THE DISAGREEMENT CONTINUES TO INCREASE, AND THEREAFTER TO BECOME DISCORD
Close beside the black cassock was a fresh and rosy face, that seemed
fresher and rosier from the contrast. Jacinto saluted our hero, not
without some embarrassment.
He was one of those precocious youths whom the indulgent university
sends prematurely forth into the arena of life, making them fancy that
they are men because they have received their doctor’s degree. Jacinto
had a round, handsome face with rosy cheeks, like a girl’s, and without
any beard save the down which announced its coming. In person he was
plump and below the medium height. His age was a little over twenty. He
had been educated from childhood under the direction of his excellent
and learned uncle, which is the same as saying that the twig had not
become crooked in the growing. A severe moral training had kept him
always straight, and in the fulfilment of his scholastic duties he
had been almost above reproach. Having concluded his studies at the
university with astonishing success, for there was scarcely a class in
which he did not take the highest honors, he entered on the practice of
his profession, promising, by his application and his aptitude for
the law, to maintain fresh and green in the forum the laurels of the
lecture-hall.
At times he was as mischievous as a boy, at times as sedate as a man.
In very truth, if Jacinto had not had a little, and even a great deal of
liking for pretty girls, his uncle would have thought him perfect. The
worthy man preached to him unceasingly on this point, hastening to
clip the wings of every audacious fancy. But not even this mundane
inclination of the young man could cool the great affection which
our worthy canon bore the charming offspring of his dear niece, Maria
Remedios. Where the young lawyer was concerned, every thing else
must give way. Even the grave and methodical habits of the worthy
ecclesiastic were altered when they interfered with the affairs of his
precocious pupil. That order and regularity, apparently as fixed as the
laws of a planetary system, were interrupted whenever Jacinto was ill
or had to take a journey. Useless celibacy of the clergy! The Council of
Trent prohibits them from having children of their own, but God--and not
the Devil, as the proverb says--gives them nephews and nieces in order
that they may know the tender anxieties of paternity.
Examining impartially the qualities of this clever boy, it was
impossible not to recognize that he was not wanting in merit. His
character was in the main inclined to uprightness, and noble
actions awakened a frank admiration in his soul. With respect to his
intellectual endowments and his social knowledge, they were sufficient
to enable him to become in time one of those notabilities of whom
there are so many in Spain; he might be what we take delight in calling
hyperbolically a distinguished patrician, or an eminent public man;
species which, owing to their great abundance, are hardly appreciated
at their just value. In the tender age in which the university degree
serves as a sort of solder between boyhood and manhood, few young
men--especially if they have been spoiled by their masters--are free
from an offensive pedantry, which, if it gives them great importance
beside their mamma’s arm-chair, makes them very ridiculous when they
are among grave and experienced men. Jacinto had this defect, which was
excusable in him, not only because of his youth, but also because his
worthy uncle stimulated his puerile vanity by injudicious praise.
When the introduction was over they resumed their walk. Jacinto was
silent. The canon, returning to the interrupted theme of the _pyros_
which were to be grafted and the _vites_ which were to be trimmed, said:
“I am already aware that Señor Don José is a great agriculturist.”
“Not at all; I know nothing whatever about the subject,” responded
the young man, observing with no little annoyance the canon’s mania of
supposing him to be learned in all the sciences.
“Oh, yes! a great agriculturist,” continued the Penitentiary; “but on
agricultural subjects, don’t quote the latest treatises to me. For me
the whole of that science, Señor de Rey, is condensed in what I call the
Bible of the Field, in the ‘Georgics’ of the immortal Roman. It is all
admirable, from that grand sentence, _Nec vero terroe ferre omnes omnia
possunt_--that is to say, that not every soil is suited to every tree,
Señor Don José--to the exhaustive treatise on bees, in which the poet
describes the habits of those wise little animals, defining the drone in
these words:
“‘Ille horridus alter
Desidia, latamque trahens inglorius alvum.’
