THE SUBTLETY OF THE INQUISITION.
THE case of this poor woman, obliged to denounce her son, is in
accordance with both the old and new regulations of the Inquisition;
and the manner in which it was endeavoured to be enforced is of common
occurrence. Many other means are also in use among the artifices of
this Holy Office, to induce persons to betray their friends. A wife,
however, who is called upon to accuse her husband, has to encounter
still more difficulty than a mother under the obligation to accuse her
children. Indeed, such a circumstance would never take place, if the
husband could discover that it was the intention of his wife to lay
open his secret thoughts before so horrible a tribunal, the consequence
of which would be speedy arrest, torture, and condemnation!! The
difficulty of this case could not escape the observation of the Roman
Court. If it was known as a certainty, in even a single instance,
that a wife, to oblige a priest, had betrayed her own husband, and
that the priest had made use of the confessional to induce the woman
to the commission of such an act, would any husband calmly see his
wife going to confession, and not apprehend that between her and the
confessor some plot might be hatching against him? A single doubt, a
mere suspicion, would be enough to sow discord between a married pair;
and as in Italy the physical temperament is sufficiently ardent easily
to fall into excesses, it might happen that, through the agency of the
priest, the husband might beat, repudiate, or even murder his wife.
How then is it to be managed that the wife shall betray her husband
with the least chance of his discovering her treachery? The best
method is, that she should be instructed by her confessor to go to
another town, where she is not known, and there make her disclosure;
keeping it secret that she is the wife of the accused, and concealing
his real name, till the confessor has disclosed the affair to the
Inquisition, which alone knows all the intricacies of the proceedings.
And since, moreover, it might happen that the husband might know that
his wife, under a false pretence, had gone to another place to see the
Inquisitor, or the Bishop's Vicar, the Inquisition grants to other
persons the privilege of receiving an accusation; constituting them
Sub-Inquisitors for that single case, under the pledge of inviolable
secrecy. This arrangement is not merely imaginary, but really takes
place; and in confirmation of it, I will here, for the first time,
relate another fact which happened to myself.
In the year 1832 I was living at Viterbo, occupied with many duties,
which precluded me from the enjoyment of a moment's leisure. In
the Civic College I was, during seven years, Professor of Logic,
Metaphysics, and Ethics; in the College di Gradi, during five years,
I was chief Professor of Theology; in the Bishop's Seminary, I was
Professor of the Holy Scriptures, which chair was founded by myself,
and ceased on my departure, after I had held it for two years. I was
Sub-Master of the Sacred Palace three years under Cardinal Velzi, and
three years under the most Reverend Father Buttaoni; I was also yearly
Preacher at the Church di Gradi, and Superior of the Monastery, with
the title of Grand Vicar. And, lastly, I was Confessor to the Apostolic
Delegate, who is the governing Prelate of the province; and as such I
was in the habit of receiving many applications from all classes of
people, who had recourse to me, to obtain favour or justice from the
delegate.
One day, when I was very busy, a lady was announced, who, without
sending in her name, earnestly desired to see me. I imagined she only
came with some request concerning the delegate, and therefore sent word
that I was too much engaged at that moment to be able to see her. The
lady persisted, and I sent the same excuse. At last, finding that I was
firm, the lady handed a letter to the lay-brother, sealed with a large
seal, and directed to "The Very Reverend Father, Professor G. Achilli,
Gradi, Viterbo." The seal was that of the Roman Inquisition, signed by
the Commissary-General. The letter was as follows:--
"VERY REVEREND FATHER,--The Sacred Congregation of the Most
Eminent and Reverend Cardinals, in their sitting of Wednesday,
the ... have desired me to hand over to you the enclosed form of
denunciation, according to which you will have the goodness to
examine and interrogate the lady who is the bearer of it; avoiding
to ask of her name, the place she comes from, and her connexion
with the party accused; all which are already known to the Sacred
Congregation. For this purpose I am authorized to invest you with
all necessary authority on this particular occasion, and for this
time only. I recommend to you all necessary prudence, and to be
mindful of the inviolable secrecy due to the Holy Office, the
slightest breach of which is punished with ecclesiastic censure,
and is finally referred to the Pope.
"You will have the goodness to send back, with all diligence, after
the performance of this duty, not only the formula of questions,
with the answers to them, but also the present letter, of which no
copy is to be taken.
"May the Lord prosper you."
