Such was the state of my mind, when it happened, one gloomy evening in
the latter end of March, that my valet announced to me three gentlemen
who were come to visit me. It was strange: I had no visitors; I
indulged no relaxation but that of the street, and of public places.
Do you know who they are? said I. I accidentally looked up, and saw
paleness and terror written in his countenance. He had not however time
to reply, before they burst into the room. They were alguazils of the
inquisition. They told me their errand was to conduct me to the holy
office.
I submitted, and accompanied them. It was already dark. They put me
into a litter with the curtains drawn, and then arranged themselves
in silence, one on each side, while one brought up the rear. I was
taken by surprise: nothing could be further from my expectation than
such an event. As we passed along, I ruminated with myself on the line
of conduct it was incumbent on me to pursue. To make an immediate
experiment of the fidelity of my guides was a doubtful attempt. If, for
want of time and the opportunity of a tranquil hearing, I miscarried
with them, the trial would be converted into evidence against me. If I
succeeded, I had then to escape out of Spain, in the centre of which I
now was, from the hostility of a tribunal, which was said to surpass
all the tribunals on the face of the earth in activity and vigilance. I
knew of nothing that the fathers of the inquisition could have against
me. I had lived in the most entire seclusion; and I could defy any one
to report a single action of mine, since I had entered Spain, to my
prejudice. I had been wholly occupied with melancholy reflections on
the past, and solitary inventions and devices which I purposed to bring
forward for the future. I determined not to live for ever the slave of
fear. I believed that the best method for defeating a danger, in many
cases, was undauntedly to encounter it; and I did not imagine that I
could have a more favourable opportunity for that purpose than the
present. I had heard much indeed of the terrors of the inquisition; but
a generous and liberal spirit lends no very attentive ear to horrors,
the trite and vulgar rumour of which only has reached him. I disdained
to be blown down with a breath. I believed that the inquisition itself
would not venture to proceed criminally against a man against whom
nothing criminal had been alleged. In every event, I believed it would
never be too late to have recourse to my peculiar prerogatives.
Upon entering the prison of the inquisition I was first conducted to
a solitary cell. It is not my intention to treat of those particulars
of the holy office which are already to be found in innumerable
publications. I have no pleasure in reviving the images of this sojourn
of horrors. I know it is unreasonable to despise a man for the miseries
and wretchedness he has endured; but I know that such is the human
heart, and I will not expose myself to be scoffed at and trampled upon
for my misfortunes. I found myself under the necessity, while in the
inquisition, of submitting to that most profligate of all impositions,
an oath of secrecy as to what I had seen, and what I had suffered; and,
whatever may be the strict morality of such an obligation, I will not
ambitiously thrust myself forward in violation of it. I will restrict
the story I have to relate to the peculiarities that characterised my
case, and enter as little as possible into the general policy of this
frontier intrenchment of the Christian faith.
When I was brought up to be interrogated, I was assailed with
innumerable questions, the obvious purport of which was, as much as
possible, to extort from me evidence of every kind that might be
injurious to my cause. The object of the inquisition is to defend
our holy mother, the church, from whatever might defile her sanctity
and whiteness. Every thing that calls into question the truth of
her doctrines, that pollutes and turns from their original purpose
any of her ordinances, or that implies commerce and league with the
invisible enemy of saints, it is its peculiar province to investigate.
The fathers are therefore particularly cautious that they may not,
by confining their questions too much to a single object, preclude
themselves from the chance of discovering danger under all the forms
it may assume. It is presumed that he who is a corrupt member of the
church of Christ in one point is unsound and unfaithful in others.
The inquisitor who examined me, first demanded, whether I were informed
for what cause I was brought before that tribunal? Whether I did not
find myself able to conjecture the nature of my offence? Whether I did
not know the sort of crimes for which men were detained in that prison?
He then desired me to recollect myself, and consider, whether I were
not conscious of offence against the holy Catholic church? Whether I
had never asserted or maintained any doctrines contrary to what mother
church asserts and maintains? Whether I had never, to my knowledge,
defiled any of the ordinances of God, or applied things sacred to
unholy and profane purposes? Whether I had never invocated the devil?
