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Apparitions in Late Medieval
and Renaissance Spain

William A. Christian, Jr. 
Chapter Three: Repression of Apparitions: The Inquisition in La Mancha
 

[150] The last "successful" (officially accepted) Castilian apparition before the nineteenth century occurred to a shepherd on the outskirts of León, some time in the years 1505-1513. Only the bare facts are known. In 1513 the cathedral chapter appointed supervisors for the alms of "nuestra señora del camino, que Agora Aparescio" (who recently appeared). In 1517 a papal bull referred to "... a certain shepherd to whom, whether in dreams or divinely, it was revealed that on a certain public road out of the city of León, a shrine or hermitage or oratory should be built in honor of the Blessed Virgin Mary." The image was a preexisting one, which allegedly as early as the twelfth century was in the Templo del Mercado. The seer, Alvar Simon, was employed after the visions as an alms-collector. (1) The shrine is thriving today and draws pilgrims from the entire province of León and much of Asturias.

After the vision at León, we hear of no more of this kind of public lay apparition. There are only rare cases, like those of Reus (1592) and Sant Aniol (1618) in Catalonia, until the twentieth century.

There were similar visions in Italy, where between the years 1440 and 1500 apparitions started at least seven of the present-day Marian shrines with the permission of bishops or popes. But in Italy, unlike Spain, visions that founded shrines continued, with at least four or five per decade until about 1590. I do not know whether the flurry of visions in Castile and Catalonia from 1449 to 1512 occurred in other countries as well.

There was another kind of vision in Italy at the turn of the century that indirectly may have affected the Spanish situation. For a papacy threatened by schism and seeking to consolidate a temporal and territorial base for its authority, Girolamo Savonarola provided an apt demonstration of the dangers of [151] independent revelation. Savonarola was burned at the stake. But his temporary success, and that of other, wandering prophets, showed the need for a clear statement of apostolic authority over apparitions and revelations. Hence the Fifth Lateran Council in 1516, in a session dedicated to preaching, decreed as follows: (2)

Whether or not they were directly influenced by the council, Spanish bishops and the Spanish Inquisition appear to have taken a more rigorous stance toward apparitions than did the Italians. In Spain, in addition to the Savonarolan tendencies in religious ecstatics such as Sor María de Santo Domingo, the Beata de Piedrahita, even simple lay visions were punished. (3) The Spanish Inquisition extended its attention from Jewish and Moslem practices to Catholic heresies and independent revelation. (4)

Two investigations of village visionaries, not religious or semi-professional beatas, but relatively normal folk like those studied above, are preserved in the archive of the Inquisition of Cuenca. (5) The visionaries lived in neighboring towns in La Mancha, Quintanar de la Orden, and La Mota del Cuervo, where the borders of the present-day provinces of Toledo, Cuenca, and Ciudad Real meet (see Map 3). The suppression of lay apparitions that their stories show did not let up until the Inquisition itself was suppressed. 



[152] VISIONS OF JUAN DE RABE, LA MOTA DEL CUERVO (CUENCA) c. 1514, 1516

INVESTIGATION OF THE INQUISITION OF CUENCA, 1517-1518 (6)

Testimony of Juan de Rabe, probably in Belmonte  Juan de Rabe lived with two other shepherds and shared the fate of probably half the workers in La Mota del Cuervo, who were landless laborers moving through the year from crop to crop, working off and on as shepherds. His formal religion was like that of the earlier seers: he knew the Lord's Prayer, the Ave Maria, and little more. He had learned one important lesson for the poor--theft is a "muy grande pecato."

On the face of it he was a pauvre type. He had no property. No one would marry him. He did not even know what year it was. But he did have some social resources. His married sister lived nearby, and a cousin owned land planted with vines. In 1514 when he told the people of La Mota or Santa María de los Llanos (it is unclear which) in church about his vision, Juan de [157] Rabe was believed, believed even though he said the Virgin Mary sat on a tiny burro.

