On the second morning after my arrival, I was surprised by my host, the Inquisitor, coming into my apartment clothed in black robes from head to foot; for the usual dress of his order is white. He said he was going to sit on the tribunal of the Holy Office. "I presume, father, your august office does not occupy much of your time?" "Yes," answered he, "much; I sit on the tribunal three or four days every week."
I had thought for some days of putting Dellon's book into the Inquisitor's hand; for if I could get him to advert to the facts stated in that book, I should be able to learn, by comparison, the exact state of the Inquisition at the present time. In the evening he came in, as usual, to pass an hour in my apartment. After some conversation, I took the pen in my hand to write a few notes in my journal; and, as if to amuse him while I was writing, I took up Dellon's book, which was lying with some others on the table, and handing it across to him, asked him whether he had ever seen it. It was in the French language, which he understood well. "Relation de l'Inquisition de Goa," pronounced he, with a slow articulate voice. He had never seen it before, and began to read with eagerness. He had not proceeded far, before he betrayed evident symptoms of uneasiness. He turned hastily to the middle of the book, and then to the end, and then ran over the table of contents at the beginning, as if to ascertain the full extent of the evil. He then composed himself to read, while I continued to write. He turned over the pages with rapidity, and when he came to a certain place, he exclaimed in the broad Italian accent, "Mendacium, mendacium." I requested he would mark those passages which were untrue, and we should discuss them afterwards, for that I had other books on the subject. "Other books!" said he, and he looked with an inquiring eye on those on the table. He continued reading till it was time to retire to rest, and then begged to take the book with him.
Next morning we resumed the subject of the Inquisition. The Inquisitor admitted that Dellon's description of the dungeons, of the torture, of the mode of trial, and of the auto-da-fé, were in general just; but he said the writer judged untruly of the motives of the Inquisitors, and very uncharitably of the character of the holy Church. He was now anxious to know to what extent Dellon's book had been circulated in Europe. I told him Picart had published to the world extracts from it, in his celebrated work entitled "Religious Ceremonies," together with plates of the system of torture and burnings at the auto-da-fé. I added, that it was now generally believed in Europe that these enormities no longer existed, and that the Inquisition itself had been totally suppressed; but that I was concerned to find that it was not the case. He now began a grave narration to show that the Inquisition had undergone a change in some respects, and that its terrors were mitigated.
I had already discovered, from written or printed documents, that the Inquisition of Goa was suppressed by royal edict, in 1775, and established again, in 1779, subject to certain restrictions, the chief of which are the two following: That a greater number of witnesses should be required to convict criminals than were before necessary; and that the auto-da-fé should not be held publicly as before, but that the sentences of the tribunal should be executed privately, within the walls of the Inquisition.
In this particular, the constitution of the new Inquisition is more reprehensible than that of the old one. Formerly the friends of those unfortunate persons who were thrown into its prison, had the melancholy satisfaction of seeing them once a year walking in the procession of the auto-da-fé; or, if they were condemned to die, they witnessed their death, and mourned for the dead. But now they have no means of learning for years whether they be dead or alive. The policy of this new mode of concealment appears to be this, to preserve the power of the Inquisition, and, at the same time, to lessen the public odium of its proceedings, in the presence of British dominion and civilization. I asked the father his opinion concerning the nature and frequency of the punishments within the walls. He said he possessed no certain means of giving a satisfactory answer; that every thing transacted there was declared to be "sacrum et secretum." But this he knew to be true, that there were constantly captives in the dungeons; that some of them are liberated after long confinement, but that they never speak afterwards of what passed within the place. He added, that of all the persons he had known who had been liberated, he never knew one who did not carry about with him what might be called the "mark of the Inquisition;" that is to say, who did not show in the solemnity of his countenance, or in his peculiar demeanour, or his terror of the priests, that he had been in that dreadful place.
The chief argument of the Inquisitor to prove the melioration of the Inquisition, was the superior humanity of the Inquisitors. I remarked that I did not doubt the humanity of the existing officers; but what availed humanity in an Inquisitor? He must pronounce sentence according to the laws of the tribunal, which are notorious enough; and a relapsed heretic must be burned in the flames, or confined for life in a dungeon, whether the Inquisitor be humane or not. "But if," said I, "you would satisfy my mind completely on this subject, show me the Inquisition." He said it was not permitted to any person to see the Inquisition. I observed that mine might be considered as a peculiar case; that the character of the Inquisition, and the expediency of its longer continuance, had been called in question; that I had myself written on the civilization of India, and might possibly publish something more upon that subject, and that it could not be expected that I should pass over the Inquisition without notice, knowing what I did of its proceedings; at the same time I should not wish to state a single fact without his authority, or at least his admission of its truth. I added that he himself had been pleased to communicate with me very fully on the subject, and that in all our discussions we had both been actuated, I hoped, by a good purpose. The countenance of the Inquisitor evidently altered on receiving this intimation, nor did it ever after wholly regain its wonted frankness and placidity. After some hesitation, however, he said he would take me with him to the Inquisition the next day. I was a good deal surprised at this acquiescence of the Inquisitor, but I did not know what was in his mind.
Next morning after breakfast my host went to dress for the holy office, and soon returned in his Inquisitorial robes. He said he would go half an hour before the usual time for the purpose of showing me the Inquisition. The buildings are about a quarter of a mile distant from the convent, and we proceeded thither. On our arrival at the place, the Inquisitor said to me, as we were ascending the steps of the outer stair, that he hoped I should be satisfied with a transient view of the Inquisition, and that I would retire whenever he should desire it. I took this as a good omen, and followed my conductor with tolerable confidence.
