The Inquisition revealed

by Thomas Timpson

Rome must be regarded as the fountain of the papal Catholicism. In that metropolis is concentrated the wisdom, the authority, and the perfection of that system, which has been established by the pretended “Vicar of Christ.” We are bound, therefore, to examine the institutions of him who is entitled “His Holiness,” and worshipped under the designation of “Most Holy Father!”

Nunneries abound in Rome; but they are, in reality, so many prisons, and most of them appear to be governed by the most intolerant rules, framed under the authority of the Inquisition, and administered in its spirit, as testified by the most respectable writers. Perhaps no one will be esteemed more worthy of credit than the Rev. M. Hobart Seymour, M.A., a clergyman of the highest reputation in the church of England. In his “Pilgrimage to Rome,” written after his visit to that city, at the close of 1844, and in the early part of 1845, he testifies concerning the condition and character of society among the Romans, as shall be quoted from his instructive volume.

Regarding the city of Rome itself, he declares, “Although the hotels are admirable, the best of them being under the management of foreigners, every species of filth and every kind of odour greet the visitant on his entrance among the streets of this city of the church. For filth, for odours, for indecency, for all that is offensive to the eye, to the feelings, to the habits of a cleanly and orderly people, the city of Rome surpasses almost any city in the world!”—Pp. 139.

In testifying concerning the Roman convents, he says, “The subject of monasteries, as nunneries are called in Italy, is beset with considerable difficulties. The conclusion at which we have arrived, after all the information we could obtain, is this:—that however unmixed the evils of such a system may seem—however inexcusable and unredeemable in France or England, in Germany or Switzerland,—the establishment of monasteries in Italy bears a different complexion; not, indeed, from anything in the nature or conduct of such establishments themselves, but from the state of society in Italy.

“The social state of that beautiful land is as sad and melancholy, as its skies are bright and joyous. In the addresses of the preachers at the several receptions of novices and nuns, at which we were present, there was one pervading idea—one, too, not lightly put forth or incidentally alluded to, but running through the whole discourse, and forming the main substratum of everything else. I allude to the idea, that it was very difficult for a young female to preserve herself pure and holy from the sin and vice of the world, except within the walls of a monastery. These preachers had never witnessed the social system of England, or other lands; they had seen only that which pervaded Italy, and especially that of Rome. They were unmarried men, who knew nothing of the purity, the modesty, the virtue, that belongs to a high-toned state of female society. They had seen only the remains of the loose, wanton, and licentious spirit that breathed through every part of Italy during the last century; and every one who has the means of observation or information, seems to feel that the judgment of these men, though overstrained, as applied universally, is too correct in the main, as applied to the tone of society in Italy, and especially in Rome.

“I was much struck with this idea, when put forth so strongly, as expressing the conviction of those men; and it soon appeared to be a very general feeling among the laity as well as among the clergy. And I was surprised at finding that, even among the women, who had themselves borne the most respectable and irreproachable characters, there was a strong conviction, that however objectionable the life of the cloister, it yet was the safest life for a female. My wife had much communicated to her by ladies, who were mothers of families, and were conversant with the difficulties that surrounded them. And the general impression was, that the state of society was so ill-arranged—that the tone of feeling was so loose—that moral principle was so lightly valued—that regard for female purity was so little cherished—and the whole frame-work of the social system so loosened and disjointed, that there was neither a due respect for female character, nor sufficient protection for female purity. Living under governments essentially despotic—living under laws that are framed only to screen the authorities—living in lands where justice can be bought and sold, like any other marketable commodity—living among a people ever ripe for any and every revolution—living in this state, they live suspicious of each other; and being without commerce, without education, without employment, they too often make vice and intrigue, and at all events pleasure—the business, and education, and employment of life. In such a state of things among the men, women become regarded by them merely as a means to an end, merely as a means to minister to the pleasures of the hour; till too often she sinks into that state in which character is an incumbrance, and modesty is unknown.