"ROME, from the Palace of the Holy Office, March 1832."
When I had finished reading the letter, I felt a curiosity to see
this mysterious visitor. I therefore descended to the apartment where
she was waiting for me, and I saw a lady, about thirty years of age,
well dressed, and in a style that announced her to belong to the
wealthier class: her accent showed that she came from another part of
the country. She received me with some degree of consternation in her
manner, and replied to me half trembling, and with downcast eyes, and
evident anxiety.
"Signora, I have received a letter through you; the contents must be
known to you. Will you inform me in what manner you obtained it?"
"From my confessor: I do not know whether directly from Rome, or
through the bishop."
"Can you make it convenient to prefer your accusation another time?"
"I beseech you, let me do so at present, since to-morrow I am obliged
to return home."
I considered with myself whether I could not find some excuse for
not acting in this business, and so avoid all trouble by sending the
Signora away; or whether I had not better sacrifice a little time to
receive the accusation, and hear what it was about.
"Well, then," said I, "let us to business. I should imagine it would
not occupy much time--what is your opinion?"
I then sat down before a table, and unfolded the formulary of
questions, which were comprised in a printed sheet. I looked over the
paper, to ascertain its tenor, and of what it treated. I thought no
more of the lady; my mind was entirely occupied in considering how I
should proceed, when a deep sigh aroused me, and made me turn my eyes
towards her. She began to weep outright.
"What is the matter, Signora?--why do you weep?"
Tears and sobs were her only reply. I endeavoured to speak comfort to
her.
"Signora, do not weep; calm yourself: reveal the cause of your
affliction, and you may find relief. If you disclose your mind to me,
I may, in my turn, say something that will console you; but if you do
nothing but shed tears, I must send some other person to attend to
you, for I have business which I cannot postpone."
She grew calmer by degrees, and I began my task. The formula was in
Latin; I had to translate it into Italian: her own answers were to be
written down exactly.
I was displeased to see the act begin. "In the name of God," &c.: I
felt also unwilling to put my own name at the head of the document,
which said, "Before me, A. B., a certain woman presented herself." I
had, nevertheless, a great desire to know the whole affair, and was,
in some measure, pleased that the Inquisition had, on this occasion,
required my services. I had always abhorred the Holy Office, and had
intended, even from my earliest youth, to expose its iniquity, as far
as it was possible for me to do so, whenever an occasion should occur.
"The present is a good opportunity," I said to myself, "to get at the
mysteries of the Inquisition. I shall doubtless learn some curious
matters, which may be useful to me hereafter."
"Now, Signora, you must remember that it is your duty to declare the
truth. I suppose it is no trifling affair that has induced you to
denounce a person to the Inquisition;--above all, I desire to know what
may have been your motives?"
"To save me from a hell."
"Sometimes it happens that in seeking to avoid one hell, we may fall
into another; that in endeavouring to silence a scruple, we may incur
remorse; and that the means we take to save the soul of another may
endanger our own. Tell me, from what kind of hell do you seek to be
delivered by this act?"
"The hell that I experience in entering a church. It is not every
one who goes there that finds it a Paradise. God is there, Jesus
Christ, the most holy Madonna, saints, angels, and holy water. It is
there we are baptized, confess, and receive the grace of God. I alone
participate in none of these ordinances in the church; therefore it has
become hateful to me, and the priests are odious in my sight."
"And how does all this happen?"
"Father, it is as I say. You will understand it all. Relieve me from
this load, and I shall hope to be able afterwards to make peace with
God and the saints, and be delivered from this hell."
"Well, what is the deposition--the accusation you have to make?"
"Allow me, father, to relate my story from the beginning. I cannot tell
you by halves."
So saying she remained thoughtful a few moments, and then exclaimed:
"I hardly know where to begin.--I would inform you--but--"
"Courage,--relate the affair simply as it is. I wish not to know either
more or less than you choose to tell me. For example, I ask neither
your name, your place of residence, nor what connexion you have with
the party accused."
"Ah! Father, these are the express conditions on which I consented to
disclose what I have to unfold. Shame forbids me to reveal either my
name, my residence, or my connexions; since, were you ever to visit
the town where I, with my family, reside, you would recollect a deed
of which I am sure you cannot approve. And where would be the use of
concealing the place of my residence, and telling you the name of
the party whom I am to accuse? It is too well known that you should
not yourself immediately recognise it. Oh, is it possible that at
this price alone I am to recover my peace!--at this, and at no other,
to be admitted anew to the privilege of confession, and the benefit
of the other sacraments! That to be a Christian, I must consent to
betray another!--to betray the person whom in all the world I best
love!--enjoined to do so, both by Divine and human laws?"
