CONFESSION.
There are those who have asserted that the doctrine of Justification
by Faith will lead to neglect of good works; that he who believes that
Christ has done all, will be content himself to do nothing. How false
is the assertion has been constantly proved by the lives of those who
have most simply and unreservedly thrown themselves on the free mercy
of Him who died for sinners! Love for the Saviour and the indulgence
of wilful sin can no more exist together than fire and water unite.
Where the Heavenly Guest enters, a halo of light shines around Him
which reveals impurities which have hitherto, perhaps, altogether
escaped the notice of conscience. Wheresoever the Saviour goes,
holiness is the print left by His footsteps.
Thus was it with Alcala. Having received the gospel with joy, he
intuitively began to consider what return of grateful obedience he
could make for unmerited mercy. Having cheerfully resolved to run the
race set before him, he felt that he must speed towards his glorious
goal disencumbered of the weight of the sin which most easily beset
him. Alcala had little difficulty in discovering what that sin was.
Turning from contemplation of Christian doctrine to that of Christian
duties, the Spaniard was struck by the very first sentence uttered by
Divine lips in the Sermon on the Mount--"_Blessed are the poor in
spirit._"
Alcala paused long, with his finger on that verse. He was a Spaniard,
and a Spaniard of noble birth. He had been, as it were, cradled in
pride; taught to regard pride as a lofty virtue. Was it needful, and
even if needful, was it possible, to overcome what seemed woven into
his very nature? Could the high-spirited cavalier ever become the meek
and lowly believer?
Alcala felt that, in the struggle against pride in its various forms,
he was now entering his spiritual Plaza de Toros; that his own
strength was as weakness compared with that of the mighty enemy before
him. He must ask for strength greater than his own, he must seek for
the aid of that Holy Spirit who could enable him to overthrow and
trample even upon pride. Alcala reflected deeply on the numerous
passages in Scripture which represent humility as essential to the
character of a believer. It was difficult indeed to throw aside
prejudices that had become as a part of himself, to recognize the
truth that nothing is really degrading but sin, and that the highest
and noblest have nothing whereof to boast. Alcala's reflections,
however, brought him to a conviction which was once simply and
beautifully expressed by a believer, whose life proved that she spoke
from the heart:[16]--"What is the position of a Christian? To wash the
disciples' feet, to sit at the Saviour's feet,--this is the position
of a Christian!"
"I shall bear on my person to the end of my days a scar to remind me
that God abhors pride," thought Alcala; "and the lesson will be
enforced by new privations, in which, alas! my family must share. Who
has more reason than I to know that pride is a fiend who, under the
name of high spirit, lures us on to destruction? But for unmerited
grace, I should have sacrificed to him both body and soul. His voice
was more strong in this guilty heart than the appeals of reason,
conscience, and affection. I preferred dying like a madman, to owning
that I had boasted like a fool!"
Alcala was thus pondering over the subject, when his sister entered
his apartment, knelt by his side, and timidly took his hand in her
own.
"Something has grieved my sweet one," said Alcala, reading trouble in
the face of his sister.
"Alcala, I must hide nothing from you," murmured Inez, with the
meekness of a child confessing a fault. "I fear that I may have done
wrong, but you will judge when you know the whole truth. Donna Maria
was here yester-evening, while the English senor was with you. I could
not help speaking to her of my troubles; I could not help telling her
of our--our difficulties," continued Inez, drooping her head. "I
thought that she had the means to help us, and--we are so poor,
Alcala!"
"Poverty is no disgrace, my Inez," said Alcala; "except," he added
gravely, "poverty brought on by such an act of criminal folly and
pride as that which has laid me here."
"I told our mother's friend that I had parted with all,--everything
that could be turned into money,--even your guitar, Alcala," continued
Inez with a sigh. "'What, child!' replied Donna Maria, 'even with King
Philip's reliquary, which holds the hair of Santa Veronica, the
heirloom of which your family is so proud? I would give you twenty
dollars for that!'"
"A liberal offer!" cried Alcala, with irony. "Our fathers would not
have sold the relic for twenty thousand!" The cavalier felt that the
little hand which he held was trembling, and reproached himself for
the unguarded exclamation.
"So you let the senora have the reliquary," he said, kindly sparing
the poor girl the pain of continuing her story.
"Did I do very wrong?" murmured Inez. "Must I tell Father Bonifacio,
when next I go to confession, that I have sold Santa Veronica's hair?"
"No; you did right," replied Alcala. And he added cheerfully, "One
verse from the Bible is worth more than all the relics in the
Cathedral of Seville; and as for confession, I would fain that you,
like myself, should resolve never again to confess to a Romish
priest."
