Breviary, young sir, just as well as another. And on festival days,
some one always preached from the gospel. When Fray Domingo preached,
plenty of great folks used to come out from the city to hear him. For
he was very eloquent, and as much thought of, in his time, as Fray
Cristobal is now. But they are forgotten in a little while, all of
them. So will we, in a few years to come."
Carlos reproached himself for having named the gospel, instead of Him
whose words and works are the burden of the gospel story. For even to
that dull ear, heavy with age, the name of Jesus was sweet. And that
dull mind, drowsy with the slumber of a long lifetime, had half awaked
at least to the consciousness of his love.
"Dear father," he said gently, "I know you are well acquainted with the
gospels. You remember what our blessed Lord saith of those who confess
him before men, how he will not be ashamed to confess them before his
Father in heaven? And, moreover, is it not a joy for us to show, in any
way he points out to us, our love to him who loved us and gave himself
for us?"
"Yes, yes, we love him. And he knows I only wish to do what is right,
and what is pleasing in his sight."
Afterwards, Carlos talked over the events of the day with the younger
and more intelligent brethren; especially with his teacher, Fray
Cristobal, and his particular friend, Fray Fernando. He could but
admire the spirit that had guided their deliberations, and feel
increased thankfulness for the decision at which they had arrived. The
peace which the whole community of Spanish Protestants then enjoyed,
perilous and unstable as it was, stood at the mercy of every individual
belonging to that community. The unexplained flight of any obscure
member of Losada's congregation would have been sufficient to give the
alarm, and let loose the bloodhounds of persecution upon the Church;
how much more the abandonment of a wealthy and honourable religious
house by the greater part of its inmates?
The sword hung over their heads, suspended by a single hair, which a
hasty or incautious movement, a word, a breath even, might suffice to
break.
XIX.
Truth and Freedom.
"Man is greater than you thought him;
The bondage of long slumber he will break,
His just and ancient rights he will reclaim,
With Nero and Busiris he will rank
The name of Philip."
SCHILLER.
Never before had it fallen to the lot of Don Juan Alvarez to experience
such bewilderment as that which his brother's disclosure occasioned
him. That brother, whom he had always regarded as the embodiment
of goodness and piety, who was rendered illustrious in his eyes by
all sorts of academic honours, and sanctified by the shadow of the
coming priesthood, had actually confessed himself to be--what he had
been taught to hold in deepest, deadliest abomination--a Lutheran
heretic. But, on the other hand, from the wise, pious, and in every
way unexceptionable manner in which Carlos had spoken, Juan could not
help hoping that what, probably through some unaccountable aberration
of mind, he himself persisted in styling Lutheranism, might prove in
the end some very harmless and orthodox kind of devotion. Perhaps,
eventually, his brother might found some new and holy order of monks
and friars. Or even (he was so clever) he might take the lead in a
Reformation of the Church, which, there was no use in an honest man's
denying, was sorely needed. Still, he could not help admitting that
the Sieur de Ramenais had sometimes expressed himself with nearly as
much apparent orthodoxy; and he was undoubtedly a confirmed heretic--a
Huguenot.
But if the recollection of this man, who for months had been his
guest rather than his prisoner, served, from one point of view, to
increase his difficulties, from another, it helped to clear away the
most formidable of them. Don Juan had never been religious; but he had
always been hotly orthodox, as became a Castilian gentleman of purest
blood, and heir to all the traditions of an ancient house, foremost
for generations in the great conflict with the infidel. He had been
wont to look upon the Catholic faith as a thing bound up irrevocably
with the knightly honour, the stainless fame, the noble pride of his
race, and, consequently, with all that was dearest to his heart.
Heresy he regarded as something unspeakably mean and degrading. It
was associated in his mind with Jews and Moors, "caitiffs," "beggarly
fellows;" all of them vulgar and unclean, some of them the hereditary
enemies of his race. Heretics were Moslems, infidels, such as "my Cid"
delighted in hewing down with his good sword Tizona, "for God and Our
Lady's honour." Heretics kept the passover with mysterious, unhallowed
rites, into which it would be best not to inquire; heretics killed (and
perhaps ate) Christian children; they spat upon the cross; they had to
wear ugly yellow sanbenitos at _autos-da-fé_; and, to sum up all in
one word, they "smelled of the fire." To give full weight to the last
allusion, it must be remembered that in the eyes of Don Juan and his
cotemporaries, death by fire had no hallowed or ennobling associations
to veil its horrors. The burning pile was to him what the cross was
to our fore-fathers, and what the gibbet is to us, only far more
disgraceful. Thus it was not so much his conscience as his honour and
his pride that were arrayed against the new faith.
