Stanislaus, bishop of Cracow, was descended from an illustrious Polish

family. The piety of his parents was equal to their opulence, and the

latter they rendered subservient to all the purposes of charity and

benevolence. Stanislaus remained for some time undetermined, whether he

should embrace a monastic life, or engage among the secular clergy. He

was at length persuaded to the latter by Lambert Zula, bishop of Cracow,

who gave him holy orders, and made him a canon of his cathedral. Lambert

died on November 25, 1071, when all concerned in the choice of a

successor declared for Stanislaus, and he succeeded to the prelacy.

Bolislaus, the second king of Poland, had, by nature, many good

qualities, but giving away to his passions he ran into many enormities,

and at length had the appellation of Cruel bestowed upon him.

Stanislaus alone had the courage to tell him of his faults, when, taking

a private opportunity, he freely displayed to him the enormities of his

crimes. The king, greatly exasperated at his repeated freedoms, at

length determined, at any rate, to get the better of a prelate who was

so extremely faithful. Hearing one day that the bishop was by himself,

in the chapel of St. Michael, at a small distance from the town, he

despatched some soldiers to murder him. The soldiers readily undertook

the bloody task; but, when they came into the presence of Stanislaus,

the venerable aspect of the prelate struck them with such awe, that they

could not perform what they had promised. On their return, the king,

finding that they had not obeyed his orders, stormed at them violently,

snatched a dagger from one of them, and ran furiously to the chapel,

where, finding Stanislaus at the altar, he plunged the weapon into his

heart. The prelate immediately expired on the 8th of May, A. D. 1079.

CHAPTER IV.

PAPAL PERSECUTIONS.

Thus far our history of persecution has been confined principally to the

pagan world. We come now to a period, when persecution under the guise

of christianity, committed more enormities than ever disgraced the

annals of paganism. Disregarding the maxims and the spirit of the

gospel, the papal church, arming herself with the power of the sword,

vexed the church of God and wasted it for several centuries, a period

most appropriately termed in history, the "dark ages." The kings of the

earth, gave their power to the "beast," and submitted to be trodden on

by the miserable vermin that often filled the papal chair, as in the

case of Henry, emperor of Germany. The storm of papal persecution first

burst upon the Waldenses in France.

_Persecution of the Waldenses in France._

Popery having brought various innovations into the church, and

overspread the christian world with darkness and superstition, some few,

who plainly perceived the pernicious tendency of such errors, determined

to show the light of the gospel in its real purity, and to disperse

those clouds which artful priests had raised about it, in order to blind

the people, and obscure its real brightness.

The principal among these was Berengarius, who, about the year 1000,

boldly preached gospel truths, according to their primitive purity.

Many, from conviction, assented to his doctrine, and were, on that

account, called Berengarians. To Berengarius succeeded Peter Bruis, who

preached at Thoulouse, under the protection of an earl, named

Hildephonsus; and the whole tenets of the reformers, with the reasons of

their separation from the church of Rome, were published in a book

written by Bruis, under the title of ANTI-CHRIST.

By the year of Christ 1140, the number of the reformed was very great,

and the probability of its increasing alarmed the pope, who wrote to

several princes to banish them from their dominions, and employed many

learned men to write against their doctrines.

A. D. 1147, Henry of Thoulouse, being deemed their most eminent

preacher, they were called Henericians; and as they would not admit of

any proofs relative to religion, but what could be deduced from the

scriptures themselves, the popish party gave them the name of

apostolics. At length, Peter Waldo, or Valdo, a native of Lyons, eminent

for his piety and learning, became a strenuous opposer of popery; and

from him the reformed, at that time, received the appellation of

Waldenses or Waldoys.

Pope Alexander III being informed by the bishop of Lyons of these

transactions, excommunicated Waldo and his adherents, and commanded the

bishop to exterminate them, if possible, from the face of the earth; and

hence began the papal persecutions against the Waldenses.

The proceedings of Waldo and the reformed, occasioned the first rise of

the inquisitors; for pope Innocent III. authorized certain monks as

inquisitors, to inquire for, and deliver over, the reformed to the

secular power. The process was short, as an accusation was deemed

adequate to guilt, and a candid trial was never granted to the accused.

The pope, finding that these cruel means had not the intended effect,

sent several learned monks to preach among the Waldenses, and to

endeavour to argue them out of their opinions. Among these monks was one

Dominic, who appeared extremely zealous in the cause of popery. This

Dominic instituted an order, which, from him, was called the order of

Dominican friars; and the members of this order have ever since been the

principal inquisitors in the various inquisitions in the world. The

power of the inquisitors was unlimited; they proceeded against whom they

pleased, without any consideration of age, sex, or rank. Let the

accusers be ever so infamous, the accusation was deemed valid; and even

anonymous informations, sent by letter, were thought sufficient

evidence. To be rich was a crime equal to heresy; therefore many who had

money were accused of heresy, or of being favourers of heretics, that

they might be obliged to pay for their opinions. The dearest friends or

nearest kindred could not, without danger, serve any one who was

imprisoned on account of religion. To convey to those who were confined,

a little straw, or give them a cup of water, was called favouring of the

heretics, and they were prosecuted accordingly. No lawyer dared to plead

for his own brother, and their malice even extended beyond the grave;

hence the bones of many were dug up and burnt, as examples to the

living. If a man on his death-bed was accused of being a follower of

Waldo, his estates were confiscated, and the heir to them defrauded of

his inheritance; and some were sent to the Holy Land, while the

Dominicans took possession of their houses and properties, and, when the

owners returned, would often pretend not to know them. These

persecutions were continued for several centuries under different popes

and other great dignitaries of the catholic church.

_Persecutions of the Albigenses._

The Albigenses were a people of the reformed religion, who inhabited the

country of Albi. They were condemned on the score of religion, in the

council of Lateran, by order of Pope Alexander III. Nevertheless, they

increased so prodigiously, that many cities were inhabited by persons

only of their persuasion, and several eminent noblemen embraced their

doctrines. Among the latter were Raymond earl of Thoulouse, Raymond earl

of Foix, the earl of Beziers, &c.

A friar, named Peter, having been murdered in the dominions of the earl

of Thoulouse, the pope made the murder a pretence to persecute that

nobleman and his subjects. To effect this, he sent persons throughout

all Europe, in order to raise forces to act coercively against the

Albigenses, and promised paradise to all that would come to this war,

which he termed a Holy War, and bear arms for forty days. The same

indulgences were likewise held out to all who entered themselves for the

purpose as to such as engaged in crusades to the Holy Land. The brave

earl defended Thoulouse and other places with the most heroic bravery

and various success against the pope's legates and Simon earl of

Montfort, a bigoted catholic nobleman. Unable to subdue the earl of

Thoulouse openly, the king of France, and queen mother, and three

archbishops, raised another formidable army, and had the art to persuade

the earl of Thoulouse to come to a conference, when he was treacherously

seized upon, made a prisoner, forced to appear bare-footed and

bare-headed before his enemies, and compelled to subscribe an abject

recantation. This was followed by a severe persecution against the

Albigenses; and express orders that the laity should not be permitted to

read the sacred scriptures. In the year 1620 also the persecution

against the Albigenses was very severe. In 1648 a heavy persecution

raged throughout Lithuania and Poland. The cruelty of the Cossacks was

so excessive, that the Tartars themselves were ashamed of their

barbarities. Among others who suffered, was the Rev. Adrian Chalinski,

who was roasted alive by a slow fire, and whose sufferings and mode of

death may depict the horrors which the professors of christianity have

endured from the enemies of the Redeemer.

The reformation of papistical error very early was projected in France;

for in the third century a learned man, named Almericus, and six of his

disciples, were ordered to be burnt at Paris, for asserting that God was

no otherwise present in the sacramental bread than in any other bread;

that it was idolatry to build altars or shrines to saints and that it

was ridiculous to offer incense to them.

The martyrdom of Almericus and his pupils did not, however, prevent many

from acknowledging the justness of his notions, and seeing the purity of

the reformed religion, so that the truth of Christ continually

increased, and in time not only spread itself over many parts of France,

but diffused the light of the gospel over various other countries.

In the year 1524, at a town in France, called Melden, one John Clark set

up a bill on the church door, wherein he called the pope Anti-christ.

For this offence he was repeatedly whipped, and then branded on the

forehead. Going afterward to Mentz, in Lorraine, he demolished some

images, for which he had his right hand and nose cut off, and his arms

and breasts torn with pincers. He sustained these cruelties with amazing

fortitude, and was even sufficiently cool to sing the 115th psalm, which

expressly forbids idolatry; after which he was thrown into the fire, and

burnt to ashes.

Many persons of the reformed persuasion were, about this time, beaten,

racked, scourged, and burnt to death, in several parts of France but

more particularly at Paris, Malda, and Limosin.

A native of Malda was burnt by a slow fire, for saying that mass was a

plain denial of the death and passion of Christ. At Limosin, John de

Cadurco, a clergyman of the reformed religion, was apprehended,

degraded, and ordered to be burnt.

Francis Bribard, secretary to cardinal de Pellay, for speaking in favour

of the reformed, had his tongue cut out, and was then burnt, A. D. 1545.

James Cobard, a schoolmaster in the city of St. Michael, was burnt, A.

D. 1545, for saying "That mass was useless and absurd;" and about the

same time, fourteen men were burnt at Malda, their wives being compelled

to stand by and behold the execution.

A. D. 1546, Peter Chapot brought a number of bibles in the French tongue

to France, and publicly sold them there; for which he was brought to

trial, sentenced, and executed a few days afterward. Soon after, a

cripple of Meaux, a schoolmaster of Fera, named Stephen Polliot, and a

man named John English, were burnt for the faith.

Monsieur Blondel, a rich jeweller, was, A. D. 1548, apprehended at

Lyons, and sent to Paris; where he was burnt for the faith, by order of

the court, A. D. 1549. Herbert, a youth of nineteen years of age, was

committed to the flames at Dijon; as was Florent Venote, in the same

year.

In the year 1554, two men of the reformed religion, with the son and

daughter of one of them, were apprehended and committed to the castle of

Niverne. On examination, they confessed their faith, and were ordered

for execution; being smeared with grease, brimstone, and gunpowder, they

cried, "Salt on, salt on this sinful and rotten flesh!" Their tongues

were then cut out, and they were afterward committed to the flames,

which soon consumed them, by means of the combustible matter with which

they were besmeared.

_The Bartholomew Massacre at Paris, &c._

On the 22d of August, 1572, commenced this diabolical act of sanguinary

brutality. It was intended to destroy at one stroke the root of the

protestant tree, which had only before partially suffered in its

branches. The king of France had artfully proposed a marriage between

his sister and the prince of Navarre, the captain and prince of the

protestants. This imprudent marriage was publicly celebrated at Paris,

August 18, by the cardinal of Bourbon, upon a high stage erected for the

purpose. They dined in great pomp with the bishop, and supped with the

king at Paris. Four days after this, the prince, as he was coming from

the council, was shot in both arms; he then said to Maure, his deceased

mother's minister, "O my brother, I do now perceive that I am indeed

beloved of my God, since for his most holy sake I am wounded." Although

the Vidam advised him to fly, yet he abode in Paris, and was soon after

slain by Bemjus; who afterward declared he never saw a man meet death

more valiantly than the admiral. The soldiers were appointed at a

certain signal to burst out instantly to the slaughter in all parts of

the city. When they had killed the admiral, they threw him out at a

window into the street, where his head was cut off, and sent to the

pope. The savage papists, still raging against him, cut off his arms and

private members, and, after dragging him three days through the streets,

hung him up by the heels without the city. After him they slew many

great and honourable persons who were protestants; as count

Rochfoucault, Telinius, the admiral's son-in-law, Antonius, Clarimontus,

marquis of Ravely, Lewes Bussius, Bandineus, Pluvialius, Burneius, &c.

