It often happens that those who think they are unjustly afflicted by others, and see that no protection or aid of men remains, flee to God: not indeed that he may deliver them from evils, but that by taking vengeance on their persecutors he may make it manifest to all that the suppliants were undeserving of such injury. Sometimes they order the persecutors to be presented at God’s tribunal within a fixed time; sometimes with no time added. They call this a citation to appear before God as judge. Many rightly doubt what should be held about it: whether it is to be feared by the one cited or not, and likewise whether it is lawful or unlawful for the one citing.
With respect to the one citing and, as it were, calling out because of injury, I say first: if someone oppressed by injustice does this without hatred, desire of vengeance, impatience, anger, despair, vanity, or any other vicious affection, and for a good end - for instance, so that his innocence may appear and his family not be burdened with infamy, or so that the world may be freed from such a tyrant, or so that the oppressor may recover his senses and, struck with terror, repent and cease from oppressing and shaking down the wretched - such a citation is lawful. Feuardentius admits that he does not dare condemn such a citation. Indeed, since the thing is indifferent and the end is good, I think the act is meritorious.
[margin: Feuardentius, at the end of the discussion on Esther, is cited for not daring to condemn this kind of citation]
Nor are examples of holy persons lacking. Thus Sarah said to Abraham, “May the Lord judge between you and me.” Thus David said to Saul, “May the Lord judge between me and you, and may the Lord avenge me on you.” Zacharias, son of Joiada, when he was killed by order of King Joash, uttered similar words: “May the Lord see and require it.” Nor was the mind of the seven Maccabean martyrs different; their prophecy had the force of imprecation and citation, as did the two previous examples, both of which were proved shortly after by the destruction of the persecutors. Did not the Apostle judge that Alexander the coppersmith’s injustice should not go unpunished when he said, “May the Lord repay him according to his works,” that is, a great evil for the many evils which he had shown him? Do not the holy martyrs, even those of the New Testament, cry out to God: “How long, Lord, do you not judge and avenge our blood on those who dwell on the earth?”
[margin: Genesis 16:5; 1 Kings/1 Samuel 24:13; 2 Chronicles 24:22-23; 2 Maccabees 7:17 and 7:19; 2 Timothy 4:15; Apocalypse/Revelation 6:10]
We read also of Blessed Eustachius the abbot that, when a certain heretic, Agrestius, was tearing apart with insults and calumnies Blessed Columbanus, already dead, he avenged the slanderer in this way, and did so in the Council of Macon. For Jonas the abbot, his contemporary, writes as follows:
[margin: Jonas, Life of St. Eustachius or Eustasius, chapter 6, with the Council of Macon noted in the margin]
When Agrestius was babbling such frivolities, the keen Eustachius, as one outstanding in the virtue of patience and knowledge, replied: “In the presence of these priests, I, his disciple and successor, whose discipline and institutions you condemn, summon you to divine judgment, to dispute with him within the circle of the present year, so that you may feel the examination of that judge whose servant you try to stain by your slanders.”
Do you wish to know the outcome of the citation? After some intervening matter, Jonas adds in the following chapter:
But since he, Agrestius, did not recognize the place for repentance often given to him, so that the sentence of Blessed Eustachius summoning him to divine judgment might prevail, before the circle of thirty days, and before the limit of the turning year had been completed, he was struck by an axe by his own servant, whom he himself had redeemed, and died.
Let another example in the time of the law of grace be added. Walter of Burgundy, a man distinguished in doctrine and sanctity, having been driven from the bishopric of Poitiers by injury from Clement V, bore the wrong patiently as long as he lived. When dying, I believe after the example of others, he ordered this to be written on his tomb: “I appeal to the just judgment of God.” Clement read the inscription and is said to have trembled at the memory of the injury he had inflicted. Some add that he died not long afterward; but Volaterranus, whom they cite, does not add this, and I think it fabulous.
[margin: Raphael Volaterranus, Anthropologia, book 21, is cited for the Walter of Burgundy/Clement V material, though Del Rio notes that Volaterranus does not add the alleged quick death]
Most worthy of memory is what is read in a learned, erudite, and truthful writer of that age:
[margin: Thomas Cantipratensis, also called Brabantinus, Book of Bees, on the monastery of St. James at Liege and the provost cited before God]
The monastery of St. James at Liege is known and accepted by many. A certain adolescent, cousin of the greater provost, entered it for the sake of devotion and religion. When the provost heard this, he took it indignantly. Soon, having gathered a strong band of attendants, he violently entered the monastery, seized the young man, stripped him of the holy habit, and clothed him in secular dress. The abbot of the monastery therefore, having gathered the leading men of the city, complained to the bishop and appealed to the whole clergy for such great injuries. But when the bishop would scarcely hear this with indignation, and rather attacked the abbot with harsh words, the abbot, bending his knees, said with moderation of words: “I cannot have a judge against you on earth, O provost; therefore against you I appeal to God, the supreme judge, so that within forty days each of us may appear before him, to receive sentence according to our deserts.” At this the prelate with his men mocked the man with laughter, despised him, and sent him away reproached.
