Thornton & Ortega Publishing
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How Many People Did the Spanish Inquisition Really Kill?

Not 300,000, and not 31,912. Historians now count roughly 3,000 to 5,000 executions. Here is where the famous figures came from, and why they fail.

Father Daniel RourkeNovember 11, 2026 · 8 min read
An editorial illustration devoted to the Spanish Inquisition, examining historical figures on executions, the origin of controversial estimates and myths surrounding the real number of victims.

The best answer historians can give today is this: the Spanish Inquisition put somewhere between 3,000 and 5,000 people to death in person between 1480 and 1834, out of roughly 150,000 people it tried. Most of those deaths came in its first fifty years. Serious estimates run from under 3,000 to about 10,000, and the gap has a specific cause. Nobody who has worked the archives defends the famous figure of 31,912, let alone the hundreds of thousands still quoted online.

That is the answer. The more useful question is how a number many times too large became the standard one, and how historians brought it back down. That story teaches you how to read any death toll.

Where the figure of 31,912 came from

The big number has an author. Juan Antonio Llorente had served the Inquisition as its secretary general in Madrid. After 1808 he sided with the French regime of Joseph Bonaparte and went through the tribunal's papers. In Paris, in 1817 and 1818, he published a critical history of the institution. For the years 1481 to 1808 it gave three figures: 31,912 people burned in person, 17,659 burned in effigy, and 291,450 sentenced to penance.

Those figures came from an insider with documents in front of him, so people trusted them. They were not a count. Llorente had no complete series for the early decades. He took a handful of early figures, mainly from Seville, and projected them across tribunals and years for which he had no data. That is an estimate dressed up as a record.

Careless addition did the rest. Later writers lumped the burned, the effigies and the penanced together as "victims," and "victims" slid into "dead." That is how thirty thousand became three hundred thousand. In 1906, Henry Charles Lea, the first great archival historian of the tribunal and no friend of it, rejected Llorente's statistics as arbitrary and exaggerated. He refused to offer a total of his own because the records were incomplete. That was the honest call, and it took most of a century for anyone to improve on it.

The inflation did not even start with Llorente. The sixteenth-century chronicler Jerónimo Zurita credited the tribunal of Seville with more than 4,000 burnings by 1524. Working from the registers, the historian Béatrice Pérez counted 613 executions in person there between 1481 and 1524, plus 46 in effigy.

What the trial records actually show

The correction came in the 1970s and 1980s, when historians stopped estimating and started counting. From 1540 on, every regional tribunal sent summaries of its cases, the relaciones de causas, to the Suprema, the council that ran the Inquisition from Madrid. Gustav Henningsen and Jaime Contreras built a database from those reports. For 1540 to 1700 it holds 44,674 trials. Of those, 826 ended in execution in person and 778 in effigy.

So fewer than 2 percent of those trials ended with a living person put to death. That covers 161 years and every tribunal of the Spanish monarchy, the Americas and Sicily included.

One caution, and it matters. The database counts only the cases the tribunals reported. Henningsen later estimated the real number of trials for that period at about 87,000, which implies at least 1,303 executions in person. The rate stays low, but the raw count goes up. Anyone who quotes 826 as a complete total is making Llorente's mistake in the other direction.

Why historians still disagree

The serious disagreement is about one period, from 1480 to about 1530. The reporting system did not exist yet, and the early files are patchy. Every estimate fills that hole differently.

William Monter put the executions before 1530 at roughly 1,500 and later raised that to about 2,000. He counted about 1,000 more between 1530 and 1630 and about 250 between 1630 and 1730. Jean-Pierre Dedieu, who studied Toledo, allows up to 10,000 in all and puts four-fifths of them between 1480 and 1510. Joseph Pérez also places the total under 10,000. Andrea Del Col goes highest, at about 12,100 through 1700, with 10,500 of them before 1530. Henry Kamen sits at the bottom, at no more than 3,000. The full table of published estimates, with references, is worth a look.

Line those estimates up and the pattern is plain. Every specialist agrees that the later centuries were comparatively quiet. Where they differ is on how violent the founding decades were. In Valencia, according to Ricardo García Cárcel, the tribunal sentenced about 40 percent of its defendants to death before 1530 and about 3 percent afterward. Studies of individual tribunals show the same front-loading: 613 executions in person at Seville up to 1524, at least 264 at Córdoba up to 1516, and some 646 at Valencia before about 1530. Most of the killing the institution ever did happened in those years.

What counts as "killed"

Before you accept or reject any figure, check what it counts. An execution in effigy meant burning a figure in place of someone who had fled or was already dead. Nobody died in that fire. Adding the effigies to the dead is the oldest trick in this debate.

The penanced did not die either. Most trials ended in reconciliation and a penance. That might be a fine, prayers or a public abjuration, or something much heavier: the lash, the galleys, prison, or the loss of everything a family owned. At two autos-da-fé in Toledo in 1486, about 1,600 people were reconciled. Most people who walked in the procession walked out of it.

The state carried out the executions. Canon law barred a church court from shedding blood, so the tribunal "relaxed" the obstinate or relapsed heretic to a royal judge, who pronounced the sentence of fire. That technicality should not move the count. The royal judge did not retry the case and had no real choice. Historians such as Kamen and Edward Peters treat relaxation as a death sentence in all but name. These deaths belong in the Inquisition's column.

The count has two more limits. It leaves out prisoners who died in the cells while their trials dragged on, and there were some. It also leaves out other institutions. The Portuguese and Roman inquisitions kept their own books. The witch hunts that killed tens of thousands across Europe were mostly run by secular courts, as our comparison of how the Inquisition's witch trials measured up against French and Catalan courts shows.

The number set against its century

A death toll means more when you put a comparison beside it. Mary Tudor's England burned close to 300 Protestants in less than four years. The Spanish tribunals executed 826 people in the 161 years the database covers. Year for year, the English pace was about fifteen times higher.

The tribunal also wound down long before it closed. The last person it burned, María de los Dolores López, died in Seville in 1781, strangled before the fire was lit. The last execution for heresy in Spain, of the schoolteacher Cayetano Ripoll in 1826, was ordered by a diocesan board of faith while the Inquisition was suspended. The Inquisition was abolished for good on July 15, 1834.

Why the inflated figures do harm

Three to five thousand people put to death is a grave record. It does not become small because someone once claimed three hundred thousand. The early decades were violent, and the men and women who died in them have names that are still in the files.

That is why the invented numbers do damage. A reader who finds out that a famous figure was made up is tempted to throw out the whole subject, real victims included. An honest count protects those victims. The method is the same one you would use on any report from the field. Find out who produced the number, ask what it was built from, and go to the record.

The death toll is only one of the stories that grew with each retelling. The Inquisition: 20 Myths Exposed follows the famous figures back to their sources and checks them against the archives. It applies the same test to torture at Toledo, the Basque witch panic, the iron maiden, and the tribunal's treatment of Jews and Muslims. Every chapter lists its sources, so you can check them yourself.

About the author

Father Daniel Rourke

Father Daniel Rourke is a Catholic priest and exorcist whose work centers on spiritual warfare, Church doctrine, and the realities behind cases of alleged demonic possession. His perspective is shaped by a disciplined approach to faith, a firm grasp of Catholic teaching, and a refusal to confuse popular mythology with established fact.

All books by Father Daniel Rourke

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