraments would confer grace."
170 Chapter Six
Baconthorpe demonstrates that the first tvvo solutions are
equivalent in that they show the difficulty of communicating
a creative power to the creature, whereas the third model is abso-
lutely free of any difficulty. The rest of the demonstration tends
to prove meticulously that, whatever the precautions taken, the
meditative communication of a divine attribute is impossible, for
it involves denial of the absolute incommensurability between
nothingness and something. The details of this demonstration
do not relate to our subject, but the conclusion implies that only
contractual causality enables one to imagine character. Does this
mean that Baconthorpe is joining forces with a "Franciscan" the-
ology, which was, moreover, quite foreign to him? Not at all,
because for Olivi or Duns Scotus, the question raised by Bacon-
thorpe would not be relevant. Specifically, as we have seen, Olivi
rejected the idea of creation of new beings through the effect of
g;ace: for him, the sacrament creates nothing; it only manifests
the existence of the pact between God and his creature. This is
why character has scarcely more importance than Theophilus' s
charter, which was revocable only through the will of God. The
question of creation is not raised.
Baconthorpe attempts to preserve a strong existence of char-
acter while favoring contractual causality in the name of an in-
stitutional ecclesiology. We see this in another ofBaconthorpe's
questions, one that derives from canonical (that is, legally ori-
ented) questions regarding Peter Lombard's Sentences, written
and copied with the speculative questions looked at above. Re-
garding distinction 17 from book 4, the Carmelite asks whether
the keys of spiritual power should be distinguished as two ab-
solute qualities, or as two relationships established in order to
exercise different duties. In his response, 36 Baconthorpe con-
stantly associates keys as a principle of ecclesiastic authority with
the sacerdotal character, as if it were a matter of a single case with
multiple variants. In fact, during his response, he speaks of the
pontifical character, a category unknown up to then. We must
certainly understand that the keys, as a sign of papal authority
transmitted by Peter, have exactly the same status as the baptismal
A Scholastic Anthropology of Possession TJI
character for the faithful or as the character of the Order for the
priest. Baconthorpe immediately notes tbe ecclesiological stakes
of the question by noting that the implicit solution of Lombard,
who deals with the keys as beings and not as relationship, "seems
to be in favor of the lord pope; indeed, this solution implies that
the authority or the sacerdotal character is something absolute in
the soul, as are theological virtues, sacramental grace, and other
realities of this type, for if the key was not something absolute,
it could not establish diverse relationships with diverse acts."37
This final point emphasizes what was rather specifically at
stake, which was confirmed by a response to the positions of the
Franciscan Peter Auriol, who, following Olivi and Duns Scotus,
reduces the character to a pure relationship. Peter Auriol, ac-
cording to Baconthorpe, had asserted that the powers that could
be separated are not identical. Now, "the keys of knowledge
and of power are of that type, for the authority necessary for the
knowledge of causes can be conferred to someone without his be-
ing conferred the authority to judge."38 Henceforth, there would
not be a single pontifical character but a series of formed rela-
tionships around the pontiff. Baconthorpe rejects this argument
while recognizing that God, through his absolute power, could
have seen that these two keys were conferred at different times
but that through his ordered power, which alone is important in
this area, he didn't do so. Pope John XXII had had the oppor-
tunity to defend a position analogous to that of Baconthorpe's,
in his bull Quia quorumdam mentes of November ro, 1324. 39 lt
was meant to refute an argument of the Spiritual Franciscans,
who asserted that the pope could not revoke the determination
of one of his predecessors when it had been pronounced by virtue
of its key of knowledge, distinct from the key of power, or the
key of jurisdiction. Of course, the Spirituals referred to the bull
Exiit qui seminat (1279) of Nicholas IIJ, which legitimized the
concept of the use of poverty. Since it was impossible to claim
that a pontiff was not authorized to rectify constitutions or dis-
ciplinary or pastoral dispositions, it was necessary to create these
strong distinctions between the two keys. John XXI! thus argued
172 Chapter Six A Scholastic Anthropology of.Possession r;3

against the separation of the two keys by inserting the metaphor a mode of production through a pact. (]rantedJ this pact con- 1

that when one wishes to open one's door at nigh ti it is necessary cluded by the Church and not by the faith fol, lost the subversive
to illuminate with a candle (the light of knowledge) in order to value it had in Franciscan thought. But John Baconthorpe's ex-
open (deliberate and judge). ercise of acrobatic thinking showed the power and the potential
'Baconthorpe thus concludes with the existence of an abso- danger of the doctrine of contractual effectiveness of the pact: the
lute pontifical character in the form of the reception of keys. institution delegated to the constitution of the pact had only to be
I-Ienceforth, the notion unde1went a strong extension; in an- challenged for the individual freedom of the faithfo! or the col-
other canonical question the Carmelite broaches the theme of lective will of a group to take the eminent place of contractant. 42
episcopal character. 4'l In passing he mentions that the question And there were many candidates for that position.
of knowing whether the episcopate was an order (as to an im-
pression of character) was raised under the pontificate of John
XXII. According to Baconthorpe, theologians qualify the order
as a sacrarnent and an office dedicated to the creation of the
body of Christ; in this sense, the episcopal function was not an
order but presupposed the order. To this Baconthorpe contrasts
another meaning of order, as dignity and power, which imprints
character. Henceforth, all indelible power is received through a
character: among the analogous arguments he uses to support
his thesis, Baconthorpe in fact brings up the character of chivalry
(character militiae), which is not reiterated when the knight re-
covers the grace of the prince. Similarly, when royal coinage is
manufactured by counterfeiters under the sign of the monarch
and the guilty parties are caught and punished, the coins are
not taken out of circulation. ln another question, the Carmelite
mentions the character that indelibly marks the heretic or the
prostitute. 'I'hese sornewhat extravagant analogies are compati-
ble with Baconthorpe's political thought, as he was one of the
most radical thinkers on sovereignty, 41 but they tend to material-
ize a spiritual notion and to relativize, by inflating it, the notion
of the sacrament.
In this lineage that goes from Thomas Aquinas to John
Baconthorpe, it was thus important to reinforce the solidity of
the Church around the notion of character, which occurred ex-
tensively in the Carmelite; but for Baconthorpe, precisely because
character had a strong ontological status, it was also necessary to
combine the asserted creation of a substance of character with

7 of arnbivalence.
Supernatural Invasions: Mystical
Models of Possession
In exploring the li1nits of action and consciousness, Scholastic
anthropology had described the zones of emptiness and fragility
in the human personality. Now, supernature, far from being
repulsed by human emptiness, seemed welcome in it. 'fhe con-
siderable rise of the mystical, beginning in the second half of the
thirteenth century, shows this new invasion of the supernatural.
Mystics spoke, dictated, or wrote a lot; people listened to them
attentively. Divine rapture was the mirror irr1agc of diabolical
possession, which itself was held in the obscurity of extracted
confessions, denials or medical loopholes. The analogous nature
1
of possessions, either divine or diabolical was the result of a sim-
1
ilarity in the n1odes of action of the spiritus, of the divine spirit,
either angelic or demonic.
From Ambivalence to Suspicion
The disquieting ambivalence of losing one's faculties to the su-
pernatural was not new. In the primitive Church, discerning
spirits (discretio spirituum) was one of the charismas necessary for
the good government of the Christian community. But up until
Supernatural invasions I/S
the rise of the n1ystical in the thirteenth century, that ambiva-
lence was focused pri1narily on supernatural agents: a demon was
able to take on angelic appearances, whereas an angel (such as
Raphael in Tobias) and the divinity sometimes assumed hum-
ble or vile appearances. Gesus could appear as a poor rnan or as
a leper in hagiographical tales.) The new attention paid to the
ways in which a subject who had fallen prey to the supernatural
n1ight be stricken was turned more toward the human element
Women, who were absent from the paradigm of weak be-
ings susceptible to sleepwalking, played a major role in the cate-
gory that invoked suspicions of the inspired. 1 The great mystical
movement at the encl of the thirteenth century was predomi-
nately female. As shown in the work of Nancy Caciola, clerics
were inclined or forced to compensate f{)r the anc~ent and rare
gift of discerning spirits through the use of human techniques
and arts based on the rneticulous observation of the phenorn-
ena of trances, convulsions, and excessive ascetic lifestyles, which
pointed out the fragility of the woman, her susceptibility to the
works of Satan, and, quite rarely, her divine inspiration. 2 This
attention was not completely new, but its meaning changed.
Barbara Newrnan has shown that among the clerics inspired by
the renewal of the apostolic life at the beginning of the thirteenth
century, the possessed resumed the ancient function of"energu-
rnens," those possessed individuals who were driven to publicly
confess the defeat of their temporary master, Satan. 3 1'he new
techniques of the inquest brought the hope that the truth could be
wrung out of the possessed. At the end of the century, fear before
the power of Satan gradually caused the loss of that confidence
in the possibility of "turning around" the possessed. Suspicion
prevailed.
During the fourteenth century the suspicion of demonic pos-
session took precedence over curiosity or perplexity. '"'f'hus, in
r377, Pope Gregory XI, who, as we have seen, had relaunched the
heretical classification of invocations of the demon and narned
Nicholas Eymeric inquisitor, favorably greeted the protests of
I76 Chapter Se'l1en
a cleric from Cahors, Jean de L'lsle, who had had visions: "In
some way ravished in spirit, he had many and varied visions,
unknown by human reason, about which he wondered if they
proceeded from the spirit of God or from diabolical illusion."4
He then consulted priests and scholars, who advised him to write
down the visions and submit his account to them. The scholars
concluded that the visions came from the spirit of God because
they contained nothing that disagreed with the faith. The Do-
minican Raymond Roger asked to see the texts. He confirmed
the judgment of the priests and scholars, but at the same time he
led Jean, without judicial citation or convocation, to the inquisi-
tor of Toulouse, the Dominican Hugues of Verdun, who asked
him to write another account in his own hand. Jean de L'Isle
began writing in the presence of Raymond Roger and concluded
his account with the following sentence: "I do not believe [in
the Catholic authenticity of these revelations], because I do not
know if I must believe or not" [non credo, quia dubito an credere
debeam vel non]. Raymond then asked him to strike the non from
the sentence, and when Jean refused, the Dominican crossed the
word out himself.
The two men went back to the inquisitor, who read the text
and asked Jean if he believed in his revelations. Jean repeated
his doubts. The inquisitor responded that he himself believed
in Jean's adherence and asked him to cease adhering to them
and to never mention them again. Furthermore, since he had
believed in the Devil, he risked excommunication and thus had
to request absolution (which implied confession). Jean reiterated
his doubts, but before the terrifying insistence of the inquisitor,
"wanting to choose the safest path," he asked for absolution.
The inquisitor consented only ifhe obtained letters of absolution
from the Inquisition, with a monetary fine. Jean, afraid less of
the fine than of the blot on his reputation (his Jama), 5 decided
to bring the matter before the pope, who referred the complete
file to Amie! de Lautrec, bishop ofCouserans, asking him to act
according to summary procedure. This brief involvement of the
pope says a great deal about the manipulations of the Inquisition
Supernatural Invasions r77
and of those close to it, who were inspired both by greed and by
the systematic practice of universal suspicion. We are far from
the long and meticulous inquiries ofJohn XXII, who, even when
he was certain of the judgment to come, attempted first to know
and to understand. The demons had prevailed.
In this chapter we look at the intermediate phase of the inqui-
sitional process, which was characterized by a tension between a
suspicion of the inspired and a wonderment before new modes of
revelation. The Church's view of the uncertain or doubtful nature
of the line between the two forms of possession is shown well in
the cases of two mystics from central Italy, Clare of Montefalco
and Angela ofFoligno, both of which unfolded at the same pe-
riod in time. Both mystics died under the pontificate of Clement
V, had ties to the Franciscan Order, and both were venerated
but also aroused suspicion. In the first case, that of Clare, an
extraordinary miracle noted after her death illustrates an internal
reproduction of the divine, its corporeal transformation through
a conformation to Christ. The second wornan, Angela, while she
was alive, caused Christ and the Holy Spirit to speak with and
inside her. The inspired woman, in both cases, turned herself
into a living temple of God: the spiritual temple of the soul be-
came miraculously material. The body of the mystic was sculpted
from inside to welcome divine spirits into it. These two forms of
divine possession, incorporation and inhabitation, are explored in
this chapter.
Clare ofMontejalco and the Incorporation ofthe Divine
In r318 John XXII was opposed to the canonization of Clare of
Montefalco, who had produced a miracle analogous to that of the
stigmata of Saint }"'rancis: the vehemence of her meditation on the
suffering of Christ had formed the material and perfect imitation
of the instruments of the Passion on her heart. 6 Because Clare
often said she bore Christ in her heart, her heart was dissected
upon her death in 1308, and in it was found, in perfect miniature 1
the instruments of the Passion. The articles of the inquest during
178 Chapter Seven
the canonization trial mention these facts precisely: "Article 159:
The syndic and procurer affirm and intend to prove that the
saint had in her heart, where they were found after her death,
the mystery and insignia of the Passion of the Christ, that is, the
cross, or more exactly, the image of the crucified Christ, the whip
or stick with five lashes, the column at the same time as the other
insignia of the Passion."7 The parallel with Saint Francis of Assisi
is clear: in 1224, during one of the saint's solitary rneditations on
the Passion of the Christ, his skin had been imprinted with the
five wounds ofJesus, on his feet, his hands, and on the right side.
These stigmata had remained hidden until his death in r226,
when brother Elijah, in charge of his succession, proclaimed the
miracle in an encyclical letter addressed to the Franciscans.
Well before the canonization trial of Clare, the miracle of
the sculpted heart incited lively debates. Among the parties in
the battle one finds on one side Ubertin de Casale, disciple of
Peter of John Olivi, who was present at the recognition of the
instruments of the Passion in 1309, along with the cardinals
Napoleone Orsini and Jacopo Colonna, former adversaries of
Pope Boniface VIII and future enemies of John XXII. On the
other side was the Franciscan Thomas Bono de Foligno, who
belonged to the conventual branch of the Order, which was
protected by John XXII.
Much was at stake in Clare's case: miracles produced by barely
literate, untaught, simple believers risked competing with the
ecclesial management of the supernatural. But above all, the cor-
poreal production of internal signs of inspiration and election
opened a breach in the anthropology of the person by favoring a
faculty that up until then was held in suspicion or in disdain-
the faculty of imagination. The case of Saint Francis ceased to
be unique and was henceforth interpreted more generally, which
inaugurated the possibility of an individual appropriation of the
human body through divine work. We see this in the reinter-
pretation of Saint Francis's stigmata, which occurred during the
same period as the trial of Clare and the debates of the commis-
sion on demons.
Sl/pernatural lnvasions r79
The Stigmata and the Imagination of Saint francis
'fhe miracle of the stigmata of Saint Francis constitutes a very
rich case, for right after the saint's death it gave rise to heated
controversies that have been analyzed by Andre Vauchez and
Chiara F rugoni. 8 The wealth of the material makes it difficult
to handle, especially since the opinions on miraculous causality
could well have been biased by the violent reactions provoked by
Francis and his Order. A quodlibet from the Franciscan Peter
Thomas (ca.r280-ca.1350) shows how great the interest was in a
detailed discussion on the causes of the stigmata. We know al-
most nothing about the author; he is believed to be Catalan and a
student of Peter Auriol in Toulouse. Upon reading his texts, we
can without hesitation note his Scotist inspiration. His question,
written around 1320) is worded thus: "Could Saint F'ranc.is have
had stigmata through natural effects?" 9 In fact, nature, a possi-
ble agent in the production of stigmata, is reduced here to the
imagination: was the exceptional power off"rancis's imagination
able to mark his flesh?
A contemporary reader might tend to sense behind this pos-
sibility, which was vigorously rejected by Peter Thomas, some
rationalist reduction establishing an explanation based on hyster-
ical or psychosomatic autosuggestion. It is nothing of the kind.
Indeed, in the rzSos, a sermon by the Dominican Jacobus de
Voragine on Francis had evoked the power of Francis's imag-
ination. Voragine exalts three aspects of the stigmata, taken as
"indications of the highest charity," as "standards of the highest
familiarity" [with God] and as "an argument for the truth in all
its modes." 10 In the first point he establishes the power of the
imagination as an instrun1ent for the saint's cooperation with the
divinity, whose own action is developed in the two final points
of the sermon. The saint "produced marvels on his own flesh"
[in came sua faciebat mirabilia]. If there is still any doubt about
the Dominican's veneration of Francis, one need only contrast a
text of the Franciscan Roger Marston, who raised the same ques-
tion around 1284 and provided the identical answer: the stigmata
I8o Chaptel' S'rve11
11
existed "partially through the efTects of nature." Let us note
that son1e of the arguments refuted by Peter l''homas are found
in the texts of Vorag.ine and Marston) particularly the argument
of Aristotle/Avicenna's chicken, to which we shall return. There
is thus every reason to assun1e that Peter "fhon1as was responding
not to naturalist, impious, or anti-F'ranciscan arguments but to
a complete Scholastico-mystieal tendency that lodged in human
nature the possibility of natural cooperation with supernatural
1
causality. An examination of _Peter ,_fhomas s text will ths en-
able us to grasp both this tendency and the forces that opposed it.
Peter Thomas's question did not follow the ordinary laws
of the quodlibetic genre; it did not begin witb an outline of
a response to the question, but with a demonstration of the
powers and the limits of the imagination (article r). Then the
author applies these general considerations to the case ofFrancis's
stigrnata (article 2), before presenting the series of the seven
arguments of his adversaries and refuting them (article 3).
Peter Thomas first concedes that the imagination has some
power over the body. Borrowing from Augustine, he notes that it
can deregulate the cognitive system. It disconnects the attention
of the senses: when I think of something else while listening
to son1eone speak, I believe I haven't heard, whereas the sen-
sation has been produced in n1e. ]'he imagination can falsely
produce nonexistent sensations as occurs in the case of sleepers
or madmen. It can make my body fall by creating in my mind a
constraining idea of falling: as Avicenna said, a man will fall more
easily from a beam up above than from a beam on the ground. The
third argurr1ent of the "naturalists" (article 3) cites another pas-
sage fiom Avicenna, who asserts that the enlargernent of a man's
n1ernber can result from a distinct representation [apprehension]
of corporeal passions. 1--.he imaginative faculty, still according to
Avicenna, influences corporeal humors and thus one's health.
Here again, Peter Thomas's adversaries brandished another text
fro1n Avicenna, which advanced the possibility of a "permutation
of complexion in corporeal matter" acquired without action or
passion from the body (article 3, argument 2)-"
SupernaturrJI l11'Ut1Sions Iih
lJsing analogous reasoning, this time taken fiorn Augustine's
f)e 'J}initale, we find that the irnagination, through the construc-
tion of a desirable ferninine forrn, provokes nocturnal pollution.
Finally, the irnagination can shape that form made up of the
humoral complexions of which the fetus is cornposed. A striking
or strange image brandished in front of a pregnant won1an or an-
in1al influences the form of the being to be born. Peter Thomas
reports, in this regard, the biblical example of Jacob produc-
ing spotted lambs (Gen. 30:37-40) and ends with observations of
SaintJerorne and C2.11intilian on the conforrnityof children to the
beings seen by their mother. 13 Peter 'fhon1as admits this influ-
ence while also admitting his doubts: the fetus offers a borderline
case since humors are converted into flesh. If the irr1agination can
influence the "plastic and soft" matter, how can one attribute a
durable effect on con1pact corporeal n1atter to it? It is here that
Peter Thomas draws the line between what is acceptable and
what is unreasonable; up to then, he admits the arguments of his
adversaries without granting them the least relevance regarding
the question of stigrnata.
