"Ah! Father, these are the express conditions on which I consented to disclose what I have to unfold. Shame forbids me to reveal either my name, my residence, or my connexions; since, were you ever to visit the town where I, with my family, reside, you would recollect a deed of which I am sure you cannot approve. And where would be the use of concealing the place of my residence, and telling you the name of the party whom I am to accuse? It is too well known that you should not yourself immediately recognise it. Oh, is it possible that at this price alone I am to recover my peace!—at this, and at no other, to be admitted anew to the privilege of confession, and the benefit of the other sacraments! That to be a Christian, I must consent to betray another!—to betray the person whom in all the world I best love!—enjoined to do so, both by Divine and human laws?"
As she concluded, she arose, and I observed that with the fingers of her right hand she pressed upon her left, and turned round a ring that was there, on the annular finger. She then resumed:
"Where then shall we in future hope to place confidence?—how trust in the sacredness of vows pledged at the altar? Can God be in contradiction to Himself? Are there two sets of laws, the one natural and the other contrary to nature? and are they both obligatory? Ought I, at the same time, both to love and to hate? Oh! what would he say if he knew what occupies me at this moment? And can I return joyfully to him, who little suspects what I am doing, to still live with him, and call him by the tenderest names, until the day comes, or perhaps the night, when the officers of justice shall secretly enter the house, apprehend, and take him away—and to what place? To the dungeons of the Holy Office! And who would have placed him there? I, myself, by the very act I am going to commit! But if I do not do so, I am in a state of perdition, since there will be no longer pardon or absolution for me! Excommunication, from which no one can deliver me, will be my fate! And he also will be excommunicated! His soul will be for ever lost, unless it be purified in the Inquisition!—Both of us to lose all hope of salvation and eternal life! And that, because we refuse to make fitting sacrifice on earth! These, Father, are the thoughts that agitate me, that divide my soul, that have led me here, and that have since sealed my lips. What ought I to do?—what reveal? I am miserable, because I listen at once to the flesh and the spirit; and whichever way I force myself to act, I am always divided against myself. Oh! why are not you, who are called fathers, husbands as well? then, as other men, you would have wives to love; and you would better comprehend these matters, and would see the value of the text, 'Do not to others what ye would not that men should do unto you.'"
"Let us come to an end, Signora. You have promised the Inquisition to make an accusation, and that as a matter of duty, or rather, from scruples of conscience. When you made this promise, you no doubt imagined you did what was right."
"No, Father, I do not deceive myself; I never thought I was doing right. In every point of view I considered I was doing wrong. Nevertheless, I judged it necessary; as it is necessary to have an arm or a foot cut off, that is in a state of gangrene. I looked upon it as a castigation from the Almighty; as if my house had been burned, or a heavy beam had fallen on my shoulders. I thought that God was angry with me on account of my sins, and that to appease Him I must sacrifice to Him what was most dear to me. I have often felt as if I should not survive so dire an event; the mere idea of it is afflicting to me beyond expression. Father, I am here to make a sacrifice of myself upon the altar, I regret to say it, of the Inquisition."
"And do you desire, Signora, that I should be the priest on the occasion? It is an office I have never performed. My hand is more ready to be stretched out for good than evil. I should feel remorse in sacrificing you. I thought that you were come to make your deposition voluntarily, or your own free-will; and even in that case I should have had some hesitation in receiving it: I repeat, I have never undertaken the office of an Inquisitor. In the present instance, I will by no means lend my aid to an act of violence. I am a minister of a God of Peace, of Christ, who died for our sins; and it is on condition of believing in what He has done for us that we obtain pardon. I do not find that any sacrifice is required of us, to be reconciled to God, unless it be the sacrifice of our spirit on the altar of faith. 'A humble and a contrite heart,' says David, 'O God, thou wilt not despise.' I find throughout the whole of the Bible a continual invitation to seek God; and to find Him there is but one way, which is Jesus Christ. He has said, 'I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life: no man cometh to the Father but by me.' Moreover, He says to us, 'Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.' And this is more particularly addressed to sinners, whose duty it is to go to Christ, and it is ours to endeavour to invite, to lead, to bring them to Him. Do you understand me, Signora?—to Him, and to Him alone, and not to the Inquisition."
"Ah! my Father," here exclaimed the Signora; "what balm you pour into my wounds! Your last words have restored me to life. It is to Christ then, and not to the Inquisition, that I shall trust my husband. Yes, my husband it is whom I am called upon to accuse, because he had spoken ill of the Pope, the Bishop, and the Priests; and had on one occasion declared that if he could be assured that the Pope was St. Peter himself, he would nevertheless spit in his face if he could. I told my confessor of this, not to accuse my husband, but to learn what course I had better pursue with him; adding, that at times he was so excited as scarcely to know the meaning of the words he uttered: but, without further inquiry, my confessor enjoined me to denounce him to the Inquisition. Finally, however, he proposed that I should do so to the Bishop; but as I would consent to neither proposition, he obtained permission from Rome that I should come to you at Viterbo, to prefer my accusation, without disclosing my name, or that the party accused was my husband. But you have shown me how far better it is that I should recommend him to the love of Christ, than to the wrath of the Inquisition. It appears that you agree with me, that in religion there cannot be any law contrary to nature. Oh, how often have I repeated on this occasion, what my husband so constantly asserts, that the priests have a religion and a morality contrary to nature! To compel a wife to accuse her husband! Is it not a demoralization? A bad wife may do so through motives of revenge; a good one would rather accuse herself. It is a base thing, in any case, to accuse a person secretly, without giving him any opportunity of exculpation, or allowing him to know who is his accuser. It is a crime that no moral duty can justify. Even the contemplation of such a step has driven me to the brink of self-destruction. But my confessor assured me that, in that case, both my husband and myself would be undoubtedly damned. And in confirmation of this, I once read, in some old work, a story of a certain woman who had refused, before her death, to make one of these disclosures; and in consequence, not only was her soul condemned to the torments of hell, but her body also found no rest in the grave, being continually forced to leave it, until, being conjured with holy water to declare the cause of its disquiet, it replied that it was so punished because it had not obeyed the injunction it had received, to accuse certain heretics to the Inquisition; but as all present earnestly prayed to the Madonna, it was granted to this unhappy body to return to life, for the space of half an hour, that it might prefer its accusation to the Inquisition; after which, it died anew."
"And do you believe this story?"
"I was unwilling to do so, but the Priest showed me that the book was printed con licenza de' superiori. To tell the whole truth, my idea was, to obey our Holy Church, in this barbarous law, and then to commit suicide, leaving behind me a letter to my husband, explaining the motives that had led me to the act. But God be praised, I shall now neither accuse him, nor put an end to my own existence. You have doubly saved my life, in saving my honour and my conscience. God will reward you for the charity you have shown me. I shall return to my home and to my family. But what must I say to my confessor?"