We do not know how many of the approximately 2000 people of La Mota heard him, or how many went in the procession. The priest carried a cross on his back, so he must have believed. They erected the cross on the apparition site, then visited the Holy Calvary, probably, like most of those in New Castile, set up by a brotherhood.

Devotion to the Passion of Christ had existed in these towns before Juan de Rabe's vision. Again, as in the fifteenth-century visions, devotion to the Cross was ratified by instructions from Mary. Once more Mary appeared in diminutive form, very small indeed (chiquitina). As in all the visions from 1449 on, she was without the Christ-child. Her association was not with the baby Jesus, as in Romanesque and Gothic images, but with the crucified Jesus.

Again, as with the other Castilian visions, the doctrinal content was minimal, well in keeping with Rabe's professed ignorance about sin. Blasphemy by women as well as men was the only vice Mary mentioned. The apparition took place, as at El Torn, on a Saturday, and was accompanied, as at Pinós, by a thunderclap.

Rabe was believed without any sign, and there is no indication that there was even an epidemic at the time to lower the town's threshold of skepticism. His success, if one can call it that, did not appear to change his material circumstances. Two years later he was still a hired shepherd. It may, however, have gone to his head. For he denounced in public those who criticized him, and that kind of behavior was unwise when his neighbors could denounce him to the Inquisition.

Rabe did not say how the town of El Toboso, another large Manchego agro-town (800 households in 1575), reacted two years later to his vision of Saint Sebastian. But the vision of Juan de Rabe provides credible evidence that visions were expected and even looked for in epidemics. According to him, before his own vision, the Virgin in another vision had already ordered the people of El Toboso to build a chapel during a [158] previous epidemic (the great plague of 1507?). The new plague of 1516 was a punishment for their failure to fulfill her orders.

Such an explanation would not have sounded outlandish to the people of El Toboso. New Castilians in times of trouble were especially on the look-out for divine helpers; and it was normal for them to set up chapels with devotion on their side in exchange for protection on the saint's side. Unlike Catalonia there was little intromission of "higher" theology, in the nature of moral reform. Both regions, nevertheless, shared a basic explanation: the plague came because people did not fulfill their obligations to the divine, whether maintaining chapels, burning candles, or, in this case, building a promised chapel.

Again, as two years before, the saint was a miniature one, perhaps the size of the statue in a chapel to Saint Sebastian that existed in La Mota. Sebastian, of course, was the plague saint. It is interesting that Rabe's Sebastian himself introduced the relatively new devotion to Saint Roch, who would gradually come to replace Sebastian as the chief plague saint over the next two hundred years.

Were the rules changed on Rabe? Was something suddenly out of bounds that had previously been permitted? He must have been bewildered to find himself whipped through the streets for something that his home town and especially his home priest had sanctioned.

Just because they followed Mary's orders, however, does not mean that town or priest believed him. In circumstances in which going against a saint's orders could bring down the plague, it might have been safer to obey in any case. After the threat of plague had passed, some people examined his visions more critically.

Indeed, the woman who denounced Rabe had gone in the apparition procession; but later she seems to have felt he was an ominous fellow to live with. Rabe was a poor man who found himself with a strange power over his neighbors. He may have gone too far, but it may also be that the Inquisitors were more aware of visions as a problem in 1518 than they had been before the Lateran Council. Six years later in the next town to the northwest, the case of Francisca la Brava confirmed the hard line the Inquisition was taking against visionaries.

VISIONS OF FRANCISCA LA BRAVA, QUINTANAR DE LA ORDEN, 1523

Francisca la Brava was born in Corral de Caracuel (20 km. southwest of Ciudad Real, 120 km. southwest of Quintanar) about 1498. Her father, Alonso, was a shepherd; she never knew her mother. Her father brought her to Quintanar as a child (she was there at age eleven, in 1509, if not before) and eventually moved on. In Quintanar she stayed, probably as a servant, in two households, and subsequently with her uncle until she finally married. By 1523, at age twenty-five, she had had several children, at least one of which, a son, had died.

