"If your Holiness despises the prayers and tears of the Hebrew race, or despite our hopes, refuses to redress our grievances, as would beseem the vicar of Christ, then we protest before God, and with tears and cries that shall be heard afar off will we protest in the face of the universe, that our lives, our honor, our children, who are our blood, our very salvation made the butt of persecution, we will nevertheless try to hold ourselves aloof from the Jewish faith; but if tyranny ceases not, we will do what no one of us would else think of, i. e., return to the religion of Moses, and abjure Christianity, which we are made to accept by main force. We solemnly cry aloud that we are victims, by the right which that fact gives us—a right which your Holiness recognizes. Leaving our native land, we will seek protection among less cruel peoples."

The nuncio who had returned from Portugal, knowing by long years of experience the position of men and affairs, managed to convince the pope that his sanction of the Inquisition was a mistake, and as Paul III had only given way to momentary pressure, a change of sentiment soon followed, and he repented the step he had taken. He went so far as again to submit his bull to a committee which was to examine its legality. To this commission the Marranos' friend, Cardinal Ghinucci, was elected along with another of like mind, Jacobacio. They contrived to prejudice the third member, the honest but narrow-minded Cardinal Simoneta, against the Inquisition, so that he begged the pope to right matters by the revocation of his former bull. Another nuncio was sent to Portugal, with authority within certain limits to nullify the proceedings of the Inquisition against the Marranos, to protect the latter, and particularly to render easier their emigration from Portugal. The pope sent a brief (dated August, 1537) after the nuncio, empowering and, to some extent, encouraging all to give protection and assistance to the accused Marranos—in fact, to do exactly what in Portugal was held to be conniving at and participating in heresy. The king must have been considerably puzzled. Here he was at length in possession of a bull, a tribunal, a grand inquisitor and his colleagues—the whole apparatus of a slaughter-house for the glory of God—and he might just as well have had nothing at all.

An incident again turned the chances of the game in favor of the king and the fanatics. One day (February, 1539) a placard was discovered fastened on the door of the Lisbon Cathedral: "The Messiah has not yet appeared—Jesus was not the Messiah, and Christianity is a lie." All Portugal was indignant at such blasphemy, and a strict investigation was set on foot to find out the offender. The king offered a reward of 10,000 crusados (ducats). The nuncio also offered 5,000 crusados, as he, with many others, was of opinion that this was a blow from some enemy of the Marranos, designed to excite the king's fanaticism to a higher degree, and to get the nuncio into trouble. To turn aside suspicion the new-Christians posted a notice on the same place—"I, the author, am neither a Spaniard nor a Portuguese, but an Englishman, and though you raise your reward to 20,000 crusados, you will not find me out." After all, the writer turned out to be a Marrano, one Emanuel da Costa. He confessed everything when cited before the Inquisition. The civil court then took him in hand, and put him on the rack to make him name his accomplices. Finally, after both hands had been cut off, he was burnt to death. The Marranos foresaw evil consequences for themselves, and took to flight. The king made the best of this opportunity to enforce the rules of the Inquisition with increased severity and bloodthirstiness, and to thwart the nuncio's efforts. The maddest fanatics were at once elected inquisitors, to the great anger of the pope and his nuncio. João Soares, whom the pope himself once described as "not a learned, but a most daring and ambitious, monk, with opinions and ideas of the very worst kind, who takes pride in his enmity to the apostolic see," was now given unbounded power over the lives of the new-Christians, and his colleague was Mallo, an arch-foe of the new-Christians. For the Marranos the state of affairs grew worse every day. On three points the pope showed immovable firmness: the Infante Don Henrique must not remain grand inquisitor; Marranos accused of heresy should have the witnesses' (that is, their accusers') names announced to them; finally, after sentence is passed they should be allowed recourse to the papal court of appeals. Indeed, Paul III caused a new bull to be drawn up (October 12th, 1539)—a supplement of that issued three years before—which throughout was of a favorable tenor to new-Christians, and would completely have crippled the Inquisition. But this likewise remained a dead letter. After this, fires for the obstinate heretics were kindled more frequently than ever, and more victims were sacrificed (from ten to forty a year) without permitting them to appeal to the pope. The denounced and suspected Marranos filled the prisons.

A contemporary poet, Samuel Usque, gives a dreadful picture of the tortures of the Portuguese Inquisition, which he himself had experienced in his youth:

"Its institution deprived the Jews of peace of mind, filled their souls with pain and grief, and drew them forth from the comforts of home into gloomy dungeons, where they dwelt amid torment and sighs of anguish. It (the Inquisition) flings the halter round their necks, and drags them to the flames; through its decrees they must see their sons murdered, husbands burnt to death, and brothers robbed of life; must see their children made orphans, the number of widows increased, the rich made poor, the mighty brought low, the nobly born transformed into highway robbers, chaste, modest women housed in lewd, ignominious dwellings, through the poverty and desertion in its wake. It has burnt numbers to death, not one by one, but by thirties, by fifties at a time. Not content with mere burning and destroying, it leads Christians to boast of such deeds, to rejoice when their eyes behold the members of my body (the sons of Jacob) burning to death in the flames, kindled with fagots dragged from afar on men's shoulders. Those baptized against their will, steal about overpowered with fear of this savage monster (the Inquisition); they turn their eyes on every side lest it seize them. With ill-assured hearts they pass to and fro, trembling like a leaf, terror strikes them suddenly, and they stay their steps lest it take them captive. When they sit down together to eat, every morsel is lifted to their mouths in anguish. The hour that brings repose to all other beings only increases their anxiety and exhaustion. At times of marriage and the birth of children, joy and feasting are turned into mourning and disquietude of soul. In fine, there is no moment not paid for by a thousand deadly fears. For it suffices not that they make themselves known as Christians by outward signs. Fire rages in their hearts, their tortures are innumerable."

Is this an exaggerated description? Did the poet's imagination transform petty sufferings into the pains of martyrdom? Every word of it is corroborated by an assembly of cardinals, officially gathered to investigate the proceedings of the Portuguese Inquisition against the Marranos.

"When a pseudo-Christian is denounced—often by false witnesses—the inquisitors drag him away to a dismal retreat where he is allowed no sight of heaven or earth, and least of all to speak with his friends, who might succor him. They accuse him on obscure testimony, and inform him neither of the time nor the place where he committed the offense for which he is denounced. Later on he is allowed an advocate, who often, instead of defending his cause, helps him on the road to the stake. Let an unfortunate creature acknowledge himself a true believing Christian, and firmly deny the transgressions laid to his charge, they condemn him to the flames, and confiscate his goods. Let him plead guilty to such and such a deed, though unintentionally committed, they treat him in a similar manner under the pretense that he obstinately denies his wicked intentions. Let him freely and fully admit what he is accused of, he is reduced to extremest necessity, and condemned to the dungeon's never-lifting gloom. And this they call treating the accused with mercy and compassion and Christian charity! Even he who succeeds in clearly proving his innocence is condemned to pay a fine, so that it may not be said that he was arrested without cause. The accused who are held prisoners are racked by every instrument of torture to admit the accusations against them. Many die in prison, and those who are set free, with all their relatives bear a brand of eternal infamy."

As the Inquisition grew more and more severe and bloodthirsty, the Portuguese new-Christians clung with increasing tenacity to the last anchor of hope left—to the pope and their other protectors. They had found a new advocate and mediator, who gave promise of being more honest and energetically active on their behalf. The battle between the Portuguese court and the papal see blazed up afresh. It was war to the death, not for those immediately concerned, but for the miserable beings who, in spite of self-repression, could not become reconciled to Christianity, yet were not courageous enough to suffer for Judaism—who would give up neither convictions, wealth, nor position. To influence the pope, or at least those about his person against the Marranos, the Infante and grand inquisitor Henrique had a list of the delinquencies of the new-Christians made out and sent to Rome (February, 1542). The Marranos, also, to wrest the weapons from their opponents' hands, in Rome and elsewhere, and for all times to refute the lying reports and statements of the Portuguese court, drew up a bulky memorial (1544), detailing their troubled lot, from the time of King João II and Manoel, who forced them to accept Christianity, until the most recent times, and verifying their statements by documentary evidence—a monument of everlasting disgrace to that age.

Yet these reciprocal indictments led to no settlement. At length, when they saw that nothing would stop the execrable activity of the Inquisition now it had once been called into existence, the pope and the Marranos felt how extremely important it was for them to secure at least two concessions. First, free right of emigration from Portugal for new-Christians; second, a general absolution (Perdaõ) for those already denounced or imprisoned, provided they would promise to give up their Jewish creed and remain good Christians in the future. But these were the very points on which the king and the Dominicans would not yield. As though in defiance of the pope, the king issued an ordinance (July 15th, 1547), that for three years longer no new-Christian might leave Portugal without express permission or payment of a large sum of money.

Paul III felt himself crippled. He might shudder at the cruelties of the Portuguese Inquisition—the vast sums which the Marranos spent on him and his sycophants might be ever so much needed to aid in carrying out his policy in Italy and in prosecuting war against the Protestants, yet he dared not show too stern a determination to thwart the court at Lisbon. He, too, was in the power of Catholic fanatics. To fight the Protestant heretics and reinstate the papal dignity, he had authorized the institution of the order of Jesuits (1540), who inscribed their banner with the watchword of the church militant. He had agreed to the proposition of the fanatical Pietro Caraffa for an Inquisition at Rome (1542). Loyola and Caraffa now lorded it over Rome, and the pope was only their tool. Moreover, the council of Trent was to be convened to settle the standard of faith, whereby the Protestants were to be humbled, and their influence crushed. Paul III needed ardent fanatical helpers to keep the lukewarm up to the mark. Such men only Spain and Portugal could furnish. In Portugal the most friendly reception had been accorded the Jesuits. Thus the pope could offer only mild opposition to the Portuguese court, and proffer requests where he should have given orders.