Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
The Last Look, A Tale of the Spanish Inquisition, by W.H.G. Kingston.
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It is in the middle of the sixteenth century, and in Spain, where the
Inquisition, and subsequent torturing and burning to death by the
Catholic Church, of those who would not agree to its tenets, is getting
under way.
An Archbishop calls at the house of a former friend of his, a woman who
had refused him in love. The woman is the widow of a great nobleman.
The Archbishop is chatting to his former friend's daughter, and is
thinking how like the child is to what she had been. Unfortunately the
child artlessly gives away the fact that the family had now adopted
Protestantism, due perhaps to her father having met Luther while on
visits to Germany.
Some years later the child is now grown up, and has two suitors, one of
whom is a rich Catholic, and the other is a much poorer man but a
Protestant. She and others are meeting at the house of a woman who
often has such clandestine all-Protestant meetings, when they hear that
a person they all know has gone mad and has run around telling everyone
about these Protestant meetings. The Inquisition of course, with spies
everywhere, hears all about it. From then onward the story takes many
of them to the jails of the Inquisition, and some are burnt at the
auto-da-fe, a ritualised torture ceremony ending in death at the stake.
The book is short, only three hours to read, but very tensely written by
this great author. Audiobook recommended.
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THE LAST LOOK, A TALE OF THE SPANISH INQUISITION, BY W.H.G. KINGSTON.
CHAPTER ONE.
AN UNWELCOME VISITOR.
The beauty of Seville is proverbial. "Who has not seen Seville, has not
seen a wonder of loveliness," say the Spaniards. They are proud indeed
of Seville, as they are of everything else belonging to them, and of
themselves especially, often with less reason. We must carry the reader
back about three hundred years, to a beautiful mansion not far from the
banks of the famed Guadalquiver. In the interior were two courts, open
to the sky. Round the inner court were marble pillars richly carved and
gilt, supporting two storeys of galleries; and in the centre a fountain
threw up, as high as the topmost walls, a bright jet of water, which
fell back in sparkling spray into an oval tank below, full of
many-coloured fish. In the court, at a sufficient distance from the
fountain to avoid its spray, which, falling around, increased the
delicious coolness of the air, sat a group of ladies employed in working
tapestry, the colours they used being of those bright dyes which the
East alone could at that time supply. The only person who was moving
was a young girl, who was frolicking round the court with a little dog,
enticed to follow her by a coloured ball, which she kept jerking, now to
one side, now to the other, laughing as she did so at the animal's
surprise, in all the joyousness of innocent youth. She had scarcely yet
reached that age when a girl has become conscious of her charms and her
power over the sterner sex. The ladies were conversing earnestly
together, thinking, it was evident, very little of their work, when a
servant appearing announced the approach of Don Gonzales Munebrega,
Bishop of Tarragona. For the peculiar virtues he possessed in the eye
of the supreme head of his Church, he was afterwards made Archbishop of
the same see. Uneasy glances were exchanged among the ladies; but they
had scarcely time to speak before a dignified-looking ecclesiastic
entered the court, followed by two inferior priests.
One of the ladies, evidently the mistress of the house, advanced to meet
him, and after the usual formal salutations had been exchanged, he
seated himself on a chair which was placed for him by her side, at a
distance from the rest of the party, who were joined, however, by the
two priests. The young girl no sooner caught sight of the Bishop from
the farther end of the hall, where the little dog had followed her among
the orange trees, than all trace of her vivacity disappeared.
"Ah, Dona Mercia, your young daughter reminds me greatly of you at the
same age," observed the Bishop, with a sigh, turning to the lady, who
still retained much of the beauty for which the young girl was
conspicuous.
"You had not then entered the priesthood; and on entering it, and
putting off the secular habit, I should have thought, my lord, that you
would have put off all thoughts and feelings of the past," answered Dona
Mercia calmly.
"Not so easy a task," replied the Bishop. "A scene like this conjures
up the recollection of days gone by and never to return. You--you, Dona
Mercia, might have saved me from what I now suffer."
"You speak strangely, Don Gonzales," said Dona Mercia. "Why address
such words to me? Our feelings are not always under our own control. I
know that you offered me your hand, and the cause of my rejecting your
offer was that I could not give you what alone would have made my hand
of value. I never deceived you, and as soon as I knew your feelings,
strove to show you what were mine."
"Indeed, you did!" exclaimed the Bishop, in a tone of bitterness. "You
say truly, too, that we cannot always control our feelings. My rival is
no more; and did not the office into which I rashly plunged cut me off
from the domestic life I once hoped to enjoy, what happiness might yet
be mine!"
"Oh, my lord, let me beg you not to utter such remarks," said Dona
Mercia, in a voice of entreaty. "The past cannot be recalled. God
chasteneth whom He loveth. He may have reserved for you more happiness
than any earthly prosperity can give."
A frown passed over the brow of the priest of Rome.
The lady of the mansion, anxious to turn the current of the Bishop's
thoughts, and to put a stop to a conversation which was annoying her--
fearing, indeed, from her knowledge of the man, that it might lead to
some proposal still more painful and disagreeable--called her young
daughter, Leonor de Cisneros, to her. Dona Leonor approached the Bishop
with downcast looks.
