The Inquisition revealed

by Thomas Timpson

“As soon as I returned to my prison, I most anxiously considered what could be the cause of this severe treatment. I was far from suspecting that it could be owing to my answer to the mendicant friar, concerning the Virgin and her lights.” [One of these having come to his chamber, presenting a purse, and begging a contribution for the tapers to be lighted in honour of the Virgin; he replied, “My good father, the Virgin has no need of lights; she needs only to go to bed at an early hour.”] “However, M. Aubert, being persuaded that the Inquisition alone had been the cause of my disappearance, placed spies upon all their steps. One of these informed him that three monks of the Dominican order were about to set out for Rome, being deputed to the conventual assembly, which was to be held there. He immediately wrote to M. de Colet, commandant at Perpignan, to inform him how I had disappeared, of his suspicions as to the cause, and of the passage of the three Jacobins through Perpignan, desiring him to arrest them, and not set them at liberty, till I should be released.

“M. de Colet embraced with alacrity this opportunity of vengeance, and issued orders at the gates of the town to seize the three reverend personages. They arrived about noon, with high spirits and keen appetites, and demanded of the sentinel which was the best hotel. The officer of the guard presented himself, and informed them that he was commissioned to conduct them to the commandant of the place, who would provide for them lodging and entertainment. The monks, rejoiced at this lucky windfall, overflowed with acknowledgments, and declared they could not think of incommoding the commandant. ‘Come, good fathers, M. de Colet is determined to do you the honours of the city.’ In the meantime he provided them an escort of four soldiers and a sergeant. The fathers marched along with joy, congratulating one another, and delighted with the politeness of the French. ‘Good fathers,’ said M. de Colet, ‘I am delighted to have you in this city. I expected you impatiently, and have provided you a lodging.’ ‘Ah, Monsieur Commandant, you are too good; we are undeserving.’ ‘Pardon me; have you not, in your prison at Barcelona, a French officer, the Chevalier de St. Gervais?’ ‘No, M. Commandant, we have never heard of any such person.’ ‘I am sorry for that, for you are to be imprisoned, and to live upon bread and water, until this officer be forthcoming.’ The reverend fathers, exceedingly irritated, exclaimed against this violation of the law of nations, and then said they resigned themselves to the will of heaven, and that the commandant should answer, before God and the Pope, for the persecution which he was about to exercise against members of the church. ‘Yes,’ said the commandant, ‘I take the responsibility upon myself; meanwhile, you will repair to the citadel.’

“Now, behold the three hypocrites, in a narrow prison, condemned to the regimen of the Pauls and the Hilaries, uttering the loudest exclamations against the system of fasting and the commandant. Every day the purveyor, when he brought them their pitcher of water and portion of bread, demanded whether they had anything to declare relative to the French officer. For three days they persisted in replying in the negative; but, at length, the cries, not of their consciences, but of their stomachs, and their weariness of this mode of life, overcame their obstinacy. They begged an interview with M. de Colet, who instantly waited on them. They confessed that a young French officer was confined in the prisons of the Holy Office, on account of the impious language he had held respecting the Virgin. ‘Undoubtedly he has acted improperly,’ said M. de Colet; ‘but allow the Virgin to avenge herself. Write to Barcelona, to set this gentleman at liberty; in the interim I will keep you as hostages, but I will mitigate your sufferings, and your table shall be less frugally supplied.’ The monks immediately wrote to give liberty to the accursed Frenchman.

“During this interval, vexations, impatience, and weariness took possession of my soul, and made me weary of life. At length, the Inquisition, reading their brethren’s letter, perceived themselves under the necessity of releasing their prey. One of them came to inform me that, in consideration of my youth, and of my being a native of France, the Holy Office had come to the determination to set me free; but that they required me for the future to have more respect for La Madonna, the mother of Jesus Christ. ‘Most reverend father,’ replied I, ‘the French have always the highest respect for the ladies.’ Uttering these words, I rushed towards the door, and when I got into the street, I felt as if I were raised from the tomb once more to life!”

Charles IV. abdicated the throne of Spain, and was succeeded by his son, Ferdinand VII., in 1808; but Napoleon Buonaparte soon compelled him to resign his throne, appointing his own brother Joseph to the throne, while he marched to the capital, and took Madrid on the 4th of December. Knowing the horrid character of the Holy Office, the same day he decreed the suppression of the Inquisition, that its revenues might be applied to the purposes of the government.

Pursuant to this decree, the palace of the Inquisition was demolished, some months after, in revenge for an outrage upon Colonel Lehmanowsky, an officer of the French army. His report of it confirms many of the foregoing details of that dreadful place. He states,—

“In the year 1809, I was attached to that part of Napoleon’s army which was stationed at Madrid. Soult was commander-in-chief and governor of the city. My regiment was the 9th Polish Lancers.

“One night, about ten or eleven o’clock, as I was walking alone in one of the streets of Madrid, two armed men sprang upon me from a doorway; I instantly drew my sword, and defended myself as best I could from their furious attack. While struggling with them, I saw at a distance, crossing the top of the street, the lights of the mounted patrols. French soldiers on guard, with lanterns, rode through the streets of the city at all hours of the night to preserve order. I called to them in French, and as they hastened to my help, my assailants took to their heels; not, however, before I saw by their dress that they belonged to the guards of the Inquisition. Having been in the habit of speaking freely among the people what I thought of the priests and Jesuits, and the Inquisition, I have no doubt that these men were set to watch for me, and to assassinate me. It had been decreed by Napoleon that the Inquisition and the monasteries should be suppressed. Months, however, had passed away, without the decree being executed.

“I went that night directly to Marshal Soult, told him what had taken place, and reminded him of the emperor’s decree. He said, I might go the next morning, and destroy the Inquisition; giving me charge, at the same time, to take care of the pictures, library, and other things of value. I replied, that my regiment was not sufficient for such a service, but if he would give me the 117th of the line, and another regiment, which I named, I would undertake the work. The colonel of the 117th, Colonel De Lile, was an intimate friend of my own, and is now the pastor of an evangelical church in France. Marshal Soult gave me the troops required. That night the expedition was arranged, and next morning we proceeded at break of day to the Inquisition, which was about five miles distant from the city.

“A wall of great strength surrounded the buildings. I went forward with a company of soldiers, and addressing one of the sentinels on the wall, summoned those within to surrender, and to open the gates to the imperial army. The man withdrew, and after conversation apparently with someone within, he re-appeared, presented his musket, and shot one of my men. This was a signal of attack, and returning to my troops, who had halted at a distance out of sight, I ordered them to advance, and to fire upon those who appeared on the walls.