APPEALS
This was more apt to benefit ecclesiastics than laymen for, except in cases involving degradation, they were never exhibited in public autos; their sentences were read in the audience-chamber, and they were more likely than the ordinary culprit to possess the education and intelligence requisite to profit by the opportunity. Cases of appeal by them are consequently not infrequent. Fray Lucas de Allende, Guardian of the Franciscan convent of Madrid, was one of the dupes of Lucrecia de Leon, an impostor who pretended in dreams to have converse with God and the saints. He busied himself in writing out her revelations and was tried at Toledo, where he lay in prison from June, 1590, until April, 1596. He was sentenced to areprimand and warning not to meddle with such matters, to accept certain definitions laid down by the tribunal, and to strict reclusion in a convent for a year. He vigorously protested that the sentence was absurd and he appealed from it, to which the fiscal retorted by likewise interjecting an appeal. The Suprema heard both appeals and decided, July 30, 1596, by confirming the sentence as to reprimand and warning, and omitting the rest. Even this did not satisfy the obstinate Franciscan for when read to him, August 2d, he refused to accept it and appealed to the pope, but, on being warned to reflect well, he on the same day withdrew this appeal and submitted. There can be little doubt however that the inquisitors suppressed the revocation of part of the sentence, for there follows a petition from him to be allowed to visit his native Villarubia before entering upon his reclusion, deceit of this kind being perfectly practicable in the profound secrecy of the tribunals.[256]More successful was the Geronimite Fray Martin de Cazares, prosecuted in Valladolid for superstitious curing of the sick and sentenced, in 1655, to reprimand and four years’ exile from certain places. The Suprema had confirmed the sentence and yet on appeal from him it remitted the exile.[257]By this time the Suprema was supervising all action of the tribunals and, as it gradually became the whole Inquisition, appeals grew to be superfluous, yet the custom of withholding the sentence was persistent.
There was one class of cases, however, in which notification of the sentence was always made prior to the auto de fe—those in which the culprit was condemned to relaxation. The object of this was to give him a chance of saving his soul by confession and conversion; in the earlier period the notification was short, being only at midnight before the auto, but this, as we shall see hereafter, was subsequently extended to three days.
In the medieval Inquisition, the inquisitor, when rendering sentence, always reserved the right to modify it, in the direction either of mercy or of severity, or to remove it wholly. He could do this, for he was practically independent and irresponsible to any superior, the only authority over him being the distant and almost inaccessibleHoly See. The Spanish inquisitor occupied a wholly different position, being held in strict and constantly increasing subordination to the Suprema and, as commutations early became a source of large revenue, it is easy to understand that the tribunals were not permitted to participate in the proceeds. Already in 1498, the Instructions thus undertook to limit the power of inquisitors to modify sentences, by ordering that they should not grant commutations for money or favor or without just cause and, when such existed, the commutation must be into fasts, almsgiving and other pious uses; there could be no release from wearing the sanbenito and the rehabilitation of descendants was reserved for the inquisitor-general.[258]It was difficult to enforce restrictions which recognized any right of inquisitors to modify sentences and, in 1513, Ximenes deprived them of it wholly and concentrated the power in the hands of the inquisitor-general.[259]It was wholly a matter of finance and we have seen (BookV, Chap, iii) how it was thenceforth utilized. The tribunal was recognized to have no power to modify a sentence when once pronounced; as an experienced writer says, although by common law inquisitors and Ordinaries can change or mitigate sentences, it is otherwise under the Instructions which declare that this is reserved for the inquisitor-general, the reason being that they have exhausted their powers.[260]
SEVERITY OR BENIGNITY
In the Indies, where distance rendered application to the Suprema virtually impossible, the tribunals seem to have retained the power of modifying sentences, even though they may rarely have exercised it. In 1663 an old woman, known as Isabel de Montoya, tried for sorcery in Mexico, was sentenced to appear in an auto de fe with the sanbenito, to receive two hundred lashes and to serve for life in a hospital. In the audience-chamber, November 5th, the sentence was read to her, in presence of the fiscal and her advocate. With the assent of the latter, she begged that the sanbenito and the scourging be omitted; she had only been an impostor and had had no pact, expressed or implied, with the demon, and in view of her age and sickness and crippling in the torture she supplicated mercy. On November 7th the fiscal replied to this, asking an aggravation of punishment because it proved her to be an impenitent in denying her pact and intention. November 21st the consulta de fe assembled and unanimously confirmed its former sentence.