As she concluded, she arose, and I observed that with the fingers of
her right hand she pressed upon her left, and turned round a ring that
was there, on the annular finger. She then resumed:
"Where then shall we in future hope to place confidence?--how
trust in the sacredness of vows pledged at the altar? Can God be in
contradiction to Himself? Are there two sets of laws, the one natural
and the other contrary to nature? and are they both obligatory? Ought
I, at the same time, both to love and to hate? Oh! what would _he_ say
if he knew what occupies me at this moment? And can I return joyfully
to him, who little suspects what I am doing, to still live with him,
and call him by the tenderest names, until the day comes, or perhaps
the night, when the officers of justice shall secretly enter the house,
apprehend, and take him away--and to what place? To the dungeons of
the Holy Office! And who would have placed him there? I, myself, by
the very act I am going to commit! But if I do not do so, I am in a
state of perdition, since there will be no longer pardon or absolution
for me! Excommunication, from which no one can deliver me, will be my
fate! And he also will be excommunicated! His soul will be for ever
lost, unless it be purified in the Inquisition!--Both of us to lose
all hope of salvation and eternal life! And that, because we refuse to
make fitting sacrifice on earth! These, Father, are the thoughts that
agitate me, that divide my soul, that have led me here, and that have
since sealed my lips. What ought I to do?--what reveal? I am miserable,
because I listen at once to the flesh and the spirit; and whichever way
I force myself to act, I am always divided against myself. Oh! why are
not you, who are called fathers, husbands as well? then, as other men,
you would have wives to love; and you would better comprehend these
matters, and would see the value of the text, 'Do not to others what ye
would not that men should do unto you.'"
"Let us come to an end, Signora. You have promised the Inquisition
to make an accusation, and that as a matter of duty, or rather, from
scruples of conscience. When you made this promise, you no doubt
imagined you did what was right."
"No, Father, I do not deceive myself; I never thought I was doing
right. In every point of view I considered I was doing wrong.
Nevertheless, I judged it necessary; as it is necessary to have an arm
or a foot cut off, that is in a state of gangrene. I looked upon it as
a castigation from the Almighty; as if my house had been burned, or a
heavy beam had fallen on my shoulders. I thought that God was angry
with me on account of my sins, and that to appease Him I must sacrifice
to Him what was most dear to me. I have often felt as if I should not
survive so dire an event; the mere idea of it is afflicting to me
beyond expression. Father, I am here to make a sacrifice of myself upon
the altar, I regret to say it, of the Inquisition."
"And do you desire, Signora, that I should be the priest on the
occasion? It is an office I have never performed. My hand is more
ready to be stretched out for good than evil. I should feel remorse in
sacrificing you. I thought that you were come to make your deposition
voluntarily, or your own free-will; and even in that case I should have
had some hesitation in receiving it: I repeat, I have never undertaken
the office of an Inquisitor. In the present instance, I will by no
means lend my aid to an act of violence. I am a minister of a God
of Peace, of Christ, who died for our sins; and it is on condition
of believing in what He has done for us that we obtain pardon. I
do not find that any sacrifice is required of us, to be reconciled
to God, unless it be the sacrifice of our spirit on the altar of
faith. 'A humble and a contrite heart,' says David, 'O God, thou wilt
not despise.' I find throughout the whole of the Bible a continual
invitation to seek God; and to find Him there is but one way, which is
Jesus Christ. He has said, 'I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life: no
man cometh to the Father but by me.' Moreover, He says to us, 'Come
unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you
rest.' And this is more particularly addressed to sinners, whose duty
it is to go to Christ, and it is ours to endeavour to invite, to lead,
to bring them to Him. Do you understand me, Signora?--to Him, and to
Him alone, and not to the Inquisition."
"Ah! my Father," here exclaimed the Signora; "what balm you pour into
my wounds! Your last words have restored me to life. It is to Christ
then, and not to the Inquisition, that I shall trust my husband. Yes,
my husband it is whom I am called upon to accuse, because he had
spoken ill of the Pope, the Bishop, and the Priests; and had on one
occasion declared that if he could be assured that the Pope was St.