But, unconsciously to himself, opposition had been silently undermined
by his intercourse with the Sieur de Ramenais. It would probably have
been fatal to Protestantism with Don Juan, had his first specimen of a
Protestant been an humble muleteer. Fortunately, the new opinions had
come to him represented by a noble and gallant knight, who
"In open battle or in tilting field
Forbore his own advantage;"
who was as careful of his "pundonor"[10] as any Castilian gentleman,
and scarcely yielded even to himself in all those marks of good
breeding, which, to say the truth, Don Juan Alvarez de Santillanos y
Meñaya valued far more than any abstract dogmas of faith.
[10] Point of honour.
This circumstance produced a willingness on his part to give fair play
to his brother's convictions. When Carlos returned to Seville, which he
did about a week after the meeting of the Chapter, he was overjoyed to
find Juan ready to hear all he had to say with patience and candour.
Moreover, the young soldier was greatly attracted by the preaching of
Fray Constantino, whom he pronounced, in language borrowed from the
camp, "a right good camerado." Using these favourable dispositions
to the best advantage, Carlos repeated to him passages from the
New Testament; and with deep and prayerful earnestness explained
and enforced the truths they taught, taking care, of course, not
unnecessarily to shock his prejudices.
And, as time passed on, it became every day more and more apparent
that Don Juan was receiving "the new ideas;" and that with far less
difficulty and conflict than Carlos himself had done. For with him
the Reformed faith had only prejudices, not convictions, to contend
against. These once broken down, the rest was easy. And then it came to
him so naturally to follow the guidance of Carlos in all that pertained
to _thinking_.
Unmeasured was the joy of the affectionate brother when at last he
found that he might safely venture to introduce him privately to Losada
as a promising inquirer.
In the meantime their outward life passed on smoothly and happily. With
much feasting and rejoicing, Juan was betrothed to Doña Beatriz. He had
loved her devotedly since boyhood; he loved her now more than ever.
But his love was a deep, life-long passion--no sudden delirium of the
fancy--so that it did not render him oblivious of every other tie, and
callous to every other impression; it rather stimulated, and at the
same time softened his whole nature. It made him not less, but more,
sensitive to all the exciting and ennobling influences which were being
brought to bear upon him.
In Doña Beatriz Carlos perceived a change that surprised him, while,
at the same time, it made more evident than ever how great would have
been his own mistake, had he accepted the passive gratitude of a child
towards one who noticed and flattered her for the true deep love of a
woman's heart. Doña Beatriz was a passive child no longer now. On the
betrothal day, a proud and beautiful woman leaned on the arm of his
handsome brother, and looked around her upon the assembled family,
queen-like in air and mien, her cheek rivalling the crimson of the
damask rose, her large dark eye beaming with passionate, exulting joy.
Carlos compared her in thought to the fair, carved alabaster lamp that
stood on the inlaid centre table of his aunt's state receiving-room.
Love had wrought in her the change which light within always did in
that, revealing its hidden transparency, and glorifying its pale, cold
whiteness with tints so warmly beautiful, that the clouds of evening
might have envied them.
The betrothal of Doña Sancha to Don Beltran Vivarez quickly followed.
Don Balthazar also succeeded in obtaining the desired Government
appointment, and henceforth enjoyed, much to his satisfaction, the
honours and emoluments of an "_empleado_." To crown the family good
fortune, Doña Inez rejoiced in the birth of a son and heir; while even
Don Gonsalvo, not to be left out, acknowledged some improvement in
his health, which he attributed to the judicious treatment of Losada.
