PRISONS AND PUNISHMENTS

The prisons of the Inquisition fall under two great heads, the "secret prisons" in which those awaiting trial were confined, and the "penitential prisons" where sentences were served. Generally there were also cÁrceles de familiares where officers of the institution charged with wrong-doing were confined. In some tribunals there were others variously called cÁrceles medias, cÁrceles comunes, and cÁrceles pÚblicas, where offenders not charged with heresy might be confined.

The secret prisons, however, have most fired the imagination. A man might disappear from his accustomed haunts, and for years his family and friends be ignorant of his condition, or even of his very existence, until one day he might appear at an auto da fÉ. What went on within the walls was a mystery. Seldom did any hint of the proceedings leak out. Everyone was sworn to secrecy, and the arm of the Inquisition was long, if the luckless witness or attendant failed to heed his instructions.

These prisons were almost invariably a part of the building occupied by the tribunal. In Valencia, it was the archbishop's palace; in Saragossa, the royal castle; in Seville, the Triana; in Cordova, the AlcÁzar, and so on. In some, there were cells and dungeons already prepared, in others, they were constructed. There was no common standard of convenience or sanitation. In many cases, generally, perhaps, they were superior to the common jails in which ordinary prisoners were confined. Yet we know that some were entirely dark and very damp. Others were so small that a cramped position was necessary, and were hardly ventilated at all. Sometimes they were poorly cared for, and loathsome filth and vermin made them unendurable. Many places were used for prisons during the three hundred years of the Inquisition, and no statement is broad enough to cover them all. The mortality was high, yet not so high as in the prisons generally. Since many were unsuitable and often unsafe, the wearing of fetters was common. Prisoners often, incidentally, speak of their chains.

Occasionally more than one prisoner occupied the same room, and much evidence was secured in this way, as each hoped to lighten his own punishment by inculpating others. Writing materials were permitted, though every sheet of paper must be accounted for and delivered into an official's hands. Lights were not permitted however.

Yet entire secrecy was not always secured. Attendants were sometimes bribed, and by various ingenious methods, communications occasionally found their way in or out. Again in cases of severe sickness, the prisoner might be transferred to a hospital, which however must account for him if he recovered. Cardinal Adrian, the inquisitor-general, reminded the tribunals that the prison was for detention, not for punishment, that prisoners must not be defrauded of their food, and that the cells must be carefully inspected.

These and similar instructions issued at intervals were not always obeyed, for inquisitors were often negligent. According to Lea, "no general judgment can be formed as to the condition of so many prisons during three centuries, except that their average standard was considerably higher than that in other jurisdictions, and that, if there were abodes of horror, such as have been described by imaginative writers they were wholly exceptional."[5] Again the same author quotes instances where prisoners speak of improved health, due to better food in prison than they were accustomed to at home, and in summing up declares that the general management was more humane than could be found elsewhere, either in or out of Spain.

We may briefly recapitulate the various processes of the Inquisition in order, as they obtained. First came the denunciation, followed by seizure and the commencement of an inquiry. The several offences imputed were next submitted to those logical experts named "qualifiers" who decided, so to speak, "whether there was a true bill," in which case the procurator fiscal committed the accused to durance. Three audiences were given him, and the time was fully taken up with cautions and monitions. The charges were next formulated but with much prolixity and reduplication. They were not reduced to writing and delivered to the accused for slow perusal and reply, but were only read over to him, hurriedly. On arraignment he was called upon to reply, then and there, to each article, to state at once whether it was true or false. The charges were usually originated by an informer and resort was had, if necessary, to "inquiry," the hunting up of suspicious or damaging facts on which evidence was sought, in any quarter and from any one good or bad. If the accused persisted in denial he was allowed counsel, but later the counsel became an official of the Inquisition and naturally made only a perfunctory defence. An appeal to torture was had if the prisoner persisted in denying his guilt, in the face of plausible testimony, or if he confessed only partially to the charges against him, or if he refused to name his accomplices. A witness who had retracted his testimony or had contradicted himself, might be tortured in order that the truth might be made known.

