(...) Now then, there were three principal phenomena, and of three kinds:
one moral, another political, and the last economic.
The
first ... moral autonomy, appealing to enquiry and individual conscience, is completely the opposite of the Catholicism of the Council of Trent, for which human reason and free thought are a crime against God (...)
So while other nations rose, we sank (...) And we sank, above all, in our religion. This was the prime cause of our moral decline. The Catholicism of the Council of Trent certainly did not inaugurate religious despotism in the world; but it organized it in a complete, powerful, formidable and, until then, unknown way.
But in reality Christianity existed, and can exist, outside Catholicism. Christianity is an ethos; Catholicism is above all an institution. One lives on faith and inspiration, the other on dogma and discipline.
(...) During the Middles Ages those of the Peninsula, like all the others, had their freedoms and initiative, national councils, their own discipline, and their own way of feeling and practicing their religion. From this came two great results, yielding beneficial consequences. Dogma, instead of being imposed, was accepted, and in a certain sense created; since, when morality is based on dogma, there can only be a good morality when it is derived from a dogma that is accepted, and to a certain extent created, and never imposed.
This was the first consequence, of incalculable impact. The feeling of duty, instead of being contradicted by religion, rested upon it. Hence the strength of character, the elevation in morality. Secondly, those national Churches, just because they were independent, had no need to oppress. They were tolerant. In the shadow of them--very much in the shadow, it is true, but in any case tolerated--lived Jews and Moors, intelligent and industrious races, to whom the Peninsula's industry and thought owe so much, and whose expulsion has almost the proportions of a national calamity.
This was the second consequence, of no lesser importance than the first. If the Peninsula was not then so Catholic as it was later, when it burned Jews and received from the Father General of the Jesuits the watchword of its public life, it was certainly more Christian, that is, more charitable and moral, as these facts prove.
(...).. What could that fearful machine of repression that was Catholicism after the Council of Trent offer to the people? Intolerance, brutalization, and then death.
In this way, gentlemen, the Catholicism of the last three centuries has been, through its principles, its discipline and its politics, the greatest enemy of the nations, and the true sepulcher of the national peoples. 'The cave of the Sphinx', a poet-philosopher said of it, 'can be recognized at the entrance by the bones of the devoured peoples.'
And for us, Spanish and Portuguese, how was it that Catholicism reduced us to naught? Catholicism lay heavily upon us on all sides, with its full weight. With the Inquisition an invisible terror spread over society: hypocrisy became an essential national vice; denunciation became a religious virtue; the expulsion of the Jews and Moors impoverished the two nations, paralyzed commerce and industry, and delivered a mortal blow to agriculture in all of southern Spain (...)
the persecution of the New Christians made capital disappear; the Inquisition crossed the seas, and by making the Indians hostile to us,.. in America it depopulated the Antilles, terrified the indigenous populations, and made the name of Christ a symbol of death; finally, religious terror corrupted the national character, and made two generous nations into hordes of fanatics, and the horror of the civilized world (...)