Without the city, on the Prado de San Sebastian, is the burning ground. As we stand there, the imagination conjures a procession accompanying a victim to the awful torture of the stake. The doomed man is an aged and devout Morisco, who has saved money by his industry. He has been found guilty of infidelity, and he has refused to partake of the Christian sacrament. He is dressed in the sanbenito, a yellow garment, with pictures of devils kindling a fire and burning faggots, and on his head is a fantastic conical cap of pasteboard, called the coroza. First comes a troop of soldiers to clear a path for the procession through the jostling rabble. The soldiers are followed by several priests in canonical vestments, and the boys of the College of Doctrine, who chant the liturgy. Then comes the convicted heretic, with a familiar on either side, and two friars, followed by the judges, ministers of government, and hidalgoes on horseback. In another procession comes the Inquisitors, and their standard of red, with the names and insignia of Pope Sixtus IV. and King Fernando upon it. The members of the Holy Office are escorted by esquires, and in the rear is a great mob of towns-people. But enough: imagination is at this point repelled. We turn away from the scene, and enter the shady gardens that stretch along the Guadalquivir, to scent the flowers and to listen to the thrush and nightingale.

We cannot, however, close our perceptions to the fact that Seville played an important part in the Inquisition. In roaming the streets of the city, it is impossible to forget that this mighty instrument of fanaticism has left its impress on Spain. We remember that every son of Seville who dared to exercise his conscience in the matter of religious belief ran the risk of ending his life upon the Prado de San Sebastian. The terror of this institution must have blighted the lives of millions of Spaniards. And we are moved to the reflection that the good which Isabel performed with one hand was almost destroyed by the evil inflicted by the other.

The story of Rodrigo de Valer, one of the first to embrace the Lutheran faith in Seville, is of deep interest. In the fashionable resorts of the town and at the jousts no youth was more popular than Rodrigo. He had charming manners, sat a horse gracefully, and could break a lance with the most skilful knights of the ring. His wealth procured him every pleasure; he gratified a taste for dress and spent much money upon horses. Suddenly he was missed from the dance and the tournament. His friends could not account for this changed mode of life. A passion for study had taken possession of the young man; and day after day he sat pouring over the Vulgate, and improving his knowledge of Latin, so that he might understand the book. In a few months Valer was able to quote long passages of the Bible from memory. Then he left his study and went back to his gay companions as an apostle of a new form of faith. He approached the clergy and the monks, and by argument endeavoured to convince them of the errors of their creed and ritual, appealing to the Bible as the criterion of religious truth. The priests were little inclined to listen to Rodrigo. But when they avoided him, the youth sought them, engaging them in discussion in the streets and striving to set forth his new doctrine. At length the indignant clerics of Seville brought the heretic before the Holy Inquisition. So cogent were his arguments that some of the members who secretly shared his opinions used their influence to save him from punishment. Fortunately Valer was of good family. He was declared to be insane, and spared from an extreme penalty, but his estates were taken by the tribunal.

Rodrigo's relations now strove to dissuade him from renewing his endeavours to reform the Church. What could one helpless man achieve against the whole weight of authority? But Rodrigo was full of zeal. He began again to denounce the teaching of the clerics, inspired by the belief that others would soon follow him. For the second time he was arrested on a charge of heresy and sentenced to imprisonment for life.

In the Church of St. Salvador, where Rodrigo was taken on days of festival, the fervent youth would rise after the sermon and condemn the teaching of the pulpit. Only his rank saved him from the flames. He was eventually imprisoned in a monastery of San Lucar, where he died at the age of fifty. Valer's sanbenito was displayed for a long time in the metropolitan church of Seville. It was inscribed: 'Rodrigo de Valer, a citizen of Lebrixia and Seville, an apostate, and false apostle, who pretended to be sent of God.'

The teaching of Valer was not without fruit. He was the founder of a small, but fervent, sect of Lutheran Christians in Seville, whose doctrines gradually found acceptance among a number of the people. One of the reformed party was Juan Gil, known as Doctor Egidius, preacher in Seville Cathedral, who was joined by Vargas and the celebrated Constantine Ponce de la Fuente. M'Crie says that 'the small society in Seville grew insensibly, and became the parent stock, from which branches were taken and planted in the adjacent country.' Persecution was inevitable. Egidius was denounced and thrown into prison, while Vargas was murdered, and Ponce de la Fuente banished. After a long incarceration, Egidius returned to Seville; but he caught a fever, and died in a few days. De Montes says that the writings of Egidius, which were never printed, were worthy of praise. The Doctor wrote commentaries on Genesis and the Psalms, and while in prison he composed an essay on 'Bearing the Cross.'

Protestantism spread in Seville at this time. There was a church under the care of Doctor Christobal Losada, which met in the house of a lady of rank, Isabel de Baena, and was attended by the nobles Don Juan Ponce de León and Domingo de Guzman. In the Dominican Monastery of St. Paul, in the Nunnery of St. Elizabeth, and especially in the Convent of San Isidro del Campo, the new doctrines found disciples.

One of the victims of the Inquisition was Torrigiano, the Florentine sculptor, whose statue of St. Jerome is in the Museo Provincial at Seville. The monument of Henry VII. in Westminster Abbey is the work of this artist, who ended his days in the cells of the Inquisitors' prison in Seville, in 1552. There is no doubt that many of the hapless prisoners died of diseases contracted in the insanitary dungeons of Seville and Triana, for Olmedus, one of the sufferers, describes the dens as vile in 'nastiness and stench.' The ordinary gaols were crowded, and many persons were immured in the Castle of Triana, and in the convents of the city.