It was different with the first argument of the naturalists, that
of Avicenna's chicken, which is indeed found in the dernonstra-
tions of Jacobus de Voragine and Roger Marston. According
to Avicenna, again borrowing from Aristotle, "the hen, when
it prevails over a rooster in a battle, will behave like a rooster
and sometirr1es it grows a spur on its foot, as there exists on
the rooster's foot. One can then understand how natural rnatter
obeys the thoughts of the soul." 14
l:>eter ~rhomas's response consists first of denying the possibil-
ity of this phenomenon: who has ever seen such a victory and such
a physiological consequence? Then, even if one ad1nits the possi-
bility of it, how can one compare this growth on a body part with
such diverse wounds affecting various parts of the body? How
can one co1npare the subjects of this mutation in form [ deforn1i-
tas]? Clearly, Peter Thomas relates the example of the chicken to
marvels [mirabilia] whose source is always doubtful and whose
realrn of application is lirnited to the inferior levels of nature.
I82 Chapter Seven
The Franciscan imposes limits on the irnagination's abilities to
induce corporeal transformation: it cannot affect completely the
shaping of embryos, otherwise a pregnant woman would need
only to imagine in order to determine the sex or the beauty of a
child. Nor can it shape solid and complete matter [materiam qui-
etam et terminatam) or perforate any body, otherwise it would be
enough to imagine and to want to make oneself taller, to recover
a lost limb, or to gain eternal youth or corporeal immortality.
We can indeed see what was at stake and vvhat metho.ds were
used in the debate. Peter Thomas starts with a description of
natural causality to show its inadequacy in the miracle of stigmata.
Granted, the name of :F'rancis is not yet mentioned, but the
allusion to the perforation of the body, the specific case of the
impossible process, refers to the evidence of stigmata.
Imagination and Love
In a second development Peter Thomas concedes that love has
the same power over the body as the imagination has, because
the imagination and what it produces are subject to love: thus,
it is love "that pushes the imagination to form images of the
loved thing and of the hated thing." This discussion of the cor-
poreal power of love also refers to Francis. As we have seen
regarding Jacobus de Voragine, those who believed in the saint's
cooperation in the miracle argued for the unique strength of
his "charity." We know that in the spiritual literature, love and
charity are synonyms. The Franciscan thus sums up the thesis
of his adversaries: "Such is the unique mode [ratio] of love, to
transform the one who loves into the one loved; thus there could
be a love for Christ that was so great and so intense in Saint
Francis that his love transformed him into that Christ whom
he loved." Peter Thomas's response reveals a trick of language:
love's power of transformation could only be mental and not
corporeal. The phrase on transformation through love refers in-
directly to Hugues of Saint-Victor, who was himself invoked by
15
Saint Bonaventure in a sermon devoted to Francis in 1255. But
.Supernatural Invasions r83
in Hugues' text, it is not the mode [ratio] oflove but its strength
[vis] that is at issue. The change appears rninimal; however, Peter
restricts Hugues' words to a psychology of affect and takes it out
of its mystical context. In fact, in the first article Peter Thomas
refers to an Aristotelian psychology: love, coupled with hate, sub-
sumes the imagination in the chain of a cognitive process that
goes from sensory givens to reason, following increasing degrees
of abstraction.
For Aristotle, as we have seen, all knowledge proceeds from
perception: the external senses capture the real; common sense
assembles the sensory data. ~The imagination then enables one
to restore the sensations in the absence of stimuli. 1"'he estima-
tive faculty orients these givens according to their attractive or
repulsive character (love or hate), and finally, memory records
the successive stages of this treatment of the data, which reason
can use thanks to a supplementary degree of abstraction. In this
briefly summed-up schema, the direction of the cognitive trajec-
tory is dual, since both reason and will can leave in the quest for
data necessary to a mental operation through the imagination.
The Christianization of the process, fully undertaken by Saint
Thomas, could be done rather easily by adding to the natural cog-
nitive apparatus the operative powers (reason, will, and memory)
infused by God. 16 In this schema, which Peter Thomas borrows
implicitly, the practical will and the imagination can absolutely
not offer the instruments for a cooperation with God. The poten-
tial strength of Franciscan charity has no more relevance than the
desire to conceive a beautiful child or to recover a lost limb. On
the contrary, in the neo-Augustinian schema, to which we shall
return, consciousness is born of God; the will and the imagina-
tion can participate fully in charity. What is at play in this debate
is indeed the possibility or the impossibility of a thaumaturgical
cooperation inscribed in the very structure of the conscious man.
The second article of the question applies these natural con-
siderations to the case of Francis. A natural impression of the
stigmata is impossible; indeed, every natural passion proceeds
from an external or internal agent. No external agent pierced
I84 (7hapter Seven
the body of the saint. The only possible interior agent would be
imagination or love; the first article proved the in1possibility of
the perforation of compact and completed matter such as the
human body. The rest of the argument proceeds a minori: how
can one envision a miraculous exception in favor of Francis when
not Christ, nor Mary, nor Paul experienced it? And yet the vehe-
mence of the imagination of Christ was much stronger than that
of the common man and the flesh of Mary much more tender
than that of Francis.
The mention of Christ in passing brings up another extraor-
dinary fact that gave rise to a dispute: to establish the vehemence
of Christ's imagination, Peter Thomas asserts that, according
to some, "the sweating of blood was produced in him by the
effect of the vehemence of the imagining of his passion." This
proposition had been defended around 1270 by John Peckham, a
neo-Augustinian Franciscan whose positions were not far from
those of Roger Marston and the neo-Augustinians. Peckham's
quodlibet concludes precisely with the naturality of the sweating
of blood. 17 The same authors explain the final cry of Christ in
agony by the extreme vehemence of his imagination, that is, of
the function that in human beings links the body and soul. In
wanting to prove too n1uch, Peter Tho1nas weakened his position
and returned to the imagination its mystical role.
The allusion to Paul directs us to an essential passage that
concludes the Epistle to the Galatians and contains the only use
of the word stigmata in Christian literature. The naturalist adver-
saries of Peter Thomas had, moreover, cited that text: "I bear in
my body the marks of the Lord Jesus" [Gal. 6:17]. Peter Thomas
then refutes the argument by referring to Church tradition and to
the gloss that paraphrases Paul's assertion in this way: "I bear the
marks in my body, that is, I cherish works that conform to Christ,
and bodily afflictions are Christ's cross." Until recently, the exe-
gesis had been upset by Paul's phrase, hesitating between a literal
interpretation (the stigmata designate the scars and wounds of
persecution) and the allegorical interpretation recalled by Peter
Thomas. It appears probable that in the context of the Epistle,
Sllpernatura! fn,vasions I85
which refutes the need for circumcision, the stigmata is consti-
tuted by the invisible trace of baptism. 18 But Peter Thomas's
problem was worsened by the possible consequence of a proto-
Franciscan interpretation of the stigmata of Paul: Saint Francis
would no longer be the only saint to have experienced stigmata.
The repetition reforred to an identical causality, inscribed in the
imaginative nature of the saints.
The final argument in Peter's text confirms this obsession: for
his adversaries, basing their argurr1ents on paintings produced
by "frauds" [trufatoribus], "Lady I1elen" (the Dominican Helen
of Hungary, d. ca. 1270) would have been stigmatized. Unfor-
tunately, the manuscripts do not give Peter Thomas's refutation
on this point. But one notices one thing that was at stake in the
debate: the natural-mystical causality blurred the boundaries be-
tween nature and supernature. In addition, it"opcned the path to
an increase in miracles and to an individualization of the marks
of and means for salvation. Through an incorporation of the di-
vine, mystics were transformed into living relics. They reached
glorification in this life through the partial incorporation of the
body of glory, which was promised at the Last Judgment.
Another mystic, a neighbor of Clare's, found this individ-
ual salvation in an inhabitation, in her inner dialogue with the
divinity.
Angela ofFofigno: The Paradoxes ofa
Spiritual Autobiography .
Angela ofFoligno is of interest here because in her work she com-
bines the proclamation of a divine possession-of the presence of
a personal inspiration in her and next to her-and the assertion
of an irreducible uniqueness. She may indeed be considered the
founder of the systematic practice of organized subjectivity in one
type of text, the mystical autobiography. This classification might
seem surprising. Granted, she is attributed with two books that
give an account of her religious experience. But Angela probably
didn't know how to write, and these books were, at best, dictated
186 Chapter Sc71e11
to her confessor. Certain chapters of her Instructions were written
only after her death and well afrer that of her confessor (around
qoo). Second, her work is not truly biographical. After perusing
the roughly three hundred pages copied in Angela's name, the
reader doesn't know who she 'was: there is no mention of events,
dates, or places, except a pilgrin1age to Rome and a few journeys
to the neighboring city of Assisi; the only notable event consists
of a rnysterious scandal in a church.
F'ro1n testirnonies of the ti1ne and archival documents, one
can derive a few n1eager biographical elen1ents: Angela was born
around r248 in the little town ofFoligno in Umbria, probably of
well-off parents; she secrns to have been married around 1270 and
to have given birth to several sons. The husband and children
were no longer alive around 1288. ]'here are slightly more precise
facts concerning her relationship with the Church: in 1285 she felt
an intense need to confess and encountered (or chose) Brother
Arnoldo a Franciscan from Foligno, who became her confessor
1
and her "secretary.)' In 1291 she experienced an essential vision,
went to Rome, and entered into the Third Order of Saint Francis.
Angela then continued to live at home, with help from her servant
Masazuola.
Her Memorial, the first of her two books, gives the chroni-
cle of her visions, her n1editations, and her crises. This source,
poor in fi1cts con1pleted by ecclesiastical documents and testi-
1
monies, gives a glimpse of the guiding principles in that reclusive
life: in 1292 Angela visited lepers in the hospital of Foligno and
drank the water in which the patients washed their rotting limbs.
Between r294 and 1296, a profound crisis shook her. In 1298 she
contributed to the "conversion" ofUbertino da Casale (who later
led a dissident group within the Franciscan Order). She died on
January 4, 1309, the only precise fact in this so little-known life.
The murky profile of Angela doesn't allow us to envisage an
individual face. The contents of her visions and the direction of
her devotion do not seem specific, and are the result rather of a
large European culture of female mysticism or even of the .reli-
giosity that was expressed precisely at the end of the thirteenth
S'upernatural hnh1sio11s r87
century in the Spiritual branch of the Franciscan ()rder. F'or ex-
atnple, the fiunous episode of her visit to lepers, which struck so
rnany readers in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, in1itated
a gesture of Saint F'rancis himself 1~he no less famous devotion
to the Sacred Heart ofJesus has many parallels among the female
tnystics of the tirne, such as c;ertrude of [-'ielfa. Angela n1ight
even appear to have been n1anipulatcd: her second Instruction,
written after her death, reports in detail the public penitence she
had hoped to perforrn. f~ven though the text is written in the first
person, it reproduces alrnost literally the life of Saint Margaret
of Cortona, written in that neighboring city a few years earlier.
The unknown cleric who continued the task of scribe that had
fallen to Brother Arnoldo had probably attempted to reconstruct
Angela's words in conformity with the ideal type of fen1ale saint-
liness, while keeping certain rnore specific objectives in sight;
another passage frorn the Instructions gives the tale of an impor-
tant pilgrimage that Angela undertook to Portiuncula, the tiny
church restored by Saint Francis that had become the princi-
pal holy place of the Spiritual branch of the Franciscans. And
it is precisely during the years 1300-1310, when the Instructions
were written, that the legitimacy of the Spiritual party was chal-
lenged, shortly before Pope John XXll traced the demarcation
line between orthodoxy and heresy within the Franciscan Order.
Angela's individuality as a wotnan and as an author thus
tended to be erased, and her inert \vork appears as a textual
compromise between a female mystical aspiration, the religious
demands of the Spiritual F'ranciscan wing, and clerical control.
Moreover, this comprornise was crowned with success: in spite of
Angela's suspect relationships with heterodox groups her work
1
was disseminated widely and she was herself beatified by the
Roman Church.
Two Types of Subjectivity
It is important to place Angela's work within the banality of its
context and to step back from an essentialist concept of mystical
I88 Chapter Seven
literature, which has often taken certain episodes and certain
phrases of this mystic literally, turning them into a direct expres-
sion of an exceptional inspiration or of a precocious feminism.
On the one hand, readers have singled out her visionary message,
which confirmed certain delicate points of theology and revealed
a direct and affective relationship with Christ, which also sug-
gested a new significance in the Eucharist. On the other hand,
emphasis has been placed on the imperious way in which she
inverted the clerical hierarchy, on her conversion of speculative
theology into affective theology, and even on her explicit wish to
be rid of her husband and children (she mentions a prayer that
in fact led to their deaths).
Western Europe favored a particular model of subjectivity,
which endowed individuals with two essential traits: interiority
and unicity. 19 The modern autobiography favors the absolute
unicity of the subject, 20 derived from a stable identity, acquired
or reinforced through a long series of vicissitudes and episodes
(which one calls a "life"). Henceforth, interiority appears sec-
ondary in the constitution of the genre, even if it is required at
the moment of writing and is presented as a time of reflection,
as an attempt to assemble the primary unicity. The self is rep-
resented: it is assumed to have existed before its expression and
to have experienced an interiorization before an inner judge and
a public exhibition before the court of public opinion. If one
defines autobiography by this relationship between the reconsti-
tution of an entire life (or at least of a long period of a life) and
a moment of reflection, one easily understands why this type of
expression was not found before the eighteenth century. Indeed,
the construction irnplies a particular attention paid to the birth
and the childhood of the subject. 21 But, as we know, such at-
tention developed only gradually and later in the West. 22 One
then readily sees that the cultural conditions necessary for the
autobiographical genre were not yet present in the Middle Ages.
In fact, Angela of Foligno's Memorial does not correspond
to this modern category of autobiography. However, in it one
finds the two major ingredients ofWestern subjectivity, unicity
Supernatural Invasions J89
and interiority, but in inverse proportions: absolute interiority
unfOlds before an uncertain and relative unicity, targeted by the
act of writing or dictating. Nor is Angela's autobiography aimed
at representation but at manifestation. The self proclaims its in-
dividual existence through a process that is not autobiographical
but "endolalical": inner speech is contrasted to the writing of the
self. Instead of a single writer, we encounter a multiple subject;
a succession of internal states takes the place of the biograph-
ical material of the modern autobiography; finally, a severely
disturbed self is contrasted to the individuality of the person.
A Sacramental Tale
1'he text of the Memorial, written between 1291 and 1296, is not
easy to interpret-" Most of the manuscripts are later (fifteenth
century), and the first editions have blended the different layers
of the text by erasing its complicated structure. It was not until a
few years ago, with the remarkable philological edition of Fathers
Thier and Calufetti, 24 that we have been able to begin to grasp
Angela's uniqueness. The various layers of the text show that we
are not dealing with a clerical treatise bearing Angela's name, nor
with an autobiographical affirmation travestied by a blind censure
or by pious decency, but with the transcription of a blending of
voices.
The Memorial is presented as the text of a confession in
the strict sense, which implies an appropriation of part of the
sacrament of penitence. The book is composed of thirty "steps"
[passus], following a common Christian imagery, that of the road
of the cross or of the Pilgrim's Progress. 25 The story is supposed to
have begun in 1285, when Angela was looking for a confessor. This
initial moment represented a conversion: according to another
common element of Christian devotion, a true confession 1 a new
commitment to tell the truth, constitutes a new baptism. The
reasons for this "conversion" remain unknown: Angela's allusion
to enormous sins can be interpreted either as her assumption of
general responsibility for the sins of every human being or as
190 Chapter Se'uen
the mark of a specific sense of guilt (certain biographers have
suggested, without proof, that it concerned the sin of adultery).
The sacramental aspect of this tale is sketched firmly with
the first four steps, which correspond to the ideal unfolding of a
private confession. In takjng the first step, the penitent recognizes
the presence of the sin in herself; in theological terms) this is the
moment of"contrition.)) The second step leads to the confession
itself, to the oral confession made to the priest. The third step
is directed toward penitence or "satisfaction." Finally, the fourth
step directs the penitent toward the conclusion of the sacramental
act: acts of grace manifest a new awareness of divine forgiveness.
The rest of the tale is made up of a series of rather loosely
recounted visions, which nevertheless can be read as a succession
of reiterations of the initial confession: the guilt could not be
abolished immediately. The first confession, then, is presented as
a conversion, followed by repeated confessions bringing frequent
communion, a new trait of female spirituality in the thirteenth
century.
A controversial issue of her time clarifies Angela's appropri-
ation of the sacrament of penitence: between r28r and 1290, a
crucial debate opposed prelates and the mendicant orders on the
subject of the sacrament of confession. In 1281 a bull by Martin IV
granted the mendicant orders the privilege of hearing confessions
without the authorization of the bishop or the parish priest.
The prelates protested, referring to the obligation of the annual
confession to the parish priest that had been imposed by the
Fourth Lateran Council in I215; the brothers, on the opposite
side, favored the individual choice of the faithful, the impor-
tance of true contrition and of repeated confession as opposed
to the satisfaction obtained by an external penitence. We must
note the remarkable absence of any parish priest in Angela's
tale. In r285 she chose her confessor, a Franciscan, herself.
Arnoldo does not play an essential role in tbe sacramental pro-
cess: contrition, the most important part of confession, is taken
in hand by Angela and by her divine inner counselor. During
her voyage with the Holy Spirit, Angela becomes completely
SttjJernatural Invasions I9.l
~ware of her sins; specifically the human .impossibility ofknow-
1
1ng all one's sins constituted a strong argument against strictly
annual and parish confession. -Frequent communion derived di-
rectly from that state of permanent contrition.
The Uncertainties ofthe Franciscan Scribe
Brother Arnoldo's position in relation to that self-confession
reveals the arr1bivalence of clerics vis-8.-vis mystical uniqueness.
The Franciscan began to write down Angela's words at the twen-
tieth step: This beginning was not premeditated; it corresponded
to a precise event (the scandal of Assisi), which called for an
interpretation:
Afte.r the talc that begins here, there is another, which belongs
specifically to the step that was noted as the twentieth step: this was
the beginning.and the source of everything that I, brother scribe [ego
frater scriptorJ, have vvrittcn of these divine words. I had begun by
rapidly and inattentively jotting a fCw notes on a little piece of paper,
as a sort of personal "men1orial," for I thought I would have little to
write. 1'hen, after I had obliged her to speak n1ore, it was revealed to
the faithful of Christ [Angela] that I was to use a large notebook and
not a simple sheet of paper. But, because I only half believed her,
I wro~e on tvvo or three blank sheets that I had in a notebook. Finally,
later, 1t became necessary for 1ne to use a notebook with inore paper.
After this chance initial recording of events that had happened
to Angela) Arnoldo sums up the first nineteen steps, which con-
stitute the first chapter of the ultimate form of the Memorial.
The tale was then clearly structured and offered the possible
sacramental reading that we have noted.