"You are wonderfully demure now, my pretty maiden," he remarked in a
bantering tone, his countenance brightening, however, for an instant as
he spoke to her; "but you were gay and frolicking enough just now, when
I entered. How is that?"
"It becomes me to be grave in your presence, my lord," was the answer.
"But you are generally happy and joyous, are you not?" asked the Bishop.
"Yes, especially when I think of the good and loving Master I desire to
serve," answered the young girl, innocently.
"Who is that?" asked the Romish priest, not guessing whom she could
mean.
"The Lord Jesus Christ, who died on Calvary that I might be washed from
my sins by His precious blood there shed for me," answered the young
girl, promptly.
"Ah! but you love the Holy Virgin, the immaculate Mother of God, too, do
you not?" asked the priest.
"Yes, indeed, I do love the Holy Virgin, for she was blessed among
women, and nurtured and brought up the dear Jesus, who died for me and
for her too, that we might be saved," said Dona Leonor, without
hesitation.
"Ah! what! do not you pray to the Holy Virgin, little maiden?" asked the
priest, looking at her sternly. "This must be looked to," he muttered
to himself.
"Why should I pray to her, when I have the gentle loving Jesus, to whom
I may go in prayer at all times and in all places?" she asked with
simplicity, and with a tone of surprise that the priest should not agree
with her.
"And you do not pray to the saints either, then, perhaps?" he asked,
before the girl had finished the last sentence.
"Oh, no! they are dead and cannot hear me. I pray only to the good
Jesus, who always is ready to hear me; for He loves me more than my dear
father did, or even than my mother can," answered Dona Leonor.
"These are not Catholic doctrines, young lady," said the Bishop in a
tone of harshness he had not yet used. "Who taught them to you? They
smack strongly of heresy."
"I do not know what heresy means," answered Dona Leonor, in an artless
tone. "My dear father taught me what I know about the loving Jesus--
that He is the only friend in whom human beings can really trust. It
was the sure knowledge of this which comforted him through his illness,
and made his deathbed so happy and glorious. He told us to meet him in
heaven, and I do hope to meet him there some day. The thought of that
makes me extremely happy, whenever it comes to my mind."
"You hold very strange doctrines, child," said the Bishop, sharply.
"Has your mother embraced them?"
"I know nothing about doctrines, my lord," answered Dona Leonor. "I
think that my mother must hope to meet our dear father in heaven, or she
would be very miserable; and I am sure she cannot hope to get there
except through her trust in the blood of Jesus. I hope, my lord Bishop,
that you expect to go there by that sure and only way."
"I cannot expect to go there except by the way the Church points out,
and I cannot even know that there is a heaven except through what the
Church teaches," answered the Bishop, in a voice that sounded somewhat
husky. "That is the true Catholic doctrine, maiden, which it behoves
all Spaniards to believe, and which they must be compelled to believe.
You understand, maiden. Tell your mother what I say. But here she
comes."
Dona Mercia, wishing to escape from the remarks of her former admirer,
had joined the rest of her guests, and afterwards retired to give some
direction for their entertainment, little dreaming of the dangerous turn
the conversation between her daughter and the Bishop would take.
"Ah, Dona Mercia, I find that your daughter is a little heretic, and
holds in but slight respect the doctrines of the Church. As she tells
me she was instructed in them by her late father, and as he must have
imbibed such abominable principles during his visits to Germany from
that arch-heretic Luther, I trust that they have proceeded no farther.
But let me advise you to be cautious, Dona Mercia, and to inculcate
Catholic principles into the mind of your daughter. Remember that from
henceforth the eyes of the Inquisition will be upon you."
"My lord Bishop, I have ever endeavoured to do my duty to my God, to my
child, and to all around me," answered Dona Mercia, meekly,
unconsciously placing her hands across her bosom. "I trust that I have
no cause to tremble, should the eyes of the whole world be upon me."
"The eyes of the Inquisition are more piercing than those of the whole
world combined," answered Don Gonzales, in a low voice, which came
hissing forth from between his almost clenched lips, in a tone which was
calculated to produce more effect on the mind of the hearer than the
loudest outburst of passion.
When the Bishop rose from his seat, he approached the rest of the
company with a smiling aspect, and addressed them with that dignified
courtesy for which Spaniards have ever been celebrated. Few would have
guessed the feelings which were even then agitating his bosom; still,
the party felt relieved when he and his softly-spoken, keen-eyed
attendants took their departure.
CHAPTER TWO.
THE INQUISITION.
At the time our story commences, the inquisitors scarcely suspected how
far the opinions they so much dreaded had extended. They had satisfied
themselves hitherto with burning Jews, Moors, and the poorer class of
Christians, whose opinions did not agree with those of the Roman
Catholic Church. Thus, when Don Gonzales Munebrega, soon after his
arrival at Seville on ecclesiastical business, paid the visit which has
been described to Dona Mercia de Cisneros, he was considerably startled
at hearing her young daughter utter expressions which showed that she
had been taught doctrines of a heretical character. The whole family
were in his power. He had once loved Dona Mercia; she had rejected him.
