In Spain the Inquisition directed its attention chiefly to Jews and Moors. But it became established in other parts of Europe, notably in the Netherlands and in Italy. Torquemada was Grand Inquisitor for eighteen years. During that time he had 10,220 people burned alive and 97,000 condemned to public penitence or perpetual imprisonment. The Inquisition was far more active and severe in Spain than in Italy, where it dealt chiefly with Protestants. But a resident at Rome in 1568, which is just about the time we are dealing with, wrote: “Some are daily burned, hanged, or beheaded; the prisons and places of confinement are filled, and they are obliged to build new ones.” The independence, the secrecy, and the far-extended power of the Inquisition made it formidable and terrifying while it lasted. The hideous cruelty and savage barbarity of its methods render the story of the Inquisition one of the blackest pages of the history of the world.
From such a body as this there was very little chance that a man with Bruno’s views would receive justice or mercy.
Venice was at this time an independent republic, and was a city of refuge for many who were expelled from other parts of Italy. Rome was jealous of the independent attitude of Venice, and the Pope demanded that all spiritual offenders should be delivered up to him. The Venetian authorities protested in this case, but were obliged to yield. A lawyer who was consulted during the dispute, while acknowledging that Bruno’s errors in heresy were very grave, declared that he possessed “a most excellent rare mind, with exquisite learning and wisdom.”
On his arrival in Rome he was at once cast into a dungeon, as the Pope hoped to break his spirit by prolonged imprisonment. For six whole years (1593 to 1599) nothing was heard of him. What his sufferings were in the dark dungeons of the Inquisition no one can tell. Whatever methods may have been used to overcome his obstinate determination, they were unsuccessful. For when at last he was visited in 1599 he said that “he ought not to recant and he would not recant; that he had nothing to recant, nor any reason to recant, nor knew he what he should recant.” Had he not written, too: “There are men in whom the working of the will of God is so powerful that neither threats nor contumely can cause them to waver. He who fears the body has never felt himself to be one with God. He alone is truly wise and virtuous who fears no pain, and he is happy who regards things with the eye of reason.”
At last sentence of death was passed on him. “Perhaps you pronounce your sentence with greater fear than that with which I receive it,” was his only reply to his inhuman judges. From the presence of the great assemblage of cardinals and theologians who sat in judgment over him, the man whom suffering could not move and for whom the condemnation of such a tribunal was no degradation was led from the judgment hall and handed over to the governor of the city. A day or two more in a solitary cell and the end came.
There was a multitude of pilgrims in Rome at the time. Some fifty cardinals were assembled to celebrate the jubilee of the Pope. The Church was mustered in all its glory. The last agony of the philosopher no doubt served to enhance these triumphant celebrations, although the burning of a heretic was such a common occurrence that it probably caused very little stir. The concluding scene has already been described.
Nearly three hundred years later, in 1889, a statue of Giordano Bruno, a picture of which is reproduced here, was erected on the very spot in the Campo dei Fiori at Rome where he was burned. The world is learning slowly to respect liberty of conscience, to admire sincerity, to detest intolerance, and to stamp out the spirit of persecution. We are beginning to understand that a really religious nature may exist apart from any profession of faith in any particular set of doctrines. And no sensible man now would condemn as wicked and irreligious a courageous thinker who fought throughout his career for freedom and independence of thought, and refused to alter his convictions to please others or even to save his own life.
A. P.