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The following is excerpted from Foxes Book of Martyrs Appendix F and the enlarged 1957 edition of The Convent Horror--
In 1809, Colonel Lehmanowsky was attached to that part of Napoleon's army stationed at Madrid; and while in that city, the Colonel used to express his opinions freely among the people, respecting the priests and Jesuits of the Inquisition. It had been decreed by the French emperor that the Inquisition and monasteries should be suppressed, but the decree was not executed. Months had passed away, and the prisons of the Inquisition had not been opened. One night, about twelve o'clock, as the Colonel was walking along one of the streets of Madrid, two armed men sprang upon him from an alley, and made a furious attack. He instantly drew his sword, put himself in a posture of defence, and, while struggling with them, he saw at a distance the lights of the patroles--French soldiers mounted, who carried lanterns, and rode through the streets of the city at all hours of the night, to preserve order. He called to them in French, and, as they hastened to his assistance, the assailants took to their heels, and escaped--not, however, before he saw by their dress that they belonged to the guards of the Inquisition.
He went immediately to Marshal Soult, then governor of Madrid, told him what had taken place, and reminded him of the decree to suppress the institution. Marshal Soult replied that he might go and destroy it. The Colonel having told him that his regiment--the 9th of the Polish Lancers--was not sufficient for such a service, without the aid of two additional regiments, the troops required were granted: one of these regiments was the 17th, under the command of Colonel de Lile, subsequently pastor of an evangelical church in Marseilles. The troops marched to fulfil their destined object, the Inquisition being about five miles from the city. It was surrounded by a wall of great strength, and defended by a company of soldiers.
When they arrived at the walls, the Colonel addressed one of the sentinels, and summoned the holy fathers to surrender to the imperial army, and open the gates of the Inquisition. The sentinel who was standing on the wall appeared to enter into conversation for a moment with some one within, at the close of which he presented his musket, and shot one of the Colonel's men. This was a signal of attack, and he ordered his troops to fire upon those that appeared on the walls.
It was soon obvious that it was an unequal warfare. The walls of the Inquisition were covered with soldiers of the holy office; there was also a breastwork upon the walls, behind which they partially exposed themselves as they discharged their muskets. The French troops were in the open plain, and exposed to a destructive fire. They had no cannon, nor could they scale the walls; and the gates successfully resisted all attempts at forcing them. The Colonel could not retire, and send for cannon to break through the walls, without giving them time to lay a train for blowing up the French troops. He saw, therefore, that it was necessary to change the mode of attack, and directed that some trees should be cut down and trimmed, to be used as battering-rams. Two of these were taken up by detachments of men, as numerous as could work to advantage, and brought to bear upon the walls with all the power that they could exert; while the troops kept up a fire to protect them from that poured upon them from the walls. Presently the walls began to tremble, a breach was made, and the imperial troops rushed into the Inquisition.
Here they met with an incident, to which nothing but Jesuitical effrontery is equal. The inquisitor-general, followed by the father-confessors in their priestly robes, all came out of their rooms as the French were making their way into the interior of the Inquisition; and with long faces and their arms crossed over their breasts, their fingers resting on their shoulders, as though they had been deaf to all the noise of the attack and defence, and had just learned what was going on, they addressed themselves in the language of seeming rebuke to their own soldiers, and asked, "Why do you fight our friends the French?"
Their intention was, doubtless, to make us think that the resistance was wholly unauthorized by them; and if they could have succeeded in making a temporary impression in their favour, they would have had an opportunity, in the confusion of the moment, to escape. But their artifice was too shallow, and did not succeed. Colonel Lehmanowsky caused them to be placed under guard, and all the soldiers of the Inquisition to be secured as prisoners. He then proceeded to examine all the rooms of the stately edifice. He passed from room to room, and found all perfectly in order. The apartments were richly furnished, with altars and crucifixes and wax candles in abundance, but no evidence could be discovered of iniquity being practised there; there were none of those peculiar features which might have been expected in an Inquisition. Splendid paintings adorned the walls. There was a rich and extensive library. Beauty and splendour appeared everywhere, and the most perfect order on which eyes ever rested. The architecture, the proportions were perfect. The ceiling and floors of wood were scoured and highly polished. The marble floors were arranged with a strict regard to order.