Peter himself, he would nevertheless spit in his face if he could. I
told my confessor of this, not to accuse my husband, but to learn what
course I had better pursue with him; adding, that at times he was so
excited as scarcely to know the meaning of the words he uttered: but,
without further inquiry, my confessor enjoined me to denounce him to
the Inquisition. Finally, however, he proposed that I should do so to
the Bishop; but as I would consent to neither proposition, he obtained
permission from Rome that I should come to you at Viterbo, to prefer
my accusation, without disclosing my name, or that the party accused
was my husband. But you have shown me how far better it is that I
should recommend him to the love of Christ, than to the wrath of the
Inquisition. It appears that you agree with me, that in religion there
cannot be any law contrary to nature. Oh, how often have I repeated
on this occasion, what my husband so constantly asserts, that the
priests have a religion and a morality contrary to nature! To compel
a wife to accuse her husband! Is it not a demoralization? A bad wife
may do so through motives of revenge; a good one would rather accuse
herself. It is a base thing, in any case, to accuse a person secretly,
without giving him any opportunity of exculpation, or allowing him to
know who is his accuser. It is a crime that no moral duty can justify.
Even the contemplation of such a step has driven me to the brink of
self-destruction. But my confessor assured me that, in that case, both
my husband and myself would be undoubtedly damned. And in confirmation
of this, I once read, in some old work, a story of a certain woman who
had refused, before her death, to make one of these disclosures; and
in consequence, not only was her soul condemned to the torments of
hell, but her body also found no rest in the grave, being continually
forced to leave it, until, being conjured with holy water to declare
the cause of its disquiet, it replied that it was so punished because
it had not obeyed the injunction it had received, to accuse certain
heretics to the Inquisition; but as all present earnestly prayed to the
Madonna, it was granted to this unhappy body to return to life, for
the space of half an hour, that it might prefer its accusation to the
Inquisition; after which, it died anew."
"And do you believe this story?"
"I was unwilling to do so, but the Priest showed me that the book
was printed _con licenza de' superiori_. To tell the whole truth, my
idea was, to obey our Holy Church, in this barbarous law, and then to
commit suicide, leaving behind me a letter to my husband, explaining
the motives that had led me to the act. But God be praised, I shall now
neither accuse him, nor put an end to my own existence. You have doubly
saved my life, in saving my honour and my conscience. God will reward
you for the charity you have shown me. I shall return to my home and to
my family. But what must I say to my confessor?"
"Leave him altogether. He must never know what has passed between us.
Signora, I have prevented you from betraying your husband, and you
tell me I have restored you to life. Will you then betray me? I do not
think so. God be with you; I shall immediately burn these papers from
the Inquisition, along with the letter you have brought me; and their
contents will be buried in your breast."
"Oh! yes, there they shall remain, and with a lasting recollection of
yourself. Farewell."
"Farewell."
In relating this story I have not hesitated about going into
particulars, since no one now can injure the good lady, who is gone
to her eternal rest. She lived a few years after this adventure, and
wrote to me occasionally. She died like a good Christian, loving Jesus
her Redeemer, and believing in his good tidings, and detesting, with
all her heart, the errors of the Church of Rome. In one of her letters
she told me that her old confessor, a few months after her visit to
me, came to her to inquire whether she had delivered the letter from
the Inquisition; and that, fearing to compromise me, she was puzzled
to find an answer. She did not so much regard her own danger, and
therefore replied as follows:--"Signore, do not talk to me any more
of this business: Father Achilli has too much good sense to trouble
his head at all about the Inquisition: consequently, the letter found
its way into the fire. What would you have me do more? For a woman I
think I have done quite enough." This answer, which did not involve any
falsehood, left the confessor in doubt, without furnishing him with
the means of injuring either of us. He subsequently interrogated her
again on this point, and all the reply he obtained was: "I know nothing
about it; I have told you not to talk to me about it any more." I was
myself questioned on the subject ten years afterwards, at the time I
was in the Inquisition; and I got out of the affair by saying, as was
the fact, that I had never received any accusation from the lady--with
respect to the letter itself I was silent.
But what cruelty, what malignity does not this case reveal! To pervert
the natural feelings of the heart, so as to induce a wife not only to
accuse her husband, but to spy out his most secret thoughts, the very
inmost of his mind, and to disclose what might peril his very life! I
have only given one instance, but I could relate many more of the same
character. The wife of a bricklayer, whose name I never knew, about the
same time, came to me at Viterbo, to accuse her husband by order of
her confessor. She came from Vitorchiano, a fief of the Roman Senate.
