Sword and Cassock.
"The helmet and the cap make houses strong"--Spanish Proverb
Don Manual Alvarez stayed for several days at Nuera, as the half-ruined
castle in the Sierra Morena was styled. Grievous, during this period,
were the sufferings of Dolores, and unceasing her efforts to provide
suitable accommodation, not merely for the stately and fastidious guest
himself, but also for the troop of retainers he saw fit to bring with
him, comprising three or four personal attendants, and half a score of
men-at-arms--the last perhaps really necessary for a journey through
that wild district. Don Manuel scarcely enjoyed the situation more than
did his entertainers but he esteemed it his duty to pay an occasional
visit to the estate of his orphan nephews, to see that it was properly
taken care of. Perhaps the only member of the party quite at his ease
was the worthy Fray Sebastian, a good-natured, self-indulgent friar,
with a better education and more refined tastes than the average of his
order; fond of eating and drinking, fond of gossip, fond of a little
superficial literature, and not fond of troubling himself about
anything. He was comforted by the improved fare Don Manuel's visit
introduced; and was, moreover, soon relieved from his very natural
apprehensions that the guardian of his pupils might express discontent
at the slowness of their progress. He speedily discovered that Don
Manuel did not care to have his nephews made good scholars: he only
cared to have them ready, in two or three years, to go to the University
of Complutum, or to that of Salamanca, where they might remain until
they were satisfactorily provided for--one in the Army, the other in the
Church.
As for Juan and Carlos, they felt, with the sure instinct of children,
in this respect something like that of animals, that their uncle had
little love for them. Juan dreaded, more than under the circumstances
he need have done, too careful inquiries into his progress; and Carlos,
while he stood in great outward awe of his uncle, all the time contrived
to despise him in his heart, because he neither knew Latin, nor could
repeat any of the ballads of the Cid.
On the third day of his visit, after dinner, which was at noon, Don
Manuel solemnly seated himself in the great carved armchair that stood
on the estrada at one end of the hall, and summoned his nephews to his
side. He was a tall, wiry-looking man, with a narrow forehead, thin
lips, and a pointed beard. His dress was of the finest mulberry-coloured
cloth, turned back with velvet; everything about him was rich, handsome,
and in good keeping, but without extravagance. His manner was
dignified, perhaps a little pompous, like that of a man bent upon making
the most of himself, as he had unquestionably made the most of his
fortune.
He first addressed Juan, whom he gravely reminded that his father's
_imprudence_ had left him nothing save that poor ruin of a castle, and a
few barren acres of rocky ground, at which the boy's eyes flashed, and
he shrugged his shoulders and bit his lip. Don Manuel then proceeded, at
some length, to extol the noble profession of arms as the road to fame
and fortune. This kind of language proved much more acceptable to his
nephew, and looking up, he said promptly, "Yes, senor my uncle, I will
gladly be a soldier, as all my fathers were."
"Well spoken. And when thou art old enough, I promise to use my
influence to obtain for thee a good appointment in His Imperial
Majesty's army. I trust thou wilt honour thine ancient name."
"You may trust me," said Juan, in slow, earnest tones. Then raising his
head, he went on more rapidly: "Beside his own name, Juan, my father
gave me that of Rodrigo, borne by the Cid Ruy Diaz, the Campeador,
meaning no doubt to show--"
"Peace, boy!" Don Manuel interrupted, cutting short the only words that
his nephew had ever spoken really from his heart in his presence, with
as much unconsciousness as a countryman might set his foot on a
glow-worm. "Thou wert never named Rodrigo after thy Cid and his idle
romances. Thy father called thee so after some madcap friend of his own,
of whom the less spoken the better."
"My father's friend must have been good and noble, like himself," said
Juan proudly, almost defiantly.
"Young man," returned Don Manuel severely, and lifting his eyebrows as
if in surprise at his audacity, "learn that a humbler tone and more
courteous manners would become thee in the presence of thy superiors."