How should he now use that power? Tumultuous feelings agitated his
bosom as he mounted the richly-caparisoned mule which stood ready to
convey him to the convent where he lodged.
This was not the only visit he paid to Dona Mercia; but, though
courteous to her guest, she was ever on her guard, and carefully kept
Leonor out of his way. For once in his life he was baffled. Whenever
he paid his visits the same caution was observed. At length he was
compelled to take his departure from Seville. Years rolled on, but he
never forgot the remarks made to him by the young Leonor de Cisneros.
He had hated her father, he had been rejected by her mother. It is
difficult to describe the feelings with which he regarded the daughter,
still less those which he had entertained for the mother. Were they
holy and pure? The lives of thousands of cardinals, bishops, and
priests of all degrees, is the best answer to the question.
Don Gonzales Munebrega was rising in the Church. He had become
Archbishop of Tarragona. His heart had become harder and harder; in
reality an infidel--an alien from God--a hater of all that was pure and
holy, he thought that he was becoming devout. He was resolved that if
he was not on the right way to heaven, no one else should get there by
any other. The war was now to begin against heresy and schism--terms
abused, especially the latter, at the present day almost as much as in
the darker days of Popish supremacy. There are to be found clergymen of
the Church of England who can, unconcernedly, see many of their flock
going over to the Church of Rome, whom they have possibly led half-way
there; and yet should any of the rest of their congregation, disgusted
with their Ritualistic practices, or fearing the effect of their false
teaching on their children, strive to set up an independent place of
worship, or to join any already established body of Christians,
anathemas are hurled at their heads, and they are told that they are
guilty of the heinous crime of schism--schism, in the sense they give
it, a figment of sacerdotalism, priestcraft, and imposture. But does
the crime of schism not exist? Ay, it does; but it is schism from the
true Church of Christ, the Church of which He is the head corner-stone,
the beautified in Heaven, the sanctified on earth; from God's people,
who are with Him in glory, who are with us here below, who are yet to be
born; from the glorious company of the redeemed; from Jesus Christ, the
Lamb of God, slain for the sins of the whole world, the risen Saviour,
the one Intercessor between God and man. Those are guilty of trying to
create schism who tell God's people--trusting to the same precious blood
shed on Calvary--that it is a crime to worship together, to commemorate
the Lord's death together, to put out the right hand of fellowship, to
call each other brethren; ay, those are the causers of schism, against
whose evil machinations Christian men have cause to pray.
But we must return to Spain. The year 1552 arrived. During it an
_auto-da-fe_ was celebrated at Seville, but as only a few poor Moors and
Jews were burnt, it did not create much sensation; still there was no
lack of spectators to see the burning. Several criminals were condemned
to do penance on the occasion, and among them was the once celebrated
preacher, Dr Egidius, whose crime was being true to his Lord and
Master. The high conical cap and yellow robe in which he appeared could
not make him ridiculous in the eyes of many of his fellow-citizens, even
of those who did not sympathise with his opinions. At length he was
liberated, and once more mixed with his friends at Seville. It was
necessary, however, for him to be very cautious, lest, as his movements
were watched, he should draw suspicion on them. Soon after he was
released, he set out for Valladolid, where his wounded spirit was much
refreshed by finding the progress the Gospel had made in that city and
its neighbourhood. Over-fatigued by his return journey, he died shortly
after his arrival in Seville. God, however, did not leave His Church in
Seville without a minister. Constantine Ponce de la Fuente, on the
death of Egidius, obtained the post of Canon-Magistrate in the Cathedral
of Seville, previously held by him. This made him the principal
preacher in the place, and gave him great influence, which he used in
spreading the truth of the Gospel. He published numerous evangelical
works suited to the understanding of the least educated of his
countrymen. His system was not so much to attack the errors of Rome, as
to bring the light of the Gospel to shine on their minds through his
addresses and writings. In Valladolid and the surrounding towns and
villages, men of talent and eminence were equally zealous in spreading
Protestant opinions. They were embraced by the greater part of the nuns
of Santa Clara and of the Sistercian order of San Belem, and converts
were found among the class of devout women, called in Spain _beatas_,
who are bound by no particular rule, but addict themselves to works of
charity. One of the most active propagators of the reformed doctrines
in the surrounding country was Don Carlos de Seso, who had for important
services been held in high honour by Charles the Fifth, and had married
Dona Isabella de Castilla, a descendant of the royal family of Castile
and Leon. These few examples are sufficient to show the progress made
by the Reformation at that time among the highest and most intelligent
classes of the community in Spain--made, too, in spite of the
ever-watchful eyes of the officers of the Inquisition, and
notwithstanding the almost certain death with torture, and by fire,
which would be the lot of any denounced by its familiars.
In Spain, in those days, as at present, it was the custom for ladies of
rank to receive guests at their houses on certain days of the week.
Dona Mercia de Cisneros was holding such a reception one evening.
