"I have lost for that Faith more than thou canst bestow,
As the God who permits thee to prosper doth know.
In His hand is my heart, and my hope; and in thine
The land, and the life, which for Him I resign."
BYRON.
Marie Morales had had many trials. Her life had been one of those
painful mysteries, as to why such a being should have been thus
exposed to scorn, which while on earth we vainly try to solve. Yet it
is no imaginary picture: hundreds, aye thousands, of Israel's devoted
race have thus endured; in every age, in every clime, have been
exposed to martyrdom--not of the frame alone, but of the heart; doomed
but to suffer, and to die. And how may we reconcile these things with
the government of a loving father, save by the firm belief, which,
blessed--thrice blessed--are those who feel; that, for such sufferers
on earth, a future of blessedness is laid up in another and lovelier
world--where there is no more sorrow, no more tears!
Her former trials had been sharp agony and strong excitement. Her
present had neither the one nor the other; yet it was fraught with as
heavy suffering, as any that had gone before it; even though she knew
not, guessed not, _all_ that depended upon her conversion. It would
have been comparatively easy to have endured, for her faith's sake,
harshness and contempt; in such a case, self-respect rises to sustain
us, and we value our own tenets the more, from their startling
contrast with those which could command the cruelty we endure; but
Father Denis used harshness neither of manner nor of words. Firmly
impressed in his own mind, that it was utterly vain for a soul to hope
for salvation unless it believed in Jesus, the Virgin, the saints and
holy martyrs; he brought heart and soul to his task; and the more he
saw of Marie, the more painfully did he deplore her blind infatuation,
and the more ardently desire, to save her from the eternal
perdition which, as a Jewess, must await her. He poured forth such
soul-breathing petitions, for saving grace to be vouchsafed to her, in
her hearing, that Marie felt as if she would have given worlds, only
to realize the belief for which he prayed; but the more her heart was
wrung, the more vividly it seemed that her own faith, the religion of
her fathers through a thousand ages, impressed itself upon her mind
and heart, rendering it more and more impossible for her to forswear
it, even at the very moment that weak humanity longed to do it, and so
purchase peace. Naturally so meek and yielding, so peculiarly alive
to the voice of sympathy and kindness, it was inexpressibly and
harrowingly distressing to be thus compelled to resist both; to think
also of all Isabella's gentle, cherishing, and manifested affection;
and to know that the only return she demanded, she dared not, might
not give. To some dispositions these considerations would have been of
no weight whatever; to Marie they were so exquisitely painful, that
she could scarcely understand how it was that, feeling them thus
acutely, she could yet so clearly, so calmly, reply to Father Denis,
bring argument for argument, and never waver in her steadfast
adherence to, and belief in her own creed. The very lessons of her
youth, which she had thought forgotten in the varied trials which
had been her portion since, returned with full--she fancied
superhuman--force and clearness to her mind, rendering even the very
wish to embrace the Catholic religion, futile. There was a voice
within her that _would_ be heard, aye above every human feeling, every
strong temptation. She could not drown its clear ringing tones; even
where her mental sufferings seemed to cloud and harrow up the brain,
to the exclusion of every distinct idea, that voice would breathe its
thrilling whisper, telling her it was vain to hope it, she could not
be in heart a Catholic; and so she dared not be in words.
A romance is no place for polemical discussion, and we will therefore
leave those painful arguments unrecorded. Suffice it, that Marie's
intimate acquaintance with the Holy Scriptures in their original
tongue--the language of her own people--gave her so decided an
advantage over the old monk, that, after nearly three months' trial,
he sought his Sovereign, and, with the most touching humility,
acknowledged his utter incapacity, for the conversion of Donna Marie,
and implored her to dismiss him, and select one more fitted for the
task.
Astonished, and bitterly disappointed, Isabella cross-questioned him
as to the cause of this sudden feeling of incapacity, and his answers
but increased her desire to compel Marie to abandon Judaism, and
become--in semblance at least, a Catholic; believing fully that, this
accomplished, the Holy Spirit would do the rest, and she would at
least have saved her soul. She retained the father in the palace;
desiring him to inform his charge that one fortnight's grace would be
allowed her, to ponder on all the solemn truths he had advanced, and
on her own decision whether she would not rather yield to kindness,
than tempt the severity her obstinacy demanded; but, save this
enjoyment, he was to commune with her no further. With a trembling
spirit the Queen again sought the counsel of her confessor, and
reported the information of the holy father. Torquemada listened, with
a curling lip and contracted brow. He was not surprised, he said,
for it was exactly what he had expected. It was a part of their
blaspheming creed, to blind by sorcery, the eyes and minds of all
those who had ever attempted to win them over by kind and reasonable
argument. Father Denis had been bewitched, as all were, who ever
attempted to convert, by other than the harshest means. Her grace must
see the necessity of severity, and surely could not refuse the using
it any longer. But Isabella did refuse, till her last resource had
been tried; and all she asked was, if she might hold forth a powerful
temporal temptation to obtain the end she so earnestly desired?
