down upon, because of their barbarous writing; according to the saying of Job,— The things that my soul refused to touch are as my sorrowful meat."

"All our library also perished, which contained more than three hundred original volumes, beside smaller volumes, which were more than four hundred. Then, too, we lost that most beautiful and very costly table, wonderfully made with every kind of metal to distinguish the stars and the signs-Saturn was of copper-Jupiter of gold-Mars of iron-the sun of brass-Mercury of amber-Venus of tin-the moon of silver. The colure circles, and all the signs of the zodiac, according to their kinds, by the skilful workmanship having their proper images and colours, in various forms and figures, engaged, beyond measure, not only the understanding, but the eyes, of the spectators by the multiplicity of precious stones and metals. There was not such another nadir known or talked of in England. The King of France had formerly presented it to Turketul; and he, at his death, had given it to the common library, as well for ornament as to teach the juniors. Now it was consumed, and melted down to nothing, in the devouring fire.

"Our chapter-house was totally consumed; our dormitory, and all the beds of the monks which were in it, and the building which adjoined, perished in one conflagration. In like manner our infirmary, with the chapel, the baths, and all the adjoining offices, were burned. Our refectory and all that it contained (except a few stone cups, and the horn and crucibolus of Wichtlaf, king of Mercia, which were kept in stone chests), with the adjoining kitchens, and all the hall and chamber of the converts, with all that was in them, were burnt together. Our cellar, and the very casks full of beer, were destroyed. The halls also of the abbot, and his chamber, and the whole court of the monastery, which had been most beautifully surrounded with very elegant buildings through the diligence of my predecessors,—(unhappy I, that my stay there was prolonged to behold such a sight!)—perished in a miserable conflagration, the flames raging on every side with the fury of Greek fire. A few huts of our poor pensioners, and the outhouses of our cattle, and the buildings containing the other animals, being at a greater distance, and covered with stone, were all that were preserved. For, beside the north transept of the church, from whence the wind rushing forth most powerfully drove the flames towards the south, all the buildings of the monastery, especially those that were roofed with lead, whether built of wood or stone, our chirographs and valuables, books and utensils, bells and their turrets, clothes and provisions, in one moment of time, while I, most unhappy, presided, were lost and consumed.

"Many signs and many portents prognosticated these fires, and nocturnal visions very often predicted them; but all these things I understood only after the event. Not only the words of our holy father Turketul, when he was at the point of death, earnestly admonishing us to take care of our fire, but also those of our blessed father Wulfran at Fontanelle, in a night vision, commanding me carefully to preserve the fire of the house of the three saints,-that is to say, Guthlac, Neot, and Waldev,— contained most certain admonitions. But I understand and confess all these things, unhappily, too late; and I, who for my sins do worthily deserve to pour forth such lamentations and useless tears, am only indulging in vain complaints.

"But that we may go on, let us return to our sad history. Our great misfortune being quickly made known through the whole vicinity, many of our neighbours, having bowels of mercy for our misery, most kindly looked with an eye of pity on our destitution. For our lord and most holy father Remigius, bishop of Lincoln, graciously granted to those who should do to us, or procure for us, any good, forty days of indulgence; and beside this, he gave us forty marks of silver in money. By his advice and suggestion, also, the venerable canons of the church of Lincoln, and the citizens of that city, who were our neighbours, sent us a hundred marks. Also Richard de Rulos, Lord of Brunne and Depyng, as our faithful brother and loving friend in the time of tribulation, then gave us ten quarters of wheat, ten quarters of barley, ten quarters of peas, ten quarters of beans, and ten pounds of silver. This was the contribution of Richard de Rulos towards the restoration of our monastery. Also Haco of Multon gave us twelve quarters of corn, and twenty fine flitches of bacon. This was the contribution of the aforesaid Haco. Also Elsinus of Pyncebec gave us a hundred shillings in silver, and ten flitches. Also Ardnotus of Spald

• Ch. vi. ver. 7. Quæprius nolebat tangere anima mea, nunc præ angustia cibi mei

sunt.

ing gave us six quarters of corn, and two carcases of beef, and twelve flitches of bacon. And beside these, many other persons made us various gifts, whereby our distress was much relieved, whose names may our Lord Jesus Christ write in the book of life, and may he repay them with heavenly glory. But among so many benefactors, Juliana, a poor woman of Weston, of pious memory, must not be forgotten, for she gave us of her poverty, even all her living,-namely, a great quantity of twisted thread, to sew the garments of the brethren."