Guests of all opinions came. There were a large number of Protestants;
they knew each other to be Protestants, but to the rest of the guests
their opinions were unknown. Among the guests were two young men who,
though apparently strangers to each other, were attracted by the same
object--admiration for Dona Leonor, the youthful daughter of the house.
Don Francisco de Vivers, the elder of the two, was an inhabitant of
Seville, of considerable wealth and excellent family. He was considered
amiable and generous; and was, moreover, handsome and agreeable in his
manners, dressed well, and possessed a house and equipages surpassed by
few. He was not at all insensible of his own qualifications for winning
a young lady's heart, and was, therefore, greatly puzzled at discovering
that Dona Leonor seemed insensible to them. Don Francisco loved the
world and his wealth far too much to give his heart to God; and Dona
Leonor had resolved not to marry any one who would not make up his mind
to do so. Possibly too, he might scarcely have heard of the reformed
doctrines; he was a firm Roman Catholic. It was a faith which exactly
suited him. He found it so easy for a person of his wealth to clear off
any sins which might trouble his conscience.
The other young man who has been spoken of seemed to be a stranger in
the place, though several affectionate greetings which he received
showed that he was not so altogether. He was dressed in black, the
usual costume of a lawyer in those days, and though not so handsome as
Don Francisco, his broad forehead, clear eye, and firm mouth, showed
that he was far his superior in intellect. Dona Leonor no longer turned
away her head when he approached her, as she had done when Don Francisco
drew near, but received him with a friendly smile, while an acute
observer might have discovered that a blush suffused her cheek while he
spoke. Don Francisco watched him at a distance, and an expression
denoting angry jealousy came over his countenance as he saw the intimate
terms which existed between the two. He little dreamed, however, of the
cause of the earnest love which one felt for the other: it was the pure
holy faith which both enjoyed, the same common trust, the same hope, the
same confidence in the one ever-loving Saviour. They believed that they
were to be united, not only for a time, but for eternity. Their
acquaintance had commenced during a visit Dona Leonor had paid to some
relatives residing in the town of Toro, of which place Antonio
Herezuelo, the young man who has been described, was an advocate. It
soon ripened into affection. No barrier existed between them, for the
acute lawyer had already been converted to the truth, and, head and
heart alike convinced, held firmly to it as the anchor of his soul.
Dona Mercia did not oppose their union, for she perceived that Antonio
Herezuelo possessed courage, determination, and a superior intellect,
beside a gentle and loving disposition--qualities calculated to secure
her daughter's happiness, and which would enable him to protect her
during the troublous times which she feared might be coming on Spain.
She knew well what had happened, and what was occurring in the
Netherlands, as did all the educated persons in Spain; but that did not
prevent those who had the Gospel offered to them from accepting its
truths, or from endeavouring to make them known among their companions.
Those who were in the Church, and whose position enabled them to preach,
promulgated Gospel truth openly, while laymen spoke of it to their
friends in private, or addressed small assemblies of persons who
appeared disposed to receive it.
CHAPTER THREE.
A NARROW ESCAPE.
The young couple, now formally betrothed, appeared everywhere together
in public, and it was understood that before long their marriage would
be solemnised. Many of the places, however, frequented by people of
their rank, they avoided--the bull-fights and the religious spectacles--
the one tending to brutalise the people, the other to foster the
grossest superstition. Among the houses at which they visited at
Seville was that of the widow Dona Isabel de Baena. Her guests,
however, it was understood, only came by invitation. Most of them
approached her house cautiously--sometimes alone, or only two or three
together--generally when it grew dusk, and muffled in their cloaks so
that their features could not be discerned. Often there was a large
assemblage of persons at Dona Isabel's house thus collected, though the
spies of the Inquisition had not observed them assembling. Though
sedate and generally serious in their manner, they were neither sad nor
cast down; indeed, a cheerfulness prevailed among the company not often
seen in a Spanish assembly. Dona Leonor was there with her mother. Don
Antonio Herezuelo set out from his lodgings with the purpose of going
there also. He had not gone far when, suddenly turning his head, he
found that he was closely followed. Under ordinary circumstances this
would have caused him little concern, but at present he knew the
importance of being cautious. He remembered that by going down a lane
near at hand he might return home again. This he did, and walking on
rapidly, got rid, as he supposed, of his pursuer. After remaining a
short time he again sallied forth, and taking a circuitous way to Dona
Isabel's house, arrived there safely, and, as he hoped, without being
observed. Leonor had become anxious about him. She told him so when he
arrived.
"Do not on similar occasions fear, my beloved," he answered, with that
brave smile which frequently lighted up his countenance. "God protects
those who put their whole trust in Him--not a half trust, but the whole
entire trust."
"Yes, I know, and yet surely many of those who were tortured and
suffered in the flames in the Low Countries put their trust in Him,"
answered Leonor. "I shudder when I think of the agonies those poor
people must have endured."
Again that smile came over Herezuelo's countenance. "Sometimes He
requires those whom He loves best, and who love Him, to suffer for Him
here, that He may give them a brighter crown, eternal in the heavens--
the martyr's crown of glory," he answered.
