British historian Henry Arthur Francis Kamen has no apparent reason
to defend the record of the Spanish Inquisition. He got his M.A. (Oxon.) in 1965,
the same year he published his Spanish Inquisition. He specializes in Spanish
history. Twenty years later he published another updated study on the Inquisition
in the early modern period called Inquisition and Society in Spain. Among
the first things Kamen brings to our attention is that Llorente himself was astonished
at the lack of any opposition to the Inquisition in Spain itself. This fact
from the documentation can be interpreted variously, of course — were people
just too afraid to speak out? But two additional facts are also necessary to consider. The first is that the civil variety of the Inquisition was a court alien to
the older and more tolerant Spanish traditions and was introduced only in time
of crisis. It was long unpopular in Aragon, for example, where local feudal freedoms
from royal absolutism (“fueros”) resented its presence. Castilian inquisitors
were also resented in Catalonia and elsewhere outside Castile, precisely because
they were outsiders. But people can put up with just about anything when threatened
with a crisis situation, and so the “early” Inquisition was tolerated, as were
“later” ones when special crises obtained. Secondly, as noted above, it was
supposed to be a temporary measure against judaizer-heretics who were then mainly
the “converso” party of Jews (only later were ex-Muslims the object of the Inquisition)
forced in 1391 and thereafter to be baptized or face exile or death. After
the breakdown of the spirit of “convivencia,” the Old Christians actually feared
for their blood lines, and so after 1480 tolerated the Inquisition at times more
for the sake of “ethnic cleansing” than religious orthodoxy. All of this may
be against our standards today, but it does have a precise understanding in Spanish
social history. Here is what Kamen says of their tolerance. What
did Spaniards themselves think of the Inquisition? There can be no doubt that
the people as a whole gave their ready support to its existence. The tribunal
was, after all, not a despotic body imposed on them tyrannically, but a logical
expression of the social prejudices prevalent in their midst. It was created to
deal with a problem of heresy, and as long as the problem was deemed to exist
people seemed to accept it. The Inquisition was probably no more loved or hated
than the police are in our time: in a society where there was no other general
policing body, people took their grievances to it and exploited it to pay off
personal scores. By the same token, it was on the receiving end of frequent hostility
and resentment; but at every moment the inquisitors were convinced that the people
were with them, and with good reason. Was Spain a closed or
an open society? Kamen goes on to say these astonishing things. The image of
Spain as a nation sunk in intellectual torpor and religious superstition, all
of it due to the Inquisition, is one that Menendez Pelayo was right to controvert.
Spain was in reality one of the freest nations in Europe, with active political
institutions at all levels. Remarkably free discussion of political affairs was
tolerated, and public controversy occurred on a scale paralleled in few other
countries.
Let us not forget, either, that the works of Galileo were never
put on the Spanish Index of Forbidden Books!
Anti-semitism after 1480 in Spain
was local, and the monarchy continued, at least for a while, to be the traditional
defender of the Jews, both those who remained Jews by religion and the “converso”
communities. Kamen even points out that “converso” financing was partially responsible
for outfitting the ships Columbus used to discover the New World. Many rich
or famous “conversos” were never troubled by the Inquisition. Others lived abroad
to avoid it, such as Juan Luis Vives. The pattern is an uneven one. It was widely
held that almost the whole of the nobility had Jewish blood. By the seventeenth
century, the limpieza statutes had actually closed some government and academic
posts to the nobility, but by reason of blood, opened them to common people! An
outdated Catholic publication (1931) states that the last victim of the Inquisition
in Spain was a schoolmaster hanged in 1826. Some limpieza statutes lingered for
a few more decades into the nineteenth century. We should note that the thoroughly
enfeebled institution of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries is hardly comparable
to the one functioning under Ferdinand and Isabella at the close of the fifteenth
century. “In rounded terms, it is likely that over three-quarters of all those
who perished under the Inquisition in the three centuries of its existence, did
so in the first twenty years.” This synthetic summary is the reasoned fruit
of Henry Kamen’s painstaking analysis: The Inquisition was not the
imposition of a sinister tyranny on an unwilling people. It was an institution
brought into being by a particular socio-religious situation, impelled and inspired
by a decisively Old Christian ideology, and controlled by men whose outlook reflected
the mentality of the mass of Spaniards. The dissenters were a few intellectuals,
and others whose blood alone was sufficient to put them outside the pale of the
new society being erected on a basis of triumphant and militant conservatism.
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