“We lived together eighteen months, in which time we lost eleven ladies, and got nineteen new ones. After the eighteen months, one night Mary came and ordered us to follow her. On our going down stairs, she bade us go into a coach, and this we thought the last day of our lives. We went out of the house, but where we did not know, till we were put in another house and room, worse than the first, where we were confined above two months, without seeing any of the holy fathers, or Mary, or any of our companions. And in the same manner we were removed from that house to another, where we continued till we were miraculously delivered by the French officers. Mr. Faulcaut, happily for me, did open the door of my room; and, as soon as he saw me, he began to show me very much civility, and took me and Leonora along with him into his lodgings; and after he heard my whole story, and fearing that things would turn to our disadvantage, he ordered the next day to send us to his father. We were dressed in men’s clothes, to go the more safely; and so we came to this house, where I was kept for two years as the daughter of the old man, till Mr. Faulcaut’s regiment being broken, he came home, and in two months after married me. Another officer married Leonora.”
CHAPTER XX.
ABOLITION OF THE INQUISITION IN SPAIN.
Modern operations of the Inquisition in Spain—Effects of the French revolution—The Chevalier de St. Gervais—Napoleon decrees the abolition of the Inquisition—Its demolition by Colonel Lehmanowsky—Its revival by Ferdinand VII.—Its final overthrow by the Cortes—Its victims.
Light and knowledge continued to advance in Europe during the eighteenth century. Every intelligent mind perceived by this means the enormous superstitions and cruelty of the papacy; but these advantages, without the blessed principles of the Scriptures, leaving men ignorant of true Christianity, generated infidelity. The papal priesthood, therefore, by whom the sacred books had been taken from the people, suffered a fearful retribution from the infidels in France, in the revolution at the close of the century. The whole Continent was scourged by this event, in the order of Divine Providence. Still the Inquisition carried on its pernicious operations in several countries, particularly in Spain, though its doom was sealed and its overthrow determined. Its deeds, however, were less shocking; but its modern character may be learned from a few facts.
Concerning the Drama in Spain, Sismondi remarks, that “the Lives of the Saints were represented publicly, with the approbation and applause of the Inquisition, in the eighteenth century. But whilst the taste of the people was so eager for this kind of spectacle, and whilst it was encouraged by the clergy, and supported by the Inquisition, the Court, enlightened by criticism and by a better taste, was desirous of rescuing Spain from the scandalous reproach which these pretended pious representations excited among strangers. Charles III., in 1765, prohibited the further performance of religious plays and autos sacramentales; and the house of Bourbon had already deprived the people of another recreation, not less dear to them—the autos da fé. After the extinction of the Spanish branch of the house of Austria, the Inquisition was no longer allowed to destroy its victims in public; but it has continued, even to our days, to exercise the most outrageous cruelties on them in its dungeons.”
While many wretched beings were sacrificed in private, perishing in the horrid prisons, those who were liberated carried marks of their fearful treatment all through life. Every prisoner, before being dismissed, was bound, under a dreadful curse, to observe the most profound silence as to all that he had seen, and heard, and uttered in the Inquisition. Mr. Townsend relates, that the Dutch consul, with whom he became acquainted during his travels in Spain, in 1787, could never be prevailed on to give an account of his imprisonment in the Inquisition at Barcelona, which happened thirty-five years before, and betrayed the greatest agitation when pressed to say anything about the treatment he had received. His fellow-prisoner, Mr. Falconet, who was but a boy, turned grey-headed during his short confinement; and to the day of his death, though retired to Montpelier, observed the most tenacious silence on the subject.