"Ah, yes, I know that thought should sustain a person," she remarked;
"yet all tortures must be hard for poor, frail human bodies to bear."
"Yes, if people trust to their own strength and courage they will mostly
shrink at the time of trial, but if they trust to the strength God gives
them, they will as surely bear with fortitude whatever He may allow to
be layed on them," was the answer. "Not one, but a hundred such
assurances He gives us in His holy Word. `My grace is sufficient for
thee,' He says to all who trust in Him, as He said to the Apostle Paul.
It is not moral, nor is it physical courage which will sustain a person
under such circumstances. No, dear one, it is only courage which firm
faith, or rather, the Holy Spirit of God, can give."
"I know that--I feel that; yet it is very dreadful to think that those
we love and honour may be brought to undergo such suffering."
"Not if we remember that they may thus be enabled to honour and glorify
their loving Lord and Master," answered Herezuelo. "But see, here comes
Don Carlos de Seso, one of the noblest of our band of evangelists. I
heard that he was about to visit Seville. To him I owe my knowledge of
the truth. He has, since his marriage with Dona Isabella de Castilla,
who is, you know, a descendant of the royal family of Castile and Leon,
settled at Villamediana, near Logrono. His evangelistic efforts at that
place have been as greatly blessed as they were at Valladolid; and among
many others, the parish priest of his own village has been converted to
the truth. At Pedroso also, the parish priest, Pedro de Cazalla, has
been brought to a knowledge of the truth, and now preaches it freely in
his own and the neighbouring villages. Oh, it is glorious work; would
that this whole nation might receive the Gospel!"
"Say rather the whole earth," said Leonor. "If Spain becomes the
mistress of the world, she will spread everywhere the glorious light of
truth."
"But if she puts out that light, she will as surely spread darkness and
error," observed Antonio, with a sigh. "See, De Seso is about to
address us. Let us pray that, whatever God in His wisdom orders, we may
believe in His justice, and submit to His will."
A large number of persons had by this time assembled in Dona Isabel de
Baena's rooms. Among them, strange as it may seem, were a considerable
number of monks, and even several nuns, though such rather in their
outward garb than in reality. The latter belonged to the nunnery of
Saint Elizabeth, while the monks had come from the Hieronomite convent
of San Isidoro del Campo, situated about two miles from Seville. There
was also present Domingo de Guzman, a son of the Duke of Medina Sidonia,
and preacher of the Dominican monastery of Saint Paul. As soon as he
had embraced the reformed principles, he became more zealous in
propagating them. Such, indeed, was generally the case with all those
in prominent positions who embraced the Gospel. They were in earnest.
They had counted the cost, and well knew that should the Inquisition
discover their proceedings, the stake would be their doom. Both Don
Carlos de Seso and Don Domingo de Guzman addressed the congregation of
earnest believers on this occasion. They prayed also with all the
fervour of true believers, and hymns were sung of praise to Him who had
called them out of darkness into His marvellous light. Don Carlos had
deplored the want of books, and of Bibles especially, by which the truth
might the more rapidly be made known, and had prayed that God would
supply that want. Scarcely was the service concluded, when there was a
commotion among the guests, and it was announced that a brave Christian
friend, Julian Hernandez, after undergoing many dangers and
difficulties, and great fatigue, had arrived with a supply of the books
which were so much required.
A short time afterwards there was a cry of Julianillo, or little Julian,
and a remarkably small but stoutly built man, dressed as a muleteer,
entered the room. The guests crowded eagerly around him to hear his
adventures. He had many to relate. How often he had narrowly escaped
capture with his precious burden! but the Lord had preserved him. Had
he been taken, he and his books together would have been committed to
the flames. God had determined that the seed of those books should take
root in the hearts of many natives of Spain, to bring forth fruit to His
glory. Julianillo's success made him resolve to set forth again to
bring a fresh supply across the Pyrenees. Some of the more timid of his
friends advised him not to make the attempt. "Satan and his priests
will not like me to bring them," he answered laughingly. "Those
Testaments and Luther's writings are the arms they dread more than
anything else. That makes me feel sure that I am doing God's work in
bringing them, and that He will take care of me while I am so employed."
A brave and faithful answer, little Julian. Oh, what noble, true
hearts there were in Spain in those days! and though many were crushed
and destroyed, still some survived, and their descendants at the present
day may yet become the salt of their native land--lights set on a hill
to enlighten their long benighted countrymen.
Before the guests separated another short prayer was offered up, and a
Gospel hymn was sung. Scarcely had the notes of the last verse died
away, when a servant who had been sent out on a message hurried into the
room. "Bad news! bad news!" he exclaimed. "We are all lost; the cause
of the pure faith is lost; the inquisitors will have their way."
The guests gathered round the man with anxious looks, for they knew well
that at any moment they might be placed in the perilous position he
announced.