Whether I had never held any commerce, or entered into any league,
with the enemy of saints? Whether I had never performed, or sought to
perform, preternatural and miraculous acts by unholy means? Whether I
had never vexed, or sought to vex, those against whom I had enmity, by
secret and forbidden arts? Whether I had never resided in countries the
inhabitants of which were heretics, and whether I had never listened
to their discourses and arguments? Whether, when I inhabited such
countries, I had never assisted at the celebration of divine ordinances
performed by heretics, or in a form which holy church disapproves or
condemns?
Finding that he could gain nothing upon me by these general
interrogatories, the inquisitor next descended to particulars. He
enquired concerning the incidents of my Pisan story, which, having
first assured myself from the train of his questions that some
representation of that unfortunate affair had reached his ear, I
willingly related, to the same extent that I had previously done to the
marchese Filosanto.
He then proceeded to a great number of questions, the source of which
is to be traced to the commonly received notions respecting sorcerers
and necromancers. They were so artfully contrived, and so large in
their scope, that it was not easy to guess whether they related to
any particular accusation alleged against me, or were formed entirely
on general principles. Yet some of them were so minute, so connected,
and arranged so perfectly in series, that I could not but believe they
were an echo of the calumnies invented against me at Pisa, of which,
however, as I had never collected any regular and detailed account, I
could not accurately trace the influence on the present occasion.
The inquisitor demanded of me, Whether I had never seen or held
conversation with any supernatural being, or the spirit of a man
departed? Whether I had never practised diabolical arts to raise the
dead? Whether I had never had a familiar in the form of some insect,
domestic animal, or reptile? He was particularly subtle and copious
in his questions respecting the history of my unfortunate dog,
endeavouring to surprise me in some slip or contradiction in what I
affirmed on the subject. He asked, Whether I had never assumed a form
different from my real one, either a different age and appearance, or
a different species of animal? Whether I had never, by the agency of
my demon, inflicted sickness, convulsion-fits, or death? Whether I
had never caused the mortality of cattle? Whether I had not the power
of being in two places at once? Whether I had never been seen riding
through the air? Whether I had never been wounded in my absence, by
a blow aimed at my astral spirit or apparition? Whether I had never
possessed books of conjuration or the art magic? Whether it had never
happened to me that an indifferent person, indiscreetly perusing a
spell or incantation in my possession, had been maimed or killed by the
spirits he had undesignedly evoked?
A further object particularly pursued in my interrogatory, was the
detection of my property; and the questions constructed for this
purpose were uncommonly artful and multiplied. The inquisitor told
me that the holy office was, by the nature of its institution, the
guardian and administrator of every person that fell under its
animadversion. Shut up, he said, as I must be, during the pendency
of my cause, and separated from the rest of mankind, I was wholly
incapable of superintending my worldly affairs, which, unless they
were properly looked into, might in the interval be materially
injured. I ought therefore implicitly and without reserve to refer
myself in this point to the care of the fathers. If my innocence were
established, as he hoped, and earnestly prayed to the mother of God,
and the saints of Jesus, might ultimately happen, I should find the
holy office a faithful and qualified steward. If, on the contrary,
I should be proved a heretic and an alien to the Most High, I ought
then to rejoice in the beneficent interference of the fathers, who, by
dedicating my wealth to consecrated purposes, would mitigate in the eye
of the just Judge of heaven and earth the duration or fierceness of
my punishments in a future world. The inquisitor had apparently heard
various reports of my riches, and was inexpressibly chagrined that he
should be found so unskilful a member of his profession, as not to be
able to extort from me a full confession on that head. After having
employed every artifice of menace and terror, after having endeavoured
to soothe and cajole me by blandishments and persuasion, and finding
all his expedients fruitless, he poured upon me the full storm of his
indignation. He said, it was apparent that I was dealing disingenuously
and fraudulently with the delegated guardians of religion; it was
impossible that the expenditure I was well known more or less to have
incurred could be supported without considerable funds; and my evident
duplicity and concealment in this point must be regarded as a full
confirmation of every crime my accusers had alleged against me.