Torquemada hesitated; but at length, on being told the severe
alternative which Isabella would enforce, if her first proposal were
rejected, reluctantly acceded; still persisting that nothing but the
rack and the flame, or fatal expulsion, would ever purge Spain from
the horrible infection of so poisonous a race. Isabella heard him with
a shudder; but, thankful even for this ungracious sanction, waited,
with, trembling impatience, the termination of the given fourteen
days; hoping, aye praying in her meek, fervid piety, that the mistaken
one might be softened to accept the proffered grace, or her own heart
strengthened to sacrifice all of personal feeling for the purifying by
fire and consequent salvation, of that immortal soul now so fearfully
led astray.
It was with little hope that the father again sought Marie. Bewitched
he might be, but he was so impressed with the fervid earnestness
of her gentle spirit; with the lofty enthusiasm that dictated her
decision; so touched with the uncomplaining, but visible suffering,
which it cost her to argue with, and reject the voice of
kindness--that it required a strong mental effort in the old man, to
refrain from conjuring his Sovereign, to permit that misguided one
to remain unmolested, and wait, till time, and prayer, from those so
interested in her, should produce the desired effect. But this feeling
was so contrary to the spirit of the age, that it scarcely needed
Torquemada's representations to convince him, that he was experiencing
the effect of the invisible sorcery with which the race of Israel
always blinded the eyes of their opponents. The kind old man was awed
and silenced by his stern superior. Liberty of conscience was then a
thing unheard of; and therefore it was, that so much of the divine
part of our mingled nature was so completely concealed, that it lost
alike effect or influence. It was not even the subjection of the weak
to the strong; but the mere superiority of clerical rank. The truest
and the noblest, the most enlarged mind, the firmest spirit would
bend unresistingly to the simple word of a priest; and the purest
and kindest impulses of our holier nature be annihilated, before the
dictates of those, who were supposed to hold so infallibly, in their
sole keeping, the oracles of God. The spiritual in man was kept in
rigid bondage; the divinity worshipped by the Catholics of that age,
represented to the mass like the Egyptian idol, with a key upon his
lips--his attributes, as his law, hid from them, or imparted by chosen
priests, who explained them only as suited their individual purposes.
Is it marvel, then, that we should read of such awful acts committed
in Religion's name by man upon his brother? or that we should see the
purest and loveliest characters led away by priestly influence to
commit deeds, from which now, the whole mind so recoils, that we turn
away disappointed and perplexed at the inconsistency, and refuse the
meed of love and admiration to those other qualities, which would
otherwise shine forth so unsullied? The inconsistency, the seeming
cruelty and intolerance, staining many a noble one in the middle ages,
were the effects of the fearful spirit of the time; but their virtues
were their own. Truth if sought, must triumph over prejudice. By
inspection and earnest study of facts--of _causes_, as well as of
_events_, the mind disperses the mists of educational error, and
enables us to do justice, even to the injurer; and enlarges and
ennobles our feelings towards one another; till we can attain that
perfection of true, spiritual charity, which would look on all men as
children of one common parent. Liable, indeed, to be led astray by
evil inclination, and yet more by evil circumstances; but still our
brethren, in the divine part of our nature; which, however crushed,
hidden, lost to earth, is still existing--still undying. For such is
the immortal likeness of our universal Father; in which He made man,
and by which He marked mankind as brethren!
Marie's answer was as Father Denis feared. She had pondered on all
he had said, and the dread alternative awaiting her; but the
impossibility of embracing Catholicism was stronger than ever. The
unfeigned distress of the old monk pained and alarmed her, for it
seemed to her as if he were conscious that some dreadful doom was
hanging over her, which he shrunk from revealing. She had not long to
remain in that torturing suspense: a few hours later in the same day,
she was summoned to Isabella's presence. The sensation of terror was
so intense as to render obedience, for the minute, utterly impossible.
Every limb shook, and again came the wild longing for power to believe
as they desired; for a momentary cessation of the voice of conscience,
to embrace the proffered cross, and be at rest. But it _would not_
cease; and, scarcely able to support herself, she stood before the
dread Princess in whose hand was her earthly fate.