&c. and falling upon the common people, they continued the slaughter for

many days; in the three first, they slew of all ranks and conditions to

the number of 10,000. The bodies were thrown into the rivers, and blood

ran through the streets with a strong current, and the river appeared

presently like a stream of blood. So furious was their hellish rage,

that they slew all papists whom they suspected to be not very staunch to

their diabolical religion. From Paris the destruction spread to all

quarters of the realm.

At Orleans, a thousand were slain of men, women, and children, and 6000

at Rouen.

At Meldith, two hundred were put into prison, and brought out by units,

and cruelly murdered.

At Lyons, eight hundred were massacred. Here children hanging about

their parents, and parents affectionately embracing their children, were

pleasant food for the swords and blood-thirsty minds of those who call

themselves the catholic church. Here 300 were slain only in the bishop's

house; and the impious monks would suffer none to be buried.

At Augustobona, on the people hearing of the massacre at Paris, they

shut their gates that no protestants might escape, and searching

diligently for every individual of the reformed church, imprisoned and

then barbarously murdered them. The same cruelty they practised at

Avaricum, at Troys, at Thoulouse, Rouen and many other places, running

from city to city, towns, and villages, through the kingdom.

As a corroboration of this horrid carnage, the following interesting

narrative, written by a sensible and learned Roman catholic, appears in

this place, with peculiar propriety.

"The nuptials (says he) of the young king of Navarre with the French

king's sister, was solemnized with pomp; and all the endearments, all

the assurances of friendship, all the oaths sacred among men, were

profusely lavished by Catharine, the queen-mother, and by the king;

during which, the rest of the court thought of nothing but festivities,

plays, and masquerades. At last, at twelve o'clock at night, on the eve

of St. Bartholomew, the signal was given. Immediately all the houses of

the protestants were forced open at once. Admiral Coligni, alarmed by

the uproar jumped out of bed; when a company of assassins rushed in his

chamber. They were headed by one Besme, who had been bred up as a

domestic in the family of the Guises. This wretch thrust his sword into

the admiral's breast, and also cut him in the face. Besme was a German,

and being afterwards taken by the protestants, the Rochellers would have

bought him, in order to hang and quarter him; but he was killed by one

Bretanville. Henry, the young duke of Guise, who afterwards framed the

catholic league, and was murdered at Blois, standing at the door till

the horrid butchery should be completed, called aloud, 'Besme! is it

done?' Immediately after which, the ruffians threw the body out of the

window, and Coligni expired at Guise's feet.

"Count de Teligny also fell a sacrifice. He had married, about ten

months before, Coligni's daughter. His countenance was so engaging, that

the ruffians, when they advanced in order to kill him, were struck with

compassion; but others, more barbarous, rushing forward, murdered him.

"In the meantime, all the friends of Coligni were assassinated

throughout Paris; men, women, and children, were promiscuously

slaughtered; every street was strewed with expiring bodies. Some

priests, holding up a crucifix in one hand, and a dagger in the other,

ran to the chiefs of the murderers, and strongly exhorted them to spare

neither relations nor friends.

"Tavannes, marshal of France, an ignorant, superstitious soldier, who

joined the fury of religion to the rage of party, rode on horseback

through the streets of Paris, crying to his men, 'Let blood! let blood!

bleeding is as wholesome in August as in May.' In the memoirs of the

life of this enthusiastic, written by his son, we are told, that the

father, being on his death-bed, and making a general confession of his

actions, the priest said to him, with surprise, 'What! no mention of St.

Bartholomew's massacre?' to which Tavannes replied, 'I consider it as a

meritorious action, that will wash away all my sins.' Such horrid

sentiments can a false spirit of religion inspire!

"The king's palace was one of the chief scenes of the butchery: the king

of Navarre had his lodgings in the Louvre, and all his domestics were

protestants. Many of these were killed in bed with their wives; others,

running away naked, were pursued by the soldiers through the several

rooms of the palace, even to the king's antichamber. The young wife of

Henry of Navarre, awaked by the dreadful uproar, being afraid for her

consort, and for her own life, seized with horror, and half dead, flew

from her bed, in order to throw herself at the feet of the king her

brother. But scarce had she opened her chamber-door, when some of her

protestant domestics rushed in for refuge. The soldiers immediately

followed, pursued them in sight of the princess, and killed one who had

crept under her bed. Two others, being wounded with halberds, fell at

the queen's feet, so that she was covered with blood.

"Count de la Rochefoucault, a young nobleman, greatly in the king's

favour for his comely air, his politeness, and a certain peculiar

happiness in the turn of his conversation, had spent the evening till

eleven o'clock with the monarch, in pleasant familiarity; and had given

a loose, with the utmost mirth, to the sallies of his imagination. The

monarch felt some remorse, and being touched with a kind of compassion,

bid him, two or three times, not to go home, but lie in the Louvre. The

count said, he must go to his wife; upon which the king pressed him no

farther, but said, 'Let him go! I see God has decreed his death.' And in

two hours after he was murdered.

"Very few of the protestants escaped the fury of their enthusiastic

persecutors. Among these was young La Force (afterwards the famous

Marshal de la Force) a child about ten years of age, whose deliverance

was exceedingly remarkable. His father, his elder brother, and himself

were seized together by the Duke of Anjou's soldiers. These murderers

flew at all three, and struck them at random, when they all fell, and

lay one upon another. The youngest did not receive a single blow, but

appearing as if he was dead, escaped the next day; and his life, thus

wonderfully preserved, lasted four score and five years.

"Many of the wretched victims fled to the water-side, and some swam over

the Seine to the suburbs of St. Germaine. The king saw them from his

window, which looked upon the river, and fired upon them with a carbine

that had been loaded for that purpose by one of his pages; while the

queen-mother, undisturbed and serene in the midst of slaughter, looking

down from a balcony, encouraged the murderers and laughed at the dying

groans of the slaughtered. This barbarous queen was fired with a

restless ambition, and she perpetually shifted her party in order to

satiate it.

"Some days after this horrid transaction, the French court endeavoured

to palliate it by forms of law. They pretended to justify the massacre

by a calumny, and accused the admiral of a conspiracy, which no one

believed. The parliament was commanded to proceed against the memory of

Coligni; and his dead body was hung in chains on Montfaucon gallows.

The king himself went to view this shocking spectacle; when one of his

courtiers advising him to retire, and complaining of the stench of the

corpse, he replied, 'A dead enemy smells well.'--The massacres on St.

Bartholomew's day are painted in the royal saloon of the Vatican at

Rome, with the following inscription: _Pontifex_ Coligni _necem probat_,

i. e. 'The pope approves of Coligni's death.'

"The young king of Navarre was spared through policy, rather than from

the pity of the queen-mother, she keeping him prisoner till the king's

death, in order that he might be as a security and pledge for the

submission of such protestants as might effect their escape.

"This horrid butchery was not confined merely to the city of Paris. The

like orders were issued from court to the governors of all the provinces

in France; so that, in a week's time, about one hundred thousand

protestants were cut to pieces in different parts of the kingdom! Two or

three governors only refused to obey the king's orders. One of these,

named Montmorrin, governor of Auvergne, wrote the king the following

letter, which deserves to be transmitted to the latest posterity.

"SIRE--I have received an order, under your majesty's seal, to put to

death all the protestants in my province. I have too much respect for

your majesty, not to believe the letter a forgery; but if (which God

forbid) the order should be genuine, I have too much respect for your

majesty to obey it."

At Rome the horrid joy was so great, that they appointed a day of high

festival, and a jubilee, with great indulgence to all who kept it and

showed every expression of gladness they could devise! and the man who

first carried the news received 1000 crowns of the cardinal of Lorrain

for his ungodly message. The king also commanded the day to be kept with

every demonstration of joy, concluding now that the whole race of

Huguenots was extinct.

Many who gave great sums of money for their ransom were immediately

after slain; and several towns, which were under the king's promise of

protection and safety, were cut off as soon as they delivered themselves

up, on those promises, to his generals or captains.

At Bordeaux, at the instigation of a villanous monk, who used to urge

the papists to slaughter in his sermons, 264 were cruelly murdered; some

of them senators. Another of the same pious fraternity produced a

similar slaughter at Agendicum, in Maine, where the populace at the holy

inquisitors' satanical suggestion, ran upon the protestants, slew them,

plundered their houses, and pulled down their church.

The duke of Guise, entering into Bloise, suffered his soldiers to fly

upon the spoil, and slay or drown all the protestants they could find.

In this they spared neither age nor sex; defiling the women, and then

murdering them; from whence he went to Mere, and committed the same

outrages for many days together. Here they found a minister named

Cassebonius, and threw him into the river.

At Anjou, they slew Albiacus, a minister; and many women were defiled

and murdered there; among whom were two sisters, abused before their

father, whom the assassins bound to a wall to see them, and then slew

them and him.

The president of Turin, after giving a large sum for his life, was

cruelly beaten with clubs, stripped of his clothes, and hung feet

upwards, with his head and breast in the river: before he was dead, they

opened his belly, plucked out his entrails, and threw them into the

river; and then carried his heart about the city upon a spear.

At Barre great cruelty was used, even to young children, whom they cut

open, pulled out their entrails, which through very rage they knawed

with their teeth. Those who had fled to the castle, when they yielded,

were almost all hanged. Thus they did at the city of Matiscon; counting

it sport to cut off their arms and legs and afterward kill them; and for

the entertainment of their visiters, they often threw the protestants

from a high bridge into the river, saying, "Did you ever see men leap so

well?"

At Penna, after promising them safety, 300 were inhumanly butchered; and

five and forty at Albin, on the Lord's day. At Nonne, though it yielded

on conditions of safeguard, the most horrid spectacles were exhibited.

Persons of both sexes and conditions were indiscriminately murdered; the

streets ringing with doleful cries, and flowing with blood; and the

houses flaming with fire, which the abandoned soldiers had thrown in.

One woman, being dragged from her hiding place with her husband, was

first abused by the brutal soldiers, and then with a sword which they

commanded her to draw, they forced it while in her hands into the bowels

of her husband.

At Samarobridge, they murdered above 100 protestants, after promising

them peace; and at Antisidor, 100 were killed, and cast part into a

jakes, and part into a river. One hundred put into prison at Orleans,

were destroyed by the furious multitude.

The protestants at Rochelle, who were such as had miraculously escaped

the rage of hell, and fled there, seeing how ill they fared who

submitted to those holy devils, stood for their lives; and some other

cities, encouraged thereby, did the like. Against Rochelle, the king

sent almost the whole power of France, which besieged it seven months,

though, by their assaults, they did very little execution on the

inhabitants, yet, by famine, they destroyed eighteen thousand out of two

and twenty. The dead being too numerous for the living to bury, became

food for vermin and carnivorous birds. Many taking their coffins into

the church yard, laid down in them, and breathed their last. Their diet

had long been what the minds of those in plenty shudder at; even human

flesh entrails, dung, and the most loathsome things, became at last the

only food of those champions for that truth and liberty, of which the

world was not worthy. At every attack, the besiegers met with such an

intrepid reception, that they left 132 captains, with a proportionate

number of men, dead in the field. The siege at last was broken up at

the request of the duke of Anjou, the king's brother, who was proclaimed

king of Poland, and the king, being wearied out, easily complied,

whereupon honourable conditions were granted them.

It is a remarkable interference of Providence, that, in all this

dreadful massacre, not more than two ministers of the gospel were

involved in it.

