THE INQUISITION.

Innocent the Third, a pope as enterprising as he was successful in his

enterprises, having sent Dominic with some missionaries into Languedoc,

these men so irritated the heretics they were sent to convert, that most

of them were assassinated at Toulouse in the year 1200. He called in the

aid of temporal arms, and published against them a crusade, granting, as

was usual with the popes on similar occasions, all kinds of indulgences

and pardons to those who should arm against these _Mahometans_, so he

termed these unfortunate Languedocians. Once all were Turks when they

were not Romanists. Raymond, Count of Toulouse, was constrained to

submit. The inhabitants were passed on the edge of the sword, without

distinction of age or sex. It was then he established that scourge of

Europe, THE INQUISITION. This pope considered that, though men might be

compelled to submit by arms, numbers might remain professing particular

dogmas; and he established this sanguinary tribunal solely to inspect

into all families, and INQUIRE concerning all persons who they imagined

were unfriendly to the interests of Rome. Dominic did so much by his

persecuting inquiries, that he firmly established the Inquisition at

Toulouse.

Not before the year 1484 it became known in Spain. To another Dominican,

John de Torquemada, the court of Rome owed this obligation. As he was

the confessor of Queen Isabella, he had extorted from her a promise,

that if ever she ascended the throne, she would use every means to

extirpate heresy and heretics. Ferdinand had conquered Granada, and had

expelled from the Spanish realms multitudes of unfortunate Moors. A few

remained, whom, with the Jews, he compelled to become Christians: they

at least assumed the name; but it was well known that both these nations

naturally respected their own faith, rather than that of the Christians.

This race was afterwards distinguished as _Christianos Novos_; and in

forming marriages, the blood of the Hidalgo was considered to lose its

purity by mingling with such a suspicious source.

Torquemada pretended that this dissimulation would greatly hurt the

interests of the holy religion. The queen listened with respectful

diffidence to her confessor; and at length gained over the king to

consent to the establishment of this unrelenting tribunal. Torquemada,

indefatigable in his zeal for the holy chair, in the space of fourteen

years that he exercised the office of chief inquisitor, is said to have

prosecuted near eighty thousand persons, of whom six thousand were

condemned to the flames.

Voltaire attributes the taciturnity of the Spaniards to the universal

horror such proceedings spread. "A general jealousy and suspicion took

possession of all ranks of people: friendship and sociability were at an

end! Brothers were afraid of brothers, fathers of their children."

The situation and the feelings of one imprisoned in the cells of the

Inquisition are forcibly painted by Orobio, a mild, and meek, and

learned man, whose controversy with Limborch is well known. When he

escaped from Spain he took refuge in Holland, was circumcised, and died

a philosophical Jew. He has left this admirable description of himself

in the cell of the Inquisition. "Inclosed in this dungeon I could not

even find space enough to turn myself about; I suffered so much that I

felt my brain disordered. I frequently asked myself, am I really Don

Balthazar Orobio, who used to walk about Seville at my pleasure, who so

greatly enjoyed myself with my wife and children? I often imagined that

all my life had only been a dream, and that I really had been born in

this dungeon! The only amusement I could invent was metaphysical

disputations. I was at once opponent, respondent, and præses!"

In the cathedral at Saragossa is the tomb of a famous inquisitor; six

pillars surround this tomb; to each is chained a Moor, as preparatory to

his being burnt. On this St. Foix ingeniously observes, "If ever the

Jack Ketch of any country should be rich enough to have a splendid tomb,

this might serve as an excellent model."

The Inquisition punished heretics by _fire_, to elude the maxim,

"_Ecclesia non novit sanguinem_;" for burning a man, say they, does not

_shed his blood_. Otho, the bishop at the Norman invasion, in the

tapestry worked by Matilda the queen of William the Conqueror, is

represented with a _mace_ in his hand, for the purpose that when he

_despatched_ his antagonist he might not _spill blood_, but only break

his bones! Religion has had her quibbles as well as law.

The establishment of this despotic order was resisted in France; but it

may perhaps surprise the reader that a recorder of London, in a speech,

urged the necessity of setting up an Inquisition in England! It was on

the trial of Penn the Quaker, in 1670, who was acquitted by the jury,

which highly provoked the said recorder. "_Magna Charta_," writes the

prefacer to the trial, "with the recorder of London, is nothing more

than _Magna F----!_" It appears that the jury, after being kept two days

and two nights to alter their verdict, were in the end both fined and

imprisoned. Sir John Howell, the recorder, said, "Till now I never

understood the reason of the policy and prudence of the Spaniards in

suffering the Inquisition among them; and certainly it will not be well

with us, till something _like unto the Spanish Inquisition be in

England_." Thus it will ever be, while both parties struggling for the

pre-eminence rush to the sharp extremity of things, and annihilate the

trembling balance of the constitution. But the adopted motto of Lord

Erskine must ever be that of every Briton, "_Trial by Jury_."