In the eyes of the town mayors, she was one of the poor. Her husband was a wool-carder who left the house before sunrise to work and returned at night. Their house had at least two rooms--a bedroom and a kitchen. The kitchen had a door giving on the outside. There was no corral (yard).

Francisca was said to be bold, frivolous, and mocking. According to the priest, however, for the seven years he had known her she had faithfully attended mass and received communion every year. She knew the basic prayers: the Ave Maria, Pater Noster, the Credo (with a few words wrong), and the Salve Regina, and at night she prayed to God, Mary, the Santa Magestad (crucifixion), and Saint Bernard to deliver her from sins. Perhaps her prayer to Bernard was due to the influence of the Cistercian Order of Calatrava in the region where she was born. She fasted about half of the days of Lent and the eves of feasts, and a few of the fast days at the beginning of each season (temporas). The priest considered her a "good Christian" and did not know of any history of insanity or demonic possession. She was not considered especially devout by the other village women.

Quintanar may have had 300 households, or 1300 inhabitants at this time. The chapels of the town, in addition to the parish [160] church of Santiago, probably included Saint Sebastian, Saint Christopher, Saint Anne, and Saint Bartholomew. There were probably a number of brotherhoods, as in neighboring El Toboso.

*
Chronology

seer: Francisco la Brava, wife of Pedro García de la Romera 
place: Quintanar de la Orden (Toledo)

Order of Testimony (9)

1. Investigation by town officials, October 23, 1523 

Witnesses:        María Fernándes
                        Juana Martínez 
                        Francisca la Brava

2. Investigation by the Inquisitor Mariana in Belmonte, November 21-28, 1523

Witnesses:    Francisca la Brava, Nov. 21
                     Pedro García de la Romera, Nov. 21
                    Alonso Ferndándes Gajardo, parish priest, Nov. 26
                    Alvaro de Cepeda, alcalde ordinario, Nov. 26
                    Hernand Muñoz de Horcajada, Nov. 26 
                    Francisca la Brava, Nov. 28 

Sentence, Nov. 28

INVESTIGATION BY TOWN OFFICIALS, OCTOBER 23, 1523
 

 
INVESTIGATION BY THE INQUISITION OF CUENCA IN BELMONTE When Juan de Rabe was denounced, it was almost incidentally among other denunciations more than two years after his vision took place. The woman who denounced him had denounced others. Was she one of the persons whom Juan de Rabe exposed as talking badly about him? And in that accusation--that he [180] knew what people were saying behind his back--was there a hint of occult powers that might come from the devil?

The denunciation of Francisca, six years later, was not based on a grudge. Rather it came in spite of an unsuccessful series of efforts on the part of her husband, the priest, the village authorities, her husband's friends, and outside consultants to avoid denunciation to the Inquisition. For by 1523, with the clear precedent of Juan de Rabe from the next town, the men were well aware of the danger Francisca faced. They all knew one thing; it did not matter what she saw as long as she did not make it public. She should simply be quiet.

What were her options ? Francisca had a sorrow in her heart that did not allow her to sleep. One is reminded of the nocturnal premonitions of the seer of Jaén in 1430. Could her unease have anything to do with a dead son, the one who appeared with the angels? In the first vision Francisca was worried Mary might really be the devil. Mary's proof was that she remembered something that might have been bothering Francisca--her punishment of her son, and her invocation of Mary. For the incident to be significant to Francisca, it must have been serious, not just one of the many times she must have been angry at him. Perhaps it was when he was sick or injured, crying for a serious reason, perhaps before he died.

From what her husband said, she was not sure when she awoke whether it had all been a dream or not. She must have convinced herself it was true, however, for she went to confess. She did not fully convince the priest it had not been the devil. His attitude was standard, common today among priests. He warned her to keep quiet, but he left open the possibility the vision was true. He needed proof. So there was a prototypical return vision, one in which proof was delivered. Unfortunately the proof, objects not particularly difficult to obtain, convinced no one.