"The widow Dona Maria Gomez is the cause of it all," the man answered,
to the eager questions put to him. "She is acquainted with every one of
us, and we all thought her a true Christian. Every one here is also
acquainted with the learned Doctor Francisco Zafra. The poor lady had,
it appears, gone mad, and had been placed by her friends under Doctor
Francisco's care. As he is with us, this would not have been of much
consequence, had not Dona Maria managed to escape from his custody.
Now, horrible to relate, she has made her way to the Inquisition at
Triana, and has denounced all the Protestants in Seville. As she was
making her way to the Inquisition, she cried out what she was going to
do, accusing all her former friends, and declaring that she should have
no rest till she had seen every one of them committed to the flames.
Doctor Zafra has never even been suspected by the inquisitors of
favouring the Lutherans. Now, as he will be among the first denounced
by the wretched widow, he has no chance of escaping. What shall we do?
what shall we do?"
"Do!" exclaimed a voice; "put our trust in God, and act like men! Do!
pardon me for speaking, senors--keep together and defy our enemies!"
It was Julianillo who uttered these brave words.
"But then we may all be captured together like fish by one net,"
observed a gentleman.
"Let us pray, friends, for guidance and protection to the loving Saviour
whom we serve," said Don Carlos de Seso. "He will direct us, and enable
us to undergo whatever He may think right for His own honour and glory."
Don Carlos setting the example, the whole party sank on their knees,
while he offered up a deeply fervent, though short, prayer for the
assistance all needed. Refreshed, the company arose.
"I cannot agree with our friend Julianillo that it will be wise to keep
together," observed the lawyer Herezuelo. "Should the unhappy widow
bring the accusation she threatened, and the officers of the Inquisition
find us all together, they will naturally suspect that the information
is well founded. No; let us retire each one to his own house, avoiding
observation as much as we can. There let us be together in spirit,
praying for each other. We should fear no harm when God is with us."
Another short prayer was offered up and the Christian friends left the
house as they had come--two and three together, in different directions,
hoping thus to avoid observation. The monks returned to their convent,
not, however, without having first been supplied with books from the
rich stores which Julianillo had brought, and for which their brethren
within its walls were eagerly looking. All the other guests went laden
in the same way, and thus the Holy Bible and the works of Luther, and
others, were quietly and secretly distributed throughout the surrounding
towns and villages. Herezuelo begged that he might accompany Dona
Mercia and her daughter to their home, for it was fearfully possible
that even on their way they might be seized by the officers of the
Inquisition and carried off to its dungeons. The last to leave the
house was Julianillo. The lady of the house inquired where he was
going.
"To bring to my famishing countrymen a fresh supply of food for the
soul," he answered.
"But surely you have done enough, Julianillo. You run a fearful risk of
losing your life," observed the lady.
"Enough, Signora! enough service to our loving Lord and Master!"
exclaimed the little muleteer. "Oh, no, no! As long as there are
persons in Spain desiring to learn about the blessed Jesus, so long will
I try to bring them books which tell them about Him. And as to fearing
the dangers which may overtake me, I am in the hands of One who can
protect me through far greater than are in my path at present; and
should He ever require me to witness to the truth of His gospel, I know
that He will give me strength to undergo all the trials and torments
with which its foes may seek to afflict me."
Brave Julianillo! He went along the street singing a joyous air. To
the words, however, he wisely did not give utterance. He took the way
to the lodgings of the advocate, Herezuelo. Don Antonio had not
arrived. After waiting some time, Julian became anxious. Could he have
been seized by the officers of the Inquisition? It was too likely.
Herezuelo had, he knew, openly preached the doctrines of the Reformation
in his part of the country. At last, Julian thought that he might
possibly be at Dona Mercia's. "Why did not that occur to me before?" he
said to himself. "Of course, if I knew that there was danger, I should
stay by the side of my intended wife."
He hurried off to Dona Mercia's abode. He was at once admitted. He
found the family in some consternation, for it was reported that Doctor
Zafra had himself been seized, and, if so, there could be little doubt
that he would be put to the torture and made to confess that the persons
denounced by the poor mad woman were really guilty of entertaining
Lutheran opinions. Herezuelo was endeavouring to comfort his friends.
He could not but feel that the reports were possibly true. Of human
help, therefore, he could not speak. An attempt to flee from the
country would be hopeless, but he could point to Jesus Christ, to the
God of mercy and love.
"Ah, my dear friends," observed Don Antonio, "never let us forget that
He has redeemed us and washed our sins away; and if He thinks fit to
call us to Himself, even through fiery trials, He will give us strength
to endure all that we may be called on to suffer, that we may glorify
His name."
"Just the remark I lately made, senors," observed Julianillo, who at
that moment entered the room. "Satan tries to frighten us, and to make
us believe that He is stronger than our Master; but praised be God, we
know that we serve One all-powerful to save, and who can, if He will,
crush Satan under His foot."
"The truth, brave Julianillo," exclaimed Herezuelo, who in the volunteer
muleteer found one whose heart sympathised cordially with his own. "And
what do you propose doing?"