Throughout the years, Arnoldo bad to record as he could
the flood of Angela's visions and meditations) while sometimes
losing_ direct contact with her as a result of bans issued by the
Franciscan convent or the bishop. At those times a young man,
whose na~e is not known, served as intermediary by transmitting
the approximate contents of Angela's message. Arnoldo was no

If)2 Chapter Se11i:n
longer in a position to follow the rigorous series of the: thirty
steps:
1 no longer knew how to continue, for, at that time it was only on
rare occasions that 1 was able to speak to her to note what she was
saying. And after the nineteenth step, I did my best to assen1ble what
frl'ilowed in seven steps or .revelations. My guiding principle was to
divide the 1naterial according to the states of grace that I perceived in
the fi1ithful of Christ, or according to what I perceived and learned
ofhc.r spiritual dcvcloprncnt; I also relied on what seemed to me the
1nost correct and 1nost appropriate.
Arnoldo thus shows the limitations of the transcription: limited
access to the source; partial transrnission of the message; and a
desire to adapt the revelations to a religious norm (vaguely des-
ignated by the words "correct" and "appropriate")" The complete
absence of explanation of the thirty steps envisioned by Angela,
which are set aside but suggested nonetheless, indicates there was
a significant difference between Angela's oral text and Arnoldo's
transcription. Arnoldo's rendering leaned toward the theological
contents, so that for him the steps played the role of a theological
table of contents, whereas Angela rnust have assigned a much less
abstract n1eaning to the steps. For Arnoldo, the steps were "rev-
elations," whereas Angela called them "transformations." F'ur-
thermore, Arnoldo persisted in reconstructing the message and
inserted his notes within a chronological framework. In a second
writing, he ernphasized the continuity of Angela's tale by in-
verting certain passages, by inserting annunciative signs, and by
justifying at length the central episode at Assisi, which became
the apogee of her spiritual progress, followed by more serene
rneditations. I-lowever, the various insertions of his voice are not
1nixed in but juxtaposed.
In his parallel commentary to the tale, Arnoldo himself hesi-
tates between the first-person plural, when he accentuates the
general importance of the rnaterial ("we have written"), and
the first-person singular, which underscores the uncertainty of
the scribe's efforts ("! have written")" As for the tale itself, it is
5,'upernalural fn,vasions U)3
divided arnong three voices that constantly shift: .Angela spe:1ks
often in the first person, but frequently her visions and n1edita-
tions are described in the third person, attributed to "the soul of
the faithful of Christ"" Finally, from time to time Arnoldo the
narrator [ego frater scriptor] gives his own account. f-1e himself
notes the dispersal of these voices in the text; he remarks that,
paradoxically, it is the third person that can account rnost di-
rectly for Angela's experience: "She spoke to me of herself in the
first person, but because ti1ne was of the essence, I someti1nes
1
wrote the text in the third person, and I didn't correct it. I had
to transcribe her words very quickly, at the n1oment when she
said therr1, for the obstacles and the bans I encountered a111ong
111y brothers forced me to hurry." 26
A text entirely in the first person would have required either a
complete assimilation of Angela's discourse or a literal transcrip-
tion; the first possibility could not have been accompEshed very
easily" "In truth, I wrote, but I had so little grasp of the meaning
of these words that I felt like a filter or a sieve that could not
hold the most precious and finest parts of the flour, but only the
coarsest." Angela's judgtnent of this difficult task was even rnore
severe, according to Arnoldo:
One day when 1 had read to her what I wrote, so that she could
continue to dictate to me, she said with astonishment that she didn't
recognize a thing. Another tin1c when _l reread what I had tran-
scribed to her, so that she could provide correctioi:ls, she responded
that my words \.Vere dry and without savor, and that plunged her
into distraction. And yet another ti1ne she said to 1ne: "Your words
re1nind inc what I told you, but they arc quite obscure. The words
you have read to rne do not transn1it the meaning I wanted to trans-
mit and the result is that your writing is obscure!' She also said:
"What you have \vrittcn is flat, weak, doesn't rhyme, and for what is
precious in what my soul fcelsi you have writt1.:n nothing."
Angela's cornplaints about the dryness of the results were due
precisely to the fact that they emphasized the theological con-
tents of her narrative, whereas what was important to her was
I94 Chapter Se-ven
the fluctuating relationship she was maintaining with divine
figures.
The author is thus divided between two individuals, each
of them multiple: 27 Angela in the first person, Angela in the
third person, Angela the judge of her words; Arnoldo the scribe,
Arnoldo the confessor, Arnoldo the writer (the one who sums
up the first nineteen steps and who rewrites everything a second
time), Arnoldo verifying his text with Angela. At the end of
the book, another voice lnteJVenes, in contrast to the severe
evaluation of Arnoldo's scribal work:
After I, the brother scribe, wrote almost everything that one can find
in this little book, I asked the faithful of Christ to speak to God and
to pray so that if I had written something false or useless He would
deign, in His forgiveness, to reveal those errors and point them out
to me, so that both of us could know the truth of God Himself The
faithful of Christ responded with these words: "Before you asked
this of me I, myself, asked God to let me know if, in what I have
said or what you have written there were false or useless words, so
that at least I could confess. God answered me that everything that
I have said and that you have transcribed is completely true and
contains nothing false or useless."
In a sense the ultimate authority guaranteeing Angela's testimony
fell to God, but Angela virtually kept the last word and control
of her own position by noting that, ifthere had been something
false or useless, she would have pursued her confession (and we
know that her entire book is a confession).
The disagreement in the two assessments is only partial:
Angela's criticisms bear on the weakness of the transcription 1
which remains true but insufficient. Arnoldo notes:
She also said to me that I had watered down what God had said
to her, for there had been many things that He had said to her
that I could have written down, and that I hadn't done. "God," she
said, "told me: 'Everything that has been written has been so in
conformity with My will and comes from Me, comes out of Me.'
Supernatural Invasions z95
Then He added: 'I place My seal on it' [sigillabo]. Since I didn't
understand what He meant by 'I place My seal on it,' He explained
these words by saying 'I will sign"' [firmabo].
This linguistic detail is important, for it raises the question of
which language was used between God and Angela: either it was
Latin, and in that case Christ glossed "to seal" (sigillare) with the
verb "to sign" (/irmare, which is a Latin transliteration of the Ital-
ian word firmare ), or the language of the revelation was Italian, in
which the verb sigillare exists but is of rare and scholarly use. This
linguistic uncertainty adds another crack in the "me" of Angela,
between the use of Latin or the vernacular language." The dou-
ble mea.ning offirmare and ofsigillare, "to sign" and "to confirm,"
places God and Angela in analogous positions: Angela signs the
book that is confirmed by Christ, whereas she confirms the divine
truth uttered by Him. Thus, when Angela is questioned about
the validity of the contrast between absolute power and power
ordered by God (a very difficult question, which was clarified
a fow years later by Duns Scotus), Angela confirms, through
her experience and her visions, the validity of this distinction,
but without providing any proof or examples. She confirms and
signs.
Inhabitation and Scandal
Angela's tale records the highs and the lows of her ~xperience, the
succession of doubts and certainties. The divine voices are some-
times garn1lous and comforting, sometimes rare and obscure.
The apogee of beatitude can lead immediately to pride and sin.
The Memorial indeed relates a conversion, but this conversion
must endlessly be renewed and differs from the two great models
of Christian conversion. In Paul a sudden shock brings on tem-
porary blindness and induces a definitive transformation, whereas
for Augustine a long process is developed in doubt, through influ-
enc~s, reflections, suggestions, but is completely and definitively
achieved after the famous episode of the Tolle, lege.
I96 Chapter St"Ven
Angela, a victim of division and instability, finds her unicity
in the feeling of being chosen and loved. But this inhabitation of
divine love opened a breach between her and her future selves, be-
tween her and her surroundings. This unbearable double breach
led to the scandal of 1291, which constitutes the heart of the
book. As we have seen, Arnoldo 1 s work as a scribe began with
that extraordinary event. Let's look at his account:
The true reason for my undertaking is as follows. One_ day) the
above-mentioned person, the faithful of Christ, ca1ne to the church
of Saint Francis in Assisi where 1 was residing as a brother at the
convent. She began to shriek very loudly the moment she was seated
at the entrance to the church. 1, who was her confessor, her cousin
and also her principal and special advisor, I felt great shan1e fi:om
this, especially because a number of brothers who knew us both had
come to hear her cry and shriek.
Then Arnoldo notes that some witnesses looked at Angela with
"reverence,') but
nevertheless, my pride and my honor were so strongly wounded that,
seized with en1barrassment and indignation, I turned away fro1n
her; I waited for her to finish crying and shrieking and when she
had gotten up from the porch and carr1c toward me, I had difficulty
talking to her calmly. I said to her that henceforth she should never
return to Assisi) since it was in that place that the Devil had taken
hold of her.
Shortly afterward Arnoldo returns to Foligno and asks about
the causes of that attack. Angela at first refuses to explain; in
mentioning his doubts about the episode, Arnoldo forces her to
give her own account. Arnoldo takes detailed notes, hoping later
to consult a wise and independent expert. Angela then gives a
detailed explanation of the scandal of Assisi.
A few weeks after her pilgrimage to Rome, after deciding to
enter into the Third Order of Saint Francis, she goes to Assisi.
At a crossroads she hears a voice, the Holy Spirit, which says
to her: "I am going to accompany you and to inhabit you as
Supernatural Invasions 1
97
far as the church of Sa.int Francis; no one will notice. I want to
speak to you on this path and my discourse will be constant. you
will be able to do nothing except listen to me because I have
bound you very tightly. And I will not leave you until you enter
the church a second time. You will no longer have this specific
consolation, but 1 will never abandon you .if you love me." In fact,
during the entire journey the Holy Spirit never stops talking to
Angela with tender words of love, which assures her of her own
unicity: "I love you so much, and much rnorc than any other
woman in the valley of Spoleto.)) Angela's own speech derives
newm1ity from it. Since she still doubts that it is really the Holy
Spmt and believes it is perhaps her vanity that is speaking in
her and to her, she puts it to the test, on the suggestion of the
Holy Spirit. She tries using a language of vanity by pretending to
praise. herself for her spiritual superiority. In vain. Her interiority,
mhab1ted by the Spirit, is obtaining the privilege of integrity and
un1c1ty.
When Angela returns to the church the second time, the
Spirit "disappears, in such a soft and gradual way"; that is when
the shocking event occurs: "I began to cry and to shriek without
any shame: 'Love still unknown, why did you leave me" I could
cry out and cried out nothing but: 'Love still unknown, whv, why
h >"'Th e Lat1n
. words are close to the transcription of the
, cry:'
w y.
"Qyare? Qgare? Qyare?" But the force of the emotion contracts
those words into a completely private language, another sign of
uni city: "Further, these words cried out were so strongly pressed
m my throat that the words became unintelligible."
Why, then, did she leave the church after her first visit? To
have lunch. And this lunch opens the first possibility of separation
since the encounter at the crossroads, whereas the Spirit, as a true
lover, says to her: "All your life, how you eat or drink or sleep-
everythmg that you do will please me." But the crying at Assisi
cannot be understood only as the simple plaints of the abandoned
one. Im,:ndiately after her return to F oligno, she feels profoundly
happy: I felt so at peace and so filled with divine sweetness that
I couldn't find the words to express what was happening to me."

198 Chapter Si:1.ie11
'T'he crying, however, cannot be boiled down to a personal ex-
pression of subjectivity. 'l'he word used stridebatrt1 rare in J..,atin
1
to designate a human cry) seems to refer to a sharp impersonal
sound issued from an inert material and could be translated as
,-. "there was stridency in me" or "I resounded with cries." ,_fhis
cry could be compared witb the sharp sound of rhombes, those
religious instrun1ents of Amerindian cultures that, when agi~
tated by the blowing of the wind, produce a raucous, continuous
sound. ~fhe scandal, then, involves the public manifestation of
a serious mental disturbance, in both senses of the word: from
the exterior, before /\rnoldo's writing, Angela was perceived as
being possessed by evil (Satanic or pathological); from the in-
side, the scandal represented a strangeness in the self that had
to be proclaimed-for it was an election-but that could not be
articulated, for it was a secret.
The Assisi scandal is not without precedent in Angela's tale: on
two occasions she publicly laughed about a preacher in Foligno.
The Latin word is be!Jare, the transliteration of an Italian word
that implies a somewhat uncontrolled laugh: it concerns an evil
and aggressive mockery generally connected to an imitation or
a parody. The scandal, an emblem of an irreducibly individual
election, infused the entire book: Brother Arnoldo erased the
suspicion of his convent; Cardinal Colonna, Angela's protec-
tor, who directed the cotnmission responsible for examining her
work, "ran the risk of a scandal."
The Subjectivity ofPandora
1
(Jne rnight see Angela s story 'as an illustration of the emergence
of a new type of subjectivity. On the one hand, the thirteenth
century introduced the design for what I call a "substantial in-
dividualisrn," refCrring to a famous definition of the person by
Boethius, which was fully developed by Thomas Aquinas: "The
person is the individuated substance of rational nature." Such a
substance exists by itself and enjoys certain attributes-for exam-
ple, individual natural rights. It is assured a certain continuity,
Supcrnalural ln'uttsions 199
due to its rational nature. ()n the other hand, the "accidental
individual/' illustrated by Angela, is dependent on a substance
and suffers fron1 passivity and discontinuity as a result of her
intermittent inhabitation by the divinity. rrhe deficiency of this
subjectivity assures her susceptibility to divine invasion, as is seen
in the exactly contemporary case of l\1arguerite Porete 1 a mystic
and author of the Miroir des sirnples ilnies, who was accused of
heresy and burned in Paris on June 1, 1310. With l\1arguerite,
it was precisely the annihilation of the substantial self that di-
vinized the si1nple soul. We may recall that two of the mernbcrs
of the corntnission of 1320 had participated in Marguerite's trial.
However, she rnight have experienced the same doubt as Clare
or Angela: a few years earlier (}odfrey ofFontaines, a renowned
Parisian rnaster, had approved of her book.
In a period during which institutions were be~ng shaken up,
the inspired otTered the awesome iJ.nage ofa religious individual-
ism that tended to erase, indeed to reject, the Church's n1ediation
between (}od and men. As we have said, the contractual causality
of the sacrament reduced the importance of the priesthood. Be-
ginning in the 1290s the fear of this autonomy in the believer was
crystallized in the clerical construction ofa new heresy, that of the
Free Spirit-a heresy of which M_arguerite Porete was accused. 29
The followers of the Free Spirit were accused ofautotheism (they
divinized then1selves by assimilating with the divinity present in
them) and of antino1nianisn1 (their divinization dispensed the1n
from all laws). The divinization of the devout soul or of the noble
soul, derived from a theology of the Holy Spirit, corresponded
well to a movement of thought that is found notably in the
Dominican Meister Eckhart, himself pursued for heresy despite
his great reputation. But a disdain for the laws or the deliberate
practice of transgressions was borrowed from ancient scheinas
and added to the files of accusation.
The situation of the inspired candidates for divination tnight
suggest that of fallen angels. This is indeed what struck Duns
Scotus in his Lectura of Peter Lombard's Sentences at the end
of the thirteenth eentmy. As he often did, the "subtle Doctor"
200 Chapter Seven
borrowed the arguments of his colleague Peter of John Olivi.
Olivi, as we saw in chapter 4, considered the sin of angels to
be a love of self and no longer pride. Duns Scotus clarified this
analysis by showing that ill will proceeded from an immoderate
desire for beatitude, the various traits of which corresponded
rather precisely to the suspicions the Church raised about the
mystics: the angel ''loves God more insofar as he is present in it
than God in hin1self"; he wishes for an "acceleration ofbeatitude"
[acceleratio beatitudinis], which he wishes to obtain through his
own pure nature [ex puris naturalibus]; and thus, "he uses God"
[sic ut uteretur D eo l :lO
It was precisely against such an acceleration of beatitude that,
in the r33os, John XXII instituted decrees that denied the possi-
bility of beatific vision, that is, of a direct vision of God, the
source of beatitude before the Last Judgment. Saintly souls,
even separated from their bodies, had to wait. The old pon-
tiffs propositions caused a scandal, and his successor, Benedict
XII, reestablished the hope for beatific vision, the guarantee of a
graded relationship with God. But John XXII had signified that
the new mystical Pandoras carried within them a fearsome box
that was soon to be opened-and demons were going to escape
from it.
Epilogue
Around r320, demons seemed ready to swoop down on humans.
Tales of possession and invocation became credible and signif-
icant. We have uncovered a transformation here: the end of a
confidence in the confinement of demons. 'fhree essential traits
mark this shift. First, modes ofaction and relationships with peo-
ple had been discovered among the population of demons, modes
that endowed them with effectiveness-the pact and the Satanic
sacrament, which tapped into the natural powers of demons. The
reassuring theme of the diabolical illusion was losing ground. A
second trait confirmed this extension of activity: the victim.s and
accomplices of the evil work were no longer the vetule, the lit-
tle old credulous ones, but all human beings in their fragile and
porous constitution and in their openness to the supernatural.
Finally, strong eschatological tendencies explained the annun-
ciative signs of the liberation of demons into this world. Any
uncertainty of the deciphering was compensated for by a process
of research and repression that seemed accepted in the Church.
This first result in itself appears important. Indeed, witch
hunts seem to have come out of Scholastic demonology. The
great manias in the Malleus Maleftcarum are primarily narrative,
but the doctrinal part of the manual does not exceed the ca-
pabilities of Scholastic demonology. One must thus reject two
202 Epilogue
contrasting historiographical attitudes that dominated this field
of research: some have attempted to place the witch hunt beyond
the medieval world; others, by contrast) have turned it into the
direct expression of an oppressive and repressive tendency in the
Church and in the monarchical governments of the Middle Ages.
Scholastic rationality constituted neither a principle for a resis-
tance to the madness nor the cause of a distraction; at most one
can say that the incessant pursuit of the inquest, the continuous
concern with reviewing traditional categories, and the growing
individualization of a search for the truth had opened dangerous
fields of reflection and had awakened ancient demons. The con-
struction of a science of rnan, a true innovation of Scholasticism,
was paid for at this price.
We must still, of course, attempt to explain the gap of a century
between the constitution of a new demonology and a new pro-
cedure, on the one hand, and the beginning of the systematic
persecution of magicians and sorcerers, on the other. How were
the convergent virtualities obsenred in this book carried out? In
the first chapter we noted the reticence of the civil, and some-
times ecclesiastical, authorities to resort to the inquisitional pro-
cess. The anti-inquisitional reaction is well documented, but it
does not explain everything. The civil tribunals, so active in the
sixteenth century, could have grabbed onto the struggle against
demons. Our hypothesis is that the new demonology brought
only plausible arguments and produced a complex and condi-
tional statement that we formulate as follows, by joining together
the various new propositions that we have discovered in this
book: When the time of danger approaches, demons have a huge
potential for destroying the Christian community through indi-
viduals who are sensitive to supernatural influence and are able to
form themselves into heretical and avowed networks of accom-
plices of Satan. In this hypothesis, the hypothetical or temporal
condition indicated by the conjunction "when" was universally
acceptable and corresponded to a common knowledge about the
end of time. Those who thought of an imminence of the end
were in the minority (the Spiritual Franciscans and the Beguins,
Epilosue 203
notably). During the fourteenth century, such a conclusion ap-
peared increasingly close to reality; of course, one n1ust men-
tion the great plague of 1348 and the common recurrence of that
scourge. Granted, recent historiography has chosen to emphasize
the absence of visible (notably aesthetic) traces of traumatisms
that followed the great carnage of the plague, and we must think
rather of a progressive accumulation of signs that rendered the
imminence of the end more probable. Only the economists of
the present time can grasp the amplitude and the duration of it,
but the sharp reversal of fortune in the 1310s, .inaugurating the
"little glacial period" of the world, had already sprinkled the uni-
verse with bad signs. At the end of the century, the great schism
of 1378 gave meaning to one of the terms of our thesis, con-
cerning the destruction of the Christian community. The West
had lived through many pontifical divisions, but this one af-
fected an institution that was much more present in the practical
lives of Christians; furthermore, the support of different national
churches and monarchies for a given pope endowed the image
with a profound, perhaps irremediable division. Agostino Par-
avicini Bagliani's hypothesis that the councils of Constance and
Basel, which put an end to the schism, played an important role
in the dissemination of a new doctrine on sorcery supports this
interpretation.