It was admitted, however, that torture was by no means an infallible method for bringing out the truth. "Weak-hearted men, impatient of the first pain, will confess crimes they never committed and criminate others at the same time. Bold and strong ones will bear the most severe torments. Those who have been already on the rack are likely to bear it with greater courage, for they know how to adapt their limbs to it and can resist more powerfully." It may be admitted that the system was so far humane that the torture was not applied until every other effort had been tried and had failed. The instruments of torture were first exhibited with threats, but when once in use, it might be repeated day after day, "in continuation," as it was called, and if any "irregularity" occurred, such as the death of a victim, the inquisitors were empowered to absolve one another. Nobles were supposedly exempted from torture, and it was not permissible by the civil laws in Aragon, but the Holy Office was nevertheless authorised to torture without restriction all persons of all classes.

Torture was not inflicted as a punishment by the Inquisition, nor was it peculiar to its trials. Until a comparatively recent date it was a recognised method of securing testimony, accepted in nearly all courts of Europe as a matter of course. The Inquisition seems to have invented no new methods, and seldom used the extreme forms commonly practised. In fact in nearly every case, torture was inflicted by the regular public executioner who was called in for the purpose and sworn to secrecy. The list of tortures practised on civil prisoners was long, and they seem to us now fiendish in their ingenuity. A complete course would require many hours, and included apparently the infliction of pain to every organ or limb and to almost every separate muscle and nerve. The records of the Inquisition show almost invariably the infliction of a few well known sorts.

Some sorts were abandoned because of the danger of permanent harm, and others less violent, but probably no less painful, were substituted. Often the record states that the prisoner "overcame the torture," i. e. was not moved to confess. Evidently, though the whole idea is abhorrent to us to-day, torture as inflicted was less awful than some writers would have us believe.[6]

A curious memento of the methods employed by the Holy Office has been preserved in an ancient "Manual of the Inquisition of Seville," a thin quarto volume bound in vellum, with pages partly printed, partly in manuscript. It bears the date 1628, and purports to be compiled from ancient and modern instructions for the order of procedure. It was found in the Palace of the Inquisition at Seville, when it was sacked in the year 1820. One part of this manual details the steps to be taken, "when torture has to be performed." The criminal having been brought into the audience, was warned that he had not told the entire truth, and as he was believed to have kept back and hidden many things, he was about to be "tormented" to compel him to speak out. Formal sentence to the torture chamber was then passed, after "invoking the name of Christ." It was announced that the "question" would be administered. The method of infliction was detailed whether by pulleys or by water or cords, or by all, to be continued for "as long a time as may appear well," with the proviso that if in the said torment, "he (or she) should die or be wounded, or if there be any effusion of blood or mutilation of member, the blame should be his (or hers) not ours."

Here follows in manuscript the description of the torments applied to one unfortunate female whose name is not given.

"On this she was ordered to be taken to the chamber of Torment whither went the Lords Inquisitors, and when they were there she was admonished to tell the truth and not to let herself be brought into such great trouble.

"Her answer is not recorded.

"Carlos Felipe, the executor of Justice, was called and his oath taken that he would do his business well and faithfully and that he would keep the secret. All of which he promised.

"She was told to tell the truth or orders would be given to strip her. She was commanded to be stripped naked.

"She was told to tell the truth or orders would be given to cut off her hair. It was taken off and she was examined by the doctor and surgeon who certified that there was no reason why she should not be put to the torture.

"She was commanded to mount the rack and to tell the truth or her body should be bound; and she was bound. She was commanded to tell the truth, or they would order her right foot to be made fast to the trampazo."[7]

After the trampazo of the right foot that of the left followed. Then came the binding and stretching of the right arm, then that of the left. After that the garrote or the compression of the fleshy parts of the arms and thighs with fine cords, a plan used to revive any person who had fainted under the torture. Last of all the mancuerda was inflicted, a simultaneous tension of all the cords on all the limbs and parts.