The tragical sufferings of the protestants are too numerous to detail;

but the treatment of Philip de Deux will give an idea of the rest. After

the miscreants had slain this martyr in his bed, they went to his wife,

who was then attended by the midwife, expecting every moment to be

delivered. The midwife entreated them to stay the murder, at least till

the child, which was the twentieth, should be born. Notwithstanding

this, they thrust a dagger up to the hilt into the poor woman. Anxious

to be delivered, she ran into a corn loft; but hither they pursued her,

stabbed her in the belly, and then threw her into the street. By the

fall, the child came from the dying mother, and being caught up by one

of the catholic ruffians, he stabbed the infant, and then threw it into

the river.

_From the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, to the French Revolution in

1789._

The persecutions occasioned by the revocation of the edict of Nantes,

took place under Louis XIV. This edict was made by Henry the Great of

France in 1598, and secured to the protestants an equal right in every

respect, whether civil or religious, with the other subjects of the

realm. All those privileges Louis the XIII. confirmed to the protestants

by another statute, called the edict of Nismes, and kept them inviolably

to the end of his reign.

On the accession of Louis XIV. the kingdom was almost ruined by civil

wars. At this critical juncture, the protestants, heedless of our Lord's

admonition, "They that take the sword, shall perish with the sword,"

took such an active part in favour of the king, that he was constrained

to acknowledge himself indebted to their arms for his establishment on

the throne. Instead of cherishing and rewarding that party who had

fought for him, he reasoned, that the same power which had protected

could overturn him, and, listening to the popish machinations, he began

to issue out proscriptions and restrictions, indicative of his final

determination. Rochelle was presently fettered with an incredible number

of denunciations. Montaban and Millau were sacked by soldiers. Popish

commissioners were appointed to preside over the affairs of the

protestants, and there was no appeal from their ordinance, except to the

king's council. This struck at the root of their civil and religious

exercises, and prevented them, being protestants, from suing a catholic

in any court of law. This was followed by another injunction, to make an

inquiry in all parishes into whatever the protestants had said or done

for twenty years past. This filled the prisons with innocent victims,

and condemned others to the galleys or banishment. Protestants were

expelled from all offices, trades, privileges and employs; thereby

depriving them of the means of getting their bread: and they proceeded

to such excess in their brutality, that they would not suffer even the

midwives to officiate, but compelled their women to submit themselves in

that crisis of nature to their enemies, the brutal catholics. Their

children were taken from them to be educated by the catholics, and at

seven years made to embrace popery. The reformed were prohibited from

relieving their own sick or poor, from all private worship, and divine

service was to be performed in the presence of a popish priest. To

prevent the unfortunate victims from leaving the kingdom, all the

passages on the frontiers were strictly guarded; yet, by the good hand

of God, about 150,000 escaped their vigilance, and emigrated to

different countries to relate the dismal narrative.

All that has been related hitherto were only infringements on their

established charter, the edict of Nantes. At length the diabolical

revocation of that edict passed on the 18th of October, 1685, and was

registered the 22d in the vacation, contrary to all form of law.

Instantly the dragoons were quartered upon the protestants throughout

the realm, and filled all France with the like news, that the king would

no longer suffer any Huguenots in his kingdom, and therefore they must

resolve to change their religion. Hereupon the intendants in every

parish (which were popish governors and spies set over the protestants)

assembled the reformed inhabitants, and told them, they must without

delay turn catholics, either freely or by force. The protestants

replied, "They were ready to sacrifice their lives and estates to the

king, but their consciences being God's, they could not so dispose of

them."

Instantly the troops seized the gates and avenues of the cities, and

placing guards in all the passages, entered with sword in hand, crying,

"Die, or be catholics!" In short, they practised every wickedness and

horror they could devise, to force them to change their religion.

They hung both men and women by their hair or their feet, and smoked

them with hay till they were nearly dead; and if they still refused to

sign a recantation, they hung them up again and repeated their

barbarities, till, wearied out with torments without death, they forced

many to yield to them.

Others, they plucked off all the hair of their heads and beards with

pincers. Others they threw on great fires, and pulled them out again,

repeating it till they extorted a promise to recant.

Some they stripped naked, and after offering them the most infamous

insults, they stuck them with pins from head to foot, and lanced them

with penknives; and sometimes with red-hot pincers they dragged them by

the nose till they promised to turn. Sometimes they tied fathers and

husbands, while they ravished their wives and daughters before their

eyes. Multitudes they imprisoned in the most noisome dungeons, where

they practised all sorts of torments in secret. Their wives and children

they shut up in monasteries.

Such as endeavoured to escape by flight were pursued in the woods and

hunted in the fields, and shot at like wild beasts; nor did any

condition or quality screen them from the ferocity of these infernal

dragoons: even the members of parliament and military officers, though

on actual service, were ordered to quit their posts, and repair directly

to their houses to suffer the like storm. Such as complained to the king

were sent to the Bastile, where they drank of the same cup. The bishops

and the intendants marched at the head of the dragoons, with a troop of

missionaries, monks, and other ecclesiastics, to animate the soldiers to

an execution so agreeable to their holy church, and so glorious to their

demon god and their tyrant king.

In forming the edict to repeal the edict of Nantes, the council were

divided; some would have all the ministers detained and forced into

popery as well as the laity: others were for banishing them, because

their presence would strengthen the protestants in perseverance: and if

they were forced to turn, they would ever be secret and powerful enemies

in the bosom of the church, by their great knowledge and experience in

controversial matters. This reason prevailing, they were sentenced to

banishment, and only fifteen days allowed them to depart the kingdom.

The same day the edict for revoking the protestant's charter was

published, they demolished their churches, and banished their ministers,

whom they allowed but twenty-four hours to leave Paris. The papists

would not suffer them to dispose of their effects, and threw every

obstacle in their way to delay their escape till the limited time was

expired which subjected them to condemnation for life to the galleys.

The guards were doubled at the seaports, and the prisons were filled

with the victims, who endured torments and wants at which human nature

must shudder.

The sufferings of the ministers and others, who were sent to the

galleys, seemed to exceed all. Chained to the oar, they were exposed to

the open air night and day, at all seasons, and in all weathers; and

when through weakness of body they fainted under the oar, instead of a

cordial to revive them, or viands to refresh them, they received only

the lashes of a scourge, or the blows of a cane or rope's end. For the

want of sufficient clothing and necessary cleanliness, they were most

grievously tormented with vermin, and cruelly pinched with the cold,

which removed by night the executioners who beat and tormented them by

day. Instead of a bed, they were allowed, sick or well, only a hard

board, eighteen inches broad, to sleep on, without any covering but

their wretched apparel; which was a shirt of the coarsest canvass, a

little jerkin of red serge, slit up each side up to the arm-holes, with

open sleeves that reached not to the elbow; and once in three years they

had a coarse frock, and a little cap to cover their heads, which were

always kept close shaved as a mark of their infamy. The allowance of

provision was as narrow as the sentiments of those who condemned them

to such miseries, and their treatment when sick is too shocking to

relate, doomed to die upon the boards of a dark hold; covered with

vermin, and without the least convenience for the calls of nature. Nor

was it among the least of the horrors they endured, that, as ministers

of Christ, and honest men, they were chained side by side to felons and

the most execrable villains, whose blasphemous tongues were never idle.

If they refused to hear mass, they were sentenced to the bastinado, of

which dreadful punishment the following is a description. Preparatory to

it, the chains are taken off, and the victims delivered into the hands

of the Turks that preside at the oars, who strip them quite naked, and

stretching them upon a great gun, they are held so that they cannot

stir; during which there reigns an awful silence throughout the galley.

The Turk who is appointed the executioner, and who thinks the sacrifice

acceptable to his prophet Mahomet, most cruelly beats the wretched

victim with a rough cudgel, or knotty rope's end, till the skin is

flayed off his bones, and he is near the point of expiring; then they

apply a most tormenting mixture of vinegar and salt, and consign him to

that most intolerable hospital where thousands under their cruelties

have expired.

_Martyrdom of John Calas._

We pass over many other individual martyrdoms to insert that of John

Calas, which took place so lately as 1761, and is an indubitable proof

of the bigotry of popery, and shows that neither experience nor

improvement can root out the inveterate prejudices of the Roman

catholics, or render them less cruel or inexorable to protestants.

John Calas was a merchant of the city of Thoulouse, where he had been

settled, and lived in good repute, and had married an English woman of

French extraction. Calas and his wife were protestants, and had five

sons, whom they educated in the same religion; but Lewis, one of the

sons, became a Roman catholic, having been converted by a maid-servant,

who had lived in the family about thirty years. The father, however, did

not express any resentment or ill-will upon the occasion, but kept the

maid in the family and settled an annuity upon the son. In October,

1761, the family consisted of John Calas and his wife, one woman

servant, Mark Antony Calas, the eldest son, and Peter Calas, the second

son. Mark Antony was bred to the law, but could not be admitted to

practise, on account of his being a protestant; hence he grew

melancholy, read all the books he could procure relative to suicide, and

seemed determined to destroy himself. To this may be added, that he led

a dissipated life, was greatly addicted to gaming, and did all which

could constitute the character of a libertine; on which account his

father frequently reprehended him and sometimes in terms of severity,

which considerably added to the doom that seemed to oppress him.

On the 13th of October, 1761, Mr. Gober la Vaisse, a young gentleman

about 19 years of age, the son of La Vaisse, a celebrated advocate of

Thoulouse, about five o'clock in the evening, was met by John Calas, the

father, and the eldest son Mark Antony, who was his friend. Calas, the

father, invited him to supper, and the family and their guest sat down

in a room up one pair of stairs; the whole company, consisting of Calas

the father and his wife, Antony and Peter Calas, the sons, and La Vaisse

the guest, no other person being in the house, except the maid-servant

who has been already mentioned.

It was now about seven o'clock; the super was not long; but before it

was over, Antony left the table, and went into the kitchen, which was on

the same floor, as he was accustomed to do. The maid asked him if he was

cold? He answered, "Quite the contrary, I burn;" and then left her. In

the mean time his friend and family left the room they had supped in,

and went into a bed-chamber; the father and La Vaisse sat down together

on a sofa; the younger son Peter in an elbow chair; and the mother in

another chair; and, without making any inquiry after Antony, continued

in conversation together till between nine and ten o'clock, when La

Vaisse took his leave, and Peter, who had fallen asleep, was awakened to

attend him with a light.

On the ground floor of Calas's house was a shop and a ware-house, the

latter of which was divided from the shop by a pair of folding-doors.

When Peter Calas and La Vaisse came down stairs into the shop, they were

extremely shocked to see Antony hanging in his shirt, from a bar which

he had laid across the top of the two folding-doors, having half opened

them for that purpose. On discovery of this horrid spectacle, they

shrieked out, which brought down Calas the father, the mother being

seized with such terror as kept her trembling in the passage above. When

the maid discovered what had happened, she continued below, either

because she feared to carry an account of it to her mistress, or because

she busied herself in doing some good office to her master, who was

embracing the body of his son, and bathing it in his tears. The mother,

therefore, being thus left alone, went down and mixed in the scene that

has been already described, with such emotions as it must naturally

produce. In the mean time Peter had been sent for La Moire, a surgeon in

the neighbourhood. La Moire was not at home, but his apprentice, Mr.

Grosle, came instantly. Upon examination, he found the body quite dead;

and by this time a papistical crowd of people were gathered about the

house, and, having by some means heard that Antony Calas was suddenly

dead, and that the surgeon who had examined the body, declared that he

had been strangled, they took it into their heads he had been murdered;

and as the family was protestant, they presently supposed that the young

man was about to change his religion, and had been put to death for that

reason.