In the course of my examinations, the inquisitor who questioned me
gave himself the trouble of entering into a full vindication of the
tribunal of which he was a member. He said, that every thing that
was valuable to mankind, not only in a future state, but also in the
present, depended upon preserving in full vigour and strength the
sacred institutions of the Christian faith; and that those who were
endowed with powers sufficient for that purpose would be in the highest
degree inexcusable in the sight of God, if they did not vigilantly and
inflexibly maintain the exertion of those powers. It was an egregious
mistake of self-willed and opinionated men, to suppose that the
maintenance of our holy religion was sufficiently provided for by the
clearness of its evidence. It was no less dangerous, to pretend that
the stability and duration of the church of Christ might be confided
to the providence of God. Providence acts by human means; and it was
presumptuous for those who neglected the means to trust that they
should nevertheless see the end adequately secured. Why had Providence
thought proper to generate an alliance between church and state, and
to place the powers and authority of human society in the hands of the
adherents of the Christian faith? Magistrates and governments were
thus made the vicars of Heaven, and great would be their condemnation
if they neglected the trust reposed in them. The great adversary of
mankind was incessantly watchful for the destruction of souls; and,
while he spread abroad his delusions, it was folly to imagine that
evidence alone was powerful enough to counteract them. What judges were
the great mass of mankind of the integrity and validity of evidence?
The jest of the scorner was ever at hand to turn into ridicule the most
sacred mysteries. The opposers of our holy faith were indefatigable
in their industry, and as anxious in their exertions to deprive their
fellow-men of every comfort and hope, as if infidelity, which was the
curse of the human species, were the greatest blessing that could
be conferred on them. The devil was a hard task-master, and granted
no vacation, night or day, to those who enlisted themselves in the
support of his cause. It might answer well enough the purpose of the
vain-glorious theorist, to suppose that man was a rational animal;
but they who had regarded human society with an observing eye knew
that it was otherwise. Delusion would ever be too hard for evidence,
and the grossest falsehoods prove victorious over the most sacred
truths, if what was illiberally and maliciously styled persecution
were not brought in aid of the cause of religion. The passions of
mankind were on the side of falsehood; man, unrestrained by law, was a
wild, ferocious, and most pernicious beast, and, were it not for the
wholesome curb of authority, would speedily throw off all ties and
limitations, human and divine. Nothing could more clearly prove, that
the heretical followers of Luther and Calvin, who had lately sprung up
for the plague of mankind, whatever they might pretend, were in reality
the determined enemies of all revelation, than their continual demand,
that the cause should be tried by discussion, and that every man should
be defended in the exercise of his private judgment. They could not but
know,--every man not totally robbed of all power of discernment must
know,--that, if this demand were once granted, it would prove a blow
at the root of every sentiment of religion. The inquisition therefore
was the most salutary institution that had ever been devised; and the
future welfare of mankind wholly depended upon the maintenance of
its powers and its maxims. By a moderate and judicious exhibition of
terror, it superseded the necessity of innumerable punishments. The
inquisition was not capricious and uncertain in its policy; it acted
under the direction of immutable laws; it held a tender, but a firm
rein upon the extravagances and madness of mankind. Nothing was more
notorious, than that a regular and systematical proceeding was both
more effectual and more generous than one that was fickle. He defied
the whole history of the world to produce an example of so merciful a
tribunal. The great end of its policy was the reclaiming of sinners
and the multiplication of penitents, who, after a gentle and salutary
discipline, were again by holy church received into her bosom; and
even when they delivered the finally impenitent to the flames, it
was to the flames of a purifying fire, which by destroying the flesh
redeemed or diminished the punishments of a future world. He knew that
an outcry had been artfully raised against the proceedings of the holy
office. But it was easy to see that its enemies, under the pretence
of compassion for its victims, concealed an inveterate animosity
against property, religion, and civil society. The anabaptists had
thrown off the mask, and discovered their true designs; and the rest
were only more plausible and specious, in proportion as they were
more timid. The present was the most important crisis that ever
occurred in the history of the world. There was a spirit at work, that
aimed at dissolving all the bonds of civil society, and converting
mankind into beasts and savages. Who had not heard of the levellers,
millenarians, and fifth-monarchy-men, who, under the specious guise of
disinterestedness and an universal love of mankind, had nothing in view
but the most sacrilegious and unprincipled depredations? It was true
that the preachers of these doctrines were utterly contemptible both
for numbers and talent: but it would be found a short-sighted policy,
to overlook these desperate assailants on account of the poorness and
meanness of their qualifications. For his own part he did not hesitate
to say, that human society would owe its preservation, if it were
preserved, to the merciful yet vigorous proceedings of the court of
inquisition. The misrepresentations that were invidiously made of the
present firm and vigilant system of policy would be heard for a day,
and then universally abandoned. Posterity, he was well assured, would
do full justice to the sagacity and soundness of the conduct of this
calumniated and much injured institution.
