CASPAR PROFESSES THE PROTESTANT FAITH--ATTENDS A MEETING--EFFECT OF THE
GOSPEL ON CASPAR--CASPAR, HOWEVER, KEEPS HIS ENGAGEMENT WITH FATHER
QUIXADA--DOUBTS AND FEARS--THE MONK ATTENDS THE NEXT MEETING, AND NOTES
ALL PRESENT--CASPAR'S REMORSE--THE SPY AGAIN IN THE LITTLE COMPANY--
CASPAR WARNS THE INTENDED VICTIMS--TOO LATE--FATHER AND DAUGHTER IN THE
HANDS OF THE INQUISITION--CONDEMNED--CASPAR DESPAIRS OF THE RESULT OF
HIS WORK--CONSULTS THE FERRYMAN--BUT NEW PLANS FAIL.
Caspar did not at first like this plan. It was treacherous and
deceitful, and he must act the part of a spy and a hypocrite to carry it
out; but as it was proposed to him by his father confessor, he came to
the conclusion that he ought not to hesitate about it.
The merchant Hopper was surprised a few days after this to receive a
visit from Caspar Gaill. The young man told him that he had abandoned
all hopes of winning his daughter's hand; indeed, he thought of quitting
the country. He confessed that he had of late taken every opportunity
of examining the new doctrines, and that he was acquainted enough with
them to make him desire to go to England, where he might study them more
freely, and with greater safety. "I know not what your opinions may be,
Mr Hopper, but I am very sure that you will not mention mine to any one
else."
The merchant was generally cautious, but the young man's apparent
frankness threw him greatly off his guard. Caspar, urged on by Father
Quixada, persevered, and at length fully persuaded the merchant Hopper
that he was a convert to the Protestant faith. A private meeting of
Protestants was to take place, and Caspar entreated that he might be
allowed to be present. The merchant no longer hesitated. At the
meeting prayers were offered up, hymns sung, and the simple Gospel
plainly put before those present. The young man listened attentively in
spite of himself. He there learned that all men are sinners and justly
condemned; that "God so loved the world that He gave His only-begotten
Son" to suffer instead of sinful man, and to save him from the result of
that determination. He heard that "the just shall live by faith," not
by any works, not by any good deeds that they can do, not by any forms
and ceremonies to which they may adhere, but simply trusting to the
blood shed for them on Calvary, to the perfect and complete sacrifice
offered up by Christ for them. He there learned that Jesus Christ had
become sinful man's sin-bearer; that He had fulfilled the obedience
which man had neglected to fulfil; that He came to save sinners, to lift
the weary and heart-broken, the wretched and the penitent, out of their
miserable state; that man is saved simply by turning away from his sins,
from his idolatries, from the thoughtless course he may have hitherto
followed, and looking trustfully, believingly, on Jesus crucified for
him. The young man went away from the meeting with new thoughts, but
with an unchanged heart. He had promised to go immediately to Father
Quixada, and he fulfilled his promise, though not without doubt and
hesitation.
"You have done well," said the father. "Let me once get among these
people, and I will put a stop to their preaching, while you may make
sure of winning pretty Gretchen for your wife, and perchance come in for
a share of the merchant's property, which I may secure for you."
There was to be another meeting the following night. Caspar passed the
interval in a state of doubt and agitation. He had promised to
introduce the father, who, disguised as a German merchant just arrived
from the South, was eager to be present. Often the young man thought he
would try and persuade the father not to go, then that he would
positively refuse to introduce him. He had, however, already given him
so much information that he would have had no difficulty in finding his
way to the place of meeting by himself. Still, Caspar might acknowledge
his own treacherous intentions and warn the Protestants of the spy who
was about to be in their midst. The cunning priest soon discovered his
perplexity, and used every argument to induce him to be satisfied that
he was doing the right thing. Caspar was over-persuaded, but not
convinced. The evening came, the meeting took place, and the German
merchant was received as a Christian brother by those present. He noted
them all, old men, young men, and women of various ranks.
Father Quixada heard the same truths which had been listened to by
Caspar Gaill, but they fell on ground of a different character. He went
away utterly regardless of them. He had now, not only the merchant
Hopper, but several other influential and wealthy citizens in his power.
He wished, however, to get more into his net, and hearing that in a day
or two another meeting would take place, at which several other persons
would attend, he laid his plans accordingly. "I shall have a good haul
by that time," he thought to himself.
Caspar Gaill had in the meantime been seized with remorse. He had
betrayed the man who had trusted him, the father of one whom he wished
to make his bride; still he dared not warn them. The friar, he well
knew, had his eye upon him. He knew too completely the secrets of his
heart, and he felt sure that should he attempt to defeat Father
Quixada's projects, he himself would be the first victim of his
vengeance.