What more? On the fortieth day, about none, the said abbot died. While the bells were solemnly rung for him, the provost, sitting in a bath, asked those standing around what this was. Soon someone entered and replied that the abbot of St. James had just died, and that so solemn a ringing was being made for him. The provost, therefore remembering that it was the fortieth day, on which he had heard that he had been cited by the abbot, was stricken in mind and said to his people: “Quickly, see what I shall do. I am dead. Today I must appear before the face of the supreme judge.” Without delay, after these words, as he hastened to leave the bath, he breathed out his life in the hands of those standing by, with terrible wailing and cries; there he was doubtless compelled to answer where the clamor of lawsuits ceases, where the calling of lawyers skilled in law falls silent, where neither prayers nor price will free a man.
Thus far Thomas Cantipratensis, otherwise Brabantinus, in the Book of Bees. The author of the Chester chronicle also hands down in book 7 that Innocent IV, after he had excommunicated Robert Grosseteste, bishop of Lincoln, a philosopher famous in that age, was cited by him to God’s tribunal after Robert had appealed to God as judge. On the day on which Robert died, this voice was heard in the papal court: “Come, wretch, to judgment.” The following day the pope was found lifeless in his bed, with a livid and bloody wound in his side, as if he had been struck with a staff; and this is said to have happened in the year 1253. Matthew Paris, John Buriensis, and other British writers agree. I think this is their fiction, perhaps inserted into their works by heretics or schismatics. For Nauclerus, who is little devoted to the pontiffs, writes that this Innocent died at Naples on the expedition against Manfred, and he does not mention such a citation; nor do Platina, who would not have kept silent, nor the Paduan monk, nor Paulus Langius of Cygnus, monk of Bozen, faithful to heretics, nor the other heretic Mutius in the Chronicle of the Germans. Nor, so far as I know, does anyone Catholic of other nations: neither Onuphrius, nor Massonus, nor Ricordanus, nor the bishop of Nebbio, nor Volaterranus, nor Flavius Blondus, who treat carefully of his death and the year of his death. All confess that Innocent IV excelled in learning, justice, and sanctity. Therefore let the prudent reader leave the little fable about Innocent IV to the Britons, so that Bale, not so ingenious as impious as a maker of similar dramas, may enjoy it pleasantly at Arthur’s round table.
[margin: Chester chronicle, book 7; Matthew Paris; John Buriensis; other British writers; Nauclerus, Chronicle, volume 2, generation 42; Platina; the Paduan monk; Paulus Langius of Cygnus/Bozen; Mutius, Chronicle of the Germans; Onuphrius; Massonus; Ricordanus; the bishop of Nebbio; Volaterranus; Flavius Blondus; and Bale]
I say secondly: it is dangerous for persons whose sanctity has not been proved to imitate these citations. For self-love easily deceives us and persuades us that we have suffered injury when we have not. Some hidden cloud of a little glory, of vengeance, or of some other disturbance of mind also easily mingles itself in, so that we do not see the truth.
I say thirdly: those who knowingly cite others unjustly sin mortally. This is proved because they harm the innocent unjustly and gravely. For they brand those whom they cite as oppressors of innocence, and they strike those less steadfast with grave terror, so that from fear of death they can fall into sickness and die. Perhaps this has sometimes happened.
With respect to those who are cited, I think two rules can be established. The first is: if it is certain that they judged justly, and there is no doubt about the equity of the sentence or of the fact on account of which they are cited, then such a citation can be despised by them. The reason is that a just judge should expect from God, whose place he holds, a reward and not punishment. That great commander of soldiers, Gonzalo Fernandez de Cordoba, knew this. When, while besieging Tarentum, he had ordered a certain seditious and criminal soldier to be led to punishment, and the man, struggling greatly, cried out that he was most unjustly condemned and therefore loudly cited Gonzalo to plead the case before God’s supreme tribunal, Gonzalo said: “Go, and hurry, trusting in the best judge, and prepare the case. For there, on my behalf, my brother Alfonso will be present, who recently went from Sierra Bermeja to heaven, and will answer opportunely.” For it had then been announced to Gonzalo that his brother, surrounded by Moors, had met a death worthy of a brave and pious leader. Thus he deservedly despised the scoundrel who was unjustly provoking him.