I sent her away, however, telling her I had nothing to do with the
Inquisition. Several came to me from other parts--no fewer than four or
five; and all these were wives, who had come to denounce their husbands
to the Inquisition. I took care to give them all the same answer. And
if so many cases of this sort came to my own knowledge, how many more
must there have been, who applied to the Vicars themselves, or to the
Inquisitors of the Holy Office!
In my time, there was a report that in Ancona two Inquisitors had
seduced certain wives and daughters, in order to induce them to accuse
their respective husbands and fathers. In the year 1842, in the month
of September, having left the Roman States, I was at Ancona, from which
place I embarked for Corfu. And it was during my stay in the former
place, that an Inquisitor endeavoured to persuade two virtuous girls
to accuse their uncle of some alleged profanation, in order to have
a pretext for his imprisonment. The Inquisitor was angry with this
honest man, because he had forbidden him his house; and thought, by
throwing him into prison, to be able at all hours to visit the nieces,
imagining they were favourably disposed towards him. But they were much
better than he was; they threatened him with publishing his dishonest
proposals, and so the matter ended. This same Inquisitor is famous
for his persecution of the Jews. His edict against them, published
in 1843, is known to all the world. In it all the Jews under his
jurisdiction--that is, not only those of Ancona, who are very numerous,
but those also of Pesaro, Osimo, Sinigaglia, Loretto, &c.--are ordered,
within the term of three months, to sell all their possessions in
land or houses, under penalty of confiscation; within eight days to
abandon all their shops outside the Ghetto;[26] and within three days
to dismiss from their houses all their Christian servants, both male
and female, even the nurses of their children. They were prohibited to
sleep a single night out of the Ghetto; to take a single meal, or to
hold any communication with a Christian. Nay, to the shame and disgrace
of the Inquisition be it spoken, these children of Israel and of Judah
were even prohibited from singing the Psalms of David, in their service
for the burial of their dead.
That so precious a document might not be lost, I took care to have it
reprinted at Corfu, from the authentic copy that was sent to me by the
Secretary of the Lord High Commissioner; and, as my readers will easily
believe, I wrote my observations upon it pretty strongly, not only as
to its author, but also as to the whole tribe of the _Inquisitori_.[27]
I was desirous of knowing what was generally thought to be the reason
of the publication of this edict. A letter from Ancona on the subject,
stated as follows:--
"The Father Inquisitor is a person of very licentious habits, and at
the same time extremely greedy of money. He became offended with our
women (the Jewesses) because they would not listen to his propositions;
he allured, he threatened, but could never render them subservient to
his desires. At length he took a fresh occasion of offence against
us, because we refused to pay him a considerable sum of money which
he claimed, and not for the first time; saying that his predecessor
had had many such donations, that it was for that reason he had
looked upon us favourably, and that, if we did not make him similar
acknowledgments, we need not expect any service or consideration from
him. After due deliberation upon the matter, however, it was resolved
that we should not give him any thing; and now see what has happened!"
The predecessor of this personage is well known to everybody, as having
extorted as much money as he possibly could, brought many respectable
persons into trouble, seduced many women, and finally fled from his
situation, to seek an asylum in Tuscany.
The Inquisitor of Ancona does not act differently from his brethren.
Any one who wished to write a history, not of the Inquisition, but of
the actual Inquisitors in the Roman States, need only take the trouble
to ask what is thought of them from Rome to Bologna; in Umbria, La
Marca, Romagna; in short, wherever there is an Inquisitor or a Vicar
of the Holy Office--and he will hear some extraordinary stories, which
would disgrace the most scandalous chronicle.
Rome takes no notice of these reports, and winks, as the saying is,
at personal immorality, to obtain that which constitutes her moral
code--wealth and dominion. For dealing in immoral acts, immoral agents
are necessary. Would an honest man do for an Inquisitor? Would a
follower of Christ, who said, speaking of man and wife, "Whom God hath
joined, let no man put asunder,"--would he sow discord between them,
and demoralize the wife, to make her betray in the basest manner her
own husband? Does not an Inquisitor require to be one whose heart is
hardened against every gentle and social feeling, so that he may not
hesitate to commit barbarities which are unknown among the most savage
nations?
