In a word, intolerance, in its widest and worst extent, is the foundation on which the whole of the Spanish ecclesiastical edifice rests. It has been called the main pillar of the constitution, and is so inwrought with the habits and prejudices of the nation, that the Cortes, with all their general liberality, dared not allow the profession of any other religion than the “Catolica Apostolica Romana unica Verdadera.” {7c} The cry of _innovation_ there, as elsewhere, became a dreadful weapon in the hands of those who profess to believe that errors become sanctified by age. Too true it is, that if long usage can sanction wrong, persecution might find its justification in every page of Spanish history, from the time when Recaredo, the gothic monarch, abandoned his Arian principles (with the almost solitary exception of the tolerant and ill-treated Witiza). Long, long before the Inquisition had erected its frightful pretensions into a system, or armed itself with its bloody sword, its spirit was abroad and active. Thousands and tens of thousands of Jews and Moors had been its victims, and its founders did no more than obtain a regal or a papal licence, for the murders which would otherwise have been probably committed by a barbarous and frenzied mob, excited by incendiary monks and friars. The Inquisition has, no doubt, been greatly humanized by the progress of time; as, in order to maintain its influence in these more enlightened and inquiring days, it has availed itself of men of superior talent, these have softened the asperity, or controlled the malignity and petty tyranny of its inferior agents. Its vigilance and its persecutions are, indeed, continually at work, yet, I believe its _flames_ will never again be lighted. Its greatest zeal is now directed against Freemasons, of whom immense numbers occupy its prisons and dungeons. I have conversed with many who have been incarcerated by the Inquisition, and they agree in stating that torture is no longer administered. {7d} But its influence on literature is perhaps greater than ever; for though Spain possesses at the present moment a great number of admirable writers, the press was never so inactive. The despotism exercised over authors {8a} and publishers is so intolerable, that few have courage voluntarily to submit to it. Often after authorizing the publication of a work, they order it to be suppressed, and every copy to be burnt, and never think of reparation to those who are so cruelly injured. Their presumption in condemning whatever they cannot understand, {8b} their domiciliary visits, their arbitrary decrees, against which there is no security and no appeal, make them fearful enemies and faithless friends.