The poor father, overwhelmed with grief for the loss of his child, was

advised by his friends to send for the officers of justice to prevent

his being torn to pieces by the catholic multitude, who supposed he had

murdered his son. This was accordingly done, and David, the chief

magistrate, or capitoul, took the father, Peter the son, the mother, La

Vaisse, and the maid, all into custody, and set a guard over them. He

sent for M. de la Tour, a physician, and MM. la Marque and Perronet,

surgeons, who examined the body for marks of violence, but found none

except the mark of the ligature on the neck; they found also the hair of

the deceased done up in the usual manner, perfectly smooth, and without

the least disorder; his clothes were also regularly folded up, and laid

upon the counter, nor was his shirt either torn or unbuttoned.

Notwithstanding these innocent appearances, the capitoul thought proper

to agree with the opinion of the mob, and took it into his head that old

Calas had sent for La Vaisse, telling him that he had a son to be

hanged; that La Vaisse had come to perform the office of executioner:

and that he had received assistance from the father and brother.

As no proof of the supposed fact could be procured, the capitoul had

recourse to a monitory, or general information, in which the crime was

taken for granted, and persons were required to give such testimony

against it as they were able. This recites, that La Vaisse was

commissioned by the protestants to be their executioner in ordinary,

when any of their children were to be hanged for changing their

religion; it recites also, that, when the protestants thus hang their

children, they compel them to kneel, and one of the interrogatories was

whether any person had seen Antony Calas kneel before his father when he

strangled him; it recites likewise, that Antony died a Roman catholic,

and requires evidence of his catholicism.

But before this monitory was published, the mob had got a notion that

Antony Calas was the next day to have entered into the fraternity of the

White Penitents. The capitoul therefore caused his body to be buried in

the middle of St. Stephen's church. A few days after the interment of

the deceased, the White Penitents performed a solemn service for him in

their chapel; the church was hung with white, and a tomb was raised in

the middle of it, on the top of which was placed a human skeleton,

holding in one hand a paper, on which was written, "Abjuration of

heresy," and in the other a palm, the emblem of martyrdom. The next day

the Franciscans performed a service of the same kind for him.

The capitoul continued the persecution with unrelenting severity, and,

without the least proof coming in, thought fit to condemn the unhappy

father, mother, brother, friend, and servant, to the torture, and put

them all into irons on the 18th of November.

From these dreadful proceedings the sufferers appealed to the

parliament, which immediately took cognizance of the affair, and

annulled the sentence of the capitoul as irregular, but they continued

the prosecution, and, upon the hangman deposing it was impossible Antony

should hang himself as was pretended, the majority of the parliament

were of the opinion, that the prisoners were guilty, and therefore

ordered them to be tried by the criminal court of Thoulouse. One voted

him innocent, but after long debates the majority was for the torture

and wheel, and probably condemned the father by way of experiment,

whether he was guilty or not, hoping he would, in the agony, confess the

crime, and accuse the other prisoners, whose fate therefore, they

suspended.

Poor Calas, however, an old man of 68, was condemned to this dreadful

punishment alone. He suffered the torture with great constancy, and was

led to execution in a frame of mind which excited the admiration of all

that saw him, and particularly of the two Dominicans (father Bourges and

father Coldagues) who attended him in his last moments, and declared

that they thought him not only innocent of the crime laid to his charge,

but an exemplary instance of true christian patience, fortitude, and

charity. When he saw the executioner prepared to give him the last

stroke, he made a fresh declaration to father Bourges, but while the

words were still in his mouth, the capitoul, the author of this

catastrophe, and who came upon the scaffold merely to gratify his desire

of being a witness of his punishment and death, ran up to him, and

bawled out, "Wretch, there are the fagots which are to reduce your body

to ashes! speak the truth." M. Calas made no reply, but turned his head

a little aside, and that moment the executioner did his office.

The popular outcry against this family was so violent in Languedoc, that

every body expected to see the children of Calas broke upon the wheel,

and the mother burnt alive.

Young Donat Calas was advised to fly into Switzerland: he went, and

found a gentleman who, at first, could only pity and relieve him,

without daring to judge of the rigour exercised against the father,

mother, and brothers. Soon after, one of the brothers, who was only

banished, likewise threw himself into the arms of the same person, who,

for more than a month, took every possible precaution to be assured of

the innocence of the family. Once convinced, he thought himself obliged,

in conscience, to employ his friends, his purse, his pen, and his

credit, to repair the fatal mistake of the seven judges of Thoulouse,

and to have the proceedings revised by the king's council. This revision

lasted three years, and it is well known what honour Messrs. de Grosne

and Bacquancourt acquired by investigating this memorable cause. Fifty

masters of the Court of Requests unanimously declared the whole family

of Calas innocent, and recommended them to the benevolent justice of his

majesty. The duke de Choiseul, who never let slip an opportunity of

signalizing the greatness of his character, not only assisted this

unfortunate family with money, but obtained for them a gratuity of

36,000 livres from the king.

On the ninth of March, 1765, the arret was signed which justified the

family of Calas, and changed their fate. The ninth of March, 1762, was

the very day on which the innocent and virtuous father of that family

had been executed. All Paris ran in crowds to see them come out of

prison, and clapped their hands for joy while the tears streamed from

their eyes.

This dreadful example of bigotry employed the pen of Voltaire in

deprecation of the horrors of superstition; and though an infidel

himself, his essay on toleration does honour to his pen, and has been a

blessed means of abating the rigour of persecution in most European

states. Gospel purity will equally shun superstition and cruelty, as the

mildness of Christ's tenets teaches only to comfort in this world, and

to procure salvation in the next. To persecute for being of a different

opinion, is as absurd as to persecute for having a different

countenance: if we honour God, keep sacred the pure doctrines of Christ,

put a full confidence in the promises contained in the holy scriptures,

and obey the political laws of the state in which we reside, we have an

undoubted right to protection instead of persecution, and to serve

heaven as our consciences, regulated by the gospel rules, may direct.

CHAPTER V.

AN ACCOUNT OF THE INQUISITION.

When the reformed religion began to diffuse the gospel light throughout

church. He accordingly instituted a number of inquisitors, or persons

who were to make inquiry after, apprehend, and punish, heretics, as the

reformed were called by the papists.

At the head of these inquisitors was one Dominic, who had been canonized

by the pope, in order to render his authority the more respectable.

Dominic, and the other inquisitors, spread themselves into various Roman

catholic countries, and treated the protestants with the utmost

severity. In process of time, the pope, not finding these roving

inquisitors so useful as he had imagined, resolved upon the

establishment of fixed and regular courts of inquisition. After the

order for these regular courts, the first office of inquisition was

established in the city of Thoulouse, and Dominic became the first

regular inquisitor, as he had before been the first roving inquisitor.

Courts of inquisition were now erected in several countries; but the

Spanish inquisition became the most powerful, and the most dreaded of

any. Even the kings of Spain themselves, though arbitrary in all other

respects, were taught to dread the power of the lords of the

inquisition; and the horrid cruelties they exercised compelled

multitudes, who differed in opinion from the Roman catholics, carefully

to conceal their sentiments.

The most zealous of all the popish monks, and those who most implicitly

obeyed the church of Rome, were the Dominicans and Franciscans: these,

therefore, the pope thought proper to invest with an exclusive right of

presiding over the different court of inquisition, and gave them the

most unlimited powers, as judges delegated by him, and immediately

representing his person: they were permitted to excommunicate, or

sentence to death whom they thought proper, upon the most slight

information of heresy. They were allowed to publish crusades against all

whom they deemed heretics, and enter into leagues with sovereign

princes, to join their crusades with their forces.

In 1244, their power was farther increased by the emperor Frederic the

Second, who declared himself the protector and friend of all the

inquisitors, and published the cruel edicts, viz. 1. That all heretics

who continued obstinate, should be burnt. 2. That all heretics who

repented, should be imprisoned for life.

This zeal in the emperor, for the inquisitors of the Roman catholic

persuasion, arose from a report which had been propagated throughout

Europe, that he intended to renounce christianity, and turn Mahometan;

the emperor therefore, attempted, by the height of bigotry to contradict

the report, and to show his attachment to popery by cruelty.

The officers of the inquisition are three inquisitors, or judges, a

fiscal proctor, two secretaries, a magistrate, a messenger, a receiver,

a jailer, an agent of confiscated possessions; several assessors,

counsellors, executioners, physicians, surgeons, door-keepers,

familiars, and visiters, who are sworn to secrecy.

The principal accusation against those who are subject to this tribunal

is heresy, which comprises all that is spoken, or written, against any

of the articles of the creed, or the traditions of the Roman church. The

inquisition likewise takes cognizance of such as are accused of being

magicians, and of such who read the bible in the common language, the

Talmud of the Jews, or the Alcoran of the Mahometans.

Upon all occasions the inquisitors carry on their processes with the

utmost severity, and punish those who offend them with the most

unparalleled cruelty. A protestant has seldom any mercy shown him, and a

Jew, who turns christian, is far from being secure.

A defence in the inquisition is of little use to the prisoner, for a

suspicion only is deemed sufficient cause of condemnation, and the

greater his wealth the greater his danger. The principal part of the

inquisitors' cruelties is owing to their rapacity: they destroy the life

to possess the property; and, under the pretence of zeal, plunder each

obnoxious individual.

A prisoner in the inquisition is never allowed to see the face of his

accuser, or of the witnesses against him, but every method is taken by

threats and tortures, to oblige him to accuse himself, and by that means

corroborate their evidence. If the jurisdiction of the inquisition is

not fully allowed, vengeance is denounced against such as call it in

question for if any of its officers are opposed, those who oppose them

are almost certain to be sufferers for their temerity; the maxim of the

inquisition being to strike terror, and awe those who are the objects of

its power into obedience. High birth, distinguished rank, great dignity,

or eminent employments, are no protection from its severities; and the

lowest officers of the inquisition can make the highest characters

tremble.

When the person impeached is condemned, he is either severely whipped,

violently tortured, sent to the galleys, or sentenced to death; and in

either case the effects are confiscated. After judgment, a procession is

performed to the place of execution, which ceremony is called an AUTO DE

FE, or act of faith.

The following is an account of an auto de fe, performed at Madrid in the

year 1682.

The officers of the inquisition, preceded by trumpets, kettle-drums, and

their banner, marched on the 30th of May, in cavalcade, to the palace of

the great square, where they declared by proclamation, that, on the 30th

of June, the sentence of the prisoners would be put in execution.

Of these prisoners, twenty men and women, with one renegade Mahometan,

were ordered to be burned; fifty Jews and Jewesses, having never before

been imprisoned, and repenting of their crimes were sentenced to a long

confinement, and to wear a yellow cap. The whole court of Spain was

present on this occasion. The grand inquisitor's chair was placed in a

sort of tribunal far above that of the king.

Among those who were to suffer, was a young Jewess of exquisite beauty,

and but seventeen years of age. Being on the same side of the scaffold

where the queen was seated, she addressed her, in hopes of obtaining a

pardon, in the following pathetic speech: "Great queen, will not your

royal presence be of some service to the in my miserable condition! Have

regard to my youth; and, oh! consider, that I am about to die for

professing a religion imbibed from my earliest infancy!" Her majesty

seemed greatly to pity her distress, but turned away her eyes, as she

did not dare to speak a word in behalf of a person who had been declared

a heretic.

Now mass began, in the midst of which the priest came from the altar,

placed himself near the scaffold, and seated himself in a chair prepared

for that purpose.

The chief inquisitor then descended from the amphitheatre, dressed in

his cope, and having a mitre on his head. After having bowed to the

altar, he advanced towards the king's balcony, and went up to it,

attended by some of his officers, carrying a cross and the gospels, with

a book containing the oath by which the kings of Spain oblige themselves

to protect the catholic faith, to extirpate heretics, and to support

with all their power and force the prosecutions and decrees of the

inquisition: a like oath was administered to the counsellors and whole

assembly. The mass was begun about twelve at noon, and did not end till

nine in the evening, being protracted by a proclamation of the sentences

of the several criminals, which were already separately rehearsed aloud

one after the other.