The radical renewal of the theme of the diabolical pact led to
the hypothesis of the existence of heretical networks, constituted
into irreducible enemies of Christian unity, of which the sor-
cerer and the invoker of demons were only examples. The idea
of a threatening covert equivalency of heresies was confirmed
during the fourteenth century by a growing certainty about the
impossibility of conversion. The Waldensians, after more than
two centuries of error, proliferated throughout Europe. Islam
endured and spread. The Jews held on. They were, moreover,
the principal victims of this new fear of the failure of conver-
sion. A wonderful book by Michael Shank has shown how the
establishment of the University of Vienna, at the end of the cen-
tury, attracted Parisian doctors (notably Henry of Langenstein),
204 Epilogue
1
who Joined a national pontifical obedience; these doctors) at
the t;nfortunate end of a Scholastic career, brought with the.m
assertions on the complete impossibility of rationally proving
the ,_frinitarian propositions in theology. Aristotelian logic, the
only common language of the three religions of the Book, was
silenced. lt is possible that the terrible laws on the !impieza de
sangre in fifteenth-century Spain corresponded to this certainty
that the conversion of]ews could only be apparent and false. A
century later, c;eorge of Hungary, a Christian frorn Transylvania
and a Dominican who had been held captive by the Turks for
tvventy years, published the same certainty on the absolute irn-
possibility of the conversion of Muslims, in a tre~tise that often
2
cited Joachim of Fiore on the imminence of the End ofTime.
The historical geography of persecutions might confirm this
equivalency of the uncovertables. A.s we know, the first system-
atic pursuit of sorcerers occurred at the beginning of the fifteenth
century in the Alpine Arc. Two maps drawn by Pierrette Paravy
give a precise spatial representation of the judicial action in the
Dauphint: one details the location of Waldensian communities;
the other, the places of sorcerers' activity. These crin1inal zones
(or zones of heresy, according to the equivalency introduced be-
tween sorcery and heresy) exactly covered all of the high Alpine
valleys. Furthermore, the distribution of the tvvo heresies is com-
plementary1 with not very much overlap.
Moreover, according to the observations of Guido Casteln-
uovo, contiguous Savoy produced almost no witch trials at the
same time, even though its border with the Dauphine represented
the arbitrary nature of medieval boundaries and was sin1ply the
other of two sides of the same valley. By contrast, tbe other bor-
der region of Savoy, the Valais, was also a dense zone of sorcery.
What can \'Ve conclude from these observations? 1'hc similar dis-
tribution ofWaldensians and sorcerers can be explained either
bv internal causes-the Waldensian ethos didn't tolerate magical
p,ractices, or the cohesion of these little communities precluded
divisions that might engender the aggressive practices of black
Epilogue 20s
1nagic~or by external causes: episcopal repression considered
every inhabited rnountain to be a dangerous refuge for dissi-
dence) and where there were no Waldensians who were easily
1
recognizable, the judges and investigators meticulously sought
other forrns of errors and found thcm as they could find then1
1
anywhere. 1'his perception of the n1ountains as places of retllge
for heresy was partially rnirrored in the Pyrenees, wherei from
west to east, there was a zone of sorcery (the Labourd, though not
v~ry mountainous); then, beyond the Bearn, a land of Cathars,
Waldensians, and Beguins (the current department of Aricgc);
and continuing on toward an eastern Languedoc taken over by
Beguins (as far as Narbonne and Montpcllier).
The Savoyard and Btarnais exceptions should give us pause:
the Savoy, in all of the Alps, was the only region to have a strong
secular power. The l)auphint was in the process of integrat-
ing into the kingdorn of F'rance, in the last moments of a weak
seigneury, whereas the Valais was subjected to the bishops of
Lausanne. In the Pyrenees, the Bearn also constituted the only
place of intense and direct political don1ination. Does this mean
that strong civil powers protected the populations from persecu-
tory n1adness? 'rhis rule suffers fro1n too many exceptions to be
acceptable. Furthermore, although the Beam was unaffected by
religious dissidence or sorcery, it produced the only example of
a caste in Europe, with the Cagot population. Our hypothesis,
difficult to prove, is that the Cagots, frequently named "Chris-
tians," constituted the rernains of a dissident religlous group that
was transposed into a hereditary category during the fourteenth
century. In other words, the .civil power was satisfied with social
stratification, whereas the Church intended to purge societies
through the individual pursuit of dissidents.
Indeed, the great climax of the Central Middle Ages
could well be the simultaneous and concurrent emergence of
politico-religious individualisrns and powerful sovereignties. 'rhe
sovereign state intended to transfOrm individuals into subjects or
citizens but encountered the faithful of God or the her~chmen
206 E'pilogue
of Satani asse1nbled in societies of the elect or in sects. The long
period of the hunt for dissidents and sorcerers (the fifteenth to
the beginning of the seventeenth centu~; th~s cove.red t.he slow
and bloody development of the adage Cu.1us reg10, e.1us reh-
. gio" (To each country its religion). A sad epilogue to Scholastic
universalism!

Notes
Abbreviations
r. Coulon-ClCmencet: John XXII, Lettres secretes et curia/es du pape
jean XXII {rJI6-r334} relatives a la France, ed. A. Coulon and S.
Clcmencet (Paris, r965).
2. DD: Thomas Aquinas, De malo, in De demonibus, :Edition
LConinc, vol. 23 (Rome, 1982).
3. l'CCM II processo di canonizzazione de Chiara de Montefa!co, ed.
Enrico M.enesto (Florence, 1984).
4. ])Cf_A: Analecta .F'ranciscana: Processus Canonization is et Legendae
varie Sancti Ludovici OFM, episcope Tholosani, vol. 7 (Qyaracchi, 1951).
5. PCNT: Nicola Occhioni, I! processo per la canonizzazione di
S. Nicolas de Tolentino (Rome, 1984).
6. PCPM: Peter Morrone (trial): F. X. Seppelt, "Die Akten des
I(anonisationsprozess in dem Codex zu Sul.mona," in Monumenta
Coelestiniana: Quellen zur Geschichte des Papstes Coelestin V (Paderborn,
1921), 249-50.
7. PCTA(N): Thomas Aquinas (canonization trial): Sancti Thomas
Aquinatis vitae fontes praecipuae, ed. Angelico Fern1a (Alba: Edizione
Dominicane, 1968).
8. PCTC:Acta sanctorum, October, 1:585-696.
9. PCYH: A. de La Borderie,J. Daniel, the R. P. Perquis, and D.
Tempier, Monuments originaux de l'histoire de saint Yves (Saint-Brieuc,
1887).
208 Notes to Pages
Preface
r. I am referring here to the work of Walter Stephens, cited in the
introduction, and that of Armando Maggi (Satan's Rhetoric: A Study
of Renaissance De1nonology 1 2oor), which I have not cited due to the
different time period and subject of Maggi's work.
2. See the work of Robert Lerner, David Burr, Ed\vard Peters, and
many others, among medievalists alone.
3. Alain Boureau, ed. and annotator, Le pape et !es sorciers: Une
consultation de jean XXII sur la mat,-rie en I320 (1nanuscript B.A. V. Borghese
348) (Rome: Ecole Fran~aise de Rome, 2004), iii-146.
Introduction
r. Before it was completed by a second inquest in F ossanovai
November ro-20, IJ2L
2. Sancti ThomasAquinatis vitae/on/es praecipuae, ed. Angelico Fer-
rua (Alba: Edizione Dominicane, 1968), 3or4 [hereafter PCTA(N)].
3. Sec, for example, the superb text edited by Richard Kieckhcfer
in his book Forbidden Rites: A Necromancer's Manual of'' the f'~fteenth
Century (University Park: Pennsylvania State lJniversity Press, 1998).
For the continuation of this type of practice in the Renaissance, see
Jean-Michel Sallmann) Chercheurs de trfsors et jetcuses de sorts: La quete
du surnatural aNaples au XVIe sii:cle (Paris: Aubier, 1986).
4. This is the case in the trial of Saint Nicholas of'f olentino, which
\Ve look at later in this volume.
5. In Alan C. Kors and Edward Peters, eds., Witchcrqft in Europe
II00-I700: A Documentary Elistory (London, r973), 82; see also nevv
edition (Philadelphia, 2001).-TRANS.
6. Margaret Murray, The Witch Cult in Western Europe (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, r921).
7- Robert Mandrou, Magistrats et sorciers en France au XVII e sii:cle:
Analyse de p.rychologie historique (Paris: Plon, 1968).
8. Carlo Ginzburg, Ecstasies: Deciphering the Witches' Sabbath, trans.
Raymond Rosenthal (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991).
9. Stuart Clark, Thinking with De1nons: The Idea ~f Witchcraft in
Early Medieval Europe (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997). The summary
rve just presented refers only to the great causalities, without incorpo-
rating the countless more descriptive works that have brought much to
a knowledge of sorcery.
Notes to F;ages 5-II 209
Io. In this se~sc, I share the points of view of Walter Stephens,
IJe~on Lov~rs: Wttchcrqft, Sex, and the Crisr ef Be/iif(Chicago: Uni-
versity of Chicago Press, 2002) 1 Vlrho, however, focuses on a later
period.
Chapter One
L Th: work is also signed by Jacob Sprenger) but recent historiog-
raphy attributes the writing of the book to I'Ienry Institoris alone. [Sec
I(ors and Peters, Witchcrqft in Europe) u3-89.-'rRANs.J
2. Bernard Gui, Manuel de !'inquisiteur, ed. G. Mollat (Paris:
Belles-Lettrcs, 1926-27),
3 ~ierr~tte Paravy, De la chriitiente romaine a fa Riforrne en
r:,auph:ne: EvJques,fidi:!es et diiviants (vers I34o~vers .r53o) (Rome: Ecole
Frans::a1se de Rome, 1993).
4 L 'imaginaire du sabbat: Edition critique des texts /es plus anciens
(.r430 c. -I440 c.), collected by Martone Ostorero, Agostino Paravicini
Bahliani, I(athrin Utz Tremp, in collaboration with Catherine Chene
(Lausanne, 1999).
5 Richard Kieckhefcr, European Witch Triah: Their f<Oundations in
Populara~d Learned.Culture, IJ00-I500 (London: Routledge and l(egan
Paul, 1976 ). Carlo G1nzburg begins his explicative series of the Western
forms of the Sabbath in 1321, but following a 1nodel completely opposite
to ours.
6. Joseph }Iansen, Quel!e11 und Untersuchungen zur Gescbichte des
Hexenwahns und der Hexenveifolgung (Bonn: Georgi, l or).
9
7 Lynn Thorndike, A flistory of Magic and Experimental Science
(New York, 1934), 3:18ff
, 8. ~ee Nich~las Weill-Parot, Les "images aJtrologiifues" au fvioyen
Age et a la ~~natssanc~: Speculations intellectuel!es et pratiques magiques
\>;II~-XVe s1ecle) _(Pans, 2002), 37/85; and iden1, "Les intellectuels,
l Eghse et la magic clans la premiere moitiC du XIVe sieclc," master's
thesis, Paris, 1990.
9 "Qpod cum morte ftdus incunt et pactum faciunt cum inferno.
Demonibus namque immolant, hos ado rant."
10. Liber Sextus, V.ii, chap. 8.
IL. ?ratiani J?ecr:tu1n, cause 26, question 5, chap. 12, in Corpus Juris
Canonict, ed. Emil Friedberg (Leipzig) 1879), voL 1, col. 1080. [Sec Kors
and Peters, Witchcraft in Europe, 28-31.-TRANS. J
2Io ;Votes f(J Pages I2-I5
r2. Sec Alain Boureau, "De la fClonie ~- la haute trahison. l.Jn
episode: I_,a trahison des clercs (version du XIle siecle)," Genre
liuniain r6-r7 (i988): 267-9r.
r3. Nicholas Eyrneric, J)irectoriu1n lrtquisitorurn (Venice, 1595),
XLIJI.9, pp. 341-42. [See !(ors and Peters, Witchcrqfi in .Europe, 84-
92.-TRANS .]
r4. "Simpliciter et de plano ac sine strcpitu ct .figura ju-
dicii ... appellatione re1nota." Letter published in Jean-Marie Vidal,
Bu/laire de /'Inquisition Jranraise (Par.is, 1913), no. 284, pp. 403-4.
I). "Nonnulli ct.iam quandoquc literati in hoc se opponunt, pre-
tcnde.ntes id ad tuun1 non expcctarc officiu1n secundum canonicas
sanctiones."
16. c;uido 'ferreni, Sununa de haeresibus (Venice, 1525).
i7. Sec Jean-Patrice Boudet, "Les condamnations de la magie a
Paris en r398," Revue Mabi!lon, n.s. 12, 73 (2001): r2r-57.
r8. In a letter of 1336 addressed to the official of Avignon,
Benedict XJJ, successor of John XXll, again ranks spells among the
crin1cs that affect the faith (Vidal, Bu/faire, no. 153, pp. 229-30). In 1405,
Benedict XIII nullified the privileges of the inhabitants of the diocese
of Puy ,..vho claimed that the inquisitor of Carcassonne could not pursue
them for casting evil spells (Vidal 1 Bu/faire, no. 332, pp. 473-74).
r9. 'I'he first edition was prepared by Jean Chappuis in 1500. For
the constn1ction of the two collections, sec A. M. Stickler, Historia Juris
Canonici: IrZJtitutiones Acadamicae, vol. r: flistoria Fontiunz (R<Hne: Las,
I950), 270/L
. 20. The only mentions of the bull are found, as we have said, in
the manual by Nicholas Eyn1eric (1376), in the Anna/es ecclesiastiques of
Rinaldi, and in a Roman collection of papal bulls from the eighteenth
century.
2r. Sec Anneliese Maier, "Eine Verfiigung Johannis XXII Uber die
Zustandigkeit der Inquisition fUr Zaubereiprozcsse," Archicuum Ji'ratrum
Ptaedicatorun1 32 (1952): 226-46, in which the first response of the com-
mission was published. Raul Manselli then published another response,
that ofI~nrico dcl Carrctto, in Manselli, "Enrico dcl Carrctto e la con-
sultazionc sulla magia di Giovanni XX.II," in Miscellanea in anon: di
Monsignore Mt1rtino Giusti, 2:97-129 (Vatican City, 1978). Boureau, Le
Pape et !es sorciers.
22. Boureau, Le Pape et !es sorciers, 12-33,
Notes to Pages IS~20 21
23. "Fecisti plantas pedunt eiusdcm tnulieris iuxta carbones acccn-
sos apponi"; text published in Vidal, Bu/Zaire 51~52.
24. "f)iu post confcssioncn1 dcbitun1 natl~rc pcrsoluit ... vcrum
quia dubitatur ne proptcr prcdicta tonncnta citius deccsserit quan1
alias deccssissct rnulier supradicta si tormentata tninime cxtititssct"
(ibid.).
25. "Erronea ct horrenda contra catholicam fidem fi1it confcss<t
et multos consocios ct co1npliccs rcvclauit ... qut: on1nia sic inuenta,
ut communiter creditur, numquam rcuclata fuissent nisi mediantibus
torn1entis eiusdern predicta mulicr rcuelassct" (ibid.).
26. "f)c consilio probontm qui sc asscrcbant uidisse penis cxa1ninati
hc.rcticos in partibus rfholosanis" (ibid.).
z7. Ibid., no. 24, PP 53-54.
28. E'x ccrta sciencia: on this clausule of pontifical absolutism, sec
Alain Bourcau, La loi du royaurne: Les tnoines, le droit et la construction
de la nation ang!aise (Paris: Bcllcs-Lettres, 2oor)} with refCrencc to the
work of Jacques l(rynen.
29. Published in Vidal, Bu/Zaire, 6r. A better edition has b-:::en pro-
vided by Maier, "Eine V crfligung Johannis XXII," 226-27.
30. Vidal, Bullaire, no. 72, pp. n8-19. We look at this rnattcr in
1norc detail in chapter 2.
3r. ''fhe co111mission \Vas .renewed on November 8, r327; ibid.,
no. 78, pp. 129-30.
32. Sec below, chapter 5.
33. Bernard Gui, Manuel de l'inquisiteur, r: 52.
34. Published in Vidal, Bullaire1 no. 103, pp. r54-56.
35. 'fhe pope's classification of demonic invocations as heresy never
stopped. See, for example, a letter from 1323, which a~signs c(;Inmis-
sioncrs to judge the monk Guillaume ofFigcac, who had been accused
of"deviating frorn the Catholic faith" by practicing alchemy and necro-
mancy (ibid., no. 50, pp. srss).
36. Fritz Graf, La !\llagie dans l'Antiquitf grfco-ron1aine: Ideologie et
pratique (Paris: Belles-1,cttres, 1994).
37. Sec the account by Peter the Venerable fro1n around n37, of a
magical use of the consecrated host by a peasant who wanted to retain
his bees: Peter the Ven crab le, Livre des rnerveilles de !Jieu (IJe rniraculis),
with an introduction, translation, and notes by Jean-Pierre Torrell
and Denise Bouthillier (Fribourg/Paris: Editions lJniversitaires/Cerf~
2I2 Notes to Pages 20-23
1992), 7012. I thank Charles de Miramon for pointing this text out
to me.
s. See notably the work of Richard Kieckhefer and Claire Faenger
3
in the United States, and of Jean-Patrice Boudet and Henri Bresc in
France.
. In his collective biography of the first two generations of
39
Dominicans, written at the beginning of the r26os, Gerard of Frachet
reports only a single case of a brother who devoted himself to alchemy,
and he only reproached hirn for his desire to get rich quick. His ;:tctivi~
consisted essentially of going to Sardinia to collect rare minerals. His
unfortunate fate is explained only through this abandonment of God to
pursue secular wealth. Gerard ofFrachet, Vitae Fratrum Ordinis Pr~e~
icatorum, ed. B. M. Reichert (Rome/Stuttgart: Monumcnta Ord1n1s
Fratrum Pracdicatorum H.istorica, 1897), 290.
o. Stephen ~fempier, La condamnation parisienne de I277, ed. a~d
4
trans. David Piche with the collaboration of Claude Lafleur (Pans:
Vrin, 1999), 77.
4r. Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, II corpo de! papa (Turin: Einaudi,
1994); idem, preface to Le crisi de/l'alchimia, Micrologus 3 (1995): viii.
42. See the publication of the trial in Joseph Shatzmiller, Justice
et injustice au debut du XIVe siecle: L 'enquete sur l'archeveque d'Aix et sa
renunciation en IJI8 (Rome: Ecole Fran9aise de Rome, 1999).
