Blanco García, op. cit., pp. 114-115.
III
Though, in accord with the customary procedure in such cases, each witness who appeared before Gonzalez was sworn to secrecy, it is evident that there was no mystery in Salamanca as to the intention of the Valladolid Inquisitors. On March 25, 1572, a day before the formal order for the arrest of Luis de Leon was actually signed, Diego de Valladolid was accepted as bail to the amount of two thousand ducats, that the said Luis de Leon would go quietly to prison in Valladolid without making any attempt at escape.[53] A document to this effect was drawn up and was duly signed by three witnesses, of whom one was a Familiar of the Inquisition, Francisco de Almansa. It seems likely that Almansa may have suspected that, for the time being, the hours of Luis de Leon's comparative freedom were already numbered; for, on the following day (March 26, 1572), Almansa was appointed alguacil of the Valladolid Inquisitionary court, was directed to arrest Luis de Leon wherever he might be—'in church, or monastery, or other hallowed place'—and was further ordered to sequestrate any arms, cash, jewels, or papers which the prisoner might have about him. [54] Almansa, to whom Luis de Leon was perfectly well known, [55] obeyed instructions, and reached the Valladolid jail with his captive at about six o'clock in the evening of Thursday, March 27, 1572.[56] After being carefully searched, Luis de Leon was lodged in the secret cells of the Inquisition, and there, except for his appearances in court, he was detained for over four years and eight months.[57]
Though he was notoriously in weak health, the prisoner does not seem to have received any special consideration. On the other hand, it cannot be maintained that, at the outset, his judges treated him with inhumanity. That Luis de Leon was nervous about himself, and that he believed it possible he might die without warning is the impression conveyed by a fervent act of faith which, though undated, was probably written almost as soon as his imprisonment began. On March 31, Luis de Leon asked for various things besides four books: one of them a box of powder with which he was usually provided by a nun named Ana de Espinosa to alleviate his heart-attacks.[58] This petition was granted. Luis de Leon's request for a knife to cut his food with was so clearly against all prison regulations that he can scarcely have expected a favourable reply.[59] The Inquisitors met him half-way by ordering that he should at once be supplied with a rounded spoon, sufficient for his purpose, though useless to a prisoner of suicidal tendencies.[60] At this stage, it cannot be said that Luis de Leon was treated with any want of lenity. There was no reason why he should be. He was arrested mainly on suspicion of being concerned in the (purely imaginary) Jewish propaganda imputed to his colleagues Grajal and Martinez de Cantalapiedra; the evidence against him was second-hand and meagre.
Before long matters began to take a graver aspect. A definite charge[61] emerged that some ten or eleven years earlier[62] Luis de Leon had translated from the Hebrew into Spanish the Song of Solomon, to which he appended a commentary, also in Spanish. This he did at the request of a nun whose name is incidentally revealed as 'Doña Isabel Osorio, monja de Sancti Espíritu de Salamanca'.[63] That Luis de Leon's proceeding was most imprudent is undeniable. With characteristic courage and candour, in his first confesion of March 6, he volunteered the admission that he had made such a rendering.[64] At this moment he was apparently unaware that the existence of this rendering had been already brought to the notice of the Inquisition by Medina.[65] Nobody questions Luis de Leon's good faith. Nevertheless one gets the impression that he felt this to be a weak point in his case. It was. He had committed a serious indiscretion by infringing the general prohibition of vernacular versions of any part of Scripture. No doubt it might be contended that his rendering of the Song of Solomon, and his commentary on it, were originally meant to be used by only one private person; that the prohibition referred to the circulation of vernacular versions; that this particular version, made for the exclusive use of Doña Isabel Osorio, did not amount to circulation (within the four corners of the general prohibition); and that such circulation as had taken place had occurred against the will of the translator. This is not mere sophistry. What seems to have happened was this. It appears that a lay brother, named Diego de Leon, part of whose business it was to tidy Luis de Leon's cell, stumbled one day upon the original manuscript of the vernacular version of the Song of Solomon, copied it without leave or licence, and allowed so many transcriptions of his copy to be made that it became absolutely impossible for the translator to control or recall them afterwards.