The auto de fe was not celebrated until May 4, 1664; on the 6th she was duly scourged through the streets and on the 15th she was delivered to the Hospital del Amor de Dios. Her pitiful prayer, urging age and sickness, was justified for, on June 17th, a messenger from the hospital announced her death, and the inquisitors briefly ordered it to bury her.[261]
As regards cruelty, it is impossible to generalize, where in the earlier periods so much discretion was allowed to the tribunals, and so much depended on the temper of the inquisitors, who might be stern or humane. In the case of the obstinate heretic or of theimpenitente negativothere was no question; the law of the land and universal public opinion alike condemned him to the stake but, in the wide sphere of the penitent heretic and of the numerous offences of which the Inquisition had cognizance, there was an ample field for the display of severity or benignity. Against the barbarity of a case like that of Isabel de Montoya, which had too many parallels, may be set the tendencies of the Toledo tribunal about 1600. In its reports to the Suprema at that period there, frequently occur explanatory remarks, as though to apologize for the mildness of the sentences, which indicate its readiness to temper its judgements—such expressions as “she was a poor and ignorant woman,” “she was simple and ignorant,” “she was spared heavier penance because she was only sixteen years old,” “she seemed a very simple and a very good woman,” “recent baptism and drunkenness.” Occasionally, in bigamy cases, involving scourging and the galleys according to rule, the omission of these is justified by the age or weakness of the culprit. Sometimes, but not often, the suffering which the prisoner has endured during prolonged imprisonment is taken into consideration, and is admitted as part of the punishment.[262]This tendency towards mercy becomes more marked in the period of decadence, when the humanitarian development of the age made itself felt even in the Inquisition, and it offers a suggestive contrast to the savage fanaticism of the secular courts of a land which claimed to be more enlightened than Spain. In 1765 a wooden crucifix on the bridge at Abbeville was mutilated and the Bishop of Amiens published amonitoireordering, under pain of excommunication, any one having knowledge of the matterto denounce the offender. Duval de Saucourt, a counsellor in the court of Abbeville, who was inimical to the Abbess of Villancourt, accused her nephew, the Chevalier de la Barre, a youth of nineteen. The only evidence was that he had once passed a procession without lifting his hat, that he had talked against the Eucharist and had sung impious and licentious songs. He was doubtless irreligious and debauched, and his evil reputation sufficed, in the court of Abbeville, to justify a sentence of amputating his tongue and right hand and burning him alive. Appeal was made to the Parlement of Paris which, by a vote of fifteen to ten, confirmed the sentence, with the mitigation of beheading before concremation and this was duly executed, July 1, 1766.[263]The annals of the Spanish Inquisition offer nothing more hideous than this, and the comparison is the more instructive in that its penalty for sacrilegiously outraging an image of Christ, the Virgin or the saints, with aggravating circumstances, was merely appearance in an auto de fe with the insignia of a blasphemer, abjurationde leviand a hundred lashes or vergüenza or exile, according to the character of the offence and of the culprit.[264]
The Inquisition boasted that it was no respecter of persons and, in one point at least, its rules offer a favorable contrast to those of the secular law. In Spanish law the privileges of gentility were fully recognized and, for many crimes, the penalties assigned to gentle blood were much milder than those inflicted on the commonalty. This was reversed in the Inquisition, where it was prescribed that, in matters of faith, nobles should be punished more severely than plebeians.[265]This was doubtless owing to the assumption that they were more intelligently trained and less exposed to error, besides the fact that their example was more impressive. On the other hand, however, the clergy, for whom less excuse could be found, were treated with much greater leniency than the laity and, far from being utilized as examples, their frailties and errors were shielded as much as possible from public view, in order not to diminish popular reverence for the Church.