After this, followed the burning of the twenty-one men and women, whose

intrepidity in suffering that horrid death was truly astonishing. The

king's near situation to the criminals rendered their dying groans very

audible to him; he could not, however, be absent from this dreadful

scene, as it is esteemed a religious one; and his coronation oath

obliges him to give a sanction by his presence to all the acts of the

tribunal.

What we have already said may be applied to inquisitions in general, as

well as to that of Spain in particular. The inquisition belonging to

Portugal is exactly upon a similar plan to that of Spain, having been

instituted much about the same time, and put under the same regulations.

The inquisitors allow the torture to be used only three times, but

during those times it is so severely inflicted, that the prisoner either

dies under it, or continues always after a cripple, and suffers the

severest pains upon every change of weather. We shall give an ample

description of the severe torments occasioned by the torture, from the

account of one who suffered it the three respective times, but happily

survived the cruelties he underwent.

At the first time of torturing, six executioners entered, stripped him

naked to his drawers, and laid him upon his back on a kind of stand,

elevated a few feet from the floor. The operation commenced by putting

an iron collar round his neck, and a ring to each foot, which fastened

him to the stand. His limbs being thus stretched out, they wound two

ropes round each thigh; which ropes being passed under the scaffold,

through holes made for that purpose, were all drawn tight at the same

instant of time, by four of the men, on a given signal.

It is easy to conceive that the pains which immediately succeeded were

intolerable; the ropes, which were of a small size, cut through the

prisoner's flesh to the bone, making the blood to gush out at eight

different places thus bound at a time. As the prisoner persisted in not

making any confession of what the inquisitors required, the ropes were

drawn in this manner four times successively.

The manner of inflicting the second torture was as follows: they forced

his arms backwards so that the palms of his hands were turned outward

behind him; when, by means of a rope that fastened them together at the

wrists, and which was turned by an engine, they drew them by degrees

nearer each other, in such a manner that the back of each hand touched,

and stood exactly parallel to each other. In consequence of this violent

contortion, both his shoulders became dislocated, and a considerable

quantity of blood issued from his mouth. This torture was repeated

thrice; after which he was again taken to the dungeon, and the surgeon

set the dislocated bones.

Two months after the second torture, the prisoner being a little

recovered, was again ordered to the torture-room, and there, for the

last time, made to undergo another kind of punishment, which was

inflicted twice without any intermission. The executioners fastened a

thick iron chain round his body, which crossing at the breast,

terminated at the wrists. They then placed him with his back against a

thick board, at each extremity whereof was a pulley, through which there

ran a rope that caught the end of the chain at his wrists. The

executioner then, stretching the end of this rope by means of a roller,

placed at a distance behind him, pressed or bruised his stomach in

proportion as the ends of the chains were drawn tighter. They tortured

him in this manner to such a degree, that his wrists, as well as his

shoulders, were quite dislocated. They were, however, soon set by the

surgeons; but the barbarians, not yet satisfied with this species of

cruelty, made him immediately undergo the like torture a second time,

which he sustained (though, if possible, attended with keener pains,)

with equal constancy and resolution. After this, he was again remanded

to his dungeon, attended by the surgeon to dress his bruises and adjust

the part dislocated, and here he continued till their Auto de Fe, or

jail delivery, when he was discharged, crippled and diseased for life.

_An account of the cruel Handling and Burning of Nicholas Burton, an

English Merchant, in Spain._

The fifth day of November, about the year of our Lord 1560, Mr. Nicholas

Burton, citizen sometime of London, and merchant, dwelling in the parish

of Little St. Bartholomew, peaceably and quietly following his traffic in

the trade of merchandize, and being in the city of Cadiz, in the party

of Andalusia, in Spain, there came into his lodging a Judas, or, as they

term them, a familiar of the fathers of the inquisition; who asking for

the said Nicholas Burton, feigned that he had a letter to deliver into

his own hands; by which means he spake with him immediately. And having

no letter to deliver to him, then the said promoter, or familiar, at the

motion of the devil his master, whose messenger he was, invented another

lie, and said, that he would take lading for London in such ships as the

said Nicholas Burton had freighted to lade, if he would let any; which

was partly to know where he loaded his goods, that they might attach

them, and chiefly to protract the time until the sergeant of the

inquisition might come and apprehend the body of the said Nicholas

Burton; which they did incontinently.

He then well perceiving that they were not able to burden or charge him

that he had written, spoke, or done any thing there in that country

against the ecclesiastical or temporal laws of the same realm, boldly

asked them what they had to lay to his charge that they did so arrest

him, and bade them to declare the cause, and he would answer them.

Notwithstanding they answered nothing, but commanded him with

threatening words to hold his peace, and not speak one word to them.

And so they carried him to the filthy common prison of the town of

Cadiz, where he remained in irons fourteen days amongst thieves.

All which time he so instructed the poor prisoners in the word of God,

according to the good talent which God had given him in that behalf, and

also in the Spanish tongue to utter the same, that in that short space

he had well reclaimed several of those superstitious and ignorant

Spaniards to embrace the word of God, and to reject their popish

traditions.

Which being known unto the officers of the inquisition, they conveyed

him laden with irons from thence to a city called Seville, into a more

cruel and straiter prison called Triana, where the said fathers of the

inquisition proceeded against him secretly according to their

accustomable cruel tyranny, that never after he could be suffered to

write or speak to any of his nation: so that to this day it is unknown

who was his accuser.

Afterward, the 20th of December, they brought the said Nicholas Burton,

with a great number of other prisoners, for professing the true

Christian religion, into the city of Seville, to a place where the said

inquisitors sat in judgment which they called Auto, with a canvass coat,

whereupon in divers parts was painted the figure of a huge devil,

tormenting a soul in a flame of fire, and on his head a copping tank of

the same work.

His tongue was forced out of his mouth with a cloven stick fastened upon

it, that he should not utter his conscience and faith to the people, and

so he was set with another Englishman of Southampton, and divers other

condemned men for religion, as well Frenchmen as Spaniards, upon a

scaffold over against the said inquisition, where their sentences and

judgments were read and pronounced against them.

And immediately after the said sentences given, they were carried from

thence to the place of execution without the city, where they most

cruelly burned them, for whose constant faith, God be praised.

This Nicholas Burton by the way, and in the flames of fire, had so

cheerful a countenance, embracing death with all patience and gladness,

that the tormentors and enemies which stood by, said, that the devil had

his soul before he came to the fire; and therefore they said his senses

of feeling were past him.

It happened that after the arrest of Nicholas Burton aforesaid,

immediately all the goods and merchandize which he brought with him into

Spain by the way of traffic, were (according to their common usage)

seized, and taken into the sequester; among which they also rolled up

much that appertained to another English merchant, wherewith he was

credited as factor. Whereof so soon as news was brought to the merchant

as well of the imprisonment of his factor, as of the arrest made upon

his goods, he sent his attorney into Spain, with authority from him to

make claim to his goods, and to demand them; whose name was John

Fronton, citizen of Bristol.

When his attorney was landed at Seville, and had shown all his letters

and writings to the holy house, requiring them that such goods might be

delivered into his possession, answer was made to him that he must sue

by bill, and retain an advocate (but all was doubtless to delay him,)

and they forsooth of courtesy assigned him one to frame his supplication

for him, and other such bills of petition, as he had to exhibit into

their holy court, demanding for each bill eight rials, albeit they stood

him in no more stead than if he had put up none at all. And for the

space of three or four months this fellow missed not twice a day

attending every morning and afternoon at the inquisitors' palace, suing

unto them upon his knees for his despatch, but especially to the bishop

of Tarracon, who was at that very time chief in the inquisition at

Seville, that he of his absolute authority would command restitution to

be made thereof; but the booty was so good and great, that it was very

hard to come by it again.

At length, after he had spent four whole months in suits and requests,

and also to no purpose, he received this answer from them, That he must

show better evidence, and bring more sufficient certificates out of

England for proof of this matter, than those which he had already

presented to the court. Whereupon the party forthwith posted to London,

and with all speed returned to Seville again with more ample and large

letters testimonial, and certificates, according to their requests, and

exhibited them to the court.

Notwithstanding the inquisitors still shifted him off, excusing

themselves by lack of leisure, and for that they were occupied in more

weighty affairs, and with such answers put him off, four months after.

At last, when the party had well nigh spent all his money, and therefore

sued the more earnestly for his despatch, they referred the matter

wholly to the bishop. Of whom, when he repaired unto him, he made this

answer, That for himself, he knew what he had to do, howbeit he was but

one man, and the determination appertained to the other commissioners as

well as unto him; and thus by posting and passing it from one to

another, the party could obtain no end of his suit. Yet for his

importunity's sake, they were resolved to despatch him: it was on this

sort: one of the inquisitors, called Gasco, a man very well experienced

in these practices, willed the party to resort unto him after dinner.

The fellow being glad to hear this news, and supposing that his goods

should be restored unto him, and that he was called in for that purpose

to talk with the other that was in prison to confer with him about their

accounts, rather through a little misunderstanding, hearing the

inquisitors cast out a word, that it should be needful for him to talk

with the prisoner, and being thereupon more than half persuaded, that at

length they meant good faith, did so, and repaired thither about the

evening. Immediately upon his coming, the jailer was forthwith charged

with him, to shut him up close in such a prison where they appointed

him.

The party, hoping at the first that he had been called for about some

other matter, and seeing himself, contrary to his expectation, cast into

a dark dungeon, perceived at length that the world went with him far

otherwise than he supposed it would have done.

But within two or three days after, he was brought into the court where

he began to demand his goods: and because it was a device that well

served their turn without any more circumstance, they bid him say his

Ave Maria; "Ave Maria gratia plena, Dominus tecum, benedicta tu in

mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui Jesus. Amen."

The same was written word by word as he spake it, and without any more

talk of claiming his goods, because it was needless, they commanded him

to prison again, and entered an action against him as a heretic,

forasmuch as he did not say his Ave Maria after the Romish fashion, but

ended it very suspiciously, for he should have added moreover; "Sancta

Maria mater Dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus:" by abbreviating whereof,

it was evident enough (said they) that he did not allow the mediation of

saints.

Thus they picked a quarrel to detain him in prison a longer season, and

afterward brought him forth upon their stage disguised after their

manner; where sentence was given, that he should lose all the goods

which he sued for, though they were not his own, and besides this,

suffer a year's imprisonment.

Mark Brughes, an Englishman, master of an English ship called the

Minion, was burnt in a city in Portugal.

William Hoker, a young man about the age of sixteen years, being an

Englishman, was stoned to death by certain young men in the city of

Seville, for the same righteous cause.

_Some private Enormities of the inquisition laid open, by a very

singular occurrence._

When the crown of Spain was contested for in the beginning of the

present century, by two princes, who equally pretended to the

sovereignty, France espoused the cause of one competitor, and England of

the other.

The duke of Berwick, a natural son of James II. who abdicated England,

commanded the Spanish and French forces, and defeated the English at the

celebrated battle of Almanza. The army was then divided into two parts;

the one consisting of Spaniards and French, headed by the duke of

Berwick, advanced towards Catalonia; the other body, consisting of

French troops only, commanded by the duke of Orleans, proceeded to the

conquest of Arragon.

As the troops drew near to the city of Arragon, the magistrates came to

offer the keys to the duke of Orleans; but he told them, haughtily, they

were rebels, and that he would not accept the keys, for he had orders to

enter the city through a breach.

