The dean of the cathedral of Badajos was more learned than all the
doctors of Salamanca, Coimbra, and Alcala, united; he understood all
languages, living and dead, and was perfect master of every science
divine and human, except that, unfortunately, he had no knowledge of
magic. He was inconsolable when he reflected on his ignorance in that
sublime art, till he was told that a very able magician resided in the
suburbs of Toledo, named don Torribio. He immediately saddled his mule,
departed for Toledo, and alighted at the door of no very superb
dwelling, the habitation of that great man.
“Most reverend magician,” said he, addressing himself to the sage, “I am
the dean of Badajos. The learned men of Spain all allow me to be their
superior; but I am come to request from you a much greater honour, that
of becoming your pupil. Deign to initiate me in the mysteries of your
art, and doubt not but you shall receive a grateful acknowledgment,
suitable to the benefit conferred, and your own extraordinary merit.”
Don Torribio was not very polite, though he valued himself on being
intimately acquainted with the highest company below. He told the dean
he was welcome to seek elsewhere for a master; for that, for his part,
he was weary of an occupation which produced nothing but compliments and
promises, and that he should but dishonour the occult sciences by
prostituting them to the ungrateful.
“To the ungrateful!” exclaimed the dean: “has then the great don
Torribio met with persons who have proved ungrateful? And can he so far
mistake _me_ as to rank me with such monsters?” He then repeated all the
maxims and apophthegms which he had read on the subject of gratitude,
and every refined sentiment his memory could furnish. In short, he
talked so well, that the conjuror, after having considered a moment,
confessed he could refuse nothing to a man of such abilities, and so
ready at pertinent quotations.
“Jacintha,” said don Torribio to his old woman, “lay down two partridges
to the fire. I hope my friend the dean will do me the honour to sup with
me to night.” At the same time he took him by the hand and led him into
the cabinet; when here, he touched his forehead, uttering three
mysterious words, which the reader will please to remember,
“_Ortobolan_, _Pistafrier_, _Onagriouf_.” Then, without further
preparation, he began to explain, with all possible perspicuity, the
introductory elements of his profound science. The new disciple listened
with an attention which scarcely permitted him to breathe; when, on a
sudden, Jacintha entered, followed by a little old man in monstrous
boots, and covered with mud up to the neck, who desired to speak with
the dean on very important business. This was the postilion of his
uncle, the bishop of Badajos, who had been sent express after him, and
who had galloped without ceasing quite to Toledo, before he could
overtake him. He came to bring him information that, some hours after
his departure, his grace had been attacked by so violent an apoplexy
that the most terrible consequences were to be apprehended. The dean
heartily, that is _inwardly_, (so as to occasion no scandal,) execrated
the disorder, the patient, and the courier, who had certainly all three
chosen the most impertinent time possible. He dismissed the postilion,
bidding him make haste back to Badajos, whither he would presently
follow him; and instantly returned to his lesson, as if there were no
such things as either uncles or apoplexies.
A few days afterwards the dean again received news from Badajos: but
this was worth hearing. The principal chanter, and two old canons, came
to inform him that his uncle, the right reverend bishop, had been taken
to heaven to receive the reward of his piety; and the chapter,
canonically assembled, had chosen him to fill the vacant bishopric, and
humbly requested he would console, by his presence, the afflicted church
of Badajos, now become his spiritual bride.
Don Torribio, who was present at this harangue, endeavoured to derive
advantage from what he had learned; and taking aside the new bishop,
after having paid him a well-turned compliment on his promotion,
proceeded to inform him that he had a son, named Benjamin, possessed of
much ingenuity, and good inclination, but in whom he had never perceived
either taste or talent for the occult sciences. He had, therefore, he
said, advised him to turn his thoughts towards the church, and he had
now, he thanked heaven, the satisfaction to hear him commended as one of
the most deserving divines among all the clergy of Toledo. He therefore
took the liberty, most humbly, to request his grace to bestow on don
Benjamin the deanery of Badajos, which he could not retain together with
his bishopric.
