The Inquisition at Goa has made little improvement since the time of Dellon—extracts from Dr. Buchanan's Christian Researches in Asia—he visits Goa—becomes acquainted with the Inquisitor—visits the Inquisition—he pleads, in vain, to see the dungeons and the captives—his remarks on the efforts which ought to be made by Britain to abolish so odious a tribunal—true picture of the Inquisition by several writers—conclusion.

Little alteration has taken place in the Inquisition at Goa, since the period of Dellon's imprisonment. Thus will appear from the following account of that tribunal which is given by the Rev. Dr. Buchanan, so lately as 1808, in his "Christian Researches in Asia." The objects of the Rev. Doctor in visiting Goa were, "1st. To ascertain whether the Inquisition actually refused to recognize the Bible among the Romish churches in British India. 2dly. To inquire into the state and jurisdiction of the Inquisition, particularly as it affected British subjects. 3dly. To learn what was the system of education for the priesthood; and, 4thly. To examine the ancient church libraries in Goa, which were said to contain all the books of the first printing."

"On my arrival at Goa, (says he, under date January 23, 1808,) I was received into the house of Captain Schuyler, the British resident. The British force here is commanded by Colonel Adams, of the 78th Regiment, with whom I was formerly well acquainted in Bengal. [26] Next day I was introduced by these gentlemen to the viceroy of Goa, the Count de Cabral. I intimated to his excellency my wish to sail up the river to Old Goa, [27] where the Inquisition is, to which he politely acceded. Major Pareira, of the Portuguese establishment, who was present, and to whom I had letters of introduction from Bengal, offered to accompany me to the city, and to introduce me to the archbishop of Goa, the primate of the Orient.

I had communicated to Colonel Adams, and to the British resident, my purpose of inquiring into the state of the Inquisition. These gentlemen informed me, that I should not be able to accomplish my design without difficulty; seeing every thing relating to the Inquisition was conducted in a very secret manner, the most respectable of the lay Portuguese themselves being ignorant of its proceedings; and that, if the priests were to discover my object, their excessive jealousy and alarm would prevent their communicating with me, or satisfying my inquiries on any subject. On receiving this intelligence, I perceived that it would be necessary to proceed with caution. I was, in fact, about to visit a republic of priests, whose dominion had existed for nearly three centuries,—whose province it was to prosecute heretics, and particularly the teachers of heresy,—and from whose authority and sentence there was no appeal in India. [28]

It happened that Lieutenant Kempthorne, commander of his Majesty's Brig Diana, a distant connection of my own, was at that time in the harbour. On his learning that I meant to visit Old Goa, he offered to accompany me; as did Captain Sterling, of his Majesty's 8th Regiment.

We proceeded up the river in the British resident's barge, accompanied by Major Pareira, who was well qualified, by a thirty years' residence, to give information concerning local circumstances. From him I learned that there were upwards of two hundred churches and chapels in the province of Goa, and upwards of two thousand priests.

On our arrival at the city, it was past twelve o'clock: all the churches were shut, and we were told that they would not be opened again until two o'clock. I mentioned to Major Pareira, that I intended to stay at Old Goa some days; and that I should be obliged to him to find me a place to sleep in. He seemed surprised at this intimation, and observed that it would be difficult for me to obtain reception in any of the churches or convents, and that there were no private houses into which I could be admitted. I said I could sleep any where; I had two servants with me and a travelling bed. When he perceived that I was serious in my purpose, he gave directions to a civil officer in that place, to clear out a room in a building which had been long uninhabited, and which was then used as a warehouse for goods. Matters at this time presented a very gloomy appearance; and I had thoughts of returning with my companions from this inhospitable place. In the meantime we sat down in the room I have just mentioned, to take some refreshment, while Major Pareira went to call on some of his friends. During this interval I communicated to Lieutenant Kempthorne the object of my visit. I had in my pocket Dellon's account of the Inquisition at Goa; and I mentioned some particulars. While we were conversing on the subject, the great bell began to toll; the same which Dellon observes always tolls, before daylight on the morning of the auto-da-fÉ. I did not myself ask any questions of the people concerning the Inquisition; but Mr. Kempthorne made inquiries for me; and he soon found out that the Sancta Casa, or holy office, was close to the house where we were then sitting. The gentlemen went to the window to view the horrid mansion; and I could see the indignation of free and enlightened men arise in the countenance of the two British officers, while they contemplated a place where formerly their own countrymen were condemned to the flames, and into which they themselves might now suddenly be thrown, without the possibility of rescue.