“‘Of a horrible and slothful figure, dragging along the ignoble weight of
the belly,’ Señor Don José.”
“You do well to translate it for me,” said Pepe, “for I know very little
Latin.”
“Oh, why should the men of the present day spend their time in studying
things that are out of date?” said the canon ironically. “Besides,
only poor creatures like Virgil and Cicero and Livy wrote in Latin. I,
however, am of a different way of thinking; as witness my nephew, to
whom I have taught that sublime language. The rascal knows it better
than I do. The worst of it is, that with his modern reading he is
forgetting it; and some fine day, without ever having suspected it, he
will find out that he is an ignoramus. For, Señor Don José, my nephew
has taken to studying the newest books and the most extravagant
theories, and it is Flammarion here and Flammarion there, and nothing
will do him but that the stars are full of people. Come, I fancy that
you two are going to be very good friends. Jacinto, beg this gentleman
to teach you the higher mathematics, to instruct you concerning the
German philosophers, and then you will be a man.”
The worthy ecclesiastic laughed at his own wit, while Jacinto, delighted
to see the conversation turn on a theme so greatly to his taste, after
excusing himself to Pepe Rey, suddenly hurled this question at him:
“Tell me, Señor Don José, what do you think of Darwinism?”
Our hero smiled at this inopportune pedantry, and he felt almost tempted
to encourage the young man to continue in this path of childish vanity;
but, judging it more prudent to avoid intimacy, either with the nephew
or the uncle, he answered simply:
“I can think nothing at all about the doctrines of Darwin, for I know
scarcely any thing about him. My professional labors have not permitted
me to devote much of my time to those studies.”
“Well,” said the canon, laughing, “it all reduces itself to this, that
we are descended from monkeys. If he had said that only in the case of
certain people I know, he would have been right.”
“The theory of natural selection,” said Jacinto emphatically, “has, they
say, a great many partisans in Germany.”
“I do not doubt it,” said the ecclesiastic. “In Germany they would have
no reason to be sorry if that theory were true, as far as Bismarck is
concerned.”
Doña Perfecta and Señor Don Cayetano at this moment made their
appearance.
“What a beautiful evening!” said the former. “Well, nephew, are you
getting terribly bored?”
“I am not bored in the least,” responded the young man.
“Don’t try to deny it. Cayetano and I were speaking of that as we came
along. You are bored, and you are trying to hide it. It is not every
young man of the present day who would have the self-denial to spend
his youth, like Jacinto, in a town where there are neither theatres,
nor opera bouffe, nor dancers, nor philosophers, nor athenaeums,
nor magazines, nor congresses, nor any other kind of diversions or
entertainments.”
“I am quite contented here,” responded Pepe. “I was just now saying to
Rosario that I find this city and this house so pleasant that I would
like to live and die here.”
Rosario turned very red and the others were silent. They all sat down
in a summer-house, Jacinto hastening to take the seat on the left of the
young girl.
“See here, nephew, I have a piece of advice to give you,” said Doña
Perfecta, smiling with that expression of kindness that seemed to
emanate from her soul, like the aroma from the flower. “But don’t
imagine that I am either reproving you or giving you a lesson--you are
not a child, and you will easily understand what I mean.”
“Scold me, dear aunt, for no doubt I deserve it,” replied Pepe, who was
beginning to accustom himself to the kindnesses of his father’s sister.
“No, it is only a piece of advice. These gentlemen, I am sure, will
agree that I am in the right.”
Rosario was listening with her whole soul.
“It is only this,” continued Doña Perfecta, “that when you visit our
beautiful cathedral again, you will endeavor to behave with a little
more decorum while you are in it.”
“Why, what have I done?”
“It does not surprise me that you are not yourself aware of your fault,”
said his aunt, with apparent good humor. “It is only natural; accustomed
as you are to enter athenaeums and clubs, and academies and congresses
without any ceremony, you think that you can enter a temple in which the
Divine Majesty is in the same manner.”