. See a letter of February 1330 in John XXII, Lettres secretes et
43
curia/es du pape]ean XXII (rJI6-r334} relatives ala France, ed. A. Coulon
and S. Clemencet, fasc. 8 (Paris, r965), no. 4100, pp. 104-5 (hereinafter
Coulon-Cltmencet): letter to Jean de Badas, Franciscan inquisitor of
Marseille, on a nefandum crime committed by Gantalmus Gantalmi,
notary, and his wife BCrengere, "instigationc diabolica circumventi"
against Guillaume de Baucio, lord of Berrc.
. ~fext published in Hansen, Que/fen und Untersuchungen, no. 3,
44
p2. . .
5. J_,.et us note that in 1318 the rituals of the consecration of i:i1rrors
4
and images appear specific, whereas in 1320, in the pope's questions to
the experts, the invokers of demons used the Catholic rite of baptism
to prepare their images.
46. Paravicini Bagliani, Corpo de! papa.
47. C. H. Josten, "The Text ofJohn Dastin's Letter to Pope John
XXII," Ambix 4 (1951): 46-51.
Notes to Pages 23-29 2IJ
48. Edmond Albe, Autour de jean XXIL Hugues Giraud, Cviique
de Cahors: L'qffoire des poisons et envo{dernents en I.,JI7 (Cahors, 19 04 ),
16;-64.
49 .Processus Bernardi Deliciosi: 1'he Trial offaT. Bernard Delicieux, J
September-8 December IJI9, ed. Alan Friedlander (Philadelphia, 1996),
62. For a complete study of the case, ~ee Alan Friedlander, The Harnnier
of th~ ~n_qui~itors: Brother Bernard Dtlicieux and the Struggle against the
lnquisttton tn Fourteenth-Century France (I_,eiden: Brill, 2000).
50. Coulon-ClCmencet, no. 2969, p. 15r.
51. Ibid., no. 2395, p. 47.
52. Sermon on the vigil of the Epiphany, January 5, r332, in
M~rc Dykmans, ed., Les sermons de Jean XXII sur la vision bCatifique
Miscellanea f1istoriae Pontificiae 34 (Rome: Presses de l'Universite
GrCgorienne) 1973), 145.
53 The acts of the trial have been published by J.-M. Vidal, "Proces
d'inquisition contre AdhCmar de Mosset," Revue d'Histoire de /'l:,'g!ise de
France r (1910). The anecdote is on p. 713.
54 Such interrogations into one's spiritual "situation" were fre-
quent. In his correspondence with the greats of this world, the pope
often responded to this type of question in rather general terms, one
must say.
55 One might wonder whether it was not this literal adherence to
the biblical text that inspired the pope to intervene in the question of
beatific vision, a question in which the partisans of a direct vision of
God before the Last Judgment found no direct scriptural support.
56. We find a parallel formulation in Quia quorumdam mentes
(November w, 1324.). [English text found at http://www.franciscan-
arch1ve.org/bullarium/qinn-e.html. -TRANS.]
. . 57 Similarly, John XX!l must have been particularly irritated by the
JUd1c1al metaphor, which, in Peter of John ()livi, constantly served to
explain the voluntary and personal nature of the connection between
the fait.h~ul and God, while the Spirituals' doctrine, moreover, rejected
the leg1t1macy of the law and of the judicial relationship vis-a-vis the
state of perfection targeted by the rule of Saint Francis.
58. The pope believed in the strength of facts, in law, and in theol-
ogy. Thus, in May 1330 he spoke to the king of France to ask him to for-
bid the practice of offering proof through judicial battle or duel, noting
that "through such practices, the truth is not proven" [per talia ... veritas
2.14 Notes to Pages 29-32
non probaturl The pope, in the name of experience, master of things
[magistra rerum experiencia], pointed out to the king that, in the case
of accusing someone of counterfeiting, the sovereign would never be
content with such a proof, precisely because, in that case, the material
facts and the pure truth were important (Coulon-ClCmencet) no. 4197,
p. 126; idem, analogous letter in February 133r, fasc. 9 {I967], no. 4452,
p. 41).
59. Sec Alain Boureau, "I)roit naturel et abstraction judiciaire:
HypothCses sur la nature du droit mCdieval," Anna/es HSC 57, no. 6
(2002): 1463-88.
60. See Jean-Pierre CavaillC, "L'art des Cquivoqucs: Her6sic, in-
quisition et casuistique. Qyestions sur la trans1nission d'une doctrine
mCdiCvale a l'Cpoque moderne," Miditvales 43 (2002): n9-45.
6r. Sec Alain Boureau, "La redCcouverte de l'autonomic du corps:
L'emergencc du somnambule (XIIle-XIVe sieclc)," Micrologus 1 (1993):
2r42.
62. See Julien 'fhCry, "Fania: !. .'opinion publique comme preuve
judiciaire. Apen;:u sur la revolution mCdiCvale de l'inquisitoire (Xlie-
XIVe siCcle\" in La preuve en justice de l'Antiquiti it nos ;Ours, ed.
Bruno Lemcsle (Rennes: Presses Univcrsitaires de Renncs) 2003),
n9-47-
63. On all of these issues I refer to chapter 8 of my work: Alain
Boureau, Thiologie, science et censure au XI!Ie sic!e: Le cas de jean Peckham
(Paris: Bcllcs-Lettrcs, 1999).
64. Published by Jose Rius Serra, ed., in Sancti Raynutndi de
Penyafort opera omnia, vol. 3: Dip!omatario (l)ocumentos, Vida antigua,
Cronicas, Processos antiguos) (Barcelona: Univcrsidad de Barcelona, 1954),
74-82.
65. This typology was used by Pope Alexander IV some ten years
later and edited by Boniface VIII in the Sexte (bk. 51 tit. 2, chaps. 2,
61 and II), in Corpus Juris Canonici (ed. Friedberg), vol. 2, cols. ro69,
1071, 1073. See also the treatise Doctrina de nzodo procedendi erga hereticos
(ca. r280), in Thesaurus novus anecdotum, vol. 51 ed. E. MartCne and U.
Durand (Paris, 17r7), col. 1797; and Bernard Gui, Practica inquisitionis,
haereticae pravitatis, ed. C. Donais (Paris, 1866) 1 226-32.
66. Well before the creation of the Inquisition, the "fhird Lateran
Council (n79) had pronounced an anathema on defensores and recep-
tatores of heretics and had refused them burial. Decritales, bk. 5> tit. 7,
chap. 8, in Corpus}uriJ Canonici (ed. Friedberg), vol. 21 col. 1780.
Notes to Pages 33-38 2r
5
67. Penafort, Opera 01nnia, 3:29-32.
68. In 1308-9 the author of a new series of articles of accusa-
tion against the memory of Boniface, which Jean Coste attributes
to Guillaun1e de Nogaret, introduced a distinction unheard of at
the time, which was repeated again fifty years later by Nicholas
Ey~eric (Directorium, IL2), between heretical articles, errors relating to
a point of fact already condemned [facti dan1nati errors], and opinions.
Nogaret, originally from Saint-FClix-dc-Caraman, a Cathar haut lieu)
and the grandson of a heretical minister, certainly had good knowl-
eQ_ge of the persecution of heresy, in spite of his training as a civilist.
But the mere mention of this distinction) without precise application,
does not enable us to assert that the notion of "heretical fact" was truly
developing.
69. "fext edited by Jean Coste, Bonjfizce VIII en proces: Articks
d'accusation et depositions de timoins (1303-1311): Edition critique, intro-
duction et notes (Rome, 199 5), 153 .
70. Processus Bernardi De!iciosi, 180.
71. Edward Peters, Inquisition (Berkeley, University of Calif<)rnia
Press, 1988). Richard Kieckhefer, ''The Office of Inquisition and
Medieval Heresy: The Transition from a Personal to an Institutional
Jurisdiction," Journal ofEcclesiastical History 46 (1995): 36-6r.
72. Thus, the pope decided to suspend the right of heretics to seek
asylum in churches, but this did not specifically include casters of spells
(letter to the king of France, Philip VI, in 1328, published in Vidal,
Bu/faire, no. 79, pp. 130-31).
73. Corpus Juris Canonici (ed. Friedberg), vol. 2, col. 1078.
74. Ibid., col. 1200.
75. Sec the harsh letter Pope John XXll address~d to him dated
October 6, 1332: Vidal, Bu/faire, no. 124, p. 184.
76. Coulon-Ckmencct, fasc. 9, no. 4539, pp. 59-60.
77 The attention given to Philip the Fair and to John XXJI must
not make us forget that this type of politico-demonological accusation
was common at that tirne, as is shown (in a completely different context)
~y the charges. bro~ght against Walter Langton, bishop of Coventry
in 1301-3, of diabolical worship; sec Alice Beardwood, "'rhe Trial of
Walt~r Lan~ton, ~ishop of Lichfield, 1307-1312," 1'ransactions ef the
American Phzlosophzca/ Society (Philadelphia), n.s., 54 (1964): 3. Regard-
ing the trial against Pope Boniface VIII, see Coste, Boniface VIII en
prociJ. .
;u6 Notes to Pages 38. -44
7s. Abel Rigault, l,e proci:s de Guichard i:<ulique de Troyes, r308-z5.r,1
(Paris, i896 ). Sec Alain Provost) "Recherches sur le procCs de Guichard,
CvCquc de 'froyes (1308-1314)," thesis, Parisi 2000.
79. J<:an Favier, Un conseiller de Philippe le .Bel: Enguerrand de
Marigny (Paris: PlJF, r963). We n1ust mention the tr~al that occurred
shortly afterward against Cardinal Francesco Gaetani, who was pur-
sued by the royal courts for attempting to harm the king, his brother,
and ~o cardinals by the use of magical imagesj see Charles-Victor
Langlois, "l. .'affairc du cardinal Francesco Gaetani (avril 1316)," Revue
Historique 63 (1897): 56-p).
So. rfrials against Hugues G6raud: Albe, Autour de jean XXIIi
against Mateo and Galcazzo Visconti: Robert Michel, "Le procCs de
Mateo et Galeazzo Visconti: L'accusation de sorccllerie et d)hCrCsie,
Dante ct l'affairc de l'env0Uten1cnt (1320)," Melanges d'Archeologie et
d'ffistoire 29 (1909): 269-327; and against the allies of Federico de
Montcfeltro: F. Bock, "I proccssi di Giovanni X:Xll contro I
Ghibellini delle IVlarchc," Bolletino de!l'Istituto Storico Italiano per ii
Media Evo 57 (1941): lr43
8r. Sec J.-M. Vidal, "Le sicur de Parthcnay et l'inquisition (1323-
1325)," Bulletin Historique et Philologique 1903: 414-34.
82. Vidal, Bu/faire, no. 20, p. 44) and no. 76, pp. r26-2J.
S.J. Ibid., nos. ro9 and no, pp. I671r.
84. Ibid., no. 90 1 p. 144.
Chapter Two
r. "l)o those who baptize in water, following the form of the
Church, an image or any other inanimate thing [literally: irrational]
in order to perpetrate an evil deed indulge in a heretical deed and must
be held as heretics, or should they only be judged as casters of spells?
And how inust they be punished according to one or the other of these
classifications? And, consequently, what must be done with those who
have n:ccived such images and to whom it has been said that they have
been baptized? And what is to be done with those to whom one has
not said that such images were baptized, but to whom one has said that
those in1ages had such or such povver and who have received them for
this reason?" The L,atin text of the commission's work is found in my
book Le Pape et /es sorciers, cited in chapter I. I refer to it by indicating
in parentheses the folio mentioned in the margin of the published text.
Notes lo Pages 44-47 2IJ
2. 0\,1estion 2: "1V1ust a priest rebaptizing a man on a superstitious
and sacrilegious n1ode, believing that such a baptized one will have the
power of curing epilepsy, be considered as a heretic, or only punished
as having cotnmitted a sacrilege? And how?" C211estion 3: ((Should those
who receive the body of Christ to carry out evil deeds or spells be
punished as heretics?" 'T'ranslation of question 4 is already given in
~~L .
.l .Henry of Ghent, Quodlibeta, XIV, 15 (Paris, r518), fi)ls. 57ov~572v.
I:':lsa 1Vlarn1ursztejn has provided a translated and commented edition
of this text "Du r6cit exemplairc au casus universitaire: 1Jne variation
thCologique sur le theme de la profanation d'hosties par lcsjuifs (1290),')
Mf:dii'-vales 41 (2oor): 37-6 4 .
4. rcxt published in Rigault, Procds de Guichard, 271;2.
S See Alfredo Cia1npi, II beato Agostino Kaiotii, 0.P., -vescovo di
Zagreba e poi di Lucero (H.omc, i958).
6. Ervvin Gatz and Clen1ens Brodkorb, J)ie BischijC des Heiligen
R01nischen Reiches I 198 bis 1448: Ein biographisches Lexikon (Berlin, 2001)~
l: r95-96.
7. 'fhis .episode, \vhich rnay contribute to understanding the atti-
tude of the Dominican during the consultation, is known only through
the (7hronica of Nicholas the J\!linorite: Nicolaus Minorita, Chronica,
ed. G. Gal and D. Flood (New York: St. Bonaventure, Franciscan In-
stitute Publications) 1996), 418-19. I ow<: this information to Sylvain
Piron, to whon1 I am very grateful. I am following his chronological
indication, as opposed to that of Eva Luise Wittneben, Bonagra:zia van
Be1garno: Franziska11e1jurist und Wortfithrer seines Ordens int Streit 1nit
Papst Johannes XXII (l. . eidcn: Brill, 2003), \vho places the incident in
r323-24.
8. Sec the biographical notice for Carrctto by C. E. Meek, in
the Dizionario biogrqjico degli italiani (Rlnnc: Trcccani, 1988), 36:
404-8.
9. BibliothCque Nationalc de France (BNF), Latin 503; and BNF,
L,atin 12018.
Io. The text of various opinions of the consistory was copied in
a rnanuscript (BAV, Vat. Lat. 3740). Enrico del Carretto's contribu-
tion, copied in the 111anuscript BA V, Borghese 294, fols. rr-srv, has
been cdit<:d by B. Fierman, Tractatus de statu Christi (Ro1ne, r9.80) and
analyzed by Raul .ManselJ.i, "Enrico dcl Carretto e il suo trattato sulla

2.r8 Notes to Pages 47-48
poverti a Giovanni XXII," in Sapientie doctrina: Melanges de theologie
et de !itterature medievales offerts a Dom Hildebrand Bascour, 0.S.B.)
Recherches de thCologie an~ienne et mCdiCvale, special ed. r, pp. 238-
48 (Leuven, 1980 ).
rr. R. Manselli., ed., La sinodo lucchese di Enrico de! Carretta, in
Miscellanea Gilles Gerard Meerssenian, Italia Sacra 15 (Padua, 1970), 19r
246.
12. "Nulla malefica, nulla incantatrix et nulla divinatrix persona"
(ibid., article 43); "De 1naleficiis vel i.ncantationibus non faciendis" (ibid.,
226).
lJ. "Nisi incantation fieret verbis divinis vel medicinalibus pro
liberandis infirmis" (ibid.). On the link between the various modes
of incantation, see the thesis of Beatrice Delaurenti, "Virtus verborum:
DC bats doctrinaux sur le pouvoir des incantations aux XIIIe et XIVe
siecles" (Paris: EHESS, 2004).
14. Enrico del Carretto designates "incantation" as "incantation vel
indivinatio."
15. Also known by the names ofGuiu Terrena, Guy Terre, or Guy
de Perpignan; sec Bartomeu Xiberta, Guiu Terrena, carmelita de Perpinya
(Barcelona: Instituctio Patxot, 1932).
6. Text of the inquest published by Jose Pou y Marti, Visionarios,
1
Beguinos y Franticelos (siglos XIII-XV) (Vich, 1930; Alicante, 1996), 660-
96 (most recent ed.).
17. MS BAV, Borghese 39, fols. 238v-24ov. This manuscript, which
includes a dispute among Peter Roger and Francis ofMayronnes and
a Dominican bachelor, the six quodlibcts of Guido, and those of his
student Sigebert of Bek.kc, was commissioned in Paris by Peter Roger
(the future Pope Clement VI), betvveen I321 and 1323, according to the
analysis of.Etienne Anheim, whom I sincerely thank. I will soon publish
this text. Another doctor, Jean of Naples, dealt with an analogous
question in a quodlibetical session: "Is the fact of invoking, of conjuring
and of consulting demons, as well as making sacrifices to them and
baptizing images following the form and the ritual of the Church, in
view of killing or attacking someone, a sign of heresy or of infidelity";
MS Tortosa, 244; and Naples, Vll.B.28. The dating is difficult, but l
think the question is later than 1320.
18. See the biographical entry in C. Casagrande, Dizionario bi-
ografico degli Italiani (Rome: Treccani, 1995), 4p8r91.
Notes to Pages 48~6I 2.r9
19. See Analecta augustiniana (1901), 3:55, n. 6; (1913) 5:205-6; and
(1944), 19:143, n. 8.
20. Liber Sextus; V.2, chap. 8.
21. A short chapter is devoted to the use of wax as a preferred
material by casters of spells. The reasons forth is are simple: the plasticity
of the wax enabled an easy shaping; the limbs of the figure could easily
be detached; and finally, this material was easily mixed with others,
such as oil, balm, and chrism-consecrated oil.
22. "Ut patet in ymagine Crucis et sanctitatis." One might wonder
-..vhat the "image of holiness" refers to: icons, representations such as
the holy face of Lucca, which, of course, Enrico, bishop of Lucca, knew
welL It was certainly not a matter of ordinary representations of saints,
which could only rarely have thaumaturgic power.
23. William of Meliton, Questiones de sacramentis (Qaracchi:
College Saint-Bonaventure, 1961), This text serves as _a basis for the
writing of book 4 of the Summa l-lalensis, Alexander ofHales's Summa,
whose influence was considerable.
24. There are many references to the book ofJob throughout Enrico
del Carretto's text: this book of the Bible appeared in the thirteenth
century as the best document on the powers of the !)evil, to whom God
had left, in a certain way, a free field of action.
25. This is why Scholastic science had the greatest difficulty ex-
plaining the phenomena of attraction, as in the case of magnetism. I
have dealt at length with this point in 7'hologie, science et censure au
Xllle siecle: Le cas de Jean Peckham (Paris: Belles-Lettres, 1999).
26. Document published in Vidal, Bu/faire, rrS-19.
27. Document published in Hansen, Que/fen und Untersuchungen,
447, n. 4; reprinted and corrected by Vidal, Bu/faire, 120-21.
28. ~cc the essential work ofWeill-Parot, '1mages astrologiques" au
li1oyen Age et a la Renaissance.
29. The matter is perhaps less innocent than it seems: the Qerci-
noise Bruniquel family was allied vvith the DuCze family, that of Pope
John XXIL Herc Vidal corrects a bad reading of the manuscript by
I-Iansen, who read "patronate" instead of"potionate."
30. Irene Rosier-Catach, La parole comme acte: Sur la grammaire et
la simantique au Xllle siCc!e (Paris: Vrin, 1994).
3r. The choice of this argument is all the more significant in that
it might appear irrelevant: the wax image can seem unconventional,
220 Notes to Pages 6I-65
since it is a "portrait" of the future victin1; but no doubt the Fran-
ciscan wanted to insist on the fact that it was not the resemblance
(certainly rudimentary), but the baptismal attribution of a name that was
i1nportant.