NON-PERFORMANCE
The penal resources of the Inquisition, as we shall see, were endless. While, for certain well-defined offences, certain penalties were customary, the discretion of the consultas de fe was boundby no definite limitations as to what were known aspenas extraordinarias, and they could devise whatever seemed appropriate to special cases. Infinite gradations and intricate combinations were resorted to in the effort to fit the penalty to the offence of each individual, and also doubtless often to secure unanimity in the consulta de fe, so that not infrequently there are six or eight separate and distinct inflictions in a single sentence. It would be too much to expect that, in so composite an institution, during more than three centuries of existence, there should have been strict consistency in the exercise of this discretional power, but, making allowance for the infirmities of human nature under the temptation of irresponsibility, it can scarce be said that it habitually abused its authority, according to the barbarous standard of the times, except in the infliction of pecuniary penalties on which its finances depended, and in the vindication of its authority against all who dared to question its supremacy. It was callous to the sufferings of those whom it prejudged as guilty; it devised the most atrocious formulas of procedure; but, when it had secured confession or conviction, it was not systematically and ferociously cruel as has so often been asserted.
As regards the enforcement of the sentence, it is to be observed that the penalties divide themselves into two classes. Some, such as relaxation, confiscation, fines, scourging, the galleys, reconciliation and abjuration, were within the power of the tribunal. Others, like imprisonment, the sanbenito, exile and reclusion, depended to a greater or less degree on the will or the fears of the penitent. Theoretically, as we have seen, punishment was regarded as penance, voluntarily accepted by the penitent for the salvation of his soul, but the Inquisition, unlike the father confessor, did not rely wholly on the penitential ardor of the sinner. Punishment retained enough of the character of penance to justify the theologian in treating its non-performance as a proof that repentance had been feigned, and that the offender had relapsed into heresy, the penalty for which, under the canons, was death by fire without trial. In the earlier time this was enforced in so far as was possible. Thus, in 1486, at Saragossa, Rodrigo de Gris, who had been condemned to perpetual imprisonment in a designated house, with the penalty of relapse for leaving it, escaped and was burnt in effigy as a relapsed and, in 1487, Cristóval Gelva, to whom the Hospital of Nuestra Señora de la Gracia was assigned as a perpetualprison, was burnt in effigy for escaping.[266]This continued for some time to be the theory but, in practice, while summoning the fugitive as an impenitent relapsed, to appear for judgement, it was deemed safer to proceed against him in the ordinary wayin absentia, waiting for a year and prosecuting him for contumacy. Such a case appears to be that of Bartolomé Gallego, who escaped in 1525 from the penitential prison of Toledo and was condemned to relaxation in effigy, November 3, 1527.[267]Some forty years later, Pablo García explains that the suspicion arising from flight, joined with that of remaining under excommunication for a year, afforded sufficient proof for declaring the fugitive a relapsed heretic and relaxing his effigy. It was only when evidence could be had of subsequent acts of heresy that direct proceedings for relapse were justified, and this was decided in a case where a fugitive was relaxed in effigy, and the Suprema revoked the sentence and rescinded the confiscation.[268]
NON-PERFORMANCE
The theory of relapse was evidently giving way. Simancas tells us that, although supported by high authorities, it is cruel and false and not founded in law; the fugitive is impenitent, not relapsed; if he returns or is captured he is to be heard, and if prepared to obey the Church, his flight only deserves an increase of penalty.[269]How rapidly the ancient severity was disappearing is manifested by a case in Valencia, in 1570. Pedro Luis Verga was prosecuted for Protestantism on a vague accusation that, when studying in Paris in 1555, he had consorted with the dreaded Juan Pérez and had shared his opinions, for which he was reconciled and sentenced not to leave the kingdom. He disobeyed and, in 1570, he was heard of in Genoa, giving utterance to heretical opinions. Now this was a case of relapse, as well as of non-fulfilment of penance, but he was prosecuted for contumacy as a simple fugitive.[270]It was an evidence that the old rule had become obsolete when inquisitors sometimes prescribed in their sentences that the penance was to be performed under pain of impenitent relapse, as in the case of Juan Franco, condemned at Toledo, in 1570, to eight years of galleys for Protestantism, and of Juan Cote, by the same tribunal, in 1615, to irremissible perpetual prison for thesame heresy.[271]Towards the middle of the seventeenth century, Alberghini gives the various opinions held on the subject, and concludes that that of Simancas was commonly accepted.[272]