"Wait till daylight, and see what comes of this matter," answered
Julianillo. "Those who fly will be the first suspected. Doctor Zafra
is a wise man. Sense may be given to him to outwit the inquisitors, or
should he fail to do that, he will, I have hopes, suffer torture rather
than betray his friends. In the meantime, cavalheros, let us be wise,
and seek for strength and endurance from the Giver of all power and
might."
Following the advice of the muleteer, or rather the example of the
apostles of old, those assembled knelt down in prayer, thus gaining
strength and courage for what they might have to undergo. Oh, that
Christians at the present day would remember that by earnest, frequent,
persevering prayer, mountains will be removed, guidance obtained,
difficulties overcome!
The greater part of the night was thus spent in prayer. As soon as the
morning dawned, and people were once more passing to and fro in the
streets, Herezuelo and Julianillo went forth to try and ascertain the
fate of Doctor Zafra, on which apparently their own and that of so many
of their friends depended. Should the mad widow's story be believed,
there could be no doubt that such an _auto-da-fe_ would take place as
had seldom been witnessed in Spain. They kept at a distance from each
other, lest being seen together they might be suspected; thus, though
fearless for themselves, wisely taking every precaution to avoid danger.
Herezuelo, as he walked along, thought of his beloved Leonor, so
delicate, so gentle, so faithful. He himself was ready to undergo any
torture the cruel inquisitors might think fit to inflict on him, but how
would she be able to endure their barbarities? His heart rose in his
bosom as he thought of this, and he could not help praying that a power
might arise by which the foes of freedom would be driven from the land.
At first he thought of an arm of flesh, carnal weapons--that some hero
might arise who would liberate long-enslaved Spain; but, by degrees, a
better spirit exerted its influence. "Through the sword of the Spirit,
the Word of God, can error, superstition, tyranny alone be conquered."
He said to himself, "Ah! Julianillo is a greater hero than I am or can
ever become, inasmuch as he does more to spread the Holy Bible
throughout Spain than any other man."
Hour after hour the friends waited in the neighbourhood of the
Inquisition, in vain endeavouring to ascertain what had become of the
widow and Doctor Zafra. In despair, they were about returning, when a
_caleche_ appeared, in which sat the doctor, with the widow by his side.
He seemed calm and unconcerned, his attention being apparently wholly
occupied in calming the agitation of the poor woman. Not a glance did
he bestow on either the advocate or Julianillo. They had good hopes
that the inquisitors had been satisfied; or, thought Herezuelo, "Can the
doctor have become a traitor; and is he allowed by the inquisitors to go
free that he may the more readily entrap others into their toils?" It
was too probable that such an idea was correct; but Herezuelo quickly
banished it as ungenerous from his mind, and hurried back to Dona
Mercia's house with the satisfactory information that Doctor Zafra was
free. Julianillo arrived soon after, and expressing his belief that all
were safe, stated that he intended to re-commence his perilous
expedition to Germany. Still some hours must elapse before the truth
could be ascertained for a certainty, as it would not be safe to visit
Doctor Zafra's house till dark. Much of the interval was spent in
reading the Scriptures and in prayer. At length the truth was known.
The sagacious Zafra, on being summoned, went boldly to the inquisitors,
with a fearless, self-satisfied countenance. He laughed when the names
of those denounced by the widow were read over to him.
"She has been mad for many a day, and a strong proof of her madness is
that she should have picked out persons the most unlikely in Spain to be
guilty of such heresies," he replied. "Devout and exemplary I know they
are; and those among them with whom I am acquainted are especially
lovers of the true faith, and are persons in whom I have unbounded
confidence." The inquisitors, on hearing this, were so fully convinced
that the poor widow's representations had no other foundation than the
visionary workings of a disordered brain, that they allowed the learned
doctor to depart with her under his charge. Thus was the danger to the
infant Church at Seville for the time mercifully removed, and while it
gained strength to endure the coming persecutions, the number of
Christ's true disciples was much increased.
CHAPTER FOUR.
SIGNS OF DANGER.
Two years had passed away. Leonor de Cisneros had become the wife of
Antonio Herezuelo, the advocate; they had settled at Toro, but
occasionally made visits to Seville and to Valladolid, where they
enjoyed the society of other Protestants--many of them illustrious, both
by birth and talents, among the nobles of Spain.
The year 1558, fearfully memorable in Spain, at length commenced.
Philip was about to return to his paternal dominions. Charles the Fifth
was in his retirement in the convent of Saint Juste. The
Inquisitor-general, Valdes, became more than ever certain that heresy
was extending. Herezuelo and Dona Leonor were at Valladolid. They were
at their lodgings in that city when a certain Juan Garcia, a goldsmith,
was announced. He was well-known there as a sincere Protestant. It was
his office to summon the brethren to meet together for prayer and
sermon. The advocate, who knew him to be a true man, welcomed him
cordially, and promised to attend the meeting. It was to be held at the
house once occupied by Dona Leonor de Vibero, the mother of Doctor
Cazalla. She herself had been dead for some few years, as were several
of her children; but her house had been continued to be used, as it now
was, as a meeting place for Protestants. Juan Garcia had a good deal of
information to communicate with regard to the progress made by
Protestant principles. He was very sanguine as to the success of the
cause; and as the members of the Church had so long evaded the lynx eye
of the inquisitors, he had every reason to hope that they would continue
to do so. In his rounds he encountered Julian Hernandez, the
persevering Bible importer. A warm greeting passed between the two
friends. Julianillo was on the point of starting on another expedition,
and could not attend the meeting that night. His heart would be with
his co-religionists, and his prayers would ascend with theirs as he
followed his mules over the sierra.