The water torture was used to extort confession. The patient was tightly bound to the potro, or ladder, the rungs of which were sharp-edged. The head was immovably fastened lower than the body, and the mouth was held open by an iron prong. A strip of linen slowly conducted water into the mouth, causing the victim to strangle and choke. Sometimes six or eight jars, each holding about a quart, were necessary to bring the desired result. This is the "water-cure" found in the Philippines by American soldiers when the islands were captured.

If these persuasions still failed of effect, or if the hour was late, or "for other considerations" the torment might be suspended with the explanation that it had been insufficiently tried and the victim was taken back to his prison to be brought out again after a respite. If, on the other hand, a confession was secured, it was written down word for word and submitted to the victim for ratification after at least twenty-four hours had elapsed. If he revoked the confession, he might be tortured again.

When a number of cases had been decided, the Suprema appointed a day, usually a Sunday or a feast day, for pronouncing sentence. This was an auto da fÉ, literally an "act of faith." The greater festivals, Easter day, Christmas day, or Sundays in Advent or Lent were excepted because these holy days had their own special musical or dramatic entertainments in the churches. The day fixed was announced from all the pulpits in the city (Seville or Madrid or Cordova as the case might be) and notice given that a representative of the Inquisition would deliver a "sermon of the faith" and that no other preacher might raise his voice. The civil authorities were warned to be ready to receive their victims. At the same time officials unfurled a banner and made public proclamation to the effect that "no person whatever his station or quality from that hour until the completion of the auto should carry arms offensive or defensive, under pain of the greater excommunication and the forfeiture of such arms; nor during the same period should any one ride in coach, or sedan chair, or on horseback, through the streets in the route of the procession, nor enter the enclosure in which the place of execution (quemadero) was erected," which was usually beyond the walls.

On the eve of the great day a gorgeous procession was organised, for which all the communities of friars in the city and neighbourhood assembled at the Holy House of the Inquisition, together with the commissaries and familiars of the Holy Office. They sallied forth in triumphal array, followed by the "qualifiers" and experts, all carrying large white tapers, lighted. In their midst a bier was borne covered with a black pall, and, bringing up the rear, was a band, instrumental and vocal, performing hymns. In this order the procession reached the public square, when the pall was removed from the bier and a green cross disclosed which was carried to the altar on the platform, and there erected surrounded by a dozen candles. The white cross was carried to the burning place. Now a strong body of horse and a number of Dominican friars took post to watch through the night and the rest of the actors dispersed. At the same time those who were to suffer were prepared for the fatal event. All were shaved close, both head and beard, so that they might present an appearance of nakedness and humiliation suitable to their forlorn condition. At sunrise on their last day they were arrayed in the prescribed garb and brought from their cells into the chapel or great hall. The least heinous offenders were in coarse black blouses and pantaloons, and were bare-footed and bare-headed. The worst culprits were in the sanbenito or penitential sack of yellow canvas, adorned with a St. Andrew's cross in bright red paint, and they often carried a halter round their necks as a badge of ignominy. Those to die at the stake were distinguished by black sanbenitos with painted flames and wore on their heads a conical paper headdress in the shape of a bishop's mitre, but also resembling somewhat a fool's cap. This was called the coroza, a contemptuous form of corona or crown. To make the clothing more hideous, it was decorated by coarse pictures of devils in flames. The condemned as they passed on their way were assailed to the last with importunate exhortations to repent, and a promise was held out to them that if they yielded they would be rewarded by a less painful death, and would be strangled before the flames reached them. All the penitents were obliged to sit upon the ground in profound silence and without so much as moving a limb, while the slow hours dragged themselves along. In the morning a sumptuous meal was set before them, and they were suffered to eat their fill. All the officials and visitors were also regaled before the day's business began.