Cases of non-fulfilment were not infrequent for, as we shall see, the discipline of the penitential prisons was exceedingly lax; any penitent could absent himself and then throw off the sanbenito, which was the customary accompaniment of imprisonment, but, although this was canonically relapse, such cases were treated with what in those days might be considered as mercy. Thus Diego González, reconciled for Judaism at Valladolid, in 1644, and condemned to prison and habit, was recognized in 1645, at Medina de Rioseco, without the sanbenito. On being tried for this, the consulta de fe was not unanimous and the Suprema sentenced him to a hundred lashes.[273]It was the same with sentences of exile. In 1667, at Toledo, Francisco López Rodríguez, who had been reconciled in 1665 and had already been prosecuted for non-fulfilment of penance, was tried for doing so again, and was condemned only to a hundred lashes and two years more of exile. So in 1669, Juan López Peatin, for infraction of exile, had only two years added to the original term.[274]
A curious case, however, in 1606, shows how penitents were expected to fulfil their penances. Gaspar Godet, a Morisco, had been condemned at Valencia to reconciliation, a hundred lashes, and perpetual prison, of which the first eight years were to be passed in the galleys. After five years’ service, his galley was captured by the English, near Lisbon, and he was set free. He ought strictly to have conveyed himself on board of another galley to serve out his term, but he seems to have imagined that he was released from his sentence; he quietly returned to his native Torre de Llovis and resumed his profession of surgeon. He was, of course, reported to the tribunal, which seized him in August, 1606, and condemned him not only to complete his sentence but to undergo a hundred lashes and to pay a fine of two hundred libras, although the maximum fine that could legally be imposed on a Morisco was ten ducats.[275]
The renewed activity of the Inquisition, in the early eighteenthcentury, seems to have been accompanied with a recrudescence of severity in these cases. In the Valencia auto de fe of February 24, 1723, Antonio Rogero was reconciled and condemned to irremissible prison and sanbenito. He escaped but was captured and, in the auto of March 12, 1724, he was condemned to two hundred lashes and five years of galleys, after which he was to be returned to prison, but the inquisitor-general mercifully commuted the scourging and galleys to five years of presidio, or labor in an African garrison. So, in the Valencia auto of June 25, 1724, Joseph Ventura, of Fez, a Moorish convert, had been reconciled with three years of prison and sanbenito; he fled, was captured and, in the auto of July 1, 1725, his prison was made perpetual and irremissible; again he fled, to be again caught and, in the auto of September 17, 1725, he was condemned to five years of galleys, after which he was to be returned to prison.[276]
NON-FULFILMENT OF PENANCE
All these were cases of formal heresy, for relapse in which the canonical punishment was burning. For offences less heinous, which inferred only suspicion of heresy, there was an occasional practice of including in the sentence a penalty for non-fulfilment of the penance. This was in every respect an arbitrary matter, concerning which no generalization can be formulated, for it is frequently impossible to divine why, in a group of similar cases, some sentences should carry this threat and some should not. This apparently objectless diversity is markedly exhibited in the auto of May 13, 1565, at Seville, where there were a large number of penitents thus arbitrarily differentiated. In the cases where the threat was employed, there was slender indication of mercy, for where exile for life or for a term of years was imposed, the penalty for non-fulfilment was that it should be completed in the galleys. In one case, that of Abel Jocis, for conveying arms to Barbary, the sentence was merely a prohibition to sail to Barbary, but a violation of this was visited with the galleys for life.[277]It should be added, however, for the credit of the Inquisition, that it not infrequently made threats which it had not the cruelty to execute. Thus the tribunal of Toledo, on a charge of divination, banished from Spain a priest named Fernando Betanzas, with a threat of the galleys for disobedience. Not long afterwards the Bishop of Salamanca found and arrested him, and the Suprema,December 22, 1636, ordered the tribunal of Valladolid to investigate the case, after which the Suprema contented itself with deporting him to Portugal, and warning him that, if he returned again, he should be sent to the galleys.[278]
The case of the Augustinian Fray Diego Caballero, in 1716, indicates how non-fulfilment of penance might convert into formal heresy that which was mere suspicion. For uttering unacceptable propositions, he had been sentenced by the tribunal of Córdova to reclusion for four years in the convent of Guadix. He fled from there and continued to repeat his erroneous utterances, for which the Toledo tribunal pronounced him to be relapsed in grave crime and sentenced him to abjurede vehementi, to be suspended from his orders for a year, to perpetual deprivation of preaching, confessing and the right to vote and be voted for, to ten years’ exile from a number of places, to four years’ reclusion in a designated house, where for six months he was to be confined in a cell. He was also to wear a sanbenito, while his sentence was read in the audience-chamber, and the next day it was to be read to the assembled brethren of his Toledo convent, who were to administer to him a circular discipline, and he was to forfeit half his peculium—and all this under pain of being held as an impenitent relapsed.[279]What is noteworthy here is not only the severity of this long accumulation of penalties, but also the abjurationde vehementiwhich rendered reincidence in the abjured errors a matter for the stake.
