CHAPTER VI.
THE PROTEUS-LIKE CHARACTER OF THE INQUISITION, BOTH IN ANCIENT AND MODERN TIMES.
When I asserted that the Inquisition had never undergone any change, that as it existed in the time of its founder, Innocent III., so it continued in the days of its renowned legislator, Paul IV., and in those of the fierce persecutors of good Christians, Pius V. and Gregory XII., and that we find it still preserving the same character, in our own time, under Gregory XVI. and Pius IX., I did not intend to lead my readers to suppose that it invariably, after having arranged its plans and established its system of laws, carried on its operations with the same uniform regularity; and in undeviating exactitude pursued its unchanging course, however baleful, with the steady progress of a planet in its orbit, without ever deviating from it in the smallest possible degree. No, such was not the idea I intended to give. In its spirit it has always been the same, and its laws have never undergone any change; but nothing is more varied, more uncertain, more changeable, than the manner in which it has acted to attain its purposes. With the same spirit and the same laws, the Inquisition of Rome is, nevertheless, different from that of Spain, and the Inquisition of the nineteenth century greatly varies from that of the three preceding centuries. The slaughter of the Albigenses and the Waldenses, that of the Moors, and the massacre of St. Bartholomew, are events, so similar to each other, that whoever has read of the first is little astonished at the second or the third. But between the perpetration of these acts it was expedient that at least the period of a century should intervene, in order that the people might have time to recover from the shock they had experienced, and be induced to receive fresh arguments in favour of a repetition of the same enormity. In the meanwhile a thousand other events took place of a totally different character. For example, Pius V., while he was burning his heretics in Rome, or drowning them in the Lagoons of Venice, while he persecuted the Moors in Spain, and sent his bands to destroy the Jews, made himself patron of the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem, who, after having been driven out of Rhodes, were dispersed abroad in various parts; he obtained for them the island of Malta; and lavished his bounty upon them with unsparing hand, in order that they might fortify themselves on that rock. Now what did these Knights of Malta become? The pirates of the Inquisition, founded by Dominic di Guzman. Yes; these crusaders, who assumed to themselves the title of Christian Knights, ended by becoming a pack of plundering blood-hounds, ever on the alert to hunt out their victims, and who, even now, do not blush to acknowledge themselves as the Familiars of the Inquisition; though so dishonourable do they know their trade to be, that they are obliged to carry it on under the mask of secrecy. But these heroes who still keep up the empty title of Knights of Malta, ingloriously end their degenerate career in the ante-chambers of the Vatican, as the Pope's guards; for the Holy Office, when they are too old for more active service, no longer takes any care of them, nor does it allow them the smallest pension. Many Roman institutions have in the same manner flourished and fallen away; others, although useless, still continue, through a difficulty in getting rid of them.