32. The question is badly documented) and Blaise's dictionary, usu-
ally more reliable, indicates that this use originated in the sixteenth
century.
33. Enrico's text is unfortunately dubious in this passage: "quia ibi
Deus vel sua pre sens [which I correct as presentia] est sicut in signo." The
"sua presens'' associates a feminine possessive and a present participle.
34. Richard Fishacre, Co1nmentaire sur !es sentences, 4:1, text re-
produced in }l. D. Si1nonin and G. Meerssc1nan) De sacran'1ento-
rutn ejficentia apud neologos ordinis praedicatorzun (Rome, 1936), fasc 1 1
cols. 1229/6, p. 17. I owe my knowledge of these texts to the \vork of
William Courtenay and Irene Rosier-Catach. See A. Boureau, "Naa-
man, son mal et son secret: Un patient biblique examine par l':Eglise
(Xlle-XV1e sieclc)," Evolution Psychiatrique 58, no. 3 (1993): 315-5n.
35. See Rosier-Catach, Parole conime acte; and idem, La parole ~f!i
cace: Signe, ritue!, sacriJ (Paris: Seuil, 2004).
36. This concerns the second beast, which was given "the power to
give life unto the image of the beast, that the image of the beast should
speak."
37. Richard proposed this second explanation) following a slightly
different form: "Either he will make a material irr1age of the Antichrist,
as we make a corporeal irnage of the Savior, and he will make that
image speak through incantations and, in doing so, he will succeed in
tricking men and killing those who refuse to worship him." Richard
of Saint-Victor, Benjamin us Minor, in J. -P. Migne, Patrologia Latina,
vol. 196 1 col. 808. Note that Olivi eliminated the parallel with the human
creation of the image of Christ.
38. The complete text of the commentary was edited by Warren
Lewis, in his thesis, "Peter ofJohn Olivi, a Prophet for the Year 2000,"
Tiibingen, 1972. This fragment is found on p. 727 of his edition.
39. "And it was given to him through divine permission, according
to what he says, using the rain of fire, that is, with the help of the
evil spirit, to receive the image of the beast in conformity with the
impiety of the Antichrist, so that the image of the beast spoke in many
ways, that is, in many languages, as had been given to the apostles to
f\lotes to Pages 66-73 22I
do by the lioly Spirit." Richard of Saint-Victor, Benja1ninus Minor,
col. 808. I-Icre, again, Olivi limits the parallelism of the divine and
Satanic operations by omitting the rain of fire during this Satanic IJcn-
tec~st; by contrast, he emphasizes the contractual causality of this op-
eration, at least through the verb assistere.
40. Since r318-19, the work of censure had been entrusted to three
au.th?rities: ~ardinal Niccolo <la Prato, assisted by a theologian, a com-
m1ss1on of eight members named by the pope, and a commission of
twelve n1cmbers named by the Franciscan chapter ofl\1arseille in 1319 .
Furthermore, in r3r8 Pierre de La Palud and Guido Terreni had worked
on an abbreviated adaptation written in Catalan. In 1322 the pope asked
for a supplementary inquest on four points that had remained unclear
1'he final condemnation appeared at the beginning of 1326. See David
Burr, Olivis Peaceable Kingdom: A Reading ofthe Apocalypse Commentary
(Ph1ladelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1993).
4r. See Alain Boureau, "Foi," in Dictionnaire critique de !'Occident
tnCdieval, ed. Jacques Le Goff and Jean-Claude Schmitt (Paris: Fayard,
1 999), 422-34.
Chapter Three
1. Migne, Patrologia .Latina, vol. 73, col. 302.
2. Fulbert of Chartres: ibid., vol. r9r, col. 323. Gautier de Coinci:
there were many editions; lastly, see Oeuvres, the edition, translation,
and commentary by Agnes Garnier (Paris: Champion, 1998). Rutebeuf:
Oeu1;res completes, ed. E.dmond Faral and Julia Bastin (Paris: Picard,
1977), 2:16r203.
3 Coste, BonijCice VIII en procl!s, 424. The 1303 version was rnore
explicit concerning the Satanic mode of access to the papacy: it was
necessary for Boniface not to be a "true nor a legitimate pope" (286).
4. Text in Riga ult, Proces de Guichard de Troyes, 27075.
5. F. -L. Ganshof, Qu'est-ce que la ftodalite? (Brussels, 1944).
6. Thomas Aquinas, . Summa theologica, Ila, Ilae, question 96,
art. 2, ob. 3, and reply 3. [English translation: Summa Theologica, trans.
Fathers of the English Dominican Province (New York: Benzinger
Bros., 1947). - TRANS.]
7 Ibid., II, 57, 48. I am using the anthology presented, translated
a~d edited ~y Henri Platellc: "fhomas de CantimprC, Les exemples du
lzvre des abetlles: Une vision medievale (Turnhout: Brepols, 1997), 263-6 4.
222 Notes lo Pages 73-77
8. ]'his storv has a rather obvious polen1ical background: it concerns
the assertion, a~ainst the position of the seculars, that the mendicant
orders indeed had an apostolic and pastoral mission and must not be
considered contemplative orders. We know of the serious conflicts that
'followed the granting of pontifical privileges to the n1endicants, which
enabled them to preach and hear confession without the authorization
of the priest or even the bishop.
9. ;(Ci conjure Salatins le deahlc: Bagahi laca bachahC I Lamac cahi
achabahC / K.arrelyos I la1nac larnec bachalyos I Cabahagi sabalyos I
Baryolas I 1.agozatha cabyolas I samahac ct farnyolas I H.arrahya"
(lines 160-68).
ro. 'fhe work of Michael E. Moore has indeed shown how, fron1
Isidore de Sevilla to the movement of the Peace of God (eleventh cen-
tury), the Frankish Church had constructed a "social Christology" that
bn;ke with what had been called, since Arquilliere, "political Augus-
tinianis1n": Christian society, through baptism and conversion, is iden-
tified with the body of Christ and must thus be directed by kings and
priests.
rr. At the beginning of the Carolingian period, Pope Zachary had
supported Pepin the Short by affirming that he was the one who enjoyed
the reality of power and was not to be a king in his shadow.
12. Mancgold of Lautenbach, Liber ad Gebehardum, ed. K. Francke,
Monu1nenta Gcrmaniac Historica, Libelli de lite, vol. 1 (1891),
chap. 20, p. J65.
IJ. Cited in Coste, Boniface VIII en proci:s, 76.
1 . On the integration of the priestly/episcopal function, sec A.
4
Faivre, Ordonner la charitC: Pouvoir d'innouer et retour ii /'ordre chritien
dans l'Eglise ancienne (Paris: Cerf, 1992). On the third source of power,
see the thesis of Elsa l\!Iarn1ursztejn, "Un troisiCme pouvoir? Pouvoir
intellectual ct constn1ction des norms a l'univcrsitC de Paris 3. la fin
du Xllc siecle, d'aprCs les sources quodlibCtiques (Thomas d'Aquin,
Gerard d'Abbevillc, I1enri de Gand 1 Godeffoid de Fontaines)," Paris,
E!-IESS, 1999
15. Document published in Albe, Autour de jean XXII, r63, 164.
1 6.
Proliferation of fonns: Pierre Michaud-Q1antin, Universitas:
Expressions du niouvernent co;nn1unautaire dans le Mayen Age latin (Paris:
Vrin, 1970). Parishes, villages, rural communes: see, for example, Chris
Wickham, C'oJnniunity and Clientele in Twelfth-Century T'uscany: 7'he
Notes to Pages 77-85 223
Or(zins q/the Rural c:onunune in the l)/ain qj'Lurca (Oxford and New
York: ()xford (Jniversity Press, 1998).
lJ. ()n the judicial di1ncnsions of the corporation, the essential
work. rcn1ains that of Gaines Post, Studies in Medieva! Legal Thought:
Pubiff Laiu and the State, 1100-1322 (Princeton: Princeton lJnivcrsitv
Press, 1964). '
18. Sec Catherine Vincent, Les co1~friries 1nidikuales dans le royaun1e
de Ji'rance, XIIIe-.XVe sii!t!e (Paris: Albin Michel, r994).
r9. Innocent IV, ()onunentaria: Apparatus in quinque !ibros decreta!-
i111n (Frankfurt, 1570), cited and analyzed in Frederick H. Russell, The
Just War in the Middle Ages (Carnbridgc: C~a1nbridgc University Press,
1975), 150-51. .
20, "Sine focdcre," 482, Spring r3ro, p. 614.
21. Coulon-C~lCrnencct, fasc. 9, no. 4673 1 p. 95.
22. Sec F. I(. von Savigny, Traili de droit ron1ain (Paris, r841),
n:263-369; and A. Boureau, "Droit et thCologie au .'XIIIe siCcle/' Anna/es
ESC 6 (1992): m3-25.
23. Sec Julien "fhCry, Le procs de IJernard de G'astanet, Cvtque d'Albi
(130;1308): Gou"Vernonent ecc!Csiastique,justice inquisitoire et rontestation
en Languedor aux derniers ternps de !'hirisie des bans hom111es, forthcoining.
24. Processus Bernardi Deliciosi, 208.
25. 1''his point is rnentioned by Arnaut Garsia, who, in his depo-
sition of ()ctobcr 27, r319, presents the pact as a commitment to pay
50 Tournois pounds, or 30 or 10 1 and "thus descending until the ultimate
degree" (ibid., 117).
26. See c;eoffroy d'Ablis, L 'inquisiteur Geoj)Toy d'Ablis et !es rathares
du cornti de fi'oix (1308-I309), ed., trans., and annot<~ted by A.nncttc
Palcs-Gobilliard (Paris: Editions du CNRS, 1984), 67-
27. Frans-ois-Olivicr 'fouati, Ma!adie et soriiti! au Mayen Age:
IJa li!pre, !es lipreux et /es !Cproseries danJ la procuince ea!Csiastique de
Sens jusqu'au 1ni!ieu du X!Ve sii!cle (Brussels: De Boeck, 1998), 702-
35.
28. Peter of John Olivi, QuaeJtio quid ponat }us vel dorniniu1n, in
F. Delorme, ed., "Qyestion de P. J. Olivi, Quid ponat ius vel dorni11iun1
ou encore De signis Do!untariis," 1 Antonianu1n 20 (1945): 309-30.
29. Ibid., 318-22.
30. See William Courtenay, "]~he King and the Leaden Coin: 1'he
_Economic Background of Sine qua non Causality," and "'fokcn Coinage
224 Notes to Pages 86'--9I
and the Administration of Poor Relief during the Late Middle Ages,"
in W. Courtenay, Covenant and Cau:>ality in Medieval Thought: Stud-
ies in Philosophy, Theology and E;conomic ]Jractice (London: Variorum,
1984). Articles originally published in Traditio 28, (1972), and journal ef
Interdisciplinary History 3 (1972), respectively.
3r. Sylvain Piron, "Marchands et confesseurs: Le 1'raite des contrat:;
d'Olivi clans son contexte (Narbonne, fin XIIle-debut XIVe siecle),"
in I/argent au Mayen Age, ed. Societe des 1-Iistoriens Medievistes de
L'enseignement SupCrieur Public, 289-308 (Paris: Pubications de la
Sorbonne, 1998). See also his thesis, "Parcours d'un intellectual fran-
ciscain, d'unc thCologic vers une pcnsCe sociale: I/oeuvre de Pierre de
Jean Olivi (ca. 1248-1298) et son traitC De contractibus," EHESS, Paris,
1999, PP 50/9 2
32. Giovanni Ceccarelli, II gioco e ii peccato: Economia e rischio nel
Tardo Medioevo (Bologna: Mulino, 2003).
33. His work on the economic vocabulary of the Middle Ages is
expected to be published soon.
34. Olivi, Quidponatju:;, 323.
35. Augustine, Cite de Dieu, XVI.27, in Oeuvres de saint Augu:;tine,
vol. 36, ed. B. Dombart and A. Kalb, trans. G. Combes (Paris: Desclee
de Brouwer, 1960), 279. [English translation: Augustine, The City ef
God, trans. Marcus D. D. Dods, with an introduction by Thomas
Merton (New York: Modern Library, 1950), 550.-TRANS.]
36. Robert Grossetestc, De ce:;satione legalium, ed. R. C. Dales and
E. B. King, Auctores BritanniciMedii Aevi (London: British Academy,
1986).
37- See David A. Weir, The Origins ef the Federal Theology in
Sixteenth-Century Reformation Thought (Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1990).
38. See Dominique Barthflemy, L'an mil et la paix de Dieu: .La
France chretienne et ftodale, 980-Io60 (Paris: Fayard, 1999).
39. See Boureau, Theologie, science et censure.
40. See M. Aurcll, "Mcssianisme royal de la Couronne d' Aragon
(XIVe-XVe siccle)," Anna/es HSS (1997): n9-55.
4r. See Jacques Krynen, L'empire du roi: !dies et croyances politiques
en France, VIIle-XIVe siic/e (Paris: Gallimard, 1993), 419-3r.
42. "A given right to be granted or held": here I read haberi rather
than habere. Olivi, Quid ponat jus, 324.
Notes to Pages 9I-95 225
43. See the question "Qyaeritur an suppositum seu persona addant
aliquid ad naturan1 in qua et per quam subsistunt," in PeterofJohn Olivi)
Fr. Petrus Johannis 0!vi: Quaestione:> in secundum librurn sententiarum,
ed. B. Jansen, l:z72-90 (O;iaracchi, 192.1).
44. See the appendix "De effectibus baptismi parvulorun1" to the
question "Qtaeritur an Christus plene satisfecerit pro nobis et meruerit
nobis gratiam et gloriam, quod est quaercre an sit pe:rfectus red emptor et
mediator hominum," in Peter ofJohn Olivi, Quaestiones de incarnatione
et redemptione, ed. P.A. Emmen, 153-54 (Grottaferrata, 1981).
Chapter .Four
r. Matt. 4:1-u and Luke 4:1-13.
2. We know that the word devil (diabolus in Latin, from the Greek
diabolos, the "divider" in Greek) transposes the flebrew Satan.
3. JCrOme Baschet, a great connoisseur of diabolical images from
the Middle Ages, notes that the devil is almost completely absent
from Christian images until the ninth century; Baschet, ".Diable," in
Dictionnaire raisonnC du Moyen A'ge, ed. Jacques Le Goff :ind Jean-
Claude Schmitt (Paris: Fayard, 1999), 260.
4. Gregory the Great, Dialogues, ed. A. de VogiiC, Sources
Chretiennes 260 (Paris: Cerf, 1979), l.4, 7, pp. 42-44.
5. Mark 5:6-13.
6. Jerome, Super Mattheum, IV, chaps. 26, 54, in Migne, Patrologia
Latina, vol. 26, col. 208; Corpus Christianorum [CCL]: Series .Latina
(Turnholt: Brepols, 1953), 77:258.
7. Thomas Aquinas, De malo, question r6, in De demonibus, f,,dition
Leonine (Rome, r982), 23:z79-334 (henceforth DD, followed by the ar-
ticle number and page number in this edition). For all questions regard-
ing dating in 1"homas Aquinas's work, and for putting his doctrine into
perspective, we follow the essential work of J.P. Torrell, Initiation a
saint Thoma:; d'Aquin: Sa personne et son oeuvre (Fribourg/Paris: :Editions
Univcrsitaires/Cerf, 1993; expanded ed., 2002).
8. We should note the extreme paucity of the contemporary bib-
liography on Scholastic demonology. Whereas almost all the themes
and notions dealt with by Thomas Aquinas have been the object of
constant research, the only study on demons that we know of in Saint
Thomas consists of a monograph of 1940, intended to cleanse Thomas
of all responsibility in the witch hunts of the end of the Middle Ages:
226 Notes to Pages 96~98
iVotes to Pages 99"1I6 227
Charles Edward Hopkin, The Share q(ThornasAquinas in the Growth qf- Subjectivite etfOnction cos1nologique des substances sCjJarCes afa fin du XII!e
Witchcraft (Philadelphia, 1940i several reprints). sidcle (Paris: Vrin, 2002).
9. Pierre de Falco, Questions diJput!:es ordinaireJ, ed. A. ]. 22. DD, I, 28L
Gondras (Leuven/Paris: Nauwclaerts, 1968), questions 2I-24, 3:722- 23. DD, 3, 295.
842. 24. On the use of the word arreptus, sec the following chapter. .DD,
IO. Olivi, Quaestiones in .'iecundurn librum Jententiarum, questions I, 282.
42-48, I:702-63. , ..25. 1bomas Aquinas, De substantiiS separatzS, ed. H. F. Dondaine,
IL Jean C2.!-_1idort 1 Commenlaire sur !es "Sentences": Reportation, vol. r, Ed1t1.on Leonine (Ron1e 1982), 40:41-80.
ed. Jean-Pierre Muller, Studia .Ansclmiana 47 (Rome, 1961). . 26. S~c Pasq~ale Porro, F'orme et mode/ii di durata nel pensiero me-
12. Notably the commentary by Gilles of Rome, written 'in the dteva!e: L aevum, ii te111po discreto, la categoria "quando" (Leuven: Leuven
1270s, on the second book of Peter Lombard's Sentence:;. University Press, 1996).
13. Naturally, the question of the reality of Cathar dualism re- 27. At least this is the date vve believe can be established; in
mained hotly disputed; what is important to us here is the notion Bourcau, Theologie, science et censure.
Jacques Fournier had of it. 28. William de la Mare, Correctorium, ed. Palemon Glorieux, in Le
14. "Qyintus, quod malus angelus in principio suac creationis Correctorum Corruptorii "Quare" (.I(ain, 1927).
fuit malus, et numquam fuit nisi malus." Chartulariu111 Universitatis 9 DD, 7, 317
2

Parisien:;is, ed. H. Denifle and E. Chatelain (Paris, I889), vol. r, 30. On ~strological in1ages in the Middle Ages, see the important
no. I2r8, p. 17r. work by We1ll-Parot, "lniages astro!ogiques" au Moyen Age; and idem,
15. Lombard, Sentences, bk. 2, dist. 3, chap. 4., a.2, 1:343-44. Peter "Intellectuels."
l,ombard added that the proponents of this opinion based their belief 31. Qyidort, Commentaire, 97.
on two phrases of Saint Augustine, which he cited in the following 32. Pierre de Falco, Questions disputtes ordinaires, question ,
21
paragraph. In fact, as pointed out by the editor of Peter Lombard, pp. 734-35.
Ignatius Brady, the master of the Sentences confused two opinions, one 33 Olivi, Quaestiones in secundum !ibrum sententiarurn, question 2,
p. 718. 4
that asserted evil creation and the other that) following Augustine,
evoked a fall that came very soon after creation. 34. Ibid., 719-20.
16. DD, 4, 298. .3~ Andrea A. Robiglio, L 'impossibile volere: Tomma.w d'Aquino, i
lJ. See the beginning of the introduction to this volu1nc. tomtsft e la volontii (Milan: Vitae Pensiero, 2002).
IS. Bernard Silvestris, De mundi universitate, ed. C. S. Barach and . . 36 .. See. A.l~in Boureau, "Les cinq sens clans l'anthropologie cog-
J. Wrobel (Innsbruck: Watncr, 1876), ll.5.191-95. pp. 45-46. r11t1ve franc1scame de Bonaventure a Jean Peckham et Pierre de Jean
19. Guerric of Saint-Qyentin, Quaestiones de quolibet, ed. W. H. Olivi," Micrologus IO (200 2 ): 27194 .
Principe and J. Lord, with an introduction by J.-P. Torrell (1'oronto, 37. Olivi, Quaestiones in secundum !ibrum sententiarum, 7 9.