“But excuse me, señora,” said Pepe gravely, “I entered the cathedral
with the greatest decorum.”
“But I am not scolding you, man; I am not scolding you. If you take it
in that way I shall have to remain silent. Excuse my nephew, gentlemen.
A little carelessness, a little heedlessness on his part is not to be
wondered at. How many years is it since you set foot in a sacred place
before?”
“Señora, I assure you----But, in short, let my religious ideas be what
they may, I am in the habit of observing the utmost decorum in church.”
“What I assure you is----There, if you are going to be offended I won’t
go on. What I assure you is that a great many people noticed it this
morning. The Señores de Gonzalez, Doña Robustiana, Serafinita--in short,
when I tell you that you attracted the attention of the bishop----His
lordship complained to me about it this afternoon when I was at my
cousin’s. He told me that he did not order you to be put out of the
church only because you were my nephew.”
Rosario looked anxiously at her cousin, trying to read in his
countenance, before he uttered it, the answer he would make to these
charges.
“No doubt they mistook me for some one else.”
“No, no! it was you. But there, don’t get angry! We are talking here
among friends and in confidence. It was you. I saw you myself.”
“You saw me!”
“Just so. Will you deny that you went to look at the pictures, passing
among a group of worshippers who were hearing mass? I assure you that my
attention was so distracted by your comings and goings that--well, you
must not do it again. Then you went into the chapel of San Gregorio. At
the elevation of the Host at the high altar you did not even turn around
to make a gesture of reverence. Afterward you traversed the whole length
of the church, you went up to the tomb of the Adelantado, you touched
the altar with your hands, then you passed a second time among a group
of worshippers, attracting the notice of every one. All the girls looked
at you, and you seemed pleased at disturbing so finely the devotions of
those good people.”
“Good Heavens! How many things I have done!” exclaimed Pepe, half angry,
half amused. “I am a monster, it seems, without ever having suspected
it.”
“No, I am very well aware that you are a good boy,” said Doña Perfecta,
observing the canon’s expression of unalterable gravity, which gave his
face the appearance of a pasteboard mask. “But, my dear boy, between
thinking things and showing them in that irreverent manner, there is a
distance which a man of good sense and good breeding should never cross.
I am well aware that your ideas are----Now, don’t get angry! If you
get angry, I will be silent. I say that it is one thing to have certain
ideas about religion and another thing to express them. I will take good
care not to reproach you because you believe that God did not create us
in his image and likeness, but that we are descended from the monkeys;
nor because you deny the existence of the soul, asserting that it is a
drug, like the little papers of rhubarb and magnesia that are sold at
the apothecary’s--”
“Señora, for Heaven’s sake!” exclaimed Pepe, with annoyance. “I see that
I have a very bad reputation in Orbajosa.”
The others remained silent.
“As I said, I will not reproach you for entertaining those ideas. And,
besides, I have not the right to do so. If I should undertake to argue
with you, you, with your wonderful talents, would confute me a thousand
times over. No, I will not attempt any thing of that kind. What I say
is that these poor and humble inhabitants of Orbajosa are pious and
good Christians, although they know nothing about German philosophy, and
that, therefore, you ought not publicly to manifest your contempt for
their beliefs.”
“My dear aunt,” said the engineer gravely, “I have shown no contempt for
any one, nor do I entertain the ideas which you attribute to me. Perhaps
I may have been a little wanting in reverence in the church. I am
somewhat absent-minded. My thoughts and my attention were engaged
with the architecture of the building and, frankly speaking, I did not
observe----But this was no reason for the bishop to think of putting me
out of the church, nor for you to suppose me capable of attributing to
a paper from the apothecary’s the functions of the soul. I may tolerate
that as a jest, but only as a jest.”
The agitation of Pepe Rey’s mind was so great that, notwithstanding his
natural prudence and moderation, he was unable to conceal it.