At the intended meeting, not only the merchant Hopper, but his fair
daughter Gretchen was present. Caspar Gaill came also, but how
different were his thoughts to those he had entertained when first he
entered that hall!
He kept looking anxiously round, hoping that the German merchant might
not appear. His heart sank, however, when, just before the sermon
began, the seeming merchant appeared, and was, to human eye, the most
devout of all the congregation. No one joined more heartily in the
hymns of Marot; no one seemed to hang more earnestly on the words of the
speaker. Again were the glorious truths of the Gospel put forth in
simple language. Though the merchant's eyes were fixed on the speaker,
and his countenance beamed with intelligence, his thoughts were far
away, occupied in a plan for capturing the whole of those who were
engaged in worship round him. His quick eye, too, was noting all who
were present. He marked the fair Gretchen, and knew her at once from
being with her father.
"Caspar has not chosen ill, so far as eye is concerned," he said to
himself. "No wonder he raves about the little maiden. He need no
longer have any fears about winning her; she may not love him, but
surely she will rather become his bride than be sent to the stake. Few
girls would prefer burning, or drowning, or hanging, to a young and
gallant husband. Caspar is well-favoured, she will not refuse him; we
will give her the choice."
The meeting was brought to a conclusion. Father Quixada left the hall
with the rest, and after making several turns and twists so as to escape
observation, he took his way to the house where a newly-arrived bishop
lodged, sent from Brussels to look into the religious condition of
Brill. The bishop and Father Quixada were of kindred spirit. The
former held an important office in the Holy Inquisition, and felt no
compunction, but on the contrary, considerable satisfaction, at sending
a dozen of his fellow-creatures to suffer death by drowning, or burning,
because they might differ from him on a few theological points. Father
Quixada explained the plan he had adopted, and received the warm
approval of his superior.
It was late at night. The fair Gretchen was about to retire to her
room. The merchant had been engaged at his books and accounts. He had
been collecting such property as he could put into a portable form, and
had made up his mind to leave Brill forthwith for England. He had
communicated his intentions to Peter Kopplestock, who highly approved of
them, and had engaged to put him on board a vessel the following morning
by daybreak. There was a knock at the door. The merchant himself,
attended by Barbara the housekeeper, went with a light to open it. A
figure wrapped in a cloak was standing there.
"Admit me for a moment," said the stranger. "I come to warn you of
danger."
He entered, and the light held by Barbara fell on the features of Caspar
Gaill.
"I come to entreat you to fly immediately. Even now I may be too late.
The officers of the Inquisition are already proceeding through the city,
to capture certain suspected persons. You are among them. I dare not
wait another moment; no mercy would be shown me if I was discovered."
The unhappy young man spoke in a low, trembling voice. Tears were in
his eyes; he was pale as death.
Again he hastened forth. He had not dared to confess the whole truth.
The merchant closed the door, and proceeded with yet greater speed with
his preparations. He sent Barbara to Gretchen's room to tell her to
prepare for flight. During the housekeeper's absence there was another
knock at the door. It was repeated with far greater violence when those
without found that it was not opened. After the warning he had
received, the merchant guessed too well who were his visitors. He
hastily concealed the property he was about to carry off, and the other
articles he had prepared for his departure. He then sent Barbara to the
door, who, with unwilling hands, began slowly to withdraw the bolts.
"What is the matter?" she asked; "what are you in such a hurry for? Why
do you thus disturb quiet citizens from their early rest?"
So nervous was she, however, that she could scarcely continue her
interrogations. At length the last bolt was withdrawn, and a party in
dark cloaks and masks were seen at the door.
"Where are your master and his daughter?" asked one of them; "they must
accompany us forthwith."
"My master and his daughter!" asked Barbara, "what can you want with
them at this hour of the night?"
"They must come to the Holy Office, to answer certain questions,"
answered the speaker. "Lead the way."
"But if the door is opened the light will be blown out, and you will be
unable to follow me."
Her great aim was to delay as long as possible, in the hope that by some
means her master and Gretchen might make their escape by the back of the
house. She was greatly in hope that the light would blow out, that she
might thus have an excuse for a longer delay.
"Come--come! no fooling, mistress!" exclaimed the officer. "Lead on, or
we must find the way by ourselves."
On this, Barbara proceeded up the broad steps to the floor above. Two
or three men, however, kept watch below. In vain were all her
precautions. In the usual sitting room, quietly seated at a table, were
Gretchen and her father. They rose as the officers of the Inquisition
entered, and the merchant asked them what they wanted. The officer
repeated what he had said to Barbara.
"We must obey," said the merchant; "we have no power to resist."
Instantly the father and daughter were surrounded, and carried off
separately. Poor Barbara wrung her hands in terror as she saw them
depart. They were carried along to the prison in which those accused by
the Inquisition were confined. Brill had for some time been free from
such visitations, but the presence of Alva at Brussels had stirred up
the authorities, and victims were sought for throughout every town in
Flanders.