The mind of an intelligent man can scarcely be deeply exercised upon
one great subject, without the result making itself felt throughout
the whole range of his occupations. Losada's patients could not
fail to benefit by his habits of independent thought and searching
investigation, and his freedom from vulgar prejudices. This freedom,
so rare in his nation, led him occasionally, though very cautiously,
even to hazard the adoption of a few remedies which were not altogether
"_cosas de Espana_."[11]
[11] Things of Spain.
The physician deserved less credit for his treatment of Juan's wounded
arm, which nature healed, almost as soon as her beneficent operations
ceased to be retarded by ignorant and blundering leech-craft.
Don Juan was occasionally heard to utter aspirations for the full
restoration of his cousin Gonsalvo's health, more hearty in their
expression than charitable in their motive. "I would give one of my
fingers he could ride a horse and handle a sword, or at least a good
foil with the button off, and I would soon make him repent his bearing
and language to thee, Carlos. But what can a man do with a _thing_
like that, save let him alone for very shame? Yet he is dastard enough
to presume on such toleration, and to strike those whom his own
infirmities hinder from returning the blow."
"If he could ride a horse or handle a sword, brother, I think you would
find a marvellous change for the better in his bearing and language.
That bitterness, what is it, after all, but the fruit of pain? Or of
what is even worse than pain, repressed force and energy. He would be
in the great world doing and daring; and behold, he is chained to a
narrow room, or at best toils with difficulty a few hundred paces. No
wonder that the strong winds, bound in their caverns, moan and shriek
piteously at times. When I hear them I feel far too much compassion to
think of anger. And I would give one of my fingers--nay, I would give
my right hand," he added with a smile, "that he shared our blessed
hope, Juan, my brother."
"The most unlikely person of all our acquaintance to become a convert."
"So say not I. Do you know that he has given money--he that has so
little--more than once to Señor Cristobal for the poor?"
"That is nothing," said Juan. "He was ever free-handed. Do you not
remember, in our childhood, how he would strike us upon the least
provocation, yet insist on our sharing his sweetmeats and his toys, and
even sometimes fight us for refusing them? While the others knew the
value of a ducat before they knew their Angelus, and would sell and
barter their small possessions like Dutch merchants."
"Which you spared not to call them, bearing yourself in the quarrels
that naturally ensued with undaunted prowess; while I too often
disgraced you by tearful entreaties for peace at all costs," returned
Carlos, laughing. "But, my brother," he resumed more gravely, "I
often ask myself, are we doing all that is possible in our present
circumstances to share with others the treasure we have found?"
"I trust it will soon be open to them all," said Juan, who had now come
just far enough to grasp strongly his right to think and judge for
himself, and with it the idea of emancipation from the control of a
proud and domineering priesthood. "Great is truth, and shall prevail."
"Certainly, in the end. But much that to mortal eyes looks like defeat
may come first."
"I think my learned brother, so much wiser than I upon many subjects,
fails to read well the signs of the times. Whose Word saith, 'When ye
see the fig-tree put forth her buds, know ye that summer is nigh, even
at the door'? Everywhere the fig-trees are budding now."
"Still the frosts may return."
"Hold thy peace, too desponding brother. Thou shouldst have learned
another lesson yesterday, when thou and I watched the eager thousands
as they hung breathless on the lips of our Fray Constantino. Are not
those thousands really for _us_, and for truth and freedom?"
"No doubt Christ has his own amongst them."
"You always think of individuals, Carlos, rather than of our country.
You forget we are sons of Spain, Castilian nobles. Of course we rejoice
when even one man here and there is won for the truth. But our Spain!
our glorious land, first and fairest of all the earth! our land of
conquerors, whose arms reach to the ends of the world--one hand taming
the infidel in his African stronghold, while the other crowns her with
the gold and jewels of the far West! She who has led the nations in the
path of discovery--whose fleets gem the ocean--whose armies rule the
land,--shall she not also lead the way to the great city of God, and
bring in the good coming time when all shall know him from the least to
the greatest--when they shall know the truth, and the truth shall make
them free? Carlos, my brother, I do not dare to doubt it."
It was not often that Don Juan expressed himself in such a lengthened
and energetic, not to say grandiloquent manner. But his love for Spain
was a passion, and to extol her or to plead her cause words were never
lacking with him. In reply to this outburst of enthusiasm, Carlos only
said gently, "Amen, and the Lord establish it in his time."