“There! I see that you are angry,” said Doña Perfecta, casting down her
eyes and clasping her hands. “I am very sorry. If I had known that you
would have taken it in that way, I should not have spoken to you. Pepe,
I ask your pardon.”
Hearing these words and seeing his kind aunt’s deprecating attitude,
Pepe felt ashamed of the sternness of his last words, and he made an
effort to recover his serenity. The venerable Penitentiary extricated
him from his embarrassing position, saying with his accustomed
benevolent smile:
“Señora Doña Perfecta, we must be tolerant with artists. Oh, I have
known a great many of them! Those gentlemen, when they have before them
a statue, a piece of rusty armor, a mouldy painting, or an old wall,
forget every thing else. Señor Don José is an artist, and he has visited
our cathedral as the English visit it, who would willingly carry it away
with them to their museums, to its last tile, if they could. That the
worshippers were praying, that the priest was elevating the Sacred Host,
that the moment of supreme piety and devotion had come--what of that?
What does all that matter to an artist? It is true that I do not know
what art is worth, apart from the sentiments which it expresses, but,
in fine, at the present day, it is the custom to adore the form, not
the idea. God preserve me from undertaking to discuss this question with
Señor Don José, who knows so much, and who, reasoning with the admirable
subtlety of the moderns, would instantly confound my mind, in which
there is only faith.”
“The determination which you all have to regard me as the most learned
man on earth annoys me exceedingly,” said Pepe, speaking in his former
hard tone. “Hold me for a fool; for I would rather be regarded as a fool
than as the possessor of that Satanic knowledge which is here attributed
to me.”
Rosarito laughed, and Jacinto thought that a highly opportune moment had
now arrived to make a display of his own erudition.
“Pantheism or panentheism,” he said, “is condemned by the Church, as
well as by the teachings of Schopenhauer and of the modern Hartmann.”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” said the canon gravely, “men who pay so fervent
a worship to art, though it be only to its form, deserve the greatest
respect. It is better to be an artist, and delight in the contemplation
of beauty, though this be only represented by nude nymphs, than to be
indifferent and incredulous in every thing. The mind that consecrates
itself to the contemplation of beauty, evil will not take complete
possession of. _Est Deus in nobis_. _Deus_, be it well understood. Let
Señor Don José, then, continue to admire the marvels of our church; I,
for one, will willingly forgive him his acts of irreverence, with all
due respect for the opinions of the bishop.”
“Thanks, Señor Don Inocencio,” said Pepe, feeling a bitter and
rebellious sentiment of hostility springing up within him toward the
canon, and unable to conquer his desire to mortify him. “But let none
of you imagine, either, that it was the beauties of art, of which
you suppose the temple to be full, that engaged my attention. Those
beauties, with the exception of the imposing architecture of a portion
of the edifice and of the three tombs that are in the chapel of the
apse, I do not see. What occupied my mind was the consideration of
the deplorable decadence of the religious arts; and the innumerable
monstrosities, of which the cathedral is full, caused me not
astonishment, but disgust.”
The amazement of all present was profound.
“I cannot endure,” continued Pepe, “those glazed and painted images
that resemble so much--God forgive me for the comparison--the dolls that
little girls pay with. And what am I to say of the theatrical robes that
cover them? I saw a St. Joseph with a mantle whose appearance I will not
describe, out of respect for the holy patriarch and for the church of
which he is the patron. On the altar are crowded together images in
the worst possible taste; and the innumerable crowns, branches, stars,
moons, and other ornaments of metal or gilt paper have an air of an
ironmongery that offends the religious sentiment and depresses the soul.
Far from lifting itself up to religious contemplation, the soul sinks,
and the idea of the ludicrous distracts it. The great works of art which
give sensible form to ideas, to dogmas, to religious faith, to mystic
exaltation, fulfil a noble mission. The caricatures, the aberrations of
taste, the grotesque works with which a mistaken piety fills the church,
also fulfil their object; but this is a sad one enough: They encourage
superstition, cool enthusiasm, oblige the eyes of the believer to turn
away from the altar, and, with the eyes, the souls that have not a very
profound and a very firm faith turn away also.”