After the sermon, the secretary read to all the people the oath pledging them to support the Inquisition. Then sentences were pronounced, beginning with the lesser offenders and proceeding to the graver. The punishments ranged from a reprimand, through abjuration, fines, exile, for a longer or shorter period, destruction of residence, penance, scourging, the galleys, imprisonment, wearing the sanbenito or penitential garment, up to "relaxation to the secular arm;" i. e. death by fire. These penalties carried with them civil disability, and tainted the blood of the descendants of the condemned as well.

Penance might be inflicted in various forms. The condemned, perhaps, might be required to fast one day in every week, to recite a specified number of prayers on appointed days, or to appear at the church door with a halter around his neck on successive Sundays. When scourging was inflicted, the penitent, naked to the waist, was placed astride an ass, and paraded through the principal streets preceded by the town crier. Meanwhile the executioner, accompanied by a clerk to keep tally, plied the penca or leather strap, but was charged most solemnly not to draw blood. Usually two hundred lashes was the limit.

Theoretically a heretic who escaped the stake by confession was sentenced to perpetual imprisonment. This penalty might be served in a prison, a monastery, or in a private house. As a matter of fact, comparatively few were kept in prisons as the expense of maintenance was a heavy burden, and the sentences were usually changed to deportation to the colonies, or assignment to the galleys, or else the sentence was shortened.

The trial and sentence of the bodies of the dead was common, but it was not peculiar to the Inquisition. As late as 1600, in Scotland, the bodies of the Earl of Gowrie and his brother were brought into court, and sentenced to be hanged, quartered and gibbeted. Logan of Restalrig, in 1609, three years after his death, was tried on the charge of being concerned in the same conspiracy, was found guilty and his property was confiscated.

In recounting the punishments imposed by the Inquisition, we must not forget that it assumed jurisdiction over many crimes which to-day are tried by the civil courts. Bigamy was punished as, by a second marriage, the criminal denied the authority of the Church which makes marriage a sacrament. Certain forms of blasphemy also were brought before it, and perjury as well. Personation of the priesthood, or of officials of the Inquisition, was punished, and later it gained jurisdiction over unnatural crimes. Sorcery and witchcraft, which in other states, including the American colonies, were considered subjects for the secular courts, were within the jurisdiction of the Spanish Inquisition.

Strange as it may appear at first thought, the attitude of the Inquisition toward the witchcraft delusion was one of skepticism almost from the beginning. Individual inquisitors, influenced by the well nigh universal belief, were occasionally active, but the Suprema moderated their zeal. In 1610 an auto was held at LogroÑo, which was the centre of wild excitement. Twenty-nine witches were punished, six of whom were burned, and the bones of five others who had died in prison were also consumed. The eighteen remaining were "reconciled." In 1614, however, the Suprema drew up an elaborate code of instructions to the tribunals. While not denying the existence of witchcraft, these instructions treated it as a delusion and practically made proof impossible. As a result of this policy the victims of the craze in Spain can be counted almost by the score, while in almost every other country of Europe, they are numbered by the thousand. In Great Britain the best estimate fixes the number of victims at thirty thousand, and as late as 1775 the great legal author, Sir William Blackstone, says that to deny "the actual existence of witchcraft and sorcery is at once flatly to contradict the revealed word of God."[8]

Heresy, of course, according to the views not only of Catholics but of Protestants, deserved death as a form of treason. Tolerance is a modern idea. Calvin burned Servetus at Geneva and was applauded for it. Protestants in England persecuted other Protestants as well as Catholics. The impenitent heretic in Spain was burned alive. That one, who after conviction, expressed his repentance, and his desire to die in the Church was usually strangled before the flames touched him. Before going on to describe some famous autos da fÉ and the subsequent infliction of the death penalty, a word of explanation is in order.