Are the torments which are employed at the present day at the
Inquisition all a fiction? It requires the impudence of an Inquisitor,
or of the Archbishop of Westminster, to deny their existence. I have
myself heard these evil-minded persons lament and complain that their
victims were treated with too much lenity.
"What is it you desire?" I inquired of the Inquisitor of Spoleto.
"That which St. Thomas Aquinas says," answered he: "death to all the
heretics."
Hand over then to one of these people a person, however respectable;
give him up to one of the Inquisitors (he who quoted St. Thomas
Aquinas to me was made an Archbishop;)--give up, I say, the present
Archbishop of Canterbury, amiable and pious as he is, to one of these
rabid Inquisitors: he must either deny his faith or be burned alive.
Is my statement false? Am I doting? Is not this the spirit that
invariably actuates the Inquisitors? And not the Inquisitors only,
but all those who in any way defile themselves with the Inquisition,
such as Bishops and their Vicars, and all those who defend it, as the
Papists do. There is the renowned Cardinal Wiseman, the Archbishop of
Westminster, according to the Pope's creation; the same who has had the
assurance to censure me from his pulpit, and to publish an infamous
article in the _Dublin Review_, in which he has raked together, as on
a dunghill, every species of filth from the sons of Ignatius Loyola;
nor is there lie or calumny that he has not made use of against me.
Well, then, suppose I were to be handed over to the tender mercy of
this Cardinal, and he had full power to dispose of me as he chose,
without fear of losing his character in the eyes of the nation to which
by parentage, more than by merit, he belongs; what do you imagine he
would do with me? Should I not have to undergo some death more terrible
than ordinary? Would not a council be held with the reverend fathers
of the Company of Loyola, the same who have suggested the abominable
calumnies above alluded to, in order to invent some refined method of
putting me out of the world? I feel persuaded that if I were condemned
by the Inquisition to be burned alive, my calumniator would have great
pleasure in building up my funeral pile, and setting fire to it with
his own hands; or, should strangulation be preferred, that he would,
with equal readiness, tighten the cord around my neck: and all for the
honour and glory of the Inquisition, of which, according to his oath,
he is a true and faithful servant.
And since we are on this subject, allow me to relate a fact concerning
myself, which strongly evinces the subtlety of the Inquisition,
according to the practice of the Jesuits, in availing themselves, in
foreign parts, of the assistance of Bishops and dignified personages.
Every one knows how miraculously I escaped a second time from the
horrors of the Inquisition. All those who had any feeling rejoiced at
it; and such as met with me expressed their satisfaction by kindness
and polite attentions. In the month of January, 1850, I was at Paris,
and was visited by a vast number of persons of every class, not only
Protestants, but Catholics also, who expressed the interest they took
in my recovered liberty. I waited upon the government ministers, and
others who had assisted me, to thank them for their services; but they
interrupted me by assuring me that they had done no more than follow
the impulse of their own hearts and the dictates of humanity; that they
had merely performed a duty; and were rejoiced to think that their
interference had so well succeeded, that instead of being shut up in
the prisons of the Inquisition, I was at liberty to walk about the
streets of Paris as I thought proper.
In the midst of this universal pleasure, which appeared to animate all
I met, and which was responded to by the public journals, I exclaimed
to one of my friends:
"Observe how the voice of the whole people is with me; not a word is
uttered on the contrary side, except by the journal of the Jesuits,
which, to my credit be it spoken, thinks proper to abuse me in a
foolish, senseless article, full of contradiction, written in the
vulgarest language of the streets, or of their own sacristy, and only
worthy of contempt."
One day a friend came to tell me that it appeared the Jesuits had
employed some other party to vilify me.
"It is impossible," I observed, "that such an office should be
undertaken by an honest and well-bred Frenchman. To insult a person
who has miraculously escaped from the Inquisition! No; a true-hearted
Frenchman would no more undertake such a task than he would seek to
persecute one who had escaped from shipwreck or from fire, or who
had evaded the hand of an assassin. To insult one freed from the
Inquisition might be allowable in a Jesuit, but never in a Frenchman.
What a surprise it would be to him to read, in the _Messager de
la Semaine_, an abusive article against me, full of falsehood and
calumny!"
