The Great Sanbenito.
"The thousands that, uncheered by praise,
Have made one offering of their days;
For Truth's, for Heaven's, for Freedom's sake.
Resigned the bitter cup to take."--Hemans
Young as was the Protestant Church in Seville, she already had her
history. There was one name that Carlos had heard mentioned in
connection with her first origin, round which there gathered in his
thoughts a peculiar interest, or rather fascination. He knew now that
the monks of San Isodro had been largely indebted to the instructions of
Doctor Juan Gil, or Egidius. And he had been told previously that
Egidius himself had learned the truth from an earlier and bolder
witness, Rodrigo de Valer. This was the name that Losada once coupled
in his hearing with that of his own father.
Why then had he not sought information, which might have proved so
deeply interesting to him, directly from Losada himself, his friend and
teacher? Several causes contributed to his reluctance to broach the
subject. But by far the greatest was a kind of chivalrous, half
romantic tenderness for that absent brother, whom he could now truly say
that he loved best on earth. It is very difficult for us to put
ourselves in the position of Spaniards of the sixteenth century, so far
as at all to understand the way in which they were accustomed to look
upon heresy. In their eyes it was not only a crime, infinitely more
dreadful than that of murder; it was also a horrible disgrace, branding
a man's whole lineage up and down for generations, and extending its
baleful influence to his remotest kindred. Carlos asked himself, day by
day, how would the high-hearted Don Juan Alvarez, whose idol was glory,
and his dearest pride a noble and venerated name, endure to hear that
his beloved and only brother was stained with that surpassing infamy?
But at least it would be anguish enough to stab Juan once, as it were,
with his own hand, without arming the dead hand of the father whose
memory they both revered, and then driving home the weapon into his
brother's heart. Rather would he let the matter remain in obscurity,
even if (which was extremely doubtful) he could by any effort of his own
shed a ray of light upon it.
Still he took occasion one day to inquire of his friend Fray Fernando,
who had received full information on these subjects from the older
monks, "Was not that Rodrigo de Valer, whose sanbenito hangs in the
Cathedral, the first teacher of the pure faith in Seville?"
"True, senor, he taught many. While he himself, as I have heard,
received the faith from none save God only."
"He must have been a remarkable man. Tell me all you know of him."
"Our Fray Cassiodoro has often heard Dr. Egidius speak of him; so that,
though his lips were silenced long before your time or mine, senor, he
seems still one of our company."
"Yes, already some of our number have joined the Church triumphant, but
they are still one with us in Christ."
"Don Rodrigo de Valer," continued the young monk, "was of a noble
family, and very wealthy. He was born at Lebrixa, but came to reside in
Seville, a gay, light-hearted, brilliant young caballero, who was soon a
leader in all the folly and fashion of the great city. But suddenly
these things lost their charm for him. Much to the astonishment of the
gay world, to which he had been such an ornament, he disappeared from
the scenes of amusement and festivity he had been wont to love. His
companions could not understand the change that came over him--but we
can understand it well. God's arrows of conviction were sharp in his
heart. And he led him to turn for comfort, not to penance and
self-mortification, but to his own Word. Only in one form was that Word
accessible to him. He gathered up the fragments of his old school
studies--little cared for at the time, and well-nigh forgotten
afterwards--to enable him to read the Vulgate. There he found
justification by faith, and, through it, peace to his troubled
conscience. But he did not find, as I need scarcely say to you, Don
Carlos, purgatory, the worship of Our Lady and the saints, and certain
other things our fathers taught us."
"How long since was all this?" asked Carlos, who was listening with much
interest, and at the same time comparing the narrative with that other
story he had heard from Dolores.
"Long enough, senor. Twenty years ago or more. When God had thus
enlightened him, he returned to the world. But he returned to it a new
man, determined henceforth to know nothing save Christ and him
crucified. He addressed himself in the first instance to the priests
and monks, whom, with a boldness truly amazing, he accosted wherever he
met them, were it even in the most public places of the city, proving to
them from Scripture that their doctrines were not the truth of God."