“I am very unfortunate,” replied the prelate, apparently somewhat
embarrassed; “you will, I hope, do me the justice to believe that
nothing could give me so great a pleasure as to oblige you in every
request; but the truth is, I have a cousin to whom I am heir, an old
ecclesiastic, who is good for nothing but to be a dean, and if I do not
bestow on him this benefice, I must embroil myself with my family, which
would be far from agreeable. But,” continued he, in an affectionate
manner, “will you not accompany me to Badajos? Can you be so cruel as to
forsake me at a moment when it is in my power to be of service to you?
Be persuaded, my honoured master, we will go together. Think of nothing
but the improvement of your pupil, and leave me to provide for don
Benjamin; nor doubt, but sooner or later, I will do more for him than
you expect. A paltry deanery in the remotest part of Estremadura is not
a benefice suitable to the son of such a man as yourself.”
The canon law would, no doubt, have construed the prelate’s offer into
simony. The proposal however was accepted, nor was any scruple made by
either of these two very intelligent persons. Don Torribio followed his
illustrious pupil to Badajos, where he had an elegant apartment assigned
him in the episcopal palace; and was treated with the utmost respect by
the diocese as the favourite of his grace, and a kind of grand vicar.
Under the tuition of so able a master the bishop of Badajos made a rapid
progress in the occult sciences. At first he gave himself up to them,
with an ardour which might appear excessive; but this intemperance grew
by degrees more moderate, and he pursued them with so much prudence that
his magical studies never interfered with the duties of his diocese. He
was well convinced of the truth of a maxim, very important to be
remembered by ecclesiastics, whether addicted to sorcery, or only
philosophers and admirers of literature--that it is not sufficient to
assist at learned nocturnal meetings, or adorn the mind with
embellishments of human science, but that it is also the duty of divines
to point out to others the way to heaven, and plant in the minds of
their hearers, wholesome doctrine and Christian morality. Regulating his
conduct by these commendable principles, this learned prelate was
celebrated throughout Christendom for his merit and piety: and, “when he
least expected such an honour,” was promoted to the archbishopric of
Compostella. The people and clergy of Badajos lamented, as may be
supposed, an event by which they were deprived of so worthy a pastor;
and the canons of the cathedral, to testify their respect, unanimously
conferred on him the honour of nominating his successor.
Don Torribio did not neglect so alluring an opportunity to provide for
his son. He requested the bishopric of the new archbishop, and was
_refused_ with all imaginable politeness. He had, he said, the greatest
veneration for his old master, and was both sorry and ashamed it was
“not in his power” to grant a thing which appeared so very a trifle,
but, in fact, don Ferdinand de Lara, constable of Castile, had asked the
bishopric for his natural son; and though he had never seen that
nobleman, he had, he said, some secret, important, and what was more,
very ancient obligations to him. It was therefore an indispensable duty
to prefer an old benefactor to a new one But don Torribio ought not to
be discouraged at this proof of his justice; as he might learn by that,
what _he_ had to expect when his turn arrived, which should certainly be
the first opportunity. This anecdote concerning the ancient obligations
of the archbishop, the magician had the goodness to believe, and
rejoiced, as much as he was able, that his interests were sacrificed to
those of don Ferdinand.
Nothing was now thought of but preparations for their departure to
Compostella, where they were to reside. These, however, were scarcely
worth the trouble, considering the short time they were destined to
remain there; for at the end of a few months one of the pope’s
chamberlains arrived, who brought the archbishop a cardinal’s cap, with
an epistle conceived in the most respectful terms, in which his holiness
invited him to assist, by his counsel, in the government of the
Christian world; permitting him at the same time to dispose of his mitre
in favour of whom he pleased. Don Torribio was not at Compostella when
the courier of the holy father arrived. He had been to see his son, who
still continued a priest in a small parish at Toledo. But he presently
returned, and was not put to the trouble of asking for the vacant
archbishopric. The prelate ran to meet him with open arms, “My dear
master,” said he, “I have two pieces of good news to relate at once.