4
2002), appendix 2 (de aureola), 401. Guerric was no doubt one of the first 38. See Boureau, Thtologie, science et censure.
masters to practice the quodlibetical question, that essential exercise of 39. Su1nn1a theologica, II, 758.
Scholasticism: tvvice a year, a master responded publicly to any question . 40. Remarkable word play by Olivi [the phrase "for the produc-
asked by anyone. t10~ of pears"]:. the piramidatio designates both the process of pro-
20. Rev. 12:12. ducing pears [p1ru1n] and the pyramidal and hierarchical order. Ibid.,
21. For a masterful analysis of the philosophical role of the angels 759.
in Scholasticism, see Tiziana Suarez-Nani, Les anges et la philosophie: 41. Ibid., 753.

228 Notes to Pages 18-23
42 . 'fc1npier, Candantnation parisienne 1 n8-19. C?ne of the
anuscripts of the fourteenth century includes a marginal annota-
111
tion: "contra Thomam." See Roland .Hissette) Enqui!te sur /es 219 ar-
ticles conda111 nf5 cl Paris le 7 niars 1277 (l,ouvain/Paris: Publications
(_Tnivcrsitaries/Vandcr-C)ycz, r977), 262-63. On the bitterness and the
complexity of the debate on this point, sec Ludvvig Hi~dl 1 :Non est
nialitia in voluntate: _Die magistrale Entschcidung der Pa.riser fhcolo-
gen von r285/r 2 86 in der Diskussion des Johanne~ de Polliaco, ?Yodl.
I, q. ro," Arrhives d'liistoire })octrinale et l.itti!raire du Mayen Age 66
(1999): 245-97-
Chapter F'ive . ._ . .. ,
r. rf'he trial was published in A.. de La Bordene, J. l)an1el, Fr.
Perquis, and 1). Tempier, Monu111ents originaux de f'histoire .de saint
Yves (Saint-Brieut\ r887) (henceforth J->(,171-l). The anecdote 1s found
on 419-20. . .
. Studies on the canonization trials owe much to the p1oncenng
2
work of Andre Vauchez, La saintetf en Occident aux derniers sicles du
MoycnAge d'11prs !es proo}s de canonisation et !es docu111ents hag1:ogr~ph'.'qu~s
(Ron1e: :Ecole Fran~aisc de Rome, 1981), which, beyond its intnns1c
interest relaunched the publication of sources.
3
'f
. rial of Peter Morrone; text published in F. X. Seppelt, "Die
Aktcn des J(anonisationsprozess in dem Codex zu Sulmona," in !Ylon-
untenfa (7oelestiniana: Quellen zur Geschichte des Papstes Coe!estin V
(Padcrborn, r92r), 24r50 (hereafter PCPM).
. W cleave aside the case in the preli1ninary inquest into Raymond
4
of Penafort, held in 1318. This very thin file contains only thirteen
n1iraclcs which are concerned exclusively with the healing of bod-
ily illnc;ses and resurrections. The material was edited by JosC Rius
Serra, in Raymond of Penafort, Opera 01nnia, 3:205--65. A sup~lernen
tarv list of rniraclcs that arc difficult to date, but were earlier than
y;. , incntions a single case of loss of consciousness in a quasi alienatus
1 1
man (310).
. rfhe thin file of the trial of Peter Morrone (Pope Celestine V),
1
coin Piled in 1306, presents cases of three demoniacs and one madman
[infatuatus]: ibid., 230, 249, 254, and 315.
6. As Jean-Marie Fritz rcn1arks in .Le discours du Jou au Mayen
Age (Paris: PlJF, 1992), 271, n. 3, the Church al"'.ays attempted to
distinguish carefully between madness and possession. A testimony
Notes to Pages 123~29 229
included in the inquest of'I'rCguier concerning Yves l--ICloI)' shovvs this
confusion, which enabled 1nadncss to be attributed to a rnoral cause:
Michel de Fontarebie beca1ne 1nad after spitting in the hand of a poor
person who was begging for alrns (J)CYJ-1, 421).
J. Published as Processus Canonizationis et l,egendae varie Sancti
Ludovici OFM, ejJiJcope Tholosani: Analecta fi'ranciscana, vol. 7 (Qyarac-
chi, 1951) (henceforth PCLA).
8..Article 21, PCLA, 13. ()ne 1night wonder if the constant rivalry
of the Franciscan and Do1ninican Orders did not inspire this episode,
which recalls the apparition of a dcinonical cat in Fanjeaux.
9. PCLA, 214.
10. By contrast, another mad person, described as an1enJ and not
as cle1noniata, cornmitted blasphen1y. PCIA, 218.
rr. On this episode see Boureau, Thi!ologie, science et censure.
12. Sec David Carpenter, "St. Thornas Cantilupe: His Political
Career," in St. 7!.101nas, Bishop o/Herefort!. E\rays in His Honour, ed.
M. Jancey, 57-81 (Hereford, 1982); John R. Maddicott, Simon de Mont-
.fort (Ca1nbridge: Ca1nbridgc lJnivcrsity Press, 1994).
13. Bull Unigenitu.1jiliu.1, ed. G. Fontanini, Codex Con.1titution111n,
lJJ.
r4. Partial publication of the canonization trial of 'rhon1as
Cantilupc in Acta Jancton1Jn 1 October, 1:585-696 (henceforth PC7L').
Vauchez has published the Su1111narit11n of the trial and fragn1ents of
the inquest in Sainte!!?, 63r-52 and passim.
I5. What was at stake politically in the canonization appears in a
miracle in the initial inquest, which was not retained by the cornn1is-
sioners in r307: a n1ad1nan received the advice to go to 'fhon1as's grave.
In his wanderings he answered that this saint seen1cd to have the satne
power as Si1non de Montfort, whom one designated as a saint and who
was buried in Evesham. l''he popular cult of the great rebel baron was
in fact supported by docun1cnts of the ti111e.
16. PCTC, 686.
IJ. Augustine, (;ity ~fc;od, 2:4.
18. PCTC, 632.
19. PCTC, 67r78.
20. Vauchez, Saintcti!.
2r. The entire text of the local inquest \Vas published in Nicola
Occhioni, II processo per la canonizzazione di S. Nicolas de Tolentino
(Rome, 1984), 148 (henceforth PCN'I).
230 Notes to Pages I29-133
22 . Many popular traditions attribute some danger to the shadow
of the walnut tree.
23 . PCNT, 260. Note in passing the almost contractual tactics of
this pilgrim: half of the amount is paid at the time of the visit to the
grave and the other half upon his return to his house, where the healing
takes place.
24. PCNT, 336.
25. PCNT, 278-86.
26. On medieval suicide, see the recent (and still incomplete)
commentary of Alexander Murray, Suicide in the Middle Ages,. vol. r:
The Violent against The111selves, and vol. 2: The Curse on Self-Murder
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998 and 2000).
27. PCNT, 195-96.
28. PCNT, 598.
29. PCNT, 580.
30. Testimony of Nucius Rogerii (PCNT, 55r) and of Nastasia
Malgotti (356).
31. PCNT, 4.
32. PCNT, 265-66.
33. PCNT, 445.
34. PCNT, 303.
35. Rainaldo de Brunforte: 'fhis concerns a known historical per-
sonage, a local lord who had led a ferocious struggle against San Gincsio,
notably in the years r274/8. See I. Walter, "Brunforte, Rainaklo da,"
in Dizionario biograjico degli Italiani, r4:588-91 (Rome, 1972). PCNT,
328.
36. See Jean-Claude Schmitt, Les revenants: Les vivants et !es
morts dans la socit mdivale (Paris, 1994). [English edition: Ghosts
in the Middle Ages: The Living and the Dead in Medieval Society, trans.
Teresa Lavender Fagan (Chicago: lJniversityofChicago Press, 1998).-
TRANs.J
37. Angelo Clareno: see Lydia von Auw, Angelo Clareno et !es spir-
ituels italiens (Rome: Storia e Litteratura, 1979), 7 and 39, n, 20. Peter of
Macerata: G. 'Pagnani, San Liberato e ii suo convento, con ampi cenni sui
rapporti tra i communi di S. Genesio e Sernano e ii movimento degli Spiritu-
ali nelle Marche (Falconara, 1962). Scholars have often wondered about
the meaning of this name chosen by Peter of Macerata and whether it
designates his having been exorcised successfully (liberatus).
Notes to Pages 133-139 23I
38. This is the hypothesis of Sylvain Piron.
39. In this logic of suspicion, Clare got a taste of her own medicine:
during the canonization inquest, she was accused by the Franciscan
'fhomas Bono, chaplain of the monastery, of imposture and of frequent-
ing heretics. See II processo di canonizzazione de Chiara de Montifalco 1
ed. Enrico Menesto (Florence, 1984), 434-36 (henceforth PCCM). Sec
also Andre Vauchez, "La naissance du soupyon: V raie et fausse saintete
a~~ dern~ers siCcles du Moyen Age, " in A. Vauchcz, Saints, prophetes et
vts1onna1res: Le pouvoir surnaturel au Mayen Age , 208-19 (Paris: Albin
Michel, 1999).
40. PCCM, 45.
41. PCCM, 21.
42. In this tale, madness and demonic possession are not at all
distinguished, which further emphasizes the novelty of the distinctions
made in the canonization trials of the beginning of the fourteenth
century.
. 4? Thomas of Cantimpre, Bonum universa!e de apibus, lI.57, 68,
cited in the translation by Henri Platelle, Exemples du livre des abeilles,
26r1o.
44. Ibid., 20-21.
45 The tale was published in the Sanctuariurn of Mombrizius,
September.
46. PCNT, witness 20, pp. 135-37-
47' PCNT, witness 21, pp. r38-41.
48. PCNT, witness 22, pp. 141-42 .
. 49 Since several nuns with the same first names testify, l add
ordinal numbers (1st, 2nd, 3rd) to the names, according to their order
of appearance in the acts of the inquest. 'fhis homonymy is responsible
for introducing many errors into the index of the edition and also the
erroneous statement that the same nun testified twice.
50. PCNT, witness 124, p. 326.
51. PCNT, witness 123 1 pp. 322-26.
52. The demons and the devout shared this familiar way of ad-
dressing the saint, using a scornful or affectionate diminutive. Peter
Morrone was called Petruccius by a demoniac (PCPM, 249). On May 3,
1310, during the informal depositions ofwitnesses against Boniface VIII,
Nottus Bonacursi asserted that Boniface blasphemed against the Vir-
gin Mary by saying: "I do not believe in Mariola" and by calling her

.z?2 Notes to Pages 139-I52
"Mariolai Mariola 1 Mariola"; text edited by Coste, Boniface VIII en
prods, 532. PCCM, 500.
53. Johanna: PC:NT, witness 293, p. 292; Bellaflos: PCN1: witness
35, P i6r.
S4 PCTA(N), 22, 232, 235, 243, 2441 253, 283.
55. In 13r7 the pope called the accotnpliccs ofl-Iugues Geraud "sons
ofBeliaL" Boniface VIII hi1nself is called a "son of Bclial"; text edited
by Coste, Boniface VIII en prod:c, 435.
Chapter Six
L CorpusjuriJ Canoniri (Friedberg), voL 2, col. n84.
2. Gratian, Decretum, case 33 1 question 2.22.llL.
3. On the belated fortune ofGuillaun1e's ideas on the two forms of
communion, I refer to A. Boureau, "Le calicc de saint Donat: Legcndc,
autorite et argument dans la controversc hussite (1414-1415)," Mediivales
16-17 (1989): 209-15.
4. Guillaume de Montlauzun, Apparatus C'onstitutionum Cletnentis
Papae Quinti (Caen, 1512), 84.
5. Aline Rousselle, Croire et guirir: La.foi en Gaule dans l'Antiquite
tardive (Paris: Fayard, 1990), 13r53
6. The treatise that is someti1nes attributed to Alcher is edited by
Migne arr1ong the works of Augustine, in Patrologia Latina, vol. 40,
cols. 779ff.
7. Sec Isaac de l'Etoile, De anilna, in Migne, Patro!ogia Latina,
vol. 194, cols. 1876;7; and Bonaventure, Itinerarizun, in Opera 01n-
nia, 5:297 (Qyaracchi, 1898). See "Ame (son fond, ses puissances et sa
structure d'aprCs les mystiques)," in Dictionnaire de spiritualiti (Paris:
G. Beauchesne, 1932-95) 1 voL r, cols. 444 and 446.
8. See A. Gardcil, La Jtructure de l'irn1e et !'experience 1nystique (Paris:
Vrin, 1927).
9. Richard of Saint-Victor, Benjarninus Minor.
ro. See A. Boureau, "La chute commc gravitation rcstrcinte: Saint
Anselme de CantorbCry et le mal," Nouve!le Revue de Psychanalyse 38
(1988): 129-45.
n. Gratian, Derretuni,, prima pars, VI.r, in Corpus Juris Canonici
(Friedberg), voL r, cols. 9-10.
12. See The .Prose Salernitan Questions, edited from a Bodleian
Manuscript: An Anonyn1ous Collection dealing with Science and Medicine
Notes to Pages r52-r6r 233
Written b;1 an Englishman c. I200, with an Appendix of Ten Related
Collections, ed. B. Lawn (London 1 1979). I refer to this volume by in-
<licating the letter that designates the collection, followed by the page
number.
13. Ibid., LI, 20L
14. Ibid., B207, 109.
15. Ibid., B43, 2.r; Br85, 10.1; Ba 96, r86; NS, 3'i:S See also B37, 19;
P89, 240.2; Ks, 35. .
r6. A.rtistotlc, On the Generation oj'Ani1na/J, 779a v, I [English
edition: translated by Arthur Platt and found at ebooks@A.delaide 20041
http://etext.library.adelaide.edu.au.-TRANs.J
17. Willehnus Aneponyinus, Dialogus de substantiis phyJicis
(Strasburg, 1567), 6:264.
IS. Gervais of Tilbury, Otia I1nperialia: Rareation )Or an E1nperor,
ed. S. E. Banks and]. W. Binns (Oxford: Clarendon Press) 2002), Tertia
Decisio 93, p. 743. See also the French translation b:f Michel Zink in his
remarkable article "Froissart et la nuit du chasseur," Poitique 41 (1980):
73, who noticed the relevance of sleepwalking in this text.
r9. ])rose Salernitan Questions, LI, 2or.
20. H. Institoris, Le marteau des sorcieres, trans. Amand Danet
(Paris, 1973). [The complete English text, The Han1n1er ef FVitrhes, 1928
ed., is found at www.mallcusmaleficarum.org. -TRANS.]
2L Gregory IX, Decretah., canon Majores, bk. 3, title 42 1 chap. 3.
22. Sec J. Galot, La nature du caractCre sacramentel: E'tude de thiologie
midifvale (Lcuven: DesclCe de Brouwer, 1956).
23. The text by Gilbert Crispin has been edited by G. R. Evans,
"Gilbert Crispin Abbot of Westminster, on the Soul," StudiaMonastica
22, no. 2 (1980 ): 26r. This very faulty edition has becfl improved in The
Works of'Gilbert Crispin, ed. A. S. Abulafia and G. R. Evans (London,
1986), 157-65.
24. Henry of Ghent presented this concept of original sin at least
twice: in question 21 of his first quodlibetical collection ("Utrum gcner-
atus per miraculum contrahat peccatum originale"; Quodlibet, I), and in
question 4 of his tenth collection ("Utn1m corpus Christi vivum ct Petri
vivum sunt idem specie"; Quodlibet, X), in Henrici de Ganda'VO Opera
Omnia, ed. R. Macken, 5:173 and 14:121, respectively (Louvain/I.,ciden,
1979 and 1987).
25. See Bourcau, Theologie, science et censure.
2.34 iVatcs tu Pilges 162~170
26. Alain Boureau, Le droit de c11issage: Iiistoire de la fabrication d'un
111ythe (XIIl-XXe siCcle), Evolution de l'HurnanitC (Paris: Albin Michel,
1995). [_1~nglish edition: T'he I~ord's First Night: The Myth oj'the !Jroit
de Cuissagc, trans. Lydia G. C.ochranc (Chicago: lJniversity of Chicago
Press, r998). -TRANS.]
2rText edited by JosC :Rius Serra, in Raymond of Pcnafort, Opera
r280.
011111ia,
28.- (;uillaume de Plaisians speaks of a "private [privatum] demon
whose advice he uses in everything and for everything," in his list of
articles of accusation against Boniface, read on June 14, 1303, at the
l~ouvre in Paris; text published in Coste, Bonff'ace VIII en procCs, 148.
29. Report of accusation by Pietro Colonna (1306); ibid., 282.
3o. Angelo Clareno, Chronicon seu historia septe1n Tribulationtnn
()rdinis Minorton, ed. Albert Ghinato (Rome, 1958-59), 188.
I. Peter of John Olivi, Quodlibeta quinque, ed. J. Defraia (Grotta-
1
tCrra~a: Collegio San Bonaventura, 2002 I.7, pp. 23-26.
32 . ()livi is playing here with the rneaning of the verb habere, "to
have." The habitus, is thus the fact of having, of holding in one's pos-
session, whereas the habitudo, refers to se habere ad, "to be in a given
situation compared to someone or something."
33. Olivi, De ejjictibus, 179-80.
14 Ibid., 180.
~).This is an interesting notation-to which \Ve shall return later-
whicl~ in1plies a constitution of the guardian angel as the counterpart
of the individual de1non. A study of the historical construction of the
guardian angel rcrnains to be done.
6. Baconthorpe opts for the absolute nature of ch<tracter, after a
3
careful dcn1onstration of which we vvill mention only a few elements:
Baconthorpc first provides arguments in favor of the status of relation-
ship; in the first place, the institution of officers and ministers seems
to give only a relationship to the office. In the second place, the key or
character cannot be designated as substance, as quantity, or as quality.
Then conic the contrasting arguments: it is impossible to establish a re-
lationship on another relationship. Character, a source of relationship,
1nust then be something absolute. Then, character functions as a dis-
position to action or to passion, a role that a relationship cannot hold.
Finallv, character can exist without producing any action or relationship,
as in ti1c case of a priest in a state of sin or a man who pretends to want
JVotes to Pagr:I 171-r7R --':J5
to be baptized. lJie Quacstiones sperulativae ct canonirae deJ }ohan1u;s Ba-
conthorp iiber den sakranzentalen (7harakter, ed. I~. Borchert (Munich,
1974).
37- Ibid., 17.
38. ()ddly, the t:nglishrnan Baconthorpc doesn't recognize a pos-
sibility here that only existed in E:1glish con1n1on law to distinguish
an authority of instruction (the jury) and an authority of decision- (the
judge). I owe this rernark to Roi)crt Jacob. .
39. Pp. 264-67.
40. Pp. 44-45.
4I. St.'e Alain Bourcau, "L'im1naculCc conception de la sou-
vcrainetC: John Baconthorpe et la thCologie politiquc (r325-r345)
(Postille sur Entre f'Eg!ise et l'Etr1t, pp. 189-201\" in Saint-I)enis
et la royaute: J!;tudes offertes a Bernard (;uent'e, ed. F. Autrand, C.