I pass over the arrangements which the abbot proceeded to make for raising money on the lands of the monastery, and the documents which he has inserted respecting these transactions; but I must add the short paragraph which follows them:

"Being therefore mercifully helped by the contributions of so many of Christ's faithful people, as well our neighbours as persons at a distance, we laboured, in the first place, night and day, to rebuild the house of the Lord, lest their gifts should seem to have been cast away on a barren soil. We put in a new nave to the roof of the church, in place of the old one which had been burnt; we added also some other appendages, such as they were. Moreover, for the old tower of the church, a humble belfry, in which we placed two little bells which Fergus, the brass-worker of St. Botolph's, had lately given us, until better times, when we propose, by the help of the Lord, to renew everything in a better manner, and to raise to the Lord of majesty a worthy temple on surer foundations.”

I trust that these details are not without interest in themselves, and they certainly conduce to one very principal object of these papers, which is, not merely to call the reader's attention to the facts of the dark ages, but to the writers who have recorded them. I have perhaps said more than enough of the ravages of fire and sword, and I hope to proceed immediately to the consideration of another cause to which we may ascribe the scarcity of manuscripts.

MEMORIALS OF THE INQUISITION.
CHAP. VII.

Mode of Examination in the Holy Office.

WHAT has been hitherto said concerning the trials, or examinations, to which the captives of the Inquisition were subjected, relates only to what may be termed the preliminary measures adopted within the walls of the tribunal. These were usually conducted in a hall open to the light of day, and no wise distinguished from other apartments of the same kind, except that the wall at the upper end was ornamented with an enormous crucifix, suspended between the shields of the papal see and of the holy office. But a far more tremendous trial, to be carried on in a far more tremendous arena, awaited the poor victim of popish cruelty. It has already been shewn that, in the event of his persisting in the denial of the charges brought against him, and persevering in his desire to be informed of the names and conditions of his accusers, the captive was remanded to his dungeon; where, not unfrequently, he spent years of misery and solitude, undisturbed except by the periodical visits of his keepers. Nor were these, as may well be imagined, visits of kindness and condolence; on the conVOL. X.-July, 1836.

D

trary, as surely as the rude attempt at commiseration-of which notice was taken some time ago-failed of producing the desired effect, the keeper was left at liberty to exercise his own humours, which were not unfrequently indulged in the wanton torture of wretches who possessed no power either of resistance or of complaint. As a specimen of the ruthless cruelty exercised towards prisoners as yet waiting for their final trial, it may be stated, that an unfortunate individual, the inmate of a dungeon at Madrid, was taken with a cold and cough. His keeper entered his cell, and admonished him that he must abstain from coughing, inasmuch as profound silence was the order of the place. The poor wretch declared that he could not restrain his cough. A second time the admonition was conveyed; and, on the third visit, the captive was seized, stripped naked, and inhumanly flogged. Such treatment of course increased the malady under which he laboured, and he died, partly of inflammation of the lungs, partly in consequence of the repeated floggings to which he was subjected.

While thus waiting in horrid expectation of what was to follow, the captives were entirely at the mercy of their keepers, who, if they were naturally cruel, as most of them were, ceased not to torment; if otherwise, would sometimes afford the poor wretches such indulgences as their situation would allow. Reginald Gonsalvo, for example, the chronicler of the Inquisition in Spain, makes mention of one Gaspar Bennavidius-" a man of monstrous covetousness and perfidiousness" -by whom the dungeons in Madrid were kept. This ruffian was in the habit of defrauding his prisoners of nine-tenths of the slender ration of provisions allowed to them by the inquisitors; and if any became refractory, or demanded an audience of one of the judges, he was immediately thrown into a dried-up well, where, in a standing position, he remained many days, being fed all the while upon putrid viands. At last the keeper's barbarities were discovered, and he himself underwent a punishment; for the arrears of his wages were forfeited; and, after carrying a lighted torch during an act of faith, he was banished for five years from the city. Nevertheless, his treatment was mild in comparison with that of another keeper, who likewise erred against the rules of the establishment, though after a widely different fashion.

In the Inquisition at Madrid was one Pedro ab Herera, a man not wholly devoid of the milk of human kindness, whose duty it was to take care of such prisoners as might be committed to the tower of Triana. It chanced, on a certain occasion, that a mother, with her two daughters, were delivered over to his keeping; and, which was not always the case, that they were mutually aware of oneanother's situation. They earnestly implored the jailor that he would permit them to see and converse together. The man so far indulged them, that for a brief space in each day the daughters were introduced into the mother's cell. In process of time, all three underwent the torture; which was so severe, that the keeper, becoming alarmed lest a confession should be wrung from them of the indulgences which they had received at his hands, went, and of his own accord di

vulged the secret to the inquisitors. Pedro indulged the vain hope that, in consideration of that, his voluntary avowal, he would be leniently dealt with; but he was entirely deceived: they cast him into prison, where the rigours which he underwent were such as to deprive him of reason. Even madness, however, was not permitted to screen him from further punishment. After lingering a whole year in the dungeon, he was brought out, clothed in yellow, and flogged, with a halter round his neck, through the streets. This was to have been followed up by six years at the galleys; but as he happened, in a fit of frenzy, to grapple with a familiar, to wrest from him his sword, and to threaten his life, four more years of labour at the oar were added to the original sentence. Thus was a jailor condemned to ten years of slavery, besides a year's imprisonment and a severe flagellation, for no other reason than because he had presumed to sanction a limited degree of intercourse between certain of his prisoners.