There was everything to please the eye and gratify a cultivated taste; but where were those horrid instruments of torture which were reported to be there, and where those dungeons in which human beings were said to be buried alive? The search seemed to be in vain. The holy fathers assured the Colonel that they had been belied, and that he had seen all. The commanding officer began to think that this Inquisition was different from others of which he had heard, and was inclined to give up the search.
tob
In 1809, Colonel Lehmanowsky was attached to that part of Napoleon's army stationed at Madrid; and while in that city, the Colonel used to express his opinions freely among the people, respecting the priests and Jesuits of the Inquisition. It had been decreed by the French emperor that the Inquisition and monasteries should be suppressed, but the decree was not executed. Months had passed away, and the prisons of the Inquisition had not been opened. One night, about twelve o'clock, as the Colonel was walking along one of the streets of Madrid, two armed men sprang upon him from an alley, and made a furious attack. He instantly drew his sword, put himself in a posture of defence, and, while struggling with them, he saw at a distance the lights of the patroles--French soldiers mounted, who carried lanterns, and rode through the streets of the city at all hours of the night, to preserve order. He called to them in French, and, as they hastened to his assistance, the assailants took to their heels, and escaped--not, however, before he saw by their dress that they belonged to the guards of the Inquisition.
He went immediately to Marshal Soult, then governor of Madrid, told him what had taken place, and reminded him of the decree to suppress the institution. Marshal Soult replied that he might go and destroy it. The Colonel having told him that his regiment--the 9th of the Polish Lancers--was not sufficient for such a service, without the aid of two additional regiments, the troops required were granted: one of these regiments was the 17th, under the command of Colonel de Lile, subsequently pastor of an evangelical church in Marseilles. The troops marched to fulfil their destined object, the Inquisition being about five miles from the city. It was surrounded by a wall of great strength, and defended by a company of soldiers.
When they arrived at the walls, the Colonel addressed one of the sentinels, and summoned the holy fathers to surrender to the imperial army, and open the gates of the Inquisition. The sentinel who was standing on the wall appeared to enter into conversation for a moment with some one within, at the close of which he presented his musket, and shot one of the Colonel's men. This was a signal of attack, and he ordered his troops to fire upon those that appeared on the walls.
It was soon obvious that it was an unequal warfare. The walls of the Inquisition were covered with soldiers of the holy office; there was also a breastwork upon the walls, behind which they partially exposed themselves as they discharged their muskets. The French troops were in the open plain, and exposed to a destructive fire. They had no cannon, nor could they scale the walls; and the gates successfully resisted all attempts at forcing them. The Colonel could not retire, and send for cannon to break through the walls, without giving them time to lay a train for blowing up the French troops. He saw, therefore, that it was necessary to change the mode of attack, and directed that some trees should be cut down and trimmed, to be used as battering-rams. Two of these were taken up by detachments of men, as numerous as could work to advantage, and brought to bear upon the walls with all the power that they could exert; while the troops kept up a fire to protect them from that poured upon them from the walls. Presently the walls began to tremble, a breach was made, and the imperial troops rushed into the Inquisition.
Here they met with an incident, to which nothing but Jesuitical effrontery is equal. The inquisitor-general, followed by the father-confessors in their priestly robes, all came out of their rooms as the French were making their way into the interior of the Inquisition; and with long faces and their arms crossed over their breasts, their fingers resting on their shoulders, as though they had been deaf to all the noise of the attack and defence, and had just learned what was going on, they addressed themselves in the language of seeming rebuke to their own soldiers, and asked, "Why do you fight our friends the French?"
Their intention was, doubtless, to make us think that the resistance was wholly unauthorized by them; and if they could have succeeded in making a temporary impression in their favour, they would have had an opportunity, in the confusion of the moment, to escape. But their artifice was too shallow, and did not succeed. Colonel Lehmanowsky caused them to be placed under guard, and all the soldiers of the Inquisition to be secured as prisoners. He then proceeded to examine all the rooms of the stately edifice. He passed from room to room, and found all perfectly in order. The apartments were richly furnished, with altars and crucifixes and wax candles in abundance, but no evidence could be discovered of iniquity being practised there; there were none of those peculiar features which might have been expected in an Inquisition. Splendid paintings adorned the walls. There was a rich and extensive library. Beauty and splendour appeared everywhere, and the most perfect order on which eyes ever rested. The architecture, the proportions were perfect. The ceiling and floors of wood were scoured and highly polished. The marble floors were arranged with a strict regard to order.
There was everything to please the eye and gratify a cultivated taste; but where were those horrid instruments of torture which were reported to be there, and where those dungeons in which human beings were said to be buried alive? The search seemed to be in vain. The holy fathers assured the Colonel that they had been belied, and that he had seen all. The commanding officer began to think that this Inquisition was different from others of which he had heard, and was inclined to give up the search.
tob