[66] Manifestly Diego de Leon did not venture to remove the original manuscript from its resting-place; it was still in Luis de Leon's monastery-cell on November 7, 1573.[67] Search being made for it, the version was found, handed over to the Inquisitionary authorities, and retained by them when judgement was pronounced.[68] There is evidence to show that many manuscript copies of the vernacular Song of Solomon stole into existence and were widely distributed. On March 6, 1572, Luis de Leon, whose references to this matter are tinged with regret, uses words which seem to imply that a copy had reached Portugal; and an inquiry, opened at Cuzco in the autumn of 1575, revealed the fact that a transcription of the Cantares que llaman de fray Luis de Leon had been made by Fray Luis Alvarez and conveyed by him to South America. This transcription, after being recopied by a Lima graduate, who appears to have left for Spain to continue his studies at the University of Alcalá de Henares, was deposited in the public library of Quito which was housed in the Augustinian monastery there.[69] This episode denotes a morbid curiosity which must have been revolting to Luis de Leon's austere nature. He candidly avowed doubts as to the prudence of facilitating the reading of the Song of Solomon in Spanish, and would have cancelled all manuscript copies if he could.[70] In this respect, however, he was powerless, and no better remedy occurred to him than to set to work on a Latin version which, when printed, should supplant the Spanish rendering. This he hoped to be able to disown. But fate was hostile to his design. Constant ill-health hindered him from making rapid headway with his projected Latin translation. He submitted himself to the Court which, naturally enough, vouchsafed no reply to his request for alternative suggestions as to how he could make amends for a preliminary error of judgement.[71]
If Luis de Leon's opponents expected to overwhelm him by the suddenness, vehemence, or volume of their attack, they must speedily have been disillusioned. The mystic poet proved to be a formidable fighting-man. Before very long it must have dawned upon the Inquisitionary deputies at Valladolid that they had caught a Tartar. Unversed in the ways of the world, Luis de Leon came of a legal stock, and was thoroughly at home in a law-court. A master of dialectics, he was always alert, always prompt to criticize the evidence, always ready to deal with every point as it arose, always prepared to furnish elaborate written or verbal explanations as to every detail concerning which the tribunal could harbour a reasonable doubt. The official secretaries of the Court—Celedon Gustin and the rest of them—must have grown to dread Luis de Leon's continual demands for sheets of paper on which to write his long, considered replies. It would be idle to attempt to summarize the technical arguments advanced by each side in support of conflicting views on doctrinal or exegetical problems. In this place, it will suffice to advert to points which help to illuminate the character of Luis de Leon, or to exemplify the attitude of the court towards him.
At the outset, as already stated, there seems to have existed no decided prejudice against Luis de Leon in the minds of his judges: they apparently administered the existing system in a not illiberal spirit. There are indications, however, that this position of relative impartiality was not maintained. That the court became gradually biased against the accused seems to follow from the small but eloquent fact of its rejecting Luis de Leon's petition that his University chair should not be declared vacant till the end of his trial.[72] It cannot be argued that the judges were concerned for the efficiency of the teaching in the University of Salamanca—a matter in which they took no sort of interest. The decision of the court in Luis de Leon's case was in direct conflict with the ruling of the same court as regards Barrientos, another Salamancan professor who was in custody of the Valladolid Inquisition on May 20, 1572.[73] It was then settled that Barrientos should not be disturbed, and that no successor to him should be appointed so long as he was imprisoned. Luis de Leon's chair was declared vacant as soon as his normal tenure of four years had expired; the ordinary course of unquestioned renewal was not followed; and, to make matters worse, his implacable opponent, Bartolomé de Medina, was appointed to succeed Luis de Leon in his chair.[74] For this appointment, no doubt, the University of Salamanca is entitled to claim such credit as is due. But no such appointment would have been possible had the Valladolid Inquisitors been consistent. What caused the court to be more severe to Luis de Leon than to his colleague Barrientos?