“This is a dark picture, though a faithful one, of Italian society. It was drawn for us by Italian hands, in the freedom and frankness of private intercourse; and strongly illustrates the ground of their great predilection for monasteries. A young Italian lady, before her marriage, is not permitted to stir out of the sight of her mother; and no acquaintance with men, and no intimacy even with her own brothers, in the sense in which we regard acquaintance or intimacy, is permitted. The mothers seem to act as if they thought it was morally impossible their daughters should not fall, if only they had a moment’s opportunity; as if they thought their daughters were seeking the opportunity, and were restrained only by the strict superintendence of parental presence. This is a state of society unknown in England, and almost as unintelligible as unknown. And, strange to say, all the warm and affectionate intercourse of brothers and sisters, and all the frankness and confidence of respect and protection that characterises the intercourse of unmarried persons in society in England, are things utterly unknown and unintelligible in Italy.”—Pp. 168-171.

Nunneries, therefore, in the present state of society, in the opinion of Mr. Seymour, are necessary in Italy. He says of them, “There are two very cogent motives towards the maintenance of nunneries in Italy; one, as a means of safe and secure seclusion from the hideous forms of vice and immorality that characterises Italian society:—the other, as an easy and convenient means for settling and providing for the unmarried daughters of the land.

“The feeling, that the life of the cloister is the only safe and secure protection for an unmarried female, is warmly cherished and most deeply seated; and it is carefully fostered by the parents, in order to induce their daughters to remain in the cloister. It is no less carefully cherished and fostered by the priesthood, to conceal the penetralia of conventual life; and so far is this carried, that if a novice, having taken the white veil, should, at the conclusion of her noviciate, refuse to take the black veil, she would be regarded as a reckless, wilful girl, who preferred a life of exposure to the worst temptations of the world, to a life of holiness and peace in a nunnery. Her parents and relations would refuse to receive her; or, if they did receive her, it would be as a fallen and unhappy one. And as, in England, a family would weep and mourn over one of their number who had fallen into sin, and shame, and sorrow, bringing ruin upon herself and disgrace upon her family; just so, in Italy, would a family regard the girl who had finished her noviciate, and refused to proceed further. She would be kept from contact with her other sisters; she would be removed out of sight, that no stranger should see her; her name would never be heard in conversation; and, even in her own family, it would never be breathed, save in those low and whispering tones in which we speak of those that have fallen. With such a prospect before her, as a matter of certainty, it ceases to be any cause for astonishment that the young novice should persevere, and lay aside the white veil, and assume the black, becoming a recluse for life.”—Pp. 173, 174.

Mr. Seymour’s representation of the condition of nuns is most affecting; but only in accordance with what is declared by others who are competent to form a correct opinion. He says, of the wretched victim of this system, “At the last day of her noviciate she is nominally free, and then, on assuming the black veil, she becomes a prisoner for life. If she escapes from the monastery, or attempts to fly, the law proclaims her an outcast, and all the ministers of justice pursue her as a felon, and she is seized and punished as a criminal, and confined, if possible, still more closely than before. I cannot say precisely what are the provisions of the law respecting such runaways, but the notion that it is a sin deserving death is carefully propagated, and the belief generally prevails that imprisonment in a dungeon for life is the destined penalty within the walls of a convent. The terrors of the law are thus one great security against any attempt at escape from a nunnery. And, besides this, escape is next to impossible; for the monasteries are so constructed, that the inmates are as much prisoners within them, as criminals are prisoners in the public gaols. The windows are barred; the gates are chained; the walls are lofty. Exteriorly they always present this sad appearance, and interiorly it is necessary to pass through one, two, and sometimes three massive gates or doors, made as strong as wood and iron can make them, and locked and chained as securely as art can effect. It has always appeared to me, when examining these monasteries, that it was physically impossible for a young female to make an effectual attempt to escape. She cannot escape; and if she could, she would immediately be seized by the police, and remanded to some worse punishment in her prison.