Francisca could not or would not keep the secret. Women friends and neighbors, not knowing whether to believe her or not, gathered in a neighbor's house. Some would testify in the investigation.

In his testimony to the Inquisition, the priest reported a final [181] trance on Sunday, two days after the mayors drew up their report. Francisca would not speak or enter her house, and her hands were locked together. Was this a hysterical reaction to the authorities' disbelief? Or was it rather a last attempt, a resort to the traditional proofs of body contortions--hands together (like Inés's joined fingers at Cubas) and mouth closed (as with Joana at Escalona). If these were attempted proofs they too failed, for the priest was able to open her hands and get her to talk. The traditional patterns are as clear, perhaps more clear, in these failed visions, than in "successful" visions.

Only one of the village men mentioned in the testimony believed Francisca. Can we trust the mayors when they describe their disbelief to the Inquisitors? Is it not possible that theirs was the kind of investigation that might end up as a founding document for a shrine or devotion, depending on what the experts would say? Apparently not. For on the original document the word "confession" was written in the margin by Francisca's name. Furthermore, the kind of misgivings expressed by the first witness, María Fernándes--the internal reservations she described as she cautiously congratulated Francisca, seem to be those of someone who knows she speaks to skeptics.
 
Women, on the whole, did seem to believe. Many gathered at Francisca's house, making it a kind of pilgrimage site. Some came from El Toboso, the town where Juan de Rabe went seven years before when he had a vision of Saint Sebastian. (10) Why did the women believe when the men did not? It was not simply that women were more likely to believe another woman. Also important was doubtless the woman's informal role as the devotional representative of the household. Day to day religion was (and in Spain still is) woman's business--seeking out sources of divine power, getting that dirt and those chips of stone, taking the boy to kiss the rock, just in case. Total belief was not necessary. Probably the women would have gone even if there was only a slight chance that it was true. For it would be a slight chance of a very important event, the visit of the Mother of God to El Quintanar with precise devotional instructions not only for Francisca, but also for the whole town.

These instructions came from a Mary whose face and knees [182] were streaming with blood, who was exhausted from over thirty days of praying outdoors, like a weary pilgrim passing through the town on the way to Our Lady of Guadalupe, doing penance on her knees. Surely she must have looked to Francisca like the image of Our Lady of Piedad that is today and was probably then the most respected image in Quintanar. Our Lady of Piedad was one of the shrines Francisca was to beg for, and the final destination of the penitential procession.

Our Lady said she was praying for the health of bodies and the salvation of souls. That kind of intercession was what was keeping places such as Quintanar from the epidemics not only of plague but also of other diseases that periodically ravaged the area. In 1544 the next village to the west, La Puebla de Almoradiel, would be ravaged by a disease that would strike about half of its population and kill 200 children and 50 adults. It had also been hit by the great plague of 1507, as in all probability had all of these towns. Another epidemic occurred in 1516. Even the small possibility of help, therefore, could not be ignored.

In the second vision, Francisca found out about her dead son. He was an angel. She could not say the same for her mother, whom she never knew, or the parents of her husband. They were all evidently in purgatory, for she was told to have a mass said for each. As the family representative to the divine, she was responsible for her husband's, as well as her own, dead.

Seeing Mary, Francisca was also seeing her mother. "Madre mia madre," she cried out when she finally believed. It must have meant more than just a symbolic motherhood for this young woman who had never known her own mother to have Mary call her "daughter."
 

Was Francisca's evident preoccupation with her dead son connected with the apparition of the Mother saint as a child of four? She had Mary appear as a child, but she also had Mary put her arm on her neck. Mary was both tall and short, mother and child, the kind of paradox dreams are filled with. Ease in imagining children as angels or saints may facilitate a reverse transformation, the imagination of saints as children.