In the medieval Inquisition it may be said that acquittal was virtually prohibited—a sentence of not proven might possibly be rendered, but acquittal was an admission of fallibility and was regarded as a bar to subsequent proceedings in case further evidence was obtained.[280]This principle was maintained in the Roman Inquisition, although, in the eighteenth century, exception was made in cases where the adverse evidence was clearly proved to be fraudulent.[281]The Spanish Holy Office was not quite so sensitive,and had no hesitation as to repeated prosecutions, so that to it acquittal was a less serious matter. Moreover, while sentences of not proven were not unknown, there was an equivalent device by which the accused could be dismissed without admitting his innocence—suspending the case and discharging him, subject to the liability of its being reopened at any time.
The furious zeal of Torquemada rendered acquittal peculiarly distasteful to him, and we have seen above (Vol. I, p. 175) a case in which he set aside acquittals at Medina del Campo, and insisted on conviction although, at his instance, the parties had been tried twice and had been tortured without confession. This temper on his part could not but impress itself on his subordinates, and yet we occasionally meet with acquittals in this early time—acquittals, however, which manifest a strange mental confusion, and betray the unwillingness to admit the prosecution of the innocent, for they couple acquittal with punishment. Thus at Guadalupe, in 1485, in the case of Andrés Alonso of Trogillano, the sentence recites that the fiscal had not proved his accusation as fully as he ought, wherefore the inquisitors absolved the accused but, as the evidence aroused some suspicion in their hearts, for the satisfaction of their consciences and his, they sentenced him to abjurede leviand, as some infamy had accrued to him from the accusation, they removed it and restored him to his former good repute, and lifted the sequestration on his property. Whereupon he duly abjuredde levi, renouncing all manner of heresy, and especially that of which he was accused, promising to be always obedient to the Church, after which he was absolvedad cautelamfrom any excommunication which he might have incurred, and of all this he asked to have a certificate.[282]All the acquittals that I have met, of this period, bear this illogical character, sometimes even requiring abjurationde vehementiand inflicting penalties for the offence of which the accused is pronounced innocent.
ACQUITTAL
In Barcelona, the Inquisition had been established twelve years before the first acquittal was granted, and, from such record as we have, it would appear that there were acquittals of more than one kind—conditional and unconditional. Thus, in 1499, Jayme Castanyer and Eufrosina Pometa were acquitted, but were required to abjure publicly on May 2d, and, on October 5th, Luys Palau was acquitted. In 1500, on September 18th, four women wereacquitted absolutely, two men were acquitted with penance, and two women and a man were acquitted with abjuration. Then, on October 5th, the memory and fame of Juan de Ribes Altes were cleared and, on December 20, 1501, Blanquina Darla was acquitted absolutely.[283]
In a record of the Toledo tribunal, from 1484 to 1531, there are eighty-six cases of acquittal, or an average of somewhat less than two per annum which, in view of the intense activity of the earlier period, indicates how few escaped when once the Inquisition had laid its hand upon them. Some of these cases show how long the conditional acquittal persisted. Thus of those acquitted, Hernando Parral was required to abjure, and Francisca Ramírez and Catalina beata negra abjuredde vehementi. Unless there is a mistake by the scribe, Leonora de la Oliva of Ciudad Real was acquitted and scourged, October 3, 1521, and again had the same sentence October 13, 1530. In 1520 Alonso Hernández was acquitted with public penance and, in 1513, Sancho de Ribera was acquitted with confiscation. One entry is difficult of comprehension—that of Inez González, who was voted to acquittal with reconciliation and confiscation, but the confiscation was remitted.[284]
Practically acquittal amounted only to a sentence of not proven. In the formula for it, Pablo García calls special attention to the omission of the word “definitive,” pointing out that it is not final, for the case could be reopened at any time that fresh evidence was obtained—and even without it, as we have seen in the case of Villanueva. In matters of faith there was no finality, nocosa juzgada, and it was so declared by Pius V, in the bullInter multiplices, invalidating all letters of absolution and acquittal issued by inquisitors and other spiritual judges.[285]In strict accordance with this principle was the rule that sentences of acquittal of the living were not to be read at the autos de fe, unless at their especial request, while acquittals of the dead were read; in either case, the sentence simply stated that he had been accused of heresy and no details were given; if living he did not appear at the auto and if dead therewas no effigy.