Protestant doctrines were introduced into Spain either by foreigners or by natives who travelled or studied in foreign lands, but made slow headway. In 1557 a secret organisation, comprising about one hundred and twenty members, was discovered in Seville. The next year another little band of about sixty was found in Valladolid.

The almost simultaneous exposure of these two heretical organisations, both of which included some prominent people, created great commotion. Charles V, then living at San Yuste, whither he had retired after his abdication, wrote to his daughter Juana, who was acting as regent in the absence of Philip II, urging the most stringent measures and advocating that the heretics be pursued mercilessly. Little stimulation of the Inquisition was necessary, and the two little congregations were destroyed.

A part of those condemned at Valladolid were sentenced at a great auto da fÉ held on Trinity Sunday, May 21st, 1559, in Valladolid, not before Philip II, who was abroad, but his sister, Princess Juana, presided and with her was the unhappy Prince, Don Carlos. It was a brilliant gathering, a great number of grandees of Spain, titled noblemen and gentlemen untitled, ladies of high rank in gorgeous apparel, all seated in great state to watch the arrival of the penitential procession. Fourteen heretics were to die, sixteen more to be "reconciled" but to be branded with infamy and suffer lesser punishments. Among the sufferers were many persons of rank and consideration such as the two brothers Cazalla and their sister, children of the king's comptroller, one of them a canon of the Church, the other a presbyter, and all three members of the little Lutheran congregation. Their mother had died in heresy and on this occasion her effigy, clad in her widow's weeds and wearing a mitre with flames, was paraded through the streets and then burned publicly. Her house, where Lutherans had met for prayer, was razed to the ground and a pillar erected with an inscription setting forth her offence and sentence. Another victim was the licentiate, Antonio Herrezuelo, an impenitent Lutheran, the only one who went to the stake unmoved, singing psalms by the way, and reciting passages of scripture. They gagged him at last and a soldier in his zeal stabbed him with his halberd, but the wound was not mortal and bleeding and burning, he slowly expired.

The sixteen who survived the horrors of the day were haled back to the prison of the Inquisition to spend one more night in the cells. Next morning they were again taken before the inquisitors who exhorted them afresh, and their sentences were finally read to them. Some destined to the galleys were transferred first to the civil prison to await removal, after they had been flogged through the streets and market places. Others clad in the sanbenito and carrying ropes were exposed to the hoots and indignities of the ribald crowd. All who passed through the hands of the Holy Office were sworn to seal up in everlasting silence whatever they had seen, heard or suffered, on peril of a renewed prosecution.

Philip II was present at the second great auto in Valladolid in October of the same year, when the remainder of the Protestants were sentenced. His wife, Queen Mary of England, was dead, and he returned to Spain by way of the Netherlands, embarking at Flushing for Laredo. Rough weather and bad seamanship all but wrecked his fleet in sight of port, and Philip vowed if he were permitted to set foot on shore, to prosecute the heretics of Spain unceasingly. He was saved from drowning and went at once to Valladolid to carry out his vow.

The ceremony was organised with unprecedented pomp and splendour. The king came in state, rejoicing that several notable heretics had been reserved to die in torments, for his especial delectation. His heir, Don Carlos, Prince of Asturias, was also present but under compulsion; he was, at that time, no more than fourteen years of age and had writhed with agony at the sight of the suffering at the former auto. Moreover, when called upon to swear fidelity to the Inquisition, he had taken the oath with great reluctance. Not so King Philip, who when called upon to take the same oath at the second auto da fÉ, rose in his place, drew his sword and brandished it as he swore to show every favour to the Holy Office and support its ministers against whomsoever might directly or indirectly impede its efforts or affairs. "Asi lo juro," he said with deep feeling. "Thus I swear."

