The Inquisition and Its Fruits by J. O. CORLISS

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Tacoma Park Station, Washington, D.C. · Jan 2, 1908

The Inquisition and Its Fruits

By J. O. CORLISS

Character of the Papacy— No. 6

The Inquisition and Its Fruits

J. O. CORLISS

Inherent in human nature is the desire for unrestricted operation of the mind. This is as it should be; for if every one must give an account of himself before God, he can not well do so, if another, just as responsible as himself at the same bar of justice, has controlled his mind, and in that way regulated his conduct. It therefore follows that the feeling of revolt which animates men when others attempt to bridle their search for truth, is of heavenly origin, and should be encouraged.

But this freedom of conscience was found early to be antagonistic to certain ambitious claims of the papacy. It was therefore very soon officially decided by the church that liberty of thought constituted heresy, and ought to be suppressed. The famous encyclical issued by Gregory XVI in 1832, and later confirmed by Pius IX, declared “freedom of conscience an insane folly, and freedom of the press a pestiferous error which can not be sufficiently detested.” The British Constitution, known as Magna Charta, called forth strong expressions of anger from Innocent III, who saw in it a contempt for the authority of the see of Rome. In a bull issued Aug. 15, 1215, he pronounced it null and void, and excommunicated the English barons who procured it.

Not only were great and public differences with Rome counted heresy, and worthy of punishment, but whosoever (even though in private life) contradicted a papal decision, or knowingly disobeyed a papal command, incurred the same guilt. That principle was enunciated very early by the popes. Paschal II, in attempting to strengthen this position, pretendedly quoted from Ambrose as follows: “Whoever does not agree with the apostolic see, is without doubt a heretic.”—Martene’s “Thesaurus of Anecdotes,” I, 338.

This was but another way of stating the infallibility of the popes. But notwithstanding these strong assertions, there were to be found, here and there, those who thought for themselves; and many of these were not afraid to disseminate their dissentient views. But this was to sow discord, and distrust of the divine claims of the papacy, and therefore was not to be tolerated. So a system was devised by which men, with traveling orders, were to spy out and correct all forms of heresy, which the church taught was its appointed duty. But the Inquisition took specific form in 1229, under Gregory IX.

In the Synod of Toulouse, held that year, it was agreed that each bishop should appoint one priest, and from one to three or more laymen to inquire after heresy, of various people, under oath, and with the greatest secrecy. But the most this effort accomplished, as stated in history, was “to catch and kill the little foxes” in southern France and northern Spain. The real Spanish Inquisition was instituted in 1480, through the prejudice of Ferdinand and Isabella against the wealthy Jews and Moors of southern Spain. But the terrible reality of inquisitorial work was largely reserved for the beginning of the Portuguese inquisition, which was set in motion by that prince of Jesuits, Ignatius Loyola, in the middle of the sixteenth century. No society, before nor since, was ever organized along such rigid disciplinary rules, as the Society of Jesus. It was indeed a “naked sword, whose hilt was at Rome, but whose point was everywhere.”

This society was not professedly for the betterment of its members, but for a totally different purpose. In a collection of Loyola’s sayings, which have been accepted generally by Jesuits, the statement is made that Loyola said to his secretary Polanco that “in those who offered themselves he looked less to purely natural goodness than to firmness of character and ability for business,” for he was of opinion that those not fit for public business were not adapted for filling offices in the society. More than this, he held that a candidate was valuable in his eyes only on the condition that his qualities and endowments could be brought into play, or held in strict abeyance, at the command of a superior.

The polity of the Jesuits is almost absolute despotism. Their general is elected for life, and every appointment within the gift of the society is made by him. The vow of obedience is taken directly to him. It is his prerogative to admit or dismiss members. So complete indeed is his authority, and so independent was it at one time from the pope’s dictation, when differences of opinion occurred, that the people of Rome were wont to designate one as the “White Pope,” and the other the “Black Pope.” On the ground that the society was becoming unmanageable by the pope, Clement XIV issued the famous brief, Dominus ac Redemptor, on July 21, 1773, which, for the time, suppressed the order, and confiscated much of its property.