[286]All this was in direct contradiction to the glowing eulogy of Páramo who, as we have seen, states that the inquisitors used every means to prove the innocence of the accused and, when they succeeded, took care that he should go forth like a conqueror crowned with laurel and the palm of victory.[287]Yet Páramo had some justification in the fact that there were rare exceptional cases in which the acquitted was thus honored. The only instance of this that I have met in Spain was that referred to above (Vol. II, p. 561), where fourteen residents of Cádiz were falsely accused. In Peru, however, several cases are recorded. In the Lima auto of 1728 Doctor Agustin Valenciano appeared in the procession on a white horse, with a palm, and proclamation was made of his innocence. In the great auto of January 23, 1639, there were seven thus honored after their three years of incarceration, and in that of October 19, 1749, the effigy of Don Juan de Loyola, who had died in prison in 1745, headed the procession, bearing a palm. This last case is perhaps explicable by Jesuit influence, for he was of the family of St. Ignatius, and further reparation was made by creating his brother, Don Ignacio de Loyola y Haro alguazil mayor of the tribunal, while three nephews were made familiars.[288]
The reluctance of the tribunals to pronounce a sentence of acquittal is illustrated in the case of Francisco Marco, tried at Barcelona for bigamy, in 1718. Unable to prove the charge, which was punishable with scourging and galleys, the tribunal sentenced him to have his sentencecon meritosread in the audience-chamber, to be reprimanded and threatened, and to be banished from Barcelona and Madrid for six years. In the earlier period this sentence would have stood, but by this time the Suprema was in full control and it expressed great surprise at so unjust a decision, inflicting so foul a stigma on the accused. It declared null and void all the acts of the process, it ordered Marco to be discharged at once, and that the inquisitors should defray out of their salaries all the cost of his imprisonment.[289]
SUSPENSION
The indisposition to acquit found expression in the device known as suspension. When the effort to convict failed, the case could be suspended, thus leaving matters as they stood; the accused wasneither acquitted nor convicted, the case could at any moment be reopened and prosecuted to the end, and it hung over the unfortunate victim while it saved the infallibility of the tribunal. The earliest allusion to it that I have met occurs in the Instructions of 1498, which show that it was a usage already established and abused, for it is forbidden in prosecutions of the dead, except when further evidence is expected, and acquittal is ordered when the proof is imperfect, because there are many cases of suspension that inflict hardship through the sequestrations continuing in force.[290]
Suspension was a convenient resource for a tribunal, unable to convict yet unwilling to acquit, and desirous to conceal its failure. At first it was comparatively rare, but in time it became a favorite method of escaping a decision and, as it gradually, for the most part, replaced acquittal, in its development it might even remove the stigma; in the great majority of cases it was practically the end of the matter, and it was usually accompanied with lifting the sequestration. Some authorities held that a case could not be entered as suspended, if there was enough in it to justify a reprimand, or even when the offence was trivial and the defendant was cautioned not to speak or act in that fashion, but this rigidity of definition was not observed in practice. When suspension was decided upon, the accused was not permitted to know it. He was simply brought into the audience-chamber; if he had been confined in the secret prison he was put through the customary inquiries as to what he had seen and heard, and was sworn to secrecy; he was told that for just reasons he was granted the favor of returning home and that he must seek to discharge his conscience for his case was still pending.[291]This mystery served to keep him in suspense, but, after he found the sequestration or embargo lifted from his property, he could doubtless fathom its meaning. If he demanded a definite sentence of conviction or acquittal, he had the right to do so, but I have met with no instance of this, and few could have been hardy enough thus to tempt their fate. If he asked for a certificate that he was freely discharged, or that his case was suspended, it was not to be given, but the Suprema might grant him one to the effect that he was discharged without penance or condemnation.[292]