"Renegade! infidel! apostate!" exclaimed a furious voice. Inez started
in terror to her feet. Bonifacio stood in the doorway, with raised arm
and clenched hand, as if he were launching a thunderbolt of vengeance
at the devoted head of her brother. Teresa, horror-struck, stood
behind the priest, whom she had been on the point of ushering into the
apartment, when he had paused upon the threshold to hear Alcala's
concluding sentence. "Wretch! abandoned by Heaven, lost to every
sentiment of religion!" continued the furious ecclesiastic, "think
not that you can with impunity defy the power of the Church! We have
a pious Queen, who has faithful counsellors in her confessor Claret
and the saintly Patrocinio.[17] The arm of the law is yet mighty
enough to strike--to crush the apostates who renounce their holy faith
to join the enemies of all true religion!" And after a gesture
expressing that he shook from his sandalled feet the polluted dust of
the heretic's dwelling, Bonifacio turned his back on Alcala, and
strode rapidly through the long corridor, followed to the entrance by
Teresa, who was wringing her hands.
"O Alcala! all is lost!" exclaimed Inez.
"Fear nothing, beloved," said Alcala, with a serene composure which
astonished his sister, "mere words have no power to hurt. Though
Bonifacio may have the spirit of old Torquemada, these are not days
when men can be sent to the stake for confessing the truth."
"But there may be persecution,--sharp, dreadful persecution," faltered
Inez.
"If so, my God will enable me to bear it," said Alcala, with a
countenance that brightened at the thought of enduring suffering and
shame for the sake of his Lord. "Inez, my heart's sister, be not
troubled. Think not of what your brother has lost, but what he has
found;" and Alcala laid his hand on the sacred Volume. "If you knew
more of the contents of this Book, you would fear no longer what man
can do unto those who have grasped the hope of eternal life. But you
shall know more of it, Inez. This evening you and our servants shall
hear me read the words of truth. My wound is almost healed, my
strength is gradually returning, and I would fain devote that strength
to the service of my Heavenly Master. It is meet that my first
audience should be those who form our own household. Lepine would have
explained evangelical doctrines better than I can, to whom they are as
a new revelation; yet I regret not that he is absent at Madrid, since,
if the rumour of even so small a meeting were noised abroad, it might
bring my friend into trouble. Let Teresa and Chico come to my room
after sunset; would that our dear grandmother's mind had power to
receive the glad tidings of free salvation!"
Insolent as Teresa often showed herself to her gentle mistress, the
old retainer stood in awe of her master; and though she might murmur
to herself at his commands, she never dared openly to dispute them.
Both she and Chico were therefore present at the first meeting for
Bible reading and family worship ever held in the stately old
mansion. Alcala, who for the first time since his illness had quitted
his couch, sat propped up with cushions. He looked pale and fragile,
but serenely happy, as he read aloud a portion from one of the
Gospels. The portion was necessarily short, for the reader was still
very weak. Small as was the audience--for no stranger was present--it
yet represented a variety of hearers. Inez, with her hands clasped,
and her soft eyes fixed on the reader, listened to the words of Holy
Writ with reverential attention; Teresa, with scarcely concealed
repugnance; Chico could hardly be said to listen at all. The uncouth
attendant's thoughts were distracted by the strange novelty of his
being permitted, nay, ordered, to be seated in the presence of the
caballero, Don Alcala de Aguilera,--a novelty which disgusted Teresa
more than anything else in the service.
"A low fellow like that to be treated as if his wretched soul were
worth as much as that of a grandee of Spain!" thought Teresa. "My
master's illness must have affected his brain, or he would sooner have
made a footstool of Chico than have bidden him sit down in his
presence!" To her mind such an extraordinary breach of etiquette on
the part of a hidalgo of Andalusia was much more strange and
unaccountable than his late exposure of his life to satisfy a wild
notion of honour.
Alcala was thankful that he had been strengthened to take the first
decided step in the course of service which he hoped through life to
pursue. He closed his Bible reading with a brief extempore prayer, of
which the fervour touched the spirit of Inez, and the humility
astonished that of Teresa. What cavalier had ever before prayed so
earnestly to be delivered from the power of pride!
With gloomy forebodings the duenna retired from Alcala's apartment
after family worship was ended. Often during the following night, as
she uneasily turned on her pallet-bed, Teresa moaned her complaint
that times were evil indeed, when noble pride could be deemed a sin in
the heir of the honours of the Aguileras!
Happy were the slumbers of Alcala. He dreamed that night that he was
again mounted on his steed in the Plaza de Toros, in the centre of the
circus, and surrounded by gazing thousands. But when the door of the
circus was flung open by the black-robed alguazil to whom that service
belongs, it was no fierce animal that rushed forth to encounter the
point of Alcala's lance. There came into the arena a procession of
priests, monks, and devotees, bearing aloft graven images of saints,
and swinging censers of incense, as they slowly approached him. Then,
in his dream, Alcala glanced around, and, lo! instead of the usual
spectators who were wont to throng the seats in the Coliseo of
Seville, the places were filled by thousands of martyrs who, in that
city, had passed through the ordeal of fire. They wore no longer the
yellow san-benito, the garb of shame, but robes compared to whose
whiteness dim were the diamond and dark the new-fallen snow. The
martyrs were "a cloud of witnesses," a cloud sparkling in the light of
the countenance of Him for whom they had suffered,--a cloud reflecting
His ineffable glory.
When the hour of persecution and trial arrived, Alcala drew courage
and hope from the recollection of that glorious dream.
FOOTNOTES:
[16] F. Tucker.
[17] Isabella's confessor, and a nun who had great influence with the
queen.