He accordingly made a breach in the walls with his cannon, and then

entered the city through it, together with his whole army.--When he had

made every necessary regulation here, he departed to subdue other

places, leaving a strong garrison at once to overawe and defend, under

the command of his lieutenant-general M. de Legal. This gentleman,

though brought up a Roman catholic, was totally free from superstition:

he united great talents with great bravery: and was, at once, the

skilful officer, and accomplished gentleman.

The duke, before his departure, had ordered that heavy contributions

should be levied upon the city to the following manner:

1. That the magistrates and principal inhabitants should pay a thousand

crowns per month for the duke's table.

2. That every house should pay one pistole, which would monthly amount

to 18,000 pistoles.

3. That every convent and monastery should pay a donative,

proportionable to its riches and rents.

The two last contributions to be appropriated to the maintenance of the

army.

The money levied upon the magistrates and principal inhabitants, and

upon every house, was paid as soon as demanded; but when the proper

persons applied to the heads of convents and monasteries, they found

that the ecclesiastics were not so willing, as other people, to part

with their cash.

Of the donatives to be raised by the clergy:

The college of Jesuits to pay 2000 pistoles

Carmelites, 1000

Augustins, 1000

Dominicans 1000

M. de Legal sent to the Jesuits a peremptory order to pay the money

immediately. The superior of the Jesuits returned for answer, that for

the clergy to pay money for the army was against all ecclesiastical

immunities; and that he knew of no argument which could authorize such a

procedure. M. de Legal then sent four companies of dragoons to quarter

themselves in the college, with this sarcastic message, "To convince you

of the necessity of paying the money, I have sent four substantial

arguments to your college, drawn from the system of military logic; and,

therefore, hope you will not need any further admonition to direct your

conduct."

These proceedings greatly perplexed the Jesuits, who despatched an

express to court to the king's confessor, who was of their order; but

the dragoons were much more expeditious in plundering and doing

mischief, than the courier in his journey: so that the Jesuits, seeing

every thing going to wreck and ruin, thought proper to adjust the matter

amicably, and paid the money before the return of their messenger. The

Augustins and Carmelites, taking warning by what had happened to the

Jesuits, prudently went and paid the money, and by that means escaped

the study of military arguments, and of being taught logic by dragoons.

But the Dominicans, who were all familiars of, or agents dependent on,

the inquisition, imagined, that that very circumstance would be their

protection; but they were mistaken, for M. de Legal neither feared nor

respected the inquisition. The chief of the Dominicans sent word to the

military commander that his order was poor, and had not any money

whatever to pay the donative; for, says he, the whole wealth of the

Dominicans consists only in the silver images of the apostles and

saints, as large as life, which are placed in our church, and which it

would be sacrilege to remove.

This insinuation was meant to terrify the French commander, whom the

inquisitors imagined would not dare to be so profane as to wish for the

possession of the precious idols.

He, however, sent word that the silver images would make admirable

substitutes for money, and would be more in character in his possession,

than in that of the Dominicans themselves, "For, (said he) while you

possess them in the manner you do at present, they stand up in niches,

useless and motionless, without being of the least benefit to mankind in

general, or even to yourselves; but, when they come into my possession,

they shall be useful; I will put them in motion; for I intend to have

them coined, when they may travel like the apostles, be beneficial in

various places, and circulate for the universal service of mankind."

The inquisitors were astonished at this treatment, which they never

expected to receive, even from crowned heads; they therefore determined

to deliver their precious images in a solemn procession, that they might

excite the people to an insurrection. The Dominican friars were

accordingly ordered to march to De Legal's house, with the silver

apostles and saints, in a mournful manner, having lighted tapers with

them, and bitterly crying all the way, heresy, heresy.

M. de Legal, hearing these proceedings, ordered four companies of

grenadiers to line the street which led to his house; each grenadier was

ordered to have his loaded fuzee in one hand, and a lighted taper in the

other; so that the troops might either repel force with force, or do

honour to the farcical solemnity.

The friars did all they could to raise the tumult, but the common people

were too much afraid of the troops under arms to obey them, the silver

images were, therefore, of necessity delivered up to M. de Legal, who

sent them to the mint, and ordered them to be coined immediately.

The project of raising an insurrection having failed, the inquisitors

determined to excommunicate M. de Legal, unless he would release their

precious silver saints from imprisonment in the mint, before they were

melted down, or otherwise mutilated. The French commander absolutely

refused to release the images, but said they should certainly travel and

do good; upon which the inquisitors drew up the form of excommunication,

and ordered their secretary to go and read it to M. De Legal.

The secretary punctually performed his commission, and read the

excommunication deliberately and distinctly. The French commander heard

it with great patience, and politely told the secretary he would answer

it the next day.

When the secretary of the inquisition was gone, M. De Legal ordered his

own secretary to prepare a form of excommunication, exactly like that

sent by the inquisition; but to make this alteration, instead of his

name to put in those of the inquisitors.

The next morning he ordered four regiments under arms, and commanded

them to accompany his secretary, and act as he directed.

The secretary went to the inquisition, and insisted upon admittance,

which, after a great deal of altercation, was granted. As soon as he

entered, he read, in an audible voice, the excommunication sent by M. De

Legal against the inquisitors. The inquisitors were all present, and

heard it with astonishment, never having before met with any individual

who dared behave so boldly. They loudly cried out against De Legal, as a

heretic; and said, this was a most daring insult against the catholic

faith. But, to surprise them still more, the French secretary told them,

they must remove from their present lodgings; for the French commander

wanted to quarter the troops in the inquisition, as it was the most

commodious place in the whole city.

The inquisitors exclaimed loudly upon this occasion, when the secretary

put them under a strong guard, and sent them to a place appointed by M.

De Legal to receive them. The inquisitors, finding how things went,

begged that they might be permitted to take their private property,

which was granted, and they immediately set out for Madrid, where they

made the most bitter complaints to the king; but the monarch told them,

he could not grant them any redress, as the injuries they had received

were from his grandfather, the king of France's troops, by whose

assistance alone he could be firmly established in his kingdom. "Had it

been my own troops, (said he) I would have punished them; but as it is,

I cannot pretend to exert any authority."

In the mean time, M. De Legal's secretary set open all the doors of the

inquisition, and released the prisoners, who amounted in the whole to

400; and among these were 60 beautiful young women, who appeared to form

a seraglio for the three principal inquisitors.

This discovery, which laid the enormity of the inquisitors so open,

greatly alarmed the archbishop, who desired M. De Legal to send the

women to his palace, and he would take proper care of them; and at the

same time he published an ecclesiastical censure against all such as

should ridicule, or blame, the holy office of the inquisition.

The French commander sent word to the archbishop, that the prisoners had

either run away, or were so securely concealed by their friends, or even

by his own officers, that it was impossible for him to send them back

again; and, therefore, the inquisition having committed such atrocious

actions, must now put up with their exposure.

One of the ladies thus happily delivered from captivity, was afterward

married to the very French officer who opened the door of her dungeon,

and released her from confinement. The lady related the following

circumstances to her husband, and to M. Gavin, (author of the Master Key

to Popery) from the latter of whom we have selected the most material

particulars.

"I went one day (says the lady) with my mother, to visit the countess

Attarass, and I met there Don Francisco Tirregon, her confessor and

second inquisitor of the holy office.

After we had drunk chocolate, he asked me my age, my confessor's name,

and many intricate questions about religion. The severity of his

countenance frightened me, which he perceiving, told the countess to

inform me, that he was not so severe as he looked for. He then caressed

me in a most obliging manner, presented his hand, which I kissed with

great reverence and modesty; and, as he went away, he made use of this

remarkable expression. My dear child, I shall remember you till the next

time. I did not, at the time, mark the sense of the words; for I was

inexperienced in matters of gallantry, being, at that time but fifteen

years old. Indeed, he unfortunately did remember me, for the very same

night, when our whole family were in bed, we heard a great knocking at

the door.

The maid, who laid in the same room with me, went to the window, and

inquired who was there. The answer was, THE HOLY INQUISITION. On hearing

this I screamed out, Father! father! dear father, I am ruined forever!

My father got up, and came to me to know the occasion of my crying out;

I told him the inquisitors were at the door. On hearing this, instead of

protecting me, he hurried down stairs as fast as possible; and, lest the

maid should be too slow, opened the street door himself; under such

abject and slavish fears, are bigoted minds! as soon as he knew they

came for me, he fetched me with great solemnity, and delivered me to the

officers with much submission.

I was hurried into a coach, with no other clothing than a petticoat and

a mantle, for they would not let me stay to take any thing else. My

fright was so great, I expected to die that very night; but judge my

surprise, when I was ushered into an apartment, decorated with all the

elegance that taste, united with opulence, could bestow.

Soon after the officers left me, a maid servant appeared with a silver

salver, on which were sweetmeats and cinnamon water. She desired me to

take some refreshment before I went to bed; I told her I could not, but

should be glad if she could inform me whether I was to be put to death

that night or not.

"To be put to death! (exclaimed she) you do not come here to be put to

death, but to live like a princess, and you shall want for nothing in

the world, but the liberty of going out; so pray don't be afraid, but go

to bed and sleep easy; for to-morrow you shall see wonders within this

house; and as I am chosen to be your waiting-maid, I hope you'll be very

kind to me."

I was going to ask some questions, but she told me she must not answer

any thing more till the next day, but assured me that nobody would come

to disturb me. I am going, she said, about a little business but I will

come back presently, for my bed is in the closet next yours, so she left

me for about a quarter of an hour, and then returned. She then said,

madam, pray let me know when you will be pleased have your chocolate

ready in the morning.

This greatly surprised me, so that without replying to her question, I

asked her name;--she said, my name is Mary. Mary, then, said I, for

heaven's sake, tell me whether I am brought here to die or not?--I have

told you already, replied she, that you came here to be one of the

happiest ladies in the world.

We went to bed, but the fear of death prevented me from sleeping the

whole night; Mary waked; she was surprised to find me up, but she soon

rose, and after leaving me for about half an hour, she brought in two

cups of chocolate, and some biscuit on a silver plate.

I drank one cup of chocolate, and desired her to drink the other, which

she did: when we had done, I said, well, Mary, can you give me any

account of the reasons for my being brought here? To which she answered,

not yet, madam, you must have patience, and immediately slipped out of

the room.

About half an hour after, she brought a great quantity of elegant

clothes, suitable to a lady of the highest rank, and told me, I must

dress myself. Among several trinkets which accompanied the clothes, I

observed, with surprise, a snuff box, in the lid of which was a picture

of Don Francisco Tirregon. This unravelled to me the mystery of my

confinement, and at the same time roused my imagination to contrive how

to evade receiving the present. If I absolutely refused it, I thought

immediate death must ensue; and to accept it, was giving him too much

encouragement against my honour. At length I hit upon a medium, and said

to Mary, pray present my respects to Don Francisco Tirregon, and tell

him, that, as I could not bring my clothes along with me last night,

modesty permits me to accept of these garments, which are requisite to

keep me decent; but since I do not take snuff, I hope his lordship will

excuse me in not accepting his box.

Mary went with my answer, and soon returned with Don Francisco's

portrait elegantly set in gold, and richly embellished with diamonds.

This message accompanied it: "That his lordship had made a mistake, his

intent not being to send me a snuffbox, but his portrait." I was at a

great loss what to do; when Mary said, pray, madam, take my poor advice;

accept of the portrait, and every thing else that his lordship sends

you; for if you do not, he can compel you to do what he pleases, and put

you to death when he thinks proper, without any body being able to

defend you. But if you are obliging to him, continued she, he will be

very kind, and you will be as happy as a queen; you will have elegant

apartments to live in, beautiful gardens to range in, and agreeable

ladies to visit you: therefore, I advise you to send a civil answer, or

even not to deny a visit from his lordship, or perhaps you may repent of

your disrespect.