Inquisitorial domination, however, was at length overthrown by the French Catholic soldiers under Buonaparte. While the troops of France made progress in Spain, in 1807, the Chevalier de St. Gervais, a French officer, was seized and imprisoned by the inquisitors of Barcelona. One day, “after dinner,” he says, “I went to take a walk on that beautiful terrace, which extends along the port in that part called Barcelonette. The sides of this walk, which is named the Longa, are adorned with fine buildings. I was tranquilly enjoying this delightful place, and the serene evening of the fine day, when, suddenly, six men surrounded and commanded me to follow them. I replied by a firm refusal; whereupon one of them seized me by the collar. I instantly assailed him with a violent blow on the face, which caused him to bellow with pain; but in an instant the whole band pressed on me so closely, that I was obliged to draw my sword. I fought as long as I was able; but not being possessed of the strength of Antæus or Hercules, I was at last compelled to yield. The ruffians endeavoured to inspire me with respect and dread, by saying that they were familiars of the Holy Office. I submitted to force, and was taken to the prisons of the Inquisition.
“As soon as I found myself within the talons of these vultures, I began to ask myself what was my crime, and what I had done to incur the censure of this hateful tribunal. ‘Have these Jacobin monks,’ said I, ‘succeeded to the Druids, who called themselves the agents of the Deity, and arrogated to themselves the right of excommunicating and putting to death their fellow-citizens?’ My complaints were lost in empty air.
“On the following day, a Dominican, shrouded in hypocrisy, and with a tongue of deceit, came to conjure me, by the bowels of Jesus Christ, to confess my faults, in order to the attainment of my liberty. ‘Confess your own faults first,’ said I to him; ‘ask pardon of God for your hypocrisy and injustice. By what right do you arrest a gentleman, a native of France, who is exempted from the jurisdiction of your infernal tribunal, and who has done nothing in violation of the laws of this country?’ ‘Oh! holy Virgin!’ said he, ‘you make me tremble! I will go and pray to God in your behalf, and I hope he will open your eyes and turn your heart!’ ‘Go, pray to the devil,’ said I to myself; ‘he is your only divinity.’ However, on that same day, M. Aubert, having in vain waited for me at the dinner-hour, sent to my hotel to inquire about me. The landlord informed him that I had disappeared on the preceding evening; that my luggage still remained in his custody, but that he was entirely ignorant of what had become of me. This obliging gentlemen, uneasy for my fate, made inquiries concerning me over the whole city, but without being able to gain the smallest intelligence. Astonished at this circumstance, he began to suspect that some indiscretion on my part had drawn down upon me the vengeance of the Holy Office. He begged of the captain-general to demand my enlargement. The inquisitors denied the fact of my detention with the utmost effrontery of falsehood; but M. Aubert, not being able to discover any other probable cause for my disappearance, persisted in believing me to be a prisoner in the Holy Office.
“Next day, the familiars came to conduct me before the three inquisitors; they presented me with a yellow mantle to put on, but I disdainfully rejected this Satanic livery. However, they persuaded me that submission was the only means by which I could hope to recover my liberty. I appeared, therefore, clad in yellow, with a waxtaper in my hand, before these three priests of Pluto. In the chamber was displayed the banner of the Holy Office, on which were represented a gridiron, a pair of pincers, and a pile of wood, with these words—‘JUSTICE, CHARITY, MERCY.’ What an atrocious piece of irony! I was tempted more than once to singe, with my blazing taper, the hideous visage of one of these Jacobins, but my good genius prevented me. One of them advised me, with an air of mildness, to confess my sins. ‘My great sin,’ replied I, ‘is to have entered a country where the priests trample humanity under foot, and assume the cloak of religion to persecute virtue and innocence.’ ‘Is that all you have to say?’ ‘Yes, my conscience is free from alarm, and from remorse. Tremble! if the regiment to which I belong should hear of my imprisonment, they would trample over ten regiments of Spaniards to rescue me from your barbarity.’ ‘God alone is master; our duty is to watch over his flock, as faithful shepherds; our hearts are afflicted at it, but you must return to your prison till you think proper to make a confession of your fault.’ I then retired, casting upon my judges a look of contempt and indignation.