Not surprisingly, Francisca saw things others had also seen. One of the models for her story was probably the Descent of [183] the Virgin to Saint Ildefonsus in Toledo. The piece of cloth Francisca received could be a vestigial equivalent of the chasuble given to Ildefonsus. As at Toledo, a stone was consecrated by the Virgin's presence. Mary as a child, or at least child-sized, praying for humanity was reminiscent of the vision of El Torn. At both places the Virgin mentioned obligations to the dead, a theme taken up again a century later at Sant Aniol. This vision contained, like that of Cubas, a reference to Guadalupe, destined to remain the dominant shrine of the region until the nineteenth century. As in almost all of these visions of Mary there was a reference to the Cross--here as a destination for the procession. Francisca may not have been believed, but her vision was the same kind of recombination of legendary elements and innovations as the previous visions and the shrine myths.

"Our Lady" (as she called herself) did not enter Francisca's kitchen. This was a point to which both Francisca and the Inquisitor paid particular attention. The visions studied above all took place in the public sphere; Mary never crossed the door sill. She belonged to everybody, not one person, and the places she went belonged to everyone. Another significant feature of this unbelieved vision may be that it happened in a town. Most of the other episodes of visions occurred in the countryside. Nevertheless, like all good visions, this one had a link with a tangible natural object like a spring or a tree. Here it was a rock on which Mary sat, from which the village women took chips.

Whether the seer was Francisca or her husband, or even her daughter, or whether it took place inside, outside, in town, or in the countryside, it was probably doomed. Visions themselves were no longer respectable; and with the Inquisition periodically soliciting denunciations, it may have been seen as suspicious even to believe in a new one, much less have one.

The criteria used to examine the truth of this apparition were applied far more rigorously than before. Ines Martinez at Cubas contradicted herself on details just as many times as Francisca la Brava. On the whole Francisca stuck to her story well, and one rather thinks that she herself believed it. Like Juan de Rabe down the road, she was reenacting an age-old scenario, fulfilling [184] a role for her town by serving as its connection to the saints. Juan de Rabe was accepted, then retroactively rejected. Francisca was a little late, a participant in a divine drama from which a most essential character, the chorus, had largely been alienated.

That it was not enlightenment, rationalism, or high religion that produced this alienation is clear from the degree to which other, non-apparitional but miraculous signs continued to be seen and believed in this very district. In 1575 in nearby Socuéllamos, a sexton was believed when he concocted a story of a transient having stolen and whipped a crucifix and the crucifix bleeding. In 1644 the entire town of Osa de la Vega saw a painting of the Veronica sweat during Holy Week. (11)

While some of the alienation of the visionary audience may have been due to a fear of the Inquisition, the immediate and negative investigation by the town mayors of Francisca la Brava indicates that this was only part of the story. In the early sixteenth century, the cultural form of public, lay visions itself may have worn out. This particular way of connecting with God was no longer believable enough. The itinerant prophets, dressed in sackcloth, who circulated in central Italy with predictions of woe and calls to repentance were welcomed as holy men in the 1470s and 1480s yet laughed out of town by the 1530s. (12) By the same token, had there been too many visions in Spain? The less exceptional visions became, the more suspicions they would arouse. Perhaps by 1523 the Inquisition was ratifying and enforcing a point of view that was more general in the society.

As the century progressed, the need to regulate lay initiatives in religious matters became more and more evident. In 1525 the Illuminist heresy was defined, and the first nuclei identified and destroyed. Although the Illuminists by their opposition to external devotion had little in common with our seers of saints and founders of shrines, they too believed in direct contact with the sacred unmediated by the church. Protestant doctrines raised some of the same issues. Throughout the century, bishops asserted and parish priests exercised more and more control over religious institutions. The legislation of Trent confirmed prior Spanish reforms in matters of brotherhoods, hermits, miracles, [185] and vigils. In the first years of the century, apparitions and independent revelations were some of the first of these matters to be affected. Village visions, orthodox and innocuous as most of them were, were almost incidental victims of a general climate of closure.