Your disciple is created a cardinal, and your son shall--_shortly_--be
advanced to the same dignity. I had intended in the mean time to bestow
upon him the archbishopric of Compostella, but, unfortunately for him,
and for me, my mother, whom we left at Badajos, has, during your
absence, written me a cruel letter, by which all my measures have been
disconcerted. She will not be pacified unless I appoint for my successor
the archdeacon of my former church, don Pablas de Salazar, her intimate
friend and confessor. She tells me it will “occasion her death” if she
should not be able to obtain preferment for her dear father in God.
Shall I be the death of my mother?”
Don Torribio was not a person who could incite or urge his friend to be
guilty of parricide, nor did he indulge himself in the least resentment
against the mother of the prelate. To say the truth, however, this
mother was a good kind of woman, nearly superannuated. She lived quietly
with her cat and her maid servant, and scarcely knew the name of her
confessor. Was it likely, then, that she had procured don Pablas his
archbishopric? Was it not _more_ than probable that he was indebted for
it to a Gallician lady, his cousin, at once devout and handsome, in
whose company his grace the archbishop had frequently been edified
during his residence at Compostella? Be this as it may, don Torribio
followed his eminence to Rome. Scarcely had he arrived at that city ere
the pope died. The conclave met--all the voices of the sacred college
were in favour of the Spanish cardinal. Behold him therefore pope.
Immediately after the ceremony of his exaltation, don Torribio, admitted
to a secret audience, wept with joy while he kissed the feet of his dear
pupil. He modestly represented his long and faithful services, reminded
his holiness of those inviolable promises which he had renewed before he
entered the conclave, and instead of demanding the vacant hat for don
Benjamin, finished with most exemplary moderation by renouncing every
ambitious hope. He and his son, he said, would both esteem themselves
too happy if his holiness would bestow on them, together with his
benediction, the smallest temporal benefice; such as an annuity for
life, sufficient for the few wants of an ecclesiastic and a philosopher.
During this harangue the sovereign pontiff considered within himself how
to dispose of his preceptor. He reflected he was no longer necessary;
that he already knew as much of magic as was sufficient for a pope.
After weighing every circumstance, his holiness concluded that don
Torribio was not only an useless, but a _troublesome_ pedant; and this
point determined, he replied in the following words:
“We have learned, with concern, that under the pretext of cultivating
the occult sciences, you maintain a horrible intercourse with the spirit
of darkness and deceit; we therefore exhort you, as a father, to expiate
your crime by a repentance proportionable to its enormity. Moreover, we
enjoin you to depart from the territories of the church within three
days, under penalty of being delivered over to the secular arm, and its
merciless flames.”
Don Torribio, without being alarmed, immediately repeated the three
mysterious words which the reader was desired to remember; and going to
a window, cried out with all his force, “Jacintha, you need spit but one
partridge; for my friend, the dean, will _not_ sup here to-night.”
This was a thunderbolt to the imaginary pope. He immediately recovered
from the trance, into which he had been thrown by the three mysterious
words. He perceived that, instead of being in the vatican, he was still
at Toledo, in the closet of don Torribio; and he saw, by the clock, it
was not a complete hour since he entered that fatal cabinet, where he
had been entertained by such pleasant dreams.
In that short time the dean of Badajos had imagined himself a magician,
a bishop, a cardinal, and a pope; and he found at last that he was only
a dupe and a knave. All was illusion, except the proofs he had given of
his deceitful and evil heart. He instantly departed, without speaking a
single word, and finding his mule where he had left her, returned to
Badajos.
* * * * *
~Phrenology.~
_For the Table Book._
“You look but on the _outside_ of affairs.”