O, my God! exclaimed I, must I sacrifice my honour to my fears, and give

up my virtue to his despotic power? Alas! what can I do? To resist, is

vain. If I oppose his desires, force will obtain what chastity refuses.

I now fell into the greatest agonies, and told Mary to return what

answer she thought proper.

She said she was glad of my humble submission, and ran to acquaint Don

Francisco with it. In a few minutes she returned, with joy in her

countenance, telling me his lordship would honour me with his company to

supper. "And now give me leave, madam, (said she) to call you mistress,

for I am to wait upon you. I have been in a holy office fourteen years,

and know all the customs perfectly well; but as silence is imposed upon

me, under pain of death, I can only answer such questions as immediately

relate to your own person. But I would advise you never to oppose the

holy father's will; or if you see any young ladies about, never ask them

any questions. You may divert yourself sometimes among them, but must

never tell them any thing: three days hence you will dine with them; and

at all times you may have music, and other recreations. In fine, you

will be so happy, that you will not wish to go abroad; and when your

time is expired, the holy fathers will send you out of this country, and

marry you to some nobleman." After saying these words she left me,

overwhelmed with astonishment, and scarce knowing what to think. As soon

as I recovered myself, I began to look about, and finding a closet, I

opened it, and perceived that it was filled with books: they ware

chiefly upon historical and profane subjects, but not any on religious

matter. I chose out a book of history, and so passed the interval with

some degree of satisfaction till dinner time.

The dinner was served up with the greatest elegance, and consisted of

all that could gratify the most luxurious appetite. When dinner was

over, Mary left me, and told me, if I wanted any thing I might ring a

bell, which she pointed out to me.

I read a book to amuse myself during the afternoon, and at seven in the

evening, Don Francisco came to visit me in his night-gown and cap, not

with the gravity of an inquisitor, but with the gayety of a gallant.

He saluted me with great respect, and told me, that he came to see me in

order to show the great respect he had for my family, and to inform me

that it was my lovers who had procured my confinement, having accused me

in matters of religion; and that the informations were taken, and the

sentence pronounced against me, to be burnt in a dry pan, with a gradual

fire; but that he, out of pity and love to my family, had stopped the

execution of it.

These words were like daggers to my heart; I dropped at his feet, and

said, "Ah, my lord! have you stopped the execution for ever?" He

replied, "that belongs to yourself only," and abruptly wished me good

night.

As soon as he was gone I burst into tears, when Mary came and asked me

what could make me cry so bitterly. To which I answered, oh, Mary! what

is the meaning of the dry pan and gradual fire? for I am to die by

them!

Madam, said she, never fear, you shall see, ere long, the dry pan and

gradual fire; but they are made for those who oppose the holy father's

will, not for you who are so good as to obey it. But pray, says she, was

Don Francisco very obliging? I don't know, said I, for he frightened me

out of my wits by his discourse; he saluted me with civility, but left

me abruptly.

Well, said Mary, you do not yet know his temper, he is extremely

obliging to them that are kind to him; but if they are disobedient he is

unmerciful as Nero; so, for your own sake, take care to oblige him in

all respects: and now, dear madam, pray go to supper, and be easy. I

went to supper, indeed, and afterward to bed; but I could neither eat

nor sleep, for the thoughts of the dry pan and gradual fire deprived me

of appetite, and banished drowsiness.

Early the next morning Mary said, that as nobody was stirring, if I

would promise her secrecy, she would show me the dry pan and gradual

fire; so taking me down stairs, she brought me to a large room, with a

thick iron door, which she opened. Within it was an oven, with fire in

it at the time, and a large brass upon it, with a cover of the same, and

a lock to it. In the next room there was a great wheel, covered on both

sides with thick boards, opening a little window in the centre, Mary

desired me to look in with a candle; there I saw all the circumference

of the wheel set with sharp razors, which made me shudder.

She then took me to a pit, which was full of venomous animals. On my

expressing great horror at the sight, she said, "Now my good mistress,

I'll tell you the use of these things. The dry pan is for heretics, and

those who oppose the holy father's will and pleasure; they are put alive

into the pan, being first stripped naked; and the cover being locked

down, the executioner begins to put a small fire into the oven, and by

degrees he augments it, till the body is reduced to ashes. The wheel is

designed for those who speak against the pope, or the holy fathers of

the inquisition; for they are put into the machine through the little

wheel, which is locked after them, and then the wheel is turned swiftly,

till they are cut to pieces. The pit is for those who contemn the

images, and refuse to give proper respect to ecclesiastical persons; for

they are thrown into the pit, and so become the food of poisonous

animals."

We went back again to my chamber, and Mary said, that another day she

would show me the torments designed for other transgressors, but I was

in such agonies at what I had seen, that I begged to be terrified with

no more such sights. She soon after left me, but not without enjoining

my strict obedience to Don Francisco; for if you do not comply with his

will, said she, the dry pan and gradual fire will be your fate.

The horrors which the sight of these things, and Mary's expressions,

impressed on my mind, almost bereaved me of my senses, and left me in

such a state of stupefaction that I seemed to have no manner of will of

my own.

The next morning Mary said, now let me dress you as nice as possible,

for you must go and wish Don Francisco good-morrow, and breakfast with

him. When I was dressed, she conveyed me through a gallery into his

apartment, where I found that he was in bed. He ordered Mary to

withdraw, and to serve up breakfast in about two hours time. When Mary

was gone, he commanded me to undress myself and come to bed to him. The

manner in which he spoke, and the dreadful ideas with which my mind was

filled, so terribly frightened me, that I pulled off my cloths, without

knowing what I did, and stepped into bed, insensible of the indecency I

was transacting: so totally had the care of self preservation absorbed

all my other thoughts, and so entirely were the ideas of delicacy

obliterated by the force of terror!

Thus, to avoid the dry pan, did I entail upon myself perpetual infamy;

and to escape the so much dreaded gradual fire, give myself up to the

flames of lust. Wretched alternative, where the only choice is an

excruciating death, or everlasting pollution!

Mary came at the expiration of two hours, and served us with chocolate

in the most submissive manner; for she kneeled down by the bedside to

present it. When I was dressed, Mary took me into a very delightful

apartment, which I had never yet seen. It was furnished with the most

costly elegance; but what gave me the greatest astonishment was, the

prospect from its windows, of a beautiful garden, and a fine meandering

river. Mary told me, that the young ladies she had mentioned would come

to pay their compliments to me before dinner, and begged me to remember

her advice in keeping a prudent guard over my tongue.

In a few minutes a great number of very beautiful young ladies, richly

dressed, entered my room, and successively embracing me, wished me joy.

I was so surprised, that I was unable to answer their compliments: which

one of the ladies perceiving, said, "Madam, the solitude of this place

will affect you in the beginning, but whenever you begin to feel the

pleasures and amusements you may enjoy, you will quit those pensive

thoughts. We, at present, beg the honour of you to dine with us to-day,

and henceforward three days in a week." I returned them suitable thanks

in general terms, and so went to dinner, in which the most exquisite and

savoury dishes, of various kinds, were served up with the most delicate

and pleasant fruits and sweetmeats. The room was long, with two tables

on each side, and a third in the front. I reckoned fifty-two young

ladies, the eldest not exceeding twenty-four years of age. There were

five maid-servants besides Mary, to wait upon us; but Mary confined her

attention to me alone. After dinner we retired to a capacious gallery,

where they played on musical instruments, a few diverted themselves with

cards, and the rest amused themselves with walking about. Mary, at

length, entered the gallery, and said, ladies, this is a day of

recreation, and so you may go into whatever rooms you please till eight

o'clock in the evening.

They unanimously agreed to adjourn to my apartment. Here we found a most

elegant cold collation, of which all the ladies partook, and passed the

time in innocent conversation and harmless mirth; but none mentioned a

word concerning the inquisition, or the holy fathers, or gave the least

distant hint concerning the cause of their confinement.

At eight o'clock Mary rang a bell, which was a signal for all to retire

to their respective apartments, and I was conducted to the chamber of

Don Francisco, where I slept. The next morning Mary brought me a richer

dress than any I had yet had; and as soon as I retired to my apartment,

all the ladies came to wish me good-morning, dressed much richer than

the preceding day. We passed the time till eight o'clock in the evening,

in much the same manner as we had done the day before. At that time the

bell rang, the separation took place, and I was conducted to Don

Francisco's chamber. The next morning I had a garment richer than the

last, and they accosted me in apparel still more sumptuous than before.

The transactions of the two former days were repeated on the third, and

the evening concluded in a similar manner.

On the fourth morning Mary came into Don Francisco's chamber and told me

I must immediately rise, for a lady wanted me in her own chamber. She

spoke with a kind of authority which surprised me; but as Don Francisco

did not speak a syllable, I got up and obeyed. Mary then conveyed me

into a dismal dungeon, not eight feet in length; and said sternly to me,

This is your room, and this lady your bed-fellow and companion. At which

words she bounced out of the room, and left me in the utmost

consternation.

After remaining a considerable time in the most dreadful agonies tears

came to my relief, and I exclaimed, "What is this place, dear lady! Is

it a scene of enchantment, or is it a hell upon earth! Alas! I have lost

my honour and my soul forever!"

The lady took me by the hand, and said in a sympathizing tone of voice,

"Dear sister, (for this is the name I shall henceforth give you) forbear

to cry and grieve, for you can do nothing by such an extravagant

behaviour, but draw upon yourself a cruel death. Your misfortunes, and

those of all the ladies you have seen, are exactly of a piece, you

suffer nothing but what we have suffered before you; but we dare not

show our grief, for fear of greater evils. Pray take courage, and hope

in God, for he will surely deliver us from this hellish place; but be

sure you discover no uneasiness before Mary, who is the only instrument

either of our torments or comfort. Have patience until we go to bed, and

then I will venture to tell you more of the matter."

My perplexity and vexation were inexpressible: but my new companion,

whose name was Leonora, prevailed on me to disguise my uneasiness from

Mary. I dissembled tolerably well when she came to bring our dinners,

but could not help remarking, in my own mind, the difference between

this repast, and those I had before partook of. This consisted only of

plain, common food, and of that a scanty allowance, with one plate, and

one knife and fork for us both, which she took away as soon as we had

dined.

When we were in bed, Leonora was as good as her word; and upon my solemn

promise of secrecy thus began to open her mind to me.

"My dear sister, you think your case very hard, but I assure you all the

ladies in the house have gone through the same. In time, you will know

all their stories, as they hope to know yours. I suppose Mary has been

the chief instrument of your fright, as she has been of ours; and I

warrant she has shown you some horrible places, though not all; and

that, at the very thought of them you were so terrified, that you chose

the same way we have done to redeem yourself from death. By what hath

happened to us, we know that Don Francisco hath been your Nero, your

tyrant; for the three colours of our clothes are the distinguishing

tokens of the three holy fathers. The red silk belongs to Don Francisco,

the blue to Don Guerrero, and the green to Don Aliga; and they always

give those colours (after the farce of changing garments and the

short-lived recreations are over) to those ladies whom they bring here

for their respective uses.

"We are strictly commanded to express all the demonstrations of joy, and

to be very merry for three days, when a young lady first comes amongst

us, as we did with you, and as you must now do with others. But

afterward we live like the most wretched prisoners, without seeing any

body but Mary, and the other maid-servants, over whom Mary hath a kind

of superiority, for she acts as housekeeper. We all dine in the great

hall three days in a week; and when any one of the inquisitors hath a

mind for one of his slaves, Mary comes about nine o'clock, and leads her

to his apartment.