"The time may come, ere long, when we may worship together in public,
and the books which I now bring in small numbers with difficulty and
danger, may arrive in shiploads and be sold openly," he added, as he
shook his friend's hand.
The goldsmith shook his head.
"That time is, I fear, a long way off," he answered; "yet it behoves us,
nevertheless, to pray for it."
Juan Garcia, having performed his duties, returned to his home. He was
not happy there. His wife, Maria Vallanegra, did not entertain his
opinions. Now, it could have mattered very little what Maria thought on
the subject, had she not gone to confession, where, not content with
confessing her own sins, she took upon herself, at the instigation of
the priest, to confess her husband's also. What the priest said to her
it is not necessary to repeat. She had had the same sort of things said
before, and had not been shocked. He now, however, before he allowed
her to depart, brought the enormity of her conduct fully before her, and
told her that he could not afford her absolution, because she was
married to one who held heretical notions, unless she could manage to
get him duly punished. She had made her confession; but, after all, she
had to go home without receiving absolution. She had observed that her
husband was away from home occasionally for some hours, and not engaged
in business; also, he occasionally remained out at night for a
considerable time, and declined telling her where he had been. She had
made a statement to that effect to the priest, together with her
suspicions that Lutheranism had something to do with the matter.
"Then obtain all the information you can; and if you discover anything
of importance, not only shall you receive absolution for all your yet
unpardoned sins, but you shall receive a handsome reward, and a plenary
indulgence for the future," answered the confessor. "Exert your woman's
wit. Think of the indulgence you will obtain, and if your husband is,
as you suspect, a heretic, he is utterly unworthy of your consideration.
You cannot wish to associate with him in this world; and in the next,
if you go to heaven, you must be ever separated from him."
Thus exhorted, the wretched Maria returned to her home. She knew that
her husband had a secret, and she resolved to discover it. If he should
prove to be a Lutheran, it would be a pious act for her to deliver him
up to justice. She procured a mantilla, such as is worn occasionally by
tradesmen's wives, and even ladies when going to confession, of a
manufacture different from that which her husband was accustomed to see
her wear. To throw him off his guard, she lavished on him far more
affection than was her custom, and pretended to forget that she had ever
complained of his leaving home without telling her where he was going.
More than once she put on her mantilla to follow him, but before he had
got far she lost sight of him in the crowd. At length, one evening,
when the weather was rainy, and there were fewer people abroad than
usual, she saw he was preparing to go out; and managing to leave the
house before him, she concealed herself within an archway, whence she
could watch which way he went. He came out; she followed him
stealthily, but quickly. He called at several houses, she noted them
carefully; then he went on till he came to the mansion of the Cazalla
family. He was admitted at a side door. She took up her post at a spot
whence she could watch the door. Her labours were to be rewarded.
Scarcely had her husband entered than several other persons arrived, and
then more and more, by twos and threes. Many of them she saw by their
dress and carriage, as the lights their servants carried fell on them,
were evidently persons of rank. She wished that she could venture to
follow them into the house, to learn more about the matter. Still, the
information she had gained might prove of the greatest value. The next
morning she hurried off to inform her father confessor of her discovery.
He told her to keep secret what she had seen; and the next time her
husband went out at that hour, to come instantly and let him know.
The next prayer-meeting took place, and Maria gave timely notice of it
to her father confessor, Fre Antonio Lobo. Had he been addicted to
giving expression to his feelings, he would have rubbed his hands with
satisfaction; he merely cautioned Maria to be silent as the grave as to
what she had told him, and immediately set off to give the long
wished-for information to his superiors. The Chief Inquisitor, the
stern Archbishop, three other dignitaries appointed by the Holy Father
the Pope to assist him in the extirpation of heresy by the destruction
of heretics with fire and sword, and several other high officers, were
seated in the council hall of the Inquisition when Father Antonio Lobo
appeared among them. Some of them, like anglers, who, having been long
unsuccessful in their attempts to hook their finny prey, declare that
there are no fish in the lake, had inclined to the opinion that their
countrymen were too staunch adherents of the Pope ever to be led astray
by the doctrines of Luther.
"It may be as you suppose, Fre Ignacio," observed the Grand Inquisitor
to one of his assistants, who had made a remark to that effect. "But
remember that it is our duty to seek diligently for all who may be
opposed to our order and system, and to destroy them without
compunction, with their wives and children, so that none of the viper's
brood remains to sting us."
The stern expression visible on the countenances of those he addressed,
as the light from the brass lamp which hung from the vaulted roof fell
on them, showed that they were fully ready to carry out his advice to
the extreme. A grim smile played over their features when Fre Antonio
made his report.