Gauvard, and J.-M. l\!loeglin, 733-49 (Paris: Publications de la
Sorbonne, r999).
42. ln passing, the papacy, by refusing to dissociate the keys of
knowledge and power, forever deprived itself of the weapon of infi1lli-
bility by wanting to preserve its absolute po\ver.
C'hapter Seven
L l)yan Elliott, //al/en Bodies: Pollution, Sexuality, and [)e1nonology
in the Middle Ages (Philadelphia: l.Jnive.rsity of Pt.'nnsylvania Press,
r999), links the de1nonization ofvvomen to clerical obsession \Vith sexual
pollution. For an opposite interpretation sec Stephens, Den1on Lovers.
2. Nancy Caciola, J)iscerning Spirits: IJi,vine and Detnonic Possession
in the Middle Ages (Ithaca: CornclJ University Press, 2003).
3. Barbara Newman, "Possessed by the. Spirits: :Devout 1Nornen)
Dcrnoniacs and the Apostolic LifC in the I'hirteenth Ccnturv " Specu-
lum n 3 (1998): 73370. ,'
4. Letter of Pope Gregory XI, in Vidal, 1-Ju!!aire, no. 3ro,
pp. 43/40.
5. On the./Cllna, sec chapter r and the article by "fhCry, "[(una."
6. Sec A. Boureau, "Unc collection intin1e: Les instrun1cnts de la
Passion dans un eoeur ardent: Reflexions sur le procCs de canonisation
de Chiara de l\1ontefitlco," in Les collections: fi'ables et progranunes, ed.
J. Guillermc (Champ Vallon: Scyssd, 1993), 95-104.
7. PCCi\11.
:i..16 Notes to Pages I79-I88
8. A. Vauchez, "Les stigmates de saint Frans:_ois ct leurs detracteurs
clans les dernicrs siecles du Moyen Age," Melanges d'Archtologie et
d'Histoire 80 (1986): 595-625. C. Frugoni, Francesco e f'invenzione de/le
stinimate: Une storia per parole e immagini .fi'no a Bonaventura e Giotto
(Turin: Einaudi, 1993),
, Petrus Thomas, Quod/ihet,, cd, M, R Hooper and K M, Buy-
9
taert (New York: St. Bonaventure, 1957), 227-35.
ro. Jacobus de Voragine, Sermo III, De stigniatibus sancti Francisci,
10 Testirnonia minora saeculi XIII de sancto Francisco Assisiensi collecta,
ed. L. l,emmens (Qyaracchi, r926), n5. The sermon is found in' many
manuscripts and editions of the Sermones de sanctis, by Voragine.
IL Roger Marston, Quodlibeta, ed, G, Etzkorn and L Brady
(Grottaferrata: Collegio San Bonaventura, 1994), IV.35, PP 44r-45.
12. Augustine, De Trinitate, XI.4 in Migne, Patrolog~a Latina,
vol. 42, col. 989; Avicenna, De animalibus, Vl.4.4 (Venice, 1520 ),
fol. 20V.
13 . Augustine, De Trinitate; Jerome, De quaestionibus hebraicis, in
Migne, Patrologia Latina, vol. 32, col. 1035 (the citation of Qiintilien
comes from Jerome).
14. Avicenna, De animalibus, VIII.7, fol. 4ov. . circumstances of the project. This placement toward the end of the book
15. Bonaventure, Sermones de diversis, ed. J. G. Bougcrol (Pans:
:Editions Franciscaines, 1993), 2:799.
1 6. See :Edouard-Henri Weber, La personne au XIIIe siCcle:
L 'avCnement chez /es maitres parisiens de l'acception moderne de l'honime
(Paris: V rin, 199r), , 27. This multiplicity of voices turns into a droning crowd if one
17 . Qyestion Utrum sudor Christi quem sudavit in a~onia fuent
naturalis, in John Peckham, Qnodlibera quatuor, ed. G. J. Etzkorn and
F. Delorme (Grottaferrata: Collegio San Bonaventura, 1989), quodlibet
3, question 4, pp. 139-40. ,, . . ..
rs. See P. Andriessen, "J_,es stigmates de Jesus, B1Jdragen: Tyd-
schrift voorftlosojie en theologie (196z): 139-54, , ,
19. This traditional view is not necessarily Eurocentnc, unless this
subjectivity is not presented as a universal value, as an ideal of conscience
and morality, but as a cultural fact involving individual successes, patho-
logical declines, and collective failures. . . . . 29. See Robert Lerner, The Heresy of the Free Spirit in the Later
20 . See Philippe J. . . ejeune, Le pacte autobiographtque (Pans: Seuil,
rw~ . .
2r. An original moment of unicity: we know the famous beg1nn1ngs
of Rousseau's Confessions, or of Chatcaubriand's Memoires d'outre-tombe.
Notes to Pages I88--200 237
22. To reinforce this chronology of the autobiography, one might
add that the need for a reflection on and an evaluation of one's
own person during the modern period constituted a secularized ver-
sion of sacramental confession or an agnostic anticipation of divine
judgment.
23. We shall leave aside the Instructions, which, for reasons stated
earlier (the disappearance of Brother Arnoldo, stricter clerical or Fran-
ciscan control), presents a less clear-cut portrayal.
, 24, Angela of Foligno, II libro de/la beata Angela da Foligno, ed, L
Thi.er and A Calufetti (Grottaferrata: Collegio San Bonaventura, 1985),
25. 1'he dividing up into thirty steps is not justified in thcMernorial,
but according to the numerological obsession of the Middle Ages, a
number could have various meanings; for example, each step could
represent one of the thirty coins that had paid for Judas's betrayal of
Christ. Or these thirty steps might have corresponded to the thirty days
of a penitential month.
26, This note was added in a slightly different form in Arnoldo's
:econd writing. But in the first writing the paragraph had been inserted
1n the second chapter, where Arnoldo explained the reasons for and the
gives a ne~ function to these remarks: placed before a final paragraph
th~t mentions the approval of"two brothers worthy of confidence," they
assign the scribe the dignity of an authority not due to his wisdom but
from the unpondered nature of his transcription of Angela's words.
adds the anonymous intermediary of the period when Angela's and
Arnoldo's encounters were prohibited, but also the guarantors of the
~ale-a commission formed by a cardinal and eight brothers, mentioned
in the final paragraph of the text-as well as the "brothers worthy of
confidence, who know the faithful of Christ well, who read the text and
heard directly from her all that I have written!'
28. Contemporary scholarship has not provided a definitive con-
clusion about the chronological relationship bctvvcen the Latin text and
the Italian version.
Middle Ages (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1972),
30. John Duns Scotus, Lectura, II, d. VJ, question 2, in Opera omnia
(Vatican City, r982), 18:383,
238 1Votes to Page 204

E'pilo(Tue
1~ Michael H. Shank, "Unless You Believe, You Shall Not. Under-
stand'': Logic, University, and Socie~y in Late MediC'val Vienna (Princeton:
Princeton 'University Press, 1988). .. . ..
2. George ofHungary, Tractatusde 1noribus, cond1non1hu.set ne?uitta
Turcorum: Nach der Erstausgahe von I48I, Ubersetz und eingeleit von
R. Klockow (Cologne/Weimar/Vienna: Bbhlau) .r994). French trans-
by Joe 1 Sch na pp , Dec' Turtr
at1on . TraitC
1ur !es moeurs, /es co11tianes et la
l
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.Aristotle, 5-6, 30, 58, 64-65, 85, too, Belegney, Seguin de, i5-16
no-n, 150, 152-54, i64, 180-81, 183 Benedict XI, 23, 79
Arnoldo, Brother, 187, 191-96, i98 Benedict XII, 49, 200. See also
Ascoli, Cecco d', 20 Fournier, Jacques
Assisi, Francis, St., 9I, u6-17, 177-80, Berenger, Rayrnond, 124
182-85, r87, 196 Berga1no, Bonagrazia di, 46
Auch, Fontius d', 15 Bernard, St., 35, 147
Audiran, Bertrand d', 24 Besani;:on, }lugues l\!lichcl of, 40
Augustine, St., ix, 66, 72, 87-88, 90, Blasio, Giovanni, l-3, 97, r21
96, 99-roo, 109-10, 127-28, Bocthius, 198
147-49, 151, 155, 163, r8o-8r, 19.) Bonaventure, St., 63, 65, 86, 89, 103,
Auriol, Peter, r68, 171, r79 no, u7, I26, 147, 169, 182
252 Index
Bonifi1ce VlII, 5, 18, ;q, 33, 36, 38,
52, 70-71, 76, 78, 87, t62, 178
Boogris, Gilles, q4 .. ~3s
Boudet, Jc,1n-Patrice, 42
Brentano, Robert, 126
Brun, Pierre, 19
Brunforte, Rainaldo de, q3, 137
Bruniqucl, Viscount, 60
Caciola, Nancy, 175
(~an1erino, Vcn:1ntius, 137
c:antilnpc, Millicent, i2s
Cantilnpc, 1''hon1as, i22-26, 14.1
Canti1nprC, 'fhornas oC 72-73, 134
C\1rn:tto, Enrico dcl, 15, 43, 46"-47,
54-58, 60-68, 73, 92, 108
Casale, lJbcrtin de, 178, 186
Cassagncs, Jessclin de, r4
Castanet, Bernard de, 80
Castclnuovo, Guido, 204
Ceccarelli, Giovanni, 86
Celestine V, 70-;n, SJ. See alro
Murronc, Pietro di
Ccsen:1, Michael of, 25
Chftlons, Aubert de, 40
Cha1nay, l-lenri de, r9, 41
Charles II, King, 123
Chartres, Fulbert of, 69
Chartres, Thierry, r_c;4
Chiflolcau, Jacques, 10
Chrysosto1n, John, St., 101
Clairvaux, Alcher of, 147
Clareno, Angelo, 26-27, q3, 162
Clark, Stuart, 5
Clc1nent V, 16, 18, 25, 30, 36, 38, 48,
121-22, 125-26, 143-45, 158, 177
Clcrnent Vl, IHJ
Coinci, (;;n1tier de, 69-71, 73
Colonna, Jacopo, 178
Colonna, Pietro, 33, 70, 162, 198
Conchcs, Willian1 of, i54
Concotz, Jacques de, 46, 50-51
4(), Cortona, fdargaret, St., 187
Coste, Jean, 33
Courtenay, Willi:1tn, 85
Cravant, Reginald de, 40
Crispin, Gilbert, r6o
Crouzet, Denis, 10
Dan1ascene, St. John, 99
Dainien, Peter, 69
Dastin, John, 23
Delicieux, Bernard, 22-23, 33, 37-40,
79-81
Digne, Douceline de, 123
Digne, Hugues de, i23
Dionysius the Arcopagite, 99-100,
u8
Downs, Laura Lee, xiii
l)ueze, Jacques, r8. See also John
XXII
Eckhart, Meister, 199
Engil.bert, Pierre, 59-60
Esculo, Giovanni d', 137
Esparvier, Pierre Rayrnond, 59
.Etoile, Isaac de I', 147
Eutychianos, 69
Eyn1eric, Nicholas, 9, 13, 133, 175
Fabre, Castel, 80
Fabri, Pierre, 59-60
Falco, Peter of, 96, no-n, n4
Fassitclli, .Alexander (Alexander St.
Elpideo), 48-50
Ferrand, Prince of Majorca, 79, 81
FCvrier, Luc, xiii
Fiore, Joachin1 of, 26, 65 1 89, 98,
204
Fishacre, Richard, 61, 63, 65
Foligno, Angela, r77, 185-99
Foligno, Constant of: 70
Foligno, 'fhon1as Bono de, 178
Fontaines, Godfrey of, 47, 199
.l11dcx 253
Fournier, Jacques, 16, 17, 4<), 51, 96. Jatnes II, King of Niajoroi., 26-27
Set also Benedict XII Jerorne, St., <J4, 181
FrCjus, Barthderny ot: 22 John XXll, x, 2-3, 8, 10, 12-14, [6-28,
Frngoni, Chiara, [79 3s-41, 41~49, s1, s:-1, 7779, s2, 94,
Friind, Johan, 9 121-23, !2,)"-26, 128-"2'), 131, 134, 141,
i43, 145, lJl/2, 177-78, 187, 200.
Gaetani, Cardinal, 70 Ser alw DuC1,c, Jacques
Ga!cn, 154
Gansho( 71 KaZotiC, Augustin, 45, 49
C;enoa, Giovanni Ansel1no of, 40 Kieckhefer, Richard, 3, ro, 34
c;craud, ~fugues, 22-23, 37"'1'), 44, 77, K.ilwardby, Robert, 63, 6,), 88, 1()0
82 J(oyrC, Alexandre, 30
Ghent, l1cnry of: 44, oo, r6o,
169 Langenstein, }1enry of, 203
Ginzburg, Carlo, 5, 82-83 L,autenbach, I'vlanegold of, 75
(;hber, Raoul, 150 Lautrec, .Arnie! de, 176
Gratian, H, r44, t49 Lemaitre, Nic6le, ro
Grego1y the Great, 94, 149 Lornbard, Peter, 18, 84, 89, 95, 97,
Gregory VII, ix, 75 169-71, HJ')
Gregory IX, 156 Louis, St., 125
Gregory XI, 1_1, i75 Louis of Bavaria, Ernpcror, 25
(}ri1na, Don1inique, 37 Louis X, King, 38
Grossetestc, Robert, 88 L.. ucca, Grcgot)' of~ 49, 52
Gui, Bernard, 9, 16, 19, 37, 133
lVlacerata, Claude of, 137
i'Iales, Alexander o( 57, 86 l\!Iacerata, Peter of~ 133
Hangest, Willian1 ot~ 45, 71 lVIaicr, Anneliese, 15
1-Iansen, Joseph, 10 l'v1androu, Robert, 4
Helfa, Gertrude of~ 187 l\1arc, Williarn de la, 96, 103, 106
I-Idory, Yves, I1<J-22 Maricourt, Pierre de, 31
I-ienry III, King, 125 Marigny, Enguerran de, 38
Herodias, 12 l\1arston, Roger, 179-'81, 184
Hrotsvita, 69 l\!Iartin IV, 190
Hungary, c;eorge of, 204 Mary, Qiccn of Naples, 1
Hungary, J1elen or~ 185 Mauvoisin, Robert of, 21-24, 37, 19,
83
Irnola, {::;iovanni d', 145, rs8 Mditon, Willian1 of, 57
Innocent III, 12, 34, 41, 156-58, 166, Mercurius, roll
168 Mevanea, Johaniccius of, 134
Innocent IV, 16, 78;9, 12_'1 Miran1on, Charles de, xiii
lnstitoris, llenry, 8, (i4, 156 Moerbeke, Williani of: 154
Isle, Jean de L', [76 lVIoine, l\1ichel Le, 39, 133
254 Index
Montefalco, Clare of, 122-23, 134, x39,
141, 177/8, 185, 199
Montefeltro, Federico de, 38
Monterubbiano, Pietro de, 136
Montfavet, Bertrand de, 18, 24
MontfOrt, Arnaury de, Count of
Evrcux, 125
Montfort, Simon de, 125
Montfort, Walter, I2j
Montlauzun, Guillaume de,
144-45
Morey, Jacques de, 13
Morigny,Jean de, 3
Morrone, Peter, r22-23
Mosset, AdhCmar de, 26-27
Murray, Margaret, 4
Murrone, Pietro di, 70. See also
Celestine V
Navarre, Blanche de, 71
Navarre, Jeanne de, C2.11een, 45, 71
Newman, Barbara, r75
Nicholas Ill, 126, 171
Nicholas V, 26
Nider, John, 9
Nogaret, Guillaume de, 78
Ockham, William o( 28, 90, 168
Olivi, Peter of John, 6, 26, 40, 4/48,
65-66, 84-85, 87-91, 96, 103-4,
110-16, 123, 133-34, 163-71, 178, 200
Olivier, Raymond, 124
Oresmc, 90
Origen, 100
Orsini, Francesco, 20
Orsini, Napolcone, 23, 178
Otto IV, 154
Paludanus, Petrus, 47
Panormitanus (Nicolas Tedeschi),
r46
Paravy, Pierrette, 9, 204
Paris, Jean de, 96, 106. See also
Qyidort, Jcan
Parthenay, John of, 39
Paul, St., 79, rr6, 141, 184-851 r95
Paul (the Deacon), 69
Peckham, John, 125-26, 184
Penafort, Raymond of, 31-33, 122, 162
Peter, St., 74, 76, 79
Peter (the Cantor), 29
Peters, Edward, 34
Peyre Godin, Guilhcn1 de, 16-19, 40
Philip the Fair, King, 5, 38, 45, 7r, 76,
80
Philip (of Majorca), 27
Piron, Sylvain, xiii, 85-86
Plaisians, Guillaume de, 33, 78, 162
Plato, IOI
Plotinus, 100
Ponte, Oldrado da, 39
Porete, Marguerite, 48-49, 199
Porphyrus, ro7
Proclus, io7
Priim, Regino of, u
Pseudo-Dionysius, 167
Qi1idort, Jean, 96, 106-8, 118. See alw
Paris, Jean de
Qyintilian, 181
Robiglio, Andrea, n3
Roger, Raymond, 176
Rome, John of (or Cacantius), 48, 51
Rosicr-Catach, Irene, xiii, 61
Rousseau, Jean-Jacques, 74
Rousselle, Aline, 146
Royard, Arnaud, 48, 52
Royard, Bernard, 48
Rutebeuf, 69, 71, 73-74
Sainte-Marie de Machis, Zona, 129
Saint-MCdard de Soissons, 70
Saint-Pours:ain, Durand de, I68
Saint-Qyentin, c;uerric of; 98
Saint-Victor, Hugues of, 182-83
Saint-Victor, Richard of, 65-66, 148
Saxony,Jordon of~ 72
Schlackenwerth, Johannes Wulfing
von, 46, 50
Scot, Michel, r54
Scotus, John Duns, 90, Ito-u,
168/t, 195, 199-200
Shank, Michael, 203
Silvestris, Bernard, 98
Suarez-Nani, Tiziana, 98
Sulmona, i23
Talon, Berenger, 40
~farentaise, Peter of~ 50, 63
Tempier, Stephen, 5, 20, n7
Terreni, Guido, 13, 37, 47, 53
Theophilus, 69/4, 124, 170
Tholosan, Claude, 9
Thornas, Peter, 179-85
'l'homas Aquinas, St., ix, l-3, 5-6, r8,
28, 50, 52, 58, 64, 72, 85, 95-107,
109-14, rr6, n8, 122, 140, 151, x6r,
168-69, 172, 198
Index 255
Thorndike, Lynn, .ro
Tilbury, Gervais, 154-56, 159
Tissier, Pierre, 22, 24
Titus, r2
Tocco, Guillern10 da, 1-2
Tolentino, Nicholas of, 19, 122-23,
i28-31, r33, 135-36, 138-4t
1'our, Bernard de la, 48
T re ts, lVloses of, 83
Trisn1egistus, Hennes, 107
Troyes, Guichard of, 38, 44--45,
71
{Jrsus, 69
Valois, Charles of, 38
Vauchez, Andre, 126, 129, 179
Verdun, Hugues of, x76
Villanova, Arnold of: 23
Visconti, Galeazzo, 38
Visconti, Mateo, 38
Vitalis, Ordericus, 133
Voragine, Jacobus de, 119-82
Weill-Parot, Nicolas, ro