The reader will forgive me if the panegyric thus elaborately pronounced
by the inquisitor who examined me, upon the court of which he was a
member, had not all the weight with my mind at the moment I heard it
which he will probably ascribe to it in the calmness of the closet.
It is so difficult to be impartial in our own cause! The candid mind
will no doubt make a large allowance for the unhappy situation in which
I now stood, and the bitter and galling thoughts that preyed upon
my memory. But, if I am chargeable with temporary injustice in the
judgment I then passed on the arguments of the inquisitor, I flatter
myself that I have been able, after the interval that has elapsed, to
give a true and adequate statement of them.
Beside these reasonings on the necessity of a wholesome restraint on
the privileges of speaking and writing, the father in another of my
examinations condescended to delineate to me the mysteries of the world
of spirits. He reminded me that in the first grand rebellion upon
record, that of the fallen angels, of which he considered the present
defection under Luther and Calvin as in some measure a counterpart,
a third of the host of heaven had been thrust out of the celestial
mansions. These accursed spirits had since been permitted to pursue
their machinations on the face of our earth. “The devil, like a roaring
lion, goeth about, seeking whom he may devour.” The oracles of the
heathens, the temptations of Job and of our Saviour, and the demoniacs
of sacred writ, were examples of the extensive power which Heaven had
thought fit to allow him. Men of a sceptical and feeble understanding
had been tempted to doubt whether this was consistent with the wisdom
and goodness of God. But, though it was in vain for us to pretend to
fathom the depth of the divine mysteries, there were certain reasons
that were sufficiently obvious to every ingenuous mind. There were
persons in all ages of the world, who, like the Sadducees in the
time of our blessed Saviour, were inclined to affirm “that there was
no resurrection, neither angel, nor spirit;” and God permitted the
lying wonders of infernal agents the more completely to confound the
unbelief of his enemies. He who witnessed the wonderful operations of
witchcraft, or saw the ghost of a man departed, could not doubt of
the interference of invisible agents in the concerns of our nether
world; and, if there were devils and apparitions, it would be to the
last degree unreasonable to deny the existence of God, or the miracles
of Christ. These were to be received as the grounds of the divine
permission of sorcerers, necromancers, and witches. But the rules of
the divine conduct were not to constitute the rules of ours. He might
permit the agency of invisible malice, because he saw things upon an
unlimited scale, his judgments were infallible, and he could say to
Beelzebub himself, “Thus far shalt thou go, and no further.” Those
to whose care was intrusted the welfare of mankind here or hereafter
were bound as far as possible to oppose themselves to the empire of
Satan. His power was given him only for a time, and, if not strictly
restrained of God and the powers ordained of God, it would over-run
every thing, and replunge all this beautiful scene of creation in its
original chaos. There was an endless and eternal war between God and
the devil, and the governors of the church were Heaven’s field-officers
and pioneers for carrying it on. Of all the crimes, he added, to which
the depravity of human nature had given birth, the most astonishing
and the most horrible was that of diabolical commerce. That human
creatures should be so far infatuated, as to enter into league with
the declared enemy of souls, and for the possession of a short-lived
and precarious power to sign away their spirits to eternal damnation,
was so extraordinary as to have been wholly unworthy of credit, were
it not supported by evidence as strong and irresistible as that of the
miracles of Jesus Christ himself. The persons who thus voluntarily made
themselves accursed before God deserved to be regarded with alienation
and horror by the whole human race. Every man that saw them was bound
by his baptismal engagements to destroy them; and whoever administered
to them the smallest portion of food, drink, or comfort, thereby
rendered himself a party to their guilt. The inquisition especially had
declared against this race of men eternal war, and considered their
crime as more complicated, audacious, and pestilential, than any other
branch of heresy. Having, for his own part, no doubt that I was one
of these noxious and enormous reprobates, he exhorted me to make a
voluntary confession of my evil deeds, and, by submitting readily to
the tortures and punishments of this world, endeavour to free myself,
if it were yet possible, from those of the world to come.