He led me first to the great hall of the Inquisition. We were met at the door by a number of well dressed persons, who, I afterwards understood, were the familiars and the attendants of the holy office. They bowed very low to the Inquisitor, and looked with surprise at me. The great hall is the place in which the prisoners are marshalled for the procession of the auto-da-fé. At the procession described by Dellon, in which he himself walked barefoot, clothed with the painted garment, there were upwards of one hundred and fifty prisoners. I traversed this hall for some time, with a slow step, reflecting on its former scenes, the Inquisitor walking by my side in silence. I thought of the fate of the multitudes of my fellow creatures who had passed through this place, condemned by a tribunal of their fellow sinners, their bodies devoted to the flames, and their souls to perdition. And I could not help saying to him, "Would not the holy Church wish, in her mercy, to have those souls back again, that she might allow them a little farther probation?" The Inquisitor answered nothing, but beckoned me to go with him to a door at one end of the hall. By this door he conducted me to some small rooms, and thence to the spacious apartments of the chief Inquisitor. Having surveyed these, he brought me back again to the great hall; and I thought he seemed now desirous that I should depart. "Now, father," said I, "lead me to the dungeons below; I want to see the captives." "No," said he, "that cannot be." I now began to suspect that it had been in the mind of the Inquisitor, from the beginning, to show me only a certain part of the Inquisition, in the hope of satisfying my inquiries in a general way. I urged him with earnestness, but he steadily resisted, and seemed to be offended, or rather agitated by my importunity. I intimated to him plainly, that the only way to do justice to his assertions and arguments regarding the present state of the Inquisition, was to show me the prisons and the captives. I should then describe only what I saw; but now the subject was left in awful obscurity. "Lead me down," said I, "to the inner building, and let me pass through the two hundred dungeons, ten feet square, described by your former captives. Let me count the number of your present captives, and converse with them. I want to see if there be any subjects of the British government, to whom we owe protection. I want to ask how long they have been here; how long it is since they beheld the light of the sun, and whether they ever expect to see it again. Show me the chamber of torture; and declare what modes of execution, or of punishment, are now practised within the walls of the Inquisition, in lieu of the public auto-da-fé. If, after all that has passed, father, you resist this reasonable request, I shall be justified in believing that you are afraid of exposing the real state of the Inquisition in India." To these observations the Inquisitor made no reply; but seemed impatient that I should withdraw "My good father," said I, "I am about to take my leave of you, (it had been before understood that I should take my final leave at the door of the Inquisition, after having seen the interior,) and to thank you for your hospitable attentions, and I wish always to preserve on my mind a favourable sentiment of your kindness and candour. You cannot, you say, show me the captives and dungeons; be pleased, then, merely to answer this question, for I shall believe your word:—How many prisoners are there now below in the cells of the Inquisition?" The Inquisitor replied, "That is a question which I cannot answer!" On his pronouncing these words, I retired hastily towards the door, and wished him farewell. We shook hands with as much cordiality as we could at the moment assume; and both of us, I believe, were sorry that our parting took place with a clouded countenance.
From the Inquisition I went to the place of burning in the Campo Santo-Lazaro, on the river side, where the victims were brought to the stake at the auto-da-fé. It is close to the palace, that the viceroy and his court may witness the execution; for it has ever been the policy of the Inquisition to make these spiritual executions appear to be the executions of the state. An old priest accompanied me, who pointed out the place and described the scene. As I passed over this melancholy plain, I thought on the difference between the pure and benign doctrine, which was first preached to India in the apostolic age, and that bloody code, which, after a long night of darkness, was announced to it under the same name? And I pondered on the mysterious dispensation, which permitted the ministers of the Inquisition, with their racks and flames, to visit these lands before the heralds of the gospel of peace. But the most painful reflection was, that this tribunal should yet exist, unawed by the vicinity of British humanity and dominion. I was not satisfied with what I had seen or said at the Inquisition, and I determined to go back again. The Inquisitors were now sitting on the tribunal, and I had some excuse for returning; for I was to receive from the chief Inquisitor a letter which he said he would give me, before I left the place, for the British resident at Travancore, being an answer to a letter from that officer.
When I arrived at the Inquisition, and had ascended the outer stairs, the door-keepers surveyed me doubtingly, but suffered me to pass, supposing that I had returned by permission and appointment of the Inquisitor. I entered the great hall, and went up directly towards the tribunal of the Inquisition, described by Dellon, in which is the lofty crucifix. I sat down on a form, and wrote some notes; and then desired one of the attendants to carry in my name to the Inquisitor. As I walked up the hall, I saw a poor woman sitting by herself, on a bench by the wall, apparently in a disconsolate state of mind. She clasped her hands as I passed, and gave me a look expressive of her distress. This sight chilled my spirits. The familiars told me she was waiting there to be called up before the tribunal of the Inquisition. While I was asking questions concerning her crime, the second Inquisitor came out in evident trepidation, and was about to complain of the intrusion; when I informed him I had come back for the letter from the chief Inquisitor. He said it should be sent after me to Goa; and he conducted me with a quick step towards the door. As we passed the poor woman I pointed to her, and said to him with some emphasis, 'Behold, father, another victim of the Holy Inquisition!' He answered nothing. When we arrived at the head of the great stair, he bowed, and I took my last leave of Josephus a Doloribus, without uttering a word." [29]