The inquisition of Rome is a congregation of twelve cardinals and some other officers, where the Pope presides in person. This is accounted the highest tribunal in Rome; it began in the time of Pope Paul IV. on occasion of the Lutheranism.
The inquisition is very severe in the Indies. It is true, there must there be the oaths of seven witnesses to condemn a man; but the deposition of slaves or children are taken. The person is tortured till he condemns himself; for his accusers are never brought to confront him. Persons are accused for the most slender expression against the church; or even for a disrespectful word against the inquisitors.
The standard of the inquisition is a piece of red damask, on which is painted a cross, with an olive branch on one side and a sword on the other; with these words of the Psalm, Exurge, Domine, et judica causam meam.
This infernal engine of tyranny, bigotry, and superstition, did not become known in Spain before the year 1484. The court of Rome owed this obligation to another Dominican, John de Torquemada. As he was the confessor of Queen Isabella, he had extorted from her a promise that if ever she ascended the throne, she would use every means to extirpate heresy and heretics. Ferdinand had conquered Grenada, and had expelled from the Spanish realms multitudes of unfortunate Moors. A few remained, who, with the Jews, he compelled to become Christians: they at least assumed the name, but it was well known that both these nations naturally respected their own faith, rather than that of the Christians. This race was afterwards distinguished as Christianos novos; and in marriages, the blood of the Hidalgo was considered to lose its purity by mingling with such a suspicious source.
It was pretended by Torquemada, that this dissimulation would greatly hurt the holy religion. The Queen listened with respectful diffidence to her confessor; and at length gained over the king to consent to the establishment of the unrelenting tribunal. Torquemada, indefatigable in his zeal for the holy see, in the space of fourteen years that he exercised the office of chief inquisitor, is said to have prosecuted near eighty thousand persons, of whom six thousand were condemned to the flames.
Voltaire attributes the taciturnity of the Spaniards to the universal horror such proceedings spread. “A jealousy and suspicion took possession of all ranks of people: friendship and sociability were at an end! Brothers were afraid of brothers, fathers of their children.”
The situation and feelings of one imprisoned in the cells of the inquisition are forcibly painted by Orobio, a mild, and meek, and learned man, whose controversy with Limborch is well known. When he escaped from Spain he took refuge in Holland, was circumcised, and died a philosophical Jew. He has left this admirable description of himself in the cell of the inquisition:—“Inclosed in this dungeon I could not even find space enough to turn myself about; I suffered so much that I found my brain disordered. I frequently asked myself, am I really Don Bathazaar Orobio, who used to walk about Seville at my pleasure, who so much enjoyed myself with my wife and children? I often imagined that all my life had only been a dream, and that I really had been born in this dungeon! The only amusement I could invent was metaphysical disputations. I was at once opponent, respondent, and phæses!” In the cathedral at Saragossa is the tomb of a famous inquisitor; six pillars surround the tomb; to each is chained a Moor, as preparatory to his being burnt. On this St. Foix ingeniously observes, “If ever the jack-ketch of any country should be rich enough to have a splendid tomb, this might serve as an excellent model.”
Bayle informs us, that the inquisition punished heretics by fire, to elude the maxim, Ecclesia non novit sanguinem; for burning a man, say they, does not shed his blood! Otho, the bishop at the Norman invasion, in the tapestry worked by Matilda, the queen of William the Conqueror, is represented with a mace in his hand, for the purpose, that when he dispatched his antagonist, he might not spill blood, but only break bones! Religion has had her quibbles as well as law.
The establishment of this despotic order was resisted in France; but it may perhaps surprise the reader that a recorder of London, in a speech, urged the necessity of setting up an inquisition in England! It was on the trial of Penn the Quaker, in 1670, who was acquitted by the jury, which seems highly to have provoked the said recorder. “Magna Charta,” says the preface to the trial, “with the recorder of London, is nothing more than Magna F——!” It appears that the jury after being kept two days and two nights to change their verdict, were in the end both fined and imprisoned. Sir John Howell, the recorder, said, “Till now I never understood the reason of the policy and prudence of the Spaniards, in suffering the inquisition among them; and certainly it will not be well with us, till something like unto the Spanish inquisition be in England.” Thus it will ever be, while both parties, struggling for pre-eminence, rush to the sharp extremity of things, and annihilate the trembling balance of the constitution. But the adopted motto of Lord Erskine must ever be that of every Briton, “Trial by Jury.”
Gabriel Malagrida, an old man of seventy, so late as the year 1761, was burnt by these evangelical executioners. His trial was printed at Amsterdam, 1762, from the Lisbon copy. And for what was this unhappy Jesuit condemned? Not, as some imagined, for his having been concerned in a conspiracy against the King of Portugal. No other charge is laid to him in his trial, but that of having indulged certain heretical notions, which any other tribunal but that of the inquisition, would have looked upon as the deleterious fancies of a fanatical old man. Will posterity believe, that in the eighteenth century an aged visionary was led to the stake for having said, amongst other extravagances, “that the Virgin having commanded him to write the life of Antichrist, told him, that he, Malagrida, was a second John, but more clear than John the Evangelist; that there were to be three Antichrists, and that the last should be born at Milan, of a monk and a nun, in the year 1920; that he would marry Proserpine, one of the infernal furies.”