The day being now far spent, and my companions about to leave me, I was considering whether I should return with them, when Major Pareira said he would first introduce me to a priest high in office, and one of the most learned men in the place. We accordingly walked to the convent of the Augustinians, where I was presented to Josephus a Doloribus, a man well advanced in life, of pale visage, and penetrating eye, rather of a reverend appearance, and possessing great fluency of speech, and urbanity of manners. After half an hour's conversation in the Latin language, during which he adverted rapidly to a variety of subjects, and inquired concerning some learned men of his own church, whom I had visited in my tour, he politely invited me to take up my residence with him, during my stay at Old Goa. I was highly gratified by this unexpected invitation; but Lieut. Kempthorne did not approve of leaving me in the hands of the Inquisitor; for, judge of our surprise, when we discovered that my learned host was one of the Inquisitors of the Holy Office, the second member of that tribunal in rank, but first and most active agent in the business of the department. Apartments were assigned to me in the college adjoining the convent, next to the rooms of the Inquisitor himself, and here I have been four days at the very fountain-head of information, in regard to those subjects which I wished to investigate. I breakfast and dine with the Inquisitor almost every day, and he generally passes his evenings in my apartment. As he considers my inquiries to be chiefly of a literary nature, he is perfectly candid and communicative on all subjects.

Next day after my arrival, I was introduced by my learned conductor to the Archbishop of Goa. We found him reading the Latin letters of St. Francis Xavier. On my adverting to the long duration of the city of Goa, while other cities of Europeans in India had suffered from war or revolution, the Archbishop observed, that the preservation of Goa was owing to the prayers of St. Francis Xavier. The Inquisitor looked at me to see what I thought of this sentiment. I acknowledged that Xavier was considered by the learned among the English to have been a great man: what he wrote himself, bespeaks him a man of learning, of original genius, and great fortitude of mind; but what others have written for him, and of him, tarnished his fame, by making him the inventor of fables. The Archbishop signified his assent. He afterwards conducted me into his private chapel, which is decorated with images of silver, and then into the Archiepiscopal library, which possesses a valuable collection of books. As I passed through our convent, in returning from the Archbishop's, I observed among the paintings in the cloisters, a portrait of the famous Alexis de Menezes, Archbishop of Goa, who held the synod of Diamper, near Cochin, in 1599, and burned the books of the Syrian Christians. From the inscription underneath, I learned that he was the founder of the magnificent church and convent in which I am now residing.

On the same day I received an invitation to dine with the chief Inquisitor, at his house in the country. The second Inquisitor accompanied me, and we found a respectable company of priests, and a sumptuous entertainment. In the library of the chief Inquisitor, I saw a register, containing the names of the present establishment of the Inquisition at Goa, and the names of all the officers. On asking the chief Inquisitor, whether the establishment was as extensive as formerly, he said it was nearly the same. I had hitherto said little to any person concerning the Inquisition, but I had indirectly gleaned much information concerning it, not only from the Inquisitors themselves, but from certain priests whom I visited in their respective convents; particularly from a father in the Franciscan convent, who had himself repeatedly witnessed an auto-da-fÉ.

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]

Having thus given a sketch of the Inquisition, the reader must have perceived in every circumstance connected with this singular tribunal, its injustice, tyranny, hypocrisy, and cruelty. Its dungeons, torments, and executions are not only opposed to the spirit of Christianity, but outdo the most ferocious deeds recorded in history, of the greatest tyrant among heathen nations. It has carried terror throughout every land in which it has been established, robbed both the wealthy and the poor of their property, and what is infinitely worse, glutted its vengeance with the blood of the innocent.

Above all, the cruelty of the "holy office" to those whom it pronounces penitent, is most detestable. Instead of embracing them with open arms, it inflicts the most grievous punishments on those whom, in the plenitude of its power, it permits to live; whilst others, also believed to be converted to the faith of the Romish Church, are nevertheless doomed to suffer an ignominious death. To these unhappy persons, the sacraments are given, if desired; thus acknowledging that they are "put in a state of salvation, received into the bosom of the Church, and assured of a heavenly crown!" What greater cruelty, then, can be conceived, and what more abhorrent to the mild spirit of the gospel of peace, than to punish with death a person who repents, and is reconciled to the Church? Yet, such are the iniquitous doings of the Inquisition! such the laws by which that blood-thirsty tribunal is governed—laws which must be carried into effect, in despite of the precepts of Jehovah, and the injunctions of the Great Head of the Church, every one of which are trampled under foot!