So late as the year 1761, Gabriel Malagrida, an old man of seventy, was

burnt by these evangelical executioners. His trial was printed at

Amsterdam, 1762, from the Lisbon copy. And for what was this unhappy

Jesuit condemned? Not, as some have imagined, for his having been

concerned in a conspiracy against the king of Portugal. No other charge

is laid to him in this trial but that of having indulged certain

heretical notions, which any other tribunal but that of the Inquisition

would have looked upon as the delirious fancies of a fanatical old man.

Will posterity believe, that in the eighteenth century an aged visionary

was led to the stake for having said, amongst other extravagances, that

"The holy Virgin having commanded him to write the life of Anti-Christ,

told him that he, Malagrida, was a second John, but more clear than John

the Evangelist; that there were to be three Anti-Christs, and that the

last should be born at Milan, of a monk and a nun, in the year 1920; and

that he would marry Proserpine, one of the infernal furies."

For such ravings as these the unhappy old man was burnt in recent times.

Granger assures us, that in his remembrance a _horse_ that had been

taught to tell the spots upon cards, the hour of the day, &c., by

significant tokens, was, together with his _owner_, put into the

Inquisition for _both_ of them dealing with the devil! A man of letters

declared that, having fallen into their hands, nothing perplexed him so

much as the ignorance of the inquisitor and his council; and it seemed

very doubtful whether they had read even the Scriptures.[53]

One of the most interesting anecdotes relating to the terrible

Inquisition, exemplifying how the use of the diabolical engines of

torture forces men to confess crimes they have not been guilty of, was

related to me by a Portuguese gentleman.

A nobleman in Lisbon having heard that his physician and friend was

imprisoned by the Inquisition, under the stale pretext of Judaism,

addressed a letter to one of them to request his freedom, assuring the

inquisitor that his friend was as orthodox a Christian as himself. The

physician, notwithstanding this high recommendation, was put to the

torture; and, as was usually the case, at the height of his sufferings

confessed everything they wished! This enraged the nobleman, and

feigning a dangerous illness he begged the inquisitor would come to give

him his last spiritual aid.

As soon as the Dominican arrived, the lord, who had prepared his

confidential servants, commanded the inquisitor in their presence to

acknowledge himself a Jew, to write his confession, and to sign it. On

the refusal of the inquisitor, the nobleman ordered his people to put on

the inquisitor's head a red-hot helmet, which to his astonishment, in

drawing aside a screen, he beheld glowing in a small furnace. At the

sight of this new instrument of torture, "Luke's iron crown," the monk

wrote and subscribed the abhorred confession. The nobleman then

observed, "See now the enormity of your manner of proceeding with

unhappy men! My poor physician, like you, has confessed Judaism; but

with this difference, only torments have forced that from him which fear

alone has drawn from you!"

The Inquisition has not failed of receiving its due praises. Macedo, a

Portuguese Jesuit, has discovered the "Origin of the _Inquisition_" in

the terrestrial Paradise, and presumes to allege that God was the first

who began the functions of an _inquisitor_ over Cain and the workmen of

Babel! Macedo, however, is not so dreaming a personage as he appears;

for he obtained a Professor's chair at Padua for the arguments he

delivered at Venice against the pope, which were published by the title

of "The literary Roarings of the Lion at St. Mark;" besides he is the

author of 109 different works; but it is curious to observe how far our

interest is apt to prevail over our conscience,--Macedo praised the

Inquisition up to the skies, while he sank the pope to nothing!

Among the great revolutions of this age, and since the last edition of

this work, the Inquisition in Spain and Portugal is abolished--but its

history enters into that of the human mind; and the history of the

Inquisition by Limborch, translated by Chandler, with a very curious

"Introduction," loses none of its value with the philosophical mind.

This monstrous tribunal of human opinions aimed at the sovereignty of

the intellectual world, without intellect.

In these changeful times, the history of the Inquisition is not the

least mutable. The Inquisition, which was abolished, was again

restored--and at the present moment, I know not whether it is to be

restored or abolished.

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