Suspension wholly without penance was, however, unusual,for the infallibility of the Inquisition was commonly emphasized by accompanying it with some infliction, more or less severe. The lightest of these was the reprimand and warning administered when discharging the accused. In 1650 the tribunal of Toledo summarily got rid of quite a number of cases in this fashion—four on June 18th, two on the 25th and three on the 30th, and those were fortunate who escaped so lightly. About the same time, Doña Gabriela Ramírez de Guzman, accused of superstitious sorcery, was not only reprimanded, when her case was suspended, but was banished for a year from Toledo and Madrid, and the same penance was assigned to Domingo de Acuña, when his trial for propositions was suspended.[293]How little incongruity was recognized in this is illustrated by the case of Martin Mitorovich, at Madrid, in 1801, when one of the inquisitors voted to suspend the case and confine him for life in the hospital of Ceuta.[294]In fact, as suspension grew more frequent in the closing years of the Inquisition, it was often coupled with severe inflictions. Thus, August 30, 1815, the tribunal of Llerena suspended the case of María del Carmen Cavallero y Berrocal, but sentenced her to reprimand, two hundred lashes and three years’ seclusion in a hospital; at the same time, in view of her ingenuous confession, the scourging was suspended until her amendment should earn its forgiveness, and the same phrases were used with her accomplice, Nicolás Sánchez Espinal, who was sentenced to reprimand, certain spiritual exercises and perpetual exile from the province.[295]
ADMISSION TO BAIL
In cases like these, however, suspension had somewhat outgrown its original purpose of a substitute for acquittal, and was a more than doubtful mercy, for the case remained unconcluded, though visited with full penalties, and could at any moment be reopened. That originally it was merely a convenient device for escaping the admission of having prosecuted the innocent is manifested by cases of which the records are full. Thus, in 1607, Francisco Dendolea, a Morisco of Xea, was tried at Valencia on the evidence of a witness that, whenlimosneroor almoner of Xea, he had, under pretext of begging for the poor, used his office to serve notices of the commencement of the fast of Ramadan and give other ceremonial instructions. He proved that he neverwas limosnero and the charge fell to the ground, but the case was merely suspended. So, in 1653, Doña Isabel del Castillo was prosecuted for Judaism at Toledo. She had previously been reconciled at Valladolid, and it was found that the evidence related to a period prior to the reconciliation. She of course ought to have been acquitted, but the case was suspended.[296]Even more self-evident is the case of the Benedictine Padre Francisco Salvador, tried at Valladolid, in 1640, for sundry propositions presented in a competition for a professorship. The consulta de fe voted to suspend the case and the Suprema, in confirming the sentence, added that a certificate should be given to him that no offence had been found that would in any way prejudice him.[297]
There was also a kind of imperfect or informal acquittal, which consisted in admitting the accused to bail at the end of the trial. It saved the tribunal from the trouble of a decision and of an acknowledgement that the prosecution had been in error, but it was cruel to the party involved, as it left him but partly liberated and with the stigma of heresy. Its working is fairly exemplified by the case of Petronila de Lucena, tried in 1534, at Toledo on a charge of Lutheranism. After nearly a year’s incarceration, her brother, also under trial, revoked in the torture the evidence which he had given against her. There was no other testimony, yet she was not acquitted but merely released, March 20, 1535, under bail of a hundred thousand maravedis, to present herself when summoned. The security was furnished and she was delivered to the bondsmen as her gaolers. On June 27th, she petitioned for release, for the discharge of the bondsmen and for the removal of the sequestration, which included some articles of personal necessity in the hands of the gaoler; she was, she pleaded, poor and an orphan, she needed the property and wished to be free to dispose of herself. No notice was taken of this and, sixteen months later, on October 20, 1536, she applied again; this time an order to lift the sequestration was issued, but there is no record of her having been released from subjection to bail. She thus remained under the ban and, at the age of 25, the two careers open to a Spanish woman—marriage and the nunnery—were virtually closed to her.[298]
There was yet another kind of acquittal, still more informal, in which the accused was simply discharged and bade to be gone, without a sentence, leaving him under the dreadful uncertainty of what might be his position. An instance of this is the case of Miguel Mezquita, tried for Lutheranism at Valencia, in 1536. The evidence was of the flimsiest, and the inquisitors merely ordered him to be released from prison without making further provision.[299]