Nay, the Inquisitors themselves though they impiously assume the title of "holy," have almost uniformly been the most worthless and abandoned of characters. Crimes of the blackest hue have been perpetrated by these guardians of the faith, without a blush; and as they feared not God, so neither did they regard man—the laws of magistrates and kings being trampled on by them with impunity. These are indeed weighty charges, but the following testimonies by Roman Catholics themselves, given at different periods, will prove them to be no less weighty than just.

"With regard to the Inquisition," says M. P. de Almazan, when speaking of the Inquisitors of Cordova, at the end of the fifteenth century, "the measure adopted, was to place so much confidence in the archbishop of Seville, that they filled all these kingdoms with infamy, and in violation of the laws of God, as well as in contradiction to all justice, they destroyed the greatest part of them, by killing, robbing, and forcing maidens and married women, to the great shame and discredit of the Christian religion."

"Of other excesses on the part of particular judges," says Antonio Perez, a century afterwards, "of proceedings falsified, curtailed, handled in such a manner as to gain favour with the superiors, and besides stimulated by personal inventives so loose, disorderly, and notorious, that nothing else is to be seen in the proceedings agitated in the supreme court of Inquisition, and fraught with the piteous complaints of sufferers, injured maidens, and newly married women, overcome and possessed through the stratagems practised in these trials, so revolting and disgraceful, that no one would fail to prefer public shame to such secret dishonour."

"O! Inquisitors," exclaims an ancient Spanish historian, "oh! Inquisitors, savage beasts, how long will God endure your tyrannic and cruel acts! Oh! Spaniards, who are so fondly attached to your wives and children, and watch over them with such jealous care, how long will you endure that these old libertines should treat them in a manner so shameful, and thus gratify their beastly propensities?"

"In the very title they assume," says Salgado, which "is the holy office of Inquisition," the first part is, it is holy, it is then divine and their work must be divine also. Were this tribunal divine, it would omit nothing of what it could do to inform men in the way of salvation, and to open to them the secret mysteries of God's grace and mercy; but all their business really is to discover men's secrets, for ruining their estates, and disseizing the owners, that (Ahab-like) they may seize all. Further, were this tribunal holy, it would approve, choose, and promote holiness, as God doth; he communicateth holiness to the righteous, he approves it in them, and exerciseth them thereunto. Now where is aught of this to be found, either in the cruel disposition, or injurious proceedings of this court, and its officers? Where you find the greatest inhumanity, and most of the devil's malice, there is nothing divine, or of God; their holiness is condemned, and the holy are burnt; though sometimes they condemn a vile offender, yet they never absolve a known saint, a lover of Christ and truth; and were it holy, it would resemble the holiness of him in his created state under the law of nature. But here is nothing of that where all the laws of natural equity and compassion are violated, by forgery against the innocent, by forcing them to shorten their present torments by owning faults they never committed; in short, using all, so as none of them would be used by others. Here is nothing divine, natural; nor is there in this tribunal any conformity to the holiness which shines forth in Moses' law, which directed to the best methods of government, and best provided for the safety of innocents. This Inquisition is the most pernicious to innocents, wearing out with long imprisonment, those that retain their innocency, and burning those that forego it to please the Inquisitors. Moses' law was holy, which commanded, to love mercy, do justice, and walk humbly with God: The Inquisitors, for pride, like Lucifer, for injustice unparalleled, are notorious abhorrers of mercy. Say, leader, whether their tribunal can be holy and divine? There is one more holy tribunal namely that of grace, which is to save life, not to destroy it. And well doth the tribunal of Inquisition correspond to this, doth it not? which is set up to destroy life, not to save it. On Christ's throne is written life and salvation, but on the Inquisitor's, death and destruction; but yet it is a judgment seat, and hath a great authority, and therefore divine! Indeed, were it of God, it were divine, but it is of the Pope, an usurper, a tyrant, a bloody cruel one; and these Inquisitors commissioned by him, are to execute his bloody designs on all innocent ones accused, and brought within their snare. God permits, and abhors it now; and as he hath punished many, so he will punish all the rest of this bloody crew which profane the venerable names of faith, justice, and holiness, with their robberies, murders, and perjuries."—"They inquire not diligently after crimes to amend the criminal, but earnestly hunt after temporal estates, to seize them. Of old the estates of anathematized ones were not adjudged to the exchequer, but to the fires; now the goods of such are adjudged neither to the exchequer, nor to the fires, but to robbing Inquisitors. Instead of producing the truth before men, this tribunal brings lies openly to open view, and by false witness and cheats condemns innocents; they transubstantiate falsehoods, and then proclaim them truths; they contrive greatest injustices with greatest secrecy; they condemn innocents by wiles, and smother their righteous cause, which they never suffer to be pleaded; this their Inquisition it suppresseth truth, and murders innocents, and inquires what gain from the execution, never what righteousness in the judgment. By all this it appears the tribunal is neither holy, nor an office, nor an Inquisition."