"Some nights Mary leaves the doors of our chambers open, and that is a

token that one of the inquisitors hath a mind to come that night; but he

comes so silent that we are ignorant whether he is our patron or not. If

one of us happens to be with child, she is removed into a better chamber

till she is delivered; but during the whole of her pregnancy, she never

sees any body but the person appointed to attend her.

"As soon as the child is born it is taken away, and carried we know not

whither; for we never hear a syllable mentioned about it afterward. I

have been in this house six years, was not fourteen when the officers

took me from my father's house, and have had one child. There are, at

this present time, fifty-two young ladies in the house; but we annually

lose six or eight, though we know not what becomes of them, or whither

they are sent. This, however, does not diminish our number, for new ones

are always brought in to supply the place of those who are removed from

hence; and I remember, at one time, to have seen seventy-three ladies

here together. Our continual torment is to reflect that when they are

tired of any of the ladies, they certainly put to death those they

pretend to send away; for it is natural to think, that they have too

much policy to suffer their atrocious and infernal villanies to be

discovered, by enlarging them. Hence our situation is miserable indeed,

and we have only to pray that the Almighty will pardon those crimes

which we are compelled to commit. Therefore, my dear sister, arm

yourself with patience, for that is the only palliative to give you

comfort, and put a firm confidence in the providence of Almighty God."

This discourse of Leonora greatly affected me; but I found everything to

be as she told me, in the course of time, and I took care to appear as

cheerful as possible before Mary. In this manner I continued eighteen

months, during which time eleven ladies were taken from the house; but

in lieu of them we got nineteen new ones, which made our number just

sixty, at the time we were so happily relieved by the French officers,

and providentially restored to the joys of society, and to the arms of

our parents and friends. On that happy day, the door of my dungeon was

opened by the gentleman who is now my husband, and who with the utmost

expedition, sent both Leonora and me to his father's; and (soon after

the campaign was over) when he returned home, he thought proper to make

me his wife, in which situation I enjoy a recompense for all the

miseries I before suffered.

From the foregoing narrative it is evident, that the inquisitors are a

set of libidinous villains, lost to every just idea of religion, and

totally destitute of humanity. Those who possess wealth, beauty, or

liberal sentiments, are sure to find enemies in them. Avarice, lust, and

prejudice, are their ruling passions; and they sacrifice every law,

human and divine, to gratify their predominant desire. Their supposed

piety is affectation; their pretended compassion hypocrisy; their

justice depends on their will: and their equitable punishments are

founded on their prejudices. None are secure from them, all ranks fall

equally victims to their pride, their power, their avarice, or their

aversion.

Some may suggest, that it is strange crowned heads and eminent nobles,

have not attempted to crush the power of the inquisition, and reduce the

authority of those ecclesiastical tyrants, from whose merciless fangs

neither their families nor themselves are secure.

But astonishing as it is, superstition hath, in this case, always

overcome common sense, and custom operated against reason. One prince,

indeed, intended to abolish the inquisition, but he lost his life before

he became king, and consequently before he had the power so to do; for

the very intimation of his design procured his destruction.

This was that amiable prince Don Carlos, son of Philip the Second, king

of Spain, and grandson of the celebrated emperor Charles V. Don Carlos,

possessed all the good qualities of his grandfather without any of the

bad ones of his father; and was a prince of great vivacity, admirable

learning, and the most amiable disposition.--He had sense enough to see

into the errors of popery, and abhorred the very name of the

inquisition. He inveighed publicly against the institution, ridiculed

the affected piety of the inquisitors, did all he could to expose their

atrocious deeds, end even declared, that if he ever came to the crown,

he would abolish the inquisition, and exterminate its agents.

These things were sufficient to irritate the inquisitors against the

prince: they, accordingly, bent their minds to vengeance, and determined

on his destruction.

The inquisitors now employed all their agents and emissaries to spread

abroad the most artful insinuations against the prince; and, at length,

raised such a spirit of discontent among the people, that the king was

under the necessity of removing Don Carlos from court. Not content with

this, they pursued even his friends, and obliged the king likewise to

banish Don John, duke of Austria, his own brother, and consequently

uncle to the prince; together with the prince of Parma, nephew to the

king, and cousin to the prince, because they well knew that both the

duke of Austria, and the prince of Parma, had a most sincere and

inviolable attachment to Don Carlos.

Some few years after, the prince having shown great lenity and favour to

the protestants in the Netherlands, the inquisition loudly exclaimed

against him, declaring, that as the persons in question were heretics,

the prince himself must necessarily be one, since he gave them

countenance. In short, they gained so great an ascendency over the mind

of the king, who was absolutely a slave to superstition, that, shocking

to relate, he sacrificed the feelings of nature to the force of bigotry,

and, for fear of incurring the anger of the inquisition, gave up his

only son, passing the sentence of death on him himself.

The prince, indeed, had what was termed an indulgence; that is, he was

permitted to choose the manner of his death. Roman like, the unfortunate

young hero chose bleeding and the hot bath; when the veins of his arms

and legs being opened, he expired gradually, falling a martyr to the

malice of the inquisitors, and the stupid bigotry of his father.

_The Persecution of Dr. AEgidio._

Dr. AEgidio was educated at the university of Alcala, where he took his

several degrees, and particularly applied himself to the study of the

sacred scriptures and school divinity. The professor of theology dying,

he was elected into his place, and acted so much to the satisfaction of

every one, that his reputation for learning and piety was circulated

throughout Europe.

AEgidio, however, had his enemies, and these laid a complaint against him

to the inquisitors, who sent him a citation, and when he appeared to it,

cast him into a dungeon.

As the greatest part of those who belonged to the cathedral church at

Seville, and many persons belonging to the bishopric of Dortois highly

approved of the doctrines of AEgidio, which they thought perfectly

consonant with true religion, they petitioned the emperor in his behalf.

Though the monarch had been educated a Roman catholic, he had too much

sense to be a bigot, and therefore sent an immediate order for his

enlargement.

He soon after visited the church of Valladolid, did every thing he could

to promote the cause of religion, and returning home he soon after fell

sick, and died in an extreme old age.

The inquisitors having been disappointed of gratifying their malice

against him while living, determined (as the emperor's whole thoughts

were engrossed by a military expedition) to wreak their vengeance on him

when dead. Therefore, soon after he was buried, they ordered his remains

to be dug out of the grave; and a legal process being carried on, they

were condemned to be burnt, which was executed accordingly.

_The Persecution of Dr. Constantine._

Dr. Constantine, an intimate acquaintance of the already mentioned Dr.

AEgidio, was a man of uncommon natural abilities and profound learning;

exclusive of several modern tongues, he was acquainted with the Latin,

Greek, and Hebrew languages, and perfectly well knew not only the

sciences called abstruse, but those arts which come under the

denomination of polite literature.

His eloquence rendered him pleasing, and the soundness of his doctrines

a profitable preacher; and he was so popular, that he never preached but

to a crowded audience. He had many opportunities of rising in the

church, but never would take advantage of them; for if a living of

greater value than his own was offered him, he would refuse it, saying,

I am content with what I have; and he frequently preached so forcibly

against simony, that many of his superiors, who were not so delicate

upon the subject, took umbrage at his doctrines upon that head.

Having been fully confirmed in protestantism by Dr. AEgidio, he preached

boldly such doctrines only as were agreeable to gospel purity, and

uncontaminated by the errors which had at various times crept into the

Romish church. For these reasons he had many enemies among the Roman

catholics, and some of them were fully determined on his destruction.

A worthy gentleman named Scobaria, having erected a school for divinity

lectures, appointed Dr. Constantine to be reader therein. He immediately

undertook the task, and read lectures, by portions, on the Proverbs,

Ecclesiastes, and Canticles; and was beginning to expound the book of

Job, when he was seized by the inquisitors.

Being brought to examination, he answered with such precaution that they

could not find any explicit charge against him, but remained doubtful in

what manner to proceed, when the following circumstances occurred to

determine them.

Dr. Constantine had deposited with a woman named Isabella Martin several

books, which to him were very valuable, but which he knew, in the eyes

of the inquisition, were exceptionable.

This woman having been informed against as a protestant, was

apprehended, and, after a small process, her goods were ordered to be

confiscated. Previous, however, to the officers coming to her house, the

woman's son had removed away several chests full of the most valuable

articles; and among these were Dr. Constantine's books.

A treacherous servant giving intelligence of this to the inquisitors, an

officer was despatched to the son to demand the chests. The son,

supposing the officer only came for Constantine's books, said, I know

what you come for, and I will fetch them to you immediately. He then

fetched Dr. Constantine's books and papers, when the officer was greatly

surprised to find what he did not look for. He, however, told the young

man, that he was glad these books and papers were produced, but

nevertheless he must fulfil the end of his commission, which was, to

carry him and the goods he had embezzled before the inquisitors, which

he did accordingly; for the young man knew it would be in vain to

expostulate, or resist, and therefore quietly submitted to his fate.

The inquisitors being thus possessed of Constantine's books and

writings, now found matter sufficient to form charges against him. When

he was brought to a re-examination, they presented one of his papers,

and asked him if he knew the hand writing! Perceiving it was his own, he

guessed the whole matter, confessed the writing, and justified the

doctrine it contained: saying, "In that, and all my other writings, I

have never departed from the truth of the gospel, but have always kept

in view the pure precepts of Christ, as he delivered them to mankind."

After being detained upwards of two years in prison, Dr. Constantine was

seized with a bloody flux, which put an end to his miseries in this

world. The process, however, was carried on against his body, which, at

the ensuing auto de fe, was publicly burnt.

_The Life of William Gardiner._

William Gardiner was born at Bristol, received a tolerable education,

and was, at a proper age, placed under the care of a merchant, named

Paget.

At the age of twenty-six years, he was, by his master, sent to Lisbon,

to act as factor. Here he applied himself to the study of the Portuguese

language, executed his business with assiduity and despatch, and behaved

with the most engaging affability to all persons with whom he had the

least concern. He conversed privately with a few, whom he knew to be

zealous protestants; and, at the same time cautiously avoided giving the

least offence to any who were Roman catholics; he had not, however,

hitherto gone into any of the popish churches.

A marriage being concluded between the king of Portugal's son, and the

Infanta of Spain, upon the wedding-day the bride-groom, bride, and the

whole court went to the cathedral church, attended by multitudes of all

ranks of people, and among the rest William Gardiner who stayed during

the whole ceremony, and was greatly shocked at the superstitions he saw.

The erroneous worship which he had seen ran strongly in his mind, he was

miserable to see a whole country sunk into such idolatry, when the truth

of the gospel might be so easily obtained. He, therefore, took the

inconsiderate, though laudable design, into his head, of making a reform

in Portugal, or perishing in the attempt; and determined to sacrifice

his prudence to his zeal, though he became a martyr upon the occasion.

To this end, he settled all his worldly affairs, paid his debts, closed

his books, and consigned over his merchandize. On the ensuing Sunday he

went again to the cathedral church, with a New Testament in his hand,

and placed himself near the altar.

The king and the court soon appeared, and a cardinal began mass at that

part of the ceremony in which the people adore the wafer, Gardiner could

hold out no longer, but springing towards the cardinal, he snatched the

host from him, and trampled it under his feet.

This action amazed the whole congregation, and one person drawing a

dagger, wounded Gardiner in the shoulder, and would, by repeating the

blow, have finished him, had not the king called to him to desist.

Gardiner, being carried before the king, the monarch asked him what

countryman he was: to which he replied, I am an Englishman by birth, a

protestant by religion, and a merchant by occupation. What I have done

is not out of contempt to your royal person, God forbid it should, but

out of an honest indignation, to see the ridiculous superstitions and

gross idolatries practised here.