University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

Enters Torquemada, the Inquisitor General, alone.
The Christian pale is, every hour, enlarged;
And, every hour, are hereticks diminished.
Six thousand Korans, the licentious warrants
Of lawless love, and desolating conquest,
Are, by my order, as the church's sentence,
Now burning in Granada's royal square.
Since I enjoyed my high, tremendous office,
Not a few stubborn Jews, and impious Moors
Have in the flames expired: but, to reflect,
How infinite of proselytes the number,
Gained to our faith by charitable force,
Redeems the rigour of our inquisition;
Nay, proves it a criterion of salvation,
Appointed under Heaven's own auspices.
True; these benevolent severities
Alarm, and wound the sentiments of nature,
That feminine opposer of the saint;
But, sure, the kindness of religion bids us
Torture the body, to ensure the soul.
And what is genuine practical religion?
'Tis, with stern discipline, to quell the tumults
Of our importunate, rebellious feelings.
'Tis, from whatever pleasures most delight us,
Most firmly to abstain;—'tis, for the good
Of our immortal spirits, to inflict,
Deaf to mean pity, on ourselves, and others,
Spontaneous, and involuntary pains:
It is, to wage perpetual war with nature;
To draw, with priestly power, with heavenly magick,
Down, on the meretricious bloom of fancy,
A deep, a sable, yet celestial cloud;
In which, as in the prophet's car of vapour,
We shall ascend the skies!—A thought, now, strikes me;
And it shall have effect:—it will contract
Satan's dire influence, and enlarge the kingdom
Celestial.—Not a contumacious power
On earth, shall check my firm, and great resolve;
No, not the menace of our mighty regent,
Urged with imperial majesty of sway;—
A politician singularly great;
But a most tame, and despicable prelate.

Enters Giraldo.
Giraldo.
What dost thou meditate, mild Torquemada!
Perhaps, with Christian meekness, to compell
Some unbeliever to accept salvation?
Not, with a fruitless, though fraternal patience,
Which our Messiah ne'er exemplified,
To wait the slow, but radical effects,
Of cogent argument, of soft persuasion;
But with a quick, and more decisive process,
To plant the horrid stake; to pile the faggots;
To light the fire, and burn him into heaven?

Torquemada.
In language less irreverent, less familiar,
One of the most abandoned laity
Might have accosted me, by Providence,
And thy superiours, in this earthly kingdom,
The guardian constituted, the chief patron
Of Christian truth.

Giraldo.
Were not the theme too grave,
I should return thy arrogance with laughter.—
But deign from me, thou leader of the faithful,
To hear some serious, and important truth.
A Moor, though hated, though despised, by thee,
Who worships, as his father, and his judge,
The Power Supreme; who, just in all his conduct,
Extends his equity, his deeds benign,
Even to humanity's remotest verge;
This man, I tell thee, is, in fact, a Christian;
And thou art Antichrist!

Torquemada.
Protect me, Heaven!
What dreadful blasphemy assails my ear!
An advocate for infidels, for Moors!
Does not earth shake, and open, to devour us?
I quit the dangerous, the polluted spot!
[Exit Torquemada.

Giraldo,
alone.
A murrain seize your herd! You call yourselves
The servants of the heavenly Prince of Peace;
And half the miseries that afflict mankind,
Originate from you!—Father of mercies!
Thy pure, celestial precepts, did they flow
Through human life, through action, would diffuse
Comfort, and happiness, around the world!
Thy true religion, all, beneficence,
The soul illumines with perpetual sunshine;
Gives, to her persevering votaries,
The unaffected smile, the vivid hope,
Even 'midst the strong antipathies of nature;
Even on the borders of the dreary grave.
But this religion, hideously transformed
By priests, embitters, poisons all the welfare
Of individuals, and of commonwealths:
It might, without hyperbole, be termed
An extirpation of humanity!
[Exit Giraldo.