Don Juan looked keenly at him. "I thought you had faith, Carlos?" he
said.
"Faith?" Carlos repeated inquiringly.
"Such faith," said Juan, "as I have. Faith in truth and freedom!" And
he rang out the sonorous words, "_Verdad y_ _libertad_," as if he
thought, as indeed he did, that they had but to go forth through a
submissive, rejoicing world, "conquering and to conquer."
"I have faith _in Christ_," Carlos answered quietly.
And in those two brief phrases each unconsciously revealed to the other
the very depths of his soul, and told the secret of his history.
XX.
The First Drop of a Thunder Shower.
"Closed doorways that are folded
And prayed against in vain."
E.B. BROWNING.
Meanwhile the happy weeks glided on noiselessly and rapidly. They
brought full occupation for head and heart, as well as varied and
intense enjoyment. Don Juan's constant intercourse with Doña Beatriz
was not the less delightful because already he sought to imbue her mind
with the truths which he himself was learning every day to love better.
He thought her an apt and hopeful pupil, but, under the circumstances,
he was scarcely the best possible judge.
Carlos was not so well satisfied with her attainments; he advised
reserve and caution in imparting their secrets to her, lest through
inadvertence she might betray them to her aunt and cousins. Juan
considered this a mark of his constitutional timidity; yet he so far
attended to his warnings, that Doña Beatriz was strongly impressed
with the necessity of keeping their religious conversations a profound
secret, whilst her sensibilities were not shocked by any mention of
words so odious as heresy or Lutheranism.
But there could be no doubt as to Juan's own progress under the
instructions of his brother, and of Losada and Fray Cassiodoro.
He began, ere long, to accompany Carlos to the meetings of the
Protestants, who welcomed the new acquisition to their ranks with
affectionate enthusiasm. All were attracted by Don Juan's warmth and
candour of disposition, and by his free, joyous, hopeful temperament;
though he was not beloved by any as intensely as Carlos was by the few
who really knew him, such as Losada, Don Juan Ponce de Leon, and the
young monk, Fray Fernando.
Partly through the influence of his religious friends, and partly
through the brilliant reputation he had brought from Alcala, Carlos
now obtained a lectureship at the College of Doctrine, of which the
provost, Fernando de San Juan, was a decided and zealous Lutheran. This
appointment was an honourable one, considered in no way derogatory to
his social position, and useful as tending to convince his uncle that
he was "doing something," not idly dreaming his time away.
Occupations of another kind opened out before him also. Amongst the
many sincere and anxious inquirers who were troubled with perplexities
concerning the relations of the old faith and the new, were some
who turned to him, with an instinctive feeling that he could help
them. This was just the work that best suited his abilities and his
temperament. To sympathize, to counsel, to aid in conflict as only
that man can do who has known conflict himself, was God's special gift
to him. And he who goes through the world speaking, whenever he can,
a word in season to the weary, will seldom be without some weary one
ready to listen to him.
Upon one subject, and only one, the brothers still differed. Juan saw
the future robed in the glowing hues borrowed from his own ardent,
hopeful spirit. In his eyes the Spains were already won "for truth
and freedom," as he loved to say. He anticipated nothing less than a
glorious regeneration of Christendom, in which his beloved country
would lead the van. And there were many amongst Losada's congregation
who shared these bright and beautiful, if delusive dreams, and the
enthusiasm which had given them birth, and in its turn was nourished by
them.
Again, there were others who rejoiced with much trembling over the
good tidings that often reached them of the spread of the faith in
distant parts of the country, and who welcomed each neophyte to their
ranks as if they were adorning a victim for the sacrifice. They could
not forget that name of terror, the Holy Inquisition. And from certain
ominous indications they thought the sleeping monster was beginning to
stir in his den. Else why had new and severe decrees against heresy
been recently obtained from Rome? And above all, why had the Bishop
of Terragona, Gonzales de Munebrãga, already known as a relentless
persecutor of Jews and Moors, been appointed Vice-Inquisitor General at
Seville?
Still, on the whole, hope and confidence predominated; and strange,
nay, incredible as it may appear to us, beneath the very shadow of the
Triana the Lutherans continued to hold their meetings "almost with open
doors."