It is now about four centuries since Rome instituted monkish and knightly orders for the service of the Inquisition. The necessity for them was first found out after the Council of Constance, and increased after that of Trent. Martin V. was too dissipated to trouble himself much about it, but his successor, Pius II., who had witnessed the death of John Huss and Jerome of Prague, and who clearly saw the danger that threatened the Church of Rome, in the spirit and the voice that arose from the ashes of those holy men, felt himself called upon, in the year 1459, to institute an order of knighthood to be called after the name of Jesus, whose employment should be to war against the Turks, for in those days all were so called, who did not venerate the Church of Rome. Accordingly under such pretext they undertook to wage war against heretics of every description, whom, according to the Christian charity of the popes, it was their duty to exterminate. This order was not pleasing to Paul II. and was consequently abolished: but Alexander VI., that well-known monster of profligacy and crime, raised up a fresh body of knights, for the service of the Inquisition, which he placed under the protection of St. George, in the year 1492. These heroes could do no less than imitate the example of their unprincipled founder, and, in a very short time, gained for themselves an undesirable renown, for their deeds of the most abominable licentiousness. The succeeding Pope, however, laid them on the shelf. Leo X., in the year 1520, came forward with a new order of knights, under the patronage of St. Peter. It is well known that this pope lost no opportunity of putting this favourite saint of his forward, on all occasions where money was to be made of him. It was for the building of the church that bears his name that indulgences were sent for sale, into Germany and Switzerland. The new knights limited their services to the collecting of money for St. Peter, that is to say, for the Pope; this degraded order, however, soon died of decline. Paul III. felt more than any one the evils that were likely to arise from the Council of Trent, and the danger of what was called "reviving heresy:" in order therefore, to give greater activity to the Inquisition, he founded an order of chivalry, under the title of St. George of Ravenna, in the year 1538, the nominal duty of which was to war against heretics, but its real object was to renew the sanguinary scenes acted under Innocent III., and to repeat in Germany the slaughters of Dauphiny, Languedoc and Navarre. Fortunately, however, this pope became involved in a dispute respecting the celebrated exchange of the duchy of Parma and Plaisance, in favour of his natural son, Peter Lewis Farnese, and consequently, the Knights of St. George had to pacify the minds of those who were offended at such robbery and injustice; but it was found that this single order was not sufficiently powerful for the purpose, wherefore another was created in 1542, called the Order of the Lily, in order to reward such as readily submitted to the Papal authority in that matter.
But in the meanwhile the Reformers gained ground; Luther in Germany, and Zwinglius in Switzerland, made great progress. Paul III. had need of a society to oppose them; his knights were no longer equal to the task—it was impossible to resist, by force of arms, so rapid and wide-spreading an influence. Charles V., if he did not openly declare himself a reformer, was but little favourable to Rome; and Duke Frederic of Saxony, the most esteemed prince in Germany, was an open convert to Protestantism. It appeared necessary, therefore, that a society should be formed, which should present itself to the world as a religious body, to act in favour of the Holy See. A Spanish knight, weary of the occupation of war, and disgusted at the treachery of his mistress, had at that time offered up his sword on the altar of the Virgin, and devoted himself to her service, and he soon proved himself a fit champion for the necessities of the times. This Spanish knight was no other than Ignatius Loyola, who came to Rome in the year 1540, and became the founder of a religious order which, for the purpose of captivating the imagination of the whole Christian world, and to gain universal homage, assumed the title of The Company of Jesus! Every one would have thought that this order would have been of the same description as that which was founded a short time before by Gaetano Tiene, and that which soon afterwards owed its origin to Giuseppe Calassanzio. Now it is the deceptive policy of the Inquisition to make it appear that these knightly orders are for the purpose of defending Christians from the attacks of infidels; and also for the education of youth. But without doubt, the sole object of this grand piece of machinery is entirely the upholding of the papacy; indeed, the whole body of knights, as well as of friars, are nothing more nor less than servants of the Pope. In illustration of this fact, we read in the history of Pius IV., that in the year 1560, he founded an order of knighthood, under the title of St. John Lateran, and that the principal duty these heroes had to perform was that of carrying His Holiness on their shoulders, seated in his chair of state, with the privilege of kissing his most sacred foot, both before and after the ceremony. In subjecting his nobles to this degrading office, the Pope wisely considered that he was preparing them for the performance of any servile act that the future exigencies of His Holiness might require. The Roman people, however, turned the cross-bearing knights into ridicule, calling them Knights of the Foot, and the Pope saw with dissatisfaction that the order did not prosper. He determined, therefore, to invest them with fresh dignity, and decreed that every knight in service should also enjoy the title of Count Palatine, with the privilege of creating doctors in every department of science. This succeeded for a time; the knightly Counts were content to submit their shoulders to the sacred burden, and kiss the foot they carried; but the sarcasms of the Romans proved more powerful than the titles and honours of the Pope; the knights began greatly to disrelish their occupation, insomuch that the successor of Paul was obliged to stipend his titled porters still more liberally, or run the risk of not being carried at all.