"But you ought to reply to it," I was told; "these are no Jesuits who
write, but members of the Assembly, and others who call themselves
gentlemen." "I do not answer those," I replied, "who lie for the
pleasure of lying and calumniating. Such writers may reply to
themselves."
My friends took some trouble to discover the writer of this article,
and ascertained it to proceed from the pen of a diplomatist, M. de
Corcelles, the ex-minister at Rome, who had endeavoured to negotiate
the return of Pius IX., but without success, and given such proofs
of his devotion to the Jesuits and other priests at Rome. This M. de
Corcelles, after having by his subtlety contrived the French plot
against Rome herself, and tarnished the honour of his nation by a
thousand falsehoods, has returned thus disgracefully to Paris, and has
had the baseness to accept the task from the Jesuits themselves, of
writing a miserable article against me, as mean and as black as their
own garb.
It was a brilliant idea of the Inquisition to get a French diplomatist,
a member of the National Assembly, to vouch for their lies; and here
M. de Corcelles came forward. To strengthen his assertions, it was
thought necessary to look out for some one in England also, who would
corroborate them; and after six months' diligent search, as they
could find no other, and were anxious not to lose more time, they
got the recently created Cardinal Archbishop of Westminster to take
up the pen against me. This second production was even more abusive
than the first. The bishop had far less sense of shame about him than
the member of the National Assembly, particularly when he had the
cardinal's hat in view. It is related of Cardinal Pallavicino, the
celebrated Jesuit, that being chosen by the Court of Rome to write
the history of the Council of Trent, in opposition to that of Paolo
Sarpi, on which occasion he was promised the rank of cardinal, the
poor man suffered grievously in his mind, on account of the number of
lies he had to invent; and sending for a red cap, the insignia of his
future dignity, he shook it in his hand, and placing it on his head,
exclaimed with bitter sighs: "Ah! how much I endure on your account!"
_Oh! quanta pro te patior!_ In like manner Dr. Wiseman, at the sight
of the red hat, and all that pertains to the cardinalate, has judged
it expedient to make a sacrifice of honour and truth, and to rake up
the most offensive matters, to present them to his co-religionists in
the British isles. The indecency and revolting nature of this article
shows to what an extent the immorality and mendacity of a bishop of
the Church of Rome may proceed. The documents laid before the British
Consul at Rome by my friends, whilst I was in prison, proving the
falsehood of the accusations laid to my charge at Viterbo, might
equally be brought forward in my justification against the slander of
this titled Minister of the Gospel; but it rebuts itself, in its very
exaggeration. Moreover, every one who knows me knows also that I was
held in high estimation by the Church of Rome, until the very day when
I was handed over to the Inquisition. I had never been the subject of
complaint or reproof, much less of punishment. I was on good terms with
all the bishops until that time, and appointed by them to preach and
to hear confessions. Indeed, I should have blamed myself had they been
dissatisfied. Have I not many letters from them requesting my services?
Was I not appointed to preach, during Lent, before the Court of Naples?
In good sooth, it requires the brazen impudence of a _Monsignore_, to
lie so openly and so basely.
See now the work of the Inquisition. It says to its coadjutor, "You
shall have a cardinal's hat, if you raise an outcry, right or wrong,
against the heretic Achilli. But you must not call him a heretic,
because that term in England would not avail you; no, you must assert
that he believes in nothing whatsoever; above all, you must say that
he is an immoral man, addicted to all sorts of licentious habits, (a
common case, you well know, in such as take the oath of celibacy).
Say of him whatever evil comes into your head; no matter about time
or place. Say a great deal, that a part at least may be believed.
Relate suppositions as facts, and comment on your own statements. Cry
out loudly, raise reports, and give them publicity. Stick at nothing;
hazard whatever may tend to discredit your adversary. In this way you
will weaken his endeavours. What can he do to vindicate himself? Does
he bring you into court? Shall you have to pay a fine?--Double the
amount will be raised to pay it. Are you thrown into prison?--Call to
mind the martyr of Turin. In short, earn a cardinal's hat"!!
The temptation is too powerful for a bishop of the Church of Rome. It
is in this manner that the Inquisition manages its affairs throughout
the whole world, and works so as to gain its ends, by promises and
threats, by fraud and subterfuge.
FOOTNOTES:
[26] The Ghetto is a part of the city, enclosed within walls, in which
the Jews are confined. It exists in every city of the Roman States.
[27] See the Edict from this Inquisitor in the Appendix, together with
my observations upon it.