"It was no hopeful soil in which to sow the Word."
"No, truly; but it seemed laid upon him as a burden from God to speak
what he felt and knew, whether men would hear or whether they would
forbear. He very soon aroused the bitter enmity of those who hate the
light because their deeds are evil. Had he been a poor man, he would
have been burned at the stake, as that brave, honest-hearted young
convert, Francisco de San Romano, was burned at Valladolid not so long
ago, saying to those who offered him mercy at the last, 'Did you envy me
my happiness?' But Don Rodrigo's rank and connections saved him from
that fate. I have heard, too, that there were those in high places who
shared, or at least favoured his opinions in secret. Such interceded
for him."
"Then his words were received by some?" Carlos asked anxiously. "Have
you ever heard the names of any of those who were his friends or
patrons?"
Fray Fernando shook his head. "Even amongst ourselves, senor," he said,
"names are not mentioned oftener than is needful. For 'a bird of the
air will carry the matter;' and when life depends on our silence, it is
no wonder if at last we become a trifle over-silent. In the lapse of
years, some names that ought to be remembered amongst us may well chance
to be forgotten, from this dread of breathing them, even in a whisper.
Always excepting Dr. Egidius, Don Rodrigo's friends or converts are
unknown to me. But I was about to say, the Inquisitors were prevailed
upon, by those who interceded for him, to regard him as insane. They
dismissed him, therefore, with no more severe penalty than the loss of
his property, and with many cautions as to his future behaviour."
"I hold it scarce likely that he observed them."
"Very far otherwise, senor. For a short time, indeed, his friends
prevailed on him to express his sentiments more privately; and Fray
Cassiodoro says that during this interval he confirmed them in the faith
by expounding the Epistle to the Romans. But he could not long hide the
light he held. To all remonstrances he answered, that he was a soldier
sent on a forlorn hope, and must needs press forward to the breach. If
he fell, it mattered not; in his place God would raise up others, whose
would be the glory and the joy of victory. So, once again, the Holy
Office laid its grasp upon him. It was resolved that his voice should
be heard no more on earth; and he was therefore consigned to the living
death of perpetual imprisonment. And yet, in spite of all their care and
all their malice, one more testimony for God and his truth was heard
from his lips."
"How was that?"
"They led him, robed in that great sanbenito you have often seen, to the
Church of San Salvador, to sit and listen, with the other weeping
penitents, while some ignorant priest denounced their heresies and
blasphemies. But he was not afraid after the sermon to stand up in his
place, and warn the people against the preacher's erroneous doctrine,
showing them where and how it differed from the Word of God. It is
marvellous they did not burn him; but God restrained the remainder of
their wrath. They sent him at last to the monastery of San Lucar, where
he remained in solitary confinement until his death."
Carlos mused a little. Then he said, "What a blessed change, from
solitary confinement to the company of just men made perfect; from the
gloom of a convent prison to the glory of God's house, eternal in the
heavens!"
"Some of the elder brethren say _we_ may be called upon to pass through
trials even more severe," remarked Fray Fernando. "I know not. Being
amongst the youngest here, I should speak my mind with humility; still I
cannot help looking around me, and seeing that everywhere men are
receiving the Word of God with joy. Think of the learned and noble men
and women in the city who have joined our band already, and are eager to
gain others! New converts are won for us every day; not to speak of
that great multitude among Fray Constantino's hearers who are really on
our side, without dreaming it themselves. Moreover, your noble friend,
Don Carlos de Seso, told us last summer that the signs in the north are
equally encouraging. He thinks the Lutherans of Valladolid are more
numerous than those of Seville. In Toro and Logrono also the light is
spreading rapidly. And throughout the districts near the Pyrenees the
Word has free course, thanks to the Huguenot traders from Bearn."
"I have heard these things in Seville, and truly my heart rejoices at
them. But yet--" here Carlos broke off suddenly, and remained silent,
gazing mournfully into the fire, near which, as it was now winter, they
had seated themselves.