The society was, however, again gradually restored, until, in 1814, Pius VII finished the work of restoration by revoking the action of Clement XIV, when the society again was given full corporate legal existence. But prior to 1773, the Jesuits relentlessly pursued to the death every one upon whom rested the faintest suspicion of heresy. Innocent III declared that the mere refusal to be put under oath, or to give opinion that oaths were unlawful, was a heresy worthy of death. See “Concil” (ed. Labbe), II:152.

To justify the act of putting heretics to death, resort was had to rigid applications of Scripture allusions. For example, Christ said that those who came before him were “thieves and robbers.” John 10:1, 12. Of course these were heretics, that is, those not of the true faith. Again, Paul warned the church at Ephesus to beware of “grievous wolves,” which would come in among them, and would not spare the flock. Acts 20:29. How plain that these obnoxious characters called “wolves” were not of the true faith. But, said St. Thomas, “We hang thieves and kill wolves.” There is duty, clear enough. We must kill the heretics. Again, heretics were only sons of Satan, and should share the fate of their father, that is, be burned to ashes upon the earth. Are we not also told to reject heretics after two admonitions? Titus 3:10. How could this be done so well as by putting them to death? See “Summa,” 2:9, II, art. 3, 4.

It may be said that the Jesuits were so headstrong that they alone were at fault in carrying out this policy. But Nicholas Eyremich, the Dominican, and Spanish inquisitor-general of Aragon, says that the popes suffered the inquisitors, without a word of opposition, to formulize their cunning in bringing their victims to the stake. See “Directorium Inquisitorium,” Venet, 1707. The rules found in this infamous book were taken as a guide by Torquemada in his terrible work, and were adopted and disseminated by the Curia, which, in Italy, means the body of lawyers practising in the Roman courts.

The dissemination of these rules for inquisitors, by the Curia, was for a purpose. The pope had no thought of bearing all the responsibility of this awful work. The civil power must be utilized in its behalf. So every prince, or civil magistrate, was indoctrinated to the point of carrying out the sentences of inquisitors after this fashion: Any civil officer who refused to co-operate in the work was himself excommunicated, and all who would hold intercourse with him. Next, the city of his residence was laid under interdict. If more stress was needed, the officials were deposed, and the bishop’s work there stopped.

As time went on, the Inquisition became more and more severe, one form of torture after another being invented, until men’s hearts sank within them. No one was safe from condemnation. A mere suspicion meant the application of the rack, until innocent men confessed to heresy in order to prevent further torture. Of course death followed in the wake of confession.

A bull of Innocent III authorized the confiscation of the goods of heretics, on the ground that children must suffer for the offense of their parents. But it was provided that those who betrayed their parents would preserve their inheritance. See Prescott’s “Ferdinand and Isabella,” Vol. I, pages 262, 263. With this reward held before their children, parents felt forbidden to teach them the doctrines of salvation, lest some expression might drop that would be reported as heretical, and cost them their lives. This fear of parents, and the antagonism of their children, became so pronounced as to snap the very ties of nature, and life became almost an intolerable burden. The people of God were literally “worn out,” as predicted in the prophetic vision concerning this power.

In vain did such men as Bishops Wazo of Liège, Hildebert of Le Mans, Rupert of Dentz, and St. Bernard, protest that this was not Christ’s method of procedure, and that it only would multiply heretics, and create intense hatred against a persecuting church and its clergy. The work went on because it was necessary to prove in a bloodthirsty way that the pope was infallible, and could not brook the least opposition. One can hardly wonder that the French Revolution so bitterly condemned the church as a human folly. But the end is not yet. What the near future has in store as a result of the past ages of mockery of the Christian religion, we may be able to determine by further study of past and present features of this ecclesiastical establishment.

Mountain View, Cal.