FATHER ALFONSO DE CASTRO.
Shortly afterwards, the usher announced the Bishop of Cuença and Father
Alfonso de Castro. No fitting opportunity having hitherto occurred of
describing these two personages, we will now say a few words respecting
them. The Bishop of Cuença was a perfect courtier, polished in manner,
witty, sarcastic, and a _bon vivant_. His features were handsome, and
his looks intelligent, but wily. His attire was as elegant as his
position as an ecclesiastic permitted. His person was tall, well formed,
his complexion olive, his eyes dark and intelligent.
A far more striking personage than the bishop was Father Alfonso de
Castro. He possessed one of those austere countenances in which the old
Spanish painters delighted. In age he was about sixty, and his long life
seemed to have been spent in practices of penance and devotion. A few
scattered locks, marked by the tonsure, clothed his reverend head. His
figure, once tall and erect, was now bent, and his gait feeble and slow.
His complexion was sickly, and his eyes deep sunken, but still full of
lustre.
Father de Castro was a profound theologian, and had written much against
heresy, menacing the professors of the new doctrines with such severe
punishments, that he had not unjustly acquired the title of
“_Hæresio-mastrix acerrimus_.”
A grave salutation passed between the Bishop of Cuença and the abbess,
but, when the Prince presented his confessor to her, she said,—
“I am already acquainted with Father de Castro through his writings. I
have perused his learned commentary on the Twelve Minor Prophets, and
his homilies on the Psalms. I have also read his three books on the Just
Punishment of Heresy, and I entirely agree with him. But the work that
has afforded me the deepest gratification is his masterly treatise on
the Validity of the Marriage between Henry VIII. and Katherine of
Aragon. That treatise has been the Queen their daughter’s constant
companion, and has solaced her during many an hour of affliction.”
“I grieve to hear that so excellent a Princess has endured so much,”
replied Father de Castro; “but it was the consciousness that truth and
justice were on her side, and not my poor production, that sustained her
during her trials. Yet I must rejoice that I have been able to pour balm
into her soul. However, her sorrows are now over, and she will reap the
reward of her long suffering and patience. Heaven’s blessing will
descend upon her head and upon her people. She will be happy in her
marriage, and from her loins princes shall spring, who shall govern this
realm wisely and well, and maintain it in the true faith.”
“Heaven grant it may be so!” exclaimed the abbess, fervently. “As the
old religion has been restored by the Queen, her most earnest desire is
that it should be so firmly established that no fears need be
entertained of a relapse into schism.”
“Having read my treatise on the Punishment of Heretics, holy mother, you
know the measures I recommend,” replied Father de Castro. “To prevent
the further spreading of this pestilence, it must be thoroughly rooted
out.”
“That will be a work of much time and difficulty, Father,” replied the
abbess, with a sigh. “But I do not despair of its full accomplishment.”
“An Auto-da-Fé, such as we have in Spain, of frequent occurrence, would
soon sweep off the tainted,” observed the Bishop of Cuença. “I trust to
see the Holy Inquisition established in this country.”
“That can never be, my lord,” replied the abbess.
“Wherefore not, good sister?” demanded the bishop.
“Because Englishmen would never submit to it,” rejoined the abbess.
“Such an attempt would cause a rebellion which nothing could put down.
On this point, Romanists and Protestants would unite. The throne would
not be secure, and in the confusion heresy might again become
triumphant. Heaven avert such a contingency! But there is nothing to
apprehend. The Queen will never yield to such counsels.”
“You appear to be in Her Majesty’s confidence, holy mother,” observed
the bishop, drily.
“I am so far in her confidence, my lord,” replied the abbess, “that I
know her to be decidedly adverse to the Inquisition, and that she will
never authorise its introduction in her kingdom.”
“Possibly the Prince her husband may incline her to different views,”
remarked the bishop.
“No, my lord,” replied the abbess; “the Queen is not accustomed to
change her mind, and will never act contrary to her judgment.”
The bishop looked surprised at the vivacity of the abbess, but Philip
hastened to interpose, and said, “The lady abbess is right, my lord. I
shall never seek to influence her Majesty’s opinions in aught that
concerns her kingdom. That I have sworn—and by my oath I shall abide.”
“Unless his Holiness shall grant you absolution,” muttered the bishop.
Philip then briefly explained to the bishop and to his confessor why he
had sent for them, and had just made an end, when Count D’Egmont
entered, and said that M. de Noailles was without, and besought a
moment’s audience of his Highness.
“What! the perfidious assassin! how dares he approach me? But he shall
rue his temerity,” cried Philip, placing his hand on his sword. Then
instantly becoming calm, he added, “but he could not have come more
opportunely for my purpose. Admit him, D’Egmont. Once within this
chamber, he is my prisoner. Place a guard at the door, and let him not
go forth without my order.”
“No harm must be done him,” said the abbess, in a low, deep voice.
“I have not sent for him,” rejoined Philip. “If he rushes to his own
destruction it is not my fault.”
“It was madness in him to come here at all,” said D’Egmont. “The Duke of
Alva, who has heard of the attempt, and suspects De Noailles of its
contrivance, is in the ante-chamber.”
“I am glad to hear it,” replied Philip. “The Duke will know how to act,”
he added, with a significant glance at D’Egmont.
“If any injury be done the ambassador, there will be war with France,”
observed the abbess, in the same low, deep tone as before.
“No harm shall befal him, if he be not proved guilty of this foul plot,”
rejoined Philip. “But, if it be his contrivance, he shall not escape the
punishment he merits. Admit him, Count.”
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