The victims at this great auto da fÉ were many and illustrious. One was Don Carlos de Seso, an Italian of noble family, the son of a bishop, a scholar who had long been in the service of the Emperor Charles V, and was chief magistrate of Toro. He had married a Spanish lady and resided at LogroÑo, where he became an object of suspicion as a professor of Lutheranism, and was arrested. They took him to the prison of Valladolid, where he was charged, tortured and condemned to die. When called upon to make confession, he wrote two full sheets denouncing the Catholic teaching, claiming that it was at variance with the true faith of the gospel. The priests argued with him in vain, and he was brought into church next morning, gagged, and so taken to the burning place, "lest he should speak heresy in the hearing of the people." At the stake the gag was removed and he was again exhorted to recant but he stoutly refused and bade them light up the fire speedily so that he might die in his belief.

Much grief was felt by the Dominicans at the lapse of one of their order, Fray Domingo de Rojas, who was undoubtedly a Lutheran. On his way to the stake he strove to appeal to the king who drove him away and ordered him to be gagged. More than a hundred monks of his order followed him close entreating him to recant, but he persisted in a determined although inarticulate refusal until in sight of the flames. He then recanted and was strangled before being burned. One Juan Sanchez, a native of Valladolid, had fled to Flanders, but was pursued, captured and brought back to Spain to die on this day. When the cords which had bound him snapped in the fire, he bounded into the air with his agony but still repelled the priests and called for more fire. Nine more were burned in the presence of the king, who was no merely passive spectator, but visited the various stakes and ordered his personal guard to assist in piling up the fuel.

The congregation at Seville were sentenced at autos held in 1559 and 1560. On December 22d of the latter year, there were fourteen burned in the flesh and three in effigy. The last were notable people. One was Doctor Egidio, who had been a leading canon of Seville Cathedral, and who had been tried and forced to recant his heresies in 1552. After release he renewed his connection with the Lutherans, but soon died and was buried at Seville. His corpse was exhumed, brought to trial, and burnt with his effigy; all his property was confiscated and his memory declared infamous. Another was Doctor Ponce de la Fuente, a man of deep learning and extraordinary eloquence who had been chaplain and preacher to the emperor. He followed the Imperial Court into Germany, then returned to charm vast congregations in Seville, but his sermons were reported by spies to be tainted with the Reformed doctrines. He was seized by the Inquisition and many incriminating papers were also taken. When cast into a secret dungeon and confronted with these proofs of his heresy, he would make no confession, nor would he betray any of his friends. He was transferred to a subterranean cell, damp and pestiferous, so narrow he could barely move himself, and was deprived of the commonest necessaries of life. Existence became impossible under such conditions, and he died, proclaiming with his last breath that neither Scythians nor cannibals could be more cruel and inhuman than the barbarians of the Holy Office. The third effigy consumed was that of Doctor Juan PÉrez de Pineda, then a fugitive in Geneva.

Chief among the living victims was Julian Hernandez, commonly called el Chico, "the little," from his diminutive stature. Yet his heart was of the largest and his courage extraordinary. He was a deacon in the Reformed Church and dared to penetrate the interior of Spain, disguised as a muleteer, carrying merchandise in which Lutheran literature was concealed. Being exceedingly shrewd and daring he travelled far and wide, beyond Castile into Andalusia, distributing his books among persons of rank and education in all the chief cities. His learning, skill in argument, and piety, were not less remarkable than the diligence and activity by which he baffled all efforts to lay hold of him. At last he was caught and imprisoned. Relays of priests were told off to controvert his opinions, and he was repeatedly tortured to extract the names of those who had aided him in his long and dangerous pilgrimage through the Peninsula, but he was staunch and silent to the last.

