In the faubourg of Triana, separated from the town by the river, may be distinguished remains of the ancient castle, which became the headquarters of the Inquisition, on its first creation, in 1482. That body was, however, shortly afterwards, compelled to evacuate the building, by a great inundation of the Guadalquivir, which occurred in the year 1626. It then moved into the town, and, from that period to the close of its functions, occupied an edifice situated in the parish of Saint Mark. Its jurisdiction did not extend beyond Andalucia. The entire body was composed of the following official persons:—three inquisitors, a judge of the fisc, a chief Alguazil, a receiver, (of fines,) five secretaries, ten counsellors, eighty qualifiers, one advocate of the fisc, one alcayde of the prison, one messenger, ten honest persons, two surgeons, and one porter. For the City of Seville, one hundred familiars: for the entire district, the commissaries, notaries, and familiars, amounted to four thousand. The ten honest persons cut but a sorry figure in so long a list. Do they not tempt you to parody Prince Hal's exclamation "Monstrous! but one halfpenny-worth of bread to this intolerable deal of sack?"
The Inquisition of Seville is of an earlier date than that of Toledo, and was the first established in Spain. It was likewise the most distinguished by the rigour of its sentences. The actual horrors of the inquisitorial vaults were, I imagine, in general much exaggerated. A few instances of severity, accompanied by a mystery, skilfully designed to magnify its effect, was sufficient to set on fire the inflammable imaginations of these sunny regions, and to spread universal terror. It was on finding these means insufficient for the extirpation of religious dissent, that, at length, executions were decreed by wholesale. Rather than give credit to the voluminous list of the secret cruelties, which were supposed by many to be exercised by the midnight tribunals, and which could have no adequate object, since a conversion brought about by such means could not, when known, profit the cause. I think it probable that all acts of severity were made as public as possible, in order to employ the terror they inspired as a means of swelling the ranks of Catholicism.
My opinion is in some measure backed by what occurred at Toledo. On the Inquisition of that city being dislodged from its palace,—now the seat of the provincial administration,—it was expected that the exploration of the subterraneous range of apartments, known to be extensive, would bring to light a whole Apocalypse of horrors; and all who had interest enough to obtain admission, pressed in crowds to be present at the opening. The disappointment was immense on finding not a single piece of iron, not the shadow of a skeleton, not a square inch of bloodstain. Each individual, however, during the permanence of these tribunals, lived in awe of their power; and the daily actions of thousands were influenced by the fear of becoming the victims of their cruelties, whether real or imaginary.
The terror which surrounded the persons of their agents invested them with a moral power, which frequently rendered them careless of the precaution of physical force in cases where it would have appeared to be a necessary instrument in the execution of their designs. This confidence was once well-nigh fatal to two zealous defenders of the faith. The Archbishop of Toledo, subsequently Cardinal Ximenes de Cisneros being on a visit at the residence of his brother of the see of Granada, it occurred to them during an after-dinner conversation that, could they accomplish the immediate conversion of the few thousands of Moors remaining in Granada, it would be the means of rendering a signal service to the Catholic Roman Apostolic religion.
Inflamed with a sudden ardour, and rendered doubly fearless of results by the excellence of the archiepiscopal repast, they resolved that the project should be put in execution that very evening.
Ever since the Conquest of Granada, a portion of the city had been appropriated to the Moors who thought proper to remain; and who received on that occasion the solemn assurance that no molestation would be offered to their persons or property, nor impediment thrown in the way of their worship. Their part of the town was called the Albaycin, and was separated from the rest by a valley. It contained some twenty to thirty thousand peaceably disposed inhabitants.
The two enterprising archbishops, their plan being matured (although insufficiently, as will appear) repaired to a house bordering on the Moorish quarter; and, calling together all the Familiars of the Inquisition who could be met with on the spur of the occasion, divided them into parties, each of a certain force, and dispatched them on their errand, which was, to enter the houses of the infidels, and to intimate to the principal families the behest of the prelates, requiring them by break of day, to abjure the errors of their creed, and to undergo the ceremony of baptism.
But in order that so meritorious a work should meet with the least possible delay, all the children under a certain age were to be conveyed instantaneously to the house occupied by the Archbishops, in order that they might be baptised at once.
The agents opened the campaign, and had already made away with a certain number of terrified infants, whose souls were destined to be saved thus unceremoniously, when the alarm began to spread; and, at the moment when the two dignitaries, impatient to commence operations, were inquiring for the first batch of unfledged heretics, an unexpected confusion of sounds was heard to proceed simultaneously from all sides of the house, and to increase rapidly in clearness and energy: and some of the attendants, entering, with alarm depicted on their countenances, announced that a few hundred armed Moors had surrounded the house, and were searching for an entrance.
It now, for the first time, occurred to the confederates, that difficulties might possibly attend the execution of their project; and their ardour having had nearly time to cool, Archbishop Ximenes, a personage by no means wanting in prudence and energy, during his moments of reason, employed the first instants of the siege in taking what precautions the circumstances admitted. He next proceeded to indite a hasty line, destined for the sovereigns Ferdinand and Isabella, who were journeying in the province, to inform them of his situation, and request immediate assistance. A black slave was selected to be the bearer of the letter: but, thinking to inspire him with greater promptitude and zeal, an attendant thrust into his hand a purse of money together with the document.