One evening Don Juan escorted Doña Beatriz to some festivity from which
he could not very well excuse himself, whilst Carlos attended a reunion
for prayer and mutual edification at the usual place--the house of Doña
Isabella de Baena.
Don Juan returned at a late hour, but in high spirits. Going at once to
the room where his brother sat awaiting him, he threw off his cloak,
and stood before him, a gay, handsome figure, in his doublet of crimson
satin, his gold chain, and well-used sword, now worn for ornament, with
its embossed scabbard and embroidered belt.
"I never saw Doña Beatriz look so charming," he began eagerly. "Don
Miguel de Santa Cruz was there, but he could not get so much as a
single dance with her, and looked ready to die for envy. But save me
from the impertinence of Luis Rotelo! I shall have to cane him one
of these days, if no milder measures will teach him his place and
station. _He_, the son of a simple hidalgo, to dare lift his eyes to
Doña Beatriz de Lavella? The caitiff's presumption!--But thou art not
listening, brother. What is wrong with thee?"
No wonder he asked. The face of Carlos was pale; and the deep mournful
eyes looked as if tears had been lately there. "A great sorrow, brother
mine," he answered in a low voice.
"_My_ sorrow too, then. Tell me, what is it?" asked Juan, his tone and
manner changed in a moment.
"Juliano is taken."
"Juliano! The muleteer who brought the books, and gave you that
Testament?"
"The man who put into my hands this precious Book, to which I owe my
joy now and my hope for eternity," said Carlos, his lip trembling.
"Ay de mi!--But perhaps it is not true."
"Too true. A smith, to whom he showed a copy of the Book, betrayed him.
God forgive him--if there be forgiveness for such. It may have been a
month ago, but we only heard it now. And he lies there--_there_."
"Who told you?"
"All were talking of it at the meeting when I entered. It is the sorrow
of all; but I doubt if any have such cause to sorrow as I. For he is my
father in the faith, Juan. And now," he added, after a long, sad pause,
"I shall _never_ tell him what he has done for me--at least on this
side of the grave."
"There is no hope for him," said Juan mournfully, as one that mused.
"_Hope!_ Only in the great mercy of God. Even those dreadful dungeon
walls cannot shut Him out."
"No; thank God."
"But the prolonged, the bitter, the horrible suffering! I have been
trying to contemplate, to picture it--but I cannot, I dare not. And
what I dare not think of, he must endure."
"He is a peasant, you are a noble--that makes some difference," said
Don Juan, with whom the tie of brotherhood in Christ had not yet
effaced all earthly distinctions. "But Carlos," he questioned suddenly,
and with a look of alarm, "does not he know everything?"
"_Everything_," Carlos answered quietly. "One word from his lips, and
the pile is kindled for us all. But that word will never be spoken.
To-night not one heart amongst us trembled for ourselves, we only wept
for him."
"You trust him, then, so completely? It is much to say. They in whose
hands he is are cruel as fiends. No doubt they will--"
"Hush!" interrupted Carlos, with a look of such exceeding pain, that
Juan was effectually silenced. "There are things we cannot speak of,
save to God in prayer. Oh, my brother, pray for him, that He for whom
he has risked so much may sustain him, and, if it may be, shorten his
agony."
"Surely more than two or three will join in that prayer. But, my
brother," he added, after a pause, "be not so downcast. Do you not
know that every great cause must have its martyr? When was a victory
won, and no brave man left dead on the field; a city stormed, and none
fallen in the breach? Perhaps to that poor peasant may be given the
glory--the great glory--of being honoured throughout all time as the
sainted martyr whose death has consecrated our holy cause to victory. A
grand lot truly! Worth suffering for!" And Juan's dark eye kindled, and
his cheek glowed with enthusiasm.
Carlos was silent.
"Dost thou not think so, my brother?"
"I think that Christ is worth suffering for," said Carlos at last.
"And that nothing short of his personal presence, realized by faith,
can avail to bring any man victorious through such fearful trials. May
that--may he be with his faithful servant now, when all human help and
comfort are far away."
XXI.
By the Guadalquivir.
"There dwells my father, sinless and at rest,
Where the fierce murderer can no more pursue."
SCHILLER.