Then turning haughtily away from him, he addressed himself to Carlos:
"As for thee, nephew Carlos, I hear with pleasure of thy progress in
learning. Fray Sebastian reports of thee that thou hast a good ready
wit and a retentive memory. Moreover, if I mistake not, sword cuts are
less in thy way than in thy brother's. The service of Holy Mother
Church will fit thee like a glove; and let me tell thee, boy, for thou
art old enough to understand me, 'tis a right good service. Churchmen
eat well and drink well--churchmen sleep soft--churchmen spend their
days fingering the gold other folk toil and bleed for. For those who
have fair interest in high places, and shuffle their own cards deftly,
there be good fat benefices, comfortable canonries, and perhaps--who
knows?--a rich bishopric at the end of all; with a matter of ten
thousand hard ducats, at the least, coming in every year to save or
spend, or lend, if you like it better."
"Ten thousand ducats!" said Carlos, who had been gazing in his uncle's
face, his large blue eyes full of half-incredulous, half-uncomprehending
wonder.
"Ay, my son, that is about the least. The Archbishop of Seville has
sixty thousand every year, and more."
"Ten thousand ducats!" Carlos repeated again in a kind of awe-struck
whisper. "That would buy a ship."
"Yes," said Don Manuel, highly pleased with what he considered an
indication of precocious intelligence in money matters. "And an
excellent thought that is of thine, my son. A good ship chartered for
the Indies, and properly freighted, would bring thee back thy ducats
_well perfumed_.[#] For a ship is sailing while you are sleeping. As
the saying is, Let the idle man buy a ship or marry a wife. I perceive
thou art a youth of much ingenuity. What thinkest thou, then, of the
Church?"
[#] With good interest.
Carlos was still too much the child to say anything in answer except,
"If it please you, senor my uncle, I should like it well."
And thus, with rather more than less consideration of their tastes and
capacities than was usual at the time, the future of Juan and Carlos
Alvarez was decided.
When the brothers were alone together, Juan said, "Dolores must have
been praying Our Lady for us, Carlos. An appointment in the army is the
very thing for me. I shall perform some great feat of arms, like
Alphonso Vives, for instance, who took the Duke of Saxony prisoner; I
shall win fame and promotion, and then come back and ask my uncle for
the hand of his ward, Dona Beatriz."
"Ah, and I--if I enter the Church, I can never marry," said Carlos
rather ruefully, and with a vague perception that his brother was to
have some good thing from which he must be shut out for ever.
"Of course not; but you will not care."
"Never a whit," said the boy of twelve, very confidently. "I shall ever
have thee, Juan. And all the gold my uncle says churchmen win so
easily, I will save to buy our ship."
"I will also save, so that one day we may sail together. I will be the
captain, and thou shall be the mass-priest, Carlos."
"But I marvel if it be true that churchmen grow rich so fast. The cura
in the village must be very poor, for Diego told me he took old Pedro's
cloak because he could not pay the dues for his wife's burial."
"More shame for him, the greedy vulture. Carlos, you and I have each
half a ducat; let us buy it back."
"With all my heart. It will be worth something to see the old man's
face."
"The cura is covetous rather than poor," said Juan. "But poor or no, no
one dreams of _your_ being a beggarly cura like that. It is only vulgar
fellows of whom they make parish priests in the country. You will get
some fine preferment, my uncle says. And he ought to know, for he has
feathered his own nest well."
"Why is he rich when we are poor, Juan? Where does he get all his
money?"
"The saints know best. He has places under Government. Something about
the taxes, I think, that he buys and sells again."
"In truth, he's not one to measure oil without getting some on his
fingers. How different from him our father must have been."
"Yes," said Juan. "_His_ riches, won by his own sword and battle-axe,
and his good right hand, will be worth having. Ay, and even worth
seeing; will they not?"
So these children dreamed of the future--that future of which nothing
was certain, except its unlikeness to their dreams. No thing was
certain; but what was only too probable? That the brave, free-hearted
boy, who had never willingly injured any one, and who was ready to share
his last coin with the poor man, would be hardened and brutalized into a
soldier of fortune, like those who massacred tribes of trusting,
unoffending Indians, or burned Flemish cities to the ground, amidst
atrocities that even now make hearts quail and ears tingle. And yet
worse, that the fair child beside him, whose life still shone with that
child-like innocence which is truly the dew of youth, as bright and as
fleeting, would be turned over, soul and spirit, to a system of training
too surely calculated to obliterate the sense of truth, to deprave the
moral taste, to make natural and healthful joys impossible, and unlawful
and degrading ones fearfully easy and attainable; to teach the strong
nature the love of power, the mean the love of money, and all alike
falsehood, cowardice, and cruelty.