These discourses of the inquisitor were variously interspersed through
the three examinations to which I was subjected a short time after I
became an inhabitant of the holy house. On my part I endeavoured to the
best of my power to repel the imputations cast upon me, to establish my
innocence, and to confound the severity of my oppressors. I told the
inquisitor, whatever might be the force of his arguments respecting
heresy and dealings with the devil, they were nothing to me. I was no
Lutheran, no anabaptist, no necromancer, no underminer of the faith
of others, or ally of the prince of the infernal regions. I proudly
and earnestly demanded to be confronted with my accusers. I asked my
examiner in his turn, What sort of justice that was, which pretended
to proceed capitally against its prisoners upon secret and unavowed
accusations? He endeavoured to stop me. He told me that I was not
brought there to arraign the methods and practices of their court;
that it did not become a prisoner put upon his defence to insult his
judges; that this contumacy could not be regarded but as an aggravation
of my guilt; and that I was bound strictly and simply to answer the
interrogatories that were proposed to me. The rebuke of the inquisitor
was unavailing. My spirit was wrought to too high a pitch to be thus
restrained; I was too firmly resolved to give the utmost force of mind
and truth to the topics of my just defence. It is the practice of the
inquisition for the prisoner to sit during his examination. I started
upon my feet.
“The mode of your proceeding,” cried I, “is the mockery of a trial.
From your fatal bar no man can go forth acquitted. How is a story to be
refuted, when hardly and with difficulty you suffer your prisoner to
collect the slightest fragments of it? If I would detect a calumny, is
it not requisite that I should be acquainted with its history, and know
its authors and propagators? Then I may perhaps be able to confound
their forgeries, to show the groundlessness of their allegations, to
expose the baseness of their purposes and the profligacy of their
characters. I am informed of nothing; yet I am bid, first to be my
own accuser, and then to answer the accusations of others. It is only
by following a falsehood through all its doublings that it can be
effectually destroyed. You bid me unravel a web, and will not suffer me
to touch it with one of my fingers. The defence of the purest innocence
is often difficult, sometimes impossible, against the artfulness
of a malicious tale, or the fortuitous concurrence of unfavourable
appearances. But you strip innocence of those consecrated weapons by
which only it can be defended. Give to an accusation the particulars
with which what really happens must always be attended, give to it
the circumstances of place and of time, lay aside the ambiguity and
generalities in which you shelter yourselves, and then, perhaps then
only, it can be victoriously repelled. You ask me a thousand various
and artfully constructed questions. What sort of a man do you imagine
me to be? I am not a fool, that I should be inveigled; I am not a
boy, that I should be menaced into confessions. Cease your base
and unprincipled arts! I will furnish no materials against myself.
If you know anything against me, avow it! Propose it, and I will
answer. Think not to patch up a miserable accusation out of the words
which inadvertence or weariness may cause me to utter. Shame on your
institution! May infamy overtake the system of your proceedings! That
religion which is supported by such means is viler than atheism. That
civilisation which has its basis in despotism, is more worthless and
hateful than the state of savages running wild in their woods.