A citizen of London, one Nicholas Burton, was a shipmaster who traded to Cadiz in his own vessel. He was arrested on the information of a "familiar" of the Inquisition, charged with having spoken in slighting terms of the religion of the country. No reason was given him, and when he protested indignantly, he was thrown into the common gaol and detained there for a fortnight, during which he was moved to administer comfort and preach the gospel to his fellow-prisoners. This gave a handle to his persecutors and he was removed on a further charge of heresy to Seville, where he was imprisoned, heavily ironed in the secret gaol of the Inquisition in the Triana. At the end he was condemned as a contumacious Lutheran, and was brought out, clad in the sanbenito and exposed in the great hall of the Holy Office with his tongue forced out of his mouth. Last of all, being obdurate in his heresy, he was burned and his ship with its cargo was taken possession of by his persecutors.

The story does not end here. Another Englishman, John Frampton, an attorney of Bristol, was sent to Cadiz by a part-owner to demand restoration of the ship. He became involved in a tedious law suit and was at last obliged to return to England for enlarged powers. Bye and bye he went out a second time to Spain, and on landing at Cadiz was seized by the servants of the Inquisition and carried to Seville. He travelled on mule back "tied by a chain that came three times under its belly and the end whereof was fastened in an iron padlock made fast to the saddle bow." Two armed familiars rode beside him, and thus escorted and secured, he was conveyed to the old prison and lodged in a noisome dungeon. The usual interrogatories were put to him and it was proved to the satisfaction of the Holy Office that he was an English heretic. The same evidence sufficed to place him on the rack, and after fourteen months, he was taken to be present as a penitent at the same auto da fÉ which saw Burton, the ship's captain, done to death. Frampton went back to prison for another year and was forbidden to leave Spain. He managed to escape and returned to England to make full revelation of his wrongs, but the ship was never surrendered and no indemnity was obtained.

Other Englishmen fell from time to time into the hands of the Inquisition. Hakluyt preserved the simple narratives of two English sailors, who were brought by their Spanish captors from the Indies as a sacrifice to the "Holy House" of Seville, though the authenticity of the statement has been attacked. One, a happy-go-lucky fellow, Miles Phillips, who had been too well acquainted in Mexico with the dungeons of the Inquisition, slipped over the ship's side at San Lucar, near Cadiz, made his way to shore, and boldly went to Seville, where he lived a hidden life as a silk-weaver, until he found his chance to steal away and board a Devon merchantman. The other, Job Hortop, added to his two years of Mexican imprisonment, two more years in Seville. Then "they brought us out in procession," as he tells us, "every one of us having a candle in his hand and the coat with S. Andrew's cross on our backs; they brought us up on an high scaffold, that was set up in the place of S. Francis, which is in the chief street in Seville; there they set us down upon benches, every one in his degree and against us on another scaffold sate all the Judges and the Clergy on their benches. The people wondered and gazed on us, some pitying our case, others said, 'Burn those heretics.' When we had sat there two hours, we had a sermon made to us, after which one called Bresina, secretary to the Inquisition, went up into the pulpit with the process and called on Robert Barret, shipmaster, and John Gilbert, whom two familiars of the Inquisition brought from the scaffold in front of the Judges, and the secretary read the sentence, which was that they should be burnt, and so they returned to the scaffold and were burnt.

"Then, I, Job Hortop and John Bone, were called and brought to the same place, as the others and likewise heard our sentence, which was, that we should go to the galleys there to row at the oar's end ten years and then to be brought back to the Inquisition House, to have the coat with St. Andrew's cross put on our backs and from thence to go to the everlasting prison remediless.

"I, with the rest were sent to the Galleys, where we were chained four and four together.... Hunger, thirst, cold and stripes we lacked none, till our several times expired; and after the time of twelve years, for I served two years above my sentence, I was sent back to the Inquisition House in Seville and there having put on the above mentioned coat with St. Andrew's cross, I was sent to the everlasting prison remediless, where I wore the coat four years and then, upon great suit, I had it taken off for fifty duckets, which Hernandez de Soria, treasurer of the king's mint, lent me, whom I was to serve for it as a drudge seven years." This victim, too, escaped in a fly-boat at last and reached England.