Although this form of knowing the divine will in time of trouble went into eclipse, others survived, including a species of visionary or prophetic monastic. At Quintanar de la Orden many women did believe Francisca; it was the men running the town who did not. A constituency for visionaries remained, but not among the people who decided what was officially acceptable. That may be why subsequent kinds of seers who were tolerated were those (particularly women) whose visions and revelations spoke largely to women as individuals, without encroaching on matters relating to town government or the town as a parish.

Amateur or professional religious women, beatas or nuns, from time to time over the next 300 years were consulted by individuals, especially other women, sometimes even by bishops and kings, on such varied matters as one's personal state of grace, whether one will have children, the appropriateness of a prospective spouse, and the destination of particular souls after death. Some, like Magdalena de la Cruz of Córdoba (1487-1560), María de la Visitatión of Lisbon (fl. 1588), Luisa of Carrión (fl. 1635), and María of Agreda (1602-1665) became quite well known and influential. Others attained a more discreet and local fame. Most of these women had visions in trances, and the Inquisition investigated all of the best known, and many of the lesser known to see whether they were under the influence of the devil or fraudulent. But even though some were repressed, the cultural type survived throughout the early modern period. As persons subject to religious discipline of some kind, they seemed to have had an initial advantage over lay seers when it came to the Inquisition. (13)

Although the prophet-beatas served the same generic function of communicating the divine will, their specific tasks and the ways they performed them were quite different from those of the lay seers of apparitions. Generally the prophet-beatas [186] were not consulted and did not provide information for communities about specific prospective disasters or plagues. Their activity was more habitual than that of the occasional seers studied here, and they tended to shy away from predictions that could be disproved. More than our seers, they served as living demonstrations of grace, whose communication was manifest by their trances and ecstasies. By contrast, the seers studied above had few spiritual pretensions. They were by and large average people, who merely conveyed simple information about where, through what image, on what days, and after what rituals grace could be obtained.

Only in the late visions of La Mancha were there references to trances, even there equivocal. Juan de Rabe apparently boasted that he often went into trances (que se traspone muchas bezes), but in his confession there is no indication that he was in a trance when he saw the saints he described. In her first confession Francisca la Brava described what might have been a trance (que estava trasportada que no tenia notiçia ni pensamiento que estava en este mundo sino en el otro) prior to her first vision, but that during the vision and those that followed she was "awake and in her free control and judgment." On the other hand, her parish priest described a final trance-like episode when she remained outside her house with her hands locked together.

There is no hint of a trance-like state in any of the other visions described in this book. Seers were fully awake, usually standing up, and had fully sensory experiences. In this fundamental way, their experiences differed from the mystical experiences of many medieval monastics, of Teresa of Avila, and of the habitual ecstatics of later times, including most of the seers of apparitions in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.

There is another way in which the experiences differed, one not unrelated to trances. Even though these visions had a public vocation, virtually all of them took place without an audience, when the visionaries were alone with Mary, a saint, or an angel. Of all the cases studied, there were only three instances of non-visionary witnesses of seers--at Cubas when Inés saw Mary while in the procession (but then Mary led her off out of sight [187] over the hill to deliver her message); at Escalona, where the boy Bartolomé saw Joana while she was seeing Mary; and at nuintanar, when Francisca called out her neighbor to see Mary. In all of these instances the accounts and questions focused on whether these witnesses saw Mary, not whether they saw the seers do anything unusual (like fall into a trance). Apparently it was not expected that the visionary would be in an altered state of consciousness.

Ecstatic visionary nuns and beatas, because many of their visions were public, served as mediums and conveyed personal messages back and forth between individual members of their audience and their divine contacts. The seers we have studied did not serve this function. They received messages for themselves and for their towns, but were not, properly speaking, diviners.