[margin: Giovio, Life of Gonzalo Fernandez de Cordoba; 2 Chronicles 19:6-7 on judges judging not man’s judgment but God’s]
Let the other rule be: when a judge has felt some disturbance of mind which either moved him entirely to condemn or moved him to condemn more quickly, or even when the justice of the sentence is not so certain that no probable fear of the contrary remains, then the judge acts badly if he despises such a citation. He acts rightly if he again examines and weighs more carefully all the factors and whatever pertains to the inquiry into truth, and meanwhile keeps the accused in custody, so that the former sentence may either be retracted or confirmed by more mature counsel. This conclusion, which was also Feuardentius’s, is proved both because judges cannot proceed too circumspectly in so great a matter, since they judge not the judgment of man but of God, and because those who seemed guilty from allegations and proofs are often later taught by time to have been wholly innocent. There is no need to bring forward examples; many are at hand and not obscure. It is proved finally because very often such citations happen not to be void.
The historians of the Spaniards write that Ferdinand III, king, ordered two nobles guilty of treason to be thrown from a very high tower or rock. They constantly denied the crime; and because they saw that they were doing this in vain, at last they appealed to the divine tribunal and announced to the king that he should present himself there before the thirtieth day. Ferdinand afterward was carried off by a sufficiently sudden death on the very thirtieth day.
[margin: Ritius, On the Kings of Spain; Mariana, Spanish Annals/History of Spain, book 15, chapter 11]
Germany alone supplies many examples. A certain monk of Corvey had afflicted Menuer, bishop of Paderborn, with a grave insult. The bishop predicted to him that he would “render to the Most High an account of the deed.” The monk, setting this at naught, laughed at the bishop. Behold, the prelate died; and the monk, feeling no harm before, expired in the very hour of the bishop’s death. A few years later Henry, bishop of Mainz, or according to others Worms, was falsely accused through the calumny of Arnold and was deposed through the misconduct of two cardinals delegated by Pope Eugene III to hear the case, Arnold himself being substituted in his place. But after he had interposed an appeal to God the just judge, he died the following year. When his death was heard, both those cardinals died suddenly: one gnawing his own fingers, the other in the latrines, with the death of Arius.
[margin: Crantzius, Metropolis, book 4, chapter 4, on the Paderborn/Corvey and Mainz or Worms episcopal examples]
In the time of Henry IV, Burchard, bishop of Halberstadt, and Meginher, abbot of Hersfeld, litigating over the rights of their churches, called one another to God’s tribunal, and both suddenly passed from this world on the appointed day. In Gothia, near Germany, that memorable thing occurred concerning Johannes Turso, about whom Olaus writes as follows: “He had ordered a certain man to be beheaded. The man, leaning on his knees, said, ‘Behold, I die unjustly, and I call you this hour before the tribunal of God, so that you may answer why you condemn me, an innocent man, to death.’ Scarcely had the wretched man been beheaded by the hand of the executioner, when the judge also fell dead from his horse.”
[margin: Conrad in the Mainz chronicle; Bavarian Annals, book 4; Olaus Magnus, History of the Northern Peoples, book 4, chapter 20]
A part of Liguria is known in Italy. There Genoese triremes sent out against pirates captured a Gotolan bireme; and in contempt of the Sicilians and Gotolans, outside Trapani, by night they fixed the helmsman of the bireme to a gallows. The wretched man complained long and in vain that he had never harmed the Genoese. When he saw that hatred of race moved them more than equity, and that the chief cause of his death was the Genoese captain, he ordered that the captain present himself before God the judge within six months. The summons was not void; the Ligurian died at the appointed time.
[margin: Fulgosius, book 1, chapter 6, is cited for the Ligurian/Genoese example and adjacent citation stories]
Francis was duke over the Armoricans. With extreme cruelty he removed from the midst his brother, who was returning from England. But in turn, by his brother’s citation, he was removed from the midst within a year and lost his principality together with his life.
There is scarcely anyone who has not heard of the condemnation of the Templars. One Neapolitan knight among them is said to have appealed to divine judgment and to have cited Clement V and Philip the Fair, king of the French, before that supreme tribunal, allowing them the space of a year. Fulgosius adds that within that time Clement died suddenly, and not long afterward Philip also perished. Others try to refute this by calculation of time. But Christianus Massaeus and Meyer confirm the same, saying that the pope and the king died in the same year, 1314: the former on April 20, the latter on November 29. The Templars were indeed condemned in the Council of Vienne on April 3, 1312; but not all were seized and killed in that same year, but some in the following year, as that Neapolitan was, namely in 1313. And since those two judges died in the course of 1314, they are not undeservedly said to have died in the same year in which they were cited. Indeed Gaguin and Emilius want the king to have died in 1313, though it is certain that he outlived the pontiff.
[margin: Aeneas Sylvius, European History, chapter 43; Fulgosius, book 1, chapter 6; Meyer, Annals, book 17; Christianus Massaeus agreeing on the Roman pontiffs; Onuphrius on papal history; Gaguin and Emilius on the date of Philip the Fair’s death]