Another curious fact connected with our subject may here be related. Pope Sixtus V. had, or pretended to have, a firm belief in the miracle of the Holy House of Loretto, which was stated to have occurred shortly before his time. Now many persons, with the Bishop of Recanati, a town a little way from Loretto, at their head, absolutely denied that such an event as that the house should have flown through the air, from Nazareth to Dalmatia, and finally to Loretto, had ever taken place. But the Pope was determined to uphold the truth of the miracle, and created an order of knights expressly to maintain and defend its authenticity; this was in the year 1586, and the order was named after the town of Loretto. Every knight, therefore, was bound to draw his sword in its defence, and to challenge to single combat whoever should venture to impugn its veracity. They were chiefly selected from the inhabitants of the province signalized by the event. This order continued in existence about a century, after which lapse of time, as no one appeared to think it worth his while to contend with Rome on the subject of the imposture, it was considered as useless, and was no longer kept up.
While these knightly orders were instituted on one hand, on the other, many fresh monastic bodies were established, under new denominations, and with different dresses; all, however, were employed by the Church of Rome to uphold her doctrines and her practice, even to fanaticism. If they were not both equally injurious to society, the only difference was that the one was dreaded from its open use of the sword, whilst the other excited fear from its secret machinations; as servants to the Inquisition they were all obedient alike.
And now a word or two with respect to these secret machinations which hitherto, it seems, people have been afraid to talk about. The monks, whether to their credit or not I leave others to decide, have proved themselves more doughty champions than the knights; inasmuch as the latter could never stand against ridicule, whereas the former have braved and overcome it; they have even derived strength from it: their disciples, moreover, are expressly taught to despise it, and through a long course of years a generation of men has been trained up, who are appalled by no dangers or difficulties, and are capable of confronting every obstacle, in the service of Rome.
The first experiment under this audacious system was made in the 13th century, when that knave Innocent III. bestowed on his church the renowned Order of St. Francis of Assisi. This holy brotherhood understood better than any other in the whole world how to live well at the public expense, without any possessions of their own, and without ever incurring labour or fatigue. The first principle they inculcate in their order is, that there is no disgrace in the act of begging. Fratres nostri non erubescant. Clothed with a coarse garment, bound round their waist with cord, with sandalled feet and shaven crowns, dirty and greasy, they are truly as lawful objects of ridicule, to all who behold them, as the grossest cynic was to the enlightened Athenians. Little, however, do they regard it; there are even among them not a few who imagine they present an engaging appearance in their strange garb, and pretend they would not exchange it for the gayer costume of the cavaliers. The Franciscans attach so much importance to their dress, that their rules enjoin the penalty of excommunication to any one who lays aside the holy vestment, or cuts off the sacred beard. It is considered a mortal sin for a Capuchin to assume the guise of a Zoccolante, and vice versâ. This prohibition is equally in force with respect to all the monkish orders, and the neglect of it is considered as a species of apostasy.
When human beings are reduced to such fanaticism, both in principle and in practice, it is not to be wondered at if they are capable of any crime they may imagine it their duty to commit. The obedience a monk owes to his superior is more absolute than that of the soldier to his commanding officer, inasmuch as it wears the cloak of religion; the monk considers himself a spiritual soldier, and his obedience is based in superstition. Moreover, every monastic institution is a secret society, and a true monk should have the genius of a conspirator. He should love his own order before any other, and be ready to shed his blood in its defence. Every institution has its own particular saints. The Franciscan sees in St. Francis and St. Anthony the first saints in the whole world, the most favoured by the Virgin Mary, and the most fruitful in miracles; and on the other hand, the Dominican considers his St. Dominic and St. Vincent the paragons, the ne plus ultra of all sanctity and miracle-working. St. Dominic is not merely termed holy, he is denominated the most holy; Sanctissimus Pater Dominicus. Take one of these worthies, then, stolid by nature and rendered more so by his education, and place before him any sort of disgraceful work, and see if the Church of Rome will not be fully satisfied with her disciple.