The comparative frequency of these various forms of release, in the earlier period, may be inferred from the record of the Toledo tribunal from 1484 to 1531, in which there are eighty-six cases of acquittal, to only four of suspension, four of release under bail, and two of simple discharge—the latter forms thus being negligible quantities.[300]The proportions changed rapidly with time, showing how much more in harmony with the spirit of the institution were the forms which evaded acknowledgement of error. A record of the same tribunal, from 1575 to 1610, contains an aggregate of eleven hundred and seventy-two cases of all kinds, in which there were fifty-one acquittals, ninety-eight suspensions and thirty simple discharges.[301]This tendency continued with increasing development. A Toledo record from 1648 to 1694, comprises twelve hundred and five cases, of which but six ended in acquittal, one in discharge for mistaken identity, and a hundred and four in suspension, nearly all of the latter coupled with a reprimand in the audience-chamber—apparently a scolding for having given the tribunal so much bootless trouble. The suspensions were, in nearly every case, ordered by the Suprema, as though the inquisitors shrank from the admission which it involved.[302]
COMPURGATION
This repugnance existed to the last. In 1806, Don Matias Brabo, an ex-Agonizante and calificador of the Saragossa tribunal, was tried in Madrid on the charge of uttering certain propositions; he was acquitted but, in view of his disorderly life, especially in regard to the sixth commandment, he was sentenced to a reprimand, to fifteen days of spiritual exercises, and to make a general confession at such time as he could do so without disrepute.[303]
The same spirit is seen in the instructions of the Suprema, October 14, 1819, to the Cuenca tribunal, authorizing the arrest and trial of María Martínez for propositions. In case, it says, the trial shows that she has not erred in the matters charged, or in anything else, she is to be reprimanded and warned and told that the tribunal is keeping a watch over her acts.[304]
There was another kind of suspension, by far the most frequent of all. It often happened, especially in the later periods, that thesumaria, or collection of evidence against a presumed offender, proved insufficient to justify prosecution. In such cases it would be quietly voted to suspension; it was filed away in its place among the records, ready to be exhumed at any time, when further information might supply deficiencies and induce active proceedings. Thousands of these abortive processes reposed in thesecretoof the tribunals, the subjects of which were unconscious of the dangers which had threatened them, or that their names were on the lists of suspects of the dreaded tribunal. That they were kept under surveillance is indicated by an occasional note, such as one respecting a certain Johann Wegelin, a Calvinist—“there is a sumaria which has been withdrawn because he became insane and returned to his own country,” or in another case “suspended because he died in 1802.”[305]
Yet, taking it as a whole, when we consider that the inquisitorial system was so framed as to put every temptation in the way of the judges to condemn, for the sake of confiscations, fines, penances, dispensations and commutations, it is rather creditable that acquittals and suspensions should occur in the records even as frequently as we find them there, though of course we have no means of knowing whether those who thus escaped were among the wealthy or the poor.
There was still another possible form of sentence. The Barbarians who overthrew the Roman Empire brought with them an ancestral custom, known as compurgation or, in England, as the Wager of Law, by which a defendant, in either a civil or criminal action, could maintain his title or his innocence by taking an oath and bringing a specified number of men who swore to their belief in its truth. They were known as conjuratorsor compurgators and were in no sense witnesses; they pretended to no knowledge of the facts but only to their confidence in the veracity of their principal. This crude method of establishing the truth was maintained in all the lands occupied by the Teutonic tribes except in Spain, where the Wisigoths early yielded to the influence of the Roman law. It was eagerly adopted by the clergy, who found in it a convenient means of escaping from the harsher expedients of the ordeal or the wager of battle, so that it acquired the name of canonical purgation.[306]In the thirteenth century, the Inquisition found it used in the trial of heretics and necessarily included it among the resources for doubtful cases, although inquisitorial methods were too thorough to call for its frequent employment.
The Spanish Inquisition naturally inherited compurgation among the other traditions of the institution. When conviction could not be had by evidence or torture, and yet the suspicion was too grave to justify acquittal, it could sentence the accused to undergo compurgation. He could not demand it, nor could he decline it, though he might appeal from the sentence; and failure in compurgation was equivalent to conviction, while success was not acquittal but required abjuration and penance at the discretion of the tribunal, because, although legally shown not to be a heretic, the accused had to be punished for “suspicion.”