They were not allowed to languish long in prison before their trial took
place. It was very short, for they did not deny the accusations brought
against them. They refused to acknowledge that the elements of bread
and wine were really the body and blood of Christ.
"Christ is in heaven," answered the merchant Hopper, "at the right hand
of God; He cannot be on earth at the same time. I don't believe that
sinful man, by a few words, would have the power of changing bread and
wine into flesh and blood. If there was a change, our sense would give
us evidence of that change. The bread remains bread, and the wine,
wine. But more than this, I see no authority in Scripture for this
belief. Christ told us to take bread and wine in remembrance of the
last supper He took with His disciples on earth, or rather, of the great
sacrifice which He was about to offer up, the last, the only one which
God would ever accept, all previous ones being types of this; promising
us the same support to our spiritual nature that the bread and wine
gives to our physical nature. He often speaks of Himself as a door, as
a rock, as a corner-stone of a building. In the same way He speaks of
His flesh and blood. He intends us to understand that we are
spiritually to feed on Him, that is to say, to trust on His sacrifice,
His blood shed for us."
"This is heresy! You need say no more," said the judge. "And your
daughter there, what does she say to these things?"
"I agree with my father," answered Gretchen, firmly. "I believe that
the just shall live by faith; that neither our works nor our obedience
to the Church of Rome will help in any way to save us. Christ has
accomplished that great and glorious work, and only requires us to take
hold of it by faith."
"Enough--enough!" exclaimed the Inquisitor, stamping; "you have
condemned yourself by your own words. We need no other witnesses,
though we can prove that you and others were present at heretical
meetings. That circumstance alone was sufficient to condemn you to
death. We may afford you a few days for consideration and repentance.
If you will recant your errors, you may receive a more merciful
sentence, but if not, you, Andrew Hopper, are condemned to be burned
alive; and you, Gretchen Hopper, to be drowned in a tank at the place of
execution."
Several other persons were brought up before the Inquisitors, the
greater number of whom were condemned to death. Andrew Hopper's
property was confiscated to the use of the state, or in other words, to
assist Duke Alva in riveting yet more firmly his yoke upon the necks of
their countrymen. Both Andrew Hopper and Gretchen Hopper bore their
fate with firmness and resignation. The chief regret of his daughter
was that she was separated from her father. She longed to be with him
that she might comfort and support him. Her thoughts, too, occasionally
went back to her lover Diedrich. Where was he all the time? Alas! she
would never see him again in this world, but she prayed that he might
remain firm to the truth, and meet her in a more glorious state of
existence.
When Caspar Gaill found what had taken place, he was in despair. He
felt inclined to throw himself into the Meuse, and there end his life.
He accused himself, very justly, of having caused the destruction of one
he professed to love.
Might he yet do anything to save Gretchen? She might, perhaps, be got
off, though it was not likely that her father would be allowed to
escape. At first he thought of trying to get Father Quixada to plead
for Gretchen, but he shuddered when he remembered the character of the
man, and felt that even should the priest get her off, her condition
would possibly not be improved. At last he bethought himself of
consulting Peter Kopplestock. He had already told him of his love for
Gretchen, he might possibly induce the ferryman to assist in her
escape--no easy task, however, and one full of perils. Peter had not
before heard of the seizure of the merchant Hopper and his daughter. He
was naturally indignant in the extreme against all concerned.
"We must be cautious, however," he said at length, recovering his
calmness. "I tell you, however, Caspar Gaill, I believe you have had
something to do with it. You may be sorry now when it is too late.
However, you must now exert yourself. Your father and the Bishop of
Mons are old friends. You must endeavour to get the execution of these
people deferred for a few days. That will give me more time to devise a
scheme for their escape. A little bribery will probably have
considerable effect. You have plenty of wealth, expend it liberally in
this cause; you may thus somewhat repair the harm you have done."
Caspar promised to follow the advice of Peter, declaring that he would
spend every guilder he possessed to aid his object. Day after day
passed by, the accused refused to recant, and the Inquisitor declared
that he could not "longer delay affording the true Catholics in the
place the pleasure of seeing their Protestant fellow-citizens committed
to the flames."
Caspar bribed liberally as he promised, but though his money was taken
there was no good result. At length the day arrived when the executions
were to take place. A stage was erected with a gibbet on it and huge
casks of water. Below, on the solid ground, stakes with chains were
driven into the ground; while near the gibbet was a post with a chain in
which those who were to be mercifully strangled before being thrown into
the flames were to be placed. It was a fearful-looking spectacle--
fearful from its very simplicity. There was no parade nor decoration,
nothing to conceal the naked horror of the work.