The records of the Inquisition of this period contain the name of an eminent Spanish ecclesiastic who offended the Holy Office and felt the weight of its arm. This was Bartolome de Carranza, Archbishop of Toledo, Primate of Spain, a Dominican,—whose rise had been rapid and who was charged with leanings toward Lutheranism. In early life he had passed through the hands of the Inquisition and was censured for expressing approval of the writings of Erasmus, but no other action was taken. His profound theological knowledge indeed commended him to the Councils of the Church, for which he often acted as examiner of suspected books.

Carranza's connection with English history is interesting. At the time of Queen Mary's marriage with Philip II, he came to London to arrange, in conjunction with Cardinal Pole, for the reconciliation of England to Rome. He laboured incessantly to win over British Protestants, "preached continually, convinced and converted heretics without number, ... guided the Queen and Councils and assisted in framing rules for the governance of the English Universities." He was particularly anxious for the persecution of obstinate heretics, and was in a measure responsible for the burning of Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury. His zeal and his great merits marked him down as the natural successor to the archbishopric of Toledo, when it became vacant, and he was esteemed as a chief pillar of the Catholic Church, destined in due course to the very highest preferment. He might indeed become cardinal and even supreme pontiff before he died.

Yet when nearing the topmost pinnacle he was on the verge of falling to the lowest depths. He had many enemies. His stern views on Church discipline, enunciated before the Council of Trent, alienated many of the bishops, who planned his ruin and secretly watched his discourses and writings for symptoms of unsoundness. ValdÉs, the chief inquisitor, was a leading opponent and industriously collected a mass of evidence tending to inculpate Carranza. He had used "perilous language" when preaching in England, especially in the hearing of heretics, and one witness deposed that some of his sermons might have been delivered by Melancthon himself. He had affirmed that mercy might be shown to Lutherans who abjured their errors, and had frequently manifested scandalous indulgence to heretics. ValdÉs easily framed a case against Carranza, strong enough to back up an application to the pope to authorise the Inquisition to arrest and imprison the primate of Spain. Paul IV, the new pope, permitted the arrest. Great circumspection was shown in making it because of the prisoner's rank. Carranza was invited to come to Valladolid to have an interview with the king, and, with some misgivings, the archbishop set out. A considerable force of men was gathered together by the way—all loyal to the Inquisition—and at the town of Torrelaguna, the arrest was made with great formality and respect.

On reaching Valladolid the prisoner begged he might be lodged in the house of a friend. The Holy Office consented but hired the building. The trial presented many serious difficulties. Here was no ordinary prisoner; Carranza was widely popular, and the Supreme Council of the Kingdom was divided as to the evidences of his guilt. Nearly a hundred witnesses were examined, but proof was not easily to be secured. Besides, Carranza had appealed to the Supreme Pontiff. Year after year was spent in tiresome litigation and a fierce contest ensued between Rome and the Spanish court which backed up the Inquisition. At length, after eight years' confinement, the primate was sent to Cartagena to take ship for Rome, accompanied by several inquisitors and the Duke of Alva, that most notorious nobleman, the scourge and oppressor of the Netherlands. All landed at Civita Vecchia and the party proceeded to the Holy City, when Carranza was at once lodged in the Castle of St. Angelo, the well known State prison. He was detained there nine years, until released by Pope Gregory XIII. He was censured for his errors, and required to abjure the Lutheran principles found in his writings, and was relieved from his functions as archbishop, to which, however, his strength, impaired by age and suffering, was no longer equal. While visiting the seven churches as a penance, he was taken ill, April 23d, 1576, and soon died. Before his death, however, the pope gave him full indulgence.

Those who saw him in his last days record that he bore his trials with dignity and patience. But this learned priest who had been called to the highest rank of the ecclesiastical hierarchy, only to be himself assailed and thrown down, was the same who had sat in cruel judgment upon Thomas Cranmer and compassed his martyrdom.