"Thus the Inquisition," to use the words of Puigblanch, "surpassing the greatest tyrants in pride and fierceness, has not yielded to them in its arbitrary and despotic conduct. Every thing odious to be met with in the iniquitous Enquesta of Arragon, the Bastille of Paris, or any other of the monstrous establishments erected by despots to oppress their people, is found united, and even exceeded in the monstrous tribunal to which we allude.... Implacable with the unfortunate who fell beneath its claws, it has stained its hands in their blood, in the most inhuman manner, whenever they had sufficient heroism to brave its terrors; whilst at the same time it assumed the garb of insolence towards the weak, covering them with scoffs in their humiliation. Perfidious in its words, and base in its conduct, it only conceived itself happy while it had culprits to condemn. Borne away by its avarice, it devoured the loaf wrested from the widow and orphan, to whom it rendered even the means of begging difficult, by the stigmas of infamy which it imposed.

"As the masterpiece of error, it obstinately persecuted letters and learned men, always fearing to meet its own destruction in the broad light. It boasted of being unerring in its measures, whilst from its tripod the most absurd and injurious oracles have issued. Possessing in the most eminent degree the passions of despots, pride has constituted its very soul, and falsehood the air it has constantly breathed. It was adopted by kings, in order to enslave nations, after it had been founded by the popes, for the very purpose of making kings their vassals; and thus aiming at sovereignty, and spurning at mankind at large, the ambition and impunity of the clergy have alone prospered under its shade. It not only trampled on the property, honour, and lives of the citizens, but also on their shame. Not content with disturbing and depressing the civil authority, it contemned the dignity of bishops, although it had proclaimed itself their chief support. In short, to form the history of its dominion, crimes of every kind rush upon the mind. And after this, how can I call thee, the Holy Tribunal? Thou hast been a den of thieves, the bulwark of superstition and of ignorance; the insatiable sphinx of human flesh, a tyrant among despotic establishments, a monument of the barbarism of the middle ages, the scum of tribunals; finally, thou hast constituted an invention that has stood alone, and without a parallel in ancient or modern times!"

Spain, unhappy Spain, still groans under the dominion of a tribunal so horribly, yet justly portrayed. It may stand for a little while longer, but it cannot exist long. The blood of the innocents whom it has murdered cries for vengeance. The souls of the martyrs, whose bodies it has tortured and consumed to ashes, exclaim, "How long, O Lord, holy and true, dost thou not judge, and avenge our blood on them who thus persecute the saints!"

The vengeance thus sought, may be for a short time deferred, but it will be at length executed to the full. "With what judgment" that unrighteous tribunal "has judged, shall she be judged;" and because she has not only shed, but made herself drunk with, the blood of saints and of prophets, the Spirit of inspiration testifies, that she is to get blood to drink, "for she is worthy."

How very grateful ought we to be, for our deliverance from an institution so inimical to liberty, both civil and religious? We are acquainted with it only by name, and read of its cruelty without being afraid of being subjected to its barbarous punishments. While therefore we value our privileges, let us acknowledge the kindness of God, in preventing us from being subjected to a yoke which other nations are unable to bear; and let us show our gratitude, by holding fast the truth, "not in unrighteousness," but "unblamably in holiness before God, even our Father."