This instance of inconsiderateness is not unique. As time went on the bias of the court against the accused waxed rather than waned. Luis de Leon's ill-health was notorious and, in fact, so obvious that it is recorded by the court in an official minute.[75] His state did not improve in jail. Suffering from fever—'como á sus mercedes les consta'—so he says plaintively—he had nobody to look after him in his secret cell save a sleepy-headed boy, a fellow-prisoner who was half a simpleton. Luis de Leon had fainted from lack of food, and, in the circumstances, it is not surprising that he should have asked to be allowed the companionship of a monk of his order—preferably Fray Alonso Siluente—or anybody else whom the court should think fit to name.[76] Somewhat later, while still suffering from fever, Luis de Leon begged that, on his providing satisfactory bail, he might be transferred from his prison-cell to some neighbouring monastery, where he could be detained till the end of his trial. So depressed was he at this moment that he even welcomed the idea of being placed in a Dominican monastery; it was true that the Dominicans were hostile to him, yet if he died among them, he should be dying like a Christian, surrounded by religious—not like a heathen with a blackamoor at his bedside.[77] The first of these two requests was made to the Valladolid judges, who passed it on to the Supreme Inquisition at Madrid; the reply of this body was discouraging, for, though the request was granted in principle, impossible conditions, tantamount to a refusal, were imposed.[78] Luis de Leon's second request was addressed direct to the Inquisitor-General: this petition was disregarded. In other matters, less urgent but not less important from an orthodox point of view, the Inquisitionary judges at Valladolid made no concession to the prisoner. He asked to be allowed to go to confession, and to say Mass once a fortnight in the hall where his case was heard.[79] Apparently a deaf ear was turned to his entreaties. A hostile critic might be tempted to say that a vindictive spirit prevailed in the deliberations of the Valladolid tribunal.
It is difficult to avoid the conclusion that, as the case developed, the attitude of the Valladolid judges became less and less favourable to Luis de Leon. Judges are mortals and liable to error. The very pertinacity of the prisoner may have impressed them badly.[80] It is in the highest degree improbable that they attached any importance to his few slips. He speaks of having a naturally weak memory which, so he declares, had grown worse while he was in prison,[81] and he was frankly sceptical as to the possibility of any man's recalling every incident in squabbles that happened years before.[82] As it happens, his memory seems to have been excellent. No doubt it failed him now and then; but seldom did it mislead him on any essential point.[83] It is conceivable that Luis de Leon's judges at Valladolid thought him lacking in deference. Though perfectly respectful, his attitude to them was anything but subservient. The judges were accustomed to see prisoners who were brought before them crushed with awe and a sense of impending doom. Conscious of the baselessness of the charges against him, the accused seemed to take his acquittal as certain; and he stood so little in awe of his judges that he announced his intention of appealing over their heads to the members of the Supreme Inquisition.[84] Timidity was not among his failings. A priest of Astudillo, formerly a student at Salamanca, had occasionally strayed into Luis de Leon's densely-packed lecture-room, and retained an abiding impression of the professor's desenvoltura in his chair.[85] Luis de Leon had not become wholly subdued during the intervening years. He did not mince words in court, and indulged in sweeping denunciations of large groups of men; he branded all Dominicans as 'enemies';[86] he was scarcely more indulgent in speaking of the Jeromites (who resented his opposition to the candidature of their representative, Hector Pinto, for a chair at Salamanca);[87] and on general grounds, not unconnected with ancient academic rancours, he objected to the entire faculty of theology at the University of Alcalá de Henares.[88] The evidence of such persons should, he suggested, be discounted in advance. Slow to think evil of his neighbours, Luis de Leon was apt, once his suspicions were aroused, to fling his net widely. He had some inkling that he and his had the fatal gift of rousing antagonism. His uncle had been a practising lawyer, and Luis de Leon argued that all who had suffered through the professional activities of his kinsman should be debarred from testifying in his case.[89] The unworldly man manifestly took it for granted that witnesses who harboured any such grudge against him would willingly admit it, if pressed on the point.