Amid such treatment, months, and even years, were usually spent ; at the termination of which the victim was, for the last time, summoned to the audience hall, where the real crimes of which he stood accused were communicated to him. A sort of outline was likewise appended, of the species of evidence of which the inquisitors were in possession, but so thoroughly denuded of all reference to time, place, and even person, that the captive, whose mental powers a long and painful confinement had weakened, could, for the most part, neither gainsay nor refute it. So circumstanced, there remained for his adoption one of two courses: he might plead guilty, in which case his tormentors would deal with him according as they judged was most conducive to the wellbeing of the tribunal; or he might persist in his denial, of which the consequence invariably was a remand for a few days to his cell. But these days soon passed away; and on their termination a new scene opened upon him.

Heretofore, he had been led into such a hall as I have described above, always fettered, to be sure, but not heavily so, and guarded, perhaps, by a single keeper. He saw, moreover, only a single inquisitor at the head of the long table, and a notary, or secretary, with his writing materials before him, at the lower extremity; while he himself was permitted to sit down upon a stool, and afforded ample leisure to collect his ideas and mould his expressions. Now, the objects which meet his eye are, in every respect, more appalling; instead of ascending from his cell, he descends, and is ushered at length into a vaulted chamber, beside a table, in the centre of which, several inquisitors and notaries are seated, having officers drawn up behind them. He notices, also, by the gloomy light of four or five wax tapers, that behind the grand inquisitor there is a curtain, which spreads across the whole breadth of the vault, and appears to divide it. Then there are upon the table itself missals, writing materials, and a parchment, on which the list of crimes of which he stands accused is written down. He has barely time to notice all this, when he is commanded to sit down upon a bench, and the process of final examination begins. If the prisoner has entered the vault under a persuasion that he must again be on his guard against the traps which his judges shall lay

for him, the lapse of a very few moments suffices to dispel the delusion. The process to which he is now about to be subjected proves the reverse of tedious: he is again questioned as to his readiness to confess; and on repeating that, being without guilt, he has no confession to make, he is warned that torture may be applied. He is still obstinate; upon which the inquisitor rings a bell, and the dark curtain, which had hitherto bounded the captive's vision, is raised. A fearful spectacle it is which now meets his view. The glare of several flambeaux and torches exhibits to him a rack, a wooden couch, rings in the wall, a rope, a pulley, and a charcoal fire burning in a sort of iron cauldron. Beside each of these implements of cruelty familiars are planted, with masks upon their faces, and arms bared to the elbows. But the most hideous object of all is the chief executioner, who stands prominently forward, having his body enveloped in a black linen garment that reaches to his feet, and his head and face wrapped up in a cowl of a similar hue, in which two holes are cut, in order to give facility for seeing. The design of all this is, to overwhelm the wretched captive with fear; and the inquisitor, hoping that such may be the effect produced, again requires a confession. It seldom happens, however, that he whose strength of mind has carried him thus far, is tempted to yield now. Confession is again refused, and the familiars are directed to do their duty, and to strip the obdurate criminal.

While the process of unrobing goes on, the very savages who tear his garments from his back exhort their victim to save both soul and body by a candid acknowledgment of his errors. In this, however, they fail; and now is the unhappy being subjected to torments, of which I know not how to speak in terms which shall at once convey an idea of the truth to my readers, yet leave me free from the charge of advancing statements against which human nature recoils. Instead, therefore, of describing things in the abstract, I will give the outlines of one or two individual cases, as they are detailed much more at length by writers of whose veracity no doubt can be entertained.

The degrees of torture formerly in use were five, each of which was inflicted in its turn. They are thus briefly described by Julius Clarus:"First, the criminal is threatened with torture; next, he is carried to the place of torture; thirdly, he is stripped and bound; fourthly, he is hoisted up upon the rack; and fifthly, he undergoes squassation." To these a variety of tortures were afterwards added, the mode of conducting which shall be shewn in the sequel. In the meanwhile, I give the following explanation of the five terms, as I find it in a curious history of the Inquisition, which was published in London, just a hundred years ago, by the Rev. I. Baker.

Quoting from Julius Clarus, the author says, "The first is to terrify, which comprehends not only threatening to torture, but the being carried to the place of torments, the being stripped and bound-unless such binding should happen to be too severe and hard, and performed with a twist, as is the custom of most judges. Thus it was practised upon a certain physician of Olezo, who suffered more by being bound than others in the very torture; and therefore such bindings may be equal to the torture itself. The second degree is, to put to the torture, or