“The doctrine of the iconoclasts, too,” said Jacinto, “has, it seems,
spread widely in Germany.”
“I am not an iconoclast, although I would prefer the destruction of
all the images to the exhibition of buffooneries of which I speak,”
continued the young man. “Seeing it, one may justly advocate a return of
religious worship to the august simplicity of olden times. But no; let
us not renounce the admirable aid which all the arts, beginning with
poetry and ending with music, lend to the relations between man and
God. Let the arts live; let the utmost pomp be displayed in religious
ceremonies. I am a partisan of pomp.”
“An artist, an artist, and nothing more than an artist!” exclaimed
the canon, shaking his head with a sorrowful air. “Fine pictures, fine
statues, beautiful music; pleasure for the senses, and let the devil
take the soul!”
“Apropos of music,” said Pepe Rey, without observing the deplorable
effect which his words produced on both mother and daughter, “imagine
how disposed my mind would be to religious contemplation on entering the
cathedral, when just at that moment, and precisely at the offertory at
high mass, the organist played a passage from ‘Traviata.’”
“Señor de Rey is right in that,” said the little lawyer emphatically.
“The organist played the other day the whole of the drinking song and
the waltz from the same opera, and afterward a rondeau from the ‘Grande
Duchesse.’”
“But when I felt my heart sink,” continued the engineer implacably,
“was when I saw an image of the Virgin, which seems to be held in great
veneration, judging from the crowd before it and the multitude of tapers
which lighted it. They have dressed her in a puffed-out garment of
velvet, embroidered with gold, of a shape so extraordinary that it
surpasses the most extravagant of the fashions of the day. Her face
is almost hidden under a voluminous frill, made of innumerable rows
of lace, crimped with a crimping-iron, and her crown, half a yard in
height, surrounded by golden rays, looks like a hideous catafalque
erected over her head. Of the same material, and embroidered in the same
manner, are the trousers of the Infant Jesus. I will not go on, for to
describe the Mother and the Child might perhaps lead me to commit some
irreverence. I will only say that it was impossible for me to keep from
smiling, and for a short time I contemplated the profaned image, saying
to myself: ‘Mother and Lady mine, what a sight they have made of you!’”
As he ended Pepe looked at his hearers, and although, owing to the
gathering darkness, he could not see their countenances distinctly, he
fancied that in some of them he perceived signs of angry consternation.
“Well, Señor Don José!” exclaimed the canon quickly, smiling with
a triumphant expression, “that image, which to your philosophy and
pantheism appears so ridiculous, is Our Lady of Help, patroness
and advocate of Orbajosa, whose inhabitants regard her with so much
veneration that they would be quite capable of dragging any one through
the streets who should speak ill of her. The chronicles and history,
Señor Don José, are full of the miracles which she has wrought, and even
at the present day we receive constantly incontrovertible proofs of her
protection. You must know also that your aunt, Doña Perfecta, is chief
lady in waiting to the Most Holy Virgin of Help, and that the dress
that to you appears so grotesque--went out from this house, and that the
trousers of the Infant are the work of the skilful needle and the ardent
piety combined of your cousin Rosarito, who is now listening to us.”
Pepe Rey was greatly disconcerted. At the same instant Doña Perfecta
rose abruptly from her seat, and, without saying a word, walked
toward the house, followed by the Penitentiary. The others rose also.
Recovering from his stupefaction, the young man was about to beg his
cousin’s pardon for his irreverence, when he observed that Rosarito was
weeping. Fixing on her cousin a look of friendly and gentle reproof, she
said:
“What ideas you have!”
The voice of Doña Perfecta was heard crying in an altered accent:
“Rosario! Rosario!”
The latter ran toward the house.