“Do you not perceive that the language I am now holding to you is the
exclusive privilege of conscious innocence? The indignation I express
is no artificial rage, studiously contrived to overbear accusation.
You have it, as it flows spontaneously to my tongue, warm from the
promptings of an honest heart. If I could have consulted a friend, it
is probable he would have dissuaded me from my present demeanour as
impolitic. If I were governed by the dictates of an ordinary prudence,
I should have displayed less ardour, less resentment. But I am willing
to try whether shame cannot yet be lighted up even in the cheek of an
inquisitor.”
The father who examined me, having in vain endeavoured to check the
current of my invective, changed his manner, and assumed a tone
diametrically the reverse of mine. He professed that he felt much
compassion and interest for my misfortune, and should deem himself
happy if he could be the instrument of my deliverance. The language
I had uttered was highly indecorous, and such as seemed in itself to
call for a rigorous penance. But he should not think himself worthy the
name of a man, if he did not make suitable allowance for the bitter and
extravagant sentiments, that would occasionally find their way into
the mind of one in my unfortunate situation. So circumstanced, men
would often mistake their friends for their enemies. I regarded the
inquisition as my enemy: it was in reality my firm and disinterested
friend; zealously watchful for my body, my soul, and my estate. Other
courts had other maxims of proceeding, because their motives of action
were different; and it was but just that they should furnish their
prisoners with a defence against their frailty. But the breast of an
inquisitor was accessible to no sentiment but that of love; a burning
love of God; love of the church; love of the prisoner, who might be
wrongfully accused; love of the penitent, whom he reconciled to our
common mother, the church; love even of the incorrigible heretic
whose body he burned for the good of his soul. The inquisitor did
not discover to the prisoner the evidence adduced against him; that
was between God and the inquisitor’s conscience. But the suppression
which was thus practised rendered him doubly scrupulous and sceptical
as to the evidence he received; he sifted it with a severity that the
prisoner would in vain endeavour to imitate; and the rules of evidence
in that court were so guarded, punctilious, and minute, as to render
any mistake in its proceedings altogether impossible. For a man to be
once a prisoner of the court of inquisition, by a salutary prejudice
which prevailed through the catholic world, rendered him for ever
infamous. This was another cause of the extreme wariness and caution,
with which that court was accustomed to proceed. They first listened
to the accuser, who was obliged to give in his information on oath.
They then instituted a secret enquiry against the party accused; and,
till they had collected abundant ground for their proceeding, they did
not venture to touch a hair of his head. They elaborately classed all
the different degrees of evidence into half proof, full proof, proof
less than half, and proof less than full. When these things were duly
considered, it would appear certain that no court that had at any time
existed on earth, had ever been so tender in its proceedings, so pure
in its incitements, and so every way superior to the attacks of calumny
and malice, as the court of inquisition.
With respect to myself in particular, he said, they had not apprehended
me and put me upon my defence, without previously assembling a large
body of miscellaneous and circumstantial evidence. The evidence
they had drawn from myself was negative only, but it was strong:
the obscurity that hung about my person, who I was, and whence I
came; and the obscurity that hung about my fortune, a great visible
expenditure in Spain or in Italy, and no visible means. These were
not the signatures and tokens of innocence. They tended strongly to
confirm the accusation under which I laboured. Yet so tender was the
inquisition in its proceeding, and so chary of its reputation, that
upon these accumulated proofs and presumptions, they were not prepared
to pronounce against me. They would hear me again and again. They would
give me time to recollect myself, and for this purpose they would order
for me a coarse and scanty fare, and a solitary cell. I might depend
upon it my contumacy should be overcome. The fundamental principle of
their proceedings was borrowed from that humane and compassionate maxim
of the old Roman law, _De vita hominis nulla cunctatio est longa_;
and I should accordingly find them free from all precipitation and
impatience, and ready to indulge me with a residence, however long, in
their prisons, till my case had been sifted to the bottom.