The attention to signs as proofs in the Castilian apparitions points to a role that trances subsequently played for the more habitual diviners; trances became a means for validating the presence of spirits, a kind of proof that supplanted the signs of the fifteenth century. Trances did not per se mean that good spirits were involved, and ecclesiastical experts were aware of some natural ailments that could appear to be trances, but for lay persons they seemed to have served as a kind of preliminary guarantee against pure fakery. Hence the trances and the visions had to be visible and public, as opposed to the more discreet and private colloquies we have studied. Indeed, most of the nineteenth- and twentieth-century lay visions are a hybrid form, conserving the basic pattern and purpose of the medieval visions, with the difference that they include trances, they are in public, and they contain messages for individual pilgrims as well as collectivities. In the twentieth-century visions, the altered state of the visionary is a form of immediate validation for fellow-citizens and visitors that is entirely lacking in the cases gathered here. The visionaries in modern times are central figures in a public sacred drama. In the fifteenth century, the drama took place offstage--in a field at night; on a dark street; by a pond in late afternoon; in an isolated chapel.


Notes for Chapter Three
León

1. Arturo Alvarez, La Virgen del Camino, en León (Vitoria, Imp. Fournier, 1968) 56-58.

2. Conciliorum oecumenicorum decreta (Bologna, Herder, 1962) 613. Apparitions may also have been discredited by certain well-known frauds; Dominicans at Bern in 1507 impersonated Mary, having her say that she was not conceived immaculately. This case was known in the Spanish Court. See Pietro Martire d'Anghiera, Opus Epistolarum (1530), letter of May 14, 1507, from Hornillos. Louis Lavater in De Spectris (Zurich, 1570) Part 1, Chapters VII-IX, recounts this and other similar cases.

3. Luis Salus Ballust, "Espiritualidad española en la primera mitad del siglo XVI," Cuadernos de Historia 1 (1967) (Madrid) 169-188; Marcel Bataillon, "Sur la diffusion des oeuvres de Savonarole en Espagne et en Portugal, 1500-1560," Mélanges de philologie . . . offerts à M. Joseph Vianey (Paris, 1934); V. Beltrán de Heredia, "Las Corrientes de Espiritualidad entre los Domínicos de Castilla durante la primera mitad del siglo XVI," Miscelánea Beltrán de Heredia (Salamanca, Ed. OPE, 1972-1973) III 519-671.

4. Bartolomé Bennassar, L'Inquisition Espagnole (Paris, Hachette, 1979) 25.

5. For Cuenca, Sebastián Cirac Estopiñán, Registros de los documentos del Santo Oficio de Cuenca Vol. 1 (Cuenca and Barcelona, 1965).

La Mota

6. ADC Inquisición, Legajo 70: 1039.

7. [marginal note] this shepherd lives with Martín Sánchez and Pedro de la Calle, inhabitants of La Mota

8. These are standard categories used by confessors at the time; cf. Thomas Tender, Sin and Confession on the Eve of the Reformation (Princeton, Princeton University Press, 1977) 110-113.

Quintanar de la Orden

9. ADC Inquisición, Legajo 83: 1190.

10. The women of Quintanar doubtless told those of El Toboso at the market held on Thursdays in El Toboso. Relaciones, To III 584.

11. Christian, Local Religion, 196-197.

12. Niccoli, "Profezie in piazza," 514-515.

13. Henry Charles Lea, A History of the Inquisition of Spain (New York, Macmillan, 1907) IV 36-41, 81-93; Bennassar, L'Inquisition espagnole, 197-240; Julio Caro Baroja, Las formas complejas de la vida religiosa; Religión, sociedad y carácter en la España de los siglos XVI y XVII (Madrid, Akal, 1978) 86-90; Antonio Arbiol, Desengaños mysticos (Barcelona, Thomas Piferrer, 1772) 75-81, 410-416; T. D. Kendrick, Mary of Agreda: The Life and Legend of a Spanish Nun (London, Routledge and K. Paul, 1967). On non-ecstatic diviners and magicians, Julio Caro Baroja, Vidas mágicas e inquisición (Madrid, Taurus, 1967) Vol. 2 9-94.