A History of the Inquisition of Spain; vol. 4

by Henry Charles Lea

HABITUAL SELF-RESTRAINT

It scarce needs this testimony to explain why no unfavorable opinion of the Inquisition is to be expected of Spaniards during its existence, except by those who spoke as mandatories of the people in the Córtes or high officials in contests over competencias. Terror rendered silence imperative, and secrecy made ignorance universal. The discharged prisoner was sworn to reveal nothing of what he had endured and any complaint of injustice subjected him to prosecution. Criticism was held to be impeding its action and was a crime subject to condign punishment. Writers had ever to keep in view its censorship, with the certainty that any ill-judged word would ensure the suppression of a book, and any attempt at self-justification would lead to worse consequences, as Belando found when a petition to be heard cost him life-long imprisonment and prohibition to use the pen. When, in the yearly Edict of Faith, every one was required, under pain of excommunication, to denounce any impeding, direct or indirect, of the tribunal, or any criticism of the justice of its operation, restraint became universal and habitual and, in the instinct of self-preservation, men would naturally seek to teach themselves and their children not even to think ill of the Inquisition lest, in some unguarded moment, a chance utterance might lead to prosecution and infamy. The popular refran, Con el Rey y la Inquisicion, chiton!—Silence as to the king and the Inquisition—reveals to us better than a world of argument, the result of this repression through generations, and its efficiency is seen in the fact that in Toledo, from 1648 to 1794, there was but a single trial for speaking ill of the Holy Office. Such training bore its fruits when autocracy broke down under the Revolution and the experiment of self-government was essayed.

The Spaniard was taught not alone to repress his opinions as to the Inquisition but to keep a guard on his tongue under all circumstances, not only in public but in the sacred confidence of his own family, for the duty of denunciation applied to husband and father, to wife and children. Even as early as 1534, the orthodox Juan Luis Vives complained to Erasmus that in those difficult times it was dangerous either to speak or to keep silent.[1142] The cautious Mariana tells us that the most grievous oppression caused by the introduction of the Inquisition was the deprivation of freedom of speech, which some persons regarded as a servitude worse than death.[1143] We have seen how seriously were treated even the most trivial and careless expressions, which could be tortured into disregard of some theological tenet or disrespect for some church observance, and it behooved every one to be on his guard at all times and in all places. The yearly Edict of Faith kept the terror of the Inquisition constantly before every man and was perhaps the most efficient device ever invented to subject a population to the fear of an ever-impending danger. No other nation ever lived through centuries under a moral oppression so complete, so minute and so all-pervading.

That the Inquisition inspired a dread greater than that felt for the royal authority is illustrated by a curious instance, in which it was utilized for good in subduing a lawless community. In 1588, Lupus Martin de Govilla, Inquisitor of Barcelona, in a visitation came to Montblanch, where no inquisitor had been for many years. He found it a populous town, torn by factions so bitter that men were slain in the streets, battles were fought in the plaza, and women at their windows were shot with arquebuses. After publishing the Edict of Faith he discovered that witnesses were afraid to come to him through the streets and, regarding this as a contempt of the Inquisition, he issued a proclamation forbidding the carrying of arquebuses and cross-bows, and his order was obeyed. He made an example of one offender by requiring him to hear mass as a penitent, banishing him and confiscating his arquebus, which quieted the people, so that the Inquisition could be carried on. Then a murder occurred, and the regidors procured from the viceroy full powers for him to pacify the town; by general agreement all placed themselves under the jurisdiction of the Inquisition, as there was no safety under the royal, and they gave thanks to God that peace was restored, and that men could move around without arms. Govilla went to Poblet, when news was brought him of another murder; he returned and imprisoned and penanced those guilty, who complained to the viceroy, but the Audiencia, after examination dismissed the complaint, and this strange jurisdiction of the Inquisition seems to have continued for some ten years.[1144]

STATISTICS OF VICTIMS

Before dismissing the impression produced by the severity of the Inquisition it will not be amiss to attempt some conjecture as to the totality of its operations, especially as regards the burnings, which naturally affected more profoundly the imagination. There is no question that the number of these has been greatly exaggerated in popular belief, an exaggeration to which Llorente has largely contributed by his absurd method of computation, on an arbitrary assumption of a certain annual average for each tribunal in successive periods. It is impossible now to reconstruct the statistics of the Inquisition, especially during its early activity, but some general conclusions can be formed from the details accessible as to a few tribunals.

The burnings without doubt were numerous during the first few years, through the unregulated ardor of inquisitors, little versed in the canon law, who seem to have condemned right and left, on flimsy evidence, and without allowing their victims the benefit of applying for reconciliation, for, while there might be numerous negativos, there certainly were few pertinacious impenitents. The discretion allowed to them to judge as to the genuineness of conversion gave a dangerous power, which was doubtless abused by zealots, and the principle that imperfect confession was conclusive of impenitence added many to the list of victims, while the wholesale reconciliations under the Edicts of Grace afforded an abundant harvest to be garnered under the rule condemning relapse. In the early years, moreover, the absent and the dead contributed with their effigies largely to the terrible solemnities of the quemadero.

Modern writers vary irreconcileably in their estimates, influenced more largely by subjective considerations than by the imperfect statistics at their command. Rodrigo coolly asserts as a positive fact that those who perished in Spain at the stake for heresy did not amount to 400 and that these were voluntary victims, who refused to retract their errors.[1145] Father Gams reckons 2000 for the period up to the death of Isabella, in 1504, and as many more from that date up to 1758.[1146] On the other hand, Llorente calculates that, up to the end of Torquemada’s activity, there had been condemned 105,294 persons, of whom 8800 were burnt alive, 6500 in effigy and 90,004 exposed to public penance, while, up to 1524, the grand totals amounted to 14,344, 9372 and 195,937.[1147] Even these figures are exceeded by Amador de los Rios, who is not usually given to exaggeration. He assumes that, up to 1525, when the Moriscos commenced to suffer as heretics, the number of those burnt alive amounted to 28,540, of those burnt in effigy to 16,520 and those penanced to 303,847, making a total of 348,907 condemnations for Judaism.[1148] Don Melgares Marin, whose familiarity with the documents is incontestable, tells us that, in Castile, during 1481, more than 20,000 were reconciled under Edicts of Grace, more than 3000 were penanced with the sanbenito, and more than 4000 were burnt, but he adduces no authorities in support of the estimate.[1149]

STATISTICS OF VICTIMS

The only contemporary who gives us figures for the whole of Spain is Hernando de Pulgar, secretary of Queen Isabella. His official position gave him facilities for obtaining information, and his scarcely veiled dislike for the Inquisition was not likely to lead to underrating its activity. He states at 15,000 those who had come in under Edicts of Grace, and at 2000 those who were burnt, besides the dead whose bones were exhumed in great quantities; the number of penitents he does not estimate. Unluckily, he gives no date but, as his Chronicle ends in 1490, we may assume that to be the term comprised.[1150] With some variations his figures were adopted by subsequent writers.[1151] Bernáldez only makes the general statement that throughout Spain an infinite number were burnt and condemned and reconciled and imprisoned, and of those reconciled many relapsed and were burnt.[1152]